#is so agonising and there's no way to really express it

[ferigrieving]

Can we get some domestic fluff with Kenma? ty.

stars in his eyes (handpicked from the skies).

⊹ ࣪ in which kenma is content with losing, every once in a while.

a.n thank u for being my first request anon i love u ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

⤷ masterlist ; requests open

for the first time in his life, kenma kozume did not know what to do.

he felt restless, standing there in the middle of his room like an npc left idle. the rain pattered outside the window, the rhythmic tap tap doing nothing to soothe his nerves.

kenma already tried everything that would usually work. booting up pokemon black, making a mug cookie, watching his favourite movie for the nth time this month, nothing worked, and to be frank, it was getting on his nerves. he felt like there was an itch under his skin he just couldn't reach.

and to make matters worse, he couldn't find you anywhere. not that he was trying particularly hard to look, he had barely left the confines of his bed. your dorm room.. he thought to himself, trudging the agonising two feet to the other side of the hallway, door adorned with a small sign in the middle with your name on it.

not bothering to knock, he used the spare key he had borrowed with no intention of returning to you and barged in, only to find you fighting and loosing a war against a large comforter. behind you was what he could only assume was some sort of fort. he couldn't tell.

"...do you need help, love?"

“is it hat bad?”

kenma nods his head, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorway. “i don't even know what the hell you’re doing,” he mumbles, the corners of his lips quirked in what this essentially mild amusement. “are you seriously loosing a war against an inanimate object?”

“im tryin– im tryna make a pillow fort, asshole!”

he blinks, once, twice, before bursting into stifled giggles. the image of you tangled in your bedsheets, attempting to fashion some sort of tent to the length of your bed with pillows and blankets he didn't even know you had, was comical. “why?”

“you seemed a little sad, so i wanted to make a little man cave for you.”

the giggling ceased, a rosy hue blossoming over his cheeks as he pouted. he felt flustered and embarrassed, like a teenage girl in one of those shoujo animes you’d force him to watch sometimes. not really knowing what else to say, he mumbled a quiet ‘thank you.’ as he shifted from one foot to the other, staring at his toes like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 

after a painfully long and somewhat awkward silence, kenma glanced back up at you, his expression a mixture of apprehension and slight annoyance, but there was no denying the fond look in his eyes. 

‘you're a moron.’ is what he meant to say, but all he managed was a soft ‘come here.’

“-- i cant!”

a small smile pulled at kenma’s lips. that, he could work with.

he entered the room, kicking the door shut behind him and making his way over to you, tiptoeing through the mess that was your dorm room floor. he climbed into the mess of blankets, careful not to knock anything over in the process, and inside of the pillow fort, watching you with a grin as you writhed on the floor in front of him. 

you played dead on the floor as he uncovered you, sticking out your tongue and splaying your limbs out dramatically.

kenma rolled his eyes, nudging you with his foot. “get up, idiot.” his tone was more amused than irritated, enough to make the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

however, you didn't move, only continuing to lay there, limp on the floor like a ragdoll. kenma couldn't help but smirk. he leaned back and observed you, taking in every detail, memorising how you looked in the moment, ingraining it in the backs of his eyelids.

a few loose strands of hair lay across your cheeks and the small of your neck. your tongue stuck out slightly, making you look more cat-like than ever. kenma felt a deep pang of affection in his chest, the feeing akin to warm honey. 

after a moment, he leaned back down and continued to untangle you, his nimble fingers grazing over your sides as he worked his hands underneath the confinements around you. with each touch, kenma relished the feeling of your warm, soft skin against his fingers, the way your body squirmed and writhed under his touch.

the moment he managed to free you, kenma pounced.

he leaned over you, laying his head on your chest as you lay on the cold hardwood floor. you looked like a mess – but despite the embarrassing situation, you looked beautiful. “could you help me fix the fort, ken’?”

kenma took a moment to admire you beneath him, pressing a kiss to your forehead before nodding his head. a moment passed, and then another, but kenma made no effort to move. he was content right where he was.

“...you cant help me if you don't move, love.”

he huffed in response. “but i like where i am.” he whined like a child being denied a toy, lip jutting out as he pouted at you. nevertheless, he did end up moving off you, prying himself as if he was superglued to your body.

in all honesty, he could stare at you all day. the sight of you in the dim lamplight, surrounded by pillows and blankets was captivating to him. he made no move to do anything. he just stared at you, studying every move as you methodically adjusted the pillow in a brick-like batten. it was hard not to. especially when you looked so pretty.

he wanted to kiss you so badly.

once you were finished, kenma glanced over the fort. it took up the entirety of your bed, held up by hello-kitty blankets and binder clips. on the inside was a row of the flamingo fairy lights he had gotten you from the clearance aisle, and in the corners were stacks of your stuffed animals, piled on top of each other like some sort of pyramid.

without a word, kenma ducked in and curled up in a ball, hands reaching out for you. it was quite cosy in here, he could admit, as he reached out for one of your many cat plushes, pulling it close and burying his face in it.  the soft colours and the varying textures of the fort was so undeniably you. kenma found comfort in the idea that you collected things simply because they were cute or comforting, your room being more of a museum than a place to rest.

you laid down beside him, pressing your back flush against his chest as he unwound to accommodate you. kenma’s arm snaked beneath you, wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight. he buried his face in your hair instead, breathing in the scent of your apple shampoo. it screamed home to him. all of you did. 

kenma was absolutely, utterly, and unapologetically in love.

it came so easy to him, like second nature. it was like he could shut off his brain when he was around you, the same way he did when he went strip mining in minecraft, or fishing in animal crossing.

the way you’d take his things and claim his hoodies as your ow made him want to scream. or the way you’d call him over the top pet names like ‘pretty boy’ or ‘light of my life, love of my life’. you put up with his bluntness, his rudeness, his lack of drive when it comes to almost anything. you were his, and he was yours.

kenma sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his. the fort, despite its chaotic construction, had a comforting charm. it was a rare feeling for him, for someone who found more solace in the pixels on a screen than he did with a human person. he listened to the faint music playing from your abandone psp at the foot of the bed,  a gentle background noise to your steady breathing. this was what he needed, what he craved without realising it. the stillness, the simplicity of just being with you.

but as the minutes ticked by, kenma’s mind began to wander, as it often did. thoughts of the future crept into his consciousness, bringing with them a sense of uncertainty that he couldn't quite shake. what would happen after highschool? where would they go, where would you go?

the weight of those questions settled on his shoulders like a heavy blanket, threatening to suffocate him in its embrace. but then he felt your hand slip into his, fingers intertwining with his own in a silent promise of solidarity, even if just for a little bit.

“love,” you mumbled in his ear after a bit. “d’ja want to finish the movie we were watchin’ last week?”

kenma’s eyes lit up. “american psycho?”

“..no. scream one.” you giggled, untangling yourself from him to reach for your laptop under your bed, and shifting so you and him could lay at the foot of your bed and watch.

kenma ended up watching you more than the movie itself, relishing in all the little expressions and movements you made whenever something happened on screen. how you’d grin and kick your feet at the sight of stu, or the tightening of your grip on his hand whenever ghostface would stumble over another piece of furniture.

he leaned on your shoulder, feeling somewhat drowsy and content. while the movie was interesting, as interesting as the 10th watchthrough could get, he felt more content with laying beside you. he stifled a yawn that was cut off by a scream as a mediocre jumpscare happened, and he couldn't stop the embarrassed flush on his cheeks when you teased him.

“shut up.” he grumbled, removing his fingers from yours as some form of punishment for the teasing. “its not that funny.”

you made a comment on how he was getting scared of a movie as old as coach nekomata, only to be met with a pillow to the face. he was not scared. he simply had an above average survival instinct.  

“you're insufferable, you know that right?” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck as he rolled over to lay on top of you once more. “why do i tolerate you?” despite the harsh tone, there was no denying the fondness in his voice. “love you too, ken’.”

he rolled his eyes, though he felt a small smile gracing his lips as he pinched your cheek. how could he ever stay mad at you?

you pushed him off of you dramatically to reach behind you under the pillow, pulling out a small bag of haribo gummies. giggling, you watched kenma’s expression light up, eyes glimmering as he grabbed a handful of gummies from you almost uncharacteristically. if there was anything he loved more than video games, and hopefully you, it was sweets. especially apple flavoured ones.

he popped a few in his mouth, savouring the taste like it was some sort of gourmet dish. “thank you, love.” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, mumbling out a quiet ‘i love you.’

“of course, baby. i love you too.”

kenma felt like he could melt. he leaned in close, pressing a kiss everywhere he could reach, one to your forehead, a second to your cheek, and a third to the bridge of your nose. his hands gently cupped your face, tilting your head downwards so he could finally press a kiss to your lips.

the way you gasped, the way you tilted your head into the kiss, the way you placed your hands over his. kenma felt like he couldn't get enough of you.

ghostface pops up from the back of sidney’s seat, and you could feel kenma jolt in your grasp, flinching away like the man was personally coming to kill him. 

he swore under his breath, something about how he hated the ghostface, before moving to bury his face into your neck again. he was embarrassed, of course he was. he didnt get scared of shitty 90’s movies, he was a real man. a real man who was currently hiding from a fictional killer inside of a pillow fort, holding onto his lover like they were a lifeline.

“we can play mario kart instead if you’d like, darling.” you hummed, shutting the laptop and replacing it with the switch you had stolen from him, handing him a controller and pressing 200 cc.

playing mario kart, or even any multiplayer game, was always the highlight of his days. he’d often tease you about the way you got so into the game. the way you’d pout whenever he’d win. despite his teasing, though, you were a delight when you played. he’d never seen you so animated before. it was endearing, the way you got so riled up over a game with silly little characters in carts and bikes.

kenma would never tell you this, but he secretly let you win sometimes, like any good boyfriend would. of course, he never lost on purpose, but if the score between you two wasn't very high, he’d accidentally drive off course and give you time to catch up.

it wasn't even on purpose at first. there was some part of his brain that couldn't stomach the sight of your defeated body language, and he just knew that if he’d won by a landslide, you’d feel terrible. so he’d let the score get closer, and closer, until suddenly the large 2nd flashed on his screen, his avatar holding its head in its hands behind it.

“i won!” you grinned, pushing him playfully as he rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. but he couldn't hide the fond smile that fought its way to his face. “yeah, yeah. lets see if you can win the next race.”

“yeah, yeah,” you mocked, pressing next as your characters revved their engines. “you’re just bad.”

he gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart like you had personally wounded him. “i’ll kick your ass.” “sure you will, kenken.”

kenma kozume did not lose video games. especially not to the love of his life that he’d literally do anything for.

he was laser focused, drifting and abusing the powerups he stole from everyone else, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was winning. throughout the whole race, all he could hear was the mashing of the controller’s buttons and the grinding of your teeth as you struggled to catch up.

in the end, he managed to pull through with a victory, and as he looked over to you to tease you, you were once again playing dead, hands over your chest and eyes closed as if you were ready to be placed in a coffin.

“get up, you sore loser.” he muttered, tugging on your sleeve and poking you in the stomach.

while he pretended to be embarrassed with your dramatic acting, kenma actually enjoyed it when you did this. yes, it was a little dramatic, but he found it endearing. something about the way you'd play up your reactions made him feel warm. you were always so expressive in everything you did. it made up for the lack of them he showed.

people told kenma that he was like an npc. speak when spoken to, answers short and clipped, as if he were forcing them out. many people thought he was cold, stone-faced and hollow.

but you didn't see him that way. 

you made an effort to see through the facade he barely kept up. you saw the little quirks that made him human. the small smile he'd have when he had beaten a level, or the way he’d bite his tongue in concentration. you made kenma made feel human.

he felt whole, like a puzzle piece finally finding it's place. when you saw him for what he really was and loved him unconditionally...he felt seen. kenma wasn't a stoic, unfeeling robot. he could love and feel just like any other person could. and when he was with you, he felt like he finally knew what the fuss for love was about.

kenma wasn't really sure what to call you. boyfriend? partner? that didn't feel enough. lover was too cheesy, too old-fashioned, too... boring. partner was a bit casual and didn't show enough affection, boyfriend felt like it barely scratched the surface of how he felt about you. 

kenma didn't know why it bothered him so much. who cares about words anyway?

yet despite the meaninglessness of the labels, kenma couldn't let it go. he couldn't use any of those words to describe you, they just didn't fit. calling you his friend would imply that you were nothing more than that, but you weren't. you were more than that. so much more.

so what were you then? you're his lover, but you're so much more than that. you were a friend, his confidant, his other half. there was nobody kenma trusted more thatn you when it came to his inner thoughts, nobody he'd open up to as he did you.  kuroo was his best friend, but there are even things you feel ashamed to tell someone like that. because they were only best friends.

it was hard to put into words. maybe he was just overthinking things. maybe the labels didn't matter anyway.

kenma had never been one to believe in soulmates, yet here he was, utterly and completely convinced that you were his. not in the cheesy 'we were destined by fate to be together' way, but more of a 'i never thought i needed someone this much, until i met you' way..

even though he struggled with affection, you still gave him the emotional intimacy he needed.

you were patient and kind, even when he felt like he couldn't understand what he was feeling. you stuck by him, even when he pushed you away. 

kenma had never experienced love like this. he didn't know whether to call it a blessing or a curse.

“…. love?”

 he flinched at the sound of your voice, pulling him back into reality. you had won, again, and gotten 1st place on the leaderboard again. “yeah?”

“are you alright?”

“yeah im– im just thinkin’.” he murmurs, jolting when you reach over and cup his face gently, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. kenma's breath hitched in his throat as you cupped his face, moving your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear.

his heart beat a bit faster as goosebumps rose on his arms, a blush spreading across his cheeks. even if he was used to your affection, it still made him feel like a shy schoolboy whenever you touched him.

he couldn't understand how you could go from playing dead on the ground five minutes ago to gently caressing his face and running your fingers through his hair. not that he was complaining, of course. he enjoyed the feeling of the gentle touch

“of course you’re thinking,” you teased gently, your fingers continuing to stroke his hair. “you’re always thinking. whats on your mind now, my love.”

kenma lips twitched into a small smile, the warmth of your touch seeping into his skin. “just  about us.”

“oh?” You leaned in a little closer, curiosity and affection evident in your eyes. “thats..mildly cryptic.”

he nodded, giggling at your words as he placed a hand on top of yours. “no its not. they're good thoughts. i was just trying to figure out… what to call you.”

You tilted your head, clearly intrigued. “we’ve been dating for three years and you don't know my name?”

“no thats– thats not what i meant!  i meant like.. like boyfriend doesn’t feel right. partner, lover… none of it fits. it’s like… those words are too small for what you mean to me.”

youreyes softened, and a smile spread across your face as you press a kiss to your boyfriends forehead. “ken, it doesn’t matter what you call me. its not like you call me nice things, anyways”

he rolled your eyes at your jab, poking you in the stomach as he rolled away from you. he knew you were right, but the words still stuck in his throat. “i know. but i want to find a word that shows how much you mean to me.”

you leaned in and kissed his forehead, your lips warm against his skin. “how about you just call me ‘yours’? Because that’s what i am. yours.”

kenma felt a wave of emotion wash over him, the simplicity and truth of your words settling in his heart. “yours,” he repeated softly, the word feeling right in his mouth. “yeah. i like that.”

you grinned, pressing your forehead against his. “and you’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

kenma closed his eyes, savouring the moment. he realised that the labels didn’t matter as much as the feelings behind them. What mattered was that he had you, and you had him.

“i love you.” 

“i love you too.”

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ greywrites #⊹ ࣪ ˖ requests #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma #hq kenma

[gemkun]

the fact his remark probably stems from an inward reprimand of his own actually destroys me

#* ✦ 𝐈. ❮ ooc ❯ ⸻ ❝ #* ✦ 𝐕𝐈. ❮ muses ❯ ⸻ ❝ 「 veritas ratio 」 #like ratio's planet is not destroyed but the war is such a prominent aspect in their history obviously #the fact his kind as in the people he belongs with were wiped out while he was left to his lonesome #is so agonising and there's no way to really express it #so all he can do is move forward and that is precisely what he tells aventurine as well #you cannot ever compare levels of pain or hardship there is no objective scale for that #but they both have a certain amount of relatability in this vein i feel #and the fact ratio gets to remark on something so dear and close to aventurine is also a huge thing to not overlook i think #he's always picking him back up because aventurine needs a clutch as much as he denies it #but vice versa aventurine helps ratio because of his resilience and how he has pulled himself from devastation

[kaladinkholins]

uhhh thinkin about how mizu and taigen's relationship was described as "this meeting of the minds, this meeting of the swords, that they could not share with anybody else" in one of the netflix articles about the show

and i'm going crazy because YEAH they're both equally invested about swords and fighting in a way that nobody else in their lives are. and that's just. so important considering we're talking about mizu, who sees her sword as her own soul.

and it's not JUST mizu who's obsessed with fighting. taigen is too. cuz like after their duel at the shindo dojo, as taigen is examining his bald spot in the mirror where mizu cut off his hair, he literally interrupts his own turmoil over losing his honour, just to express his awe, openly admiring mizu's skill DESPITE the fact that mizu just beat his ass and stripped his honour and status from him

then in the next episode, mizu says a very similar line when she examines the cut flower that fowler had pinned to heiji shindo's robe.

this was also such a sudden thing to notice in the middle of their conversation (my interpretation of this is that it hints to fowler's own skills with a blade, and gives mizu information about her enemy being a formidable opponent), but the fact that mizu had such a keen eye and managed to hone in on such a tiny detail from like a foot or two away is interesting because it shows us just how attentive mizu is, especially when it comes to blades and anything to do with them

to mizu (when she's not spiralling and agonising over her own self-hatred and the way the world treats her), swords are not a mere tool for revenge, but an art form which she is fascinated by and loves and admires. we see this from time to time, during rare moments of respite, like when she admires the duel in the beginning of ep4

mizu also takes to heart all the teachings from her years training, while taigen is interestingly less strict about them, basically disregarding some of those teachings as mere pedantry, or even if he doesn't actually really think so, he at least tells mizu as much in his attempt to comfort her after her sword breaks

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for the more formal aspects of his training at all. because in ep3 when he says this

this line about mount sumeru is not talking about the literal mountain in front of them, but is a recitation of a line from the lotus sutra, which is among the mahayana sutras that they learned as part of their spiritual training, as zen buddhism forms a lot of the basis for samurai doctrines and philosophy. the sutra given more emphasis in the show is the heart sutra that mizu writes on her body in ep7 during her rite of rebirth

so taigen saying this line, as i see it, is a way to bond with mizu, or at least make conversation over their shared knowledge, as we see him await a reaction as soon as he says this. but mizu gives him none, and he looks disappointed/annoyed/frustrated or what have you as he watches her walk off without a word

also we see a little more of their shared knowledge of swordsmanship in the last episode when it's clear that mizu has been training ringo in sword fighting techniques

and later taigen recognises it instantly

they're both nerds about swords and fighting!!! they both respect each other's skills!!!

GOD i really hope in future episodes they get to bond some more over their shared passion and common training and just samurai camaraderie in general!!! mizu clearly loves the artistry of sword fighting so much, she deserves to have a confidant who shares that with her, someone she can talk openly about these things to!!!

because like remember when mikio was telling her about the naginata, she looked soooo uwu in love!!! admiring her husband as he showed off the weapon and told her the benefits of using it!!! believing at the time that she'd found a match who she could openly share her love of martial arts with!! she was having so much fun sparring him too. everyone says fighting is part of her love language and YES it IS!!!

except the difference is that mikio—due to, among other things, their large age difference and subsequent gap in life experience—believes he is mizu's teacher, rather than her equal. this is the role he's readily taken throughout their marriage, from teaching her how to throw a knife to cut down fruit (not like she needed that particular lesson), to teaching her equestrian skills.

meanwhile taigen and mizu were both kids growing up poor in the same backwater fishing village, which means that they are and always have been PEERS. and this becomes even more pronounced once taigen is stripped of his giant ego and unlearns his prejudice, allowing them both to fully respect each other and view each other as equals

which is again why it frustrates taigen when mizu admits later in this scene that she basically doesn't care about saving the shogun. like he gets mad because it upends his initial belief in their shared goals and aligned values, believing them both to be samurai of equal standing and honour.

ALSO i'd like to add, that though mizu is the better swordsman as we see her win all their brawls and matches, she doesn't surpass him by that much, and mizu knows this.

these words coming from mizu is such a huge compliment all things considered, acknowledging that he was strong enough to deserve fighting her, because shortly before this mizu was just about to say "no one has given me much of a challenge" only for taigen to enter the scene and, well, challenge her.

now combine this with her saying that chiaki's broken blade suits him well, giving to him HER sword which SHE made AND won, as a surety, promising him a duel that he "deserves". it's proof that even though she finds taigen an annoying brat and oftentimes an obstacle to her mission for revenge, she DOES respect him and does value his skills.

IN CONCLUSION nobody else is on their level, nobody else shares their love of swordsmanship and that is such an important factor to their bond and the way they relate to each other. i rest my case your honour

#mizu x taigen #taigen x mizu #taimizu #taizu #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #taigen blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #i caaaant stop thinking about THEM #like im soooo sorry im being annoying and cant shut up about these two #the brainrot is real yall. pray for me in these trying times #shut up haydar #meta dissertations.pdf #fandom.rtf

[loveinhawkins]

“Why are you wearing cologne?” Dustin asks after barely one second in the van.

“I’m not,” Eddie says, and promptly wants to die at how unconvincing that was. It’s not even technically a lie…

He makes it out of the school parking lot with Dustin saying jackshit, so for a little while, he thinks he’s gotten away with it.

More fool him.

Dustin abruptly lunges to the side, all up in his face like the world’s most dedicated sniffer dog.

“Ew, gross! Get off, man, I’m gonna crash,” Eddie says, even though they’ve been at a stop light for the past minute.

“Okay, correction,” Dustin says, drawing back. “Why are you wearing Steve’s cologne?”

Eddie stares into the middle distance, prays for The Upside Down to come and swallow him up.

An agonising silence.

“Oh my god,” Dustin whisper-screams. “Oh my god.”

“Look, just—”

“Oh my god!”

And yup, ow, that’s definitely become a full blown scream now, and double ow, Dustin has just socked him one in the arm.

“Hey!”

“What the fuck, Eddie?! How could you not—”

“Jesus! Take a damn chill pill, Henderson, I swear to—”

“Since when you do you say shit like—oh my God, Steve says shit like that. You can’t let him get to you like this, Eddie, you’re too young to die.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dustin keeps jiggling Eddie by the arm as he pulls up to Dustin’s house. Even when his stomach is jangling with nerves, he can’t fight a smile at the kid’s antics.

“Holy shit, this is big,” Dustin says with wide eyes, and it bothers Eddie that he can’t get a hold of what sort of expression is on his face. “This is huge.”

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem all that funny anymore.

“It’s not,” Eddie says quietly. “It’s really not. It doesn’t have to be, like… look, Dustin, can we just—if it bothers you, just drop it, and we can pretend like—”

“Wait, what? No.” And now Eddie can read the remorse on his face. “Shit, sorry. Eddie, I didn’t mean, like… big in a bad way, I swear.”

And goddamn it, Eddie trusts him. Of course he does.

“Okay.” He lets out a long sigh, tipping his head back in his seat. “Okay.”

“I just meant… like, you know The Royal Family? In England.”

…What.

“Oh, please, run with this analogy,” Eddie says, a mixture of curious and hysterical, “I’m dying to see where it goes.”

“You know, when they have news, they put it outside the… Palace? Like, on a stand. So people know.”

“Are you fucking implying that you are the public to our… wow, I’m so sorry, Henderson.” Eddie can’t take it anymore; he wheezes with laughter, can’t hide how relieved he sounds. “Next time I’ll ruin your front lawn and put a huge fucking sign there, then you’ll know that—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, asshole. I just…” Dustin shrugs. “Just meant if you wanted to, like… mention it. It would be cool. It is cool.”

“Cool,” Eddie echoes faintly.

“Cool,” Dustin repeats, emphatic.

Jesus Christ, I love you so much.

“Aw, Henderson,” Eddie says, “were you gonna make us a card or something?”

“Do you want a card?” Dustin says dryly.

And yeah, he’s being a little shit about it, but there’s also a note of sincerity hiding in there that has Eddie fighting a lump in his throat. He chuckles through it, flicks Dustin’s forehead.

“C’mon, get out before your mom thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

“She thinks you’re an angel now, and you know it. It’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Saint.”

Eddie waits until Dustin’s at his front door before reversing, watches him with silent fondness as he greets his cat.

He says through the side window, “Hey, Dustin?”

Dustin turns back. “Yeah?”

“We’d have told you first anyway. We were gonna, I swear.” Eddie scoffs. Smiles. “Not our fault you’re Sherlock Holmes, man.”

Dustin smirks, but his eyes are soft. “It was pretty elementary.”

#this is so silly. they are so silly. & i love them so #eddie and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #dustin henderson #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #henderfam

[liketolovexx]

heyyy, can i request good old enemies to lovers with so much angst but ends with fluff with sirius??? maybe they used to be friends before and Sirius just suddenly turned cold? and the reader was giving the same energy and all they do is bicker and one time the reader just burst out about how siri is being a prick and then it ends with confession?? it's very long 😭😭im sorry

Hey guys!!! Sorry I’m going through requests VERRRRY slowly atm but please feel free to leave requests in my inbox for me to get round to <3 love u all so much

Also, I included reader seeing Regulus as a little brother figure and looking after him, because I can’t not :-( sorry if it puts u off the fic!!

(CW: LOTS of angst, child abuse from walburga, sad Sirius, sad Regulus, Sirius being cold and cruel to cope with loss, basically the reader being the black brother’s best friend, ends with fluff<3)

“I used to love you.” ~S.O.B

{you were from a pure blood family, best friends with Sirius Black. You comforted him through his mother’s cruelty, and fell in love along the way. Until Sirius ran away, leaving you to protect his little brother from harm out of the love you still held. Now, when you see him in school, you give him a reciprocated glare. But why does he hate you?}

“Sirius, come here!” Came the harsh, threatening voice of Walburga Black, she sounded angry, really angry, and you watched Sirius tense, looking up from the book you were reading together. His eyes were wide, face whiter than usual, holding much more terror than a little boy should ever have to endure. You put a hand on his shoulder, warming him in this cold house. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever happens, you can come back up to me after. I’ll take care of you.” You told him. You may have been only children at the time, but the way Sirius nodded and his silver eyes softened and glittered with tears, you knew you had a certain way with him.

Alone in Sirius’s room, you played with your hands, shoulders stiff as you listened to the mother scream ruthlessly at her son, trying not to picture the broken, guilty, vacant expression you knew would be adorning Sirius’s tear-stained face. You couldn’t hear Sirius’s responses to Walburga’s yelling, you knew he froze up when he was scared, so he’d be mumbling in response. “I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIEND IS UPSTAIRS. YOU ARE A DISGRACE ALREADY!” She yelled. You had to cover your ears when gut-wrenching cries and wails started to echo up the stairs. Walburga was using the crucio curse on her son. Again.

~~~

Soon, the screams ceased and Sirius rushed up the stairs and into his room where you still sat. He slammed the door desperately, and crumbled to the floor beneath it, shaking like a leaf and loud sobs starting to make his small back heave. You leaped off of his bed and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his back, but he flinched away from you with a sharp, choked gasp. That was when the first crack painfully sliced its way through your heart. To see your best friend weak and bawling on the floor of his bedroom, scared of even you, was an agonising feeling. Eventually, Sirius realised you wouldn’t hurt him, and wiggled into your lap, crying quieter now. His head found its way into your neck as he cried, and you could feel his wet tears snaking down your skin.

“Sirius, I’m here.” You whispered into his disheveled black curls. At that, you felt his body weaken in your lap. Before you knew it, he was asleep ontop of you, your arms wrapped around him. He stirred, turning slightly, slipping down your body so his head lay comfortably on your chest, and your face scrunched in both pity and guilt. A puddle of thick crimson blood stuck his hair to his pale forehead. You hated yourself for not being able to stop his mother from hurting him. Watching his body rise and fall with each peaceful breath he took as he slept, you spat on your sleeve and wiped the blood away, earning a harsh twitch and broken whimper from the raven-haired boy. He deserved nothing but peace.

With Sirius draped over your body like a snow-white blanket, hair splayed over you like he’d claimed you as his own bed, the door creaked open. You tensed, holding Sirius tighter, ready to give anything to protect him if Walburga showed in the door, but instead, a small frame appeared. Regulus. “Oh, Regulus.. did the shouting scare you?” You ask softly. The boy nods. He’s the spitting image of his big brother. “Is Siri okay?” He murmurs, rubbing his eye. You nod. “C’mere.”

Regulus tucks himself into the crook of your arm, head laying on the flesh of your shoulder. With big eyes mirroring Sirius’s, he peers up at his brother. “Heard mama shouting at him. He breaked something, I think.” Regulus explains shyly. “Mh. Your mother isn’t kind to Sirius. She isn’t kind to you either.” You say, more to yourself than him. He still nods in agreement. You stroke Sirius’s hair as he shifts in his sleep. “I’ll get you both out one day. And… and me and Sirius can get married. And you can be the best man-“ you describe your fantasy to the small boy, who has a wonderful smile creasing his little face, eagerly listening to each and every detail of the life he hoped to one day live.

~~~

You were now both in hogwarts. Over the years, Sirius had become rebellious, learning to fight back to his mother, but this always resulted in the crucio curse, which resulted in him collapsing in your arms. You were, admittedly, all he had. You and his little brother, who he’d noticed following the path of his parents. He hated the fact that regulus was so obedient to their inane beliefs. He hated it. It was only you who could calm his rushing mind.

It took only one night for everything to change. You weren’t over at his house, so he was alone, and he had a particularly bad row with his mother. After using the crucio curse on the boy until his thin limbs were tangled and trembling on the ground, his jet black curls tangled and his bitten-raw lip quaking like a child’s. While he was in this state, his mother mocked him. All he wanted was to be in the safety of your arms right now. He knew that although you came from a pure-blood family, you were not evil. You were good. You were like him, but braver. Kinder.

That night, Sirius knew he couldn’t live in this house anymore. He packed a bag full of clothes, essentials, and was unable to resist taking Regulus’s old teddy bear, an old shirt of yours and a necklace that was matching with you. He tied up his dark hair and slipped on his leather jacket. He’d grown out his hair because his parents didn’t approve of it: he wore the jacket simply because his parents didn’t like the 70s-rocker look. He’d do anything to escape those sleek black suits, hair styled tidily, silver and jewels everywhere he looked. In this house, he was nothing but a decoration, so he vowed to make his appearance undesirable to his parents. But, you always thought it suited him. While he crept silently down the corridor, boots hardly making a sound on the fancy patterned carpet, he heard a creak. His heart stopped. Fuck, he thought. Its mum. I’m never getting out. Oh, god, I’m never getting out.

“Siri?”

A small voice asked. It was Regulus. Sirius spun around where he stood to see an unruly mop of black curls matching his, framing a pale, soft face that didn’t at all suit the bitter yet elegant brutality of his family. “Reg.” was all Sirius could squeak.

“…you’re leaving aren’t you?”

“…yeah.”

“Oh.”

Regulus looked at his feet. He looked back up at his older brother.

“I’ll be by myself, Sirius.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He fought back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I love you.”

Regulus’s daintily perfect face crumpled. “You can’t go, Siri, I don’t-.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone. Not with them.” Sirius opened his arms. His little brother crashed into them like he’d disappear if he wasn’t fast. “I’m sorry, reg. I love you, but I can’t stay.” He murmured. Regulus was now sobbing into his shoulder. Sirius felt like the worst person on earth. He needed to get to James’s house before his mother woke up. “Regulus, I have to go.” He told him, petting the back of his head. Regulus suddenly pushed his brother back. Sirius recognised this; the anger that reg was displaying. When he was the same age, when he felt vulnerable, he disguised it with anger. He still did. “F-fine. Go. I don’t need you.” Regulus spat, his glistening silver eyes betraying him. “You’re… you’re really… really mean, Sirius, you know that?” He tried to hiss, but it turned out as a cracked whimper. Sirius felt his heart shatter in his chest. Stinging tears dripped down his cheeks.

“I love you, Regulus.”

“…”

Regulus walked to his room.

~~~

Sixth year.

Sirius had decided that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. With him leaving home, being a blood traitor, he knew he’d only cause you trouble. He couldn’t bare the thought of it. Little did he know he’d be doing just that.

When break had ended, you’d gone to greet your best friend. “Sirius! I’m sorry I didn’t see you much over the holiday, god, how’s regulus? Are you-“ your shoulders clashed together as he continued walking. much to your confusion, he walked straight past you with the icy glare of his father. “…Sirius?” You tried again, catching up with him and grabbing onto his shoulder. The physical contact from the person he loved most hurt like the touch of searing iron, and he flinched away. “Fuck off! Can’t you just.. just fucking go away?” He growled. His silver eyes were a stormy grey, he hated himself more as he watched your face fall. “What..?” You breathed, looking so heartbroken. He hated himself for making you hurt as well as his little brother.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

Trying to soothe the ache in his chest, he rushed past you. He left you standing in the ruins of what he had torn down.

From then on, everything changed.

~~~

Sirius Black was not your best friend anymore. He was cold and unresponsive, shooting you murderous glares whenever you saw him. He’d make offensive comments at you when he came close enough to communicate with you, and it confused you immensely. What happened to the boy who came to you for comfort? Who cried in your arms and begged you to keep him safe and warm? What happened to your boy? Your best friend? Only god knows.

You didn’t even know Sirius had run away until your parents informed you that you couldn’t go around to the Black’s house anymore. This had sparked a heated argument. “What? He ran away? He didn’t tell me!” You’d exclaimed. “Yes. To the Potter’s house, we hear. Walburga has burned his picture off of the tapestry, and-“

“Wait, what? I can’t go round anymore? What about Regulus?”

“No. Walburga doesn’t allow guests to see her children anymore.”

“What? No, no, no, I need to see Reg. come on, Dad, he needs me!”

Long story short, your argument was to no avail. You couldn’t see Regulus. You couldn’t protect him from his parent’s wrath like you had his brother. Alike Sirius, you spent some of your nights lying awake thinking about Regulus, alone and cold in that hellish house, and most of your night thinking about Sirius, and what you did to make him despise you so.

Soon enough, You and Regulus had fixed your relationship, and many nights you’d find yourself singing the youngest Black brother to sleep. You could comfort him from within the walls of hogwarts where his mother couldn’t hurt him. Even when Sirius hated you, you cared for his brother like he was your own.

~~~

At first, you’d tried to coax Sirius into talking to you. You’d stood with tight lips while he insulted you, and listened to his hateful, meaningless rants. You noticed how his friends, James, Peter and Remus, stopped egging him on when it came to you, and started nudging him or trying to distract him, as if he’d say something he’d regret. But you’d come to think that Sirius black was remorseless.

You weren’t sure why he’d switched up on you, become so mean. You did, however, decide that you would be just as harsh right back to him. You knew you could never bring yourself to hate him. He owned your heart, whether you liked it or not. You learned to hate that you couldn’t help that.

It had soon been a year. One torturous year of finding your spells book torn to shreds, looking at dark eyes that you once knew so well only to see an unrecognisable boy. The smirk that once brought warmth to your chest now opened a bottomless pit in your stomach. With each day, you ached more and more. So did he. Sirius loathed himself indescribably. He knew that if he told you, even after the torture he’d subjected you to, you’d kiss his forehead like old times and tell him it was okay. Tell him that he was good, and he’d never be like his parents, and that you were there for him. You were an amazing person, and he was horrible. But he couldn’t drop his facade now.

You were just trying to study when a voice you’d come to find agitating and grating permeated the silence of the library. “Ooh, little blood supremacist… what you studying? Dare I say dark magic?” Rolling your eyes, you slammed the textbook shut. “shut up, Black. You came from quite the same roots.” “Maybe: but I was brave enough to get out. I was good enough to get out.” He retorted with a grimace. Looking up to meet his cold gaze, you noted that his creased white shirt was unbuttoned, his crimson and gold tie hanging loose over his shoulders, only curls pinned up carelessly with his wand. A dangerous hairstyle, for sure.

“Would you give it a break? I was the reason you didn’t go crazy in that house.”

“I did go crazy in that house.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell.” You said with a scoff. He pulled away your notebook. “So, have you got the dark mark yet? Godric knows you’ll be ecstatic-“ “why are you such a dick, Sirius?!” You yell hoarsely, jumping to your feet. His eyebrows furrowed at your outburst. Slightly, his eyes softened at the sight of your glassy ones, brimming with unshed tears. He said nothing, lips parted. “You’re.. you’re a fucking prick. I never did anything to you.” Turning away to hide your face which had turned pink as it did when you were about to cry, You started upstairs to your dormitory.

~~~

knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on your dorm’s door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock.

Someone was incredibly impatient. You used the palm of your hand to dry your eyes slightly and sniffled. “What? Who is it?” You croaked. A voice answered, “please can I come in?” You frowned. This time, it was a voice you knew. You recognised it, broken and weak, pained, yet honey-smooth all the same. That was your Sirius. Your heart hurt again knowing you’d never have him back, not fully. You fully believed this was another of his cruel pranks.

“Come in.” You mumbled.

As Sirius muttered your name, you felt you were transported back to your childhood. When you’d play and read together. Laugh and smile. “What do you want, Black.” When you said that, his lip twitched, face scrunching slightly. He looked as if the words physically pained him. With that expression painted on his face, he looked just like he did as a child. Except now, his hair was longer, his face more angular, more beautiful. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He begged, voice cracking with emotion. You looked up at him with a waning expression of anger. “Why not? You have been awful to me, I will call you what I choose.” You say. He whimpers pitifully.

He shuts the door behind him. You hear him mumble something. “What did you say, Black?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your body is tense. Everything is silent. You have one question.

“Why were you so angry with me when you left?”

He hesitated, before answering as raw and truthful as he can. “Because I was stupid. I knew nothing but that I loved you. And I hated myself, and I couldn’t hurt you any further.”

“What? Hurt me? Hurt me how?”

“I burdened you all those years, with my weeping and pathetic pleas for comfort after my mother hurt me. When I could only feel safe shrouded in your warmth. I needed you. And I need you now. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Nothing felt real. You reached a hand out, and Sirius lowered himself so that his cheek rested in your palm. It was cold.

“You’re cold.” You stated blankly.

“I’m fine.” He protested.

You pulled him into your bed. Seconds later, you stretched out your arms. With a sob of relief, Sirius fell into your embrace. He cried silently into your neck for a while, reminiscent of the time you helped him as a kid, except this time you were both much bigger. You pet his hair affectionately, a tear sliding from your eye. “I missed you so much. I’m so, so in love with you. You don’t even need to love me back. I just… need this.” He said, voice muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

“…I never stopped loving you.” You admit, pulling him in closer.

~~~

You both spoke through the night, smiling and laughing and talking, telling secrets and jokes and all of the inbetween. He was so beautiful in the dim light of the lamp in your dorm. He was so beautiful anywhere. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, sounding lovesick and dazed. You laughed softly. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are. But that doesn’t matter to me.” You kiss his forehead, before pulling back and looking deep into his eyes. “You are good.” He practically melts into you.

Sirius falls asleep safe in the crook of your arm, and you fall asleep with one arm under him and the other around his waist, with the peace of mind that you can protect him always, now. Your boy. Your Siri.

You looked down at him, running your fingers through the roots of his hair. He moans lowly in satisfaction, practically purring as he presses himself against you. “Now we can get married: with Reggie as the best man, just like we dreamed. With a pretty house and a four-poster bed.” You said, a sweet, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

“Mmmh.” Sirius groaned sleepily. “As long as we can christen that bed.” He added, eyes still closed, with that stupid Sirius Black smirk on his face. You scoff, hugging him closer, before falling asleep yourself.

~~~

(Please don’t copy or share any of my writing anywhere else!!)

#marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #marauders #sirius black #marauders era #sirius black scenario #Sirius black💌*~ #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black one shot #sirius black x you #sirius black prompt #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #sirius black angst #regulus black x reader prompt #regulus black x reader

[cemeterything]

i would love to hear more of your thoughts on michael shelley!!! 🌀🚪✨

you're in luck because i've sat on thoughts about him for years and i finally feel like i can articulate them. because michael shelley is such a well written case of tragic horror in the horror tragedy podcast. and, despite my criticisms of season 5, it really did do an excellent job in concluding his character arc with the gertrude backstory episode. in a podcast where a common in-universe theme is that knowledge, and the pursuit of knowledge, is dangerous, michael is a subversion in that his ignorance of the horrors of the world he lived in not only didn't save him, but was intentionally engineered to make him vulnerable to exploitation and harm (which, on a broader scope, emphasises the futility of the world of the magnus archives - regardless of whether you participate in or turn a blind eye to the systems at play, involved or uninvolved, you are not safe).

furthermore, i really appreciate the subversion of traditional tropes of the sacrifice as a typically female figure taken advantage of by a male father, brother, or lover, whose tragic and horrible death is used to motivate him (whether to greatness or self-destruction), with michael being a son sacrificed by his mother (or grandmother) figure, who never actually loved him and whose 'frail' and 'nurturing' qualities were weaponised incompetence used to gaslight and manipulate him - and who continues to operate successfully (at least in terms of what can be said to be 'success' in a world like the magnus archives) without being haunted by any apparent doubt about the decision she made, or any hesitation to use others in similar ways, following this betrayal. which makes the fact that he's sewn into the fabric of a being that represents lies in their most insidious form, used as a weapon to devour people and destroy their lives, all the more abhorrent in hindsight - he is forced to not only relive his trauma in an endless loop (or spiral, if you will), but to become the mechanism which enables it. michael is taken to the edge of something evil (at least from a human perspective), and pushed over the threshold with no hope of recourse. there's almost a reverse orphic quality to it - he descends into terrifying other world, one which exists side-by-side with but fundamentally seperate from his own, against his will, and looking back will only cause him pain as he's assaulted by memories of a life he will never be able to reach.

i think a lot of people forget to look past the surface with michael, despite there being an entire episode dedicated to doing so. which is understandable, he's a very outwardly expressive character - but this is intentional obfuscation to hide an incredibly damaged victim whose hatred of this part of himself is integral to his entire reason for being, and which the rejection of causes him to be unmade, incapable of existing as this contradictory nightmare any longer. it's a mercy killing, and yet it is violent and painful, because michael cannot and should not exist, and excising that graft used to muzzle the distortion is as agonising as latching it into place was in the first place. when michael-the-distortion says about michael shelley "he was born. he was pointless. and he should have died." there is an implicit longing there, a rage at the way he was used, his decisions made for him and used to imprison something else instead of ever being allowed to exercise any measure of free will. because michael shelley probably would have died for the archivist, given the opportunity, but he never got the choice.

#🐉 #michael shelley #tma

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: another mention of a sharp object

Word Count: 2073 words

a/n: there will be an epilogue. :) not gonna lie, I'm a little more nervous for this chapter. let me know your thoughts! happy (heh) reading!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 11

And when you thought about it, you didn’t think it would end up like this.

You had no clue where you were going. As much as you tried initiating your bond with Hongjoong, he did not respond to your calls. You were relying on your dazy memory of your dream and muscle power, and also a silent prayer in your mind to the Moon Goddess to protect Hongjoong and assist you in finding him.

Wandering around Seoul in your condition was the worst and in the back of your head, you could practically hear Seonghwa reprimanding and reproaching you for your decision. But you were not going to turn back, as much as you were unsure about Hongjoong as a mate at the moment, you feared your dream coming true. 

You were not going to let it happen.

Please show me the way. Like a mantra, you called on the Moon Goddess for assistance as you paced forward. Suddenly, effortlessly, you felt yourself being guided. You weren’t sure where you were going but you trusted the feeling inside you and continued down the path.

After a long trail, you found yourself outside an abandoned building. And abruptly you felt Hongjoong’s bond; he was inside. Without much thought, you raced inside despite every aching part of your body begging you to slow down. But you were resolute and had to find Hongjoong before it was too late.

Thankfully, Hongjoong was alone, hovering over a table.

“KIM HONGJOONG!” you bellowed.

Hongjoong thought he was hearing things but when he turned and saw you in the flesh, either he was finally losing it or it was really you in front of him. When you grabbed him and shook him around, then he realised it was really you.

“Y/N!? What- what are you doing here!? You were unconscious!? How are you -”

“I woke up and we need to leave now!” you stressed.

“What? No I can’t and you shouldn’t be here! You still need to recover!”

“Kim Hongjoong, we will deal with that later, right now we need to get somewhere safe.”

“Why? Wait, Y/N, I-” Hongjoong paused as he tried to pull himself together. 

Here you were in front of him, looking at him with concern and worry, and pulling him with you. He looked at you with tears in his eyes. 

Still, despite what he did, you cared.

“W-Why are you doing this?” he whispered.

“What?”

“After everything, why do you still care about me?”

You softened at Hongjoong’s broken look. The light that once shone so brightly in his eyes dimmed to flicker behind his tears and his expression resembled one like a wilting flower. Why did you care? You had more than enough good reasons not to. Loving him had hurt so much, and left you with a broken heart, that weighed so heavily when you thought about it, you could barely make yourself move, much less feel. If you could even feel anything, you felt the sadness and grief bleeding every time you thought about it. The intensity was agonising and the weight of the despair felt soul-crushing.

But seeing Hongjoong in your dream sent shockwaves throughout you. Despite the turmoil that swirled inside you, Hongjoong is your first love and you needed to save him. You will protect the leader of the strongest pack and your mate, no matter what it took.

“Because I love you,” you answered, “Because…despite all your stupidity and foolishness, I love you Hongjoong, I did then and I still do. And I don’t know what that makes me, a fool I guess, but that’s okay. Because you mean a lot to me no matter how much I might try to convince myself otherwise.”

Honjoong gazed at you tenderly as the tears stung like shards of glass. You were always going to be the best decision he ever made. Cautiously, he reached for your hand to hold in his, and traced along your knuckles in a silent confession. He loves you too. Your love story is a winding path with so many unexpected twists and turns but somehow, you always end up right back to one another. 

Gazing at Hongjoong, you decided to do something risky. You hesitated, your eyes flickered to lips before meeting his eyes. His eyes drooped to your linked hands, and so, drawing in silent and shaky breath, you used your free hand to lift Hongjoong’s face and tilted your head slightly as you connected your lips to his. His lips were still soft like you remembered.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong felt a spark of electricity travelling throughout his veins. His eyes widened but he dared not ruin the moment. He kissed you back with just as much tenderness and sweetness, cupping your face to pull you in closer. 

As the two of you parted, a flurry of emotions raced through each of you but before either of you could speak, the sound of a door being broken down interrupted you. It sent you right back to remembering your dream. Your heart began to pound furiously and each beat echoed the growing fear as each crash was a flashback to your dream. The fear felt unshakeable and magnified the panic that was beginning to take over you.

Hongjoong drew you near and wrapped his arms around your waist. His hand behind your back was a comforting attempt as he slowly rubbed soothing circles. He stood straight as his eyes flashed to his werewolf gold, ready to protect you. The similar feeling of uncertainty surfaced and you gripped Hongjoong’s shirt, signalling that you felt something wasn’t right. 

“Joong…”

“No matter what happens, you will always be the one, in this life and the next and forever.” he said.

And with that, he pulled you as close as he could to him, as everything exploded around you.

On the other side, the other boys were restless. Seonghwa gripped his hands in his hair furiously as he tried to process everything that was happening. Currently, they were with Chan and his soulmates, trying to decipher where you were. The hospital camera caught you leaving the premises, but where you headed after turning the corner was a mystery. 

When Yunho retold them everything Hongjoong had said, Seonghwa wanted to do nothing more than barge into the mansion and end Mrs Kim right then and there. But before he and the boys could even think about that, you snuck out and Hongjoong was somewhere in this big city. 

Chan had a bad feeling. He felt it the day he met you. It was a feeling that wouldn’t go away, and as he researched and studied, he realised someone was out to get you, someone wanted you gone and wanted to take away everything you had. You didn’t deserve that, he could see it in your stars, that you deserved a beautiful life of prosperity, love and success. But there was an evil eye that envied you and didn’t want you to live that life. Chan promised himself to protect you and he could tell the other boys also did so secretly. 

But Chan was only a wizard and could not control fate.

“Guys…” Jeongin called from the window.

As Chan approached, he was taken aback at the massive gang of rogues that stood outside. Seonghwa too was surprised - where did so many rogues even come from?

“What are we going to do?” Jongho asked.

“We can take them.” San said resolutely, “Then we will find Hongjoong and Y/N.”

Chan and Seonghwa looked at each other, both silently confirming to the other. They watched their respective soulmate groups, each member ready and prepared to take on whatever happened next.

Chan looked at Jisung who nodded in confirmation to Chan’s telepathic message to him

“Then,” Chan said, “We fight, we fight to the end if we have to because none of us will go to that woman as prisoners.”

“And no matter what happens,” Seonghwa continued, “Remember that we will always find our way back to each other.”

-

“They’re all gone.”

Mrs Kim stood in the middle of the foyer, a sickening smile plastered on her face as she tapped her fingers on her arm. She finally did it, and now, everything would go her way. She turned to her husband who was on his knees as her lover held a gun to his head.

“See? I always get what I want.” she laughed smugly. 

Mr Kim silently wept as he watched the broken picture frame a few metres away. It fell when a sudden gust of wind blew and shattered right by him. It was a picture of all of you, smiling and looking so happy. Mr Kim was bloodied and beaten but the pain was nothing to the profound emptiness that opened up inside of him, threatening to swallow him whole. His family was gone. Everything he worked so hard to build and the family he loved and adored was unfairly taken away from him by no one else but the woman he had married. A dark cloud of grief descended on him with a haunted and hollow look glazed over his eyes.

Lila stood in shock by what she just heard. You were all gone but instead of feeling like she won like Mrs Kim, she felt her spirit sinking like a stone in the water. She was appalled by the cruelty she was witnessing.

The pack that held the highest rank in the entire town no longer existed and was taken out by one of their own.

“Now where is my son?” Mrs Kim said gleefully.

The two rogues who brought the information glanced at each other cautiously.

“Well?”

“He’s gone too ma’am. He looked like he was going to protect the girl to the end. So, we decided to just blow up the building with them in it.”

Mrs Kim was dismayed by what she just heard. No… it was only supposed to be the eight of you, not her son. She blinked in confusion as realisation dawned on her. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“No…NO NO NO!” she shrieked, “You imbeciles. You were supposed to just take out the girl and the other boys. Not my son!” 

Mrs Kim was flabbergasted by the sudden turn of events. She needed Hongjoong here, he had to lead with her overlooking him. This wasn’t a part of the plan.

Mr Kim, with as much energy as he could muster, looked at the woman with disdain.

“You…” he growled viciously, “You have not won Estelle. You will pay, you will pay for all that you’ve done. My children will come back, they certainly will, and when they do, they will bring you down and drag you to hell right where you belong. You will just watch as you lose everything that never belonged to you in the first place.”

With the little strength he had, he grabbed the gun from Mrs Kim’s lover and shot him in the shoulders. As her lover retaliated, Mr Kim grabbed a glass shard that was close and sliced the man’s face leaving a scar that would never be forgotten. Mr Kim grabbed the picture of all of you and ran as fast he could, barely escaping the two rogues behind him.

Mrs Kim watched in fury and seethed in anger. She didn’t have another plan and it was only a matter of time before people found out.

“What now?” her lover groaned trying to stop the blood that oozed from his face, “He will pay for that.”

“Forget him for now, we need to leave now.”

“And where are we going to go?”

She looked at him sharply before answering, “The human realm.”

-

“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!” 

As the angel wailed and was comforted by his friend, the Moon Goddess watched with folded arms and a stoic expression.

“Calm down Jungwon.” his friend pacified. 

“This can’t be the end for them, Goddess. Please, please don’t let that woman win.” the angel cried.

“It’s not,” the Goddess answered, “Every action has a consequence. The stories of the soulmate groups have not been completed yet. If we leave it, there will be an imbalance.”

“So,” the angel sniffed, “What are you going to do? It’s not the end right?”

Suddenly, a baby’s cry rang through the heavens. The Goddess smiled.

“It’s not the end my dear child, this is only just the beginning.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush @lomons @explorewithd @chatsgotmytongue @scarfac3 @popcatx0 @angrynightnight @sannieluvrr @idfkeddieishot @alicia-dpa @park-simphwa @puppyminnnie @mysticfire0435 @sundayysunshine @chngbnwf @dementedaly @thunderous-wolf @itsmeregan @cookiechristie @hyukssunflower @lelaleleb

#ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #poly!ateez #ateez series

[youaintnothinbuta]

if you don't mind do you think you can do some Elvis angst I really enjoy them but I haven't found any and they don't have to be about anything in specific just as long as it has some angst a little fluff and smut you don't have to if you don't want to but I'll appreciate it!!! 🙏 If you want something to base it off it can be about Elvis affairs or y/n affairs and they get into fights or something and then make up but not until one of them makes it clear that they will leave one another if they don't stop (sorry if it doesn't make sense or sounds stupid😭)

I hope this covers all bases!! <3

“Come home, baby, please.” — elvis presley x reader

Summary: You and elvis are fighting about him never being around because he’s ‘too busy’ but being seen with all these girls in the newspapers constantly, when you decide you’ve had it and leave for your parents house. After days and days go by and his guilt growing, he comes and gets you and you have make up sex in the car

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angsty, argument, yelling, SMUT, 18+, car sex, make up sex, unprotected sex, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re never here, Elvis, never,” You yelled, throwing the newspapers at his feet, “and how is this supposed to make me feel any better?”

The headlines, yet again, in big, bold text, wrote about another woman spotted with him, mocking you with every word.

Elvis looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation. “I am busy, Y/N, you know that, providing for you and every other god damn person I know. I have responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities? Is that what you’re calling it?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Flirting with every girl who bats her eyelashes at you? Is that your responsibility too?”

He stood up abruptly, towering over you, “You know it ain’t like that, baby. Those girls mean nothing to me.”

“Then why do see these headlines every day, Elvis? Every. Damn. Day.” you retorted, your arms crossing over your chest in defiance. He leant down, picking up the newspapers you were standing on. He tore them to shreds, the sound of ripping paper filling the room.

“I don’t write these goddamn headlines, Y/N. What the hell do you want me to do about it?” His voice rose, surprising even himself with the aggression in his tone. “They ain’t mean nothin’ to me.”

“I want to believe you, Elvis, I really do,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and anger. “But I can’t keep living like this. I won’t be second best in your life.”

He reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away.

“I mean it, Elvis. If this doesn’t stop, we’re over. Call me when you’re ready to start acting like a man,” you declared, your voice firm with resolve. With that, you grabbed your car keys from the bench and stormed out.

“Don’t you dare spe—“ Elvis shouted, but the door slamming shut behind you interrupted him before he could finish.

Elvis stood there, watching you go, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and regret. Huffing in frustration, he stared down at the shredded remnants of the newspapers scattered across the floor, the headlines mocking him with their accusations.

He expected you to come back that night, like you always did after a fight, but as the hours passed, and you didn’t return, he began to worry. Days went by, each one dragging on in agonising slowness as he waited for you to walk back through the door. He missed the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your eyes, the way you always knew how to soothe his mind.

One night he went out, and as per usual, he was met with the eager attention of adoring fans and all the girls who would swarm him, but it felt different this time. While he always swore it meant nothing, and it did, this time he felt sick with guilt, so much so he was headed home by midnight.

He sat alone on his side of the bed, the weight of his actions finally hit him. He realised that he couldn’t live without you, that he needed you in his life more than anything. Hesitating, he finally picked up his telephone. Unsure of where exactly you were, his best guess was your parent’s house.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited hoped for you to pick up. Thinking he wasn’t going to get an answer, he was momentarily stunned when he heard your voice say ‘hello?’

You asked again, ‘hello?’

“Come home, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. There was silence as you replayed the sound of his voice in your mind.

“Alright, darlin’, you win,” he continued, “You’re my number one. It’s killing me going to bed without you,” he confessed.

“Come pick me up then,” you demanded, your voice softening slightly.

Without hesitation, Elvis agreed, relief flooding through him at the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m leaving right now,” he promised, the urgency in his voice evident. He really wasn’t kidding, you heard his keys jangling in his hands through the line.

You hung up, feeling a mix of emotions. You sat by the window in the living room, only a lamp on as your parents had gone to bed already, waiting for him to arrive. You didn’t know how to feel, only that you still loved him, despite everything.

It was a long drive to your parents, about 40 minutes, but he was there as soon as he could’ve been. Finally, he arrived, the headlights of his car casting long shadows across the familiar driveway. With a sigh of relief, he killed the engine and stepped out into the cool night air.

As he approached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. But before he could make a sound and wake your family, the door swung open, and there you stood, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. For a fleeting moment, Elvis was struck by the sight of you, how pretty you looked in the pale light.

You wanted to be angry with him, you wanted to give him the silent treatment and make him work for forgiveness but the second you saw his beautiful face, you couldn’t help but smile. Without a word, you stepped out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind you. Elvis met your gaze, his expression filled with remorse.

He opened your door for you, making his way around to the driver’s side once you were in. You looked over at him as he sat, his eyes already on you.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he says, his voice low and sincere, “don’t ever run away on me like that to me again.”

You turn to face him, your expression softening. “Don't ever make me feel like I have to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won't,” he promises, reaching out to take your hand, his lips grazing over your knuckles. “I swear.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and you can't help but believe him, even if it might be against your better judgment. You lean over and press your lips to his, feeling the tension between you start to dissipate. You glance down, noticing the way his muscles tense under his shirt. You missed him. You really did. You’d never tell him that, though.

Without a word, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. His sucks in a surprised breath at your unexpected movement. You can feel his erection grow as you kiss him, the size of him putting pressure on your clit. You waste no time in releasing his cock from his pants, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted as he deftly maneuvered your panties aside, his fingers tracing patterns of anticipation along the delicate curve of your thigh. You push his hand out the way, gently lowering yourself down onto him, your jaw hung open at the feeling.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as you bottomed out, the raw intensity of the moment leaving you both reeling. You began to move, a steady rhythm building between you as the car filled with the heady scent of arousal, the windows fogging over with the heat of you both. Elvis' hands roam over your body, touching you wherever he could as he whispered apologies and words of love.

He attempted to guide you to move up and down instead of back and forth, you took the hint, earning a series of raspy grunts from him. You could feel the tension building between you, the pleasure mounting higher and higher. As you rode him, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Elvis sensed it too, because his fingers found your clit, rubbing quick circles that sent you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, your orgasm rippling through you like a shockwave. You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing something to hold onto as you lost control of your body. Your orgasm coated his cock with more wetness, “I’ve got you,” he murmured, still thrusting himself up into you. Elvis followed you over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his release.

As you come down from your high, Elvis chuckles, looking towards the window.

“Makeup sex right outside your parents' window, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” He teased, lightly squeezing your ass.

You playfully punched him in the chest, shushing him as you tried to catch your breath. “Be quiet,” you whispered, blush colouring your cheeks.

Elvis grinned, pulling you close for a kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice soft. He reaches his fingertip to the condensation on the window, drawing half a heart.

You smiled, reaching your hand over to finish the other half. “I love you too,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

You reluctantly pulled yourself off of Elvis' lap. He quickly adjusted his pants, tucking himself away before pulling off his jacket, wrapping it around you to keep you warm for the drive home.

“Let's get you home,” he said, his voice soft. He started the car, pulling away from the curb as you settled into the passenger seat. He rested his left hand on the steering wheel as he drove, his right arm wrapped around you holding you close to him. You leant into his body, feeling his warmth against you. You giggled, still feeling the aftershocks of earlier orgasm. He must’ve somehow known, because he leant down to press a kiss to your head.

“My girl,” he whispered. As you continued along the quiet road, the weight of the day and the events of the week began to catch up with you, exhaustion settling heavy upon your shoulders.

Elvis sensed your weariness, his arm tightening around you as he pulled you closer, cocooning you in the safety of his embrace. “You can sleep,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words spread through you. You let yourself drift off, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

When you finally arrived back at his house, Elvis woke you gently, his touch a gentle caress against your skin as he guided you inside, still wrapped in his jacket. With his help, you changed into one of your nighties.

You brushed your teeth together, your eyes meeting, making you laugh in the mirror as you both rinsed.

As you climbed into bed, Elvis pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. “I'm never letting you go again,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, snuggling closer to him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby as you drifted off to sleep, finally back in his.

#elvis fanfic #elvis film #army elvis #50s elvis #elvis imagine #elvisaaronpresley #elvis music #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis x oc #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #reader x elvis #yn x elvis #you x elvis presley #you x elvis #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #Elvis Presley x fem reader

[fandomonetwo]

fear — steve harrington

▸summary: you expect people to do die with honour, with bravery, with courage. you died with fear. steve can't know.

▸characters: steve harrington x gn!reader, eddie munson, dustin henderson

▸tw: angst. like, really bad. it's an issue.

▸a/n: i don't actually know what goes on inside my brain. for some reason, i just really like angst.

LOVE HURT.

IT was something that multiple people agreed upon. Steve Harrington was one of them. 

The whole party had some semblance of loss somewhere in their hearts, but Steve… 

It just seemed like something was gunning for him, sucking the happiness one loss at a time. 

Steve had never before known what love could’ve been until he met you. There was always something about you that never seemed to leave him alone. Whether it was that stupid grin, the stupid hair, the stupid arms, the stupid hugs, the stupid sappy words. Everything that Steve missed out on was being passed onto him like he was a reject shop, which was what he felt like. You gave him love, gave him hope, gave him life even. 

Then you died. 

When Dustin and Eddie came back through the portal without you, Steve freaked out. When Dustin couldn’t scream the words without them catching in his throat, Steve begged him to keep them there. When Dustin said he wasn’t strong enough to carry you and Eddie was on his way to collapse, Steve screamed that he was. He was strong. He could do it. He could, he promised he could. With tears in his eyes and dirt on his face and his hand on his chest, he promised he could carry you back. With his knees on the ground and his voice lost in the wind, he promised he could. 

So he ripped himself up like he wanted to rip his heart out of his body, ignoring the cries and begs of the people behind him. He had never moved faster in his life than when he was climbing into that portal, throwing open the caravan door, sprinting to the figure that lay in the dust. His voice returned as he screeched, flailing his arms to rid the area of any of the bats that might have smelled the meat, the fresh kill. There were no bats flying. They had all dropped a while ago. He knelt next to the person he had recklessly given everything to, shaking your shoulders and begging you to wake up. He didn’t stop asking the favour, even when he claimed it was too cold for you here, dragging you body upright into a standing position. He didn’t stop asking even when he began walking, praying that your legs would move the same way. They left tracks in the dirt as they dragged. He didn’t stop begging even when he screamed at Nancy to pull you through. She could feel the toll that death had taken on you. The loss of muscle, the eerie stillness. Yet, Steve still didn’t stop begging even when he said that you were safe now. 

Wake up now. You can’t sleep here. You have to wake up.

Your eyes were open. 

There was no such thing as peace at that moment. Nobody was blessed with the grieving silence. Steve wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want it to be silent, not when you loved to make noise. Not when you would laugh at his lame jokes. He couldn’t be silent in his efforts to somehow make you wake up. 

Eddie sat on the ground, his back propped up against the wall. He stared straight ahead, his facial expression not changing even as there was a tear. Nancy and Robin didn’t even try forcing their faces still. They twisted and sobbed and cried no matter how hard they tried to stifle it. They didn’t want to add to Steve’s pain. Dustin was in worse shape. He didn’t know what to do. Does he hug Steve? Does he leave him alone? Does he cry? Does he stay strong? What does he do? So, he stands there. He stands there, and he cries, and Steve doesn’t see. He can’t see. The blurriness of his vision paired with the agonising pain in his brain and his heart just makes it so that he doesn’t see anything. He can’t even remember how they got your body to the hospital. 

Telling your parents sucked. Steve couldn’t actually do it. He stood at one of the tables, folding clothes for the people packed in the stadium, the ones that had their houses crushed in the ‘earthquake’. He stood there, and he looked horrible. He was pale. He had bags under his eyes. He was thin. His eyes were red and his nose was raw. He couldn’t even talk properly. His hands shook. His knees trembled when your parents walked over. 

Dustin had spoken to them. Told them how you died. Or, how you ‘died’. You were caught saving him and Eddie in the ‘earthquake’, and you had died. He chose to keep the fact that you had stood alone, surrounded by a swarm of bats after pushing Eddie out of the fray into Dustin’s arms. 

The funny thing was, you didn’t die from the wounds from the bats. You didn’t even sustain many. Sure, you had enough that it would’ve put you in serious danger, but it wasn’t the wounds that killed you. Dustin may have been a little delirious, but he didn’t imagine you clutching your chest and dropping like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t imagine the jerk your body made as you breath caught. He didn’t imagine you dying standing up. He may not have been a doctor, but he wasn’t stupid. He was a nerd, and nerds read. 

You had a heart attack. The fear had actually killed you. You had been scared to death. 

That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when the bats began to swan dive straight onto you. That was the worst part. That was the part that got Dustin screaming himself awake at night. That was the part that pushed Dustin to drag Eddie away, away from you. You didn’t feel it, at least. Steve didn’t even know how you died. Dustin knew that if Steve knew, he’d actually go mental. So, he and Eddie swore never to tell anyone else. Not family, not the party, no-one. 

So when your mother came walking over to the Harrington boy, tears collecting in her eyes as she stretched her arms out, his knees finally gave out. He collapsed in her arms, filling her ears with never ending apologies. She shushed him, sobbing. Soon, your father joined the hug, and the three of them cried over your heroic sacrifice. 

Meanwhile, Dustin and Eddie looked on from opposite sides. They exchanged glances, and went back to their own work. They never had to know that your death was so out of place, that you died with that much fear. They never had to know that you had cried that you didn’t want to be there. They didn’t have to know that you had asked Eddie to take you home. They never had to know that you asked Dustin for one more hug. 

Love hurt, but they didn’t have to know how much worse it could get. 

They kept their mouths shut.

#eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader angst #angst #stranger things #x reader #mcangst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #bawling #it's an issue

[tenthousandyearsx]

Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

​‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

​‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ​‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ​‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ​‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

#tag game #mind the tags in each fic!!! #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry smut #my fics #dron #dronarry

[applejuicefruit]

can you do angst to fluff where reader had been rlly focused on her career/school and not spending a lot of time w kylian. so when she tries to make plans he acts really annoyed but he's really just hurt. it takes a lot for him to open up bc he doesn't want to seem soft. so when reader finally talks to him ab it he j expresses that he's sad and she reassures him and treats him like her little baby again 🥲🥲

Hii thank you for requesting this I hope you like it ⭐️

kylian mbappe x reader

She Hulk

You always wanted to be a lawyer, it’s always been your dream so when you got into the law school of your dream you felt like floating. Your family was so proud of you, your boyfriend Kylian was so proud of you, he always supported you and that was the most important thing to you. It’s been over a year now and you were still in school studying harder and harder every single day.

It was like you forgot how to live. You were constantly studying, burying yourself in pages and pages and barely living. You didn’t mean to do it but you ignored your friends and your boyfriend. One night he asked you if you wanted to go out with him but you were so tired and busy studying that you said no. Without giving him an explanation.

It was currently the weekend and you thought of giving yourself a well deserved break. You knew Kylian had practice that day so you wanted to surprise him with pizzas a movie night. You had the spare key of his apartment so when he wasn’t home you organised everything. From the pillows and blankets laid on the floor near the couch, to the pizzas cooking in the oven, from the Disney + home page opened on his TV to the candles lighting up the atmosphere. You were so excited about spending time with Kylian again that you thought he would love it too.

When he opened the front door he never expected to see you there, in the kitchen, cleaning what you used to make pizzas and smiling directly at him. He was kinda mad at you for ignoring him for more than a week. Honestly he was an attention seeker and he loved your attention so much it made him sad the fact that you ghosted him for ten agonising days.

“Surprise!!” you said smiling at him

“What is this?” he asked a bit confused

“I thought of making something special for our weekend together, I made pizza, we can watch a movie or two and then we can cuddle all night” you said - your smile never leaving your face

“I’m actually tired from practice” he said passing over you and putting his jacket on the couch. Your heart broke a little. You spent hours on getting everything ready for this night and all he did was ignoring you.

“Kylian?” you called him

“What?” he said not even looking at you

“Are you mad?” you asked him trying to figure out why he was acting that way “did something happen at practice?”

“No I’m fine honestly…why don’t you just go home, I’m quite tired…” he said and you couldn’t believe of what you were hearing

“Kylian…are you mad at me?” you asked him but he ignored you “Kylian! Can you at least look at me and tell what I did?”

“So it’s fine for you to ignore me for more than a week then come here and do all of this and expecting me to be happy to see you! I haven’t heard from you for more than ten fucking days! I had to text your best friend to even know if you were still alive! So yes I’m mad at you!” he snapped back at you raising his voice. He never raised his voice with you. Instead you always talked about your problems so it was scaring you his behaviour change.

“Kylian…I’m so sorry I’ve never meant to ignore you it’s just…I’ve been studying so much in these past days that I completely forgot to-“

“You forgot about your boyfriend that’s what happened…I thought - maybe it’s over, maybe she found someone else, maybe she doesn’t love anymore, maybe she cheated…” he said looking at you

“What! I would never cheat and you know that!” you raised your voice a little bit, this time making you angry accusing you of cheating

“No y/n I don’t…I haven’t heard from you for days so I don’t know what you were up to!” he screamed back

“Studying! That is what I was fucking doing! Studying because I have three exams next week! Not one, not two but three fucking exams!” you screamed back

“So you’re gonna tell me you have been studying for ten days without taking a break?” he asked in a sarcastic voice, still mad at you

“Fuck…yes Kylian! I was studying what do you think I was doing? I didn’t mean to ignore you! It’s just…” - and in that moment you felt a few tears fall from your face, letting all the stress of the past week coming out, all the sleepless nights spent on books, all the adrenaline bottled up in the past days coming out now “…you have no idea of how hard it is! I can’t fail these exams…I just I can’t…” you said, lowering your tone, tears falling from your eyes. Kylian’s heart broke when he saw you like this, proof that you were really stressed and, instead of helping you he was causing more stress to you.

“If you don’t want me here tonight it’s fine…I’ll go home but at least eat the pizza I made, is good…” you said, reaching up for your jacket and purse when his hand grabbed your arm

“Babe…” he said looking at you with a very sad face and that’s all it took for you to burst into tears, letting all the stress coming out “hey shh…it’s okay, let it all out” Kylian said while stroking your back. Your head on his chest and your arms around his neck, almost holding on for dear life.

“Baby it’s okay…I’m so sorry baby, I wished I’ve seen it before…you’re so stressed honey, it’s okay let it all out” he kept saying while helping you letting all of your stress out. After a few minutes you calmed down. Kylian’s hands wiping your tears away.

“I didn’t want to ignore you” you said truthfully

“I know baby, I’m so sorry…I wished I could have helped you before…”

“It’s okay It’s just hard…you know I’m not She Hulk” you said and he laughed a bit, still holding you close

“Why don’t we eat the delicious pizza you made and watch something? Preferably not She Hulk…” he suggested smirking at you

“What! She’s amazing! She’s a lawyer and she can kick ass! I’m basically her but without the superpowers and the law degree, not yet at least…” you joked, laying on the blankets while Kylian took the pizzas out of the oven

“Fine we can watch She Hulk” he said sitting next to you with the pizzas and you let the first episode starts, again.

That was all you needed. A little bit of relax with the man you loved most, it was perfect.

#kylian x reader #kylian mbappe #kylianmbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe fluff #equipe de france #paris saint germain #psg #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe imagine

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Contorno

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Secondo Piatto | Masterpost

To avoid a soggy mess, it is advisable to properly prepare your aubergines. The stems can be removed or left on depending on preference. You liked leaving them on. This is the type of dish that could be eaten hands on, so the stem offered a good hand hold and you did favour a more rustic style of presentation. They still needed to be cut in half lengthways, however, so you could scoop out the seeds and softer flesh leaving the shell to be filled later. They are sprinkled with salt and left to sit to allow the excess water to be drawn out, to prevent the aforementioned soggy mess. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The next morning when you let yourself into his rooms it was almost like everything was back to normal, except it wasn’t, not really. Your stomach was filled with butterflies as you approached his rooms but it was not accompanied with dread this time. No, the urge to avoid him had well and truly left you and instead you were excited to see him. You hadn’t slept much the previous night but unlike the last time you weren’t agonising over every moment of your interaction you were relishing in it. His relieved smile, the warmth of his lips, the way his body felt pressed against you. But as much as you were revelling in the knowledge of your reciprocated feelings, a part of you still couldn’t quite believe that he felt the same. It was almost simpler before when you thought he just considered you another conquest but it was something else entirely to think that you had somehow, well you weren’t entirely sure what it was yet but it definitely seemed like more than just lust. 

To your surprise he was already up when you arrived, and you hoped he had the same overwhelming urge to see you as you did him. He was curled up in one of the overstuffed armchairs in his sitting room, half drunk cup of espresso in one hand and his chin resting in the other. Still wearing his soft pyjamas and with his tousled hair he gives you a sleepy smile as you walk towards him. The change in him hit you then as you remembered the closed off and aloof man that you had encountered when you first began working for him.  

‘Buongiorno Sorella,’ he greets you as you pause beside him. You want to reach out or kiss him or smooth his hair back or something but you become slightly paralysed by indecision. This is all so new you aren’t sure what signs of affection are welcome, but before things become too awkward he reaches for you pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes dropping closed as he hums to himself. ‘Thank you for coming back.’ 

‘Nothing would have stopped me coming back Papa,’ is the overly honest answer that springs from you almost unbidden. You feel your face flushing at the admission but when he quirks his eyebrow at you fixing you with a faux annoyed expression you realise your slip up. ‘Terzo,’ you correct and the smile he gives you makes your heart race.  

‘Good girl.’ Simple words shouldn’t affect you this much, especially not this early in the morning but you also can’t help imagining him praising you in other scenarios. Thankfully before you can follow that thought to its conclusion he continues. ‘Now mia cuocoina could I trouble you for some breakfast?’ The request comes along with wide pleading eyes and try to pull off some air of professionalism. 

‘Of course Terzo. Any requests this morning?’ he barely even pauses for breath before he gives his answer.

‘Remember the ricotta pancakes?’ You do remember the ricotta pancakes. He had moaned when he had taken his first bite then asked for seconds, and then thirds. 

‘The ones with the berries and whipped cream?’ He nods eagerly and you can’t resist pressing a kiss to his cheek before making your way to the kitchen. ‘Should I double the recipe this time?’

‘Oh por favore,’ he calls, twisting in his chair to watch you go. ‘And perhaps another coffee too?’

‘Coming right up.’ It was going to take some work you think, to balance everything the two of you have going on. But you felt good about it. As long as you were careful you could navigate this thing together and it certainly helped that you enjoyed looking after him like this. You have to try not to get ahead of yourself but you think that you might always enjoy it. 

‘I don’t know what I did to deserve you Sorella.’ The hushed way he says it makes you think perhaps that wasn’t for you to hear so you just get to work on his breakfast. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The beef steak had been freshly minced that morning, still pink and juicy as you transferred it to the preheated pan. The finely diced onions and garlic were already fragrant as the meat began to sizzle. This was to be the base of the filling of the resting aubergine shells. You pinch in the seasoning as it begins to brown sealing flavour into the meat and before continuing you drain off some of the juice pooling in the bottom of the pan. Skinned and slightly over ripe tomatoes are added next, soft and sweet then finally the previously scooped aubergine, both cooking down into a rich paste. You leave it to simmer and thicken and intensify all the combined flavours. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You knocked on the frame of his open office door, juggling the box of coconut ice and the notes you had made from the notebook. He doesn’t even notice the first time, so absorbed in his paperwork so you try clearing your throat pointedly and when that similarly fails you just walk in. You and Copia are familiar enough that you hoped he wouldn’t be annoyed and frankly he looked like he needed a break. It was a poorly kept secret around the Abbey that a lot of Terzo’s responsibilities had been reassigned to the Cardinal, at least until the future if the Papacy was decided and looking at him it was clear to see.

‘Cardinal?’ You finally get his attention but unfortunately he almost falls out of his chair in shock.

‘Sorella,’ he gasps out, settling back in his chair and straightening his biretta. 

‘How can I help you today?’ He smiles at you but his eyes look tired and you notice him massaging his hand underneath the table, which was understandable given the mountain of paperwork he had already worked through that morning. 

‘I do have some questions.’ You wish you had thought to bring some coffee along with you but alas you only have your surprise treat. ‘But I have a surprise for you first.’ You place the box of coconut ice on his desk in front of him and he carefully opens the lid, eyes lighting up when he sees what's inside. You had shaped them into little rats with whiskers, ears and tails. 

‘Oh Sorella, look at them!’ He lifts one out of the box admiring the details you had added. ‘And coconut ice is my favourite. Would you like one?’ He offers you the box but you shake your head in refusal. 

‘No thank you. They are all yours.’ He nibbles at the one in his hand at first, taking little bites from the but after a moment demolishes it all in two bites. ‘Mmmm Sorella, grazi, grazi.’ He wipes his gloves on a tissue he pulled from somewhere on his desk and looking more alert after his sugar boost he fixes his attention back on you. You had thought long and hard about asking for help with the notebook. Since your reconciliation dinner with Terzo he had not mentioned it again and without broaching the topic with him you sensed he didn’t want to discuss it. But you were running out of recipes at least ones that made sense. It seemed to you that some of the instructions had got lost in translation and while your knowledge of cooking could fill some of the gaps your complete lack of Italian was surely holding you back. 

It wasn’t any easy decision to seek someone out however. There were only a few people on hand that even spoke Italian well enough to be of any help and they all were close to Terzo unfortunately and keeping his trust and confidence was even more important to you now then it was before. The compromise you had come up with was to just copy out the parts that were causing you issues, in both the Italian and English and then with a little help you would be able to understand the recipe. However you still had to choose carefully who you approached. Even with such little context you had the feeling that both Primo and Secondo would understand more than you would like and given Terzo’s many frustrations about his brothers interference in his life you didn’t want to create more opportunities. 

Which only left Copia. He was spared much of Terzo’s ire and as he hadn’t grown up with the brothers you hoped he would be less likely to understand what he was reading. You quickly explain that you have been studying an Italian recipe book but were struggling with some of the instructions. That you believed that there had been some errors in the translations as they made little sense, at least in English. He nodded along listening to your explanation in silence but helping himself to another coconut rat while he waited for you to finish. 

‘Where did you get this book if you don’t mind me asking?’ His question makes you wince. You had been hoping you could skim over that.

‘I found it, already translated, Cardinal.’ It wasn’t a lie as such just not the entire truth but he sensed he shouldn’t push this line of enquiry. You hand him your notes and he flicks through them eyes darting back and forth over your writing. 

‘Typically it does help when translating texts to have the full text. Context is often one of the biggest clues to finding the closest translation.’ You are starting to lose hope that you will ever get the help you seek. But he places your notes next to one of his piles of paperwork and gives you a smile. ‘I will see what I can do for you Sorrella, leave it with me. But if you could get me the full text this could be a lot quicker and easier.’

‘I can’t give you the whole book Cardinal I am sorry,’ you wince, feeling terrible to be adding to his already considerable workload. ‘I can write out some more detailed notes for you though if that would help?’

‘That would help, si. I also think a few more of these coconut rats might help as well?’ You know when you are being blackmailed but it makes you laugh. Of course you could spare the time to make him some more treats, especially as you were asking so much of him.

‘Thank you Cardinal, really.’ He gives you a warm nod before sighing and picking up his pen ready to get back to work but as you leave you see him sneak a third coconut rat out of the box. You better get working on more straight away. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Using a clean cotton cloth you pat away the moisture released by the aubergines so they are ready to be filled. While the sauce cools you prepare the rest of the toppings. Some just stale bread ready to be crumbed will serve well to add a bit of crisp texture to the topping. Thick slices of mozzarella that will melt perfectly over the surface and help seal in the filling. And then just for the presentation some thinly sliced plum tomatoes and delicate basil leaves. The assembly is quick and easy and then all that is needed is a low, slow bake in the oven.  

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Mmmm,’ you hear him call from the doorway. ‘What is this that I smell cara?’ You roll your eyes at him good naturedly. ‘Surely the most delicious meal that has ever been made in this kitchen?’ He is always so enthusiastic in his praise of you but you enjoy it even if it feels unwarranted at times. He leans in the door frame just watching you for a moment before he comes closer eyeing up the food you have left to stand. ‘I am starved! Can we eat now?’ He pulls plates out the cupboard eagerly which you take from him gently and place them to one side.

‘We?’ You ask, slapping his hand from where he was reaching for the still steaming food. ‘You need to be patient, it's still too hot.’ He takes your hand before you can move away, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you close.

‘We, mia cuocoina,’ he spins you both into the centre of the kitchen until you have room to sway together. ‘Because you are having dinner with me tonight.’ He phrases it as a statement not a question so you don’t bother to respond instead allowing your head to come to rest on his shoulder. He allows you a moment before he pulls back, arranging you both into a more formal dancing stance. ‘Do you know how to waltz?’ he enquires fixing the position of your arm where it is loosely draped over his shoulder. 

‘A bit, the basic steps I suppose,’ you reply but with no further explanation he begins to lead you around the small space. Your pace is slow at first, giving you time to find your rhythm and stop tripping over your own feet but then you are elegantly spinning around the room to a song only he can hear. ‘I didn’t know you could dance.’ you say as he expertly spins you away from him and then back into his waiting arms.

‘You wound me cara!’ He says with a mock pout. ‘You have seen your Papa on stage, no? You have seen he has got the moves!’ He demonstrates his point, twisting you fluidly until you are looking at him over your joined hands as you circle around each other. 

‘I seem to remember a lot of tripping and falling over,’ you tease and his frown only deepens. ‘And a fair amount of thrusting.’ As soon as you realise what you have said you feel your cheeks heat. 

‘Ah, I see.’ A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as his frown smoothes out and is replaced by a smug grin. ‘Too distracted by my hips to notice anything else eh?’ With a complicated tangle of limbs you don’t quite understand you end up back in his arms and being dipped dramatically. ‘Perhaps we should be doing the tango instead of the waltz.’   

‘No, well I mean I don’t know the tango, but anyway,’ you take a deep breath and calm your thoughts. He flusters you so effortlessly. He eases you back upright and you pick up the basic steps of the waltz again. You fiddle with the seam on his shoulder and try and form some coherent thoughts. Finally you can look at him again, the fondness in his eyes calming you further. ‘You never did anything like this.’

‘Well there was one time with a man dressed as a nun, but that’s besides the point, cara.’ His expression seems to glaze over as he pauses. ‘My mother taught me.’ He looks happy as he delves into his memory. ‘She taught me a lot of things, mostly I don’t remember but the dancing I do.’ He begins to hum as he drifts away, you suspect it is the tune you have been unknowingly dancing to this whole time. 

‘For what it is worth, you are very good.’ He smiles in spite of the sadness in his eyes but you don’t push, he will share with you in his own time. You gently squeeze his hand bringing him back to the present as the timer starts to beep.

‘I have a lot of moves I think you would like, mia cuocoina,’ His gaze is intense as you break away to finish preparing dinner. You know he is just deflecting from a vulnerable moment but that doesn’t stop his seductive drawl from drying out your mouth and weakening your knees. You quickly make up your plates as he helpfully sets the table but there is a tension simmering between you. You drop the plates onto the table and take your seat adjacent to him, his eyes following you. It feels like you are on the precipice of something and you are ready to throw yourself off the edge.     

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

When time is up they have turned out just as you had imagined. Creamy cheese covering the top and even spilling slightly down the sides. Roasted tomatoes oozing juice and the slices of basil caught in amongst it all. Finally golden toasted breadcrumbs topping everything else. They look delicious but it is best to let them rest a while until they are a sensible temperature for eating as tempting as they are straight out of the oven. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • 

He takes his last bite groaning in satisfaction as he slouches back in his chair. He rubs at his full stomach, lifting the hem of his shirt in the process that tantalising glimpse of skin catching your eyes again. In all the emotional uncertainty you had mostly been able to ignore your lust but now, now after days of barely there touches and soft kisses you needed more. You watch him stretch again and your memory helpfully provides you with the sight of him pleasuring himself, now you know deliberately just so you would find him and the feeling of his hands on you, in you, when he cornered you at the stove. You need him and you don’t want to wait any longer. When you come back to the present he is watching you watch him, a knowing smirk on his face. 

‘You look hungry still, is there something else you need to satisfy your appetite?’ He questions as he rubs his slightly protruding stomach again, rucking his shirt up even higher as he watches your eyes follow his movements. You try to think of some witty response but when he pushes his chair back and spreads his legs for you you end up knelt in front of him before you can even register making the decision. Resting your hands on his knees you wait for his consent to touch him further even as you see the beginnings of a bulge growing in his trousers. You think again of the night against the stove, the shallow thrusts against your ass and his hardness pressed against you. You can’t wait to see him, feel him, taste him. 

‘Go ahead cara,’ he nods down at you, as affected by your position as you but hiding it better. You hesitate a moment as you decide where you want to touch him first but then that bare skin between his waistband and his shirt calls to you and you know exactly what you want. You let your hands run slowly up his thighs, thick but you can feel the hard muscle underneath as you squeeze, over his narrow hips and then you pause when you reach his waistband. He takes a deep breath, the tension rising between you as you inch closer and closer. He nods, barely perceptible but it’s enough to end your hesitation and then you are touching his bare skin. You push your hands up his torso, his shirt bunching up around your wrists and your fingers raking through the soft hair that covers his chest. You can’t help pushing your face against his soft stomach, tracing the new soft curve with the tip of your nose and then your tongue only relenting when his huffing laughs almost cause him to double over. 

‘That tickles, cara,’ he warns, weaving his fingers into your hair and trying to gently guide you away, but you aren’t quite finished yet. You press firmer kisses to him, the soft give of his flesh only encouraging you further until you are nipping and sucking marks into his skin. His laugh turns into quiet gasps and you can feel his cock straining urgently against your chest and you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. Following the trail of hair leading into his trousers with your kisses you and when you arrive you waste no time undoing the fastening so you can free him from his constraints. 

Your mouth starts to water as you finally free him from his trousers, so eager for him but first you take your time to admire his perfect cock. It’s pretty, you think, although you will definitely refrain from saying so out loud. The line of hair you had been exploring previously leads straight to a carefully groomed salt and pepper patch that his cock curves upwards from. It’s sizable, longer than it is thick and it tapers slightly towards the head, which as hard as he is is flushed a lovely shade of pink. Struggling to get to the rest of him you sit back in frustration and help him out of his trousers completely. He spreads his legs, giving you plenty of room, and you have kept him waiting long enough. 

You start at the base, leaving wet open mouthed kisses where his cock meets his balls. Woking your way up you trace all the veins and ridges you can feel with your tongue taking your time to map as much of his cock as you can reach. When you reach the head you tease at his slit, lapping at the precome that had gathered there, your first taste of him making you moan as you gently suck and kiss at his sensitive head. You barely notice his hands weaving into your hair until his grip is tightening and he is pulling you up to look at him.  

‘Teasing is fun up to a certain point, cara.’ His voice is low and stern, shooting straight through you. He traces your already swollen lips with his thumb, slipping it into your mouth to press on your tongue, leaning in to kiss you as he pulls it out with a string of your spit spilling out onto your lips. He has never kissed you like this before, demanding and forcing his way into your open mouth. If it wasn’t for his firm grip on your hair your legs might have given out but he keeps you exactly where he wants you as he ravages your mouth. ‘ My patience is running out,’ he growls as he pulls away. 

‘I don’t mean to tease Papa, I promise,’ you rasp, voice already wrecked and you had barely even begun. ‘I’m just getting to know what you like.’ You wrap your hand around his cock, working him slowly. You spit into your fist, your attention so far not quite enough to ease the friction and you watch as his eyes flutter closed as he considers your request. ‘Please let me finish, I will do whatever you want afterwards.’

‘Whatever I want, eh?’ You can see the possibilities going through his mind as he looks between your hand on his cock and your face. ‘Ok, yes, you can continue.’ He leans back in his seat and loosens his grip in your hair until you can move again. You continue jerking him and move straight to his balls, sucking one into your mouth and rolling it on your tongue, his surprised moan filling you with satisfaction. You switch your attention to the other as you notice his breathing quicken and his cock start to twitch against your palm. Licking your way back up to the base you gently suck at the skin there, simultaneously massaging the head of his cock with your thumb, his twitching continuing and his gasping breaths becoming choked off moans until he breaks. 

‘Enough,’ his strong hands bring you to the head of his cock. ‘Now I want you to swallow me. Whole.’ He gives you a couple of seconds to catch your breath and then he is encouraging you down his length. You sink down slowly, swallowing as you go and willing your gag reflex to cooperate. ‘How much can you take cuocoina? Can you take my whole cock in that pretty mouth of yours?’ You take it all, the tip of your nose pressing against him and he groans. You slide your tongue against the underside of his cock as your throat constricts around the intrusion and you can feel how he twitches, leaking down the back of your throat.  

‘I’m close already,’ he tells you, encouraging you to bob your head on his cock. ‘See what all your teasing has done to me.’ You cup his balls in one hand, massaging them as they tighten against his body in the build up to his orgasm. You brace your other arm across his stomach so you can dig your fingers into the softness of his tummy, moaning around his cock at all the ways you are affecting his body. ‘Will you let me cum in your mouth cara?’ He growls, fighting to delay the inevitable. You continue pleasuring him hoping the way you look at him conveys your agreement. ‘You did say whatever I wanted, si?’ You nod as best you can with his cock lodged in your throat. When his hips start thrusting up into you and his fingers start digging into your scalp you know how close he is pulling back to suck on the head of his cock until he starts to spill his load into your mouth. 

‘Ahhhh, yessss,’ he moans so loud you would be surprised if he couldn’t be heard outside his rooms. You suck him through the aftershocks holding his come in your mouth until you pull off. You take him in in his post orgasmic haze, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath and his head tipped back against his chair. You squeeze his thighs gently to get his attention and he manages to drop his chin to his chest looking down at you through half lidded eyes. Opening your mouth, you show him you have yet to swallow his cum. His eyes darken and his cock gives a valiant twitch as he realises you are waiting for his next instruction. 

‘You may swallow now cara mia,’ he orders and you do as instructed, swallowing deeply then licking your lips. He holds your gaze, as if he is waiting so you open your mouth to show him how well you had followed instructions and he smiles at you warmly. He pats his thigh and you scoot closer resting your head against him.   ‘Good girl,’ he sighs, raking his fingers through your hair straightening out the mess he had made of it earlier. You enjoy the shiver of satisfaction that runs through you at his praise and in your contentment you doze off resting in his lap.

#papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #terzo #papa emeritus iii #my writing #banchetto #I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER PLEASE FORGIVE ME

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Alright. For your NSFW requests. Can you do something with Levi, where you’re having a really shit day and all you want is for Levi to fuck the life out of you? That’s all I got at the moment. I’m a sucker for “I’m mad so fuck me” sex.

Smut Scribbles 26: "I want you to ruin me."

Bad Habit (NSFW) Characters: Levi x Reader Word Count: 775 words

Fiercely, Levi yanked your leg to his heaving chest, lifting your hips up so that he could sink his weight into you. Beneath him, your head was thrown back against the pillows, his name escaping you in strangled gasp. Insatiable, Levi pushed deeper, more insistently into you. Strangely, he found he was no longer concerned about the noise you were both making.

You hadn’t been expecting company that night. It seemed as though hours had passed as you had sat upon the lounge chair in your room, eyes glazed. You had been too exhausted to cry any more bitter tears. You stared at nothing; your body bowed forward so that one elbow rested upon your knee. Fretfully, you gnawed upon a bitten-down nail. One ugly thought surfaced, then another rose to take its place. Increasingly dark contemplations were emerging, leaping over one another; giving persistent chase around your mind. 

A sharp knock had brought you back to your surroundings. Hastily rubbing your face, you approached the door. There was Levi, concern tightening his expression as his eyes searched your face. Of course, he had heard about what had happened today. Yet, the last thing you sought was his kindness. It was far worse than his contempt. You glanced over his shoulder first one way, then the other up the darkened corridor.

“Did anyone see you?” 

“No…” Levi raised his eyebrows. He folded his arms, but did not cross the threshold. You turned your back to the doorway. There came the sound of a click.

“I’m not in the mood to talk about it.”

You coughed out a tearless sigh as Levi dropped his arms to his sides. He offered a half-shrug. You returned to your chair. Hesitantly, Levi made a brief motion as though he was about to leave again. Instead, with a gentle thud, he kicked off his boots by the door and took a seat beside you.

“No one’s making you talk.”

Exhausted, you sank against him. Your cheek rested on the collar of his jacket.

“This fucking day has been…” Your voice was hoarse. You gestured uselessly, buckled under the weight of such weariness. "I just want to forget it."

“I know,” came Levi’s reply, filled with doubtless reassurance. Beside you, he was real and solid and warm. For a moment, your pain wasn’t entirely insurmountable. Shifting slightly against him, your forehead rested against Levi’s chin. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

“Want me to stay?”

As his fingers tucked your hair away from your neck, you released your breath slowly. Levi had remained still then. You turned your head towards him. He did not move away. Then you gently brushed your lips against his.

"Levi..."

"Tell me." His fingers traced your chin, his breath lingering on your mouth.

“I..." You gazed at him, your heart beating with such fervour that you could feel its pulse in your throat.

"...I want you to fuck me. Right here. I want you to ruin me, Levi.”

You were both still learning each other’s patterns, rhythms, inclinations but, increasingly, your bodies were no longer strangers to one another. It was becoming easy to undress each other; safe to lose yourselves completely. It was becoming a habit.

Now your head was pressed into the pillows scattered upon your bed. Your legs were draped over Levi’s shoulders, so slick with sweat that they were slipping out of place. Levi’s hand clutched your ankle firmly. You were lost to an all-engrossing heat; one that was building so sharply, so agonising close. You hardly noticed when Levi’s fingers threaded through your own, gripping your hands as his thrusts became more desperate. 

Your whole body rocked on a wave of ecstasy. As the sensation crested to its peak, you choked out a few incoherent words between sobs. Heat flared within you. Every muscle in your body clenched. And then, the sting of pleasure was ebbing away. 

Levi’s movements were slowing. His eyes were closed; brow slightly furrowed in concentration; his cheeks flushed. Dark hair stood up, uncharacteristically unruly. Your chest pulled tight. You slid your hands up Levi’s back and into his dishevelled hair. Breathless words left you in a sigh. Levi’s body tensed. He drew back enough to look down at where you lay beneath him. Your eyes were half-closed; lips parted.

You knew he would not answer. Not until he was sure of what he had heard. Both of you shared the same secret but were too afraid to reveal it.

You took Levi’s warm face in your hands. Your lips met silently, softly. You held him there, and Levi showed no inclination to draw himself away, or to continue moving against you.  He was still inside you; stomachs pressed together; skin warming one another, as he kissed you again. Your bodies moulded naturally, as though they were made for only this. As though they could remain this way for the rest of your days.   ... Thanks for this, Bee! Because I’m such Levihan trash I’ve also written a Levi x Hange version here.

I’m taking NSFW head canons, so fill me up! 👉 Smut Scribbles 

#levi x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman #my writing #levi x reader smut #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader fic #n.sfw #smut scribbles

[berenwrites]

A Small Thing - Stranger Things - Steddie

Rating: T | cw: none | tags: post season 4, eddie lives, steve has terrible parents

Prompt: Love is wanting to know everything about what makes up the person you're in love with, even the difficult stuff.

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 4. Y’know how Stranger Things kind of has a different 80s movie feel for each season? Well I grew up in the 80s and I have some very fond memories of 80s sci-fi movies, and this was inspired by several of them. It started off as a silly fun idea in my head and then got way deeper than I expected once on paper. I hope you enjoy it.

Also on AO3 | All my other Stranger Things Fic

A Small Thing: The Truth Hurts

“Stevie, I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” were the words that killed any desire Steve happened to be feeling.

He’d forgotten, and now he was cursing himself. It was a tiny thing, right on the upper inside of his thigh. He had to spread his legs and someone had to be up really close to see it. Unfortunately for him, Eddie had been slowly taking him apart, bit by bit, which included kissing and nipping up his inner thigh.

“Is that a barcode?” Eddie asked, looking up at him and smiling.

His expression must have given him away, because the smile dropped off Eddie’s face almost instantly.

“Hey,” Eddie said, climbing up him until they were face to face, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Looks like it comes with baggage. Did someone force that on you?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“Not exactly,” he said, looking down and away, but unable to lie to his boyfriend.

“Stevie, hey, sweetheart, can you look at me please?” Eddie asked, gently taking his hand.

Instinct told him to climb out of the bed and leave, to get as far from Eddie as possible, but he couldn’t. Slowly and oh so reluctantly, he lifted his eyes.

“I love you,” Eddie told him as soon as their eyes met, “and I want to know everything about you, but what you tell me is up to you, okay?”

It was so sincere that is made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. All the love he had been trying to keep locked away in case he frightened off his boyfriend ripped through him like a fire.

“I’m not the real Steve Harrington,” he confessed as the need to be really seen blew apart his defences. “Well, I am, but I’m not the original.”

Eddie said nothing. Not a usual state of affairs at all unless Eddie’s mouth was occupied.

“That’s not a joke, is it?” Eddie finally said after agonising silence.

Steve shook his head.

“I think you’re going to have to explain that, Stevie,” Eddie added, and he was tense against Steve’s side.

“I’m a replica,” he admitted quietly. “The real Steve died when he was two of a congenital heart defect. My parents paid to have me recreated in a lab, their baby, but perfect this time. I was grown in an artificial womb. The barcode identifies me as theirs.”

“You realise that sounds insane, right?” Eddie said, although his tone was not accusatory.

He nodded.

“I know exactly how it sounds,” he said, “but it’s true. Rich people live in a different world, Eds, and my grandfather is super rich.”

“So why didn’t he just pay to have his grandson’s heart fixed?” Eddie asked. “If they can grow clones, why couldn’t they do that?”

“They could have,” Steve replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “But they didn’t want a child with issues, they wanted a perfect baby, so they grew one. If the original Steve had lived, he would have been shipped off to some special school and I would have been his twin.”

“And they told you all this?” Eddie sounded incredulous.

“My whole life,” he said, voice going quiet again. “And they let me know exactly how much of a disappointment I have been since 83 after all the money they spent to make me perfect. The only reason they haven’t thrown me out is because it would reflect badly on the family name.”

“Holy fuck,” was all Eddie said.

Steve went to pull away, grabbing the sheet to cover himself up.

“Look,” he said, “I’ll understand if you never want to see me again. I know I’m not quite a real human…”

Eddie knelt up and put a hand on either side of his face so he couldn’t get away.

“Stevie,” Eddie said, looking straight into his eyes, “you are as real as any of us. You think El’s not a real girl because she grew up in a lab?”

“No!”

“Then what makes you not a real boy?” Eddie challenged him. “You’re the only Steve Harrington I’ve known, and you’re the only Steve Harrington I love. The more I learn about you, the more I love you, and the more I am amazed what an amazing human being you’ve turned out to be. Does Robin know about this?”

Steve shook his head as well as he could with Eddie’s hands still on his cheeks.

“They said if anyone found out they’d have me recalled,” he said, feeling the tears burn at the back of his eyes.

Robin was his best friend, the other half of his soul, if he had one, but she didn’t know the truth. That Eddie did and still loved him, blew apart everything he had been brought up to believe.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispered, still staring into his eyes. “And recalled means what I think it means?”

“Just like a malfunctioning washing machine,” he said.

“How long? How long have they been threatening to have you recycled like rubbish?” Eddie asked.

“Since they let me out of the house and told the world I was their little Steve,” he confessed.

“They don’t deserve you, Stevie,” Eddie told him firmly, “they never did. And now you’re mine and they never get to hurt you again.”

The first tear fell as Eddie leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, so gentle and so loving that it broke him.

“We need a plan, Sweetheart,” Eddie told him as his boyfriend infolded him in a loving embrace, “just like the one we all have to keep El safe. No one gets to hold this over you ever again. No one.”

And Steve believed him.

All my other Stranger Things Fic

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #eddie lives #post season 4 #steddielovemonth #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet #steve harrington has bad parents

[cyberrose2001]

could i have a couple hcs about tfp ratchet and optimus (seperate) having a s/o that has pains/aches all over their body that pop up without warning? just some comfort hcs, if that’s okay

TFP Optimus and Ratchet w/ reader who has sudden aches/pains (hcs)

I'm assuming you mean those ass hole stabbing pains that hurt like a biatch... those are a menance fr. I especially get those in my stomach often, so that's what I went with. I hope you enjoy these headcanons!

Warnings: SFW/fluff, reader has sudden pain, very slight mention of death.

Word count: 693

Optimus

- You both would be resting together in your shared berthroom. Optimus would read a data pad while you scroll aimlessly on your phone. It'd be relatively peaceful until you feel a cramp in your abdomen. It makes you wince a little, but you'd ignore it and continue your internet surfing.

- Then, the pain hits you, your face twists in agony, and you let out a silent scream, clutching your abdomen.

- Optimus notices from the corner of his optics and instantly jumps into action, not hesitating even once as his spark sinks to his tanks.

- He won't know what to do, servos hovering over you in hesitancy as he watches you writhe around on the berth like a tortured snake.

- "What's wrong?" "Did something happen to you without my knowledge?" "Should I take you to Ratchet?"

- He would eventually scoop you up into his servos and cradle you until whatever was going on inside your tiny body stopped, optics never leaving your face, worry etched into every crevice of his frame.

- After a few moments, the pain stops, leaving a dull ache where the piercing pain once was, and he watches as you sigh in relief.

- This poor mech would be so confused. He'd ask you what happened and why you're suddenly not in pain anymore.

- You then had to explain to him that humans sometimes have 'hiccups' in their nervous system, thinking you're injured when you're really not.

- The amusement you gain from his confused facial expression is somewhat entertaining, but you'd ultimately need to reassure him that you're not hurt in any way. You're safe, and he breathes out a shaky ex-vent. 

- "It seems I still have much to learn about your kind, but I am glad you are okay."

- Proceeds to snuggle you for the rest of the night until he is sure you are unharmed, and you decide that reassurance cuddles from Optimus are the only cure for anything your fragile body throws at you.

- But if you ask, he'd massage the area to soothe the remaining aches for you. He'd be delighted to assist.

Ratchet

- It would be a typical day for you, lounging around on the couch watching Ratchet work on, well, whatever experiment or research he was conducting on the computer. It didn't matter what he was doing; you'd always admire him from a distance, and he would do the same, glancing his optics over to you occasionally to ensure you were still there.

- During your 'medic daydreaming', as you like to put it, a sharp sting hits the side of your abdomen, and you yelp in agonising pain. Tears pool in your eyes as your face scrunches up, trying to bear the sudden wave of pain.

- Ratchet abandons his station and is immediately beside you, reaching over the guard rail and scooping you up. His optics flutter over your frame and potential multiple diagnostics courses through his processor.

- "What the frag??" "Why are you holding your- for Primus' sake, move your hand! I need to see!" "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?!"

- He'd be frantic, racing you to the med bay with you cupped in his palm.

- Ratchet has June on speed dial, and as soon as she is about to pick up, he no longer hears your whimpers.

- He'd be confused, gobsmacked even, when he sees you laying on the gurney, not a sign of pain on your face. It's like it never even happened.

- "What-" "Were you not just in distress?" "Why are you acting like you're fine?!"

- You'd hold back a chuckle as you explain to him that humans can get a little 'quirky' at times and cause you unexplainable pain for absolutely no reason. All Ratchet can do is stare at you wide-eyed as you tell him exactly why he dislikes the primitive design of the human nervous system.

- He'd be relieved, though. Thanking Primus that you weren't in danger or worse. He'd pick you up again, mumbling profanities and words like "Don't fraggin' scare me like that again." and "You humans and your body's strange aversion for death and dying scare me."

- You won't be let out of his sight for the rest of the day, keeping you cradled to his chassis. His thumb would rest against your chest in a self-soothing tactic, reassuring himself that you were okay.

- Much reassurance and thumb kisses are prescribed to him until he's calm again.

#transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus #tfp ratchet #tfp optimus x reader #tfp ratchet x reader #headcanons #sfw #fluff #cyberrosewrites

[gabessquishytum]

Retired Dream struggles with how he looks. He used to be known as the shaper of forms. Dream would change his shape; change his species as easy as most beings blink. And now he is stuck. In this one form. This one gender. This one species. In the form he wore when he was murdered.

Oh I am sad and soft tonight, let's be sad and soft together.

Hob quickly notices the signs that Dream is struggling to adapt to the fact that he's just... a guy, now. He can see Dream agonising over his reflection in the mirror. Draping his body in so many layers he's at a risk of heat stroke. Sometimes Dream scrapes at his skin and Hob has to grab his hands to stop him hurting himself. Dream doesn't even seem to know that he's doing it.

Hob can offer only a few comforts. He makes sure that Dream has access to clothes that are traditionally masculine, feminine, and some that are neutral. He introduces Dream to ways that he can express a particular gender by tucking or using padding on his body. He buys Dream a whole crate of makeup, and this is really a hit - Dream watches hours of tutorials and becomes quite an expert at contouring, as well as making himself look pretty.

Hob also provides fidget toys. For the days when Dream just wants to pick himself to pieces.

It isn't easy, but there are ways of coping and ways for Dream to express himself. Art, textiles, singing, screaming, being loved by Hob and loving him fiercely in return. He's not Lord Shaper any more. But he is Dream. And that, as it turns out, is more than enough.

#alyholmesz #the sandman #dreamling #cw dermatillomania