#it smelled like rotting candy

[character-of-all-time]

"op did you mispell this on purpose do you not know their actual name" i simply let my fingers do as they choose and all else falls to the wayside. these polls are being made in a trancelike state. this is basically psychography to me.

#portension #nexg polls will bw determjed by tarot #i do not knwo how to read tarot cards but deneb sent me some that got covered in mountain dew and they smelled so so so so bad #so i think its fone #the soda mistake package also had. other things. #it smelled like rotting candy

[thethingything]

wait you guys like perfume too ?? do y'all have a favourite maker - 🪲

oh I only really got into it very recently so I don't know that much about it other than like, really specific stuff about certain compounds because I learnt about them in a different context that led me onto learning about their use in perfume.

in terms of perfumes we like, we normally wear Drakkar Noir which was kind of an impulse purchase because we wanted to start wearing perfume and didn't know what else to get, and I do really like the smell of it, but I think it'd be nice to try some other scents at some point to see which ones we like.

I'd like to learn more about how different scents interact with each other and how perfumes are formulated based on that because I think the science behind it is really cool

#ask #🍬 post #currently zooted #this took forever to answer because I couldn't figure out how to explain what I meant with the stuff that I do know about #but basically I got into this by trying to work out why certain floral and fruity smells reminded me of stinkhorn when combined #(stinkhorns smell of rotting flesh and I know there's a sweet component to that smell #but I wanted to know what specifically was reminding me of it) #so I ended up googling what compounds made up various smells and reading about that #and in the process I stumbled across a blog run by a perfumer that talks about death #and the science behind the smells involved in that as well as what scents are used for different death related customs #so it was kind of one special interest leading into another in a really unexpected way #and then I started looking at like the terminology that's used with the different notes used in perfumes #and how perfumers end up considering things like how the smell changes as different components evaporate over time #and I think that's really cool. like with Drakkar Noir you start of with this citrus-y kind of scent from the top notes #and then those fade pretty quickly and you start to get more of the woodier base notes coming through #and then there's the thing of how because different people have different skin flora and therefore their own scent #a perfume will smell different on different people and you might really like it on one person but not on another #and yeah idk where I'm going with this. I'm very rambly but also can't tell how much of this is making sense #a lot of the science behind perfume and creating the scents reminds me of the science behind making different candy flavours #so I also find that overlap interesting #and that also comes back to the death interest because some esters used as flavourings are also components of decomposition smells #especially kind of fruity ones. I think a couple of them are used for banana and pear flavours and scents. so like pear drops #anyway yeah. that's kind of what I've been rambling to 🦋 about

[rxttingawayy]

its getting bad again (im imagining death all around me)

#NOT IN AN EDGY WAY I FUCKING HATE THIS #burger my moms eating? sorry that smells like rotting flesh #piece of candy im trying to eat? the usda has an allowance of bug and rodent parts allowed in chocolate #bro i cant even look at my hands wout imagining the flesh melting off my bones #im in HELLLLLLL. what mental illness is this and how can i stop it #kieran.txt

[literaila]

small talk

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru has never learned the definition of "small talk" and you don't care to teach him

a/n: i was requested to hold off on the angst, so i decided to comply (very gracious, i know) so take a flashback fic, in which our characters lack all of their trauma (also I'm working on the next actual part and it... might take a bit)

last part | next part

second year, month two.

“c’mon, nanami, you owe us," you're saying, laying across the couch in nanami's room, feet sore from walking around all day. 

it's only noon, and you already feel like you've suffered through several weeks of this. your only two classmates siding with each other almost always. 

except for now, because you're pouting. trying to convince kento that being a recluse will get him nowhere in life--you would know. 

“no, i do not.” 

you roll your eyes. “sorry? who sliced the curse in two before we even got the chance to look?" you ask, rhetorically. "oh, you? that’s right.” 

nanami shakes his head, but you see his lips twitch—about to give (another) involuntary apology. if you keep up the whining, he'll probably give you his firstborn. 

“it could be fun,” haibara adds, chewing on some weird candy he picked up at the convince store by your mission. it smells like a rotted corpse, which is what you told him when he offered to share. 

“i seriously doubt that.” 

“well, i seriously don’t care,” you tell him, “this is the first time we’ve been invited. unless you want to spend the next two years getting wedgies—“ 

“gojo can’t even touch me,” he argues, arms crossed. his eyes are unyielding as he stares at you. “and geto is more respectable than that.” 

haibara laughs, probably at the mention of a wedgie. 

“well, i wouldn’t know. but i’ll find out tonight when we all go with them to… wherever they’re going.” 

because you showed up a couple of weeks after the two of them, much to your dismay, you haven't become acquainted with your seniors or any of their quirks. it's honestly unfair. but neither of them seems to care about their upper hand or the fact that you're tired of being stuck around them all of the time. 

“i have plans.” 

“no you don’t,” you snort. “we’re your only friends.” 

“that’s not relev—“ 

haibara hangs on nanami’s shoulder, smiling at him with his puppy dog eyes. “kento, we have to go. i want to ask geto a couple of questions, and y/n’s already annoyed.” 

you huff, crossing your arms. you have a good reason to be upset. 

nanami looks at you, then sighs. “i already told you, it was a grade four, it didn’t even look ‘cool’ like the one you and haibara exorcised last week.” 

“i’m not talking to you.” 

haibara laughs, going to sit down next to you, ruffling your hair. it’s irritating, how nonchalant he is about this. like nanami didn’t steal your mission right in front of you. 

and kind of adorable. you lean into him, resting the side of your body against his arm. maybe his energy will mix with yours. 

“y/n, i already apologized.” 

you turn your head away from him. 

“this is very immature.” he gives haibara a pleading look. 

you can feel it as he laughs against you. 

nanami sighs. “fine. this once. if you ever ask again—“ 

you jump up, moving beside him to squeeze him into a makeshift hug (which he doesn’t return). “i knew you’d come around,” you say. because you did. nanami is notoriously easy to break, despite his untouchable demeanor.

nanami sighs again. more forlorn. “this is going to be a disaster.” 

and obviously, haibara takes this opportunity to move to his other side, participating in the group hug.

* 

in all honesty, you’d expected more. 

it’s not that you idolize your upperclassmen—if they can even be classified as such—but seriously, after a year they haven’t come up with anything more entertaining than dragging someone’s tv into the common room and playing mario cart? 

you figured there'd be more excitement here. a lot more break-ins, and more chances for heroics. 

but, you remind yourself, trying to sit pleasantly, this is the first time any of you have been invited. the first time you've spent with geto, Gojo, and shoko without yaga hanging over your break, threatening all of them to be nice. you just want a chance not to be the only new one around. the least educated, weakest.

so you might as well try and enjoy it while you can.

besides nanami and haibara, you don’t have a lot of friends. you didn’t, even before you started at jujutsu high. you barely even had a family. 

so you’ll take what you can get (even if it's three people who speak in code and seem to do nothing but fight).

“oh, how’d that mission you guys went on go?” geto asks after he’s beaten haibara at a fourth race. “where was it?” 

“harajuku,” nanami says, sounding more like he’s telling you his grandma just died. 

“get anything cool?” gojo asks, leaning his head back against the couch so he can look at you upside down. his sunglasses are sliding off of his nose, and you blink. 

“we left pretty quickly,” haibara answers, for all of you. “it was just a grade four.” 

“they sent all of you for that?” shoko, who is pretending to read some sort of biology book right in front of the tv, raises her brow at you. 

at least there’s some common ground there. being the only two girls in a fifty-foot radius creates its own sort of bond. 

you’re about to remark something snarky about nanami and his control issues, but haibara is eager to please, so he says to her, “nah, it was supposed to be harder. grade two, they said.” 

“been there,” she answers. 

geto raises a brow, but his eyes don't move from the screen. “no you haven’t?” 

“listening to gojo’s story about that ‘grade one’ he ‘exorcized’ is basically like being there.” 

“hey, that was true!” 

the two of them give the boy a look, then resume their activities. nanami taking haibara’s place—not without some convincing—and the rest of you watching. 

wow, what a life for jujutsu sorcerers. 

you laugh at the thought and ignore the weird look shoko gives you. 

eventually, gojo makes his way from across the room, his chin resting on geto's temple, and sits on the floor next to you, long limbs getting in the way. 

you barely glance at him with your brows raised, then look back to the screen. nanami is surprisingly good at it. and you find gojo kind of... bizarre. he's always laughing, always leaning against something, and just his presence right next to yours feels like an intrusion. 

“so,” gojo whispers to you, schemingly. “gabumons better than agumon, right?” 

you turn to him, tilting your head. “what?” 

“kind of an unpopular sentiment,” he adds, “but true. i mean, c’mon, metalgarurumon? freezing breath? so cool,” he says, like you’re supposed to know what it means. he's got that same grin on--the one you've watched from across the courtyard, shaking his hand, and probably even that time you caught him napping on the dining table. 

“…what?” 

“satoru, leave her alone,” geto says because this must be a regular occurrence.

“i’m just making small talk!” 

shoko snorts. “i don’t think you’ve ever talked small a day in your life.” 

gojo opens his mouth but apparently has nothing to say about that. 

he sighs, leaning his chin on a hand, and watching the screen again. clearly, his classmates have ruined all of his fun. how is he supposed to mess with you in peace with them around?

when he catches you staring at him a moment later—mostly bewildered because you’ve heard many rumors about satoru gojo, and none of them involve him being a grumbler—he grins. “your turn.” 

“to what?” you say, hoping he doesn’t mean the game. 

he leans toward you. “to make small talk.” 

“i don’t think your turns over.” 

“you’re supposed to continue the conversation. answer my question…” he hints. 

“you didn’t ask a question,” you say, “just made a statement about what’s-your-mon and who’s-your-mon.” 

he looks around, outraged, like you’ve said something completely insane. 

you cut in before he can add anything, “and you know that small talk is supposed to be about, like, the weather, right?” 

“the weather? you’d rather talk about that than cyborg digimon?” 

“…i think so?” 

“ignore him,” shoko calls. 

but you can’t. there's something about him that gets under your skin. and, it's satoru gojo, he's intriguing in his own, annoying way. 

“fine. how do you like the weather?” he asks, tapping his fingers against his chin, smiling at you again. 

you pinch your lips together. “it’s fine. rainy.” 

he throws his head back, groaning. “see? this is boring. and so is this game, because suguru just beats everyone.” 

“i think nanami won the last round.” 

he gives you a ‘really?’ look, and you shrug. 

“do you guys do this a lot?” 

“do what?” 

you gesture towards the tv. “sit around and do nothing.” 

gojo scoffs. “this is very important, you know. we take video games very seriously.” 

you take a look at geto—who’s sticking his tongue out while he handles the controller—and haibara, who’s pointing at nanami’s face and laughing. 

you must’ve missed something. not that you've been paying much attention to the game, anyway. 

you've been mostly obsessing over your expressions, trying not to say anything out of place, and figure out how to speak to any of these people without sounding foolish. 

which, so far, hasn't gone well. 

“what do you guys do, then?" gojo asks, sarcastically. "meditation circle?” 

you snort. “study, usually. or hand-to-hand combat. haibara and i need the practice.” 

“shoko won’t spar with me and suguru can’t anymore after we accidentally put a hole in the gym wall last time.” 

“that was you? how do you accidentally break through concrete?” 

he shrugs, winking at you. “suguru’s flying frog things are heavy.” 

“flying frogs?” you say, skeptically. 

“oh, child,” satoru pats you on the head. “you’ve got lots to learn.” 

“apparently,” you say, and turn back to the tv, and the debate the four of them are having about character types or something. 

but gojo doesn’t move from his spot. he sits next to you for the next hour, and you learn, for the first time, just how insufferable he is. 

especially with his smile, which you find yourself staring at every couple of minutes. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #a typical family #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #satorugojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 7

WC: 1109 Masterpost CW: panic attack, dissociation, past imprisonment

Danny felt like he was on a roller coaster. One moment he would be feeling safe, embarrassingly falling asleep on Hood mid meal, and the next a stool would scrape across the floor. That screech of metal on linoleum was distinct enough that Danny could swear he was back in the lab. His newest wound stung. The collar pinched at his neck. The acidic bite of bleach stung his nose.

They were talking.

They were talking too close to him.

Danny wanted desperately to hide, but there was no hiding in the lab. There was no hiding in the Box. Acrylic walls on all six sides, electrified metal frame, coated in a ghost shield; the box was torture. Danny pressed himself into the corner and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to watch their faces. He didn’t want to see the cold cruelty in their eyes, not even one more time.

Had it always been there?

It must have.

It was never true, he was never their son.

How had he ever thought that they cared?

He was so stupid, stupid, stupid—

Something pressed into his hands. Something soft and warm. The smell of herbs burst around him, chasing away the scent of bleach. Danny clutched at the warmth, curled around it. It was never warm in the lab, not unless they were experimenting on him with heat. And that was never warm like this.

“There you are, Kid.”

Kid?

“That’s nice, isn’t it? You can kept it as long as you need. Just keep breathing for us.”

Who?

“You’re in the safe house. Your wounds are treated. The collar is off.”

Danny felt around his neck with shaking fingers. The skin was tender under the bandages, but there was no collar.

“It’s just me, Red Hood, and Nightwing. Nightwing is getting you a drink. Do you think you can drink something?”

No, no he didn’t. His throat felt tight.

“That’s okay, Kid. How about a suck’em candy?”

Warm fingers brushed against the back of his hand, actual skin touched his. Danny shuddered. He let his hand be turned for the candy to be placed in it.

“Pop that in your mouth.”

Danny listened to the warm voice. He wanted to bury himself in that warmth. Why was it so warm here?

Tart citrus bloomed over his tongue, chasing away the rotting taste of stale recycled air and bile. He moved the candy around his mouth. Each breathe filled his nose with the lemon scent mingled with the herbs. The tension went out of him so suddenly that he collapsed.

Those warm hands caught him. He was pressed against a whole band of warmth and Danny let out a sigh. The earthy scent of death joined the other smells. A liminal. Red hood. He was… safe. The safe house.

-

They took turns staying awake that night. While they likely would have anyways, what with it being the kid’s first night with them, the panic attack pretty much guaranteed they would sleep in shifts. Dick slept first and it was only training and a strong cup of coffee that had him alert and ready for his shift. He was glad for the second cup when he heard stirring from the bedroom.

It was early, early enough that the sun wasn’t up yet, but the kid was standing on slightly shaky looking legs, peering out of the door.

“Hey there,” Dick said softly and with a smile. He approached the door but left a good few feet between them. “Did you sleep well?”

The kid nodded. “Better… than in a long time, yeah.”

“That’s great! Are you hungry.”

He nodded again before glancing to the side. His hand flexed where it was holding onto the door jam.

“Is there something else you’d like before food?” Dick asked gently.

Another nod.

“It’s okay to ask. We want you to be comfortable.

The kid’s mouth worked for a moment before he managed to ask, “A shower? It’s just that… Hood mentioned one and…”

“Of course! I bet you’d like to be clean,” Dick said. “I’d like you to use the shower chair we have and to leave the door open, in case you slip or something, but I wont look in unless I hear something concerning.”

“Okay,” the kid agreed quickly; quickly like he was afraid Dick would take away the offer. They had a lot of work to do.

Dick stopped at the closet and grabbed a bath towels, two wash cloths, and the med kit. He set the towels down on the closed toilet seat and the med kit on the small sink counter. “We’ll put a water proof bandage on your new stitches and get you wrapped back up after the shower. Be gentle around it and your neck, but you should be good to clean up well!”

“I will be. I won’t make you redo your work.”

“Hey, no, that’s not what it’s about,” Dick said quickly. “We just don’t want you to hurt yourself, okay?”

“I… okay?”

Holding back a sigh, Dick instead turned with a smile and bandage. It was good to see the stitches didn’t look too bad and they were soon covered up with the temporary covering. Dick explained how the shower worked, pointed out the shampoos, conditioners, and body wash, and then left the kid alone. He took up watch just outside the door. If the kid slipped, he wanted to be able to be there at a moments notice.

“Kid already awake?” Jason rasped from the couch after the sound of running water filled the apartment.

“Yeah. He’s in the shower now. The wounds look good.”

“Credit goes to Tim, he did the stitching.” Jason stood and stretched with a pop.

He had taken off most of his uniform, as armored as it was, to be able to sleep. Still, he looked stiff and rubbed uneasily at his arms. Dick would have to make sure the other took some pain meds once they were at the new safe house and that he got some more sleep.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Dick said instead of voicing any of his current thoughts. He was sure they wouldn’t be welcome right then. “I figured we’d do breakfast here?”

“Yeah, I want to get some food in the kid since we didn’t really get another chance yesterday,” Jason agreed as he made his way to the pitiful kitchen.

Dick closed his eyes and listened to the running water and Jason clanking about.

They could manage this. They were through the first night. They just had to handle it an hour at a time.

---

AN: I'm so out of it I almost forgot Trauma Tuesday! Luckily I had this written on Saturday. Poor Danny had a hard time of it, but his brothers are there to help!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost.

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons #trauma tuesday

[slut4sugu]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘— YUJI ITADORI X FEM!BLACK READER

[ʚ 🍓ɞ] summary: what its like being with yuji itadori! [ʚ 🍓ɞ] including + warnings: Yuji being a sweetheart, todo is def jealous lol, gojo being a bit of a matchmaker for you two, tooth rotting fluff, confessions over the phone, gentleman!yuji fr, totally did not go over board with the hcs today lol [ʚ 🍓ɞ] genre: fluff

#-WHAT ITS LIKE BEING FRIENDS !

ʚ 🍓ɞ he always holds anything heavy for you/carries your bag if your having a rough day | yuji is always so nice and caring, so when he sees you groan as your about to pic up your bag he quickly offers to do it for you. “Please don’t strain yourself! I’ll carry it for you!”

ʚ 🍓ɞ remembers most of the things you like/ are passionate about | your favorite Summer walker album? Karma. Your favorite candy? Trollis, most things that you like or love he remembers and loves hearing you rant about how good it is/ how much you love it each time he sees you.

ʚ 🍓ɞ let’s you have the rest of his candy/ food when you want it | he knows that some days are rough for you and wish you had your snacks, so he’ll make a habit of asking you if you want the rest of his food/snacks whenever your around. His heart starting to weirdly flutter every time he saw that sparkle in your eyes after offering.

ʚ 🍓ɞ keeps a hair tie on his wrist no matter how girly it is | since Yuji is the sweetheart he is, he’ll offer to keep a couple of your hair ties on him since you switch purses so often and you have a bad habit of remembering which bag they’re in. “No it’s fine really! I don’t mind at all. I kinda like them actually!”

#-WHAT ITS LIKE HAVING A CRUSH ON EACH OTHER !

ʚ 🍓ɞ hugs you longer than others | he loves smelling the scent of strawberries and shea butter on your neck when he hugs you, the soft smell of sweet perfume and body wash making his face flush. Yuji’s hugs are comforting and warm, never failing to make you feel safe every time your in his arms. So when he holds on to you for a few seconds more than others it makes you feel all the more special.

ʚ 🍓ɞ puts himself infront of you when he senses danger | he knows you can handle yourself as your a sorcerer as well, but as long as he has the chance to protect you he will take it.

ʚ 🍓ɞ always is the first to compliment your new protective styles, nails or makeup | something that yuji loves about you is that you always keep yourself looking pretty and taken care of no matter what day of the week, so when he sees you with some new braids or a fresh set he never fails to compliment the pretty brown girl in front of him.

ʚ 🍓ɞ is the first to offer his jacket when he sees you rubbing your hands up and down your arms or shivering | he wouldn’t be the gentleman he is if he didn’t offer his hoodie or jacket when he saw that the pink long sleeved shirt wasn’t providing you all the warmth you needed for that windy afternoon.

ʚ 🍓ɞ having gojo tease you two & assigns you both to missions by yourselves. | even if it’s a simple mission that doesn’t need two sorcerers he knows that you two have eyes for each other and can’t help but give his students a push in the right direction <;33

ʚ 🍓ɞ keeps eye contact with you when your talking in a group | Yuji loves hearing you talk about any ideas and thoughts you have on certain matters so he wants to make sure that your heard by keeping direct eye contact with you throughout the whole conversation. Fighting the urge to smile a bit when your eyes meet his or when you get slightly embarrassed from the eye contact.

ʚ 🍓ɞ asks you out over the phone late at night | you had woken up from a nightmare about being alone and had insictively called Yuji who picked up on the second ring once he saw it was you calling. After calming you down and chatting a little, he comforted you by saying that he would never leave your side and that if you needed him to come over he would. “ I’m so glad you called me.,honestly I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if I knew that you had went through that alone. It would kill me to hear that you were scared, your a really sweet person y/n and if you need me to come over I will because..I like you.”

#-WHAT ITS LIKE DATING YUJI !

ʚ 🍓ɞ long hugs and sweet words whispered into your ear when he leaves you for a mission | he knows you worry about him coming back each time even though he’s strong. So each time he leaves he gives you a longer hug than the last and presses a kiss to your cheek, nose and a soft peck on your lips.

ʚ 🍓ɞ lotsss of pda whenever your with him | Yuji has no shame about letting everyone see that he belongs to you, so whenever he’s with you his hand is always interlaced with yours or his arm is around your waist. He just has to be touching you in some way.

ʚ 🍓ɞ falls asleep easier in your presence | your smell, your voice, your touch, everything about you is like melatonin or a drug. So when he feels himself getting sleepy he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and hold your hand slightly tight even in a deep sleep.

ʚ 🍓ɞ surprise hugs from behind | your pink haired boyfriend will never get tired of hearing your adorable giggles fill the room your in when he creeps up behind you and gives you a bear hug. Small kisses being littered on your neck while holding close.

ʚ 🍓ɞ sweet makeout sessions in your bedroom to sza | Yuji’s kisses are sweet and loving, each kiss making your heart flutter and your body heat up. Giggles and smiles in between each one, making you feel like the most special girl in the world.

ʚ 🍓ɞ helps out with wash day when your too tired | now he’s definitely not an expert on black hair, but after seeing you do it for a couple months and watching a few videos in his own time about the products you have he gets better at each wash over time. Pink blush tinting his cheeks when he’s rewarded with a swarm of kisses afterwards.

#jjk x black reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #yuji x reader #yuji x you #itadori x reader #itadori x black!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #yuji fluff #Yuji itadori fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[ackermai07]

hi there !! i hope you're having a great day so far ^^

i wanted to request the three musketeers (katsuki, izuku, shoto) that give prince/ss treatment to reader ! like the reader is just so tooth-rotting sweet that the boys can't help but treat reader that way ฅʕ◍·̀·́◍ʔฅ

you are so free to ignore this if its not up to your taste ^^ thank you in advance !! 💌🍰

girl you're crazy if you think this isn't up to my taste, you literally blessed me with this! Anyways I hope you have fun reading, enjoy!

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Todoroki, Bakugou, Midoriya, fem!reader

𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: headcanon, fluff!

Don't repost!

The one thing we all agree on.

He'll cook for you.

No one argues with this; he's literally your personal chef.

He'll always make sure you eat well, whether you're a big eater or not.

This damn guy will literally stuff your stomach and cook for you anytime.

You can wake him up even at 2 a.m., and he won't mind, like:

"Hey, Katsu... I'm feeling kinda hungry... so-"

"Shut up, I already know."

And boom, he'll get up to cook a delicious meal for you and make sure you go to sleep feeling full.

He also loves styling your hair, no matter the type.

Straight, wavy, curly, it doesn't matter.

Just tell him how you want your hair, and he'll do it professionally.

He does most of the chores for you, like cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry, etc.

He absolutely hates seeing you tired or exhausted; he sees himself strong enough to do everything.

"You weren't created for exhaustion, not even your beautiful ass deserves to be tired from sitting."

Another reason he always holds you in his arms when you're alone together.

He always brings snacks for you at school.

At the end of each class, he turns around to give you candy or chocolate to keep you energized.

(He completely refuses to admit he brought them for you, always saying he got them by chance.)

When you're sitting in the dorm with others, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder if you're tired.

He absolutely doesn't let you go downstairs; he always carries you bridal style while going down while you're in his arms.

His excuse is that you're too foolish and will definitely trip and fall and hurt yourself.

(He loves you dearly and worries about you like crazy.)

Did I mention he's your guard dog?

Wherever you are, he walks behind you and gives death glares to anyone who dares to stare at you.

He also makes sure every day that he's the first person to say good morning or goodnight to you, whether in person or through messages.

He's not a big person with words, but he makes sure to say "I love you" enough times because he knows it makes you happy.

Believe me, he's just there for your happiness (I would die for this man).

This boy is the epitome of sweetness.

He's not just a green flag, he's the whole forest.

One thing I'm sure of is that he'll take notes for you during classes.

Even if you've already taken your own notes, he doesn't mind.

He still brings your notebooks and edits your notes to make them look like his own.

If you ask him why he does this, he simply replies:

"Just to ensure our information is the same so we don't have any problems when we study together."

He just loves being the reason behind your intellectual growth and knowing that he's helping you.

Every night, literally every night, he braids your hair.

Because he simply read that braiding hair before bed helps keep it healthy.

(He loves touching your hair and smelling its scent.)

Speaking of nighttime, he takes you for walks at night when everyone else is asleep and lies on the grass to watch the sky just because you told him you love seeing the stars.

He's literally the kind of gentleman who lays his jacket over a puddle of water for you to walk on so you don't get wet.

He has a sixth sense about you, so for example, whenever something bad happens to you, he's already there to fix it.

He's 100% ready to defend you against anyone and doesn't feel embarrassed to stand up to them either.

He carries your bag for you on the way to school and back to the dorm, insisting on it even when you say it's okay.

He loves sharing his food with you; he always does.

No matter what it is, he always makes sure you take at least a bite of it.

"I don't taste the food's flavor until I share it with you."

He always keeps your hands intertwined and makes sure you're close to him, especially in crowds.

Every day, he makes sure to kiss you on the cheek and tell you how perfect you are, how lucky he is to have you, and how much he loves you.

This guy is literally like a character from books.

He has a top-notch degree in princess treatment.

He buys you anything you want, no matter what.

Even if it's a car plated with gold, he'll always fulfill your desires.

He flirts with you, but in poetic ways.

For example, he reads a love quote or a poem and makes sure to dedicate it to you.

Either he writes it for you on a paper and places it on your desk in your room before you wake up, or he whispers it in your ear just to drive you crazy.

He loves seeing you shy and flustered.

He also buys you books, a lot of them.

The reason for that is your talk about a story or a novel.

Be sure that by tomorrow he'll present you with the entire book series along with a red rose.

"Shoto! You didn't have to do that!"

"If my girl desires something, she gets it."

(Help me... I'm melting while writing this)

He lets you do anything to him literally.

Braiding his hair, putting makeup on him, dressing him up as you wish... etc.

Just say the word, and he's like, "Yes, ma'am"

(Once you put your daily makeup on him, and literally you cried because he looked more beautiful than you by miles.)

This man is literally carrying your bags when he takes you shopping.

And he doesn't complain; it gives him a sense that he's your strong man.

He also allows you to try makeup on the back of his hand.

(He's as pale as hell.)

He carries you on his back if you feel tired from walking.

Or in other words, if he feels it, which means he always carries you on his back.

So you won't tire from something as silly as walking.

He knows that everyone is looking at both of you, but does he care? Of course not.

(I feel like he's read "The Art of Indifference" at least 100 times.)

He's the kind of guy who allows you to wear anything you want.

You might come to him not sure about your clothes, and he simply shrugs in indifference.

"Wear whatever you want; I can fight."

(But not too revealing because you won't get away with it.)

One of his greatest features is that he uses his quirk to either warm you up or cool you down according to the weather.

He always gives you his jacket even without you asking because he knows that his scent calms you down and also ensures that you're warm.

Like the others, he makes sure you eat well and goes crazy if he knows you haven't.

(I think this is an Asian thing...)

This might seem gross, but on the contrary, it's not the case for him, but he allows you to spit out the food you didn't like on his hand.

He tells you to do it in the most poetic expression ever.

He hugs you a lot, first because he loves being close to you and secondly to stick his scent to you, so people can smell you and know that you're his

(he has a special scent so..)

(I've written a lot for him, I know, and I'm sorry, but I love him so much that I couldn't stop!!)

I hope you had fun reading! Please feel free to request more whenever you like!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #fanfic #shoto x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #idk #todoroki x reader headcanons #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader headcanons #izuku x reader headcanons #princess treatment

[dulcesiabits]

where the stars fall.

summary: in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, you and your childhood friend, Childe, and his little brother try to survive amidst the wreckage of a broken world. things take a turn for the worse when you meet a stranger who shatters what you think you know of the world.

notes: 11k words, author's notes, descriptions of violence, murder (specifically through the use of a gun and of an unnamed stranger), unhealthy relationships, angst with no comfort

It’s the end of the world, and your childhood friend is the only person you have left.

Glass crunches underfoot as you and Childe slip in through the broken window of an abandoned grocery store. There’s not much left on the shelves: a stale loaf of black, furry bread, a forgotten wrapper, a dusty row of cracked children’s toys. Everything good has already been scavenged by other survivors.

Like most other grocery stores you’ve scavenged, the broken fridges buzz with flies swarming rotting meat. The remaining fruits are so moldy they’ve permanently stained the shelves with their decaying juice. The smell barely registers anymore; you’ve long since gotten used to the scent of the world dying.

Childe gestures at you and then the left side of the store, before pointing at himself and waving at the right side. His meaning is clear; you nod, and the two of you separate.

You pad noiselessly down the aisles, eyes wandering over the remains of a forgotten life. You’ve ended up in the beauty section: crusted lotions, murky shampoo, eyeshadow palette spilling their candy-colored guts all over the floor. 

You stare longingly at the shampoo bottles, but you can’t take any. It’s an unaffordable luxury, even though you’ve forgotten when you took your last bath. The heating and electricity in most houses is failing, and the encroaching winter means the outside water sources are out of the question.

The dry goods section is desiccated. Most of the food is gone, but there is one stale sleeve of crackers left. You drop it in your backpack, grinning at the lucky find. 

You straighten, before your eyes fall on a door labeled “employees only.” There might still be something worth scavenging there. You pull out the kitchen knife you keep sheathed in your pocket, the blade glinting dully as you crack open the door.

The room is dark, save for a cracked light that flickers off and on in aimless intervals. There’s a clock on the wall, frozen permanently at 2:13am, and a table in the corner where employees must have taken their breaks, alongside a microwave and– lucky for you– cardboard boxes still piled up on storage shelves. You hurry over, pulling one down. Nothing but dust, more dust– aha! A crinkled bar of chocolate. It’s still sealed, but it would be a perfect present for Teucer. 

Something groans behind you, and the hair on your arms tingle. Your heart pounds as you tightly grip the handle of your kitchen knife, whipping it out as you spin– just in time to see a baseball crack through the zombie standing over you.

Blood and rotting flesh fall to the floor in wet chunks as Childe hits the zombie until it collapses to the floor. Then he hits it again. And again. Its arm twitches, and Childe smashes the limb until the bone cracks. He doesn’t stop, even when the zombie stops moving, not even when it’s just a pile of meat and pooling blood.

Childe isn’t even breathing hard when he drops his arm. His eyes are hard flecks of ice as he stares down at the zombie. For a second, he looks like a stranger.

“You okay?” Childe whispers, his gaze melting into something familiar and warm, and the familiar concern coloring his voice brings him back to you.

 The two of you try to limit communication to wordless gestures and hand signals when you’re traveling outside; noise risks attracting zombies. “I’m fine,” you reply.

Childe nods, before looking over you up and down carefully, as if to confirm the veracity of your statement himself. He takes your hand without a word, lacing your fingers together. The blood on his hand smears over your combined fingers, rust and iron seeping into the folds of your skin.

But it’s Childe. You won’t pull away. You can’t, even if you hate the feeling of blood.

He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole time the two of you carefully make your way out of the grocery store, slinking down streets, sticking to the shadows and pausing to listen to the shuffle of undead feet. You keep a grip on your kitchen knife and Childe’s hand never strays far from his baseball bat, but it’s an uneventful trek back to the hotel where you’ve set up a temporary base.

The entire first floor is a wreck, the former grandeur blighted by blood and smashed furniture, wallpaper peeling off in strips, the patterns in the carpet hidden by layers of grime and dirt. The room you’ve chosen is up on the third floor; neither you and Childe have bothered to venture farther up the hotel stairs beyond that.

The electronic locks and elevators have long since broken, and the door of room 302 creaks open easily. Inside, Teucer is fiddling with a radio in his hands, a ratty blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a flashlight shining like a beacon next to him, huddled by the foot of the farthest of the two beds in the room. He looks up at the two of you, his eyes bright and expectant.

It’s not until Childe securely closes the door behind him that Teucer finally launches himself at his brother, arms clinging tightly. “You’re back!” Childe barely has time to ruffle his hair before Teucer tears himself off and falls into your arms instead. 

You pat his back, and a crackled voice emanates from the radio in Teucer’s hands. You can just barely make out the broken words; it might as well be a broadcast from another planet.

“... Gov… Facilities… North… Repeat…. North… Nat… tate of… gency… Repeat… Govern… North…”

Nothing you haven’t heard already. The radio has been playing the same message, over and over, for the past few months. After all, it’s only the promise of potential safety and protection that drives you and Childe to travel so far north. That, and resources are dwindling with each new city and town the three of you encounter as you follow the voice promising safety.

“I have something for you,” you say, and fish the bar of chocolate out of your bag. 

Teucer’s eyes light up as he unwraps the treat. “Oh, wow!” He pauses, staring at you and then Childe, and breaks the bar into three uneven pieces.

He offers a chunk to you. You hold up your hands. “Teucer, it’s okay. That was for you.”

Teucer pouts. “Well, you gave it to me, so it’s mine now, and I get to do what I want with it. And I want to share it with you.”

You hesitate, before accepting the chocolate with two fingers. It’s softening already, leaving soft smudges on your hand. When you pop it into your mouth, it melts like a dream, flooding a sweetness into your system you haven’t tasted in months. Maybe you’ll never taste this sweetness ever again.

“Anything happen while we were gone?” Childe asks casually. Teucer fiddles with his radio again, illegible voices warbling in and out of focus like ghosts from a distant plane of existence.

“Nope,” Teucer chirps. “Just a few zombies passing by when I peeked out the window, though.”

“Teucer, I told you not to do that. What if one of them sees you?”

“Why not? I was careful, and I wanted to see when the two of you were going to come home.”

“Well, we’re home now, and Teucer is safe. Everything’s fine, so no arguing. We need to head out tomorrow, anyways,” you interrupt gently. “I think we’ve stayed here long enough.”

The two brothers nod at your words, and when they do that, Teucer looks just like an echo of Childe. Same messy hair, same freckles, same mischievous gleam in their eyes. You head towards the bathroom. If you’re lucky, there might be a trickle of tap water left if you turn on the sink.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to play something today?” Teucer chirps.

“I’m not…”

“You always said a good violinist should practice everyday so their skills don’t rust,” Childe adds. “Come on, aren’t you a professional?”

“The noise might draw an entire hoard of zombies to our door,” you say.

“The walls are soundproof,” Childe says.

“Just one song,” Teucer says. “I’ll even let you choose which one!”

You let out a little sigh before moving towards your violin case, snugly hidden by the side of the bed. It’s an unforgivable vanity, you know, to carry this with you. An extra weight, when you should have a bag full of rations or cold weather supplies instead. But when you were fleeing your home, facing threats from the undead and other desperate survivors alike, it had been Childe who shoved your violin into your hands. The electricity was failing. The water was tainted. Food was running out. And yet, Childe had handed you your instrument. 

“We can’t take this with us,” you tried to reason with him.

“Don’t leave it behind,” Childe said curtly. “You love it, don’t you?”

You had grasped the instrument in your hands, a lifeline in the rising tides. 

It’s not as if the world has any rooms for violinists now, no matter how good you are at playing. Bach and Tchaikovsky can’t save you from dying, and all the concert halls have turned to ash. 

But when you fling open the lid, the glossy wood gleaming in the low light, when you tighten the bow and reverently run the horsehair along your amber rosin, when you attach your shoulder rest and bring it to your chin, it doesn’t feel like a mistake at all. Your violin slots under your chin perfectly, right where it belongs.

You pluck at the strings, turning the little knobs, listening, adjusting the pitch, and then you raise your bow letting the first few sweet notes sing in the air, before you launch into a short, bouncy waltz.

It almost feels like it used to, in a way that it hasn’t in a long time, and you’ll never feel again: you, and Childe, in Childe’s own living room. You force him to listen to you practice, something you’ve always made him do, even if he can’t even name all the notes on a sheet of music. Teucer is on Childe’s lap, too young to really pay attention, blinking sleepily in the afternoon light, which shines on you like a spotlight. It’s a poor audience, but this audience of two has always been your favorite, even if you dream of sold out stages and prestigious awards. 

The memory is painful, and you shove it back down, with everything else you can’t bear to think about. There is no past for you. There’s only here, and now. There’s Teucer, smiling, old enough to finally pay attention. And there’s your friend– the one who knows you best– Childe. He’s listened to you from the beginning, and he’ll listen to you until the very end.

Childe watches you, the same way he’s always done: face turned towards you, rapt. He’s listening to you play, but it feels like it’s you he’s paying the most attention to, not your music. As if in this dying world, you’re the only one who can save him.

The three of you steal out of the hotel in the blue light of dawn, the cold a bitter chill as you creep down the stairs and make your way to the highway again. You have a map, but following the local highway is the easiest way to proceed to your location, a manmade road marking your path to safety. Cars bead the roads in one long necklace of crushed metal and metal corpses. 

The cars are the remains of panicked people who tried to leave town as fast as they could, but the sheer flood of people meant the roads had easily jammed and cars idled in place. The lucky ones, who got out quickly, rode their cars until they ran out of gas before abandoning them. The others discarded their trapped cars to idle and rust as they fled on foot. And the unlucky ones, like you, Childe and Teucer, have no choice but to run as far as your legs could carry you.

Teucer is sandwiched between you and Childe as the three of you walk in silence. The world is so quiet now, a silence that has its own weight and texture. Nothing works, and there’s no one to talk to. You can’t even speak to your companions unless you want to risk the attention of zombies or other survivors.

Teucer’s portable radio hangs limply in his hands, and he lets out a raspy little cough. Instantly, you turn to him, a hand on the top of his soft curls.

Teucer shakes his head, and gives you a thumbs up. You and Childe glance at each other, before Childe sweeps Teucer onto his back. Teucer digs his heels into Childe’s sides as a protest to be let down, but Childe continues resolutely forward.

You let out a little sigh. It’s a familiar sight; ever since Teucer was a baby, Childe was always reaching for his brother with his chubby hands, holding him close to him like a treasure. You like Teucer, but you’re an only child; you can’t imagine what it’s like to have a sibling you love so much.

The road is long, winding and endless in front of you, but even the monotony of your travel can’t stop you from pricking your ears, listening for the shuffle of feet, or a long, winding groan. It’s not safe out in the open, and unease prickles your skin.

You pass a car, and a zombie slams its hands against the window, rotting fingers leaving stains on the glass as it claws at you, eyes sunken. Your stomach shrivels, and you bite your lip to prevent your startled cry from escaping. You can guess what happened here: someone was bitten by a zombie, escaped in a panic, but had turned before they could get very far. Still, the eyeless face turns your stomach. That could be you, if you’re not careful enough. 

In the next moment, Childe takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. You look at him questioningly, but he simply smiles in return. Maybe it’s a habit from the time you’ve spent together, but Childe is always reaching for your hand. To reassure you, to reassure himself, or just to comfort you.

Childe takes care of you. He knows your moods before you do, valiantly throws himself in front of any perceived threat to you, and wants to solve all of your problems. When you were little, when he sensed you were upset, Childe used to throw rocks at your bedroom window until you let him in. He reminds you a little of a dog, but if you tell him that, he would only grin.

You sigh, but before you can even signal your thanks, a low, broken shout pierces the air. Instantly, both you and Childe tense; you grab your knife and jerk out of his grasp as you run towards the voice.

There’s a young man lying against a car, a snarling zombie snapping its jaws at his face. The young man is holding it back with his gloved hands, but he’s quickly losing purchase. There’s a gun a few feet away from him; he must have been caught unawares.

Before you can think, you dart towards the zombie and angle your knife through its neck and into its brain. The zombie howls; the noise isn’t good. It could attract more of them– but then the zombie’s voice cuts off abruptly. It totters and slumps over, and then you see why: the young man has somehow shoved a knife within the zombie’s mouth.

“Fuck,” the young man mutters. He’s still slumped over on the ground.

You hold out your hand. “Are you okay?” you mumble.

The young man looks derisively at you, before slowly rising to his feet. “Yeah. I had it under control.”

“If you say so,” you say doubtfully.

“Hey, is everything okay?” By now, Childe has caught up with the two of you, his baseball clutched tightly in his hands. Teucer is trailing behind him.

“Yeah,” you say. “This guy was in some trouble, but it’s okay now.”

Childe kicks the body of the zombie, and you flinch at the weight of the sound. “Okay, great. Let's move on, then.”

“Wait.” You turn back to the young man. “Do you need any medical treatment? Did the zombie get to you in any way?”

“Are you asking me if I have a zombie bite?” the young man says contemptuously. “What would you do if I did? Going to stick your knife into my throat?”

“If they won’t, I will,” Childe says, his smile still pleasant. “They saved your life, so the least you can do is verify that you’re not a threat to us.”

“I just want to know if you’re okay,” you persist.

“I said I’m fine,” the young man says. “You know, do you want to draw the zombies to our location? Why don’t you both just shut up, and then we can all move on, hm?”

“We saved your life,” Childe says. “You don’t think you owe us for that?”

“They saved my life, not you,” the young man interjects. “And I don’t owe you anything for sticking your nose in my business.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” you suggest. Childe and the young man both look at you like you’ve sprouted a second head. “I did save your life, and there’s safety in numbers. You’re heading north, too, right? To the government shelter? We could help each other out.”

“Don’t just assume my plans,” the young man mutters. His mouth puckers, as if he’s swallowed something sour. “Fine. If you’re so desperate for my assistance, I suppose I can accompany you for a while. We can call it even that way. But don’t expect any favors from me after that.”

You nod. “Okay. What’s your name?”

The young man eyes you distrustfully. “I suppose… you can call me Scaramouche.”

After introducing yourselves to Scaramouche, who makes sure to collect his gun, the four of you set off. Scaramouche lingers a bit behind your group. Childe, for his part, keeps a tight grip on Teucer’s hand, who keeps trying to look back at the stranger. Neither men look particularly happy.

Maybe this is a bad idea. Still, even if Scaramouche does become a threat, he’s easily outnumbered; he can’t risk using his gun without drawing in zombies with the sound. Besides, if you just left him to wander by himself after a zombie attack, you’d worry over him. This is for your own peace of mind.

The next town descends into view before sunset, a place whose name was lost when all its inhabitants fled. A town without people isn’t really a town at all. Crumbling buildings, deserted cars, broken windows and overflowing trash on the streets: every place looks the same now. This might as well have been the place you left this morning.

A few zombies prowl the streets. The four of you avoid main roads and storefronts, and it’s at this point that Scaramouche leads your little group. He must be familiar with the area, because it’s not long before you reach a residential district, and Scaramouche nods his head at a nondescript house, with intact windows and a sturdy door, which you go up to open.

The lock is stuck, but you strike at it with your knife until it loosens. The three of you step into what looks like someone’s living room: leather couches, bookcases, widescreen television. The books are dusty with disuse, game consoles lying lifeless on the ground.

You, Scaramouche, and Childe sweep the premises, but there’s no zombies– or other survivors– in the place. It makes sense; most people fled as soon as they could, when the weather was still favorable. You, Childe and Teucer are part of the stragglers, the last few people still on the road. Other survivors aren’t common to encounter anymore, and those that are left are quick to look at each other with suspicion and hostility, if not aggression.

Scaramouche’s reaction is normal, all things considered. To him, you’re probably the odd one out. The world has turned to shit. It takes some measure of courage, tenacity, cunning, or even selfishness to survive. You can’t fault anyone for what they do to live.

But still. You can’t imagine completely turning your back on other people. After all, you and Childe have been supporting each other all this time. Neither of you could have made it this far without each other.

“I’m taking a bedroom upstairs,” Scaramouche says abruptly. “Don’t bother me unless you need me.”

“Get some rest,” you say. You set your violin case carefully down onto the floor, but Scaramouche pauses to watch you as you do.

“What the hell is that?”

“My violin,” you say simply.

“Really?” he says, scowling. “A violin? Do you think this is a school field trip? Are you going to subdue the zombies through music?”

“We could also subdue the zombies by tying you up and throwing you to them as bait,” Childe says pleasantly, stepping in front of you so you’re hidden from Scaramouche’s view.

You can still see him, though, and Scaramouche rolls his eyes at Childe’s words. He  must not be in the mood for a fight, because he disappears up the stairs without another word.

“Gov… north… natio… state of… gency… repeat…” Teucer is fiddling with his radio again, cross-legged on the living room, and the sound echoes in the small space. He coughs as he adjusts the antenna, wiping his running nose with the back of his sleeve. 

“Are you sure you want him with us?” Childe says quietly, so that Teucer can’t overhear.

You lightly grasp his hand, and Childe curls his fingers around yours. “He could be helpful. We can at least stick with him for a few days.”

“Got it. We’ll do what you want to do. But if he ever tries to hurt you or Teucer, then I’m going to take care of him.”

The way Childe says it leaves you no doubt that he’ll make good on his threat the second he perceives Scaramouche has turned his back on your group. Even when you were younger, you always thought Childe was like a pack animal: friendly and warm to anyone in his inner circle, but unrelentingly distant to anyone outside of it. 

You remember the zombie that had almost attacked you at the convenience store yesterday, and the way Childe hadn’t stopped hitting it, not even when it stopped moving. 

Childe relishes violence in a way you can’t understand. He was quick to pick up a weapon the second the zombies started showing up, and hasn’t put it down since.

He’ll make good on his threat. You can read it in his eyes alone. Hopefully bringing Scaramouche along isn’t a mistake.

Over the next few days, as the four of you continue to travel north, you’re still trying to make sense of Scaramouche. 

He has a sharp tongue, and he’s not sociable whatsoever, but he never ignores your questions, even if there’s a scathing reply on his tongue more often than not. He pulls his weight, finding his share of supplies and sharing them with the three of you. And more than that, he dispatches zombies with ease. Scaramouche moves as fast and merciless as Childe, smashing brains into the pavement and aiming bullets directly at undead hearts and spines that cause the corpses to crumple to the floor, his silencer muffling all sound.

Maybe you’re the odd one, because you can’t stop thinking about how these zombies used to be people, with hopes and dreams dashed before they knew what happened to them. Still, there’s no time for regret; you have to do what you can to protect the people you love.

Overall, it’s nice to have another person around to hunt for resources, to watch your back when you’re out, or to have someone back at your makeshift bases to help look after Teucer.

And, surprisingly, it’s Teucer who Scaramouche seems to get along with the most. He’ll listen to Teucer ramble on, and spend more time with him than either you or Childe.

“He’s a nice guy,” Teucer tells you simply, when you ask him about Scaramouche. “I don’t think he’s really that mean. Sometimes he looks a little lonely, though.”

One night, Teucer’s radio breaks, the voices sputtering to a stubborn halt. Neither you nor Childe have any experience with machines, and not even Teucer’s crestfallen look can will the two of you to bring it back to life.

“Maybe I should just hit it a few times,” Childe mutters, turning the machine over and over in his hands.

“Are you an idiot? Give that to me,” Scaramouche snarls, snatching the radio out of Childe’s grasp.

The three of you watch as Scaramouche doctors the radio, unscrewing the back and checking the wires. A second later, sound crackles through the machine, a faint voice mumbling words you can’t hear.

“These things wear out easily,” Scaramouche barks at Teucer. “Try to keep it from overheating.”

“Thank you!” Teucer throws his arms around Scaramouche, who keeps his arms dangling awkwardly in the air before patting Teucer once, his hand gently curling around his head. He seems familiar with children, and it makes you wonder if he has– or had– a little brother before.

“That was sweet of you,” you say to Scaramouche, when he passes by you and Childe. Teucer is adjusting the radio’s buttons again, trying to find any sort of signal.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he says, scoffing. “I would hate to see that brat crying, that’s all. It would attract the undead.”

“Sure,” Childe breaks in easily, smiling. “You’re big brother material, you know.”

“Shut up,” Scaramouche snarls.

Scaramouche is an enigma, but he’s an asset. It’s only when Childe quietly murmurs that he hasn’t noticed any signs of zombie bites or symptoms of infection on Scaramouche that you can bring yourself to trust in him a little more.

“I still think he’s bad news,” Childe tells you in a quiet voice, when Scaramouche is busy entertaining Teucer in the room over. Teucer’s laughter drifts through the wall. “There’s something off about him. The sooner we ditch him, the better.”

“Teucer likes him,” you say.

“Teucer is young.”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous of him?” you tease, elbowing Childe in the side.

He shakes his head. His eyes are distant, staring at somewhere far away from you, some place you can’t join him in. Childe has that look often these days, and it’s the same one he has whenever he sees a zombie and his hands flex on his baseball bat.

Maybe it’s the apocalypse, or maybe it’s always been a part of him. But it’s frightening, because he’s never been unreachable to you. If you just whisper his name, he’ll usually come running straight to your side. But when he gets like this, you wonder if your voice will reach him at all. You take his hand instinctively, as if to ground him back to your reality, and Childe squeezes your hand in return.

He’s here. He’s here, even if the rest of the world falls to ruin, and he’ll always take your hand.

“I just have a bad feeling,” Childe says.

“We’ll be careful,” you promise. 

Childe closes his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Okay.”

Maybe he’s trying to ground himself with your touch, too, so the two of you stay in that position for a long while longer, where you simply soak in each other’s presence, lost in your own thoughts.

As you travel over the next few days, the temperature turns frigid and the ground icy, and the four of you stick to camping out in empty buildings. If you’re lucky, the houses might have an indoor fireplace to huddle around. If not, then you make do with thick, lonely, faded blankets forgotten in closets. If you can’t make it to town, there’s always cars to break into and huddle in for the night. It’s been easy to avoid zombies with the cooling weather; frost gathers in their joints, and they move more slowly. On cold enough nights, you can’t see any at all.

It’s in one of the countless abandoned homes you pass that the four of you stop by for the night. You’re huddled by a fire pit, blankets curled over your shoulders, having pushed the couches closer to the hearth to trap the heat. There are framed pictures over the mantelpiece, of a blond family: two daughters, one with a ponytail and another with pigtails, a mom, a dad. You wonder if they’re alive. Then you turn your head back to the fire, flames flickering in a slow dance, and makes it hard to think of anything else.

Teucer is asleep, his head on Childe’s lap. You’re curled up on Childe’s other side, shoulders touching. Scaramouche sits farther apart, his shoulders hunched, legs folded under him.

“Okay, spit it out. Are the two of you dating?” Scaramouche says suddenly.

“What?” you hiss.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? All the touching? And he–” Scaramouche jerks a thumb at Childe– “Keeps acting like the two of you will die if you’re apart for a single moment.”

“We’re not dating. We’re just friends,” you say defensively, even as Scaramouche raises an eyebrow. “I’ve known him since I was born, okay? We grew up next to each other.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Oh, how sappy.”

“Are you interested in us?” you challenge, annoyed. “That’s a weird thing to bring up all of a sudden.”

Scaramouche lets out a short barking laugh. “Hardly! You two were just so annoying to watch. I needed to know for sure.”

“Well, now you know,” you say tersely. “We went to the same school all our lives. Our families were friends. But we’re not dating.”

Teucer lets out a series of coughs, stirring in his sleep. His coughing has gotten worse over the last few days. If it doesn’t get better, you’ll need to stop and look for medicine. All of you freeze, and Childe strokes Teucer’s head softly.

“You guys can talk, but try to keep it down,” Childe says. Under the shelter of your blanket, hidden from Scaramouche’s gaze, his pinky grazes yours. You link them together. There’s something intimate about the gesture. Maybe it’s because you’re doing it in secret, right under Scaramouche’s nose.

Scaramouche stares into the fire, unblinking, his gaze reflecting the flames. “So you’ve known him your whole life.” His voice is quieter now, and you try to match his low tone.

“We went to different colleges, though,” you say. “I was majoring in musical performance. Childe and Teucer were visiting me during spring break at my apartment when…” Your voice trails off. There’s no reason to look back to the past. It’ll kill you. It’ll kill you if you stop moving forward, if you think about the family you’ve lost, the stage you can never return to.

“Yeah, we were visiting them when the apocalypse broke loose,” Childe interrupts easily, continuing for you. “We waited a while before fleeing, and we’ve been traveling ever since we heard about government shelters in the north.”

“And what if those communications are lies?” Scaramouche says. “And there’s nothing up there? Or what if it’s a trap?”

“Then we’ll make do,” Childe says. “We’ll survive.”

“It’s easier if we’re together,” you add.

Scaramouche scoffs. “Sure.”

“What about you?” you ask. “Where did you come from?”

“Nowhere,” he says tersely.

“Sure. You just popped out of the ground,” Childe says. “No family? No friends?”

“No one worth talking about,” he says. “Everyone is dead or gone.”

You nudge Childe’s hand with your own, signaling him to drop the issue, and Childe falls silent. There’s no point in pushing Scaramouche about things he doesn’t want to talk about. No one has a happy story these days.

Scaramouche’s eyes drift to your violin case, positioned snugly on the couch. “I can’t believe you’re still carrying that thing with you. You might as well use it for scrap wood,” Scaramouche says.

“I am not doing that! It’s important to me. I know it’s inconvenient, but I can’t just leave it behind.”

“That’s just sentimental drivel,” Scaramouche snarks.

“Maybe it is, but it’s my decision to live with, not yours,” you reply evenly.

“It’s nice to have a little music sometimes,” Childe breaks in. “Not that I know if you understand what it’s like to do things that make you happy. Do you do anything other than glower and scowl?”

“Shut up. You act just like their dog. You’re both hopeless.” Scaramouche stands, still clutching the blanket tightly around him. “I’ve had enough for tonight. Don’t bother me.”

When he stalks off, you lean your head on Childe’s shoulder. “Thanks, Childe.”

“That’s what family and friends are for,” he says lightly. “We look out for each other, especially now. I’m always here for you.”

You really don’t know what you would do without him. Scaramouche’s words stung, not the least because you used to have a crush on Childe when you were younger. Everyone has always teased you about how the two of you were going to wind up dating, but those childish ideas have no place in this dying world. Romance is an embarrassing indulgence, worse than your violin, and love doesn’t seem like the right word to describe what the two of you mean to each other.

It’s like there’s a string, knotted somewhere in the hollow of your heart, tying you to Childe. And everytime his heart beats, you can feel the tug of that string, a reminder of someone who’s more of you than you yourself are. If either of your hearts were to stop, then the string would snap, and the searing pain of that loss would kill you.

No, love isn’t the right word at all. 

“You can sleep. I’ll keep watch,” Childe whispers, and your eyes drift close. You can almost feel the ghost of lips brushing against your forehead, but you’re too sleepy to tell for sure.

The next day, Teucer wakes with a fever burning his skin and shortening his breath. You help Childe carry him to a spare bedroom and pile up the blankets against the chill, but it’s not enough. You melt ice and snow outside into water which Childe uses to dip rags into and cool Teucer’s forehead.

The two of you have been by his side for hours, trying to coax water and stale crackers into Teucer’s mouth, but he only turns away. At some point, Scaramouche has come to hover wordlessly by the door. There’s a tight, almost worried, expression on his face, but you don’t have time to pay attention to him and his shifting moods.

“The fever might still go down,” Childe mutters, but he’s talking more to himself than he is to you. “It’s not that bad yet.”

“We’ll need medicine,” you say. “I’ll go find some. You should stay here and look after him.”

“By yourself?” he says tersely.

“No, Scaramouche will come with me,” you say resolutely. 

“I never agreed to do that,” Scaramouche says, the first words he’s said since he’s shown up.

Childe stands, grip tightening around the rag in his hands to the point his knuckles turn white. “I don’t have time for you right now. Teucer is sick, you asshole. You can either help us or keep your shitty opinions to yourself.” Scaramouche holds Childe’s gaze in one long, hard unblinking moment. You tense, wondering if you’re going to need to shove them apart.

Scaramouche is the first to duck his head. He glances at Teucer’s prone form, then glances away again, too fast for you to decipher the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll go. He needs the medicine. Besides, they–” he jerks a thumb at you– “Would probably die without someone to look after them.”

You bite back all your complaints at his tone. There’s no time for fighting, not when more important things are on the line. “Fine. Then we’re going to head out right now to look for supplies.”

The wait to grab your gear and trek outside is short and tense. The air is bitterly cold, causing your breath to cloud in the air as the two of you slink down sidewalks and alleyways, scanning for any sign of zombies. Snow and ice slick the ground, and the sky has a sickly gray pallor to it, like unhealthy skin.

The nearest grocery store is a half an hour walk away. In the silence, you’re acutely aware of Scaramouche next to you. This is the first time you’ve been alone with him since he started traveling with you. His steps are surprisingly elegant, his posture graceful. Something about him doesn’t strike you as a typical college student; maybe he was a dancer? It wouldn’t surprise you.

But Scaramouche’s past, which he clearly doesn’t want to share with you, isn’t important right now. What is important is Teucer.

The grocery store, once you arrive at it, is as dilapidated as all the others; they were some of the first places to be scavenged. This place reminds you a little of the one you had explored with Childe, almost two weeks before. You shrug off the thought and gesture to the left side of the store, pointing at yourself, and then the right side of the store, pointing at Scaramouche. He nods, and the two of you separate.

Your heart beats an anxious rhythm in your chest as you peer at the shelves, looking for the telltale glint of plastic bottles and wordy labels. You need basic fever medication, or, hell, you would even take an over the counter painkiller. Anything to relieve Teucer’s pain. Without a doctor or proper supplies, if anything were to happen to him… no. You don’t want to think about it.

You browse the shelves, stepping over fallen merchandise, dirty stuffed animals and books with their pages splayed open like ribs. Nothing. Maybe you would make your way to Scaramouche’s side of the story instead; you’re clearly in the entertainment section, and the medical supplies might be further off. 

You round the corner, and run right into a man in a puffy winter coat. You stumble backwards, hands already reaching for your knife, when the man throws his hands up.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he murmurs. 

Despite his words, you keep a hand firmly on the hilt of your knife. You’re close enough that if he makes any suspicious moves, you can easily threaten him or disarm him. The man must realize this, because he backs away a few short steps. 

He has winter boots scruffy with snow, and days old stubble around his neck. His eyes are red and heavy with dark eyebags, his face drawn with exhaustion, and his hair is greasy. You probably don’t look any better.

“Who are you?” you ask.

“Just someone trying to survive,” he says lowly. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Well, it’s the same for me,” you murmur. You can’t sense any signs of aggression or hostility from him. 

“I’m not a threat,” he says again. “Don’t be hasty, stranger. Please. There’s no need for violence. Look. I don’t have any weapons.” He waves his hands again, keeping them spread in front of him.

“How do I know that for sure?”

“Because I’m tired of fighting with every other person I’ve run into. I know the world is shit, but we don’t need to treat others so poorly,” he says, and there’s a creeping edge of genuinity to his voice.

You let out a little breath, then sheaf your knife. Still, it’s close enough that you can grab it if the man turns out to be dangerous.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Looking for supplies. Same as you, I presume?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. You’d be a fool just to trust him based on appearance and kind words alone, as much as you want to believe in his good intentions. It’s probably better not to clue him in on the most vulnerable member of your team.

“Are you by yourself?” the man asks. “Hey, so am I. If you want, we could–”

A soft click of the gun echoes in the air. Both of you tense. “Too bad for you, but they aren’t alone.” Scaramouche digs his gun against the back of the man’s head. His posture is loose, casual, even, as if the man in front of him isn’t trembling like a rabbit.

“What are you doing?” you hiss. 

“Something you’re too stupid to do,” Scaramouche says disdainfully. “Really, I can’t believe you would lower your guard when there’s a threat in front of you.”

“He isn’t a threat!”

“He just wants you to let your guard down,” Scaramouche reasons. “You have no idea what he’s planning to do.”

“I wasn’t planning anything! I just thought– if they were alone, we could just team up– I didn’t have any other intentions!” the man insists, voice shaking. “I won’t do anything to you two, okay? I’ll leave the two of you alone. I promise. Just let me go.”

“And why should I trust that?”

“I’m just trying to survive! Come on, man. You know how it is these days.”

“I know exactly how it is these days,” Scaramouche says, and pushes his gun against the man’s head again.

“Scaramouche,” you say tensely. “Leave him alone.”

“Why? So he can turn around and betray us?”

“I won’t do that. I promise I’ll just go,” the man pleads. “If we see each other again, I won’t even talk to the two of you. Promise. Come on. Just cut me some slack.”

No one breathes. The moment stretches out, distorting before your eyes, stretching into an agonizing infinity. You might have always stood here, watching Scaramouche and this stranger, rooted to the spot, as civilizations rose and fell with a roar in your ears.

“Scaramouche,” you whisper, trying to plead with him again.

Scaramouche momentarily links eyes with you, his gaze as hard as his gun, and the man slowly reaches his hand down– towards his pocket? You can’t tell– you don’t know what he’s doing– and then – before you can say or do anything at all– Scaramouche’s trigger finger flicks and, in the next instant, the man is falling, blood spraying from his head in a wine-red arc, and it’s sickening how graceful the spill is, how the calm the man looks as his eyelids flutter and his mouth slackens, and Scaramouche is quietly slipping his gun back into the holster on his belt.

You couldn’t hear the sound of a gunshot at all. His silencer must have been on. And that’s the worst part, really, how easy it is. How quickly death passes, in seconds, like a butterfly alighting on a branch before flying away again.

This is the way the world is, and you want to cry or laugh or scream, but nothing comes out of your throat at all.

There’s blood. Warm and wet. Spreading in a pool by your feet. The man has fallen down, face first, and his wounds gapes open at you. You don’t even know his name.

Scaramouche crouches down by the man, digging into his coat pockets, before pulling out a switchblade. He flicks the blade out, his smile ghostly in the silver reflection.

“Knew it,” he whispers. “This fucker was reaching for this.”

The moment breaks, and you grab Scaramouche by his jacket, slamming him against a metal shelf. Your breath is heavy and fast, and you can feel the pounding of your own blood through your veins, resounding in your head, louder than thought. You can see the reflection of your own wild animal eyes in Scaramouche’s. 

His eyes are dark and reflect nothing, not even his own thoughts, like a sheet of black glass you can only pound your hands against, over and over.

“What the fuck,” you spit out. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he drawls. “You should thank me.”

“He was innocent,” you say quietly. “You don’t know if he was reaching for his knife or not. He was just lowering his hands.”

“Really? Be honest with yourself,” Scaramouche says. “What else could he be reaching for?”

“Maybe he wasn’t reaching for anything at all. You don’t know that he was going to grab his knife. You had a gun to his head!”

“People do desperate things in desperate situations. You’re naive,” he says, spitting out the word like a curse.

“And you’re a bitter asshole.” 

You could tear his throat out right now. You could slam his head against the wall until it bleeds. You could do anything to Scaramouche right now, but it wouldn’t matter. A stranger is dead, and you will never know what he was really doing in his final moments.

For the first time, you understand what Childe feels when he raises his weapon against a zombie. 

“Are you going to threaten me all day? Don’t you have more important things to worry about?” Scaramouche says.

Scaramouche is worse than any undead threat. Childe is right. Bringing him along is a mistake. But no matter how you feel, there’s more pressing matters at hand. You clamber off of him, and he dusts down his winter jacket, before throwing something at you. 

You catch it with ease. It’s a bottle of fever medication for children, orange pills encased in thick plastic, happy fruit shaped mascots dancing in front of the packaging.

“I found that. So let’s go back. The noise might have drawn zombies near us,” Scaramouche says.

Before you leave, you manage to cover the corpse with a ratty white blanket that you found shoved in the corner of the grocery store. It’s not much, and you can’t give him a real burial, but the idea of leaving his open body to the air feels wrong.

The silence is suffocating on your way home. Neither you nor Scaramouche speak much to each other. There’s nothing to say.

Back in the house, Childe is still crouched over Teucer’s bedside, holding his brother’s hand and speaking soothingly to him. He probably hasn’t moved since you stepped out of the house. You don’t know where Scaramouche went when you both returned. You don’t want to know.

“You’re back. Are you okay?” Childe asks. 

He knows something is wrong without you saying anything, like some sixth sense or an animal’s intuition. When you sit next to him on Teucer’s bed, he lifts a hand to cup your face. He scans you carefully, as if looking for any sign of visible wounds.

“Childe. If there was someone who we didn’t know was a threat or not, what would you do?” you whisper.

“Easy. I would do what you wanted to do,” Childe says cheerfully. “And you’d probably want to help them.”

“But what if I was wrong?” you press. “What if I trusted someone I shouldn’t have, and then you and Teucer got hurt because of it? Would it be wrong of me to have done that? Should I just have left them alone?”

“I don’t know,” Childe says. He’s stroking soothing patterns on your cheek now, his fingers dancing across your skin. “We wouldn’t know they’re dangerous until they betray us, right? And it would be their fault for betraying you, not yours for trusting them. Besides, if anyone hurt you, I would just kill them.”

“Is it really that easy?” you ask. Killing others, being killed. Trusting others, distrusting them.

Childe shrugs. “Why wouldn’t it be? We take care of each other, right? If you mess up, I’ll cover you. And if I mess up, you’ll do the same. Why? Did Scaramouche say something to you? Want me to punch him?”

You let out a shaky little laugh. “Sort of. Something happened, but I can’t… talk about it right now. I’ll tell you later.”

Childe lets go of your cheek, and before you can react, softly kisses your forehead. His lips are dry and cracked, but what surprises you most is how gentle that single touch is, how cognizant he is of every inch of you. He handles you like you’re more precious than gold, more rare than diamonds.

“I’ll watch over Teucer, so get some rest. Thanks for getting the medicine for me.”

“I’ll take over in a little bit,” you say.

Childe waves a hand in return, and you stumble down the halls. You touch your forehead, where the kiss burns, marking you forever in some intangible way. 

Maybe Childe is your salvation, as much as you’re his. You believe in him more than any god out there, anyways, and if you are to pray, it would be to him. Childe is the only one who will answer your prayers.

By the next morning, the medicine has reduced Teucer’s fever somewhat, but there’s still no point in traveling when he’s too sick to move. For the next two days, all of you are stuck in that house. You and Childe take shifts watching over Teucer. You don’t know where Scaramouche is; he hasn’t shown his face in a while.

In fact, you’re starting to wonder if he’s left permanently. You’re absently polishing your violin in the living room on a slow afternoon, when Scaramouche walks right through the doorway. He’s wearing a backpack, his jacket buttoned tightly to his throat. 

“Do you still plan on bringing that thing with you?” he says.

“Yes. There’s no reason not to. Besides,” you add, “It’s not your business what I decide to bring with me or not. It doesn’t affect you.”

“It’s going to weigh you down,” he says.

“No more than anything else I bring with me,” you say evenly. “It was my dream, you know? To play at a concert hall. To become a famous musician.”

“You’re foolish.”

“What’s your problem?” you ask. “If it bothers you that much, you don’t have to come with us. We can go our separate ways. There’s no reason for you to stick with us anymore.”

“You want to know why? It’s because I knew someone who was just like you. A foolish idiot, who was abandoned by his mother, and then fell into a group of people who he thought he could trust. He thought he could trust them because they saved him, because they were kind and believed in the goodness of others. There was a little kid with them, too, who that boy really cared about. But then they all ended up dying because they trusted the wrong person, and that idiot was left all alone. That’s why I can’t stand you. I can’t stand anyone like him,” he spits out. 

“But it isn’t the boy’s fault for trusting the others,” you argue. “It’s terrible that all of that happened to him, but the one who betrayed him is really at fault.”

Scaramouche laughed. “Well, that’s just the way the world is, and it’s semantics to argue otherwise. The stupid boy shouldn’t have trusted anyone in the first place, and he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. It’ll be best if you learn that before long, instead of clinging to your stupid dreams. Everyone will leave you eventually, you know.”

Something about his phrasing prickles in your mind. Scaramouche, you notice, is wearing boots indoors. He usually takes off his shoes before entering rooms.

Something clicks in his hand. It’s his gun. The silencer is off. For a single moment, you hold your breath, wondering if Scaramouche is going to shoot you in cold blood, right here and right now, and you’ll end up like the stranger in the grocery store.

But no– he doesn’t even look at you. Instead, he heads towards the front door. You don’t even close your violin case as you follow him.

Unease weighs down every step. “What do you mean? Scaramouche? What are you doing with that?”

He doesn’t bother replying before he opens the door, a gust of cold winter air swirling around you. The night sky is bitterly black and cold, like the bottom of the ocean. “You know, I always hated your fucking attitude. Oh, the world is a good place! Oh, you can trust others! Oh, Childe is always going to help me out!” he says, but there’s something gentle about the cruelty in his voice. Like he’s really doing you a favor. “Someone has to put you in your place.” 

“Scaramouche–” Your words are cut off as he raises his gun and fires it into the sky. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound richots off the houses around you and into the depths of the neighborhood, like the toll of a church bell.

And then– groaning. Faint groaning and shuffling, carrying over the wind. In the distance, darkened shapes lurch toward your door, lumpy shadows that are too numerous to count. Congregants, summoned by Scaramouche’s call.

Scaramouche has summoned a zombie hoard to your location. The knowledge hits you just as Scaramouche leaps out the door, giving you one last smile. There’s something bitter curling along his grin, but you don’t have time to interpret the meaning before he waves his gun in a single farwell.

“Good luck,” he says mockingly, and vanishes into the night.

You slam the door closed, heart pounding. Oh god. What are you going to do? The backyard– that’s your best option. You can escape out the back. But, shit. Teucer. Teucer is still recovering. You can’t move quickly with him still sick- and the cold weather could make him worse.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Someone pounds down the stairs. Childe is by your side in an instant, grabbing your shoulders. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” His eyes are wild, and his fingers cut into your shoulders. “Where’s Scaramouche?”

“He left,” you say numbly. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. It’s just–” Something slams against the door, a wet thud that echoes into your bones. Multiple bodies are beating against the door, and Childe peeks through the peephole. He glances away, his hand around his mouth, and you look, too: it’s an endless sea of corpses. Scaramouche must have summoned the entire town to your door.

“Fuck. Did he do that?” he whispers. There’s an odd edge of elation to his tone, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit quite right in your current circumstances. 

“Yes,” you say, and Childe takes your hand, pulling you along, up the stairs. 

“Focus!” he hisses, grabbing onto your face, pulling your gaze up to him. In this moment, the only thing you can focus on is Childe’s eyes, pure and open, like the endless expanse of the sky. “I know he did something shitty, but focus! We have to survive. We have to make a way through this. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I’m here. I’m here for you.”

“You’re here,” you repeat, and Childe lets you go. You slap your cheeks, shaking your head. There’s no time to regret, to mourn, to scream. There’s no choice but to keep moving.

For the next few moments, you and Childe pack two backpacks, shoving them full of whatever supplies you can carry.

You head into Teucer’s bedroom next, where he stirs weakly. “What’s going on?” he mumbles.

“Emergency. We have to go now,” Childe says lightly. Teucer holds out his arms obediently as Childe helps him into his jacket, tenderly shoving a hat on his head, tucking it around his curls of hair.

“Can you walk?” you ask Teucer.

“A little.” His speech is still slurred with fatigue and illness. He’s in no condition to move, but you have no choice.

“I’ll carry you if you get tired,” you say. “Childe and I can take turns.”

He nods, and Childe picks him up. Teucer curls his head into Childe’s shoulder. You grab his radio off the bed stand, and Teucer grips it tightly, close to his chest like a heart.

“You need to put on your jacket, too,” you whisper to Childe. “What, are you going to run out like that?”

Childe smiles. “Not at all.” He guides the two of you to the backyard door. For now, the immediate vicinity is free of zombies: yellowed grass, a barren tree with skeletal arms piercing the sky, a wooden gate with a fragile latch at the very end. In the darkness, you can’t make out anything beyond the fence. It’s better that way, because you know all you see will be zombies piled everywhere.

Childe helps Teucer pull on his backpack, and you slip on your own.

“Not bringing your violin?” Childe asks quietly.

“There’s no room for it,” you say bitterly. Scaramouche is right about that, at least. It’ll just slow you down at this rate. 

Childe sets Teucer down at your words, carefully pulling out a chair for Teucer to lean against. “Wait for us for a little bit, buddy. We’ll be right back.”

Teucer nods absently, and slumps on the chair. He’s playing with his radio again, the static crackling through the air.

Childe guides you to the living room, where your violin case is still open on the floor. He bends over and picks up the rosin, running one thumb over the closed plastic cap, before handing it to you. “I’ll bring you your violin later,” he says. “So just take this with you for now.”

“Childe. What do you mean? You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”

Ever since you were young, Childe has been unable to lie to you. You know him too well for that, and you grab his elbows at the look in his contemplative look in his eyes. He must know better than to try now, because he only smiles at you. His smile is– it’s excited, almost, as it has been since he first saw the zombies around the house. You want to throw your rosin at his fucking face. 

“There are too many zombies around the house right now. Someone needs to be a distraction so the others can get away.”

“But it doesn’t have to be you!” you say desperately. “I can stay, too. I can help you. Isn’t this how we’ve always done this? You and me. We can do this together.”

“Someone has to take care of Teucer. I can’t risk him,” he says quietly. 

“God damn it!” Tears are streaming down your face, and you can’t even wipe them away. 

For a second, you imagine leaving Teucer behind. You’ll drag Childe with you, and just the two of you can leave. Childe has to survive. He has to. He’s the only one in this world you care about anymore.

But Childe would never forgive you if you do. And you would never forgive yourself. How can you think like that? Teucer is a child. You were there when he was born. 

Childe presses his thumb to your face, catching your tears. “I’ll catch up to you guys. I won’t die.”

“You don’t know that! What’s wrong with you? You can’t just leave us like this!” You hold out your hand to him, hoping that he’ll take it, but Childe only looks at it quietly. He doesn’t move to take it. It’s a rejection, your first rejection from Childe.

“I’m not like Scaramouche. I’ll come back to you. I won’t betray you like that. Trust me,” he says. “I’m going to keep both of you safe.”

He kisses you. He kisses you, and all your bubbling complaints are swallowed by his lips. Your hands are trapped against his chest. He kisses you once, and twice, over and over, like he’ll die if he pulls away. Your kisses are salty with your tears. Childe licks your bottom lip, and you finally shove yourself away from him, because you’ll drown in his arms otherwise.

“You promised,” you whisper. “So you better keep it, or I’m going to come back and kill you myself.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” Childe says. “It’s you and me, right?”

You walk back to the dining room, where Teucer is sitting sleepily. Childe has his baseball bat in hand. He kisses his brother’s forehead once. 

“Be good, Teuce,” Childe murmurs. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have some business to take care of. But I’ll catch up to you soon.” And then, in a low whisper, tha only you can hear, “don’t look back,” he says.

You finger the rosin in your pocket. “I won’t.”

You head out in the backyard, Teucer’s hand in your own, the night air so cold it sears your lungs. You can hear the shuffle of zombies through the fence, too numerous to count. 

You and Childe stare at each other through the glass door for one final time, and then he’s gone, running towards the front door. You head towards the gate, heart hammering in your ears as you listen to the shuffle of zombies. You’ll wait until the noise dies down enough to make a break for it, when he’s drawn most of the attention to himself.

A minute passes. Another. The zombies are slowly lurching past you. There’s noise from the front of the house, but you don’t want to think about what’s going on there. 

When it’s finally silent enough, you burst out into the street, Teucer’s hand in your own. The two of you run, and run, and run.

You don’t know how long you run. At some point, Teucer falters, and you sling both your bags to your front, and pull him onto your back, and keep going, his arms tight around your neck. His forehead burns against your neck. His fever must be flaring up again.

“My brother…” Teucer whispers reedily in your ear. 

“He’s right behind us,” you lie, tears burning your throat and choking your words. “I promise.”

You keep running. You keep running, even when your legs are screaming and your lungs are burning and your breathing is uneven. You keep running until you can’t feel anything anymore, not the ache of your arms or Teucer’s weight on your back. In the endless darkness, you keep going, because if you stop now, then you’ll turn right around and go back to Childe and render his sacrifice meaningless.

Is this your fault? Should you have never trusted Scaramouche and just left him there to fend for himself when you first saw on the highway? Maybe you should have stuck your knife in his ribs yourself the second he pressed his gun to a stranger’s head.

Childe might be dead already. He could be dying right now. But, no, Childe has promised to come after you. He never breaks his promises. He’s always there for you. And now you’ve left him behind, in a zombie swarm.

You remember his smile, too, the way he never hesitates to beat against zombies until they’re pulp on the ground. As much as he loves you and Teucer, he loves the violence of a dying world, too. Does he fight because he wants to protect you, or does protecting you give him an excuse to fight?

Resentment bubbles in your chest, trickling along with your tears. How can he ask you to leave him behind? How can he look excited at the thought of going single handedly against a swarm of zombies?

You can never ask him now.

The world is a cruel place. Your family is dead. Or worse, they’re alive but you’ve abandoned the aunt and uncle who raised you to their fate, without even heading back to your hometown to check if they were still alive. Childe, at least, had the decency to want to go home until it was too late to go anywhere but north. You just wanted to run. 

You should have smashed your fucking violin into pieces when you had the chance, instead of carrying it with you all this way. There’s no concert halls left, no audience, no one who cares about your dead dreams.

Something crackles in your ear. Teucer’s radio, turned so low only you can hear. “Gov… north… repeat… state of emergency… shelter…”

Keep going.

But why are you going? What’s left for you?

Keep running. 

But what if there’s nothing left? What if everyone is dead, and there’s no one up north to help you?

Keep moving forward.

It’s snowing. You don’t know when it started, but snow clings to your lashes like frozen tears. You stumble over something hard, and you crash into the ground, skidding along the icy dirt. You keep a tight grip on Teucer the whole time, and his radio goes silent as it shatters on the floor, into cold metal stars.

“Teucer?” you whisper, but all you can hear is his labored breathing. If he stays in the cold for any longer, he might really die.

Maybe you should just stay here and die with him. You’re too tired to move. The cold is numbing your joints, seeping into your body. You’ve run for so long. You can’t run any more.

“Look,” Teucer whispers in your ear, and you force your eyes up.

In the distance, a bright light glimmers, a firefly in the winter. A fire, or a flashlight. You can’t tell, but you do know what it means. Other people. You’ve found other people. But there’s no guarantee they’ll help you. Maybe they’ll rob you, leave you for dead in the snow. How can you trust anyone else now?

Scaramouche has betrayed you. Childe is… no, Childe isn’t dead. He’s promised you. He’ll come back for you. If you die here, then you can’t wait for him. If he comes to find you, and you’re not there, then you’ll have betrayed him in the worst way.

Childe can hurt and betray you all he wants, but you can’t hurt him.

And Teucer. Teucer is right here, on your back, still clinging with his fragile arms. Still believing in you to keep him safe.

Your rosin is in your pocket. You force a gloved hand into your jacket pocket to feel its worn edges. You’ve used the same one for years, to coat your bow so it can glide over your violin strings, wearing it down to almost a sliver.

You take a breath. Then another. And then you get up, and you head towards the light.

#liya writes #genshin impact #childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe genshin impact #tartaglia genshin impact

[unpunishablelamb]

imma need a pt 2 to the realistic general crp hc’s😭 maybe some specifically hc’s on a few of the characters? finally someone who gets me ☝️☝️ pls and thanks 🫶

realistic creepypasta headcanons part 2

A/N: i gotchu don’t worry- ALSO TYSM TO EVERYONE SENDING ME REQUESTS/LIKING MY STUFF AND TO ALL OF MY NEW FOLLOWERS LOVE U ALL <3

jeff the killer

-man stinks like the devils asscrack

-i touched on this before but he showers like once every two weeks or so

-his converse shoes are so worn down that he gets wet feet when it rains so he probably has another pair cause why tf wouldn’t he he isn’t dumb

-probably stolen military boots

-i think due to his burn scars his remaining hair is very patchy and stringy somewhat and he doesn’t have any lashes or eyebrows cause they burnt off completely

-i think he is low-key misogynistic but not bc he hates women he’s just an edgelord who likes making people mad

-i also think before he became a creepypasta (including the unusual strength/lack of vulnerability) his cuts were legitimately rotting. they probably smelled like decaying flesh and there was definitely some pus action

laughing jack

-also stinks

-i imagine it as a mix of burnt sugar and rotten flesh and like..moldy basement?

-most posts say he eats candy as far as i know but i think he doesn’t technically need to eat

-he probably eats his victims, little kids, their parents and their pets sometimes but just because he thinks it’s funny to see the remaining ones scream and cry

-he is double jointed since he technically doesn’t have joints at all so he folds himself when he’s in his box like a little package

ticci toby

-i feel like he is always portrayed way too nice?! like he literally hates people, he is severely mentally ill and traumatised PLUS he’s a killer

-i feel like he doesn’t have emotional empathy but cognitive empathy which means he can feel empathy but on a logical rather than an emotional level

-he is neutral about waffles

-i feel like sometimes his joints crack when he tics or sometimes he dislocates joints and his limbs just feel kind of stiff (to others this would hurt like hell but he simply can’t feel it)

-he probably has odd shaped fingers and bruises/ scars all over him cause he keeps injuring himself without noticing so his body just kind of grows back together in a strange way

#creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 4

Hello and welcome to the latest omega escort Steve! We get Nancy and Robin time and Steve goes through a bit of the dark side of his job.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

When Steve got into the limo that would take him and Nancy to the charity gala, she eyed him hungrily.

“You look nice tonight,” she said tightly. She chewed her bottom lip. “That’s a really good color on you.”

He smirked. “You did say that you were wearing gold tonight and jeweled tones always go well with metallic colors.”

Nancy nodded.

Steve turned away to look out the window, hiding a smile behind his fist.

The drive up to the gala was painfully awkward, but mainly because it seemed the usually sharp tongued Nancy Wheeler was at a loss for words.

Living well, really was the best revenge.

Nancy stepped out first and then she leaned into help Steve out of the car. He barely managed not to roll his eyes as he oozed out of the limo onto the red carpet.

He pulled his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on to shield against the flashing bulbs of the camera as they took picture after picture of Nancy and him arm and arm.

She waved to the crowd as he stood there looking pretty. Steve heard question after question about taking an escort instead of her husband. She just merely smiled and waved.

They got to the top of the stairs that led down to the ballroom without either of them saying a single word. To the reporters or each other.

“Steve...” Nancy said warningly. “Just remember what you’re here for.”

Steve looked over at her and smiled disarmingly. “To make you look good. I know. I am consummate professional, darling.”

She eyed up his outfit again. “Well that outfit reads professional slut.”

Steve kissed her cheek. “That’s because I am one and before you get uppity with me, princess, you’re the one that hired me.”

Nancy scowled.

He eyed her sidelong. “You know, for all your feminist brouhaha, you sure are anti-sex worker until you want to look good.”

Her jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon!”

“And if you keep going on like this,” Steve said menacingly. “I will put you on the black list and you’ll have actually drag poor Jonathan with you to these.”

Nancy went almost purple with rage, but before she could open her mouth, Steve whispered, “You may have bought me for the night, Nance, but I hold all the cards.”

Her color drained from her face and she nodded mutely. He patted her on the cheek and took a step down to the next step, forcing her to follow him or look awkward.

The rest of the night passed smoothly. Billy Hargrove, on the arm of some simpering female omega, avoided them like the plague. Which worked out for Steve, thank you very much.

Nancy had gone to the bathroom and Billy’s arm candy must have done the same because she was nowhere in sight.

Steve was by the buffet table trying not to gag about how long the food had been left out under this sweltering heat. But Nancy had told him to wait there, so waiting he was.

Billy was talking to Carol Perkins, his talk show host partner.

“I don’t know how you can stand it, Billy,” Carol was saying. “These escorts always smell too sweet to me. Like rotting fruit or some shit.”

Billy shrugged. “I happen to like it. Plus I like the fact that I can fuck them to oblivion and not get stuck with a bond or a pup for eighteen years.”

“You don’t want to settle down?” she asked and took a sip from her crystal wine glass.

Billy laughed. “Fuck no. I want to fuck around for as long as possible, no little housewife for this alpha.”

Carol hummed, but Steve could tell it was disapproving. As if she wasn’t the one that thrown Tommy off the second she found out he was infertile. It was why Tommy liked to hang off Billy’s arm. To throw it in his ex’s face that at least someone wanted him, even if it was just for sex.

Suddenly Nancy was pulling on Steve’s arm. “We’ve got to go. I’ve already talked to Vic and said our goodbyes.”

Steve bristled at that. He liked to personally say goodbye to the host. It was part of his charm.

“What’s the rush?” he hissed as she tugged on his arm and started pushing him toward the door.

“Jonathan texted me while I was in the bathroom,” she murmured, keeping her head down and her voice low.

“Is he all right?” he asked. Because holy shit, Jonathan never, Steve means never texts while Nancy is at an event with Steve. Steve is pretty sure he hates it as much as Steve does.

She pulled out her phone and showed it to him. “He just sent me this picture.”

Steve squinted at the ugly plastic rod before he realized what it was and what the double red line meant.

“He’s–” she put her hand over his mouth.

“Not here,” she hissed. “This place is filled with reporters. I want to be the one that announces it and not just read it in the morning edition.”

Steve nodded and followed her out, clutching his stomach as he complained about it hurting.

When they got out to the limo Nancy huffed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she groused.

“That food looked disgusting,” Steve murmured. “I was doing the whole party a favor, doll.”

“Uh-huh,” she said crossing her arms, “and that totally had nothing to do with the fact you were throwing people off the scent on why we were leaving?”

Steve batted his eyelashes at her. “I don’t know what you mean, Nance.”

Nancy huffed again. “The hell you don’t.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Put me on your black list. Say I got you food poisoning and was a bitch and I’ll start bringing Jonathan to these things like a proper alpha should have been doing all along.”

Steve nodded. Even though it was only half true, it would be the right spin for both of them. Steve would never have to go out with her again, and Jonathan would get his alpha back.

“Deal.”

They shook on it and immediately as soon as he was out of the car, he called Robin.

“Bobbie,” he giggled, “you’ll never guess what happened tonight!”

*

Steve cackled with delight as he regaled Robin with the stories of his night, because of course she came over immediately after he called her.

“That is hilarious!” she agreed when he was done. “Jonathan must be over the moon.”

“I’m happy for them both,” Steve agreed. “That means no more awkward pseudo dates with a bitter ex.”

Robin slapped him lightly. “You’re more excited for that than that they’re having a pup.”

Steve shrugged. “Sorry, can’t be happy for something that’s never going to happen to me.”

She sighed. “Yeah, but aren’t you a little,” she held up her finger and her thumb really close together, “teeny tiny bit happy for them?”

He sighed back. “I don’t know, Robs. I guess I can be happy for him, but don’t make me pretend to be happy for her.”

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair. Being happy for your ex is too much to ask for.”

He waved his hand at her. “Thank you! Jeez.”

“At least you’ll be plenty rested for the threesome tomorrow,” she added with a grin.

Steve threw the sofa pillow at her, causing her to laugh out loud so hard she fell to the floor with a thump.

Robin got back on the sofa still laughing hysterically.

“They’re nice enough, I guess,” Steve groused. “I’m not really looking for it to it, if I’m honest.”

She settled down to a fond smile. “What package did they ask for?”

“The housewife,” Steve said with an eye roll. “Which might be their only strike against them. but it is a rather large one. They could have had any play scenario and they chose the worst one.”

Robin smacked his shoulder. “Just because you prefer the Dom over the housewife doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“At least with the Dom,” Steve said, “I get to show up in that tight leather number and crack a whip. But with the housewife it’s all polos and khakis and fake smiles.”

Robin grimaced. “Like you care about the polos and khakis, you love that shit.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I love the clothes. I don’t love the attitude behind the clothes.”

“Ah.”

The attitude that a housewife is preppy and sweet. As opposed to a real housewife, frazzled in sweat clothes and grumpy as hell.

“It’s the most popular play option for a reason, Steve,” she said sternly.

Steve sighed dramatically. “I know it is. But I want something fun. International spies. Hookup at the bar. Strip club tease. Anything would be better than housewife.”

“But you love everything goes with the housewife play,” Robin pressed. “The cooking, the clothes; hell even the little apron so what’s got you so around the twist?”

Steve leapt to his feet and ran his hands through his hair. “Because I’ll never get to do it for real.”

Robin’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, Stevie.”

“Every time someone wants to buy my contract did you know it gets sent to me first?” he huffed.

Robin opened her mouth and the closed it. “Oh, well. Um...sort of?” she hedged. “I mean always assumed they were going somewhere else because there is no way you’ve only had two people offering to buy out your contract.”

“They only get sent to you if I think there is something to them,” Steve said, beginning to pace.

“Ah ha.”

“But the other five I’ve gotten have all been for concubine duties only,” he snarled. “Someone for the alpha to fuck when their omega is pregnant, nursing, or on vacation or some shit.”

Robin winced. “Those are barely even legal outside the US.”

“No one wants to buy an infertile omega to be their mate, Robs,” he said. “Nursemaid, concubine, slave. The glory of owning a Starcourt escort. The prestige. The privilege. Not because they love me or because they want to be with me.”

He sank to a crouch and buried his head in his hands. “All I wanted growing up was to be an escort, flying around the world, eating the best food, drinking the best alcohol, in the finest threads, but now that I have that, all I want is to be someone’s mate and housewife. How messed up is that?”

Robin approached him slowly and gently took his head her hands. “It’s called growing up, Stevie. It means your priorities shifted and that’s okay. You’re allowed to yearn for something you’ll never have. It’s part of the human condition.”

Steve launched himself at her and buried himself in her neck. Robin pulled him onto her lap and stroked his hair.

It would be a while before they got back to their show, but for now she just held her best friend as he wished for another life.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @lingeringmirth @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @slowandsteddie @mangoinacan13 @r0binscript

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

[froggibus]

Your Summer Together - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieiri

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn! reader, Suguru Geto x gn! reader, Shoko Ieiri x gn! reader

Genre: pure fluff hcs

Summary: just some hcs of what your summer would be like while dating one of the core three

CW: established relationship, s2! Shoko, Geto and Gojo, they’re still students at Jujutsu Tech in this, mentions of drinking/smoking

so I think it’s plain to see that JJK2 is rotting my brain rn. shoko’s design is absolute PEAK and I am in love w all three of them. this is meant to take place around 2006 while they’re still students at the academy, but you could probably take it either way. anyway, would love some JJK requests of these three if anyone else has brain rot 😭 also I am now completely caught up on the manga and idk what to do w my life

————

Satoru Gojo:

lots and lots of sweets 

definitely takes you to the arcade so you can watch him set the high score on games 

“babe are you watching? babe pls”

he is CLINGY too

always following you around and practically glued to your side 

whenever one is seen without the other, Geto and Shoko always ask where your “carry on” is

he is the EXPERT at sneaking around too

knows every single place you can make out during the day without getting caught 

and makes a point of using ALL of them

takes refuge in your room whenever he’s done stuff to piss someone off (usually Yaga) 

probably sleeps more in your room than he does in his own 

like to the point your bed always smells like him and there’s always candy wrappers on his nightstand 

gives you lots of random gifts too 

from pretty flowers he found to expensive jewelry and clothes 

just loves to spoil you 

takes you to almost every summer event

fireworks? he’s taking you to the best spot in the city 

expect lots of beach days too 

this man will drag you out every day and make you watch him show off in the water 

"babe babe watch this"

also ice cream dates!! 

being stuck between two flavors so Gojo gets one and you get the other and the two of you share 

really it’s just an excuse for him to have more sugar 

you will be sick to death of him by the end of the summer

Suguru Geto:

expect lots of third wheeling from Gojo

like lots

like you cannot get rid of this man no matter how hard you try 

sneaking around a lot to avoid Gojo 

lots of sleepovers in each others dorms (and hiding from Yaga)

takes you around the city and shows you all of his favorite places too 

expect lots and lots of random dates too

like going to the aquarium and then having sushi??? 

but also plans really cute activities for the two of you 

takes you to places with really good views to watch the sunset 

and plans for you to spend a night in the city just to get away 

doesn’t like the beach but will definitely go if you want to (although he spends the whole day laying in the sand unless you beg him to come in the water)

looks damn fine in a bathing suit too

movie nights w the core three!!

definitely more of a reader and will compare the book to the movie 

and you, Gojo and Shoko will be telling him to shut up

after everyone falls asleep on the couch, definitely starts being more affectionate to you 

also brunch dates!!

this man is a sucker for brunch 

tries to get one last get away with you at the end of the summer too

Shoko Ieiri:

expect lots of teasing from Gojo and Geto 

but dw because there will be absolutely NO third wheeling 

knows every place in the city she can get alcohol + smokes 

takes you to a bunch of cool lowkey places that you’ve never heard of before either 

she’s not a big fan of public events or big crowds, but you can probably convince her to go to a couple

lots of lazy mornings and afternoons together 

also gets away with way more than the other two because she’s way less annoying 

so less sneaking around too

cannot cook to save her life so more often than not you guys go out for food or order take out

staying up way too late + sleeping in together 

makes you watch all of her favorite movies and watches you the whole time to see how you react 

not nearly as horny as the other two but definitely gets some affection in too

you guys go bathing suit shopping and she insists on seeing every single one on you

gets you all flustered with her comments too

not one for the beach but Gojo probably drags everyone out at some point 

she’ll help you apply her sunscreen but will not swim unless you drag her out there 

Gojo probably throws her in at some point and she almost kills that man

she is the cocktail queen!! 

like she will make you the tastiest, coolest, prettiest cocktail you’ve ever seen in your life 

Gojo and Geto definitely treat her like their personal bartender 

also takes lot of pics of the two of you together + has them strung up above her bed 

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk season 2 #jujutsu Kaisen season 2 #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x You #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #getou suguru x you #geto x you #suguru geto #geto x reader #shoko ieiri #shoko x you #shoko x reader #x reader #x you #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader

[monseulamourrr]

→ “of pink sunsets and cotton candy kisses.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— a nice and eventful day out with your girlfriend gives you the peace and relaxation you’ve needed for a while despite it all being unexpected…

word count: 1.3k

tags: tooth-rotting fluff once again!

requested? : nope.

a/n: this is for the wonderful @vex91 🩵🩵 this kind of came out of the blue so i hope it isn’t too messy 💔 i hope you all (especially vexie!) enjoy this one! ☺️

when your girlfriend told you that she was going to give you your well-earned rest, you thought would hand over a free admission to the local spa and massage salon or treat you to a nice dinner by the beautiful lake but then again, your girlfriend is ahn yujin. and ahn yujin was full of surprises.

she stood beside you with her eyes a million times bright than all the colourful lights that surrounded the two of you. she took note of your bewildered and utterly confused expression and laughed as she gently nudged your shoulder with her own. the smell of cinnamon and a whole lot of other sweet things start wafting into your nose, the sounds of machinery and the different music coming from numerous speakers were tantalizing despite your confusion. you turned to your girlfriend (whose eyes did not leave your face the entire time you let everything sink in) and spoke in a quiet voice, “the… fair?”

“THE FAIR!”

a couple of people turned their heads to your direction, making you slightly bow down yours as a small apology. yujin seems unaffected, however, slaps the all-you-can-ride wristband on your arm, “there was no way i was gonna let you miss this, of course! we’re gonna go on every ride, we’re gonna eat a lot of food, and we’re gonna be happy.” she said.

she pulls you aside so the two of you wouldn’t be in the middle of the pathway. yujin looked pretty under the golden lights of the giant carousel the two of you have decided to stand beside in. she takes your hands, “you’ve been wanting a break for a while. and i thought this would be fun. we don’t really do this often.” she raises your hands to your lips and gives them a soft kiss. “is this okay?” she whispers, this time with a quiver in her voice.

“are you kidding?” you smiled at her, then looked around. the entire place was bright with lights, music, energy, and happiness. this was the next best thing yujin could’ve done for you. “it’s more than enough.” and then you kissed her hands in return, grinning when she noticeably got shy.

“come on then, let’s have some fun!” yujin puts a fox ear headband on your head and a dog ear headband on her own before taking your hand and dragging you towards the nearest intense ride in the area.

it was more like yujin was going to have fun and you were going to scream your head off. she made sure to drag you to all of the scary rides. not only will she have the time of her life laughing at you but because you would hug her arm so tightly and refuse to let go the entire ride. was it worth the playful hits on the shoulder after? totally.

at least you beat her on almost all of the carnival games though. except for the ones that involved shooting balls through hoops—yujin played basketball a lot in high school, after all. she won you a lot of stuffed dolls and after the fourteenth doll, you had to drag her away from a game even though she absolutely refused. (she just really wanted to win you that giant snorlax plushie!)

last but not least, the two of you snacked on the variety of food that the fair offered! from corndogs, candy apples, rolled ice cream, shawarma, and (your personal favourite) mini donuts! yujin had insisted on sitting on one of the tables near the stage inside the fair. there was a live band that performed a variety of songs and you teased yujin about going up there and singing with them (since the band was inviting some audience members to sing and show off their talent) but she bashfully refused. always so humble about her talents!

“you’re such a messy eater.” you grabbed a napkin from your bag and wipe the ketchup from her lips (she was eating pigs in a blanket, saying that they looked too cute not to be feasted on). yujin grins while you cleaned her face up, and you couldn’t help but return the smile.

“thanks, love.” yujin says as you trashed the napkin. you pinched her cheek as a response, getting a whine in return. you then opted to watch as the band sang for the crowd, nodding your head along to the music.

(apparently, yujin much rather preferred watching you. her eyes were fixed on your face the entire time the band played. and even when you caught her staring and teased her for it, she refused to look away. happiness looked good on you. yujin wanted that feeling to be constant—even better if she were the one to make it so.)

what to do for the final hour? walk around the park right beside the fair where it was much more quiet, and where the two if you were offered some scenery as you decided to rest in the middle of a bridge. the stream underneath it ran smoothly along its path and you found joy in just staring as the sun reflected on it.

you averted your gaze from the stream to the skies above. a mix of orange, purple, and mostly pink. beautiful.

“look what i got us!” ah, speaking of beautiful. yujin approaches you with two sticks of cotton candy; hers was blue, yours was purple. “i couldn’t resist the kid that sold them. i swear this is our last snack today.” she leaned on the railing as you did, taking a bite out of the sweet stuff she had and humming in approval right after.

the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with only the sounds of the water running and the distant music accompanying you. you move closer to yujin, laying your head on her shoulder as you stared at the trees in the distance. you feel her rest her cheek on your head, and she wraps her free arm around your waist loosely to keep you close.

“did you like all of this, (y/n)?” yujin asked. you feel her thumb caressing your hip. you feel safe.

“of course. this is the best day i’ve had in a while,” you raised your head slightly. all your worries and troubles seem to just melt away when you look at yujin. “so thank you.” you lean close, laughing slightly when your foreheads bumped against each other by accident, and gave yujin a kiss so light it made her want more.

she doesn’t ask for more, she simply takes it. politely, of course. yujin tilts her head and catches your lips in a searing kiss. you giggled at her enthusiasm but you returned the affection with the same energy, your own free arm snaking around her back and clutching her sweater. her lips tasted sweet, must be the cotton candy. you liked it.

yujin pulls you closer (maybe she tasted the cotton candy on you too), never really having enough of your kiss and always needing more. a gust of wind blows towards your direction and what with yujin melting you into a puddle, your grip on your cotton candy stick loosens, making you accidentally drop it into the stream.

“shoot—sorry, yuj.” you apologized, watching as the water washed the cotton candy away along with its stick.

“it’s okay,” yujin gives you a kiss on your temple and pats your head. “we can share this one!” she said, raising her cotton candy to your face. well, with a smile like hers, how could you resist? you took a bite out of the blue cotton candy, humming in approval at its delicious blueberry flavour. yujin couldn’t resist kissing you again, making you giggle but it was welcomed.

“i’m glad you enjoyed this day, (y/n),” yujin presses her forehead against yours. “and i want to give you more days like these. if you let me.”

you laughed softly and gave her nose a small kiss, “i’m looking forward to it all, love.”

the two of you spent the rest of your time there on that bridge—warm and happy while sharing cotton candy kisses underneath the pretty, pink skies.

#ive oneshots #ive reactions #ive imagines #ive thoughts #ive x reader #ive x fem reader #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin x fem reader #ahn yujin oneshots #ahn yujin imagines #ahn yujin reactions #ahn yujin thoughts #ive fluff #ahn yujin fluff #girl group x reader #girl group oneshots #girl group x fem reader #girl group reactions #girl group imagines #girl group fluff #yujin imagines #yujin x fem reader #yujin reactions #yujin x reader #yujin fluff #yujin thoughts

[ellabsprincess]

movie date (abbyxreader)

@oatmilkchaii hi hi baby you wanted something filthy so here you go <3 hope you like it!!

this may or may not be inspired by a nsfw audio that has been rotting my brain the entire day, like i need abby to rail me immediately

anywaysss

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, fluff, modern au, dom!abby, sub!reader, reader is girly and wears a skirt, abby is kinda rich in this, they fuck in an empty movie theatre, abby has a FAT strap, fingering, cunnilingus, pet names (baby, princess), use of a vibrator, abby is a tease, manhandling

"surprise!" abby lifted her hands that had been covering your eyes to reveal a movie theatre before you. "i rented the whole theatre, so we have the entire place to ourselves" she leaned in and spoke directly in your ear as she finished her sentence, making her intentions clear.

you played innocent, pretending not to hear the seductive tone in her voice. "oh my god abby! this is amazing!"

"and the best part is, we're watching your favorite movie" abby said with a soft smile.

"baby! this is the best date ever!" you threw your arms around her neck in a tight hug, her hands finding your hips. pulling your head from her shoulder, your lips met in a grateful kiss. you loved kissing abby, as her lips always tasted like cherry and she smelled like pine, and combined with the softness of her lips, it was pure heaven every time.

"c'mon, let's get to our seats!"

with her hand on your lower back, she guided you to the back row of the theatre, where popcorn as well as your favorite drinks and candies were already waiting for you.

you giggled as you sat down, ecstatic over the date and the pure thoughtfulness and kindness of your girlfriend. abby loved grand gestures and expensive dates, and she managed to make each one so personal and intimate.

after a few minutes of enjoying the snacks and chatting with abby, the lights dimmed, and your favorite movie began to play on the screen. you had seen this movie dozens of times, but it never seemed to bore you. it wasn't abby's favorite movie necessarily, but she loved it because of how happy it made you and how cute you looked mouthing along to the lines you knew by heart.

as the movie was playing, abby's hand slowly made its way to your thigh, bunching up the skirt material to lay her hand on your bare skin. her fingers that were big yet surprisingly soft began to massage the meat of your thigh, making you shiver. abby noticed the change in your body language, and smirked as she glanced over at you.

as her hand began to inch higher and higher to the place where you needed her most, she leaned in and whispered in your ear. "i brought a vibe and your favorite strap if you wanted to fuck around a bit baby."

"fuck yes please abby," you nearly moaned in response.

"good girl."

reaching into her bag that she always carried with her everywhere (since she could never have her pretty girlfriend worry about carrying anything), she pulled out a small vibe, one you recognized as being remote controlled. it was her favorite to use on you, of course.

leaning over and kissing up your neck, her hand wandered up your skirt and to your panties, which she pulled aside before placing the vibe right on your throbbing clit.

kissing your cheek as she turned to grab her phone, you waited in anticipation. as soon as she opened the app and turned the vibe on, you started letting out quiet moans.

"shh, just focus on the movie baby," she said with a devilish look in her eyes.

she was downright cruel with the vibe settings. one second it would be on the lowest setting, making you want to beg her for more, and the next it would be pulsing at the highest setting, edging you closer to a release. as your moans got louder and you began to grind your hips in search of your impending orgasm, the vibrations stopped.

"no no abby, i was so close!"

"aww baby, you know i only let my pretty girl cum on my mouth or on my cock. that was just to warm you up, you should've known better," abby said with faux pity in her voice.

she gave you a sweet kiss before reaching down and taking the vibrator out of your panties. her fingers swipe through your folds, causing you to whine.

"fuck baby you're soaked, do you think my mouth would make you feel better?"

you nodded quickly, causing abby to chuckle.

"okay, just relax and watch the movie," she said, as she got out of her seat and kneeled before you. your legs spread on instinct, and abby reached up under your skirt to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

the cool air hitting your soaked folds make you squirm, but you were quickly relieved as abby's warm tongue licked a stripe from your hole to your clit.

"oh abby fuck oh my god."

abby's lips found their way around your puffy clit, and she sucked lightly, causing you to buck up into her mouth. her strong hands found your hips, pinning you to the seat beneath you.

"quit squirming and watch your movie, princess."

you obeyed her commands, letting out soft moans and gasps as she sucked and licked your pussy, and finally returning your gaze to the movie. it was difficult to keep your eyes steady, as the way abby's tongue was now fucking in and out of you rapidly was making you want to roll your eyes into your head. as abby was satisfied with your obedience, she rewarded you by removing one hand from your hip to find your dripping hole.

her warm mouth returned to your clit as her fingers circled her pussy before she plunged them in, finding your sweet spot immediately. you could almost no longer hear the movie over the wet squelching of your pussy as abby's fingers fucked in an out of you repeatedly and her tongue flicked over your clit. you were so close, and abby knew, the sounds coming from your pussy were indication enough.

"come on baby, just cum for me, that's it,"

your moans were affecting abby as well, as she felt herself soaking her boxers. what finally sent you over the edge was her moaning on your clit, so overwhelmed from her own arousal and the sweet taste of you. you came with a high-pitched whine, soaking your girlfriend's face.

"that's my good girl," abby said, her mouth leaving you. "god you're so fucking sexy and you taste so fucking good." abby was clearly pussy-drunk as she rose to her feet to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

she sat back down in her chair, taking a moment to catch her breath and clean off her face and fingers.

after you both had recovered, you rose from your chair to sit yourself over her wide, muscular thighs.

"you said something about packing your strap?"

"yes i did baby," abby said with a coy smile as she grabbed your hand and directed it towards her crotch, where you could feel that she was already wearing her strap.

you helped her unzip her pants, pulling her strap out. just as you were about to sink down, she stops you.

"no baby, i want you to finish your movie. turn around."

shivers flow down your spine as you reposition yourself so your back is to abby in her lap, and you can now see your movie once again.

"good fucking girl. you ready for me?"

"i'm always ready for you, abs"

"that's fucking right," abby praises as she slides her strap through your folds before letting you sink down onto her girthy cock.

the strap is your favorite because its so wide and it reaches you so deep, and god, does abby know how to use it.

she starts off slow, just gently moving your hips up and down, but once she knows you've adjusted, she's an animal. she's fucking up into you so good that your eyes are watering and you can't think about anything except her.

it feels so good, you feel nothing but bliss. she's reaching that beautiful, deep spot inside you, and her pace is almost overwhelming. the way her strong hands manhandle you so easily makes you feel so powerless yet so safe, unable to do anything except take her strap.

abby's pace is making the base of her strap grind against her clit so deliciously, and she's desperate for your as well as her own release. she's needy and almost delirious in your ear.

"so fucking good baby"

"you were made for me princess"

"i love this pretty pussy so much, god you're making me feel so good"

her hips begin to stutter, and you know she's near her orgasm.

"cum for me baby, that's it," she's gasping in your ear as she comes in her pants from the stimulation, and you follow soon after her, gushing on her strap.

you're both out of breath, and you can feel your thighs shaking. slowly, you life yourself off of abby's strap, whining softly at the empty feeling, before turning around to face your girlfriend again. she's got a huge fucking grin plastered on her face from her orgasm and the fact that her pants are now clearly soaked from your orgasm. she sits up and removes her strap and its harness, placing it in her bag, before motioning for you to sit back in her lap.

"i love you so much, princess" she says, peppering light kisses all over your face.

"i love you more baby" you blush, relaxing into her chest.

you just listen to the rest of the movie, having seen it enough times to not care to actually watch the ending. right before the credits roll, you drag yourself up from abby's embrace to make yourself at least somewhat presentable. abby notices your shaky legs and laughs to herself before standing up and helping you put your panties back on and fixing your skirt.

her pants are still clearly soaked, so the both of you make a dash out of the building once the movie is done, hoping no one notices both of your inappropriate states.

finally reaching abby's car, you both get in before bursting out into laughter.

"wow, we need to fuck in public more often," abby says between gasps for air.

"yeah, we really do."

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem reader #smut

[pix3lplays]

Cw! Aventurine is a massive red flag. Just a collection of Aventurine being a BAD partner. Cheating. Terrible toxic masculinity, Also written before we know anything about him um-

I’m having Aventurine brain rot I KNOW he’s bad for us but, if bad why SO good looking??

Also it is going to be Quite funny if he turns out to be a massive sweetheart like- sorry for dragging your name through the mud Aventurine um-

-Aventurine: red flags-

As if the gambling wasn’t bad enough! Aventurine is a WALKING red flag. You could look past it if he was gambling with his own money. Even when he was sitting up in bed ALL night just gambling all he had, keeping you awake, keeping himself awake. Yeah.

It was a Serious problem.

You bring it up sometimes. He always insists that it’s NOT an addiction and it’s totally fine but literally by the next night you’re laying on his chest in the bedroom and he’s back at it again.

Aventurine who likes you purely because you’re just the cutest little arm candy for him. You just look SO good pressed up against him, your arms snugly wrapped around his while you walk into the casino.

Aventurine who orders your drink for you every single time because he thinks he knows you So well.

Aventurine who thinks it’s So cute when you’re mad at him.

Aventurine calling you his ‘lucky charm’ as if he isn’t just using you to cheat at cards, hiding strong cards in your clothes, which he can access when you sit on his lap at the table.

Aventurine who proposed to you in a Very public manner, knowing full well you’d feel socially pressured into saying yes to him.

Aventurine who left you at the altar, and proceeded to try and apologize the situation away, and instead of using common sense and leaving him, you agreed to marry him on a different day.

Aventurine who spends entire nights away, saying he’s busy with work but then shamelessly coming home smelling like other people.

Aventurine who casually brings ‘friends’ over to your shared house and proceeds to kick you out of your own bedroom for the night while he ‘plays’ with them.

Aventurine who brags about his ever growing body count right in front of you.

Aventurine who has to deal with you crying because of his cheating ways and brushes it off with “it didn’t mean a thing,” as if that made it any better.

Aventurine who thinks buying you presents will fix your failing marriage instead of putting in any effort.

Aventurine who drinks too much.

Aventurine who smokes too much.

Aventurine who terrifies you by casually gambling with his own life on occasion.

Aventurine who gambles YOUR life.

Aventurine who’s married to you but treats you like a play date.

Aventurine who calls you all sorts of mean names thinking he’s So funny.

Aventurine who does absolutely nothing for your anniversaries. You wonder if he even remembers them…

Aventurine who just lets you threaten him with divorce. Lets you pack your bags and leave, knowing full well you have nowhere else to go and you Will be crawling back to him.

Aventurine who will welcome you back, after you grovel a bit (a lot).

Aventurine! A horrible man that you happen to be married to-

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader

[writersblog20]

Mexico 🌿🍃

Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: When you need some distance from your hometown, Pedro booked a luxurious villa for you in Mexico. It was almost perfect except that Pedro wasn’t there since he was away for filming… or is he?

Warnings: FLUFF! Teeth rotting, cotton candy fluff! Mention of smoking weed, mention of having a rough time, Spanish sentences that might be incorrect (English translation behind) so I’m sorry if it’s wrong! Most is just fluff.

A/N: Hiya, remember me? 😂I’ve been sooooo busy with work and school and handling some personal stuff and just still trying to heal from some things, so I must keep a lot of balls high so that’s why I haven’t been posting for a while. I hope that things will soon get a little more reasonable, but I have no clue when. But for now, I hope you guys enjoy this sweet piece! Much love from your homegirl 🩷🪬🧿

Mexico

You had a couple of very rough months and every time you got back up but that didn’t mean that it was exhausting. Pedro was away filming and knew what you were going through. You both facetimed each other every day and every time you cried or were upset, Pedro wanted to come home to you and take care of you, even though you reassured him that you’d be okay.

It wasn’t new of you for you to push people away and take care of yourself. You finally learned how to love yourself and take care of your inner child. You might’ve lost so much in the last month but found yourself on that journey. You were used to doing things alone and found it hard to accept people in and let them take care of you. But like I said, you were learning that bit by bit.

You were currently in Mexico. Pedro was renting a house there where you could stay for a while and focus on yourself and your healing, leaving everything behind for a while and it was the best decision ever. You felt so extremely relaxed, not forget the fact that you’ve always wanted to go to Mexico. The house was GORGEOUS to say the least. It was some sort of villa and the moment you stepped into the villa, you felt at peace. It was very luxurious, the backyard was huge, with a pool, gorgeous view over the city, 

You had thanked Pedro multiple times and he was happy he could help you with something. He wanted to give you the entire world so he did his best to spoil you, escpecially after everything that happened. You deserved to rest and heal in a very luxurious and comforting villa. He didn’t tell you that he rented it just for you, but he would tell you eventually.

This was your 3th night here and you already felt more and more peacefull and relaxed. Throughout the day you would stroll around a market, buying fresh fruit, vegetables and whatever else you needed. After that, you would meditate, after that you would journal with a self-help book called healing through words of Rupi Kaur for at least 2 hours. Than you would do whatever you felt like but mostly, read.

It was evening right now and you decided to get into the huge bathtub. You even looked down over the city in the bathroom as a view. You lit some candles, lit some insence and relaxed while reading your favorite book. You had smoked a joint before you got into the baththub so you were completely fuzzy and relaxed.

Pedro even bought all of your favorite bath oi, foam, salt, body butter, body lotion, body mist with a huge bouquet of roses etc and delivered it to the renting. It came in today and you after you got it, you immediately called Pedro to thank him but he didn’t pick up the phone so you’de figure that he was busy shooting his new movie so instead you send him a sweet text with a selfie of you smiling with the bouquet of roses in your hand before you got into the bathtub.

You had some music playing in the background, the smell of insence comforting you as you let yourself relax completely. It was hard for you to give into relaxation completely. That’s because you’ve never felt really safe but even though you knew that you were safe in your head, your body was so used to be on edge all the time that you had to remind yourself that you are indeed very safe. And it worked. Slowly but surely, you started to rewire your brain.

After a while you put your book away. You took a deep breath from relaxation and softly touched your legs. You hummed to yourself and decided to shave it. Not because you thought it was prettier, you just very much liked the feeling how your legs felt after you shaved. You put some shower foam on your legs and slowly shaved your first leg. You were so in your own space that you didn’t hear someone open the door. “Mi amor….” You heard a familiar voice say. You got startled, not expecting someone here. You looked at the familiar voice, only to be met with the softest brown eyes in the entire world. “Pedro…?” you asked surprised, but happy, to see him standing in your bathroom.

He slowly walked towards you, seeing how relaxed you were, your eyes heavy. “Oh, mi hermosa, cuanto te he extrañado (oh my beautiful, how much I’ve missed you)” he whispered as he crouched down besides the bathtub and gently placed a string of hair behind your ear. He cupped your cheek, making you lean into his touch. You placed your hand over his and your other hand cupping his cheek, meeting his eyes that held so much love in them that it made your heart flutter. “Pedro…… I’ve missed you so much.” You told him and couldn’t contain the urge to hug him. You moved in the bath and placed your arms around his shoulders and nuzzled your face in his neck. Your wet, naked body against his clothes and the comforting sound of him chuckling made you feel like you were home again. His arms around your waist, holding you close and tightly against his body as he kissed your head multiple times. You got your face from the crook of his neck and kissed him passionately. His hands cupping your cheek again and got out of the kiss so he could look at you. His smile bright and reaching his eyes, giving a twinkle in them.

“Took some days off. I want to take care of you. Please, let me take care of you now.” He asked you lovingly while he played with your hair and cupped your cheek again. That was the last step for you, to give someone permission to completely take care of you. He knew you found that difficult, but you knew you were ready. You smiled at him “I’d like that” you still felt fuzzy and relaxed from the weed you smoked before. Pedro had the most loving smile on his faze that it made all the butterflies come back in a matter of a second.

“You know I don’t mind if you shave or not, right?” He asked you before doing anything at all. You smiled and nodded. “I know, I just like the feeling” you chuckled softly. Pedro smiled with adoration, reaching his eyes. “Then it’s alright, mi Corazón”.

You sat back down in the bathtub and Pedro gently placed your feet on the edge of the tub so he could continue shaving your leg where you left off. His big hands gently on your skin as he shaved your leg in concentration. When he was done with one leg, he placed a kiss on your knee as he made eye contact with you. He got the scrub supplies and gently scrubbed your leg, being careful so he wouldn’t hurt you. Your heart filled with love just by seeing how careful he was with you and how much love he put in the things he did for you, just like this.

When he was done with your first leg, he got to the other, repeating the things he did with your other leg. When he was done, he placed a kiss on your forehead and cupped your cheeks again, looking lovingly into your eyes which held nothing else but adoration and love, radiating it through them. “Let’s get you out and dried up, princesa.” Pedro stood up and held up a towel for you, giving you a hand so you could get out safe. Once you were out, he wrapped the soft towel around your body. His hands still on your waist when he pulled you closer for a loving hug. His arms around you while he tucked your head underneath his chin, not caring that his clothes got a bit wet from you. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his waist, and you let the side of your head rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Te amo, mi amor.” He whispered in your ear. “I love you too Pedge” he smiled softly and kissed your head, his lips lingering. He got your underwear and helped you in them, your hands resting on his shoulders as he crouched down to put it on. He got the body butter and looked at you for permission. You nodded and he rubbed his hands together so his hands wouldn’t be so cold. He placed some on his hands and put it gently on your upper body. His hands gentle, making sure that he didn’t miss a spot. After he was done, he placed a top on your body. And continued with your legs. He got on one knee and placed your leg on his knee, so he had better access for your legs. His hands were soft and gentle on your skin.

He got your kimono and helped you in it with your arms. It was still a very nice temperature outside, so you didn’t need more clothes. You put your arms around Pedro again and he did the same, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. Pedro held your hand and let you to the kitchen. “Ve a sentarte afuera cariño (Go sit outside, dear.)” He told you softly and you nodded, softly letting go of his hand with a loving smile that held Pedro in a trance. You walked outside, his eyes following you with a smile upon his lips.

You sat down in a big chair, your knees up to your chest. You put some slow R&B on through the speakers and lit your new joint. You let your head fall back as you exhaled the smoke. “No puedo creer lo hermosa que eres, mi amor (I can’t believe how beautiful you are my love.)” You heard Pedro say as he walked towards you with, what looked like two mojitos. Pedro sat next to you, placing the mojitos on the table, which was lit by candles and fairy lights. When Pedro was comfortable, you got out of your own chair and sat down on his lap, making Pedro smile. His arms already wrapped around you as you got comfortable on his lap. He couldn’t hide his loving smile for you. You handed him the joint and he took it from you, taking a big puff as he kept eye contact. You smiled at him and kissed him, making him cup your cheek softly.

“How was work?” you asked him after a while when you saw him finally relaxed. He hummed a bit and started talking about his day while you listened intently to his story. You went with your nails softly through his hair and he leaned more into you as he let out a sigh. “But it’s all better now. porque estoy aquí contigo, el amor de mi vida (because I'm here with you, the love of my life)” You smiled and felt a bit flustered. “Oye, mírame cariño (Hey, look at me, baby)” he whispered, his finger underneath your chin as you looked up. He gave you a couple of sensual and loving kisses before he kissed your forehead.

He handed you your mojito and you got your book, that you were reading, from the table in front of you. Pedro drew circles on your back while you tried to find the page you left it on. When you finally found it, you let your head rest against his chest and started reading it. Pedro let his chin rest on the top of your head and started reading with you, unknown to you until you wanted to turn the page. “Wait, I’m not that fast yet.” He chuckled nervously, making you look up. You smiled that he was reading the book with you. His eyebrows knotted together as he tried to read the words, but he forgot his glasses inside. “Want me to read to you?” You asked him genuine with a smile. “I’d love that. You know I love your voice.” You smiled and gave him a quick peck on his lips before you started reading to him.

An hour got by when you put your book away and looked at Pedro, tiredly. “I’m tired, P” you told him softly and he smiled adoringly at you as he stroked your hair. “vamos a la cama, mi chica (Lets go to bed, my girl)” he told you as he kissed the side of your head and helped you stand up before he stood up.

Once again, you walked hand in hand inside of the house. “You go freshen up, princess. I’m going to put out the lights. I’ll be right back.” he told you and carefully let go of your hand.

You were doing your skincare as last when you were almost finished with the rest, Pedro walked in, smiling at you while you applied the moisturizer to your face. He strutted towards you and put his arms around your waist, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. His body pressed against yours. Pedro almost had heart eyes while he looked at you, doing your skincare routine. He knew you were almost finished as he memorized every product in your routine. When you applied the last thing, he turned you around with his hands on your waist. You looked up at him with a loving smile and giggled softly at the way he carefully stroked your cheek. “Mi amor….” You felt butterflies in your stomach and looked down shyly. “Get comfortable in the bed, I’ll be right there.” he told you, making you nod. You wanted to walk to the bedroom, but Pedro pulled you back. “I think you forgot something….” He told you, getting you confused a bit. “Dame un beso mi Chica Bonita (give me a kiss, my pretty girl.)” you giggled when he told you what you forgot and stood on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. He cupped your cheeks with both of his hands and deepened the kiss as he sighed from relaxation in the kiss. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a smile. “Now you can go.” He told you with a smile as he reluctantly let go of you. You chuckled and quickly kissed his cheek before you left the bathroom and into the bedroom.

You put on a soft warm light and crawled into bed, pushing away the mosquito net. You hadn’t closed the curtains yet, keeping the view over the ocean and a couple of lights from homes further away and of course, the garden where you just sat. You got your book and started reading where you left off. Pedro walked in the bedroom in only his boxers and smiled when he saw you all comfortable in the big bed.

You put your book on your chest for a moment and looked at Pedro who crawled in next to you. “This bed was too big without you in it… I’ve missed you…” you told him softly as you laid down on your side for a moment so you could look at him. “Yo también te extrañé, cariño. Me alegro de estar aquí contigo. (I missed you too, sweetheart. I'm glad to be here with you.)” his voice husk from tiredness, making you smile. He gave you a passionate yet sensual kiss before he softly and gently placed a kiss on your nose and forehead.

You laid down on your back, picking your book up. Pedro let his head rest on your chest, your arm around him while you went with your fingers through his soft locks. Pedro softly hummed from satisfaction of your fingers over his scalp. You noticed that he was reading along with you, so you slowed down your pace with the reading until he was done too. He softly nodded and hummed, letting you know that you could flip the page.

Your eyes started to feel heavier, and you almost dropped the book, but Pedro was fast enough to catch it and put it away. it startled you for a sec, knowing you almost drifted off. “Vamos a dormir, mi dulce niña. (Let’s get some sleep, my sweet girl)” he whispered, and you were too tired to respond so you hummed, already eyes closed as you turned on your side. You waited for Pedro to turn of the lights and to get comfortable before you could cuddle him.

Pedro didn’t even need to say anything, he already pulled you towards him to cuddle. Pedro laid down on his side, facing you, while he pulled you against your chest, his arms around you, your head resting against his chest while he tucked your head underneath his chin. “duerme bien cariño, te amo (sleep well sweetheart, I love you)” his voice soft and you were almost drifting off. “I love you too” you murmured, already half asleep, making Pedro smile and close his own eyes as well, inhaling deeply from relaxation, knowing you were in his arms again.

~time skip~

You woke up from the sunlight shining into your eyes. You groaned softly and turned around, wanting to wrap your arm around Pedro, but you were greeted by an empty side of the bed. You frowned and finally opened your eyes. You saw a note against the headboard of the bed with: “Good morning sweetheart, I’m getting some groceries, I won’t take long.” You read and let your head fall back on the pillow, glad that it wasn’t a dream that Pedro was here.

The door went softly open, revealing Pedro with a tray with breakfast on it. You didn’t expect Pedro to be back already but here he was. “Buenos días mi amor, ¿cómo dormiste? (Good morning my love, how did you sleep?)” His smile radiant and his eyes shining, making you immediately happier. “Buena, te tenía a mi lado (Good, I had you next to me.)” You told him back in Spanish and Pedro loved it when you spoke Spanish back to him.

His smile even more radiant. “And you? Did you sleep well?” You asked him as you sat up in bed. “Good. I had you next to me again.” He repeated you with the biggest grin and leaned down to give you a kiss and sat down next to you. “Made you breakfast.” He told you and placed the tray with food on your lap. He made some eggs, avocado with toast, coffee, and some fresh fruit. You smiled “Thank you Pedge.” He smiled and kissed your forehead. “You’re welcome baby girl.” He told you and stood up, walked to the other side of the bed, and laid down on his side, facing you. “So… what should we do today?” he asked, “I mean, obviously we don’t have to do anything if you want to stay here, that’s fine with me too.” You smiled and looked outside at the beautiful weather. “We could go to the beach?” You suggested and Pedro smiled. “I would love that!” he told you with a smile.

You asked Pedro more about work now that he had completely settled in and not having a bad jetlag. He chatted about the fun things and less fun things that had happened making you listen intently. You loved hearing Pedro talk about things, especially if he was very passionate about the things he talked about. You ate your breakfast in the meanwhile and couldn’t help but beam because of how happy you were that you had your Pedro back by your side. You were silently enjoying this morning and Pedro saw it, making him happy as well.

This was going to be a great day! After the beach, maybe go to the market to get fresh products to make dinner with, get a drink at your favorite beach club and just spent time with each other, because God knows you both really needed it. You were completely happy and content, not needing anything else when Pedro was around you. He was all you needed.

Part 2 maybe?

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal stories #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x fluff #pedro pascal x original female character #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal oneshot #pedro pascal story #pedro pascal cute #pedro pascal sweet

[deadboyfriendd]

I’m sorry but this has to be said: Eddie is not a sex-god Casanova charmer. He is three raccoons in a trench coat at best. He is gross, and icky, and awkward but God he loves hard.

Eddie would go at a rotisserie chicken standing at the counter with his bare hands. His enclosure lacks enrichment and that rotisserie chicken is it.

He’s messy. Every surface in his room is sticky, covered in dust, or both. That’s if you can even get to it. There are socks in there that would probably become sentient and walk away if you let them sit long enough. There’s also probably food rotting somewhere. You have to follow the boy around with a wet rag and Wayne warns you as such.

He stinks. He doesn’t wash his clothes. He barely washes himself. He smokes weed and cigarettes and both of those things reek. That jacket and vest are his safety clothes and I can 100% guarantee you that he doesn’t wash them. He is also okay wearing clothes that are stained as long as they’re not completely soiled. Definitely has holes in his socks and underwear that are way beyond being okay.

He thinks is really funny to open his mouth and show you what he’s chewing on the second you tell him to stop talking when his mouth is full. He’s also the type to lick you.

As loud and obnoxious and outspoken as he is, he’s super non-confrontational. As his resident gf, it’s your responsibility to tell the waiter that he didn’t want pickle on that. Or schedule his doctors appointment. You also have to lie to him to get him to go. This also applies to the dentist.

He likes candy and especially the blue kind. His tongue and lips are always stained blue from whatever the hell he was eating like a child.

He also has ADHD and cannot regulate his food intake. He will eat so fast and so much until he makes himself sick. You are constantly reminding him to slow down.

Also with ADHD he can’t regulate his sleep. He just sleeps in spurts of random cat naps at this point. He can also sleep anywhere, but his favorite place is his van.

Loves a good gas-station pickled hot sausage thing. I cringe at the very thought. His burps smell like that and monster energy and it radiates off of him and travels everywhere.

He shits with the door open and pees while you brush your teeth. His excuse is that “everyone does it” but in all honesty he thinks is really funny when you’re grossed out.

He’s always dirty and always has shit in his hair. You’re constantly pulling shreds of paper and leaves and probably also dandruff out of his hair.

There’s probably old condoms in the trash can in his room that haven’t been thrown out in a while.

He also will kiss you after a blowjob or eating you out. He literally doesn’t care. Tongue and all.

The stains on his sheets? Honestly he was right. He doesn’t know what they are.

And he might be gross and sticky and genuinely kind of icky, but when he loves, he does it with his entire being:

If he hasn’t seen you in a while, he’ll run and plow you into a hug with his full force. He doesn’t know his own strength and will probably take you out.

This extends to play-wrestling, tickling you until you can’t breath and then eventually a gangly arm will probably elbow you in the chin or something and he’ll spend the rest of the afternoon nearly in tears apologizing now matter how much it didn’t hurt.

He doesn’t pick up well on social cues and sometimes can’t decipher what appropriate affection is. On more than one occasion he has slinked into the living room in front of Wayne, lifted your shirt up over your chest, shoved his head into the skin of your tummy, and pulled the shirt back down without saying anything.

He also likes to grab you by the hips and press you into his chest or wrap his arms around your shoulders and start kissing your neck while you’re mid-conversation. People get distracted because he’s so into it.

He’s vocal about what you do in bed and also vocal while he’s in bed. There’s nothing discreet and nothing left up to the imagination with him.

But he also doesn’t go to sleep without telling you how much he loves you every night. Even if he’s half asleep or you’re completely out.

When you started coming to the trailer he tried cleaning up. He really did. He just got overwhelmed and distracted and offered to take you out instead.

He spends hours putting little traces of you in his room. Polaroids, Knick-knacks, even music posters of your favorite bands.

He’s very tentative and doting in bed. He’s huge on consent and is always trying to gauge how you feel. He’s always asking questions about what feels good and what he needs to do better. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

He has to feel you. He wants his skin to touch you at all times. He wants to crawl into your skin and live there. It doesn’t even have to be sexual. He just needs you close.

#eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #flea writes