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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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Coming back to say that this went in a completely different direction than I imagined, but I’m just gonna keep it.

Obsessed with the idea of Steve trying to be Eddie’s wingman.

Like one day Eddie is lingering around Family Video and Steve notices a girl eyeing his friend. And yeah, Eddie is cute, Steve isn’t afraid to admit that, but he’s never seen him even attempt to ask a girl out. So he decides it’s time to maybe encourage him or do it for him.

So, Steve follows this girl over to the horror section - and look at that, similar interests! - and notes that Eddie is following behind him. And yeah, the girl is pretty cute, she even has some metal looking band on her t-shirt that Steve is sure Eddie mentioned to him before. Oh! They’re definitely on the mixtape Eddie made for him. This is perfect.

So, Steve taps on the girl’s shoulder and smiles when he notices her staring at Eddie over his shoulder. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you needed any help.”

The girl replies in a higher voice than Steve expected, “Oh… I… I don’t know.” Jackpot. She’s utterly enamored by Eddie. And yeah, she should be when he’s wearing his hair in that messy bun and those jeans that fit just right.

Steve takes a moment to think about how well those jeans fit before shaking himself out of it. Weird. But he has a mission. “Well, my friend here knows all there is to know about horror movies, so I’ll let him help you.”

Steve gives Eddie a quick pat on the shoulder, noting how adorable he is when he looks panicked. He goes back to the counter and watches as the girl nervously twirls her hair around her finger, then she’s loudly laughing and Eddie looks startled. Steve tries to suppress a laugh.

Then the girl is picking a movie and thanking Eddie for his help while trailing a hand down his arm. Steve’s stomach churns. Must’ve had something bad for lunch or something, but that doesn’t explain why he feels so… angry with himself. He’ll deal with that later. But now the girl is rushing to the counter.

Steve notices Eddie lingering in the horror section, likely a little flustered by the whole interaction. So Steve winks at the girl and says, “So, I see my friend was a great help to you.”

The girl giggles in response and leans forward. “Does your friend have plans tomorrow night?” she asks then bites her lip.

“With you at nine o’clock? Absolutely. I’ll give him your number in case he needs to reschedule.”

The girl scribbles down her number on a notepad Steve hands her then they exchange notepad for her tape. “Have a goodnight!” Steve yells after her and looks down at the note. Why does he want to rip it to shreds? The front door shuts.

“What the hell was that?” Eddie asks and Steve jumps not realizing he was at the counter.

“I was helping you out, man. Being your wingman.” Steve shrugs it off and starts organizing the returns in piles by genre, struggling to find why Eddie is so pissed at him.

“Maybe let me decide who I want to ask out, Harrington,” Eddie bites out, shoving the tapes to the side.

What the hell? And Harrington? He hasn’t heard that in a while. And something about it pisses Steve off. “Well, Munson, if you actually went on dates then I wouldn’t feel the need to help you.”

“Help me,” Eddie scoffs. “I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving King Steve.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve says turning around to try to look busy at the computer so Eddie doesn’t see the way the name gets to him.

Eddie hops over the counter as Steve is typing the girl’s name into the system and finding her past rentals. “Why not? King Steve can’t help but try to save The Freak. Why not just call it as it is?”

Steve turns around and runs a hand through his hair. “Why are you getting so worked up about this? It’s just a date!”

“I’ve never been on a date, you asshole! And I certainly wouldn’t want to go on one with a girl because I want to go on one with you!” Eddie yells then the color drains from his face as he must realize what he’s just admitted.

Steve freezes to process what Eddie’s just said. But then Eddie’s backing up and saying, “I have to go.” He turns to jump over the counter again, but Steve comes to his senses and latches onto his wrist stopping him.

Eddie slowly turns to him and whispers, “Please, don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Eddie,” Steve says still latching onto his wrist. “Just… give me a minute, and please don’t run.”

Eddie reluctantly nods at him as Steve lets go of his wrist. His eyes flicker to the door, but his feet remain in place.

Steve stares at him and processes. Eddie wants to go on a date with him. Okay. He’s had girls who have had a crush on him before that wasn’t reciprocated, and he easily turned them down. Some of them he even remained sort of friends with.

But for some reason the news is making his heart race in a good way. Like… a really good way. Almost like he wants to go on a date with Eddie. But he’s… not gay. Right?

His eyes slowly roam over Eddie, and then he stops when he realizes he’s blatantly checking him out. But when has that stopped him from checking out his friend before?

Oh. Oh shit. He thinks about the way he notices the fit of his jeans, and the way he loves when Eddie pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to expose more skin. He thinks about how he’s always been curious what it would be like for girls to kiss Eddie when he’s let his scruff slightly grow in. But then he imagines what it would be like for him to experience that. And his world kind of combusts.

He likes Eddie. Like really likes him. Not just physically but like, he loves the way he scrunches his nose up at the music Steve plays but sometimes reluctantly sings along. He loves the way his lame jokes make the corner of Eddie’s eyes crinkle. He loves that bright smile he gets on his face whenever he’s messing around with the kids. He loves whenever Eddie comes by the store and lingers for as long as he can just to keep him company.

He thinks back to the way he felt when the girl traced her hand over his arm, and the way the thought of Eddie using her number to call her made him feel… jealous. Holy shit. Oh he’s such an idiot. But an idiot who can make amends.

He notices how Eddie is practically shaking while Steve has just been standing there not saying anything. He needs to fix this. “Are you free tomorrow at nine?”

A look of betrayal crosses over Eddie’s face. “I’m not going on a date with that girl. You can’t make me straight-”

“No! That’s not… shit. That’s not at all what I meant,” Steve huffs out and runs a hand through his hair. He’s messing this up more. Shit. Okay, here it goes. “I’m asking if you’re free tomorrow to see if you can go on a date… with me.”

Now it’s Eddie turn to freeze and process. A few excruciatingly long seconds later Eddie is responding, “Are you kidding me?” Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. Eddie continues, “You’re asking me out before I got the chance to?”

Steve can’t help but burst out laughing. Eddie joins him but between laughs he says, “I’m serious! This is unfair!” For some reason this makes Steve laugh harder, and soon enough he’s wiping tears from his eyes as Eddie looks at him fondly.

“You’re free tomorrow at nine though, right?” Steve asks.

“No, but are you free tomorrow at nine o one to go on a date with me?” Eddie asks and Steve is cackling all over again.

The bell to the front door rings and Robin enters. She looks at the two and asks, “What the hell did I miss during my break? I was only gone for fifteen minutes.”

This only manages to make Steve laugh more as Eddie joins him.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things

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sukunastoy · 1 year

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Dumb Puppy (Part 2)

Posted a bit later than I wanted to but finally got this absolute filth tossed into the pile. Enjoy!

wc: 2.3k+

cw: fucking both the father and son(everyone is legal age) name calling/insults (mutt, bitch, puppy etc), choking, cream pie, unprotected sex, master-pet dynamic, age difference.

Over the next few weeks, your needy moments with Toji only worsened. The more you indulged in this sick fantasy, the more obsessed with him you became. He entertained all of your needs, feeding into your twisted desires.

Teaching Megumis class was both stressful and embarrassing. The boy never said anything, and you weren't sure if he knew what you were actually doing with his crappy father or not. If he was aware, he never mentioned it, much to your relief.

Of course for some days, to avoid suspicion, you'd leave immediately after school was over, getting to the Fushiguro residence before Megumi would get home. Offering him a ride home every day was getting too awkward. If he walked, it would take him almost 20 minutes to get there. That was more than enough time to park far enough down the street to hide your car and sneak back to the house, getting into Tojis bedroom with the door shut before the son came home. Sure you'd be moaning like a wanton whore, but at least he never saw your face to actually confirm it was you fucking his dad so much lately.

Again Toji was choking you out while he was fucking you harshly, and the lack of air to your head made you cum so embarrassingly hard.

"F-fuck! Loosen up, bitch, you're forcing me out." He grumbled as your walls were clenching him so tightly it was almost difficult for him to keep thrusting.

Your whole body shook with the intensity of your climax, making you nearly pass out as the male above you continued to fuck your spasming cunt.

He grunted while chasing his own release, sweat dripping down onto you from him as his squeezing became more of a strangulation.

You began to slip into darkness before a dizzying sensation filled your head, his hands moving from your throat to let air back into your lungs. Coughing immediately as you choked to breathe, Tojis hips sputtered as your walls clamped around him with each harsh cough. He fucked a load into you while panting before finally sitting up onto his haunches and rubbing his hair back from his face.

"Jeez...can't fuck your pathetic pussy if you shove me out, dumbass."

Ugh, what an asshole. The sexiest asshole you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Opening up the bedroom door to leave, Toji smacked your ass and you yelped loudly.

“Is my dumb puppy coming back again tomorrow to get her needy little cunt fucked?” He teased while walking out.

Before you could even reply, the color drained from your face as not one, but two Fushiguro’s now stood in the living room.

Megumi gave you a brief glance, a complete lack of interest in his face but it was still horrifying.

“Hey, how come you haven’t hit that yet?” Toji chuckled to his son, gesturing towards you while he went into the kitchen.

“She’s got a tight little cunt, you’d love it.”

Well, it finally reached that point. You had to move and change your whole identity. Because this level of embarrassment was unreal.

Megumi was never out and about in the home when you left. You could sometimes hear him come in while Toji was having his way with you, but then shortly after that you’d hear the door to his room open and close. He was always in there and you always slipped out of Tojis room unnoticed!

Megumi sighed and rolled his eyes to his fathers words. “Yeah…right. Look, I just have a question. Class related.” He said while looking back to you, not phased in the least.

“C-class?” You stammered, hardly able to calm your heartbeat.

What a weird fucking moment.

Sitting down with Megumi on the couch, the one Toji fucked you over several weeks ago, he was asking about one of the homework papers you assigned earlier today in class.

By this point, you had no idea where Toji had gone, and it felt even more awkward to be sitting here alone with your student. Especially since Toji literally talked about your still sopping pussy to him.

Despite you struggling to speak half the time, Megumi seemed to not give a single care about what you were obviously doing not too long ago.

“Um, Megumi, I’m sorry, for making this weird…”

“You’re not the only one who has been here before, he does this all the time. I’m used to it.”

That definitely didn’t make you feel any fucking better. But come on, was that really such a surprise? Toji was an absolute crappy person, of course he’d be fucking several others.

Wondering how Megumi turned out to be so polite still made your head spin.

After helping him with the assignment, you rushed out of the Fushiguro residence, planning on what country you’d move to so you’d never have to face this embarrassment again.

Obviously, you had to go back to your job the next morning. And the next day. And the next…

Though, you hadn’t gone over to get dicked down in almost two weeks now. It was hard enough to stand in the front of Megumi’s class, knowing he’s heard you howling like a wild animal.

But, you’d be lying if you pretended that you were better off without seeing Toji.

None of your personal toys at home could even come close to give you that sickening high you only achieved by riding his dick.

Laying in bed after whimpering through a pathetic and unsatisfying orgasm, you groaned in despair. Being embarrassed was swiftly getting replaced with a level of horminess that was driving you mad.

Megumi was clearly not knew to his fathers antics, and he definitely already knew you were over there so often. Cat was out of the bag long before you knew it even was!

So why fight it?

Fuck it. You needed him again. Needed him bad. Not seeing him was driving you insane. You just wanted him to fuck you stupid and let you drift away in a moment of perverted bliss.

Knocking on Tojis door the next day after rushing over from school, you impatiently awaited him to answer. When that locked turned and the door swung open, you nearly dropped your purse in awe. He was shirtless, and his hair was a mess. Your eyes shamelessly traveled down his body, drinking in those abs and whining at the sight of his v line disappearing into his pants.

“F-fuck…” you gulped under your breath.

“My my…I was wondering when your pathetic cunt would bring you back here.”

Extending out a thick and toned arm, Tojis hand gripped behind your neck, and his thumb rubbed across your ear while pulling you inside.

As your head hung off the side of Tojis bed, you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. Feeling those calloused hands holding your waist while he fucked you relentlessly was driving you fucking wild. His grunts and growls with every thrust put you on cloud nine.

“Missed me, didn’t you, dirty bitch?”

“Y-yes, fuck…fuck yes!” Of course you did. You were obsessed with him! You wanted to be his, his own personal plaything.

“Look at that fucking smile…You like being a whore.”

You didn’t care anymore. So long as those hands were around your throat or waist, you were in a state of bliss beyond compare. Since a couple weeks had passed, your poor pussy actually had time to rest, but now it was getting stretched back out and that delicious pain swirled in your core.

He was so rough and brutal with every thrust, but you fucking loved it.

“You wanna cum? Cum all over my fat cock in your greedy pussy?” He teased while adjusting his hips to hammer into that spongy flesh that would send you over the edge in seconds.

His abs brushed across your aching clit just perfectly and you swung your legs up and over his waist, opening yourself up further.

Feeling his cockhead sink further towards your cervix, you screamed in euphoria, unable to handle how good he could fuck you.

“That’s it, that’s a good little dumb mutt!” He crudely laughed, fucking you so hard you were sliding off the bed.

“F-fuck, fuck me! Fuck me!!” You sobbed as your walls clenched around his unforgiving pace.

Hearing the front door open, you did your best to ignore it. Megumi would know it was you, but he’d pay no attention to it. So there wasn’t a reason to deny yourself of this amazing orgasm washing over you, making your body shake from the severity of it.

That was, until you suddenly realized through your daze, that Toji had left the bedroom door open.

And as your head was hanging off the bed, you locked eyes with Megumi who stood in the living room with his bag strap now slipping down his shoulder.

Your face was contorted in sickening pleasure, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away to break the stare.

“S-shit, T-Toji, the door!” You whined, face flushed in a heavy blush knowing Megumi just watched you cum from his dad.

“Dumb puppy…I wanted him to see.” He snickered while leaning up and grabbing onto your tits almost painfully. He kneaded them in his hands while continuing to roll his hips into yours.

“Come on, get in here and help me fuck this needy mutt.”

“What!?” Your head snapped up at Tojis words, but one of those large hands covered your face, shoving your head back down in a rough motion.

“Don’t act like you aren’t interested boy, caught you jerking off to the video of her on my phone.”

Your eyes were wide in pure humiliation at this point, and you couldn’t even think of a single thing to say. Surely, surely Megumi would deny. He wasn’t going to fuck his teacher along side his dad, right??

Oh god…the horrible thoughts filled your mind in an instant. And not in the way you imagined…

Toji was an absolute beast in the bed, if his son was the same…

You felt your pussy clench at the thought of being taken by both of them, and Toji smirked down to you, knowing where your mind was going.

“Fucking whore, getting more soaked at the idea of it. Look boy, she’s getting wet for you. Don’t act like you don’t want to fuck her.”

Megumi remained staring at you for only a brief moment before he huffed and ducked his head down, rubbing the back of it.

“Fine.”

It was obscene. It was beyond inappropriate.

Felt even more intense than any porn you've seen.

But you couldn't get enough.

These two gorgeous men were licking your cunt, nearly fighting each other over it. You kept your leg held up as you lay on your side, panting and staring at them in a daze.

Toji was fucking your still twitching hole with his tongue, and Megumi was sucking on your swollen clit, occasionally nipping to make you squeal.

"Get up there, and fuck this whore.” Toji growled to his son, shoving him more over you.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want this.

Megumi was flushed in the face and he wouldn't look at you while he climbed over your anxious body, but your arms welcomed him greatly in an embrace.

You were surprised how quickly his cock slipped into your aching cunt, but even more in shock at his size. A big, fat and veiny cock, just like his father.

Your arms and head fell back on the bed, breathless as your student fucked you like you weren't worth anything.

It didn't take Toji long to hop on the bed and kneel on either side of your head. He gripped his cock and bounced the end of it onto your face, making your mouth open.

"That's my perfect, dumb puppy...getting fucked in your mouth and cunt at the same time. Fucking hell, you're a filthy whore."

He groaned while shoving his dick down your throat. Your eyes widened as far as they could, a new level of ecstasy and arousal washing over you. Megumi leaned over you while he hammered into you, letting your pussy swallow him whole each time. Toji bucked his hips to fuck your face, and even though you gagged and whimpered, he only sank further into your warm and wet throat.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna fucking cum..." Megumi growled to himself, falling apart at how tightly your gummy walls sucked him in.

"Hold that shit in. This is a dirty bitch, she wants so much more."

God, you couldn't agree more.

"Goddamn...you need to see this." Toji panted while pulling himself from your throat. You coughed and gasped for air as he lifted your head but immediately your body went limp to the sight.

He made you watch as Megumis cock disappeared into your pussy, and how when he pulled back, you were gripped around him so tightly.

"Told you, her fucking pussy has an amazing grip."

"T-Toji, I wanna, wanna cum!" You begged with tears in your eyes, unable to handle the sight of Megumis dick fucking your sloppy cunt.

"So cum! Cum on my sons dick, you disgusting bitch."

When Tojis hands slipped around your throat, your body tensed instantly and he let out a rude laugh as you squirted all over Megumis abs.

“Fuuuck~!” Megumis hips faltered as your walls clamped down around him, and you sobbed through moans when he slammed his hips down into yours, burying himself balls deep in your cunt before unloading into you.

Drool spilled from the side of your partially opened mouth, lost in a complete daze as you could see Megumis cock twitch and throb while your pussy milked him dry.

He chanced looking up to you, but once your doe eyes locked with his, he immediately looked away, gritting his teeth and grumbling.

“You’ve been wanting to fuck her for a while now, don’t pretend otherwise. Now move, time for my turn.” Toji grinned down to you while stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

“My dumb puppy needs her little pussy completely ruined.”

#toji jjk #megumi jjk #toji x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro jjk #Toji smut #megumi smut #Toji x you x megumi

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grapejuicestyless · 9 months

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What Was I Made For?

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is a photographer realizing she is not who she had always believed she was. Harry is the one thing she can count on.

Y/n had been made to believe that she was the shining star that led the lonely drivers home each night. Made to be the light at the end of the tunnel. The angel from grace that was sent to inflict pure joy to those around her. So she played the part.

A constantly bubbly joy to be around. Her laugh echoing through every hallway. Her smile infectious and radiant as it reflected one of what could only be described as pure happiness.

Just her being near have anyone that warmth within. Heartbeats hard and faster underneath their winter coats. Cheeks flushed and nose scrunched from fits of laughter. It was almost like she was a spell that was cast on anyone who got to close. A foggy haze that was laid over the infected eyes of the lucky soul who crossed paths with her.

That’s what had drawn Harry to her, in the first place. How her laugh carried around the store without a care for the stares burning the back of her head or the eye rolls from the grumps behind her. How her smile was sincere and her attitude polite even in the worst experiences. Her head remained held high and her respectful demeanor never dwindled under the increasing pressure laid on her shoulders to calm down.

A beauty, inside and out. A heart of gold, to be exact. It wasn’t a shock at how quickly they’d hit it off. Harry not only obsessed with her artistry within her passions for photography, but enamored by her essence as a whole. And how soon he’d fallen for her. How hard he’d fallen. The girl had not a single bad bone in her body. Not a single grudge or hatred being held within her. Love and kindness being her only reflection onto others.

And she continued to be strong and enthusiastic everyday of her life as long as she could. Never wasting that gift of innocence she was graced with.

But even the most optimistic, strong willed people reach their breaking points. And the weight becomes too much, tumbling from their shoulders to their feet. That high held chin falls into the slump of their shoulders and the ground becoming a best friend with their eyes. The smiles becoming painful and achy. Not quite reaching their eyes. The color draining from the victim as the real world crashes down around them, innocence ruined and optimism crushed.

Y/n was no exception. The girl who faced everything with a grin permanently tattooed within her smile lines nothing compared to the constant pressures and horrible truths she could not be spared from.

——————————————————————————

I loved the summer, always had, always believed I would. The warmth was an invitation from the earth to soak up the sun and feel the grass between your toes. How the ocean would crash up on the shore and the birds would sing to their lovers early each morning. The hug that was my own lovers resting tightly around my waist, his breathing even and calm against my neck. Sheets tossed around the bed and bodies sprawled around in the humid heat. It was a peaceful bliss.

I used to wake early, turning carefully to not stir my Harry from his sleep. Allowing myself to be selfish for just a moment and keep him from the world and only for myself. My thumb would find the bridge of his nose, tracing the curves like he was a painting. A masterpiece crafted from Van Gogh. I would curl a soft strand of his hair around my pointer, massaging away any potential headaches from his head. Watching as his eyebrows would scrunch up only to relax into the soothing touch and he would press up further against the palm of my hand.

The smile would break out across my face for the first time that day in those moments. The intimacy overwhelming and private in a way that made it special and endearing. Something I could hold close to me. That smile wouldn’t fade for hours, the feeling of my hands in his hair waking him peacefully, a smile drawn on his face as a reflection of mine. His breath always stunk, but I didn’t mind. It only reminded me of how close he was holding me. How close he allowed me to be to him.

We’d dance in the sunlight that poured through the windows, basking in each other’s presence. The smell of breakfast wafting from the old pan on the well loved stovetop and sticking to the walls. He’d tell cheesy jokes and I’d laugh each time. Even if they weren’t funny, to me they were because they were his jokes.

Then, he’d leave for work. A kiss placed to my temple, lips lingering and drawn out from the desire to remain hidden away in our safe little paradise. He’d be off to write songs of his life, both real and made up from his own dreams and imagination. And I would stay at home, tending to the garden and writing down ideas for new projects I could pursue. Scribbling down sketches that I could turn into reality. A series of photos that would become my identity for only a moment of my life, something I could submerge myself in. Each photo either stored away for only myself to know ever existed, or to be shared on a flashy magazine cover. For everyone to see, for everyone to see when they think of that specific article they read. The different endings for each project exciting and interesting each time.

Yet, as time went on, I noticed the ideas were limited to only that. Ideas. I had not attempted to pursue the projects that had consumed me for the past couple weeks. The heavily detailed writings and sketches turning into an unfinished story that would continue to grow with no ending each time I sat alone in my own home.

I had lost that enthusiasm I always had. The overwhelming desire to start an idea as soon as it entered my mind slipping further and further until it was only a distant memory. Any project I managed to start lost all of my touch in them. The colors fading and the grainy texture more and more as any elements that reminded me of myself faded into the background. Each photograph stored deep in my desktop. Buried within a file of photos never to be touched again. It was almost as if I had dropped off the face of the earth. My mind at a mental and physical block that was sticky and thick with heaviness. My art no longer willing to be shared. I fell deeper and deeper into myself. The only thing keeping me grounded was my love. Those intimate moments that assured me I was still the same in some ways. My lack of material did not reflect my heart, as it still best for the same lover.

But that knowledge was never enough, these days. And the story grew lesser and lesser as the days went on. Harry would leave and I would tend to the garden. But I never wrote about my ideas. I never sketched them out for future me. The strong pull and passion I once had in my life gone like a warm summer day.

I used to know, I always wanted to be a photographer. It was like a gravitational forces pulled me towards it. A feeling that assured me that this was what I was made for keeping me persistent in the field. I longed to capture my memories in a photo that could be kept as a sweet reminder to that moment in my life, or shared with everyone to appreciate. To be placed on a magazine cover with bold letters layered on top, or hung on a wall of an art exhibit in a bustling city. I wanted to share my passion with the world so desperately.

But, I’m not sure now. I had lost that eagerness in it. Lost that sure feeling that this was what I was made for. Something I had been so drawn to for so long becoming something of a childhood dream. It was hard to pinpoint the turning of events. The changing in emotions connected to my passion. What was something that made me feel alive becoming something that was merely a hobby.

So when did it end? All the enjoyment? I don’t how to feel. Someday I might, but now I sit in the empty house, the moonlight dancing through the windows just as bright as the morning sun had brought in. The breeze cooler and the air less humid. I sit there, trying to find that desire my heart once held.

I wonder if Harry could see it. See the way the smile didn’t reach my eyes. How the permanent tattoo of happiness that were my smile lines became smoothed out with the weak smiles I gave each morning. How even when we were closest, I was distant. How my notebooks spine wasn’t yet cracked, the pages still white. Not yet stained with the grey of the graphite pencil and smears from my black pens. My camera sitting idly on the kitchen table by the dying flowers and the vacuumed carpet.

We danced just the same each morning and my hands still finding their way to his face. I wondered if he would still love me if I couldn’t be who he fell in love with. If the girl who was continuously happy, careless and enthusiastic in everything she did, didn’t exist anymore, could he still love the remaining pieces of her that were left behind?

He made me feel special, every minute we were together. The laughter and the jokes just the same. The movie nights and the picnics in the park on the weekends just as romantic. I prayed as silent as a whisper that my lifeless eyes and dying happiness wouldn’t drive him away.

My sadness was a secret. A promise to myself that I wouldn’t share my despair and crisis with my boyfriend, a stress I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

My whole identity built around my art and my bubbly mood. Something I wished I still had. But the realization for the lost interest and the loneliness that grew in with it too much to bare. Too much to remain the same. Just for this moment at least. Until I found myself again.

Think I forgot how to be happy. Something I'm not, but something I can be. I can be happy. I can be happy when I’m out. When I’m with my love. When I’m with my friends. When I’m in the garden or at the beach. Being happy is something I wait for.

So, even if it hurt to realize I was not made to be what I always dreamed of, I was still sure about something. When the storm had passed and the waves calmed. When the trees stopped swaying and the clouds cleared, I would always have that relief of happiness that was sure to return eventually.

Being happy is what I'm made for.

Something I'm made for.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles #yn x harrystyles

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edosianorchids901 · 7 months

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The Storm's Red Ruin

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "blood is thicker than water"

Wessex, 878 AD

When Crowley dragged himself from Hell’s damp corridors to Earth, it was raining. He managed a snort of laughter. Fitting, after spending the last week chained up with a pipe dripping on his side.

That hadn’t been the centerpiece of the torture. Just a side effect.

He snorted with laughter again, then went limp in the muddy road and watched as blood trickled from his wounds, pooling in the puddles all around him. Thicker than the water, it spread out slowly, a pattern of red masking the grey reflections of the sky.

Soon, he’d probably be watching his blood mingle with the green, sickly light of Hell again. At the rate he was bleeding out, discorporation couldn’t be far away.

He wasn’t sure what to do. Right now, he was too busy hurting to make plans.

He tried anyway. Had to be able to cobble something together. Even on his way out of Hell, shredded and bloodied, he’d been focused, determined. To get back to Earth, to Aziraphale.

The Earth part, he’d managed. But Aziraphale…

He’d missed Aziraphale. The fog, mud, and general lack of color at the moment said this might be Wessex, but where in Wessex? Or maybe he’d missed Wessex entirely. Could be in bloody Northumbria, for all he knew. Or somewhere that wasn’t even the right island.

“Are you a Dane?”

Crowley squinted up. A girl crouched by the puddle that he was currently bleeding into. “Nope.”

“A warrior? A survivor of the raid?”

“Nuh.” Although maybe he should have said yes. “Hey, know anyone with… fluffy light hair, talks a lot with his hands, obsessed with books?”

Saying that much left him breathless, his vision dimming. He shivered, heartbeat quick and thready. The girl was saying something, but Crowley couldn’t make out the words. It was all fading away.

He tried to hold on, clinging to Earth, to the vain hope that Aziraphale might save him. The blood just kept pumping, draining from his mangled body into the puddles.

The wet cold seeped through him, blending with the chill of Hell’s dark torture chambers. Tears slipped down his cheeks, a shattered sob shaking him. Soon, he’d be back. Under the blade, the lash. Torn at by Hellhounds. And what if they kept him forever, as an example to the others of what happened to failures?

“Crowley! Crowley!”

At first, he thought he’d imagined the call. But shoes splashed in the puddles, water and blood spattering across him.

“Oh Lord, what’s happened to you?” A touch on his shoulder, then arm, then hand. He whimpered in agony. “Crowley, you look as though you’ve been mauled by an entire raiding force! Come here, dear boy.”

Even the gentle touch hurt, and Crowley sobbed as Aziraphale scooped him up. “Hurts, it hurts, angel…”

“Shh, there now. I’m awfully sorry, but it’s raining so hard now, and I’ve got to get you inside before you freeze to death. You’ve nearly got hypothermia.”

Oh. Terrific. Not like he wasn’t in bad enough shape after the week of torture.

Everything went increasingly vague after that, and also increasingly terrifying. Was someone helping him? Or was this just a prelude to the next round of torment?

Sharp pain, and he screamed. Hands on him, holding him down. A face, eyes wide. The person over him spoke urgently, but there was too much pain to be sure of what they were saying.

The hands lifted, fluttering as the person talked. Pointed, waved, finally splayed wide, patting the air in a gesture that even now, Crowley understood. Stay still.

He understand something else, as he laid there bleeding. He knew every single one of those gestures, the pattern of them, the enthusiasm, the rhythms. Knew them so deeply that his fear faded.

Aziraphale. He’d made it to Aziraphale.

Crowley tried to stay still, although sometimes his body jerked with pain. If Aziraphale said to stay still, there was a good reason. Aziraphale didn’t want to work together, but he always helped when necessary.

Gradually, the pain faded enough that things crept into Crowley’s awareness. The smell of a fireplace, and the heat of it. Something hard under his back. Warm, flickering light. The sound of someone crying.

The tears registered next, sliding down his face. Oh. He was the one crying.

“Angel,” he croaked, voice hoarse. “Angel. Angel.”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” Warmth against the side of his face, fingers drifting lightly across his temple, his cheek. Careful, rhythmic strokes that soothed the fresh sparks of fear and dried the slow tears. “Crowley, my dear, it’s okay now. It’s all right. You’re still a bit banged up, but I’ve healed the worst of your injuries and I’m getting you warmed up.”

“I’m cold,” Crowley mumbled, struggling to focus on the kind face above.

“I know, Crowley. I’m getting you warmed up. I’ll move you to my bed soon.” Aziraphale kept one hand against Crowley’s cheek, but the other fluttered in the air. “You’re on my table, currently. I needed to have you as close to the fire as possible. Can you tell me what happened? Is there another raiding party?”

“Nuh.” Crowley really wanted to just go to sleep, but he should probably reassure Aziraphale that the village wasn’t about to burn down. “Got in… trouble over the new treaty. Hell doesn’t like the lack of raiding parties.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed. He patted Crowley’s cheek in quick, compulsive little touches. “Well, you’re back on Earth now, back in Wessex, back with me. And I will not let anyone harm you now.”

Crowley managed a weak smile before he closed his eyes, listening as rain drummed down on the thatched roof. He’d made it. There would be no return trip to Hell after all, thanks to Aziraphale.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

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urlocalwhumper · 1 month

Text

here's more, sorry i'm obsessed lol

rayan belongs to @sowhumpshaped (even though he's never referred to by name here LMFAO)

nana loved everything about her new home.

it wasn't as big as her previous master's, but that hardly mattered to her at all. she wasn't allowed in most of that house anyways. but here, her new master had told her she could go wherever she wanted, just to knock first if the door was closed.

her new collar and tag jingled slightly as she wandered around, carefully exploring. their quick trip to the pet store had been scary and stressful for her - so many other pets and people, so many sounds and smells and eye-grabbing colors - but master had gently insisted on buying her a new collar, especially once he saw how raw and chafed her neck was under the too-tight leather.

her new collar was lime green and made of polyester, and sat around her neck loosely enough to not chafe, but tight enough to not come off. her new tag was shaped like a bone, with her name on the front and her master's name and phone number on the back. even something as small as that made her feel warm inside. her old master had never bothered putting any contact information on her tag, claiming that if she somehow got away, he wouldn't want her back anyways.

as both an apology for the ordeal and a reward for being such a good girl, master took her to pick out a new toy once they'd gotten her collar. she'd been a little overwhelmed at first, faced with an entire aisle of possible selections. she'd never had a toy before. but master assured her that she had all the time in the world to decide, and after a few minutes of pacing back and forth through the aisle, she returned to his side with a stuffed frog between her teeth. it was soft but firm, well-stuffed, and she liked the green.

"nana!" master called from another room, snapping her back to the present. "would you come here please?"

she obeyed, following the sound of his voice into the apartment's single bedroom. there, she found him kneeling and adjusting... something, she couldn't quite tell yet, over in the corner of the room.

"surprise!" he said happily, moving out of the way. in the corner of his bedroom, he'd rigged up a sheet to form a little canopy, and beneath the little sheet-tent was a soft, plush looking pet bed, with an equally as soft looking blanket draped over one half, and her stuffed frog sitting on the other. "it's your bed!"

she blinked, awestruck. her bed? this was all for her? she gingerly stepped forward, until she was close enough to climb into the bed, curling up with her frog in her arms and pulling the blanket over herself. peering out through the gap in the tent, her back to the wall and surrounded by a cocoon of warmth and softness, she felt her nose starting to burn and her single eye filling with tears.

she'd never felt so safe and loved before, and found herself overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotion. this is what she'd needed, all her life, this is all she'd ever wanted.

"do you like it?" master asked, peeking into the tent. he seemed saddened, but not surprised to see her crying. "oh, sweetheart," he soothed, "it's okay. no one's ever gonna hurt you again. it's only gonna be pets and treats and toys and soft beds from here on out, okay?"

his kind words only made her cry harder, but she eagerly nuzzled into his hand when he moved to pet her hair, hoping to convey the depth of the love and gratitude she already felt. she might have been weeping, but her tail was wagging so hard it had started to audibly thump against the wall behind her.

the two of them just sat there for a while while she cried, and master didn't stop petting or reassuring her for a single moment until she finally settled down, snuggling further into her soft bed as it finally hit her just how drained she was from the day's events.

"oh!" master suddenly exclaimed. "you must be hungry, it's almost dinnertime." he moved to get up and gave her one more parting scratch behind the ear. "i'm gonna go cook, you just settle in some more. or you can take a nap if you want, you look tired." he smiled. "i'll wake you up when it's time to eat, okay?"

nana simply nodded, huffing contently and burying her face into the soft fabric of her stuffed frog. she distantly registered master pulling her blanket more securely around her, before she was out like a light.

bonus

nana's frog:

#HI LMFAO. AGAIN.#in nana's head this time!! i like writing from her perspective #she's very. simple minded? but not in a bad way #i think i described it best in the tags of the first one by just saying 'shes pupy' that pretty much nails it actually #very glad she ended up with rayan. bc she wants to be loved so badly that if another abusive owner got their hands on her again #she would do approximately nothing about it and continue desperately seeking their approval anyways #this is literally the best way things could have gone for her #also i feel like rayan would go all out for his pet. building that whole little canopy for them bc he's just so excited to finally have one #he is going to pamper the shit out of her lmfao #mine

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okiecookie20 · 2 months

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EXO "Lucky One" theory!

Obsession Theory>

The mv is heavily lore-based as we know. Okay I'll try my best to point out clues I found were significant.

They are being taken by the nurses in red visors (unmistakeably agents of RF) on stretchers to a unit. The boys are bound and show resistance. Some of them have very prominent dark blue eyes presumably after being drugged:

(their visuals shine even in poor quality of the video — tf sm doing bare minimum for our boys)

The make-up and overall look exos have in the mv signifies how they're being experimented on with the color drained from their cheeks.

They have been kidnapped and have lost their powers. (I read this somewhere that Exo came on TV in the June ep of Music Video Bank and explained the main story of Lucky One; Baekhyun emphasized on while the other members use their powers, Kai dances when he is cornered 😭😭).

We see Lay's dream - since his eye is in focus — how the members use their powers but I think Kai is unable to first see where he wants to teleport since that's how this stuff works.

•Kyungsoo sees Lay being carried out of the room and he uses his power - Force to shatter the glass panes. This might be an action which made them realise the danger they were in and make their escape. He is unmoved and appears with a blank expression most of the time (so do the others).

In the end he seemingly makes it out but we see how he has reached the centre of the maze very similar to Overdose mv. The agents are tracking the boys and only Kyunsoo's location doesn't glow??! We have 12 lines that might mean he tricked the RF.

It is important to mention that I think Overdose is probably the sequel to Lucky One. I also find it interesting how kyungsoo is the only one who is alone obviously they're 9 but why is it always HIM? I have thought about making a separate post on how Kyungsoo interacts in the mvs and his role in the story.

•Another clue we get at the end is that the hues change and appear similar to the aesthetic of 'Kokobop'. The same colors appear when Baekhyun is drugged.

This is one clue that Ko ko bop happens after Lucky One! The second clue I found is the drug the nurses inject in Baekhyun (and probably everyone else). In Kokobop also the members appear dazed and sleep in weird places, they are drugged and imagining stuff like giant burgers.

•Ohkay so our H2O buddies Suho and Xiumin are seen trapped in white chambers.

But we have to remember it's all in BnW. And they are the ones who combined their powers to make 🧊 and glasses (Xiumin) of water (Suho) for themselves, maybe to overcome the effects of the drugs

Oh! I just found out how they were the ones banging on the walls of the Overdose maze in the mv!! They are also known as counterparts in the lore. So this similarity and interaction is definitely not a coincidence. It's interesting how their role is significant in the overall concept they have and maybe I'll talk about them separately in a different post!

Now I want to mention some ~clues~ which I don't have much interpretations for, at least yet:

We see how Baekhyun encourages(?) Chanyeol to use his powers — as they enter a room — while he himself is not shown to use his in the mv.

Lastly I wanna mention, because I can't think anymore my brain is clouded with so much info & finding clues; is that Chanyeol's Red hair (he looks fire oml) is not just an aesthetic but matches the concept. In a way it explains his role in Power and Obsession (I'll try to explain some other things in another post!) Also, shoutout to @faakeid on Mind Dissociation theory!

Thank You so much for reading!❤️😭 I would really appreciate it if you share your POV🌺 *I'm new to Tumblr, joined this month🙂

#exo #sm entertainment #exo k #exo m #kpop #exo kpop #jongdae #lay zhang #baekhyun #chanyeol #xiumin #suho #sehun #jongin #kyungsoo #exo lore

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themetaphorgirl · 1 year

Note

how about more 'Gideon thinking Alex and hotch are related' content??

I am OBSESSED with this. and I think it’s so funny when Hotch calls her Alexandra. for some reason it reminds me of Rugrats when the twins call each other Phillip and Lillian when they’re mad.

also for such a brilliant man, Jason Gideon is absolutely fucking clueless.

----------

The stairs creaked as Gideon climbed his way to the seventh floor- although, on second thought, maybe it was his knees. Every so often he was reminded about the inevitable March of time, especially when he was surrounded by hordes of youthful teenagers.

He couldn’t recall ever being that young. Certainly not as young as these children. When he was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years old he fancied himself an adult already, uninterested in childish hobbies and pursuits. There was no possible way he was ever like the ragtag collection of youths currently under his care, with their wide eyed optimism and cherubic cheeks and their loud, rapid fire conversations full of slang he didn’t understand.

The seventh floor hummed with silent activity even though it was well past the start of quiet hours. Lights shone under multiple doors, and he could hear half muted televisions and hushed conversations.

He stopped at the resident advisor’s door and knocked lightly. It took a moment before it opened.

“Hey, this is a bad time, can you-“ Aaron Hotchner started to say. He stopped, his eyes going wide. “Oh. Mr. Gideon. I…can I help you? Is something wrong?”

“Sorry to disturb you so late,” Gideon said. “I just got a call that a girl from Roosevelt was missing from room checks and that there was a chance she was here.”

He had caught students engaging in…inappropriate behavior a handful of times during his tenure as head of Lincoln House. If Aaron had snuck a girlfriend over, it certainly didn’t look like it. He was dressed in flannel pajama pants and an unzipped hoodie over a well-worn tee shirt; from what Gideon could see from the hall his room was an uncharacteristic mess. And besides, Aaron was one of his most mature and responsible students.

“Uh…” Aaron said. “Well…”

“Aaron, can you grab one of your clean shirts?” a girl’s voice called from inside the suite.

Gideon arched an eyebrow. All the color drained from Aaron’s face. “I can explain,” he said hastily.

The girl came into view, but like Aaron she certainly was not dressed for some kind of rendezvous. Her sports bra and leggings were, admittedly, not dress code appropriate, but her long red hair was a tangled mess and her makeup was smeared like she had been rubbing her eyes repeatedly. “Hey, uh…Alex?” Aaron said, still staring at Gideon in horror.

“He threw up again, and I don’t have any clean pajamas to put on him,” Alex sighed, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm.

“Alex.”

“At least this time he didn’t also throw up on me in the process.”

“Alexandra,” Aaron hissed.

She dropped her hand. “What?” she said. She stared at Gideon in horror and immediately tried to cover up her sports bra. “Oh. Oh, god. We can explain.”

“Who’s throwing up?” he asked mildly. “They should probably go see the school nurse. Although, if this is hangover-induced, there are probably other steps that should be taken.”

A little boy peeked out of the bathroom; he was small and skinny and clearly not a high school aged child. It took Gideon a bit too long to remember that a ten year old lived in the dorm. “Birdy,” he said as he leaned heavily on the doorframe. “Birdy, I don’t feel good.”

He definitely didn’t look good, he was deathly pale and his big hazel eyes were watering. “I know, darling, I’ll be there in just a second, go lie down,” Alex said.

“Spencer’s not hungover, and he doesn’t need the nurse, he’s got the stomach bug that’s been going around,” Aaron said. “Mr. Gideon, really, we can explain-“

It all clicked. “Your sister,” Gideon said, snapping his fingers. “That’s right. She’s your sister.”

“Yes,” Aaron said immediately. “My sister. My sister, Alex.”

“Twins, right?”

“Yes,” Alex said. “Irish…Irish twins. We’re Irish twins.”

“Exactly nine months apart,” Aaron said.

“Which explains why…we’re in different grades.”

Of course, now it all made sense. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Now he could see the resemblance- the same dark almond shaped eyes, the same high cheekbones with the hint of a dimple at the left corners of their mouths, the same sharp stubborn jawline. The girl was considerably smaller, but even their stances and facial expressions were similar.

“The little boy,” Gideon said. “The one vomiting. He’s-“

“Our baby brother,” Aaron blurted out.

“Spencer is so scared of doctors, and when he’s sick he wants us to take care of him,” Alex said. “He’s only ten years old, he’s so young. And he gets sick a lot.”

Gideon looked the twins up and down, weighing the situation carefully. On one hand, it was strictly against school rules for a girl to be in a boy’s room after hours. Even more so if she was in the wrong dorm after bed checks. On the other hand-

He heard Spencer throw up violently in the bathroom, then a tense moment of silence before he burst into thin wailing tears. The twins winced in unison. Alex looked desperately towards the bathroom.

“Go, go, he needs you,” Gideon said, waving his hand. “I’ll let Strauss know you haven’t run away or anything.”

“Oh god,” Alex mumbled.

Aaron wavered on his feet. The color still hadn’t returned to his face, and it probably wouldn’t be a huge surprise if he was coming down with the same stomach bug. “Is it okay if she stays?” he asked. “We…the baby really needs her.”

“Just keep me updated if he needs to go to the infirmary,” Gideon said. “Carry on.”

Alex immediately ran; he could hear her cooing over their sick little brother as Aaron closed the door. Gideon shook his head. Siblings. He should have remembered.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #criminal minds fanfiction #caitlin writes things #boarding school au #patron saint: hotch #patron saint: alex #patron saint: spencer #patron saint: gideon #patron saint: wonder twins

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pink-fleure · 26 days

Text

Crystal clear

Warning: abuse, vomiting, unhealthy attachment

"Then direct your anger at me"

So she did.

You could hear the loud crack, when Lloyd got slammed into one of the crystals.

His body fell onto the cold rocky bottom, as he let out a painful scream, ripping his vocal cords.

He bit his lip intensively, trying to stop himself in his frantic sobs. More tears went down his cheeks as he slowly leaned on his elbows to push his upper body up.

He looked at Harumi in pure horror.

She was approaching him. Cornering him so there was no longer any way of escaping this constatnt suffering.

He should've known better before the words escaped his mouth.

He should've already known what she was capable of. And yet he couldn't prevent himself from believing that he was able to save her.

He obsessed over the idea.

He felt that he owed her that.

How foolish it was of him to ignore all his friends' warnings.

He started crawling back to the wall, trying to brace himself. Making himself as small as possible.

Panicked, he just wrapped his arms around his legs and hid his face in his knees, waiting for another hit to come.

She was so angry at him. Her eyes showing pure hatred. Oh, how glad he was that he couldn't see her now.

She'd yelled at him, striking punch after punch at his aching body.

- No hurt... I can't take it anymore, Harumi! - he screamed to her in despair. His voice hoarse, his organism drained, slowly giving up.

His grip on the green gi tightened, as he tried to hold back his upcoming nausea and keep himself conscious, but it was hard when his head was spinning.

His vision became blurry. His breathing increasing every second.

He couldn't pass out. Not now.

He got on his knees, supporting himself on his trembling hands. His head hung low.

Everything hurt.

He started vomiting, his body spasming in pain.

His breaths heavy, when he stared at the mess, slowly leaning his forehead into it.

Then he shot his head up one last time. His head feeling abnormally light.

Now it was Harumi's turn to look at him in pure horror. Her eyes flickering back to their natural deep dark color.

She was fighting.

Even now she reminded Lloyd that he wasn't able to forget about her.

He laughed. An ugly, distraught laugh that soon enough turned into a series of broken sobs.

He could feel his hands giving up, as he fell into his own vomits.

Harumi slapped herself. Her eyes glassy. Her breath hitched.

The realisation of what she has done was creeping in.

She strated to tear out handfuls of her own hair.

She quickly run up to him, falling onto her knees. Her shaky hands gently holding up his weak, bruised body and putting it down on her lap.

Lloyd was mumbling something she couldn't make sense of.

Single tears kept falling from her eyes.

She gently brushed his now dirty hair away from his eyes, looking at the boy in concern.

His lips parted as he kept his eyelids closed.

She started to caress his cheek tenderly.

Lloyd must've felt it, cause he leaned into her touch.

- I'm sorry - she whispered to him.

He groaned, lifting his chest up a little.

She knew that they can't just stay like this. She had to get him under the medical treatment, before his cuts get infected.

She slowly lifted him up, putting all his body weight on herself, so he won't have to struggle anymore.

...

Lloyd's eyes were gradually adjusting to the light in Harumi's room.

- What happened? - he croaked in his sleepy voice.

He gingerly stretched his sore muscels.

The whitette was nowhere to be seen, but he was able to assume that it was her who bandaged and cleaned him and let him stay here. Safe.

He stared at the ceiling until he heard a pair of keys unlocking the door.

Harumi's silhouette appearing in them, carring a glass, with some white-like liquid in it. She sat on the edge of the bed.

Their eyes locked.

- Drink it, it'll make you feel better - she simply said, helping him to get up a little, putting the glass close to his mouth.

- How do I know that it's not poisoned. This doesn't look good - Lloyd said, slowly backing away from it.

- It's just water with some electrolytes, that a person in your state needs. Drink it - Harumi urged.

He let her pour it down his throat.

Then he closed his eyes and laid his head back on the pillow. This time he turned to his side.

- I almost killed you.

- Day like any other in my live if I'm being honest - he said, unbothered.

That made her look up at him.

- You're slowly going insane, Garmadon - she shook her head in disbelief.

- Wasn't that your goal? - he questioned her.

She kneeled in front of him, letting both her hands rest on the bed.

Reaching his face with one of them, she observed him in his vulnerable state.

- What now? - he asked quietly.

- I don't know, Lloyd - she answered sadly, turning her head to the door that separated them from all the chaos that was happening outside.

#oneshot #harumi jade #ninjago harumi #lloyd montgomery garmadon #lloyd garmadon #ninjago #ninjago lloyd

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tonberry-yoda · 1 year

Note

it is midnight and that means its saturday so i am here for my matchup 🤭 in all honesty i have been wanting to request one from u for so long bc i love the way u write your matchups loll, but ANYWAYS! could i pls get a haikyuu matchup? i go by she/her, im straight nd i’d like a romantic matchup 🫡 so im like 5’2 i think, dyed black hair (goes a bit past my shoulders and my natural color is brown), brown eyes, and i have a lot of freckles on my face. i have my septum and both sides of my nose pierced along with a few ear piercings.im an ambivert so how i act definitely depends on the environment im in but with the right people im very outgoing (very chatty lol). but my social battery also gets drained v fast so after big social gatherings i need some time to recover (usually recovering = taking a long nap). i get really snappy if i my social battery is drained so the whole recovery thing is v important lmao. i am also a very sleepy person, my friends like to joke that im chronically tired lmfao, i take naps almost every day and if im in a car, sitting down in class or doing something like that i probably will fall asleep. i cannot control it T_T i also trip, run into things, drop things, etc. all the time. my house could be dead silent and then out of nowhere u just hear a crash and “what the fuck” yea thats me sorry 🤫🤫 i also like to tease ppl a lot, not in a flirty way more like in a provoking way (i cant flirt i have 0 rizz). moving on!! some things i look for in a relationship r someone who can be patient with me and dont mind reassuring (if they do it without me asking its 100x better). i love when show theyre thinking abt me through little things like “oh i was at the store and i saw your fav candy so i picked it up” or “i saw your favorite flowers on my walk home and thought of you” id cry. also someone who isnt afraid to show they care (not in a sense of like pda but moreso they arent too prideful to do dumb stuff like dance with u at 2 am in the kitchen). anyways my type! they dont have to be like 7ft tall but maybe 5’9 or 5’10 +. i like funny guys but not funny at the expense of others. i also really like guys that are able to actually respect me as a person. i pride myself on being really smart and mature (when i need to be lol) and i genuinely would not be able to stand someone that saw me as any less than that. OK MOVING ON! hobbies/ interests! i love music. so much. music is my creative outlet and how i express myself. i annotate song lyrics. i connect with music through personal experience its just so so important to me. i am learning how to play the electric guitar so i can connect with it even more. my favorite artists rn are the 1975, mitski, ptv and sleeping with sirens:p although im always open to expanding my music taste!! i also like to play some video games(obsessed with animal crossing lately lol). aand my love language is words of affirmation. sorry if this is really long T_T and if you dont get to this no biggy but if you do tsym!<3

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD THIS MORNING LMFAOOOOO. and that little note at the beginning is so sweet! i am so glad i am able to do a matchup for you anon!! okay, so i have a perfect little dude for you, but it may be random so bear with me. i love this man, so i hope you do too!

the character I chose for you is...

KEISHIN UKAI!!!

OKAY

HEAR ME OUT!

ukai is flippin hot

i would love to be in your shoes

(he's my fav haikyuu character besides tanaka, so you're lucky frrr)

he would love your piercings

he's a piercing fella himself (he's what made me want to get my second ear piercings lmfaoooo)

like he thinks it's high key hot

he's also an ambrivert, so both of your personalities match up really well

he is totally understanding of your drained social battery (plus, he gets the same way) so he'll just let you nap while he works or leave you alone if needed

WILL 100% TAKE NAPS WITH YOU

like will hold you in his arms and nap a whole day away when he gets the day off

you will always knock over things in his shop and he'll just laugh or wait for you to pick it up while dead staring at you lmfaoooo

he'll definitely know if you walk in when he hears a whole ass display get knocked over

he thinks it's cute when you tease him even if you say it isnt about flirting, his dumbass thinks it is which is fine by you so you can tease him more often

the real reason i picked this guy is because of what you said about him bringing you things that made him think of you

like this man will roll up with a chocolate bar and shove it in your hand with a pile of chips shoved in his mouth and say "I thought of you today at the store and grabbed this"

he doesnt see it as much, but you are over the moon about it

when he finds out about how much you love it, he will keep doing it

he is very patient and caring for you and literally only has eyes for you

he also always gets you to laugh, which always makes his day

please play music for him

he will have heart shaped eyes if you do

he will 100% play videogames with you, but you have to teach him how to play half of the time lmfaoooo

he will always tell you how much he loves you and how pretty and amazing you are frfr

if you go to any of his practices or games when he is coaching, he will brag about you

(i am so sorry this took so long i forgot it was in my drafts. i hope you love it nonetheless though!!!)

~~~~~

matchup rules --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

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nick-charlie4 · 7 days

Text

And now Heartstopper is transfixing me in a similar way. Upon my writing this, I’m re-watching its current eight episode run a fourth time through, and it was released just a little over two weeks ago. I’m obsessed. So obsessed that I felt compelled to write about this amazing show and why I like it so much.

I don’t want to draw too many parallels between Community and Heartstopper, as they are two very different shows, but they do share some important similarities. Both shows feature a core cast of outcasts trying to figure out their way in the world; both take place in a school, one at an American community college and the other at British grammar schools; and both feature a diverse cast. I’m often drawn to shows like this, with Freaks and Geeks another notable example and a progenitor of this type of television drama.

The outcasts of Heartstopper are 14- and 15-year-old kids who are all trying to figure themselves out, who don’t quite fit into what’s necessarily popular, and who all have the largest and most brilliant hearts of gold, who—through all the disagreements, misunderstandings, and arguments—are able to acknowledge their faults, change their habits, express their love, and just be so terribly, genuinely, and thoughtfully friendly to each other. Every episode ends and I’m left just feeling so hopeful that despite all the horror that happens in this messed-up world that maybe—just maybe—we might all be able to get along after all.

Each episode of Heartstopper is also so expertly crafted to the highest degree: it shows when it doesn’t need to tell, and when it does tell, it is through finely crafted dialogue that creates believable and consistent characters; it weighs each scene with its proper due before cutting to the next; it uses light and color with such sensitivity as to paint each character’s motivations before we even hear them speak. The opening scene, for example, sees our geeky, lanky, curly-haired hero, Charlie Spring (Joe Locke), walking through the halls of Truham Boys School, smile on his face as he reads an Instagram message on his phone from someone called Ben: “Can’t wait to see you x.” Charlie continues to make his way through the colorful hallways of the school as upbeat music by Baby Queen plays. We see someone take down Christmas decorations which is all we need to see to alert us that it must be January. But eventually Charlie finds himself in the dark, shadowy, deserted school library. “Ben?” he asks the room, only to discover that Ben sent him a second message requesting to meet up later. Charlie struggles to type in a response, “Okay,” with a smiley and heart emoji, his face suddenly drained of happiness.

It seems a simple series of images and events, but in the space of just over a minute into the first episode we learn with no dialogue that Charlie seems confident that he knows who he is and he has a colorful personality, but something already doesn’t seem quite right with Ben. Ben is shadowy and secretive where Charlie is bright and assured. It’s clear that Ben and Charlie are not on the same page, and we haven’t yet even seen the two of them speak words to each other let alone appear in the same room together.

Meanwhile in the next scene, when we get introduced to Nick (Kit Connor), the other hero of the series, we instead are told through words that he’s a year older than Charlie and that he’s the star rugby player on the school’s team. After Charlie hears this from his teacher to discover that that’s who he’s going to sit next to in form—after having just been rained upon by Ben—we can see the frustration grow on Charlie’s face. However, when the camera pans to the direction of Nick, students moving out of shot to show him sitting at his desk, the camera focusing, a sun beam lighting Nick up in a warm hue, prismatic rainbows appearing to emanate from his comforting face, we immediately feel reassured by Nick’s presence. Tastefully animated colorful leaves wisp across the screen (another signature visual technique of this series), suggesting Charlie’s imagination getting lifted away in the wind as he makes his way to Nick, a giant smile on his face erasing all memories of his frustrating morning, and both boys exchange nervous greetings of hi, the first of countless exchanges of such a simple word that will take on new and deeper meaning as the series progresses. But even though we were told one thing about Nick, the visuals tell us something else entirely. Nick isn’t the average macho star rugby player but someone else more gentle and warm. The scene is also enriched by the music of series composer, Adiescar Chase, whose soft, sometimes poppy, electronic soundtrack creates a soundscape that is cautiously hopeful yet is seasoned with subtle shades of melancholy and doubt.

It makes sense that a show like Heartstopper would be good at showing the story through vibrant images rather than telling through the limitations of words, as the television series is based on a series of graphic novels by Alice Oseman, she too also writing the TV series. At points throughout the episode, for example, the camera uses splitscreen to show various camera angles of the same scene or of two different locations entirely, each vantage separated by white bars, chopping the screen into the characteristic panels of a graphic novel. It’s a very simple technique to allow us to thoroughly process a lot of information in a short space of time, and a lovely homage to the source material itself. And while this is a clever visual technique that allows Heartstopper to show rather than tell, we will also still discover that the writing is just as masterful as the visuals themselves, limitations of words and all.

And while the words used to describe Nick might suggest he is not an outcast to compliment an entire cast of outcasts, the visuals suggest that there might be something deeper within Nick that has been buried and is as yet unseen. That said, when we meet Charlie’s friends it becomes especially apparent that—a least for now—most of the cast is properly an outcast. At lunchtime, we meet Tao (William Gao) and Isaac (Tobie Donovan). Where Isaac is often quiet with his nose in a book, Tao is outspoken and unafraid to express his opinions, something that will get him into trouble later on in the series. He describes the trio as a group of outcasts, telling Charlie that he’s crazy to think Nick would be different from any other rugby player since he’s the star of the team and is friends with a bunch of “loud, gross, year 11s.” Charlie seems undeterred, seeming to sense something different about Nick, just as we did when we first met him in form. This whole conversation is so expertly written and directed; in a few short exchanges and a few underplayed facial reactions, Tao pressing Charlie to, “Be careful!” with Nick, we learn that while this group might be outcasts, they love and care deeply for each other.

The remaining character to meet during this episode to fill out the core cast of heros—at least for now—is Elle (Yasmin Finney), who is a young, transgendered woman who recently transferred to the nearby Higgs Girls School to escape bullying. Tao clearly holds a fondness for her (“You’re allowed to miss her,” Charlie supportively remarks), as he’s been buying two bottles of apple juice all week, forgetting that he and Elle can no longer share lunch together. Since the first episode mainly revolves around Charlie and Nick, we sadly don’t get to see much more of Elle this episode, and we learn only that she has yet to make friends at her new school. But the series will eventually—with one notable exception—give each main character their due. And lastly, I am so grateful that we have a Black trans woman represented on the show who is herself played by a Black trans woman.

As the episode progresses, and as Elle’s introduction reinforces, we are reminded that we still live in a world where queers are ridiculed and feel the need to hide who they really are out of fear of becoming outcasts. When we eventually do see Charlie meet up with Ben (Sebastian Croft), it is hidden away in the music room. And while Ben and Charlie do get to share a kiss, when it is over, Ben straightens up, wipes his lips dry with the back of his hand, and requests that they still keep it all a secret.

And then later, as Charlie and Nick are walking to maths (a great scene that shows the incredible chemistry Joe Locke and Kit Connor already share as Charlie badgers Nick for being chaotic, doing his homework on the way to class, and Nick remarking that that makes him sound much cooler than he actually is), Charlie says hello to Ben as they were all passing each other in the corridor. Ben coldly tells Charlie, “Why are you talking to me? I don’t even know who you are.” And while Ben will apologize to Charlie in a later scene, it’s disingenuous, and Charlie knows it, as he later hides in the art room during lunch, offloads on Mr. Ajayi (Fisayo Akinade), his mentor who is also gay, and who says that he’ll need to talk to Ben, as difficult as that is since he knows how hard it is for Charlie to be honest (at least Charlie is confident he knows he has a hard time being honest). I also felt such loneliness for Charlie when he said he can’t even talk about these sorts of things to his friends, because they wouldn’t understand since they’re not gay. This loneliness is real in far too many of us queers, especially when we’re young, and that reality is meaningfully reflected in that seemingly innocuous comment as well as in Ben’s unwillingness to even associate openly with an out gay boy.

Queers also go to incredible lengths to hide themselves, as later Charlie catches Ben at the school gate kissing a girl. This ends up being the final straw for Charlie who later breaks up with him via some Instagram messages. I found myself cheering Charlie on during this scene while also empathizing a little bit with Ben who struggles to be out of the closet. This is an arc that will continue to play out throughout the rest of the next seven episodes as it addresses the pains we queers feel about the need to lie about ourselves.

Eventually, Charlie unexpectedly finds himself being invited to play on the rugby team after Nick saw how fast Charlie could run during P.E. class. Before Charlie even gets to prove himself to the rest of the boys on the team, he overhears them making disparaging comments about him, that he’s so small they think he’s in year 8, that he can’t play, that he doesn’t like sports, and that everyone knows he’s gay. In due time, however, as Charlie learns how to play rugby and gets better and better, the whole team does seem to warm to him (seem the operative word), but this is another arc that will continue to play out for the rest of the series, coming to a heart-wrenching climax in the penultimate episode.

The episode soon progresses to its conclusion. Following one of the rugby practices, Nick notices that Charlie seems distracted, and so secretly follows him to the music block where he’s meeting up with Ben, who wants to talk to Charlie about why he broke up with him. During an intensely real conversation, Charlie is able to express that it’s fine if Ben needs time to come out but that he still needs to treat him like a human when others are around. Ben grossly tries to force Charlie to kiss him in a legitimately rapey moment, but one of our heroes, Nick, springs out from the corner and forces Ben away from Charlie and tells Ben to piss off.

Nick takes a moment to make sure Charlie is okay, but Charlie only says he’s sorry. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” Nick says, “Sorry,” Charlie responds, to which Nick comments, “You say sorry a lot.” Nick stops Charlie from saying sorry a third time, but Charlie brightens a bit with a subtle smile and remarks, “I kinda wanna say it.” This “s-word,” as Nick will label it in episode seven, will become a recurring trope, reminding us of Nick and Charlie’s first, shared, vulnerable encounter together.

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fr0st-km · 2 years

Text

" FATHER AND DAUGHTER "

In which Idia has to take care of his daughter who apparently acts like a brat while his dear wife travels overseas to work along with Ortho joining her until next week. The shut-in father tries to build up a good relationship with his daughter but is blocked by obstacles given by his own child.

Fluff . Scenario . No warnings

I am so sorry to the Anon who requested this 😭 I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ASK BECAUSE I WAS DELETING OTHER REQUESTS AT FULL SPEED💀—

Istfg if I see a paragraph DUPLICATE I will THROW HANDS.

"B-Bedelia! H-Hold on— DON’T RUN SO FAST!!!"

No matter how hard Idia tries to gain his daughter’s attention, nothing worked. The fiery-blue-haired man slumped against the brick wall, panting as Bedelia pouted whilst hugging her stuffed dragon tightly, “Hmph! You're no fun, daddy! This is why mommy is better than you in every way possible!!" The child huffed and glared at her father who flinched.

Yeah, it’s true, you’re way better than him in most ways but you can never beat him in games! Idia quickly stood up on his feet and gulped, “Y-Yeah, you’re right! My p-player two is better than me in most ways! A-And that’s why I-I love her! S-She’s amazing and t-the most cutest woman ever i-in existence!!” The fiery-blue-haired man exclaims.

Realizing what he had just said, Idia’s pale face flushed red as the tips of his hair turned pink and flickered aggressively, embarrassed at what he had just said. The poor otaku slapped his face and stood before his daughter, not brave enough to look directly at her. ‘Now she must’ve think that I’m some sort of obsessive weirdo! F in the chat for me, Ortho…’

That was until the fiery-haired heard a faint giggle coming from Bedelia, to which it broke into fits of laughter. Idia was truly confused, was she making fun of him? Well, he ever expected less from his own daughter. She had his amber yellow eyes, your ( H/C ) hair, and his natural blue eyeshadow and lips. Bedelia truly is a mix of the both of you but…Where did she get her outgoing and bold personality…?

Bedelia giggled, “Dad, you’re such a fool for mommy!” She exclaims and pointed her index finger at her father.

Idia jumped, of course she’s making fun of him! As a gloomy aura surrounded Idia, he didn’t notice the young ( H/C )-haired girl walking towards him with a brighter aura.

The young girl poked her father’s leg causing Idia to let out a squeak, startled at the sudden contact. The taller an older man looked downwards at his daughter and scratched his nape. Bedelia grinned, “Daddy, follow me! I got something to show you in my room!” The child shouted cheerfully and grabbed her father’s index finger and dragged him with her.

Idia yelped as he felt himself getting dragged— he hasn’t finished regaining his energy!! He was also shocked at how strong Bedelia is, she’s only 5! The man sobbed internally and felt that his legs were giving out quickly, resulting him to trip over nothing and end up getting dragged across the carpet.

“BEDELIA—”

“Auuuwghh…” Idia groaned and plopped himself on Bedelia’s couch, feeling drained out after getting dragged across the long carpet in the gloomy hallway of the Shroud mansion.

The fiery-haired man glanced around his daughter’s room— calm yet dark colored wallpapers decorated Bedelia’s room, an expensive black-colored chandelier hung on top of him as the room was lightened by blue fire, a large canopy bed placed at the corner of the room, and scribbled posters sticking on the walls. Idia sighed, when is she going to finish taking a bath?

Just then, Bedelia burst the door to her master wardrobe open, to which it caused Idia to jump from the couch and whip his head towards the young girl’s direction.

“B-Bedelia…You startled m-me right there…”

The ( H/C )-haired child simply shrugged as a response before walking towards her father while wearing an oversized black-colored bathrobe. Larger eyes with amber yellow irises looked up at another pair of amber yellow eyes, Bedelia gestured Idia to follow her; to which he obliged to his daughter’s command.

The child skipped happily towards her master wardrobe and pushed it wide open before walking in happily with her father trailing from behind.

“Tadaa~! This is my master wardrobe!”

Bedelia happily walked towards a section of silk dresses and rubbed her small hands against the fabric, “Daddy! What do you think I should wear?” The little gal asked.

Idia glanced around the wardrobe, so bright! He looked around and saw different kinds of clothes made out of expensive fabric, the man was impressed, really. However, he never saw any of the designs of the clothes hung on each side of the wardrobe, maybe it’s because he hardly ever goes outside? No, each clothes Bedelia owns has a similar touch to his.

Bedelia grinned, “Hehe, mommy made these all for me! Not the she shoes, socks, and others though. No one is the best designer than mommy!”

“E-EH?!” Idia shrieked, quite shocked knowing that you designed all of these clothing for Bedelia.

“Hm? Daddy, doesn’t mommy design some of your clothes too?” The young ( H/C )ette asked as she tilted her head.

The fiery-haired man scratched his cheek and chuckled nervously, “W-Well…Um…I-I-I— yeah, s-she does…”

Bedelia hummed, “I know. Mommy would usually leave a small, white heart on each of the clothes she makes, like the one you got on the the end of your sleeves.” She explained and pointed at her father’s sleeve.

“R-Right…”

“Anyways, daddy, can you pick a dress for me? I already asked you this but you spaced out.” Bedelia recalled as she walked around her master wardrobe with a pout.

‘P-Pick a dress…? T-This like customizing your o-own character! But now it’s customizing your daughter! Okay Idia Shroud, go! If we can get a dress that nails 10 points, we’ll win for sure!’

After a few hours of picking the perfect dress that suits Bedelia, they had a little fashion show before heading to sleep.

Idia watched as his daughter crawled up her bed using a stepping stool, she fell a few times but successfully got under the soft blanket of her bed with Idia’s help. The fiery-haired man can hear a yawn coming out from the young gal before digging his hand into his pocket and checking his phone on what time it is. Apparently, it’s 10 pm right now. No wonder Bedelia feels sleepy.

“Daddy! Read a bedtime story to me! Mommy always do that before I go to sleep!” The child exclaims before pointing at a the drawer of her nightstand next to her, “The books are right in there.”

Idia nodded and kneeled down on one knee as he opened the drawer before grabbing a couple of random books, he placed them on Bedelia’s lap and the young gal looked at each one of the books. The young gal huffed and looked at her father, “Daddy, I don’t want you to read a bedtime story to me!”

“H-HUH?! B-But you said that y-you wanted me to r-read you a bedtime story!” Idia exclaims in disbelief, such a greedy child!

Bedelia grabbed the books and placed them on top of her nightstand before crossing her arms over her chest, “Tell me how you and mommy met instead!”

Idia’s face immediately flushed pink and the tips of his fiery-blue-hair turned into a light shade of pink, his hair flickered furiously causing Bedelia to scrunch up her face and punch her father’s chest— to which Idia let out a squeak and held his chest in pain. The fiery-haired man pondered, recollecting the memories he received during his Highschool days, and a bit intimidated by his daughter’s intense yet curious stare.

“Daddy, I need to hear a story before I sleep. Or do you want these small but strong hands punch your chest again?”

Idia shrieked, “O-Okay” Bedelia clenched her fist and glared at him, “OKAY I’LL TELL YOU!!”

“W-Well…I didn’t know much about your mother back then.”

Bedelia tilted her head, “How so??”

“Um…I-I hardly ever go o-out m-my room…Hehe…” The older man chuckled nervously while Bedelia cringed at him. “…But did you at least knew mother’s existence?”

“O-OF COURSE I DID! SHE WAS THE TALK OF THE SCHOOL!” Idia exclaimed causing Bedelia to flinch, he apologized before continuing, “I-If I remembered correctly…S-She was the first and only g-girl in my school…I-It was an all-boys school, after all.”

“EEH?! But how did she get accepted?!”

“I-It’s a long story…She accidentally got selected as a student— both her gender and lack of magic…” Idia explained, not daring to tell the secret of you not being apart of this world.

Bedelia hummed and gestured her father to continue. “We both didn’t know each other very well— especially her not knowing my existence until…That event.”

“What event?”

“I-It’s a secret! Even your mother told me not to tell you this until you get older!”

The young gal groaned, “It’s always the “once you get older” excuse…” She mumbled.

“Um…Your mother didn’t really like me after what I did back then— which is a secret, again— B-But I did fell for her ever since the beginning andhadalwayswishedtotalktoherbutneverhadthegutstodosobecauseofmethinkingthatshewouldntlikeme—”

A few minutes past and Bedelia can be seen to be fast asleep. Idia might have went overboard when it comes to talking about you but it was definitely worth it. Just as Idia was about to leave his daughter’s room, he heard his fatherly-nickname getting called out softly.

“Daddy…Don’t leave…Me…”

The fiery-haired man stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder, he could see Bedelia’s small hands twitching. He knows what that means! The child wants their parent to hold their hand in order to comfort them! Just like in all sorts of anime(s) ever in existence! Without having second thoughts, Idia grabbed a nearby chair before walking towards Bedelia’s bed and sliding his hand into the gap of Bedelia’s bed curtains.

Idia intertwined his larger hands with Bedelia’s smaller ones and felt the young gal’s cheek pressing against his hand. The older man opened the curtain, only to see the ( H/C )ette hugging his hand. Idia couldn’t control himself and smiled, chuckling to himself in success.

‘I did it, ( Y/N ), Ortho! Mission: gain Bedelia’s trust— complete! GG!’

#( 📂 ) ─ 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 ๑ ₊˚#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x mc #reader insert #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fic #twst fanfic #twst fic #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x mc #twst idia

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sentinelpri · 2 years

Text

Bloody Valentine (NSFW)

You never questioned how he got into your house despite not having a key, and he never told you, so you weren't surprised when your thoughts were interrupted by those familiar, cloak-covered arms wrapping around your waist and that sharp chin resting on top of your head from behind.

You'd been making tea to calm your nerves. It had been a little too long since he'd come to visit and that fact had been weighing on you, but here he was in the flesh. You let out a sigh of relief. It was odd how the familiar scent of blood mixed in with his cologne was so soothing to you nowadays.

You felt him nuzzle into the back of your hair, taking in the smell of the shampoo that lingered on your (h/l) (h/c) locks from your earlier shower, and you let him. Figuring that the tea was done, you switched the flame off and turned around in the ravenette's arms.

You didn't know his name. He'd never told you, and you'd never asked.

He wanted to tell you, but he was afraid of what would happen if he let you know any more than you already did in regards to who he really was.

So, you two accepted it, accepted the fact that you'd never really fully know each other. It was an unspoken boundary that wasn't meant to be broken. And that was okay.

"Welcome back."

You smiled and reached for his mask, which you took off and set down on the kitchen counter so you could rest a hand on his face- the scarred side, as usual. Obito often wondered what your obsession with touching his scars was. They were ugly, gross, unpleasant in sight and in texture, but you treated that side of his body just like the rest. He wasn't sure if you loved him, but at the very least, you cared more than you should have, and you made it apparent that you wanted him to be aware of such. You never said it, too scared to, but he could see it in your eyes, and every time he did, he couldn't help but feel pity for you.

You thought his face was beautiful, though, even with half of it scarred the way it was. His eyes were round and soft despite his otherwise hard exterior, one a color that reminded you of fresh ink and the other a bright vermillion with three black swirls. You weren't a ninja, but the kekkei genkai was infamous enough for you to be aware of it. You knew it was a sharingan. You knew the entire clan aside from the man who'd committed the massacre and the one lone survivor, who was a child, were dead... Apparently, your secret lover was an exception that The Leaf Village wasn't aware of. You never questioned any of it.

Your thumb grazed over the scars from the boulder, and you didn't even flinch at the hard ridges. You treated them like the rest of him. You always did.

"Thank you."

"There's blood on your cloak," You pointed out, able to see the dark red blood that stained it, even through the black of most of the fabric. He nodded and lifted his arms so you could unzip the cloak and pull it over his head before walking away, probably to throw it in a laundry basket. Your hand had left his face, drifted to his shoulder, and gently brushed over the taut skin on your way out, only for a moment.

Your touches were always like that. Brief, fleeting. Obito wondered if it was subconscious or if you were just trying to make him feel the same way he made you feel. No matter how subtle or fast they were, though, the sensation of your touches always lingered on his skin for hours afterward.

The simulation just went bad, But you're the best I ever had, Like handprints in wet cement, She touched me it's permanent,

You returned to the kitchen a few moments later and leaned against the doorway. Obito's eyes met yours. His face burned just as red as his sharingan, which he always had activated when he was with you, even if it drained his chakra a bit. The eye recorded the moments he had with you and kept them in his mind permanently, and he feared that someday those moments would be mere memories that he'd need reminders of. So, he kept them. You never questioned it, never questioned him, never questioned anything about this arrangement the two of you had been keeping up with for the past couple years.

Sometimes, it pissed him off. You deserved better than being kept waiting, wondering, and that was the state he always kept you in. Still, Obito Uchiha was a selfish man, and he would have you in any way he could, even if it hurt.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the subtle change in your face when you raised an eyebrow at him, curious about the blood that had been on his cloak.

"You don't want to know."

"Alright... I'll run you a bath. Help yourself to some tea if you'd like."

You exited the room again. Moments later, he could hear the water running in the bathroom as he grabbed a teacup from your cabinet and poured himself a small amount from the kettle you'd made, sipping at the hot liquid.

"This is nice," Obito muttered and looked up at you. "Where'd you get this?"

"Oh, my mother said it was Dad's favorite when he was still around, so I started ordering it..."

You were the illegitimate daughter of one of the three Sannin, Jiraiya. That was how Obito had met you in the first place. After doing some digging to find dirt on the older man, he'd found you, and though his initial intentions had been rather unsavory, he'd developed feelings. It had been a few years back- he'd been lurking around your house with the intention to kidnap you and use you to lure in Jiraiya so he could get some information on the fox, only to be attacked by Leaf Anbu a few miles from your house. He'd been caught off guard, and as strong as he was, he'd struggled. He had ended up killing them, of course, but he'd been injured and passed out right outside your house after wandering for a while, only to wake up in your bed with his wounds treated and your angelic voice asking him if he was okay.

You were naive back then, and you still were. You hadn't even considered that he could be dangerous before bringing him in and tending to him, and though you now knew he was dangerous, you still never questioned him. Your trust for him was almost blind, and he was glad that he'd found you before anyone else had. God forbid someone from The Leaf Village... Ah, no. He didn't want to think about that.

When he looked up again, you were still talking about your father. You weren't much younger than Obito, as you'd been born when Jiraiya and your mother, a civilian in the outskirts of The Land Of Fire, were young adults. Long story short, you weren't planned, your mother and Jiraiya hadn't worked out romantically, and he didn't need his reputation tarnished, so the agreement had been made that while he wouldn't be able to be in your life, he'd send your mother enough money to make sure you were taken care of.

If Obito was being honest, he thought that Jiraiya had missed out on having someone as great as you as a daughter, and he thought that you deserved a better family situation, but he supposed that was something he couldn't control.

At least not yet.

You finally stopped talking, trailing off and staring down at the ground in thought. Obito felt a bit guilty for not listening, but he didn't comment on it.

Sometimes, he wished you were his, and he wished that the two of you could love each other without restraint, but maybe he didn't deserve that. Maybe the complications surrounding your relationship were karma for him falling for you and falling out of love with the idea of Rin, or karma for him often considering going back on all of his plans so he could find his own happiness and live a life with you. He'd never do it, as Madara would probably kill him for thinking about it or for even doing all of this in the first place, but it was a nice fantasy; you and him, living a peaceful life together, being in love, dating, getting married, having kids...

In my head, in my head, I couldn't hear anything you said but, In my head, in my head, I'm calling you girlfriend, what the fuck,

"Is the bath ready?"

You nodded. For the first time since he'd walked in, Obito took a good look at you. You appeared to be tired, bags under your (e/c) eyes, (h/c) hair a mess as your sweater- or, his sweater that he'd left at your house that one time and never gotten back- drooped down on one side to reveal the (s/c) skin of your right shoulder.

The air went hot. You took a little too long to answer his question, and he could see how you nervously shifted, your face burning red and eyes looking away from his. He felt his blood running hot through his veins. He was always patient and always acted like he wasn't particularly passionate about you, like he cared more about the sex, but it'd been too long since he'd been able to have you due to issues going on in the Akatsuki that he had to deal with and he just wanted to hold you again.

"It should be. There's a towel and a washcloth waiting on the counter, and you can use my soap and shampoo-" You talked a little faster than usual and fiddled with your hands, which made it apparent that you were nervous.

Obito gave a lazy smirk before setting the teacup down on the kitchen counter and walking over you to take one of your hands in his.

"Join me."

"Alright-" You started, but then cut yourself off. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl," Obito let go of your hand and turned to walk down the hallway without looking back. "Now come."

As always, you rushed to follow him.

I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight, I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight, I can't stay forever, let's play pretend, And treat this night like it'll happen again, You'll be my bloody valentine tonight,

When you reached the bathroom, you flicked the light on and shut the door behind the two of you before turning the hot water off and getting to work on Obito's clothes. First was his sleeveless shirt, hen his chain armor, followed by his pants, boxers, and shoes. You noticed that he didn't have that much equipment on him, which was unusual, but you didn't ask. Both of you knew that he didn't always need weapons when he was fully capable of killing people with his bare hands if they were weak enough.

Once he was undressed, the ravenette stepped into the hot water and sat down, leaning his back against the porcelain tub. You grabbed the aforementioned washcloth and kneeled by the tub's side with it, getting it wet with water and slathering it with liquid soap before rolling your sleeves up and running it over his body.

"How's work treating you?"

"Again, you don't want to know, but this will be my last visit for a while..." He explained. You froze but then continued washing him like you were unbothered and nodded. Obito wasn't blind- he could see the sadness on your face as you dragged the washcloth over his shoulders, but there wasn't much he could do about it. They'd finally started capturing the tailed beasts, so he was going to be more occupied from now on.

"I understand."

"Don't look so sad," Obito lifted his hand from the water and rested it on your face. Water dripped from his fingers and onto your cheek, which earned a small pout from you. "It's pathetic."

"Sorry."

He gave a hum and pulled his hand back so he could do a 'come hither' motion with his pointer finger.

"Come."

You nodded in response and set the washcloth down on the side of the tub and stripped yourself of your clothes- maybe a little too fast, not that he minded.

You quickly joined him in the tub of hot water, sitting in his lap. Your legs were bent at the knees, which were on either side of his hips as you rested your plush ass on the muscular expanse of his thick thighs.

"Please," You cradled his face in your soft hands and looked down at him, wanting him to tell you something personal about him for the first time in a long time. It was weird for you to mention it unprompted, but for whatever reason, he didn't mind it. "Tell me your name."

"Are you really in the position to be making demands?" Obito tilted his head and rested his hands on your lower back.

"It's not a demand, I just... Want something else to call you. Is that so unfair?"

"I suppose it's not," He was going to lie- tell you that his name was Madara or Tobi, but when his mouth opened, his real name fell out. "Obito... My name is Obito, but you can't tell anyone... You know what could happen to you if you tell anyone anything about me, right?"

"I know," You nodded, a bit too eager to please him, just like you usually were. "And I haven't told anyone about you or the rest of this. Don't worry, you can trust me."

You didn't know much, but you knew enough. He was in The Akatsuki if that cloak was anything to go by. The Akatsuki had been infamous in your area since The Kazekage had been kidnapped a month or two back. If anyone in your town knew about your relationship with Obito, you'd be charged with treason, and if anyone in the Akatsuki or Madara learned about his relationship with you, both of your lives would be on the chopping block. It was a risk neither of you could take, so he always made sure that you kept your mouth shut, and you didn't seem to mind keeping his secret.

"That's my good girl... Look at you," Obito took the moment to admire your naked body; water droplets running down your chest, pert nipples brushing against his skin, soft thighs cushioning around his. If you moved your hips forward a couple inches, you'd be able to grind your heat against him, but you didn't- you were waiting for his instructions like you always did. "I bet you're dying to get your mouth on me, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"You know better than that," Obito scolded and allowed one of his hands to drift to the back of your head so he could entangle his long fingers in your hair and pull your head back to look you in the eyes. It was weird how you seemed so willing to relinquish control to him, but he loved having control, as he often feared that if you had any semblance of it, you'd make him fall apart and tell you the truth about everything somehow. "Use your words."

"Please let me suck your cock, sir."

As usual, the combination of your pleading tone and begging eyes sent a shot of arousal straight to his length, which was growing harder by the second. The ravenette used his hand in your hair to yank your head back. Your lips parted, so he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth just to see how far he could go. He was always pushing limits, demeaning and degrading you, and you always let him.

Unsurprisingly, you closed your mouth and swallowed, earning a smirk from the Uchiha.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Good, now get on with it," Obito looked at you, and then at his fully hard cock before lifting his hips a bit to give you easy access without risking you putting your head under the water.

You didn't waste time. You only moved off of his lap and slinked down between his legs, resting your hands on his wet thighs and taking the head of his cock between your plump lips. Obito gave you an approving nod, so you continued, sinking down the rest of his length and suckling. You looked up at him with (e/c) eyes that he would've labeled as innocent if it weren't for the context as you batted your eyelashes up at him. The suction mixed with the wet, velvety warmth and how you were looking at him had his face burning red, and he was using all of his self-restraint to avoid bucking up into your mouth.

"Mm..." You hummed around him, the vibrations that were sent through his sensitive length at the noise nearly making him jump. You hadn't been sucking him off for long at all, but he was already about to cum and he didn't want to risk finishing before you did, so he knew he had to stop you before he busted in your mouth- as pretty as the idea of you swallowing his cum and begging for more was, he knew he'd fall apart if he thought about it for too long, let alone saw it.

"Stop," Obito ordered, but for once, you didn't listen. You only went faster, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head at a faster pace. His thighs were twitching, your mouth felt heavenly, and it was getting to be too much, so he tangled his fingers in your hair and yanked you off with a glare. "I said stop."

I'm overstimulated and I'm sad, I don't expect you to understand, It's nothing less than true romance, Or am I just making a mess,

"But Obito..." You whined.

"Don't give me that face," Obito chastised you and let go of your hair so you had the freedom to move. "Get up."

You did as told and rushed to stand up, Obito immediately following you. The forgotten bathwater gently ebbed around your feet and lower legs as Obito's chest met your back so he could carefully push your front against the shower wall.

"Obito..."

In my head in my head, I'm laying naked with you, yeah, In my head, in my head, I'm ready to die holding your hand,

It was cold when he grabbed both of your hands and held them in one of his, slowly pushing the head of his cock between your slippery folds and teasing your slit before thrusting into you. A light groan left his mouth at the same time one left yours at the feeling of his length spreading your pussy open for him, the feeling of you squeezing and tightening around him as the pressure took you over. He pulled out until only the tip was still inside of you and moved forward again to envelop himself in your warmth, starting a steady rhythm of pistoning into your welcoming body. A string of soft moans left your mouth, each one sending a shot of arousal through his body and lighting his nerves on fire.

"That's it," Obito encouraged, tightening his grip on your hands. "Why don't you get a little louder for me, hm?"

"B-But, sir, what about the neighbors? If they hear me-"

"If they bother you, I'll handle it. I don't give a fuck about that tonight."

I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight (take some from you tonight), I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight, I can't stay forever, let's play pretend, And treat this night like it'll happen again, You'll be my bloody valentine tonight,

"Handle it?" You questioned, and for the first time in a long time, you glared at him. "You won't even be here...!"

Obito blinked at that. It was true- you never really questioned the fact that he wasn't around. It was an unspoken thing, but unfortunately, it bothered you... Apparently. This was the first time you'd ever really brought it up. He could've delved into the topic seriously, but he decided against it.

"You're being a brat," Obito scolded, a growl rumbling low in his throat as he dropped your hands in favor of holding your hips so tightly that he was sure he'd leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. "Clearly I'm not doing this right if you can still think straight, so let's try this instead."

The ravenette leaned into you so there would be no space between him, you, and the wall, and with that, he picked up the pace so he was barrelling into you. You gasped, trembling at the sudden increase in speed as your walls fluttered around his hard cock. The slap of his hips against your ass echoed in the bathroom, growing increasingly loud with how he drove into you with as much speed and force as he could muster.

"Ah-" Your eyes went wide as you rested your forehead against the wall in front of you and grabbed one of his wrists with both hands- not to move his hand, but to steady yourself.

"Say it," Obito hissed through gritted teeth, starting a brutal rhythm with shallow but rough thrusts as he fucked into your pliant body.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Try again."

"O-Obito," You finally cried out, tears of pleasure now falling from your eyes and leaving tracks as they fell down your cheeks. "Obito!"

Obito had never kissed you, and you'd never kissed him. Even with all of the sex, he was afraid to do something so intimate, and you hadn't made the first move in regards to it either, but he was about to change that. He didn't even think about it before grabbing your chin with one hand so he could force you to face him before slamming his lips against yours. You seemed to freeze, (e/c) eyes blown wide, so he pulled back just long enough to talk to you again.

"Kiss me back, damn it..."

At his command, you did just that, capturing his lips with yours and kissing him back, soft and tentative despite his rough pace. A few minutes in, you managed to break from his mouth to speak.

"Please turn me around, please-"

The ravenette cut you off by pulling out, only to grab you by the shoulders and turn you around to face him. As always, the two of you were perfectly in sync. Seconds later, your right leg was wrapped around his waist, he was lifting you up, your left leg locked around him to match the other, and he was pinning your back against the wall and plunging back into your tight heat as his hands gripped your ass to keep you up. The moment he was steady thrusting into you again, he returned his lips to yours.

"Should've done this sooner," Obito muttered between kisses, relishing in the feeling of your lips against his. Your back arched as his chest kept your body against the wall, your legs around his waist tightening and your eyes squeezing shut. The ravenette moved so he could hold your body in one arm and used his spare hand to reach between your legs, teasing your sensitive clit with his thumb. "Fuck, baby girl... I bet you want me to fill you up, huh? Stuff you full of my cum?"

"Yes," You moaned and threw your head back into the wall that there was a light slam, but thankfully, you seemed alright, so Obito kept going. "Oh God, yes... Obito, please! Please, please, please-" Your desperate begging quickly dissolved into unintelligible pleas, and though he couldn't understand a word you were saying, your body told him all he needed to know. Your body was squirming and tensing, your pussy was clenching around him like a vise grip to milk him for everything he had, and you were digging your nails into his scarred back. "Obito!"

His pleasure bled into yours and one particularly sharp thrust to your sweet spot had you falling apart against him. You came with a debauched moan and clamped down around him without any warning, which sent him tumbling over the edge as well. A couple more sloppy thrusts had him finishing inside of you from the blissful drag that your inner walls gave, and he buried his face in your neck with a groan as he painted your insides white with his hot cum.

Obito took the moment to feel you, a habit of his. A lot of times, he feared that it would be the last time he would see you, so he always tried to savor the moment; the scent of your shampoo and perfume, the heat from your chest pressed flush against his, the blush on your cheeks, the way your nails were digging into his skin.

He wondered if you relished in the feeling of him, too, but he never asked. He only allowed things to stay quiet for a moment, focusing on the sound of you catching your breath and the feeling of you raising your hands to run your fingers through his damp hair.

I can't hide, How I feel about you, Inside, I'd give everything up, Tonight, If I could just have you be mine, Be mine, baby,

It took a few minutes for Obito to come down from his high, but when he did, he gently pulled out and set you down on shaky legs, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist to make sure you were steady as he pulled the tub's plug with his foot to drain the bathwater and turned the shower on so you two could get cleaned up.

The water began to run hot over the two of you, so he quickly started to shampoo your hair and wash your body with soap as you did the same, minds and bodies in sync and slippery hands running over soft and scarred skin.

"Obito...?" You started and tilted your head.

"Yes?"

"Don't be mad about this, but how come you use that voice with me?"

He blinked at that. Usually, he used Madara or Tobi's voice when talking to other people- with you, he used Madara's, both to hide his identity and because he was insecure about how he sounded naturally. He knew it had slipped before, but he thought you'd never noticed... Apparently, you had noticed.

"What voice?" He questioned, pretending to have no idea what you were talking about.

"That deep one you usually talk in... I know it's not real. It slips sometimes."

"I didn't think you'd like-"

"There's more questionable things about you than how you sound when you talk," You shook your head as you cut him off. "I don't care about that of all things, and it's probably bad for your vocal cords to fake a voice that isn't yours."

Obito cleared his throat before speaking, now dropping the fake voice and feeling immediate relief when he did.

"Fine... Brat."

You smiled at him, and though he'd been a little disgruntled, that had made him feel like everything was worth it.

"Much better," You hummed and leaned up to kiss him, which was followed by you using your soft hands to make sure that the soap and shampoo were rinsed off of your hair and bodies.

As always, you were gorgeous. Obito briefly wondered just what he'd done to deserve someone so beautiful and prayed that the scent of your shampoo would linger on him for weeks so he'd have some sort of reminder of you.

I can't hide, How I feel about you, Inside, I'd give everything up, Tonight, If I could just have you be mine, Be mine,

The ravenette turned the shower water off and stepped out of the tub, offering you a hand to take so you could step out as well without slipping. Drying off was a quick process, and before he knew it, he was leading you back to your bedroom.

It was still dark since the sun wouldn't rise for a few more hours, but the moonlight that poured in through your sheer curtains made his surroundings easy to see. You tumbled into the bed and wrapped yourself up in the blankets before shooting him an expectant glance. This was usually where he'd leave, but something in him told him to appreciate what time he had with you while he could. After all, considering everything going on, it could always be the last... He never really knew.

On a normal night, he would just tuck you in and leave through the bedroom window, but something was telling him to stay, so he did, if only for a little while. He gestured for you to move over and crawled into the bed next to you. You didn't question why, only scooting closer and sharing your blankets with him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and allowed you to cuddle into his side in return.

"Are you staying?" You questioned, one hand curling to rest near your chest and the other resting on his midsection.

Your thumb gently stroked over the right side of his abdomen, right over where the scarring from the boulder started. You knew better than to question whatever injury left so much permanent damage on the one side of his body, but you'd always been curious about it.

"Just tonight."

Those words made your stomach sink. Obito never stayed, let alone held you like this, and his tone was laced with an odd sense of finality that made you wonder if this would be the last time. You frowned at that thought. You'd finally learned his name, finally kissed him, finally heard him speak to you without restraint... How anticlimactic would things be if they ended here? You clung to him a little tighter, hesitant to ask any of the questions that were circling around in your mind.

"...Will you be back?"

A minute passed and he didn't even answer- didn't even look at you. His right eye swirled, its bright vermillion swirling into the dark color that matched the other charcoal orb, which was followed with both eyes falling shut as a sigh fell from in between his rough lips.

He knew, and he knew you knew that something was off, but neither of you mentioned it. Still, you didn't miss how his arm around you tightened. You didn't miss the frown he suppressed. But you'd definitely miss him.

"I don't know. If I am back, it won't be any time soon. My workload has increased."

You nodded, slow and understanding. Obito opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as he waited for you to fall asleep, only able to feel your gaze trained on him, though he didn't dare look at you in return. He only waited.

You didn't want to fall asleep, knowing that if you did, you'd wake up to an empty bed. You wanted to cherish the feeling of Obito holding you in his arms, but unfortunately, you did fall asleep after laying so still for a little too long.

The ravenette gave a half-hearted smile when your hands held onto him a bit tighter. Soft snores were falling from in between your kiss-bruised lips and you were in a steady sleep now, so he knew he had to get up and leave before you woke up.

...But maybe a little longer wouldn't hurt.

With a sigh, Obito pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head. Loving you for a little longer was okay, wasn't it? He'd hold you for a few more hours and leave before the sun rose... Surely he was allowed that much.

Little did he know at that moment just how much he'd miss holding you like this in the upcoming months.

Little did he know that it was, in fact, the last time.

Ay, I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight (take some from you tonight), I know I've got to go, but I might just miss the flight, I can't stay forever, let's play pretend, And treat this night like it'll happen again, ...You'll be my bloody valentine tonight...

#fem reader #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #obito uchiha #obito uchiha x reader #obito x reader #naruto smut #songfic #oneshot #drabbles #oneshots #drabble

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lord-explosion-baku · 3 years

Text

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

#bnha mermay #mermaid au #siren!shinsou #mermaid!hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #trident tale

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

Next Time

Horrortober Day 31: Sick “I can make you feel better.”

I often think about what yandere will do if something goes wrong. If their darling doesn’t survive. But I am a happy-ever-after person you know, I can’t just do that to the yandere! Nonetheless, IT’S A WRAP EVERYBODY!!! Happy Halloween and woop! We are done :D 55k words later and another October over! Thanks for sticking with me ♥ I hope you enjoyed the prompts and stories! Thanks to everyone who participated, I will continue reblogging your things, no worries, sorry that I’ve been behind on that! But still, I am very happy to have finished this challenge and everyone who participated and enjoyed it can be proud of it as well! :3

Warnings: Yandere, Death Mention/Suicidial Thoughts Mention, Blood Mention, Imprisonment, Isolation, Obsessiveness, Forced Feeding (of potions) Characters: Albedo x Reader

“Don’t worry, I can make you feel better!”

Slowly, your throat was clogging up, nose stuffing with mucus your body couldn’t help but produce. Breathing got harder and harder as you held on to the shelf behind you, slowly sinking to the floor as your strength was fading, your knees caving in. You thought this was supposed to help you. You thought Albedo could heal you. But alas, you were wrong.

For months you had been the unwilling guinea pig of a mad scientist, and now it was finally taking a turn for the worse. You expected it a few potions before this one. Deep down, you knew something would go wrong. But he kept them coming. Sedatives, aphrodisiacs, drugs—Albedo had made you drain all of these experiments in the past. Love potions, he called them. But you were none-the-wiser if they weren’t just toxins that slowly poisoned your body.

Only now you realized they did. As you slowly lost the focus in your sight, your lungs deflating miserably, no more air coming back in, you acknowledged the damage Albedo had done to you. Your once so calm, almost indifferent, captor was now flipping through pages, throwing books and weirdly colored concoctions off the table, and tearing his hair out as your life was slowly drained from you. Blood was dripping from your nose as you spluttered, trying to ask for help, but your whole mouth felt numb aside from your swollen tongue.

He was panicking. Dying somewhat made up for the sight of Albedo absolutely losing it over not being able to counter the effects that last potion had on you. How long had you been dreaming about the day you’d be free of him? Too long, in your opinion, even if it had only been a year. Before that, you admired him, wanted to study by his side. You had been crazy to accept his diligence as anything but madness.

So yes, it was partly your fault you got into this mess. There had been so many red flags, so many times you could have just quit and left. But you stayed, gave extra hours to his cause in exchange for your health, until he wholly and utterly changed his plan into wooing you. Of course, in a way only an alchemist could: by making you test and succumb to his creations.

You would have preferred flowers, in retrospect.

But back then, it felt like the best way you could support him was to stay and do what he wanted. Moronic, as it was now your death sentence, but all your life, you only grew wiser after doing dumb things. Still, you should have panicked too in this situation, but you were numb to that now. There was a sense of relief that kept your body together, and without it, you wondered if you’d simply dissolve. You couldn’t even say what exactly he gave you. All you knew was that by the time he pinched your nose and leaned back your head, you had already made the first gulp, emptying the bottle way too fast.

At least the burning in your throat had stopped, leaving you mostly pain-free as you squinted your eyes to see the alchemist responsible for all this, frantically searching for an antidote. It was like a desire to witness this, to spite him even if it would cost your life. So many times before, you had contemplated just smashing a test tube to achieve that, but no matter how determined you were to end it once and for all, you couldn’t. Not because you weren’t strong but because… you didn’t actually want to die.

A loud, desperate gasp for air escaped you, sudden panic rushing through your body like adrenaline. But aside from the blood and snot, not even your widened nostrils could achieve the impossible. Air wouldn’t come back to you even as you toppled over, gasping and coughing, your whole body shaking in fear. The last year had been terrible, and you wanted it to end, but not like this! Not with you dying as the result!

“I- I got this! Hold on! Hold on just for one more second!” Albedo yelled across the room, and if you weren’t in a rush of sudden pain, you would have smiled seeing him so lost and shaken.

Perhaps when he said he loved you, he meant it. Seeing you like this… was painful for him too, wasn’t it? The threat of something going wrong to his beloved guinea pig—no, to you, was going to destroy him if he couldn’t find a solution. You weren’t an experiment he could risk losing. You weren’t an experiment at all. But what were you?

Plagued by such unnecessary questions, your torso slowly toppled over, colliding with the wooden floor. It wasn’t like you wanted to be anything to him. Not a lover, not a precious person, or anything that he called you. But maybe, in these last moments, it would have been nice not to have to feel miserable about your place in the world. It would have been nice to be a recognized scholar, or at least a vital part of an experiment. However, on a more personal level, perhaps you would have liked him to hold you as you drew your last breaths. To not be alone, at least.

“That-!” he suddenly screamed out, but all you heard was as if you were underwater. Muffled voices, the rushing of waves. A side-effect, maybe? If you could have told that to someone, at least you may have made an impact in your last moments, but aside from spit and groans, no words could form in your throat.

“That’s the one!”

Albedo rushed to a nearby shelf, the thuds of his feet on the floor gruesomely loud and shaking through your whole body. The next thing you knew, he was finally by your side, uncorking a glass bottle with pale green liquid swaying in it with his teeth. Albedo lifted you into his arms, his fingers digging painfully in your sensitive skin. It was hard to concentrate on anything but not dying. Still, strangely enough, you could feel his lips on yours, the taste of mint spreading over your tongue as you greedily drank from them, a cool liquid flowing into your mouth.

Your whole body began to crack and pop from the inside out, the sounds unbearable loud in your head, but you were finally able to gasp for air. There was no ‘too much’ when it came to breathing, everything around you beginning to spin as you hyperventilated. But without minding the crashing of the empty glass bottle, you found it surprisingly easy to concentrate on Albedo’s lips as he kissed you, again and again. It must have been disgusting since you were still smeared with your blood, but he managed to regulate your air intake through kissing you gently, his hold staying as long as you needed.

Albedo even caressed your cheek and soothed your aching muscles by gripping them firmly and releasing them again, helping you to relax while the potion healed you from the inside. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

To say you had doubts was an understatement. You were very, very doubtful. However, you did feel better, even if you didn’t understand what happened at all. Luckily, Albedo didn’t leave you hanging. He knew just as well as you how curious you were, another scientist at heart. Albedo had told you too many times how he loved that about you. How he admired your tenacity and the ability to get where you wanted through willpower. That you were perfect. Amazing. Loved.

“[Name], it was an allergic reaction,” he explained, putting his hand on your chest. For a few seconds, he listened to your heartbeat through the thumping against his palm. “You are allergic to Mist Grass Pollen.”

“Pollen… killed me?” you croaked, your throat was slowly clearing up.

“Almost, yeah.”

He smiled. Albedo… smiled. Bringing you closer to him, he hugged you tightly, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t notice… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his face into your chest. Relief was washing over him as he embraced your still warm, very much alive body now. He must have been so worried and desperate, you figured by his reaction. In the end, he really just loved you and had to fear losing you to one of his mistakes. It would be a lesson learned for him, and maybe, he’d finally come to his senses. Realize that what you two had was beyond toxic for you both.

Even if it was hard going back to society after being cut off from it for so long, your heart still yearned for it. He had locked you away, drugged you, made you stare at him for hours until he was satisfied. Albedo did things you weren’t sure you could forgive, all for the sake of there only being you and him. Him and you. But maybe you could take Albedo with you, fix what he destroyed. Rekindle the severed ties to the outdoor world, reestablish a healthy lifestyle, and perhaps you two could start anew. It had been a bad year for both of you, but one year would not determine your whole life.

“I should have done better,” he apologized, looking up at you with a heavy heart. “I failed you.”

You raised your hand, every movement getting easier by the minute. Patting the back of his head, he looked at you with surprise, then infatuated admiration. You never met someone who would look at you with so much love before. But you also never met someone as madly in love with you as Albedo.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, letting you go with one hand while the other still supported your body. With the now unoccupied hand, he gripped yours, bringing it to his lips for a brief, heartfelt, and devoted kiss. What he said next, however, immediately made you want to die again.

“I will do better next time.”

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