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madaqueue · 21 days

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Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

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God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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blurb idea: everyone joking and asking Bradley how he's surviving bc he only has daughters but then you see Bradley at home painting nails, having a tea party, pretending to be at a fashion show, engaging in 5 different conversations. All that in one afternoon. And he's just so happy the entire time and can't wait to do it again 🥲

can be read as part of the Landslide universe :)

Rooster is a girl dad. it isn't even just his energy--it's a legitimate fact. first there was Olive, then there was Joni. the two of you thought for sure that the third was going to be a boy, not that it mattered either way--so imagine your surprise when you had Finch; your third daughter. and when the two of you agreed one more baby, not even in hopes of a son but just to complete your family, you were blessed with two more girls: Opal and June.

it was all the buzz around base, when Rooster came back from paternity leave a few months ago, everyone mockingly taking a knee when he entered the room like he was some sort of battle hero.

it's something Rooster is chided about relentlessly, even now. everyone falls you and your daughters the hens, calling all your get-togethers hen parties, asking how he survives the estrogen of it all. it gets especially brutal when his commander or a student points out the leftover glitter in his hair or the tutu someone snuck in his work duffel. there was also that one time he forget to take off his nail polish before work--boy, did the man have a heyday with that one.

Rooster takes it all in stride, though, happily wearing homemade ties to work and presenting scrawled drawings. he has hardly any elbow room on his desk because of all the frames that clog it.

it's a regular Wednesday in the middle of September as Rooster walks up the path to your front door, but it feels like the first day of summer to him. the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming. and inside the house, he can hear the chaos that has been brewing all day: Olive trying to stop Joni from abusing the piano and failing, Finch following you around the house and asking you about caterpillars again, Opal babbling, June crying, your steady voice, the radio playing Born in the U.S.A again (no doubt at Olive's request), the dogs whining for dinner.

it's really music to his ears.

"daddy's home!" he hears you call as he stuffs his key in the lock.

and when he swings the door open, he's knee-deep in all of it. Olive, the oldest and the most coordinated, is dodging everyone to spring over to Rooster. she takes her spot on his left leg, hugging him to her body, immediately trying to tattle on Joni for abusing Grandpa Goose's piano. Finch makes it to him second, less-coordinated and not wearing anything except a diaper and one of his neckties, a toothy grin cutting her face as she reached up for her dad. and once he's holding her, patting Olive's head in greeting as he kisses Finch's ruddy cheeks, Joni has planted herself firmly on his other leg.

you're steadily making your way to him, too, the weight of the world slipping off your shoulders as he kisses all his girls hello.

"daddy said you're not supposed to smash the keys!" Olive insists, incredulous.

Joni screws up her face, sticking her tongue out at Olive.

"I wasn't!" she insists. "daddy, Olive's lying!"

"gotta be careful with the piano," he says, patting Olive's tawny hair, then Joni's. he can hardly hear their bickering above the blasting radio. "how many times has this song played today?" he asks with a grin.

Finch takes it upon herself to answer, having recently learned numbers. she stuffs her sticky hand in Rooster's face, holding up five fingers proudly.

"five?" he asks, eyebrows raised. he kisses her little palms and she giggles at the way his mustache tickles her skin. "you girls torturing your mama when I'm not here?"

"and Opal didn't nap today," you add with a deep heave, bouncing the twins on your hips as they each mouth your sleeves, blinking up at you with their daddy's big, brown eyes. "and June had a blowout, and Finch is a nudist. Joni tried to drink out of the dog's bowl again. and the dog got into your office and found your stash of Reese's, which you were hiding from me."

"sorry, baby," Rooster insists.

"after everything I've given you?" you tease, nodding to his armful of girls and yours. "I'm offended!"

"I think I helped a little," Rooster teases.

standing before him now, you smile despite yourself. Rooster's still grinning, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips before taking the twins from you, holding them both with one arm. he hopes he can always hold all of his girls at once, even though he knows it's not something that will stick around forever.

"just a little," you tell him, stretching your taut body out now that your child-free.

"what about me?" Olive pouts, tugging your pant leg. "what did I do?" she asks.

always wanting to be involved.

"you, little miss, made me play Bruce Springsteen all day!" you tell her, bending at the hips to stroke her cheek.

she grins at that, nodding proudly.

"yeah, I did," she confirms, blinking up at Rooster. "I love Bruce Springsteen!"

"you're a weird little kid," Rooster tells her with a teasing grin. "who raised you?"

she grins up at him, one of her front teeth missing.

"you!" she confirms.

"got me there," Rooster sighs. "I love Bruce Springsteen, too!"

Opal and June are already pressing their gummy little mouths to Rooster's chest, taking fistfuls of his mustache and t-shirt. your arms feel decidedly empty for the first time today, which you always look forward to, but never thoroughly enjoy.

"time's the tea party?" Rooster asks, leaving lingering kisses to the top of the twin's heads as Finch picks through his hair a la baby monkey searching for bugs.

"now!" Joni insists, untying his shoe.

Olive's batting Joni's hands, trying to get her to quit it, and Joni is growling at Olive.

"no being feral," you warn the both of them, pointing an accusing finger at Joni. "let daddy at least get through the door before you growl, huh?"

"but mommy," Joni whines, throwing her head back dramatically. "I'm a puppy dog!"

"you're just Joni," Olive insists, lips pursed. "this is real life."

"hey," Rooster warns, glancing down at Olive. "who made you the pretend police?"

Olive doesn't have an answer, just looking up at her dad with slanted brows and parted lips. ever the most exasperated, serious older sister in the world.

"she's been really into realism today," you tell Rooster, crossing your arms over your chest. "Jake shouldn't have let her watch Life of Pi."

Rooster starts to walk forward with a great effort, grunting as he glides across the foyer with an extra hundred pounds of giggling weight.

as he trudges through the foyer with great effort, his shirt now wet with baby slobber and his curls mussed from grubby fingers and his shoelaces unties, you watch him affectionately. anyone in the world can look at him like this, with that grin splitting his lips and that laugh sitting in his throat, and know that this is what he's meant for.

"c'mon, mama," he calls to you, glancing over his shoulder. "can't be late for the tea party!"

"with real tea," Olive clarifies, shooting you a thumbs up. "but fake cucumber sandwiches!" then she shoots you a thumbs down for affect.

"m'coming," you sigh dreamily, locking the door. "chamomile or jasmine?"

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visceravalentines · 2 years

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Michael Myers is the human equivalent of a cat and you can't change my mind. Here is a collection of tiny fluffy blurbs proving my point. I hope you enjoy!

Michael Myers x GN!Reader, no content warnings besides the man himself

He’s ignored you all day. You’ve tried to engage him in a movie, a walk around the block, even tried to entice him into the bedroom. He dismissed you every time with a blank stare. You finally gave up and started working on a project you’ve been putting off.

Not twenty minutes later, he appears in the doorway and stands there watching. You acknowledge him briefly, focused on your task. You don’t hear him move but you sense him behind you, smile up at him when he bumps against your back.

He brushes his fingers through the hair at the back of your neck. “Oof, you gave me goosebumps,” you tell him. You keep working.

He puts his hands on your shoulders. You kiss his wrist. “How are you?” you ask. You get no response. You never do.

After a minute he sighs, bends over you to rest his chin on your head, puts his big hand right in the middle of what you’re working on.

You stop, fight a smile. “Oh, now you want attention?” He grunts noncommittally. “Well I’m doing this now.”

His pushes his face into the side of your neck and you feel a warm, wet pinch. “Michael! Did you just bite me?”

He steps back, pulls your chair with him. “Ohh my god. That is so rude.” You look up at him. He is unmoved by your criticism. “Can I help you?”

He comes around in front of you, drops to his knees between your legs, leans his head against your chest. You put your arms around him and tease his curls.

“I have been trying to hang out with you all day, you know.” He grunts again. “Why am I tied into your schedule?” He squeezes you. “Fine, let’s hang out.”

🔪

You look up from your book at the sound of the back door. A moment later he steps into view, knife in hand, mask sprayed with blood.

“Welcome home, handsome,” you say.

He sets the knife on the table and moves closer. You lay the book aside and get up to inspect him for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head once and digs his hand into his pocket.

“Oh boy. Did you bring me something?”

He fishes out a tiny porcelain mouse abducted from someone’s mantle and places it in your open palm. It is adorable and not covered in blood.

“Wow, I love this,” you say honestly. “Thank you!”

He is reaching into his other pocket. “Oh, two things?” You hold out your other hand. There is a clicking sound like nails on a tabletop. Teeth. They are teeth. He has brought you six human teeth.

You gather yourself for a second and then look up at him with a careworn smile. “Thank you so much. You really, really shouldn’t have.”

His eyes glitter behind the mask. You know he knows that you hate it and love it in equal measure. That’s why he does it. You should consider yourself lucky tonight; one time he brought you a finger. A finger.

🔪

The afternoon sun is golden as you get home from work. You look up at the second-story window right in the front of the house and sure enough, you see his silhouette looming like a Halloween decoration. It’s his favorite spot. He spends hours looking out at the world, just observing, thinking.

He stares at you blankly and you smile and wave. Even from a distance, you can see his gaze shift from you to something across the street: two women shooting the breeze while their kids draw with chalk on the sidewalk. Maybe it’s because you know him so well, but the look on his face is utterly predatory.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. You’d better get in there and distract him with something, or your neighbors are going to end up on the news.

🔪

“Okay, hear me out.”

You regard him uneasily, hands on your hips. He already looks unimpressed.

“We’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup. You love that.”

He does. He is waiting for the bad news.

“But we’re out of milk. So I have to make the soup with water.”

His ability to communicate such abject disgust with zero change to his expression is incredible.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise it will still be good.”

He is the pickiest eater you have ever met. Not only is his list of acceptable foods limited, but he eats on a strict schedule with almost no wiggle room. There is only one right way to make the things he likes, and a thousand wrong ways. He would rather starve than eat something he thinks is gross.

When you present him with the offending soup he looks at you like you have spit in it in front of him.

“Look, Michael, I promise it’s fine.” You sip a spoonful. It is not fine. He knows it.

He eats the grilled cheese with enthusiasm. He finishes yours too. He pushes the soup away and does not touch it. No amount of cajoling will convince him otherwise.

🔪

You are on the couch, Michael’s head in your lap. You have been stroking his curls, scratching his neck and shoulders, caressing his handsome face for almost an hour. Every time you try to get up or change position he grips your knee tightly, will not let you move. Periodically he lets out a contented sigh, adjusts his position, guides your hand to a new spot.

Your legs are falling asleep. You continue running your thumb over his jaw as you shift your weight just a little, just enough to free up the circulation.

He sits up abruptly. “Sorry, Mikey, come back.”

He stands up and stalks away without looking at you. You watch with absolute bewilderment as he sits on the other couch, makes himself comfortable, and then looks at you like nothing happened.

“You are so fucking weird,” you whisper, almost to yourself.

🔪

You are out for a midnight stroll on the arm of a murderer who, for now, is content to leave everyone alive. The moon is full and the street is bright beneath it. Michael’s expression is serene. You know he enjoys the breeze on his face when he can get it. Walks like this are so normal, so refreshing, you can almost pretend it’s not three in the morning.

A branch hangs over the sidewalk. You move to duck around it, but Michael takes hold of it with his free hand and snaps it in half.

“Well that was…effective,” you remark. He looks at you impassively.

A block later, someone has left a tricycle in their front yard. He pulls away from you, picks it up with one hand. You furrow your brow in confusion. He throws it lazily into the neighbor’s yard.

“Michael,” you say, “you can’t do that.” But he can, and he does, and he pulls you along before you can drag it back where it belongs.

He behaves himself for the next few minutes, and you are nearly lulled back into contentment. You don’t question it when he stops and picks up a rock; he’s always bringing home odds and ends. He does not look at you as he lobs the projectile across the street directly into the front window of a house and you hear the glass splinter. The sound is deafening in the silence.

“Michael Myers!” you hiss, grabbing his arm. He is smirking. For him it is the equivalent of a shit-eating grin. “I cannot believe you just did that!” Lights turn on in the house and you haul him quickly down the street. “I swear to god I can’t take you anywhere.”

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #my writing

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malice-ov-mercy · 7 months

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Neighbors

*REPOST FROM MAIN BLOG*

A/N: Based on this post from @starsomens

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!Reader

Content warnings: none

Part 2

————————————————

It had been a beautiful day. I had nearly every window in my house open, allowing the fresh autumn air to fill my home. I wanted nothing more than to sit outside and soak up the sun, but I had severely neglected my chores. My house was in desperate need of cleaning and organizing. I hadn’t quite settled in yet despite being here for just over a month—it was probably closer to two months, actually. I still had a few boxes of who knows what lingering in my office—and don’t even get me started on the pile of empty boxes I inadvertently started hoarding.

I sighed heavily as I finished dragging a box from my office to the living space. I frowned as I tried to remember what I could’ve possibly put into it. It was heavy but didn’t feel completely full. I rummaged around in the side table for something sharp enough to cut the tape. My frown deepened as all I found was nail clippers. I thought about using them for a second, but grimaced at the struggle I knew it’d be. I tossed them back in the drawer then made my way back to my office in hopes I could locate a box cutter. I managed to find one shoved way in the back of my junk drawer.

Before returning to the living room, I made an extra trip to my bedroom to grab my speaker. If I’m going to be spending this gorgeous day inside unpacking, I may as well throw on some music to help pass the time.

By the time I’m back to the unopened box, I have my speaker on and connected to my phone. I set the speaker on the side table and sit myself on the floor. I fiddled around on my phone trying to find something to listen to, but ultimately decided on the same thing I’ve been listening to for months. I hummed happily along to Concrete Jungle and turned the volume up. It’s not max, but if someone were to walk by the street, they would definitely be able to hear it. I glanced quickly through the front window. I didn’t see anyone, so I cranked the volume a little more and started tearing into the box.

I’m surprised to see my collection of vinyls.

—

Before I know it, I’m half way through my listen of THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND album, and I’ve made no progress on unpacking any other boxes. I’ve spent the afternoon jamming and appreciating my records. I ordered a record player weeks ago, but it still hadn’t come yet. I was beginning to wonder if I got scammed. As Just Pretend wrapped up, I looked out my window and saw two familiar faces across the street. One was the mail woman who was carrying a sizable box, the other was my neighbor. I paused my music, sighing as I got up off the floor. My knees cracked loudly and I cursed myself silently for sitting so long.

The mail woman and my neighbor were talking casually as I stepped out of my home. Both of them turned to look in my direction, both offering a polite smile. My neighbor waved and I returned the favor, walking up to them both.

“Hey neighbor!” He says happily.

“Hey Noah, how’s it going?” I reply as the mail woman hands me the box. I thank her, then she starts her trot back to her mail truck.

Noah looked down at the package in my hands, nudging his head towards it.

“What’s that?”

I looked down, signing in relief.

“It’s my record player. I was starting to wonder if it was going to show up.”

Noah chuckled lightly and smiled. “You into vinyls?”

I shrug. “Kind of. Most of what I have was part of my parents collection. I’ve only really started getting into it.”

He nods. “You’re big into music then, I guess? I could hear you jamming from out here.”

He gestures towards my house. I go to speak, but instead offer an apologetic and sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that. I hope it didn’t bother you too much. I’ll turn it down when I get back..”

Noah shook his head with a laugh.

“Nah don’t worry about!” He smiles at me and my stomach flips. “Are you a big fan?”

I think for a second. “Uh, kind of yeah. I’ve only recently gotten into them to be honest.”

The expression on Noah’s face is one of surprise. He scratches his jaw then crosses his arm. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

“What is it?” I ask, curious to know what’s on his mind.

“They’re kind of big aren’t they? How are you just now getting into them?”

“Well,” I hum, trying to think of a short answer, “I slept on them initially. The first thing I ever heard was The Worst in Me and I never really went and listened to anything besides that one song until their most recent album. Then I went back through their discography.”

“Interesting.” Noah replies. There’s almost an amused look in his eyes.

“To be honest, I thought the lead singer had gotten replaced. The vocal difference sounds almost like two completely different people.”

Noah quirked a brow and chuckled lightly.

“Really? How so?”

“Uhm,” I started, then stopped, thinking of how best to explain. “Well, I guess the best I can explain is, he sounds more… refined. Like, you can tell he’s really spent time working on his voice.”

I wait for a response, but he doesn’t offer much. Noah just hums and taps his fingers on his forearm. He almost looks amused.

“So, you like the album then?”

“Absolutely! It’s definitely their best one yet!”

He grins widely. I’ve seen him smile many times in passing, but this one seems different—almost genuine and full of pride and accomplishment. It’s a nice smile.

“You have a pretty smile.”

Noah’s expression softens and a slight tinge of pink brushes across his cheeks. He quickly looks away and turns his attention to his mailbox, grabbing the only envelope inside. He looks back at me. The smile on his face is still there; this one seems shy, bashful, but it’s just as sincere as the one moments ago— and just as beautiful.

“Well, thank you,” he says, “I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the album. We worked really hard on it.”

—

It’d been a month since I last saw or talked to Noah. That encounter at the mailboxes still stuck in my mind. I found myself thinking about it all the time, much like right now. How I went that long without realizing who my neighbor was baffled me. It was honestly kind of embarrassing. I felt awful thinking about how awkward that interaction may have been for Noah. His neighbor he barely knew, let alone ever spoke to, gushing about how much she liked his band without even knowing who he was. Any time we crossed paths checking the mail, he’d shoot a playful smile and tease me. He got a real kick seeing me get shy.

Despite how embarrassed I felt, I did miss seeing him around. We hadn’t gotten close enough in our brief conversations to exchange numbers, but I’d definitely call him an acquaintance. I thought many times about maybe inviting him over when he was done with tour, simply so we could be better neighbors, but I talked myself out of it every time. I feared coming across as a weird fan, though never once had Noah given me any indication he thought of me as one.

I groaned loudly and covered my face with my hands.

“Me and my stupid self.” I mumbled aloud.

I jumped slightly at the sound of my doorbell being rung followed by a knock at the door. I shuffled around to discreetly peak through my curtains. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I sighed in relief when I saw it was the mail woman dropping a package at my door step. Then I frowned but I most certainly wasn’t expecting a package.

I shuffled slowly towards the front door and cautiously opened it. I glanced around, looking for anything out of place or suspicious. Everything seemed normal. Carefully, I bent down to grab the box. There wasn’t much weight to it. It was surprisingly light for the size. I gently turned it over and around, searching for an address, but the only one was mine.

I make my way to the kitchen and set the box down on the counter. With scissors, I delicately cut the tape. Once it’s opened, I’m greeted by a letter sitting on top of brown packing paper.

To our number one fan. I hope these fit. If they don’t, please let me know and I’ll send you more. There’s also a surprise further in the box that I know you’ll like.

There was a number followed by a signature that I couldn’t read. My brows furrowed. I set the letter aside and peel back the brown paper. My eyes widen and my mouth falls open. I grab the shirt and hold it up to my body, surprised to see it’s the perfect length. I quickly pulled it over top of my tank, even more surprised that it fit perfectly. I chuckled. There’s another shirt below the one I just removed. It’s also the same size as is the one underneath that one. The real show stopper though was below the three shirts. I gasped.

“No fucking way.”

Carefully, like it’s going to break in two if I touch it, I grasp the signed vinyl I talked Noah’s ear off about how much I loved. I look over it incredulously. One of the signatures matches the one on the note. I take a quick glance at the box to find yet another shirt inside. I can’t help the giddy laugh that escapes my mouth.

I put the two shirts I pulled out back into the box, nestling the vinyl on top. Grabbing the box, I go to my room and spread everything out to snap a pic. Then I go to my full length mirror and take a selfie. I return to my bed, saving the number to my phone and sending the pictures.

Thank you so much!! This was very nice of you!

Anything for our number one fan. I take it the shirts fit?

Yes! They fit perfectly!

Glad to hear. It looks good on you. I may just have to send you more.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #Noah Sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic

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mi-i-zori · 4 months

Text

A Deep Cleansing

COD Fae!AU - Fae!Soap x F!reader, Fae!Ghost x F!reader

SYNOPSIS : When the Apothecary feels a somber presence lingering behind her front door, she immediately thinks a malevolent being has made her its new target. Yet only the Hunter leans against her doorframe, a dark and powerful magic dancing around her exhausted self. Her friend needs help, and the healer has no choice but to usher her inside her house.

A deep cleansing is in order.

WARNINGS : None.

Author’s note : I’m not sure if I really like this little thingy. I’m excited about the other ideas I have for the Hunter’s story, so I kind of wrote it in a hurry. Fae!Ghost is eating away at my brain.

As always, this is inspired by @ghouljams ‘ Fae!Au.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

When she suddenly feels her wards rattle ominously in her soul, the Apothecary thinks a malevolent being is trying to force itself through her front door.

And it could be the case. A somber magic dances behind the thick, enchanted wood ; she can almost see its shadows attempting to swirls past its edges. For a second, she wonders if the fae who visited her shop a few days ago is back to try and steal her away. Yet the moment a familiar series of knocks echoes through her house, she drops everything she was doing, almost knocking her cup of tea over. Silently asking for the talismans hanging over the doorframe to quiet down, she rests a palm against the old door. She could recognise her friend’s aura anywhere, and it seems clear enough to assure her she is not being possessed. She doesn’t waste any more time in opening her barriers.

What a dangerous thing to do, screams a voice in the back of her mind, and the witch wonders if it once belonged to one of her ancestors. Any kind of evil could sneak in !

But only the tired silhouette of the Hunter leans against the doorframe, and she gasps upon seeing her worn-down state. Her face is way too pale for it to be normal ; one of her arms dangles low enough to indicate a deep soreness in the muscles. Shadows twist and turn all around her, barely bothering to hide themselves from the afternoon sun. A foreign magic hugs the protections on her clothes, flaunting a power far more dangerous than anything the young healer has ever seen.

A power they have to get rid of.

After making sure no threat is hiding nearby, waiting for an opportunity to strike, she ushers her friend inside, her mind already coming up with all the ingredients she will need for a cleansing ritual. The iron locks rattle slightly behind them, securing any danger outside of their sanctuary. The Apothecary lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

As she rushes to prepare her tools and materials, the Hunter gets comfortable on her couch. A pot full of herbal tea sits on the table, and she pours herself a cup, covering her friend’s with a napkin to make sure it stays warm. The sun gently comes to melt the cold from her cheeks, encouraging her to lean back against the soft cushions. Slowly, the wailing of her muscles ceases, and it’s with a newfound peace that she starts thinking about everything that happened beyond the borders of the Frost. Despite her best efforts to understand them, none of her memories seems to make sense. It’s as if the fog flowing from the fae’s magic is preventing her logic from working properly. A part of her wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually the case.

The thought has her nails digging crescent-shaped marks into the flesh of her thighs.

When the Apothecary returns, so silent she almost doesn’t notice her, her arms are full of various bottles and books, and obvious questions shine in her eyes. Her worry is palpable, understandable ; the Hunter notices a slight tremor in her hands when she faces her weary silhouette - or the misty darkness lingering around her.

- I met something, she mumbles, fighting against the knot tightening around her throat, someone. I have no idea what he was, so I will need a lot of protections until I figure out his nature.

The healer comes to sit next to her, a small bowl clutched in her hands. She lets out a quiet hum as she listens, and the Hunter shivers under her delicate touch. The balm coating her fingers is both cold and warm, soothing the tension lying under her skin. She focuses on her breathing as the witch slowly works her magic through her body, the faint scent of incense filling her senses. Its grey tendrils bask in the late-afternoon glow ; some of them curl gracefully around the leaves of nearby houseplants.

The atmosphere of the little cottage is a stark contrast to the darkness of the Frost ; its familiarity never fails to put her mind at ease.

And yet she can’t help but being worried about her friend’s safety ; especially now that she led the fae’s magic directly into her house. The many grimoires crowding her shelves, filled with generations of recipes and spells, are a silent proof of how powerful she is ; but she will need help to replenish the many supplies she’s using on her, just in case the danger is much closer that they think it is.

- I’m going to prepare something for you, the young healer says, her quiet voice soothing her friend’s troubled mind. But it will take some time.

The Hunter can’t remember the last time she heard her talk. As her friend, she had the privilege to listen to her voice multiple times, but it’s still a treat to be able to talk to her normally, even if the conversation itself isn’t the lightest. She watches her smooth her newly bandaged arm, wondering how long she will have to rest before being able to hunt again. She will have to find a way to keep her hunting skills sharp without injuring herself further. She can’t let any kind of rust settle on her body during her recovery.

They both go to take a sip of tea, silently laughing at the synchronicity of their movements. The witch then goes back to preparing for the cleansing. For a moment, they both sit there in silence, enjoying each other’s company despite the underlying tension they have to face. She can still feel the cold, misty magic creeping under her skin ; thankfully, her friend’s sanctuary keeps its influence at bay, allowing her to fight it without straining her already tired mind.

- Tell me if you need anything, she finally says, breaking the silence - distracting herself, especially if it’s a bunch of ingredients. I’ll get them for you.

The Apothecary nods, one of her softest smiles gracing her lips. Despite the worry dancing in her eyes, her tone is quiet ; serene, almost.

- Be careful.

In return, the Hunter fills their cups once again.

- I will.

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 7 days

Note

Hi Ray!

If you are inspired: part 3 no.15 or part 5 no.12 💖

“Who would have thought that this is something that you’re into?” additional tags: light pet play, experimental puppy play, very light exhibitionism, idk if i like this yet - i'm just dipping my toes in for now - trying something new

It's the perfect early-summer afternoon.

Mickey's spent a lot of time in their backyard, but recently, this is the way he's come to ask for it - stretched out on his back, the grass soft beneath his bare skin and the breeze cool as it wafts over him.

He's perfectly content here, despite being naked down to his briefs. Because of it, maybe. It's freeing. In a way that might visually counteract the rest of his setup, but he loves this shit too. The thick black collar wrapped around his neck... The chain that threads through the ring and keeps him loosely tied to the metal stake in the ground, the lead gone slack in the grass...

It's the perfect early-summer afternoon, and Mickey is leashed up in their backyard, the sun pouring so beautifully over his exposed belly that he has to let out a content little sigh, stretching his arms over his head.

Their fence is tall - the slats overlapping - so if anyone wanted to peek over, they'd have to work for it. But they could do it. If they wanted to. They could stand on their tip toes and see Mickey chained up and sleeping and the thought of it alone has something nasty and pleasurable stirring in his gut as he lies here.

Because would that be so bad?

Mickey daydreams about it, feeling the sun warm his skin. And he's just under that first layer of groggy sleep when he hears the back door sliding shut, the footsteps that approach him setting off a flutter of lazy excitement in his chest for what happens next.

"Hey you..." Ian's voice is so easy. So fond, like the big hand that reaches out and starts to rub over Mickey's bare stomach. "You bein' a good boy out here?"

Mickey stretches a little, enjoying the heat that spreads inside him from the attention.

When he opens his eyes, it's with a pleasant little smile that matches Ian's, who is crouching to the ground to rub soothing circles on his stomach. Fuck, it's nice... So calming... Mickey hums in answer, because that's all he's expected to do. No words. None needed.

And he's not sure he has the words for this feeling anyway. Because when Ian leans in to plant a kiss on his forehead and then murmurs it, very kindly, "Sit up for me...?" the desire to please him is like Mickey's never felt before.

Not like this. Not to this degree.

When he pulls himself up to sit, it's a pleasant stretch, his eyes closing again as he feels Ian carefully pick pieces of grass from his hair. "Not much of a watch dog if you're out here belly-up..." he teases, brushing some off his bare shoulder now. "Thought you were s'posed to be guardin' the place."

Mickey's lashes flutter open. Searching. Carefully trying to piece together the seriousness in that. If he let him down or not.

But before he can worry about it too much, Ian's throwing him a lopsided smile, "That's alright..." his hand coming up to playfully mess in Mickey's hair, thank god. "Too nice out not to nap, huh..."

Now that he's certain he hasn't disappointed, Mickey smiles softly again, nodding in agreement. It really is too nice of a day to not take advantage of it.

And Ian seems to be on the same page. Because he lists forward to plant a quick kiss to the tip of Mickey's nose, "That's my good boy," and then he's unhooking the chain from Mickey's collar. "C'mon."

And god, Mickey's heart soars. He knows it's crazy, but the praise just fucking does something for him. No matter how hard they're going with this for the day - how immersed Mickey says he wants to be. All Ian's gotta do is say those two words and Mickey's fucking melting.

Because that's all it comes down to, isn't it? That's the one thing that's always been true.

Mickey loves to be Ian's. In any way he can get.

And there's nothing that really nails that shit home quite like Ian putting a collar around his neck - Ian holding the lead end of his leash - Ian telling him that he's his and he loves him and he's being good.

It may have spiralled a little, but Mickey's always loved being owned by him. Kept by him. And if he's gonna spend years hearing people call him Ian's guard dog - his pitbull - he might as well prove it.

Which means he follows after him when Ian relaxes back on one of the chaise lounge patio chairs, eager to fill the space beside him.

And again, all it would take is a little peak - a little tip-toe - and anyone at all could see how Mickey lays his head on Ian's stomach, staring up at him patiently until he can get that coveted attention back on him.

Good. Because then they'll see how much Ian loves him. How generous he is when Mickey nudges at his resting hand until Ian gets with the program and uses it to pet over the top of his head.

They probably wouldn't get it, actually. They wouldn't understand how good it feels, Ian's fingers threading through his hair and then coming to scratch behind his ear. They wouldn't get the swoop of fulfillment and desire that rushes in Mickey's belly when Ian looks at him like this.

“Who woulda thought this is something you’re into?” he murmurs pleasantly - a moment of fond introspection.

But Mickey's known this about himself always.

Loyalty.

That's all it is, really, his eyes closing as he rests his head in Ian's lap, once again drifting to the feeling of those hands petting him back to sleep.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#gallavich #ray writes #smutty one-liners #do we like this... idk if i like this... im learning things about myself and unfortunately making it all your problem as well #hey calli lmao

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padfootagain · 9 months

Text

The Last Ones on Earth (III)

Chapter 3 : A Little Palace

Hello, hello! Here is a new chapter for my Darkling series!

I’m using elements of the plot that come from the books (the attack on the Palace in the second book… with the attack on the Little Palace by the Darkling, which I’m obviously changing here because reader has a good influence…). I know the series changed that part but I found it interesting to reuse that part from the books.

I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings for the series: mentions and depictions of violence and warfare, mentions of trauma

Warnings for the chapter: None

Summary: You and the Darkling are a team, even if no one knows it. Beyond being a team, you are the only one he trusts, and he's the only one you care about, and you're each other's true love. But if you've kept your secrets hidden for a long time, now that the Sun Summoner is fighting against you, it's time to reveal who you are, and what you are capable of...

Word Count: 3523

Masterlist for the series – The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

The Darkling is standing at the top of the hill.

Under a tall oak tree, he stares down at Keramzin. The place where Alina and her tracker used to live, where they grew up, where they met. A place of memories.

He looks down at his palm, the wounded one, the one where the stag’s bone used to sit.

A place of memories… he has many of those, filled with thoughts of you. An old cabin lost in the woods on the edge of Fjerda, a large golden field in Shu Han, the empty halls of the Little Palace at midnight, a river by a summer afternoon, a wintery night spent by a fireplace, the details of your skin across white sheets…

He closes his fist, digging his nails into the wound that won’t properly heal, until it hurts, until it almost bleeds again. A blood darkened by merzost. A blood that isn’t really his anymore.

He has plenty of these sacred places too. They all faded, with time, with fire, with smoke and ashes and tears and nights spent trembling in fear…

“All the children are gathered, sir,” reports Fedyor.

“Are they well?” the Darkling asks in a cold voice, impersonal, but he still asks.

“Yes, sir. They’re all well.”

“The adults?”

“Botkin is wounded, he gave us a rough fight. A Corporalnik, an Etherealnik and two Maternialnik were there too. We’ve talked with them. Two have agreed to help us, the other three are unsure, still. I don’t think they understand what’s going on.”

The Darkling clenches his jaw. He wants to kill them all. It would be easier, it would make an example.

But if you were here, you would tell him to spare them. He can hear your voice speak the words.

They’re Grisha too. You can’t kill them. Give them another chance.

And the Darkling wants to see them all hanged at that tree, at one of the branches under which he stands. But it would be a mistake. You are trying to convince Alina and the others that there are no other way. He can’t be a mere villain anymore. His plan has changed.

“Make sure everyone is healed properly. Botkin fought against us, he can’t be trusted. Make sure he’s under heavy guard, and that he can’t escape. Let the Grisha free to choose, they can come with us, or go wherever they please.”

Fedyor nods, before turning away again to give orders.

And a part of the Darkling regrets his decision already. It doesn’t seem safe, it doesn’t seem punishing enough. Maybe there’s a part of him that’s cruel that screams for him to make them pay for leaving the Little Palace under Alina’s orders too...

But then, there’s a part of him who thinks of you, of the way you say his name, of the smile you gave him that day, on your horse, before leaving to find Alina Starkov.

And for a moment, Aleksander remembers what it feels like to be kind, and the regrets vanish like fresh snow under the sun.

He hopes you are okay. He hopes you are succeeding. He hopes all is fine for you. He hopes, above all else, that you are not making a mistake. You will reveal secrets both of you have kept safely hidden for a long time. What will happen then? When your enemies know what you mean to each other, when they know that you are each other’s weakness and strength alike… Will they use it against him? Will they hurt you to get to him? It happened before, and history has a tendency to repeat itself, over, and over again…

From the hill where he stands, he sees a large group moving towards the road. Children, guided by his soldiers, a mix of Grisha and otkazat’sya. Children who will grow up, one day, in a world he hopes is better for them.

If you don’t come back from your talk with Alina, he wonders if he’ll let them live, if he’ll see the children in them despite his hunger for blood and destruction.

A part of him is not fooled though. If you die, the last glimmer of kindness he has left will fade too. He won’t make a difference then, between Grisha, otkazat’sya, adult, child…

He’ll just destroy it all, until the ones who hurt you are dead, buried, and gone.

Three months earlier

An empty field, near Os Alta

“Alina has taken control of the Second Army, which means that our Grisha will follow her, whether they agree or not.”

Your voice was slow, your words cautious.

By your side, Ivan was biting at his nails, sitting in a chair too small for him, but there wasn’t much you could carry across the country. Your army was quite miserable, indeed…

Most of the Grisha who were following you had been rescued from prisons, from cages, from gallows. They were tired, hungry, wounded, terrified. But they were angry too, and traumatised, and they wanted blood as much as they longed for rest. It was a dangerous combination, indeed.

“How many Grisha are still in the Little Palace?”

The Darkling aimed his question at Ivan, but the Heartrender didn’t have that kind of information. He shrugged, apologized for not knowing.

There were two Etherealki in the room as well. Only five of you to decide what you should do next. You had to step up, after what happened in the Fold, and you knew that Aleksander didn’t like it. It put a target on your back. Still, there was nothing else to be done, you didn’t have the men to act like a tamed Materialnik anymore.

“We must protect them during the attack,” you said, but Ivan shook his head.

“They are traitors…”

“They don’t know that they have a choice. Most of them are still children, or were still at the Little Palace when all went sour. Alina going there first simply means that they had only her version of the story. They probably think the Darkling is dead. What choice do they have then?”

You turned towards the Darkling, his tall figure all wrapped in black, because of his kefta, but also because of the shadows stretching behind him. You were gathered around a small campfire, the golden flames spreading enough light for you to see the features of the Grisha gathered, but beyond their frames, all was dark.

You waited for Aleksander to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at the flames, lost in thought.

“If we hurt our own, we won’t be better than the people we are trying to fight against.”

That made him react, and he knew you spoke such words simply to draw his attention back to you, back to the present.

He had to be careful with his choice of words though. If you were stepping up in his group of Grisha, no one could know that you meant everything to him, and that he meant everything to you. That you were married. That he listened to you more than anyone else.

If they knew, you would be in danger. No one could know. Even if he longed to listen to you, to discuss the matter only with you, he couldn’t.

He heaved a sigh.

“It is more complex than that,” he argued. “They will probably fight against us.”

“Not if we refuse to fight them.”

All around the fire turned to you. This was a crazy idea. To attack the Palace, try to kill the king and his heirs, capture Alina Starkov… and spare the Little Palace? Refuse to fight the soldiers who were there, and who, without a doubt, would be called to help?

“We will never manage to approach Starkov without fighting our way through the Little Palace,” Ivan argued.

“The General was close to her. Maybe he can try to talk to her, convince everyone that he merely wants to talk.”

“It will not work,” the Darkling shook his head.

“Then we don’t get Alina Starkov, that’s alright. She’ll be on the run, much more vulnerable than she is now. We will have another chance. But if we attack the Little Palace and kill our own people, we will be seen as enemies even in our ranks. We can’t afford to be this way.”

“And so, you would choose mercy, sparing traitors, instead of making examples out of them? How soft,” the Darkling snarled, his tone mocking.

You thought for a moment, the others kept on talking. When silence settled again, you broke it, trying one last argument.

“Then, we can give them a choice. We will spare anyone who takes our side, welcome them into our ranks so they can fight with us. And we will kill anyone who chooses the king’s side. May they be Grisha or not. But we must give Grisha a choice. They must choose to fight with us. If we scare them too much, if we are too violent, they will feel safer with Alina, and follow her instead of you, sir.”

Aleksander almost let a smile spread across his features. You always knew what to say…

But he didn’t. Instead, he slowly nodded.

“Sounds fair enough. Those who were misled by the Sun Summoner will be given a chance to make the right choice. The others will be considered as our enemies and killed.”

Os Alta

Three days later

Night was heavy. The moon and stars were shining, yet they seemed shier than usual. Something in their light wasn’t as bright as they should have been. Shadows were thicker, they clang at skins and frames, they made the world outside the safety of torches and chandeliers unbearably blind.

It should have been a sign for the guards that the Darkling was here, but they weren’t wise enough. Perhaps they were still too naïve, perhaps they were tired. Whatever was the reason, taking them down was easy.

The attack in itself was quick, almost orderly, on your side of the fighting. Breaking into the Palace, attacking the Royal Family… it was easy. It had been made easy by the idiotic Prince who had emptied the watchtowers and fortresses on the road leading to Os Alta…

Your plan was rather simple: Aleksander would take care of the Royal Palace, while you took a handful of Grisha with you and headed to the Little Palace in order to talk with whoever was there.

And you were not disappointed. The remnants of the Second Army wasn’t much to be accounted for, but there were a few dozens Grisha there. When you arrived, they were evacuating the children from the school. You decided to let them go. You already had enough things to deal with.

You were met by a handful of Grisha at the door. It was rushed, messy. Your arrival was a surprise alright.

“Stop! Don’t come closer!”

You recognized the voice instantly, even if in the darkness you couldn’t see his features.

“Fedyor?”

“Y/N?”

His stance didn’t change. Hands touching, his stance anchored and stable. A Heartrender ready to kill…

“Are you alright?” you asked, genuine worry shaking your voice.

“Yes, but… What… Are you with the Darkling?”

“Yes, he’s in the Palace.”

“He’s going to kill everyone.”

“Not everyone.”

You risked to take a step closer, but you noticed the way the five Grisha by his side tensed, and you didn’t dare move further.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I’m here to get you out of here safe and sound.”

“You?”

You recognized the voice coming from Fedyor’s right. An Inferni. Salomon.

“Weirdly enough, even Durasts can be useful. Especially when you’re so ridiculously outnumbered.”

“We’re part of the Second Army, Y/N,” Fedyor spoke again, ignoring Salomon’s remark. “We can’t let him hurt the King.”

“The King is not doing much to prevent Grisha from being killed all over his Kingdom, these days.”

“But the Darkling does?”

“He does. He did when he got me out of a cage four weeks ago right before I would be hanged.”

An uncomfortable silence settled on the stairs leading to the Little Palace.

“I escaped as well,” was all Fedyor answered, but he didn’t need to say anything else.

He understood. He had been through the same thing. Only, the Darkling had not reached him in time…

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Were there more Grisha with you?”

“We all escaped. And then we came here.”

“Good.”

“Alina told us what happened in the Fold.”

“It was a mess, apparently.”

“Is he really going to use the Fold as a weapon?”

“If he can. It seems to be the plan.”

You didn’t want to lie. Not tonight. That was not how you would get people to join your side.

“We can’t let him do that, Y/N.”

“Why not? Would you rather remain here and fight for the King against your own people?”

“Because that’s not what you’re doing?”

“I’m not the one with hands touching now, Fedyor.”

He seemed to relax a little at that. At long last, he lowered his hands.

“I don’t want us to fight,” he admitted.

“Me neither.”

“What’s the Darkling’s plan for tonight?”

“Wreck chaos in the Palace, find Alina, try to convince her to come with us.”

“And if she says no?”

“I highly doubt he will kill her, if that’s the meaning of your question.”

“And if we try to protect her?”

You remained silent for a couple of seconds, letting it hover in the night, so the tension would rise, so it would all seem more frightening when you would speak.

“He doesn’t want to hurt any of you. That’s why we’re here, talking, while he’s busy wreaking havoc. But I reckon we’re past talking about sides now. To me, it doesn’t seem like we have a choice.”

“You want us to join the Darkling,” it was more of a statement than a question, but you nodded anyway.

“He’s the only one who is going to defend us, Fedyor. Alina is not interested in Grisha, she wants power, and she wants Ravka.”

“You’re wrong.”

“She has two amplifiers, Fedyor. And I know she’s looking for another one.”

He remained silent, apparently taken aback.

“She talks about saving Ravka, doesn’t she? Well… I’d rather have us save Grisha first.”

You let your words sink in.

“I’m not saying that the Darkling’s plan is perfect. But I know that he won’t give up on us. And I know that he’ll use the Fold as a threat, not an actual weapon.”

“He’s already moved the edges of the Fold. He’ll do it again.”

“He’s the only one who will give us freedom and safety, Fedyor. Alina may be able to tear the Fold apart, and then what? We’ll go back to our status quo? Until the next excuse to turn against Grisha again? We can’t keep on living like this, Fedyor. And Alina is not strong enough to offer us safety.”

You shook your head, playing with the man’s heartstrings, but it didn’t change the fact that you believed every word that left your lips.

“We’ve tried being gentle before, and it didn’t work. Alina can’t do this on her own. We need to stay together, Fedyor. Maybe the Darkling and Alina can unite, I don’t know… but what I know is that we are Grisha, and that means that no one in Ravka trusts us. If we don’t help each other, we’re all going to die.”

You heaved a sigh.

“The Darkling has secured a place for us. It’s not as fancy as the Little Palace, but it’s safe. We’re tracking Grisha all over the country to rescue them. We’re trying to get everyone to safety while we still can. The Fold is a problem for later. For now, we need to regroup and help each other. Is Alina doing that as well?”

“I don’t know,” Fedyor admitted, and you could see that he was beginning to doubt her.

“Come with us. We have time to decide what to do with the Fold. It doesn’t change the fact that we must take care of each other. And the King is not the one who will give us protection. He never truly did. You are prisoners here. Even if Alina keeps you busy, we all know that the palace is heavily guarded. We killed the guards as we arrived. This is temporary, Fedyor. You’re a prisoner here, you simply have a beautiful cell and the illusion of freedom with walks under the sun. But you can’t come and go as you please, and we both know this won’t change for as long as Ravka doesn’t change. And Alina can’t do that, not on her own, at least.”

You gave the small group a moment to consider your words.

“We’ll give you ten minutes to tell everyone hiding in there that we’re ready to welcome whoever wants to join us. If they want to help Grisha escape and be protected, then they should join our side. If they want to, they can remain with Alina, as I highly doubt that she will want to leave with us. But staying with Alina means siding with the King, and that means we’ll be enemies.”

Fedyor and his Grisha disappeared inside the Little Palace.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had joined you. Wrapped in his shadows, you guessed he had been listening to the conversation for a while.

“Alina?” you asked him in a whisper as he stood beside you.

“She fled from the Palace, she’ll be here soon. How did it go here?”

“Fedyor is gone with our message. He has ten minutes left.”

“If it should come to that… if we must fight our own… stay close to me.”

You couldn’t refrain a tender smile.

“I was about to say the same. You need your old bodyguard back.”

He scoffed at that, holding his dark cloak closer.

“You were never my bodyguard.”

“I have at least three dozens of examples popping into my head right now to contradict your statement.”

“I could say the same about protecting you.”

“That’s why we’re such a good team. Equals work well together.”

You exchanged a smile, but the door of the Little Palace opened, and you focused on the building again.

Fedyor was standing by the door, alone. He talked directly to the Darkling as he recognized him.

“Sir.”

“Fedyor.”

“Sir, do we… do we have your word that if we come with you, nothing will happen to us?”

You glanced at the Darkling, standing tall by your side. So much charisma, a cold sensation of calm oozing from his frame. Not five minutes before, he was killing people and now… now he was perfectly stern, completely composed.

He gave Fedyor a nod.

“We are fighting a war,” he spoke slowly, his words heavy with meaning. “I cannot promise you that you will be safe. But no harm will come to you from me, if it is what worries you. I know that the Little Palace was heavily guarded. I know that most of you must be terrified with what is happening to our fellow Grisha all over Ravka. I understand that you thought it was safer to stay here. And I am certain as well that Alina Starkov had good arguments to make you stay. If you come with us, you will be fully trusted, like you were before.”

Fedyor nodded, slowly. He turned around, seemed to talk to someone, and then he was walking towards you, hurrying down the stairs.

You were relieved as you noticed several more Grisha following him.

“How many decided to stay with Miss Starkov?” the Darkling asked Fedyor as he joined your group.

“About a dozen.”

The Darkling heaved a sigh, but nodded.

“You can’t hurt them,” you whispered to him, making sure no one else could hear you. “Unless you are defending yourself. Otherwise they’ll be too scared of us…”

“I want them to be scared of me.”

“Not the Grisha. Alina, yes. The entirety of Ravka, yes. The whole world, yes, but not the Grisha. They are the only ones we need on our side, but we do need them to trust us. I’ve convinced them by offering them freedom and safety. Do you understand?”

He seemed to weigh his options for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was loud enough to be heard by all the Grisha surrounding you.

“Can you and some of your Durast lock the remaining Grisha in the Little Palace?”

“It will take a few minutes, but yes. It will slow them down, at least.”

“Then do it.”

“And if they try to stop us?”

“Defend yourselves, if you have no other choice. But we won’t be the first ones to strike.”

You exchanged a discreet nod, and you brushed your fingers against his, a tender gesture signifying that you agreed with him. And he kind of hated the way he longed for such an approval coming from you.

He turned to the rest of his Grisha.

“We need to find Alina Starkov. Come with me…”

*********************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @budugu @sayumiht

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #the darkling fanfic #the darkling series #the darkling fanfiction #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #aleksander x y/n #aleksander fanfiction #grishaverse #grishaverse series #grishaverse fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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thetargaryenbride · 1 year

Text

Nail To The Coffin - S2 - Chapter 9

Warnings: mention of the word fag, some blood and injury description

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 5086

A.N: FINALE of season 2. I hope I did Billy justice. It's hard to imagine someone with his personality having a vulnerable moment and trying to reach out but I hope I did his character justice...before the impending doom that is season 3 :') As always, please do make me know if I’ve written certain characters OOC and if you think there is something that can be corrected within the story. Thank you for reading. Hope you like it! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || Chapter 8 || S3, Chapter 1

You woke up a few days later when the afternoon sun shone harshly on your face. For a moment there you thought you were back in your room and that it was yet another tiring school day, making you groan as you tried to get up. And then you felt the throbbing pain in your side which elicited a loud whimper.

“Y/N!?” exclaimed Steve as he and Jonathan rushed to your side and began fussing over you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Does it hurt too much?”

“Should we call the doctor?”

“I think we should.”

“Jesus…whoever said that men weren’t emotional?” you drawled jokingly and they looked at you in surprise before bursting into light chuckles.

“She’s alive and kicking, ladies and gentlemen!” exclaimed Steve and you smiled at him.

“How did the doctors even let you and your loud mouth in?” you shook your head.

“I just told them they can’t keep me from seeing my girl, that’s all,” he shrugged as a soft smile graced his features and your cheeks heated up as you stared at him lovingly.

“I’m…still here,” coughed awkwardly Jonathan and you and Steve sputtered.

“Uh, yeah, right!”

“Sorry about that…”

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, gonna get a doctor,” he excused himself before leaving the room which left you and Steve alone.

The boy sat on the edge of the bed, careful to not make contact with your torso, and took your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours while his other hand went to stroke yours. He stared at your two hands, biting the inside of his cheek. You wanted to ask what was eating him up but chose to give him time to speak whenever he felt like it.

“I thought I lost you,” he finally muttered, gulping nervously, and your expression melted into one of guilt and sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and he shook his head.

“It’s not your fault…I just…I just wish I was there to protect you,” he finally looked up and you could see the guilt in his eyes.

“Hey, no, you can’t do this to yourself…” you muttered as you lifted your free hand and gently placed it on his cheek. “You couldn’t have known about Will and the lab and the monsters…It all happened too suddenly…Steve, you did more than enough for me and for my family,” you reassured him and he gulped again, nodding hesitantly. “Come here,” your hand slid from his cheek to his neck as you pulled slightly and he understood what you wanted to do, lowering himself closer to your face.

You stared into his deep, brown eyes filled with regret, guilt, worry, and love and you wondered how blind you must have been to not notice that love before. You traced each bruise on his beautiful face, the hand that had been entwined with his now coming to caress his black eye. You grasped both sides of his face and brought him closer, peppering each bruise with soft kisses before halting and looking at his lips.

Before you could move, he pressed his lips against yours and you felt as if dozens of fireworks erupted inside you.

“I love you,” you breathed out in the kiss and you could feel him smiling before deepening the kiss. When you finally parted he looked at you, seeing the way your own eyes were equally as full of love and admiration as were his. He too wondered how he hadn’t noticed earlier. The two of you had been able to put on masks and restrict yourselves from doing things that were deemed inappropriate if a boy and girl weren’t together. But all you really needed to do was look at each other – properly look at each other.

As cheesy as it sounded, it was all in the eyes. They were proclaimed the window to the soul for a reason.

“I love you too,” he said with a smile as he bit his lip and you chuckled breathily. “I can’t believe that Henderson was actually right about something,” he shook his head and you lifted your brows curiously.

“About what?”

“He called us blind idiots,” snorted the boy and you guffawed.

“I mean it hurts my pride to be called out by a thirteen-year-old but…”

“Well…better late than never.”

“Alright, so, here’s the prescription of the antibiotics, probiotics, and other supplements Y/N/N will have to take for the following sixty days until she recovers fully. Uh, the doctor said he wants to keep her for at least a week before discharging her,” your brother explained everything the doctor had told him to your mother who had just arrived after Jonathan had called to tell her you were awake.

While waiting for your mom to arrive and after speaking to the doctor, Jonathan and Steve filled you in about everything that had happened after you had gotten admitted to the hospital.

Apparently, Hopper had done a good job with the stitching but some blood had still managed to seep through and when you had been suddenly jerked and moved around, some of the stitches had torn which had resulted in more blood seeping through the gashes. On top of all, it turned out that the monster had damaged some of your organs when it had slashed at you. It hadn’t been able to tear the tissue or puncture them but it had grazed the surface of the colon and the spleen, breaking some ribs in the process, and when you had been jerked around, those broken ribs had contributed to the graze by making it larger and rupturing the spleen and also digging and tearing more into your flesh which had caused more blood to gush out, hence the blood loss on top of the damaged organ. But the good news was that you hadn’t spent much time in this condition and you were brought to the hospital fairly soon so the doctors had done a blood transfusion and had treated your injuries. You had taken a couple of days to regain consciousness because your body needed lots of rest in order to gather enough energy to heal and adjust to the sudden loss and gain of blood.

A jarring experience it was.

“Ok…ok, we’ll-we’ll do that. We’ll do that and you’ll see how fast you’ll recover, honey,” smiled Joyce as she let out a big breath of relief and squeezed your hand soothingly.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ll be ok,” you smiled at her reassuringly before your eyes flickered to Steve who was sitting on the chair behind her, legs spread, using them as armrests. He sent you a smile and yours grew even more. Then you turned to look at Will who was quietly sitting on the chair by the bed, looking at his lap and fiddling with his fingers. “I’m more worried about this guy, however. What’s wrong, sweetie? What’s bugging you?” you asked and Will chewed on the inside of his lip before he looked you in the eyes.

“I’m sorry…it’s my fault all of this happened. You got hurt…again…” he muttered and your eyes widened.

“Wha-what are you talking about!? You have no fault in this!” you shifted in your sitting position, straightening up and scooting closer to the edge of the bed so you could grasp his shoulders firmly. “Listen… Listen well. You have no fault for any of this. We’re talking about a monster from another dimension. Do you think a child stands a chance against that kind of thing? Hell, not even grown people like the scientists could handle this…Nobody expected that thing to be so powerful and smart, much less to wreak such havoc. A-and look, even if it wasn’t you, the creature would’ve surely found another victim to use in order to get to our world and do damage. I don’t want to hear you blame yourself ever again…ok?” you asked as you looked into his eyes, searching for some kind of agreement and enlightenment but there was nothing in there but guilt and sadness.

He nodded but you knew he didn’t really believe your words. At least for now. So you just pulled at him, making him sit on the bed, and brought him to your side to hug him tightly while Steve, Joyce, and Jonathan looked on with pained expressions. “We’re going to share this burden…until you realize it’s not your fault, we’re going to share the guilt,” you stated after a while and he pulled away to look at you, confusion written on his face.

“What?”

“Look, if I had brought you to Dr. Owens as soon as I wanted to, things would’ve been completely different. I just know it. We would’ve brainstormed, would’ve come up with the idea of burning this shit out of you sooner. Also? Bob died because of me. Not you,” you told him and his eyebrows furrowed as he went to protest but you beat him to it. “If I hadn’t wasted time standing there and had moved faster, the two of us could’ve escaped the monster. But I didn’t…I just wasn’t fast enough…and Bob died saving me,” you gulped as your eyes watered.

“But I led the Demo-dogs into the lab,” he sniffed.

Joyce shut her eyes, tears escaping the corners, as she listened to her children try to take the burden off each other before she clapped her hands, gaining their attention.

“Enough of this!” she voiced firmly as she looked at you both and closed the distance, placing hands on each of your shoulders. “None of you is to blame. None of you is responsible for either of this... You are not responsible for Bob’s death. The monster would’ve jumped on him b-because he was standing right t-there. You saved him by pushing him away. It was-it was his choice to come back and save you… He chose to be a hero and not a coward,” she told you wobbly as another tear slid down her face and your lip trembled. “And you are not to blame for being possessed by an alien monster and being connected to its army. Your actions weren’t yours. You were just being used,” she sniffed as she spoke to Will.

“Mom’s right…you have no fault for any of this. You were just victims of this creature. You are innocent,” joined Jonathan as he too came to sit on the bed.

You and Will could only look at each other before back at your mother and brother and the four of you got into a big, family hug. Steve smiled as he watched you hug and something akin to longing was filling his heart. He wished that his family was as tight-knit as yours. He felt all alone in the world sometimes.

But then you beckoned him over and he just stood there frozen, not knowing if he should come over but when you sent him another look he hesitantly approached you and joined the hug, being warmly welcomed not only by you but by the others as well.

You didn’t know how long all of you cried and hugged one another but with each passing second, warmth and ease were spreading in you more and more and you hoped that Will felt the same way. It might not be right now. It might take time. But you were going to overcome this together and you would come out stronger as individuals and as a family.

And now you had an additional member too.

You woke up the same night because of a rancid feeling. You felt as if your lungs were bubbling and filling with something and you couldn’t breathe as you shot up in bed and clutched your chest, taking ragged gulps of air. The hustling immediately woke up Steve and your family and they were by your side in seconds.

“W-what is going on?” exclaimed Joyce worriedly. “Jonathan, call a doctor!” she all but shouted and your brother was out of the room in an instant.

“Bathroom,” you gasped out as you struggled to get out of bed and Steve quickly unplugged all and any cables and IVs that were connected to you and helped you get on your feet.

You took ahold of his arm and clutched it tightly as you rushed as much as physically possible to the bathroom and pretty much collapsed against the sink, gripping tightly the white marble as you belched and coughed. Blood came out of your mouth and stained the clean surface, making everyone gasp as their eyes blew open in shock and panic.

And then you coughed out something that landed with a disgusting squelch. It kind of looked like a slug, but not really, and it seemed to be dead because it was unmoving. Saliva and blood dripped from your mouth as you tried regaining your breathing, the horrible feeling in your lungs now gone.

“What the hell,” mumbled Steve and Will gulped as he stared at the creature.

“It almost looks like a smaller version of Dart.”

“Fucker!” you gasped out in disbelief as realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “Now I understand why Dr. Owens said I was marked…but he was wrong. I wasn’t a host and I wasn’t building any connection…I was a goddamn incubator,” you scrunched up your face and the others mirrored your appalled reaction. “That thing used me to grow its spawn inside of me,” you spat out the remaining blood and saliva and glared at the dead creature.

“It probably used Will as well. Maybe that’s how the Demo-dogs came into existence. I mean, there’s no other logical explanation,” offered Steve and you rubbed your forehead in frustration.

“I cannot believe this.”

“Well, at least they all died after El closed the gate. This one here serves as proof that everything is good now. No more monsters,” tried to comfort you Steve as he rubbed your arms up and down and you leaned against him, nuzzling in his shoulder.

You desperately wanted to believe his words.

With the gate closed you were looking forward to peaceful times and no more monsters.

A couple of weeks later

You exited your car and let out an anxious sigh as you stared at the house that stood in front of you. For a moment there it felt much larger than it was in reality, towering over you like a gigantic predator. It was ridiculous to feel scared of approaching this and it seemed much easier when you imagined it in your head but actually coming face to face with the boy you didn’t know how to feel about was intimidating.

You drummed your fingers on the car’s ceiling a couple of times until you finally decided to close the door and march towards the house’s entrance. You rubbed your hands nervously before ringing the doorbell.

“What is it?“

“Billy, hi,” you smiled at the boy who had yanked open the door and he raised his brows.

“Byers? The hell are you doing here?” he asked, tone filled with curiosity, but before you could respond, you lost your voice when your eyes landed on his bruised cheek, split lip, and blackening eye.

“What happened?!” you exclaimed as you took a step closer and he immediately took one back.

“Got into a fight. Nothing of significance.”

“I’ve seen you get into many fights before, including the one when you almost beat my boyfriend into a coma, but you just never seem to get any physical consequences,” you chirped and he let out a huff.

“That’s only ‘cause everyone here is weak as hell.”

“Then how come this one got you that good?” you narrowed your eyes and his lips tightened.

“Billy!” an angry voice sounded from inside the house and you leaned sideways to look from around the boy, noticing an approaching figure. “How many times do I have to repeat myself about-“ the man finally came to the door and his yelling ceased the moment he saw you, angry lines melting into a charming smile. “I didn’t know we had company.”

“Uh, yeah, she was just leaving,” cleared his throat Billy and you looked on with furrowed eyebrows, eyes darting between him and his father, lip twitching and threatening to curl up in a disgusted sneer as you slowly began putting pieces together.

“It’d be rude to just send her off without inviting her, wouldn’t it? Where are your manners, boy?” smiled tightly the man and although he was trying to keep a more light-hearted tone, you could detect the sternness and the bite he was trying to suppress.

“Yeah, sure. Come in, Byers,” he nodded with his head and stepped away, allowing you to enter which you did hesitantly, mindful to not get close to the unpleasant man.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he extended a hand for greeting. “Mine is Neil Hargrove.”

“Y/N Byers,” you grasped his hand but didn’t return his smile, causing his to falter ever so slightly.

“Oh…you’re the girl who got attacked a couple of weeks ago.”

“Indeed, I am. And Billy was the one who brought me to the hospital. Saved my life,” you revealed and Neil looked at the boy in question who only fidgeted in his spot a bit, not used to hearing you speak like this, especially because it was concerning him. He didn’t know you well but to him, it almost felt as if you were subtly trying to put off his father. Tick him off on purpose. “You must be very proud of your son, Mr. Hargrove,” you poked at him, looking him dead in the eyes and he cleared his throat.

“Of course I’m proud.”

“I was wondering if I could speak to him…in private?” you asked and he was quick to agree, telling Billy that he could take you to his room.

The boy obeyed silently and began climbing the stairs with you following slowly, observing the house of the Hargrove family with mild curiosity.

His room was almost exactly as you had thought it would be – with a big bed, vanity full of male cosmetics, cigarette boxes, and half-filled ashtrays, some strewn clothes, and workout equipment.

The moment he closed the door, you were in his face, hands grasping his chin and cheek, moving his head up, down, and sideways so you could inspect the damage and he took ahold of your wrists, prying you away from him.

“Why did you come?” he grit out. He was never going to admit it out loud but he felt threatened and vulnerable at the way you had caught him in such a moment – in the aftermath of his father’s abuse when he felt lower than the grass.

“He did this, didn’t he?” you answered his question with a question of your own and you could see his face heat up. What you couldn’t put your finger on was whether it did so because of anger or embarrassment.

“This is none of your business,” he replied curtly before gently shoving you away so he could go to the bathroom but you didn’t give him the chance to and quickly gripped his shoulder, making him turn around.

“Billy, just talk to me. I’m not exactly a stranger to this,” you stated firmly and his eyes widened as he stared at you for some time before he let out a sharp exhale and took a few steps backward, plopping down on the bed.

You hesitantly took a step forward and wrapped your arms around your torso as you observed the boy and waited for him to say something, hoping that he would decide to open up so you could lend him a hand in this battle and show him that he wasn’t alone.

“My dad’s a grade-A asshole, alright? Yeah…he does shit like that,” admitted the boy after a minute of silence as he aggressively grabbed the Marlboro box from his bedside cabinet and took out a cigarette, lighting it up. You could only look at him with sympathy.

“Is that why you asked me about my dad? Back at the diner?” you asked, already knowing the answer, and he nodded. Another moment of silence passed as you tried to gather the courage to speak candidly about your experience. “You know, he used to torment my brothers a lot,” you began as you took out your own box of cigarettes and popped one into your mouth while dragging your feet towards the bed and plopping down next to the boy. “He’d call them all kinds of bad things. He’d yell at them, belittle them, push them… He wanted to turn them into his, own sick and twisted version of a man by making them do bad things like hunt and hurt animals just for the sake of killing something. He’d say that getting your hands dirty makes you a real man, otherwise, you’re good-for-nothing trash and a…and a fag,” you shuddered at the offensive word as you took a long drag and Billy snorted.

“That’s…familiar,” he drawled with a mocking smile. “Mine would always call me useless, weak, or a fag if I didn’t perform perfectly at whatever bullshit he’d pick for me to do… At one point, seeing the disappointment on his face turned from something scary into a sick, guilty pleasure of mine. So I’d fail or refuse to do shit on purpose,” he shrugged, blowing our smoke.

“Mm, that’s a feeling I know well... Unfortunately in my case if I did that, he’d just go back to tormenting my brothers. So I had to follow through with whatever he wanted and just…try to distract him and keep him away from them,” you took a drag as you looked at the floor, mind flooding with unpleasant memories you were trying so hard to permanently bury. “Mind you, sometimes it’d become too much to handle, you know… Many times I snapped back at him, yelled at him, called him names…and I’d get my punishment for it,” you chuckled dryly and Billy looked at you intensely as if his eyes could penetrate your present-time, clean skin and see the skin of the past, filled with bruises.

“Mine wants to, uh…make me learn respect and discipline,” he spat out. “He doesn’t think of me as a son. He thinks of me as a soldier he has to train,” he drawled and you let out a long exhale through your nose, rubbing your temple with one hand while the other was busy putting out the cigarette.

When you lifted your face and locked eyes with the boy, you smiled sadly. “We’re more alike than I thought,” you muttered and he stared at you before releasing a light snort, the corner of his lips twitching into a knowing smile.

“Surprisingly we are.”

Silence engulfed you for a minute and before he could say anything, you stormed in the bathroom. He could only scrunch up his face in confusion at the sound of you rummaging through cabinets but when you came back and he saw the alcohol and cotton pads in your hands it all became clear to him.

“Look, I don’t want to be pitied or babied, ok? I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself. You’ve said what you wanted to say. You can go now,” he waved his hand dismissively but you refused to listen and sat down next to him, making him groan in frustration.

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” you questioned and he lifted his brows. “That if you stop acting all tough and mighty and like a jerk and begin showing some more kindness to people you’d surround yourself with good friends who’ll do anything for you? Everyone needs good people in their life. Everyone deserves happiness and kindness to be shown to them…So why do you run from it?” you looked him in the eyes and did not let go of the iron hold you had won over him until he finally relented, his scrunched-up features relaxing as he let out a sigh of defeat.

You smiled and poured some alcohol on the cotton pad and gently began dabbing at his bruises.

“Listen, about your father,” he spoke suddenly and you ceased your movements. “I’m sorry you had to go through this shit too,” he muttered and you smiled, taking a hold of his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Hey…I think we’re going to be ok, you and I…we’re tough nuts to crack.”

“Pass me this.”

“Lucas, don’t touch the chicken. Wait for everyone to gather first.”

“One, two, three, four-“

“Another chair right here!”

It was a chaotic December day when you had announced that you, your mother and brothers would be hosting a gathering and the whole party gladly joined you and your family to properly celebrate the end of the horrible events, the closing of Hawkins lab, and the upcoming holidays. Everyone was there – Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Nancy, Steve, and even Hopper and Eleven had come. Speaking of the man, he was responsible for the grill.

“Hey. Hey! Make way for the sausages!” he called out as he marched to the table with two plates full of sausages and Lucas and Dustin hurried to move away.

You had done your part of the helping and cooking already and you were tired so you opted to just watch the scenery from the place by the window you had taken, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. You watched the falling snow and the way some trees swing lightly at the wind and your mind wandered off to deep waters yet again. You almost jumped when you felt arms slither around your waist and a head rest on your shoulder as warm lips kissed the side of your neck and you shifted to get a better look at Steve.

“You looked deep in thought so I came to distract you,” he muttered and you pecked his nose.

“I feel,” uncertain of the future, is what your mind screamed at you, “fine,” you told him and his hold on you tightened, the two of you choosing to stay silent and watch both outside the window and the crowd inside.

You fished out one of the swimming marshmallows and nibbled on it as you chuckled at the bustling going on around you and the multiple cheerful voices, filling the air and creating a joyous atmosphere. Will in particular was having the time of his life, trying to steal some of the fried chicken with Lucas, both of them impatient to try the food, when Hopper slapped their hands away and sent them a scolding look, making them scurry.

Your brother ran to your side and tried using you and Steve as shields which only made you giggle more. You ruffled his hair as you stared at him, eyes filling with hope and heart – with ease.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” asked Will in confusion as his hand immediately flew to his cheek and you chuckled, shaking your head a bit.

“It’s nothing, you’re fine…It’s just good to see you smiling again, sweet boy.”

He gave you a hug and you placed a kiss on his head but just then the doorbell rang and you had to let go and check who was at the door.

“Did you miss your favorite rock star!?” shouted out Eddie as he barged inside and did a typical pose of his, making you snort. Will and Jonathan smiled as they came to greet him and he didn’t hesitate to take Will in his hands and rub his knuckles on his head, making your brother wriggle and groan as his hair got all messed up.

“Guys! I want you to meet one of my best friends,” you announced and everyone turned to look at the boy who suddenly calmed down his erratic behavior and cleared his throat, looking at you uncertainly. You nodded and nudged him with your elbow, urging him to finally take steps forward and go meet the others.

“It was a great idea to invite him. He needs this,” said Jonathan as the two of you observed the way Eddie communicated with the kids and you smiled.

“He deserves to have a big, loving family…And I think we fit the description.”

The doorbell rang again and you and your brother shared a confused look, opening the door.

“You came,” a bright smile graced your features when you came face to face with Billy and Max.

You had told Max of the gathering that you’d be hosting and asked her to invite Billy as well. You just felt that if he was to spend some time with your party, he would begin thinking of some things differently and maybe, just maybe, he would start opening up more and letting actual good people into his life which would definitely be beneficial for his growth. So you were very happy to see the two of them standing at your doorsteps.

“I just came to drop off Max. I’m not staying,” said Billy and your smile fell.

“Well, what if…you stayed just for a while? To warm up and get some food?” you asked hopefully and he just stared at you, pondering on your offer.

“For a while,” he drawled and the smile was back on your face as you stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m sure he’s just playing hard to get. Don’t mind his distant and cold behavior,” smiled Max apologetically and you brought her in for a hug. She was a bit shocked and stood still for a moment before wrapping her arms around you.

“I’m just happy that you two are here.”

She didn’t say anything as the two of you hugged for a while and then you let go and gave her a smile that she returned before you turned to look at the huge group gathering at the table and with a last shared look, the two of you joined them.

It was the most peculiar and miraculous thing – the way your family had expanded.

And because of this outcome a part of you – a more selfish part of you – was grateful for the monsters and the events that you all had to go through. Because it was them that brought you all closer and turned you into this big family.

Life was much more fun with that many friends in it.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #billy hargove x reader #will byers x reader #jonathan byers x reader #reader #reader insert #hopper x reader #Spotify

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itoshiexx · 1 year

Text

memento mori

remember you are mortal.

synopsis: rin doesn’t know how it’s like to fight your battles, but he is always there to be your safe place.

pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 504 | warnings: established relationship, depression symptoms, hurt/comfort, reader is not okay but rin is always by their side

notes: this is totally self indulgent and I wrote on a whim when I had a really bad depression crisis and just really needed some comfort. not sure why i’m posting this but I hope it serves as comfort for someone else. also english is not my first language so i’m so sorry for any mistakes :(

it's a warm day outside, rin reasons, in a way that gives you the energy to get up and get things done. it's what he intended to do, indeed, when he woke up around five minutes ago. but as sudden as the rays of the afternoon sun peeking through the blinds, things changed, and he's been stuck in bed while observing you.

you, who was all things soft where he was sharp, usually so full of brightness and life, had dull eyes observing the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

rin knew what this meant. he knew you were trapped inside your own head.

what he didn't know was how you felt like your bones were made of lead, and you could almost feel its toxicity leaking through every fiber and every muscle of your body, effectively making you weight a thousand pounds. he didn't know the only moments you felt strenght in your arms and legs was when you were fighting the abnormal urge to get up and just end everything.

he didn't know that every time your nails scratched your arms, you were just trying to communicate the agony inside your chest that felt a lot like drowning in a dark, endless sea of pain. he didn't understand that every scratch was a silent plea.

it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

rin couldn't possibly know about the itch in the back of your throat that came with every screaming match inside your head. and he didn't know your harsh breathing was a failed attempt to suppress whatever twisted desire inside of you that just wanted you to give up.

what he does know, however, is how you get cute little creases in your eyes every time you smile, and that your laugh is not just a melody, but a whole symphony he could spend a lifetime listening. he knows you smell like lemon and lavander, that you are determined and fierce, and that every time he is wrapped around your embrace, you have this certain warmth that feels a lot like home.

he knows you have a heart of gold he definitely doesn’t deserve, and that you never fail to make him feel seen, understood — loved.

and above all else, he knows you are the best thing that has ever happened to him, someone so precious he intends to treasure every day.

it was a fact: itosh rin could not understand what you were going through, and nor was he able to say words good enough to bring you comfort. but he was your lover — he loved you, even on the days you hated yourself most and just wished to disappear.

so he brings you in a tight embrace, kisses your forehead and slowly rubs his hand down your back, silently hoping to be a safe harbour for you to ground yourself.

and when he hears quiet sniffles being muffled in his chest, he can't help but feel grateful for the privilege of being your firm land.

#bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk imagines #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x you #bllk rin #blue lock drabbles #blue lock fluff

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areyoudreaminof · 2 months

Text

Sludge

A short piece I wrote about depression and anxiety. Please proceed mindfully.

It settles in your chest, first.

You don’t notice it. Perhaps it snuck in while you were sleeping, because when you wake up, it has latched onto your ribs and sternum. It is slightly heavy, like the hum of static and air before a storm. Absently, you rub your chest, willing for the feeling of unease to settle.

But it doesn’t.

At some point, the weight begins to feel sticky. A tar begins to seep into your stomach. A conversation with a friend suddenly feels like a warning. The weight begins to stretch up your neck and into your ear.

Do you really think they care what you have to say? It seems to whisper.

You’re surprised by the voice. It’s never spoken before. But as you try and talk to people that you love, people that you admire, you keep hearing it.

Spare them the headache. They don’t like you, they never will.

But you still try to argue, they have lives, you say. They are busy.

Of course they have lives, it says with a laugh, but what makes you think you deserve a part in it?

They stop talking, or maybe it’s you. But the conversations around you buzz like a hive, high in a branch you cannot reach. So you begin to back away, as the voice in your ear gets louder.

It’s not a whisper anymore, it’s clear as a bell in your ear. And soon, the weight drags down your shoulders and fingers. The cloying scent of rot begins to fill your nose. The weight, like quicksilver, as slithered into your face. It’s hard to smile, to keep your eyes open. You take that dark purple liquid that tastes like grapes to put you to sleep every night. When you sleep, you can’t hear the voice.

Every morning, you force your eyes open, as sludge cakes around your lids, and the weight has pressed you into the dip in the mattress. You stare at the wall, willing to get up. You had art on that wall once, but you took it down. You didn’t want to stare at something beautiful anymore, you think.

The voice doesn’t need to speak anymore, instead it just laughs every move you make as it feasts on your marrow. It slurps your blood and leaves behind filth for you to clean up. But you have nothing to clean it with.

Time has slouched its shoulders and dragged its feet suddenly. It’s only Tuesday? You ask yourself, It’s still afternoon? When can I sleep? You force your body to get through the day, just so you can sleep.

The rain comes softly at first. You’re so heavy and filthy, you didn’t notice the wall of black and green clouds on the horizon. Soft raindrops hit your face, as the smell of creosote unfurls around you. You loved that smell as a child, when you roamed around the desert you grew up in.

Then the wind picks up, as sheets of rain whip your back. The howls of wind and the clash of thunder has silenced the voice in your head, but it’s angry at being silenced, so it grips your throat tightly and you gasp for air as the world around you washes away.

When you wake, it is to silence.

You are covered in sludge and filth still, but the voice is gone. You are so tired, though. You think you’ll stay here for a minute.

The suns rays touch your face, making the crusted mud all over you itch. Warm lights begin to bother your eyes, even though you’ve kept them closed. You take another breath, and the air feels cleaner somehow. So you sit up and look around. You strain your ears and listen.

And you are met with the sounds of birds and wind.

Looking down at your body, you start to pick and peel at the tar the voice left behind. Sticky and gelatinous, you claw it off of your face and neck, your chest and arms. You’ll have to scrape it out with something under your nails and in your ears, but you need to move.

You start taking steps towards the break in the clouds. The sky that peeks from beneath the clouds is a rich blue, you feel like you could touch it.

So you begin to walk forward, into the light.

#original writing #cw: depression

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97keanu · 10 months

Text

Rupert Marshetta x New Girl!Reader

Premise: You and Rupert have been getting closer these past few weeks. A short drabble about a drunken, junkyard first kiss.

You've been hanging out with Rupert in the junk yard for the last few weeks. He came to school a while ago, for once, and on that day you just so happened to be the new girl. He took a liking to you immediately and soon enough you two were skipping school to go rummage around for any cool junk you could find.

Right now, your hanging inside a car window halfway, reaching for an old snow globe you think Rupert would like. You manage to get it in your finger tips then carefully pull it out.

"Hey, Rupert, come check out what I found!" You call out in the mid afternoon chilly air. Soon enough Rupert comes bouncing in, walking from top of car to top of car. He drops down next to you, curious to what you have...

"Hey, that's pretty neat, let me see that?" Rupert leans in, his long side of his hair covering his face. He is so close to you now it makes you feel some sort of way. You've been feeling it the last few days ever since you two were drunk the other night. Things between you two seemed to be heating up, but in the morning the two of you were too scared to talk about it.

"Yeah, I thought you might like it..." You push a loose strand of hair back and look up at him. He's so tall, and that's something you've liked since day one.

"I think its pretty neat, I'll keep it safe..." He puts it carefully in his pocket, then takes something out from his other pocket.

"I found something for you, too..." Rupert says softly, watching your reaction closely. It's an old ring, probably not real, but some sort of lower grade metal. It's pretty and seems like it has a fake shining diamond. Rupert has a small blush on his cheeks but you can't tell if its because he's gifting you a ring or the cold air.

"This is really pretty..." you admit, trying it on. It's the perfect size for you, and Rupert takes your hand in his to look at it on you. His hands are so much bigger than yours, and a bit dirty with dirt and grim under his nails. Your hands aren't clean exactly either though, so you don't mind.

"I'm glad you like it, it looks nice on you..." When you look up, he's already looking down at you, you two are so close. Rupert looks away when he's caught gazing at you, and you can't tell what that means for you two. A small flutter in your heart makes you wonder if he and you have grown closer than friends recently.

You two don't say anything for a few moments, before Rupert clears his throat and takes your hand in his. It's warm in the outside air...

"Wanna go to the hangout spot and share a bottle of this?" He holds up a bottle of vodka from his pack, and you nod.

The two of you hold hands as he takes you to the spot where he likes to hang out at night in the junk yard. It is an enclave of cars, stacked up and rusty. It keeps the wind down and is perfect for starting a small campfire. Rupert is really good at getting a fire started, so when you two arrive he let's go of your hand gently and starts getting it ready. Your hand feels like it is missing his warmth as soon as his hand leaves yours. You blush at the thought.

After a while he finishes the fire, and sits down at an old, junky nearby couch. It is red and has lose springs here and there, but you guys have thrown blankets and towels over it to make it comfortable. You sit next to him, and try not to look at his soft face too much. He takes a big swig of the bottle and hands it to you. You try not to think about his soft lips touching the bottle and how yours are on it now taking a gulp.

You two pass the bottle back and forth as the winter sun begins to set early, casting orange glow on both your faces. Rupert is getting a bit more tipsy, as are you. You lean in closer, putting your shoulders together to touch slightly, and he doesn't move away. In fact, after a few moments he lightly, tentatively, puts his strong arm around you. You can't tell if your face is hot from him or the alcohol...

You look up at him, trying to be sly and spy on his reaction, but he's already looking down at you. This time he doesn't try to hide it. Maybe the vodka is making you both more bold. You don't know if this is going to end up like last time, and you don't care. All you know is Rupert and you have been hanging out so much lately, and he's the first person to really accept you in this new town. Besides all that, his face looks soft in the orange sky light, and his cute puppy eyes are looking at you in a way no boy ever did at your old school.

Rupert doesn't say anything as he slowly, so slowly, begins to lean down towards you. His eyes dart from yours and down to your lips and back up again. Your breath catches as he gets so close your lips touch. He smells like shared cherry vodka and sweat. You do too.

His lips part and lightly graze yours, as if unsure, as if asking. You reply, yours closing any unsureness, getting rid of doubt. This is going better than last time when he got tipsy and told you he thought you were pretty. The two of you move your lips together, deepening the kiss. You know your cheeks aren't warm from the liquor or the fire. You feel safe, and without care.

You don't know how long it goes on, but you kiss until eventually he pulls away, despite seemingly not wanting to. He looks deep in yours eyes with a softness and want that no one had before...

"I've been wanting to kiss you for a long time..." He admits, his voice low and husky. He looks at you, hoping you feel the same, his eyes searching yours.

You answer with another kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck, and getting lost in his hair. He accepts with delight, finding himself on top of you on the couch. You two kiss and share drinks until the sun comes up. And in the morning he's not shy to give you more. To wrap his hands around your waist and kiss your neck. You're young, you're getting into trouble, but at least you have each other...

#rupert marshetta #the prince of pennsylvania #rupert marshetta x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #rupert marshetta fanfic #my writing

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zorothedemon · 2 years

Note

it’s not a specific thirst but i want to beat the shit out of zoro during sex like so bad. i think he’d be obsessed with how much pain he can take and he’d really get off on it. loves to see the way you mar his tan skin with deep crescents and long red scratches. maybe if u degrade him or sum too or challenge him.

A/n: OMGGG yessss i love this. but yeah low key we know this guy’s perfect combination is pleasure and pain. And here’s a small fic to prove it.

“Punishment”

Zoro x GN (afab) reader

w.c: 653 words

WARNING: NSFW (minors DNI).creampie. marking. cunt is used to describe genitals of reader.

T.W: violence. blood mention.

summary: zoro’s hidden pleasures.

playlist suggested to listen while you read this <3

Zoro loved setting the pace when you two had sex, he loved seeing you weak for him, moan and whimper from how hard he pounded into you.

But this time you wanted to try something different, see how he would react. He was doing his afternoon workout, sweat running through his torso as he lifted the heaviest weighs you had seen in your life, fully concentrated on getting stronger but you were about to ruin it.

“Hey” You said as you stood in front of him.

“You know, I don’t like getting interrup-” You didn’t let him finish as you pulled him in for a kiss as your hand wandered through his pants, grazing on where his cock was and with that he understood why you interrupted him mid-workout so he separated from you and left the weighs on the floor. Then he tried to place his hands on your hips, but you stopped him. Pushing him all the way to the benches. It was surprising as you never thought you had that much strength to move him even a centimeter, maybe the workouts you did with him were finally getting results.

He was surprised too at your sudden change, his eyes fully open as you walked up to him, never losing sight of you and gulping as he realized what you were wearing, seeing how well it attached to your curves. Once you were in front of him, you sat on top of him.

“You are going to do everything I say, or you will regret it” You said with a commanding voice, his eyes meeting yours as he nervously nodded. It was even better than you expected, and you felt powerful by taking full control.

“Fuck me hard” You whispered in his ear, and if you had awakened the demon inside him. He ripped the last pieces of clothes from you as well as his. His cock already needy to be touched as you teased, straddling your hips grazing it with your wet cunt.

He then gripped your hips and lined up with you, as he slowly made his way into you, pushing his cock until it filled you up completely. Both gasping as his tip kissed the bottom, then he pulled out and thrusted into you again with his full force, making you arch on his arms and claw your nails on his shoulder blades, tensing them every time you ran your nails through his whole back. He moaned, feeling the burning pain of your nails marking his skin to the point that blood trickled on his shoulders and back, as he thrusted into you. And the more you did it, the more he enjoyed it, it was as if he found pleasure in pain and motivated him to go in harder.

“You like that, huh?” You said to him, as you were riding him, now your hands on his chest as you now adorned his chest with scratches, as if the huge scar that Mihawk had made on him wasn’t enough.

His eyes were closed, he had his head thrown back as he was about to finish, you were also close moaning his name over and over as he fucked you while a beautiful sunset painted the sky. The sun caressing your skin as the day ended and the stars started to dance around to announce the start of the night.

“Fuck, Y/n” Zoro moaned as he filled you up with his hot cum until it smeared your inner thighs, he continued pounding into you until you reached your high, slow but hard, feeling the burning inside you until you couldn’t no more and came undone in Zoro’s arms.

After recovering from your high, you got dressed and as you were about to leave the crows nest, you caught Zoro looking at himself in the mirror, the scars you had left on him, he was proud of them.

#ooof omg this gave me sooo many ideas #zoro is a straight up masochist #zoro smut #zoro roronoa #zoro #ronoroa zoro #one piece #zoro one piece #op #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #sof answers #thirst hourssss #thirsty hour

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vanibear · 1 year

Text

rough wip of a fic where roxas and kairi have a conversation and learn a bit more abt each other (set post melody of memory) !!

i have a lot more stuff to add but I have other things i need to be doing today :(

"I had a feeling you'd be up here,"

Roxas jumped about a foot in the air; he'd been too engrossed in his writing to notice anyone that anyone else had climbed up to the tower.

"Careful! Don't fall!" Kairi yelped, surprised that he’d been so startled.

Roxas grabbed his pen right before it rolled off the edge of the tower and disobeyed Kairi's instructions.

"Don't worry. I've learned how to keep my balance up here, but it takes some practice,"

Their first conversation flashed through his mind. Admittedly, the clock tower was not the safest choice for a hangout spot.

"What brings you here?" he asked, offering his hand to help Kairi sit down.

Hesitantly, she took it and settled down beside him on the ledge. Roxas noticed that her hands were clenched- nails digging into palm. The same way Xion does when she's nervous.

"You okay?"

Kairi took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze.

"Yeah. Heights just.. aren't my thing. I'd rather have the ground under my feet, that's all,”

She paused.

“But, tomorrow, I leave to go train with Aqua, so I figured I ought to visit this place again before I go,"

“Y’know, you really shouldn’t force yourself up here if you’re scared of heights. This place isn’t that special,”

Roxas knew that statement sounded wonderfully ironic, coming from his lips.

A cloud passed in front of the sun. Kairi shivered.

"It's- the height's not everything," her voice grew soft.

Roxas looked over, concerned. Her shoulders were trembling.

"The last time I was here... was with him."

Him.

Roxas remembered how she'd walked back without him that day. Deep down, a voice he tried to ignore asked why Sora didn't feel like saying goodbye to him.

"It's… been awhile since then," Roxas stared ahead.

Kairi murmured in agreement.

The two watched the clouds roll by.

"Roxas?"

"Hm?"

"What were you writing about, when I came up here?"

"Oh, that,"

Roxas reached out to grab the notebook he'd set aside- yellow on the front, with painted stars and a thalassa shell. Xion and Namine had worked together on it, all for him. He still didn't know how to thank them.

"I was just journaling. I come up here in the afternoons when everyone's doing other things. It's a nice place to write."

Kairi nodded, pulling something from her pocket. It was a small purple journal, with a bow on the front.

"I like to write, too. Mostly poems, though. I've tried to keep a diary before, but it never stuck. I feel like I just don't remember enough to write anything," She twisted the ribbon on the cover between her fingers.

"I've been there before.”

“Really?”

“I… think you should keep trying. Trust me, it helps. And not just with memories,"

Kairi looked up.

"It helps you… see what you feel. Sometimes, I can't understand what I'm feeling until I write it down."

"I see. I think I'm the same way with my poems,"

She went back to messing with the journal’s ribbon.

"Though, I feel like I can't write anything at all, nowadays," she whispered.

She sighed. It sounded just like Namine's.

Roxas drummed his fingers on top of his notebook, then, taking a deep breath, slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out a fountain pen- navy, with black and silver trim- and pointed it towards Kairi.

"Take this. For you to write with. It was my first one,"

"Your first... pen?"

"Yeah."

Roxas rubbed his thumb over the cap. The motion alone brought back countless memories. He didn't know why he held onto it. It had become a habit to carry around, even after its matching journal had long been filled. He didn't use it, though. Something in him couldn't. It was from a different time, a time long gone; secretly, he felt like if he used it, it might just have the power to bring those times back.

"Back when.. I first joined the Organization... Saix gave it to me, with a journal as well,"

"Saix did?"

She sounded confused.

"Well, Isa now, I guess. He told me that I should keep a diary, to keep track of things that happened. I didn't know what to write at first, but... it eventually became like a lifeline to me. In the beginning, I... I don't know how to describe it, but I couldn't hold on to anything. Everything would swim around me, but I think- I think writing was one of the things that saved me from… losing who I was,"

"That was... very kind of Saix."

"Huh. I guess it was.”

Kairi stared down at the pen.

"Roxas,"

Kairi looked at the boy in front of her. His face was set in a determined, almost familiar way; his eyes shone so blue, so earnestly; she couldn't bear to meet their gaze.

"I can't take something so important from you. I-"

"No." There was a storminess in his eyes as he interrupted her.

"I don't even use it anymore. It's a gift. A… thank you."

"A thank you?"

"Yes. Do you remember the first time we talked?"

He watched as Kairi closed her eyes and searched for the memory. It made him sad, when people struggled to remember things; he knew too well the pain of forgetting. He felt worse that she knew it likely as well as he did.

"I- think so. It was when I was... trying to remember S-" Her voice faded off so that she wouldn't have to finish the name.

"Yeah. You ended up finding me instead."

#In conclusion . I need to see more of them in canon #i also just have so many ideas for what’s happening post kh3/mom #kh #kingdom hearts #kat writes #kat post

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lemonflowercat · 1 month

Text

de-catastrophizing

breathe in, breathe out

body

i want to step back and accept: i am 88 kilos at this moment, i have fat rolls that i try to conceal. i do not fit into the conventional standards of beauty. BUT i'm blessed to have a strong and healthy body - it's a real privilege, and i am so grateful for it. and i'm beautiful! i have lots of clothes i feel pretty in - and feeling it myself, irrespective of what anyone else says, is precious.

also, my best friend ♡ T-T is my favourite person in the whole world

i do have some goals for my body - these are majorly rooted in vanity - and that's okay. it's Dora Milaje looking out for me, protecting me from years of being fat shamed by my mother and society. this is why losing weight makes me feel more confident - and that's okay. my weight loss goals are also rooted in nurturing it so it can do the best of all the magic it is capable of. i want to lose fat to

have a healthy metabolism,

balanced hormones,

and healthy skin and nails.

keep my joints healthy

reduce the risk of CVDs

i want to lift heavy, jump, run, climb, be flexible.

i am not my ideal self now - but i am on my journey to it. it feels like it'll never end, on some days it's the hardest thing i do, i fail more often than i'm comfortable with - and it's ok. this is my character arc - and what's a good character arc without some struggle? besides, life is bigger than calories in-calories out, of course it's a struggle.

things i can do to support myself through this struggle:

stay kind when things don't go as planned

make the tough choices easier to make

plan ahead

look deeper, understand more of what drives me and what breaks me

have a little talk with myself before jumping on the indulgence train: be mindful, check in with my emotions, negotiate alternatives that are better for me

show up every day - can't be my best self every day, but i can be more like my best self

academics

//tummy flip

my anxiety is inversely proportional to the no. of days left to the exam. this means, freezing through the day and panic attacks at night.

to support myself through this, i can

make space for things that calm me down: meditating, staying mindful through little activities like doing the dishes and cooking, walks, working out, sleeping well, avoiding parent-interaction

prioritise studying: this means letting other people know that i don't have time for some things, making conscious decisions about how i spend my time, showing up at my study table and sitting through the first 20m even when it seems impossible

set concrete goals, track progress, actively monitor emotions

eliminate distractions: when studying, focus only on that.

no scrolling during study breaks: breaks aren't to load up more information on the brain, but to step back and relax. like really relax - stretch, walk, drink water, snack, gaze out the window, pet my babies

consume less than 2 hours of media per day: like, seriously! i know how much of a game changer this is

tap into how much i enjoy studying

75 soft reval - to make it align with changing life season. i want to ease off the stress too, because the next 56 days are already super stressful for me. i'm going to cut down on the no. of goals i set out for myself.

body

[] yoga every morning x20m: outdoors if i'm up early

movement first thing in the morning is the goal here. to save on time, i'm going to do yoga (my walks end up taking an hour). morning sun, or even just watching the sun come up makes me feel really good, so i want to practice outdoors.

to make this choice easier, i'll keep my mat and water bottle ready to go by my door the previous night.

[] midday wxo

summer is here - the afternoons are unbearably hot and it's v hard to focus while i'm a sweltering mess. i want to capitalise on evening study hours, so i'm reserving 11 am to 3 pm for working out, chores and cooking. this is also why i'm cutting down yoga to 20m - to make more of the cooler mornings.

can switch up here, like maybe go for a walk in the morning and yoga in the evening.

[] 1400 kcal/day x6/week

sad to see my raw veg/fruit goal go - i put it in to make myself come up with more ways to consume them, and i think i've established a good enough menu to tap into for now. i'll incorporate these into my meals, and maybe bring this goal back later when i have the headspace for it.

mind

[] meditate once/d

[] study 6h/d x6d + 4h on break day = 40h/w

well, that's down to 5 goals from the 10 i was going for earlier! i have some ground rules like

prioritize getting 7h of sleep but if i do sleep late, wake up before 6.30 am irrespective of what i went to bed (sounds inhuman but this is honestly best for me: a day or 2 of less sleep can be made up for with afternoon naps and i really do function best when i wake up early)

have social time once/week

do not consume media for more than 2h per day: includes little things like not using my phone until i'm done with morning yoga, not scrolling in between study sessions and not using my phone to deal with a freeze mode T-T

goddd, if not for 75 days, i really hope to see this through for the 56 days to my exam at least. //stress surge// ok, i've got this. everything is ok, i am enough and i am capable of way more than my stressed out self feels rn. i'm not doing anything i don't want to - all of these things are exactly what i want for myself, and it's just my surface brain that's feeling so apprehensive and stressed. once i get into it, it's all going to be fine amazing because let's be honest ok: i love eating healthy and putting thought into my food, i love working out, i fkn love yoga and how good it makes my body feel, i love the deep stillness of meditation, and studying is that exact perfect blend of challenge+something i'm good at that gets me flowing.

lots of love to me teehee and every person out there life-ing ♡ ☆

#75 soft #self soothing #self parenting #self care #self love #studyspo #study motivation #body image

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