#(( it is so awfully late weeps but i just nEEDED TO it was so good ;; the description of all man

[portraitsofguilt]

i have an idea! may i request viper stealing kiases from reader throughout the day? viper is not the pda type but i'd like to think she would sometimes find ways to be affectionate. Thank u!!!

✮ ┆STEALING KISSES. sabine ‘viper’ callas

based on the request above.

CONTENT WARNING.           SFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; female-bodied reader, kissing, making out, pda, affectionate viper (bit ooc), mention of other agents, | ~1.2k words

A/N.                   I TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY, valorant hasn’t been on my mind for reasons and for other games popping up on the radar- but now i am here, thirsting for valorant, hopefully i got your req right anon so please enjoy !!!

it wasn’t often and if you were quite frank, it never happened that sabine would just so bluntly say affectionate words to you in front of the other agents. she liked your relationship to be heard but not seen, for them to keep guessing about whatever was going on between the two of you and only shared it with a couple of agents who were mature enough to not run their mouth.

late mornings were among the few instances when she hardly tried holding her fondness of you back.

“good morning.” she whispers as she steps next to you at the counter of the shared kitchen, glancing at you and watching as you wait for the toast to pop out of the machine. she smiles at your concentration on such a small task before reaching for the shelf above to take out her coffee and start brewing a cup for herself.

“it’s not like you to be coming out of your lair this late, viper.” reyna chimes in as she walks behind the two of you, holding a mug in her hand and waiting for her turn at the coffee machine. sabine just shrugs, weighing her coffee grounds while taking a glimpse of you trying to catch the toast as it flies out of the machine.

“well…” she trails off with a big inhale, turning to you but still talking with reyna. “late nights equal late morning.” she picks up her mug with the now fresh coffee swirling in it, a step closer to you to easily take your chin between her free fingers and turn your head, stealing a quick kiss from you with a gentle caress to your cheek.

“see you in our meeting.” then she walks off, hiding her wicked smirk behind the mug as she leaves you and the other agents who were watching from the different corners of the kitchen to their surprise.

then there were the movie nights she dreaded.

neon, jett, and gekko were in the movie room, going back and forth between movies, arguing about what the few that have gathered up for the ridiculously loud get-together as viper liked to call it. she found it unnecessary to be weeping over make-believe characters, root for their love to bloom, or for enemies to fall. being dragged to these little events was gonna be the end of sabine, but sitting next to you, sharing a blanket, and secretly holding hands were making it up for her.

“they are awfully loud.” viper commented as you scrolled through your phone, waiting for the movie to start. you look up briefly, glancing over your shoulder as the trio argues over the movie. “you will enjoy the quiet when the movie starts.” you give her a toothy smile before your attention is back on the screen in your hand.

somewhat of a defeated sigh leaves sabine as her head falls onto your shoulder, her hold on your hand getting a little tighter. you intertwined your fingers, a reassuring squeeze or two before her free hand that was holding the blanket over the two of you before taking your phone out of your hand, her head dipping as she kissed you.

it was short, sweet, and a bit teasing as she pushed against you before pulling away. “just so i can keep calm until it quiets down...”

at the end of difficult missions.

there was nothing more rewarding after a difficult mission than to be on the vulture, heading back home to the base for a much-deserved hot shower with some music included. the shared sleeping area was nothing short of the basic needs- the mid-grade mattress, two pillows with a blanket that was just big enough to cover you and keep you from freezing.

“are you sure you don’t wanna share?” you mutter, peaking your head out from your little pod-like bed to look at viper. she shakes her head as she closes her book and puts it under the pillow. she shakes her head before stepping next to your bunk, lowering herself to your level.

“little tight in there.” she mentions as she looks inside the bunk like she hasn’t seen it a hundred times before. you roll your eyes, it was never a problem before for her to get in bed with you and now she was just thinking about it.

“we will have to be extra close then.” you propose, already scooting to be up against the wall of the bunk to make some space for her to comfortably have her own side while still being able to cuddle you.

“you can hold me to that,” she says, running her fingers down your arm before continuing. “when we get back.” sabine looks tired as she keeps looking at you, holding eye contact while the other agents complain about the lights being still on, the two of you still speaking your lovey-dovey stuff, and some (like phoenix) loudly teasing viper despite being afraid of her how gooey she was with you.

you watch her roll her eyes before she leans in to plant a kiss on your lips, making it a bit sloppy, a pinch loud just to rub it in for all the eyes that might be looking over. “goodnight now.”

in the medbay after being seriously injured.

whether it was joining in a shoot-out despite being ordered to ambush the targets, taking a bullet for her, or hesitating to go up against her mirror version she did not enjoy the sight of your blood staining through bandages, stitches tearing your skin up, and pills being forced down your throat for pain relief. 

“you are an idiot!” she yells as she bursts through the door of the medical wing, and if looks could kill you would have been dead by now. she was back in her casual clothes now, waltzing over to you with hands balled into fists.

“hey, ‘bean…” you say nervously when she steps next to your bed and you don’t know whether to ask for a kiss or shield yourself from potential blows. she looked pissed, no wonder, you got grazed with not one but two bullets as you were shoving her out of the way, almost turning into cold meat right there and there.

“do not.” she cuts you off, knowing very well that you were just going to run your usual line of excuses. you try to start again, try and reason with her that it was necessary because you’d rather be in this bed arguing with her than watch her refuse any kind of treatment because ‘she can take it’.

she grips your jaw, her face scrunching up with doubt that you deserve this kiss she is about to give you because you really deserve a smothering for what you did rather than a small reward like that, not to mention that few nurses that were inside tending to the other agents who were bearing their weakness out on stretchers. there was a conflict in herself, but she gave in after the storm of arguments inside her was getting too loud and leaned in to kiss you.

she doesn’t do it long enough to deepen the kiss, only long enough for you to notice how she tasted like mint gum and toothpaste as she pulled away and let your head fall against the pillow as you tried to catch your breath again. she pulls back to stand over you, her hands still gripping at your jaw, before she lets her body collapse onto the chair beside the side of your bed and rests her head on your chest. “you’re an idiot.” 

[deusautem]

@luxinexitium​

twilight finds them beneath a shower of stars and silvery drapes. between the overlapping tones of grey which flood the city, the red of their knuckles stands out like the pocket of silence that befalls them now. seoul should be loud, rife with a burgeoning urgency to get from point a to b to c to d and right back to the beginning like it never started in the first place. but here they are, caught in some sort of stalemate that makes his ears ring. the smattering of burgundy along his palms probably has something to do with that, along with the violet blossoming across his cheek, but neither of those hurts as much as they should. a decade and some years ago, he would have cried until the first rays of morning, but he’s learned since then that tears don’t heal bruises.

and apparently, fighting side-by-side with a stranger and managing to get out with only a handful of bruises means some topics are still off the table. he wouldn’t share his life story with anyone willing to listen, but he’d at least give some sort of answer to every question. trust is a two-way bridge, but for some people a treat to a can of melon soda can’t buy confidence. maybe he should have gone with a different flavour, something more adult–like grape or coconut. or maybe the boy should’ve picked a different tactic altogether, because this didn’t work even when he was a kid, picking locks on handcuffs because he sure as hell wasn’t going to be picked up by another pair of foster parents. he can’t really blame the other guy, though; there are some secrets of his own that he’d take to the grave. if he’s being honest, it just kind of sucks. he’s had a long day, a longer night, and the soreness in his joints won’t be leaving any time soon. his own drink, still cold from the vending machine, sits pressed against his jaw, nursing a soon-to-be bruise.

steeping in the silence for another handful of beats, the boy inhales carefully, tugs at the cheap face mask he’s wearing, and turns to face the stranger. as soon as their gazes meet, he taps the tip of the scar that splits his face, from the corner of his chin to just below his cheekbone. it’s just a shade paler than the rest of his skin, made all the more apparent with the flush that rises to his cheeks from the cold. “i got this ‘cause someone hated my dad,” he shares softly, speaking so as not to disturb the silence that’s settled around them. higher still is a smaller scar on the edge of his brow bone, a belated extension of the one running through his lip, and his gaze darts towards the stranger’s own. it lingers for just a moment before dropping to the other man’s arm, where he’d caught sight of the skin beneath his sleeve even during the scuffle earlier. he doesn’t look for too long, though, and averts his gaze to the soda can in his hands, fiddling with the tab before popping it open. the drink hisses and fizzles, crackling like static between them. “you don’t have to tell if you don’t wanna. but y’didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

Sunlight pours through Seoul’s skyline as a final attempt at salvaging the city from itself. It lights aflame every washed out blues, it casts shades of rose over a faded night mantle, believing the promise of a brighter ‘tomorrow’ could be enough for the masses to carry on. Surprisingly, it is. In a few hours, the streets will be plagued in suits and ties emulating scenes of normalcy, every trace of last night lost under a slumber induced amnesia. Except for theirs, theirs are bound to remain imprinted on flesh, bleed over the pavement and flourish from carnations to alliums to nothing but memoirs in the span of a week or so. In solitude, the process would have been of interest. In company, only the last stages seem to hold significance.

In company, only those trascending past time and flesh are of any relevance.

They almost blend with the 4AM scenery, specters perched outside an empty convenience store, each holding a cold drink to one of the numerous markings they now wear as a second skin. They don’t converse, they don’t complain, they only loom in a tense silence only paused by a few curt words. Truth be told, he hoped for it to be a short lived encounter, only lasting long enough for him to express gratitude before leaving to forget the entire ordeal and excuse any trace as a mere accident. At least until leaving ceased to be an option. The first time he sees the stranger as more than just another nightwalker is when allowed a glimpse under the flimsy fabric of his mask. To the marred tissue intersecting from the latter’s chin to his cheekbone, forming a trail his eyes follow to the pale fissure etched on his brow bone.

Suddenly the night unfolds in his thoughts as the Genesis. Cain, stripped of his humanity by an outer force. Cain, guided through restless streets by star clustered heavens to his own retribution. Cain, purging through dozens of foreign knuckles, cracking his ribs as he doesn’t fight back, never has, never will. Cain hoping for torn flesh or a soon death to prove he is more of a human than a bearer of the mark. Hoping they could force the filth off his system, mask it all with the roar of joint ache, broken ribcage, rotting skin. Cain, saved only to find in the eyes of another they might not be as alone. They might not be as awful. They are only attempting to survive.

“They always take it out on the kids don’t they?” Poignant, bleeding with a sense of irony yet this might be the first time his voice sounds even remotely amiable tonight. The throbbing pain over his ribs has instead nestled between these, the scars now starting to burn more than the gash perched over his eye’s outer corner as he feels the asphyxiating stench of liquor and smoke. They always prey on the frail. They always tear their flesh with teeth, blades, embers, all under the knowledge not a soul would spare a glance to the unfortunate (Is he any better? Is this what he tried to prove by picking in a fight he couldn’t win?). Their words lingers over the same silence, consumed by the street’s white noise or the fizzling drink now pouring down his throat followed by a hiss. He offers a glance, two perhaps in hesitance before rolling his sleeve up to his elbow. “I got these ‘cause my dad hated me.” Up to this day he still avoids the sight of scaled skin, marred in patterns of numerous shades he would often deem as repulsive yet now displays to a stranger.

“What you did back there…thank you, I owe you one. Didn’t mean to come off that way, it’s just been a rough night.” Or a day, or a week, or a month. Fingertips pad along his can before speaking again. “I’m Park by the way, why did they hate your dad that much? If you don’t mind me asking.”

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hey Exiled. I wanted to say that your fics are super amazing and as an aspiring writer, I want to be as good as you. Hope you are doing well.

Possible Trigger Warning(?)

This is for if/when your requests open up again, but imagine Xiao or Albedo with an s/o that’s being tortured and they’re forced to watch. Like they can’t do anything to save them and end up losing their s/o. (I mean for this to inflict pain as this is my favorite troupe. It can honestly work with anyone; I just chose these two boys because they are my favorites)

Today we woke up and we chose violence 🤝finally got around to working on this, I think it's about time I seriously manifest Hu Tao even tho I'm all fluffy lately ywy I love this community, you all give me the best brain juice ehehh Edit: Also also awww thank you for your kind words, sweetie, I'm sure you're already good in your own way!

Blood Money

Albedo and Xiao witness their S/O getting tortured... Blood, violence, the obvious stuff. And also death warning, read at your own risk. (masterlist)

With every punch sends nothing but painful regret into his gut.

His fragile and weak body was beaten into submission, and Albedo comes to spite himself over realizing just how useless he is without his Vision, how useless he would be with it either way. Maybe if he knew the things that would transpire, he would have taken great consideration into mastering his element.

The cloaked man pulls harshly at his ruined braid, forcing him to watch now in full attention.

He almost vomits at the sound of your bone grinding and snapping as they pull it back, your grazed throat able to let out a choked scream that sends shivers to his own body. For the first time in his whole life, tears threatened to spill as it forms at the brim of his eyes.

"Please..." the sword embedded in your side twists to deliver a seering pain, another scream forcing its way through your senseless whimpers, "Please... let them go..."

Your face was smacked flat against the floor, breathing heavy but barely there as a foot presses at the nape of your neck, placing a dangerous weight at your spine/throat as your oxygen supply starts to fade.

"That person right there is the reason your research has been stagnant," the one holding him down spoke in held fury as he chooses his words through grinded teeth, "Khaenri'ah needs its cure and you're here playing house. You ought to learn your lesson."

You're awfully silent and still. Albedo's sedated body struggles helplessly, breathe quickening as fear in its purest form bubbles within him. He gingerly calls out your name; no response, it only made the man put more pressure on your neck.

"No, please, stop. I was- I was on an expedition, in Dragonspine. I was sent by the Knights- I-I couldn't refuse..."

A swift, muffled crack makes him scream. Horrified and shocked. The tears are now that of a waterfall, sobs and cries for your name in hopes that you would respond. You didn't.

"Wrong answer."

Ever since the day Albedo comes walking into Mondstadt with your corpse cradled in his arms, not even the Knights had seen him walk out of his laboratory, dead eyes never meeting anyone's stare. The Alchemist is in grief and denial, that's what they theorized, for the reason that Albedo never once muttered anything else under his breath besides his research.

Timaeus and Sucrose, despite being apprentices and assistants, never stepped foot into his laboratory either. Banned, even. Klee too never had the chance to see him again, his laboratory was permanently locked. Perhaps he just needed time, something all the Knights thought.

"I'm almost done," and time is exactly what he wants. Even if you're nothing but a rotting corpse in his lab, he'll get to you soon enough. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I'll defy those laws for you, my love."

Xiao and the constant plague of his built up karma haunts him whether he has his eyes closed or not.

The problem with it is the fact that when it manifests, it's usually a vivid phenomenon that only he is witness to. It alarms him more than anyone of its recent manifestations, corrupting nearby Hilichurls and whole cavern of monsters, his debt is sipping and he's not sure what else it could hurt, because it can hurt anything at this point.

So when he lifts his head from his usual shackles of karmic binds, he was more than horrified to see you, his ray of hope entangled the same way. "What are you doing here-" his sudden question halts upon your pained grunt, the binds wrapped around your arms pulling in opposite directions.

The pain is slow and daunting, Xiao realized at the way your face scrunches up as it pulls more. Desperate to stop your hurting, he struggles against his own karmic binds. Yet the thousand years of burden do not relent so easily.

"Our lives are cut off because of your slaughter. What makes you think you deserve reconciliation with life after taking thousands of others?"

A bind finds its way around your throat and tightens, your grunts muffled into choking desperately for air, body writhing in an effort to pull away from all your shackles. Xiao doesn't like it, not one bit of how he struggles to break free, how powerless he feels at the current situation when he should be protecting you from harm.

"Xi..." He tugs at his left arm to angle his leg, hoping to latch it around the upper bind to pull it. What was of his composure now when his desperation and alarm is evident on his face? "X-Xiao ngh-"

Distracted from his own struggles, Xiao peels his stare away and onto your form, eye widening and moistening at the sight of red and blood forming by the junction of your arms and torso. A manifestation of the consumed festered souls summons behind your form with a wicked smile, long nails of jet black traces your flexed body while piercing at your skin as it passes.

Your struggles for air mixes in with pain raised tenfold, breathless screams for every puncture. You couldn't even look at him anymore. "Please," the Yaksha cries out in his most vulnerable, "Stop hurting them. Please... This is between you and me..."

"If you want us to stop,

then you'll have to stop too."

In the domain of his mind, only those that lingers, that should linger are the thousands of devoured, demonic souls that make up his debt. There is no room for anything else. Xiao hangs his head low and there he weeps in silence in a place where he is not a weapon, only a man reminiscent of his youngness and naivety.

Here he is no Xiao.

Here he is Alatus.

They smile.

"Xiao?" You wave your hand by his face, snapping your fingers (and failed miserably) enough times for him to finally zone out of his sudden trance in the middle of your comversation. "Is something wrong?" Your confused expression is different from his steeled, yet wide eyed one.

And without a word, he vanished from your sight. A look over his shoulder, of regret and hurt, was the last of your memory of him. In his eyes you are dead to him; in his mind your light has no place in it.

I have realized I do not want to scar you that much. Ironically. Asks spam after this so turn your notifs off after.

@primogenshin @xiaophilia @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader @scarletroseneko @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @director-boo-tao @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 3 Here!/ Playlist Here!

A/N: Maybe one last part after this?

Ko-Fi l Etsy l Commission Info Here

* You’re sitting on a bench outside, listening to Shoko and Nanami talk about something

* The breeze caresses your face

* It’s so quiet

* You haven’t experienced silence like this in years

* And there’s only one reason why you’re suddenly experiencing it now

* Your eyes stray from the dancing branches that hover above you to the dancing white-haired boy across the courtyard

* He’s talking to Geto about something, laughing as he does

* His sky blue eyes meet yours for a second, before abruptly looking away

* Not the usual flirtatious wink and wave he would normally give you

* You don’t know why, but it’s like Gojo’s lost every ounce of interest he had in you

* It looks like that prank you pulled on him is what did it-

* Apparently Geto had to help get the glass down

* He hasn’t tried speaking to you once since then, and every time your eyes meet he looks away just like he did a second ago

* What a baby, so he can dish it out but he can’t take it when someone uses his own tactics against him huh?

* It’s for the best really, you don’t want anything to do with him

* Besides if that moron just wanted someone who wasn’t going to react or get mad, then he should just date a sex doll

* It’s for the best, really

* So why are you so upset right now

* The prickle of irritation burns in your chest even when you turn away from the two boys, joining in on Shoko and Nanami’s conversation

* On the other side, Geto lets out a low whistle

* “Never thought I would see the day a lady killer like you would get embarrassed because you made eye contact with your crush” Geto grins when Gojo flushes a light pink.

* Geto almost wants to laugh, what happened to the womanizing-god-complex freak who was here just a second ago?

* “Don’t say lady-killer, you know I like men too, I’m an equal opportunity lover” Gojo gloats while running his fingers through his hair

* Ah, it looks like he’s on his bullshit again

* “You better watch out Geto, if you’re too much of tsundere I might fall for you next” the words are emphasized with a wink, and Geto can’t help but laugh

* “Whatever dude, don’t come crying to me when they start to hate you because you’re being flakey”

* Gojo laughs it off

* But late that night, while he’s lying in bed watching the shadows flicker on his ceiling he can’t help but wonder-

* What if you really do end up hating him?

* It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around you anymore or anything-

* He just doesn’t know how to approach you anymore now that he knows he’s in love with you

* “I’ve probably been in love for a while” he mumbles

* He’s not really sure when it started.

* At first it was just for shits and giggles

* Something to keep him entertained, and you just happened to be the most entertaining thing around

* So when did it stop being ‘anyone’s fine’ and start being ‘it’s only fine if it’s you’?

* He sighs turning to face the wall, he doesn’t understand his own feelings

* Yeah he’s got all this money and power and influence-

* But right now he’s just a boy in love for the first time

* And he doesn’t know how to handle that

* “I just don’t want them to hate me” he mumbles, feeling his eyes close shut

* He’ll try to talk to you tomorrow

* Even if it’s just a simple ‘good morning’

* At least it’ll be something

* But to his annoyance, he’s told he has to go save his classmates from a curse

* And then everything with the star vessel happens

* And he doesn’t see you for a while and he thinks-

* “Well maybe this is fine, maybe it’s better this way. They’re probably happy now that I’m not around always annoying them”

* And just as he’s thinking maybe this is for the best, that if someone leaves your life it probably means they weren’t supposed to be apart of it anyway -

* When you come barreling into his life again

* “Oi, Baka prince, where did sensei say this kid's house was again?” You ask, eyebrows threading together as you fidget with your phone

* Yaga-sensei sent you to accompany Gojo on his ‘mission’ to retrieve Megumi Fushiguro

* It looks like the only people who can reign Gojo in are you and Geto

* Not that you mind the impromptu mission, and besides- you don’t think Gojo is someone who should be alone around kids

* Gojo actually flinches when you speak to him, you’d traveled in silence so far, standing side by side without exchanging a word on the train.

* You sigh, you know he isn’t interested in you but the least he can do is be somewhat pleasant

* Even that usual annoying demeanor of his would be fine

* You’re not sure why but that prickle of irritation burns in you again, seeping through in the nickname you gave him

* Gojo doesn’t meet your eyes, those clear blue pupils are averted slightly as a pink blush singes his face

* “I’m not sure, I’ve just been following the cursed energy” he admits with an uncharacteristically shy gaze

* Okay WTF

* Gojo would never let the opportunity to tell you how weak you are for being unable to “even feel this amount of cursed energy”

* Who is this freak and what has he done to the real Gojo Satoru

* “Are you sick or something?” You ask

* Your hand’s already moving to cover his forehead, and you feel like somethings off

* Your eyebrows thread together as your peer closer, noticing a small gap where your hand and his forehead

* Ah right, the infinity he has around him

* You never realized it before but you wonder, can he ever feel anything?

* It must be lonely

* Gojo’s looking down at you, swallowing a lump in his throat.

* The expression on your face looks so tender, and you’re so close he can smell your scent

* And he feels a sudden urge to cry, to bury his face in your shoulder and weep like a child

* He’s watching you open your mouth, you’re about to say something-

* When you both feel a large burst of cursed energy

* Your heads snap to the direction you sense it from only to see a small boy

* You recognize him as Megumi Fushiguro, your target for this so-called ‘mission’

* He’s younger than you expected, he can’t be older than 10

* You turn to Gojo, you’re going to need a plan, someone that young is awfully impressionable. You have to do this with some tact

* But when you turn to look he’s gone

* “Huh?”

* You can practically see the outline of his form where he was standing just a second ago, your neck creaking as you turn to where Megumi-Kun is standing

* “Your father sold you to the Zenin Clan”

* You might appear calm and collected on the outside, but I promise you your soul has ascended to the fourth dimension where you are just screaming into the void

* “Well does it make you mad? Does it-“ Gojo’s waggling his fingers like a god damn perv when you basically apparate to his side and bring your fist down on his head

* “Oi, Baka prince what the hell do you think you’re doing?!?”

* Gojo’s stumbles back, nursing the emotional wound you just gave him and you crouch down

* “Don’t listen to anything that moronic man just told you, he’s got no tact” you tell the boy

* He’s a cutie, like the male version of Snow White.

* Though his expression tells you he’s about had it with this reality

* “Yeah I can see that”

* “Well he might act like a moron, but he’s got a pretty decent heart”

* You spell out the situation to Megumi as tactfully as you can, opting to treat him like an adult.

* “These are your options as I see them, you can go to the Zenin clan, or, that Baka prince already stopped the sale in return for you promising to join our academy”

* You and Megumi get along pretty well, you’re kindred souls

* Besides you both seem to be able to see right through Gojo’s princely appearance

* “Why did you guys leave me behind?” Gojo shrieks, Megumi’s hand is in your own, both of your free hands holding ice cream cones

* Megumi immediately makes a face, it had been so quiet while he was gone too

* You can’t help but sympathize with the kid, you used to feel that way before you got to know Gojo too

* You were just showing Megumi around the campus, helping him get familiar, and you thought you should reward him a little with a treat for being such a good kid

* Besides you like him

* Of course Gojo wanted to tag along, teasing Megumi half of the time like a damn idiot and spending the other half of the time giving flirtatious winks to women who seemed interested in him.

* Gojo’s making a scene and Megumi looks like he’s a second from throwing a tantrum too

* You sigh, you don’t get paid enough for having to deal with these two children

* “Here” when Gojo looks up, bright blue eyes peering over his black glasses he sees a scoop full of his favorite ice cream balancing on top of a chocolate-dipped waffle cone

* “But what about you?” He asks and the questions catches you off guard, since when has Gojo cared about anyone but himself?

* “I don’t want any, I just thought it would be good to get in line while we waited.”

* You didn’t think you would actually get to the front of the line before he caught up though.

* “No! You waited in line that whole time, here we can take share, take the first bite”

* You’ve kept your cool in front of Gojo for years but something about the expectant expression he’s giving you - the tops of his cheeks bright pink- and those bright blue eyes looking at you while holding out the ice cream cone that makes you flustered

* You can feel your face grow warm, geez what’s gotten into him

* To make matters worse you’re having a hard time saying no to him right now

* Something about those crystal blue eyes has you almost mesmerized

* And then Megumi stands up on the bench and takes a giant bite from the cone

* Cue Gojo screaming and crying because, goddammit he was this close to an indirect kiss with you-

* “Why did you do that?” He shrieks, he’s crouched on the ground, face bright red in anger and anguish

* “I don’t know, the green tea ice cream looked good” Megumi shrugs, only for Gojo to start shrieking again

* Gojo and Megumi are about a second from a fistfight when they hear laughter

* The gentle twinkling gets louder and they both instinctively turn towards it

* You’re laughing so hard you’re clutching your stomach, tears forming at the corners of your eyes

* “Geez you guys are like something out of a cartoon.” You manage to say in between laughs

* Megumi’s eyes widen

* He’s seen you smile before, but he’s never seen you laugh like that

* Megumi wonders what he’s thinking right bow

* His eyes trail to Gojo

* Gojo looks at you like you just hung the moon

* Like he’s a child seeing fireworks for the first time

* Megumi will never forget the look on Gojo’s face for as long as he lives

* ‘So that’s what it looks like when you love someone’ Megumi thinks

* Gojo pats Megumi on the head

* “Thanks kid, because of you I got to see something nice”

* You guys grow a lot closer because of Megumi, becoming sort of surrogate older siblings to him and Tsumiki

* “Why did you bring a Kotatsu?” You and Megumi are standing in the doorway holding takeout and oranges

* “Winter time just doesn’t feel right without a Kotatsu, isn’t that right Tsumiki-Chan?”

* The young girl grins as she nods, snuggling deeper into the blanket

* You and Megumi give each other an incredulous look

* Leave it to a little rich boy like Gojo Satoru to buy a Kotatsu for a casual hang out just because it’s winter

* Still-

* You watch as Megumi and Tsumiki cuddle under the Kotatsu, peeling oranges

* The kids seem to be enjoying it

* Gojo pats the spot next to him

* “I saved you a spot (Y/N/N), I promise I won’t bite” but Gojo’s giving you that same teasing grin he always used to give you

* Looks like things are back to normal

* You sigh taking a seat beside him, stealing your resolve as you put up with his incessant teasing

* Everything is back to the way it was...so why do you still feel that prickle in your stomach every time he looks at you?

* And the following weeks that familiar sensation makes appearances several times, leaving you more confused each time

* It’s not until you’re walking in Shibuya, one of your hands holding Megumi’s and the other one holding a Taiyaki full of ice cream that you realize

* “Gojoooooo” the woman in front of you whines “you’re so mean, I can’t believe you didn’t call me, because I know you had a good time”

* The woman’s pouty expression turns wolffish in a second

* Ah, so that’s where he learned to smile like that

* You and Megumi are mostly just enjoying the show, eating your ice cream and watching as Satoru tries to placate this woman

* “I’ve just been taking some time to better myself-“

* You snort, yeah you’re sure he’s been bettering himself with his dozen other lovers

* Honestly serves him right for fooling around with so many people. You’re surprised he’s not habitually in the infirmary for a new STD

* “You see, I’m a father now”

* You sputter choking on your ice cream. Megumi pats your back

* That idiot prince has really gone and done it now-

* Having an illegitimate child,

* Yaga-Sensei is going to kill him

* Not to mention what his clan might do

* Gojo looks back at you with warm eyes

* And you feel that pricking feeling again

* “Megumi is my pride and joy”

* Huh?

* Oh

* OHHHHH

* So that’s his game.

* What a sleaze bag using someone else’s kid as an excuse to get out of an uncomfortable romantic encounter

* Megumi squeezes your hand and you look down

* The look on his face could kill a man

* “I’d never call a pervert like you my Father”

* So Megumi woke up and chose violence today-

* You figure Gojo will laugh and cover it up with some jokes like ‘kids these days no respect for their elders’ or something

* But when you look at Gojo he looks genuinely hurt, those vibrant blue eyes look watery, and that pretty mouth that’s always curled in a grin is curved into a soft frown.

* And before you know what you’re doing you say-

* “Megumi-Chan you shouldn’t be so mean to your Father, he let you have ice cream before dinner didn’t he?”

* .

* ...

* .....

* WHY DID YOU JUST SAY THAT

* Megumi and Gojo are both looking at you with vacant stares

* Megumi is still in shock that you took Gojo’s side in this

* But Gojo’s looking right at you, cheeks holding a rosy tinge

* And then something amazing happens

* Gojo smiles at you-

* Not that wolfish smile he’s been showing you for years as he teases you, or that princely smile he uses to get something he wants

* It’s a genuine smile

* And you can’t help but think he doesn’t look at all like the most powerful sorcerer, he just looks like a boy

* Ah, there’s that painful prickle again

* “I love my family so won’t see you anymore, go ahead and delete my contact information,” Gojo says with a grin

* He walks over to you in long strides, hoisting Megumi up and carrying him all while the woman shouts obscenities

* “Come on (Y/N/N), let’s go home,” he says, his hand moving to hold your own

* And all you can do is let him tug you forward

* Your gaze lingers on your intertwined hands, the heat that radiates from his palm even though there’s an infinity between you both

* Your eyes trail up to look at his broad back, the way he holds Megumi so easily even though he’s pulling on Gojo’s hair

* The prickle intensifies as you watch them

* ‘He would make a good Dad his spouse will be lucky’ you think

* And then it hits you

* Oh

* Oh no

* Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no

* You’re in love with Gojo Satoru

* The f*ckboy extraordinaire

* F*ck

* How did this even happen? You had been so careful, you were even apart of that down with Gojo Satoru club with Nanami and Geto

* Are they going to revoke your membership now?

* F*********ck

* “Hurry up and put me down you pervert!” Megumi shouts, a fistful of Gojo’s white hair in his hand

* “Ora Ora, you shouldn’t be mean to papa like that Megumi-Chan” Gojo teases, not even the slightest bit fazed

* Megumi’s only grabbing onto the infinity around his hair after all, so it probably doesn’t hurt

* “Here Megumi,” you abandon your ice cream without a thought, carefully lifting him out of Gojo’s hold and onto the ground

* Megumi doesn’t say anything, he only holds your hand in his

* “Hold Papa’s hand too Megumi-Chan otherwise I’ll feel lonely” Gojo teases, but you can tell he really does want Megumi to hold his hand

* “If it’ll get you to shut up” Megumi grumbles, but he reached up, taking Gojo’s hand in his

* The three of you probably look like a family, and this time the prickling feels warm, like a tickle across your stomach

* Like butterflies

* F********************ck

* “For F*cks sake, how am I going to get out of this one” you mumble to yourself

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT  Vol.5 Sakamaki Kanato [TRACK 3]

Original title: 僕の名前を呼んで

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 5 Sakamaki Kanato

Audio: Here (Huge thank you to @filthyhelplessworld​ for providing the audio!)

Seiyuu: Kaji Yuki

Translator’s note: Now this is the angst I’ve been waiting for! I have to give Kaji Yuki huge props because he really had to rely on his entire voice range for this CD, haha. I’m not a Kanato stan by any means, but I did feel somewhat bad for him, despite his selfish behavior from earlier. You can really tell he was struggling all along but he doesn’t know how to convey his feelings so he just defaults to throwing anger tantrums instead. 

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 3: Say My Name

“Haah...School is such a chore. Perhaps I should just burn the whole building to the ground? ...I suppose I’ll just kill some time at the infirmary for no…”

*Rattle*

[00:20] “...!? ...You. ...Hah. I figured you were dead already since I hadn’t seen you in a while. You’ve actually been attending school, it seems. So, are you resting up here? I will excuse myself then. I came here hoping to get some alone time, but since someone is here, that plan has been completely ruined.”

He turns around.

“...Especially since it’s you. ...Well then.”

You stop him.

“Haah...What’s the matter?”

You ask if he’s feeling unwell.

[01:04] “Now why would that matter? It’s none of your business, is it? Please stop meddling with my affairs, it’s highly bothersome.”

You ask if he needs to suck your blood.

“Hahaha…! You would still be willing to offer me your blood after everything?”

You nod.

[01:27] “...While that is rather noble of you, don’t you think that perhaps you’re thinking a little too highly of yourself? If I’m thirsty, I will simply make my way to town. There are plenty of people who can take your role after all. ...Aren’t you the one who said that? ーー Either way, you do not need to worry about me.”

You frown.

“Is that all you had to say? Well then, goodbye.”

Kanato leaves.

[02:06] ( I thought you would return to my side if I continued to push you away like this. Crying, weeping, clinging to my legs. ...All while I remained completely ignorant to just how much your heart was aching. I’m sure that by this point...You had already made your resolve, had you not? ) 

*TIMESKIP*

[02:50] “The hours of boredom are finally over. Now to head straight home. ...Hm? That back side...It’s her, isn’t it? Hmph. I can tell straight away even when she has her head hanging down. ...Hm. Well, I suppose I shall give her a small chance. I can’t just give her the cold shoulder after all. (1)”

He approaches you.

“Good evening. (2).”

You flinch.

[03:26] “Hah. Why so surprised? Is it strange for me to approach you? That being said, I don’t exactly need anything from you. ...So, you were hunched forward quite a bit while walking, what’s the matter? Did something sad happen? ...Hah. If you insist, I would not mind hearing your story. I’m sure it will help combat my boredom. ...So, what happened?”

You brush him off.

“...! ...I-If you’re alright, I suppose that’s fine too. Heeh…”

You tell him you will head home now. 

[04:17] “Yes, please be my guest and be on your merry way. By yourself.”

You walk away.

“Kuh…! ...Hey, wait!”

You come to a halt.

“The infirmary is my resting place, so you better stay away from it in the future!”

You nod.

“Hah...Well get going then! ...What’s the matter?”

You ask if he will be okay by himself.

[05:00] “More than okay. If anything, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders! Please don’t treat me like a child.”

You smile.

“...’I’m glad’ you say? ...Excuse me!?”

You turn around and walk away.

“Kuh…!!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Tick・tock・tick・tock*

[05:42] “...Honestly, what is her problem!? I was so kind as to strike up a conversation with her too…! ...Oh well, I wouldn’t mind if things remain this way either, of course. Even if she were gone, I’d be just…!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Tick・tock・tick・tock*

“Tsk...Aah, god!!”

*THUD*

[06:13] “Haah, haah...I have no idea where you are or what you are up to right now. You might be having your blood sucked by one of my other brothers for all I know. When I consider that possibility...I’m overcome by intense feelings of anger and despair. Haah...I...I don’t want this...Why won’t things just go my way!? Iーー To me, you’re so veryーー...! (3)”

*TIMESKIP*

*Tick・tock・tick・tock*

“Haah...Haah...Haah…”

*Tick・tock・tick・tock*

[07:19] “ーーUgh! Guess I have no other choice! At this rate, my rage will never be quelled. While I don’t like having to do this, I will bend. It’s frustrating, but...You’re all I have…”

He opens his drawer and pulls out a piece of paper.

*Flip*

*Scribble scribble*

*TIMESKIP*

You are standing out on the balcony.

*Knock*

[08:07] “...Are you still awake?”

You squeak.

“No need to be so surprised. I do come and visit you from time to time, no? Either way, I’m coming in.”

He enters your room.

[08:25] “Haah...I’m surprised to see you’re out on the balcony this late at night. Were you hoping to jump to your death, perhaps? ...That would only cause extra trouble, so please refrain from doing so. Haah...The wind feels chilly. I can’t believe you would come to such a cold place when you’re already feeling unwell. Are you an idiot?”

You remain quiet.

[09:07] “...Why not say something? Like you could ask me what I’m here for? Or say you’re happy to see me!? I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say!”

You start coughing.

“Haah...There you go coughing. That’s why I warned you. You really are hopeless. ...Without me, at least. ...Listen...I didn’t come to say this or anything...Ugh!”

*Flip*

[09:44] “This. Accept it already.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“It’s an invitation to a tea party. ...For just us two.”

[10:01] “Why, you ask…!? Do I have to spell it out for you!? Consider it my way of telling you that you’re once again allowed in my presence. You will obviously attend, no? I was so kind to invite you after all. Not to mention, this might be your once-in-a-lifetime chance to make things good between us.”

You hesitate.

“...What are you doing? Hurry up and accept the invitation! Otherwise I can’t return to my room! I want to rest already! It’s almost morning after all. ...Here!”

*Flip*

You stand there dazed.

[10:51] “...Do you not want it? ...But why!? I’m trying my absolute hardest to compromise! ...Are you perhaps okay with things staying the way they are right now? ...WHY WON’T YOU SAY ANYTHING!? For one, you’re the one who caused this whole ordeal in the first place! I don’t know what your intention was, but you pestered me by going on about ‘dying’ and such!

...In reality, you should be the one apologizing to me. Begging for my mercy. Do you have any idea how I felt coming heーー”

*Rustle* 

[11:45] “...!? Hey…? Are you listening? You’ve been acting somewhat off this whole time. You seem awfully pale too...Is something the matter?”

You collapse.

*Thud*

“...!? H-Hey! Are you okay!? HEY!”

Kanato touches your skin.

“Cold as ice…!? Why, all of a sudden…!? How come…!?”

*Cling*

“This bottle...Don’t tell me…”

*Sniff*

[12:24] “Poison…? Did you drink this? Then...You were actually trying to die? But why…? …! Because I told you...you could be easily replaced?”

*Rustle*

“You can’t! Open your eyes!”

*Rustle*

[12:54] “Hang in there! I was obviously lying when I said that! Why don’t you understand!? I-I mean...To me, you’re just soーー!”

You tell him he wouldn’t believe you.

“No! You’re wrong…!! When you said you were dying, I didn’t actually disbelieve you. I justーー!”

You admit to how sad it made you.

[13:16] “Uu…It was never my intention to make you suffer either…! I just…Uu…Hic…I can’t bear the thought of it…Of a world without you…I didn’t want to believe that day would come…! That’s why I turned a blind eye to itーー! Yet…Why…Why did it turn out like this…? Hic…Say?”

*Rustle*

“Open your eyes…Wake up! …Wake up, please…!!”

*Rustle*

[14:00] “I mean…This just can’t be…No...Who…Who gave you permission to do this!?”

You have passed out.

“…Open your eyes…and say my name…Like you always would…Please! ...Uu...No...You won’t let get away with this! I won’t let this happen!! ...UWAAAAAAAAH!!!”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Kanato refers to the ‘carrot and stick’ method here, in which punishment and reward are alternated. 

(2) ごきげんよう is a very snobbish/high class way to greet someone. You won’t actually hear it much in modern day Japan, but some characters in anime say it 

(3) His sentence is cut off, but it’s heavily implied he wants to say something along the lines of ‘but you mean so much to me’ or ‘I love you so much’.

[heavylaythecrown]

just like a light, (we faded away)

★ synopsis: scars will heal, but we’re meant to bleed.

★ character(s): nanami kentō

★ genre: angst

★ warnings: character death, blood, depression, spiraling, insomnia

★ words of the prophet: retitled. repost from @/atsuminthe. it was the longest work i’ve written back then, too—and tbh, i’m very proud of it :)

★ additional words: highlighted sentences are lyrics or lyric-inspired (hollywood undead’s “coming back down”, “bullet” and “rain”)

please have my last breath, i would die for you.

    you take careful steps with a neutral expression on your face as gojo leads you around shibuya. you can barely contain your tears as they prick at the corner of your eyes, but refuse to let them spill in front of anyone—there is time for weeping later. the white-haired man in front of you is eerily quiet, and it’s unsettling, but you can understand why. you’re awfully quiet yourself, observing the blood-splashed walls in complete silence. maneuvering around a few corners, you and gojo reach your destination, and your blood runs cold, but you stubbornly shake your head to ground yourself. your nails dig crescents in your palms as you clench your fists, then you realize it’s not just you and gojo in there.

    your eyes drift slowly to the figure curled up next to the wall, face buried in his knees—and they soften, as you make your way towards him. placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, you rub it reassuringly as itadori tries to process what happened and why. your eyes sting again—the pain is almost unbearable—but you stay strong. you know the boy needs it—and that’s what he would have wanted. he hated seeing you cry, anyway.

    “everything will be fine, Itadori,” you whisper, even though you can’t believe yourself. nothing is fine. it’s a giant mess that left everyone scarred in some way—but maybe that’s what everyone wants to hear. it’s for the better. itadori slowly looks up from his knees, shifting his gaze to you, and the sadness in his eyes makes your heart ache. your hand moves from his shoulder to his pinkish hair, and you pat it gently, guiding him to lay on your shoulder as you wrap your arm around his. your free palm caresses his cheek—a silent encouragement—and he bursts into tears, his body shaking violently against yours. you do your best to hold him, patting his head and letting him get the negative emotions out of his system. gojo watches the little display, sighing softly, and turns around on his heels, leaving you and itadori alone.

    you close your eyes. that way, you can’t see the broken tag heuer watch lying on the ground, or the green shattered lens and twisted metal frame of the glasses a few feet away from you. itadori’s sniffles are the only thing you can hear for a little while, before his tired voice breaks the silence.

    “i saw him before… you know…” he rasps, rubbing the tears from one of his eyes. “and he asked me…” he takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat, then exhales shakily. “he asked me to tell you something.” opening your eyes, you nod, and itadori swallows again, moving his body so his arms reach around you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “he said to tell you he loves you, and he wishes he could hold you, and asked me to give you a hug…” he gulps, and it sounds a little painful. he tries to speak and his voice cracks. “i’m sorry i couldn’t protect him, i—i tried to, but—! i was caught somewhere else and—i was too late when—!” he hiccups, sobs racking his body again, and you shush him gently.

    “it’s alright, itadori. i know you did your best to help everyone,” you assure him, your own voice cracking slightly. “you did a good job. rest now.”

    a single tear rolls on your cheek as itadori presses his face on your shoulder, wetting your shirt—but it doesn’t bother you. you hold the poor boy as he continues crying, clutching your crumpled shirt as if his life depends on it. maybe it does, because he feels like his heart might rip in two. all you can do is rub his back in a weak attempt to soothe him.

    the little patch of cloth left from his tie swishes in the gentle breeze.

    a few weeks have passed since the shibuya incidents, and, in spite of the injuries sustained, everyone returned to their normal activities, trying to attend to their duties. you tried to, as well—it was your duty as a part of the sorcerer community, after all—but the lingering feeling of emptiness only allowed you to perform simple tasks and low-grade missions. everyone understands, though—your situation is delicate. principal yaga even offered that you take a few days off—but you refused, for obvious reasons.

    itadori tries to be with you constantly.

    the time he spent with nanami—and subsequently, with you—has made him attached to the both of you. seeing you sad makes him sad too, so he tries to cheer you up by spending as much time as he can with you. bringing you trinkets, like a pretty pebble he found on the ground, or goodies gojo shared with his students that day. keeping your brain occupied with silly questions and long talks about nothing in particular helps distract you—even if it’s for a few minutes. anything works.

    megumi and nobara try their best to help. they go on dog walks and shopping trips with you. maki made you put her on speed dial if you need anything. inumaki brings you onigiri made by himself every morning, and panda makes sure to let you sleep on him occasionally. the rest, too.

    utahime comes from kyoto to spend time with you weekly, even though you tell her it’s not necessary. her stubbornness on the matter rivals gojo’s, who insists that you have a “family night” with him and the kids once a month.

    you smile sympathetically, then enclose your heart with more walls.

    it’s hard to say goodbye when you know that it’s over.

    you repaired his watch—whatever was left of it. shoko was kind enough to give the pieces to you after the formal forensic investigation, and now you wear it all the time. it’s too big for your wrist. the size difference between your hands was always big, and endearing at the same time, whenever kento held yours and brought them to his lips to kiss them lovingly. you repaired his glasses too, placing them neatly on his side of the bed’s nightstand.

    you’re trying to keep things together. it’s hard. he was your anchor—and now he’s gone, leaving you adrift in a sea of nightmares. your nights become sleepless, and they merge with the days at some point. sometimes, you can see him—in the kitchen, on the balcony, in the bed, on the couch. he’s sitting there, without a care—and then you blink, and he’s gone. you rub your eyes, it’s from the fatigue. you sigh, plopping yourself in the chair in his office. his chair.

    scattered papers and pens litter the table, haphazardly thrown in all directions. some same ink stains, some are crumpled, some have been wet. they’re letters—to him. maybe they’ll reach him someday. each starts with the same sentence: i just wrote a letter that’ll never be sent.

    in reality, it’s just one letter, copied in astronomical numbers, because you don’t like how it sounds. too plain, too boring, too whiny, too happy—it is never enough to satiate you. it has to be perfect, kento likes perfect things—you’ll burn it anyway.

    he liked you. therefore, you were perfect.

    tears fall from your eyes as you bring your knees to your chest, sobbing quietly. the chair brings back many memories. he allowed you to spin around in it regularly, or let you sit in his lap as he worked, placing small kisses to your temple occasionally. The warmth of his lips feels so distant now—his touch is gone forever.

    gone, gone, gone, gone.

    “i don’t even know if it was your time,” you mutter weakly, exhausted beyond relief, as you look at the framed photo on the nightstand. you shift in the uncomfortably cold bed, pouting. sighing and rubbing your face, you turn to lay on your back, watching the ceiling—a midnight blue sky, with lots of stars and constellations, that you two painted together. “but… now i understand. you were too good for this world, so you left it. that’s what angels do, right? you were born with wings…”

    his wedding ring lies next to his glasses—gojo insisted that he look through the rubble for it himself. he didn’t let anyone else get close and only came out after he found it. “it’s the least i can do,” he told you, dusting off the ring as best as he could and placing it in your palm. “i’m sorry.”

    it’s not his fault. that’s what you signed up for when you decided to be a sorcerer. and you realize kento knew the risks just as well. and he took them all—for you. he died so you’d live.

    and just like a light, he faded away.

    you sigh again. you can’t cry anymore—your eyes hurt, and your tears have dried up. there’s no use in crying, either—it won’t bring him back.

    “i wanted to say goodbye, but there’s nobody left,” you whisper, placing your arms over your face to block the light coming from the lamp. you decide to go to sleep—if you can do that, of course. you bite your lip in an attempt to suppress the urge to scream, almost drawing blood.

“i miss you so much, kento,” you say, repeating it over and over until your voice is coarse and your breath is ragged. “come back to me…”

   the pain of you biting down on your lip is insignificant compared to the anguish in your heart. you just wish you could have been there with him—to survive or to die with him. was he scared? he thought of you—he told itadori to hug you after he died—and he always said you bring him peace and make his fears disappear. maybe he wasn’t afraid.

    with one last look at the remnants of your love, you somehow succumb to a dreamless slumber, hoping that everything that happened in the last months was a nightmare, and you’ll be startled awake from it.

    like a widow’s heart, you fall apart.

[cockasinthebird]

There’s a lot of things that Billy Hargrove loves about 4th of July. How loud the fireworks are, the chance to set something on fire without reprimand, barbecue food that reminds him of beach parties back home, beer just tastes better for some reason, the summer heat, and how scantily clad everyone is.

Guys with their exposed muscles, girls in their tiny bikinis.

Billy walks through the far too inebriated crowd spread out across the quarry, a beer in hand that is quickly warming up in his sweaty grasp, seemingly aimless in the way he looks at everyone who greets him all excited, then clearly disappointed that he didn’t stop to talk past pleasantries.

No, Billy is on a hunt; a hungry wolf looking for one specific lamb, no other temptations can match the urge for one pretty boy’s attention.

And he finds Steve Harrington, dressed in shorts too revealing and a top that ends just by his navel, leaning against the hood of someone’s car. Three girls in short skirts and bikini tops standing awfully close to him, listening intently - or at least pretending to - as he smiles all friendly and gestures with his red plastic cup to really emphasise whatever he’s saying.

Envy isn’t a thing Billy experiences, nah, definitely not, he reminds himself as he takes too big a gulp of his beer, yet it stirs sourly in the sudden pit of his stomach. They’re not dating, so he has no right to feel jealous about anything going on in front of him currently.

Yet when Steve leans in to whisper in one girl’s ear, causing her to giggle excessively and bash her eyes at him, Billy’s heart beats all wrong, fingers tightening around the neck of his bottle. It triggers that good old fight instinct in him, the one that used to make him throw fists with Steve before that handsome brunette dared kiss him.

Nothing’s been the same since- fucking Harrington; Billy was perfectly fine before that, completely, and now? Now he can’t stop thinking about their first time. Their second time. Their third. Fourth.

And what their fifth time might be like. Not that he’s keeping count, of course. Not that he’s anticipating it. Or thinking about it. Dreaming about it. Hoping…

Like a magnet to metal, Steve turns his head and his eyes lock right onto Billy’s, looking drunk but aware of how he’s being leered at. Something in his hooded gaze tells more than it should, like a confession to curiosity, answering questions that haven't yet been asked. At least not in so many words.

Billy takes a long swig of his beer, emptying the bottle and throwing it off to the side, then lets his eyes wander down - far enough for there to be absolutely no doubt what he’s thinking about, and from the way Steve smiles next only shows, “Message received.”

When Steve kicks off of the hood and moves to walk away from his little fangroup, one of the girls grabs on to his arm, with pleading eyes and a slight pout she says something Billy can’t hear, pressing her arms together to accentuate her tits, and Billy honestly can’t blame Steve for looking down at the inviting, soft flesh for a few seconds too many, before making up an excuse that sets him free.

The disappointment on all their faces feeds Billy’s narcissism immensely, and it shows in the grin that cracks across his face. Ah to know that he’s the first choice of princess Stevie’s desire, it washes away all that doubtful jealousy with warm waves of aroused excitement.

Steve stumbles just a slight bit as he approaches Billy, inebriated and smiling. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?”

Billy teases with his tongue out, biting down on it with shiny teeth, and oh the thrill when Steve’s eyes dart down to watch Billy wet his lips and appetite. 

“Sure I do,” he says with the most suggestive grin. “But not here, otherwise everyone else will want to bum a smoke, too.”

Not an actual concern, but a plausible excuse to get Steve alone.

Twigs bend and snap under Billy’s heavy footfall, and perhaps he didn’t think this through, walking in the forest in flip flops. Every time he turns to look behind, Steve’s still there, following with his eyes cast down to calculate every step before taking it, brows knit and eyes squinting in concentration.

The music is still audible at this distance, but all the lights from cars and bonfires have been obscured by trees.

Billy can’t imagine anyone bothered following them all the way out here, and since he can only hear the faint pop music and Steve stumbling near, decides that, yeah, this is far enough. 

Steve goes to slump against a tree, looking at Billy who fishes up a pack of cigs. “I didn’t actually follow you out here to smoke.”

“Oh really?” Billy chuckles deep and shoves the pack back into the pocket of his swimming trunks. “Just thought it’d be more courteous of me to offer you some anyways, but-”

One finger hooks itself on those red trunks and drags Billy closer till he lands close against Steve’s heated body.

“Eager, huh? Ah-” Billy hisses as Steve grinds their hips together, proving that he’s already sporting more than half a chub.

“I’ve been thinking about you for hours,” Steve admits with a slight slur, fingers working at the drawstrings of those red shorts. “Just waiting for you to show up, always fashionably late, wanna make sure everyone sees you, right?”

“Nothin’ wrong with liking being noticed,” Billy drawls with his nose pressed against Steve’s cheek, pursing his lips just enough to offer up light, almost chaste, kisses. “I’m more than worthy of the attention, don’t you think?”

“I do,” a whisper, and Steve turns his head to meet those gentle lips, just to then feel the breath of a moan graze his sweaty skin as he wraps his fingers around Billy’s girthy cock.

It teeters on the edge of uncomfortable, how stern a grasp Steve holds on his dick, the awkward movement of a clammy hand, but Billy grows hard quickly nevertheless, leaving him cursing and groaning.

“Fuck baby, ah-h…”

Steve smiles all too self-satisfied for doing such a half assed job.

With both arms extended above each of Steve’s shoulders, Billy braces himself against the tree, and when they kiss again - tongues dancing to the distant rhythm - he can taste absolutely every single sip of alcohol Steve’s had tonight, and Billy’s convinced it makes his own head spin a little.

“I want you so bad, Billy,” Steve whines all horny and pathetic into the embrace of their lips.

“Then turn around,” Billy’s voice is rough, demanding, confident, and he takes a step back to free up some space between them.

Steve lets out a shuddering breath at the chilling air between where their sweaty bodies had been connected, then swivels on his heels till his palms land firmly against rough bark. He pushes out his ass, serving it up on a silver platter, gazing over his shoulder to catch how Billy’s smiling all wicked and wild.

Billy runs his hand down the exposed bit of Steve’s back, where his crop top and shorts can’t reach, skin warm and soft and slightly damp from the summer heat. He dips a couple of fingers beneath the elastic waistband.

“Dressed a bit like a slut tonight, pretty boy,” he hums pleasantly and pulls at the shorts, just to let go and have it snap back, loudly.

An oddly delighted gasp escapes Steve. “Just for you.”

Billy’s hand had wandered down to caress a soft cheek, going further down to tease the skin just beneath the leg of the shorts.

“You really that needy and desperate for my attention?” His lips part in a grin, exposing sharp teeth that he licks across; a little predatory show that Steve absolutely notices.

“That’s not all I’m desperate for.”

Steve stretches out his arms proper and pushes himself against where Billy’s cock is rock hard, eliciting a groan followed by two hands grabbing all too hard onto Steve’s hips.

With his grasp bruising, Billy keeps Steve still as he ruts himself against the plush of Steve’s ass, both of them moaning as he slips and slides his full erection in the crevice between cheeks.

“Ah- Billy- please please please, I need more,” Steve whines with his head hanging low.

Billy chuckles, like rolling thunder in his chest, as he leans forward to bury his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, one hand slipping around and down to cup at Steve’s aching prick. He strokes it through the shorts, following the entire length up and down, Steve whimpering and panting and thrusting for more, as a wet spot forms by the head.

“God, you’re so wet and hard for me, baby,” Billy drawls, biting, kissing, sucking his way up Steve’s neck, marking him with his attention; make everyone know.

Thumbs hook themselves on the waistband to pull down the shorts just past the curve of supple cheeks, keeping his weeping dick trapped still.

“No underwear?” He brings his tongue to lick a sloppy line up Steve’s neck, nosing at the back of his ear, then breathes out hot, “Such a whore.”

Steve inhales as if to speak, to respond, but unadulterated lust occupies his mind like a thick fog, and all that comes out is a slight, erotic, “Fuck.”

And Billy brings his hand up to those pretty pink lips, pushing his way in without invitation, just to feel Steve’s tongue eagerly wrap itself around the two digits, letting Billy roam free in the wet heat till his fingers are dripping, spit running down his palm and wrist. Steve’s always so sloppy and obscene and greedy, which is what Billy loves about him.

He brings those slick fingers between them, down to circle around Steve’s rim, teasing with the tip applying just enough pressure for it to be agonizingly inadequate, making Steve whimper as he tries to move his hips in hopes of more.

Billy’s not a bad guy per se, at least not towards Steve anymore, so he gives his princess what he’s begging for and slips in a finger, smooth and easy, as deep as it goes, and he can feel how Steve trembles with delight. Relentlessly so, Billy pulls the finger almost all the way out, before plunging it back in again - setting a quick pace, but Steve’s hungry.

“Ah-h, more, Billy,” he moans with his head thrown back, mouth wide open to allow out every single lascivious little sound he has in him.

“Ssshh,” Billy hushes where he’s quick to lean in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Be quiet and I’ll give you what you want. Can’t have people hear you and come looking for us.”

“What’s the matter, hmm? Ah- afraid of getting caught with your pants down?” Steve laughs but in a low manner, ultimately proving he’s following orders.

And truth be told yes, Billy is afraid to get caught like this with another guy, but that just makes this all the more thrilling. So without words and choosing actions instead, he with his one free hand covers Steve’s wide open mouth before pushing a second finger into his soft hole.

Thankfully so, for the way Steve moans in utter glee vibrates against the palm of Billy’s hand.

“God you need it so bad, huh princess? Need my cock in you?” his voice thick with wanton and self-restraint.

Steve mumbles out in agreement.

It doesn’t take long before he adds a third finger, and there’s an immediate ecstatic response from Steve, who suddenly can’t help himself as he reaches behind to grab Billy by the wrist and tries to push him in deeper.

“Such an impatient little slut tonight,” Billy barks out in laughter and curls his fingers. He can feel every single muscle twitch and tremble at it, and the way Steve keens makes his own hard prick throb with desire.

“Mmh, ah- please, Billy, fuck me,” Steve tears his mouth free from Billy’s grasp, lips wet with drool.

“Lucky for you I brought lube and a condom with your name on it,” Billy snickers as he reaches into his own back pocket for the small packs, when Steve complains,

“N-no, no condom, please,” he pleads all pathetic, twisting around till their eyes meet through the darkness. “I want to feel you inside of me, nothing between us.”

Billy doesn’t have to think twice about that. The condom was a nice courtesy on his behalf, so that Steve wouldn't have to walk around with cum dripping down his thighs, but if he wants it so bad…

With one hand he undoes the drawstrings of his shorts, with the other he holds the little silver pack of lube up to his teeth as he tears it open. The liquid is warm from the summer heat as he pours it on his steely cock, moaning as he strokes himself a few good times to cover up properly before lining up with Steve’s eager entrance.

“Yes, ohh,” spills from Steve’s open lips as Billy enters him; the fat, blunt head stretching him out nice and wide.

And Billy keeps pushing in, inch by inch till they’re flush together, Steve sandwiched between Billy’s broad frame and the tree where his nails dig into the bark.

“You got such a nice, tight ass, pretty boy. So perfect for my cock,” Billy growls into Steve’s ear, teeth scraping against the shell of it as he stands as close as he can get.

Steve doesn’t have command of his own words at this moment, he can barely even hum out in agreeance as he’s overcome with blinding lust.

Slowly at first Billy pulls out before sliding in in one smooth movement, out again and in as he carefully increases the pace to the rhythm of Steve’s moans. He’s starting to learn the pattern of the sounds Steve makes when he’s getting thoroughly fucked. A certain whine when he needs more, harder, faster. A deep, guttural groan when it’s all just perfect. A string of high pitched curses whenever Billy rams into his prostate. 

And the way Steve clenches tighter than any pussy Billy’s ever had whenever he’s close is almost gorgeous in a sense. With his eyes closed and forehead pressed against Steve’s shoulder, Billy thrusts into that indescribable heat, feeling how every muscle needs his cock, milking and massaging him, urging him deeper and deeper.

“Arrh fuck, feel so good.” He grabs on to Steve’s hips with both hands, pounding into him with ardent fervor, leaving poor Steve with the responsibility of covering up his own mouth.

Blame it on the liquor or Billy’s expert fucking, if he do say so himself, no matter which it has Steve cumming in near record time with an obscene, loud whine as he bites into his hand in an attemp to fight back his impulse to be heard.

It feels like magic, the way Steve’s climaxing body sucks Billy in, every single muscle convulsing around him.

“Yes, god, just like that, oh Steve I’m so close,” he groans out, strong and throaty, slamming in harder to get what he needs now that Steve has gotten his.

He leans back, one hand on Steve’s shoulder, pushing him against the tree as he pounds as hard as he can, staring down at where his girthy cock gets swallowed so eagerly, grinning at the oh so satisfying sound of skin slapping together almost violently so.

“Ahh fuck, Billy,” Steve whines, somewhat euphoric, somewhat sore, all together enjoying being used so easily.

“That’s right, bitch, say my name.”

“Billy!”

“Yes.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, yes, arh--” 

He cums with what feels like an explosion of ecstasy in his groin, radiating out and up his spine to flourish in his chest as he fills Steve up with every last bit of energy that he has in him; a pulsating, slick heat that he buries himself in to the base of his throbbing cock.

But he doesn’t linger. As soon as they’ve both caught their breath he pulls out, well satisfied with his work as he slaps Steve’s ass lightly with his tongue out between teeth, chuckling at the little yelp that comes with it.

“Jesus, Harrington, that was fucking good,” he says as he puts himself away again in his swimming trunks.

Truth be told he wants to stay. Hell, he even wants to cuddle a bit, but it’s too soon to tell if Steve wants the same. No matter the answer, Billy isn’t sure he wants to know. Instead of thinking too long about what could be, he fishes up a cigarette and lights it quickly so that the smoke may fill the emptiness inside.

Steve’s a whole mess still. Basking in the afterglow, slow to pull up his shorts and turn around, just to steal the cigarette from between Billy’s lips and taking a drag himself.

“Really good, yeah,” he breathes out in sweet relief, then dares to ask, “What now?”

Like it’s a fucking invitation for more. To open up. To tell the truth. Every possibility flies through Billy’s mind all at once, but he plays it safe,

“I could use a drink.”

[shirophantomvox]

Flower Pedals Hisoka x reader Part 2

Part 1

❤️♣️❤️♣️

As the day went on, Hisoka volunteered as a chaperone to your younger cousins. They wanted to play in the water while Hisoka sat under a coconut tree, sipping on a strawberry margarita. It would be pointless for an intoxicated man to be a chaperone but he is quite immune to heavy alcohol. Somehow, the sun’s beautiful reflection made Hisoka look like the man you slowly fell for. His job as a bodyguard for the most dangerous mafia in the country, his ability to speak French like a flipped switch, and of course his bulging muscles. Seeing him interact well with your cousins made him seem father-like. But why did he have to act so egotistical? Why couldn’t he be like the guys you saw on the Hallmark channel? Is being loved that hard to ask for? Then the hurtful incident earlier that day entered your mind once again. You didn’t want to break up with Hisoka but it was the only choice.

A tear ran down your face, something you hadn’t done in a while. A silent weep is something everyone needs to do once in a while but weeping in front of others can feel humiliating. Suddenly, you hear a knock on your door and someone enters without your permission. You quickly wiped your tears away and turned around quickly expecting it to be Hisoka. Instead, it was your beloved uncle smiling with a DVD in one hand and popcorn in the other but once he got a quick glimpse of your sad face, his smile disappeared. This time he didn’t run to your rescue but rather asked what’s wrong from a distance. He already knew it had to do with Hisoka but he was curious to hear more.

“Is it about your boyfriend?”

“Yes…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes. He has flirted with many people and disregards that I am there. He used to be all over me and now he acts as if I do not exist!”

“That’s horrible. But I have to break it to you. Some men like it when their significant others are jealous. It’s thrilling to them. If you dislike that, you should tell him.”

“I have! He will not listen to me!”

Your uncle grunted in anger and shook his head. He placed his index finger and thumb under his chin, thinking hard about something. Tears rolled from your eyes and felt like they could not stop.

“Come with me, darling.”

Following behind your uncle like a 5-year-old, he led the way to his newly renovated basement, and in that basement stood something that mimicked a lab. He removed a large blanket that covered a table full of glass test tubes and pink liquid. You were hopelessly confused as to why your uncle was smiling at his little creation.

“Uncle…what is all this?”

“Can you guess?”

“Sorry. I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s a love potion!”

You gasp and step back rather far from him. You frowned, not believing what your uncle has told you. Love potions were depicted and always fictional; they simply don’t exist. Hell, Cupid DOES NOT exist and yet he claims that he has made a love potion?! You have always known your uncle to be a wacky man but NOT THIS wacky! Not only did he have a small test tube of this love potion but he had at least 100 small bottles of it too!

“Uncle….don’t tell me…”

“Maybe Hisoka can take a shot of this…”

“U/N! No! That’s wrong!”

“Huh?”

“If he doesn’t love me anymore, I’ll break up with him. Plain and simple.”

“But y/n!-“

“No buts!”

Gosh, you sound like your aunt!

“Why do you have that anyway? I could have sworn you and auntie madly in love anyway.”

“We are….” He stopped talking for a brief moment as he made his way to the door. He did not want your aunt to overhear him speak or else she’d have his head.

“We’ve had a few tiffs lately and she is being distant. I was thinking of giving her this potion.”

“You can’t just…give her that! What if she’s allergic to any ingredient you put in there?”

“SHHH! It’s not a drug, ok darling? It’s essentially a cupid’s arrow in liquid form.”

“Oh yeah! And Santa Claus is real, right? Come on Unc. I’m going to sleep now.”

“Y/N wait! Wait!” Your uncle ran up the stairs after you to try and have an actual heart-to-heart conversation with you. In reality, The love potion wasn’t anything that would harm Hisoka or your auntie; it was something that everyone had. This “love potion” has many variants in the market already. It has its own juice, pop, and merchandise line. When people gave testimonies about them falling madly in love with their partners, you thought it was an absolute joke!

The day had reached 11 PM. The sun had set for the day and the bright stars shined brightly against the beach. Chrollo and the others had left hours ago probably forgetting that you and Hisoka had tagged along. As you cleared the dinner table, the love potion sat there, in its small slender glass frame. This had been extracted so it could be digested but still, you didn’t go anywhere near it.

“Don’t leave this unattended. If a person drinks too much, they’ll become a fool for you and as romantic as that sounds, it can be VERY overwhelming.”

As you turned the lights off downstairs, the front door barreled open. Your eyes had been adjusted to light for the last few hours; seeing in the dark was nearly impossible. But one thing is for sure, that infamous bubble gum small dashed towards your nostrils.

Hisoka.

The lights turned on once again and this time, they began to flicker a little. Hisoka’s piercing golden eyes were able to grab a hold of yours instantly. It felt like you were paralyzed with sudden fear and anger. So many emotions raged throughout your body; your brain sending many signals to the various parts of your body. Both of your cousins come running in, arms stuck out like airplanes zooming all through the living room. One flew underneath Hisoka’s legs and the other flew many times around you. Their sudden joy made you smile a little; they were so full of joy and hope…that is until they grow up.

“I like your boyfriend, y/n!”

“Yeah! He’s so fun! He taught me how to play Poker!”

“You what?!”

“Hey! She needs to know in case she needs to make some cash.”

“Ok, you two. Up to bed. Mom and Dad are waiting for you.”

Both of your cousins zoom into their rooms making loud airplane noises.

“I must admit, I see potential in those kids. They made their own marshmallows, mingled amongst people their age, and even reminded me when their bedtime was.”

He looked from the staircase to you. “Thank you for—“ he stopped as he looked at your angry face.

“—Are you still mad about earlier?”

“What do you think, jerk?”

“Would you stop playing hard to get? You haven’t given me a kiss today.” He bent down and puckered his lips, expecting you to respond. Instead, you turn the lights off leaving a kiss-less Hisoka in the dark. Hisoka stood in the middle of the dark living room beyond confused at your actions.

Finally! Alone at last. No one to interrupt your thoughts or sleep, just you in your auntie’s guest room. The bed was extra comfy! It was so fluffy that it almost made you get up and inside Hisoka to sleep with you.

“No. He needs to learn his lesson,” you thought to yourself. Besides, a non-married couple sleeping in the same bed together was NOT going to fly in this house. Before you knew it, your eyes were closed for what felt like 20 minutes but were actually 8 hours. The sun beamed through the curtains acting as your silent alarm clock. Stretching your muscles and yawing felt amazing after a good night’s sleep. Checking your phone was a reflex but feeling an odd source of shadows made you freeze. As you slowly turned around, Hisoka was laying in your bed, with his boxers on, smiling, and gawking at you; something he’d never done. You thought rubbing your eyes twice would make him go away, but he was still there in the flesh. Still angry about yesterday's encounter, you stare at him plainly.

“What in the world are you doing here, Hisoka?”

“To be with you, of course, my dear.” His tone was much softer; it felt as if he was barely moving his tongue. His lips slightly puckered as he spoke. Your boyfriend was always mysterious but it can be said that he was never predictable.

“What are you talking about?”

He scoots closer to you; his bare chest rubbing against your right arm. He places his left arm around your neck pulling you closer. So close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He took his index knuckle, placed it under your chin, and lifted.

“Oh, how I missed your face…the sound of your voice…my heart aches for you.”

You blink twice.

Am I dreaming? What is going on here?!

“Hisoka—“

He placed his index finger over your lips; his long nail gently scratches the top part. “Shhh….” Quickly but softly, Hisoka gives you a kiss but not just an ordinary kiss, one that is very breathtaking. His lips were much softer than you remember and a lot moister. He didn’t force anything; he gently moved his lips to make you more comfortable. What felt like a lifetime was truly only 10 seconds and on the 11th, he parted. Gazing into his golden eyes this time made your heart skip a beat. You remained silent, slightly afraid to say a word as he stared into your eyes deeply. This was not his blood-lust look at all but awfully similar. His eyes were half-lidded but they were soft, much softer than you had seen before. Just as you were about to say something, he gently grabs your face and begins to kiss you all around without remorse. This overwhelming amount of affection not only made you bluff but be utterly embarrassed if your aunt and uncle caught you two in this state. It’s more of the family “aww’ ing” than anything else.

“How did Hisoka suddenly do a 360 from last night?”

“Might as well enjoy this while it lasts.”

Hisoka continued to place soft kisses. He began to pepper your lower jaw with them, earning a slightly satisfied grunt from yourself. He then professed his love for you as he kissed you in between phrases. The magician himself was as red as an apple while you were a giggling mess. He moved his lips to another part of your body. His hand kisses felt amazing once more. He moved his way up your arm and to your shoulder.

“You smell terrific, kitten,” he said in a lower huskier voice.

You growl in response; something so embarrassing that you are happy your nosy little cousins did not hear.

“You’re so adorable, kitten. So delicate that I’d be afraid to touch. So beautiful like the colors and aroma omitting from a blossom tree.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

Before Hisoka said another word, he placed his right hand where the bottom of your head and neck met. He gently caressed it as he pressed his forehead against yours. The soft feeling of his nose moving swiftly against yours felt like ecstasy. Nothing could ruin this moment.

“Hisoka’s a simp!”

Both of you jerked your heads to the door. Through the crack, you could see two curious pairs of eyes, staring into your room. Before Hisoka could leave the bed, you jump over him and march to the door.

“You know, it’s rude to stalk people in their bedrooms.”

“And? It’s rude for you to be staying the night in my beach house and not giving us any money. Hand it over sis.”

You close the door and jump back into bed with your new boyfriend. Hisoka practically had hearts in his eyes. It’s as if he saw no one but you.

Maybe he has changed….

Your uncle’s voice could be heard a distance away and that’s when it hit you.

“Don’t leave this unattended. If a person drinks too much, they’ll become a fool for you and as romantic as that sounds, it can be VERY overwhelming.”

Oh shit! Where is the potion?! No! It was left on the table last night!”

"Really, Unc? I think I can deal with this. After all, he is less insufferable. I’ve always wanted my beau back and I hope he remains this way…falling on his knees before me."

To be continued....

[vityuuwrites]

Know we didnt talk in a while and I hope u okk now... also wondering if u wanna do a vicuuri x never let me down?

Chose a random nr from my playlist and it was kinda lucky :)

ahhh i’m good now yeah, ty for worrying!! hope you are too <333 i’m sorry this is so late ASKSKS i hope you like it!! i might or might not have written most of it during a lecture whoops,,, also ty for the request! 

-

Victor is used to hiding everything behind a smile.

He never talks about his feelings – there's no space for them in skating. Maybe there was years ago, when he was still bright-eyed and hopeful, when love coloured his every move, his every jump and he was filled with indescribable joy after every performance. When skating was something he did because he loved it and not only because it was the only thing he was good at.

But now, Victor is Victor Nikiforov. He's Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, an untouchable god in skating no one could come close to, who was naturally good at it. Someone who never made mistakes, never faltered – he was the one person everyone wanted to catch up to, to push out of the top.

If they knew how lonely it was there, maybe they wouldn't want it because Victor is alone and he has to be alone. He has to be alone because he can't show any weakness to anyone.

Yuuri Katsuki is not like that.

It is almost like every single one of his emotions is etched onto his face, in the furrow between his eyebrows whenever he's anxious, or the shy turn of his lips whenever he's happy. His eyes sparkle when he's excited, his arms moving with the speed of his words. Victor feels warm whenever he looks at him.

He never thought that the man who swept him off his feet – quite literally – at that banquet so long ago would one day be moving in with him. He never thought that this level of happiness was possible. Not for him.

It made him want to be more open with himself. He wanted to share the parts of himself he kept hidden for so long – the lonely, broken parts of him that he never let anyone see – with the world.

Or just with Yuuri. There wasn't much difference to him, after all.

It was hard, though. His mind was, is and forever will be a dark, dark place that he sometimes sunk into. It was never as bad as Yuuri had it, he didn't think, but his thoughts were still hard to escape.

Victor Nikiforov is 28 years old. He is 28 years old which means his body is a ticking bomb just ready to go off at any seconds.

He knows he only has maybe one or two good seasons left. He can feel it in the hollow ache of his muscles all the way down to his bones, in the way his knees buckle when he lands a jump and his stamina is starting to get worse.

He only has one or two good seasons left in him and he doesn't want them to go to waste.

Maybe deciding to get back to skating was a bad idea. Maybe Victor should have let himself be blown out like a candle while he was still at his peak, suddenly and without a warning before people around him started noticing his weakness.

But he wanted to skate with Yuuri.

Him returning to the ice made Yuuri happy.

Victor lives for making Yuuri happy.

“Victor?” Yuuri says, breaking Victor out of his thoughts. Yuuri turns from the pan he is hunched over. His eyebrows crease with worry. “Are you ok?”

Victor forces a smile as he taps his fingers against the marble island stretching out over the middle of the kitchen. “Of course I am, Yuuri. Why’d you ask?”

Yuuri fully turns to him. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we’ve returned from practice.”

Victor hesitates for a second too long and he knows that Yuuri sees right through him. Still, he glances away as to not face his gaze. “I’m fine.”

Yuuri frowns but he does not pry, just turns back to the omelette he’s making.

Victor is grateful for that.

-

Victor is laying in the dark with the soft buzz of snowflakes hitting his window a backdrop to his thoughts. His hand is curled around Yuuri’s waist, rubbing the warm skin while Yuuri’s hair tickles at his chest and his breath strokes across his collarbones. He watches the cracks across his ceiling, like cracks under skates that split the smooth surface of the ice.

His eyes glance at his hand that spreads out across the sheet. The golden ring glints in the sliver of moonlight. His lips curl into a smile.

It is the only gold he ever won that does not feel like a shackle around his neck.

“Yuuri?” he whispers into the peaceful room. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri murmurs and shifts in his hold. Bleary eyes turn to face him. Victor’s hand tightens on his waist. “I am now.”

Victor huffs out a laugh as his eyes turn back towards the ceiling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers. “I was just checking.”

Yuuri’s hair tickles him through his silk pajama top as he shakes his hand. “It’s ok, I don’t mind. We don’t have practice tomorrow morning, anyway.”

“True.” He keeps his gaze on the ceiling. “I’m still sorry.”

Yuuri’s hand moves from the sheet to hold Victor’s. He gives it a squeeze.

“Yuuri?” he says again after a minute of silence that presses heavy against his chest. “Can I…” He bites his bottom lip as he struggles to say something. Anything. He knows Yuuri will not judge him if he does.

The words still get stuck in the back of his throat.

Yuuri lifts his head from Victor’s chest and shifts higher to tilt his head so their gazes meet. “Victor?” he says softly.

Victor loosens a shaky breath and searches his eyes. He squeezes his hand tighter. “I’m scared,” he finally manages to choke out and sighs as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He roughly wipes them away with the back of his hand.

Yuuri blinks. His hand grips Victor’s and gently pushes it away in favour of wiping the wetness away himself. “Of what?” he whispers, hand lingering against his cheek.

Victor nuzzles into it like a kitten and gives another shaky sigh. “I don’t know,” he says, gritting his teeth together. He looks back up towards the ceiling so he does not have to face him. “Nothing. Everything.”

“Is this why you’ve been awfully quiet today?” Yuuri asks. His voice is soft and caring and Victor wants to weep. He does not know why; it is just pressing heavily against very being.

“Maybe? I’ve just been too stuck in my mind.” He presses an arm over his eyes to hide the tear that slides down his cheek. It feels freezing cold. “I hate it. I hate it so much.”

Yuuri’s hand squeezes the hand he’s holding. “Victor…” he leans in to wrap his arms around him, pulling his head against his chest. Victor’s shoulders shake and he burrows his face into his chest as he gives a silent sob.

“Is there anything I can do?” Yuuri’s warm hand strokes circles into his scalp. Victor releases another shaky breath.

“I’m scared,” he says again, voice tight as he attempts to gather his thoughts. “I’m scared, Yuuri.”

Yuuri presses a soft kiss against the crown of his hair. “It’s ok, let it all out, it’s ok,” he whispers and Victor feels something inside of him break. His tears flow out freely, and he hiccups as he clutches at him like a lifeline.

“ It’s just,” he starts and scowls, his tears staining Yuuri’s sleeping shirt. “It’s just… I’m scared this is my last good season. I’m scared because I’m 28 and skating is the only thing I’ve done for more than 20 years. I don’t know how to do anything else, I don’t want to retire but I also know I need to because I – I can feel it. I wobble on jumps, I get tired too easily, I’m one knee injury away from retiring anyway. But I also don’t want to retire yet because – because you taught me to love skating again and I’ve just started to enjoy it again and – and ---”

Victor grits his teeth together. Yuuri just silently holds him.

“And I don’t want to let you down,” Victor adds in a near whisper as he grasps at him tighter and curls up into himself. “I know you want to skate with me and I want to skate with you and even saying that I want to skate is amazing because I was going to retire this season but I really, really want to but I’m scared that if I return I’ll just let everyone down. Everyone expects me to be so amazing all the time but I can’t be and I know I need to retire before I’m forced to by an injury.”

Victor takes a deep breath and slumps against himself. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Yuuri’s hand moves to rub his back. “How long have you been sitting on that?” he asks, voice feather-light and gentle. Victor gives a little laugh.

“A while,” he admits. “I’m… not used to talking about my feelings. I didn’t think anyone would care as long as I skated alright.”

Yuuri’s lips find the crown of his head again. “Thank you for telling me,” he says and when Victor looks up at his face, bathed in pearly moonlight, he sees he is smiling. Victor closes his eyes when Yuuri brushes his bangs out of them.

“I hope I didn’t pressure you into returning to the ice,” Yuuri continues and cups his cheek. His hand is warm against his freezing cheek. Victor sobs and nuzzles into it again, trying to control his breathing.

“You didn’t, I did it because I wanted to skate alongside you.”

“Good, because I never want to pressure you into anything.” His lips find his forehead. “You’d never let me down, Vitya. Never. You can flub as many jumps you want, you can retire, hell, you can move to Antarctica and stay there to, I don’t know, study the penguins alone, I would always be in awe of you. I would always love you.” He hesitates. “You know that, don’t you?”

Victor sobs louder and presses his hand against his mouth. “I-I’m trying,” he admits. “I’m…Not used to that.”

Love always felt conditional to him. If he skated well, the audience loved him. If he behaved (though he rarely did), Yakov loved him. If he scored well, Russia loved him.

If he stays untouchable, if he overworks himself into exhaustion, if he stays the living legend, the world loves him.

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri breathes and squeezes him closer. His hands fist at the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to do anything special for me to love you. I won’t love you less if you fuck up, if you’re not always the best. You can never let me down. You saw me at my worst and you never ran away. Why would I?”

“I—I don’t know,” he says, voice shaking. He bites back another sob and takes a deep breath. “It felt like you would.”

“Never.” Yuuri starts stroking his hair again, hand shaking the tiniest bit. “You’re stuck with me, Vitya. I can’t promise you that you won’t fall and injure yourself tomorrow. I can’t promise you that your body won’t catch up with you.”

Victor glances up at Yuuri’s face when Yuuri’s hand urges him to look him in the eyes. He sniffles, another tear leaking down his warm cheek.

“But what I can promise you,” Yuuri continues and gives him a watery smile as he wipes it away. “Is that if those do happen, I’ll be here. If you decide you want to retire, I’ll be here. I won’t leave you. I could never leave you. I love you too much.”

Victor throws his arms around him and sobs softly into his shoulder, shaking as Yuuri’s hand warms him down to his core when it draws nonsense shapes Victor’s too lost to recognise.

“I love you too,” he answers shakily when a few minutes pass and his breathing starts to slow, his shaking a mere tremor compared to how he began. He pulls away only slightly, so slight their chests still touch, to give Yuuri a watery smile just as the moon peeks out from behind a thick cloud and sheds a sliver of light over Yuuri’s porcelain-smooth face. “I love you so much.”

He buries his head into the crook of his neck again, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin he finds there. “What have I ever done to deserve someone as amazing as you?” he breathes in deeply to ground himself.

“Existed,” Yuuri says and brushes his hair away from his face before their hands twine again.

Victor starts softly weeping anew.

[prismatales]

Reminiscence

Word count: 1.8k

Bingo slot: Fireflies

Pairings: None (Sibling bonding! Touya x Reader)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, slight mention of injuries.

Synopsis: Touya takes his little sister on an adventure to see the "fairies".

This is my first entry for @bnhabookclub's bingo event! Special thanks to @pixxiesdust, @honeytama and @samanthaa-leanne for beta reading this for me!

There are things Touya dislikes in the world. But if there's something he absolutely despises with a strength nearly as powerful as his flames, is when his father's actions end up hurting someone in his family.

Like right now, for example, as he holds his crying sister in his arms. Poor little Y/N can't seem to stop weeping after the constant mistreatment of their father. The man's harsh attitude eventually took a toll on the little girl. All because she turned out to be quirkless, or as he deems her, "Just another failure".

Touya's glaring at nothing in particular as he thinks about the old man. His self-restraint is challenged when he has to hold back the anger to evade lashing out at the man they have the misfortune of calling "father."

But right now, his main focus is calming down the little girl, crying in his arms while he's sitting on his futon at the same time he tries to console her.

"Shhh, It's okay y/n."

He may not admit it, but out of all his siblings, she has to be his favorite sister. After all, she's the only one out of their brothers and sister who shares the most traits with him. 

Growing up, Touya came to despise his appearance. Every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror, the sight of that crimson hair and those teal colored eyes always made him feel alienated from Natsuo and Fuyumi. 

After all, they only had some slight streaks of red hair, unlike Touya, who's whole head sported the same red locks of hair as him.

So, when his mother gave birth to a healthy pair of twins, and he saw the little boy who's left side of his head had the same hair color as him, as well as the little girl, who's hair was completely engulfed in the same shade of red as him. Touya almost wanted to cry in the spot, and that loneliness in his heart stopped soon after that.

He actually cried, but if you ask him, he'll always say otherwise.

His eyes wander around his room in search of a distraction, and something catches Touya's attention. The calendar at the top of his desk, with the current date circled down in a fine line of bright red marker. It gives the teenager a great idea, one, that would most likely calm down his little sister instantly.

"Hey, Y/N." She sniffs weakly, wiping away the teardrops rolling down her face with her tiny hand, before looking up at her big brother. "Did you know that there's a place nearby, where you can see fairies?" 

As soon as he mentions the magical creatures, her eyes instantly light up, wide open in wonder as she looks at him with pure innocence in her eyes. 

"Really?" she asks her brother, who smiles in relief upon seeing her reaction. Touya nods eagerly, playing along to distract her from the past events.

"Yes! But they only appear if you're a strong person! Are you strong, y/n?" He pokes her in the nose with his index finger, and she can't help closing her eyes in surprise. Squeals erupt from her throat by her brother's antics, and he struggles to fight back a chuckle.

"I am strong!" she shouts, still rubbing the small tears away from her puffy face.

"Strong enough to stop crying?" he asks her with vigor, and his attempts to cheer her up work when she sniffles one more time, before nodding at him with a fierce pout, the sight nearly makes Touya clutch his heart, amused by the little rascal pretending to be brave.

"Yeah!" 

"Good! Then go get ready, 'cause I'm taking you to see the fairies!"

She gasps loudly, nodding rapidly at her brother before dashing out of his room with hurried steps, and once the sound of her footsteps disappear in the distance, Touya lets out a relieved sigh, before bursting into a wholehearted laugh at her enthusiasm.

He stands up from his futon in a hurry, and begins preparing everything he'll need for their small trip. 

......

"Are we there yet?" 

In one hand, Touya holds on to his sister's tiny hand as they walk together. In the other hand, he's holding the strap of a messenger bag hanging over his shoulder, careful not to graze the bandages wrapped all the way up from the wrist to the shoulder.

"Patience y/n, we're almost there." 

The sunset fills the surroundings in gorgeous hues of pinks and purples, and if it wasn't for his current motivation, Touya would have stopped in the middle of the bridge to stare at the bright, glimmering reflection in the water for hours. 

"Give me a minute, y/n." Rummaging through his bag, Touya pulls out a camera. He starts taking pictures of the sunset reflecting in the water below the bridge, capturing the aesthetically pleasing scenario before him. He takes a look at the final result, and after humming in approval, he puts the camera back into his bag, before taking his sister’s hand to continue walking.

The closer they get to their destination, the sky begins to change colors again, until nothing but blue shades fill the sky.

"Here we are!" Touya stopped in front of a small, empty playground, and y/n quickly began looking around, waiting for the "fairies" to come out any moment now. This time, her brother couldn't hold back his laughter.

"This is only the gateway, come on. The fairies are waiting."

At the other side of the playground, there's a small trail leading into a forest. Touya takes her sister along with him along the rows of trees, and the deeper they go, the darker it seems to get around them. 

Until Touya finds the place he was looking for, a small lake deep inside the forest, surrounded by bushes and lilies all around it.

"Isn't it pretty y/n?" he asks his little sister, who won't stop looking at her surroundings, admiring the scenario before her. Right as she's about to question her brother, the teenager crouches down in front of her, and points at a spot in front of them.

That's when she sees the small dots of light start to appear all around the forest, illuminating everything around them with their gentle light.

"Look, the fairies are here!"

But the little girl becomes awfully quiet, and for a minute Touya begins to worry. Until she turns to look at him with the most awestruck look he's ever seen on her tiny face, and starts pointing at the shining creatures flying cheerfully all around them.

"F-Fairies are real! Touya, they're real!"

She's already running off to look at a spot in the grass, where these fairies seem to be having a good time.

While y/n is distracted by the fairies, Touya sits down on the grass, watching the lake's surface where the lights seem to dance happily.

"Touya look!" She quickly approaches her brother, and in her tiny hands, there's a small light in her palm,  without a single worry in their miniature soul.

"I guess the fairies like you. Do you know what that means?" 

She tilts her head in curiosity, before shaking it softly.

"It means you're one of them now!" Touya yells excitedly, and that brings a bright smile to the face of the little girl standing in front of him.

"I'm a fairy?!" She bounces on her spot, careful not to hurt her little friend resting in the palms of her hands.

"Even better than a fairy." He ruffles her hair reassuringly, turning her hair into a wild mess of red locks. "You're a firefly!"

"Firefly?" She looks back at the little bug, sitting nonchalantly in its place, before looking back at her brother, smiling at him one more time. "I'm a firefly!"

She happily runs back to the bushes, where she releases her friend back in place. More lights begin surrounding the lake. And Touya smiles at the child's antics before he starts looking through his bag again, and pulls out his camera before taking pictures all over the place. 

y/n is too distracted by another handful of fireflies, to notice her brother taking a picture of her. As he looks at the final result, the small screen displays the current hour, and Touya can't help wincing once he realizes they've been in the lake for a longer time than he thought.

A small, contagious yawn catches his attention, and he watches as y/n it's starting to doze off. 

"Come on firefly, it's time to go back home." Touya puts the camera back in his bag, before helping his sister crawl on his back. Her tired eyes look back at the lake, and the small dots of light still dancing around eagerly.

"Hey, Touya?" She's struggling to fight back her drowsiness, and manages to ask her brother a question before her eyes begin to close, and she slowly falls asleep on his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Can we...Can we bring Shouto along next time?" 

Touya can't help but grimace, knowing that with their father around, it would be impossible to take their little brother along, but he doesn't have the courage to tell y/n the truth, and with a deep breath, he answers.

"...Of course we can."

As Touya passes by the same bridge from before, he can feel his sister's body go limp on his back, sleep overtaking her tiny body. But even with the slight pain coursing through his bandaged arm, he can't bring himself to move her from the place. At least, not until they're finally back home.

The house is dead silent once he comes inside, and with a careful pace, he takes y/n to her room. Tucking her into the futon before walking back to his own room, where he pulls the camera out of his bag and on top of a shelf, and lets himself faceplant on his own bed with a slight bounce.

..........

"Come on Shouto, this way!" Shouto tries to keep up with his sister, but she just keeps walking with an excited spring on her step as she guides him through the forest, eager to take him to this place she's been talking about for weeks now.

"Are you sure we should be out here this late?" He can't help being amused by her enthusiasm. This is the first time he's seen her this excited after they started spending more time with each other.

"It's fine, trust me!" She stops in her steps before turning to both sides of the forest, and with a triumphant "aha!" she starts walking to the right side of the forest.

"I used to come here with Touya, and I've always wanted to show you this place! You're going to love it, trust me!" 

@bnha-ra @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @t-amajiki @unbreakableeiji @undead0relived @wesparklebitchu

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 4: Bridge and Chorus

Chapter summary: the aftermath

Chapter warnings: Odin, Major Character Death, suicide

Chapter note: this chapter is dedicated to @lucywrites02 because she pretended to be a bad bitch yesterday.

Previous chapter AO3

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

The shackles sing as Loki walks towards the throne, fighting back a grin. Odin, on the other hand, sits on his high quality chair, believing to be intimidating.

"You have committed a grave crime against the-" Odin tries to speak, but Loki chuckles.

"I know what I have done, Odin. No need to repeat yourself," they interrupt, using a voice they've been hiding in their throat since they learned how to speak.

And it has so much to say…

"Has your mother taught you no respect for your king?" They yell, their favourite way of speaking to Loki. In all these years, Loki cowarded away at this voice, scared of a physical expression of the anger. This time, he laughs at it.

"Not my mother, and I have no king but myself," they smile, watching a new wave of anger flashing in the old charlatan's face.

"Silence! You never knew how to shut this mouth of yours!" Odin raises his voice, hoping to see the now natural cowering of Loki. The only answer is another laugh.

"Do you really want me to start speaking, Odin? To see who is truly guilty, with all these good dicks and whores listening?" Loki asks, a glow in his eyes as he gestures around as wide as the shackles allow. The harshness of their tongue makes the nobles who watch the "trial" gasp.

"Who taught you this language?" The old man spits, narrowing one eye.

"Apart from your anger? And that old warrior you ordered to teach Thor and me how to survive in a forest? And there are the guards, I can name a few but stitching is a worse crime than murder…" he mutters, acting if like he's chatting with a cup of tea other than being on a trial for murder.

There's no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

"Enough with your games! Why did you murder Lord Gæirasson in cold blood?" Odin asks the "big question", as if the right answer will lift the charges from Loki's name.

"Because… one, because he was a racist and offended me, to which the punishment is death. Two, because he started a war-"

"You started a war, Loki," Thor interrupts, taking Odin's side, like every time.

"A war had been started. Let's not blame people, Thor. Now where were I? Oh, yeah, at how Gæirasson started a war. Also, he refused to pay his taxes and you know how seriously I took my responsibility of being in charge of the palace's finances. Did war crimes against my people, father would be proud the son of a bitch is dead. And lastly, but definitely not least, a dreadful sense of fashion. Have you seen what his grooms wear? I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw it…" they finish with the rumbling, not even thinking of answering seriously. Odin will execute him anyways, would some fun be so bad?

"I said, enough with the games!" Odin basically screeches, their face going red.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

"For the murder of a lord, cause of a war and disrespect towards the throne, I Odin Allfather sentence you to a life in the dungeons," he decides.

"Dungeons? Not axe? Did Frigga's ghost or this moron talk you out of killing me?" Loki questions, taking their turn to narrow their eyes.

"If you keep talking, I might change my mind," Odin sighs, rubbing his temple.

"And get rid of this perfect pawn to hold King Laufey from the balls? A shame, really," Loki poutes and shrugs, pretending awfully that he cares.

"I will not stand your disrespect any longer! I had granted you your life, Loki, more than once! You will learn to respect me for it! Take them to the dungeons!" Odin speaks the final order. Four guards grab the chains that lead to Loki's shackles and push him away, forcing him to walk with them

Only then I am human / only then I am free

On the way to the dungeons, Thor stops the guards and demands to speak to Loki.

"Just tell me why, brother. Please. What didn't we give you to make you care so little?" they ask, grabbing Loki's shoulder, just like they always used to do.

"A family. That's what you didn't give me. And that's what I've earned," Loki answers, staring right into his no-brother's eyes, the blue in them and the pale lines that resemble his lightning. They know they won't see Thor from this close ever again, and they deserve a proper last memory.

"Then, I'm sorry. It's late, I know, but remember this, please… I shall visit, whenever I can, Loki. I swear. You shouldn't be in prison all alone," Thor promises. Loki gives only a nod, enough to make Thor dismiss the guards and let them keep walking Loki to his future and last chamber.

The only sign of emotions they allow themselves to show is a sigh, only out of sympathy.

For he knows that his freedom just begins.

Take me to church / I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

The moment the guards put Loki back into the white vacant cell and take their eyes off them, they cast an illusion of them settling on the floor and staring at nothing. The real Loki is walking up and down the room, waiting for the Tesseract to speak.

"Now?" he asks, feeling it close.

"Now, you need to learn who your family is. Not Odin, not Laufey, your true family, Entropy," they answer.

"What with this name? After all this, can't you call me by my name?" Loki groans.

"I am. You have many names. Entropy, the Chaos Stone, the Death Stone, the Knot… the last one, actually, is the name you're most familiar with, translated to Old Jötunn tongue," they speak, all matter-of-factly.

"You're lying, the Chaos stone is a myth," Loki brushes off the answer.

"It does exist. A black gem, created by billions of ropes, strings and threads tangled together. The hardest one to wield and command and impossible to find. The Jötnar had found it and worshipped it. And when Laufey found out that his son is nothing but a dead baby, he sacrificed the infant for the infant. And Odin found the baby crying in the altar, the gem gone,"

"So I own my life to an imaginary stone, apart from an old piece of shit. What a surprise…" Loki throws their hands in the air.

"No. You are the imaginary stone. In order to give life, the Chaos gem entered your body and never left. You are the flesh of a corpse and the mind of an infinity stone. And it's time to leave the corpse and join us,"

The aimless walking stops, and Loki's heart skips a beat

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

"You made me kill a man, for this?" he asks, glaring at nothing. They don't answer.

"You made me kill a man! Just so I could die!" boiling hot tears streaming down their eyes and slither into their shirt as burning red eyes stare at the empty room for something. "I trusted you! You promised me a family!" he yells between his sobs.

Their feet cannot support them, and they kneel down, turned into a crying sobbing and yelling mess. A hand, created by mist, grabs his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

"I hate you," they spit, flaring their nose drills as they stare into the blue eyes of the illusion they use to pretend they're close to them.

"I'm sorry, hurting you was… if I could prevent it…" the stone says and gives him a small squeeze. And they mean it. If there was a way to do it without any pain, they would. But it's too late, Loki is already hurt…

Offer me that deathless death

Loki throws themselves into the tightest embrace they ever had, weeping like a baby. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't wanna die. Anything but this, anything, please!" he whispers, diving his head into their shoulder without a thought of holding back the tears.

"Shhhh, you won't die. Not truly. Your mind is the stone, as long as it exists you exist. And the body will stay intact until you need it again. You will be fine, I promise," they whisper, hoping of making them feel better.

"I'm scared, Tessie. I'm so scared, I can't," for a prince, Loki sounds so small, almost like the small child they used to be. Tessie starts playing with his hair, hoping to calm him down, even for a bit.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine, no matter if you do it or not," they shush them.

"If I do it or not?" Loki repeats, sniffing quietly and breaking the hug only to look at the misty blue eyes of Tessie.

"I… you're in so much pain… if you decide that you had enough, you'll be left alone," they explain. Loki nods, still quivering from the crying, but determined.

"No. We got so far. I-I-I'm not giving up," he lets his voice get louder, and then stands up. "What do I do?" they ask, collected once again.

"Get comfortable in a position. And once you're ready, make the ropes appear and let them wash over you," Tessie explains, holding this sympathetic voice. Loki nods and sits back down against the white wall, moving to get comfortable.

Then, with just a thought, the ropes appear and fill him with this calming sensation. Tessie walks closer and cups their cheeks. "See you on the other side, Loki," they smile and kiss their forehead before vanishing.

Loki takes a deep breath, and looks around the cage. He remembers a field day he had when little, a good day. Odin was sleeping on a bench and Frigga was yelling at them and Thor to not get into trouble as Thor dragged Loki, who was just above six, on an expiration of the forest around a castle in Vanaheim. Of course, they returned after the sun was down, with scraped up knees and dirty clothes and Loki had traces of tears in his cheeks because a bug scared him. But it had been, and still is, the best time they ever had with Thor.

He holds tight into the memory as he lets the ropes cover him and closes his eyes.

Good God, let me give you my life

The guards don't know how this happened. One moment, Loki was gazing at nothing and the next…

How does one say this to the Allfather?

The healers walk out of the cage when Thor storms in the dungeons, on the verge of panicking. "Is he alive?" It's all they ask.

The healers won't answer, it's enough to know.

Thor walks in and sits beside what used to be Loki, holding their cold and deformed hand and letting tears run down his face.

Loki doesn't respond, how could he?

He's a statue, as if made from black stone, and his hands covered in stone black ropes, with a faint glow where his heart should be being the only sign that there was once life there.

Loki's face doesn't have the signature smirk, and there's no gleam in their closed eyes. But he does wear a peaceful smile. A smile Thor regrets he had to see this body in order to know that his brother knows finally peace.

[pikemoreno]

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter I: Coffee Cures All Ills

a/n: Here it is folks! The first part of a Marcus fic heavily inspired by the Netflix rom-com Set It Up. 

It’s more structurally and conceptually inspired and not an exact scene-for-scene remake because a) I was interested in the idea of this not even really being an AU. This is extremely canon-compliant and you’ll see more of that as we continue on. 😏And b) because I had lots of ideas that spun off from watching Set It Up that I just liked better for the purpose of this fic. So that’s what you can expect. It’s gonna be cheesy and fun and great.

The first couple of chapters are a lot of, well, set up (which has been infuriating). But we’ll get into the meat of it soon. My outline says so.

As a side note, a lot of the gifs I’m going to be using are from the movie, but these are not my face claims for any of the characters. I’m using them simply for the ~vibe~ of the chapter. Reader is not a small white girl... Or she might be. She is you. Or whatever OC you’d like her to be. Period. 

And that’s it. Let’s go, I guess.

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2k (probably one of the shortest chapters we’re gonna see out of the 14-ish lolz)

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love. 

He’d seen what it had done to him in failed relationships including everything up to a failed marriage. Some would argue that it wasn’t love then, that love doesn’t fail, so it couldn’t have been. But he disagreed. He knows it when it hits. It comes on you like lightning, bright and fast. You accept it, letting it run through your veins, and risk suffering a fatal blow to your heart. And it most definitely can fatally fail. It can cause joy and pain in equal measure. He’d already been struck so painfully once, the blow of the electricity going straight to his heart. He was beginning to hope to the high heavens that he wouldn’t be so unlucky as to be struck a second time, just in case it should reach his heart so painfully once more.

Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.

He felt that especially strongly as he watched Adrian go through his recent break-up. He felt for his fellow agent, he really did. Adrian was completely convinced Sam was the one, sold to the point of going ring shopping soon. But one brief mention of an engagement sent Sam running for the hills. He’d been moping around the office for a couple of weeks now and, as much as Marcus understood the pain, he was already really looking forward to Adrian’s rebound or some similar distraction. He was needing his friend’s signature fire back right about now, not to mention his focus. His work had gotten sloppy in this mourning period. He was constantly distracted. Marcus was dreading getting him on this case today, but maybe it was just the push he needed. He hoped. He stepped up to Adrian’s desk, watching the glazed over look in his eye.

“Hey, Adrian, do you mind getting a head start on this? I’d really like you to be our head man on--” he slid the file onto his desk, but was cut short by Adrian’s response. A response that had nothing to do with anything Marcus had just said.

“I’m gonna die alone,” he muttered, hands supporting his chin, elbows on his desk. Marcus let out an exasperated sigh that he didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re not gonna die alone,” he played along once again, rubbing his temple.

“Maybe I’ll go be a monk. They never have to worry about this shit.”

“An honorable profession.”

“Yeah.” Adrian blinked out of his dream-like state. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Marcus nodded rigidly. “Sorry, Pike.” He opened the file, nodding slowly, “Yeah, I’ll get on this.”

“You look exhausted,”

“I am,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“I’m making a break room run to get coffee, you want one?”

“Please.” Marcus nodded his understanding and made his way down the hall to the break room. He doubted a case and a coffee could get his friend back on track, but he could hope, right?

***

If you had to listen through one more of Wendy’s mood swings, you might just scream. You love the girl, you really do. She’s your friend and the best boss you could’ve asked for, but Lord Almighty, had she been in rare form. Some days she was perfectly fine, strutting around like she didn’t care that her asshole boyfriend Daniel gave her an ultimatum instead of a ring on their last anniversary. Other days would see her doing a complete 180, shutting herself in her office and weeping into suspect files. Your least favorite days, though, were days where the heartbreak made her angry, where thinking about Daniel saying “It’s me or your job” made her border-line vengeful. But, unfortunately for you and the rest of the team, he wasn’t around to take the beating.

You couldn’t say you entirely understood. The short catalog of even shorter flings that you boasted brought largely apathy rather than heartbreak. You couldn’t say you’d ever been in love like Wendy had been. You’d never felt anything quite that strong-- and thank goodness for that. It wasn’t something you particularly looked forward to, at least, not the way you’d seen it lately. It was an uncontrollable force, dangerous and all-consuming. You liked control, liked being in your right mind. If love was to take up it's unfortunate residence, you could only hope it was for someone worth losing your mind over. You hadn’t seen anyone of the sort so far. 

Unfortunately, it was already too late for Wendy Harrod. The already intimidating head of the Jewelry & Gem Theft Program in Texas was in rare form. You watched as an HR intern ran from her office in near tears. Poor Randy. Her sharp “come in” in response to your knock on her door made you wince.

“Harrod, I have the results of that house search you requested if you--”

“No, no! Absolutely not, I cannot handle this right now,” she was absolutely raging, leaving you grasping at straws for a response. 

“I-- Uh-- Of course. I’ll just leave it right here whenever--” you placed it gently on the end table by the door before being interrupted again.

“Ughhhhh,” she groaned out before flopping into her desk chair, the red leather creaking as she let sit spin her around once, “I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” There was your Wendy.

“Just a little.”

“Sorry, sorry. Bring that here please.” 

“What can I do for you? As your friend, I mean. You--” you weighed your words carefully as you hand her the report, “You haven’t quite been yourself since…” you stopped that thought, “Well, lately.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I need,” she began to skim the report before looking back up with you with a tight lipped smile, “Maybe a coffee? For the more immediate problems anyway.” You laughed.

“Now that I can do. I’m headed there now. Break room coffee ok?”

“That’d be perfect.”

“The usual?”

“The usual.” She yelled after you as you walk down the hall, “You’re an angel!”

She wasn’t gonna be saying that when you came back without coffee. 

The sign on the coffee pot reading “out of coffee” was going to seriously ruin your reputation and Wendy’s sensitive mood. You ran through the options: you couldn’t leave to get her a Starbucks; there were some bottled iced coffees in the fridge, but Wendy hated them; you could wait for someone to make a run at lunch and pass on the order, but this was too urgent. Then it hit you. Everyone knew the sixth floor had the better coffee stock anyway. The art freaks loved their fancy stuff. You could always just waltz down a floor and snag two cups from their stash. 5 minutes in and out. No harm done, no questions asked. 

Or so you thought. 

The sixth floor break room was already occupied when you walked in, finding another agent also brewing a morning cup in a single cup coffee maker. 

They really did have everything here: multiple pots, another much fancier looking machine that looked like it might come to life and attack at any moment, recyclable coffee cups, every type of creamer. You name it.

You’d have to sneak over here more often.

You stepped up to the larger coffee pot, rinsing out the carafe before reaching for the container of grounds. Empty. 

They had everything here. Except coffee. 

Was the whole damn building in a coffee famine? You didn’t have time to check.

“No, no, no, no,” you panicked, frantically searching the cabinet for another container. In your peripheral you could see the other agent look at you like you’d grown two heads. You couldn’t be bothered with his judgement, but you met his eyes to ask, maybe a little too frantically. 

“Is that the last of it?” you questioned, eyeing the cup he was brewing.

“Well, yeah, sorry.” It was obvious he meant it, but apologies were not what you were needing right now.

“Shit.” 

“Withdrawals?” he laughed a little at your panicked state, but it wasn’t demeaning. He was genuinely amused, and maybe a little concerned, but it made you narrow your eyes at him all the same. You were not in the mood for the mocking, no matter how light-hearted it may be. No matter how much it was softened by the bright smile next to you.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my boss. My very upset boss who needs just one small ounce of joy in her life right now. The kind of joy that can only come from the fueling of her caffeine addiction, so if I could please just have that cup?” You blinked at him innocently, but his dark brown eyes widened as he shook his head

“What? No. I have a friend who needs this. If I don’t bring him this, he won’t be working for the rest of the day.”

“If I don’t bring my boss a cup of coffee in the next two minutes, I will probably not be working again. Ever. I will be dead. Do you want to be complicit in a murder, Agent--” you glanced at his badge, “Pike? Can you really live with that?”

“You’re awfully dramatic aren’t you?”

“I wish it was an exaggeration.” He inspected your badge then too.

“Jewelry and Gem Theft. Floor 7, right? What brings you down here to steal our coffee?” The argument was pointed, but his demeanor was anything but. He was smiling, enjoying this. A little too much, you seethed. You couldn’t stand around arguing all day.

“We’re out too.”

“Try another floor?”

“Time is of the essence here, Art Squad.” There was no room for addressing him politely now, he was riling you up on purpose. 

“If you didn’t stand here arguing with me you could’ve tried another floor by now, Jewels.”

He must think he’s so clever.

“Please. This is DEFCON 5.”

“You do know DEFCON 5 is the good one, right?”

“You know what I mean. Please.” He looked at you and then the newly brewed cup, biting the inside of his cheek, thinking through the problem.

“Tell you what. I am willing to split this if you are. Maybe it’s enough to fix both of them.” The crease between his eyebrows was deep as he studied your face, “I know Adrian is too out of it to notice he’s getting jipped, not sure about your boss.” You shrugged.

“Wendy will manage. It’s enough to keep her from throwing something at my head next time I walk in.” He dutifully split the coffee between two of the recyclable travel cups and handed one to you. You took it gratefully. 

“I hope this keeps you from… Dying? What’s up with that anyway?” You’re not sure what made this person that was essentially a stranger so interested in your life, but something about it feels nice.

“She had a really bad breakup: anniversary, thought it was going to be a proposal, instead it was him being a piss-baby. She’s a little all over the place right now. They’d been together for years and now there’s just… A hole. She doesn’t know how to deal with it.” Pike’s nod in response is emphatic, giving the cup in his hand a little wave.

“Same with him. Terrible breakup. He didn’t see it coming at all. She broke up with him on a voicemail… Then moved. ‘Course it just put him in this crazy funk, though. Doesn’t wanna work or do much of anything. No violence. Yet. But it’s sad to see.” You winced.

“That’s a rough one. Best of luck with him, Art Squad. Thank you. I owe you one. Seriously.”

“You definitely do, Jewels.” His smile is blindingly bright as he jokes. It makes you smile back.

“See you around.”

series taglist: @whiskeyslasso​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​

forever tags: @acomplicatedprofession​ @hdlynn​ @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @princessbatears​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives​

[toastedside]

‘Till Death Do Us Part

Batmom x Batfamily 

Warning: It’s kind of sad and mention of death, but nothing graphic

Note: I have no idea why I wrote this but here, enjoy!

She felt like she was flying into the merciless dark abyss of her own nightmare. Bruce told her once that falling felt like flying. Perhaps this is what he meant all these times. But she never hit the ground, forever floating with dread consumed her alive and override her system. Quite literally there was a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist to save her from her harsh landing, but she wished those arms didn’t caught her.

She quite sure she screamed, but no voice coming out from her throat as she tried to put her body weight into the cold floor of the Batcave. Her knees gave up on tried to support her body and she wished another part of hers would decide the same. She suspected Dick was the one who caught her before sorrow took her consciousness away, and the last thing her eyes caught was Damian’s worried face ran towards her.

She woke up two hours later that felt like eternity. The mattress underneath her was soft and cold, quite the embodiment of contrary and irony that she usually would laugh about with her husband. Her dearest, loving husband Bruce Wayne.

Oh, Bruce.

No, she couldn’t register what Clark had told her hours ago. Every cell on her system refused to acknowledge and let alone to process the ever-dreading news she would never want to hear. But the cold mattress underneath her and the vacant spot next to her started to assault her as consciousness slowly jumped back into her body. It was cold, empty, and this usually warm room started to lose its warmth.

Her chest started to feel empty and hollow, like it was a cage without anything stuffed into it. It was uncomfortable, really, to be aware at how empty your chest had become. She started to lose the feel of her own limbs. Perhaps they fell asleep from laying down way too long, or she simply had lost control over her own movement.

She didn’t know. She couldn’t bring herself to care either.

Jason had tried. Dick had tried. Cass, Damian, Tim, even Alfred. All of them had tried to barge and broke into the wall she had built overnight but all effort had come into vain. No answer had ever been delivered from behind the double door of the master room in this big, old Wayne Manor that had started to feel cold and grey.

Clark and Diana had tried to reach her for whatever reason. Apology or explanation, she couldn’t care less. She shut them out, locked the door with every strength left on her system, which didn’t much really. Clark sounded sorry and Diana sounded so hurt but none of them can fill the emptiness on her chest.

Alfred would leave foods on tray in front of the double door and she would take few bites before sent it away again, placed it back in right where it came and left to be brought into the trash. She had rapidly lost her weight and her glow alongside what she could assume her sanity. The hollow in her eyes were prominent and she started to not recognize her reflection in the mirror.

Jason was the one who broke the door by force, having enough of her childish demeanor and her self-isolation that had brought nothing but pain into the family. Her other children soon followed, and the next thing she knew was many pair of arms tackled her into a hug that she didn’t know she needed.

“Ma, don’t shut us out. We’re also grieving. We missed him too,” Jason placed a tender kiss on her temple. It was loving and innocent, awfully reminded her when he was a mere nine-year-old and thought the manor was haunted. “We are here for you. We’ll get through this together.”

She couldn’t register what her other children had said, but she was sure her chest started to be filled with something again. It was cold and unforgiving and stole her breath away. The warmth of her children’s hugs hand been the compensation that saved her from drowning on the cold material that filled her chest. Slowly dripping but constant. And soon it would be the only thing that filled her system.

She slept with her children cramped together on the king size bed that somehow fit everyone in. Although limbs are tangled everywhere and she was sure some bicker would be the first thing happen in the morning. She couldn’t sleep, but the weight of Cass’s head pressed on her side grounded her from floating away.

She wondered how Bruce would fit in to sleep in between this tangled mess. A bitter aftertaste filled her mouth at the thought alone, like blood slowly dripping on her mouth ready to suffocate her. She steadied her breath so none of her children would wake up. They needed some good sleep, after all. It was rare.

She stared into her reflection at the mirror before her. She hated it.

She wore black. Bruce always said that colorful outfits fit her much, much better than blacks. She would use yellow, orange, pink, and sky blue. Quite the representative of who she was in his life, Bruce would say, in his attempt to flirt that would do nothing but made her giggle.

She tugged the hem of her dress frustratedly. She desperately wanted to strip this dress off from her body, scrub it away so it left no residue. It might have looked elegant and weightless, but it pressed her chest with invincible weight that suffocate her. She did not want this. She hated this dress.

Tim showed up behind her and they made a brief eye contact through the mirror. He looked clean and sharp in his tux although there were growing eyebags underneath his eyes. He offered her a sympathetic smile, but his eyes filled with some emotions that she didn’t want to see. She glanced away slyly, not wanting to meet her son’s eyes that would only fill her now almost full chest with the cold feeling. She was almost drowning.

“They already expecting us, Mom,” Tim said as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She stared into his hand and it was cold. Even her clothed shoulder could feel how cold it was.

“So soon?” She asked. She wished universe would be kind enough to borrow her some time.

“We need to go now or we’ll be late,” Tim said softly. But the underlaying firmness on his voice indicated that she couldn’t bolt away from this even if she wanted to.

With a heavy heart, she linked her arm on Tim’s middle. They walked side by side to their family that already waited for them in the foyer. Dick looked handsome in his tux, all black with hair neatly combed. Jason wore sunglasses, the white streak on his raven ones was a stark contrast into his all-black tux. Damian looked small in his tux, almost adorable. The black tie complimented his green eyes so much that it pulled a painful tug on her heart. He looked so much like Bruce.

Cassandra. Oh, her dear, sweet Cassandra looked nothing but beautiful with her black dress. A bobby pin complimented her sweet face it almost made her smile if only she had the strength to. Alfred wore his usual tux but the shine that usually took residence in his eyes had gone. Their eyes met briefly and she immediately looked away. The pain they shared was too much for her to bear and she didn’t want to face it just yet.

Isn’t it sad, that all of her children look good and almost photo-shoot ready only to walk into the most unwanted ceremony that about to start soon?

It felt insulting. Infuriating. Humiliating.

She glared into the crowd before her that stood up when Dick pushed the door open, as if she was a bride about to walk into the arms of her loved one. Her eyes caught the glimpse of Justice League member all dressed in black and have the same sympathetic smile like it was some kind of uniform.

Anger suddenly flooded her system. She wanted to scream at all of them for attending this wearing all black attire and offered her sympathetic smile that she already grew tired of. She wanted to yell at anyone who dared enough to step across the line for putting all of these decorations without her permission. Those white carnations they put was an eyesore.

Her breath started to get caught on her throat. Her chest become heavy with weight and suddenly she forgot how to breath properly. She stopped walking suddenly, pulled Tim with her as she refused to let go his arm. All of her family member stopped on their track, all eyes fell on her expectantly waiting for her next movement.

“No,” she whispered. It all started as a whisper. Her hand slowly let go of Tim’s, eyes widened in horror at sight before her. “No, no. No!” her voice raised an octave higher before it went into a full-blown hysterical, “No!”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Dick tried to touched her shoulder, but her hand quick to swatted him away.

“No!” she yelled hysterically. Her heart pumped the cold, merciless feeling that almost drowned her and spread it through her bloodstreams. “No!”

“Ma...”

“Let go of me!” she screamed. Her throat started to feel raw and tears started to pooled on her eyes. She couldn’t see well, but she knew everyone started to move from their seat to hold her in some way. She felt suffocated and the room started to grow small ready to squish her.

She limped away from her children, cursed at how her knees started to shake and slowly giving up to support her weight. She almost made it through the door before she fell on her knees with a loud thud and soon hurried footsteps came towards her. She no longer cared if she made a huge scene and possibly drag the family’s name into shame. All she could focused about was how her lungs slowly collapsing and it was getting harder to breath with her whole body shaking violently.

It had been Damian this time who wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Damian’s hands gripped on her dress tightly, his face buried deep on her shoulder and no words was exchanged between them as Damian hold her close, tightly, and firmly. Something heavy like a sand dropped from her chest and land painfully on the pit of her stomach.

For the first time after receiving the news, she cried. Hysterically. Painfully.

She finally let herself weep for her husband as she clutched into Bruce’s framed picture firmly. She held it close to her chest in wished that if she held it close enough, she could feel the warmth that usually radiated from him. Reality slowly sank deeper the more she weeps and it started felt too real and too much to bear.

Bruce is gone from a mission that went wrong. He’s no longer here. He’s dead.

No one in the whole damn room knew what to do. They all stared into their palms as if it was some kind of norm for them to do so. The sound that escaped from her throat as she kept calling for Bruce’s name helplessly made everyone shivered from chill spreading through their spine.

Jason stood next to her, one of his hand held an umbrella for them and his free one wrapped around her figure. It was empty casket that had been put down into the ground. No body was found. Presumed dead. She wanted to scream. To yell. But every leftover strength on her body had melted away with saline tears that seemingly unable to stop. Watching the empty casket felt like an insult, like some twisted joke the universe pulled on them and God was laughing from somewhere.

She had been into so much funeral but never been to one with empty casket with no body to be buried. It almost felt like there would be no closure without seeing his face for the last time. She didn’t get to say their goodbye or kiss him for the last time. It felt so wrong, like it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

She didn’t make it into the end as her consciousness left her body, pulled her into dark abyss at the bottomless pit of her nightmare. Perhaps this time Bruce would greet her and welcome her into his arms. That way, they could be together again. Death do us part be damned.

[29-pieces]

After the Ritz, pt 2 -- Good Omens snippet

“Erm, I can, y’know… go first,” Crowley hedged when Aziraphale didn’t say anything. “If you like.”

He always had been the braver one of the two, Aziraphale thought with a swell of even deeper affection. He nodded, reaching for the bottle of wine, but Crowley took it out of his hand and set it on the table.

“No,” the demon said softly. “Sober. So you know.”

The intensity in both his voice and golden eyes left Aziraphale breathless, and he wordlessly nodded again.

“I love you, Aziraphale. I think… I think I always have. Didn’t know it, you know, couldn’t have, reckoned it wasn’t possible for someone like me. It was the— the Garden. Really didn’t expect you’d actually fancy a chat, but then…” Crowley laughed, a telltale hint of wateriness to it. “You gave away your sword, what in Someone’s name, you really were something else, Aziraphale. And I just… I don’t know how to explain it. I couldn’t control it, certainly wasn’t looking for it, I just knew there was… I don’t know, there was a connection.”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Aziraphale replied honestly with a foggy smile. He looked up at Crowley through damp lashes, suddenly bashful. “You weren’t at all what I was bracing for. I thought you must be trying to catch me off guard, you know, but then you really did just want to talk. Not an ounce of hostility anywhere to be found. I had to scold myself quite soundly for assuming the worst, when truly you didn’t seem malicious, so much as… well, I suppose… lonely.”

Crowley looked away, a bit of the intensity in his snake eyes fading. “S’pose I was,” he muttered. “Anyway, it took a while for me to figure it out, and even then I knew I couldn’t say it. I knew how dangerous it was. I never wanted to put you at risk, angel, didn’t want anyone upstairs thinking there was even a chance I might actually… you know, corrupt you or anything, or that would have been it for you."

“I suppose at the very least I would have been reassigned,” Aziraphale agreed, not missing the flash of fury in Crowley. He sighed. “Very well, then, yes, there’s also a chance they might have… simply silenced me, if they thought it was too late.”

Something dark and unintelligible spilled from Crowley’s lips, but he brushed it aside in favor of hesitantly reaching for Aziraphale’s hand and catching it in his own.

“I couldn’t say it before,” he repeated. “But I can now, and I’m going to. I love you. It’s really that simple.”

A warm flush that had nothing to do with the wine burned in Aziraphale’s heart and radiated out like sunlight. He didn’t realize he was actually exuding that light until Crowley broke the mood by squinting a bit, to which Aziraphale squeaked in embarrassment.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Crowley said, barely biting back the grin. Then, he coughed. “Anyway, erm… that’s me, then.”

Right, which meant it was his turn now. Knowing how Crowley felt about him at least took some of the unfathomable terror out of putting himself on the line, perhaps to be scorned or rejected, so Aziraphale took a deep, bolstering breath.

“I… I don’t know when I first really knew it,” he confessed. “Quite early. I felt connected to you, as well. How could we not be? The only two ethereal beings—”

“Occult.”

“—ethereal beings, running around with the humans at all their biggest happenings. You were always there, I couldn’t seem to shake you, and it wasn’t long before I truly didn’t want to. It was comforting, you know. Just… just knowing there was someone else down here who… I don’t know, understood.”

Aziraphale had had human friends in his long life, of course, and very dear little things they were. But there was no use pretending it was ever the same. It couldn’t have been, those fragile creatures who lived and died in the blink of an eye.

Not like Crowley. Steadfast, stalwart, fickle and ever-changing Crowley, who shed his look like he shed his skin and yet was always exactly the same underneath. And when Aziraphale needed him, really needed a chat or a rescue, it was always Crowley who was there.

Aziraphale swallowed. “I started hoping I’d see you around, got worried sometimes when I didn’t. And I know, my dear, I know I behaved simply awfully sometimes, the things I said to you, but— but I do hope you know… it was only ever to play the charade. I never, never counted myself above you. I never thought I was holier—”

“Go on, you know you did.”

“Alright, but only by a matter of definition, and not by character. I don’t know when precisely I began to think of it as love. By the time the word came to mind, the feeling had already been there too long to tell.” Bracing his courage, Aziraphale took Crowley’s free hand in his own. “And I can say it now, too. And I do love you, Crowley. It was devilishly tricky to hide it sometimes, and I do wish I hadn’t hid it so well from you, but there it is.”

Crowley exhaled, cheeks turning a delightful pink that shot straight up into the tips of his ears.

“Well,” he said. “Erm… yeah, it— it’s good to hear.”

The two looked at each other, the silence extending for a long moment between them as though both were bracing for the possible coming retribution of such a declaration. Nothing happened, though. No bolt of vengeful lightning, no uproar from Heaven or Hell, no celestial armies at the door to put an end to such things. All was quiet. All was well. If anything, the world felt… lighter, brighter, more full of hope than Aziraphale had felt in… ever. It was frankly overwhelming. Aziraphale heard himself laugh once, then he was weeping yet again.

“Alright, then,” Crowley said from somewhere beside him, still as patient as the day was long. “Reckon that’s enough for the moment. You should get some rest, angel."

He sniffled and nodded, then froze when Crowley released his hands.

“Wait,” he blurted out. “Don’t… don’t go?”

Crowley stilled beside him. “You want me to stay?”

“Won’t you, dear? I just… I’m feeling a tad… that is… I don’t know what I—”

“It’s alright, angel. Look, why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and I’m going to curl up in the chair. Don’t feel like going back outside anyway. Too bloody cold, ask me.”

It was, as always, absurdly transparent, but Aziraphale was no less grateful for it. He had never really been one for “sleep”, but at the moment he was feeling quite exhausted in a bone-weary way he’d never known before. Both a tremendous weight and an unbelievable lightness battled within him, but the heaviness was starting to win. Aziraphale felt Crowley shift, felt the hands guiding his shoulders down until he was lying on the cozy pillow of the sofa. A blanket fell over him, then hypnotic golden eyes were meeting his.

“Jussst ssssleep for a while,” a soft voice hissed in the most soothing tones to wind through Aziraphale’s heart. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Good night… Azzssssiraphale.”

[searchingforenadi]

writing a will is standard procedure

although it’s terribly misleading, the power of a name like ‘bloody bakery’ is too strong to ignore, so that’s exactly what we’re going to keep it as :O

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

a brief summary: Your customers won’t stop bleeding in your shop. You realize this might be a problem. (second person!OC, TYL).

xxvi.

You spend a few more days reevaluating your life choices. 

Perhaps, you think, hands clasped firmly in front of you, you’ve gotten a little greedy with your  new source of revenue. 

On the other hand, another voice in your head argues, it’s not like you could’ve refused them. Paying customers are the same wherever you go. What kind of business owner would you be if you turned away every customer wearing a fancy suit?

You stare into the empty space of your store, the quiet ticks of a clock ringing in your ears. 

The fallacy of mankind, you think solemnly, is wanting nice things. 

Is this how it always begins? You used to find it ridiculous whenever the media reported sensational news about a company’s descent into corruption. Now, however, it occurs to you that perhaps you’re the one facing that same downfall as well.

Should I write a will? You stare even more deeply at the tiled floor. 

The thought has never crossed your mind before. It’s something you had planned to do when you turn old and grey, but since it looks like your chances of meeting an early demise have skyrocketed in the past few months, maybe you should.

The entrance to your door swings open. 

“Welcome,” you say, already on autopilot. It won’t do to ignore any potential customers right when you’re on the precipice of cutting off your very dangerous, very generous regulars. “How can I - ”

Yamamoto waves a hand. By his side, Gokudera remains silent, his hands inside the pockets of his pants. 

“ - help you?” you finish smoothly. It’s only through a decade of customer service that you’re able to keep a polite smile on your face. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Yamamoto says, eyes creasing with a smile. Gokudera, in the meantime, lets out a grunt. 

“The usual then?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on their faces. You’ve spent too long pointedly avoiding Yamamoto’s sword to start staring now. 

Yamamoto’s smile doesn’t waver. “That would be great!” 

You get started on the coffee and, while the water is slowly boiling, you pull out your usual tiramisu cake. 

“So,” Yamamoto says, leaning casually on the counter by your register. “Anything interesting happened lately?”

Yes, you immediately want to blurt out. I saw your friends handling illegal weapons outside my shop. 

“Not really,” you say instead, the picture-perfect image of a clueless baker. “I’ll be shopping at a new place this weekend. Very exciting.”

“I’m sure it is,” Yamamoto says, and it sounds like he means it. You turn back around and pass him the usual box of cake. 

In your other hand is the usual cup of coffee and, right as you’re handing it off to Gokudera’s outreached hand, you quickly glance down. 

His legs, thankfully, are free of any knives. 

Gokudera snatches the cup from your hand. To the side, Yamamoto slaps a hand to his own mouth.

“You - ” Gokudera starts with a snarl, eyes flashing. 

“And that’s our cue to go,” Yamamoto cuts in, stopping a potential crime scene from occurring within your shop. He slaps down a wad of cash and wraps an arm around Gokudera’s neck.

“Let me go, you little - !”

“Keep the change,” Yamamoto says, eyes creasing and shoulders slightly shaking. They leave right after, as Gokudera sends you silent death threats while struggling to escape from Yamamoto’s grasp. 

You stare down at the pile of money on your counter. The fact that you’ve narrowly missed an early meeting with your late grandpa seems to pale in comparison to the stack of bills in front of you.

No, a voice that sounds awfully like your conscience whispers, you shouldn’t. Just take the right amount and return the rest! That way, the government has no proof when they knock on your door - 

You very delicately pick up the money and slide it into the register. 

“I’m human too,” you say out loud, to the utter silence in your shop. “We all have our flaws.”

The absence of any response should’ve been telling enough.

xxvii.

The next day, during the late morning, you fiddle through several documents. 

You have enough to finally buy that mixer and now, your days of suffering are over. No longer will you have to hand mix your dough whenever your rusty, old mixer gives up on you. No longer will you weep over its struggle to handle your heavier mixtures - 

The front door opens, sending a warm breeze through the shop. 

“Welcome!” you call out, closing your notebook shut. If everything goes as planned, you should be able to order it by the end of the weekend. “How can I help you?”

You stop. There, standing in all his teenage glory, stands Lambo - your well-paying regular and possible juvenile delinquent.

Lambo grins. “Hi!”

“Hi,” you say, for lack of better words. It doesn’t seem like an appropriate time to mention your eye-witness account of his crimes. “You’re here early today.”

You can’t remember ever seeing Lambo coming into the shop earlier than the afternoon. 

He shrugs, before plastering his face into your glass display. “School’s cancelled today.”

“School,” you repeat, somehow astounded by the news. It shouldn’t surprise you - Lambo is still a teenager and those types of people should still be in school. It certainly explains the fancy uniform he’s always wearing. 

“I didn’t know the local school here required uniforms,” you think aloud, pushing a finger against Lambo’s forehead to remove him from the display. It’s enough of a sanitary hazard that you’re willing to risk getting shot for it. 

Lambo laughs, a little too loudly for the quiet shop. He rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, I, uh, go to school somewhere else. Outside town.”

“Outside the town?” you blink slowly. So a private school? It fits the image you have, considering how much money Lambo throws your way. 

Lambo laughs even more, and it is the most awkward sound you’ve heard this week. You take this as a sign to leave the subject matter alone and instead say, “I have some candied fruits, if you’re interested.”

“Yes!” Lambo blurts out, his demeanor shifting immediately into something bright. “I want that.”

You wait for a moment.

“Please,” he adds belatedly, before sending you a winning smile. 

An answering smile finds its way onto your face and you move to pack a jar or two. You pull out your usual stash of dango and stick it into the take-out bag as well.

“Make sure you share some with Tsuna,” you tell him, taking his cash and trying not to scan his clothes for any suspicious lumps that would hide a weapon. 

Lambo makes a face. “But you gave him some last time!”

Your smile widens. “I’m not making you share if you don’t want to.”

He droops instantly. 

“Fine,” he says petulantly. “I’ll think about it, I guess.”

You lean onto your display, resting your head on a hand. “If you stop by next week, I might have some mochi for you to try, if you know what it is.”

Lambo perks up, so quickly you wonder if he’s ever gotten whiplash from his constantly changing emotions. “Mochi? Of course I do! I used to eat them all the time in Japan.”

You pause at this new information. “You used to live in Japan?”

“For a few years,” Lambo says, waving a hand flippantly in the air. “It was nice.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, unsure as to why this reveal bothers you so much. “Well, you’re welcome to try some if you’re here.”

Lambo gives you a strange look. “But I’m here almost every day.”

You sigh. “But you shouldn’t. Spend some time somewhere else, Lambo.”

Lambo slowly grins, in a way that tells you he hasn’t even bothered to consider your words, before waving a hand goodbye. 

You run a hand through your hair - sometimes, you wonder why you even bother.

xxviii.

That night, you set your alarm and settle into bed, closing your eyes firmly shut. Tomorrow morning, you will be getting that anko, one way or another. 

If the marketplace doesn’t have any, you already have an order form for azuki beans filled out and ready to go. At this point, price or time doesn’t matter - your desire for anko has transcended all logical thought and has become a primal need.

Just you wait, you think, turning over to one side and pulling your blankets up to your face. 

The next morning, your eyes shoot open the moment your alarm goes off. You slap a hand to your phone and sit straight up, blinking blearily into your dark bedroom.

It takes a short while to feel human again. A cup of coffee in hand and thirty minutes later, you stare out of your window, to the dusty, light blue sky. 

Outside, where the sun has yet to hit your apartment, you inhale deeply, feeling the cool, sharp air in your lungs. 

You’ve already mapped out the way to the new marketplace last night. After a few wrong turns and a five minute break to consider if you’ve perhaps lost all common sense, you eventually find a blocked off plaza full of different sized stalls.

The sun now resting on the back of your neck, you trudge through the plaza, shuffling past a crowd of people huddled around a fruit stall. Staring out into the bustling market, you decide it’s a travesty it’s taken you this long to find out about it. 

You continue wandering down the road, eyes peeled for any hint of your sought after anko. Tsuna had given a general area but it’s up to you to narrow down your search.

The sun rises higher as you awkwardly move around another small crowd of elderly women. Your crane your neck to squint at a particularly promising stall and - 

And promptly walk into a wall. 

Not a wall, you then think, hissing in pain as your hand flies to your smarting nose. Walls don’t feel like fabric and smell like smoke.

“Sorry,” you say, eyes blinking rapidly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going - ”

You pause. Through your watering eyes, your head slowly rises higher and, under a crown of silver hair, Gokudera scowls. 

What are the chances, you think distantly, absentmindedly rubbing your nose. This isn’t the first time you’ve come across a customer outside the shop, but you prefer keeping your business and private life separate. 

“Of course you weren’t,” Gokudera says, rolling his eyes. It might have been more intimidating if he had been wearing his suit, but for the very first time, he’s wearing more casual clothes - a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. 

“Right,” you say, a smile almost making its way on your face. A local marketplace is the last place you would ever expect to see Gokudera, but there’s something about it - the bustle of people, the laughter of children, the scent of fruit and spices - that almost makes him seem approachable. “Nice to see you too.”

Gokudera scoffs, shoving his free hand into his pockets. He tightens his grip on several plastic bags, before turning around and walking away. 

You imagine this is the closest thing to a peaceful exit you’ll ever get from someone like Gokudera. 

WIth a shrug, you resume your search, scanning the stalls and making sure to keep an extra eye on the road in front of you. Strangely enough, Gokudera is still only a few paces ahead of you, with hunched shoulders and trudging feet. 

It doesn’t take long for a set of somewhat familiar characters to catch your eye. You squint immediately, feet stopping in place. 

Like paper clips to a magnet, you walk up to the stall - already, you recognize several snacks you used to horde back when you went shopping at the Japanese market with your mom in the States. 

Your lips curve up into a smile.

A commotion on the other side grabs your attention. There’s an older woman, face flushed red and a package in her hands, speaking loudly to the owner of the stall, an elderly Japanese woman with gray hair tied tightly into a bun. 

All too familiar with irate customers, you send a silent prayer of sympathy to the old lady and look back down. Those same snacks are now somehow in your hands. 

The power of nostalgia, you think, clutching the snacks closer to your chest, is a terrifying thing.

You turn around - and nearly drop everything when you come face-to-face with Gokudera once again.

He narrows his eyes.

“You again?” he mutters, a perplexed look on his face, as if he can’t decide if he should stab you or leave the subject matter alone.

You fix a smile on your face. Maybe you should’ve written that will after all.

But no, you’ve risked too much to leave now. After a second of deliberation, you decide that you’d rather get shanked than miss your chance at finding some anko.

“This is the new place I was hoping to check out,” you tell him, as a reminder that, despite his intimidating appearance, you’re the one providing the goods in this business relationship.

And, because you still value your life (despite your previous resolve), you add, “Tsuna recommended it to me.”

(You actually don’t have a single clue about the sort of relationship Gokudera and Tsuna might have, since you’ve never seen the two together.

But you’re hoping it won’t hurt to bring in some familiar names, just in case, to keep Gokudera accountable.)

Gokudera pauses, his eyebrows furrowing.

Then, with a click of his tongue, he runs a hand through his silver hair and says, “Yeah, whatever.”

You give Gokudera a wide amount of space and he walks around you, grumbling under his breath.

Disaster averted, you continue your (rather limited) shopping spree, walking around to the tune of a woman’s yells. 

A few minutes pass and suddenly, after finding yourself staring blankly at a series of foreign words, it finally hits you. 

You can’t read a single speck of Japanese beyond your own name.

The despair that follows nearly cripples you. It only lasts for several moments, thankfully, because your parents haven’t raised a fool.

You pull out your phone and look up the kanji for anko. Like a makeshift metal detector, you continue walking around, appraising anything that might look like red bean paste. 

The search goes on for a short while before it leaves you completely empty-handed. You let out a long sigh, shifting slightly to accommodate the number of snacks in your arms.

You drag your feet to the register, already calculating the days it’ll take to have azuki beans delivered to your doorstep.

If I pay more, I can get it next week, you think, folding your fingers to keep track of your numbers. It would’ve been a problem a few months ago, spending an exorbitant amount of money for azuki beans, but your strange and well-dressed regulars have solved it for you with their… generosity.

You check the time on your phone. The same woman from before is still at the register, and you’re a little impressed at how she’s gone for ten minutes without taking a single breath.

It’s bothersome enough that you consider dumping the snacks and leaving altogether. From the almost blank look on the stall owner’s face, you can only imagine this will continue for a while.

Except, by sheer coincidence, your eyes focus on the package in the woman’s hands. The kanji looks vaguely familiar, which is impossible, because you only know - 

You quickly pull out your phone and almost drop your snacks in your haste. 

“There’s no way,” you say to yourself, staring at the matching kanji on your phone. 

The stars aligning themselves to dangle anko in your face isn’t the most terrifying part. Rather, you can’t believe you’re actually considering, actually thinking about taking the anko, without knowing where it’s been, or where it came from - 

A rustle of noise grabs your attention, dragging you away from your horrifying, unsanitary thoughts. You look back and, surprise surprise, it’s Gokudera, lining up behind you. 

His lips twist into a scowl as he watches the one-sided argument. It’s a look so foul, you can almost see him planning a premeditated murder. 

Which, he wouldn’t do, of course, because this is a very open space, in a very public area. 

… Right?

He wouldn’t, you think, a little less confidently. 

An ominous creak fills the air when Gokudera digs his fingers deep into the plastic packages in his hands. 

You swiftly walk up to the register, because you’re not particularly eager to witness a crime on a Saturday morning. It’s the grandest act of community service you’ve done since high school and you hope it’ll be the last.

“Excuse me,” you say, plastering on your best customer service smile. “That anko - is there a problem with it?”

The woman stops her tirade to give you a dirty look.

“The problem is that I was tricked!” she snaps, gesturing to the packaged anko. From a glance, it doesn’t look opened. “I asked for regular beans and this old lady gave me this!”

“Regular beans,” you repeat, before slowly looking back at the anko. You’re sorely tempted to ask how red bean paste could ever be mistaken for actual beans, but you swallow the words down.

“That must have been confusing,” you say instead, keeping that smile on your face because you’re a professional. “How much did you pay for it?”

“Ten euros,” the woman says, crossing her arms. “And I’m not leaving until I get a full refund for it!”

You put your snacks down on the counter, pull out your wallet, and hand over the right amount. “Great! Consider it paid for.”

The woman stares at the bills in her hand. “What?”

“Your refund,” you say, taking the anko from her loosened grip. “You can leave now, right?”

It doesn’t take long before the woman leaves in a huff, face still flushed and a hand clutching the cash tight. 

You turn to the stall owner, who still doesn’t look particularly invested in the commotion before her. She studies you for a moment and slowly, a smile appears on her lips.

“---?” she asks you in Japanese, dark eyes gleaming. “--- is okay, but ---”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you say, only able to catch a few words. Heat flares briefly on your cheeks. “I don’t really understand.”

(For the briefest of moments, you suddenly wish you had taken your mom’s efforts to teach you Japanese a little more seriously. If you had, would you even be in this situation right now?)

The elderly woman’s smile widens. 

“No problem,” she says, switching to Italian with a heavy accent. The creases around her eyes deepen as she points to the snacks on the counter. “You take this?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, a little startled at the topic change. The stall owner hums, ringing up your snacks and calling out something else in Japanese.

You’re left slightly bewildered when she waves a hand, until moments later, someone else joins your side.

With a slightly resigned expression, Gokudera sets down his own purchases, and answers back in Japanese. 

In completely fluent, native Japanese.

This, you think, blinking rapidly, shouldn’t bother you. Gokudera is clearly, at least, partially Japanese, and why wouldn’t someone like that know how to speak it?

(This time, however, you can’t stop the flash of envy that spikes through your chest.)

You shake away your thoughts when the stall owner passes back your snacks in a bag.

“Thank you,” you say, accepting the bag and adding your newly acquired anko inside as well. “How much should I…?”

The stall owner smiles warmly before saying something to Gokudera again.

Gokudera, in the meantime, lets out an aggravated sigh.

“She says don’t worry about it,” he tells you, looking as if he’d rather be doing anything else than translate an old woman’s words for a random baker. 

You look down at your snacks in surprise. “Wait, really?”

The stall owner says a few more words. 

“‘It’s payment for getting rid of that annoying fucker,’ is what she says,” Gokudera lazily adds.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

You open your mouth, and close it again. 

“Is that,” you finally begin, after another pause. “Is that what she really said?”

Gokudera shrugs, which you find is a far worse response than a simple yes or no. 

You turn back to the old woman, who still has a serene smile on her face. Your head spinning, you say hesitantly, “Um, thank you then.”

Then, because you’re fairly certain you’ve somehow entered the twilight zone, you give a returning smile and slowly back away.

At this point, Gokudera’s purchases have also been bagged and, a little dazed,  you follow him back into the plaza. 

“Well, I’ll see you around then,” you say, a heartbeat too late, but really - who can blame you? “Thanks for translating.”

You’re not sure if you actually mean it, but you imagine Gokudera could’ve ditched at any point, so props to him for helping out the elderly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, his free hand once again stuffed into his pocket. It’s strange how harmless it makes him look for once. “Next time, figure it out by yourself.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you say, after coming to the conclusion that, despite the roller coaster of events, you’re more than willing to return if you can find more of this anko. “I’m used to language barriers.”

The both of you reach the plaza entrance and, with piercing green eyes, Gokudera looks at you like you’re the slowest person on the planet.

“That’s stupid,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Why would you be used to it? Just learn the damn language.”

Something clenches in your chest.

“I,” you falter, the heat returning to your cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t thought about that?”

Gokudera snorts. “If you’ve thought about it, but haven’t tried it, does it actually count?”

It’s tempting to give into the acid that burns your throat. Gokudera doesn’t know anything about you and, frankly, it was a terrible idea to continue talking with someone who’s just a regular from your shop.

What’s even worse, you realize, is that he’s completely right.

(When have you ever really put in the effort to learn your mom’s home language? If it bothers you that much, why haven’t you tried picking it up again?)

Gokudera quickly runs a hand through his hair. 

“Look,” he finally says, after the silence stretches for a moment too long. “Forget I said anything.”

But he isn’t wrong. 

“No, that’s not it,” you quickly say, suddenly hit with the awareness that Gokudera, despite his abrasive personality, probably isn’t out to get you. “I… I get what you’re saying.”

If something bothers you, shouldn’t you at least try to go after it? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along with the anko in your hands?

You offer a weak smile. “I haven’t thought about it that way. So I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gokudera eyes you, lips twisting into that same perplexed expression from before.

“Right,” he says slowly. “You do that then.”

And without another word, Gokudera turns and walks away. You stare after his slouched shoulders for a brief moment, before glancing down at the bags in your hand.

Your smile falls and, with a heavy sigh, you rub the back of your neck.

As it turns out, it looks like you have some serious thinking to do.

-o-o-o-o-o-

what? you’re telling me that one of Gokudera’s weaknesses being old ladies isn’t canon? 

i actually had a lighter, more comedic plot point to end this chapter with, but it felt like that would diminish the importance of this final scene too much. heritage is something that matters more to some than others, but when you have different cultural backgrounds, it’s not easy to keep them all equal in your life - i hope this evolving struggle for our MC is clear to the people reading it!

there’s so much i want to say about my thoughts on this chapter, but to keep it short - this is the first time we see MC out of the shop and with it, a new set of experiences and facets of their personality. stepping out of their comfort zone (the shop) and being challenged through it - i imagine that Gokudera is the only one capable of doing it intentionally, at this time.

i know this started of as a ‘shitpost’ for giggles, but i do hope this brings some sort of enjoyment even when it digs deeper beyond the humor. it’s been exhausting to do many things lately, but i’m always grateful for how much love has been sent to this little, silly fic. please stay safe and healthy and aware out there!

[mrs-apocalypse]

God I love ur writing style so I trust ur taste: any fic recs? (doesn’t have to be BKDK, but u know

OOOOOOOOOOOOO OKAY! HERE WE GO!

Before I start, I want you to know that I tried to tag all the big bad warnings, but PLEASE CHECK TAGS on the fic itself before reading in case I’ve missed anything! Now, my favorite bkdk fics vary a lot. There are, of course, the ones a lot of people know:

Before Midnight by @driftingglass~[Explicit] (28/28) (211K words)

Warnings: -Graphic Depiction of Violence, Underage-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353440/chapters/25410591

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery. "Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?"And before Izuku can find his footing, his life becomes a full-blown collision course thanks to walking cannonball Katsuki Bakugou. (And along the way he may have found the missing fuel to his fire).

Bluebird by EtherealBing ~ [Explicit] (7/7) (53K words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353440/chapters/25410591

Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact.However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Don’t Set Your Drink Down by @crandberrycrush ~ [Explicit] (21/21) (88K words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868400/chapters/31903419

With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

And then there are the lesser known, but insanely good ones I LOVE:

Twenty-Four by SharkbaitSekki ~ [Teen] (1/1) (15K words)

Warnings: -Graphic Depictions of Violence-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167162

Izuku gets himself kidnapped, and Katsuki is dragged into it with him as they face villains with particularly terrifying illusion Quirks. It ends up being a living nightmare, but Katsuki can't bring himself to regret following Izuku into it all. Because between the pain and the terror, between the lies and the illusions, between life and death, at least they can always hang onto one another. Even if everything else is fake, they know that they will always be real.

Two Guys and Lots of Fries by hottamale ~ [Explicit] (1/1) (3K words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421971

“Ten Guys! I wanna go to Ten Guys; they have the best french fries,” he smiled while looking at Katsuki expectantly.Katsuki frowned. “We just passed it though.”“So turn around.”“And waste my gas? Shits expensive Deku.”Izuku breathed in, held his breath for a moment, and let it back out. He put a hand on Katsuki’s bicep and blinked up at him, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “Please? I’ll make it up to you.”

And the classics like:

Indestructible (Emotionally Speaking, That Is) by iknewaman ~ [Explicit] (1/1) (8.8K words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314555

“Alright, buddy,” Katsuki says, swatting at the weeping guy with the broom. “Time to clear out.”--AU where Bakugou works at the cinema and Izuku is the cinema-goer who keeps coming in to cry at sad movies

~And then there are the non-BNHA fics I ADORE~ 

First, for Mob Psycho:

Butterfly Effect by Frecklefrog ~ [Teen] (17/17) (69K Words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613168/chapters/26108970

“Go, Mob, melt it!” screeches Reigen, and Mob extends his hand, already coated with the swirling blue discs of his aura. Only-Only he can’t exorcise the spirit, because there isn’t one, and the boy is staring at him with wide blue eyes. His hand is glowing the same yellow as the basket.(in which Teruki meets Mob much, much earlier.)

Then there’s Drarry:

Who We Are In The Shadows by Quicksilvermaid ~ [Explicit] (12/12) (99.7K words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758962/chapters/51913963

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

The Masks of Real Heroes by Aelys_Althea ~ [Explicit] (30/30) (272K words)

Warnings: Rape/Noncon, Child Abuse, Underage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4526436/chapters/10298916

One desperate decision has unimaginable consequences. When Harry received his letter at eleven, he turned down the offer to attend Hogwarts. He had to; it was his only chance to escape. Five years later and, in the brief moments he recalls his decision, he feels nothing but regret. Until an incident causes the opportunity to arise once more, and he is finally given the chance to escape that which has smothered him for so long.

Zukka (Zuko/Sokka from ATLA):

Transference by The_Quartermaster ~ [Mature] (39/39) (146K words)

Warnings: Untagged Rape and Abuse

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064352/chapters/2134852

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through.

Jeanmarco (Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt) from Attack on Titan:

Sweet as Cinnamon by SimplyTsundere ~ [Explicit] (46/46) (226K Words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843308/chapters/13467421

Wrightvale, Georgia - Sergeant Marco Bodt receives a call about a noise complaint in his own apartment building while on duty. Surprisingly, the call was for the new neighbor that moved in the night before. The door opens to a very intoxicated Jean Kirschtein who mistakes the good officer for the male stripper his friends had hired for his welcome party. Hilarious antics ensue in a tale about how two broken people learn to put the pieces together with one another after life has dealt them a rather unfortunate hand of cards that may or may not come back to haunt."Qui craint de souffrir, il souffre déjà de ce qu’il craint." ~ "He who fears suffering is already suffering that which he fears." Jean de La Fontaine

And lastly, TianShan (Mo Guan Shan x He Tian) from 19 Days:

Always Will by Mestizo ~ [General Audience] (1/1) (777 words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593730

There are days when he wakes up from another time and then starts to ask him about school, homework, part time jobs. And Mo GuanShan responds as if only a day has passed since their teenage years ended.

Sticking Around by @agapaic ~ [Mature] (2/2) (14K words)

https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameis152/bookmarks

‘You’re awfully bold lately.’I know, Guan Shan thinks. Love is making me stupid and brave.‘D’you mind?’ he asks. He knows his gestures of affection are hard to win—harder to receive of their own accord. Something—this morning’s epiphany—has made him want to give them more freely. But he was right, earlier: He Tian likes the challenge. Fear stabs at him, precise. Maybe He Tian won’t want him anymore.‘Not in the slightest,’ He Tian replies.

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby by @agapaic ~ [Mature] (7/7) (50K Words)

Warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886551/chapters/34474985

Guan Shan's father leaves his family for work in New York at the beginning of the First World War — and is never heard from again. In the autumn of 1928, thirteen years later, Guan Shan makes his own way to lower Manhattan's Little China to find him, with only the name of the man who signed his father's contract.When he finds himself falling into the world of America's Roaring Twenties and Tong Wars, and everyone he meets is not quite as they seem, finding his father turns out to be much more complicated than he’d thought.

Hush by @agapaic ~ [Explicit] (6/6) (26K words)

Warning: Rape/NonCon, Underage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380123/chapters/19198165

He Tian sees something he shouldn’t, and something he almost wishes he hasn’t. He’s never been a very good knight in shining armour.

Honestly, if you’re into 19 Days and TianShan I recommend everything by Agapaic! They’re my favorite writer on AO3~ 

I hope this gives you an idea of what I read and maybe you find one of your favorites too! Enjoy!