#First of all there’s the ever present “if you killed yourself then you wouldn’t have seen this” that I hear when I see something

[caterpillarinacave]

Just saw the northern lights in my backyard I am having a moment

[luvsupa]

“SHALL WE RESUME, MY LADY?”

tags: heianera!sukuna, trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, kissing, servants are bullies :(, BLOOD + KILLING, smut-ish (?), ANGST, readers called little one, my lady, my queen, sukuna lovessss reader but doesn’t wanna show it.

w.c: 1.8k

a/n:ITS BEEN LONG SINCE I WROTE PART 3 FOR SUKUNAAA, so pls read (part 1 + part 2) to understand this :p (or don’t 😔)

-part 1 was my first ever story so pls don’t mind the terrible writing 🤕

+ likes and reblogs are appreciative!!

for weeks now, since your intimate encounter with sukuna in his chambers, his words have echoed relentlessly in your mind:

“you belong to me, mind, body, and soul.”

unable to shake his haunting assertion, you find yourself lost in a fog during your duties, drawing the king’s scorn for your clumsiness—pathetic, he silently judges.

you’ve been desperately trying to avoid sukuna, feeling his ominous presence lurking near the servants’ quarters, dangerously close to your room. each night, you pretend to be asleep, hoping he won’t enter.

uraume and the other servants and concubines have noticed your distraction, their whispers and spiteful glances intensifying your growing distress.

just as you’re lost in your thoughts, walking towards the grand kitchen, you feel yourself being harshly pushed—nearly losing your balance. you turn to face the two brunettes who always accompany sukuna in his chambers.

“look at her,” one sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. “she looks even more pitiful than usual. you’d think she’d try harder, especially with tomorrow’s annual gift-giving ceremony.”

your heart drops, and you feel the blood drain from your face as the realization hits you—you had completely forgotten about it. shit.

the other brunette catches your expression and smirks, leaning closer.

“oh, you did not know?” she mocks, her eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. “did you truly forget? lost in your own little world? pathetic. do not think sukuna-sama has not noticed your incompetence. if i were you, i would be prepared to face his wrath tomorrow.”

before you can respond, the brunettes walk away, laughing cruelly amongst themselves. fear grips you as you stand there, contemplating the consequences of your forgetfulness. this time, he might seek to end my life.

sukuna spared your life once before, but now? you’ve truly done it.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

morning arrives, finding you sleepless and anxious, having spent the night wrestling with decisions on what gift would appease the king of curses. regret gnaws at you—you could have been better prepared.

if only you had listened to uraume’s instructions, you wouldn’t be scrambling now to please sukuna.

a loud groan escapes you, not just from lacking a suitable offering but from the impending threat of losing your life in front of everyone.

your thoughts shatter as your door creaks open. uraume enters, carrying a basket laden with ceremonial attire.

“sukuna-sama will return soon from his mission,” uraume states matter-of-factly, approaching your bedside and handing you the basket. your gaze fixes on the black and gold kimono. “in the meantime, prepare your gift for our king,” they remind you, prompting your heart to skip a beat. you nod gratefully as uraume exits the room.

you linger, captivated by the elegance of the wooden basket. slowly, an idea begins to take shape.

i hope this idea will work…

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hurriedly slip into the black and gold kimono uraume handed you, the fabric draping elegantly over your curves as you smooth out its silk folds.

grabbing the basket, you rush out of your room, navigating through the crowded hallways filled with servants, concubines, and guards all preparing to present their gifts to the king.

anxiety grips you as the chatter rises, signaling the ceremony may have already begun. finally reaching the garden, you drop to your knees, swiftly gathering orchids, red camellias, and wisterias.

heart pounding, you carefully arrange the brightly coloured flowers in the basket, leaving space for more. glancing around the vast garden for inspiration, you freeze as you spot a familiar figure in the distance, surrounded by guards and soldiers.

shit.

your pulse quickens as sukuna approaches the estate. you force yourself to calm down, needing clarity to finish your task.

turning to the fruit garden, you ignore the dirt on your kimono as you hurriedly gather peaches, oranges, and pomegranates from the trees, arranging them neatly in the basket.

with your last-minute gift finally perfected, you hope he will at least appreciate the effort. as cheers and applause erupt, signaling sukuna’s arrival, you hasten back to join the line of gift-givers, heart still racing with fear.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the ceremony unfolds in a chamber unfamiliar to you, far larger than sukuna’s usual domain, filled with hundreds and hundreds of servants seated on comfortable cushions, rows of expectant faces awaiting the ceremony’s commencement.

as you wait nervously, you glance around at the lavish offerings others have brought—paintings, gleaming gold jewelry, fine silk robes, ancient artifacts, perfumes, and oils. in contrast, your basket of fruits and flowers seems painfully simple.

whispers and snickers ripple through the crowd, directed at your low-value gift, almost insulting to the king, as the laughter grew louder and more pointed. the embarrassment increases, now overwhelming you.

“silence.”

his voice cuts through the room like thunder, instantly quieting the chatter as all heads bow. only you remain defiantly gazing at sukuna from his elevated throne. he looks magnificent, his towering frame draped in a dark cotton robe that accentuates his scarlet eyes—those unsettling eyes that draw you in despite your fear.

“do you consider yourself more worthy than others to not bow?”

his voice pierces through you, shocking you out of your thoughts. you hadn’t realized you were staring at him so openly. a nearby servant nudges your head down forcefully, a silent command to acknowledge sukuna’s authority.

uraume then signals the first row to approach sukuna with their gifts. as he settles into his throne, one of his lower eye fixates on you with a chilling intensity, reminding you of the difference of ground upon which you stand.

the two brunettes, who supposedly despised you, were the first to present their gifts. all eyes watched as they offered lavish amounts of gold and diamonds to sukuna. you couldn’t help but notice the satisfaction that spread across his face, a subtle amusement evident as he casually placed the gift with one of lower arms behind him.

they took their places on either side of his throne, making way for the next in line. as the line shortened, your turn approached rapidly.

you watched with nervous anticipation as sukuna accepted one of the servants gifts— the beautifully sculpted artifacts and golden treasures—

slash!

the servant’s head was cleanly severed, a loud thud echoing through the room. gasps filled the air as the shock spread through the assembled crowd. some of the seasoned servants were used to sukuna’s impulsive acts, but this was the first time you had witnessed such brutality. blood splattered across his face, yet he remained unfazed, awaiting the next offerings.

you covered your mouth, stifling a scream of horror. the fear of becoming the next victim intensified as you compared your gift to the high valued gift he had just received.

how could he appreciate your offering if he did not enjoy the artifacts?

you were on edge, continuously hearing numerous slash and thuds that kept racing your heart. his gaze seemed to linger on you, intensifying your dread.

unaware that it was your turn next, you suddenly found yourself on the elevated floor, your gift clearly visible to all below. laughter erupted among the watching servants, their anticipation of your downfall.

you felt all four of his eyes fixated on you, observing your trembling form, your eyes flickering nervously as you struggled to stay composed. stepping cautiously over a puddle of blood, you nervously approached his throne.

with trembling hands, you presented the basket of flowers and fruits. below, the two brunettes knelt, their mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

sukuna silently observed the basket, his large hands delicately holding the tiny fruits. he plucked out peaches, pomegranates, and oranges with two hands while the other two hands carefully examined the flowers, bringing them to his nose to inhale their earthly fragrance. then, to your surprise, sukuna’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“little one,” he said in a low velvety voice that sent shivers down your spine. “you surprise me.” 

the crowd exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of how to interpret sukuna’s unexpected reaction. the two kneeling servants looked up at sukuna in disbelief, their faces turning pale as they realized their own gifts, despite their value, had not elicited such a response.

sukuna carefully placed everything back into the basket, then lifted a ripe peach to his lips. his intense gaze locked onto yours as he took a deliberate bite, savouring the sweetness. loudly humming at the sweet taste.

unexpectedly, two of sukuna’s free hands reached out and gently grabbed your waist. you squealed in surprise at the sudden contact as sukuna swiftly spun you around, placing you on his lap with your back is against his chest. his third hand delicately tilted your chin, looking up towards him.

“‘kuna…” you began, mindlessly calling him by a forbidden nickname. but his lips cut off your words in a hungry kiss. the taste of peach lingered on his lips, blending with the sweet intensity of the moment. his kiss was fierce, brimming with a raw passion.

sukuna’s large hand snakes up to the crevice of your neck, and to your surprise, another mouth formed on his hand, trailing down to suck and kiss a sensitive spot on your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by his kiss, and he grinned at your reaction.

the brunettes stared up at the two of you with utter jealousy, never having received such intimacy from their king. the entire room gaped in shock; they had never witnessed the king of curses succumb so readily to a mere servant.

sukuna then pulls away, leaving you dizzy from the closeness. his presence seems to envelop you, making you feel intoxicated by his mere touch. with a gentle touch, sukuna adjusts your slouched posture, his hands holding you firmly against his broad chest. leaning down, he kisses your ear softly.

“you will judge which gift is worthy,” he begins, his closeness making your head spin even more. “if anything displeases you, I will take care of it,” he murmurs, hinting at even more slashes. another hand snaking up to your neck, softly applying pressure to restore your stability.

if anything you feel a rush of arousal.

“i will obey your every command, my queen. i am yours to command,” he declares softly, causing you to whimper in response. gasps fill the room as they witness the king of curses submitting himself to you.

“shall we resume, my lady?”

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hey 💜💜 wondering if you could write something where Damian and reader have been trying to have a baby for so long, and they've done all the treatments, but nothing ever worked, so they’ve stopped "trying". And then she ends up pregnant randomly, and her gift to him on Christmas is a positive test or a cute onesie or whatever, and it takes him a minute to actually believe her 💜💜

i love this request so much! working on it!

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️mention of infertility, pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, a little angst, mention of smut, fluff and comfort‼️

early christmas present

one year and a half.

one year and a half of you and damian trying to have a family together. one year and a half of you going from doctor to doctor, clinic to clinic and changing different treatments and yet nothing ever happened.

maybe it wasn’t meant to be. maybe you and damian weren’t fit to be parents and this was the sign. maybe it wasn’t meant for you to be a mother in this lifetime, no matter how much you wanted to be.

and you spent a year and a half blaming yourself. you reached to a point where you tried to break up with damian, saying how he deserved someone who could give him a family.

he thought you were crazy when you said that. he loved you so much and the idea of losing you was killing him, so, after a lot of therapy sessions, sleepless nights crying in each other’s arms, you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t really meant to be and that there was nothing you could do about it.

the idea of being infertile never crossed your mind so it was a big shock to you but as time passed by, you learned how to live with that and instead of focusing on the bad things, you took your life back.

a few people in the company knew or more - heard - about you and damian not being able to have kids and tried to suggest you many different options, from adoption to surrogacy but even if they seemed having good intentions, it pain you to know that your own problems became public domain.

you and damian lived your life. he promised to stay by your side and he did. he knew how much you wanted this and he was hurting at the idea of you feeling like it was your fault.

you found strength to take your mind off of that and focusing on different things. helping damian training, having dates like it was your first time together, spending much needed time in each other’s company. all the little things you loved that felt lost a year ago.

passionate nights with damian, him reminding you how much he loved you and appreciated you. you felt like yourself again and you got used of being just you and him, even if it meant for the rest of your life.

about a week ago you got sick. thinking it was just a normal cold, you let it go. but it got worse when the delicious smell of fresh bread and coffee became unbearable for you and got you nauseous every single morning.

“stomach issues again?” damian softly asked when he saw the disgust painted on your face.

“i think so…it smells so bad damian” you tried to joke when damian backed off so he could drink his coffee without making you feel worse.

“do you want me to make you something else? eggs? bacon? pancakes? anything you like?” he was so caring with you but the idea of eating made you even sicker.

“i feel like i could throw up the whole menu” you said making him laugh “i booked an appointment for today, i’m having a check up, maybe i got some virus or something…nothing too serious” you tried to remain calm but the idea of being sick for so long made you worry.

“i wish i could come with you but i promised rhea i would help her train…let me call her so i can come with you” he was about to pick up the phone but you stopped him.

“it’s not necessary damian, i promise” you smiled “she needs you, i’ll see you later on tonight” he knew that you wouldn’t have let him ditch rhea for a simple check up and he knew that no matter what he said, you wouldn’t let him come.

he nodded, moving the coffee away so he could properly kiss you before you left the house.

a couple of hours later and you were sitting in your car, watching the people passing by as you were trying to elaborate what the doctor just told you.

you weren’t sick - you were pregnant.

you were pretty sure it was impossible for you but all the tests the doctor ran turned positive.

how?

when?

your mind was racing and you couldn’t stop the million thoughts that were going through it.

sure, you and damian stopped having sex with condoms when you were trying to have a baby and when you learned that you couldn’t have kids you never really cared about safe sex anyway.

but how did it happen if you were infertile?

the doctor didn’t have a proper answer and he already scheduled some appointments to keep you checked, saying that it was almost a miracle.

right now, you were thinking about damian.

how were you going to tell him?

many ideas crossed your mind. from a mug with “best dad”, to a small t-shirt or maybe even a teddy bear.

you wanted to make this special for him too so when you crossed a shoe store on your drive back home, you decided to stop and get some inspiration. immediately your eyes fell upon a baby version of the black nike sneakers he had and you thought it was going to be an awesome gift.

your baby wasn’t even born and yet you were buying matching shoes for them and damian. while wrapping the box, the sale assistant smiled at you, unconsciously knowing that you had in mind.

you couldn’t contain your excitement and enthusiasm so you tried to speed back home.

too much surprise damian was already back and he was watching something show when you entered the front door.

his eyes immediately fell upon you, remembering you had the visit that morning.

“hey mi amor” he smiled “how are you? feeling better? what did the doctor say?” thousands of questions immediately echoed in the room, making you chuckle.

“one question at a time damian” you smiled sitting next to him on the couch “i’m feeling better, thanks, and the doctor gave me an explanation on why i keep getting sick, especially in the morning” you tried not to be so excited but it was hard.

“so?” damian was worried. he couldn’t understand why you were so happy and smiley.

instead of giving him an answer, you took the box right out of your bag and gave it to him “let say this is an early christmas present…and also the reason on why i’m always so sick” you watched him look between you and the box “come on, open it” you smiled.

damian carefully opened the small box and for a moment his heart stopped.

mini shoes? he wasn’t understanding.

and then it clicked.

“what? how? is this real?” his eyes moved between your now teary eyes and the little shoes he was holding in his hands “is it real?”

you nodded, not being able to find enough words.

“we’re gonna be parents?” he asked, now fully already knowing the answer.

“yes…” your voice broke a little but the joy filling the room was worth all of the tears you were shedding.

“this is the best gift i could ever ask for” he wrapped you in his arms and held you as you both cried of joy.

“i already booked the next appointments. the doctor wants to run some more tests and try to understand how i actually got pregnant…and we have an ultrasound appointment in a week too…we’re gonna see the baby soon” you cried onto damian’s shoulder.

“fuck, i love you so much mi amor” he quickly wiped off his tears before softly kiss your lips “and i can’t believe you got us matching shoes” he bursted out laughing.

“i can’t wait to get you matching clothes, matching pjs, matching socks, everything gonna be matching” you joked, making him even happier.

damian’s hand went over your belly “i can’t wait to meet you baby…” he softly spoke making your heart warm “you are already so loved…we love you so much, mama and papa…i can’t believe i’m saying this” he was still high on emotions and you couldn’t blame him.

maybe it really was a christmas miracle.

[kitwalker02]

When Time Means Nothing

Joe Goldberg x Reader

Warnings: It's Joe Goldberg so obviously kidnapping stuff, drug use, injury, masturbation, literally wanting this man to break every bone in my body

Summary: Takes place in that three hour time gap when Joe went to get moonjuice while on acid. He gets a sudden urgency to begin his life with you and is willing to do whatever it takes…after all, broken bones heal quicker than broken hearts.

You wanted to trust Joe Goldberg.

You fell for him the moment you saw him, but you would be lying if you said his life was an open book, that he had no secrets.

You loved him but it would be a lie to say that you trusted him.

First, you found the keys. Then it was the storage room.

And then you found the cage.

But the worst of it was the cage wasn’t empty. A bed was inside, a desk, books, souvenirs...used tampons. It had been lived in and was ready to be lived in once more.

You could only wonder how you were ever going to face Joe again.

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have to wonder for very long. Joe had his own suspicions of you and caught onto your snooping quickly, following you to the storage unit. Damn, nanny cams.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t look at anything. Just…come here.”

But it was all too little too late. Something grave and unspoken passed between your shared terrified gaze…you knew something now that you could never unlearn.

Now it was up to Joe to be able to trust you or kill you trying.

He took your phone and held your hand, backing you into the oversized glass box, whispering empty promises the entire time of coming back for you, trusting you…loving you.

Not even twelve hours later, he was cuffing you to a table with a sure plan of escape. One that, within the next sixteen hours, involved never seeing you again.

You were left alone and abandoned, your heart was heavy with rejection and your wrist was raw from tugging at the time-sensitive handcuffs.

“There is no self override.”

You rolled your eyes remembering Joe’s words, finally halting your movements. Glancing at the timer on the cuffs, you saw that there was less time ahead of you than there was behind. Who knew what that meant for Joe Goldberg and where he was at by this point?

He hadn’t believed you when you tried to convince him that you were different. That you loved him and that this recent dark discovery did nothing to taint the perfectly imperfect way in which you saw him.

Well, of course, Joe didn’t believe you. Why would he? He had caught you snooping after all.

Desperately wanting to ease your lonely heart, you thought back to your final interaction with Joe. You didn’t see the harm in attempting to entertain yourself due to the current circumstances and, with just a pang of guilt, you slipped a hand between your thighs, thinking back to the way Joe had looked down at you as he explained the cuffs. His expression and tone were so condescending, a defense mechanism he had used with you before instead of getting emotional. In your mind’s eye, it all further ignited the fire in your lower belly, remembering the way he crouched in front of you and grasped your wrist. Tightening the cuff you had put so gently on yourself. His calloused fingers were wrapped so firmly around your wrist, the veins in his forearm prominent as the grip of the cuff became almost bruising.

With your eyes closed, you could still feel his grip, the heat of his body so close to your own and his warm breath rafting over your face…

Suddenly the garage door was opened.

You ripped your hand from under your skirt as the screech and slam of the door being forced up brought you right back to your less-than-ideal present.

That was until you saw him…

Your heart started pounding, you easily recognized Joe as he stumbled into the storage unit, clumsily pulling the door shut and almost falling to the concrete floor from the force of it.

“Joe?”

You called out to him, but he didn’t seem to hear you as he pushed a few curly strands of hair out of his face that had fallen in his struggle.

You tried again, “Joe! What are you doing here?”

You struggled against your restraint as Joe began to approach you. His steps were slow and uncalculated, and he watched you through unfocused eyes, mouth slightly agape as he concentrated on getting one foot in front of the other.

“I thought you were leaving…” You reached your hand up to him and Joe grasped it weakly, stumbling into a crouch before you. He shook his head slowly, breathing somewhat heavily. You smiled at that, but your grin quickly fell when you noticed something in his hand and you couldn’t help but flinch when Joe brought a large white flower between your faces. He held it so close that the dainty white petals grazed the tips of your noses.

“I couldn’t stay away.” It was a struggle for him to get the short sentence out and you furrowed your brows at his slurred words and dilated pupils. “Joe…are you fucking high?”

Staring at you in disbelief, Joe shook his head roughly. “What? No!... Yes, but-“ He shuffled closer, ignoring the disapproving look on your face.

“Listen….You.” He said, dropping his voice a few octaves as he spoke the last word. He brought the flower closer to you, tucking it behind your ear with clumsy fingers. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want a life with you.”

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. Your heart swelled at the confession. That was all you could ever want. But Joe took your silence as a bad sign and his face dropped. “Do you want that with me?”

You didn’t even try to stop the huge grin from splitting your features. Tangling your fist into the soft tendrils of hair that rested at the base of Joe’s skull, you tugged him forward for a messy kiss, that was borderline painful as your teeth clanked in your eagerness.

Joe barely reacted, not quite registering your lips on his until you pulled away. You placed another wet kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder, your hand leaving the back of his head to instead wrap around his shoulders. You clutched at the dark dress shirt he wore, holding him to you in a tight embrace.

“I want that more than anything, Joe.”

Slowly, Joe’s warm hands came to rest on your back, the gentle action brought your body that much closer to his and you could feel his heartbeat in his chest against your own. Your hearts were in sync.

Just as you began to relax for the first time since you wandered into here, Joe abruptly tore himself from your embrace, instead slamming his hands down onto your shoulders, holding you roughly. “We have to get you out of here. Now.” He told you urgently, his eyes were wide, panicked.

You were taken aback by his sudden outburst and frowned at Joe. “Well, that’s great and all but we still have another-“ glancing down at the little red numbers ticking away on the cuffs, you released a sigh, “six hours.”

“Fuck that.” Joe scoffed, bringing his forehead to rest against your own. “Time means nothing when you’re in love.” He had to cross his eyes to maintain eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but smile at how innocent he looked in that moment.

“Okay then, Romeo. Did you get a key or something? Because you said it yourself, there is no overriding the system, remember?”

Rolling his eyes at your lack of imagination, Joe moved his hands to grasp the forearm of your trapped hand. “No. No, key.” He slurred softly, eyes not entirely focused as he stared at your wrist a little too hard, trailing one hand down to intertwine his fingers with your own. “But I know a little trick.” He looked up at you with a toothy grin, closing his right eye awkwardly in what you assumed was supposed to be a wink but came off as something of a twitch or a really slow, one-eyed blink.

“What trick?” You asked hesitantly, looking at him confused.

Joe cleared his throat dramatically, obviously excited by your question as he tightened his hold on you and shifted himself closer. “Well, I read…somewhere…once, that if you break your thumb you can slip the cuff right off.”

Your eyes widened in horror. He wouldn’t-  “That is so…cool, but we aren’t going to do that, right? I mean, what is six hours in the grand scheme of things?”

Tsking at your reluctance to trust him, Joe shook a finger at you before grasping your thumb in a fist. “That is where you are wrong. A lot can go down in six hours.”

You tried to pull out of Joe’s hold, but between the handcuff keeping you to the table and Joe’s tight grip, you didn’t get very far. “Woah, woah, woah. This is a terrible idea! I mean, you’re not even sober right now, Joe! And besides…it’s going to hurt like a bitch!”

Staring up at you through glassy eyes, Joe addressed you seriously. “I know it’s going to hurt but, you have to trust me, I have never been more clear-headed in my entire life. And besides-“ A sudden desperation washed over Joe’s features and your heart went out to his unexpected display of vulnerability, “it’ll hurt a lot less than dying. I’ve got blood on my hands, Y/N, and I’m not going to lose you too. I won’t lose you.” Your free hand came up to caress his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m not going anywhere, Joe Goldberg.” Taking in a shaky breath, you swallowed hard. “And…I do trust you.”

Releasing a relieved sigh, Joe gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can scream as loud as you want.” He informed you, gesturing around the room. “I made sure the walls were soundproof.” You gave him a nervous smile, not wanting to think about why that was something he thought of. “How thoughtful of you.”

“And I’ll be quick.” He continued, making two quick clicks with his tongue. “In and out.” You honestly wished he’d shut up already. You swore he’d said more in the last ten minutes than in the entire time you’ve known him and every word he said did less and less to ease your anxiety.

“On three?” Joe asked, waiting for your nod of approval. He instructed you to take a deep breath with him before turning what was left of his attention to your hand. “One…” You leaned your head onto his shoulder, holding onto him tightly and doing your best to relax your hand within his own. “Two..” You bit down on your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to prepare yourself for what was to come when a sudden hot pain shot through your hand, setting your bones on fire. You couldn’t stop the scream of agony and surprise that tore through your throat.

“God damn it, Joe!” You shouted, making him flinch. “You didn’t say three!”

But Joe ignored you, saying nothing as he hurried to guide your hand out of the cuff. You yelped when the metal accidentally grazed your now dislocated joint. You buried your face further into the crook of Joe’s neck not being able to stop the hot tears as he wrapped his fist around your thumb once more before jerking your finger up. Your jaw dropped at the resounding pop it made as your thumb slipped back into its socket.

Joe supported your now injured hand in his own as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling your shaking figure into a tight embrace.

“It’s done. And you’re safe just like I promised.”

You sniffled, rubbing your tear-stained face into his dress shirt as you clutched his back, returning the embrace. You couldn’t help but be impressed with how efficient Joe had been with the whole thing but you were never going to tell him that, opting to be pissed off about the entire situation.

“Let’s, please, just get the fuck out of here. I think I need an ice pack.”

Joe gently pulled you off of him so he could look into your eyes, bringing a hand up to caress your quivering jaw as tears continued to roll down your cheeks.

“We are going to get the fuck out of here…forever, but first, there’s this script I need to finish.” Your eyes widened in bewilderment. What was he on about now?

Joe shook his head when your frown deepened at his words. “No, no, no. Listen! It’s going to be great…and the best part is, you won’t be in the sequel.”

[sweetfushi]

Hi there!! I would like to request akaashi, iwa, and kenma x reader when he caught reader simping about him to her friends eventhough they haven’t date yet..

🏕anon

HE CATCHES YOU TALKING ABOUT HIM.

fluff | keiji akaashi, hajime iwaizumi, kozume kenma x reader, mentions of a breakdown but nothing happens | word count. 1.9k ◦ notes. my first named nonnie :o

KEIJI AKAASHI.

“I’ve only ever seen him in two places; in class and in the school gym. I’ve never actually interacted with him in either one,” you admit sheepishly to your friends, who are giggling and smacking you in excitement.

“No stop! We’ve talked to him before because we know Bokuto, he’s actually super sweet! He’d totally like you if he doesn’t already– if you just talk to him!”

You practically swoon at the idea, your squeals alongside the similarly high-pitched noises of your friends reverberating through the school’s backfield. Initially you had gathered after class to have snacks and talk after school, but that turned into intense fangirling and wingwoman-ing.

“He’s so cute I could just- agh,” you whine, rubbing your palms on your eyes as you pout at the near certainty of never being able to be with him. He’s so out of your league; playing for the school’s volleyball team, being friends with one of the most popular guys in school, having the calm demeanour that practically every girl looks for in a man. If he wasn’t seeing someone already, you likely still wouldn’t be in his list of romantic options.

Alongside the aforementioned and your lack of spatial awareness, you’re entirely oblivious to the person approaching the bench you’re sitting on, until one of your friends has to grab your face to make you stop talking - stop talking about the very person who’s now observing you curiously. You don’t take the hint until you hear Akaashi clear his throat from behind you and bend down to pick up the volleyball that landed by your feet.

“Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh,” is all he receives from you in response, to which he smiles kindly. A smile that has you inches away from bursting into tears about how much you miss someone who isn’t yours.

He eyes you once more before jogging back to the corner in which he and Bokuto appeared to be practising, your eyes following him as he did so and observing his every jog and step.

Following that interaction, your group falls silent for a few seconds, until you slam your head onto the bench table and let a muffled scream rip from your throat - enough to express your humiliation but also keep it among your friends, unlike your previous conversation.

“Kill me, I can’t ever look that man in the eyes again. Do it now, quick and painless while I’m not ripping my hair out.”

One of your friends snorts out a laugh and smacks the top of your head. “Girl, as if you could ever look that man in the eyes. Don’t worry about it, he was smiling.”

At that, your head snaps up and you launch yourself across the bench until your face is centimetres away from your friend’s. “Was he really? Don’t lie to me, I didn’t see him smiling.”

She shakes her head. “That’s because you were too busy wallowing in your self-pity and staring at us to realise. He walked off like he got the biggest birthday present of his life.”

And as told, Akaashi had jogged back to Bokuto with a massive grin, rather uncharacteristic of the man who typically - at most - cracked an amused smile. Thus, when Bokuto sees him coming back with such an expression, the ball becomes the last of his concerns. He leans over to observe Akaashi closely, humming curiously.

“Did something happen?”

“Ah, nothing really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Akaashi.”

“Bokuto.”

The owl-like man groans and snatches the ball in mock frustration, to which Akaashi chuckles and gently pats him on the back. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to inform anyone that he’d started grinning at the mere sound of you giggling about the prospect of interacting with him.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI.

For the past ten minutes, you and your friends had entered a routine of squealing about the prospect of being Iwaizumi’s lover and shushing each other when the excitement became too loud. Eventually, it reached a point where the latter was no longer done - no one was supervising the volume of your swooning and dreaming.

“He’s so dreamy,” you sigh, resting your right cheek on your right fist.

“And jacked, I mean he could probably pick you up easily,” one of your friends comments, waggling her eyebrows and laughing at the drastic change of colour in your face.

You’ve interacted with Iwaizumi a few times, enough to classify him as a friend, but not enough that you’d expect to see him frequently or even anticipate him thinking about you. In actuality, the man doesn’t go a day without you crossing his mind, to the point where he starts questioning where the hell he developed his interest for you from. That’s not to say you’re not an intriguing person, just that he hadn’t had a serious conversation with you that wasn’t interrupted by something - whether that was the both of you needing to head to class or Oikawa yelling his name.

“I’m telling you, I’m getting taller, you asshat,” Iwaizumi grumbles to a very tired and sluggish Oikawa.

“And I’m telling you I don’t care whether that’s true or not as long as you’re still a reliable spiker.”

Iwaizumi smacks the top of his head with a passion so strong it would seem as though the two were words away from killing each other.

The two continue to walk through the school’s lengthy corridors until they approach the gym’s open doors. A message was sent out to the Seijoh team group chat, following which all that came as responses were thumbs up reactions to the message. At least they weren’t ignoring it.

As the two men walk into the gym and toss their bags in a corner, Oikawa can hear chatter and laughter from people other than him and Iwa, sufficient enough to distract him from the impending practice match. After greeting the others and agreeing on a rotation for the game, Iwaizumi’s ears perk up at the sound of his name. He knows it doesn’t come from his lot since they’re too busy stretching to care, so he’s fairly certain it’s coming from the group of girls he can see in the gym’s far other side - the spot reserved for basketball. His interest is only truly piqued when he notices your familiar face.

Though, he can’t just walk over there and question you.

Matsukawa has his hands on the ball, tossing it into the air and catching it. He’s not really paying attention to what Oikawa is babbling about behind him, so Iwaizumi seizes the opportunity and politely asks for the ball from him. Once Matsukawa hands it over with a heavy sigh prior, Iwaizumi practically launches it to the other side of the gym.

“Oikawa, you absolute trash,” Iwaizumi grumbles with faux annoyance before jogging over to get the ball, providing him with enough of a chance to get within your close proximity and overhear your conversation.

“Iwa’s so hot. I need him as mine so so bad. I die every time he talks to me.”

“That is highly concerning,” Iwaizumi intercepts into the conversation after retrieving the ball, to which you scream and slap your hands over your mouth as if you were caught leaking confidential information (which isn’t too far from the truth).

Your friends are gaping and avoiding eye contact with both you and Iwa in an attempt to appear apathetic to the whole situation, something they fail at tremendously.

“T-That was not about you,” you sputter.

Iwaizumi raises a brow and feigns consideration, though he doesn’t say anything to point out the fact that there is no other Iwaizumi in the school, let alone one that talks to you. “I’d hope not. Wouldn’t want you dead now, hm?”

And that’s all he says before flashing you a knowing smile and heading back to his group.

KOZUME KENMA.

The bell above the door jingles as you step into Ukai’s shop. You wave at him as he lights a cigarette and dusts his hands off on his apron. Other than a sweet treat, you’re not sure what else you want and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re a group call with your friends. As usual, you grab your favourite sweet before starting to survey the shop’s contents; from bread to ramen to buns. All the while, you catch sight of Ukai scrolling uninterestedly on his phone.

“I know he’s quiet but trust me, I’ve seen how he is with Kuroo and he’s just reserved,” you retort to your friends as they question your interest in Kenma. “Shut up, I know you guys have all met and talked to him, you know how he is,” you laugh. They all have chemistry together and always tell you about how depressed the blond looks in class.

“Heeey, boss. Heard you’ve taken’ on Karasuno. We’re headed over there now and I wanted to give ya’ my condolences,'' you hear Kuroo tell Ukai, followed by a loud exhale from the latter. Where there’s Kuroo, there’s usually Kenma, so you instantly tense up and feel self-conscious about your appearance and the way you carry yourself.

“If this game is a waste of my time you’re buying dinner,” Kenma finally grumbles.

You feel your heart pound faster and a squeal bubble in your throat. It’s ironic that his tone is that of disinterest yet you’re so very interested in the smoothness of it.

“Guys, he’s here right now,” you whisper into the mic of your earphones.

“No way!”

“Is Kuroo with him? Tell him I said hi!”

“Just your luck, huh?”

You try to tune their comments out in an attempt to steady your breathing before they turn to the aisle you’re in and catch you having a near-breakdown. You’ve never really talked to Kenma one-on-one, Kuroo has always been there. Not that you have anything against the charismatic captain - and it’s not as if you have the courage to talk to Kenma alone. That was slightly juxtaposing in that little to no courage is required to talk to someone who’s of little words.

You finally catch sight of him getting what appears to be his usual, considering how fast he locates the items and tosses them into the basket Kuroo is holding. You continue to walk down the aisle you’re in, in search of a new drink to try.

“Guys, Kenma likes the same pie I do. We’re so meant to be together,” you giggle into the mic, to which your friends sigh and verbally reprimand you for your delusional theories.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice behind you, but move out the way. Kenma grabs one of the drinks he’s eyeing and surveys it in his hand. When he glances at you, his eyes widen to attention. “Hey, it’s you.”

Smiling awkwardly, you nod. “Yeah.”

“Were you just talking about me? I heard my name.”

“Huh,” you say dumbfoundedly, before acknowledging the fact that Kenma had just heard you giggle about your mutual taste for apple pies. “Oh, u-uh, I just noticed that we like the same pies.”

He nods, convinced that you were simply talking to yourself and not giggling to your friends about how in love you are with him. “Have you tried this drink? I don’t know if it’s good,” he asks you.

You’re still a bit dumbfounded by the whole situation and he notices, which is why he waves a hand in your face and calls your name. All you register is that Kuroo now approaches behind him and snickers knowingly at your expression.

“Oh, blondie, you’re so oblivious.”

“Huh? To what?”

“Exactly.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[tonberry-yoda]

Off Guard - Toji Fushiguro

notes - I don't want to be a mother, but the urge to write a fluffy parent fic hits sometimes, and I have been brainrotting for an AU where Toji is a good dad and a good husband. Also this is the first time I'm writing for Toji <3 Glad I can spawn in every once and a while to drop something :) Hope you are all well !! word count - 788 genre - fluff

It was strange to see Toji’s soft side. Even though the two of you were married and he had been the little spoon on more than one occasion, it was still rare to see him smile and become a big ball of fluff.

But after you had Megumi, it was getting less and less rare.

You were seeing the love of your life fall in love all over again with another part of you. Another part of the both of you. In his big hands that were able to kill, he held Megumi as if he were going to break. He would press little kisses onto his forehead and even read him bedtime stories.

It was a side of Toji that was new, but so easy to love.

He claimed that he wouldn’t care much for being a father and even told you that he would probably end up doing the bare minimum, but you knew it was a lie. He was scared, and to be honest, you were too. Fear melted, however, when you saw your baby’s face for the first time and Toji cry at your side. You knew immediately that he was going to be the best father ever, even if his insecurity of being a dad got in the way.

Toji would leave quite a bit. It was because of work, obviously, so it didn’t bother you. But eventually, it did start to bother you. As Megumi got older, he began to miss his father and you began to worry more and more about him. You knew that Toji was strong, but he was in a line of work that could get him killed. You weren’t prepared for it to be just you and Megumi, even though most of the time, it already was.

“Toji,” you whispered when Toji had gotten home late, crawling into bed next to you. “Do you ever miss me during the day?”

Toji wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the back of your ear. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Answer the question.”

“Of course I do.”

You turned to face him and he tipped your chin up. You could barely see him in the dark room, but you knew you were looking into his eyes. “Of course I miss you.”

“What about Megumi?”

“Always.”

You felt his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, but you still felt off. Toji stopped kissing you and cupped your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m worried about you.” You heard Megumi shuffle in his crib and you lowered your voice.

“Worried? Why?” Toji whispered.

“What if one day… you don’t come home?” You could feel yourself tearing up, but you didn't want to cry, especially if Megumi heard you.

“y/n,” Toji held you to his chest and you felt yourself relax. He was so warm, “I will always come home.” He kissed you on the forehead and you smiled, falling asleep shortly after.

You trusted Toji. After that, you knew he would keep his promise, and just like he said, he always came home. He began to bring home flowers or little toys for Megumi, and he started feeling more present, even though he was gone just the same.

On his days off, he would care for Megumi and let you relax. He would play with him in the backyard or color with him in the house and you would watch from afar with a smile painting your lips.

You fell in love with those boys so hard that sometimes it was hard to just watch.

Once, when Toji was showing Megumi how strong he was by lifting your son only with his bicep, you stepped outside, letting the cool summer breeze hit your hair. You walked to Toji and Megumi – who were non stop giggling –  and you pressed a kiss onto Toji’s cheek. Somehow, he got flustered and looked at you in shock. You smiled at him and he tucked his own hair behind his ear with his free hand. You giggled and pointed to Megumi, who looked like he was going to fall at any moment, and Toji cursed under his breath and helped Megumi, letting the boy crawl onto his back.

His attention quickly turned back to you, though, and he pulled you in for a kiss. You both ignored Megumi trying to pull out his father’s hair in the process and instead focused on Toji’s arm wrapping around your waist and the small, “I love you,” that escaped him before he went into the house to make lunch.

You stood in the grass barefoot and watched the golden sun set. Everything felt right and you knew it was going to stay this way.

~~~~~

jjk masterlist | pinned post

2024 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[heliads]

you're going to have to shut this down - steve rogers

You grew up with Steve Rogers in the 1940s and froze with him until the present day, too. When he leaves you after killing Thanos to return to the '40s, it's the biggest betrayal of your life. If there was a way to ever see him again, it would require the crossing of many timelines, something you'd know nothing about. The TVA might, though.

masterlist

a/n: back from the dead! who would have thought (not me). who can say how long. enjoy xoxo

You join the TVA because you have nothing else to do. It’s not a bad gig, all things considered. It makes about as much sense as life normally does for you, which is to say, not at all. You’re getting better about understanding the splashier technology, the speedier cars, the altered accents. Not everything is going to seem like it’s fresh out of the 1940s, because only you are. It’s been several years since they got you out of the ice. By all accounts, you should have settled in a long time ago.

And you have, honestly. You did a good job of learning fast and moving on. Still, all it takes is one odd word of slang you don’t understand or a reference to a world-altering event that you never heard of to shove you two steps back instead of forward. You never expected it to be easy, trying to live in the new century. You just didn’t think you’d have to do it alone, either.

The Avengers helped. Despite the infighting and the many false retirements and the deaths, that job helped put you together more than anything else. Everyone was strange there, so no one was. Even the person out of time. 

Maybe that’s why the TVA reached out after it was all over– they knew you needed a fresh start. A new team, too, one that didn’t really care about your understanding of any one particular timeline. It was the perfect fit. Why not risk your life for someone else all over again?

It had made sense at the time. After Thanos was defeated, you’d lost your purpose. The Avengers didn’t technically disband, but enough of the original core had been lost to death and retirement and better things. You could sense a new generation rising up to take the mantle, and, not wanting to go through the same cycle of learning new faces just to lose them again, you stepped aside.

Retirement wasn’t good for you. All that time on your own left you twitchy, waiting for something to do, someone to see. You suppose it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if it weren’t for one specific absence, but that’s just the way it goes sometimes. Maybe you should have learned a long time ago to never bet your happiness on Steve Rogers, because when he left, you felt like you’d lost everything.

Even after all this time, you still can’t fathom why he did it, why he left you behind. You had grown up in the 1940s by his side, next door neighbors and family friends. Your parents knew his, and died around the same time his did, too. You’d been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You thought it was the worst pain in your life when he and Bucky went to war, so you followed, taking on a position as a medic in their regiment.

Steve had been absolutely furious that you’d put yourself into harm’s way like that, but you didn’t care. Everything was good so long as you were still together, and for a while, it was. Sure, it took you a while to remember how to act normally after he underwent his Captain America transformation, but he was still Steve, your Steve. And that was okay.

You were almost starting to believe in fantasies that you’d be able to make it back to Brooklyn one day, and then the cards stopped falling in your favor. First, you were sent to hunt down Zola, which was doomed from the start. You’d lost Bucky from the side of the train, which was the beginning of the end. Steve was spiraling and you knew it. It should have come as no surprise that he’d plunge himself into whatever danger he could find to try and keep his mind off the loss. It should have come as no surprise that you’d go with him.

However, neither of you expected to find yourselves on a plane headed into the ocean. It felt fitting somehow, dying with Steve. Bucky was gone anyway. You might as well join him. It was cold enough that you didn’t feel the water entering your lungs. You knew Steve’s hand was in yours even after you lost the sensation in your fingers. You felt him with you even after you closed your eyes for the final time.

Only, it wasn’t the final time. You woke up after what seemed like a matter of hours and ended up being several decades. The new century was full of trouble, but you and Steve were determined to run headfirst into it. You can still remember listening to the new music with him, quizzing each other on current events, doing everything under the sun together in the name of embracing modernity.

Even if it felt wrong to be so suddenly transplanted out of your normal world and into this bright, fast-paced future, some part of you was glad for it. You’ve had a secret crush on Steve since you were ten years old and starry-eyed for the boy next door. What did you lose by leaving the 1940s, anyway– sickness, the war, significantly worse water quality? Steve needed you here more than he ever needed you there. There was so much more in this modern world that would bring the two of you together, and you were delighted for it.

You were delighted, that is. You had assumed that Steve was, too. He certainly seemed like it, always down to visit a new museum or take a trip out of the city. He’d been happy with you. You were certain about it.

Yet, years after you first woke up together in a strange new world, he traveled back in time to return the Infinity Stones and came back as an old man who had already lived his life back in the 1940s. You weren’t there when it happened. Steve had actually sent you away, back to New York, so you could monitor the sites where the transfer of the Stones would take place to see if anything went wrong in the future. You’ll always wonder if he did that on purpose, to make sure you didn’t come with him, or if he really was worried about something as mundane as the Stones after all.

In the end, you’ll never know. Steve never told you about his plan to go back. You’re certain that Bucky was aware of it, even if he denies it. You saw the look on his face when Bucky returned from the job alone and told you that Steve had made his choice. He wasn’t surprised or shocked like you. He was sad, but accepting, because he already knew.

It was the worst betrayal of your life. You told Steve everything except the fact that you love him, and he left without telling you a single goodbye. Somehow, somewhere along the line you had walked together all your lives, Steve decided that he would rather live and die in the past without you than face the future you’d been building since they took you out of the ice. You’ve tried to remember moments in which he wasn’t happy, when you could have seen the signs and known that Steve was going to leave, but you can’t. Steve never seemed to have a problem with the modern world until he left it. It makes no sense, and so the awful mystery consumes you whole.

It would be one thing to retire from the Avengers with Steve by your side, just like always. Now, though, you’re losing not just your main activity but the last vestige of your heart. Bucky is your friend, close to family, but he’s not Steve and never will be. You’ve tried to spend time with him, but every time you see Bucky, you’re haunted by a third presence that should be there yet isn’t. You haven’t talked in a while. It’s probably better that way, anyway.

Luckily, you weren’t left to your own devices forever. One lonely morning, an orange panel of light opened up in front of you, and out of it stepped Loki, who, according to Thor, should have died when Thanos visited. He’d explained briefly how he was still alive, but focused more on offering you a chance to work with the TVA. Without anything better to do but sit around and mope, you’d agreed.

You and Loki have gotten along well for the most part, surprisingly enough. Barring the part where he’d tried to invade New York, you’ve come in contact with him through Thor several times and gotten along through a shared sarcastic sense of humor and biting wit. You’re probably one of the Avengers Loki tolerates the most, a title you bear with no small semblance of pride. Loki had needed someone to advise him on a variant, and he’d gone to you.

It’s a good job for someone out of time. The timelines all converge and diverge in mysterious ways, so who could truly say what’s current or out-of-date? You help Loki and the other TVA officers in maintaining the timeline. Slowly, you settle in, and you stop thinking about going back to your usual timeline. Why bother, anyway? There’s nothing left for you there. Bucky has moved on. Steve is gone. Your family passed on decades ago, and your friends in the Avengers are dead or busy. It’s not a place for you anymore.

Honestly, it’s decent work, all things considered, until you hear about an errant variant totally destroying not just his universe but every one to cross his path. Loki comes bursting into the main office, which isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but the look in his eyes certainly isn’t. Apparently, there’s some guy who left his universe and started jumping around in many others. He’d stayed in his first place for many years, but made so many major changes that the timeline was all but destroyed. Once this variant took note of the fires he couldn’t put out, he started jumping into other places, doing the same thing in less time.

He’s someone who’ll have to be stopped, to say the least. It’s certainly a cause for concern, but that doesn’t explain the cagey expression on Loki’s face. There’s something he isn’t telling you, to be sure, something big. Something that might make you rethink this assignment entirely.

“Loki,” you say slowly, once the god of mischief has calmed down enough to go from frenetic pacing to merely glaring at the small hologram of Miss Minutes across the room, “What’s really going on here? Who exactly is this variant?”

Loki hesitates, and you know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. This variant isn’t just anyone, is it? No, of course not. That would be too easy, and if you’ve learned anything in your voyages across the timelines, it’s that nothing in any universe is ever easy.

The variant destroying the worlds– it’s Steve. And it’s your Steve specifically, the one who’d decided to leave you to go back in time. It’s the precise version of Steve Rogers from your universe who had abandoned all you’d built to go back and live to old age in the 1940s.

You suck in a harsh breath. “That’s impossible. Steve would never do a thing like that. He saves the universe, he doesn’t destroy it.”

Loki laughs bitterly. “Think again, Y/N. It’s him.”

You shake your head unthinkingly, but as little as you want to even contemplate the idea, you can’t deny that it might be likely. Steve already upset the laws of the multiverse when he went to live his life in the 1940s. Who’s to say what else he might do?

You stand up and join Loki in his pacing. “Don’t go through the usual steps. Bring him here.”

Loki starts to protest, but you silence him with a glance. “Think of it as a favor. You owe me, you know that. I won’t kill him, not yet. Not until I know what’s going on.”

One desk over, Mobius holds up his hands. “Wait, wait. Maybe this Steve is a friend of yours, but he’s still a dangerous variant who is quite literally destroying the fabric of time with every jump he makes. Are you sure that bringing him into the TVA is the best idea?”

You lift a shoulder. “Do you have any other ideas of where to put him?”

Mobius sighs. “No, but I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like this,” you tell him, “but I need to talk to Steve. Please.”

You look over at Loki hopefully, and feel a crush of relief when you see him caving. “Fine, but the second Rogers tries anything, we’re all over him. We can’t risk the multiverse for one melodramatic walking flag.”

You chuckle in spite of yourself. It’s not a happy sound. “Just let me see what I can do.”

You have no idea what you’ll do with your errant Steve once he gets here. Before that, though, you’re going to have to solve the problem of bringing him here in the first place. If what Loki says is true, Steve is not going to come quietly.

You’re still having trouble wrapping your mind around the whole concept. Steve– your Steve– destroying timelines? Rampaging through the multiverse? It doesn’t even compute in your mind. After all you’ve seen of him, through every decade, in every incarnation, every uniform, he has still been himself at the core. Even when he just came out of the ice. Even when he lost Bucky after Thanos’ snap. Even when you lost the biggest battle of your lives.

Something must have happened to him when he was going back in time, that’s all you can imagine. It’s certainly a better thing to tell yourself, it makes you believe that there was a reason outside his control that he would have left you in the dust. Yes, this must be the fault of traveling through time, and not the simple fact that Steve didn’t want you anymore.

You suit up with the rest, ready to head out and collect your errant Captain. You deliberate over the helmet when Mobius advises you to hide your face in any way possible. He’s had many bad dealings with variants over the years, he claims. No one knows what Steve would do if he saw you.

Face obscured, you walk through a Timedoor to the latest universe Steve has attempted to conquer. It doesn’t take long to find a disturbance; you’ve hardly stepped through the orange portal before you’re greeted with the sound of screaming, the smell of smoke. Buildings are burning. It’s like the world is on fire, and all you can think about is that somehow, Steve caused this.

“We have to move fast,” Mobius urges. “The timeline is unraveling by the second. Find the variant and drag him through a Timedoor as fast as you can.”

You nod your assent and start moving. The easiest thing to do is to head towards the center of the chaos, and so you do, the other TVA agents not far behind you. The smoke gets thicker, all culminating around one building in the center of the city. With a chill, you realize it’s what should be the old Avengers complex, but the letters on the outside still read Stark Tower. This universe might not have gotten the chance to ever get its Avengers, so there is no one to fight off a corrupted Rogers except the TVA, too little and too late.

“I see him,” Loki shouts suddenly, pointing towards a figure moving through the rubble. “Amazing, his hair shines even in a bonfire.”

You don’t have it in you to laugh, but surge forward recklessly. You have to see, you have to know, is it him? Could it be? As you draw closer, you’re certain that you see him, that Steve is here after all this time. A lump rises in your throat utterly unrelated to the pollutants clogging the air. You’ve missed him for so long, and now he’s right in front of you.

Mobius flings out an arm, stopping you short. “Wait,” he says. “He’s a variant, Y/N. Remember that.”

You come thundering back to reality at his words. When you look again, Steve isn’t standing there harmlessly, but holding an unconscious figure in his arms, the head thudding lifelessly against his bicep. This is the real Steve right now, someone you could never recognize.

Two of the TVA agents hurry forward, attempting to cuff him, but Steve brushes them aside easily, even after Loki and Mobius try to enter the fray. Suddenly, the situation looks like you’ll lose it for good, until a wild, terrible idea occurs to you and you shout out to him, “Steve!”

Instantly, Steve’s whole body goes rigid, and he starts scanning the area frantically. “Y/N?” He calls out.

He sounds like a madman, that’s the first thought that rises to your mind. His eyes are wide, his syllables unsettled. You rip off your helmet and Steve turns to you as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N?” He repeats again, this time far more quietly, the words all but disappearing on the smoke-burnt wind.

Steve starts to reach out a grimy hand to you, but one of the TVA agents surges up behind him, jamming a syringe in his neck and knocking him out cold. Cuffs are tightened around his wrists moments later, and Mobius conjures up the requisite Timedoor straight to a holding cell back in the TVA. Everyone starts filing away, but takes you a few more moments to gather yourself together long enough to follow them.

Once back in the halls of the TVA, lights buzzing cheerfully overhead, Loki turns to you at last. “The move with the helmet was risky,” he chastises.

You can’t focus on the rebuke. “He knew me,” you whisper. “He knew me, and he stopped fighting.”

Loki’s lips thin. “That’s not Steve,” he says. “Not the one you know, at least.”

You steal a glance towards the locked door of the cell anyway. “I have to talk to him.”

Loki’s expression shifts from frustrated to simply tired. “I know.”

Still, you’re not blind to the wishes of the TVA, and you let Mobius go in to talk to Steve first. You decide it’s probably best if you’re not the first face he sees, and if you’re not going, Loki would be an even worse choice, so it’s Mobius alone in there with a few guards for security. He barely makes it ten minutes before he comes storming out again, though, obviously frustrated.

You could hear shouting outside the cell and down the hall, but still, you’re curious enough to ask Mobius, “What happened in there?”

Mobius drags an irritated hand through his hair. “Your little hero isn’t really the talking type.”

You frown. “That’s unlike him.”

“All of this is unlike him,” Loki intercedes. “You really couldn’t get through to him, Mobius? That’s startling. Surely there’s some sort of homegrown charm you could pull on him to twist his mind in your favor.”

“That’s just called manners,” Mobius frowns, “but no, I tried. He refuses to talk to anyone but Y/N.”

Loki swings around to stare at you curiously. “Fascinating. He left you and now he won’t even indulge in a friendly conversation with the authorities. What sort of Captain Rogers is this?”

You roll your eyes to hide your growing discomfort. “Forget that. Are we going to give in so fast? Don’t tell me you’re the type to give up on interrogating a suspect after less than half an hour.”

Mobius shrugs. “We might as well let you in. Might learn something, he doesn’t seem inclined to give us anything else otherwise. Why waste more time?”

You might argue a little harder were it not for the fact that you’ve been dying to see Steve since he got here. Before that, really. You’ve been wanting to talk to him since he left you in the first place. Maybe it’s not the best strategy for dealing with a variant, but in your heart, he’s still Steve, and always will be.

Steve’s head is down when you enter the cell, but it flies up the second you take a seat opposite him. He’s sitting down, hands cuffed behind him, but you have no doubt that he could free himself in a heartbeat if he tried.

Still, he isn’t trying. He’s just looking at you, eyes wide, mouth a little agape, as if he really can’t believe it’s you even after demanding to meet. “Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You nod. “Steve.”

Your voice seems harsh in the hollow stillness of the TVA cell. Steve doesn’t flinch, but he might as well; his eyes gain a thin veneer of hurt you’ve known since the forties. 

“You’re not my Y/N, though,” he decides. “You know, I never really believed in the whole multiverse thing. Strange tried to explain it to me after Thanos, but I just thought it was a bunch of crap. No way there were a million versions of us. But I’ve met enough of you and me to know otherwise now.”

Your heart feels heavy in your chest. “You’re referring to all of the universes you hijacked.”

“Hijacked,” Steve muses. “That’s a strong word.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You entered universes that were not your own and caused chains of events that led to destruction of that world, every single time.”

It horrified you, looking at the footage. Every single universe was the same:  heroes gone or killed, skies full of smoke, thousands of dead. Everywhere Steve went, chaos followed him. It felt impossible, but it was true. Shockingly, awfully, it was true.

Steve’s eyes go dark. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But it still happened,” you point out. “And you saw it happen but you kept going in more universes anyway. Why? Why didn’t you stop?”

Anger sparks in Steve like a match to gasoline. “I wasn’t trying to tear the universes apart, I was just trying to go back home,” he spits. “I couldn’t find the way back. I didn’t realize how delicate the multiverse was. Maybe that means you guys are bad at your job if a few detours can send the whole thing spiraling.”

The jab doesn’t even land, you’re too distracted by what he said before it. “You– you were trying to go back? Back where?”

A thundercloud of emotion passes over Steve’s face. “Back to the present,” he says softly.

He looks like he wants to keep talking, but he glances sharply back at you again and cuts himself off. “What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re just another version of you. What universe are you from, anyway? One where you leave instead of me?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you whisper. “You have no idea who I am, Steve.”

He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “No. No, I know you’re not my Y/N. My Y/N never would have agreed to go in the same room as me.” 

He straightens up suddenly. “Say– you’ve seen all the endings of the timeline, right? Is there any– are there any universes where you forgive me? Where I’m able to go back?”

Your breath feels faint in your chest. “You want to know if you ever go back to the present?”

He nods. “Surely I could do it at least once. Don’t tell me it never happens. And if I do, don’t say you hate me for leaving.”

His face, suddenly pleading, makes you almost sick to your stomach. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I never looked. I was too afraid that you would have left me for nothing.”

Steve draws back suddenly, looking at you with a fresh wave of curiosity. “You mean– Y/N. You’re the one I left? How did you get here?”

You nod. “I was lonely after you disappeared. I needed something to do. But Steve– I thought you would stay in the forties. Why would you ever go in the first place if you were just going to leave again?”

Steve looks stricken. “I thought I would like it better back then. I wanted to go home, but Y/N, I was wrong. The forties weren't home, you were. I realized it after a few months. Nothing felt right without you. I tried to go to our present day again, but it had been too long since I jumped and I couldn’t figure it out. I tried finding Strange, but of course he hadn’t been born yet, and I was sent into another universe instead of ours.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t understand. If you were trying to get back, why destroy all those universes?”

“I wasn’t trying to destroy them,” Steve says lowly, “I was trying to get you back. Only– you’re pivotal to all of this, and you don’t even get it. If the Avengers formed without us, they wouldn’t make the decisions needed to stop the Chitauri, or save the world from Thanos, or anything.”

You comprehend it all at last. “You weren’t destroying the multiverse, you were meddling with the timeline. Of course. The TVA always insisted on the danger of even the smallest variant. I get it now.”

“I made a mistake by leaving, Y/N,” Steve tells you. “I’m trying to make it right. Will you let me?”

And, looking at him in the low fluorescent lights of the TVA, you ask yourself if there’s still a place in your heart for the man you’ve known all your life. It’s been a long time since you saw him. It’ll be longer still before you forgive him for leaving in the first place. However, there’s not many people like you in this world or the next. You have Steve back at last. How could anyone not take a chance like that?

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @blondsauduun, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[disneyprincemuke]

you’re embarrassing me * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: inthaf logan and femdriver live in my mind rent free like i love them and they are absolute best friends, your honour!!!

i might be at work today but you can’t stop me from thinking of logan hunter sargeant

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

“happy birthday!” logan smiles, extending his arm to you. “sorry i’m late — i had to get benny to wrap your present.”

you look up from your spot at the other end of the table. you smile, putting your phone down. “oh, i was just about to ask you where you were. thanks for even bothering to get me something!”

you hop up from your position and push yourself through the rows of seats that are strewn lazily. “thank you.”

“of course,” logan smiles, wrapping his arms around you. he presses a kiss to your “happy birthday again. thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“it wouldn’t be complete with you,” you giggle, pulling away.

it wasn’t until you turned back around to the table that you noticed that your friends were staring at you. alex’s jaw is dropped and george looks absolutely gutted. in the corner, lily and carmen are giggling to themselves while lando had his camera up and pointed at you.

“what?” you ask, scoffing slightly at the camera flash that goes off.

alex’s arm comes out to grab george’s shoulder. “she hugged him.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, so?”

“you never let us hug you,” george says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in frustration at you being oblivious. “you damn near killed me the last time i tried to hug you!”

“yeah?” you hum, grabbing logan’s wrist to drag him along with you. “you sit with me.”

“what?” alex scoffs. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“not anymore. i’ve got a new favourite williams driver,” you beam, shaking his seat to get him off the chair. “and anyway, i already told you logan’s sitting next to me. you’d have bullied him all night if i don’t stop you.”

“and i told you first come first serve!”

“who’s the birthday girl? me or you?” you drop logan’s arm and put your hands on your hips. “who?”

alex starts to act flustered, slumping his shoulder and grabbing his cheeks with a smile. “you’re saying i can be birthday girl today? you serious?”

“ah, piss off!” you groan, shaking his seat again. when the thai doesn’t budge, you look over his head. “lily! alex is being an ass again.”

“alex.”

“yeah, okay. fine,” alex sighs in defeat, pushing himself off the seat. he turns to you. “you get a pass today because it’s your birthday. this won’t happen again, bro.”

logan giggles as he takes the seat previously occupied by his teammate. “what dish did you get? do you have a birthday cake?”

“no, we were waiting for you, silly!” you laugh and pick up the menu from the table and lean into him. “we also just arrived not too long ago. because somebody-“

“hey! it’s not my fault the uber cancelled on us!” george screams from your other side, reaching forward to hit you on the shoulder. “it’s not my fault!”

“it is,” alex sighs, shaking his head. he looks at logan. “this idiot forgot to tell us he booked a taxi — i was fresh out of the damn shower!”

“no, it was her fault!” george fights back, pointing at you.

at that point of the argument, you’d already drowned them out while you looked at the menu for something to order. you simply look up and press your lips together. “are we ordering cake?”

“absolutely! it’s a birthday, duh?” alex scoffs. “anyway, let’s take a picture so you can post it on your instagram about how great friends we were to you.”

you stare at alex. “sure. if you say so.”

you turn as lando gets up to ask someone to take a picture. “wait, your hair is messy,” you grumble, instinctively reaching out to fix logan’s hair. “how benny let you leave looking like this, i’ll never know.”

“what?” you hear logan mutter, pulling his head back slightly. “i did my hair. you don’t like it?”

“what?” you go up an octave as you try to laugh it off, retracting your hands. “no, it looks good.”

“but you said-“

“oh, look! lando’s found someone to take a picture,” you point over at the man holding lando’s camera. you dust off logan’s shirt and straighten it slightly. “look good — i’m announcing to the public that i’ve adopted you as my grid kid.”

“he’s turning 23 this year, you know that, right?”

“shut up, alex.”

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Pissing on Romance's Grave

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship WARNING(S): tw Kaiser

Today is worse than a plague.

Well… Exaggerated inner turmoil aside, you’ve been having an awful day. It’s like you’ve been waddling through a swamp of bullshit. Even now you’re climbing up the stairs to your apartment because the stupid elevator broke. Could’ve been worse, you suppose — at least you weren’t inside when it malfunctioned.

The feeble attempt at optimism, however, isn’t easing your hatred and misery at all. Proof of your ever present anger is how you almost rip the door off its hinges after you unlock it, barging in, then closing it with a bang again.

While taking off your shoe, you register a strange smell. Of something burnt. Maybe you’re resigned to the fate that it’s probable you’ll die today, so while you are alarmed, it’s not enough to make you hurry and run with your other shoe still on. Even when you do begin your trek with heavy footsteps, your pace is brisk at best, following the scent right to your bedroom.

You don’t hesitate, but perhaps you should’ve, since it would’ve given you a moment to brace yourself. Still, nothing could’ve really prepared you for the sight that greets you once you enter.

“I can explain,” Kaiser says with wide eyes, reaching out his hands in front of him in case you try to lunge at him and go in for the kill.

Your bathrobe looks burned. Usually this isn’t an observation you’d be making, but you’re forced to now, what with Kaiser wearing it… for some godforsaken reason. Your bed is in even worse condition, tattered and covered in soot, melting candles knocked over. Wax sticking to the ruined sheets. Rose petals are scattered all over the floor. Many of them are ashy like they got caught up in whatever incident occurred. Three more candles dripping over the flowers and the carpet, all these things culminating in a giant mess.

What the actual fuck are you looking at?

“Open the window!” you scream at him then gesture towards it, maybe in case he doesn’t know what a ‘window’ is. It wouldn’t surprise you at this point with the way things are going.

“I did!” Kaiser says, annoyed, as if he has any right to be giving you an attitude in this situation. Though, recognizing the murderous intent in your face, he fumbles to reach out and open it. “I did, but I got cold, so I closed it.”

“Yeah, speaking of, why the hell are you wearing my bathrobe?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring mine-”

“Why do you need to be wearing a bathrobe. At. All.”

“For the atmosphere.”

“For the atmosphere?” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “For the atmosphere?! There’s no atmosphere, this is just a fire hazard!”

“It was going to be romantic-”

“Why did you close the window even though the room hasn’t aired out and stayed inside? Why were you even- What if something happened to you?!”

Kaiser smirks at you, content all of a sudden, before he crosses his arms. You could punch him in the face. “Oh, so you’re worried about me. You’d be sad if I died.” He says all this in the tone of announcing a triumph he’s holding over your head.

You ignore him, stepping over one of the roses. Kaiser regards the action with mild offense, which you don’t notice, since you’re too lost in the haze of your rage to even comprehend what’s going on. “How did you even manage this?”

“There was a miscalculation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I, um, I… tried to pose on the bed,” says Kaiser. This is the first time you’ve seen him look shameful during your entire time together, averting his gaze away from yours and all. Which is one way to affirm his statement and plan are particularly stupid, since he’s the type to stare at you straight on, unflinching, and smirk at you while telling you the dumbest shit.

“Pose?”

“You know. You know what I mean, right? Like a French girl? Yeah, like that.” The more he explains it, the more pathetic his mumbling is getting. To think even Kaiser, who’s obsessed with the sound of his voice, is capable of an inside voice.

You’ve never been so tense in your life. You might be developing a hernia in your neck. “Oh right, of course. Right! Because why wouldn’t you do that while wearing something flammable? I’m so stupid, how didn’t I think of that? Also, why in the world were you trying to LIGHT UP THE CANDLES AGAIN?! Like, let them rest, they’re already fucking done for! I saw you!”

“For the- for my artistic purposes. Of course. A real visionary doesn’t just give up after a small mishap.”

“And! The key I gave you is for emergencies! Not for you to-”

“But it was!!! A fucking emergency!”

“-set fires in my home! What are you even doing here?” You finish off your speech with a huff. Your tantrum has exhausted you, but at the same time it’s convenient you can use Kaiser as a verbal punching bag because of his lunacy.

Now he’s channeling his kicked puppy eyes. Like, he’s trying his best to force himself to cry, you can tell by the way he’s squinting at you and straining. When the effort proves futile he gives up and settles for glaring at you. “Alright, I know I messed up, but it’s obvious I was trying to surprise you for our anniversary.”

You blink at him. Then stay quiet.

“You forgot!” he accuses, trying to distract you from being mad at him by creating some fabricated emotional torment. Then he tries to force himself to cry again, and all you do in response to the display is roll your eyes.

Damn, you can’t believe your day has been so awful, your one year anniversary slipped your mind. These people are working you to an early grave.

“Whatever,” you say, before making a vague motion all around. “Clean up.”

His jaw hangs open as if he’s scandalized. “What? You want me to clean this shit all by myself?”

“You inflicted this on my poor bed alone. Clean it, now.”

Seeing that you’re apparently not dying of guilt, Kaiser decides to switch tactics. “But! My beloved, light of my life, fire in my groin-”

“That’s-” you interrupt your own sentence with a groan and resist the urge to either sock him in the jaw or find a way to knock yourself out through some obscure pressure point. Then you shake your head. Unfortunately it does nothing useful like for example maybe erasing the last twenty-four hours from your mind and instead remains as a meaningless gesture. “Not how it goes.”

“I know,” he says, satisfied with himself and his ridiculous antics. At least you think he must be from his annoying, smug grin. Though immediately after Kaiser appears to get a mood swing because his lips twist down again. “I can’t believe you forgot about our anniversary, though. And now you’re making me act like a maid. Do I mean nothing to you? You’re breaking my spirit here and this is an unethical dynamic-”

“Micha, I don’t give a fuck about your guilt tripping act. Just clean this up so we can enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fine. Whatever. You win. You win! Your heartlessness wins against my romantic soul. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You grit your teeth. “Shut up and get on with it.”

“Okay.” He deflates like a particularly depressed balloon.

You then proceed to watch as Kaiser makes his way around and acts like gathering and throwing away rose petals is the most difficult thing anyone has ever done. In his mind, this experience must be the most suffering anyone’s ever endured — but who knows what goes through his head. Several times, he offers to buy you a new apartment because he ‘doesn’t feel like dealing with this’ and since it’s ‘below him.’

And the whole time you’re observing him and his behavior, you can’t help but wonder what mental institution this man must’ve crawled out of to then find his path leading to you.

[bambisnc]

WHAT WE DONT WANT PART 3 WE NEED ITT!!👺👺🔥

with the setting moon [ft. j.wy]

-> + [series m.list]

pairing : wony x reader genre : fluffyy/angstish + fake dating trope! (but its not fake anymore?!?) cw/tw : dying mention + kissing + ik this is actually not accurate fr but wikihow said this so i js ran w it -> i do suggest looking at it b4 u read! wc : 1 ish page ehe

"the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

“not as beautiful as you darling~”

wonyoung, your fake girlfriend, obviously refuses to leave a single opportunity to make your face flush delicately with her subtle remarks, teasing comments or scattered suggestive touches. you need practice, she insists, if anyone is to believe the two of you are dating.

but it’s been months since that one wednesday afternoon when she’d roped you into her plan to make her ex jealous. it’s been months and you can’t help but feel shocked as you compare the wonyoung of then - focussed on her goal of showing up her ex and his new girlfriend and rigidly following the rules she’d set between the two of you; to the wonyoung of now - who seems to have zero inhibitions when it comes to you, breaking rules one by one until you're not sure you can even recall there being any in the first place.

it’s killing you. and you’re sure she’s completely unaware.

it pains you how the practice sessions always escalate to various heights of intensity. it pains you how she still manages to weave in adoration and care in every single action of hers.

exhibit a : she currently has you in her car; one hand carelessly resting on your thigh as the other scrolls through her phone looking for a playlist she liked.

also notable is that her car is parked in the most gorgeous setting you could ever imagine; fairytale-like in all its essence with a view of glimmering city lights and quiet grassy land behind you.

you allow your head to lean back on your seat, and bask in the starlight through the sunroof with your eyes fluttering shut.

… you won’t deny that your seemingly nonchalant remark about the moon was more to scope out her thoughts. about this situation. about you. the japanese legend was rather popular but it wouldn’t be right to assume she did know about it. 

she probably didn’t know about it.

but if she did, would she have answered it the way you hoped..?

wonyoung’s grip tightens on your thigh ever so slightly, in a playful manner but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart run laps. her phone now abandoned, she allows herself to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

it’s like she can always sense when your mind wanders away and is more than willing to bring it back to the present, back to her.

as if you could ever bring yourself to leave.

“hey. earlier what you said about the moon..,” she places a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth, “i actually meant to say that, yeah it is. and now, i can finally die happy..”

oh.

oh.

notes : ANON ILY FOR THIS ! ! + sighs </3 i think this is the end of wony chronicles </3 + [m.list] song rec : off the record c'mon now it's the official theme song 4 the series .. <3

[quill-and-whetstone]

“The Sniper Problem”

I have a favorite litmus test that I apply to just about everything I write: “Could this entire plotline be resolved by one sufficiently trained sniper?” The hypothetical sniper is there to evaluate the quality of the conflict I’ve set up. If they can resolve the whole thing by taking out their target then I… probably have some rethinking to do, because the test succinctly highlights a few key issues with any story that fails it.

First, the obvious: if the problem your protagonists are facing can be solved this way it’s probably just not as interesting as it could be. A conflict of “big bad evil dude does a big bad evil thing and our hero goes and mercs him about it” can make for a fun blockbuster action film, but the plot of those films are rarely–if ever–the point. Stories with a central villain stand to gain a lot of narrative depth from asking yourself what issues would linger if they were suddenly removed from the picture. What internal struggles might remain in your protagonists? How might the world around them still need to be changed or healed? Which elements or areas of the story just seem empty without the big bad to fill the narrative space, and how can we develop them?

The second facet of the sniper problem is an inverted Occam’s Razor, a call to ensure that there’s a good reason the protagonists aren’t just using a simple and direct route to solve their problems. It’s like how modern horror movies have to cripple the victims’ cell phones to justify everything else that happens, though ideally less contrived. When revising a story through this lens, it’s almost difficult not to improve it. It aids suspension of disbelief, lets your protagonists present as more competent, and gives them more to do outside of biffing people they don’t like which in turn showcases more of their personality.

A great example of all of this is Avatar: The Last Airbender. Throughout the show the bottom line is that our heroes are out to defeat the Firelord to stop the atrocities he’s committing against the rest of the world. So it stands to reason to ask, why not camp outside his house early on with an assassin good enough to score a quick or lucky kill? But the show answers this amply with just its concept, mostly without having to draw direct attention to it. If Firelord Ozai dropped dead in the pilot there would still be a whole Fire Nation pursuing his goals complete with other emotionally unstable royals and military officers. It wouldn’t actually… solve anything. “Defeat the Firelord” is just the mission that sets our heroes on the path they need to take to stop a war that’s destroying the world. The real solution is cultivating friendships across cultures, healing and maturing together, growing spiritually, protecting and empowering victims of generational violence, dismantling fascistic power structures, and ultimately even finding a relatively peaceful / humane solution to the problem of the Firelord. While they do call this out directly in one episode, they didn’t have to, because with the way they structured the narrative it was already evident. As a result of that good planning the characters got to do a lot of interesting, character driven, thematically resonant things and the show isn’t just one long and kind of dry martial arts training montage until they show up at the finale.

So keep the sniper problem in mind as you write! Or even as you read, watch, and analyze other media for what worked and what didn’t. I can’t promise it’ll be relevant to every story, but I can promise that it’s a quick and easy standard that’ll help you layer in a lot of nuance and flavor into your narrative.

[emelinstriker]

Macaque ♡ Bath Time

First of all, this is all still SFW, but would be leading into NSFW with the ending implication. So this still counts as Fluff. Also I personally would call him Mac-Mac, so that shall now be implemented into my fics.

That being said...

CW: slight suggestive vibe, nudity, mild gore(? had to hold back a lot from making it full on detailed descriptions), maybe faint yandere behavior if you squint

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"I've told you before. Hands off my territory... No one to blame but yourself."

The dark-furred simian dropped the demon's corpse onto the pavement with a dark grin. It's been a while since he really got to do this to another demon. He's been holding back his true strength ever since he met you, in hopes of not scaring you off... Well, at least he didn't usually attack demons with you around. That didn't mean he would kill them even when you weren't present.

However... this particular demon crossed the line. Not only did this demon return to the apartment complex, the Six-Eared Macaque's territory, despite having been warned... But this demon also threatened to kill him, as well as you and your neighbors right after.

Little did he know that your husband was a lot more capable than any other ordinary demon this guy had ever faced before, by far. Despite his size compared to the intruder, he could easily fold him.

And of course, Macaque didn't take this random demon's threats lightly. Killing off a threat to you and your home once in a while wouldn't be so bad, no? Surely a little bit of self-defense in the name of your safety should be fine.

So he did what he seemed most fit. Getting rid of the pest that spoke of those threats. After all, endangering you in any way, shape or form was off-limits. Anyone attempting to break this one simple rule had to deal with the consequences and would be punished by your loving husband...

Violence may not always be the answer, but life is multiple choice.

And death was just one of the options.

A quite merciful one at that.

Macaque glanced down at the blood that now stained not only his clothes, but his fur too. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about needing to take a bath. After all, he wouldn't want his beloved to be stained by another demon's blood when he hugged them. And thus, he disposed of the body by engulfing it in a shadow portal. He was torn between letting it fall into lava or the ocean, but he decided that lava would be the quickest solution. If the corpse somehow managed to not be gone by the time the Demon Bull Family saw something floating on the surface of one of their lava pits, then they could simply see it as a nice aesthetic gift to their home.

He used another shadow portal to return to your shared apartment's living room. Everything was quiet, so much so that he had no problems hearing all your neighbors without even trying, which the shadow monkey already anticipated. Usually it was him that would come home later than you, but not today since his plays were scheduled for only half of the week. And it was a good thing he had the day off. Who knows what would've happened if you came home first and encountered the demon he got rid of instead!

After making his way past your bedroom door, he let a shadow clone enter and pick some fresh clothes for him. Meanwhile, he prepared his bath. The dark-furred simian noticed the lack of a shampoo bottle near the bathtub, so he ended up picking the plum-scented shampoo from the cabinet beneath the sink. Macaque was considering using body wash as well, but decided against it as most of what the blood got on was pure fur anyway. His shadow clone then walked in with fresh clothes, placing them on the closed toilet seat before vanishing back into his shadow.

However, before he could undress, his ears caught the sound of keys clashing by the front door. He smiled to himself at the implication- Only you had keys to the apartment since he didn't need keys to enter. And his assumption was indeed correct.

"Mac-Mac, I'm home!" Your lovely voiced called out from down the hallway as you entered.

"Heya, sugarplum! I'll be right with you, just gonna take a bath first!" He called back through he closed door. It did take a while until the tub was actually filled with warm water, so in the meantime he inspected his nude, scarred form in the mirror. He sighed to himself as he tried getting some blood off manually with his fingers, but to no avail. It would be difficult to clean up some spots, for sure. Especially those splatters that ended up on his back...

Another thing he did while waiting for the bathtub to fill up was to listen in on what you were doing. From what he could still hear past the noises coming from the faucet and your neighbors, apparently you were eating dinner. Presumably leftovers from the fridge as he did not recall you cooking anything earlier that day.

Once the tub was full, he turned off the faucet, then climbed inside and began to clean himself up. Macaque started off by washing all his fur on and around his head, at least that was easy to do. There wasn't even all that much blood stuck in there in the first place... Well, except for maybe the front.

He was so busy rubbing the blood off his arms that he didn't hear you walking towards the bathroom. At least until you lightly knocked on the door, pulling him back into reality.

"May I come in? I need a dry towel for the kitchen", you asked. Your husband told you that you may enter, so you did.

It was far from the first time you saw him without clothes, so it wasn't exactly awkward when you came in and picked one of the thinner towels. After choosing a fitting one, your eyes glanced over at the dark-furred simian. Honestly, he was already handsome by default. Him without a shirt was even better. But his wet, shiny fur glistening in the light of the bathroom made him look a lot more appealing on top of it all.

Suddenly, his own gaze landed on you. He seemed a bit confused, but this little bit of confusion was quickly wiped away as his smug grin took over.

Shit. He probably heard your heartbeat increase... Curse his intense hearing!

"What's the matter, sugarplum? Like what you see~?"

You were about to respond in a flustered, passive aggressive manner... Until you noticed the amount of red that was still very much present on his fur. You paused for a second before becoming concerned. "What happened? Did you get into a fight? Is that your blood?!" You asked frantically.

Macaque's grin left just as quickly as it came. "No, no! Well... I mean yes, I did get into a fight. B- But this isn't my blood!" That statement only eased your concerns a bit.  You simply stood there in thought with the folded towel in hand... Until he seemed to try wash off some blood his back, but to no avail.

"Do you need help getting it off?" You asked as you slowly put the towel onto the sink.

He raised an eyebrow at you before waving his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't mind the company."

You hummed in amusement as you made your way over to the bathtub, getting onto your knees next to it. Macaque handed you the bottle of shampoo and you put a portion of it onto your hand, putting the bottle next to you on the ground. You then scooped up a bit of water with your other hand and mixed both liquids together. Afterwards your hands were free to roam around your husband's back, trying to get rid of the red colors and the faint stench...

Honestly, you couldn't tell if it was just the blood because his fur seemed to stink on its own.

Suddenly, the dark-furred simian started to purr as you started gently cleaning blood around his tail. You actually had a somewhat hard time cleaning it... Macaque's joy over you handling his tail so gently only made it move around more. That in of itself wouldn't have been much of a problem, but we have to take his extra strength into consideration. He may be holding back by a lot, but his tail was still able to casually pick you up if he wanted to. So trying to keep it still enough to properly get rid of stains was a challenge.

You grinned at his tail's excitement, "Do you want me to wash the rest of your body too or what?"

The shadow monkey halted before fake-thinking with a hum. "Only if you get in here with me."

You gave him a blank look for a few seconds. Macaque thought this suggestion was a bit too much for you today. You barely got off work after all. Thus he was about to apologize... until he heard you take off your own clothes.

He paused as his tail's tip flicked back above the water in anticipation. His head whipped to the side to see you put your clothes onto his own pile or dirty clothes. With your body now in the nude, you approached the bathtub before demanding him to scoot over so you could sit behind him. You then positioned yourself so he was sitting between your legs, practically having been captured so he could never escape. (He wouldn't have minded to be honest.)

And without another word, you proceeded to continue washing him. Mainly his back and sides due to his fur's locations, but you occasionally would brush over part of his chest. Most of his fur in the back wasn't even bloody, but it was still nice to help clean him. At one point his tail wrapped around your waist as he leaned back into your hold, purring while slightly rubbing himself against you. You cooed at him being adorable and tried countering him by pushing your body firmly against his, trying to reach at least part of his legs better.

However, the moment you got to his hips towards his abdomen, he chuckled. "Not low enough, sugarplum~"

You rolled your eyes at his words with a flustered smile, "Mac-Mac, you can clean that area yourself. I can barely even clean your legs from here." He pouted as his head turned to face you, just so you could see his disappointment. You grinned at him in return.

"Do I at least get a reward for cleaning up the rest myself?" He asked with a knowing smirk as his gaze lowered towards your body below the water. That cheeky little bastard... You raised an eyebrow at the monkey's suggestion. The fact that his tail seemed to slowly make its way towards your thigh didn't help the situation.

You sighed in defeat as you nuzzled into your husband's furry back. "Okay fine. But, only one round, got it? I still have work tomorrow, and you know how much our stamina differs."

Macaque chuckled, using his hands to position your arms around his torso, your hands against his chest. "I can't promise anything, sugarplum~" He swiftly turned around more until he was able to give you a quick kiss on the lips, his hands holding your head for better access. "I love you."

In return, you leaned in as well for a kiss that would last a little longer. "I love you too..."

"Well, guess I better get to cleaning now, just so we have more time for my reward~", he said in his low voice as he pulled away. It didn't take long for Macaque to completely clean himself, especially with this new motivation literally sitting behind him with a flushed, yet amused look.

Maybe you should offer him this type of reward for doing house chores, just to motivate him into actually doing those more often.

> Masterlist <

[run-little-hero]

“So your plan didn’t work out, obviously,” Villain prompts, an all too casual jab considering the circumstances. “Still thinking about killing me?”

“I haven’t ruled it out.”

Villain smirks, entertained. “If you kill me, who will keep you company now that you’re dead?”

Correction, Hero thinks. Should be dead. You’d think being caught in a massive explosion of metaphysical power would be enough to ensure destruction. Evidently, it wasn’t.

Hero wraps a layer of gauze around their aching forearm, scraped raw in the wreckage. “Not exactly dead.”

“But a ghost all the same.” Villain is lounging at the back of their stolen van. Hero is in the drivers seat.

As with most things, in Hero’s opinion, Villain is to blame for their present circumstances. They shielded them from the blast with a homemade forcefield generator, which received the brunt of the power discharge before collapsing. It saved their lives—cosmetic wounds at most. They’d both survived much worse.

But for the first time, Hero can’t convince themself the life of justice is worth living anymore. Not that they could go back alone. They’ve successfully helped their enemy escape. They murdered Supervillain. They’ve given up.

Hero tears the gauze and ties it off using their teeth. They glare at Villain. “I might be here with you now, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you’ve done. I can’t ever forget.”

They turn away from Villain, reaching for a bottle of painkillers. Memories flood their mind of faces cut down by Villain. Innocent victims, Hero’s friends, Supervillain. They’re both haunted—it’s why they’re consistently drawn together.

Villain asks, “Why did you do it?”

The ‘it’ in question being Hero’s master plan to take them down together. Hero had partnered with Villain on order from the Agency to eliminate Supervillain once and for all. But it was never about Supervillain, Hero knows that. They had a chance and they took it. To fulfill the mission they’d been working towards half their life. Hero detonated Supervillain’s weapon.

‘Why did you do it?’ Any other Hero would’ve killed Villain without sacrificing themself.

‘Why did you do it?’ The answer alludes Hero. It’s like they’ve cast their line and got a bite, but can’t bring themself to reel it in.

Villain continues, “Couldn’t abide my dying alone? You had to bury your own guilt and make yourself a martyr in the process?”

Hero scoffs. “Please, I won’t be—“

“That’s how they’ll frame it.” Villain puts on their best news anchor impersonation. “‘Self-sacrificing hero presumably dead after defeating dastardly villain. Bodies yet to be recovered. Slaughtered supervillain left behind.’”

Hero frowns. “They won’t stop looking. Even if Superhero and the agency make that statement, they won’t rest until they have proof of our demise. They know better than that.”

“Unfortunately, I agree. We’re too much of a threat together.” Villain steps to the front of the van, sliding into the passenger seat. “But I’m less interested in them. I’m anxious to know what you’ll do next.”

Hero can’t look at them. They can’t reconcile that they’re alive and they’re together despite the pain they’ve inflicted on each other. On Supervillain. On everyone. They should’ve died in the explosion. Why couldn’t Villain let them have that?

“Why did you do it, Hero?”

“I had to.” A tear lands on the back of Hero’s hand.

“Tell me.”

“I wouldn’t face what we’d done. I couldn’t.” Hero can’t recall crying in front of Villain before. They can’t find it in themself to be ashamed anymore.

“Couldn’t admit you loved it?” Villain reaches towards Hero, putting a hand on their shoulder “Will you kill me then? Cut out the heart of your darkness? Go back to infuriating politeness and 30-hour weeks at a desk instead of in the field?”

You flatter yourself. But then again, they’ve become so twisted that Villain can read Hero better than anyone. Bringing back Villain’s head on a pike might be the only way to clear their name. If only they’d died when Hero intended, they wouldn’t have to grapple with such a choice.

It’s a terrifying type of awareness, being recognized my a monster. Hero can’t keep running.

Hero grips the steering wheel. “I think…you and I might benefit from some time away.”

They’re met with a smile. “I think we just might.”

—

snippet #11

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-five] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, smut (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: protected sex, public(ish) sex, switchy minho

“Min, what if we get caught?” you whispered, panting in his ear. 

It was hard to think straight while sitting on his dick but fragments of worries still bounced around in the back of your mind, vague reminders that what you were doing was illegal. It wasn’t as if you were some kind of saint, but you weren’t trying to get yourself on a registered sex offender list- especially not in Hawai’i of all places. 

“We won’t,” he assured you, “anyone who sees us will just think we’re cuddling.”

“Anyone with common sense will know exactly what we’re doing,” you muttered back. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Minho held you still on top of him, fingers digging into your hips to stop you from moving. You didn’t answer right away.

“Baby?” he prompted, squeezing you tighter. 

The pet name startled you back into the present moment, making you stare down at Minho, blinking at him in surprise. He chuckled and freed one of his hands to rub your lower back under the hem of your shirt. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you confessed. “But if we get caught, I’m killing you.”

“If we get caught, my career is over,” he corrected, reminding you that there were more important things for him to worry about than yourself.

You always managed to forget that Minho was famous. Not even just famous, he was attached to the most popular boy group in the world. If he were to get in trouble for something like this it would make international news. And Minho’s parents would find out. Logically, you knew that his family finding out paled in comparison to the entire world finding out, but the first possibility was more daunting to you. Still, the idea of going viral for fucking one of BTS’s backup dancers on the beach was not something you wanted for yourself. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t then-” you said and started to lift yourself off of him. 

“I want to,” Minho assured you. “But I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because you’re worried about someone seeing. We can take this back to the car if you want, or the hotel, or we can be done for the night.”

You slumped forward, resting against his chest and letting him hold you. You didn’t want to cut it short but you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully relax if you were thinking about every worst case scenario possible. 

“Can we go back to the hotel?”

He nodded. “Of course we can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, none of that. Don’t be sorry. I want you to be comfortable, yeah? The whole point of sex is to enjoy it.”

You nodded in agreement even though you still felt a little guilty. Minho stood and then helped you to your feet. He gathered up the blanket you’d been sitting on and shook it off. He handed you one side of the blanket and kept hold of the other so that you could fold it nicely. 

“Where’d you even get this from?” you asked. 

“What, the blanket?”

 “Yeah, have you been carrying that around in your luggage this whole time?”

“No, I took it from the couch in my hotel room.”

“Minho!”

“What? I’m going to put it back!”    “It’s all dirty now, though.”

“I’ll wash it,” he assured you. “There are a lot of laundromats around here. Now come on, let’s head back before it gets too late.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. “How do you know that? Do you keep a running tab of every laundromat you come across?”

He led you by the hand back up the beach to the pathway to the parking lot, turning his head ever so slightly when he answered you so that you could hear him. “No, I just pay attention.”

“Shocking.”

Minho turned away from you again but you could see him shaking his head. You assumed he was also rolling his eyes at you. 

He threw the blanket in the trunk once you reached the car, and climbed back into the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t suppose you want to take the wheel this time?” he asked after you had already buckled your seat belt. “Since you do have an American driver’s license?”

You gave him a look. “Yeah, but it’s illegal for me to drive this car since I’m not listed on the rental paperwork as a driver.”

“You think we’ll get pulled over?”

“We might! I’m also not old enough, remember?”

He grinned as he put the car in reverse “I know. I was just kidding.”

“Rubbing it in my face again?”

“Of course.”

The drive back to the resort was comfortable. Minho pointed out every single laundromat you passed, even after you told him he’d made his point and didn’t have to keep doing so. You were the one to reach for his hand this time, threading your fingers between his without hesitation. He smiled to himself when you did that and squeezed your hand affectionately, something that did not go unnoticed by you. 

The spot in the hotel parking lot the two of you had left earlier was still open when you returned. Apparently, no one else liked to be out late, even on vacation. 

You let go of Minho’s hand to get out of the car and didn’t grab it again as you walked into the lobby. 

“Are you tired?” Minho asked once you reached the elevators. You knew the question he was actually asking was whether or not you were too tired to go upstairs with him. This was just his not-so-subtle way of asking. 

“I was tired when you dragged me out of bed but I’m too horny to sleep now.”

He grinned. “My room, then?”

“No, let’s fuck in my room,” you said sarcastically. “I’m sure your brother would love that.”

“Hilarious.”

“Thank you.”

The bell on the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and you shuffled in together. Minho placed a hand on the small of your back and leaned forward to press the button for the eleventh floor, settling back against the wall next to you once it lit up and started to ascend. 

He dropped his hand again when the elevator reached his floor. You missed the warmth instantly. You knew the little things like that shouldn’t hurt your feelings. You weren’t a couple. He was too recognizable to be seen with anyone and have it not cause a fuss. Still, you found yourself wishing things could be different. It stung, even though it shouldn’t.

Minho stopped in front of what you assumed to be his door and fished in his pocket for the room key. He waved the card in front of the sensor, the electronic lock blinking green on the first try.

The room was dark, but Minho turned the entryway light on so that you were able to see into the space. His room was nearly identical to you and Jisung’s. The only difference was that the bed was against the opposite wall.

“You’re not sharing with Felix this time?” you asked at the realization that there was only one bed instead of two. 

“Our parents wanted us to, but we were getting pretty sick of each other so we decided to split the cost of an extra room.”

“Uh-huh, and it had nothing to do with this?” You gestured in between the two of you to emphasize the ‘this’ you were referring to.

“No, no, not at all!” Minho insisted, hand to his heart. “I promise, I didn’t bring you out to the beach just so we could have sex. I didn’t expect for us to- I just wanted to talk.”

Your mind went back to the moment where Minho had seemed lost in thought, like he wanted to say something important and then decided against it at the last minute. Was that what he meant? Or were you reading too much into it?

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he continued, “I didn’t want you to think that.”

“Oh okay,” you said, mostly because you weren’t sure what else to say. “It’s not a big deal if that was why you wanted to go somewhere. It’s not like we really do anything other than hook up anyway.”

“Not because I don’t want to! It’s just, it’s not like we can do normal couple stuff.” 

“You’d... want to do that with me?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Instead of choosing to address that, you pivoted. “Um, do you mind if I rinse off before we do anything else?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. He stood there staring at you with a look of concern on his face, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as he tried to discern your sudden change in mood. “No, of course I don’t mind. But... are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook him off and lied. “No. I just feel gross from the beach. Did you want to join me or not?”

He hesitated again and you could tell he wanted to press further but refrained. “Yeah, of course I want to join you.”

You undressed together in relative silence as you waited for the water to warm up. The mood was definitely different but you hoped you hadn’t completely killed it. 

You could feel Minho’s gaze on you, could feel questions lingering in the air between you, but again he didn’t push. 

You turned around and kissed him to make up for it and he relaxed a little. He let you distract him all too willingly, stumbling into the shower after you with his eyes still closed. 

You pressed Minho up against the tile wall and he moaned into your mouth. He was already hard again, you could feel his dick twitching against your stomach. You reached in between your bodies and took him in your hand, stroking him slower than you knew he liked. It was better than nothing but nowhere near enough and it wasn’t long until he was thrusting into your palm, fucking your fist like it was a toy. You teased him a little, drawing your hand out of reach every now and then just to watch him pout. You couldn’t help yourself. It was payback for all of the times he had teased you and the desperate sounds he made every time you threatened to stop were turning you on more than you would have liked to admit. 

Minho let you think you were in control until he flipped it on you, literally. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed your wrists and spun you around so that you were the one up against the shower wall. Your back hit the tile hard and you scowled in annoyance.  

“What’s that look for?” Minho asked, hiking your thigh up onto his waist. 

“You couldn’t just let me be in charge for once?” 

He laughed. “I thought you liked it like this.”

You sigh. “I do, it’s just... I was having fun.”

“I could tell,” he mused. “You had this evil little smile on your face while you were jerking me off. It was pretty cute.”

“How could you tell? You had your eyes closed the whole time.”

“That’s not true, I had them like this-” he pauses to squint, “some of the time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“I did!”

“Can you just fuck me already? I’m tired of you.”

-

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, glaring at Jisung as he rifled through the items on the rack.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. 

The boys were going golfing, and being the good fake girlfriend you were, you had no other choice but to tag along. You wouldn’t be playing, thank god, but you had to cheer Jisung on, and apparently had to dress the part to do so. You didn’t have anything suitable for the golf course so Nikki had suggested Jisung take you downstairs to the gift shop to find something to wear. 

The resort you were staying at was right across from the course so the gift shop was full of golf novelties and athletic wear for your... convenience. 

“These are expensive!” you hissed at Jisung once you checked the prices.

“You’re not the one paying for them,” he reminded you. 

“I know, that’s worse!”

“You know how much he makes right? Besides, I’m sure your real boyfriend will love it on you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know that.”

Jisung looked annoyed. “Boyfriend, fuck buddy, booty call, sneaky link, situationship- whatever you want to call him.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you practically begged. “At least not here?”

He shrugged but dropped it. “You should get the polo and the skirt. It matches what I’m going to wear.”

You took Jisung’s advice and bought the items he suggested, paying for them with your own money. Even though they were pricey and you knew you would likely never wear them again, you wanted to exercise at least a little bit of financial freedom. You already felt guilty for the money the Hans had spent on you thus far. 

You thought about keeping the tags on the clothes and then returning them later, but it was hot out today and you knew you’d just sweat right through them. 

Jisung did buy you a little visor without you knowing. He presented it to you with a smug grin as soon as you stepped foot outside the gift shop, once it was too late to stop him. It was embroidered with a little cartoon quokka on the brim.

“We’re not in Australia,” you said, blinking down at the hat.

“Yeah, but it’s cute, right?”

“It’s really cute,” you quickly agreed. “Thank you.”

“Just thought you’d like it.”

He handed you the hat and then set off ahead of you back towards the elevators. You shook your head and scoffed out of earshot. You couldn’t figure him out. Last night he had made it clear that he wasn’t ready to talk, wasn’t ready to forgive you, and this morning he was talking to you like nothing had happened and buying you a sun visor because he saw it and thought you would like it? His mixed signals would give you a headache if you thought about them too long, but it was impossible not to. It was all you could think about. He was all you could think about. Well, him and Minho. 

You felt like an underdeveloped main character in a low-budget coming of age movie who only had enough brainpower to think about boys. Fucking exhausting, all of it. But what were you supposed to do? 

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback :)

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Unfinished

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: none - this is fluff

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

Today was anything but easy. Everything, absolutely everything, had gone from bad to worse. Arriving back at camp was the only reprieve you had gotten all day. You walked straight through camp, on a mission into the woods. Astarion watched you, everyone could feel the waves of frustration sloughing off you and decided it was wise to leave you be. Everyone except Astarion. 

He followed you deep into the night. He found you panting and sweating as you hacked your sword about wildly, slashing and chopping every tree you possibly could. You threw your sword down and launched your helmet at a tree before sinking down to your knees. You slowly took your armor off, Astarion watched you from the shadows of the tree line. You look utterly exhausted. Your skin was dull, the bags under your eyes were heavy and dark, you looked frail despite your strong abilities as a paladin. 

You sighed, setting down the last hunk of metal. You rubbed your aching muscles, desperate for relief. Sighing, you watched the stars as they glittered and danced about in the sky. Oh to be a star, beautiful and without limitations. You laid on your side, not wanting to even hold yourself up anymore. You breathed in the dirt and moss beneath you, letting your body go completely limp. You faded quickly, sleep finally conquering your overworked form. 

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

Your body shivered with the cool night breeze. Astarion draped a blanket over you, sitting next to you with a book and a knife. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he didn’t want to wake you either. He saw you struggle lately and today seemed to be the worst of it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, he thought. You were a good leader for the little band of misfits but even leaders need reprieve. He watched you sleep for a bit. He had never seen someone so peaceful, completely vulnerable to the world. He memorized the soft curves of your face, he longed to touch them. Just a touch wouldn’t hurt. He brushed a bit of hair away from your eyes. Wrong move. Your eyes remained closed as you clamped your hand around his wrist while your free hand pointed his own dagger at his throat. Only then did your eyes wearily open. 

“Astarion?” you questioned, loosening your grip and pulling the blade back before setting it down. 

“Do you make a habit out of almost killing your companions? Or is that just reserved for me?” he said, his usual smirk and sultry tone ever present. 

You noticed the blanket over you, “Thank you…” you said and you snuggled in deeper. 

He nodded, you watched each other in comfortable silence for a few moments. 

“How is it that you have followed me for 200 years and yet your heart still speeds up when I am near?” he whispered, thinking you were asleep. 

You sat up immediately, eyes flicking to him. He looked surprised for a moment, neither of you sure who should talk first.

“You’ve known this whole time?” you asked.

He nodded, “I just haven’t figured out why or what you are.”

“I’ll tell you.” you sighed, scooting over to him. “I am… death.”

His eyes widened, “Beg your pardon?” 

“Well - kinda… I was death's apprentice… I got fired…” you chuckled at the end, trying to hide your reddening face.

“How do you get fired from being death?” he asked with shock in his voice.

“I refused to kill someone who’s time was up.” you shrugged, shying away from specifics.

“So why follow me for 200 years? I thought you were a ghost… a figment of my imagination. You never looked completely real…” he whispered the last bit.

“I retained my powers as a servant of death. Whenever you saw me, you saw my obscure form. I was basically a shadow.” you explained.

“Why didn’t you help me?!” he shouted, making you jolt.

“I wanted to… believe me, I did.” you whispered.

“Then why didn’t you?! You had every opportunity, all the power in the world - and yet you let me suffer! Why!” he was yelling now, pacing in front of you.

“Because I had no choice!” you shouted, making Astarion stop and look at you.

“When the Gur attacked you… It… it was you I refused to kill. Death may have relinquished me from my apprenticeship but death is a fickle mistress. She kept me from you, I couldn’t get near you unless I was a shadow.” you spoke as calmly as you could but your voice wavered as tears began to fill your waterline.

“How are you here now then?” he glared at you.

You forced your tadpole to connect with Astarion’s, making it wriggle uncomfortably in his skull. “The same reason you can walk in the sun.” you tapped your head a few times.

He sighed, settling down next to you again. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry… truly.” you mumbled, quickly wiping your tears away. 

“Why did you refuse to kill me?” he asked. 

“I… I just couldn’t. Something about your soul felt… unfinished. You did technically die, but not in the way death wanted. Dying is only valuable if a soul is gained, you kept your soul.” 

“And you paid the price for it… were you forced to watch me?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No, I stayed because… I wanted to make sure death didn’t come for you. I wanted to keep you safe. I did a rotten job.” 

“Two unlucky peas in a pod. In another life, we could have been friends.” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours, giving you a soft smile.

“And in this life?” you asked quietly, afraid of his answer.

“Truth be told - I always found comfort in your shadow. The ghostly figure who sang to me, prayed over me, whispered to me. Perhaps our luck is looking up now. Perhaps we could be something… more?” he finally turned his head to meet your eyes. 

You scanned his face, not sure what you were looking for. You acted on impulse, rushing your lips to his. He pulled you in by your waist, kissing you back. 

“The vampire spawn and the apprentice of death - quite the combination, little love.” he spoke as he kissed your neck a few times.

“We both have masters to kill, maybe we are fated to love after all.” you joked.

“200 years together and now you think were fated?” He laughed a bit. He had always been amazed by you, this strange enigma. His small bit of solace in horrendous times. And here he finds you, real, touchable, and best of all - you love him back.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope this is to everyones liking, life is just really stressful (tis the season) so ideas are lacking but I will try to be consistent and at least post one new fic per week. Love all the support and appreciate every bit of it <3 Thank you all for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. XOXOXOXOXO!!!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Clavis’ 4th Birthday Story (His POV)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Since meeting Emma, birthdays have become more special.

Year after year, it was a momentous occasion where I celebrated my birth as my fiancee poured her heart and soul into expressing her love for me. And not to be outdone, I too strive to make each year more enjoyable than the last—

Clavis: So you’re saying that you’re not giving your cute little brother a vacation on his birthday?

Chevalier: …

However, this year, before my birthday, my detestable older brother threw a wrench in my plans.

Clavis: Let me kill you just this once.

Chevalier: You’re welcome to draw your sword, but you’ll fail.

Clavis: Why. You’ve never harassed me like this before.

Chevalier: It’s official business.

Clavis: You can do it yourself.

Chevalier: The ambassador who caused issues is a friend of yours, is he not?

Clavis: It’s not the first time you’ve met them.

Chevalier: I made them cry.

Clavis: …

Chevalier: Give up.

(What’s the catch?)

Recently we received a report that a staff member of the embassy for a certain country was using their diplomatic immunity to commit crimes.

Although they needed to be dealt with, it wasn’t a dire situation and was something that Chevalier could handle alone.

(...Was it a miracle that I didn’t have any official duties on my birthday every year?)

(In any case, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting a vacation)

With an impudent attitude as if to say our conversation was done, Chevalier returned his attention back to his paperwork.

(...Not only will Emma not be able to celebrate my birthday, she won’t even be able to spend time with me…)

(This sucks)

--

However, when I arrived at one of the royal villas on my birthday, my heart did a flip.

Emma: We have been expecting you, King Chevalier and King Clavis.

(Why are you here?)

She wore a tidy maid’s uniform and the skirt was long enough to cover her ankles, a wig that gave her a different hairstyle, and a pair of glasses.

Her voice was different too, but each move she made screamed Emma.

(This…is supposed to be a disguise)

(A surprise present?)

(I did tell her where I was going, but I didn’t expect this)

For a moment, I forgot that I was here on official business and smiled.

However, I couldn’t defy Emma’s expectations so I chose my next words carefully to not sound unnatural.

Clavis: Oh, a maid. I thought I’d have to take care of Chevalier here.

Villa caretaker: I hired a maid this year. Please understand that I’m getting too old to take care of this place myself.

(Perhaps the madam is an accomplice)

(I thought I wouldn’t be able to see her on my birthday this year…)

(You never disappoint me, Emma)

Acting as a new maid, Emma seemed ready to accompany us on our official business.

Naturally, as the original trap master, I couldn’t just stand by.

If she had a huge surprise waiting for me, then I’d need to return it with a suitable trap to not ruin my reputation.

--

Emma: Please wait, King Chevalier!

Emma: …The path over there is shorter, allow me to show you the way.

Clavis: Hmm…

--

Emma: Please wait, King Chevalier!

Emma: There appears to be something wrong with the carriage, so allow me to inspect it right away. If you can give me a few minutes…

Clavis: Oh?

--

Emma: Please wait, King Chevalier!

Emma: There may be a bomb planted in there, so please allow me to deal with it…!

Clavis: You’ll deal with it?

--

Emma: Ah, there’s also a pit trap there…Please wait!

--

Emma: Aaahh, there’s bananas falling from the sky so please wait!!

--

Emma: Wait, please wai—Aaaahhhhh

–

(Goodness, that was truly a sight to see. I didn’t know that she’d be able to see through all the traps I set for her)

Something that could only be done with love was truly a fitting birthday present.

Thanks to Emma, the hopelessness I felt a few days ago disappeared and I felt great.

However, there’s still some things that need answers.

Chevalier’s actions, as he presented a mountain of paperwork, was as puzzling as ever.

While the “new maid” was sent to get us some tea, it was time to settle this. 

Clavis: What’s your goal?

Chevalier: …

Clavis: You said I was needed for the embassy matter or else diplomatic relations would’ve been severed. However, these are papers that can wait until tomorrow. Why do we have to get through these today?

Chevalier: …

Clavis: Haha, you’re not saying anything. Can’t say anything about Licht like this, you know?

(I don’t think this man would do anything meaningless)

(So this means something)

(Both bringing me here on my birthday and this absurd pile of paperwork at night…)

I casually glanced at the papers.

The pile didn’t have anything concerning national politics, but rather the Michel territory.

Since it was the family that my mother’s had served for generations, it wasn’t unusual for me to be asked to assist in managing the estate.

However, the issue was that those documents were here of all places.

(This place has nothing to do with the Michel family.)

Clavis: Why did you bring this here?

Chevalier: You think I’d gone through the trouble?

Clavis: Haha. I thought you were trying to harass me.

Chevalier: This was delivered to the castle today. It’s addressed to you.

Clavis: Me?

I froze.

(There’s only one other person cruel enough to give me documents concerning the Michel territory)

Clavis: You don’t think they went to the castle, do you?

I glanced at Chevalier and he laughed at me.

Clavis: …She did. That old hag has too much time on her hands.

Chevalier: Lucky you? You happened to not be in the castle and she didn’t have time for long distance traveling. Someone else brought this.

(...)

Though my mother had passed, I had another relative who was alive and well.

The matriarch of the Lelouch family, my grandmother— 

I was currently in the midst of a private dispute over my fiancee that I didn’t want Emma to find out about.

If I had run into her on my birthday, there would be no time to celebrate.

This time I was saved because I just so “happened” to be off on official business somewhere  far away.

Realizing that…I found myself troubled.

(I've been saved. By this man no less)

(No, he’s not that kind of guy. Normally he wouldn’t involve himself in something like this)

Chevalier: It was convenient for me. That’s all.

(...)

~~ Flashback ~~

Clavis: Hey, Chevalier! It’s my birthday today. Let’s celebrate this year.

Chevalier: …

Clavis: Hey!

Chevalier: Do you believe you’re worth celebrating?

Clavis: I do!

Chevalier: …

Clavis: Don’t laugh at me!

Chevalier: If you want someone to celebrate, make it worth celebrating. Then we’ll talk.

Clavis: You’re always like this. Always talking about worth…it’s not funny!

~~ Flashback end ~~

(Ahh…He’s really making me angry)

Every year, Chevalier’s the only one that doesn’t celebrate my birthday and I avoid him because I don’t want to see his unpleasant face.

In hindsight, was it really a miracle that I’d never have worked on my birthday in the past?

The foreign faction’s schedule wasn’t as predictable as the domestic faction’s.

I did have some control over it, but not complete control. Only one person did—I stopped thinking about it.

(Enough. It’s only going to make me feel miserable)

Clavis: Chevalier, I still want you to step out. I can’t stand not spending any time with Emma on my birthday. If I win, I’m done with my duties.

Chevalier: …Fine. I’ll humor you.

(He usually ignores me)

--

Emma: How long have you known?

After clashing swords with Chevalier, I escaped with Emma, who happened upon us, to a nearby guest room.

Emma didn’t let me carelessly calling her my “lovely fiancee” go.

(Darn it. I’m still agitated)

Clavis: Oh, so the new maid was Emma all along…!

Emma: Don’t pretend to be surprised.

Clavis: Haha, don’t pout.

Clavis: I love you, so how could I not have noticed?

I’m confident that I can see through any of your disguises.

Emma: I guess I still need to practice more if I want to surprise you.

Clavis: Yes, that’s right.

(Her expression…I guess you can say it’s a mix of happiness and frustration)

Just looking at Emma, who’s an open book, makes me feel as if I’ve gathered up all the bliss in the world.

I felt so refreshed that I almost forgot the discomfort and disappointment I had felt earlier.

Clavis: But your aim wasn’t to surprise me, was it? My lovely fiancee, whom I didn’t think I’d be able to see on my birthday, appeared before my eyes and stayed by my side the entire time. Furthermore, she showed just how much she loved me when she saw through and stopped all my pranks. Is there a man out there that wouldn’t feel over the moon by this? I doubt it. I had another wonderful birthday this year. There were some complications, but you made up for them. 

Emma’s dissatisfaction transformed into joy.

(Ah…I feel like a fool)

Emma: It’s still too early to feel satisfied. The real thing’s just beginning. 

Clavis: Haha, is that so?

As I stared at her intently as to not miss a single movement, Emma’s face came closer and her lips touched mine in a way that was unusually honest for her tsundere self.

(There truly isn’t anyone in this world that’s as lovely as Emma)

(...Let’s forget about everything and celebrate. I want you to celebrate me)

Taking advantage of the fact that she lacked an iron will that couldn’t resist me fanning the flames, I tickled the back of her neck with my fingers.

I kissed her several times as if looking for something, but with no signs of stopping, I continued kissing her.

Perhaps it was the understanding that my birthday happened only once a year that encouraged Emma to wrap a hand behind my neck.

Emma: Apologies to King Chevalier, but…I want to spend the rest of the time with you. I’ll celebrate you for as long as we can, Clavis.

Clavis: Yes, of course.

I pushed her down on the bed hand placed my hands beside her so that she couldn’t escape— 

Clavis: I’m a man who likes to be celebrated, so I’ll let you celebrate as much as you want.

By the time I released Emma, the world was bathed in soft morning light.

Having passed out in the middle of the night, the moment she realized it was morning, Emma rushed out of the room and returned with cake and tea.

It seemed like she had made a rainbow birthday cake for me again this year, which made me smile.

(I really wanted to help, but…)

I didn’t feel like getting out of bed and propped myself up on an elbow, watching Emma fumble about.

Right now I just wanted to forget about everything and bathe in bliss.

Emma: Don’t you want to eat?

Clavis: Of course I do. But the problem is that I don’t feel like getting out of bed today.

Oh dear, what a problem indeed. I could eat if my kind-hearted, lovely fiancee would feed me.

Emma: ……

Clavis: Every year I look forward to being wrapped in your love.

Can you at least do this for the birthday boy?

Emma: …Just for today, okay?

(Hm…?)

Emma carefully set the tray with the birthday set on the bed and avoided making eye contact.

She looked embarrassed for some reason.

(I’m in the mood for eye contact though?)

Emma scooped up a piece of the colorful rainbow cake with the fork and I placed my hand on her leg.

Emma: W-what are you doing?

Clavis: Oh, would you like me to explain in detail?

Sure. I saw your exposed legs, so I thought you were offering— 

Emma: Hurry up and eat your cake, happy birthday!

(Ah, how cute…You truly are adorable)

She shoved the cake against my lips, but my hand didn’t leave her leg. Instead, I began to attack the back of her knee.

Emma: Nn…

Clavis: Haha, that was a sweet sound.

(Your weak spot)

As I continued to deliberately tickle her, Emma became more agitated.

Emma: The cake’s about to fall off.

Clavis: We can’t have that. I don’t want to miss a single piece from a cake you made.

Come on now. If you keep looking away, it’ll really fall. 

Fed up, Emma finally looked at me.

(Oh…)

Her serious expression was filled with allure.

The atmosphere was dizzying to the point of shattering all sense of reason.

(I know what that tsun-tsun face means)

(It’s the face she makes when she loves me so much she doesn’t know what to do with herself)

The confidence came not from conceitedness, but rather past experience.

Just like how Emma can see through all my pranks, I also know Emma pretty well myself.

Clavis: You really know how to please me, don’t you?

Emma: Do I?

Clavis: Yes. I present you with the honor of Lelouch Master. A title only you could earn.

Emma: That…

Might make me feel a little happy.

Clavis: Don’t feel so modest. You’re “very happy” aren’t you?

Emma’s cheeks slowly turned red and she tried to look elsewhere.

When I moved a finger as if to reprimand her, she returned her gaze to me as if understanding what I wanted.

(You might’ve not noticed, but the new maid would also sometimes let her gaze wander off)

(You’d look away any time I praised you for seeing through a prank)

(A habit whenever you get embarrassed. However—)

Clavis: Keep your eyes on me, Miss Accomplice.

After all, everything I do is out of love for you, isn’t it?

Not just now, but everything else up to this point.

Emma seemed to notice my implications.

Emma: Clavis, it can’t be that…all the pranks played on King Chevalier…they were— 

Clavis: As expected of the Lelouch Master. You’re pretty sharp.

(If you kept your eyes on me, you would’ve noticed sooner)

(...Because I couldn’t stop smiling)

Emma: You played me.

Clavis: Haha, you still have ways to go. After Master, you should aim for Legend.

Emma: Of course, I’ll get promoted right away. I’ll reach Legend next year.

Clavis: Oh, that’s a lot of confidence.

Emma: So, um…that means I want to understand you even better than before!

(...!)

She shoved the cake in my mouth and quickly kissed his cheek.

Emma, who distanced herself, looked like she was about to start steaming from embarrassment. But her eyes didn’t leave me as quickly as they did before.

(Every time you celebrate me, I feel like I can’t lose)

(...I got saved by Chevalier this year, which isn’t good)

(I have to learn to protect myself so that Emma can love me freely)

I wanted to give Emma more happiness than she had given me.

That’s why I have this strong desire.

Clavis: Now then, let’s see what your future holds.

Can you love me even more, Emma?

(I’ll pull some evil deeds behind the scenes…so that you can love me even more)