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#just getting into the habit of writing little things on a whim
obae-me · 7 months
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He looks at you like artistry. A contemporary piece he's never seen before. Taking in every detail with calculating eyes. Wondering what intentions the skillful hands of the cosmos had in mind when making you.
He wishes to know your story, the happiness that makes the music of your voice, the experiences settled in the sculpt of your frame, the tragedies brushed into the strokes of your irises.
The complexities of your being astound him, mesmerize him. Every new fact he learns about you adds another stanza to your sonnet.
To him, you are art in its purest form. Not one part can exist without the other. The greatest of symphonies would not be complete without their rests. He adores all of you.
How foolish he was at first, to think you were just a simple creature. Oh, the things he has taken for granted. When did he become so blind? Was it his Pride? Or had he simply been breathing for so long, that the sweet orchestra of life became dull to his ears? How long had it been since he stopped to watch people commune in the streets? Or sat a while to watch the trees sway from his window? Or pondered on the meaning of a wonderful word?
Excitement. How many centuries since he's felt like that? Filled with a rather humiliating child-like giddiness. But it's...invigorating. Everything stands out to him fresh, avant-garde. You remind him that there's still so much for him to discover.
A change in the wind, the turning of a page to a whole new chapter, a swelling crescendo, you are enticing. Every second spent with you leaves him craving more.
All he desires is to be in your presence. To see your colors. To hear your melody. To bask in the opus of your existence. It was only a matter of time before you would manage to become his everything, his obsession, his passion. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
For Lucifer is a connoisseur, and to him, you are nothing less than the crown of luxury.
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sim0nril3y · 5 months
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GIRL I LOVE YOUR WORK. YOU'RE AMAZING.
I love your series ghost x civilian and I wanted to see you writing about Simon getting jealous. Love the way you express words girl, you had me screaming, giggling and kicking my feet the whole series.
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Note: You're so cuuuuuuuuuute! Thank you, thank you for your kind words ily and thank you for the wonderful request, I loooooove a jealous bigboy <3<3<3 Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, mentions of jealousy, mentions of oral (male receiving), one little spank, canon-typical swearing.
With the little regard and car that you put into your car it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise when it just stopped working. Simon had tried arguing that the damn thing was a money-pit, just sell it for scrap and get yourself something new and safe, with all the mod-cons. You, on the other hand, argued that it had sentimental value, so off it went to a local mechanic who you awaited a whopping bill from.
In the meantime, Simon was picking up the slack of driving you back and forth to all your appointments, sending back parcels, picking up food shopping or simply waking him up in the dead of night from a deep slumber for the whims of late night food cravings.
One evening in particular you had stepped into the lounge looking absolutely mouth-watering in a pair of form fitting gym leggings, the damn things hugged all of your curves in a way that had Simon gazing a little too intensely. “Si…” Your voice cut through, smirking as his dark eyes flit up from observing your hips and thighs to be gazing into your eyes instead, brows raised in surprise and asking. “What was that, love?” It made you simmer with pride as Simon wasn't typically someone who got distracted like that, but it seemed like you simply standing here had him practically frothing at the mouth.
“I said…” You drew out the words playfully. “Would you mind dropping me off at the gym? I have a session with my personal trainer.” This was something new that you had started, only a few sessions in but Simon was encouraging your interest. He thought that your body was perfect the way it but he liked to support your good habits. “Right…” When you had originally mentioned wanting to go to the gym Simon had thrown his hat into the ring, offering to help you but with the way he reacted to you dressed up in leggings it seemed you made the right choice to go elsewhere, what he had planned wasn’t particularly the workout that you had been thinking about. “Course, just let me get my jacket.”
With a little noise of effort Simon pulled himself up off the sofa, stepping past you and smirking to himself as his eyes lingered on your rear. “Oh and don’t forget-” Turning you caught his eyes flitting up again from his gaze and you smirked, quirking a brow at him. “Were you staring at my bum?” “I was admiring, babe…” He took a couple slow steps towards you, stopping when he was finally mere inches from you. “Y’look fuckin’ good…” Large hands captured your hips, winding down to cup your rear in his hands, gripping at it playfully. “I’ll be late~”
“I’ll be quick.” Simon groaned softly, yanking you up into his arms then, legs tied around his waist as you squeaked in surprise. “Simon~” You giggled uncontrollably as he lead you back towards the sofa, dropping you and watching you bounce against the cushions softly. “I can’t show up at the gym smelling of sex!” You giggled, watching him pushing down his jogging bottoms to his midthigh, smiling down at you, reaching a hand forward to stroke his thumb against your throat. “Pretty girl, they aren’t gonna know if I’ve been down your throat, will they…”
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Dropping you outside the gym Simon watched with adoration as you rushed inside, blowing him a multitude of kisses in his direction before finally through the sliding doors. For a few moments Simon lingered, waiting until you were safely inside the building before beginning to drive away. A flash of a phone screen illuminated from the seat beside him and Simon glanced over to see your phone lingering there. “Fuckin’ hell…” He muttered; it wouldn’t be possible to call him later to pick you up if you didn’t have that.
A moment later he pulled into the gym car park, collecting your phone and entering the gym in search of you. It was fancy in there. It all smelt so new and fresh, the floors practically sparkling. All the machines looked barely used and they all seemed to work. This was nothing like the gym that Simon went to across town, that was a run-down old boxing gym, there he felt like he fit in but here Simon really felt like he stood out amongst all the pretty looking gym-goers.
Shrugging off his initial discomfort Simon began to walk onto the main gym floor in search of you. Eyes lingering over all the different people, stepping past all the doors that lead to the class rooms and private areas and finally looking through one window to see you inside, on the ground stretching diligently. There you were on all fours, arms and torso stretched out in front of you, knees spread wide with your bum raised up. Simon felt fury spread through him as he looked behind you and spotted a man knelt between your legs, hands on your hips and talking to you, adjusting your stance to put you into a deeper stretch.
A moment later Simon opened the door loudly and stepped into the room, your trainer looked up in surprise and then you followed. A delighted gasp found your lips as you scrambled to your feet and then wrapped your arms around him a moment later. His arms possessively wrapped around your frame, holding you tight to his strong body and setting a cold pair of eyes on the man who was slowly pulling himself to his feet. “Simon, what are you doing here?”
“Left your phone.” His voice was even as he placed it into your hands as you pulled away from the hug. “Thanks.” You grinned up at him before following his gaze over your shoulder. “Oh, babe… This is Andy, my personal trainer.” You announced, gesturing to the man who was awkwardly standing aside. “This is my boyfriend, Simon.”
Awkwardly the younger man nodded, holding out a hand in his direction for Simon to clasp into his own, using all his strength to shake it and causing Andy to tug away sharply from the pain, though Andy never said a word simply smiled tightly. “Weren’t sure you were real, mate; a lot of my girls tells me they have boyfriends and it turns out not to be true.” Andy shrugged and Simon hummed. “Mmm, probably don’t wanna be leered at whilst they are working out.” Then narrowing his dark eyes.
Sensing some type of tension, you glanced between them and blinked slowly before looking at Simon. “Maybe I’ll just call you when I’m done? Or they have a café... you could get a tea, if you like?” You suggested, rubbing his arm soothingly, trying to get his attention again. This was unusual. It wasn’t like Simon was the jealous type, he was certainly possessive when he wanted to be, but something about Andy must have really set him off because even though Simon didn’t particularly like affection in public his hands stayed tied tight around your waist.
“Maybe I could stay…” Simon shrugged off his hoody then, throwing it aside nearby your stuff. “If you don’t mind, mate?” He looked at Andy who frowned heavily and cleared his throat. “Well, you aren’t a member-” “I actually have some guest passes.” You quipped sweetly and then adding with a shrug. “We could pay for a double session, if it’s trouble having us both…”
Andy didn't seem to like the idea but the money finally made him agree. “Whatever. It’s your session.” Then turning on his heel. “Why don’t you continue your stretches. I’ll get us some equipment.” Stepping from the room and allowing the door to swing closed behind him.
When you two were finally alone you finally spoke. “What do you think you’re doing exactly?” Quirking a brow and resuming your stretches, Simon joined in half-heartedly. “What am I doing? What did he think he was doing? Putting his fuckin’ hands all over you.” Simon grumbled, feeling his shoulders tensing. “Lucky, I didn’t break his fuckin’ hand…” He commented under his breath and you fought a smile before looking over at him.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” Quirking a brow at him causing him to look at you sharply. “Don’t be stupid, of course not.” He grumbled lowly. It cause you to giggle sweetly, sauntering towards him and wrapping your arms around his bulky frame. “There anything to be jealous of?” Then looking down at you intensely. “Of course not.” You giggled. “I’m surprise you even had to ask that question considering I had you cock down my throat an hour ago…”
You watched the way his lips twitched to fight a smile. “Shut up.” He grumbled, which caused a bright giggle to pull from your throat. Turning your back to him was a mistake because not a moment later Simon’s hand sharply found your rear, clapping a hand against your cheek and causing you to squeak and jump away from him. “You just wait until I get you home, good thing you streched considering the positions I'll be putting you in…”
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Masterlist | Ask | 24-11-2023
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shrugs-a-lot · 13 days
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More VBS things
Few headcanons under the cut
Kohane has little hampter hands, she also has a unconscious tendency to try to constantly keep them occupied. This means she likes grabbing things which includes but is not limited to her squadmates clothes or fingers. This can happen while walking or mid conversation:
- An is the one it happens to most often: She places a hand on Kohane’s shoulder? Kohane’s fingers will come up to tangle with hers if she leaves it there long enough. They’re walking side by side? You guessed it, Kohane’s intertwining pinkies or grabbing the bottom of her sleeve until An initiates actual proper hand holding, which somehow manages to make Kohane bashful 9 times out of 10. Kohane will even fiddle with An’s fingers at times instead of her own when nervous. An always ensures Kohane understands just how adorable her habit is, Kohane is never not mortified when she does so.
- Toya just silently goes out of his way to accommodate Kohane whenever it happens to him, it’s in the same way a person will find themselves stuck when a cute animal sleeps on their lap. No matter the activity, he’ll switch to doing it one handed: drinking coffee, awkwardly flipping the pages of a book he’s reading with his fingers, writing while his notebook keeps slipping away while Kohane obliviously plays with his other hand. Kohane will usually eventually realize and profusely apologize, releasing his hand, Toya will always reply that he doesn’t mind.
- Akito just… stared, the very first time she grabbed his sleeve while they were walking together. When Kohane noticed what she was doing Akito could have created an uncrackable password from the horrified noises that came out of her. He cut through it all to just gruffly say it’s fine and that she could do what she wants. He says nothing more about it when she starts regularly grabbing at his jacket and after a similar song and dance, his fingers. Internally though, Akito never stops finding it funny just how small Kohane’s hands are.
An, at a certain moment, discovers she likes giving nicknames, like, a lot:
- Toya is the very first subject, though it was initially on accident. After seeing how much he enjoyed his first nickname, An openly calls him by it for a good week until, on a random whim, she calls him something slightly different. Tono equally loved the second one as much as the first, so An goes by it for a few days more until she switches it up again. Ton Ton also really liked it. Henceforth, a cycle started, An would call him something new depending on her mood, and Toya would be delighted each time, like a joke that never gets old. Though there is a point where the names devolve into something that, no matter how much you squint, do not resemble the original name at all, much to the confusion of anyone who is not Transformer Truck.
- Akito is next to fall victim to An’s nicknaming, he does not take to it as well as Toya does. An gets a kick out of how unamused he gets when he hears one. Akito has threatened multiple times that he will stop responding to An unless she uses his actual name, he has yet to actually act on it. An has fun looping through the select names that tick Akito off the most while he loops between asking her to stop, groaning, or glaring. One day though, he retaliates by giving her a dumb nickname to see how she likes it, safe to say An found it hysterical and a sort of competition began between them to find the most creative insult to call the other. Potato face will never admit out loud that he finds it entertaining.
- Kohane’s kind of a special case, because while An does occasionally shorten her name of call her some variation of it, she takes more enjoyment in adding adjectives to the word partner as if it was a sort of game. An’s highest score is a 7 adjective chain that drove Kohane to try to sink under the table they were sitting at in sheer embarrassment. When An realized after a while that she can get away with using pet names or terms of endearment, Kohane was introduced to the wonderful world of being called a little cabbage in french after An decided to go worldwide with her names. Kohane, after a lot of thinking and hyping herself up, goes out and calls An her melody as a gesture of reciprocation, she only barely makes it through the overjoyed squeal and crushing hug that followed.
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vampcubus · 1 year
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Hi, I really like your writing (especially your Rengoku headcanons.) Also, your page looks so aesthetically pleasing, I think it's really cool.
Can I request some headcanons for Tokoyami with a s/o who's love language is biting? (It can be fluff or smut or both, it's your choice)
If you don't want to write this, that's okay too, have a nice day!
sure can! and thank you sm for the compliments, got me blushin’ n shit 😳 i also decided to tack on more characters for this prompt!
𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒
:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : fumikage, izuku, katsuki, and eijirou.
:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : vaguely nsfw, projecting my biting kink onto all these men tbh.
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𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈
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— Fumikage’s probably the most startled by your love bites for sure. He’s still getting used to your kisses, so you can bet he’s jumping a mile into the air when he feels you sneak a nip to his shoulder. He’s so flustered, beak tipped down to his chest in embarrassment. What was that for? Were you teasing him? An intrusive thought perhaps?
— When you explain it to him, it endears him to you even more. You were biting him because it’s how you expressed your love? He wished he’d known sooner.
— He definitely writes romanticized poetry about how your teeth feel on his skin. 
— Knaw on him all you like, he’s yours to chew on as you see fit — so long as you promise to kiss the bites you leave afterward.
— Poor guy gets teased endlessly for the bite marks he’s got all over, somehow them being inherently non-sexual makes it worse. He feels dirty when his friends make unsavory jokes about them, but it’s not like he’s going to tell you that you can’t sink your teeth in just because he’s embarrassed.
— He notices that you tend to do it even more when you’re excited about something, nicks of your teeth interspersed with your enthusiastic smooching. 
— He should have expected your habit to emerge in the bedroom, yet it still incites a shaky gasp when you sink your teeth into his neck and shoulder as you take him inside you. 
— Don’t tell anyone but he likes the pain, particularly when it mixes with the pleasure of you claiming him.
— He traces your bite marks when he’s thinking of you <3
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𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀
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— There’s nothing cuter than the pitched gasp he makes when your teeth nip at his ear for the first time. At first, he thinks you just wanted to mess with him so he pouts, rubbing at the red mark you left behind. 
“That hurt you know…” he huffs, bottom lip sticking out.
— That is until he realizes that you’re doing it mindlessly like you weren’t giving it a second thought. 
— When your lips press a kiss to his shoulder in passing, he’s conditioned to tense up in case you decide to take a bite out of him on a whim.
— It’s not an unpleasant feeling, but he has a habit of being vocal about his approval. The last thing he wants is for you to sneak a bite when he isn’t expecting it and he moans out loud when other people are around.
— in short, he likes it. a lot.
— He’s your personal chew toy as far as he’s concerned. Still, his curiosity compels him to ask you about it.
“So I’ve noticed that you uh… bite me a lot? Is that like… a conscious thing or…?” he inquires one day, and the way your face practically bursts into flames should be enough of an answer on its own.
“Gosh I’m so sorry if that’s weird—“ you blubber, fanning your burning cheeks as he watches in fascination. You’re so cute when you get flustered like that, he muses.
“No, I like it!” He states a little too loudly and then rushes to amend his enthusiasm, stumbling over his words as his own furious blush flares up. He was outing himself. “N-not in a weird way or anything. I just think it’s cute!” 
— And when he makes the connection of you biting him = loving him, he’s over the moon about it.
— Has a thing for being marked as yours, so your habit goes hand in hand with that desire. 
— Sink your teeth in until his skin dots with blood, he doesn’t care, cus no amount of pain could take away from the dizzying pleasure he feels at that moment.
— Encourages you to bite him harder <333 he's no weakling, you know you can be rougher with him, don't you?
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𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔
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— As expected, he is less than understanding about it the first time you leap into his back and chomp his shoulder.
 “HUH?! THE HELL DID YOU BITE ME FOR?!”
— Calls you a freak 😔 honestly he can be so mean </3 
— However, this can be amended by confessing that your compulsion to bite him was a sign of love. Watch his cheeks get all red, hand covering his face as he leans away from your scrutinizing gaze — because you’ve flustered him. 
“Yeah, okay I get it! you do it cus you like me or whatever but it hurts you know. Can’t just do it out of nowhere…” he grumbles, avoiding your sparkling eyes. Because that sounded like a stamp of approval to you.
— He’ll fuss most times you do it, but only before guiding your teeth to the place he wants them. Cus if you’re gonna bite him you might as well go for the throat where he likes it.
— Can’t help that his cock throbs whenever your breath grazes his jugular, anticipating the sting of your teeth pulling the tender skin between them.
— Going in for an affectionate chomp in other places just gets you an annoyed hand shoving your face away — especially if you’re around other people. It’s almost pitiful how your face drops when he does as if he’s the bad guy. What a joke!
“C’mon, don’t give me that look. You can chew on me later.”
— He’s all too aware that you do it to distract him, so he won’t always tolerate it if he’s genuinely busy. 
“I know you’re just tryna distract me. You aren’t slick, you little shit.” he’ll hiss, though the truth is he just doesn’t wanna work with a boner.
— If you bite someone else he is IMMENSELY jealous. Those teeth are only for him dammit. And that realization just makes him even more embarrassed, because fuck you’ve infected him with your weirdness. He wasn’t supposed to like it too!
— He bites back in retaliation so watch out!
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𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀
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— He’s a tough guy, and obsessed with you, so chances are he’s not going to bat an eye if you wanna take a lil chomp every now and then. In his mind, you must think he looks tasty enough to eat, and he’ll take that as a compliment thank-you!
— That said, he does notice, and that you only do it to him specifically. His heart squeezes at that. I’m special. I’m special to them. Playing in his head in an endless loop as he stares at you with that lovesick puppy look.
— Eijirou wants to reciprocate but with teeth like his, he’d be too nervous about breaking the skin. That longing being there means something.
— He knows to pay attention to you when you nip him, lest he’d like to see how much harder you can bite. And he really didn’t wanna have to explain to Katsuki why he’s got an angry red bite mark at the base of his neck. (Truthfully Katsuki would notice but not say anything about it, equating it to his best friend getting mad pussy, which he is already plenty jealous of.)
— In a perfect world Eijirou would sit with you in his lap while you sucked dark marks into the flesh of his throat all day long.
— The more chomps you take out of him the more he desires to return the favor, imagining what your reaction would be. Would you like it? Would you let him do it again? Do you even realize you do it? Those questions bubble anxiously inside until he musters up the courage to ask.
“Hey uh, would it be totally weird if I bit you?” he slides it so casually into the conversation you almost miss it. But he can tell he’s piqued your curiosity when your eyes dart from the tv to his own, side-eying him but not fully acknowledging the question. “Like… how you love nip me sometimes — which is very cute by the way — I wanna do the same to you.”
“I don’t ask before biting you, why should you? Just bite me next time, K? It would be totally hot but you’ve ruined the element of surprise, you see?” You return to your dead-eyed stare at the tv, munching away at your snack as if nothing happened.
He stares dumbly at you for a moment before he processes that as both acceptance and a challenge.
“Right!” 
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azullumi · 1 year
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wanderer and tighnari — boyfriend messages ☆彡
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summary — phone calls and messages exchanged between you two.
characters — wanderer and tighnari (w/gender-neutral reader)
tags — fluff, modern au, established relationship, no use of emojis in text ; headcanons
word count — 704
note — i wrote this on a different time compared to the first part so the approach in writing is different! ^^ i'll be working on requests later on
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WANDERER
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Midnight calls. Late night texts. Random crack of the dawn messages. Everything that happens on a whim, you name it. The peak message activity between you two happens late at night until dawn and the time that you two would stop talking will depend on your plans or schedule for the next day—you have classes? You'll either fall asleep in the midst of talking or finish the conversation by 2 in the morning at max. It's the weekend tomorrow? Expect that the two of you would either be awake the whole night, doing something together and talking to each other, or sleeping quite early to make up for the hours lost from the past few days that you should have been asleep.
Being mean is the embodiment of his being and sarcasm is the mother language of his tongue. Even in texts with the restrictions of expression as it's all locked behind and washed down to just simple letters in a rounded-corners rectangle, he is able to express and convey the tone and feeling he wants to show—hatred, disdain, confusion, and everything.
One thing that he loves to do is to just be a little gremlin, sending random images or messages in class that either distracts you because you're trying to think of what it means or because you'll end up talking to him— your attention will be all directed to him and he loves it. He knows the effect he has on you and completely takes advantage of it because why not? The opportunity is there so why not make the most out of it?
Despite all of that, however, he still looks after you. Yes, he might be a little mean at times and he could act like some sort of menace but he cherishes you and loves you. It's just like when you'll mention how you want something on that day and he'll show up later on with that thing that you want in hand, messaging you to open the door even if it's already late at night—he'll end up having to stay over and sleep at your home.
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TIGHNARI
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Have you eaten already? How about breakfast? Did you drink enough water? Did you skip your meal again? Oftentimes, you find yourself being asked by your own mind if you're talking to your doctor or your boyfriend—though you do appreciate how he looks after and cares for you, making sure that you're eating properly and staying healthy, bringing you food and everything when you didn't get to eat earlier that time because you were busy and didn't have time to, or when he'll look after yourself every single time that you are sick and you have to listen to his nagging especially when he'll learn that you did something which put you in that situation.
He's just always so worried about you that he checks on you as much as he can—much more if you're a reckless and careless type of person. It just feels like it's one of his nature to look after his loved ones, especially you and though it can be overwhelming at first because you might think that you're being bothersome to him, trust me, he doesn't think of you like that, you're not some troublesome thing to him and he's doing everything on his own accord. It just puts his mind at peace and his thoughts silent knowing that you're safe, healthy, or away from harm—and knowing that he's part of the reason for those makes him proud of himself.
Even through his messages, you could feel the gentleness in his tone or way of speaking in general—his choice of words makes up for all of it despite not having the habit of using emojis nor emoticons. Perhaps it was also the way he adds sweet and affectionate messages in between like him telling you that he loves you after greeting you good morning.
He's very considerate of your feelings, always taking it into account before he does something. He's the type to message you and update you on what he's doing, telling and informing you if ever he'll become busy so that you won't wonder why he is not replying to you quickly or answering any of your calls.
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© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
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✮⋆˙ finding the divine in the domestic; mortal gods blurb
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content: greek gods as morals??? ig??? warning: you will cry (hopefully) you will laugh (hopefully) you will feel mushy gushy feelings (hopefully) author's note: this is the most beautiful thing ive ever written...i just...i dont even care if you guys like this one bc i love it...something about the romanticizing of human life from the eyes of people who have never experienced it just...gets me sappy.
the gods, wanting to avoid ending up like their parents, decided to pass the torch to their own children instead of waiting for a usurping to come. let's take a look into their mortal lives now, huh?
zeus and hera got a cookiecutter house in connecticut. its just one of those houses that always looks put together, a perfect wife curled up on the couch with a book waiting for her perfect husband to come home from work. for a while, it was a facade. they fought nearly every night, thundering voices and lightning quick jabs made constantly. but, every night, following another harsh fight, zeus would lay down on the perfect couch. he'd sigh, not completely sure why he fought with her as much as he did. then he'd hear it. the quiet pitter patter of hera's feet against the hardwood. she'd walk up to the couch and, without a word, curl up beside him. zeus always made room for her, his strong arms easily finding waist to keep her from falling off the couch in the night. and in the morning, they'd decide it was time to seek counseling. because the love was there - you could taste in, it hung so strongly in the air - and they both wanted to make it work. and there is no shame in getting a little help.
poseidon made his way to sunny, beautiful, california. he bought a bungalow, right on the beach, naturally. it was hard to find him not on the beach. and when he wasn't there, soaking in the sun or surfing the waves, he was picking up trash or joining waste management teams. he refused to let his son's domain rot away with plastics and trash. he often made his way to visit sally and her husband, becoming that strange uncle that you only see every now and then but is your favorite to estella. but, he was content, paying eight bucks for crappy coffee and giving advise to new surfers. he found peace on those california beaches. and trash. lots and lots of trash. but, he was working on it, chewing out any teens who had the audacity to leave behind any plastic straws or tin cans.
hades and persephone settled down in oregon, a house deep in the foggy woods. it was a modern and striking house but nearly impossible to find. the pair had gotten used to the doom and gloom, not quite ready to embrace the sun. persephone's garden was as large as she wanted, every whim of hers met and fulfilled by her husband. hades found a love for dark and smooth coffee, investing his time and money in a fancy espresso bar. stock, out of view as to not ruin his gloomy aesthetic, was stuffy for persephone's brightly colored margaritas. they'd share these drinks as jazz blared from a record player and hades would spin his darling wife around the living room. and for those of you who found this modern house deep in the trenches of oregon, you'd see a loving husband spinning around his loving wife through a large and impressive window. and you'd believe in love again.
hermes found a comfort in the busy streets of philadelphia. he became a huge sneakerhead, naturally, though he had a bad habit of running holes right through the soles of very valuable and sought shoes. he figured they were meant to be worn though, not hidden inside some glass box. he helped a local post office, helping elderly lady's send packages to their distant children and helping teens write love letters to crushes. he once helped a man with his voicemail, the two writing jokes for hours until they found the perfect one. hermes ran every morning, watching the sun raise on a city that he loved before stopping and finding a park bench. there he'd sit, a batch of warm chocolate chip cookies that always reminded him of the boy he failed and a philly cheesesteak from the shop that would have close down without his business. and on the days in which he missed anyone, he'd leave a voicemail, in hopes they'd just call him back.
athena never stood stagnant again. she bounced all over, never really finding a home to call her own. but she was happy this way, seeing a library in every state or country. finding books in languages she couldn't read but buying them anyways, knowing one day should would be able to read it. she went on loads of museum tours, correcting the poor guides at every opportunity. and while waiting for the next flight or train, she'd talk to strangers. men, women, old, or young, it didn't matter to her. she just wanted to know everything these people were willing to share with her. amir, a suave college boy from utah with a love for beanies, taught athena how to play cat's cradle. adelaide an elderly southern bell from georgia taught athena why she should never pair black and navy blue together. sweet little chloé, a seven year old girl from michigan dressed like a superhero, taught athena how to play pattycake. and she never forget anything these people taught her, the knowledge they shared something she held tight to her chest, it only oozing out when she was questioned by others who simply wanted to learn.
ares got a big house smack-dab in the middle of texas. he liked the biting heat and the numbing cold. he liked the seemingly endless roads that he could ride his bike on, never really knowing when it ended. he liked his guns and he liked picking fights over politics. but his favorite, by far, was the barbeque he could find on every corner. he liked starting bar fights but leaving before he could get caught in them, his bike reeving over the sound of glass smashing against someone's head. but he also liked tending to his neighbor's farm. he liked branding the cows and horses, burning permeant claims on them, the custody of it all. he liked yelling at the sheep to herd them, not even needing to cup his lips to get the desired decimals. he grew fond of the manual labor and the farmers tan. he whole dirty and bloody exchange of caring for a farm, raising pigs and cows for slaughter, riding and training horses that once started out bucking at anything that moved, even the lazy shepherd dog wormed it's way into what could be considered the closest thing ares had to a heart.
hephaestus and aphrodite moved into a house just outside of miami, florida. aphrodite wanted to be close to the buzz of people and hephaestus liked the work ethic of people down there. plus, he wanted his wife to be happy. they compromised, close enough to miami for a weekend trip but far enough away to allow them to relax. he opened up a shop of his own, his fingers itching to work, and she was more than happy to accompany him in this business endeavor. while hephaestus chatted up men about their cars, aphrodite would drag their lovers away into her office and gossip over glistening pink teas and scones. she'd been more than happy to help with paper work, filing their taxes in a glittery pink gel pen and signing away on checks with a metallic purple one. she'd always packed lunches for the two, sweet love letters written on pink post it notes shoved on top, the first thing he'd see. and he made sure the house was exactly what she wanted. if she off handedly mentioned she didn't like the color of the bathroom anymore, he'd be changing it within seconds. even if he just painted it the day before, he didn't care. his favorite passion projects were whatever her whims requested of him, each one he devoted himself to fully, even if he did have to change it in a week because sage green is apparently out now.
demeter got a condo in boston. she paid extra for a balcony, which she could barely walk out onto anymore as the plants she had were overflowing the place. she could see the boston commons from her condo, where she'd always pull a chair out onto the compact balcony with her iced tea and people watch. she chatted with people who passed under her balcony, waving warming as they raced off to their jobs or their classes. sometimes, when they had no where to be and nothing but time on their hands, she'd buzz them up. by the time they reached her door, there was already another chair set up and a steaming cup of tea just waiting for them. and she'd share stories, personal anecdotes hidden behind plant puns and her siblings names switched out for foliage. zeus turned into aster, poseidon to cypress, and hades to elm. she talked fondly of her family, secrets hidden behind the lip of her mug. and then she was waving the no longer strangers out of her door, leaning over her balcony as they left, beaming a smile and waving her hand like a flower bursting out of the snow at the end of winter.
apollo moved far out to san diego. he found comfort in one night stands, something about warm skin pressed against warm skin. he tested and trailed but never settled. walk of shames didn't exist to him, those were just a regular walk. and he was having fun, which is all he cared about. he'd return to his apartment, which was cloaked in sunlight and cozy vibes. he'd pet the tabby cat that moved in without his permission and serve himself a breakfast of avocado toast, thinking of the boy he'd met at the cafe a few weeks ago. and while he poured his steaming coffee, he thought of the girl he bought groceries for after her card declined and they way she hugged him so tightly and warmly, thanking him with a kiss to his cheek. and as he curled up on his couch to eat, he called his twin sister, just to tell her he loved her and nothing more. she didn't pick up, surely asleep even though it was 9 in the morning, but she'd always been a night owl. without leaving a voicemail, apollo abandoned his meal and his cat, swiping up his keys and desperately running out of his house, determined to make it to his sisters place before she awoke. he just wanted to beam a smile at her and give her a warm hug and be spontaneously him.
artemis lived in colorado...sometimes. she moved around a lot, too. often she could be found slumming it at her brother's apartment, as he wasn't there very much in the night time. she'd found a deep comfort in speakeasies and dive bars, nothing filling her quite as much as an overpriced and crappy burger. the woods were another source of comfort and there she found a love for snowboarding. the racing down the snowy peaks and blurring of the deep green trees giving her a rush that only life-risking sports could do. she liked the clink and clank of her silver rings against each other, each finger have at least one, but probably more than one, except for her ring finger. that one she proudly left bare, not in wait, but simply because she was above that. she'd tried it, the kissing and the sharing of skin, and decided it just wasn't for her. her twin brother would always joke that now there was more for him and they'd laugh, finding it amusing in the way only siblings can.
god, doesn't just stun you how lucky we are to live a life?
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trigunwritings · 1 year
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Bad Habits (and Dutiful Husbands)
Rating: General
Relationships: Fem!Reader/Wolfwood/Vash
Summary: Vash and Wolfwood have to take care of a job, but their thoughts are still with their wife.
Written by @blood--hunter
Note: Reader is referred to as wife and uses she/her. Various pet names are also used through the writing.
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The lighter sparked to life with only one flick. Wolfwood sighs in relief, lifting the small dancing flame to his cigarette as if it were as delicate as a butterfly. Just as he’s about to cup his hand—mostly out of habit— around the end, there is the sound of a gunshot.
In the same breath that the bullet meets his cigarette, Nicholas lets out a sigh. He had known it was going to happen, but it was still an annoyance that made his teeth grind.
“Seriously?” He asks, flickering dark eyes to the man walking towards him. Vash was dressed in his usual red coat as always, blond hair waving gently in the desert wind. “You couldn’t even let me have one drag?”
Though his gun was nowhere to be seen, Vash was the only one stupid enough to literally shoot something out of Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s mouth and not expect any consequences or accidental injuries.
“You heard the little lady.” Vash said, taking the final few steps to stand before his husband. “No more smoking. It’s bad for your lungs!”
Nick gnashed his teeth again, leaning against the large, cross-shaped gun that was behind him. Vash was, unfortunately, right. Their wife had strict orders for him not to smoke anymore largely out of concern for his health. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that his newfound powers would keep anything like cancer at bay, instead acquiescing to her and Vash’s whims than try to make the argument.
“Whatever,” He spits, turning his eyes to the ruined, ramshackle house before him. Within was hidden the Glass Gang, known for burning down any town they went through and turning the sand itself to glass in their wake. They preferred fire as their weapon of choice, and there was a bounty on them that could cover the bills for months. “At least I didn’t show up late.”
“Aw, c’mon, I just got a little held up.”
Wolfwood didn’t comment—with Vash, the excuse was probably literal.
He hoists his gun onto his shoulder, letting it sit there as he sauntered to the front door.
“Hey,” the man said, banging loudly at the door that held on by barely one hinge, “Come on out!”
“Could be a little more polite.” Vash sighs, but he stands there regardless, hovering over Nick’s shoulder like a worried hen.
Ever since they’d gotten married he had started doing that. He did it to their wife too, hovering, fidgetting, worrying about their health and how they felt. It was Vash’s way of showing how he cared, so Nick allowed it, and sometimes—only sometimes—he even found it cute. Their wife had told him that he needed to accept some things, like people caring about him, when they got married. Her words rang in his ears in moments like these.
It’s because he loves you, Wolfwood. Let him.
“Ain’t commin’ out!” A voice finally rings from inside.
He sighs. Sometimes he wished he’d just picked a different profession. Maybe being the town preacher would have been better, but it never really stuck and—if he were an honest man—he preferred sticking to Vash’s side. Otherwise, their wife would have done it and he didn’t think he could bare being the one at home taking care of things while she and their husband was out earning money.
Vash pipes up before Wolfwood can think of anything to say. “We have donuts!”
“Really?”
Nick raises a brow, looking to his husband. Vash is subtly shaking his head no.
So, it was a lie, then.
The voice inside responds all the same, “Then I guess I will!”
Nick has enough forethought to leap away from he door, grabbing Vash by the edge of his sleeve and hauling ass. Just as they get clear the slab of wood is kicked open— a burst of flames taking up the space where they had just stood.
Vash whines from beside them as they hit the sand. He looks over his shoulder to see a tall man—taller than even Vash— standing in the doorway. The gang-member held a huge flame thrower in his hands, complete with a large tank attached to the back of it, probably filled with some sort of fuel.
“What? No donuts for me!” The man says, a wide, hungry grin on his face, “Or are they all burnt?” Nick rolls his eyes but Vash chuckles, even if it is a little awkward.
“So,” His husband speaks from beside him as they both stand, dusting themselves off. “No way we can convince you to just turn yourselves in?”
“‘Fraid not.”
“Well, that stinks.” Vash sighs, “And here I told my wife that I wouldn’t get into any trouble today.”
“Our wife,” Wolfwood corrects, expression straight and unwavering.
The gang-member’s face crumples in confusion and discuss. “Your wife? What kind of woman would marry you two assholes?”
Nicholas lifts the punisher, taking aim for the tank of fuel, but Vash stops him with a firm hand on the end of his gun.
“Now, now, no need to go insulting us.”
The man chuckles. Nicholas’ frown deepens. One more stupid word and he was going to be eating lead.
“Nah, I won’t insult you anymore. But I am gonna make your little lady at home eat your ashes!”
He lifts his flame thrower. Vash dodges out of the way, rolling to the man’s side while Wolfwood goes the other way both of them are flanking him but as they get into position gun fire erupts from the house. The rest of the gang was joining the party.
Fine by him.
Wolfwood strafes with the weight of his weapon on his shoulder, letting bullets strip through the house’s walls. He knew Vash didn’t want anyone killed, and he didn’t want to disappoint his husband, but it was better to lay down covering fire and risk maiming someone than get killed themselves. Their wife would never forgive them if the both of them didn’t come back in one piece.
Vash, for his part, acclimates quickly to the new scenario and moves to be behind the large man. Unwilling to fire at—what seems to be—their boss, or to get hit themselves, the gang-members stop firing, probably to attempt to repossession themselves.
Their leader growls deep in the back of his throat, trying to swing around to set Vash ablaze but Wolfwood’s husband is too fast, and manages to stay behind him as he swings from side to side.
“Get back here you little freak!”
“No thanks! I don’t wanna end up roasted!”
“Fight fair damnit!”
“Nope!”
As the two of them continue to bicker, Wolfwood makes his way into the house. There are five other gang members and all of them are scrawny, hungry men who aren’t very hard to take down now that their cover is gone and their boss is preoccupied. After tying them up with rope as one big group he emerges from the house again.
Vash has his hands raised, a simpering smile on his face as the boss points the nozzle of his flame-thrower at the other man.
“Got you now!”
Wolfwood sighs, rolling his eyes. “When are you going to stop playing with him?”
The boss smiles wide, eyeing him. “What? So you want me to roast your husband right in front of your eyes!”
“Wasn’t talking to you.”
The man’s face crumples in confusion, but it’s Vash who speaks next. “Oh, I was just gonna let him get this out of his system first.”
With a click the gang-member attempts to light his weapon. Then another click. And another.
Click. Click. Click.
It’s only now that he realizes the tank of fuel is long gone, Vash having gotten rid of it long before Wolfwood even went into the house.
“W-What?!”
“Sorry buddy, couldn’t let you go around setting people on fire!”
Before the man can say anything more, he’s on the ground and his hands are tied behind his back.
Another long breath leaves Nicholas and he grabs for his cigarettes without thinking. He barely has time to put it in his mouth before a gunshot rings out, knocking it away once again.
“God damnit blondie!”
“Hey! Wifey’s orders!”
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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year
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Long Time Coming
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After spending your entire life getting to know the optimistic, perpetually happy Josh Kiszka, you are pleasantly surprised when he shows you a different side of him.
Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader
Word Count: 8.3k
Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, mentions death/sickness, mentions of drug use and addiction, parental issues, creepiness from men. Sorry if I missed any!!
here’s some smutty angsty grumpy x sunshine love. Writing this whole thing has been a bit therapeutic, so it turned out a little longer than I expected 😭 I apologize. anyways, be kind, I hope you enjoy, and please excuse any grammar mistakes! ALSO it’s been a long time since I’ve written smut so if it’s bad please bear with me
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There was something about him. Something that all of the girls seemed to swoon over, that implored them to flock to him and fall to his feet. Sure, you could understand how it could be charming, but to you? It drove you absolutely insane. And not in the good way. You didn’t hate the guy; far from it, really. But you did try to limit your one on one time with him, just to spare yourself the headache later in the day.
Josh Kiszka was not a bad person. He was nowhere near it. He was very attractive, but also nice, kind, and quite funny, too, but he was so unbelievably happy all of the time. You didn’t hate happiness, but by god, you were sure if you told him you’d murdered his whole family he’d still find the best in the situation. Admittedly, you were aware that you lived your life a bit more on the grumpy side, always leaning towards the glass half empty idea, but even so; you didn’t understand how he never seemed to be in a bad mood.
You didn’t hate optimism, but he sure as hell made you feel like you shouldn’t be sad over the stuff you’re allowed to be sad about. That, and due to your mediocre life filled with more than enough troubles, you envied that you’d never seen a frown on his face. You loved him, sure. He was one of your friends, albeit you found yourself closer with the other three boys. You’d grown up with them, always found yourself in their company, and even moved to Nashville after you’d finished university just to be around them again, and perhaps to get away from Michigan, as well.
You worked in finance, securing a well paying job as an accountant at a big name company not long after your move to the big city. You had sort of moved on a whim, with no real promise of a good job or any sustainable income. You didn’t want to move until you had one for sure, but eventually conceded because of a promise from Sam that he and Danny had a spare bedroom in their apartment that was begging for someone to take it. They had been pestering you for as long as they’d lived there for you to move in with them. You had graduated with Jake and Josh, but found more solace hanging out with the younger two boys once you all grew up. Josh still took credit for ‘founding your friendship with Sam’ as he was the first of any of the brothers to spark a conversation with you.
You got plenty of alone time when the boys were off on tour, and didn’t mind the noise at all when they came home. As much as you liked to believe you were an introvert, you found yourself longing for their company after coming home every day to silence. Maybe it was just Sam and Danny that brought that out in you.
You pulled into your usual parking spot outside of the apartment complex at exactly 5:17, the same time you were home almost every day, due to the ungodly (but predictable) traffic always in the way of the roads. The firm you worked for should only be a five minute drive, at most, but city traffic was tedious and nothing like what you were used to in your small hometown. You were certain you’d never get used to it. You pulled your keys out of your ignition, followed by a cigarette from your pack. You had the habit kicked for a while, but picked it up sometime during the three month stretch the boys had been gone. You hoped you could quit it again before they got back within the coming weeks, but you had little hope.
You sat on the grass by the door, lighting the end of the cigarette. You let your eyes scan the parking lot, looking for nothing in particular. The sun was warm and it was nice being outside after eight hours of stuffy office air. Your dress pants were growing even more uncomfortable by the second and you were eager to get inside so you could curl up in bed and start your weekend off correctly: a glass of wine and a date with your book. You were excited to play the new vinyl records you’d picked up earlier in the week on a spur of the moment shopping trip.
You decided to have another before you went inside, just to curb the craving for a bit longer. Just as you put the filter between your lips, the front door of the building opened. You didn’t bother to look up, figuring it was just your creepy neighbour. He always seemed to be waiting for you when you got home from work. Sam promised you he’d get him evicted when he got back. “Chainsmoking, now, y/n?” You heard a disapproving tsk follow the sentence. Your head snapped up, barely believing your ears.
“Sammy!?” You shot up from your position on the ground. He held his arms out and you jumped into them, not caring how stupid it looked. “What are you doing home?” You asked, head still buried in his shoulder. He held you until you were ready to let go.
“Missed your pretty face too much, had to come back just to see it.” He said, pinching your cheeks when he finally let go.
“You’re too sweet, Samuel. Don’t flatter me.” You rolled your eyes.
“Seriously though, you’re smoking again? I thought you were the first person to actually adhere to their New Year’s resolution.” You gave a shrug.
“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” You admitted. He nodded as if to say ‘fair enough’. “Is Danny back, too?” You asked, a hopeful gleam in your eyes. He nodded, a grin still stuck on his face.
“We had a stretch with no shows so we came home to see you.” He informed. “I know you’d never admit it, but we know you get lonely when we’re gone.” Instead of his usual joking tone, it was laced with sincerity. Instead of responding with words, you just pulled him into another embrace. He smelled like Sam; a scent that felt more like home than anything else. “Come in, get comfortable, and get something to eat. We brought you your favourite takeout,” he paused before continuing. “Thing one and Thing two are coming over tonight, too.” You chuckled at Sam’s pass at his brothers. You missed them so much, you weren’t even dreading having to deal with Josh’s exuberant personality all evening.
When you entered your apartment, you wasted no time searching for the honorary Kiszka brother. You found him standing in the living room, anxiously awaiting your arrival. You wasted no time running to him, tackling him in a hug. You both fell to the ground in a mess of limbs and echoing laughter. “I missed you too, bug.” He said, with his arms still wrapped around you. Danny was the only person in the world you allowed to call you any pet names, aside from your Grandmother, who’d raised you your whole life. Josh tried his luck, calling you ‘mama’ any chance he got, which was always met with a glare in return.
When you both got back on your feet, you implored them to tell you all about the last few months. They waved it off, assuring you they’d tell you all about it later night. You ushered them upstairs to show them the new vinyls you’d added to your collection. Eventually, you had gotten changed and graciously ate the food your roommates had brought home to you. You took a quick shower before the twins arrived, reapplying a bit of makeup so you could cover the exhaustion caused by your never ending pile of work. You sipped on a glass of wine while music played softly from your phone.
A knock sounded on the bathroom door, catching your attention. “What’s up?” You asked, unsure of who would answer.
“Get dressed up, we’re going to head to the bar down the street.” Sam’s voice sounded. You opened the door so you could talk to him face to face, rather than through a wall.
“Implying I don’t always look fantastic?” You teased.
“Not in the slightest, my dear, for you are the fairest maiden in apartment 3C.” He gave a dramatic bow. You rolled your eyes, shoving him backwards. He stumbled slightly before regaining his footing.
“I’m the only ‘maiden’ in 3C, Sammy.”
“Not true, I’m not sure if you realized but Daniel also lives with us.” You let a giggle escape your lips as you fumbled with the tube of mascara in your hand. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
You finished getting ready not long after Sam left you, pulling a nice dress from your closet and throwing it on. You took your hair down from its clip to let it dry naturally. When you made your way back to the living room, four voices sounded down the hall. You appeared around the corner, staying silent until one of the twins noticed you. After a few minutes, Josh broke from their conversation to check if you’d shown up. His eyes lit up at the sight of you. You didn’t even find yourself annoyed when his infamous smile crossed his cheeks. He pushed past everyone to greet you. You welcomed his hug, to everyone’s surprise. “Looking good, as usual, mama.” He whispered as he let go. You bit your tongue, fighting back a snide comment at his pet name.
“Thanks, Joshua.” You replied. You let your eyes linger over him for a moment. He looked good, too, but you’d never let yourself say it out loud. It would fuel his ego a bit too much. He’d cut his hair, which you’d failed to notice in the photos Sam had sent you. It was shaved on the sides now, the top a curly mess. You noticed he looked a little less boyish since the last time you’d seen him, now growing in a bit of facial hair. He looked really good. After an awkward staring contest, Jake pushed his twin to the side to greet you, too. “To the bar, then?” You asked the group after a few moments. There was chorus of agreements.
It was dark out now, the sun just finished setting, leaving a rusty glow in the sky. The group of you walked down the busy sidewalk together, passing other groups of drunkards with the same idea. You were sandwiched between Sam and Danny, both of their arms wrapped around you. To be honest, you hated the bar. Sweaty drunk people dancing to shitty music, creepy guys who made your skin crawl, and always leaving feeling dirty. It was not something you desired to experience. But tonight, you were more than happy to go if it meant you got to be with your friends.
Jake led the way to a booth in the far corner, away from the crowd. You slid in first, and Josh jumped at the chance to sit beside you. You bit the inside of your cheek, wishing someone else had claimed the seat first, but you stayed silent. The night was filled with chatter, stories about the tour bus antics and the different cities they’d been lucky enough to visit. “You have to come with us sometime, y/n, I think you’d love it.” Josh said.
“I can’t just get up and go, Josh. I have to work.” You told him, shutting the idea down. It irked you slightly, knowing he thought you could just drop everything and leave.
“Take some vacation time, then. We’d love to have you come along. Plus, I hate the thought of you being here alone all of the time.” You had to take a double take when the words left his mouth. Not once, in your lifetime of friendship, could you ever recall him saying he hated something. ‘Weird’ you thought to yourself.
“Y-yeah, maybe.” You nodded, taking a long sip from your drink. After the silence lingered too long, the youngest brother jumped at the opportunity to break it.
“Shots, anyone?” Sam asked, eyeing you specifically. You shrugged.
“As long as it’s not bottom of the barrel liquor.”
“Don’t I always treat you well?” Sam snipped back. You smiled at him as he left the booth, Danny and Jake following suit, presumably also to get more drinks. That left you and Josh to yourselves.
“How’s your big girl job treating you?” Josh asked, taking sudden interest in your personal life.
“Uh, it’s work, I guess.” You let out a small laugh.
“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad! You work for a huge company - it must be exciting!” He smiled at you. You let out a long exhale, nodding and forcing a smile on your face. There it was, the dreaded, mind-numbing optimism.
Sam returned with a platter of shots. He sat them in front of you with a charming smile. “For the lovely lady.”
“All for me?” You raised an eyebrow.
“If you feel such a need to have all of them, then I suppose I couldn’t be too upset with you.” He joked. You took two off the tray and the lime slice. You threw one back with no salt or lime, barely flinching at the burn it left behind. You finished the second one and popped the lime in your mouth, sucking the juice from it. “Good god, woman. You could bring any man to his knees shooting liquor like that.” Sam said with a humorous, lustful tone.
“I’m just getting started, darlin’.” You mumbled. Chasing the shots with the last of your drink. “I’ve got to take a trip outside; I will be back.” You said, shooing Josh out of the booth. You went outside for a cigarette, letting the cool air settle deep into your bones, returning feeling slightly rejuvenated. When you went back inside, you stopped by the bar to grab another beverage. As you waited to be served, a man just around the same age as you squeezed into the limited space between you and the next person.
You shifted awkwardly, not wanting to bump shoulders with him. He turned to smile at you, looking you up and down. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing buying your own drinks?” He asked. You brushed the comment off, not responding. You drummed your fingertips off the sticky bar top, signalling your impatience. “Playing hard to get, eh?” He pried, making a move to put his arm around you. You tried to shimmy out of his grip, but you were packed too tightly between other people to get away.
“Nope, just not interested.” You huffed.
“Oh come on now, let me buy you a drink, at least. Then maybe another, and I might get you drunk enough to agree to come home with me.” He gave you a sly grin. You couldn’t see it, but Josh was staring daggers at him from the booth. He’d been the first to notice your delay in returning, and the first to catch sight of the sleazy guy trapping you beside him. He was ablaze with anger just at the thought of someone touching you when you didn’t want it.
“Yeah, not the best pickup line, buddy.” You shut him down once more. His grasp around your waist tightened as you saw a flash of anger in his eyes. Your heart drummed against your chest, hoping one of the boys would notice and help you out.
“Oh come on, quit being a tease. Showing up here in a dress like that? You’re begging someone to take you home.” He practically growled. Just as you were trying to formulate a good enough response to get him to leave you alone, a firm, but gentle hand was placed on your shoulder.
“Hey, man, get the fuck away from her.” The person snapped from behind you. You turned your head, expecting to see Jake due to the tone of voice, but you were very surprised to see Josh standing there. The unknown man scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“And who are you?” The guy puffed up his chest, wanting to seem scarier than he was.
“My boyfriend.” The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could process them. “Come on, babe.” You grabbed Josh’s hand and pulled him back towards the booth, finally getting a moment of freedom to allow you to do so. Josh was just as stunned as you were at your proclamation, but both of you brushed it off quickly.
“You okay, mama?” He asked, silently begging you to look at him.
“Yeah, thank you, Josh.” You breathed. Your hands were still intertwined. He nodded, eerily still, afraid that the physical contact would end.
“No need to thank me, I can still go and punch him, if you-“
“No, that’s okay.” You cut him off, even more surprised at the anger that was radiating off of him. You’d never seen Josh any less than content. His eyes held an emotion you weren’t sure Josh even knew existed. You hated to admit it, but you found it quite attractive. The thought of Josh getting that worked up on your behalf was causing you to have some conflicting thoughts. He nodded, looking to the floor.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat. You shook your head, giving him a small smile.
“No need.” You whispered back. You felt your eyes linger over his face, still trying to fully grasp the situation at hand. “Did you maybe want to play some pool? Take our minds off it?” You suggested. He gave a slow nod.
“Sure, yeah.” He mumbled.
You gathered the rest of the boys, making your way to a vacant pool table. You sat on a stool and watched the brothers play a viciously terrible game, stifling laughs the whole time. “Sam, what the fuck was that?” Danny asked, motioning to the ball he’d hit too hard, causing it to fall from the table to the floor.
“Hey! I may be pretty, but I never once said I was good at pool,” Sam raised his hands in defence. The game ended in a stalemate, as all parties gave up at the realization that there was no progress being made.
The night carried on without another hiccup. It was filled with laughs, jokes and stories that you likely would not remember by the time you woke up the next day. You were positively drunk, stumbling to the bar after Sam had convinced you to do a terribly hilarious karaoke performance with him. “Hey! Can I get another screwdriver and whatever that man has been getting all night!” You shouted at the bartender, pointing to Josh. She laughed at you but nodded, getting you the drinks.
You returned to the group, handing Josh the drink you’d bought for him. “For me?” He questioned.
“Yeah, as a thank you for earlier!” You practically yelled in his face. Your level of drunk could always be measured by the volume of your words. You were a loud drunk, for certain. Josh laughed at you.
“I think it’s time to get you home, mama.” He said, placing a hand on your hip as you tumbled into him. For once, the nickname sounded nice on his lips. His smile wasn’t irritating, and his hand felt fantastic on you. You weren’t sure what had come over you. Something changed while he was gone.
“Only if I’m going home with you.” You batted your eyelashes at him. You had no idea what you were saying, and you sure as hell would regret it in the morning. Josh gave you a questioning look, but clearly whatever you said had affected him greatly. His hand on your hip tightened a little bit and his breathing sped. “What? You are my boyfriend after all,” you giggled, trying to make light of the earlier situation.
“God, I wish,” he mumbled under his breath. You didn’t catch it, your inhibitions greatly diminished. He was grateful for it, not sure if he was ready to admit that proclamation yet.
“You look good too, Josh. I wanted to say it earlier, but, you know…” you trailed off. He didn’t know, but he didn’t question it, too scared that the moment of intimacy would end. His fingers grabbed at the fabric of your dress, pulling you closer to him. Your faces were inches apart. He could smell the vodka off your breath. Your chest was almost fully pressed against him. You were both quite intoxicated, not really understanding that you were on full display in front of everyone. Sam was watching everything, mouth agape in shock. He was quite aware of your usual disdain for his brother, not understanding what was happening. Jake had a smirk on his lips, always knowing it was bound to happen eventually.
“Thank you,” He whispered, voice sounding a bit strained, not breaking eye contact with you once. You took a long gulp of your drink, feeling the liquid courage coursing through your veins. Your skin was on fire with a feeling you’d never felt before. Sure, you’d had a fling or two, a short term relationship here and there, but you’d never felt desire quite like this. Seeing Josh angry had sparked a fire in you. It showed you he was much more complex than he let on. You two stayed in that position, not sure how to continue on from there.
“So are you going to take me home, Joshua?” You leaned in, whispering in his ear. He sprung to action in an instant, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair and ushering you out the door. Sam shared a look with his brothers, a silent protest, wondering if he should stop you.
“Leave them be, it’s been a long time coming,” Jake said.
“Okay, then.” Sam nodded. “Looks like we’re stuck with the tab and nowhere to go for a while.”
You practically fell through the door of your apartment, hanging on to Josh for dear life. His hands were exploring your body as you led him to your bedroom, wanting to become familiar with every curve. He kicked the door shut behind him, pushing you back onto your mattress. He stood for a moment, heart pounding in anticipation.
You reached out for him, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him on top of you. Your mouths met for the first time, coming together with a neediness you couldn’t comprehend. It was messy, your teeth clashed into his a few times but you were far too invested in the moment to care. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, feeling the soft skin that lie beneath. You hastily pulled it over his head, finally taking a good look at him.
Your distaste for his loud personality seemed to overshadow how attractive he really was. Your mouth was practically watering at the sight of him, more exposed than you’d ever really seen him. His eyes were dark with a look never shared from him before. You never wanted it to go away. “Can I?” He asked, tugging at the bottom of your dress. You gave an overly-eager nod, too desperate to chastise him for his politeness. He slipped his hands under, lifting the tight skirt up to your stomach, letting out a guttural groan at the sight before pulling it off completely. “Fuck, mama.” He said, running his fingertips over the smooth skin of your stomach. His hands found your breasts in a second, quickly leaning down to pull your nipple in his mouth. He let his tongue flick over it, biting down softly after, causing a sharp gasp to break from you. You felt him smile against you.
“You like what you see?” You managed to stutter out. He pulled back, eyes raking over you again.
“You have no idea.” He said lowly, causing a knot to form in your stomach. You reached over and unbuttoned his jeans, hastily trying to get him out of them. You wanted him. No, you needed him. He stood, shimmying out of them and discarding them somewhere on the floor. He took no time in resuming the position on top of you. “So beautiful,” he mumbled, his lips meeting the sensitive skin on your neck. You were aching, desperate for his touch. Your fingers knotted in his hair at the nape of his neck. His hand found your hip once more, gripping it with a strength that made your heart flutter. “Can’t believe this is all for me.” His fingers dipped into your panties, running his fingers through your arousal. Your hips bucked upwards off the bed to meet his touch.
The pornographic moan that slipped from your mouth when his hand fully connected with your cunt sent a shiver up his spine. “Please, Josh.” You begged.
“Please, what?” He teased, his fingers lightly brushing over the bundle of nerves you’d so desperately wanted him to touch.
“Touch me, please. I need it.” You realized how desperate you sounded, but any sense shame was long gone.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He whispered. The feeling of his body hovering over you, trapping you down to the bed, was overwhelming. When his finger dipped into you, you could’ve come undone on the spot. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” He said before connecting your mouths again. His fingers pumped into you at an agonizingly slow pace, the pad of his thumb brushing against your clit with every movement of his hand. He was driving you crazy.
He pulled his hand away just as you felt yourself reaching a climax. You whimpered at the loss of contact, eyes pleading with him to continue. “As pretty as you look begging for me to touch you, I’m not done with you yet.” He said, dipping his finger into his mouth to taste the wetness. He let out a soft moan as he pulled his finger from his mouth. You were throbbing, unsure how Josh had found this power over you seemingly overnight, unsure how he was this hot and you’d never noticed it before. He took one more look over your exposed body before hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them off you completely. He kissed down your stomach, letting his lips linger just below your bellybutton.
His fingers slipped inside you once again, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from you. He resumed his pace from earlier, now letting his tongue slip over your increasingly sensitive clit. Your hands found his hair, pulling at the ends of it, completely lost in pleasure. Your hips rose from the bed, desperate for more. “That’s it, mama.” He mumbled against you, driving you crazy. “Can you cum for me?” He asked.
“Please don’t stop, Josh.” You begged, your breathing ragged.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He breathed against you. He curled his fingers upward and gave another flick of his tongue, pushing you over the edge. You clenched against his hand, slurring out a string of profanities mixed in with you crying his name. He watched you longingly as you rode out your orgasm, slowly tapering off his pace. “You make my name sound so pretty, baby.” He said pulling his boxers off and throwing them with the other discarded clothes. You admired him in the moonlight, noticing he was much larger than anyone you’d been with before.
He barely gave you time to recover before he lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly thrusted into you, giving you time to adjust. You were having none of it, pushing yourself down on him and gasping when he filled you up. His eyes fluttered closed, revelling in the feeling for only a moment before he began fucking you. He started slow, but your whimpers only fuelled him further. He reached back with his hands and grabbed your knees, pushing them into your chest. You let out a yelp when he pushed himself back into you, his tip brushing against your cervix. His movement stuttered, the look of lust quickly turning into concern. “You okay?” He asked, searching your eyes for an answer.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Please keep going.” You begged. It took him no time to resume, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “Fuck, Josh!” You moaned. The sounds coming out of him were delicious. You felt your orgasm creeping up on you again.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He growled, looking down at your pleasure-ridden expression. “Look so pretty wrapped around me like this.” Your moans were desperate, never having felt this way before. You had no idea sex could be this enjoyable. You had no idea sex with Josh could be enjoyable, period.
“M’ gonna cum, Josh.” You rushed out. He let one of your legs drop back to the bed, reaching his thumb back down to swirl around your clit once more.
“Come on, Mama. Cum on my cock.” He spat. The authority in his tone was heavenly. The words alone were enough to send you over the edge, but the added sensation of the circles he’d been rubbing over your most sensitive spot sent you spiralling, clenching around him and crying out his name.
You were fucked-out; ready to be nurtured, but he wasn’t done. He slipped his arm under your ass, pulling you even closer to him. The new angle caused a new wave of pleasure to hit you. He let your other leg drop, now bringing his hand to pinch one of your nipples between his fingers. You bucked against him, unwillingly but desperately searching for another orgasm. When you met his face again, he was almost smirking at your reaction. “Can you give me one more?” He pleaded. Sweat was dripping off him, showcasing how hard he was working to give you a good time. You could tell how hard it was for him to hold back, to pause his orgasm to ensure you were satisfied. He hadn’t faltered once, needing this just as bad as you did. You managed to give him a nod. “One more, baby, you can do it.”
You were sure the neighbours woke up from the scream that tore out of you as your third orgasm took over. Your legs were shaking, your head was spinning, and the only words you could muster were his name. His hips stuttered, pausing when he bottomed out inside you. He let out a long moan as he spilled his release into you. You two stayed still, scared to move, unsure if what had just happened was real, or some sick dream.
Eventually, he pulled out slowly, causing you to sigh at the sudden emptiness. He stood and disappeared, coming back with something to wipe you clean. He collapsed back in bed beside you once he was finished, pulling you into him. You hummed at the warmth of his body, basking in the intimacy. He placed kisses over the back of your neck and shoulders, a silent thank you for the best night of his life.
“So about that boyfriend thing,” he finally spoke, humour laced in his words. You let out a soft giggle. It wasn’t long before you both drifted into sleep.
You woke with a startle, your phone ringing angrily from somewhere in your room. Your head was pounding and your stomach was churning. Your eyes fought hard to locate where the sound was coming from. The scattered clothes around the room took you with a shock, but not as big as the shock when you realized someone was wrapped around you. Your stomach dropped as the memories from the night prior flooded your brain. Pushing the dread away, you continued your search for your cell phone. You didn’t have time to worry about him, yet. Silently slipping out of Josh’s grasp, you tried your best not to wake him.
You were still naked, and very sore. As much as you may have regretted what happened, the thought of Josh between your legs sent a rush of emotion to the pit of your stomach. As annoying as he was, he was damn good in bed. You finally found your phone under your discarded dress, realizing you must have dropped it in the rush of last night, but by the time you picked it up it had stopped ringing. The moonlight cascaded through the bedroom window, letting you know that it wasn’t quite morning yet. Fear settled in your stomach at the realization whoever was calling probably didn’t have very good news.
You grabbed Josh’s t-shirt and threw it over your head, checking the screen of your phone to see you had multiple missed calls from your grandmother. The same fear from before seeped into your veins as you stepped into the hallway to call her back. The phone barely rang before she answered. “Nana?” You whispered, praying it was her that answered the phone.
“Hey, pumpkin,” She greeted back. You let out a sigh of relief.
“What are you doing up? It’s..” you pulled the phone away to look at your screen “like five in the morning, there.” You stated.
“It’s your mom.” You could practically hear her grimace through the phone. The panic you had before grew even larger, but a new found anger came with it. Your mother had never been your favourite person. She’d had you when she was quite young and left as soon as she could. She had no shame in sticking her responsibilities on your grandmother, who’d never once treated you like you weren’t her own daughter. The last you’d heard from your mom was when she showed up for your university graduation, high on whatever drugs she’d taken before the ceremony, and embarrassed you for the millionth time.
“Uh-huh,” you said, not certain about what she would tell you next.
“She’s sick again, I’m at the hospital now.” Sick was subject. Your grandmother never liked to admit that your mother was an addict. You always presumed that it hurt her to do so, knowing that she felt like she’d failed your mom.
“Should I come home?” Was all you asked.
“I think so, pumpkin.” The sadness dripping from her tone was more than enough of an answer.
“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You didn’t give her time to respond before you hung up. You went back into your room, barely glancing at the sleeping boy in your bed. You pulled a new pair of underwear on and some sweatpants, not immediately recognizing them as your own. You concluded that they must have belonged to one of your roommates, as you had to cuff them a few times just to make them the right length for your legs. ‘Lanky bastards’ you thought to yourself.
You grabbed a backpack, shoving the necessities in it, being unable to process a single thought. You were so angry at your mother. It had been a whole lifetime of broken promises, lies, and embarrassment. Multiple hospital stays and near death experiences that brought everyone to her bedside, just for her to recover and disappear again. Asking for money, begging for a place to stay, but barely ever an ‘i love you’, a thank you, or even the common decency to tell you who your father was. You hated her, hoping deep down that maybe this would be the last time, that it would all just be over, but you felt dirty for even thinking that.
A sob left your mouth as you pulled your hair back into a messy bun. You tried your best to stay silent as you pulled out your laptop out and searched for the next flight back to Michigan. You pulled your knees to your chest as you scavenged through the ticket sales, crying into the worn fabric of your pants. You found one leaving later that morning. By pure luck, you managed to get a ticket. You were unsure if you should buy a second, thinking maybe you could ask Sam or Danny to come with you. You bought it just in case you wanted company, not caring about the wasted money if you chose to go alone.
“Y/n?” A sleep-laced voice broke you from your thoughts. ‘Fuck’ you thought to yourself, wiping away your tears. “What’s going on?” Josh asked, rubbing his eyes, making a move to sit up. You refused to look at him, trying to transfer the plane tickets from your browser to your phone.
“Nothing, Josh. Go back to sleep.” You snapped, words as cold as ice. He had to stop himself from recoiling at your tone. He’d hoped that maybe after last nights events you’d finally warm up to him a bit more. He knew you held some sort of disdain for him, but he wasn’t certain why.
“Are you crying?” He ignored your statement, now standing to come over to you. He pulled on his boxers, covering himself up.
“No.” A grand lie. “Everything is fine, Josh. Just go back to sleep.” You sighed. His eyes fell on your computer screen.
“You’re going back home?” He questioned. “Today?” His heart dropped, hoping that he didn’t cause whatever you were feeling in that moment. When you didn’t answer, his anxiety grew even larger. “Did I do something?”
“No!” You finally broke, more tears falling from your eyes. “It’s my fucking mother, again!” You slammed your laptop shut, finally pulling the boarding pass up on your phone. “Just when things are going okay, when I think that maybe she’s done ruining my life, something else happens.” You choked out. Josh crouched to be eye level with you, now wide awake. “She’s in the hospital again. My grandmother says it’s not good, but they say that every time, and she always manages to bounce back. Makes everyone drop everything to run to her side, then fucking gets up and leaves and we don’t hear from her until she needs something or ends up back in the ICU!” You were pulling at your hair as you spoke, so distraught you didn’t even realize what you were saying.
Josh knew that whatever was happening was serious. Very rarely did you ever willingly tell anyone about your mother, or even really speak about her at all. He knew that you hated her, and that she was never around, but that was about it. He didn’t even know her name. As much as you were hurting, he felt his heart soften at the fact you were willing to share your troubles with him. “You know, I don’t even know where she lives, Josh. I’ve never been to my mothers house. I don’t know if she has a boyfriend, or if I have any siblings she abandoned with somebody else, or if she lives on the fucking street, or what. I don’t know her, at all.” A scoff fell from your lips as you finished. “The only time she bothers to call me is when she needs money, or somewhere to crash for the night. I don’t even have her phone number saved, because it’s a new one every time she calls.” You cried. “I was hoping when I moved here I could get away from it but she’s always going to ruin my life!”
“Mama, just take a breath-“
“I don’t even remember the last time she said she loved me. I’m tired of uprooting my entire life every time she decides to fuck up again. I don’t even want to go, but I’d feel too guilty if this time she finally decides to kick the bucket. Knowing my luck, that’s what would happen! Then I’d be the bad guy because I wouldn’t be there, that I refused to see my mother when before she died!” You were practically screaming the words. If the others hadn’t been so drunk when they returned, they likely would have woken up to your breakdown.
“Y/n,” Josh started, desperate for your attention. He was panicking. You finally looked up to meet his eyes. He took your cheeks in his hands, wiping away stray tears with his thumbs. “Baby, it’s going to be okay. I promise, everything is going to be fine. Your mom is gonna pull through, and maybe things will be different this time.” You recoiled at his statement, pushing him away from you.
“Jesus Christ, Josh!” You were furious. “Enough with the fucking positive vibes and the optimism. I cannot deal with that right now. My mother sucks, the situation is terrible, and it’s never going to change until she finally fucking dies!” You yelled. Your head was searing with a migraine and you felt like you could throw up. “I don’t understand how you always have a smile on your face, how things never go wrong for you, o-or how you always try to see the bright side of things. Sometimes, things are just shitty, and there’s nothing you can do about it!” You stood, wanting to get your bag packed and out of his company as fast as you could.
“Mama, I’m sorry, I didn’t-“
“And quit it with the pet names!” You snapped, tearing your phone charger out of the wall. “We fucked, that’s it. It was a drunken mistake and it will never happen again.” Josh tried to reason with himself, wanting to believe your harsh words were only because you were upset, but it felt like you had stabbed him. “I don’t understand why you’re so concerned about me. You cannot begin to understand what this feels like. I don’t think you’ve ever been anything other than happy; you have no idea what I’m going through right now. You try and console me and tell me that she’ll be okay, and it’ll all work out. Maybe I don’t want it to, maybe I just want her to fucking die, so I can leave and run away and start over. I just want to live a life that she has nothing to do with.” He was beginning to get angry now, too. “God, you always do this. You always make me feel like I’m an idiot for being upset!”
“Why I’m so concerned about you?” He shot back. “Are you that fucking blind?” You paused, unsure how to react to his words. You turned to look at him, finally willing to give him your attention. Something about Josh snapping made you realize that you might have overstepped. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but I care about you, a lot. You keep shitting on me because I’m ‘always happy’ and you’ve ‘never seen me frown’ but have you ever thought about why that is?” He asked, taking a step closer to you. He took your face in his hands again, forcing you to keep eye contact with him, not even allowing you to ignore him anymore. “I am in love with you, and maybe the reason you’ve never seen me upset is because I am always happy to be around you!” You were frozen, feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest. “I hate seeing you sad. It kills me. So yeah, I always throw out something optimistic because I want nothing more than to make you feel better. I’m not doing it to make you feel like shit.”
Your chest ached at his words, feeling like the worst person in the world for misjudging him so badly. “Did last night really mean nothing to you?” His voice broke as he asked. In turn, it shattered your heart.
“No, of course it didn’t.” You reached up to run your thumb over his cheek, wanting to take back every mean thing you had said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m scared, and I’m hurting, and I don’t know what to do or where to go. I know it’s not an excuse, but I had no idea that you felt like that for so long.” You took a breath, searching for something in his eyes that would make you feel better like it always did. “I don’t hate you, Josh. I could never hate you. You absolutely piss me off sometimes, but I don’t know… last night when you stood up for me like that, something changed. Seeing you doing something other than smiling, hearing you say words that weren’t dripping with optimism, I dont know… made me realize that there was more to you than I ever really noticed. That you were more than this ray of sunshine in an untouchable bubble.” You had to laugh for a moment at your own words. His hands dropped from your face and grabbed you by your waist, pulling you into him. He kissed you again, gentle and more meaningful than the ones you’d shared the night before. You never wanted it to end. When he pulled away you had to stop yourself from pulling him back in.
“It scares me, Josh. Im terrified. We’ve always been so different that I never could have imagined we’d end up here, but now we are, and I don’t mind it.” You admitted. “I don’t know how to let people help me. I’m always defensive and closed off; I know I’m grumpy almost all of the time, and I wish I wasn’t, but my life has never been that nice to me. Im still waiting for the day Sammy or Danny will tell me they don’t want me here anymore. I’m not used to good things lasting, and I’m so scared that if anything happens, I’ll lose all of you. Hell, everything is fine and I’m still always scared I’m going to lose you guys.” You confessed. His eyes softened.
“You could never lose us.” He soothed your worry. “You could never lose me, that’s for sure.” He said, pulling you into his chest. You rested there for a moment, feeing at peace in all of the chaos. “All I ever wanted to do was make you happy. I still want that, if you’ll let me.”
“I’m so scared, Josh.” You whispered, reiterating what you had told him earlier. You were terrified, but also painstakingly curious about what it would be like. You wanted to know what it was like to love him, and to be loved by him. Really, genuinely loved. You wanted to know him, the little things that you’d always overlooked. You found yourself yearning to be held by him, for some sort of comfort. For once, you weren’t annoyed at the thought of his optimistic words, you almost wanted him to say them, to soothe you with them. “I’m terrified of everything right now. I don’t even know what to do.”
“Just let me be here, then. Let me help you through it.”
“Okay,” you whispered. His hands were burning into you. You could feel the emotion radiating through his skin. “I think that you already make me happy.” You told him. He pulled you tighter to him, if it was even possible. “I mean, I’ve been with people, but I’ve never felt anything like I did last night. Even now, when everything feels like it’s falling apart, you’re with me and it doesn’t feel hopeless like it always does.” He placed his lips to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent. The cologne he put on last night was still lingering on him.
“What time does your flight leave, mama?” He whispered.
“Eleven.” You answered, not daring to open your eyes or move away from him.
“Think I can still get a seat beside you?” He asked. You looked up at him, tears starting again. As if you already knew how this would end up, you remembered the second ticket you’d bought. Still, you felt guilty asking him to do something like that for you.
“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head. “It’s too much.”
“I want to.” He assured you, tucking your stray hairs behind your ear. “What kind of guy would I be if I let my girl deal with something like this all by herself?” You heart fluttered at his words, swelling with affection. You never wanted anyone to be a part of your mess. You wouldn’t even talk to Sam about it. Danny pried bits and pieces of your troubles from you, but never enough to know the full story. But with Josh in front of you, touching you with so delicately, saying the words you always wanted to hear from somebody, you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted him to come with you, even if it was selfish.
“Okay.” You agreed.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked, his thumb and forefinger bringing you chin up to look at him. You nodded. “Then I’m all in. I’ll be here until the day you don’t want me here anymore, Mama. I promise.”
539 notes · View notes
fairy-writes · 1 year
Note
Hello there 👋
I was wondering if you could write a one-shot for Uta?? Something fluffy w/ a shy/sweet human!reader 😊
Thanks in advance! 💜
DON’T YOU DARE (MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU)
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Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
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Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul
Pairing(s): Uta x Gender Neutral!Human!Reader
Genre(s)/Tag(s): 
Notes: Songfic with the song “Don’t You Dare (Make Me Fall in Love with You) by Kaden MacKay
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When Uta first realized he was in love with you, admittedly, he panicked a little. 
You were a human. He was a ghoul. It wasn’t a relationship that was supposed to work. 
He couldn’t be in love. That was just absurd. He had more exciting things on his plate than love.
Don't you dare make me fall in love with you
Don't you dare enchant me with those eyes
If I fell through your skies,
There's no way you would catch me
There's a tear in my heart,
But your patch wouldn't match me
Uta first met you when he was at Anteiku, and you happened to walk in. It was busy. Most, if not all, of the tables were full, and when you began to approach, he got an idea of what was happening. 
“Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” You ask shyly, and he gets the feeling that you’re nervous. Which is understandable with his appearance. He was used to it. 
He nods once, and your expression relaxes as you sit down. The tenseness of your shoulders eases, and you pull out a sketchbook and flip to a new page as Touka brings over your drink. You smile at her and whisper a “thank you.”
You sketch in silence until he feels the need to have a conversation. It’s more of a whim, really, the urge to get to know a human to learn if they’re all like the CCG and Doves. 
“What are you drawing?” He asks, and you jump. But you turn around and show him nonetheless, and he’s blown away. 
It’s rough, with stray lines in some places, but it’s a perfect picture of himself, reclining in the chair and his coffee in hand.
You even got the lettering of his tattoo around his neck right.
The longer he stares, the more fidgety you become. 
“Sorry, I can get rid of it if you want. I know it might be rude to draw other people without permission—” 
“No, no, it’s beautiful. Thank you for choosing me as a model.” He finds himself saying, and his cold heart flutters when you beam. 
You end up gifting him the picture, and after you exchange names, you leave. 
He finds your number hastily scrawled at the bottom of the drawing. 
Being near you still adds to the size of my sighs,
There's still seismic events at hellos and goodbyes,
And I still need reminders of why it's unwise
To stare
So don't you dare
The longer he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you becoming friends. You’re shy, but you’re sweet and a brilliant artist. You would be entertaining, at least. 
But he’s likely never to meet you again, so that idea snuffs out like a candle. So he doesn’t text you. 
At least until you walk into his shop. 
You are admiring one of his masks on display when he enters the room from the back. He had heard the door jingle but wanted to finish some of the final stitching of the current mask he was working on. It was for the new half-ghoul Kaneki Ken. But that was beside the point. 
What were you doing here?
Don't you dare make me fall in love with you
Don't you dare do something so cliché
Just get out of my daydreams,
You're an unwelcome guest
And stop making me miss you
'Cause you leaving's for the best
You look up as he comes in, and confusion brightens your eyes. 
“Uta?” You ask, and he nods,
“That’s me. Welcome to HySy ArtMask Studio.” He says, more out of habit than anything. You offer him a smile, and he finds his heart trembling at the sight. 
What was wrong with him?
“I heard there was a mask studio that could offer a lot of inspiration. I didn’t know you owned it.” You comment as you cradle your sketchbook against your chest. Your pencil is stuck behind your ear, and you’re dressed in a thick knit sweater and trousers. Your boots scuff against the floor. 
He finds himself gesturing to the masks. 
“Make yourself at home.” He says, genuinely meaning it. 
'Cause I just couldn't stand having you as my crutch
You're a simmering stovetop I was tempted to touch
If you ever return, it'll burn me too much
To bear
So don't you dare
After the initial text, you are really the only one keeping up the conversation. Sure, Uta replies, but he keeps a certain amount of distance between you two. Mainly for your safety. 
But for whatever reason, you keep coming back. 
Your presence becomes a regular in his shop. You come every Friday, right after your university classes. Even though you are his age, if not a year younger, you say you are working toward your bachelor’s degree in—you guessed it—art. 
You say you want to open your own shop and sell your artwork. 
Much like him. 
And I know it's all so shallow, but a shallow cut still stings
And before my heart becomes Amelia's heir, I need to clip its wings
So don't you dare keep mocking me with those
Thousand little things that I adore
Let me ignore you, don't let me care
He tries to ignore you the closer you two become. 
For your safety. 
At least, that’s what he tells himself. 
And don't you dare leave me still in love with you
Nothing's fair when love is war
And I just can't endure any more of the fight
When the casualties rise with my heart rate each night
At first, Uta thinks he’s dying. Of course, that would explain why you always make his heart race and his blood run hot. 
That would explain why you’re always on his mind. 
Right?
Though I know I'm to blame for the glances I'd steal,
For the time I kept spending pretending it's real
And now that it's ending, I still have more feelings to spare
But don't you dare
It takes a talking to from Yomo for him to realize what’s going on. 
Don't you dare
When Uta first realized he was in love with you, admittedly, he panicked a little. 
But he doesn’t hate the idea. 
649 notes · View notes
queenofallimagines · 9 months
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oh good gods pls your luciferian hcs made me YELL they’re so good lmao i was side eyeing my altar and space for lucifer the WHOLE TIME
do you think you could do a part two? and if possible, nsfw? if not thats more than okay!! thank you and i hope you’re doing so good!!!
🕷️anon
Absolutely 🕷anon! AND LMAO YEAH I COULD FEEL HIM SIDE EYEING ME ACROSS THE ROOM AS I WROTE THESESGSHSJS asking the old man “why are you like this” whenever lucifer in game does something corny😭 ik he’s sick of me
Lucifer:
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- Okay so since part 1 was when you arrived this will be more about day to day life in the next term
- Right off the bat I’m imagining minor petty spats that the other brothers are like…. Wtf is going on here
- Like y’all have been glaring across the table at one another for 30 mins and haven’t spoken a word
- WAY more picky w offerings lmao
- Is literally going to be super extra about it for no reason other than to bother you
- For example! When you give an offering to oshun( African orisha they’re like the HR in the heaven department just above the angel hierarchy) you have to eat a little first bc she was poisoned once so it’s like to show you’re in good faith
- Lucifer will ask you to do that w food you don’t like
- “Eat some”
- “I got this for you-“
- “And I want you to taste some😌”
- “….. do I really I have to???”
- “Are you telling me what to do w MY offering🤨”
- MAKE FUN OF HIM PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY!!
- A lot of people ( white peoples I fear😔) be talking about he only accepts blood offerings and you have to sell your soul or whatever and stuff but literally this man will be giddy over a red candle w gold glitter
- Write all your assignments in sparky pen so when he looks at them he can’t hold back a smile
- As a joke you leave crystals associated with him in his coat pockets but he will never take them out
- Congratulations you played ya self
- You doing the stuff you do for him out of habit will fluster him if you say it
- “Why are you waking up so early to get ready?”
- “Hm? For Lucifer”
- “No im not gunna drink this tea it’s an offering🙄”
- Please don’t tell his brothers he will lock himself in his office💀
- Whenever you google “what can I do for Lucifer” 9/10 the first thing will be taking care of yourself
- So when your self caring w asmo and you go “oh I do this bc Lucifer likes it”
- The house will expose in chaos
- Mammon demanding you tell him your card numbers “for him” LMAO
- They’re all super jealous
- Gotta tell em its nothing personal he’s just always been there for you
- Whew if he reached out to YOU?
- The silence in the house REAL LOUD😭
- Belphegor waking up and going “ik you fucking lying!!!”
- You’re all confused like???
- “…..you said Lucifer… reached out to YOU?”
- “??????yeah????”
- “As in… he ASKED you to work with him?”
- “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about his name and he showed up on my door one day”
- Lmao belphie and mammon are the LOUDEST FR
- “YOU CHOSE A HUMAN?? MR I HATE HUMANS BECAUSE THEYRE WEAK??📸”
- OH SO THERES MORE THAN ONE FAKE BITCH IN THIS HOUSE HUH?”
- lmao he’s sitting there red faced clenching his fist like
- “Listen I can explain”
- He cannot explain😭
- Can’t even say he did it on a whim
- “He really picked me up like a wet cat lmao”
- “Mc I am literally begging you to shut the FUCK up”
- Oh maaaaan diavolo will get a Kick out of this!!
- Solomon is very salty
- “But I can’t get a pact😒😒”
- He’s literally going to double down and bother him more
- “Lucifer you never told me you were taking on disciples🥺”
- “I didn’t think it was that important lord diavolo simply to pass the time”
- Simeon is laughing but internally having the feels bc he’s like ��� “even after all this time you still choose to be a guardian angel”
- Will tell you embarrassing stories about him he is now super close to you
- “Lucifer being the lords favorite was also the best one at singing👀 he loved music”
- That’s tru btw lmao Lucifer was like one of the angels who liked singing the most thats what makes humans and angels so alike- love for music and dancing-
- Call him your morning star and he MELTS
- Back to why were really here😌
- Call him that during sex or when you first wake up and he’s on cloud nine
- FUCK HIM DURING GOLDEN HOUR🗣🗣
- He’s literally he rises in the morning for a reason!!
- He will deadass purpose bc imagine riding him as the sun stars peaking over the horizon
- He’s under you moaning looking up at you w the most glazed over love struck eyes
- The sun filtering through the window and hitting him juuuuuuuust right
- That it looks like he has a halo again
- Breathlessly calling your name as you grind down on him
- He barely manages to get out that he’s close before you caress some of his hair out of his face
- “Cum for me then my Morningstar”
- Time freezes for like 16 seconds and his eyes are getting teary
- He hugs you close as he starts rutting his hips into you harder
- Will cum and keep going until he’s about to pass out
- Holding you like a lifeline
- When you can finally breathe and think straight he pulls you in for a kiss
- Literally stealing your breath away
- Will say I love you in the most honest voice ever while smiling at you with teary eyes
- probably won’t stop touching you all day might as well just spend it in bed
-is embarrassed by body worship calling it now
- be HE can do that but if YOU sink to your knees behind his desk and hold eye contact he’s getting nervous
-“just showing my devout gratitude💕”
- embarrassed how fast he finishes
- if you keep doing to overstimulate him he’s putty in your hands
- this man is very soft he will crack at the slightest sign of domestic romance
- bring him coffee when he wakes up?
- he’s already selected a wedding venue
- I always thought it would be cute if he gave you his ring
- HILARIOUS IF HE DOSENT TELL YOU LMAO
- You swing by the celestial realm and it’s crickets and you’re like ??? Fuck is y’all starring at??🤨
- Simeon hums and says that nobody expected lucifer to get married much less to a human. How he was never one to put anything above his responsibilities
- Excuse me?
- “You’re wearing the right of light,yes? He doesn’t just give that to anyone dear. You two are bonded for life now🥰”
- “HELLO????”
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hella1975 · 3 months
Note
hellaaa plz share your favorite dabihawks fics for all of us who want some recs into their crazy minds!!
sorry i didnt answer this straight away i was reading a 230k words fic that i wanted to finish before i added it here 😭 does anyone know what's wrong with me. therapists hate me
dabihawks rec list!!
burn it all down by dorothycanfly - an au where dabi comes back to the todoroki estate to kill shouto when he's 19 and shouto is 11, but decides instead to take his little brother with him as part of his Grand Evil Masterplan that doesn't quite go as he wanted. this is the fic i always rec first in this fandom as it's the first dabi fic i really read that felt like it Understood Him and really made me go bananas about him. it's dark and twisted and true to what i think his actual mindset would be without demonising him, and also has shouto and him being very close and the way the author writes their dynamic is everything to me like it's so true to a real sibling relationship and id die for them. it gets very smutty in the middle but if that's not your thing the plot also kicks right back up again at 100mph immediately after, and there's also a sequel still being updated that's very promising.
big reputations by phanatics - singer fake dating au!!! i absolutely love dabi's characterisation in this and the celebrity angle is handled soooo well. the miscommunication and slow burn is incredible and that's coming from a bitch who finds both tropes frustrating unless they're done to my very niche standards. im pretty sure i read this fic in one day. im not making graduation i fear.
gunshots and molotovs by ironicallystupid - this is a 14k oneshot where dabi treats hawks' gunshot wound in a distinctly dabi way and then they get drunk. this one really got to me and i think it's bc it's one fic where they feel so true to character while still, for once, both acting their age. a big appeal of dabihawks for me is that they are both ultimately just two guys in their early twenties and seeing them embody that youth and silliness was surprisingly poignant
the 'will you accept this rose?' series by satelliteblue- the famous bachelorette au! if you don't know what i mean by famous, it's bc this fic has a habit of getting people who don't even read mha fic obsessed with it. like it's genuinely addicting. i remember first finding it and being like 'bacherlorette au dabihawks? be so fr' and look where im at now, 355k words later. it's genuinely just such a fun read AND i love the drama of it AND it has the todofam angle AND an actual plot snuck into it effortlessly. one of my fav fics of all time truly and it's still updating!
perspective by theeclecticeccentric - this is the fic i just finished and when i tell you ive powered through all 230k words of it in the past 4ish days. i love the league dynamic in this with the whole found family angle. i'll say it was something i clicked on less bc this kind of au (childhood friends dabihawks brainwashed to forget each other) is what i would normally go for and more bc i have BATTERED the dabihawks tag for all it's worth so i just tried it on a whim, but im so happy i clicked this bc it wound up being so fun! i also love any fic that forces the heroes and villains to ally against the hpsc and this fic does that. instant hit with me.
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cherry-pop-elf · 26 days
Text
Weasley Siblings Reacting To You Coming Out 🏳️‍⚧️ ((Trans Edition))
Some wholesome/projection because wah-! Also reader is under the impression of muggleborn, so muggle ideals would be different from wizards of course
Can he read as Platonic or Romantic! Clause Platonic love is valid af! I see you Ace/Just wanting stuff to not always be sex, folks!
Warnings: Transphobia,bullying ((not from the Weasleys obviously)) anxiety, depression, don’t worry it’s fluff just ya know. It’s scary coming out!
Writing Coms Open
((BTW this was in my drafts, and since Trans Visibility Day was today, it gave me motivation to finish it so let’s go-!))
William ‘Bill’
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“Like Tonks-!” You did feel pretty silly, once he said that. Made you wonder why you waited so long. Literally you were friends with a Shapeshifter, so why would you coming out be so different? Oh right, what muggles would do if they knew. “Kinda, minus the whole ya know….Changing on the whim. Wish I could do that-“ You muttered, as Bill would pat your back. The pair of you, ever cozy in the library. Special permission to access the resurrected section, since he was being interned at Gringotts for curse breaking. Meant you had some privacy for such a sensitive topic. “Hey, we can find a way to. Right? It’s magic. I bet you my lucky dagger that the twins probably have something in the works.“ He comforted, and it made you smile. That Bill. Always finding a way to brag about his younger siblings somehow. That was just the cutest thing to you. Just a big brother, finding a way to show off his family. Helped a lot. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you. I know muggles do stuff differently, and a lot isn’t really to positive-“ Bill was the eldest, so it made sense he would be more informed with muggle culture. If his band shirts were to say anything. “Like name changes and stuff. Got a new name you like?” There was something so weird about how casual he was. Just, casual. It was a field, but also felt off. Like something bad should have happened. Maybe it will. Until then, though, you were happy to tell him your new name. “Suits you-!” He smiled that awkward half smile, given the other half didn’t exist anymore. “I like it.” And he was soon ruffling your hair. Older brother habits. They don’t die easy, and you were greatful for it.
Charlie
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“Like Tonks-!” Why did you get Déjà vu? You shook it off, before nodding. “Yes, minus the actually changing my gender and stuff.” You clarified, as he multi tasked with the latest baby dragon Hagrid had gotten. Charlie just couldn’t resist, and now you two were stuck in his hut. Hagrid off to find someone to take said dragon, while Charlie treated it like a puppy. Kissing its snout, and making it squeal in utter delight. Despite the slobber, and despite the heat. One of the reason you trusted him with such a secret. His heart was so big, and he held such passion. Not to mention, you hoped he could help you get out of your shell a bit. Such a loud, and proud, man. Also, well, imagine trying to bully someone who’s buddies with the dragon tamer. “Neat-! So do I flip flip between pronouns, like Tonky, or you got new ones-?” You swore he was paying more attention to the dragon, than you. Weirdly, you liked it. He didn’t treat it as life or death, which healed something in you. He didn’t care, but in that good way. That it didn’t change how he saw you. Or, maybe you just asked at the right time. You had to shake his shoulder, to remind him you were still there. You two shared a laugh, as he went on rambling about how beautiful the dragon was, as you were able to relax a little easier.
Percy
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“Trans-? Like as in Transfiguration? Finally, actually focusing on your studies.” You were already regretting this. You figured Percy would be someone to confide in, since he was a prefect. You were being bullied by the muggleborns, but the thing is….Hes a pure blood. He didn’t really understand what being trans was. So, you tried to explain. “Percy, they were making fun of me because I was born different.” You tried to explain, as he was starting to pay a bit more attention now. “They saw me going to the bathroom, and immediately threw books at me. It’s not like I don’t mind Moaning Myrtle, but it’s hard to pee with company.” You sniffled, as it was settling in now. “I’m so sorry, I’ll handle this immediately. I….Let’s go take you to the medical wing, to make sure you are patched….Could you explain more to me about this trans thing? Why it makes you different?” It’s a start. He’s willing to learn, and that’s more than so many. That gave you comfort. He’s confused, but willing. With his arm around you, you did your best to wizard it to his language. To get it out of your system, and for once? Percy stayed quiet, and listened. It’s a start, and you couldn’t be happier.
Fred
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“Swear you are like the fifth person to tell me that this month-!” He laughed, as you blinked. Despite the prancing dynamic of the twins, they had grown a bit over the years. Suppose the older brother energy they held just drew in comfort. It’s easy to confide in them. They may not act like it, but they can keep a secret. Guess the courtyard was just a hot spot for such. “Wait, why are you telling me this anyway? I knew the moment I met you-!” He snorted, with an elbow nudge to you. Honestly? You were certain he was joking, but you wondered if he did. “About bloody time you figured it out yerself! Not sure how that whole thing works, but I’m sure George and I can brew something up for ya. Need a beard? Or bigger hips? I’m sure we got something-“ That had you roll your eyes. “Sounds like an excuse to turn me into your personal lab rat-“ That had him blink. “The hell is a lab rat?” Right. Pure blood. “I’ll explain it to you later. Just, promise not to tell anyone? I’m….not ready yet.” Fred seemed like he was ready to argue, about needing to just be passionate about who and what you are, but he was hushed. As if he could already hear Molly yelling at him. That was trauma for another occasion. Instead, he made a zipping motion to his lips, and threw away the key. “Thanks.” You smiled, as he gave a thumbs up. Pretending he couldn’t speak at all, and it got you to giggle. Calmed your nerves down just fine.
George
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“That’s uh….That thing-! Yeah-!” He bullshitted, but you understood why. He’s the more emotional side of the dynamic duo. So many kids come to them for advice, but more come to George. You would pay a guess that many who went to Fred were actually looking for George, but didn’t realize it was Fred at all. You only managed, because he was wearing his Quidditch Jersey. Least, you think it was his. Shit, was this Fred? Nope, Fred walked by. With Angelina. Phew. “George, do you need me to explain?” You asked, as he rubbed his neck nervously. Embarrassed he wasn’t instantly able to comfort, like it was his only job. “It’s a muggle thing, breathe.” And breathe he did, as he laid back down on the common room couch. With a quick run down, it clicked. He’s an inventor, they are good at thinking outside norms. “Oh! Oh man, that sounds stressful as hell. Hey, anyone starts shit-“ He gave a sharp click with his tongue, and made a shooting motion with his finger. “Consider them chucked into a vanishing closet.” And given he’s a Weasley, you didn’t underestimate him. So, instead, you hugged him. A big, warm, squeeze. Of course, it was returned. Oh those Weasleys.
Ron
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“Would you be offended if I go ask Hermione what that means-?” Least he’s honest, and knew better to ask her than anyone else. Hard to ever get alone time with him, as he was glued to her and Harry. Surprised to catch him alone, for once, and took the chance while you could. Now to just look at your breakfast plate, nervous. “I’ll just explain it, the best I can.” You sighed, as you saw Ron wince a little. Feeling he did something wrong. “It’s a muggle thing-“ You quickly said, as he breathed a little easier. A few nervous gulps of juice, and many confused brows, it clicked. "Woah, that sounds terrible. I rememberer when Harry and i had to drink a polyjuice potion. we were still the same gender, and all, but my skin just felt so wrong. Everything was wrong. was just a suit, and i wanted to peel it off. Even if it hurt." You had to stare. That was just so accurate to how you felt. Your eyes watered. “Did I say something wrong, again-? I’m sorry about-“ But you hugged him, with your eyes in his shoulder. Don’t get Ron started on how many times he’s had to be the shoulder for Harry. So, like a time turners clockwork, he held you back. Comforting you. Someone got it.
Ginny
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“Think I’m that to-“ Ginny said, as you two just laid in the grass. Just trying to relax, from a long school day. “Like, maybe it’s just because I was raised by a bunch of brothers. Just, being JUST a girl feels weird. Like I’m more than that, I’m not JUST that. Maybe I’m feeling something else entirely. Never been the same, after that book.” She admits, ready to stress her out all over again. Voldemort did a number on her. What a way to start Hogwarts. Damn. “Well, maybe don’t think about it too hard. It’s both super complicated, but not at the same time. It’s more a feeling than anything else. You can be born it, or maybe over time it changes. Maybe by tomorrow you feel something else. Then, the next day it changes.” You tried to explain, as you watched the clouds. “Yeah, like magic.” She agreed, as she looked to her broomstick next to her. Thinking back to her childhood. “Maybe I am a guy, but Mum being so excited to have a girl just….Made me feel like I HAD to be….” God was that relatable. “Trans buddies?” You asked, and offered a hand. In a playful solidarity. You figured that would comfort her, or maybe now he. “Yeah, Trans buddies.” Ginny smiled, as you shared hands. “Jean sounds nice.” Ginny said. “Jean does sound nice.” You agreed.
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avoidantrecovery · 18 days
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my thoughts on rejection sensitivity, fawning, criticism and how i want to get better about them
these are just some notes/me thinking aloud/me writing notes to myself and putting things into perspective/connecting some dots. maybe others can relate.
✦ abandonment/rejection based trauma leads to... ✦ needing to be accepted and liked by any- and everyone (fawning) to restore safety/ensure feeling safe which leads to... ✦ due to being stuck in trauma response/having a trauma rewired brain: strong sensitivity and fear of any kind of rejection or criticism, which leads to... ✦ responsibility for your emotions and self-perceptions are outsourced (for the lack of a better word) to (random) third persons (who are not even aware of this). which leads to... ✦ difficulty to interact and communicate with people without crushing hypervigilance, anxiety, numbing, strong emotional reactions... leads to... ✦ random third parties and their reaction to us (be it via facial expressions, tone, conversation, action or inaction, etc...) now makes or breaks our emotional state ✦ a positive reaction gives us (if we're lucky) positive emotions (dopamine, safety, elation) a negative reaction however leads to the exact opposite -> we are at the whims of random people ✦ inevitable negative feedback then leads to severe negative emotions including anxiety, shame, self-devaluing and self-abuse ✦ this becomes a cycle of wanting others to reflect that "we are good" back to us in places where it's not relevant and will lead to negative feedback and rejection, isolating and then doing it all over again.
what to do instead?
✸ realize that this is a cycle that is happening and why (trauma) ✸ be mindful and have self-compassion for your past (fawning) behaviour to avoid shame and self-hate (you were stuck in a trauma response, not doing it on purpose) ✸ realize that minute reactions of all people doesn't have to matter to you. this is something you have to practise day in day out, because your brain is stuck in this mode. ✸ it's fucked up that we often have to deal with people who are outright hostile and having a negative reaction to that is normal and healthy. however, everyone who has ever felt the overwhelming crushing sensation of rejection sensitivity knows there is a difference between that and "a healthy negative reaction". ✸ we shouldn't have to internalize and emotionally tattoo every minute thing someone else says or does to us, esp. if they are hostile ✸ it shouldn't control us for the rest of the day, week, month or even longer ✸ there is nothing we can do to control others behaviour (even by prostrating and fawning to the max), it is not even our responsibility, but we can try to better manage and process our own emotions to ensure we are not constantly dysregulated. ✸ use "the levels method" to sort to what degree someone's feedback matters to you ✸ realize that you will probably fall back into old behaviour patterns because "nerves that fire together, wire together". meaning it is through repetition that we form new habits and it's by reducing "firing" old behaviour patterns that we are able to eventually let them go.
the levels method
✸ level 1: random strangers on the street: 0.5/5 ✸ level 2: random people you see daily (neighbors, barista, etc...): 1/5 ✸ level 3: work/school people 2/5 (only professional/educational stuff matters, do not take things personal or internalize professional critic as personal critic, i know this is hard and often unfair) ✸level 4: acquaintances and friends: 3/5 ✸ level 5: family and good friends: 4/5 ✸ level 6: your own selected loved ones 5/5
☞ i just came up with this little method that i will try to use to weigh my emotions and how seriously i have to take people's reactions to me. again, it's not easy and it's something that has to be practised to get right. however, the idea is to get away from processing the random reaction of a stranger, or even of a co-worker or client, with the same intensity and seriousness of selected loved one whose feedback i obviously care about a lot.
what if i don't have loved ones?
✸ this is one thing that has been bothering me ✸ i think for some people the "outsourcing" of emotions onto other people and that whole cycle, is intensified by not having any selected loved ones due to isolation etc... ✸ it's likely that you will, perhaps without being aware of it, begin to look for emotional feedback (to feel safe due to trauma brain) from people who fall within level 1-level 3 or 4. ✸ people need social contact and if there is nobody else around we might look to have our emotional needs met by people who aren't even aware or responsible for that ✸ i am currently in this situation and all i can do for now, until i do find new selected loved ones, is to be aware when i do it and steer away from it when it happens. ✸ if you are in contact with family or friends, this can be a better outlet as random strangers or classmates/co-workers
(not medical advice, just thinking out loud)
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the-wip-project · 3 months
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SloMo WriNo: Failure Proofing Your Goals
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A Novel in one year.
So, what are the numbers for that?
If you’re so inclined, you’ve probably already done the math, and come up with some numbers for yourself.
Numbers like projected length of novel (I’m going to use 80k for this, but don’t get married to that, once you get into it the work with find it’s own length) and how many words a day you would need to write to hit that goal. (220)
That’s all very nice, but the problem with word count goals, is that you can create a situation where your writing becomes a pass/fail situation.
A situation where if you perceive yourself as failing (did I meet my word count goal this week? No? I AM A FAILURE!), and the pressure rises, it starts to feel safer to simply quit, rather than face repeated failures.
I’m against that sort of thing. (The quitting and also the negative self talk.)
So how does one measure progress without creating that sort of situation? How can you win the psychology game of getting words on the page?
Of course everyone is different. But here’s two methods (tricks? hacks?) that work for me at various times.
Low Goal, High Results. (The Min-Max zone)
The idea with this is to set a daily, or per session word count goal that feels too easy.
By now I hope you’ve figured out a good time and place to write. So go there, at that time, and do a timed 15 minute sprint. However many words you got, halve it. Repeat this exercise a few times to make sure you’ve got a good average.
Unless you’re a power writer, you will most likely end up with a number that is below that 220 we mathed out earlier, DON’T PANIC. In fact, for this example lets say that you managed to write an average of 200 words in your 15 minute sessions. Which means that your daily goal is now 100 words.
Of course with that number, even if you write every single day for a year that will only give you 36 500 words. Not a novel. Barely a novella!
The point here is not to write only 100 words a day. It’s making the daily task of writing feel easy and approachable. Not scary. If you know you only need to write 100 words, and you know you can get that done easily in less than 15 minutes, then why not do it? And once you’re writing, writing a little more generally happens easily enough. If getting started is the hard part, this should really help.
It’s a common psychological trick. But it’s common for a reason. It works!
Once you’ve set your (very easy) minimum goal, I also encourage you to set a maximum daily goal too. Especially if you’re the type of person who tends to go on 10k writing binges and then not write again for two months. Set your maximum at what you can comfortably write in 1.5-2 hours. So let’s say that’s 1000 words. Meaning your goal is to write 100-1000 words every time you sit down to write, and consider everything, from barely getting 102 to maxing out at 1002 an awesome, winning, writing day.
What does that look like? On a bad day, a day you don’t fee like writing at all, it means you tell yourself that all you need to do is write for ten minutes. Just get down 100 words (or whatever your minimum goal is.) And then if you haven’t found your mojo, you stop. No guilt or regret. You’ve met your goal, even though you’re having a bad day. You’re doing awesome!
On a power day, when you feel almost possessed by the muses, it means that when your timer beeps, or you see that number on the bottom of the screen hit 1000 (or whatever your number is), you make yourself stop. Yes. Stop mid flow. (It’s painful, I know! But please try!) Why stop? Because you’re learning how to have a healthy long term writing habit.
Write yourself some notes, and come at it fresh tomorrow. The goal is teach yourself that your creativity isn’t actually a unreliable muse. You are not subject to it’s whim. With time and practice your creativity will be there whenever you reach for it.
This is the method that I use most of the time, and I strongly recommend you give it a decent try (6 weeks at least.)
However perhaps you’re really just convinced that particular kind of psychological trickery just won’t work for you, or perhaps you’ve tried it in the past without success. Maybe it creates the opposite effect for you, and you find daily writing skippable because the minimum goal feels so low that you think you can make it up later (you won’t, but ahem, brains are weird.) So here is an alternative method that is also quite effective.
2. Higher Goals to Plan For Misses
Instead of setting your goal ridiculously low, you can try setting it high enough that you can miss writing days while still staying on track.
This will only work if you’ve been able to carve out a larger chunk of time for daily writing, thirty minutes to an hour.
So, lets run the example numbers. Using the 80k novel template, we already know that it would take 220 words a day if you write every single day, and never delete anything.
Writing every day is almost impossible, so you’re setting yourself up to fail if you set 220 as your goal.
So instead you plan for writing 6 days a week. Perhaps you intend to take Mondays off. They suck and you know you usually don’t feel like writing then anyway. Awesome. Let’s make that our schedule. Writing 312 days a year means a daily target of 257 words.
But still, that leaves no margin for error. No time for bad days, illness, that one scene you have to cut because it wasn’t working, etc.
So we double it. Your goal, with a plan of writing 6 days a week, is 500 words a day. And also (and this is the important bit) 2000 words a week.
Wait! That’s 4 days, not 6! Yes. That’s the point. It allows room for misses. To allow you to fail without failing. For days when you can’t reach 500, for days when you don’t have time (and with a larger daily goal like this, that’s a lot more possible.) For days when you just can’t.
Of course if you can only count on writing 5 days a week, or 4, or whatever your life situation calls for, adjust your goals accordingly. Always keep your goal word count about 1/3 higher than needed, to give yourself that cushion. If the numbers gets too large to manage, then it’s time to change the long term goal.
Yes. Really. Change it. Setting a goal that you’re bound to fail at is not going to help you.
Perhaps it’s more feasible for you personally to write your novel in 18 months, or two years. As always, your health is more important than an arbitrary time line, and you’ll still be awesome if you write your novel a little slower.
But what if both of those methods still stress you out, or if focusing on the numbers like that kills your joy?
Here’s a bonus method, that I personally use when things get to be a real struggle.
3. Gold Stars
This is for the times when the thought of tracking word count is just one step too many, and becomes an obstacle for writing at all. However when you abandon tracking completely, it’s often a way to abandon writing too.
So having some sort of way to confirm that yes, you’ve written for the day still helps, whether that’s putting a gold star, or an X on a calendar (you can find printable month/page calendars online for free, or you can buy those little book calendars very cheap), creating an art or craft piece (one time I wrote an entire novel assisted by a scarf where I only got to crochet a row after I’d written for the day), or whatever other way you can think of to mark that you wrote. Having a way to look back at your week or month and confirm that yes, you’ve written most days, is often enough keep you honest (with yourself.) As long as it’s something that feels like a reward and not additional work.
So there you have it. 3 methods for setting word count goals and tracking what you’re accomplishing.
Let me know what you’re going to try, or what sort of tricks work for you! (and feel free to ask me for help figuring out how to apply this in your own life.)
—Maree
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assistedbytherats · 1 month
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Things I feel the consistent and inexplicable urge to collect on walks.
Bottle caps. I have a jar in my room (which I’ve had for a while and took with me when I moved) full of bottle caps. I thought I would have filled it by now but a surprising number can fit in only half the space in that jar. I’m walking, I see a metal bottle cap on the street, I pick it up and pocket it. It goes in the jar. Why? You tell me, I’ve got no clue.
Good looking sticks. Not to use for any particular purpose, but I’ve got a pile of sticks on my desk from yesterday alone where I spontaneously spent an hour walking through a park picking up Good Sticks.
Feathers. I grew up being told not to touch random feathers (likely fear of Vague Wild Animal Disease), so I know this isn’t a learned habit from childhood. But lately I’ve felt urged to pick up good looking feathers. They’re on my altar. They’re on my wall. Most of them are in a bag, on my desk, with the sticks. I did not want them for a purpose, only for a strange New whim.
Writing materials/stationary. Especially on campus, I see a broken pencil on the ground? Take that shit home with me. A pen left on a desk for an hour? Mine now.
Can i stress again feathers. Every feather I see is in my pocket instantly. Despite how much I don’t like the idea of feathers in my pockets (what if they get damaged??) something in my heart that I cannot understand wants nothing more than for me to take home every fucking feather I see while walking around.
Cool looking rocks, especially near water where they’ve gone all smooth? I take those things and by the time I’m done I’ve got a damn pile of em. Doesn’t happen often because I’m not usually wandering lakeside but when I am, I return with pockets heavy with smooth stones and will become another small mountain on my desk.
KEYCHAINS KEYCHAINS KEYCHAINS KEYCH-
This isn’t really a “see on the ground while walking” thing but it’s in the same vein- envelopes. I’ve got a freezer bag in my desk drawer of envelopes (all of them used, opened, and cardless, mind you.) it’s just something about an envelope with an address on it, torn open (usually by me.) why do I keep these? I couldn’t tell you.
Also I feel the urge to take people’s mail (i live in a space where packages are left in a hallway for people to pick up and every time I walk through there i at least want to look at em all. Rest assured i haven’t actually STOLEN anyone else’s mail and I don’t intend to, although it’s tempting.
The corvid urge to take little souvenirs as I make my morning commute is insane, theres an unnamed magpie in my brain and I’m not impulse shaming it, I’m just impulse… inquiring why.
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1-800-cr33py · 1 year
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hi, idk if ur reqs are open so im sorry if they arent! i just stumbled upon your evan/habit with crybaby!reader hcs and i thought they were absolutely fantastic. i would LOVE to see more content of it of any kind whether it be more hcs or a oneshot of some sort. if theyre not open have a lovely day your writing is beautiful kiss kiss
idk who you are but you’re a beautiful soul and hope you have wonderful days.
Oneshot time
TW: Lowkey toxic relationship, Habit is TW himself, idk its a habit x crybaby fic yall have read my other works yall know how these are
Habit never gave much thought to human lives, they were minuscule and insignificant compared to the life of an ageless entity born of hate. The mortal body he inhabited now was nothing more than for appearances, a novelty he found some sick pleasure in.
Until you showed up.
You and Evan had…history so to say. You’d fuck when he was in between relationships and needed an out for his frustrations. You were available, bored and only a short drive east of his house. Habit knew of the tension between you two, neither you nor Evan believed your relationship would amount to anything other than what you had; not that either parties had the time. But Habit liked something about you, liked you enough to take things further so slowly you barely noticed his presence while you slept, or how often you two ran into each other in the city while you were on coffee runs for your ever obnoxious superiors. It was almost too easy in his opinion. After about a year and half of the blossoming relationship that many found..questionable, you finally finished your lease, packed what little belongings you had, and moved into Evan’s home.; something that appeased both Evan and Habit. You were meant to be with them, only them. You were meant to be taken care of, treasured and have every whim answered; no matter how questionable the means of achieving them were.
Habit is territorial as all hell, whats his is his and thats how it should be. You’re his. Simple as that. He’s generous in his eyes, he permits you to leave the house on your own and doesn’t bat an eye. You’re grown, have a job, and pay half the bills, he doesn’t care; just keep him updated. Habit knows you’ll return to his arms in the evening, wanting nothing more than to be babied. That’s how both he and Evan like you; obedient and gentle. The contrast between you two (or three, rather) is so obvious. His calloused hands roaming over your plush body gives them a power trip. They’ve earned this right, and Habit and Evan intend to keep it. The tears that well in your pretty eyes are for them and them only, so why worry that pretty little head over some sleazy victim?
Crying is something Habit is use to, hell he’ll gladly drink the tears of his victims when he can, but your tears, your tears? They’re like ambrosia to him, something so sweet and addictive that only he gets makes his head spin. You cry over something small, and Habit’s always there to kiss and lick your tears away, cooing that you should just ‘Let it out, angel’ like the sick bastard he is. You know he’s bad, but he takes care of you, gives himself up to you in way no one, man or woman, has. It’s addictive. You don’t have to beg for attention with him, just shed a tear or whimper his name in just the right way and he’s on you. It’s a cycle, an unhealthy but loving cycle that neither of you can seem to give up.
Habit, in all his centuries on this realm and the many others, has never felt this kind of infatuation with anyone; he can’t live without you and he doesn’t plan on it. Somehow, it doesn’t matter what he has to give or take, you will be with him until sin itself is purged from the world.
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