#the notes about his hair are for me cause i always forget how i draw it FJDSLF

[veltana]

Groupie - Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fan!Reader

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader ✦ Word count: ~3,6k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Avenger!Bucky, Avenger!Fan!Reader, secret crush, secret hero, fluff, smut, the tiniest bit of angst, misunderstandings, piv sex, breeding kink (I'm not messing around with this one), talk of getting reader pregnant, pet name (Bunny), dirty talk, sex with feelings, multiple orgasms (for both), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: Since joining the Avengers you've been avoiding Bucky Barnes, afraid of what would happen if he ever learned the truth. ✦ Note: I have no idea how to tag this, so if I missed something please let me know. I don't know where this came from so just... it is what it is! This is also posted on AO3.

Masterlist | AO3

Stark called a meeting at the workshop in the evening to show off one of his new inventions that could aid them in the field. As you stand in the back and watch, Bucky comes up beside you, and just as always you discreetly take a small step to the side. Everyone, including Bucky, assumes you dislike him, and you are happy to keep up that front since admitting to the truth would be unprofessional and cause a lot more trouble than avoiding him.

He gives you a sideways glance but doesn’t mention it, he’s used to it by now. Unfortunately, you are still close enough to smell his cologne and it makes your pulse pick up. Unbidden images of being under him, smelling his sweat mixed with the perfume while he takes you apart appear inside your mind. Stark says something but you can’t concentrate with Bucky so close. Shifting even further to the side, he glances at you again and his brows draw together.

"I can go stand somewhere else if it bothers you so much," his tone is annoyed but low, to not disturb the demonstration. "No, it's fine," you mumble. "You forget I can hear your heart beating,” he points out. “And it sounds like a bunny rabbit backed into a corner by a wolf." That doesn't make you any calmer. If he can hear that, can he smell how aroused he makes you every time he gets close? "Sorry, I-" but your mouth has turned dry as a desert. You avoid speaking to Bucky as much as possible because you fear you will just make a fool out of yourself. As you’re doing right now.

"I never understood what you have against me," he crosses his arms, eyes on Stark's display. "Did I hurt someone close to you back in the day or are you afraid I'll revert and start killing again?" Shame fills your chest. You want to turn to him and hug him, explain that it’s not in any way like that. For years you have admired Bucky and when you had gotten the promotion to work with the Avengers your friends had teased you mercilessly about finally meeting your idol, but when you did and you realized that he was everything you had ever dreamed of you got scared. If he knew your secret he would most likely never speak to you again.

"It's not like that," you whisper, finally daring a look at him, but regretting it right away. His beautiful blue eyes are watching you. Quickly you avert your gaze. "You can't even look at me." And that is true. You always look at something else when Bucky is in the same room as you. The only time you allow yourself to admire him is when he's caught up in something else when there is no chance his attention will shift to you.

Just the small amount of it he is giving you right now is almost unbearable. You want to climb him, wrap your legs around his waist, grab his hair, and crush your lips to his. It's dangerous to be so close to him so you do the only thing you can. "I should go, I'm sorry," you mumble and turn on your heel, quickly exiting the workshop and heading for the elevators.

When you're inside your room you breathe a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. Your insides feel like melted ice cream and your knees get weak at remembering how he watched you. The only problem is that maybe you aren’t as smooth at avoiding him as you think, since he had noticed. You'd have to fix that somehow.

Kneeling at the side of your bed you reach in under it to pull out the box. It's discreet and if someone else found it they would probably assume it would be full of sex toys and the like. But a box full of toys would be mildly embarrassing compared to the actual content of the box.

Inside is a big photo book. Leaning against the bed frame you place it on your lap, opening it to the first page. You've tried to keep it in chronological order over the years and the first page contains a few news articles from the war where either the Howling Commandos or Bucky himself appear. You love to see how it starts with small mentions but then the articles grow bigger and bigger. It had been hard to track down some full spreads, not to mention expensive as fuck, and some things you were still saving up for.

Then there are the articles about the Winter Soldier. They needed to be in there, but you never read them. It was before anyone knew the truth about the mind control and the years of torture. The text described him as a killing machine with no morals, not caring who he hurt to get to his price. You quickly skip past those pages.

Your favorite part is the last bit of the album. Recent interviews and photoshoots with the super soldier, talking about his life and his struggles. Not to mention the stylists always made sure to show off his physic, be it suits or sportswear.

Inside the box are also a replica of his dog tags and the hat he'd worn with his uniform. Putting the tags over your head you play with them between your fingers, remembering how they look around his neck. In your previous apartment, they'd been hanging on the wall and your friends had joked about it being a shrine. Now you are too scared to have it on display. If someone sees it they will think you are insane.

You're startled from your musings by a knock on the door and without much thinking you put the book on the bed before opening it.

Bucky is standing on the other side. The demonstration must have ended. "What is your problem with me?" The words fail you as your heart starts hammering. He is too close, but if you back away he will probably take it as an invitation to come in and that would be disastrous. "I have barely spoken to you since you got here but you've managed to make it very clear how much you detest me. I just want to know why." He's annoyed and desperate at the same time. "Can I do something to fix it? I can't have a team member be afraid of me when we go out into the field and I… are those my dog tags?"

Ice rushes into your veins as you realize you forgot to take them off and you quickly cover them with your hand. "No," you lie. "They have my name on them." "No, they don't." "Are you serious?” Now he’s looking more mad. “Tell me what the fuck is going on right now."

You fucked up. You could keep on lying, close the door in his face, and never speak to him again. Ask for a transfer. Or you could show him. And then ask for a transfer. Because whatever you did you would not keep your job after this.

With trembling hands you open the door, releasing your hold on the dog tags and gesturing for him to come inside. "Sit," you murmur and when he does you place the book in his lap. He glances at you and for the first time you hold his gaze. This might be the last time you see him so you might as well take advantage of the moment. It will never happen again. "Open it."

As he hesitantly opens the first page you slip off the dog tags and place them into the box before sitting down too, with a decent amount of space between the two of you.

While he's occupied you study his face and try to commit it to memory. Bucky Barnes, in your room, on your bed, reading your album. It's a dream come true. Though you had hoped it would be after sex while you were still naked in bed, and you could take it out and show him. But this works too.

"This is extensive,” he sounds impressed and you hope he is. You wouldn’t say it’s your life's work but it’s something you worked hard on and is proud of. "I know." "When did you do this?" He looks at you. You shrug in response, "Over the years." "Years?" "I started it when I was in my early twenties.” "How did you find everything?" "The internet can be a wonderful place with like-minded people." "I can't imagine what it could have cost you." "I prefer not to think about it," you laugh.

He glances down into the box and then bends down to pick up the hat. "Please tell me this isn't the original one." "Oh god no, it's a replica!" "Can I try it?" "Please do!" Bucky puts the hat on, tips it to the side, and turns to you with a smile. It's impossible to not smile back when he looks so handsome. "Still fits you." "Feels odd. We used to wear them all the time, but I guess I've gotten used to a life without hats." He removes it and puts it back into the box before picking up the dog tags.

"I have a feeling you don't have these things because you hate me." "I don't hate you, it's quite the opposite." "Then why keep avoiding me?" You twist in your spot uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. "It's embarrassing. I never thought I would actually get to meet you when I started this collection." "I honestly feel honored. I'm not usually the person people think it's worth remembering." You tilt your head, "I do." "I can see that."

For a moment you look at each other and you get to experience what it feels like to drown in his eyes. Those blue magical pools that you've only ever studied on printed paper or through a screen. It could never compare to the real thing. Fearing you're going to say something more stupid you take the book from him. "So now you know," you say. "If you want me to transfer I'll happily put in a request. You were never meant to see it and I understand if it makes you uncomfortable around me." "No, that won't be necessary," he assures you. "But there is one thing I still don't get."

When you look up from your lap he's moved much closer. Too close again. His presence fills your senses in a way no one else has ever done. "What?" your voice almost cracks. "Why do you move away as soon as I get close?" His voice is low, as if not to scare you. With a wobbly laugh, you put the book down in between you and Bucky, scooting a bit away, studying the bedsheets.

"As you're doing now." "It's just, I like my personal space," you explain. "And you won't look at me." A single finger lands under your chin and tilt your head towards him. He's touching you. Bucky Barnes is touching you.

"Are you sure you aren't scared, Bunny?" "Ye-yeah," you swallow. "Because I think your heart is about to burst out of your chest." He moves the book out of the way and slides right up to you, until his leg is pressed against yours. The finger is still holding you in place, craning your neck to look at him. Your body flushes with heat. Now he's really touching you. "So what is it then?" There is a teasing in his voice, as if he knows but he wants to hear you say it.

Your tongue wet your dry lips and his focus shifts to that for a second. Opening your mouth to give him an answer, nothing comes out, not even the truth. "Bunny, you better answer me."

Finally, you find your voice. "I'm scared I won't be able to control myself," you confess. "And what would happen if you lost control?"

You close your eyes. You can't look at him when you speak. "I'll drop to my knees and beg to suck your cock." Bucky inhales sharply. "Or climb into your lap and beg you to fuck me. I'd let you do anything to me just to get a small taste. I'd ask you to use my body as you wanted and I won't need anything in return." "Fuck, Bunny. You have a dirty mind." "Sorry, I can't help that you smell so good and look so hot, it's too much."

His finger on your chin changes to a grip and you open your eyes, meeting his. They're filled with greed for something you don't understand. "You'd let me fuck you?" "Yes" "How about coming inside you?" "God yes!" "When was the last time you had tests done?" "Maybe a month ago? They were clean." "Any partner since then? Are you on birth control?" You hesitate for a moment. "Bunny?" "No… to both" Bucky laughs. "You would let me breed you, Bunny? Fuck you raw until you're bursting with my cum?"

The moan slips out unbidden. Just the thought of his raw dick inside you. Playing pregnancy roulette. It makes you so hot. "Yes, I would Bucky."

"Take off your clothes, lay on your back." You stare at him. "Is something unclear?" "You? And me? You want to have sex with me?" Something crosses over Bucky's face. "You don't have to." He reassures you. "No! I want to! I just… I never thought you'd want to. With me." "Well, you're wrong. And if you want to with me you better do as you're told."

Scrambling to take off your clothes you watch Bucky as he stands up and slowly starts doing the same. He's only gotten his shirt off by the time you're naked. "Spread your legs, let me see."

You pull your knees up and let them fall to the side. The stickiness from your arousal has already coated the inside of your thighs. You're sure you've never been this wet before in your life.

"Bunny's got a cute little pussy on her." Bucky's smile is predatory like he is an actual white wolf stalking its prey. He's down to his boxers now, his erection outlined through the cotton. It's big. "Don't look scared, we'll make it fit, I promise."

When his boxers are off too you can't help but stare but you’re more excited than anything else. The pulse in your cunt doesn't care if it’s going to hurt, there is only one thing on your mind. "I want your cock Bucky," you tell him. "Don't worry, you'll get it." He crawls on top of you, keeping his weight on his forearms and his body off of yours. "But I'm going to kiss you first."

His lips are soft but his kiss is demanding. It leaves no room for hesitation that he doesn't want you. Quickly he works your mouth open and moans when his tongue finds yours. You put your hands in his hair, guiding him to where you want his mouth. Then he descends your body, nipping at your jaw, sucking on your neck before finding your breasts. One hand is warm and the other is cold as he presses them together, caressing the nipples with his thumbs, making you keen and shudder. He uses his mouth to pull more sounds from you, licking, sucking, and dragging his teeth lightly against the stiff peaks, until your naked pelvis bucks up against his upper body, trying to find friction for the need he causes in you.

"You need something, Bunny?" "I need you to fuck me!" "It would be better for you if you come first." "No, I need it now! Stretch me with your cock Bucky, please I need it so bad!"

In a second he's kissing you again, feverishly, and this time he lets his body sink down on yours, his thick shaft brushing your wet center, making both of you shudder. Bucky reaches down and uses his hand to guide the tip to your opening. "Tell me if it hurts and we'll stop." "Promise." You relax into the bed, spreading your legs, and watch Bucky's face as he pushes into you.

He's big, but you're also incredibly wet. Your body slowly gives for his intrusion. There is a slight sting but it quickly turns into pleasure as he fills you. "So big!" you moan and experimentally move against him. "Fuck, Bunny, this is the tightest pussy I fucking ever felt. You're going to be the death of me." "Make me come first, then you can die." With a grunt, he pulls back and pushes in, carefully to get you used to him, but it’s not what you want or need.

"Move, please move. Fuck me Bucky!" you beg and he does. Not in your wildest fantasies could you predict this sensation. So full. So good. Bucky groaning above you. His warm skin under the palms of your hands. The sound of your arousal mixing with the sound of skin meeting skin.

"I'm already leaking into your cunt Bunny. It feels so good." "Yes, Bucky!" "Did you know I have almost zero recovery time? I just need a quick breather after coming before I can go again." With a moan, you wrap your legs around him. "I'm going to fill you with so much cum you'll be drunk on it." He leans down until he's right by your ear.

"I'll breed you all night long. And I'll continue to do it every night until you're pregnant." "Bucky!" "You fucking like that, I can feel how tight you get!"

Shaking your head you try to deny it, but carrying his baby would be the ultimate fantasy. "Please make me full of you! I want a baby Bucky. Make me fucking pregnant with our child!"

"Dirty! Fucking! Mind!" He says through gritted teeth, punctuating every word with a particularly hard thrust. "More!" You cry as the pressure inside you builds. Bucky quickly sits up on his knees, grabbing your hips, pulling you onto his dick as he thrusts inside you. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" you chant. "Make me come, Bucky! Please! More!"

"Bunny!" he warns. "You better fucking come before me, I can't hold it with your tight cunt squeezing me like that!" Desperately you start rubbing your clit and a moment later everything explodes through your body. With an unearthly wail, you find your release and Bucky quickly follows, cursing and roaring while he pumps you full.

The world is unsteady for a moment but then it rights itself. Bucky's head is thrown back as he heaves in lungfuls of air and you're no better where you're lying. He's not soft inside you yet and maybe he won't even go down.

"That was…" you begin but then shake your head with a stupid smile on your lips. "Better than you thought it would be?" He asks. "A million times better." "Good because we're not done." He releases your hips to once again lean down over you, kissing you much softer this time, moving his hips slower. It makes you keen into his mouth with the delicious stretch and the wetness of his release adding to the feeling. It leaks onto the sheets as he fucks you but you don't mind. At the end of all this, your sheets will probably need to be burned.

"Bunny, fuck, Bunny, look at me," Bucky demands and you do. He's close enough that you share a breath. "So fucking pretty. My little groupie." Despite the situation you laugh. "Aren't you?" "Absolutely Bucky, I'm your groupie." "Only mine?" "Of course! I don't have any more boxes under the bed." "Good." He rests his head at the crook of your neck, his hot breath ticking your skin and you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of him surrounding you. Soon another orgasm works its way through your body. You don't scream this time, instead, you whisper in his ear how fucking good it feels, how he's filling you so well, and how you want him to breed you.

Moments later Bucky bursts inside you for the second time. He takes a minute before he rolls the two of you over so you're on top. The strength in your body is nearly gone but Bucky's serum keeps him going. And he keeps his promise. All through the night, he fills you and by the time the sun starts rising, he pulls one last weak orgasm from you before stopping.

"So fucking pretty," he muses as he spreads you open to watch the cum run out of you, before pushing some of it back in with his fingers, making you whine. With a chuckle, he wipes it off on the sheets, and then looks around. "I don't think we can sleep in this bed, Bunny. Where's your pajamas?" It's a miracle you're still awake but you point to the clothes on the chair. Bucky finds you some underwear and dresses you, before carrying you to his room. There he makes you take a shower but afterward, he doesn't let you get dressed again. "I need your skin against mine," he says as he spoons you.

Several hours later you wake up, sore but in the best way. The bed is empty and you must have slept through Bucky waking up. With a giggle, you roll onto your back and that's when you feel something around your neck. Confused, you look down and find his dog tags against your bare skin. The smile on your face must be really stupid as you fiddle with them between your fingers. Who could have known meeting your hero would turn out like this?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #avengers!bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes x avengers!reader #veltana writes

[mintkookiess]

Miles Morales headcannons #1

Miles who has a separate sketchbook just for you. He brings it everywhere along with his usual sketchbook because he knows that he'll want to draw you multiple times a day no matter where he was. Most of his sketches and doodles of you just had your face and that smile that he loves, decorated with hearts and sparkles all around. 

Miles who never fails to sneak a peek on you by your bedroom every single day. It doesn't matter if he was busy on a mission, patrol, or if he just wanted to see you. If he was swinging by, he'd just wave at you, give you a flying kiss before pasting sticky notes on your window with words like "I love you so much!", "Your hair looks so pretty today.”, "You're keeping me going today mi vida." 

Miles who doesn't like confrontation. So when he sees some other person flirting with you , he'll get jealous but would be too shy to do anything about it. However, it's like he becomes a different person as Spiderman, going to that said person to warn them to back off from you. Works almost every time. When it doesn't work, he'll just be more clingy to you for a while till the person gives up. 

Miles who makes sure to always have an extra hoodie for you during class. He knows you always forget to bring one, and the classrooms are dead freezing so he couldn't give the one he was wearing. Instead, he gives you one of his. Most often than not, he sprays a shit ton of his perfume on it because he knows how much you like to smell his hoodies or his clothes in general. 

Miles who likes to dance with you when you two were alone e.g. his or your bedroom. Usually, he would blast out some songs from his or your phone, but if that was not an option or if he's too happy to even bother, he'll start singing for the both of you while twirling you around and just vibing together.

Miles who likes being the little spoon when you cuddle. For my fellow tiny ass people, it could be a bit difficult, but he tries to be smaller for you. Tries. He crumples in on himself just for you to reach your leg over his waist and hug him from behind successfully. He also loves it when you bury your nose in his hair cause it tickles and makes him feel special. 

Miles who brings you food that his mom cooked, because his mom knows about the two of you. Though it was a rare occasion given her job as a nurse, it always made your day and his. Sometimes you both would bring it to a picnic somewhere or even just the rooftop of yall's places.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

#miles g morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales headcannons #kith kith #mintdrabbles #miles morales x y/n #miles morales fanfic #across the spiderverse

[vampyrgoff]

Hii I just wanted to see if you do requests? I kind of want to ask a Vince and Bo both dating you. But you kind of have a bad week and don’t talk and act like your normal self and then one day they finally ask you and (you know when someone asks if you are okay and the waterfall comes) and have a lot of comfort🥺

I’m kinda struggling right now and today just is the one over the edge and need some love and comfort from these guys😭😭😭

If not that’s alright! Thank you for reading this one anyways!

Dating Both Vincent and Bo Sinclair: You had a bad week </3 Bo and Vincent comfort <3

Bo Sinclair x reader, Vincent Sinclair x reader

contains— fluffff, Bo, and Vinnie being cutie patooties, the boys kind of give off caregiver vibes?, agere vibes but like not really specifying or going into too much detail with that, vinnie does speak a VERY little. YALL CANT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME, HE SOMETIMES SPEAKS TO YOU WHEN ALONE IDC I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL, a bit of babying honestly, I feel like it sucks but this is the best my sleepy brain can come up with...

requests— always open! send whateva guys <3

vampyr's note— Thanks for requesting, I hope you're doing okay 🥺 I wanted to get this out as soon as possible just cause I know how it feels when you have those days where you're struggling and nothing goes right. I hope this makes your day a little better and if it does, I'm glad I was able to help! <3 My DMs are ALWAYS open if anyone needs to talk to someone! <3 I want to say that this is my first time having to WRITE a cohesive story instead of small blurbs, so I'm sorry for any bad writing!

word count— 2.0k words, 10.9k characters

as always... gifs aren't mine!

reblogs, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

(literal husbands ughh) (Vincent speaks through sign language! its easier on me to write it that way) (NOT PROOFREAD)

It was just a day. It was just a week, even. That's all it was. "All you have to do is get through it" is what you kept telling yourself. As you lay in bed in the workshop, watching Vincent work, your chest felt heavy. As if there was some sort of weight that was pulling you down. Your throat almost felt shut closed, as if you were to speak, nothing would come out. Your eyelids felt heavy and your vision grew hazy. You've been in bed all day. You didn't even know what time it was.

One thing about Vincent: if you don't tell him to stop working, he never will. He gets so lost in sketching and materializing those sketches that he forgets to eat and drink water, sometimes even take bathroom breaks. Bo can be heard upstairs, busy with something or someone. The loud thuds of his boots can be heard from downstairs. You sat up from the bed, your hair a tousled mess. Vincent's head snaps towards you almost instantly and his eyes soften at how beautiful you looked. Your hair was a mess but it looked so good, your skin was flushed a bit from all the crying and rubbing at your face, and you sat there wearing Bo's Nine Inch Nails band tee.

Vincent tilts his head at you, something he does a lot. "How did you sleep, beautiful?" He signs. A faint smile graced your lips.

"It... it was okay." You said a bit flatly. You got up and walked to him. Vincent noticed your thigh-high socks that rested up to about mid-thigh. The warmth of the basement really hitting your skin now. Vincent stood on his stool, waiting for you to really cuddle up in his arms like you normally do. But his heart sank a little when all you did was a small side hug and looked at one of the sketches he was drawing.

You were trying to avoid his gaze. You've been like this, this whole entire week. You lay in bed and shut yourself out from your lovers. It's easy to hide your true discontent feelings from Bo, as he tends to get busy with running everything in Ambrose with Lester. But with Vincent, it's a different story. Vincent knows you like the back of his hand. He observes you like a lost puppy. You're fascinating to him. So when you have these weeks, he tries to give you space and offer comfort but, it's truly hard when all you do is push away from him. Vincent watched you walk up the stairs, listening to the soft pitter patters of your feet. He wasn't gonna follow you yet but he knew Bo was gonna get to the bottom of what has been making you feel so bad.

Vincent had always struggled with confrontation and confronting you. Bo was always upfront with you and sometimes had to air out Vincent's feelings so that Vincent's problems would get solved. You never minded it though. You kind of admired the Yin and Yang in them. You loved the warmth of Vincent and the iciness of Bo.

As you walked out into the kitchen, Bo was already there, looking through the fridge. Bo's phone dinged and he looked at the message, tensing his jaw a bit as he looked at you. The message was from Vincent and it very much was a message about you and your recent behavior. "Doll," he says lowly, dragging out the name itself. You turned your head to him, already preparing yourself to mask your emotions completely. You hummed in response as you looked up at the taller man, he looked at you with expectant eyes. You heard approaching footsteps from behind you, once you heard Vincent walk into the room, you knew the jig was up.

Bo carried you and placed you on the kitchen island's countertop. Bo and Vincent now standing in front of you, Vincent's hand holding your left and Bo's hand holding your right. In serious moments like this, Vincent takes off his mask, and Bo's icy-cold gaze softens, and in this moment, it isn't an exception. You knew where this was going and you knew you needed comfort, it was just hard opening up to them. Not because you didn't want to, and not because they wouldn't listen but because you didn't want to waste energy trying to make them understand. You didn't want advice on how to make it better... you just wanted some extra love. Bo cleared his throat, interrupting you and your thoughts. "Doll, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but very intimate.

Within seconds, your eyes begin to water and your tears begin to blur your vision. Vincent is quick to react as he pulls your face into his chest, shooting a look at Bo. He smells like wax and lavender-scented candles, a smell that smelt like home to you. Bo's thumb ran over your thumb in a soothing manner. The gesture really makes your heart swell as you turn your head to look at him.

"I-I'm sorry guys," You say, tears falling from your eyes, wetting Vincent's shirt a bit. "I know I've been extremely distant but I-" Bo shushes you immediately, stopping you from explaining. He reaches a hand out to you, the hand cupping your chin, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip. "Now, you don't have to tell us anything, darling. Open up when you're ready okay?" He asks and you nod your head still sniffling. "Pretty princesses like you shouldn't be crying, okay?" You hug Bo next and he smiles a bit. He can't help but think that in moments like these, you're the cutest, so vulnerable and so small. He loves reveling in the fact that he can provide for you like a true man. It's his biggest ego boost. He loves feeling like he and his brother are the only ones on the planet earth that can make you feel good. Once you pull away, Bo stamps a kiss on your forehead. "What would you like us to do for you?" Vincent signs, his face contorted with worry.

Bo carries you off the counter and you cling onto him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He looks down at you and smiles a bit, he walks you over to the living room, as Vincent goes downstairs, grabbing all of your favorite movies and DVDs and grabbing your weighted blanket along with one of your favorite stuffed animals. Bo sits you on the couch and brings you a glass of water. "Drink up, okay baby. I know you probably haven't had anything to drink in a while," he says softly while rubbing your back. It was a true statement, you hadn't really taken care of yourself this week, it was apparent. Your skin was paler than usual, your cheeks were puffy and your lips plump from constantly chewing at them. It felt so good to be taken care of by Bo and Vincent. They were the best at giving princess treatment.

Vincent finally comes up and brings all the things you need. You feel your heart swell as Vincent sets the DVDs down on the table in front of you. He sits next to you, sprawling out the weighted blanket over the three of you as you reach for your favorite stuffed animals. "Now, which movie would you like to watch, sunshine." Bo drawls as he holds up all the DVDs in hand, sprawled out so that you can pick out of your favorites. Once the movie is picked he gets up and puts the movie in as you lean into Vincent's chest. Vincent's arms come over you and he pulls you onto him so that your back is in contact with his chest as Bo sits back down next to you. Bo lifts your legs up and sets them on his lap, his warm and calloused hands, rubbing at your skin and massaging your legs sensually as the movie starts. Every now and then Bo kisses the skin on your legs, truly making you feel pampered with love.

Once the movie comes to a close, you look to your left and see Bo, sleeping already. Vincent's still up though, his delicate hands playing with your hair and making small two-strand and three-strand braids, something that you taught him how to do in the past. "Vince," you call out to him quietly. He hums softly, not stopping the braiding. "What should we do now? Bo's asleep." You say. Vincent looks to Bo and shakes his head playfully disapproving. You finally turn your body to him and Vincent smiles once he sees your face. He leans in for a small kiss, which you gladly return. He tucks some hair behind your ear and smiles more, beginning to hold your face with his warm and intoxicating touch. "Are you feeling better?" He signs to you. You think for a second and you shrug. "I don't know anymore, Vinnie. I still feel really sad." You explain truthfully. Vincent stands up and grabs your hand. "Where are we going," you ask him as he begins to pull you up the stairs.

Vincent leads you to one of the bedrooms. He sits you on the bed and signals you to wait there. You nod in slight confusion, listening to his request. You watch Vincent walk in and out of the bedroom and in the bathroom. Vincent begins to run a bath for you, adding your favorite scents, and bath bombs to the water that consisted of your favorite colors. He adds rose petals to the water and smiles to himself. Vincent always outdid himself when it came to you and your needs, this being a great example. Vincent walks back to the bedroom and tugs on the oversized band tee you were wearing, his own way of telling you to take it off. Once you do, he turns your body so that your back is facing him and very gently undoes the hooks in your bra, as he does so, his lips trail your neck and back very slowly. Once your bra falls flat to the floor he very slowly takes off your underwear and sits you on the bed.

Vincent's eyes trail over your body a couple times but his eyes don't feel predatory. It feels like he's taking in your beauty in its purest form. You were a muse for him, he's seen your body in many vulnerable poses and such and he feels lucky to even say that. "Pretty..." He whispers to himself. He looks up to you with flushed cheeks, "Pretty princesses shouldn't have to undress themselves either." He kneels down to the floor and begins to pull off your thigh highs. Nice and slow leaving kisses down your thighs and legs and doing the same to the other. You feel your heart race and you begin to cover yourself up with your arms to which he shakes his head disapprovingly as he reaches over and retracts your arms to your side. Vincent stands up, pulls his cardigan off, and begins to undress himself. He picks you up and carries you to the bath setting you in gently as he gets behind you. Your back was on Vincent's chest. Vincent hums a small tune as he undoes all the braids and twists that he did in your hair, wetting the hair in the process, massaging your scalp, and leaving kisses all over your back. "There's my pretty girl." You hear from the doorway. Bo walks in and sits on the edge of the tub. "You know you look so pretty right now, enjoying yourself with Vince, right?" He asks teasingly, and you look away from him, feeling so shy under his keen eye. To distract yourself from his gaze you grab the shampoo, getting ready to lather your hair in it. But Bo takes it away from you. "Let me," He starts, "Our pretty doll is not gonna think for herself today, okay? You just sit there and look pretty... we'll take care of you okay?" He says in a loving yet firm voice.

This night was gonna be all about you.

#slashers #vincent sinclair #house of wax #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher imagines #fluff #bo sinclair x reader imagine #bo sinclair #bo sinclair imagine

[junkdrawerfics]

First Suspicions

And final findings.

Previous

Summary: Two instances when your curiosity gets the best of you and Jasper has to distract you from the truth. And one instance when he's not there to do so. Curiosity might just be the thing that kills you.

Words: 1768

Note: I like this part a lot more, so I hope you guys also enjoy it! I tried to do a quick but believable process of discovery. Longer note at end.

Also @little-miss-loves-fictional-men your comment on my last post almost made me cry. Thank you for that.

---

“So you’re not related to your siblings, right?”

A month into the semester, and Forks feels like home already. Largely in part to Jasper, not that you’ll ever tell anyone that, especially him. It took only a few days for you to become fast friends. Being around him felt easy, maybe because he never seems to judge you for your odd habits, or maybe just because he’s one of the kindest, most empathetic people you’ve ever met.

Whatever it is, your friendship quickly breaks from the confines of the school. Whether it be studying at you new favorite coffee shop - though you’re thinking of going somewhere else since he rarely wants a drink or anything - or going on a walk through the woods as you’re doing now.

Jasper offers a wry smile as he helps you over a large log, “Just Rosalie, I’m afraid.”

You shoot him a disapproving look, though he catches the glimmer of laughter in your eyes, “Don’t be mean, Jasper Hale. She doesn’t seem that bad.”

It is strange though. Except for their matching gold hair, there’s not a singular similarity between him and Rose. They’re honestly the most different out of the family, personality-wise at least. Maybe that’s normal for siblings though.

“No, I suppose she’s not,” Jasper murmurs, looking up at the sky, which is practically hidden behind the canopy of pine needles. “Though I’d much rather listen to Edward go on about Bella than her talk about herself.”

Bella Swan. The girl who moved to Forks just one year before you. You have a class with her, and you honestly like her quite a bit. While you’re both awkward, it’s nice to know someone else who’s close with the Cullens.

And she might know things that could answer your growing list of questions.

Like why are they all so pale? Why do they avoid most of the school? Why do you never see them on the rare sunny days Forks gets?

“So why do you ask about my siblin’s darlin’?” Ah. Right. You weren’t being too subtle, you guess.

“I just think it’s crazy how similar you all look,” you explain, keeping your eyes glued to your shoes. Mud sticks to the sides, both dry and wet. You’ve been walking for a while now. “I mean, you all look different, obviously, but you all have the same eyes. And you’re all gorg-”

You bite down hard on your tongue and come to a stuttering stop. 

That wasn’t supposed to come out.

Jasper stops right beside you, lips drawing into a wolfish, slanted smirk. You stand completely frozen, eyes wide as he steps closer, too close, leaning forward against the tree behind you. Your heart flounders wildly in your chest. Sometimes you forget he’s so tall.

“I’d sure like to hear you finish that declaration, miss (L/n),” he hums, tone bright with barely concealed mirth.

“Nope!” Your heart lurches as you duck under his arm and scuttle away. Heat burns across your cheeks despite the chill in the air. His laughter echoes behind you, warm and deep and lovely. Too lovely. Your face goes darker. “You didn’t hear anything. I didn’t say anything. Oh hey, look at that tree!”

Jasper watches you dash away, relief warring with his amusement as he follows close behind. You’re observant, more observant than he expected. He’ll have to be more careful. At least he was able to distract you.

This time.

---

“Do you always run this cold?” You poke Jasper’s shoulder as you pass him on the way to your desk.

The blond glances up from his textbook, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to figure out where you’re going with this, “I suppose I do.”

“Maybe it’s cause you don’t eat enough,” you muse, reaching for the bag of chocolate you keep hidden in the bottom drawer. You hold it out to him with a conspiratorial smile, “I always like to keep a secret stash, want one?”

“No thank you, darlin’.” Jasper smiles, though it’s tighter. Maybe you only see it because you’re looking for it, but you swear he looks uncomfortable for a split second.

“I feel like I never see you eat,” you admit, putting the bag back in its hiding spot, “Even at school. None of you eat.”

Jasper’s brow furrows. He can feel your concern, but also your curiosity. They radiate off you in equal degrees, so he can’t tell how carefully he should tread.

“My siblings and I are on a…special diet,” he explains slowly, eyes falling back to his textbook. He can’t hold your worried gaze while he lies to you, even if it’s not really a lie. “We prefer not to talk about it.”

You tilt your head, pouting softly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” 

Guilt. Jasper can feel it biting at the back of his mind. But he smiles and murmurs a soft, “Thank you for understandin’.”

You nod. It still seems strange, though. The more you think about it, the more questions you have. You’ve hardly seen him even drink water, and that can’t be normal, even more for a special diet. But it’s not like he looks unhealthy. No one can look that good if they’re not eating enough.

A sudden heat creeps up your neck. Coughing awkwardly, you turn your attention to your own homework, trying to not focus on just how good Jasper always looks. The man is surprisingly fit under all those sweaters -

Then why does he run so cold? The thought comes back to you, like an annoying fly circling your head. You’ve noticed the same thing about Alice when she gave you a hug. Their touch is like ice, cold enough to leave you shivering after the smallest graze. It’s the kind of cold you read about in your murder mysteries, when someone is dead.

Curiosity burns hot in your chest, making you all but forget the slight warmth in your cheeks. Some things just don’t add up. And you know you shouldn’t pry, it’s none of your business and you don’t want to push him away. So why does it matter so much to you?

“Do you need help with that problem, darlin’?”

You jump, glancing up to find Jasper looking over your shoulder at the worksheet in your lap. You didn’t even hear him get off the bed. It’s almost like he’s a ghost.

“Um, sure, yah.” Your growing anxiety seems to slip away with him so close, and with it goes your curiosity. Shaking your head, you cast him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted I guess. Did I space out?”

Jasper squeezes your shoulder warmly, voice tender with something fond, “You were starin’ at it for a few minutes. I figured it might have been givin’ you trouble.”

“Yah, yah, I guess I’m stuck.” To be honest, you don’t even know what worksheet you’re on. Help can’t hurt though. “Thanks, Jasper.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Another successful distraction.

---

“Huh.”

You pause in your reading, jaw dropping a little.

To end the quarter, your U.S. History teacher was allowing you to do a report on anything that has been covered in class. You decided to do research into the Civil War, specifically the confederate army since you felt like it was often dismissed in class discussions. Understandably, since it’s an uncomfortable topic for most.

But you were curious, as always. There’s no doubt they were on the wrong side of history, proven by how things ended. Even if you hate what they stand for, you want to know both sides of it.

So you dug up some old books. And by old, you mean old. Written very close to the time period of the war old. They’re only digital copies, since there’s no way you could afford them otherwise, but still. And it took searching some obscure website to find them.

It makes this all the more confusing. You double check the publication date. The copyright. All of it. They all confirm the age of the book.

So how are you looking at what seems to be a carbon copy of Jasper?

It’s an old photo, dated 1862. Black and white and a bit fuzzy. A young man sits perched on a horse, decked out in a full confederate uniform and a cowboy hat. His hair is longer, light, brushing his chin, just like Jasper’s. But that’s not it. No, it’s something about his face. About the lopsided grin on his lips.

You quickly skim the few paragraphs next to the photo, eyes going wider with each word you read.

‘Jasper Whitlock, born in Texas, became the youngest man to earn the rank of Major in the Confederate Army. Major Whitlock was labeled missing in action in the year 1863, when he disappeared while evacuating U.S. citizens who were at risk in the wake of the war.’

Jasper.

They even have the same name. Different last names, but still. Can that be a coincidence? Maybe they’re related, you try to reason. That wouldn't make sense, after all. It’d be crazy. Absolutely crazy. 

You decide to google this man, Jasper Whitlock, but only a few generic results for ‘jasper’ show up. Nothing about the young Army Major. You lean back in your chair, brows furrowing. That doesn’t make sense either. Unless-

“What are you reading?”

You shriek, slamming your laptop shut.

Bella holds her hands up, eyes wide. 

“Oh my gosh, you scared me!” You press a hand to your chest, laughing breathlessly. “I thought you were Jasper.”

The brunette looks at you strangely, “Why? Are you hiding something from him?” 

You flinch. That’s straightforward. For Bella at least.

Trying to give her an easy-going smile, you explain, “No, he just has the tendency to sneak up on me. I’m working on a history project, that’s all. He knows all about this stuff and I definitely don’t, so I’m trying to spare myself some embarrassment.”

You hate lying. It makes you feel gross, but you don’t want to freak Bella out. There’s a lot of ways this could be explained, you’re sure, and you’re probably overthinking all of it. 

Yah. There’s no way that this Jasper Whitlock could be connected to your Jasper. It’s impossible.

Right?

This time, Jasper isn’t there to blow out the spark.

---

Unless.

The word rings around in your head.

Ringing and ringing and ringing until you jolt up in bed later that night and snatch your laptop from your nightstand.

‘cold skin’

‘doesn’t eat’

‘avoids sun’

‘doesn’t age?’

You click enter and only one word comes back.

‘vampire’

---

Next

So! I was so excited to incorporate the whole history thing! My headcannon is that Jasper would have been recorded in history because of his accomplishments (I mean, the real youngest major of the confederate army was 36 so him being 19 is crazy) but the Cullens have worked to to keep his name off the internet somehow. I'm sure one of them could pick up some computer skills with all that time.

And that's why you only see him mentioned in old, written text. I don't know, I think it's something really cool to think about! And what a cool way to do a reveal!

Anyways! I hope you guys enjoyed this!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #jasper whitlock is a minor historical figure and you can't prove me wrong

[romancingromanoff]

Secrets & Sketches

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series of loosely related one shots for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1 and part 2

Summary: You were always staring at her, not knowing she was staring back.

TW: None?

Word count: +5,100

Author's Note: Hi y'all. Here's some slightly domestic fluff before the action happens and the stakes skyrocket through the roof.

Despite never having lived with four strangers before, it turned out that your new situation offered you far more privacy than you had ever experienced while living with your mother.

The woman had a compulsive need to control every aspect of your life, from what you wore to what you ate. You were barely even safe in the bathroom. The years had taught you to lie with your words and carefully crafted smiles. Knowing what she wanted to hear from you and how you could appease her temper was like mastering a second language. Your skills in the craft became more and more refined throughout the years and your confidence ultimately grew. But you underestimated your mother and made the greatest mistake of them all.

“I know you’re lying to me! What are you trying to hide from me, you ungrateful whore?”

A picture frame nearly collided with your head, chipping the door frame instead of scratching your face. The glass shattered on the floor and your body jumped twice, once at the sound and another time when your eyes settled on the damage and found that your favorite childhood photo with your grandmother was destroyed. 

“Whatever you did, I will find out! You cannot lie to me, I am your mother!”

It was one afternoon you had wanted all to yourself to go see the movie Roman Holiday after school. The charismatic Audrey Hepburn, riding on a Vespa with the largest smile you had ever seen, caused strange feelings to stir in your stomach when you had first watched the trailer. She was a princess masquerading as a commoner in order to freely experience the wonders of the Eternal City. Oh, how you envied her character. Your mother, however, could only focus on how short her hair was. The shortest your hair had ever been was when you were a fresh newborn. Once it grew past your upper back, you were never allowed to cut it, despite all the other girls you knew being able to short styles. 

“How disappointing.” She scoffed when a clip of her getting her haircut played. “Such a beautiful young woman and she wants to make herself look like a man? I really don’t understand your generation, you’re all confused.”

When you arrived home late that evening, she refused to believe the lie you had produced about giving some tutoring lessons after school. It was only two days later that she found the proof she wanted. While snooping through your journal she came across the movie ticket you had pasted next to your latest entry. She burned the entire thing as only one portion of your punishment.

How your mother could predict your actions, anticipate your every move, and see through every single one of your lies you did not know. It was like she knew you and how your mind functioned but could never truly understand how suffocated you felt by the twisted ways she expressed her “love” for you. She was your mother, the closest kin you had left after your grandmother’s passing and the woman that had known you for your entire existence. The fact that she birthed you was one she’d never let you forget, yet you knew she would spend your entire life trying to mold you into something you weren’t if she could. If she could never accept you then how could anybody else?

Then you met Andy, who always seemed to be in tune with whatever you were thinking. Hell, she could practically guess your thoughts word for word without even really trying, yet not once did it ever feel like she was violating your mind as your mother had. You were almost completely certain that she was fully aware of the times when you were drawing her. It was impossible not to see the art in her movements. She’d be doing something mundane yet slightly active such as washing the dishes and you’d pull your sketchbook out. The moment you put pencil to paper she would slow down ever-so-slightly. A plate that needed maybe two wipes suddenly took four or more to clean. She must have known what she was doing to you, softly smirking as she folded laundry 

But did she know what it was doing to you? How intensely you felt about her and as more than just an art subject, more than someone you merely admired. Pages full of sketches, varying in detail and design, became dedicated to capturing the alluring domestic side of the ancient warrior. Every angle, every shadow was carefully reconstructed (to the best of your ability anyway) as if to preserve each moment and time so that your eyes may never forget what she looked like chopping onions on a rainy Tuesday evening. A brief moment that might be incredibly insignificant for a being that has walked the earth for thousands of years, but one that was still so precious to you. The time you spent together, even the moments everyone else might consider to be dull, were filled with color all because of her.

Why she allowed you to draw her so frequently was something you couldn’t quite figure out. This rather untraditional dance the two of you engaged in was never spoken about in words. There was no doubt that Andy would have said something much earlier had she been uncomfortable being drawn by you. A part of you enjoyed entertaining the idea that, perhaps in some small way, Andy might actually return your feelings. But at the same time, you didn’t want to be wrong and come off as an artistic creep trying to invade her privacy.

The good thing was you never had to worry about any of the others looking through your sketchbook. The one time Joe had asked if he could take a peek it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you could have said ‘no’ to him. But the smallest bit of hesitance that he had seen in your eyes as you prepared to hand over your most personal and sacred treasure immediately stopped him.

“Y/N, you don’t actually have to show me anything if you don’t want to. I was merely curious but no part of me would be offended if you want to keep your art to yourself. I will always respect your privacy first.”

His words were almost foreign to you, like ones you had only ever read on pages and later discovered were pronounced completely differently when you finally heard them spoken out loud. Still, you knew Joe meant everything he said. Though all of your new companions were certainly capable of it, none of them had ever once tried to deceive you or keep you hidden from the truth. Previously living with a pathological liar had taught you all the signs you needed to know and not once had you found a single one since joining the old guard.

It was a bit startling how safe you already felt with these few strangers you had only met a few short weeks ago. You could talk to all of them about (almost) anything, although you did worry that your endless amount of questions might annoy any one of the unnaturally older beings. Sometimes you nearly cringed at the thought of how ignorant and stupid you must have appeared in their eyes. It mostly motivated you to contribute where you could. Cooking and cleaning were not tasks you necessarily enjoyed, but it felt nice to make some type of contribution to the team. Still, you longed to prove yourself as something more, to help save lives and make Andy, Booker, Joe, and Nico proud. And maybe, just maybe, if you became worthy enough of someone like your rescuer, she might look at you differently.

┊ ┊┊ 

It was nearing morning hours and your endless thoughts hadn’t allowed you to sleep yet. There was a buzzing in your body, making it impossible to fully relax, even though you knew you had a busy day of training ahead of you and you needed the rest. You tried to conjure up the comforting sound of Andy’s steady heartbeat as you imagined her lying next to you, only to grow even more anxious when you began feeling guilty for indulging in such thoughts. 

Did she even like women the way you did? You certainly had your suspicions and noticed the way her heart seemed to break anytime there was a mention of Quynh. The necklace that never left her neck also appeared to hold a great amount of pain and significance to her. But even if you were right, Andy had never brought up any details regarding her love life and you were determined to respect that undiscussed boundary. The tossing and turning was just an unfortunate side effect that eventually had you cave in and get up to grab a drink from the kitchen. 

“Can’t sleep?” The voice of the very person you had been thinking of came from behind you as soon as you had turned on a small lamp. You let out a nervous laugh and kept a steady hand on your chest when you caught her smiling directly at you. It made you take some extra time while getting your glass of water so that your heartbeat had a chance to settle.

Andy sat at the bar sipping on a mug of coffee. Even with the light being so dim, you didn’t need it to tell her beverage was completely black. 

“I still don’t know how you’re able to drink that. Every time I try it it’s like trying to swallow hot liquid dirt.”

“Really?” The Scythian chuckled and you prayed the darkness would hide your melted expression. “That’s surprising considering how you drown yours in milk and sugar.”

“Hey, we can’t all be as tough as you.” 

“No one said you had to be. No one said you weren’t already.” You supposed you were tough in the context of being able to override death itself, but besides that, it wasn’t a character trait you ever considered yourself to have. Even the immortality thing was basically a fluke. 

The dark haired woman gestured for you to sit down and you awkwardly lowered yourself into the chair across from her. Your glass of water looked silly standing next to her more refined drink. “Yeah, that’s me. I got tough hands covered in paper cuts and callouses from drawing.”

“Art is tough for a lot of people. It’s tough for me. I could never quite get the emotional vulnerability part down and I feel like all the best art pulls from that. I would say you could probably teach me a thing or two about drawing but you have something more inborn than that. It can’t be taught.”

“But you’ve never seen my work?” Had she? You didn’t think she’d go through your things without your permission but there was definiteness in her tone that told you her words were true. 

“No,” she shrugged. Nothing in her seemed to waver. “I don’t need to. There’s this look you get in your eyes when you’re completely focused on drawing that seems to transport you to this different world. I always wonder where you go but don’t want to tear you away when you’re clearly inspired.”

You had been staring at her for so long believing that she was merely tolerating your strange behavior. You assumed she simply felt unbothered. The idea that she might have been secretly staring back never once crossed your mind. 

“You… You watch me?” A beat passed and your brain short circuited, unsure of what kind of answer you even hoped to hear. If she did then was it with the same unspoken desire you held in your heart that you could be worthy of her one day? No, it had to be something far from that. Your awkward, uncoordinated behavior could only be considered entertaining at best if Andy didn’t find you pitiable. You imagined it was like watching your neighbor’s beagle after they arrived home from a medical procedure at the vet. The poor thing was so loopy yet unaware that he couldn’t walk in a straight line. Every few steps he took he’d also crumble to the floor before eagerly trying to get back up and making another attempt with the same results. That’s what she must see whenever she saw you trip over your own feet. Or how silly you looked the other day when Booker tried to show you how to hold a pistol and you shook so hard that it fumbled out of your hands.

Even with all the time in the world, it was a struggle to see yourself ever truly earning your place among the rest of the guard one day. You not only lacked combat experience but had been thoroughly sheltered from the world by your mother. She hadn’t allowed you to participate in any sports, not even the more feminine ones like dance or golf. The result was barely being able to do a push-up and having the wind knocked out of your lungs after only a brief jog. 

The others had started you off with some basic self defense techniques, which caused you to wake up with sore muscles you hadn’t even known existed. Everyone was extremely patient with you, stressing the importance of slowly building up your strength and reminding you that there was no rush to suddenly reach their skill level when they’d been fighting for longer than some of the strongest empires had lasted. But then you’d watch them training together or listen to one of them recount several of the missions they completed while you were stuck waiting in the safe house. They were out there saving lives, as well as literally sacrificing their own, while you could only hope to one day do the same. 

In the back of your head you could hear your mother berating you for having such ridiculous dreams. If she could see you struggling to learn a pull up she would certainly laugh at your miserable attempts. But Andy didn’t look at you like you were “perfectly pathetic” as your mother often described. No, she seemed to stare at you softly, which made you feel like you were the only person she was thinking about. 

“I find you interesting. More specifically, it’s been a pleasure to watch you grow into yourself these past few weeks. You look much more relaxed.”

You were fairly relaxed, aside from the fact that your heart was currently threatening to jump out of your chest. Or if physicists could somehow harness its energy then it could power the entire world. She had just admitted to finding you interesting and you were supposed to answer back in words. You took a painfully slow drink.

“Well, it has been nice being able to make my own decisions and not have someone constantly looking over my shoulder.” You think back to an instance where you were recently baking a lemon glaze cake for the team and some icing stuck to your fingers. Immediately, you went to wash your hands as your mother would have insisted upon when it occurred to you that she no longer had control over you. Licking your fingers after that had never felt so satisfying. “Even the little choices I’m able to make now are kind of exciting. Is that strange to say?”

“Not at all.” Andy shook her head. “It’s a beautiful thing, seeing how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time. Not to mention how glad I am that you feel safe enough around us to be yourself.”

A pang of guilt ran through you. What must she think of you if you were keeping cryptic drawings of her a secret? “I really do, which is why I don’t want you to believe I’m trying to hide things from you! Not forever, at least. I trust you, and perhaps it’s more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else. But with my drawings… I suppose it’s rather complicated and I’ve never willingly shown them to anyone before. They’re nothing inappropriate, though! I would never do anything like that.”

Before you could completely melt into a puddle of despair, Andy reached for your forearm, anchoring the two of you together while helping to calm you down. Her hand was warmed from holding her hot mug.

“Hey, it’s alright, I trust you too. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I’m flattered about the drawings and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can wait until you’re ready to show them to me when you feel comfortable doing so.”

It was completely vexatious how patient Andy could be with you, or how she always seemed to know the right thing to say to make you feel better. She possessed the ability to soothe the fears you understood intimately along with the others which you had tried to suppress and nearly forgotten about. You simply weren’t used to being treated in such a way. 

“How are you so patient with me all the time?” Your question came off more irritated than you intended, making you cringe inwardly. You weren’t even sure what you were really asking about.

In the few moments it took Andy to start processing the question, your thoughts finally began to come together and spill out all at once.

“I’m deeply appreciative of how understanding you’ve been, don’t get me wrong, but when I imagine myself in your position, it must be frustrating. You do so much for me, all four of you do, but you especially. I’m always needing your help with countless things even though I have nothing of use to offer in return. You’re all incredibly worldly people, capable of doing more than I ever have even before your first deaths. I’ve been kept sheltered my entire life and probably wouldn’t last a day on my own. Having me join the team probably feels a lot more like babysitting than anything else, yet you never complain about it.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t in her nature, sometimes you wished she would allow herself to be angry with you. Or if she even expressed the slightest bit of irritation then that might make you feel better somehow. You waited for Andy to tell you that you sounded ridiculous, or to make another comment about your tendency to overthink things. Nothing like that ever came.

In one swift, breathtaking movement, her hand carefully tilted your chin up towards her face so that you were caught in her stare. The skin of her thumb was rough and her green-blue eyes bore into your own, tender yet determined as they searched for something deep in your soul. Though her touch was completely innocent, it was also intensely intimate from your perspective at least. You wanted to bear your entire being to her, consciously preparing your mind and body to take in whatever words she was about to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. There is nothing you owe me. Relationships aren’t transactional and I enjoy being able to help you. You also didn’t choose this life and I can’t hold what you don’t know against you. I won’t lie and say patience comes to me easily. Truthfully, when you get to my age everything is frustrating. I’ve seen… far too much in my life aside from any type of explanation for it all and it has made me bitter. But you don’t deserve any of that and I don’t want to be that type of person anymore. I don’t ever want to turn my back on people I care about again.”

Her eyes glossed over with the hue of a haunting memory, something from her past clearly bothering her. She let go of you in the crest of the emotion and you nearly whimpered when you lost her touch, but found the rare opportunity to offer Andy the comfort she needed. 

“I may not know much in the grand scheme of things, but I know you’re not bitter. Truly bitter people try to tear down everyone around them because there’s nothing misery loves more than company. You’re nothing like my mother, she wanted to control me and keep me trapped in a life where I could never have my own happiness. You set me free. Anyway, it would be hard to live as long as you have, see the things that you’ve seen, and not become discouraged with all of the wickedness that has happened throughout history. What matters is that you’ve continued to fight for others that wouldn’t normally stand a chance on their own. If you were actually as bitter as you think, you could turn your back on everyone without a single care in the world. I see how much you care for others, Andy. Bitter people only care about themselves and I don’t see how you can believe you’re one of them.”

The fact that you were so young was partially why Andy felt the need to hold herself back and take things slow with you. Although your life would never be normal, she wanted to give you the chance to choose your own path and chase whatever dreams you fancied. Right now, it was crucial to prepare you for the world and to teach you how to keep your shared secret safe. But she knew you’d want to adventure out on your own at some point, and that you’d probably want to experiment with other partners closer to your age. Andy was aware of the baggage she carried, as well as the fact that the nature of your relationship meant she held a type of influence over you. She would never allow herself to take advantage of you like that.

But one thing she couldn’t let you do was downplay yourself, not when your words touched her in ways she hadn’t felt in thousands of years.

“Do you really believe you’re of no use at all and have nothing to offer? Y/N, I’ve traveled to every corner of the world and met the wisest individuals that still led directionless and unfulfilled lives. They thought of themselves too highly, pushed others away, and in the end their knowledge meant nothing when they were unable to make meaningful connections. You have all the time you need to perfect your knowledge and learn every skill that exists or will develop in the future.” 

Your head tilted in perplexity. 

“What? You think we had phones or electricity back when I was growing up? I didn’t learn how to drive a car until late last century. It was really like the blind leading the blind in those early days.”

Imagining a Victorian era Andy accidentally crashing a motorized carriage or angrily shaking her fist at experimental drivers from atop of her horse was certainly entertaining. You wondered if the two of you would ever share a similar experience together.

Temporarily distracted by your smile, Andy nearly forgot the importance of the message she was trying to convey to you. 

“Y/N, you’re right that you’ve never really been given the chance to grow before all of this. None of that was your fault. The wonderful thing now is that you’re on your way to becoming smarter, like anybody else can when given the right tools. What you already have, your emotional strength and intelligence, is far more rare and valuable in my eyes. You teach me to look at things from a different perspective even when I’ve felt stuck in my ways for hundreds of years. Don’t overlook how much of an impact you can make or how much we all appreciate you.”

“Andy… I… Thank you.” You try not to cry, though you know she wouldn’t judge you if you did. Viewing your emotions as a strength is something that you never considered before. They were always a weakness back when you experienced nothing but misery, and now everything couldn’t be more different. Your new life was full of evenings spent getting tipsy and laughing at the stories your friends told you of places and times that sounded unreal. It was wanting the taste of more, the promise of the adventures that lay before you and the people you would get to share them with. It was a life you could hardly believe was real and you got to spend every single day with a woman that made your heart race with a single smile. Even if she never felt the same way about you, there was no chance that you’d trade your time with Andy for anything or anyone else. “Thank you for everything. I’m glad I get to experience all of this with you.”

She almost let her resolve crumble upon hearing your words. The grip around her drink tightened, heating up her flesh to a tender sting but she persevered through it. She knew that if she touched you again then it would all be over. There would be no way she could let go.

“As exciting as everything can be, I can’t help but feel nervous for what’s to come. I worry that no matter how hard I train I won’t be prepared. No matter how much I learn, there is bound to be something I overlook.”

How right you were.

“One thing I can tell you is that there are some things you’re never ready for, even if you spend centuries preparing. People, history, and almost everything I’ve encountered follow some type of pattern maybe 99% of the time. But all it takes is that 1% chance of randomness to make life unpredictable. Even the most meticulous of plans can end up going sideways. At the end of the day, I always ask myself why I’m here or why certain things happen and I’ve never been very close to an answer. There are questions I’ve carried with me for even longer than I can remember.”

It would have been quite terrifying to hear those words from anyone else besides Andy. If she still struggled to figure things out then you were practically cursed to be clueless for the rest of your existence. Although strangely enough, it was actually comforting to hear that she shared a similar sense of existential questioning. Both of you were human even if your lifespans or biology no longer were. 

“Okay, but you must have a guess for when we’ll see flying cars at least. Or do you believe people will really be able to walk on Mars one day?”

A smooth attempt to cover up her broadening smile by lifting her coffee up to her mouth might have gone unnoticed if you hadn’t been so enamored by each one of Andy’s actions. She had a harder time hiding her eyes, which playfully rolled at your question. 

“Sure, I suppose it’s possible. Hey, maybe you’ll be the first one and you can tell us all about it.”

“While the prospect of accomplishing something you’ve never done is intriguing, I wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

The words left your mouth, leaving only your pair of eyes holding hers throughout a deep silence. It wasn’t often that Andy looked like she was at a loss for words but this was definitely one of those times.

Quickly, you tried to cover up your confession with a stupid excuse. “I mean if there really are man-eating martians up there they’ll want to eat you first. You have way more muscle.”

“Right,” Andy laughed in agreement. “I guess that’s all I’m good for besides being a model for your artwork. Are you fast enough to draw me up there in time before I get turned into alien food?”

“Maybe.” You blushed and tried to go for Andy’s move to cover your face with your cup, only to realize that it was practically useless when it was made of glass. 

“I, uh, really wanted to get some sleep tonight before waking up for early training but I guess I’m not doing a very good job at that.”

“Sleep in, you deserve the break. You’ve been pushing yourself really hard and should get to sleep in for once. There’s no need to overexert yourself.”

“Wait, aren’t you leaving for your mission around sunrise?” Andy was planning to look for some intel in the city and you knew she might be gone for up to a few days. “Wake me up before you go so I can say goodbye.”

For a moment, all the Scythian can do is try to memorize the look on your face, wishing that she could permanently sketch the vision on paper like you could. You gazed up at her with such innocence and devotion in your eyes, as if she was simply running to get milk from the grocery store the next morning. The team had actually glossed over the more important details about Andy’s assignment and what it would entail. It wasn’t that you were unaware of Andy’s brutal past and countless killings, but you still had yet to witness such violence. She couldn’t help but worry that witnessing that side of her would not only change how you saw her, but also influence your own self perception when the time came to take another life yourself. It was painful to imagine the countless amount of years you might spend plagued by inner turmoil, hating the person you would become even if it was inevitable. She’d die in a million more excruciating ways if it would shield you from such a curse.

“Andy, are you alright?” Your voice of concern brought her back to the present. There was a slight look of worry between your furrowed eyebrows that she wished to smooth out herself, but she practiced self restraint. 

“Sorry, I guess I’m a little tired too. If you want me to wake you before I leave then I will.”

With a satisfied smile on your face, you nodded and rose from your seat. The urge to ask Andy if she might join you tugged at your heart. You always slept more soundly when it was in her arms. Your nightmares were much more infrequent by now and it had been some time since you had been able to fall asleep while breathing in her scent, snuggling deep into her chest. The temptation to voice your request was almost impossible to resist, save for the fear of jeopardizing your friendship and making her uncomfortable by revealing your feelings. 

Eventually, you found yourself back in bed alone and replaying your conversation. One specific realization you couldn’t get over was that Andy had undoubtedly expressed some type of interest in the art you made of her. Sure, it’s possible that it might have been in a completely platonic sense, but you held onto the fantasy of it meaning something more and decided you’d keep it to yourself, for now.

#Andromache the Scythian x reader #andromache x reader #Andromache the scythian #the old guard #joe x nicky #booker #yusuf x nicolo #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #sebastien le livre #andy the scythian x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #immortal lesbians #Charlize Theron character

[eddiemunsxn]

— road gate.

masterlist. / nav.

❰ about. the one where we get billy back bc screw the duffelbag bros

❰ warnings. fem!reader, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, grieving, mentions of blood

❰ word count. 4.1k

❰ note. reader doesn’t know much about the upside down, and didn’t get involved with the party until the events of season three. she’s known max and billy since they first came to hawkins! also, i may write more than one version of billy coming back inspired from some theories i’ve seen. this one just came to me randomly and might not make sense or could be messy, but i just want him back anyway, anyhow dammit 😭

His absence was like a gray sky, spread over everything, and as sad as the beginning of springtime. Few people cried for him.

You held your grief, two limp tulips in each hand, and one in your mouth. Your grip was tight, and your cries muffled by the stem. No one else cared to water these flowers, these memories of sacrifice, for Billy. Your tears were not enough to keep them alive. You nor Max, the only people he was rooted in.

So you ripped the flowers out like knives from a body, letting the arteries dry up—letting every emotion finally bleed out. It was too much to keep the tulips in the earth of your heart when they were already dying. You needed to move on, but not forget.

Shut away in your room, and sitting on your bed, you let yourself feel the hurt. The hurt was important to heal.

You went through all the shades of blood, from the brightest—the best memories of you and Billy, to the last degree of reds—black. Terrible anxiety. It seized you by the throat. Seized you by the need for Billy’s existence—the feeling that without him you were lost, or rather, that you preferred anything at all to having lost him.

Your anguish made you fold in on yourself, chest pressing to your knees. It made your hands form claws, fingers curling in like a dead spider’s legs. You froze in that position, rigid as if plagued by rigor-mortis. You trembled as your sobs forced your jaws apart in a silent scream. It pained your jaws to be open so wide, and caused a heavy headache.

Griefs and regrets came to you one by one, attracted to the smell of your emotions’ blood. They perched on your shoulders as crows, weighing you down even more, talons sinking into you.

You wished you looked at Billy longer. All those times he tried to invite reactions out of you by standing so close his scent filled your lungs—teakwood, leather, and cigarettes, and angling his head down to try and meet your eyes. You were too flustered to do more than glances, but he thought it was cute. It showed in the way he grinned—the type of smile he only ever had around you.

His happiness was as rare as a blue moon, and when it was there, it was like a chord from his favorite song—of such pure gravity. It saddened you to see how he normally felt; angry, and needing to lash out from pain, by inflicting it. But he didn’t deserve to suffer or die. He was not unforgivable. He just needed the chance to change, to do better.

You wished you could have given him more happiness. Something to ease his pain. He didn’t always let you in, even when his eyes gleamed like liquid mercury with tears. Neil always made him feel weak, so Billy strived to be strong however he could.

You wished you touched him more than you already had the chance to. More than playing with the prominent curl of hair at his forehead, drawing a hand up his chest, exposed even beneath two layers of clothing, or simply embracing him.

In public, you were shy, but he never was. He secured an arm around you whenever he could; across your shoulders, or around your waist and hooked a finger in your belt loop. Always, in some way, you were pulled closer to him. He needed the kind of touch that didn’t instill fear, but comforted him, and you gave that to him.

In the school parking lot, you vividly remembered the boldest thing you did. You weren’t one to show off, but you were overcome with such a need for Billy that you didn’t care who saw.

You sat on the hood of his Camaro, and he stood between your legs, squeezing your hips. Like an enthused cat, his pupils were swollen, limiting the blue of his rises to a thin ring.

He glanced down to your chest, fitted with a cami top, and detailed with lace. The material had the sheen of pearls, and hugged your shape; the swell of your braless breasts, and the curves of your torso.

Stop looking, you thought. And do something.

When he didn’t, you did. And it took him by surprise. Pleasantly.

You snatched his chain necklace, Mother Mary and Son pendant imprinting your palm, and pulled him down to capture his lips. You fit him tighter between your legs, your other hand grasping his denim jacket.

The kiss was hot enough to join metals, and branded your memory forever. But you wished you had more of those moments. Always more than what you already had.

You could have had more time with him; if you skipped classes like he asked, if you didn’t leave his bed before late morning, if you lingered by the pool a little longer. But you tried to cherish what time you did have with him. You didn’t know it would be all you’d have.

Your anguish soon calmed, loosening its grip on your body, but you wondered if you had any blood left in you. As though you were coming down from hot flashes, your body was chilled and shivering.

Lying down on your side and scrunching up in the fetal position, you looked at the empty space next to you.

It was strange how memories were all around you. Strange, uninvited, and painful, yet still warming.

School nights never mattered. Billy found ways to convince you of that. He only wanted you, not good grades.

You had tried to make an effort to be quiet when he knelt down and got his fingers full of you, his mouth on you. The splash of his tongue melted you like a sugar cube.

Then you were full of him, and every thrust took you and him together like a violin bow, drawing sweet noises from two separate strings.

But it was the aftermath, in the morning light, waking up to him after he undid you the night before. His breaths were cool and light on your skin. He touched your face, reading the structure of you like braille; tracing the curve of your jawline and cheekbones, feeling the softness of your plush lips, lightly admiring the hickey on the pulse point of your throat.

You and him were quiet the whole time, but didn’t need words to speak to one another. Touch was a language, too.

You drew your fingers up his forearm, over the bumps of tendons, to tangle your fingers with his. Hands held up between you, sunlight gilded yours and Billy’s skin as if something holy was emanating from both of you.

You felt his pulse in his hand, and you were sure that was it. The mingling of heartbeats—thumping that morse code only lover’s understood.

A telltale pinch behind your eyes stole you from the memory. A memory of past bliss that became the anguish of today; how it leapt and snapped. How it nipped at you, unexpectedly. Cradling your hand, sobs bubbled out from you. You closed your eyes, hot tears stinging like fresh wounds.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes snapped open, body shocked stiff.

The voice was faint, and echoey as if coming from the end of a chasm. Wavering as if underwater. It was Billy’s voice.

On your nightstand, the lamp’s light stuttered like a palpitating heart.

Hearing his voice, seeing lights tremble—it had been constant for almost a year. You had not only lost Billy, but maybe your mind as well.

You didn’t talk to anyone about it. Not your parents. They didn’t know how Billy really died, and would medicate you for your “hallucinations”, or put you up with a shrink.

You didn’t talk to Max about it, either. Not lately. She withdrew from everyone. You still took her to school some days, but she was never there in that passenger seat. Her headphones whisked her away from this world as much as a good book did.

Your escape was Billy’s Camaro. You had saved it from the scrapyard, using your college funds to buy it and fix it up yourself. You didn’t have much knowledge of cars, but made do with books and lessons from VHS tapes.

The Camaro wasn’t the only thing of Billy’s you managed to keep. You had his denim and leather jackets, his necklace, and his silver spike earring.

Having the things of a person was never as good as having who they belonged to, just as you couldn’t enjoy a flower with only one of its petals. Although, these belongings kept you as close as you could get to someone who was gone. The connection to Billy through his things was a thin, measly string, but it meant everything. Just as much as the memories did—good and bad.

As you kept turning him over in your mind and in your heart, you closed your eyes again, exhaustion weighing you down like overly damp clothes.

God help him. He had no one to guide him. He was in the dark, and the only light was red. It blinked and cracked the black sky. All around him, spores floated like marine snow in the oceans. Fleshy vines branched across everything—up walls, trees, across the ground. Creatures, some with faces that opened up as toothed petals, prowled and flew overhead.

Billy was sure it was hell, perhaps his personal hell. It mirrored Hawkins, yet there were no other people, and his house didn’t have his belongings—as though he never lived in it. But your house—it was where he went to and stayed. He always felt safest there, even in what he assumed to be hell, or purgatory.

Your home had your things, especially your mom’s, from her Eternal Beau and Hornsea Pottery collections in the kitchen, to the glass fish ornaments and L’Enfant Poster in the living room.

The name plaque on your bedroom door ensured that Billy, as well as your prying parents, knew exactly whose messy and poster adorned room lay within. Almost every girl had a door plaque, and if it helped you to assert your individuality, then why not?

But Billy didn’t recognize some things in your room. You had Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet posters (if you weren’t Duran Duran then you were all about Tony Hadley and the Kemp Brothers) when he remembered posters of Mötley Crüe, Twisted Sister, and AC/DC.

What he did recognize were your Pound Puppies—teddies based on sad-eyed, homeless dogs in the pound, snow globes, your lockable diary, Smash Hits magazines, and your boom box. Even if it was tacky, it was pink, and you probably played Wham and Duran Duran because, of course, before the hormones kicked in and you wanted posters of real rockstars on your walls, you were a lot more innocent.

Such as with your Care Bears. A sunshine bear, a lucky bear, and one of the love bears sat lined up against your pillows; neat as books on a library shelf.

Billy stood by your bed. It was tidy, like usual, but he had known it to be unmade most days because of him. He grabbed the coral pink Love-a-Lot Bear, remembering...

He snagged the bear and flopped onto your bed with a content sigh, crossing his legs. He held the pink plush on his bare chest, red button shirt as open as a sliced wound.

“Can you give me some privacy, please?” Girded with a towel, you moved to your dresser. “Like, just close your eyes or something.”

“Mmm.” Billy hummed, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips into a thin line. “No.” He opened his eyes, using the care bear’s paw to point at you.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, digging around in your drawers.

“Why are you so shy all a sudden?”

“I’m not. I just don’t like being watched. It’s like when teachers are looking over your shoulder during a test.”

“I like looking at you.” He knew you by your sounds, your movements, so well. He always tried to listen and look at you like you were new to him. He didn’t want to get used to you, didn’t want to lose you to habit. He wanted to experience you every day like the first time he saw you, the first time he heard your voice, and the first time he felt you.

“For how much longer?” You spoke quietly, maybe not meaning for him to hear it, but he did.

“Hey.” His heavy tone made you turn to him, and he moved away from the bed to stand before you. He gripped the care bear at his side. “You think I’m gonna move on to the next girl after a few weeks? Think I’ll get bored?”

You looked up at him with eyes like your stuffed Pound Puppy’s, big and droopy. When he saw you looking up like that he knew that he loved you, and that it was for always. He knew it then and there. It was a strange feeling - when he knew quite certainly in himself that something was for always.

“Do I still find you sexy, and will I continue to? Hell. Yes.” He emphasized the two words by tapping the care bear’s nose against yours. It elicited a flustered smile from you, one that you tried to hide by dipping your head.

Warmth bloomed in Billy’s chest. “Look at me, princess.”

You did.

“I still try to get a peek at you when you get out of the shower, or when you get dressed in the morning. I want to look at you because I like you. Maybe more than I thought I would.”

“Then you’re an idiot, Billy Hargrove. You’re stuck with me.”

His smile pinched dimples in his cheeks. “Guess that means I’m your idiot.”

He heard you crying again. The sounds faded in and out like a tuning radio. He sank to his knees like a desperate man into prayer beside your bed, gripping the Love-a-Lot bear. “I’m here. I’m here…” He cried. The crying of something leaving the body—hope.

He had tried to talk to you. Tried to let you know he was stuck and could hear you. He heard everything you said, and even the music you played.

The first time he heard the music from your pink boombox, Cutting Crew’s song, “I’ve Been In Love Before” was playing. And something cradled the boombox, hanging in the air like dust.

Wary, Billy touched the particles, and as he did the song was tuned louder, the dust turned gold around his hand. The same thing happened with lights when he neared them. They got brighter.

He thought he could reach you this way, but it didn’t seem to work. He wondered if you were even hearing him when he tried to talk, or when he messed with your lights and music.

He knew this had to be his personal hell when he could hear you, when he knew you were there on the other side, but no matter what he did he would go unheard; be a ghost in the wall, fated to only observe as things lived and moved on without him.

Billy turned his back to your bed and settled down against it, eyes dry as a salt bed, and holding your care bear to his abdomen. A tear drew a hot line down his cheek, and he closed his eyes.

After you awoke, you retreated outside to the Camaro. All you had left to do was paint the scratches left from repaired dents, and the areas where the original paint was burned off.

You sat on a vibrantly colored gym scooter, able to easily roll around the car. Like a jeweler looking through a loupe, you focused intently on the scratches, blinking the strain from your eyes as you colored them in.

When you were done, you used your feet to push yourself away, the wheels of the scooter scratching against the cement. Admiring the car in full view, you drew in a deep, shaky breath. It was done.

Closing the driver’s door, you sat for a moment. You were almost too nervous to start the Camaro. Or too excited? You looked at the rearview mirror. Hanging from it was Billy’s necklace and earring—your lucky dice.

They were the push you needed. You turned the key, startling the engine awake, and jumpstarting your heart. It beat furiously in your chest and ears, but the vibrations from the car’s grumbling eased you.

Billy opened his eyes. He’d know that growl anywhere. He fled your room, following the noise outside. Through the spores, floating like wispy cotton seeds, he saw the dust again, mimicking where his car’s tail lamps and headlights were.

You had his Camaro.

He heard it accelerate, and like jets drawing clouds in the sky, the dust trailed behind.

His knee jerk reaction was to try and follow, but he stopped himself, knowing you’d be back. But when? Your empty house here felt emptier without your ghostly presence.

A cawing screech made him whip around, heart stuttering. The creature, with the face of a hookworm and leathery wings, was perched on the porch light. It wagged its wings and leapt from the light, prompting Billy to run for the tree line.

Gliding over the roof, more bats gathered like snowflakes. Their flapping shapes, appearing as static, were accentuated by the sky’s pulsing crimson light. They angled down after Billy.

The wind tossed and played with your hair as you sped down lonely roads, tracing their curves and ignoring their low number limits. You drove as Billy always did—a little too fast, a little too recklessly. You wanted to relive him anyway you could.

You momentarily closed your eyes, imagining it was you and him in the car, and he was the one driving. You held your hand out of the window, dipping into the high winds, and splaying your fingers; the breeze seeping through like cool water.

You saw Billy beside you, crooked smile teasing his mouth, and bumping his palm on the steering wheel to the beat of Poison.

The softness of his smile overwhelmed you with the stirring of wings in your chest. I’m gone for him, you had thought fondly. Aren’t I?

It was true. He was as deep in you as your pulse.

Absorbed in daydreams, you must have driven all around Hawkins, outlasting the sunlight. Night took reign, and on your way back you mindlessly took the road Fred Benson’s corpse was found on.

And something glowed ahead. A light, deeply hued as a natural, red spinel stone, poked through the middle of the road.

Billy hid in a gutted cabin, waiting, and trembling. It had been quiet, save for the thunder. The storm was always the same, never a molten silver sky, never shedding cool tears, only angry—like an infected wound.

He missed sunlight. He missed the shitty cow smell of Hawkins. He missed you. He missed his shitbird sister Mad Max. He missed being safe.

Here, everything was a threat, from the way the sky wrote its bad omens in messy red ink, to the predators always looking for him. Billy didn’t know what would happen if he was caught by one of the creatures. If he was killed, would he come back and be forced to try and survive all over again?

He moved away from the wall to peek out of the window, its jagged glass teeth threatening to chomp down on him as if he were in the jaws of an anglerfish. He skimmed the canopies for the bats—whether they were flying or camping in the branches. Nothing.

He emerged from the woods onto a road. He had to get back to your house. It was the only place he wanted to be here. But he heard something familiar to his right. The sound of his car.

You slowed the Camaro to a stop, and sat there, staring at the gaping wound. Quite literally. It looked like flesh sliced open.

Leaving the car running, you stepped out of it, haloed by the headlights. They cast a cookie cutter shape of your shadow that stretched taller than you. You warily approached the glowing gash.

Standing over it, you couldn’t see through, but the concealing of whatever was inside was thin—like skin stretched taut over a drum.

Billy expected the sound of the Camaro to pass by, but it stood still as those clouds of dust. For some reason, you had stopped. And then he saw the muffled light reaching out from the road. He thought it was sunlight, real daylight, when it was only from the Camaro.

He hurried to it, and upon seeing a human shadow stamped to the flesh of the gate, his body heat was snuffed out. Was it you? Slowly, he lowered to one knee. His body felt like an eggshell filled with arctic water; so cold, he could feel it emanate off of him.

“Who’s there?” He called.

You stilled, lungs on pause, and eyes blown wide as a camera lens. Billy. His voice. Coming from the other side?

“I said, who’s there?!”

Like a puppet cut from its strings, your legs gave out and you dropped to your knees. God damn everything if this wasn’t real. “Billy?!”

“Y/N? It’s you? Is that you?!” Emphasizing his last three words, Billy frantically beat his hands against the pavement.

“Billy, it’s me!” Your throat closed up, almost too tight to speak. “I’m here.”

Faraway screeching sounded. Billy twisted around, and flapping wings in the sky injected desperation into his voice. “Fuuuck! They’re coming!”

“Who? Billy, how do I get to you?!” Then you recalled that what covered the gate looked thin. Thin enough to easily break. At least you hoped so. “Billy grab my hand!”

Grimacing, you plunged your hand through the moist flesh, bursting out on Billy’s end like something undead waking from its grave. He seized you by the forearm, his grip a metal clamp.

You pulled, but the gravity of the gate kept it from being easy. You grabbed Billy’s arm and straightened up, bending your knees to get leverage. Gritting your teeth, tendons in your neck swelled as though they might pop free.

Like uprooting a long weed, Billy rose out from the road. He slapped his free hand down and pushed himself up, muscles bulging, and onto his side.

The strength snuffed from your body, you collapsed by him. Neither of you let go of one another. You always had the strength to hold on no matter what.

Eyes rimmed with stinging tears, you looked at him—all of him. His hair was wet and plastered to his face, as if he had just risen from water. Dried blood stained his white top like cola spilled over a table cloth. The blood from nine months ago.

You reached for him, moving the hair from his face to see his eyes. Fright and exhaustion shadowed them. But they were still as blue as you remembered.

You realized he was shaking.

“Billy,” you whispered. You thought of how many nights you had lain awake missing him, and caught hold of him tightly, melting against him like snow into fire.

He snaked an arm around you, molding you to him.

The miracle of both of your actualities, your breathing forms, and of being able to hold one another again was as great a miracle as hope and desperation may produce. Perhaps greater.

He drew a hand up your figure and sowed his fingers in your hair like roots in soil. Burying his face in the nook of your throat, he whispered in a broken, strained voice, “Y/N, I was so scared. So scared. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. He made me do it. Please, he made me do it. I’m sorry.”

He was home. And the first thing he did was apologize.

“I know.” You squeezed words out from your tight throat. “I know it wasn’t you.” You cradled his cheek, encouraging him to look at you—even with those eyes, glistening like light striking the edges of a diamond. “It’s not your fault.” You touched your thumb to the edge of his lips. “You’re safe now.”

He relaxed in your hold, his trembling easing away from the warmth of your words. Closing his eyes, tears escaped down his cheeks—one touching the webbing between your fingers. He exhaled a shaky breath he had been holding for months. He had finally awoken from a nightmare. It was all over.

You kissed him as you had in the school parking lot, but with the hunger of a year, and the tenderness of promise.

Pressing your forehead to his, you murmured, “You’re home, now.”

❰ tags. @bdpst-massacre

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x fem!reader #stranger things x reader

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

prelude

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

pairings: park sunghoon x oc

word count: 2k

warnings: a contains violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: leave some messages on my ask! thank you so much for reading.

© 2023 eeunoia — all rights reserved.

here ‹ teaser | chapter one › here

You screamed as you sat yourself up from your bed awoken from sleep by a terrible nightmare. Shaking a bit, hair messy and drenched with cold sweat, your eyes wanders around the dimly lit room anxiously. One of your hands slowly trailed towards your chest and clasped your frantically pounding heart. Being acutely aware of what happened in the dream made you so upset.

Tears formed at the corner of your eyes, unable to even think properly. These are just one of those days when you dream or more like relive what happened to you that horrifying night. Memories you wish to entomed at the back of your mind and eventually forget about it. If you can only get rid of it like magic, you would trade anything. You stood up and head towards your bathroom, bowing to your fate to go on your day like nothing’s wrong.

After taking a shower and dressed up to fully freshen yourself up before going to the office, you stopped by your kitchen for a coffee. While waiting for the beans to be ready, your mind went blank and to feel frazzled without even starting your day is unbelievable for you. The nightmare sure worked and sucked all of your energy for today.

The ride on the way to the company you work at was surprisingly short, probably because you are still out of it. When you arrived at your floor, Laurie, one of your team members, looked in distress. She was leaning over her table, hands resting over her head while staring blankly at nowhere. At the sight of you, a hint of irritation flashes through her face.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, jumping off from her seat then start dragging you towards the pantry of the office. Taking advantage of the early time and having the whole room for yourselves.

“What happened? You don’t look okay.” it was funny coming from you when you aren’t too.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, “What happened last night on your date?” her way of saying it was like an interogation. The bitterness through her tone was clear. Your brows folds and draws together, causing a crease to your forehead. It was hard for you to put the puzzle together right away.

“Huh? Last night?” your words stall at the attempt of remembering of what you did the past night.

Your brows arched after a couple of seconds, “Ah! You mean with Mr. Kang? It’s not a date, Laurie. Its a work dinner.”

The unpleasant look on her face shows off her frustrations about something. “Well something obviously happened and you did something that upsets Mr. Kang! Maybe he thought it was a date! Did he confess? Did you reject him?” she sounded worked up, trying to make you throw up answers she’s been deprived off. It was too many for you to even process it one by one.

“He invited me to go on a trip outside of the country and I declined it saying I have a boyfriend—”

“He did what?!” her eyes were big and even held both of your arms, shaking you a little. You blinked a couple of times, confused and started to feel uneasy of her behavior. You two aren’t the closest friends and she’s very vocal of her totally not liking you. She often tries to make malicious comments about how Mr. Kang has always too kind with you, envying.

“He likes you, Ae!” she says. “And now that you rejected him, he’s punishing all of us. Thank you very much!” the sarcasm was too much that it hurts your ears.

You are still confused, but you shift your weight on your other leg before trying to catch on what’s happening. She lets go of you and leaned over the counter before staring blankly at the wall like a new found habit. She looks like she’s about to go crazy any minute now.

“Why? What did he do?” the eagerment now passed on you, worried of what he possibly did that upsets Laurie this much.

She glanced at your direction, eyes shooting glares, “He wants us to start again with our campaign advertisement.”

Now that made you utterly shock. You refuse to believe what you heard from her. Closing your distance with her, you stepped once and gently grabs her arm to make her look at you.

“He can’t do that! He just approved it yesterday.”

She pursed her lips and shoved your hold off. ”He just did, Ae. He calls me a while ago and he looked so pissed.” she then lets out a strained sigh. Even without saying it straightly, you are being blamed. She’s blaming you.

“I can’t believe you flirts with him and then rejects him! Now all of us have to suffer because of you!” the veins over her neck pops out in frustration.

“I neve did that, Laurie.” you tried telling her, but she just rolls her eyes as she cross her arms.

“Whatever! Everyone here knew you’re suspicious.” she mumbles the last line. You heard it, tho and you aren’t surprised.

Your shoulder fell too as you leaned over the counter beside her. Eyes shut for a while you throw your head back and silently wished all of this are not happening. The exhaustion you were feeling before going here just got worst. This day isn’t going well for you already.

“There you are,” the two of you snaps your head at one of your workmate when she talked.

“Mr. Kang is looking for you, Ms. Lee.”

You stood up straight as you glanced at Laurie for a while. She showed an unpleasant expression before rolling her eyes in defeat. You told the girl that you will go in a bit and so she left. Laurie turns and face you.

“Go and try to change his mind! Do something, Aelia! Fix the mess you created!” her requests came out arrogantly and gave a short nod.

You feel bad that she’s making up stuff and that she’s blaming you, but you admit you felt bad for the whole team. Maybe you are at fault at some way and so you should really do something about it. You can’t just let it all put into waste.

Determined to stood your ground, you walks towards the office of your boss. His secretary’s restless expression on her face indicates that he’s probably in a foul mood. It somehow made you feel anxious.

“He’s waiting for you.” she stood up and opted to open the door for you, “He’s in a very bad mood, Ae.” she whispers under her breath as a warning that made your knees almost wobble on your way inside.

He was at his swivel chair, a folder on his hand, forehead creased while reading whatever document it is. He didn’t spare you a glance at all. Its starting to make you wonder if the guy from last night’s dinner and him are the same person. Thinking that you made someone upset pinches something in you. You hate that feeling at all.

“Good morning, Mr. Kang.” you tried to sound enthusiastic to somehow lift the mood, but to your dismay he was unresponsive.

“I want you to prepare your passport.” he stated that made you blink twice. His words didn’t sink in, totally not processing for you. Did he mention passport? Your passport?

“Sir?” you calls, baffled on the spot.

He finally lifts his gaze and eyes you with a placid look on his face. “Are you deaf? I said prepare your passport. I will send you in another country for a business meeting and a seminar.”

You have no idea if he’s just talking too fast or his words are just nonsense that’s why you cannot understand any of it. Pretty sure it was the latter as you can’t help but to start feeling irritated. He can be upset about last night, yes. But this is terribly unrighteous.

“I’m sorry Sir, but I can’t—”

“You can’t?” he cuts you off then lets out a scoff, “Are you saying I promoted the wrong person to be the team leader?” his tone taunting, sounding more like a challenge.

“N-No, Sir. It’s just I can’t go on a seminar and leave my team with all the works due.” your reason definitely makes a point, but your boss sure is determined on making you suffer.

“I don’t care. This is an order from your boss. Are you seriously reasoning out to me? I didn’t know you are this arrogant.”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to say anything that can upset him even more. He closed the folder he was holding and tilts his head to the side.

“Its either you go to that seminar or you put your resignation letter on my table tomorrow morning.”

Your shoulder fell at what you heard. He held you at gun point. You worked hard to earn the position you have right now, you did everything you could to be here and so you surely didn’t want lose this. If you think about it, there’s a lot of benefits if you go to this seminar. You’ll learn from it and it will be good to your work records, all in all you’ll gain from it. It’s just that after what happened from your last trip which is years passed already, you developed fear of going on out of the country trips. The mental trauma it caused you left a deep scar that just by thinking of being in a place you barely know cause you panic attacks. It was terrible.

Laurie was hopeful when you walked inside your office. She peeks through the cubicle like a meer cat and gaze at you with full curiosity.

“What? What did he said?” she asked.

You sighed heavily and crashed yourself over your swivel chair. The frustration, annoyance and stress slowly spoiling your mood you couldn’t even make yourself into saying it to her. Some of your team members were there as well, looking and waiting for an update. They already assumed that it didn’t go well based on how you’re looking right now.

“He tasked me to attend a business meeting and seminar outside of the country.” you mumbles that made Laurie even more confused.

“What? Why is he sending you there on a trip while we suffer here to revise everything?” she exclaimed, she’s so upset yet again.

The glares on her eyes didn’t slipped off of you. Its not surprising anymore. It often happen whenever the boss favors you, she always thinks that you are charming your way to success and that you’re being unfair. That was totally untrue. You know to yourself how much you worked hard for this. Some people just couldn’t keep their thoughts to themselves, judging you wrongly out of envy.

“It’s not a trip, Laurie. Its for business.” you tried to tell her, but she rolls her eyes and arrogantly sat back down.

“Whatever! This is all your fault in the first place! You’re making us re-do all of it while you go on a trip!” she started blabbering that made some of your workmates to stare.

You wanted to tell her that she’s wrong and that it would be more traumatic for you, but you refrained yourself. Instead, you stood up and went out to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, nobody was there so you can breath and calm down. Your mind are on a mess as of the moment. There’s just so much going on. You wanted to let it all out and to tell someone about it.

“Mom,” you calls out after she picks up the call.

“What is it? I’m playing poker with my friends! Why are you calling, Ae?!” obviously, she wasn’t interested. When did she ever took interest about your life or to you in general? Despite of it, you tried to still open up to her.

“D-Do you think I should quit my job? I’m really having a hard time.” your voice cracked while saying it and just by hearing you, a normal person will feel sympathy. It was clear as a water that you are having a hard time.

“What do you mean quit your work?! Are you crazy?! How will we pay our debts after sending you to college? What about our rent, our food? You are so selfish! You only think of yourself!” she was outrageous.

You felt your heart ache at her words. Not only that your Mom didn’t listen to your words, but she only thinks of herself. You are thankful for them for sending you to college despite pursuing the degree you don’t really like. But after graduating and working, your parents started depending on you like you’re their bank or something. They stopped working and just left everything under your care.

“I’m s-sorry, Mom.”

You have a lot of things you wanted to tell your Mother. None of it came out from your mouth. As always, you kept it to yourself. This is one of the things you hate. Your best friend always tells you that sometimes, you’re being too selfless. That you’re such a people pleaser.

A tear left your eye as you try to get your shit together.

“Stop being ungrateful and be a good daughter to your parents! Don’t give me headaches!” and with that she ended the call.

Your parents are not very fond of you. Ever since you were a child, you are by yourself. You learned things alone. Before, you tried to convince yourself that its because your parents are busy working to support your needs. Later on, it slowly dawned in you that maybe they don’t really love you. They just did what they need to do in order for them to have someone they can depend on. And they did. They raised someone with a soft heart, someone who values family so much that she will turn blind-eye to everything they do.

It was tiring, but you have no other choice. They are your family and even if they’re cold, they are all you have. Sometimes, you just wished you will find someone who will love you the way you love them.

“Park Sunghoon.” the young man lifts his eyes from the papers he was reading over to the old man who entered his office. The frown on his face tells Sunghoon that he’s clearly upset.

“You have no business in being here, Mr. Kwon.” he tried to sound casual.

“I will not tolerate this behavior anymore! My daughter doesn’t deserve this humiliation!”

Sunghoon sighs and settles the folder down to his table. “You’re the one who kept on putting her in that place. I already told you, I will never marry her.” his strict blank eyes watches him carefully, unfazed.

“You are a disgrace to your family! What kind of man will turn back to a promise? And you are calling yourself a leader?!”

Sunghoon tilts his head over to the side, “As far as I remember I never promised anything. It was my father who proposed about that engagement. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You are to follow your Father’s order! And that is to marry Luna!”

He scoffed, an unamused grin crept over his face. “I am not under him, Mr. Kwon. I don’t bow to him and follow his orders.”

Sunghoon stood up, his aura intimidating the older one. “I created my name on my own, without any help from him. Do you think I will let him control me? Nobody will ever make me follow their orders.”

“And yet you are a slave to your own emotions.” Mr. Kwon stated.

Sunghoon didn’t speak.

“This obsession you have with this girl,” he starts. “soon it will be all a waste of time. Once you realized it was just one of your rebellious stunts to prove something, you will know that marrying Luna is your best option to widen your influence and power.”

“I will do everything so you end up with my daughter.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and silently stared at the old mafia boss' eyes. Slowly, he grins.

“There’s only one girl that I will marry.” he says in calm yet cold tone. “And I’ll do everything as well to have her.”

here ‹ teaser | chapter one › here

main master-list

sinag main master-list

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @crjwon @love13tter @edensgardenn @simpforniki @classicroyalty @bridgebridgebirdiebridge @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @kimmchijjajang @hoonbrry @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @hiqhkey @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @moonlightisland @ayayiiie @aeyeree @bitchychildmiracle

tag-list:

@heeseung-min

#enhypen #enhypenwriters #eeunoiaverse #eeunoia #eeunoiswrites #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon yandere #enhypen sunghoon x you #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen yang jungwon #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen park jongseong #enhypen jake sim #enhypen kim sunoo #enhypen nishimura riki

[hyuganejiswife]

Overload | Megumi Fushiguro X GNReader

Masterlist

| REQUESTED, sensory overload, overstimulated, partner could be on the spectrum or just have sensory issues, panic, angst, fluff

Word Count: 613

Note: I’m sorry if this isn’t accurate, I’m writing the overstim part based on my own experiences. I get overstimulated by sounds pretty easily, and I’ve had to step away from doing my job at a previous job from nearly having a panic attack due to it. So I’m drawing from that. As far as I know, I’m not on the spectrum. Also, do not take anything I write as a generalization. Everyone who is affected by overstimulation experiences these things differently. I also do not have a service animal so my deep pressure explanation may not be accurate. I have a dog who loves to lay on me when I’m anxious, but she’s not trained for that and it’s my only experience.

You wanted to shrink away from the world. There was far too much going on all at once. Everyone was branched off in their own conversations. The TV was on, playing some movie that your friends and classmates had all but forgotten, and there was music playing from a speaker in the corner of the room because Yuji wanted to show Panda one of the songs he liked.

You could hear the faint sounds of some video game coming from Toge’s phone and it was driving you insane. You felt like you were being overloaded. Your mind couldn’t process everything that was happening. You could hear everything and nothing at all, all at once.

You stand and leave the room abruptly, half of your friends barely even noticing. Before Maki has even had a chance to stand from her seat, Megumi has made his way out after you, already summoning one of his hounds for you.

It was like he already knew what was wrong. And in fact, maybe he did. He’d been observing you quietly since you started to become more reserved about halfway through the evening. He knew it was only a matter of time before you were far too overstimulated, but he knew better than to ask you to leave or to even insist that you needed to go back to your dorm. He did that once and it led to an argument about you knowing your own limits. Still, it never makes him feel any better to watch you suffer in silence until you’ve decided you had enough.

As he pushes your door open, the demon dog slips past him and makes its home on your bed with you, laying its rather large head over your chest. Your eyes are closed and Megumi decides against saying anything, instead letting you have a moment to decompress and to decide when you are ready to hear his voice. He chooses instead to close and lock your door to prevent an intrusion, afterwards walking around and unplugging any electronics that may cause any type of noise. Once he’s done with that, he sits on the floor against your bed and waits, listening to the sounds of your sniffles filling the room as you start to come down.

A smile reaches his face when your hand finds his hair and he hears a small “thank you” leave your lips. He turns to look up at you, humming and tilting his head. “How are you feeling?” He whispers, still very careful not to be too loud for your sake.

“Bad.”

“That’s okay.” He waits, letting you go at your own pace as you look for the words to say. And if you chose to say none, that was okay too.

“I don’t know why it happens. And I feel bad for leaving every time. Like I’m offending someone or upsetting you and making you leave too.” You tear your gaze away from him, worried.

“I don't do anything that I don't want to do. I only go to those groups for you and because Gojo thinks it’s good for me. And when I leave, I’m relieved. You’re my favorite person. I’d rather be with you over anyone else. And forget about them, they understand, but you don’t owe them anything and certainly not an explanation or an apology. You can’t help it. That’s okay. I’m always going to be here for you, even if you only use me for my demon dogs.”

At his last remark, you find yourself laughing, fresh tears falling. This time though, your tears are filled with relief. Megumi, your wonderful partner, always knew how to make you feel better.

#bleu.writes #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #megumi imagine #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi angst

[carewyncromwell]

"I don't really need this in my life... Why don't we forget about it? (Go and take your soul...) (Go and take your soul...)

Thing is -- (Thing is -- ) Time was -- (Time was --) Part of me used to love you: Part of me still does... This light here -- Some become strangers..."

~"Some Become Strangers" by Stevie Nicks

x~x~x~x

Carewyn's dress inspiration // the other main song I listened to while drawing this

x~x~x~x

So I thoroughly blame @dat-silvers-girl for this...but while talking with her about my recent Evan Bach post, I mentioned that since Evan and the remainder of his family is in Westminster, just south of London, and Carewyn ends up settling in London to work for the Ministry of Magic, there would be a very good chance that the two could cross paths, even unknowingly.

When Evan was taking the Tube to work one day as usual, though, he did cross paths with Carewyn -- and on his end, at least, it was very knowingly. What first caught his attention was the teenage boy in his train car talking to someone on his other side.

"Ms. Cromwell? You okay?"

It was the name "Cromwell" that caught Evan's attention. He'd heard it more than once before, of course -- it was a relatively common surname -- but it still made him start every time, since it was Lane's maiden name. And according to that frankly kind of meddlesome witch Donna, Evan knew that his children had gone back to using that surname too, rather than his. When he looked up this time, though, he was confronted with the sight of the teenage boy standing on the train talking to a well-dressed young woman with ginger-red hair, sitting down a short ways away and holding her forehead in her hand.

"Mm...yes," she said lowly, after a moment. She forced a small ruby red smile as she looked up at him. "I just haven't...been in such tight proximity with so many people, in a while. It's...louder, than I remember it."

Evan blanched when he took note of the woman's eyes -- a bit sunken-in, but almond-shaped, and bright blue. However shadowed, they were Lane's.

Evan very quickly turned away, his heart racing. God, why -- why here, why her? Why his daughter? Why here, on his daily commute, right now...?

Was Lane here too? Jacob? God, the thought of seeing either of them almost made Evan feel more nauseous. Seeing Lane after so many years was a prospect that daunted Evan, but seeing his son was almost more terrifying. Jacob had always had a temper, and he'd so strangely latched onto his sister even as a baby that Evan thought it'd be likely he'd have to physically defend himself, if Jacob caught sight of him...that is, if Lane wasn't there to diffuse things. Lane had always been the one to try to calm things down...

Despite himself, Evan scanned the train car, searching for his ex-wife. When he didn't see her or Jacob, he felt the faintest flicker of disappointment, and then a wave of overwhelming relief. Not only did he hate the thought of his estranged family causing a scene...but he didn't think how much more strain his heart could've taken, seeing Lane again after so long...

"Do you not take the Tube much?" asked the teenage boy from behind Evan.

"Well, no. As you know, there are many other ways to get around. But well, considering where we're going, I figured those methods wouldn't be as ideal."

"You can Apparate with other people too, right?" said the boy mischievously. "That sounds fun."

"Mind what you say in public, Erik," said Carewyn, before adding something a bit quieter under her breath. Evan just barely picked out the word "Muggle."

Evan's lips came together tightly. So this boy was like Carewyn and Jacob, then? He was part of that...freak world of theirs too? To think that such a promising young boy would be molded in their image rather than live a normal life, same as Jacob was...

A thought occurred to Evan that made him straighten up sharply. Was this boy -- ?!

When Evan looked at the boy called Erik, though, he found he didn't resemble Carewyn much at all. Plus he looked to be 13 or 14, at least...Carewyn couldn't be his mother: she would've had to have been a mere child herself when he was born, if she had been. And Erik had called her "Ms. Cromwell" -- he couldn't be related to her by blood. If he was her son, he'd have called her "Mother," and if he was her sibling through another marriage (this thought made Evan's stomach squirm), he would've just called her by her name. And yet the way Carewyn spoke to him...it wasn't just platonic, there was something almost maternal there...

Was this boy her stepson, perhaps? Evan wondered. Had Winnie married an older man -- someone already married? She was a young adult now, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she'd be married...she was probably the same age Evan was, when he married Lane. But to marry someone who had a son this old already... Evan couldn't help but frown disapprovingly, imagining his daughter marrying a man a good twenty years her senior.

"Anyway...thanks for this, Ms. Cromwell," said Erik. "Coming with me to the cinema and all."

"Well, I could hardly just drop you off and leave you there," Carewyn said with a wry smile.

"I told you you could."

"You can tell me whatever you want: it doesn't mean I'll agree with it. And besides...this clearly means a lot to you. I want to be there with you for it."

The way Carewyn spoke to Erik startled Evan yet again. It certainly didn't sound like how he expected a mother to speak to her son -- Lane certainly had never sounded so casual with Jacob, and she was always much more coddling of him than Evan himself was. It was almost sibling-esque, the way they interacted -- and yet Carewyn's sentiment still came across as so...maternal, for lack of a better word. So fond and proud...

Evan turned around, just in time to see Erik's snarky expression seemed to visibly soften.

"...Thanks, Ms. Cromwell."

The boy with the curly blond hair then seemed to sober slightly.

"...Ms. Cromwell...I wanted to say I'm sorry. For what I said the other day."

Carewyn blinked, startled.

"To that biddy in Diagon Alley," Erik prompted. "You know, the one who called you my mum."

Carewyn seemed to immediately understand, and her face grew much more gentle. "Erik..."

"I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it," Erik muttered, his eyes awkwardly drifting over to his and Carewyn's reflections in the window. "I mean, yeah, she was stupid to think it, when you're not even that much older than me and we don't look a thing alike -- but well, you do kind of act like my -- like a mum sometimes -- and you were with me while I was getting my school supplies, so it was only logical for her to think it. And well...I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful...you know, for everything..."

"Erik," Carewyn cut him off very firmly. She brought a hand up and took hold of his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "That is the last thing I would think."

She paused. Despite himself, Evan couldn't help but listen that bit more intently, even while trying to not draw attention to himself.

"...After what happened to your mother...I understand you being upset about what that woman said," Carewyn said softly. "Of course I don't think it was right for you to have sworn at her...but I know your anger came out of trauma and pain, not anything vindictive or cruel. And the last thing I'd ever want to do is replace your mother...or your father. I know I never could, even if I wanted to."

Her eyes fell on her own hand on Erik's shoulder rather than staying locked on his.

"...I don't want to be your mother, Erik. I'm very happy just being your guardian, for however long you need me. That's all I sought from the court, and that's all I want to be."

"Guardian." Then Carewyn had adopted this boy, as his legal guardian? Evan tried to envision raising Jacob on his own in his mid-twenties without Lane, and the mental image was intimidating. Being raised by his great-uncle more than his own parents, Evan would've been utterly clueless in being a single parent -- even Lane he always assumed did a better job of it than he ever would have...

Erik's face had lost nearly all of its edge by this point -- if anything, his expression betrayed something much warmer.

"You really are smashing, Ms. Cromwell," he said. "I hope you know that."

His smile then grew a bit more devilish again.

"...So...since you're not mad about what I said...does this mean you'll give me some more of those special lessons you promised me?"

Carewyn gave a loud huff. "Those 'special lessons' are supposed to be to help you defend yourself -- they're not a reward to be taken away when I'm unhappy with you. But I could very well withhold some of the rather nice Christmas presents I've set aside, if you don't learn to clean up your language."

Erik gave a loud, cackling laugh that prompted Carewyn to smile a bit more wryly herself as she got up.

"Well, come on, then -- here's our stop."

Her sparkly starred heels clapped against the floor as she crossed to the closest door. Evan watched his daughter go, wrapping her arm around her ward as the two climbed off the train and into the crowd of the underground station. Then, silently shifting his gaze out the opposite window, Evan watched the wall fly past him as the train picked up steam and sped off toward the next stop.

Because Carewyn had been focused so tightly on Erik and his mind, so as to quiet the thoughts of all the other people on the train she could've picked up, she'd had no idea that she'd been sitting mere feet away from her father. Even if she had chosen to look anywhere besides Erik, it's likely she still wouldn't have noticed him -- for she had no memory of the man's face and would therefore have likely only seen him as a stranger. Which, sadly enough, he practically was, even while they still lived together...

Carewyn was a stranger to him. Evan knew it, and he'd known it, even when she was small. He'd never "gotten" her, largely because part of him had been afraid to -- failing so badly to connect with Jacob had been so painful that the thought of messing up again, and worse, with Carewyn had made him withdraw from her, hesitant to let her in. But there had been moments, here and there, where he'd deeply regretted not knowing her. Times when she -- strangely enough -- almost seemed more like him than Jacob had been. More respectful of the rules -- more interested in pleasing others. And yet Evan knew he truly hadn't known Carewyn. How could he, when it was so blatantly obvious to Lane that she had magic, same as Jacob? And now it was all the more obvious that Carewyn was nothing like Evan. The way she talked to her adopted son -- her "ward"...it was nothing like how Evan had ever talked to Jacob, let alone her. She sounded gentle, affectionate, playful...

She sounded...happy. Raising Erik in her strange World, on her own...Carewyn was happy.

"Are you okay, mister?"

Evan looked up, startled, to see a little girl with cornrows and a sunhat sitting across from him with her mother, who had looked up from her purse with muted concern. It was only when Evan looked up at the two that he saw himself reflected in the window behind him -- and the tear that had leaked out the side of his right eye down his face.

He quickly swept it off his face with one hand.

"Ahem -- yes, I'm...fine."

Feeling embarrassed, Evan turned his focus back out the window, away from the girl and her mother.

Carewyn was happy. It was a thought that was a wave of grief that drowned Evan's soul, and yet...that wave felt strangely comforting, all the same. He stayed floating in that feeling for the rest of his commute, until he finally reached his destination, at which point he walked to work.

Once he reached his office, Evan closed the door and put on an Elvis record as he got to work. It was something he often did, to help pass the time when the day was slow and his depression made it hard for him to soldier through -- and, unbeknownst to Evan, was also what Carewyn herself did, whenever she had trouble focusing on what she was doing.

"Today I stumbled from my bed With thunder crashing in my head, My pillow still wet from last night's tears... And as I think of giving up, A voice inside my coffee cup Kept crying out, ringing in my ears...

'Don't cry, Daddy... Daddy, please, don't cry... Daddy, you've still got me and little Tommy, And together we'll find a brand new mommy... Daddy, Daddy, please laugh again -- Daddy, ride us on your back again -- Oh, Daddy...please, don't cry...'"

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #carewyn cromwell #erik apollo #evan bach #lane cromwell #jacob cromwell #my writing #yes elvis is evan's favorite musician #it's kind of the one 'rebellion' he's ever allowed himself given how straight-laced and ridiculously conservative he is #it's also where carewyn got her own love of rock music though she doesn't remember it #she used to 'dance' to evan's elvis records #but hey let's be honest hound dog is a friggin' bop can you blame her #jacob was never as much into elvis his tastes are decidedly more bubblegum #his favorite band is ABBA and he also loves barbra streisand olivia newton-john and the osmonds #lane's more of a judy collins type <3 #and she's also friggin' in LOVE with traditional choir music #oh yeah the movie carewyn and erik are going to see? #star wars episode i: the phantom menace #released in the summer of 1999 one year after the end of the Second Wizarding War #(Erik ends up really not liking it but hey he's the ultimate star wars fan so of course he was excited about seeing it)

[mysterygirl1111]

So I found myself re-reading chapter 1 from Snow White with the Red Hair (and procrastinating on all the other things I should be doing right now 🙈), and I thought I would share some of my thoughts about it! Warning, my rambling is not that consistent lol

Now, the curtains draw, the text bubbles appear, and we are introduced to the main antagonist of this chapter, Prince Raj.

I am aware that though Raj’s actions are very questionable in this chapter, he does eventually get his own little (big) redemption arc. And for the most part, I really enjoy reading that, because it shows how Sorata doesn’t like to keep her characters one-dimensional! Yet, I don’t know… I always feel like this Raj and the Raj we get to meet later are similar, but they aren’t the exact same character.

Does that make sense?

Cause like, yes, Raj is super spoiled and believes that his status guarantees him getting everything he wants (whether it be a thing or a person). That doesn’t really change until he learns later on. However, the more we read about Raj, the more different he acts? To be more precise, it’s his mannerisms. During this chapter, Raj is presented as this person that “grew up in brothels” and whatnot, but like, we don’t really get to see that later on. He’s awkward around Shirayuki, and just feels super nervous and jittery. I know he’s a coward, but other than the part where he tries to blackmail Shirayuki with the poisoned apples, we don’t really get to see this manipulative, what-I-want-I-get aspect of him. I would’ve really liked seeing more of it before his redemption arc.

Maybe that’s just me? I don’t know. Anyhow, moving on…

I got to say, Shirayuki has a lot more spunk then I remember her having xD Like, she’ll smile pleasantly at people and all but then would be having thoughts that aren’t that pleasant.

Everyone keeps underestimating her, but she’s not about that 😤

Every once in a while, her real thoughts slip by through her facial expressions, and those are honestly some of the BEST parts. Like good for you Shirayuki! Keep being such a girlboss XD

And who can forget about this iconic scene 😭

This scene and the scene where Zen eats the apple from Shirayuki’s hand are both really important and symbolic in relation to their relationship. By telling Shirayuki that red represents fate, and her having red hair means she had control over her own fate was just really cute but also uplifting as Zen was helping her view her hair, and self, from a more positive point of view. The apple scene kind of repeats the same point, but instead, Zen is the one that takes the leap to trust Shirayuki. To keep the joke going, even if Shirayuki was poisonous, Zen is somewhat resistant to poisons, so

Also, Zen really fell heads over heels over Shirayuki by this point (something which Mitsuhide and Kiki noticed immediately). I know he mentions it later, but seeing it happen just makes me 🥰

Another side note, maybe this should’ve been our sign all along 🥲

(if you know, you know…)

All in all, this was fun! I might do it for future chapters if I find the time to. In the meantime, here’s one of my favorite panels of the chapter :)

#snow white with the red hair #akagami no shirayukihime #zenyuki #ans #swwtrh #my ramblings

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

can I get your teetle head canons homie?

...which ones?

Cause like there's 2012, Rise, bayverse, mutant mayhem- yk?

I'm gonna guess and say Rise cause that's the only thing I've posted about so far

Let's start with Raph lol

He likes to work out and train really early in the morning cause everyone's asleep and it's super peaceful.

His favorite drink is hot cocoa with those giant marshmallows and whipped cream

When he's bored, he likes to shadow box the air

His favorite superhero is Thor because he's also really buff but a total sweetheart

His love language is Quality Time (don't come for me)

He's blind in the eye that was punctured from the Kraang, so it's hard for him to read things

Even harder cause he's dyslexic

When he can't sleep from nightmares, he tends to train with Buddy to take his mind off of it.

He loves teddy bears (But that's canon so)

He really wishes that he could be friends with humans and they wouldn't be so scared of him

Is the one who volunteers at Todd's the most

Also is the biggest supporter of Cass's Girl Scouts

I'm gonna do Leo next (Side note he's my favorite so I have a lot more for him ;-;)

This man...makes all the puns. Sometimes when he can't sleep, he'll go on Reddit (or whatever) and look up puns/pick up lines

He doesn't sleep all the time, but when he does, it's in the most obscure positions known to human (turtle?) kind.

Once he mastered his portalling, he took advantage of it and travelled for awhile, exploring different places.

He's the most suspicious of people and prides himself on his intuition.

Cannot cook. Or bake. Or do anything involving an oven. If you ask him to preheat the oven, he'll ask how.

His favorite animal is a tiger, ever since he was a little kid, because "They have stripes like me!)

Speaking of stripes, He used to color them in with a green marker because he didn't like them. His brothers noticed, and all agreed to draw stripes on their faces until he stopped.

His favorite drink is Sprite (for some reason) he also really likes mint tea (if it's made right.)

He loves hair on people, and wishes he had some of his own. He likes to watch hair styling videos and pretend he's doing his own sometimes

He's terrified of bugs

He tried drawing on eyebrows like Donnie once, but hated it so much. (Turns out he's allergic to sharpie on his skin)

He's terrible at drawing

He's actually really good at running and has a really high stamina level

Used to picture himself being a racecar driver

His favorite Disney movie is the Hunchback of Notre Dame, but he would never admit that. If anyone asks, it's Wreck-it-Ralph.

Has an insatiable sweet tooth

Feels phantom pain in his chest sometimes that feels like it's being ripped open

When this happens, he curls into a ball under a weighted blanket and focuses on breathing

Him and Junior have random movie nights when they're both not able to sleep

Donnie time

His sleep schedule is terrible, and he tends to forget what time is most days (I'm not projecting)

Has several rubber ducks on his desk so that when he gets stuck, he can do that thing where he explains the thing to the duck

His favorite field of science is quantum mechanics

He was always really good at math as a child, but couldn't do English to save his own life

His favorite color used to be green, but Splinter called him purple because all of the turtles were green, so it eventually changed to purple

He hates the texture of slime (and how messy it is)

Surprisingly enough, he's the one who sneaks into the human world the most (mostly to go to libraries and science institutions, but hey, even the world's most renowned scientist wants Taco Bell sometimes.)

Speaking of Taco Bell, the only way he will eat any fast food is if he scans it for hair and the like. His worst fear is finding a hair in his food.

You would think that his favorite board game would be chess or monopoly or something, but nope. It's Scrabble. (He likes coming up with really obscure words to mess with everyone else.)

He's super super squeamish which is why Leo is the medic. The sight of blood makes him light-headed, and once when he was learning about the heart, he passed out.

He's a bonafide theater kid, and if given the opportunity can and will rant for hours about different musicals.

His least favorite style of music is rap

Or country

He has a hidden mini fridge in his lab that has a bunch of skincare products that he pretends he doesn't have when his brothers are around

Sometimes him and April have 'girl's days' where the basically gossip and April paints his nails.

His love language is torn between act's of service and gift-giving.

He's not touch-adverse, per-say, but he doesn't really like to be touched without warning.

He always hated magic shows, and if they were on tv he would point out how they did the tricks. (Leo hated that.)

His favorite Disney movie is Big Hero 6 and he often info-dumped about it to anyone who would listen.

He really likes to chew ice

When he gets bored, he'll test his ability to stay underwater. (it scares the ever living life out of Raph)

He has scars on his shell from the Kraang ship and they're really sensitive

Michelangelooooo

His face always has stickers or drawings on it

He used to want to be a makeup artist and used to practice on April all the time

Orange is indeed his 'life color' and his favorite fruit! his favorite dessert is orange sorbet.

He doordashes food to homeless people sometimes

His favorite superhero is Spider man, or Black Panther

He once did a character study on Ariel, and ended up doing a whole art portfolio, comic, and Pinterest board on her. She was his hyperfixation for a hot minute

He used to pass out as a child sometimes because of his hypoglycemia, and it would freak everyone out. At one point Leo finally figured out that he had hit and ever since then, there's only been a few incidents

When he cleans his desk it only stays clean for about a day, and then it's dirty again and it annoys him to no end

Has an extensive knowledge of spices and seasonings, and every food that he makes tastes like everything good in the world and sunshine combined.

He is an active animal activist and is staunchly against animal cruelty and experimentation

When his hair starts growing in, he goes to April for help with it, and puts little bows and ribbons and hair ties in it.

His favorite game is Animal Crossing and whenever one of his villagers moves away, he sobs dramatically

He loved trains as a kid and as a result he's freaky good at drawing them and knows a crap ton about them

He organizes slideshow nights, family game nights, and family dinners

He's super into the holidays and is the one who made/bought all the decorations

He used to collect barbies to use as drawing models

He was super sad there wasn't that many Ken dolls though, and insisted on sending a complaint to Mattel

Was the first one in line for the Barbie movie too

Anyways sorry this was so long- but I really liked this ask

If you want me to do my April and Casey (jr and sr.) ones then send in another ask.

#rottmnt #rottmnt raph #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #bring back rottmnt #rottmnt headcanons #headcanon #ask #send asks

[pinkipeachiikeen]

Galaxy Boy (Yamaguchi x Fem!Reader)

Hurt/comfort oneshot

Word count: 6230

Summary: Yamaguchi overhears Y/n talking about how much she hates her *‘freckles’ so Yamaguchi wants her to give him a makeover- but gets a whole lot more than he bargained for

childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, anxious yams, lots of fluff

Authors Note: I really went all out in this fic- a lot more than expected. I just relate to Yamaguchi a lot anxiety wise which took this fic from a cute little scenerio type thing to a whole 6000+ story and honestly? I’m not ashamed. I hope this can provide some comfort to others that suffer with anxiety as well 

Also even though it says reader has freckles- reader is not of specific race and their was no skin tone set in mind and does not have to have freckles 

Content warnings: VERY anxious Yams. and VERY brief mentions of self harm? (Yams mentions picking freckles off)

Likes, reblogs and comments are much apprecited! Tell me what you liked in the story! How it made you feel! Every comment and such is motivation for me to write more

“I look DISEASED!”

“Girl, you look fine.”

“Do you not see them! I’m hideous! 

“Y/n, it’s not even that bad! Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic!” she claims as she slams her locker, causing a metallic ring through the deserted hallway, making both her and the boy peeking around the corner flinch. “Okay, Maybe I was being the slightest bit dramatic.” The girl admits, fidgeting with her fingers as she looks away sheepishly. God she’s so cute. Yamaguchi sighs. And so out of my league. The said object of the boy's affection turns her head around to almost catch his eye, but he dives behind the corner at lightning speed, holding his breath. “What are you looking at?” Her friend asks. “Nothing, I just thought I heard something.”

Yamaguchi can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest. What am I even doing here? He was just walking back from the bathroom and he heard his friend's voice and wanted to say hi, but didn’t wanna interrupt the conversation she was having. So naturally, he ends up hiding because talking to the other sex is scary, even if it’s just Y/N, someone he’s known for ages.

And someone who had a crush on them for almost as long.

Yamaguchi never meant to fall for her, it just kind of happened, like most cases of young love. Y/n is just so- How can Yamaguchi even explain it? She’s just so ethereal to him. Like a fairy, brightening up everyone's world, and pulling them out of their dark, dim shell.  She speaks her mind and stands her ground, something that is so foriegn to him, theat he tends to forget she struggles with her own troubles from time to time as well. Yamaguchi finds himself feeling lucky he got to see her become much more outgoing and comfortable in her skin over the years, but almost gets whiplash from seeing her stumble on her words and hide behind her hair with him, then biting back with playful- but harsh- jabs with Tsukishima. 

He remembers the day he met her almost like it was yesterday. Back then he had no idea that she’d change his life forever, he just liked her drawing of her pet dog. She’d always been an artist, and he remembers watching her trying out different mediums every week. She’d show up to school with her bag stuffed to the brim with different pencils, markers and even paints. She had to learn to carry all her supplies in a separate bag after one tube burst open all over the contents of her bag. After that she had bags on bags on bags filled with all the materials she planned to use throughout the day and they only got more complex over the years. Yamaguchi recalls the day she ran into their shared classroom and announced that your new canvas of choice would be skin, as she wanted to experiment with makeup. Soon after the bags of art supplies dwindled down to her makeup case and bag of moisturizer she used and tried to convince him and Tsuhishima to invest in, which had little avail. Much like the times where she’d ask him and Tsukishima to pose as models in her pieces, she would ask them to be the models or ‘test subjects'  for her makeup looks. Well not exactly. She never asks Yamaguchi to model. 

He has to pretend that doesn’t hurt each time. 

Yamaguchi shakes his head, banishing those thoughts away from his mind, once again. He doesn’t need that right now. “I’m serious though!” Her voice draws him back to reality, and back to the conversation. How does she look diseased? He asks himself. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous being alive, but he’s just a bit biased. 

 “Anyway, I stay in the sun too long ONCE and get all these freaking blemishes on my face. Once!” She complains, pointing to her face. Wait- is she pointing at- Her friend shakes her head. “It’s not even that bad! Can’t you use a cream or something to get rid of them?” Y/n shakes her head. “I tried everything! At this point i’m considering picking them off.” What?! Her friend sighs. “You really are dumber than I thought. How would you get to practice makeup with big old gashes on your skin? And you know they would probably just come back.” her friend reasons. Y/n flutters her lips as she adjusts her bag. “Yeah, I know. I'm just tired of looking at them And using so much makeup to cover them up all the damn time. I’m almost out of concealer. Again.” Y/n said something else as her and her friend walked back to their classroom, but they were too far out of earshot at that point and Yamaguchi couldn’t seem to care. His heart was plagued with her words. 

“Diseased.”

“Hideous.”

Yamaguchi felt sick. The only thing on her face that was even relatively new that she could be talking about was her freckles. Like the ones completely decorating his face. Y/N never had freckles growing up, but she did always complain about having sensitive skin and could’ve easily gotten them from the sun like she mentioned earlier. Her words keep running through his head with no end in sight. She’d rather harm herself than have freckles? Harm herself in stead of looking like me? He’s aware that she was probably being dramatic, but logic has no place in the mind of an anxious teen.  If she thinks that way about herself and her few freckles, what does she think of me? Yamaguchi takes a deep breath in and adjusts his clothing that was wrinkled against the lockers. He knows what he has to do. 

“What are you even talking about?” Tsukkisima asks, while adjusting his headphones. “Whatever, it’s nothing,” Yamaguchi sighs and fiddles with the pencil in his hand. “What’s the answer to number six?” Tsukishima grasps Yamaguchi’s twiddling pencil. “Stop that shit. What’s up?” Yamaguchi bites his lip and mutters something incomprehensible. “Huh? Speak up.” “Why doesn’t Y/n ask me to model for her!?” Yamaguchi shouts, bursting out of his seat and  slamming his hands down on the table garnering stares from everyone else in the library. Tsukishima’s eyes widen at his friend's outburst as Yamaguchi’s flushed face only gets redder. “Sorry.” he apologizes, settling back down in his chair.. “You really wanna be Y/ns test subject?” Tsukishima side eyes Yamaguchi. “Well I- uh- I mean.” he bites his lip. “I don’t necessarily not want to…y’know.” Yamaguchi tries to avoid Tsukishima's annoyed gaze. “It would be nice to be thought of?” Yamaguchi states trying to convince Tsukishima that any normal friend would want to be a makeup ‘test subject’, regardless of any romantic feelings involved.

“Dude.”

“Yes?”

“You’re freaking whipped. It’s pathetic.”

Damn, so much for that attempt. “I’m not…” Yamaguchi meets Tsukishima's gaze, already calling his bluff. “Okay maybe a little bit. But is that so bad?” Yamaguchi signs and clunks his head to the table. “ This shit has been going on for way too long. I’m starting to believe it’s a fucking kink or something since no one would actively draw this awkward pining shit out.” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. It’s not like he would understand. He likes to bat off any and  all feelings with a 5 foot pole. “I didn’t consent to observe this over the past.. .” He numbers off his fingers. “How long has it been? Four years?” Yamaguchi mutters something into the table. “Were you talking to the table or?” Tsukishima questions. “I said,'' Yamaguchi picks his head up so his chin rests on his folded arms “five years.” A moment of silence passes. “Five fucking years? Do you not realize that means you spent a whole third of your life simping over this girl. A third! Can you imagine what you could’ve done with all that emotional turmoil instead?” “Do you not think I ask myself that question everyday?” Yamaguchi snaps, as Tsukishima's eyes widen. Yamaguchi exhales. Calm down, Tadashi. He’s just trying to help. Yamguchi rubs his eyes trying to cast away the exhaustion creepy in. Whether it be physical or emotional, he couldn’t tell.   “Look, i’m trying to work on it, ok?”

“Work on what?”

Yamaguchi swears he jumped at least a foot in his seat and his heart stopped beating, every ounce of fatigue is zapped out of him with Y/n’s subtle and friendly shoulder touch. Yamaguchi didn’t necessarily hate her touch, not in the slightest, even though her hand recoiled after his full body reaction to it, assuming he did. He loves the subtle touches she gives to her friends, even if they make him panic internally- whether he and Tsukishima were talking about her before then or not.

“I’m sorry!” She apologized. “ I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“It’s fine!” He breathed, clutching his chest and heaving. “I’m fine!” 

He was not fine but he quickly gathered his senses anyway to come up with a cover story because ‘Oh we were talking about my everlasting and undeniable love and attraction for you and how it’s crippling me inside! Nothing important! Just boy things.’ isn’t something Yamaguchi just felt fine confessing; that was the root of the problem after all. 

“Tsukki here,” Yamaguchi starts, pointing a friendly thumb to the visibly annoyed Tsukishima “won’t stop teasing me about my English homework, and I was telling him to buzz off about it.” he gives a little chuckle and wonders if he’s visibly sweating. Y/n furrows her eyebrows, finding it hard to believe that he told anyone to buzz off at all, and even more hard to believe that he said that to Tsukishima, the salt king himself. She recalled a time where he offered to tutor her in the same subject he’s now struggling in when she fell behind after a few sick days, but she doesn’t press the matter and moves on with an awkward ‘Okaaaay?'' She turns to Tsukishima. “So Tsukishima!”- “No, I'm not gonna be your test subject. You could never pay me enough.” Tsukishima interrupts. “Damn.” she sighs. “Worth a shot!”  Then Tsukishima does something so traitorous it may startle the very foundation of their extensive, and once unbreakable friendship.

“Ask Yamaguchi, he’d love to be your dress-up dolly for the night.”

Yamaguchi pales Tsukishima Kei what the hell are you doing?!?! He casts the traitor a wide eyed look and attemps to kick him in the shin, but misses and kicks the table leg.  Y/n takes note of poor Yamaguchi’s immense panic (and now, pain) and quickly retorts in what she believes to be his defense. “Tsuki, don’t sign him up for things like that, it’s mean!” 

Wait. 

Does she not think I'm good enough?

Is it because of my freckles?

Say something, you freak!

So in a moment of immense self-pressure, he states,  albeit a bit too loud (once again),

“I- I can do it!”

All three of their eyes widen in disbelief. Tsukishimas in astonishment and a bit of pride for Yamaguchi finally doing something, anything to advance his relationship and end the horrid pining, Yamaguchi in fear and surprise of his own actions and the repercussions of them and Y/n in something Yamaguchi can’t yet decipher.

“What?” Y/n asks. “Um- I- Uh..” Yamaguchi gathers himself, clears his throat and sits up straight, almost regretting when he meets Y/n’s eyes. “I can help you with your makeup-  as a m-model of course.” He specifies. Y/n’s eyes widen and he mouth hangs agape. “You really don’t have to!” she blurts. Yamaguchi’s heart sinks. Of course. Why would she me to model of all people. Theres as reason she hasn’t asked you, idiot. “Not because I wouldn’t want you to!” she corrects after seeing him deflate in his seat. “I- I just don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to! Thats- uh- that’s why I haven’t asked you before because you are always so nice and helpful! And I- I didn’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you didn’t want to for my sake!” she clarifies with her hand fiddling with the bottom of her uniform. “Then why do you ask me all the time?” Tsukishima chimes in. Y/n’s head and personality does a 180 as she whips her head to face him. “Beacause, you are an asshole and it’s fun to annoy you, duh.” She states like it’s obvious before she turns back to Yamaguchi. “I would love to have you as my model, if you would have me of course.” Yamaguchi gulps and nods his head, trying to ignore what other meanings ‘if you would have me’  could have out of context. Damn, Tsukki was right. I am whipped. “Yay!” she says with a little hand clap. “I’m so excited! Text me when you can come over! I’m free  most days!” Wait. Shit. Shit, shit shit! Yamaguchi, in all his newfound confidence (and pressure from his best friend) forgot that he most likely would be modeling at a house. Probably hers and most likely alone. What the hell did I get myself into?

Yamaguchi never thought a door would be so intimidating. Just knock! He tells himself. It’s not hard! He gulps. Welp. Here goes everything, I guess.  He slowly raises his shaking fist to the door, just for it to swing open and make Yamaguchi jump in the air like a scared cat from a cartoon. “Hey Yams! Come on in!” She ushers, not noticing, or caring about his skittish reaction as she grabs his hand and takes him to her room.

Before he has time to really panic that ‘y/n is holding my hand, oh my freaking god! What if it’s gross?  What if im sweaty? Whatifwhatifwhatif-’ He’s already in her room- which bring in a whole new set of worries. Holy shit I'm in a girls room. Holt shit. I’m in Y/N’s room. I”M IN Y/N’s ROOM. It’s not like he hasn’t been in her room before. As kids, the trio of Tsukishima, Y/n and Yamaguchi,  would fight over the correct names of dinosaurs and who got to be the pterodactyl when playing with Tsukishima’s toy dinos between these four walls. The four walls, which now were painted and decorated with anime posters and pictures of her favorite idols along with some of her most treasured art works you made over the years instead of the many, many, many scribbles from half baked drawings in crayon and marker that she hid from her parents with the pictures she drew in class. He remembers you bursting into class one day a few years ago, excited to tell them that even though her parents knew of the childish scribbles you made on the wall in bouts of ‘artistic genius’ they offered to help you redecorate and paint over it . 

It makes him realize how long it has been since you really spent time together.

Has it really been that long?

How far has he really drifted from you?

“Earth to Yamaguchi?” Yamaguchi snaps his head to Y/n’s voice. Shit. How long has she been talking? “There you are!” she giggles. “Oh, i’m sorry!” he apologizes as he rubs the back of his neck. “ I just got distracted by…yknow,” he gestures to the ‘new’ redecortaed room. “All of this. It’s kind of hard to recognize without the big lion drawing on that wall.” he points. “It was a superhero!” she corrects as he chuckles. “I can’t tell you which one it was supposed to be though.” she admits meekly. “Now come on!’ she encourages as she plops down on her rug. “Sit right here.” she points to the spot right in front of her. “O-Okay.” he gulps and obeys, trying not to relish in the fact that he’s barely a foot away from his crush, in a house that’s empty but the two of them. “So, I was wondering if you had any restrictions before we start?” Y/n aks as she begins to lay out her products. “Restrictions?” he asks. “Y’know, things you really don’t feel comfortable with. Like I won’t give you clown makeup or anything!” she promises. “But I do have a more extravagant out-of-this-world idea when it comes to you.” Out of this world? Yamguchi questions. “Oh! And I want it to be a surprise! Not because of anything bad I just really wanna see you reaction to your final look! I understand if you aren’t comfortable with that of course!” her voice starts to speed up, much like his when he feels like his is rambling on and on. “I am really grateful for you being here and letting me do this and i certainly don’t-” “Hey.” Yamaguchi places his hand on hers, out of pure instinct, but draws it back after both pairs of eyes drifted down to them. “I- I really don’t mind either way!  To be honest!” Yamaguchi reveals with a large, friendly grin as Y/n’s shoulders relax and a soft smile reaches her face. “Okay, got it!” She says cheerfully as she pulls out a few more products from her makeup bag. 

“And Yamaguchi?” She turns to face him.

“Hmm?”

Her eyes meet his as she softly speaks.

“Thank you for being here. It really means a lot to me.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I..really miss you, y’know?” 

Yamaguchi swears he’s never seen something as ethereal as she is right now, her figure doused by the sunset peeking through the window on her left, a sheepish, shy smile complimenting her relaxed and welcoming body. 

His lips move on their own as he  opens them to say “Y/n, i-”

“Oh this is just your shade!” she announces. “Don’t you think?” she asks as she puts a dollop of what Yamaguchi believes to be foundation on his wrist and rubs it in. “It fits perfectly!” She exclaims. oh. “Yeah, it does.” He agrees, with a pitch of sadness in his voice that he hopes isn’t recognizable. 

As Y/n starts working on his face Yamaguchi can’t help but to slip into those deprecating thoughts that follow him around like a shadow and take him by force into the darkness. Especially in times like this.

She doesn’t like you like that! It’s very obvious, even an idiot like you should be able to see that!

She doesn’t even want you here!  She’s just being polite!

She thinks you are HIDEOUS, remember? DISEASED!

Yamaguchi does what he can to combat the demons in his head and the subtle stinging in his eyes. 

“And just a few drops of concealer!” she states as she blends the creamy liquid under his eyes. “But-” Yamaguchi starts. Y/n lets out a slight “hmm?” as she looks through her makeup for a specific item. “I-I don’t think that would be enough.” He stammers as her eyes meet his figure once again. “To y’know,” he gulps. “cover all of this” he motions to his cheeks. “What do you mean?” she asks. He bites his lip as a woeful look crept over her face. “Yamaguchi..” she utters in a sorrowful tone, like she’s comforting a child. He can’t stand to look at her when she uses this voice, he already feels on the verge of tears

. “Is that why you wanted me to do your makeup? To cover your freckles?” He nods into his shoulders. “I-” she sighs. “I’m sorry, Yams. I can’t do that. It’s not right.” Yamaguchi quickly meets her eyes. “W-what? Why?” she shakes her head. “Your freckles are a part of you Yamaguchi. You’ve had them all your life and they are what makes you you. I’m not gonna hide them. I thought you told me you stopped worrying about your freckles in middle school.”

I did, for the most part. But it’s different when the love of your life basically calls you ugly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but bites his lip in shame.

 She starts to put her makeup into her bag. “You can ask someone else, but I can’t do that. I just can’t.” Yamaguchi is being pulled every which way by his emotions .Confusion, anger, hurt, guilt. So much so he blurts out half baked words;

“Do you think I'm hideous and disgusting?”

Y/n whips her head around from the makeup she was placing away.  “What?! No! Of course not! Where did you get that id-” 

“I heard you!”

 “I-in the hallway near the lockers. I wasn’t- I really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I just wanted to say hi!” he looks away, at the floor, at the ceiling- at the abundance of plushies on her bed, anywhere but the disappointed face he expects to see “But you were talking to your friend about your freckles and how you try so hard to cover them and get rid of them and how they are disgusting, and shitty!” He’s facing her now  but he can only focus on how much it  hurts.The words piling and piling out, red hot from years and years of painful silence- stabbing him, branding him with the fear and self hatred he already harbored since he was young. “And you- you only have a handful of them while- while i have a freaking constellation on my face! And I-” he wipes his face, now aware of the outgoing tears.  “I can’t get rid of them! No matter how many times I try to hide them, no matter how many times I try to pick them off they- they always return! And I can’t change that! No matter how many times I try! And I do try, so so fucking hard So if you- the most beautiful person thinks that they are ugly in any way shape or form, then what does that make me?!” The tears are blurring his vision now, blinding him from the horrified look on Y/n’s face, eyes wide with her own tears starting to simmer- but Yamaguchi can’t find himself to care. “I- just want to be-” he chokes as he gasps for air. “I just want to be enough for you!” he wails. “That’s all I ever wanted to be! And- and you are just so perfect in every way! How can i?” he sniffles and hiccups, calming down where he can only see her tear stricken face.

“How can I ever be enough for you?”

And suddenly, it was never about his freckles.

No, it was about a boy, a boy locked away in the tower of his own head, beaten black and blue by his demons wanting love- wanting to just be enough for someone. For anyone.

For her

For himself. 

And he just opened the floodgates

What have I done? 

Yamaguchi barely recognizes her touch embracing him at first, as reality settles in fast and hard, grounding him and shattering him. Shattering all the resolve he’s built up for years and years leaving him defenseless in her arms. What have I done? Oh my god.

What have I done?

“I’m so- so sorry!” She cries into his arms, but he sits still paralyzed by fear, regret and everything he doesn’t know. About her. About him. About the two of them. What have I done? “Tadashi!” she calls “Tadashi, please.” He shakes his head, trying to self medicate and take himself out of his trance. “I’m so sorry.” he whispers into the air, avoiding her eyes. She shakes her head. “Tadashi please.” she sobs. “Look at me.” she begs as he lifts his head a little bit. She holds his chin lightly and looks into his eyes. “Tadashi please, listen to me.” His eyes finally meet hers and she can see him coming through. “Tadashi, you have always been enough. Always have been and always will be.” she sniffles. “God, I'm so fucking in love with you.”

What?

“I- I know, I know it’s crazy but I loved you since the day we met, Tadashi. I remember feeling so alone- and i was so freaking awkward- sitting under that tree, drawing. I was watching all the other kids play and I felt so alone, but then like a ray of sunshine, you walked over and told me you liked the picture I was drawing of my dog. I just was so enamored of the little boy with big eyes and the cutest freckles. I might not have known it then, but I've known for a little while that I'm head over heels for you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” she reveals as she wipes her eyes on her shirt. Her eyes locked on his, he could barely register anything she said past “I’m so fucking in love with you.” 

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” 

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” 

“With me?”

She giggles as she lightly punches his arm. “Yes, you! Who else?” she confirms as he gulps. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. “But why? I’m not-” She makes a buzzer noise and shakes her head. “Yamaguchi, you are the nicest, most hardworking, most outgoing, amazing person I know. I’m lucky to have you in my life.” Yamaguchi feels his face heating up by the second. “You were the one always encouaging me to do my best with my art and supporting me even when I never though I could do it. You are the first one I want to come to when I have good or bad news and the first one I share my art pieces with. It’s you Yamaguchi.”Once again Yamaguchi feels the prickiling of tears in his eyes, but for a different reason this time.  she chuckles and leans into an awkward laugh. “Wow, it feels so strange finally saying that out loud after all those years. I thought it was obvious after all the times I was caught staring at you in class, and all the times I suddenly became super clumsy around you. Hell, I was terrified of even being alone with you like this that’s why I never asked you to- Eh? No, please don’t cry!” she begs as Yamaguchi lets out a soft laugh. “I’m just so happy. I loved you for so long, Y/n.” he reveals as he wipes his eyes. Y/n gulps. “Shit.” she utters. “What?” he says alarmed. “This means Tsukishima’s right. We are two pining idiots.” she reveals as Yamaguchi throws back a laugh. “He gave you the talk too?” She groans. “Only like every other day! I’m surprised he never spilled to either of us. No wonder why he was always so annoyed.” she giggled. Y/n clears her throat, sits straight and pushes up her imaginary glasses. “I’ve watched you simp for way too long, any longer i’m going to demand compensation. 500 yen every time I see you staring at him, 1000 for every dreamy sigh and fluttering of the eyelashes and 1500 for every time you complain about ‘how it’s illegal to be that cute.” she mimic in her best Tsukishima voice. Yamaguchi cackles “No, no no,” he corrects between breaths of laughter. “It’s like..” he clears his throat as he preforms a slightly better Tsukishima impersonation. “All this endless pining has to be a kink or some shit- and I didn’t fucking consent.” Y/n clutches her sides in laughter as Yamaguchi makes sure he processes every second of this moment, one he’s deemed to replay time and time again. Just the two of them acting like fools again, just like they did before- but now without the fear of rejection and being vulnerable. Yamaguchi could never dream of something more beautiful. 

She waves her hand in his face as he snaps back to reality. “Huh?” he questions as she laughs. “Yamaguchi, I swear you have the attention span of a goldfish.” she teases as she nudges him. “Yamaguchi.” he repeats slowly as she cocks her head. “Yes? That’s your name?” she states as he shakes his head. “That’s not what you called me earlier.” Her face tints red as a goofy grin takes over her face. “Okay, Tah-da-shi!” she gives his nose a little boop per syllable as the same red tint and goofy grin transfers to him. “What I was trying to ask before you went all space cadet on me was if Tsukishima actually said that.” she asks. “Hmm,” he hums as he taps his pointer finger on his chin. “Depends if the part about you staring at me and sighing dreamily was true.” he questions with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, suddenly confident. Her jaw drops as she stammers.

 “Who- who allowed you to smirk like that?”

“Who allowed you to be all cute and flustered?”

“Stoppp!” she whines as she hides her face as he chuckles. “You know what!” she announces. “I did stare at you in class.” she admits as she pokes his chest. “You and all your cute freckles. I always tried counting them but always lost count or felt like a creep for staring. But-” she inches closer to his face. “I couldn’t help it, I've always been a sucker for pretty boys like you.” he gulps. “Y-you think i’m pretty?” he whispers as she hums in agreement. “Well you- you can count them now if- if you’d like.” he offers, hoping to all gods his voice didn’t crack like he thought it just did. “I’d love to.” she mumps and closes the distance and places a kiss on his cheek, and on one of his freckles.

“One.”

Another freckle

“Two.”

Another freckle

“Three.”

Another freckle

“Four-”

Yamaguchi couldn’t take it anymore and leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Time felt like it slowed for him as he savored every moment of her sweet, soft lips on his. It was short and sweet, but left them breathless all the same and left them smiling into each other as they caught their breath.

“Hey Tadashi?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you mean earlier? About the hallway?”

Shit. He forgot about that.

“Uh…” he bites his lip. “It doesn’t really matter, how about we just keep kissing, yeah?” he diverts as she stops him, placing her hand on his chest with a giggle. “Ah-ah-ah. None of that.” he pouts. “So.. what you are saying is you don’t wanna kiss me?” he retorts, biting his lip, holding in a giggle of his own. “I definitely did not say that, Yamaguchi.”

“Tadashi.” he corrects

“Tadashi.” she repeats, playfully rolling her eyes. “I’m serious. I wanna clear it all up right now so there's no more misunderstandings with us, okay?” 

Yamaguchi sighs. “Fineeee. But please don’t make a big deal or laugh at me or anything, okay?” She frowns. “Why would I ever laugh at you?” He shrugs and takes a deep breath in.”I might have heard you in the hallway a few days ago talking about how much you hate your freckles and how you think they are shitty, and gross. You said you just use makeup to cover them so I thought you could do that for me? And when you said you wouldn’t it made me feel-” he stops as he sees her covering her mouth in what he only assumes could be an attempt to hold back her laughter. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!” he whines. “I'm not-” she starts, and attempts to act composed, but with little avail as laughter seeps through the cracks and she begins to howl in laughter as Yamaguchi crosses his arms. “I’m sorry- I really am!” she says between gasps of laughter. “But- but you think- you think these are freckles?” she questions, pointing to what Yamaguchi believes is a freckle on her face. He nods dumbly. “Yeah…what else would they be?” “Acne!” she exclaims. “Blackheads, to be exact! Dirt, grease, grime and sweat that crept into my pores and clogged them!”

“What.”

Y/n throws her head back in laughter. “So you were so worried over nothing! This,” she takes a deep breath in to regain composure. “This is why we don’t eavesdrop.” “I wasn’t trying to! I- I just wanted to say hi! I-It’s really not my fault you talk so loud!’ He pouts as he crosses his arms and looks away. “Tadashi, you are so cute. Worrying over what lil ole’ me thinks.” she pinches his cheeks. “I’m not-” he nudges her grabby hand off of him with his shoulder and sits up straight, trying to maintain the smidge of dignity he has left. “I’m not cute, first of all. Second, your ‘lil ole opinions’ mean a lot to me, if you didn’t get that earlier.” he reveals, blushing. “I wasn’t lying when I said that my freckles stopped bothering me in middle school. It's not easy to just forget and get over something I struggled with all my life.” he references to earlier. Hearing you say- or at least thinking I heard you say how much you hate them really hurt me, as much as I hate to admit. I know it’s pathetic-”

 “It’s not.” she interrupts. 

“It’s really not. We all have our insecurities, we all have our demons, we all have our limits. One thing that those things all have in common is the tendency people have to ignore them or pretend they don't exist.” She explains. “It’s so much easier to do then accept them, because when you finally do,” she looks into  his eyes. “You learn to overcome them. It may take ages, and you may never fully get over them. But it’s a sure lot more than what most people are able to do. And you,” she pokes his chest. “Are so much stronger than you believe. Admitting your insecurities, looking them in the eye and accepting that although they may bother you some now, they don’t have half as much of a hold on you than before. It’s amazing, Tadashi. You are amazing.” 

In that moment he knew that he may never feel enough for anyone or anything 24/7 and may feel the ups and downs that life will inevitably bring- but he has her and she’ll be around to remind him that he is, and that is all he needs. 

“Now that that’s settled, time to finish your look!” she cheers as she claps her hands.

“Wait, what?” he questions. “I thought you didn’t wanna do my makeup anymore after I told you I wanted my freckles covered?” she shakes her head. “Nope.” she says, popping the ‘p’ at the  end. “I think it’s more important to do it now than ever!” she exclaims with a smile engulfing her face. How was Yamaguchi supposed to say no to that?

“O-okay!”

1

Thump

2

Thump

3

Thump

Tsukishima couldn’t sleep. If you’d ask him why, he’d probably say it’s because a headache (even though the he’s bouncing a volleyball against his wall causing loud thumps guaranteed to make any headache immensely worse.) and under no circumstance him worrying for his best friend who, earlier acted like he had a date with death, instead of a date with his crush. 

‘it’s not a date! Just two people hanging out and doing makeup! Just friendly activities!” Yaaguchi whined as he closed his locker. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t give a fuck. But if you two don’tt walk into class together holding hands i’m having Shrimpy serve a spike on your fat, dumb head.” he promises and walks away as he hears Yamaguchi complain about not having a fat head and Hinata (who came out of nowhere- as per usual)  get all mad about being called Shrimpy even though he was never directly mentioned. 

Hmm. Maybe Tsukishima does have a headache. A Yamaguchi sized one. 

THWACK

The volleyball he was tossing bounced back past his hands- and onto his face. God damn it. He tosses the ball off of his bed and grabs his phone, in need of a mindless distraction that won’t bruise his face and break his glasses. 

Oh? A mention from Yamaguchi? Isn’t he supposed to be with Y/n right now?

He clicks on it and it's the absolute last thing he’d ever expect to see. 

A picture of Yamaguchi, shyly looing into the camera with the most bashful smile he’s ever seen on the boy, and a mirage of of  pinks, blues and purples decorating his face, with spreckels of silver littering his face with lines connecting them, almost mirroring his freckles-no;

They were stars.

A galaxy

A Constellation. 

But the most surprising feat in the photo was Y/n with he arms around his neck, looking into his eyes with nothing but clear admiration and content, with sloppy dots- freckles- across her face that she most likely had Yamaguchi do for her with makeup, ones that almost matched his everyday look. Below the picture was a caption reading;

My Galaxy Boy

With sparkles following and preceding the words. He scoffs and shakes his head playfully. That's so y/n. The he scrolls down to see where Yamaguchi tagged him;

@Tskeishima Is my fat head safe?

He smirks as he types;

@sweetyamagashi For now.

Took yall long enough.

#yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu yamaguchi #Haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi x you

[randomreadingtimewithtsuki]

Greetings. I'm here for the valentine event, if this is the right place to put my request.(if not, I apologize) The fandom I have in mind is Bleach, I'm female myself and prefer the character to be male. I would say I'm extremely introverted and quiet, and feel the most at peace when alone (or with loved ones). My hobbies include reading, playing instruments, drawing and painting. 20 and also a Scorpio, if that helps with anything. Feel free to skip this if it's too specific, and stay safe.

Hello! You got the write channel to request!

This was enough info! If you'd like, next time, you can talk more! The more the merrier! Anyway!

I match you with…..

Urahara!

• I feel like your contrast in personality would be great.

• Why? He is a bit crazy, but that means he needs time to recharge and what is the best place to recharge? You!

• He loves how peaceful it is being around you, the world seems to slow down and he is able to forget all that worried him and think clearly.

• He enjoys you playing instruments! He often refers to you as his music box and people get surprised upon seeing you and not an actual music box.

• He totally made an atelier for you!

• He will hang your paintings and drawings around his store.

• If someone asks about the art he will go into a long rant about how beautiful that piece is because the best artist did it ( you). No, he will not elaborate that he is talking about you.

• He enjoys the confusion he causes people and how shy you get. It's a win-win situation for him.

• Urahara is very respectful of your limits. If you don't feel up to meet people, that's ok he got you covered!

• May joke to people that the artist is tired and resting the creative thoughts, but he is not letting anyone bother you.

• He introduces you only to people he truly trusts.

• Not only to keep you safe, but to make sure you will be comfortable around them too!

For the scenario…

Imagine: Urahara resting while you play a song.

Tsuki's note: what do you play? I got curious! I didn't know what you played so I went for a transverse flute.

• When he had to solve some issue regarding soul society is when he gets most tired.

• Maybe not physically but you can see how tired he is by his eyes.

• He gets home, he goes looking for you in your atelier and as soon as he sees you, he lets out a long sigh.

• He plops next to you explaining the events of the days.

• You do give him your thoughts and ideas. He always listens to you so carefully and considers each word you say.

• Suddenly gets up, smiles at you and says he will be back soon.

• You usually shrug it out, already knowing what he went to get.

• So you prepare a little space there, kind of a pillow fort - comfortable for you to sit and lean your back and comfortable for him to lay on your lap.

• Urahara came back with your transverse flute and offered for you to take.

• You took the flute and sighed in a loving manner.

• He nested himself on your lap and waited for you to start playing.

• As soon as you started, he could hear a sigh from him - eyes closed and shoulders relaxed - it felt like he melted on you.

• These were the moments that he was most vulnerable. Not just because he felt sleepy and relaxed.

• But because it was while you were playing, Urahara actually opened up.

• He would say how much he likes this song, how good you smelled and how much he missed you.

• His voice was serene, not a hint of playfulness - he actually meant what he said.

• When you were done with the song, you ran your fingers through his hair.

• Another sighed left his lips. He smiled at you and with a whisper he would say " I adore you so much, do you know that?"

• You could never really hear what he says and if you asked him, he would say it was nothing, he was just rambling - effects of his tiresome day

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

Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoyed what I had to offer!

Let me know what you think!

#bleach x reader #bleach #valentine's day event 2023 #urahara kisuke #urahara kisuke x reader

[judgementdaysunshine]

hi i hope you doing good. Can i have a match up for LOTR and/or The Hobbits please 💐 I'm genderfluid, bisexual with male preference.I have long black wavy hair. I have thick black eyebrows, brown eyes. I always have rosy cheeks. My body is curvy with very big chest and little tummy. Also I'm 172 cm. I'm Libra also a Slytherin. My mbti Infp and my enneagram 5w4. I always have poker face. I find it difficult to express my feelings and prefer to isolate myself. My best feature is that I know a little about everything, I always surprise people. Those who know me for the first time describe me as cold, quiet, and distant. And they often think I can't speak and I'm deaf but I'm not. When I enter an environment, I listen to what people say and get to know them well, I decide if there is anyone worth talking to. I'm only close to two or three people. They describe me as cold, soft inside, calm, sarcastic, resourceful and knowledgeable. They say I make clever jokes and I'm the mom-friend. And i hate phsyical touch. My love language is words of affirmation. If I talk about myself, I've always been on my own. I have family problems, I was never close with my father. Even though we are side by side with my mother, we are distant. I'm just my own mom and dad. That's why I've always focused on academic achievement for salvation. And I think I'm very good at it. My hobbies are drawing, sewing, writing and researching, especially about mythology, cultures, history, fashion. I always wear my headphones and listen to music, i listen every genre. I like silence, soft colors, being alone, flowers (especially honeysuckle), spring and breeze. I don't like crowds, noise, children, loud talkers and shiny things. I always wear colorful clothes with floral prints. I also wear interesting earrings and different printed socks. And finally, I don't really have an ideal type. I love every person. I like the fact that there are different people.

Gotcha my dear!

First I ship you with Fili! 🧡

He always gently talks and stays with you when you try to isolate yourself away from everyone around you whether your upset or just having a bad day

He always likes how different your body curves are from others cause they don't seem so plain and what you see on everyone he likes that everyone is built and made different

He likes reading what you write from stories and poems to little things about the people you care about and even big events that happened in the world

He likes your taste in wearing floral clothes with many different types of socks whether it has ice cream, puppies, music notes, movie characters, or anything really

He makes sure that you all don't bunch up when you all hang out cause of how much you don't like crowds and loud noises so they try not to purposely scare or prank you

He always brings you honeysuckles and flowers in general if he sees any when he's out whether you're at home or with him it never fails to make you smile

He always says sweet things to you from compliments to how much he loves you after finding out your love language is words of affirmation

He was weary at first due to you not talking but once you slowly started talking to him he liked you immediately and you became fast friends

He likes having music playing and dancing around the house with you even when everyone else is watching and laughing at the two of you

He makes sure that nothing shiny or that has some type of shine reflection is near you at all and if somehow he forgets he makes sure that it doesn't shine near or on you as well

#the hobbit x reader #fili #the hobbit #fili x reader

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2022

//ffxivwrite info//prompt list//character info//master post//

Prompt three: Temper | noun a person's state of mind seen in terms of their being angry or calm. Word count: 1162 Characters: Syren Ligeia, Estinien Varlineau (Wol x Estinien) CW: mild language (in Eorzean terms), some very mild and safe spiciness action, and implications at the end. Notes: A direct follow-up to prompt one, because I couldn't resist. >3 If you want some music for this one, this song was the main inspiration as I wrote this!

A cold wind whipped through his hair the moment he stepped out into the empty courtyard. Under normal circumstances, the chill wouldn't bother Syren, but this was the first time he’d been home to Ishgard since his hair was chopped short and he found himself shivering. Even so, the Viera was still too busy fuming about Estinien running away from him again to even consider turning back to grab his jacket, plus he refused to return to the room after having made quite the spectacle of himself in front of Aymeric. He made a mental note to apologize to him after all was said and done. Right now, his focus was on finding Estinien.

Syren always knew exactly where to find him and sure enough, he rounded the corner toward the Forgotten Knight and spotted the Elezen’s tall silhouette in the distance. Estinien was leaning up against the wall near the hunting board, arms crossed and gazing idly at the people who quickly hurried by to retreat inside from the oncoming blizzard. Seeing him act so casually only added fuel to the fire and Syren made a beeline for the other. 

“I can’t believe you,” Syren grounded out as he drew nearer. Estinien straightened up, a look of surprise drawing on his face as he turned to the Viera. “After everything we talked about, you just take off?!” He stopped short in front of the Elezen, arms crossed with a piercing glare. 

“In my defense, you were knocked out cold,” Estinien began slowly as he tried to read the situation. “I wasn’t sure if or when you’d awaken so I thought it best to just leave.” 

“Bullshite,” Syren retorted hotly. “You’re just up to your old habits of sticking around until Aymeric comes to find you and tell you everything is alright. You didn’t want to see me, was that it?!” Estinien remained silent, his expression passive which only caused Syren’s temper to rise even more. “I thought we finally got past this part. I thought we could start again but here you are, still avoiding me like nothing happened. What do you hope to achieve by doing this? Why are you constantly running away?”

With each question that spilled from Syren’s mouth, he felt his heart rate increase and his face grow hot with anger. He uncrossed his arms and balled his hands into fists, words pouring out of him with no control. Everything he had bottled inside came spilling out and he couldn’t tell what Estinien was thinking through all of this, only that it felt good to finally get it all off his chest. After what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes, Syren grew silent, panting from the exertion, his temper dying down somewhat. 

Estinien drew a breath, choosing his words carefully. “...I wasn’t sure how you felt about me after everything I had done,” he began quietly. “I was so consumed by one thing that I completely ignored everything else around me. Important things. Like you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had.” He paused again, and Syren felt his cheeks burn, his frustration flaring up again. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t want to see me again so I chose the best path for us both.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Syren asked quietly but loud enough for Estinien to hear. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Estinien to say, but it wasn’t this. He swallowed a lump in his throat before drawing a shaky breath. “You know, after everything you did, I thought I could never forgive you, and I tried so hard to forget about you. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, you were everywhere I went. You were all I thought about. When we had a moment to talk after the Dragonsong War, I found that I had forgiven you the whole time, and I blindly thought we were finally on the same page again…but maybe I was wrong.” He stopped, his stomach in knots. “I should go. I’ve wasted enough time.”

Syren turned to leave but Estinien grabbed his hand, tugging him back. “You cut your hair.” He stated it so simply as if the Viera hadn’t been yelling at him moments before. 

Irritated by the sudden shift in topic, Syren let out a huff as he replied, “Not by choice.” He turned to face the other, his glare still holding fast as he tugged his hand away. “That’s not important right now and don’t think I’ll soon forget why–” But the rest of his words died in his throat as Estinien stepped closer to reach a hand up to stroke through Syren’s hair, his fingers just grazing his jaw as he pulled the edges to his lips to kiss. 

“You look even more ravishing than before.” 

Something deep inside of Syren snapped and he found any sort of willpower completely lost as he was suddenly rushing in to close the gap between them. He raised his heels up ever so slightly as he wrapped his arms around Estinien’s neck and surged forward, eagerly meeting his own lips to Estinien’s, his head spinning.

Estinien replied in kind, bringing one hand to keep steady on Syren's jaw as he deepened the kiss. His other hand snaked to his back so he could pull the other even closer to him. They continued to explore each other’s lips, mouth, and jawline, their kisses going from slow to fervent until they finally broke apart breathlessly and melted into an embrace.

Syren leaned into Estinien’s touch as he caressed his face, completely calm compared to how he was minutes before. “I didn’t mean to avoid you,” Estinien began softly. “I did what I thought was best at the time because I still loved you.” 

Syren felt his breath catch in his throat. “Do you still now?” he asked, looking up and searching Estinien’s eyes. “Love me that is?”

Without missing a beat, Estinien replied softly, “I do.” Syren felt a warmth blossom in his chest, his heart threatening to burst. This is what he had hoped to hear since the beginning and the words replayed in his mind over and over again. “I love you Sy. I always have, and I always will.” 

“Gods, how I waited to hear that,” Syren reached up to grab Estinien into another soft kiss. “I love you too.” He pulled away, a playful look of sternness crossing his features. “Don’t think this gets you free of me being mad at you for acting like a fool,” he began. “Once I bring the Scions home, I’ll be giving you a piece of my mind, so don’t you dare try to avoid me.” 

Estinien chuckled and touched his forehead to Syren’s. “And maybe a piece of that arse too?”

Syren rolled his eyes but nodded. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

Estinien smirked. “I’ll look forward to it then.” 

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #prompt 3 temper #Syren Ligeia #male viera #viera wol #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #wol x estinien #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv spoilers #kind of? #ffxiv fanfiction #nico writes #estinien x wol #wol x npc #ffxiv writing #mun thoughts ahead #this one definitely got away from me in the end #but I am not complaining :3 #I like how it turned out

[valorxdrive]

She's running her palm over his arm. The rest of their limbs tangled together as they share space on one of the gummiship bunks. His arm is smooth, but she remembers how horrible it looked before they got to casting cura on it, earlier that day.

"We used to go through so many band-aids to cover your scrapes, way back then. Hehe... remember when my cutey kitty ones were all we had on hand?" she wrinkles her nose whimsically at him before softening.

"With magic... you don't need stuff like that anymore... but I hope you'll always need these--"

She presses her lips against his arm.

[ from @maregiis ]

♕ - Moments tucked into this sacred sanctity were events that couldn't quite be put into words. A treasure from the dearest childhood days, innocently beginning, to gaining welcomed realms of intent and understanding as their growth promoted more than solely new heights to their bodies. Before his eyes, there was a distinct witnessing to all the wondrous ways Kairi was personified in her current form, wearing such an equally lazy smile while the shifting scapes of violet nebulae and starlight echo brightness through the windows.

Her voice molds into a soft song that just makes him smile. Silly as it is to note, he just loves hearing her talk, hearing how emotion and quiet strengths readily adjust themselves with her tone. Even as nostalgic framing coats her words, he listens, finding his own itchy aches for such a time blooming with a curious thought she brings.

It immediately makes his face crinkle in the case of harmless second case embarrassment. A laugh couldn't resist being barked due to practically feeling the heat swath a crimson hue in his face. "Like I'd ever forget?" Those blue eyes were ever eager to focus upon her visage, loving the scarlet flare of her strawberry hair adorning her head like a crown.

Always looking so lovely.

"The way you'd distract me from having to clean my cuts? Cause sheesh those burned.. but you always made that lil fishy face to make me laugh.." The moment that memory is verbalized, it stuns him into a welcomed sort of silence, once again, driving forth a reminder of just how incredibly lucky he happens to be as they remain like this.

Kairi's strength didn't hesitate to 'rend' even the more egregious injuries away from the concept of being a wound. Instead, there was wholeness, a return to glory as her resolve burned in the warm light she used to bring him back to pristine shape.

Just as he was about to ask about what he could need when she was the shining sun in his eyes.

A kiss from a princess signifies her affections with selfish tenderness.

"Kairi.."

That plume of fiery warmth emboldens senses and the intent of the heart. To reach, to bask in the giddiness that flocks within his veins as a hand carefully draws a stir of her hair upward, adjusting itself in a tender cradle as he cups her cheek. Sora's palm gently caresses that face that always gave a sense of home that could never be replicated. As if she carried the music of the ocean itself with her, above that, the steady beat of her heart was music that could even make hell look like paradise.

Right now? He just really wanted to appreciate this view before him. Sora's eyes were fashioned with a potent sense of love that glows while he adjusts upon the bed, adjusting in a way to where they could simply stare at each other.

It really did feel like they were floating among the stars.

"Can I get another, Kairi?"

@maregiis

#maregiis #| Bottle Mail #He's absolutely soft your honor