#i wish my brain would shut the fuck up sometimes

[dragons-in-spaceee]

why are some days like you wake up thinking “this is gonna be a good day yayy :)” and then not even two hours later it’s the fucking worst day ever

#I wish my brain would shut the fuck up sometimes #personal #vent kinda

[finelineborderline]

for me, BPD can make me feel like my mind is a radio that was never tuned; all frequencies of all broadcasts on all channels are just blasting full time in my brain and i can’t always choose which one to focus on. can’t always tell which broadcasts are bullshit and which ones are important. which are truthful and which are lying. i get such a constant barrage of input that it gets almost impossible to filter out the helpful or unhelpful thoughts and they all end up blending together anyway. to have so many voices and ideas inside me, perpetually at war with each other...it drains me. it's exhausting.

#borderline personality problems #borderline problems #borderline tag #borderline thoughts #bpd #bpd blog #bpd life #bpd thoughts #living with borderline #bpd feels #bpd stuff #bpd mood #actually bpd #bpd tag #bpd things #bpd vent #living with bpd #i wish my brain would shut the fuck up sometimes #truly i do...

[tsu22]

—

#thinking abt accidental marriage in vegas trope thing but with yukierre in ‘23 season #bcs where else u can get accidentally married to the person u r trying to forget #i will stew with it later #but it involves a lot of unresolved feelings on both sides #bcs one has catholic guillt and one has superb emotional repression caused by his upbringing #they just dunno how to communicate their feelings #checking the ‘23 calendar the vegas race is actually the 2nd half of USA double header #and its after sg-jp back to back race weekends #something happened in jp #it continues to build up and blows up in vegas #HHHHHHHHHH sometimes i wish my brain cells would just shut the fuck up and not shout at each other enough for me to build the words properly

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

sick of living in this body and of wishing it was different like jesus who caress

#shut up hanna #goblin brain: u should be skinnnyyyyyyy #literally shut UPPP who cares #its like its just muscle memory. wishing i was smaller #but even sometimes like. ill feel so sick all of a sudden and like. panicky like claustrophobic in my own skin #like i need to take it all off like im being suffocated by my own flesh #what the fuck is that #ill never forgive the 2014 thigh gap era pro ana bullshit #no one has said anything bad about my body in YEARS. but im still like #i still feel like the 13 year old that would get asked out as a joke and it was a hilarious punchline #and i would Like to be good at ballet and i would Like to be able to be lifted #but like. now all my friends and roommates for the most part have larger bodies than me #so i cant like. talk about how i feel even tho its really about how i feel more so than how i actually look #but it is a little bit about how i look but i know i only dont like it bc its me !! and if i was smaller or larger i would #not like it either way bc i just have been trained to resent my body bc it is mine #idk. idk. i always feel like i have to apologize after these #bc i know that like. technically currently i meet the body standards for conventionally attractive adults etc etc etc #but its not about that!!!!!85 #its about me!! its about me #and my therapist quit so 🥰 #yall get to hear about this ❤️

[thaliagracesgf]

i get a boyfriend

part two of the casual series! (requests are in progress, i just churned this out because it is my baby)

warnings: making out and luke being cocky asf

wc: 1.2k

the sun streamed through your eyelids in the morning. you shifted in bed, cozying up in rebellion. you really did not want to get up. you felt luke behind you, starting to move, and you closed your eyes. you knew he wouldn’t be able to wake you up just yet. 

his head finds the crook of your neck, and his curls brush against your face. you’ve never felt so safe. 

“jesus christ,” you’re rudely disturbed. you keep your eyes shut. maybe beckendorf will leave. 

a knot grows in your stomach as luke grumbles from behind you. “fuck off, man. i was sleeping.”

“yeah. i noticed.” 

“what are you doing here? this isn’t your cabin,” he said, sleep evident in his low voice. 

“yeah, isn’t hers either. so are you two a thing now? you finally hook up last night? what’s the sitch here, because silena needs her update.”

with that, luke pulls himself up. “shut up, man.” he looks down at your ‘sleeping’ face, hoping you didn’t hear. “have some respect.”

you did hear, of course, and at first it did make you feel gross, but the ‘finally’ catches you, and you remember that luke wants you. he isn’t jack, who just wanted to fuck somebody, he’s been waiting, and yeah, the older kids at camp sometimes fuck. it’s relieving to realize that beckendorf doesn’t know about last night— he would never had said that if he did. besides, luke’s attempt at a defense, though hampered by his sleep-addled brain, is adorable. 

“i’m just saying! don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. every person in this godforsaken camp can see it, ’cept maybe her.” 

“can you seriously fuck off? i’ve got my girl, don’t make it my problem that you’re scared of yours.” 

you laugh softly at that one. you don’t open your eyes, but you can feel luke freeze behind you. beckendorf doesn’t notice, but your gig is up anyway. 

“your girl?” you mumble, a smile crossing your lips. beckendorf stifles a laugh. 

“alright, i’m heading out! good luck with this one, man.” you open your eyes, and even as they’re adjusting to the light in the cabin, you swear you can see him wink. you’re not sure which one of you it’s to. 

“die,” luke calls after him, throwing his head back on the pillow, but pulling you into his chest. 

“hi.” you say, still facing away from him, and he tucks his head into your neck again. 

“hi.” luke says. 

you turn yourself over to look at his eyes. they’re such a deep brown. he tilts his head forward. you smile. you let his lips graze yours. 

it’s exactly like it was when you were fourteen, and a million times more. he’s soft and gentle, pulling back between each kiss. your arms move around his neck, his wrap around your waist. you’ve never felt so secure in your life. 

but you have to pull away. “i— i…” you start. 

luke sits up. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m so sorry. fuck, that was so stupid of me. i’m so sorry, gods, what was i thinking?” he ran his hand through his hair. it was adorable. you reach out to his arm. (gods, he’s jacked). you wish you had allowed yourself to stare sooner. you’d been depriving yourself. 

“it’s okay, luke. it was…it was really nice.” it seems like such a cheap thing to say, and by the look on his face, it wasn’t all that convincing. “i’m not… this is just a lot to process.” 

“in what way?” he probes. you aren’t used to people asking questions. usually hannah just stares you down until the words come out of your mouth.

“i mean,” you try to word it in a way that won’t set him off. “it would be kind of shitty to jump into anything, right? after what happened with jack?”

luke gives a contemptuous look at the mention of his name. “no,” he scoffs. he’s still sitting up, looking down at you lying in his bed. you figure it might be a bad time to tell him how badly you want him to kiss you again. 

“well, i don’t know. doesn’t it look like i’m just hopping around from guy to guy?” 

“ok. first of all, i’m pretty sure there are only, like, four people who know about you and jack. second of all, at the risk of sounding like an absolute dick, aren’t you supposed to be in love with me or something?”

you gasp. “what the hell?”

he grins. “it’s just what i’ve heard. you know what the camp gossip mill is like.” 

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so not fair.”

and he laughs, he really laughs. “how is it not fair?” 

“you are such a dick. this is so embarrassing. i’m going to kill you.”

“you seem pretty content under those blankets for someone plotting a murder.” you look through your fingers. his smile is so, so, unbelievably cute. “how is this not fair?”

“because you totally know everything and i don’t know anything.” 

“okay. what to you want to know?”

“shut up. die. i hope you drown today.”

“are you really going to make me say it, jack-jack?”

“i hate you.”

“i like you.” you go quiet. “i really, really like you. i think i’ve had a crush on you since we were fourteen. and i fucking love you. not like we already say everyday. like i think i’m actually fucking in love with you.”

he lays down beside you. you’re facing away from him, so he traces swirls on your shoulder.

you turn to face him, and for a second he has the decency to look nervous. 

you narrow your eyes at him. “so how do you really know i’m not just in this for the sex?” and he bursts out laughing. and before you know it, you’re laughing with him. and he loves the way your eyelids almost close when you do. 

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he grins.

“well, who are you hooking up with these days? i’ll have to see if you have good reviews.”

“good luck with that, it might be difficult.”

“what, like you’ve never hooked up with an aphrodite girl after a bonfire.”

he shakes his head, and you’re honestly stunned. luke castellan, the most gorgeous boy on long island, is a virgin? 

“i mean,” he starts. “it’s not like i haven’t had offers.” 

“oh, shut up, you asshole,” you try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arms around you, and at his next words you freeze. 

“but i was holding out hope that it would be with you.” 

fuck. that was really hot. 

you look up, into his eyes. “i hate you,” you roll your eyes.

“i love you,” he murmurs, his eyes on your lips.

this time when he kisses you, you’re never letting him go. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him atop you. it takes everything in you not to roll your hips into his, but you don’t stop yourself from reaching down his torso to find the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and running your hands along his stomach. fuck, you think for the second time that morning. he’s jacked. he smiles into the kiss, and you know you’re stroking his ego right alongside his abs. 

“so,” you say, biting your lip as his trace your jaw and neck. “what was that about ‘your girl’ earlier?”

you’re expecting a sly remark, a grin, or something. instead, he doesn’t hesitate—“be my girlfriend,” he almost moans. “please.” 

and you don’t have it in you to leave him waiting. 

“okay,” you whisper.

#pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke pjo #percy series

[matrixbearer2024]

Vox x Reader Headcanons: Fiancé Edition

Fiancé!Vox x gn!Reader

A/N: MY BRAINROT IS BRAINROTTING OKAY I JUST NEEDED TO DUMP THIS STUFF SOMEWHERE AFTER SEEING ALL THE WIFEY ALASTOR AND LUCIFER STUFF- LIKE I LOVE THOSE TWO BUT LEMME YEET IN MY BELOVED SAMSUNG TV NOW YALL- THIS COULD MOST LIKELY BE OOC COMPARED TO CANON BUT LIKE- LET ME DREAM I WANT THIS FLATSCREEN SO BAD P L E A A A S E-

A/N: This little thingy would have both an SFW and NSFW portion, mostly because I'm a depraved little shit and I am downbad for a 7ft bipedal television with issues-

SFW HEADCANONS:

Now first off, y'all probably would've been dating a long long while before this mans would pop the question.

I feel like he'd know that he wants to marry you, but he's so unsure of it plus he's concerned about how that would affect you in all of it.

Like, oh great if this gets out suddenly you've got one of the biggest targets on your back because you're the technology overlord's fiance and soon to be wife/husband.

As if you hadn't already when you both started dating-

Vox is a perfectionist so I'd imagine he would try so so hard to get everything completely flawless for his proposal.

But nothing goes his way that day, none, nada, zilch-

That's just his luck, totally not because it got screwed over by a certain radio demon for shits and giggles.

But he ends up asking you anyway, though a bit indirectly because it slips during his irritated rant.

"I can't believe they managed to spill wine all over me back there! All over one of my best suits as well!"

"Hun, we could always send your suit to the professional cleaners. It's okay! We can always just go someplace else next time too-"

"No! That- ugh! I had all these plans today and they were just ruined! I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for when I was going to propose to you-"

"You were gonna what-"

Vox immediately shut up once he realized his screwup then.

So much for keeping it a surprise!

That's kind of how you ended up with a diamond ring on your finger that night.

And that's how Vox ended that really stressful day with an extremely satisfying night.

He ditched work the next day and just spent it being all over you.

Yes he admires the ring on your hand from time to time, this man just stares.

You can betcho ass that ring is expensive as fuck too.

Like as if this man didn't kiss your hands enough, that new accessory marking a new chapter of your afterlives just makes him do it more.

He's actually kinda housewife material if you squint-

This man can cook and clean, and as a bonus he's filthy stinkin RICH.

Bro I need me one of these holy shit-

If he wasn't clingy enough before, oh boy get ready for this.

He will always have an appendage on you at all times, a hand on your lower back, your hip, in your hand-

Or he'd just have you in his lap while he worked on stuff in his office.

Also, Vox being possessive as all hell if someone so much as just stared at you too long-

Please that goes straight up to 1000% when you agreed to wear that ring.

You guys planning to get hitched doesn't stay secret for too long though.

With Valentino and Velvette sticking their noses in Vox's business as a daily pastime anyhow-

Hence why a lot of sinners started shipping you two.

And oh goodness the ship wars.

Sometimes Vox wishes the internet wasn't really connected to his brain-

The magazines went wild with that one too-

Cuz imagine, the richest and the pride ring's probably most esteemed bachelor-

Aside from Lucifer probably, Vox's marketing and PR team are insanely good at their jobs-

Was now off the market and due to get hitched with you.

I'd imagine even if Vox doesn't post anything on social media, you or Vel would-

Literally like those married couples on TikTok or something with a whole bunch of cute shit.

You can best believe the most cracked out shit happens while you're both engaged though.

"Oh this is Vox, he's my ex-boyfriend."

"... You have got to stop saying that. I'm their fiancé."

You did not stop saying that.

Actually you wouldn't stop saying that even when his title upgraded to husband.

Not that Vox cares, your shenanigans were what caused him to gravitate towards you in the first place.

And until now they're what keep your relationship fun and interesting.

"Hey hubby, ooooh~ you're looking like the hottest thing in all of the pride ring despite having just rolled out of bed."

"Hahaha, good morning to you too doll."

It doesn't register what you called him at first until he's had his coffee and then it clicks.

You play it off attempting to be coy until he replays the video of you greeting and calling him that on his face.

His. Face.

Sneaky little shit that's what-

He doesn't really respond to any other petname now, you've dug your grave.

"Vox."

"Vox."

"Vooooooxxxx-"

"What? What?? What do you want???"

"Can you peel this orange for me?"

"Really? That's it? Why don't you peel it yourself?"

"Because it tastes better when you do it?"

He does it eventually, hell if he's in a particularly good mood he'll even feed you.

That's always kind of how it goes when you ask him for things.

If it's something you want/can buy though?

You're already in possession of his credit card, just get whatever tf you want HAHAHAHA-

He's still a busy bastard though so it's not really much different from how it's like when you guys were dating-

But he genuinely tries to balance his work a little better to spend more time with you.

This man is such a workaholic though you end up having to drag his ass out of his office to rest anyway.

Again, nothing new from when you were just dating.

You guys jokingly throw around your soon to be marital titles in private.

Vox kind of feels like a kid in a candy store when you do, just giddy and excited for what's to come.

Not to mention he now has a partner in crime when he riffs on Alastor!

He'd be over the MOON if you just joined his chaos.

The radio demon probably wouldn't give a shit, he's just built different like that-

You both get so comfortable that you almost forget that you have a wedding to plan and set a date for.

Until Velvette asks about it and you're both just: "Oh. Right."

Your fiancé's schedule is so fucking packed though it was nearly impossible to.

This guy was going to work himself to death before you could tie the knot lmao-

But eventually you both got a date and venue settled, so that was one step closer.

NSFW HEADCANONS:

Okay so like, I know sinners can't actually copulate unless you're Lucifer but that's besides the point-

And Vox isn't really a family man at all-

But boy oh boy if he didn't have it before-

This man would have an insane breeding kink after you both got engaged.

This man wants to see you stuffed.

Literally doesn't matter if you're riding him or he's just impaling you on his cock-

This guy just wants to fill you up so bad.

I'd also think that you guys would be screwing around a lot more often after he popped the question-

Something about emotions constantly running high and dopamine being one hell of a drug.

I think Vox is a switch, so I'd also imagine he'd be more inclined to let you dom him every now and then.

Or when he just wants to be a bratty little shit please go ahead and tame him, he likes it.

You can kind of get away with more stuff when you're both engaged.

Like tease him a whole ton and he just bites hook, line and sinker.

It's already gotten to the point where the power in the tower would die often enough that Velvette herself has gone through some crazy lengths to cockblock her colleague.

Speaking of, Vox would probably use you as a stress reliever after work if you let him-

Like he will just fuck you stupid until all you say is his name because this guy is addicted to hearing it.

Or he'd let you fuck him stupid until he's so far into sub space he forgets about his shitty day.

Cuz if it's rough, it's rough with you two.

But on the gentler side-

It's just as addicting and if not probably a little worse.

Though you would probably be the one taking initiative/domming whenever you both have gentle rounds.

I'm all for Vox being able to switch some of his parts cuz he wanted to/can.

So y'all have fucking choices when it comes to wrecking this idiot.

Like a multiple choice exam, literally shotgun the fuck outta those answers like you deteriorate his mental.

And consequently the entire city's power grid.

"GODDAMNIT! VOX! (Y/N)! NOT AGAIN!!"

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox headcanons

[svtskneecaps]

ok i'm a little miffed so i'm gonna spill it here so i don't dwell on it as i'm trying to sleep

#'if u were awake at human hours' JESUS mom fuckin THANKS like it even matters to you what time i'm up?? you're at WORK #i wake up for my job and for school so what if on recreation days i sleep in later than acceptable?? #and then she brings up my sibling was upset last summer bc i'd sleep in til past noon and my other sister would be up in her room #so my sibling would be alone in the living room for hours #like??? i never thought it was a PROBLEM for them i mean it's not like they talked to me even when i TRIED #like we NEVER interacted even when i WAS awake they'd just sit in there doing their thing and i'd be in the dining room doing mine #and SOMETIMES we'd have a ten minute conversation and SOMETIMES i'd try talking abt my random hyperfixations #but there's only so much i can handle when i get hit with 'this person is looking at their phone and not even #making 'mhm' noises when i stop for breath' #like if they are clearly not listening to me i'm just going to shut down i can't fuckin help it i'm made of complexes and 'annoying' is big #even bringing shit up on this hell blog makes my brain do the bad brr #like i TRY and they swear they're trying to pay attention and god bless em but it isn't working and there's only so fucking much i can do #and i'm trying my best to be interested in their interests bc i still wanna know what my sibling is up to and interested in #and i'm trying not to be petty about it not being two ways bc i still fuckin care about them and i don't want to push them away #just bc they can't focus when i start spewing shit about like. night at the museum or kingdom hearts or something #idk maybe it's different bc i'm always tangentially familiar with the stuff they like where they have 0 experience w my stuff #i just. like i wish my mom would stop fuckin badgering me about 'human hours' #like i don't work a goddamn nine to five and i'm a living knot of anxiety of course i'm going to crash for twelve hours after my retail job #if i'm working with people AND on my feet for hours AND still recuperating from a semester AND some other braintwisting shit like?? #of COURSE i'm out of commission once i actually manage to get myself down #bc LET'S NOT FORGET IT TAKES ME AN HOUR TO GET TO SLEEP ON A GOOD DAY #anyway it's ruffling my feathers #i wake iup when it's asked of me but fuck me for not wanting to be awake before noon unless i'm being paid #not kpop #shut up vic #negativity #there now i won't be rolling that rant around while i'm trying to tell myself a bedtime story #gnight lads

[kombuuuu]

Okay so this song, right?

Now the original version (the one above) is fun so you don’t realize it, but when you listen to the MTV Unplugged version (the one below) you realize that it’s really fucking sad

So, upon doing research, I learned that the song is about asking someone to give them a chance. ‘Take on me, take me on’ is saying, “give me chance, let me try.”

And what did that make me think of? Earth 42! Miles Morales.

Think about it.

Reader likes him, he likes them, but he’s scared of (A) being abandoned, (B) giving them a reason to leave, or (C) hurting them. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, and that makes it hard to be happy.

But reader? They know. They get it. And they know that, with communication and a little bit of faith, it can work. So they’re literally telling him to give it a chance. To let it work.

This is what my silly little brain does sometimes.

he so baby

also wtf why would u bring up this song it’s been years but tlou is still fresh on the mind bro wtf wtf what the hell

Take me on, Please.

42!Miles Morales x GN!Reader

—

Not a day passed when Miles hasn’t thought of you. When he was ‘working’, or in school — or in the late of night, trying so hard to get to sleep, but with the image of you making the back of his eyelids burn. He stayed awake to maybe escape them— And you still couldn’t leave his mind.

His room would get too dark, and when the ceiling would start to form your silhouette, he would give up. And resign to the deeps of his own mind. Resign to you.

He would toss and turn, clutching his bedsheets in bruised knuckles.

He would slide the other hand down his face, would relish in the pain, pull his skin. Pick at his hands, grip his hair. Would lay lax, and think and think and think.

Until he couldn’t — Until, like to his thoughts. He would concede.

And he’d call you — and you’d answer, and he’d sigh — relieved, stressed, scared, loved.

—

He’d try to avoid you, don’t get him wrong — he would.

He would ignore your texts, and skip his classes when he knew you were in them. He’d pick the locks to the schools roof, sit legs crossed on the touch concrete, and watch the students idle below him.

But it’d only last so long.

He’d call you, dead of night. Then wake up to a “gud morning C:” text the morning after, and he’d scroll through everything he’d missed and reply to every one.

He’d get scolded by his Momma for skipping class, and bashfully return to your shared table — you welcoming him back with a smile and a pencil already in your hand, ready for him to ask. Because you knew he never brought one, you knew him.

You’d see him from your spot on the courtyard, chatting with your other friends. The ones he’d envy for being so carefree with you.

And you’d send him a discreet wave, watching him stiffen as you put a finger to your lips in sworn secrecy.

“My lips are sealed

(I wish you’d shut them).”

You were a plague. A torturous, sickeningly sweet plague.

—

You huffed to yourself as you made your way up the last set of stairs, leaning on your knees a little at the top and cursing Miles for being difficult.

You groaned again as you pushed up, grasping the doors handle and opening it with ease.

The boy in question was sat on the edge of the roof, watching students and teachers alike.

“You ‘kay?”

He barely flinched, head titling towards you for a moment in consideration, eyes never meeting yours, but he saw your concern through his peripherals.

“Mm..” He hummed in acknowledgment, a relatively positive — but somewhat unsure sound.

Your brows furrowed slightly, lips curling in on themselves for a moment in silent disagreement.

He didn’t want to speak on it, so you wouldn’t make him.

You walked to his side, and he watched the way the world shifted around you, almost revolved around your movements.

He sighed and turned to face in front of him again — desperate not to meet your eye.

You sat down, your feet sidling off the edge of the roof in swift movements, just like he had. His breath stuttered in worry, and he had an instinct to pull you back. Keep you safe from the dangers he seemed to bring — but that would be counterproductive, wouldn’t it?

But you were fine, and your feet had started kicking. He huffed, scratching away the smile that tried to surface and shoving it back down.

He sniffed, leaning back on one of his hands.

He was so smooth, calculated. Like every movement he made had a lifetime worth of of thought put into it. Maybe it was just confidence, sureness in himself.

Maybe you missed the tremble in his hands, the irritated and blushed skin of his knuckles, creaking with every movement and splitting every night.

The way his skin peeled around the bed of his nails, dry and lifted.

You admired his controlled breathing, and he struggled to steady it — heart rate rising with his efforts.

It’s like you didn’t understand the effect you had on him, oblivious to his nervous nature.

He refocused, and the way the wind hit your face, tracing along the shape of your lips, ruffling your clothes in a soft breeze.

He would envy it — if it didn’t feel stupid.

You gazed at shifting clouds and blue skies, smiling at the hint of the Moon you could still see. And he watched, ever observing in your prose.

“You know —,” He savoured the way your lips moved, how they curled around each word “,—I’d never push you to talk to me, Miles. I’d never be that person.” You glanced at him, and the pulse of electricity that ran through his spine when your eyes met his, it was anything but healthy.

“I know.”

He affirmed your statement, knowing you had never, and would never force him to be open with you. He’d wish you were more demanding.

You hummed and turned back to the sky, eyes shining against sunlight, dancing with something too caring, too intimate for him. He turned to the sky.

“You can talk to me, though.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, shivering at your tone of voice.

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to?”

It was your turn to stutter now, breath catching in your throat and trying to find the right words.

“I—“ You laughed nervously, hands fiddling with the little weeds that had sprouted between seems of concrete. “,I wouldn’t wanna be pushy—“

“[Name].”

You stopped, guiltily humming in acknowledgment. If he didn’t want to—

“Mirame.”

Miles pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the shame well behind your eyes, like the mere thought of being overbearing was something to fear.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you looked at him, and the sight made him swoon.

He tilted his head towards you, braids sliding down his shoulders, encouraging you to go on — and you conceded, a subtle frown gracing your features.

“I do.”

He sighed, relieved — and perturbed.

“I can’t..,” You bit your lip and let him find his footing. “,..I can’t talk to you, I want to,”

His heart was stuck in his throat, constricting it enough to suffocate — he’d wished it would claw the confessions out of him.

I cant.”

Your eyes flickered to his hands beside your own, watching them twitch before you met his gaze again, heavy and heart-felt.

“I know.”

—

You were determined. The previous apprehensions you’d felt and faced being forced away in a moment of clarity.

You needed him to talk to you, needed him to be open. He’d never get himself there alone.

You needed him to know you could take him. You wanted to try. At the very least.

You slipped your hands down the windowsill, dangling off the edge and checking to see if you could drop down.

When the fire escape touched the tips of your toes, you let go, listening to see if you’d been to loud as you slowly lowered onto your heels.

When no movement seemed to be heard without your apartment, you turned to the steps, making your way down as quiet as possible and jumping off the last step. You landed on the pavement with a stumble before you righted yourself.

“Ahh, Shit—,” A stray pedestrian sent you you a weird look and you chuckled nervously, muttering an apology and scattering off to find Miles in the vast of a city’s night.

—

You were nearing the corner of his street, his apartment coming into view as you walked. You watched the plants Momma Rio had set on her windowsill sway in a light breeze, and the light flicker different colours from her TV before your eyes drifted towards Miles’ window.

It was dark in there, but you knew he preferred it like that.

He might’ve been asleep, considering how late it was — but it wasn’t likely.

He might’ve lost his passion for art, but you knew sometimes, when he thought no one was looking — he’d sketch or draw whatever came to mind.

Sometimes glancing at the copic markers his dad had got him, the ones he shoved under his bed, before harshly furrowing his brows and disregarding the thought.

The ringing of a stores bell grabbed your attention, whipping your head to the left. A lone man walked out of what looked to be a convenience store, waving to the store clerk with a smile and a cheerful goodbye before going on his way.

You eyed the store, checking its contents through the ceiling to floor windows and purposefully ignoring the graffiti littering them.

When your eye caught onto a Prowler themed face mask (strawberry scented!), you smirked to yourself and headed in.

—

The Prowler wasn’t something exactly looked down upon by the public, if anything — he was favoured.

People were weary at first, scared even. Of the man going around killing strangers, but true to the way of the general public — when the victims names had been revealed, and a string of murders all lined up and marked with a signature slash to the throat —, people had begun to investigate.

And every immoral thing those ‘Victims’ had ever done was brought to light.

No matter how many times the government tried to quiet those things down, to save face, whatever forum you decided to look just a tad deeper in—…

Safe to say he was admired.

So seeing things branded with The Prowler theme wasn’t very out of the blue.

Which is why, walking out of that store, you now had a bag filled to the brim with Prowler merch (?), to tease said Prowler with.

—

Miles followed along to the song playing in his headphones, bouncing his head to Kendrick’s words and mouthing the lyrics with him.

The sketches he made along thick paper formed the shape of your body, the same silhouette stuck in his mind now stained clean paper in led.

He flicked his pencil up slightly, curling is to the shape of your neck and slip of your shoulder. He leant back, trying to see his work from a new angle and take it — you — in from a full scale.

He admired your features before going to fix a smudge on the right side of the page just as the song came to a close.

Through the fade-out, a small ‘clack’ caught his attention.

He dismissed it, glancing in the direction of his window and playing it off as a stray leaf.

Until it happened again a minute later.

He groaned, pausing the song, which he wasn’t happy about — because IFHY is not something you just ‘pause’ — and ripping his headphones out. Spinning on his chair and launching off towards the window, his chair rolled back at his sudden movement, but he was too caught up eyeing the glass to pay attention as to where it went.

He crept closer with a sneer on his face, and as he passed the shelf, reached back behind a book to grab his gun.

Better safe than sorry, was what his Uncle told him.

He ducked behind the wall next to his window, legs crouched enough to have him able to peek smoothly.

His breath left him at the sight of your creased brows, a furrow in them he couldn’t explain. Your lips parted as you focused on aiming at his window, a moment later — another clack, and he almost snorted as the small rock hit the glass and you bent to pick it up again.

Reaching forward and dragging his body in view of the window, he slammed it open, glaring playfully down at you.

Your head snapped up, caught with a stone in your metaphorically red hands.

You smiled up at him, sheepish and unbelievably sweet.

He crossed his arms, raising his brows with an expecting look on his face, he wasn’t mad — could never be — but he wouldn’t let *you know that.

“Hey—,” You dragged out the ‘y’ with an awkward laugh. “,Morales. Funny ahh—,”

You sniffed and shifted to stand up straight again.

“,Funny seein’ you here.”

His smile grew as he watched you cringe at yourself, rolling his eyes and snarking at you.

“At my house?”

“More an apartment, you know? My personal preference, I’ll say—,”

“[Name].”

He titled his head down at you with a condescending look in his eyes. You laughed again, just as nervous as before, and swung the bag in your hand to occupy them.

“Yeah— Sorry.”

He bent over, leaning his elbows on his windowsill and letting his free hand hang over the edge, hiding the gun behind the wall.

He flashed it at you and you made a sour face, giving him a deadpanned look as he smirked.

“Really?”

“Not my fault you showed up without so much as a text.” His tone dipped lower, teasing your decisions to surprise someone you *knew to be a vigilante.

You pouted, puffing your cheeks up in dismay and crossing your arms, dropping the rock as you went. The bag shifting with your movements caught his attention and he gave it a questioning look before focusing back on you when you spoke.

“And here I thought I could come and surprise my best friend without a glock getting pulled on me.” You dramatically tipped your head up at him, exposing your neck and jawline for him to eye.

“Ooh, yeah — poor you, huh?” He bit his lip and watched you peek at him, fighting off a smile.

“Yes. Poor me. So poor, in fact — that I’m standing out here,” You looked to the left and he followed, both of you going quiet as someone left their apartment.

You awkwardly waved when they gave you a weird look. As soon as they were out of earshot, you lowered your voice to a harsh whisper and whined up at him. His fingers twitched at the expression you wore, watching you with a keen eye.

“,looking like a fucking psycho!”

“More like a schitzo. Talk’n to yo’self.”

“Miles!”

He snorted, turning to set the gun back in its place and returning to the window, he watched you look around again and tap your foot impatiently before you caught his eye once more.

“Here, I’ll buzz you up, Bambi.”

You gave him a curious look and begun to speak before he rushed out of your view, hearing you mutter to yourself —,

“Bambi?”

—

Going up to meet him wasn’t hard, neither was sneaking through his apartment, giggling with him when he was too caught up looking at you to watch where he was going, and ending up knocking his foot on his coffee table. He cursed into the dark room, a harsh whisper — before forgetting his pains when you snickered at him. Putting a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself and the other gripping your bag tighter. He watched the Moons light hit your eyes and make them sparkle something romantic, and when you offered him a questioned “You okay?”, he just laughed with you.

Being with you was so, so easy.

You both eventually stumbled into his room, shucking off your shoes by his door and sitting cross legged, facing each other on his bed.

Not before he rushed to hide the drawing of you while you were preoccupied with your shoes.

Short quips and poking insults were thrown at each others’ stupidity, throughout.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention!”

“Actually, it was.”

“What was that?”

“I said ‘I was’!”

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes, “Liar, you were too caught up eyeing my bag!”

He smirked, voice low and smooth, “What’d you bring—? Protection?”

A sudden burst of laughter left you before he put a hand over your mouth, shushing you through his own gavelled chuckles.

You peeled his hand off your mouth by his wrist, holding it between you both and gave him a sly smile.

“You’re gonna want some real protection in a second.”

He raised his brows, turning his palm over to trace his fingers over your palm.

“Oh yeah?”

You hummed an affirmation before using your other hand to set down the bag. The one he had in his own going limp in his hold.

“Yup. But you won’t deny me.”

“I won’t?”

His accent curled smoothened over the words, dripping honey malt into your ears.

“Nuh uh.”

Another chuckle was granted at your antics before it suddenly ceased, only as soon as you pulled out the first item.

“Is that—,”

“Yeah.”

“And you want—“

“Yuh huh.”

“God, [Name]. Where did you even find this!” His hand dropped your own and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Watching him grab the mask with a scrunched up look on his face was worth it, though.

“It’s honestly pretty popular—,”

“We’re not doing this!” He glanced up at you through his lashes, and when he caught you already watching him, he shut down his fluttering heart by focusing on the item in hand.

“Oh, yes we are —! And there’s more!”

“Nah. No fuckin’ way.”

You bit your lip and rummaged through the bag again, and his attention was stolen by you once more.

Flame from a candle *you got him complimenting your features in a romantic light.

The longer he admired you, the more he realised he could never possibly do you justice. No still drawing could ever compare to the real thing.

Nothing could compare to you.

“Look! There’s even a hand mask! It has claws like you, it’s so cute—…”

Your voice faded in and out through his mind, more so focused on the way your lips moved than anything. On how your eyes kept flicking to look into his, exaggerated hand movements emphasising your excitement in a way he could only describe as endearing.

You were so soft, so sweet to him.

He couldn’t love you, he couldn’t let you love him.

Not with your innocence, your purity. Something so simple to have, and yet complicated to love.

He didn’t want to ruin you, to taint your view of this world — and of him.

Your candidness wasn’t built on naïveté, but trust, and hope for virtue. You believed in good, believed that not everything was black and white — and that some things were.

There was simplicity in you, that could only be admired by a troubled mind. Those with troubled existence longed to have the tranquility of a partner rid of pain. To have someone they could shield from the depths they’d travelled, and to never let them lie witness to the bottom of a raging sea.

He’d never let you feel pain like he has.

And yet, he can’t help but feel he’d be one to cause it.

The things he did were dangerous, the life he lived was worse. He’d get killed, or get you killed.

He couldn’t do that to you.

You gently grabbed his hands, snapping him out of his spiralling as you examined them.

“You might not be able to do the hand mask—…” You looked up at him again, a thoughtful squint to your eyes. “Got a lot of cuts.”

You looked down again and his breath escaped him, Miles watched your nose twitch as you considered his wounds, his hand shaking under your touch.

“Oh! Wait I—“

Your face lit up once more, hand dipping into the bag and searching around for a moment with an excited gleam.

“Mm?”

He tilted his head in question, and when you glanced back at him, he averted his eyes to the bag. Right as you pulled out Prowler themed bandaids.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

You laughed again, giggling at the mere coincidence.

“I didn’t even—,” You choked a little and tested up, laughing harder and trying to keep quiet.

“,I didn’t even go in to get these! They were just there and I couldn’t not get them.”

You squinted in laughter and his thick chuckle made your smile widen.

“Ohh,” He dragged out the word, a disbelieving lull to his tone. “,Yeah sure, Chiquita.”

Your laughter died down and his find stare came to your attention, rendering you flustered for a solid second. Your grip on his fingers twitching.

“Here, I’ll—,” You distracted yourself, trying to rid your face from any sign of crush.

Silly, childish crush (That you wouldn’t dream of trying to get rid of).

You grabbed the box of band-aids with one hand, other gently placing his injured one over your knee, mumbling as you went.“,Put these on..”

“Yeah..” He spoke breathlessly, staring at you without an ounce of shame.

You ignored the flutter of hope in your chest, focusing on unwrapping the adhesive — and taking care of him.

—

You smoothed the mask over his face, running your thumb over his cheek bone to straighten out a crease.

“Stop making faces—!”

He snorted, lip curling up at your grumpy demand.

“Lo siento, cordero.”

"I'm sorry, lamb."

“Just—.” You leaned in closer to him, subconsciously being drawn to him.

His, now band-aid adorned, hands slipped up to your hips, Miles not even realising he was doing it until he felt your flesh under his calloused hands.

He didn’t move them, guilt being outweighed by his indulgence. He could focus on the way your hands lost their steady hold, how you had to refocus to continue fixing his stupid mask.

How you looked so good, so sweet, being this close to him.

Felt so warm under his rough fingers.

“Just?”

He went to raise his eyebrows, before schooling his expression again. You gave him an approving look at the action.

“It was rhetoric.”

“Wh—?” He snorted, eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Yeah? ‘Just’ — Rhetoric?”

You bit your lip and hummed. “Yup.”

“Oh, so sorry— Should’ve known.”

He pinched the skin along your hip and you gave a yelp and playfully bat his hand away.

“Play fair!”

“I am.”

His hands slid up your thighs again, you scoffed but didn’t stop him. And he watched your face, tracing your features like he’d done a thousand times before, he let himself have this.

Just for tonight, he swears.

You turned from him slightly, shuffling through the bag again to look for another item. Purple lip masks, it wasn’t inherently “Prowler”, but it was cute.

“[Name].”

“Mm?” You hummed, glancing at him before finding the lip mask and pulling it out, shaking it a little in a cheer.

“[Name].”

You looked at him more intently now, curiosity overpowering your urge to smooth out the crease he’s now made by talking.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

Your voice was light, worried but not enough to be off putting.

Miles sighed through a stuttered breath, nails dragging over your flesh in small circles, and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind him.

You watched his eyes drop, focusing not on your face, but on where he touched you — a nervous glint in his eye that you hadn’t seen before.

“I find it hard to talk to you.”

His eyes snapped back up, mask scrunching with his face.

“What?” Voice confused, and a little tired — like he knew this was coming, he knew you’d get tired.

*But that’s not what you were getting at.

Your skin prickled once more when he spread his hands out, disregarding his calm circling to grip your waist, his fingers sliding just under the hem of your shirt.

“It’s hard, Yknow?—,” You fiddled with the packet in your hand and you swear you felt him tug your hips closer, like a plea for you not to leave him.

“,—I feel like every time we’re together, I’m this close to telling you everything I’m thinking.”

The tremors in your body grew larger, shaking in nerve as you ran your tongue along your lip.

“Like I trust you so much I have to hold back. — And it’s hard to.”

You met his gaze, watching his lips part in batted breath.

“You make me feel safe.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. Just stared at you in silent apprehension.

You shifted on your knees, squirming at his quietness.

“Please say something.”

You whispered to him, backing down to a reticent tone.

He took a breath, still considering you, his look much softer now. You watched his face flash again, bringing a rather domestic look to his face.

He sighed out the aforementioned gasp, and his hands clenched again, you felt it all.

His warmth against your face, his hands along your body. The nerves under his skin digging into your own, bringing both of you into an interlinked bundle of edge.

“You know I—..”

He stuttered, voice breaking.

“Nunca te lo confesarè.”

His voice was small, smaller than you’d ever heard it. Like he was trying to tell you something, but could only force the words out.

“I won’t be able to.”

“You don’t need to.”

Miles watched as you dropped the packet in your hands, the lack of noise palpable once the rustling was gone.

He could only look on as you bring a hand up to smooth over his shoulder, and slipped the other to his jaw.

“You don’t need to, Miles.”

He felt like crying, holding back emotions so strong his body shuddered.

“You don’t need to say a thing,”

Your fingers ran over a scar and he melted further into you, leaning forward in your hold, his own hands grabbing at you in a firm, but never hurtful, hold.

“,Not to me.”

You watched as the man above you shrunk, losing the tension in his body the longer you held him.

His eyes closed, savouring the feeling of your softened body.

“Tell me you understand.”

He furrowed his brows, shyly opening his eyes, his heart to you.

“I understand, I do.”

He pressed forward, crowding over you. His head dropped closer to your ear, leaning his head on your shoulder despite the face mask still being on. You hadn’t even cared for your now wet shirt, dragging your hands down to his forearms and let him make the pace. Keep him comfortable no matter how bad you wanted to kiss his woes away.

You would be the person he could lean on, whether you mean that metaphorically or not.

“Sleep here tonight?”

It’s not like you hadn’t before. You and Miles having slept in the same bed plenty of times prior, at an all time high when his dad passed, and he could barely sleep without you. It’d just be different now, better.

“Stay with you?”

“Stay with me.”

You hummed, leaning closer so his upper body was dependent solely on yours. His hands slipped further around you, in a sweet hug, and yours traced his arms and neck, dragging nails down scarred skin.

“Okay.”

—

Everything was stripped down, both the face masks and the wrapping around his bloodied hands, although the Cat-Vigilante themed bandaids still remained.

Miles had basically fell asleep, getting calmer by the minute when you rubbed his shoulders, the tension in his muscles leaving him more relaxed than he’d been in years.

He was breathing softly against your neck and his hands lay limp, wrists hanging off your thighs.

You shifted, slipping the bag full of both trash and stuff you still hadn’t unpacked off the bed, cringing at the rustle and double checking Miles to make sure he hadn’t been startled.

You still needed to move him though, gently using your free hand, the one not cradling his head to your neck, to lift the corner of the cover so you could lay him down.

He sniffles and you freeze, cringing.

“Mm.. Quit movin’…”

You huff amusedly at his grumpy tone. Watching as he shoved his face deeper into you, inhaling slowly. His lips brushed your throat and you worried he could feel the race of your pulse under them.

“Miles, baby lay down.”

“You’re s’ warm.”

Another small laugh, airy and light, left you.

You moved to lie down with him, and he begrudgingly pulled himself away to get under the covers, dragging his body to tuck under his quilts.

He eyed you from under heavy lids, and furrowed his brows, unhappy — before grabbing the front of your shirt and tugging you towards him.

You followed his hands with a goofy smile and he let himself grin back.

“C’mere, Chiquita.”

He settled his head under your chin, tangling his legs with yours and pulling the covers back over you both.

His arm slithered over your waist, and up your shirt, cold hands smoothing against your warm back.

Soft breaths tickled your skin and you let yourself relax, letting his rising chest lull you to sleep.

He pressed soft kisses to your neck, touch as light as a butterflies kiss.

“Eres toda una belleza.”

He kissed your skin again, muttering words of admiration to you that got more drowsy by the second. After a minute, turning into incoherent mumbles and soft tones.

You yawned lightly, and felt your own eyelids droop. “Go sleep, Miles.”

You kissed his crown, and he sighed against you, dragging his head to look up at you and fighting off sleep.

He kissed your jaw one last time and you gave him a smile that could’ve flatlined him had he be a lesser man.

“Goodnight, [Name].”

You slowly blinked at him.

Your glossy eyes suddenly looked the best they ever had, and your skin glowed with a new found love he couldn’t describe if it killed him.

Your voice was softer than he thought possible and he felt like he had the first time he’d met you.

A small boy smitten. Riddled with an infatuation at such heights he didn’t understand. Love too big for his body, too big for his heart. So much of it that it spilled from his eyes, leaking into the tears he shed. Filled his veins, and pumped throughout his body. It dug it’s way into his bones and set in the hollow like the marrow that lived there.

It was too much for him, so he gave it to you.

And you took it.

You took him.

“Goodnight, Miles.”

—

BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG LMFAO

also ao3 is so fucking funny

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x you #miles my beloved #earth42!miles x reader #earth 42 #earth42!miles #earth 42 miles x reader #miles gonzalo morales #miles g morales #miles morales 42 #miles 42 #miles 1610 #atsv miles #atsv #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x you #miles x you #miles g x reader

[pupcuck]

SLEIGH BALLS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. GILF LEON!!! incest, big age gap he’s 60+ at the very least, voyeurism

note. ignore that this is sort of xmas themed and sorry if this does not live up to any expectations I think I hyped him up too much LMFAOO still getting out of my writing slump so forgive me if this is very clunky and boring! not edited whatsoever so begging u ignore mistakes i’m . really unhappy this fic but still gonna post it bc idk when i will be able to write ab him again 😭 trust this will be rewritten

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

You’re a good kid. Honest. You don’t do drugs, you don’t drink, you don’t stay out late, but what you do partake in is the act of sitting in your bedroom hunched over your desk and mindlessly scrolling. Dad says to let you be, mom is unable to stay out of your business, and she thinks you need to go outside more often. Fresh air is good for you! What she’s trying to say, essentially, stripped down to the simplest of terms, is that you’re a total loser. That her and dad were fucking, partying, shooting up in alleyways, all the shit that normal teenagers are supposed to be doing.

She forcibly packs your bags, all while you trail after her whining about how she can’t touch that— Don’t be so rough with that- No that’s not to throw out- No, Mom! I wear that all the time—

She threatens to take away Christmas presents, which at your age shouldn’t be so wounding, but you shut up right then and there. “Now,” Mom talks to you like you’re a baby still. You appreciate it sometimes, like now, when your body is wilting as she opens up the curtains, fragility is much appreciated. You fear the sunlight might turn your bones to dust. “Me and dad are going away.”

What— For Christmas, mom says. Where— A few states over, none that really concern you, might be a road trip for all you know. When— As soon as you’re gone. How, why, who— Mom doesn’t answer those, she’s exasperated by your rigorous questioning, by the way you wring your hands and slump when you sit. It’s awful, looks like you’ve got a hunchback forming.

“Why would you do this to me, mom?” You paw at her sleeve, she brushes you off. “Will you pick me up before Christmas? I don’t want to stay there, what if he doesn’t like me?”

“Grandpa’s fun,” She tells you, “He’s been asking about you.”

Liar. You’ve met grandpa a handful of times, and that was as a child. He doesn’t visit for any holidays and vice versa. Doesn’t even send a Christmas card, forgets to call his own daughter to wish her a happy birthday. Grandpa clearly enjoys his solitude and you firmly doubt he’d appreciate having a mopey teen around.

Grandpa’s nice. Grandpa’s sweet, he won’t bother you. Grandpa might need help in the mornings, I don’t want him to get hurt, he works too hard. Grandpa’s quiet, don’t worry about it, both of you are. You’ll get along fine!

No one told you grandpa was hot. Mom failed to mention he was a babe at, like, what? Seventy years old? Not quite, but you don’t remember him being this hot. Good grief. He’s not tall, but his bicep is the size of your face, and his hair is shaggy. A dull grey colour, shiny like gunmetal. When he takes your suitcase, his arm flexes and bulges outwards, you start to overheat, brain sizzling as you’re cooked under his cobalt gaze.

There’s an old pick-up outside his expansive farmhouse, a mailbox that’s in desperate need of another layer of paint, a wooden stable off in the distance that you doubt he uses - other than that it’s barren. This is true torture. Mom’s very own version of those camps they send out of control teens to. Your sneakers sink into the mud, as you walk the soles make that icky squishy sound, your socks are soaked for sure. He doesn’t take his boots off, tracks mud into the house and you recoil. Somebody needs to give grandpa etiquette lessons.

“Can you ask him for the wifi password?” You ask mom quietly, playing with your fingers as Grandpa Leon places your suitcase on the bottom step, grumbling about taking it up later, that you should’ve packed lighter.

“Dad, did you set up the router?”

“The what?”

“The router, broadband, so you can use the phone I sent you? For Christmas?” Mom’s frowning, hands on her hips as Leon waves her off.

“I got a landline.” He gestures to the telephone on the desk that sits pushed up against the wall of the entrance hall, you had to squeeze past it into the open-plan lounge. Rustic. Old. The ornaments that sit tucked between nooks and crannies remind you of the shit that gets sold for two cents in a yard sale.

“Dad, that’s not…” She shakes her head, pushes you forward, “Give grandpa a hug.”

Is this bitch serious? How old does she think you are? Nonetheless, you step forward, outstretched arms being met with hands that gently put them back by your side. Leon pats your head, his smile looks more like a grimace, a few of his teeth are fake - you can tell. Thank god they’re not dentures. You don’t know if you could deal with watching him popping them in and out, and what about kissing? The texture must be awful. Not that you’re going to kiss him. Your grandpa. It’s just the thought of course.

“Uh, you’re big now.” Leon notes, squints at you so hard the skin around his eyes gets wrinkled to the point where they sink into his face. Ew. You’re just lucky he doesn’t have that old person smell, and from what you’ve heard, grandpa’s capable of taking care of himself. No diapers, no IV tubes, no hourly medicine, nothing that you were afraid of happening. Putting you in charge of someone’s life would be a bad choice to put it simply. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“Dad, god,” Mom rubs her temples, “Nineteen, okay? Got that?”

“I was kidding,” Leon huffs, looking to the side in a brooding manner, he wasn’t kidding. He’s a bad liar like mom.

“Okay, just, please,” She has her fists clenched, biting the inside of her cheek, “I’ll be back for you before Christmas Eve, okay?”

“On Christmas Eve? That’s too late.” Grandpa has bad hearing it seems, or the inability to process whatever his child is saying as most men do.

“I said before, dad, before Christmas Eve,” Mom’s eyes almost pop out of her head, “Whatever, I have to go now, just behave for Grandpa, okay?” She does not have to go yet, she just wants to abandon you here, with no wifi— how will you be able to do anything, the panic hasn’t properly set in yet, you’re too busy pressing your hands to the glassy watching forlornly as mom gets into the car and speeds off so fast you hear her tires squeak. She really wanted to get rid of you. Dumping you with an old man who doesn’t even know your name. A hot old man, but you shouldn’t let your judgement be clouded so easily. And you shouldn’t talk about your grandpa like that.

“How you doing in school?” Grandpa’s question is said with so much disinterest you wonder why he tried to sound like he cares in the first place.

“I’m in college.” You say.

“Right.” Leon shrugs in a way that says worth a shot - at communicating with his basically estranged grandchild that is. “How’s college, good grades? Still gotta pay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, to all of it or none. And that’s that.

Staying with grandpa, you decide, is not the worst thing that could’ve happened to you. Going on vacation with your parents who are in desperate need of a fuck so they can stop arguing sounds worse now that you put it into perspective. The old man is quiet, mom was right about that, and he does his own thing. He let you set up the router, but in the middle of Bumfuck, USA, surrounded by flattened fields, connection isn’t the greatest.

Old photo albums end up being your main source of entertainment. Of your mom as a kid, of grandpa when he was sunflower blond and boyish, with all the beauty of a wild mare, long-faced and tow-headed, although not quite. Much softer, similar to that of raw linen, as if he was born from the rib of spring itself. From its newfound petals and holy lambs. You think it’s too poetic, pretentious even, that it gives grandpa too much credit for being blond and blue-eyed. Beneath Leon’s crushed nose you can see the former pretty boy that he once was. His eyes are the same, and his aged face is more rugged than it is handsome, that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. You think you like him better this way, as grandpa.

Among other things, you learn all sorts about grandpa, he doesn’t speak much, and when he does it’s hard to decipher - just kind of nonsensical grumbling that you can’t really make out. But you’ve done your own research. His bedroom door doesn’t shut fully, you noticed it one night on the way back from the bathroom and decided to take a peek. The setup of his bedroom mirrors the spare room you're sleeping in. His nighttime routine consists of taking a shot of whiskey and trying to get through a book that looks like it’s been sitting on his bedside cabinet for centuries. Leon gets through less than a single page and knocks out, mouth wide open as he snores. Loudly.

He never notices you. Or he pretends not to. Or he’s just senile. It might be wrong, that you know more than you’re letting on. Like what his dick looks like when it’s soft - heavy between his thighs, the skin is wrinkled but not to the point where his dick is unrecognisable. Still looks like a pretty solid dick. You know whether his nipples are pink or brown - brown obviously. Y’know, just the usual, what all grandkids should know about their grandads.

One night, you watch him silently through the gap, the only light that remains glowing is the lamp on his bedside. An ornate looking thing, beaded fringe that lines the shade, out of place in his otherwise barely furnished room. It bathes him in its warmth as he undresses, and you’re struck in the gut by this awful need. His body held up well, surprisingly firm for his age, god forbid he turns around you don’t want to catch sight of anything saggy and unholy. Firm muscle is softened by a layer of fat, making him thicker around the middle. The beer is finally catching up with him.

Grandpa sits back on his bed, with a soft groan he lifts his hips and takes off his boxers. There’s a terrible ache between your legs, throbbing and pulsing and downright nasty. His cock rests heavy on his thigh, the tip is fat and dark, uncut on the fat, you want to put your mouth on it. Never sucked dick before, never been inclined to suck one, but now you think it’s a matter of life and death. You need him down your throat or you’ll die due to neglect.

Why he wanders around the room naked and aimless for a good five minutes mystifies you, a sign of dementia maybe, great jerk off material though, so you don’t complain. Your hand rests on the doorframe as you rub yourself raw, he seems to remember what he was looking for and approaches the vintage chest of drawers, opening the first one to grab his pyjamas. They’re always in the same place, he’s forgetful and old you guess.

As your stomach lurches with the onset of your high, you make the mistake of stepping forward, clasping at the door knob to steady yourself as a wave of pleasure washes over you and leaves your legs shaky. Grandpa looks up, and he blinks at you standing there with your hand in your pants. He’s not quite as stunned as you expected him to be, and while you get ready to wing it back to your room - he half-smiles at you. Like he’s amused.

“You enjoy the show?” Grandpa raises a brow, he pats his lap, and you nod dumbly, legs working on their own as your brain tries to process the fact that he’s not reacting to this badly. “Think I didn’t see you, sweetheart?” Once you near him, he sits you down on his thigh, “You just gotta speak up and ask for things sometimes, then you’ll get ‘em.”

“I don’t… I’m sorry.” You don’t follow, clinging to his shoulders helplessly.

“Been a long time since I’ve done this, you gotta be nice to me, I can’t keep up with you.” Leon kisses the top of your head, that’s the most affectionate he's been since you’ve been here. The most you got out of him was a pat on the back so hard it knocked your organs out of place.

“Grandpa, wait,” The air is stolen from your lungs by a single sharp gasp as he takes your hand in his, the one that was previously down your pants, and sucks on your fingers. His tongue collects the slick that coats them, then he pulls off with a pop, lips wet with your pussy. “Wait, wait,” Your chest tightens, and you’re lightheaded.

“What?” Leon pays you no mind, he lifts your shirt over your head, there’s some struggle as you refuse to lift your arms for a moment. He gets his way, leaning down to take your peaked nipples into his hot mouth.

“It’s wrong.” You push at his head, resist the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair and bring him closer.

“Oh, ‘s wrong now?” Grandpa kisses you, his stubble scratches your cheeks and it feels so right. “Wasn’t wrong when you were getting off to me, was it?”

Spit trickles down your chin, he licks it up, kisses you once more, the excessive dribble finding its way back into your mouth. “That’s ’cause… Well, ‘cause I was…” You stammer, clasping at his chest, fingers tickled by the faint grey hairs that cover the expanse of it.

“‘Cause what?” He gives you more spit-slicked kisses till you shut up, growing dizzier by the second.

“Grandpa…”

His nose wrinkles, “That don’t sound right.” Leon mumbles, under his breath, but ‘cause he’s going deaf it's loud and you hear it. It’s more of an announcement.

“Papa,” You try as he thumbs your pout, the ghost of a smile lines his thin lips. He seems to like that.

Grandpa likes to kiss, he’s starved for affection probably, or he’s just a sentimental old man. You’re impatient and young, he knows that, so when he lays you down, caged by his big arms, Leon makes sure to slow it down even further. Watching you squirm brings him joy, you’ve never seen him smile like that. He kisses every inch of tender flesh, from the top of your head to your ankles.

When he finally parts your thighs to get to your centre, you let out a sigh of relief, body growing lax as he peels your underwear off. Practically glued to your cunt with how much you’ve leaked. Leon traces the shape of your puffy lips, his nose meets your clit first with a light bump. The touch has you reeling, hips lifting up in a jolty motion that makes him chuckle. He uses a single hand to pin you down, splayed over your stomach so he can eat you out without being bothered by your level of sensitivity.

A moment after the nudge of his nose comes his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen bud that has pleasure blooming in your gut. Then his tongue swipes along the seam of your cunt, catching on your clit, he parts your folds with his thumbs, catching every droplet that leaks from your drippy hole. Grandpa sucks on your clit like it’s a piece of hard candy, your thighs clamp shut around his head, he doesn’t seem to mind at all, taking the chance to nestle further into your pussy, tongue digging into your clenching hole all while his nose rubs against your clit.

He’s satisfied only when you are, when you cream on his tongue and he can taste it in the very back of his throat, only then does he pry your thighs apart. Emerging with the bottom half of his face covered in a sheen of your slick like he’s just been diving, you’re pretty sure he gave you carpet burn.

From then on, you begin to sleep in grandpa's room, you sit patiently on his lap while he watches black and white westerns dug up from the depths of who knows where. They’re slow paced and soon enough you find his hand cupping your pussy, grandpa gets you off on his fingers, he kisses your neck - but he doesn’t go any further, never gives you the dick that you crave so badly.

Mom calls a few times, not as many times as you would like her to call, but now that you and grandpa have bonded, it’s been easier to pass her off. You tell her there’s no need to pick you up, that you’re quite happy to stay with grandpa for the rest of the holidays, you don’t say that you’re ready to move in with grandpa and drop out of college to tend to his soft cock all day. Theoretically, if you did drop out of college, you think everything would be handled, surely by now he would’ve put his will in your name. It doesn’t sound all that bad. It sounds quite ideal actually. Sure, grandpa’s fussy about the thermostat, he might need dentures in a few years, but you’ve settled in so nicely. Like, all you’re trying to say is, grandpa’s a lonely guy - he could use your company till he’s sent off to a nursing home somewhere.

“I don’t want to go home,” You say into Leon’s neck, your hand sneaks downwards as the two of you lay in bed like you have been doing every night. “I wanna stay with you, grandpa.”

Leon’s brows knit together when you lift the waistband of his boxers, squeezing his soft dick in your warm palm. “Hey,” He warns lightly, there’s no real malice to it.

“Grandpa, I want you just once before I leave,” You palm him, he hardens albeit slowly, painfully slowly - he’s doing well though. No Viagra needed. You're so proud of him, he’s come a long way. The first few times you tried this his dick adamantly refuses to do more than hang limp.

“You can take me if you’ll have me.” Leon hums, and you don’t really know what that means. Feels like he speaks in tongues most of the time, that’s okay though. Not his fault, poor old man. You clamber onto his lap, dressed only in a sleep shirt for easy access, he guides his half-hard cock past your folds, the head stretching your little hole so well.

Your back arches so far he has to straighten your spine himself to keep you upright. Leon takes your wrists in one hand, bringing them behind your back and keeping you tied up like a rotisserie chicken. With some difficulty you manage to take him, both from the fact he’s still partly soft, slipping out more than a couple times, and ‘cause you’re so tense you keep pushing him out by mistake.

“Easy, sweetheart. Nice ‘n slow, don’t rush yourself.” Grandpa coos as your cunt stretches impossibly to accommodate his length. The tip rests snug in your cervix, jabbing at it painfully, and if it wasn’t for the thumb on your clit, soothing all discomfort, you’d be complaining. Grandpa’s cock doesn’t get any harder, but it doesn’t get any softer either. You start to think it might be his limit as you swivel your hips, grinding yourself down into him, the base of his cock splitting you open.

You ache to touch him, to lay against his chest and fuck your hips downwards onto him lazily. Grandpa insists on keeping you like this, he begins to rut into you from below, the thumb on your clit follows the same pace. “You’re too little, sweetheart,” Grandpa chides when he feels you tighten, “Going too fast for me.” The knot snaps, unravelling as warmth spreads through your limbs, makes your legs feel like jelly.

Grandpa takes longer, he doesn’t have much left in him, but you milk him dry till his cock is left sputtering. When he lets go of your arms, you allow yourself to slump down on his chest, kneading it with your hands. “That was okay.”

“Just okay?” Leon snorts, he pats your head like he did when you first met him.

“Just okay.” You confirm, hoping he can feel your smile, and that he knows it was more than okay.

#leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[findafight]

On the one-sided harringrove post- I feel it becomes infinitely funnier with bi steve. He likes men, just not Billy. Never Billy.

Oh yeah. When Billy fiiiirst comes to school with his music blaring Steve is head over heels for Nancy, so he might register that the guy with the Camaro and loud music has a good ass, but then billy opens his mouth and Steve is like "oh, no ass can make up for that personality." And continues with his life.

Just. Okay I like to project just a liiiiittle on Steve with him just. Not realizing his attraction to men isn't a straight thing. Like. Of course all straight people feel that way, you just kinda ignore it or don't do anything about it. So Steve is half way between being comfortable in his sexuality and being closeted to himself because buddy used Hawkeye Pierce as the blueprint of straightness.

So Billy is out here, wallowing in self hatred and internalized homophobia, hating Steve and wanting Steve and hating that he wants Steve and wishing Steve would pay attention to him enough for a hate fuck he can cry about later, and it's all very angsty. All the while Steve is just actually completely fine with thinking a dude is hot he's just got standards that include "not racist" "doesn't try to beat up kids" "hasn't made me blackout from head trauma"

Wait. Oh no. I feel an au coming on. Shit. Au where post S2 Robin hears piano coming from the band room after hours and is her curious self going "I must see who is this mysterious genius" and it's Steve. They get to talking and hanging out and all of a sudden Robin thinks they are actually good friends. Best friends. Somehow.

Cue them going to a band party together. Someone spikes their drinks with waayyyy more than they were expecting so they are blasted. Robin has to go pee but does not want to go alone so she drags Steve into the bathroom with her and makes him face away. He's like haha Woah you really had to pee. And she goes shut upppp and washes her hands but sits across from him. Steve smiles at her and gives her his speech about how amazing she is and how glad he is to be her friend (it is like March '85 so he is still not ready to get back out into dating yet). Robin tells him about Tammy. They sing. Someone slams the door open and kicks them out of the bathroom because there's a fuckin line.

They lay on the grass outside and look at the sky. Steve like. Caaaaasually mentions once having thought he was gonna marry Tommy when he was six and then realizing you just didn't do anything about those feelings and Robin's gotta shoot up going WHAT!! WHAAAT? Because it sounded like Steve coming out to her? Right after?? She came out to him??

And Steve is like yeah. Like you don't really have to? Easier to ignore it and flirt with girls who I like or think are hot. And poor Robin's brain is melting she's like please Steve I'm really drunk are you telling me you sometimes want to kiss boys? And he's like yes, obviously, everyone does. Just like everyone also wants to sometimes kiss girls. Except lesbians I guess who only want to kiss girls? And gay guys only want to kiss guy? Yeah that makes sense and straight people don't care but go for the opposite ya know?

Robin is like NO!! And calms down some and says "okay I'm telling you this because you are my friend and you just told me almost the same thing. Steve. I like girls and only like girls. That not a straight thing"

"yeah. You've said."

"but I am ninety nine percent positive that just because you like girls doesn't mean you're straight because you also like boys."

"what"

"yeah dude, I do not think this is a heterosexual experience you're describing. I'm not an expert but. Yeah.

"oh. Huh."

"yep."

"I definitely thought it was."

"your brain is so weird I'm still kind of obsessed with you."

"haha. Honestly I'm kind of obsessed with you. This is wild."

"well. At least I know you're stuck with me."

"ohhh nooooo whatever will I do with my best friend always around..."

ANYWAYS THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS is not in fact the stobin. It's actually that

Sometime probably in may, when Steve is ready to be on the dating scene again, he gets with Eddie. Robin is happy for him but also so mad because he went from "probably shouldn't act gay even tho everyone feels a little gay sometimes" to "hey Robin what would you say if I said I got a boyfriend?" In less than two months. How does he have straight AND gay game. That's not fair.

Steddie getting together is a non event. Eddie is still like ewww sports and yet somehow he made out with Steve Harrington and the next day Steve asked if he wanted to get milkshakes and throw rocks into the quarry to see the splashes. Eddie must restrain himself from thinking it's a date because he knows it's not but it'd also be the perfect date (Eddie is a simple man)

At the end of the night steve kissed his cheek and says "I had a really great time..."

Eddie just blurted "hey do you want to be my boyfriend?"

To which Steve perks up like "yes! I'd like that!"

And Eddie didn't actually think he'd get that far so he was like "neat!! See you tomorrow!" before slamming the door in Steve's face.

So they're dating and Eddie disparages sports but Steve is like haha aw you don't like watching me play? Which is sooo mean to Eddie because obviously?? He likes?? Watching his boyfriend??? Run around in tiny shorts and sometimes shirtless?? He has to reevaluate some things he supposes.

All while this is happening Billy is still on his Greatest Homoerotic Rivals shtick with Steve. Eddie notices and is like to dude...what is with Billy? And Steve just sighs. Says Billy is weird and obsessed with him and glares all the time. It's a whole thing. Billy is pissed because what is Steve, his epic rival, doing hanging around some random band geek, his sister's bitchass friends, and maybe the local dealer.

Alright. Grad happens. Yay Steve! Poor Eddie. They go to some party , hang out with people, sell some drugs, etc. Billy is unfortunately also at this party, and is like. Lazer eyes boring into Steve's back. Very annoying. At some point, he sees Steve slip away and is like this is my chance so he follows him.

Howmever he comes across Steve, his epic and totally heterosexual rival, making out with Eddie the freak Munson.

And listen this is a scary thing to be caught inna town like Hawkins, but that's not the point of this post.

So Billy goes "what the hell?"

They turn around. Billy is still spluttering.

"what are you-why would you-- with him?!" He says.

Steve raises his eyebrows, alllll cocky confidence. He smirks a bit. Drawls. "Well, yeah. I like cock, billy. Just not yours."

Because the point of this post is that Steve is a bitch.

Thank you.

#steve Harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #steddie #anti harringrove #lol anon you got me rambling. #stranger things #robin buckley #findaanswers #finda writes stuff #anonasaurus #anti billy hargrove #tagging for both i guess hoo boy #didnt think itd turn up in the billy tag because thats the eighth tag so i guess my bad! #it was for organization and tag blocks #billy Hargrove

[elliesflower]

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words. 

One big problem. 

What is it?

“Is this the end?” 

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it. 

“This can’t be the end…” 

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void. 

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window. 

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right. 

Movie. 

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap. 

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words. 

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure. 

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.” 

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it. 

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head. 

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry. 

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way. 

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining. 

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost. 

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you. 

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie. 

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too. 

“I love you…” 

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

#ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou pt 2

[ch6douin]

> Dᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ. — IDV! SELF AWARE AU (5)

i love this au but i cannot bring myself to do anything other than brainrot every single day. i would love to hear brainrots, feedbacks or anything related to this au in my askbox, so feel free to mark your presence there.

cw: obsessive behavior; mentions of feeling/being watched; romantic someway; religious behavior; idk what else

Fiona loved the mystic. That's something not so surprising as she was given the title of a Priestess. She swore upon the Lakeside Village to adore the one and only Yog Sothoth, to be worthy of his blessings.

But she's incapable of escaping from this manor and honoring his name properly, incapable of escaping from you.

She knows you, to a certain extent because of the gossip and whispers around the survivors but you know her all too well, every single flaw and trait. Her devotion to Yog Sothoth didn't budge at that time, since at the end of the day, Fiona did not acknowledge you.

Skepticism could be her middle name, scripted to be deep into her heart, protecting it from any dangers. But you sneaked in, clueless of your effect on her. And so suddenly, her offerings to Yog Sothoth lacked sincerity.

She doesn't want to...be like this, be indecisive, she always criticized one for such weakness. But every time she thinks about choosing between you and the eldritch god, she is sent into a spiral of sentiments and beliefs, and anxiety settles deep within her bones. You're taking up too much space inside her, and she can't do anything besides hope that you give her enough room for breathing.

Yog Sothoth's presence is cold as ice and almost frightening, it is something Fiona thought that she was used to it. But she got way too comfortable with the feeling of your unique presence, safe as the embrace of a lover. It makes her dizzy, her heart is filled with tenderness but her brain tugs on it like a warning. Sometimes, it makes her sick in the stomach to sense that she failed to do something simple as to follow one god.

Little by little, her makeshift shrine with tons of trinkets for the ancient god is emptied. The overwhelming amount of items almost spilling out from the shrine are nowhere to be seen. Her loud murmurs from her requests to "Hastur" that every survivor could hear when passing by her door (which for a curious motive, is filled with thick locks and chains) are nothing now but a faint whisper of your name, so silent and soothing as if she is afraid to startle you or make you annoyed by her wishes. But did you hear her prayers? You must have, she likes to believe you do. That's the only explanation for her wardrobe full of luxurious clothes and accessories, silky materials that she would never even dream about touching.

She dreams of you, every night. It must be because she thinks about you almost all the time, but she fools herself into thinking it's you infesting her dreams despite the mindset being incredibly irrational. And every time you appear, her brain creates an individual that could only be described as breathtaking, because any idea that Fiona had about your appearance however you looked like was nothing short of ethereal, divine. She would kneel and worship you regardless of people's opinions.

The others be damned. They never gave her such a strong feeling.

And may you also give her enough patience to not wrap her fingers around that Mercenary's throat—when he stands with a look of nonchalance and crossed arms as if he didn't fuck up everything. She couldn't care less about the hint of regret in his sharp eyes, and she started blinking fast as if to dissipate the sudden urge to pounce on him. But you wouldn't want that, would you? After all, you graced him with your presence more times than one could count with their hands, even if his mouth was always kept shut, she knows because there was nothing that could justify his fidgety behavior when the subject was you.

"Any explanations for your foul behavior, Mr.Subedar?" Just like him, her arms are folded tightly on her chest as she spits out her words, cutting through the palpable tension in the room. And by the way he looks at her through the corner of his eye, she really has the impression of not even deserving his attention.

"It's simple, I don't trust them." Indeed, a simple and short answer followed by his thick accent doesn't satisfy Fiona that much. But that's just Naib Subedar, the mercenary is always stubborn and will feed you nothing but crumbles of information until you go crazy for good.

"Oh for god's sake. You don't trust anyone, Subedar." She sighs heavily, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. "The day you do, pigs might fly!" The woman walks around the dimly lit room with impatience, and he remains still as a statue. Aside from a twitch of his brows and a brief glare, there is no reaction to her words.

"Who I trust or not is none of your business, Gilman. Just like you being an obsessive freak with this person, if we can even call them that, has nothing to do with me." He is good at pretending to not be fazed as if he didn't experience goosebumps all over his body five minutes ago when he could finally hear your voice clearer than ever. And when the thought of how you looked from the other side of the screen went through his head for a fleeting second, he swears his heart rate did not increase. Why do you have this effect on him? On everyone? You were able to swoon the hearts of even the most reserved men and women in this manor, you even made him feel somehow special initially.

Emma plants flowers that you might like, Frederick and Antonio create tunes and songs inspired by you, Demi has confessed her admiration for you countless times in her drunken state—Hell, Naib is sure that he had a glimpse of Edgar Valden himself stressing over a painting and mumbling how he 'just had to see you in person, his lost muse'.

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud groan. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that for the sake of our partnership." He had hit a nerve, didn't he? It's written all across her face, eyebrows furrowed, lips in a firm line, eyelids twitching...It almost brings a smile to his lips how worked up she got. His eyes trail down to her hands for no particular reason, they are gripping her robe tightly in between her fingers.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night.." His mouth has a small pout of indifference as he shrugs, heavy boots accompany him when he walks away to finally leave and have some rest. There is nothing that he wants more than to forget about all of this for at least a few hours, that is if he doesn't end up having you appear in his dreams and waking up with wide eyes filled with evident embarrassment. Maybe he wasn't so different from the other survivors and hunters...

Twisting the doorknob and looking up through his eyelashes, much to his dismay, a person that he knows all too well stands proud. With his black and white clothes, it's Luca Balsa in the flesh. Even with the shaky postman wiping away his tear-smudged cheeks behind the prisoner's back like a shadow, his toothy grin never faltered. He must be sure of himself if he still remains unperturbed by the problems ahead. Naib steps away to give them enough space to enter the room and then vanishes without a word, not before noticing how the postman's irises followed him till he was no longer within eye's reach. If Naib was able to gain the hate of someone so calm, he indeed might be a jerk.

It doesn't take long for Luca to speak up. "Long short story, an unexpected error happened, and now no one knows how to turn it on without my help?" He's casual with it, maybe overconfident in his abilities as an inventor but some optimism was very much needed right now. After all, he should not disappoint in their pursuit to contact you!

There's a short silence, followed by the loud crack of his knuckles as he takes a long stride towards the machine. "Alright, this might take some time. I recommend for you two to take a break and have a little debate with the others in the main hall. Everyone is starving for good news."

OBS: When Fiona mentions "luxury clothes" she's referring to the A/S tier costumes from the game.

naib wants u so bad bro 🤨 a lot of characters may appear next chapter but of course half of it may be a little more luca centered, and maybe if i make it long enough we will come back to reader's pov😆

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #self aware au #idvselfaware #idv mercenary #idv priestess #idv postman #idv prisoner #identity v naib #victor grantz x reader #luca balsa

[copperbadge]

Having ADHD and Being A Little Punk Rock

So....a huge amount of the discourse on Tumblr around neurodiversity generally is just venting. Which is good, it’s good to vent and Tumblr is a good place for it. And I know that often, when venting, the LAST thing you want to hear is someone trying to offer help or solutions. So generally I keep my mouth shut unless someone is speaking to me specifically. 

But a while back I saw someone asking (rhetorically) about what people with ADHD wish their parents had known, and I had a lot of thoughts about that which I started jotting down. Reading the various ADHD tags, I also see a lot of teens and twentysomethings with ADHD who visibly have no coping mechanisms and no way of creating them. I don’t blame the kids, and it’s not some kind of personal failing on their part; they’re young, and nobody has taught them. But I look at them and I think, A little sideways thinking would help you out so much. Then, recently, I got an ask (thank you for the permission not to respond directly) that was full of feelings about not being able to process or communicate well, and feeling a lot of negative emotions because of it. 

So, maybe it’s time to just throw this out there. I want to offer some advice as Fandom Dad with forty-three years of being neurodiverse and exactly seven months of actually being aware I was neurodiverse. Which for once is actually going to be pretty helpful! Because I looked at the world and I assumed my own neurotypicality and I thought, well, okay, but fuck all that.

Allow me to explain.  

I think this can apply to a number of ways in which people are neurodiverse, but I have ADHD so that’s what I’m really speaking to here. With ADHD, there’s medication, and I strongly urge people to explore that option because medication is awesome when it works. But there’s also a lot out there about how to try harder, or trick yourself into doing something in a very neurotypical way, or use systems that may not work for you. I know; I tried some too, and the sense of failure, the sense of being an ongoing failure, is terrible. So I want to offer an alternative which has helped me a great deal, and may help other people with ADHD, particularly younger people. 

People of any age, but especially young people who have ADHD, should be made aware that it’s okay to suck at things, to struggle, and to fail. Even if you think you should be good at something, even if everyone around you thinks so too, it’s okay to just be garbage at it and to acknowledge that fact. But just saying “well I’m dumb and can’t do this” of course isn’t actually helpful, and harms you a great deal, because you are a living person with feelings and if you’re self-aware enough to notice, you’re also too smart to be calling yourself dumb. Acknowledging that you’re bad at something, and even acknowledging that you’d like to succeed at it, is only part one of figuring life out.

Part two is deciding what to do about it, and more importantly, how. 

I was always told I was smart, but I was told “You’re smart so you should be able to do this”, not “You’re smart, so let’s come up with a way around this.” I don’t think many people are encouraged to explore why they are bad at something, to understand their own brains and thought processes which cause them to struggle.

Decades before I knew I had ADHD, I had to figure out that one of life’s most important skills is not being able to creatively solve problems but to recognize when you have to. Anyone can sit around and come up with three or four ways to solve a problem, but it’s not actually often taught that you should also be aware of when this is needed. Often, when faced with a problem that is difficult to solve, we’re taught that our reaction should be the socially approved “I just need to try harder”. Sometimes that’s true, but usually it’s not.  

More often, when we feel that instinct, especially as people with ADHD, we should say instead, “I’m not going to try harder, that’s bullshit. I’m trying already. I’m going to find another way to solve this problem.” Trying harder doesn’t work, after all, when your own brain is fighting you.

So you stop and think, if there were no rules to the world, how could I do this? You don’t have to work smarter; a lot of my solutions could reasonably be described as “work dumber”. The point is to work differently in a way that helps you specifically. 

Stop trying to remember to take your keys when you leave the house and get a lanyard and hang them on the doorknob; if you lose them a lot, hang the lanyard around your neck when you leave the house. 

Stop pretending you’ll remember to scoop the litterbox every night and set an alarm that tells you to do it. Or don’t, that works for me but might not for you! Maybe you have to put the litterbox somewhere you’ll see it right before bed (I ALSO do this for the days I turn off the alarm and then promptly forget it happened). 

There are phone charging cords in every room of my home so that I never run down my phone battery, something that is mildly inconvenient to have happen but deeply anxiety-inducing to think about for me. And now I never worry.

The point is, don’t ask how you can do better at something, ask how you can make something easier for you.

Even rewiring your brain to ask the question is a learned skill, though. You have to consciously stop when you find something is fighting you and consciously think, how can this be easier for my specific brain? If we assume I am not stupid but am in fact fighting an invisible monster, how do I make the monster visible? 

Life became roughly 60% easier for me when I started thinking this way. Of all the tips for time management and list making and organizing and de-organizing you can try and implement, none of that is necessary if you know how to ask yourself, “How do I do this differently?” and come up with alternatives that suit your brain. 

Especially with neurodivergence, there’s no “one size fits all” when it comes to handling it, neurologically or emotionally. So I think that it’s important to be a little bit punk rock. Not necessarily in the way of defying authority but in the way of defying convention -- the ability to say “fuck you” to the Way Things Are Done and do one’s own thing is very liberating and healthy. You lose a lot of the benefits of creative problem solving if you’re also ashamed of the solutions. So I think the best trick I know of to succeed despite unmedicated ADHD is just to say “fuck you, there must be an easier way to do this.” 

I’m garbage at cleaning my home (I can say that because I’m not only calling myself garbage, I’m using “I’m bad at this” as a stepping stone to solving the problem, and then I no longer feel like garbage and can joke about it with a healthy ego). I vacuum regularly and do the dishes and such but like...I don’t scrub the floors or dust or wash out the bathtub. That’s part of why I do November Cleaning -- so that at least once a year those things, that I never want to do but always think I should do, get done, but only have to be done once and at a specific designated time. So now if the bathroom floor is a bit grimy in the corners I just think, “Ah -- that’s for November” and add it to my November Cleaning list. 

For my friend who struggles with communication, which is something I also used to really struggle with (and still do in some ways), one of my “make stuff easier” techniques for this was simply to...tell people.

“Hey, I tend to talk really fast when I get excited, so please tell me if I need to slow down.” 

“Sorry, I have some hearing issues, I may ask you to repeat something -- it’s fine just to do it slower, I don’t need louder.” 

“I’m upset and struggling, I need a minute.” (or even just “Hey where’s the bathroom?” so you can sit quietly for a moment and gather your thoughts. If you’re too upset to talk, it also helps to type them out, which I often do.) 

If someone tells me something I want to remember, I’ll get out my phone and say “Sorry, I’m still listening, but I want to write that down so I won’t forget it.” I do all my writing-things-down in Google Tasks, then once I’m somewhere quiet and private I review the notes and move stuff that isn’t actually “to do” to another list. Sometimes I’ll tell someone “I’m so sorry, you just said something and I totally missed it, but it’s important to me -- can you repeat it?” 

Most people find that kind of honesty, where you’re open about why you’re maybe talking at cross-purposes, really charming. It indicates that you think they are important, and you’re putting in effort to hear what they’re saying and respond to it thoughtfully.  

I hope this is helpful in finding ways around some basic problems, rather than through them -- that being able to stop and think “This could be easier -- how?” is something that people can internalize and make use of. Going around a mountain rather than through it might look like it’ll take more time and energy, but it beats trying to punch through granite the whole way there. 

#sam has adhd

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Please do yandere!delinquent with deaf!reader who's not so bothered by her condition and actually enjoys her alone time. She's also always up to something extrovert-activity like volunteering in orphanages and old age homes. Helping at exhibitions, something that always includes social interaction. She's people's person but not people pleaser (lmao). Yan delinquent works in 7/11 as well so add a cute interaction b/w them please

-🌼

Yandere! Male! Delinquent x Volunteer! Classmate! Fem! Reader

Welcome to the 2nd set of Lizzaneia's 16 yandere OCs! Your support has been so gracious, and I'm utterly surprised by how far we've come. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Let's start this off with 🌼 anons' request, one of my consistent supporters throughout the months (´；ω；｀)

I kind of struggled how to show the yan side, so forgive me.

Yan! Delinquent name: Liam

Liam has been sent to the guidance office again.

He sighed, leaning back to his chair and started to blow raspberries on his lips. Boredom soothing his brain as he tried to think of anything other than the fact that he'll be late to his job again. His manager will probably scold him again, and he has no choice but to swallow back insults he wishes to throw.

After all, it was his fault in the first place.

Who in their right mind brings cigarettes to Uni? He seriously just wants a stress reliever from being sandwiched between midterms and his job. But once he got to a quiet and remote place to smoke, who knew a professor would also be smoking there?

"Bitch." Liam whispered under his breath, remembering how the professor started pointing fingers that he shouldn't smoke, that it's bad for your health, that it violates school rules, bla bla bla he speaks so much for a person who also smokes.

Although, he's not gonna land in this office if he just shut up. But Liam's temper got to him, and he blurted:

"stop talking, tar bags for lungs. Why are you still alive, smoking a pack and looking like a skeleton about to steal my skin?"

Let's just say that the professor blew his top and dragged his ass here, by the ear and all.

Liam buried his face on the desk, contemplating about his life.

He's always been the troublemaker. His mouth, nonstop, started fights more than stop them. That meant that there's a high percent chance that he'll be in a physical altercation with a person he's talking with.

This made Liam quite the delinquent also. Since he can't really connect with people that well, he decided to double down and be a public enemy.

He also didn't grow up with parents. He's only living by himself in a small apartment with the money that his parents left him, and works part time in a 7/11 with an understandably pissed manager.

Liam sighed.

"I'm just gonna go to sleep..."

But, when Liam was about to go to sleep, the classroom door opened and his head snapped up.

And his eyebrow quirked up.

There you are. In the school uniform, bringing a stack of papers (probably midterm exams) to the professor who was facilitating detention.

But what caught his eyes were a small, almost a Bluetooth earphone looking mechanic attached to your left ear.

"ah, y/n. Thank you for delivering the papers." The professor signed while talking to you.

Filled with curiosity, Liam looked up to you and saw you smile. Your dainty fingers started signing back, but you were also mouthing the sentence you wish to say. Subtle muted syllables of the words sometimes coming out of your mouth.

"no problem, sir. I'm glad to be of help." You ended the conversation with a polite smile before you straightened up. Your eyes looked to him, and blinked in surprise.

In an almost shy gesture, you gave a small wave to him with a cute tilt on your head. Your smile, small yet comforting, refried Liam's brain.

A slow blink, and a sharp inhale of breath made Liam wave back.

He swore he saw pink roses around you.

"what the fuck, why are you so beautiful?"

The professor coughed loudly, choking on his own saliva.

Meanwhile, you only tilted your head. You're still not that good with lipreading, and Liam's expression didn't help either.

So, you thought he just said hi or something.

Getting awkward, you bowed before shuffling outside.

Liam felt frozen in his seat, but also heated up.

You're so fucking cute in his eyes.

He wants to see you more now.

Which class are you in?

God, he hopes you were on the same class. He does not remember the faces of his classmates anyways so there's a high chance you were with him.

And as Liam daydreamed about you, the professor only looked at Liam with the outmost dumbfounded face.

"So you're here."

"?"

You looked up and saw a familiar, frowning face.

With a wave, you smiled at him.

"Hi Liam." You signed out, your voice also sounding out his name.

Liam almost doubled over from the adorableness.

He can't believe he heard his name come out of your lips. Your lips!

On the outside, Liam frowned deeply and scratched his head.

"Hi." He replied back flatly. Absolutely not betraying his own mind.

You knew he just said hi, so you chuckled and took out your phone. With a quick type, you showed him the message you wish to convey.

"Why are you here in the orphanage?"

Liam flinched, not knowing what to reply.

What? Should he freak you out by saying he followed you here?

You were his classmate after all. So why is Liam here also?

It's just that, Liam wants to spend time with you more. Get to know you more.

Liam gulped, and grabbed his phone to type his reply and showed it to you.

"ah... Decided to volunteer too."

You smiled brightly, and Liam swore once more he was blinded momentarily.

Is this what heaven looks like?

You guided him inside the orphanage. And immediately, children looked up to Liam and he jumped from the sudden attention being placed to him.

One child hid behind the other, one looked away, one tilted their head. But one bravely went up to Liam and you, clumsily signing while saying the word.

"friend?" The child asked, a hopeful face sat on his visage. Liam nodded with a small, twitchy smile. It's been a while since he did.

As if on cue, the children grinned, ran up to Liam, and started pulling him to play with them.

A small giggle came out of your lips as you watched Liam getting dragged by the children, watching them with a warm-hearted chest.

All throughout the day, Liam got to know you better.

Despite being deaf, you didn't let it hinder your spirit. You love to volunteer left and right in different organizations, wanting to help the community.

Are you making Liam fall harder for you? He's almost like a melted puddle just watching you from afar.

Although, jealousy burns within him as he tried to ignore the way you gave attention to other people. Especially men.

You appreciated how the school delinquent is apparently just a big softie (it's because of you). He's actually nice and friendly, also generous and playful (once again, it's because of you). You didn't understand why people don't like him.

He's misunderstood.

You also misunderstood his intentions because of it.

Whenever Liam had the chance, he would get close to you. Asking you to teach him sign language, what's not to do when talking with a deaf person, etc.

He wishes to know more about his future wife, after all.

He, as wrong as it sounds, thank the gods sometimes for your deafness.

You won't be offended by the shit he spew out from his mouth by how loose it is.

You won't be hurt.

You won't accidentally take what he said the wrong way.

And because of it, Liam has a strong, strong desire to protect you.

He can't let the others' voices reach your vision.

He just can't.

The bell rang from having the doors open.

"Welcome to 7/11... Y/N." Liam paused, seeing you in the wild. And inside the store he's doing his part time in.

His lips twitched. What luck.

You jumped in surprise when you finally saw Liam.

"Liam!" You said as much as your voice could. And it was enough to make Liam shiver once more.

"Can I help you, Y/N?" Liam signed out while mouthing, a relaxed look on his face.

Liam's a fast learner, immediately learning how to sign. You were thoroughly amazed, showering him with praises. Liam was also sure it was his deathbed at that time, his heart pounding through his chest as warmness and desire course through him while you praised him.

All you need to do is call him good boy really.

"oh nothing." You shook your head. Your hands gently signing out words, a sign of fatigue. "I just want a pick me up."

Liam grinned, going out from his counter as he got to you and held your hand gently. He gave a head tilt and a boyish smile.

And that made your heart flutter.

This didn't go unnoticed by Liam.

"Come on, I have recommendations." Liam guided you to the corner isle, where refreshments and microwavable foods are.

With your choice of meal done, he microwaved it, payed for the food (much to your dismay, you want to pay it for yourself but Liam insisted on paying), and let you eat on the tables area on another corner.

When Liam is about to return to the counter, his manager appeared with a smirk on his face.

Here we go again.

"hah. Didn't know a troublemaker like you would get a girlfriend." The manager said, looking at you eat.

Liam didn't refute his allegation.

"So what? I love her, and she loves me." Liam huffed, suddenly getting protective. He doesn't like how his manager leered at you.

"hey! Little lady! Your boyfriend here is a fucking lazy bum!" The manager yelled, but you didn't react, only continued to look down and eat, lost in your own world. "Huh? Excuse me!"

Didn't help also that you were far from them.

"what the fuck?"

"she's deaf, you sackbag of useless meat."

The manager's eye twitched, hearing another insult pouring out of Liam's mouth.

"deaf you say? Well, at least she can't hear the colorful shit coming out of your mouth." The manager taunted, before his eyes glinted in cruelty. "Don't deaf people have weird voices? Like nasally sounding or something?"

Liam's smirking face slowly twitched to a frown, and a face filled with anger.

"so, if the both of you fuck, won't you get disgusted by how... Fucking weird she will sound?" The manager laughed loudly. "Agh~ Ahn!"

The manager moaned out, exaggeratedly mimicking a stereotyped and insulting voice.

Liam felt like boiling hot water courses through his veins as he grabbed the manager and pushed him violently to the staff room.

He was seeing red.

His eyes wide with anger as he started to beat the shit out of the manager.

Anger rose through him like a bursted pipe, spewing out thick, unbridled rage.

Blood pumping through his fast beating heart, his mind numbed out what he's doing.

The manager can't just insult you like that.

He's a piece of shit.

You're a lovely person.

You don't deserve to be insulted like that.

He deserves to...

Liam dazedly backed away, blood dripping from his fist as he watched the manager twitch and lay on the floor.

Crimson blood pooled from his mouth, gargling just one step away from death. His eyes, shot wide with fear, looked at him with a shaky consciousness.

Liam numbly went to the comfort room to wash away the blood, change uniform, and apply perfume to remove the ironic smell after dragging the manager to the furthest corner of the staff room.

He went outside the room, and saw you just scroll your phone with a smile.

He approached you gently, his rage subsiding.

"Liam!" You said.

The manager was lying, your voice is as sweet as the morning dewdrop dropping down to the ground.

"Hey, you finished?"

You nodded with a gentle smile once more.

"Yes. Then, I'll get going! I just waited for you to come back. It's kind of rude to suddenly just... Disappear." You signed out, now enthusiastically as you already replenished your energy.

Liam's face contorted to a sheepish smile. He wants to spend time with you more.

Maybe...

Liam huffed and grabbed your hand softly.

Gently mimicking the sign to the word date, before releasing.

"I've always liked you, Y/N. Your spirit, your kindness, goodness, and just... You." Liam slowly signed out, confessing to you. Your eyes were wide, a blush settling on your cheeks. "I've always admired you, and... I want to ask you out on a date. My treat, don't worry."

You gasped, tears settling your eyes before nodding with a big grin.

Liam's sheepish smile turned to a grin as he grabbed your waist and spun you around, both of your laughters filling the air.

Liam settled you down, helping you fix your clothes.

"Wednesday?" He asked once more, and you agreed before waving goodbye to Liam.

With you gone, Liam screamed.

"YES!" He jumped around, danced, and wriggled from the butterflies going haywire in his stomach.

When he settled down, he went back to the staffroom and saw that the manager finally died. Even if he was Liam's first kill, he didn't feel bad, just a coldhearted 'good riddance.'

Now, how to get rid of this fucker?

Meh. Liam somehow knew he would be alright.

Nobody insults you.

And if somebody does again,

He would gladly put them down.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #lizzaneiaelizalde

[fandomxpreferences]

Reunion In the Rain

Pairing: Ex!JJ Maybank x female!Reader (both over 18)

TW:18+, smut, angst, radioactive levels of toxicity (seriously JJ and Reader are terrible in this lol), cheating, I think thats it

Summary: You and JJ never really got over each other, and you handle it in the worst way possible.

Word Count:2.5k

A/N: listen I know jj would never but I had to get this out of my head

Sleep doesn't come easily these days and like many nights recently, you find yourself staring up at the ceiling as the snoring next to you grates your nerves. You should be happy; your life is perfect by all accounts on the surface. 

You're with a man who loves you and takes care of you, working is a thing of the past, and you're comfortable. Despite all that, you'd throw it away in a heartbeat if you could go back to the way things were. 

You mull over the idea for a few minutes before saying fuck it. Your movements are slow and calculated as you shift the down comforter, stopping every few seconds to make sure your boyfriend is still asleep. 

Once you're free from the shackles of his arms, you creep towards the door on the balls of your feet and peel it open silently before moving toward the kitchen. You lean on the island and sigh, really debating your next move. 

You know it's a bad idea, he probably won't even answer. That doesn't stop you from pulling out your phone and scrolling your contacts. You stop directly at his name, your thumb seeming to use muscle memory as it presses call before you can torture yourself anymore. 

The line rings a few times and you're about to admit defeat and hang up when you hear him speak.

"Y/N? It's almost two am, why are you calling? Is everything okay?"

You're suddenly at a loss for words; you didn't think you'd get this far. Everything comes rushing to the surface at once; familiar love and heartache swirling around your heart and choking the life out of you. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell his cologne; a stark contrast from the suffocating scent of the man upstairs.

"Y/N? Did you mean to call?"

Confusion laces his voice and you force yourself to speak, willing your brain to work. 

"Shit, yeah. Yeah, I meant to call, JJ."

It's all you can muster at the moment and your chest squeezes like a vice when you hear him sigh. You can imagine him running his hands through his blonde bed head and for a split second, it's as if you're sitting next to him having one of your late-night talks like nothing has changed at all.

"It's kind of hard to talk right now, Y/N."

His voice is a hushed whisper, and you know it's because she's sleeping a few feet away from him, the same way you used to. 

"Yeah, no. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying that he can't hear the way your voice shakes or your small sniffles. But this is JJ we're talking about; even over the phone and after nearly a year apart he still knows you like the back of his hand. 

"Why are you crying, cupcake?" 

It's a slip of the tongue, you know that. JJ has never been good about keeping his composure when it comes to you. Still, the old nickname causes your hand to fly up to your mouth as you attempt to stifle a sob.

"I just miss you."

You know you sound pathetic, but you can't bring yourself to care as you talk to the man that has always held your heart in the palm of his hand. It's silent for a beat and you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head before he speaks again. 

"It's good to hear your voice. Sometimes I wish it was you sleeping next to me."

You swallow thickly, suppressing the urge to go to him even though it would cause more issues than you can count. 

"Do you ever dream of me? I don't sleep much anymore because every time I do, it's just memories of us."

You know he's in just as much pain as you, everything about this conversation and the situation as a whole is unfair. 

"Every night."

There's a moment of silence and you hear shuffling on the other end as he slips out into the hallway. 

"Does he know you're talking to me?"

It's a fair question, and it causes guilt to eat at you when you're reminded of the clueless man still sleeping upstairs. 

"No, lord knows that would cause a fight. Does she know you're talking to me?"

You already know the answer, and yet you ask anyway. 

"No. She's out cold."

You purse your lips and nod even though he can't see you, and revel in the comfort of just having him breathing in your ear. 

"JJ.."

Your voice is slow and thick like molasses, exhaustion and tears forcing you to speak at a more relaxed cadence than usual. You vaguely register a thump as his head hits the wall behind him, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Don't say my name like that. You're making it really difficult to think straight."

Your lip quirks slightly at the fact you still have as much effect on him as he does you before it drops again. 

"I'm sorry."

Your voice is barely audible, but JJ hears loud and clear. 

"It's okay."

You shake your head from side to side and it drops down, your hair hanging in your face as you stare at the counter.

"No, JJ. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the way things ended, for the fact we can only talk in secret. I'm just- I'm sorry. I never wanted to say goodbye."

Your words hang heavy in the air, like an anvil ready to crush you both at any second. You frown when you hear him chuckle to himself and prepare yourself for the worst. 

"I guess neither of us really moved on, huh?"

You suck in a breath, taken aback by his response as your mind reels. 

"No, I guess not. Yet, we won't do anything about it."

It's sad but it's true. You're too scared and he's too stubborn; it's part of the reason the relationship ended in the first place. 

"What if we did? What if we've both grown up and it's the right time, now?"

You ponder his words, unsure if he really means them. 

"If it was the right time would we be hiding in the dark in the middle of the night just to talk?"

You hear him suck his teeth, and you can imagine the pensive expression on his handsome features. 

"Maybe not."

You nod to yourself, secretly disappointed he didn't try harder to convince you. 

"I should probably let you get back to bed." 

Your voice is watery as a fresh round of tears starts, and you try your damndest to hold in your sobs until he hangs up. 

"Yeah, probably. Goodnight, Y/N."

You try to ignore the underlying reluctance in his voice, aware that he doesn't want this to be the end either. Against your heart's wishes, you let him go again. 

"Night, JJ."

The second you hear the line click, your knees give out and you collapse into a heap of tears and sorrow on the marble floor. Little do you know, JJ slides down the wall and curls into himself, mirroring your disheveled state. 

The two of you fall apart, together yet apart, before clambering back to your significant others who are none the wiser. Two people, deeply in love yet pushed apart by cruel circumstances, dreaming of each other next to the ones they can't love. 

Despite your best efforts, you just can't sleep. The tears won't stop streaming down your cheeks, and your breathing is far too ragged to feel anything resembling calm. 

You're debating throwing away everything when the decision is made for you. Your phone vibrates next to you, and you scowl as you pick it up. It's nearly three now, who on earth would be texting this late?

Meet me at the docks

There are only about five seconds between your mind registering the words, and your feet carrying you out of the room. There are simultaneously no thoughts and a million thoughts racing through your mind as you grab your keys and start toward your old meeting place. 

You're on autopilot as you take the familiar route and slam the gear into park as soon as you arrive. You don't even shut your door as you stand at the start of the wood planks, staring down the man you're willing to risk everything for. 

He looks ethereal with the moonlight casting a glow on him, and you both stand in place, seemingly trying to figure out of this is real or not. 

You don't even register that you forgot your shoes until your feet are slamming into the weathered wood beneath you, sprinting towards JJ as if your life depends on it.

In a way it does.

You realize at some point that it started storming, the rain stinging your skin and plastering your hair to your forehead. You don't care one bit, too focused on the man who has now broken out into a jog toward you. 

His arms are already open when the two of you collide, your body wrapping around his instinctively as his broad arms envelop you. You're both crying now, a feeling of home washing over you for the first time since you walked away from each other.

Everything else is forgotten, the two people waiting for you at home nowhere in your mind. You both know this is wrong but if that's truly the case, why does it feel so right?

The second your skin touches his, your only thought is fuck the consequences.

Your lips smash against his, rainwater and tears mingling on your tongues. Your hands tangle in his hair, one of his hands supporting your thigh and the other one gripping the back of your neck as he holds you against him.

It's a messy clash of teeth and strangled moans, the two of you lost in the moment. You don't realize you left your phone in the car, or maybe you would have seen the notification someone logged in to find my iPhone from your computer, followed by a string of text messages. 

Where are you?

Baby??

Are you with him?

Maybe if you weren't so enamored with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood body wash mixed with weed or the way JJ's fingertips are digging into your flesh, you would have heard the tires crunching gravel and slamming doors.

Maybe JJ would have peeled his eyes open for just long enough to see your boyfriend fuming with his girlfriend ready to kill right behind him. He had called JJ's number, only to hear a woman's voice pick up the phone.

However, you'll never know because the two of you stay glued together in the pouring rain, wandering hands and bruising kisses muddling your senses. 

The two of them watch silently as JJ sets you down, only getting a second of reprieve as they let themselves think it's over. It's quickly ripped away when the blonde's hands slip under your shirt, guiding it up and over your head. 

You let him, too desperate for him to care that you're in public. They watch frozen as you do the same, your mouth attaching to JJ's throat as his head falls back in bliss.

Once your fingers start working on his belt, they return to the car and speed off, unable to stomach any more.

You and JJ are completely oblivious to what just happened, still too caught up in one another as he bends you over the railing. You breathe a sigh of relief as he slips into you, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you in place while his other hand grips your throat. 

It's fast and rough, both of you chasing your ends and gasping into the night. 

"Shit I missed this. Missed you."

Your only response is a sharp whine when he hits the spot that only he can reach, and you tumble over the edge. He's not far behind, and you clench around him when his throaty groan fills your ear.

The two of you separate, struggling to put your sopping wet clothes back on, and look at each other. The reality of what you just did slams into both of you like a freight train, yet neither of can bring yourself to feel remorse.

"I don't think I can go back to him after this. I can't walk away from you again."

The statement is raw and vulnerable, something you weren't able to be with JJ the first time around. 

"We need to break things off with them."

He's just stating the obvious, yet it still sends fear up your spine. You nod slowly, and he gives you a sweet kiss before smiling. 

"Call you tomorrow?"

He kisses your forehead and nods, holding your hand loosely as the two of you trek back to your cars. You falter for a second, your eyebrows pinching as you look at the ground. 

"Were those tire tracks there before?"

His eyes follow your gaze and he shrugs, unbothered. You don't give it any more thought, climbing into your now wet car and starting toward your boyfriend's place.

It's not until you pick up your phone in the driveway that you see the messages and missed calls, your stomach sinking. Your mind goes back to the tire tracks before you tell yourself that's crazy. He would have said something.

It's almost five now, and you sneak into the house, ready to take a shower and go to sleep. All of this can be dealt with in the morning.

You slowly open the door to his bedroom, and your eyes bulge as you take in the sight before you. Laying in bed is your boyfriend and JJ's girlfriend, a tangled mess of bare limbs. 

You slowly pad around the room collecting the things that you've left over before making a beeline toward your car. 

You don't think as you start toward JJ's apartment; he's the only one you want to see right now. 

He looks surprised when he opens the door to your face, and moves aside to let you in. 

"She's not here. I don't know where she is, she isn't answering." 

You know he's trying to reassure you, but you can't help the snort you let out. 

"Yeah, I know."

You turn around to face him and almost laugh at the bewildered look in his ocean-blue eyes. 

"How do you know?"

It occurs to you then that he's out of the loop, and you plop down on his couch. 

"Because she's in bed with my ex-boyfriend."

His eyebrows shoot up as he stares down at you, your gaze focused on your hand as you pick at your nails.

"Excuse me?"

You purse your lips and glance up at him, mild amusement sparkling in your eyes.

"Guess we should have thought harder about those tire tracks."

He blows out a breath and takes a seat next to you, his knee knocking into yours. 

"I guess we had that coming."

You chuckle humorlessly and let your head fall back against the cushion.

"Yeah. Yeah, we really did."

His arm wraps around your shoulder and you fall into him, your cheek resting against his chest. 

"I guess that frees up our schedule."

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank #outer banks fic #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks angst #outer banks smut

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Would you be willing to do something with Will and a fem!Apollo reader? Having a really rough time or anxiety or something and Will comforting/helping? (I mean this platonic of course!)

✮⋆˙ the sun don't always shine; platonic! will solace x daughter of apollo! reader panic attack blurb

content: platonic! will solace x daughter of apollo! reader panic attack blurb warning: as you can see from the first line language, mentions and description of a panic attack author's note: doctor will to the rescue!!! also i dunno if im capturing the full effect of a panic attack still but i just...kinda dont care enough to resreach hmmmm maybe ill get stressed out enough with school to get one and then i can do hands on research...yeah that'll be fun IM KIDDING YALL DO NOT FRET FR FR

"fuck, not again..." you huffed, feeling that growing tightening of your chest. you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed a firm hand to your heaving torso. you tried the breathing techniques kayla had showed you but they were no good. the worst part is that you weren't even sure what you were panicked about. this happened to you sometimes, just this blanketing feeling of dread and aniexty that left you heaving breaths in on the floor of cabin seven.

"no, no, no, not now," you whined desperately to yourself but you knew there was no stopping it as your hands had started to shake and your knees were beginning to buckle. its times like these you wished you got your father's medical skills over the stupid ability to write poetry. sure you could compare moments like these to the sinking teeth of adulthood or the comforting hand of the past, eager to drag you down with it. but that really didn't do your inability to get air in any good in the moment. now you were starting to get lightheaded, using one of your siblings beds to slowly slower yourself to the hardwood floors, your fingers digging into their yellow comforter.

"hey, y/n, are you-" will's voice broke through the cabin but he quickly shut his mouth and made his way over to his darling sister, dropping to his knees next to you.

"oh, y/n, i'm here. it's okay, i got you," will cooed, hesitantly reaching his hands out. instantly, you slumped into his comforting hold, feeling his warm hands squeeze at your shoulders and rub over your back. and you weren't sure if he was using his blessed medical skills as still you couldn't get air in.

"you know, when i was younger, this used to happen to me all the time," will whispered, waiting for a moment as he could feel your heartbeat slowing with his words, "it was terrible for my mom, she didn't know what to do. just these inconsolable moments of tears and heaving breaths. then she took me to a doctor. he told me there was nothing wrong with me, just that sometimes my brain gets worried about me and panics my body into thinking something is wrong. he was so kind and gentle with the explanation. that was the moment i wanted to become a doctor too. tell others that there's nothing wrong with them, too. other people like you."

your breathing had mellowed out and the tears had dried against your cheeks. you glanced up at your older brother, who offered you a comforting smile as he gently ruffled your matching blonde hair.

"you okay?" he asked, offering a soft tilted smile.

"i will be," you replied, beaming back your attempt at a smile.

"well, what more could i ask for, huh?"

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #hoo #will solace #pjo hoo toa