#GOD DAMN IT I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO GO THROUGH THIS

[spideyanakin]

Okay, incredibly random but I had a vision about a reader either related to or working with the wizard and the characters finding out. This could totally be a headcannon too

the wizard and i (fiyero. t)

synopsis ➾ gn! wizard's child! reader, it wasn’t easy being the daughter of the infamous wizard of Oz. Especially when he is plotting things you don’t agree with, and leaves you in the darkness of his plans. [w.c 1.5k]

warnings ➾ angst, childhood traumas, threats, fluff, fiyero comforting reader

author's note ➾ took some creative liberties with this one, hope you like it!

fiyero masterlist

main masterlist

You had magic.

It wasn’t news, to you, to anyone.

Since the first day you stepped on the stone path ways of Shiz, Madame Morrible had already greeted you like an old friend.

Well she was.

Your god mother had never been one to reduce theatrics, and you had to practically beg for her to not make a show of you on your first day.

You were her protégée, but you knew it had all been pretenses the second Elphaba arrived. You���d assisted in teaching her the basics of magic, but you saw the glint in her eyes when she saw the rawness of Elphaba's powers.

You were powerful. True power that had been harnessed and practiced since you were a kid; but at the end of the day, even if you were raised with the idea of flourishing your powers, raised with the grimoire shoved on your lap by the age of three.

It did not mean you could read it.

And your father loathed you for it.

You knew history like the back of your hand. 13 ancient languages, made for the purpose of dark and light magic. You could recite almost every book written in the twelve others, but the darkest one, the one your father had tried to shove down your mind since you could even understand the concept of reading, never sunk through.

This was why you were sent to Shiz. Away from the Emerald city, away from him.

Your father was mad at you, disappointed. You were everything he ever wanted you to be, and yet you could not read that damned grimoire.

It wasn't ideal you were starting to ask questions too. You were grown now. An adult, not a child who did what they were told, and the more you put the pieces of your childhood together, the more you were realising what the whispers behind closed doors meant. You knew he knew, and you knew that the watchful eyes of Madame Morrible had been set on you like a hawk.

So two birds, one stone. He sent you away because he could not stand the sight of you, he sent you away because he couldn’t have you know of his plans for Oz. He sent you away because of the cracks you showed in his perfect vision of the perfect child.

So you made plans to disappear. The second you graduated, you would leave it all behind. Leave everything and everyone to live a life free of the judgment and the shackles he had tried to bestow upon you.

Fiyero has been weirdly understanding. He might not have known your past, but he knew what it was like to carry duties to a life you didn’t want. He knew what it was like to be a disappointment. Oz, he had created his whole carefree personality as a way to shield himself from the pain of it.

The two of you knew from then on that together you could build something. Be something. Away, from anyone who tried to tell you otherwise. And Fiyero has an abandoned castle waiting for him; a place far from all of this madness.

Your father would understand. Besides he had Elphaba now. At least that's what your godmother seemed to be writing and whispering about.

That she would be able to read it. That she would be able to fulfill his wishes. Now whether she would or not was a question for another time. You could not blame her for the admiration. She had been silenced her whole life, cast away as different.

And when she received the invitation to go to the Emerald city, you did not want to admit how painful it was. To know you had finally been replaced.

You watched, grasping at Fiyero's wrist as you watched Elphaba hold the letter from your father. The small air balloon, with the damned singing monkey fading back into the distance.

"May I speak with you?" Madame Morrible cleared her throat, looking down at you.

You turned your gaze away from Elphaba, eyes flickering to the crowd dispersing before they finally landed on her.

"In private," she stared down at Fiyero with her cold eyes, and all you could do was nod.

You followed her up the stairs, and down through an alleyway.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him, he's a bad influence."

"I thought father approved," your voice was dry, gaze fixed on the lilies floating atop the pond.

"Not since your grades began to drop," she came closer, until she was face to face with you.

Her long fingers placed themselves under your chin, forcing you to look at her, "you understand why you cannot accompany her to the Emerald city?"

"Yes."

Did you?

"He wishes to speak with her, alone."

"I know."

"He told me you’d get to see him soon, once affairs are in order."

Right.

"I understand."

You wanted to turn away, to leave. Take Fiyero by the hand, maybe drag him into the forest, kiss him silly before continuing to make plans about your future together.

But she had another plans.

She called your name, grabbing your arm with an iron claw before you could slip away.

"I know you think you understand things. Your father’s plans," your wrist was burning at the sensation of her hand, squeezing. It would leave a bruise. "But you need to keep your nose out of it, I could easily take you back to the city myself, and everything you know to disappear."

Her eyes were piercing, and a chill descended down your spine. Whether it was from her powers, or her stare alone, you couldn’t be sure.

You nodded. What else could you do?

"Good. Now go!"

You were frozen in place. Feet almost glued to the pavement. It took you a minute, maybe two to recollect your thoughts before you were ready to dash away from the school grounds.

You ran where your feet would take you.

You thought you heard someone call out to you, maybe Fiyero's voice in the background, but you couldn't think. Your heart ached, your mind was boiling, and you hadn't noticed the hot tear that tumbled across your cheek.

Hadn't noticed it until your back hit an oak tree by the river.

Was this how it was going to be from now on? Living in the fear of what your godmother would do if you dared open your mouth to anyone about your father's plotting?

Living in fear of what he might do?

Oz, you needed to leave. You couldn't wait to graduate and disappear behind the thick stone walls of Kiamo Ko, with only Fiyero to annoy you.

"Thought I'd find you here," Fiyero's voice made you jump, and you quickly wiped as many tears as you could with the back of your hand--but too late, he had already heard the sniffles.

He sat beside you, crystal blue eyes peering at you--trying to decipher what could have possibly made you feel that way.

He didn't say anything, hand reaching to caress your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears away.

"What's gotten you like this, darling?" His voice was soft through the forest, and his movements were gentle as he scooted closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You sighed, melting against his side. Head falling upon his shoulder, and suddenly the whole pressure of the world melted away.

"Stupid things, really," you mumbled against him.

"I don't believe that for a second."

"My um, it's my dad."

"Oh," Fiyero's back straightened. You never talked about your family.

He knew your mom left, you had never known her. That you had grown up with your father but he had shipped you to Shiz the second you were of age; not far from his story if he was honest.

But he did not know much more.

"I don't know what he's planning, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Fiyero."

His eyebrows creased at your words, and he shifted his body to take a better look at you, "what do you mean?"

"Fiyero, you said once that nothing could come between us."

"Y/n, you're scaring me."

"My father's the wizard," you whispered, barely high enough for him to catch it, but he did.

He looked at you for what felt like hours, trying to decipher the truth in your features, and he found nothing more to grasp.

"What?"

So you explained everything to him. The years of learning magic with Madame Morrible, the years of training, all for you to be incapable of doing the one thing he wished you could do. The threats, the pain, the sizzling memories of screams over old parchment. The whispers, the animals, the conspiracies.

"I've got to warn Elphaba..." You finally finished, barely daring to look at him in the eyes. You were scared, terrified of how the information would affect his way of seeing you.

And when you finally dared to look up, you found nothing but love behind his eyes.

Soft eyes that gazed upon you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him; and maybe you were.

You hadn't noticed your tears until his fingers came to brush them.

"Listen to me. As long as you have me, as long as were together, as long as your mine, nothing will ever happen to you."

[moralesluvr]

IDFC | BILLIE EILISH.

୧ ‧₊˚ your best friend comes home drunk again, and you realize that hiding your love for her is dawning on you more than you thought.

pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. angst & nothing but it | unrequited love | no happy ending (but do tell if you want a part two...) author's note. hello second upload of the day!! (this is so unlike me) but i had this revolutionary idea while listening to idfc by blackbear...so here's this very angsty fic lmao! enjoy! word count. 2.7k

falling in love with your best friend has got to take the cake for the ‘dumbest shit i’ve ever put myself through’ award, you think.

you didn’t mean for it to happen— of course not, and it all happened so quickly that you didn’t realize how deep you were in it until months later.

you and billie had became friends in an odd way, you knew someone who knew claudia and of course, billie did too— so the both of you mingled at her birthday party a couple years back, when the both of you were just shy of eighteen.

nobody could seperate the two of you if they tried, and that trait carried on with you and billie until you stepped into adulthood. moving in together seemed like such a good idea in the past— you two were tight, and billie wanted to live separately from her family now— it should’ve been so easy, right?

well no, of course not.

before meeting billie, you assumed that you were straight. but as teenagers, that when lines start to get blurred and things start to mess with your head, and you would sometimes catch yourself staring at her for a little too long, or your heart twisting whenever she texted you.

it killed you to fall in love with billie. it was painful and long, and with every day that passed— she only made it worse.

because she was billie eilish, she would unintentionally flirt with you, but that’s because she did it with everyone, of course she wasn’t going to treat you any differently. she always called you nicknames like ‘baby’ and ‘mama’, which wouldn’t have bothered you that bad if you understood the friendly connotations behind it. but you wanted her to be yours so damn badly, and every time she called you anything but your name, it made your skin fiery to the touch.

but the worst of the worst, god— the thing that’ll haunt you forever, was when she had kissed you in your shared apartment after your 20th birthday. compared to her at the time, you were much more innocent, and hadn’t hardly kissed anyone in your entire life. and with your own speculation that you may not be strictly into men, you had drunkenly asked her to take your ‘girl kiss virginity’ away, and she obliged like it was nothing.

you didn’t like the kiss at all. not because she wasn’t a good kisser— she was a damn good one, but it was because the kiss was deep and passionate, and her hands were roaming all over your body as one kiss turned to two, and two turned to three, and you don’t even know how long the both of you were wrapped in each other until she complained that she was tired and that she was going to go to sleep.

it made you feel like shit. she had slipped out of your room and left you lonesome, and you brushed your fingertips over your lips to try to make sense of what just happened. you had just made out with your best friend, which wasn’t the issue, the issue was that you liked it.

you eventually had to pick a side, if you were going to let your little crush get in the way of friendship, or if you were just going to sweep all of those romantic feelings under the rug. and that’s exactly what you did— you pretended like it didn’t hurt when she would get into relationships, or come to you asking for help to plot on someone she wanted to be with.

you were just being a good best friend by helping her out. she would always ask you why you didn’t ever date, and you just made up some lame excuse about how that wasn’t what interested you. which wasn’t entirely a lie, it didn’t interest you, because only she did.

in current time, it’s half past two in the morning when billie stumbles through the door of your shared apartment, keys jingling on her carabiner against her jean-clad thigh when her eyes meet yours. you’re sitting idle at the kitchen island with a bowl of cereal in your hand, clad in nothing but a pair of billie’s boxers and a lacy white tee. you shoot her an inquisitive look, “where have you been dude? it’s like, two in the fucking morning, and i’ve barely seen your face all day.”

she gives out a nonchalant shrug, closing the door with her foot, and you can just tell by her sluggish body language that she’s anything but sober. she’s smiling too much and not talking enough, and when billie gets like that, it’s usually because she’s had a couple of drinks.

you’ve been out all night, don’t know where you’ve been, youre slurring on your words, not making any sense— but i don’t fucking care.

“where have you been, billie?” you ask her, dropping your spoon in your empty bowl as you looked at her, waiting on your answer.

she’s moving so slow that it starts to piss you off, and she just gives you another drunken shrug with a wave of her hand, “don’t worry a-about it, mama, just..a l-little get together.”

the nickname that she gives you makes your skin crawl, and you slide off of your stool and grab your phone, placing your bowl in the sink without saying a word billie. you don’t have the energy to entertain her shit tonight, so you walk up the stairs quietly, slamming your room door in contrast to your silence.

you don’t expect her to bother you for the rest of the night, but billie being billie, she unsolicitedly opens your bedroom door, leaning against the door frame with one arm resting above her head, the other at her side, holding a cup of juice.

“what did you do…tonight?” billie’s words are choppy, and you try your best to not pay any mind to her. usually when she’s drunk, you’d take such good care of her, getting her into comfier clothes and letting her sleep in your bed. but you were irritated now, and you tried your best to fight the urge to be your usual, hospitable self.

“nothing, i waited on your ass to get back so i could sleep.” you responded coldly to her, walking over to your dresser to grab a hoodie to slip on. your eyes scanned the array of clothing, and you bit your lip when you realized that all the clean hoodies you had belonged to billie.

you pretended like it didn’t bother you and grabbed a gray essentials hoodie, pulling it over your head and fixing the hood, “i’m gonna go to sleep, so…”

billie sunk into the oak wood of your door, and of course, when you turn your head for five seconds, she slips and falls straight to the floor.

“fuck!”

you quickly whipped your head around, and you wanted so badly tonight to just keep to yourself and not deal with billie’s shenanigans, but you couldn’t control yourself as you ran over to her, kneeling down and grabbing her face. her eyes were closed like she was asleep, and you tapped her cheek lightly but frantically, “bils? talk to me, are you awake?”

“i-i’m fine.” billie breathes out after a couple of moments, sitting up with her back pressed against the wall. she lets out a deep sigh that makes you let out one in relief.

even though you spoke against it at first, you were determined now to put her to bed safely. you offered her your water bottle that was on your dresser as you promised her that you’d be back, venturing out into the hallway and stepping into your bathroom.

you drew a hot bath for billie the way she liked it, leaving a change of clothes on the toilet, paired with a towel.

your blood was pumping adrenaline through your veins so hard that you could feel it heat your forehead. you weren’t even angry anymore— you just felt weak now, upset with the fact that billie always seemed to have this hold over you.

you loved her too much. it was becoming an issue now, but there wasn’t anything you could do or say, so the only option you had was to stay silent and suck it up. and although it hurt, really damn badly, those were your only options.

so you walked back into your bedroom and helped billie to the tub that waited for her, helping her strip out of her clothes that reeked of burberry perfume and tequila. her shirt was now discarded on the floor along with her pants, and the only thing she was in now was her bra and underwear.

of course, billie being your best friend— you’ve seen her naked plenty of times, but it still shocks you a little when she slips out of her undergarments, sinking into the bathtub, resting her head on the side of it.

“will you stay and talk to me?” billie murmurs, a little more sober now, and you nod silently, sitting crossed legged on the floor next to her.

it takes everything in you not to kiss her right now. she’s resting her head on her arms and looking at you with soft, tired eyes, her eyelashes drooping as she fought against sleep. her lips were pink and a little swollen, and she parts them to whisper lowly, “i’m….sorry.”

“sorry for what, billie?”

silence hangs in the air for a second until you hear her move in the water, taking a loofah and lavender scented body wash. she starts with her arms, head leaned against the wall behind her, “such a mess. i am— i-i’m sorry that you…have to put up with my shit.”

“it’s okay.” you mutter silently, “i do it because i love you.”

that makes billie smile, yet she’s got no idea that the love you’re describing is so much deeper than either of you could ever imagine. but you mask it well, flashing her a fake and small smile, throwing your head back to rest it on the toilet seat lid.

you honestly start to fall asleep until you hear the water drain, and billie grabs her towel and clothes behind you as you rub your eyes, jolting awake.

there’s no talking between the two of you. you just wait until she’s done putting on her t-shirt and sweats and when she’s ready, you lead her back to your bedroom instead of her own. you didn’t trust her to be alright on her own, so you let her sleep in your bed.

when you turn all of the lights off, billie climbs into bed next to you, her face so close to yours that your noses are almost touching.

her hand touches yours for a brief moment, “thank you…for always taking c-care…of me. i love you, y/n.”

billie falls asleep before you can even reply, and you eventually do the same, a tear slipping down your cheek silently.

the morning after is quiet, too quiet. the kind of quiet that presses against your chest and makes you want to scream just to break it. billie is still asleep when you wake up, her face turned toward you, the sunlight peeking through the blinds casting lines across her freckled skin. her lips are slightly parted, her breathing soft, and it makes your chest ache in that stupid way it always does when you look at her for too long.

you slide out of bed as carefully as you can, trying not to wake her, but even in her sleep, she stirs when you move. her hand stretches out to the space you just left, searching for you instinctively. it’s not fair how effortlessly she makes you feel like you belong to her, even when she doesn’t mean to.

the kitchen is the only refuge you have. you busy yourself making two cups of coffee, your hands shaking just enough to make it hard to pour the water into the machine. every sound feels too loud—the clink of the mug against the counter, the hum of the coffee pot, the low groan of the fridge door as you open it. your head is swimming with the memory of last night—her drunk apologies, the way her voice broke when she called herself a mess, and how much you wanted to hold her and never let go.

but you can’t. because she doesn’t love you like that.

she shuffles into the kitchen a while later, her hair a mess and her hoodie hanging off one shoulder. she looks like chaos wrapped in comfort, and it’s unfair how effortlessly beautiful she is. she rubs her eyes, leaning against the doorway as she watches you. “morning, mama,” she says, her voice still scratchy from sleep.

you don’t even bother correcting her nickname this time. it’s a battle you’ll never win. “morning,” you mutter, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter toward her.

she takes it, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic, and gives you a soft smile. it’s the kind of smile that would make anyone else’s heart flutter, but for you, it just feels like a weight. “you didn’t have to do all that for me last night, you know,” she says quietly, her eyes downcast.

“it’s fine, billie,” you reply, your voice more clipped than you intend. “you were drunk. i couldn’t just leave you like that.”

she frowns, her brow furrowing like she’s trying to figure you out. “are you mad at me?”

you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “no, billie. i’m not mad at you. i’m mad at….myself.”

her frown deepens, and she sets the mug down on the counter. “but why? you didn’t do anything wrong.”

her response makes you want to scream. you want to tell her everything, every little thought that’s been eating away at you for months, years even. but instead, you bite your tongue, because you can’t risk losing her. so you lie, like you always do. “forget it. it’s nothing.”

she doesn’t believe you—of course she doesn’t. but she doesn’t push, which almost makes it worse. because deep down, you wish she cared enough to dig. you wish she could see past the walls you’ve built up and realize that every time you look at her, it feels like your heart is breaking all over again.

the day passes in a blur of nothingness. billie spends most of it curled up on the couch, scrolling through her phone and occasionally singing along to whatever song is playing softly in the background. you try to distract yourself with chores, cleaning the apartment until your hands are raw from scrubbing. but no matter how much you busy yourself, your thoughts always circle back to her.

it’s late when she finally speaks again, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “do you ever feel like you’re…stuck?”

you glance up from where you’re folding laundry, startled by the vulnerability in her tone. “stuck how?”

“like…like you’re not where you’re supposed to be. like you’re waiting for something to happen, but it never does.”

your throat tightens, because that’s exactly how you’ve felt since the day you realized you were in love with her. “yeah,” you admit quietly. “i know what that feels like.”

she doesn’t say anything else, but her eyes meet yours across the room, and for a moment, it feels like she’s trying to tell you something without words. but then she looks away, and the moment is gone.

later, when she’s fallen asleep on the couch, you sit beside her, watching the rise and fall of her chest. the lyrics to “idfc” play in your head like a cruel mantra: “tell me pretty lies, look me in my face, tell me that you love me even if it’s fake.”

you reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering for just a second too long. “i love you, billie,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of her breathing.

but she doesn’t hear you. and maybe that’s for the best. because no matter how much it hurts, you’ll keep pretending. you’ll keep being her best friend, her safe place, even if it kills you. because as much as you wish she could love you back, you’d rather have her like this than not at all.

and so you sit there, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you, and you let the tears fall silently, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

Stolen scarves

Ekko x reader

Summary: you've had a long day, and it's nowhere near over- all you want is some warmth from your favourite scarf. But when you find the scarf missing and a cryptic note, you will stop at nothing to retrieve it. ▸Set at an undefined time, no spoilers!!, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: use of the word fuck, possibly suggestive if you squint and I mean SQUINT !

A/N: mostly wrote this for my best friend who has been a slut in my messages for this man (slash affectionate). enjoy all u other people

It’s been a long day running errands for the Firelights, and you’re pretty damn desperate for a nap. 

However, that won’t be happening for a long time. You still have outrageous amounts of tasks to complete, and you’ve agreed to do multiple favours for friends- one being a trip to the other side of the Undercity, which you are very much not looking forwards to. 

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, stepping into the Firelight sanctuary for a brief moment of peace. Although you are not yet able to lie down and go to sleep, you can still take a moment to relax your muscles (and find your scarf- it’s fucking freezing.) 

You see a small group crowded around a small fire (set up far away enough from the tree to not be any danger to it). You make your way over, waving at a Firelight on a hoverboard redoing the paint on the mural. You take a seat on a bench and stretch your legs out, groaning. God, you hadn’t realised how sore you were until now. You crack your neck, sighing. 

You give yourself a total of five minutes to relax before you’re up again. You head up into your room, located in one of the structures built into the tree. 

When you go in, you find your cupboard doors open. You feel no fear, no worry- no one could ever find this place; and besides, if they did, why would they go for your clothes? 

You rifle through the contents of your wardrobe for a moment, and, with a sinking heart, realise that your scarf is nowhere to be seen. You look again, upturning your clothes multiple times, before you give up, falling back onto your bed and pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

“Motherfuckin’ shit,” you mutter to yourself. 

Once you have recovered from the absolute horror of your missing scarf, you sit up again- and spot a note on your desk. It’s pinned down by an adorable little owl, carved out of wood you suspect may have come from the suspicious chunk newly missing from your desk. 

You stand and walk over, carefully moving the owl and picking up the note. It takes a moment for you to decipher the monstrously bad handwriting, but when you do, you snort to yourself. 

I BORROWED your scarf 

Will return it soon, promise - 

♡

You shake your head at the note, chuckling incredulously. You could recognise that handwriting anywhere; as if the owl weren’t enough of an indication of who had stolen your scarf. You carefully lift the note and pin it to your wall, amongst a growing collection of similar notes. All signed with the same little heart. You put the owl in a miniature treasure chest, among an assortment of other wooden animals. (If he continues carving chunks out of your desk, you will soon have nothing left). 

You will borrow a scarf from a friend, you tell yourself, still smiling fondly. 

Once you have acquired a replacement scarf (from another Firelight, called Jem), you head out again, ready to carry on with your tasks. It takes a little longer than expected, but when you make it home, exhausted and soggy, your heart lifts. The tree, as always, is lit with golden lights. You can hear children laughing; Scar must be doing his weekly story time. You smile to yourself, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck- you must return it to Jem tomorrow, once you have reacquired your own. 

You make your way up to your room, shivering slightly in your wet clothes. Once the door is locked behind you, you make quick work of getting your clothes off (you discard them in a corner and swear to yourself that you will hang them out to dry later, which you won’t) and changing into something more casual and comfortable. Once you are done, you head outside again, wrapped now in a long black dressing gown coat thing that another Firelight half sewed, half knitted for you using scraps. It is fully dark, the area lit only by the soft gold and green lights scattered around the tree. Almost everyone is inside, in the warm. You are quick to join them, signing contently once you are back in the warmth. You spot Scar, now done with story time, and jog over to him, nudging him in the shoulder. 

“Hey,” you say softly, so as not to startle his daughter, who is snoozing in his lap, “have you seen Ekko?” “Our glorious leader?” Scar shakes his head. “No, I haven’t- but Annie said he was up in his room.” 

You nod and pat Scar on the back, smiling at him. “Thanks,” you murmur. He nods back, also smiling. You and Ekko think you’re so slick, keeping your relationship a secret, but the bounce in your step as you practically sprint towards Ekko’s room says everything he needs to know. 

At first, you plan on not knocking- just barge into his room, tackle him to the ground, steal the scarf back in a sneak attack.  However, as you get closer to the door, and as your heart warms, you decide to go with the peaceful approach. You knock and step back, putting on an official demeanor for anyone who might be passing. You are keeping this relationship a secret, after all. 

The door swings open, and you are greeted with the most beautiful boy of all time, wearing an extremely comfortable looking scarf. Your scarf; you’ll be damned if you don’t get that thing back. 

He steps aside, a silent invitation into his room. You smile at him cheekily as you pass, wrapping your fingers around the scarf. The door clicks shut behind you as you tug him over to you. “That,” you say, swerving out of the way as he tries to kiss you, “is my scarf.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answers, grinning and winding his arms around your waist. 

You scoff at him, playfully wounded. As you are opening your mouth to protest, he leans in, managing to kiss you. As always, it is soft; as always, it makes your legs turn to jelly and your stomach do strange little somersaults. You kiss him back, pulling him closer by the scarf still wound around his neck. 

“I want it back,” you whisper, and he laughs (the arrogant bastard), pulling you into a hug. You nuzzle into the soft fabric of the scarf, secretly wishing for his skin instead- you have found that the crook of his neck is a rather delightful place for you to kiss. 

“You smell like a wet dog,” he mumbles into your forehead, following the harsh words with a kiss. 

“Fuck you,” is your eloquent response. “Right now?” You can practically feel his smirk, so cocky, as he peppers kisses over your face. As he does so, you lean into him, carefully unwinding the scarf from around his neck. It’s a slow process (although your partner’s kisses make it bearable) but you finally manage to remove it completely. You hold it triumphantly over your head, aha!ing victoriously. He looks at you, somewhat incredulous, although he is grinning. You are quick to follow, wrapping your arms around his neck again. 

“Thief,” he whispers into your ear. 

“Is it stealing if it’s already mine?” You quip in response, laughing with him. He kisses right below your ear, and you almost melt into him. 

“Also,” you manage to say, although your voice is slightly shaky as he continues to kiss your neck, “you need to stop cutting chunks out of my desk. I need somewhere to write, you know.” 

“You can use mine,” he murmurs. His hands fall to your waist. “I’ll give you a key, come in anytime you want. Don’t even have to knock.” “Ekko,” you say, because you don’t have the words to tell him quite how much this means to you. You can’t really tell if this is his way of inviting you officially into his life, but if it is, God knows you accept. 

“I mean it,” he says. He’s stopped kissing you now, has pulled back to look at you properly. The way he is looking at you- it is somewhat similar to how he looks at the tree, full of love and maybe a little bit of pride. You make a note to tease him about it later. 

“They’ll all know,” are your words. 

“They already do,” he responds with a cheeky smile. You know he’s right. 

“Okay,” you say, softly, your smile widening. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take your key.” 

“Ah-“ his grin widens to, and he steps away from you completely. “There is one condition.”

You quirk an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh yeah? What’s that, owl boy?” 

He snorts at the nickname, mimicking your stance. “I get to keep the scarf.” 

Oh, the sly bastard. You should have known that he had some ulterior motive, some secret plan. 

“I should’ve known,” you whisper, placing the scarf over your heart. “I should’ve known you were going to stab me in the back.” 

He laughs at you- downright laughs, as if this isn’t the most earth-shattering thing ever. (You are holding in your own laugh, but he doesn’t need to know that). 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you cry. “Don’t- you dare-“ 

He is still laughing as he steps forwards, wrapping his arms around you once again and pulling you flush against him. You start to laugh, and you put your arms around his neck, tossing your head back. He snatches the scarf from your hands and wraps it around his neck, leaving a long extra part, which he then puts around your neck. Had you not been completely focused on how beautiful he looks, and how happy you are, you would have worried about the possible health hazards of this. He kisses you, drawing you in, pushing you softly towards the bed. You kiss back, cupping his face in your hands, your breath catching in your throat. He turns then, sitting down on the bed. You make quick work of unwinding the scarf again, tossing it to the side as you join him on the bed. You giggle as you both tumble down, so you are lying on top of him, your hair all in his face. You pepper his face with kisses, like he did to you, and he is grinning so widely it makes your chest hurt a little. And then you’re kissing again, his mouth on yours, his hands on your back, pulling you always closer. 

At some point, this stops, and you find yourself lying facing him in the small bed, pressed close to each other. Your forehead is against his, and you are just looking- looking in a way that you were unable to before you two became a thing. Staring without shame, taking in every detail of his face. The traces of white paint still on his face, the way his eyes are half shut as he looks at you with the same attention. His arm is flopped lazily around your waist, toying lightly with the fabric of your shirt. 

“You can keep the scarf,” you whisper to him, and he smiles in a way that makes you immediately bridge the tiny gap between you two and press your mouth to his once again. 

You stay like that for a while, lying so close to each other you may as well be one, whispering to each other and kissing. You feel like a teenager- or at least, what you imagine a Piltie teenager might feel like, with their first ever school crush- with the butterflies in your stomach and the erratic beating of your heart. At some point, he puts his fingers over your pulse and holds them there, breathing in time with your heartbeat. You drift off then, slipping in and out of sleep for the next few hours. 

When you wake, it’s still night. You nudge Ekko, and he groggily opens his eyes, immediately on alert. You smile at him, reassuringly tracing his cheekbone. 

“I should go,” you whisper, although you really really don’t want to. 

He shakes his head at you. “No,” he grumbles, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Yes,” you murmur. “The walk of shame is my favourite part of being with you,” you add playfully. 

“Stay,” he whispers. His eyes are closing, and you know there’s no arguing. 

You wait, count sixty seconds in your head, before you kiss his forehead, smiling to yourself. “Alright,” you murmur to yourself more than to him, “I’ll stay.” 

[glitter-stained]

Sense the current state of jason as character is stagnant do you think dc will ever purplish a good story of him, maybe he even kills of his red hood persona and goes on to be something else that would be something I would like to see but I don’t think it will happen. Dc will forever shoehorn him in to the batfamily. At least in his anti-villian era he was actually fun now his character is in a pitiful state

do u think theirs a chance of reinvent him as character anytime soon ?

Well first of all through spite everything is possible, so jot that down.

Like seriously, remember when it was so so incredibly over like Spiderman's Uncle Ben levels of over and then Under the Hood happened? Hell yeah I think dc will publish a good Jason story

Second I may not be the best person for this ask because I like my blorbos pitiful and miserable. Like yeah defiance is awesome but exhaustion -in characters who have been angry and alone for so long, beaten dog who got electrocuted too often to bite back- has a special place in my heart. But I also agree this has to be a transitional part of a story, the arc can't be "well he was hurt and then he was angry and then he was tired and he was miserable the whole time". Unless of course he ends up perma-dying in a really meaningful arc centered around his character but I'm not sure that'd be what I want for him, and we all know how lame dc is with permadeath nowadays. I'm also very mitigated with his villain side because yeah sometimes it's very fun and cathartic to see the angry/bad victim trope, but also the classismXpsychophobia of villain Red Hood sometimes are just too much; and also I'm a jaybin fan and sometimes I feel betrayed on jaybin's behalf by elements of his villainous characterization. (One day I'll write that damned UTH rewrite, I will).

With that being said!!! I love Jason because of his potential, he has so so much of it, that's what's exhausting about his many bad comics is that yeah. Yeah, dc can absolutely publish something more than good. They don't understand the goldmine they're sitting on in terms of potential.

What I'd love to see explored in hypothetical upcoming good comics (i'll talk more about it later with malfiora but for now)/how dc could go about reinventing his character :

1) addressing Jason's suicidality and getting him a functional support system (seriously, something's gotta give)

2) Get that boy a dog. Ik he had one at some point in N52 idc give him more dogs. Big ass rescue dog that's loyal and similar to him.

2) we need to figure out a way to let Jason keep being a Crime Alley/Park Row vigilant without being dependent on Batman. Like yeah he should explore the world away from him and heal but also i'm very uncomfortable with the idea that healing, for Jason, has to mean leaving the city and neighbourhood he grew up in and protected, has to mean be shoved out of his home by a guy who doesn't live there and, at least when Jason was a kid, only visited the place one time a year because of the anniversary of his parents' death- it's not fair and I won't accept it.

3) I so so agree about the "killing the red hood persona" or at the very least changing his vigilant name. Like I get the point, I understand the use he had for him, but his story can't be centered around the Joker forever (I keep thinking about the Joker's attitude to him in The Man who stopped Laughing and god, I can see a driving force to find himself as something else than what Batman and the Joker made him). At some point his name has to become something that is his and turned towards the future.

4) art + story that acknowledges how young he is (someone please let Jason take college class please please he deserves it)

5) perhaps most importantly: batman writers often sound like hardcore deontology or hardcore utilitarianism (and the occasional egoism) are the only acceptable moral philosophies. And for characters, it works! Like I can see Batman as a Kantian, sure. But for others, it doesn't fit as well.*

The cool thing about Jason's character right now is that he's a utilitarian, but a utilitarian that often isn't guided by his values. He can and will compromise on his philosophy in the name of love and being loved ( @bestangelofall called that a morality leash) and that already sets him as an interesting character in his own right. But in terms of redefining himself as a person after decades of defining himself through his pain (which, at 20-23 years old, he should get to do) I'd love to see an evolution of his morals based on love. Specifically, I'd love from his morals to shift from mathematical utilitarianism to agape, an ancient greek concept of platonic love for everything human, a movement towards the other that can be thought of as close to some conceptualisations of empathy. Mind you, that doesn't mean that he would stop killing! I can believe in a Jason who kills because or against of agape, the pain or relief that could be so good to explore in relation to that, how he would go on to define himself as a person... I feel like Jason has a certain tendency to kinda dehumanize the worst criminals as he kills them (a lesson from Judy, love her sm) which I love, but would also love to see him grow out of - learn to see and love everyone as human and what it means, a re-exploration of his empathy.

Imagine: a scene where he kills a guy because a kid victim begged him to. The focus on the image is on the kid's big wide tearstruck eyes, and then Jason's uncertain face, the kid begging him to kill the bad guy. And then Jason kills him and they're standing so close to eachother, and he's look him in the eyes and seeing the image of the kid's eyes, and then turning back to the kid while wiping the blood on his face and seeing the kid's wide eyes looking in disbelieving awe. And then kneeling and hugging the kid as he cries his heart out. And Jason's inner monologue during all that being something like "I could say that I killed him because I'm a bad guy; I probably am. Or argue the world is better off without scum like him; I could pretend I did it so he wouldn't hurt [x] again, or that I was thinking about all the other children he wouldn't be able to hurt anymore. But the truth is, I didn't. I killed him because [x] asked me to; because I could tell that he needed it. I can live with that."

Idk, that's the direction I would love to see it going, but simply "becoming even more open, louder and unapologetic about prioritising his love over his values, and being angry when it causes him dilemma" is something I'd love with as way. Very "Odysseus knows what he's going to choose the moment the gods tell him to throw the baby off the wall to see Penelope and Telemachus, but fuck if he's angry at the gods for making him make that choice" kind of vibe if you like Epic the musical.

*i'm not saying there aren't any characters in dc that fall out of this deontological/utilitarian false dilemma, it's just a vibe I get from batman writers at times, and as a consequence of specializing in one character I don't feel legitimate in exploring the intricacies of other characters because I feel like I'm lacking information and would be making uneducated guesses (that being said, I would fuck heavily with an exploration of Cass' morals VS Levinas' concept of ethics). If anybody has recommendations of dc characters that are neither utilitarian nor deontological (or are at least an interesting twist to it) I would love them so much please don't hesitate!!!

So yeah, idk if that answers your question, I don't pretend to know the intricate working of dc editorial. But imo there are wonderful possibilities for dc to reinvent Jason and write him into good comics -call me a blue lantern cause baby I got hope.

[dcdreamblog]

Did Zatara's adventures in the 40's and with the All-Star Squadron inspire the comic strip character Mandrake the Magician, or was that just a big coincidence?

I'm going to say no for the fairly obvious reason that Mandrake's newspaper strip began publication about 4 years before anyone in the general public had ever heard Zatara's name. Though this does grant me the ability to talk about how Zatara was viewed early in his career as one of the first Mystery Men.

(A still of Zatara from a lost television variety show. Fun Fact, this frame makes Zatara the first Mystery Man, and thus modern superhero, to appear on television)

The Zatara family were always stage magicians, having brought the practice over from Italy when they immigrated just after the Civil War. Young Giovanni was entrusted with the bag of tricks assembled by his grandfather Luigi Zatara, a famous vaudeville and pre-vaudville entertainer.

Giovanni at some point discovered real arcane talent, manifested through his iconic quirk of casting spells simply by speaking his intentions backwards. On the first night of his performance a fire on stage that he was able to put out with his magic inspired him to use his powers for the betterment of others.

Because he was the first "public" mystery man, appearing on the scene when the Crimson Avenger and the Sandman's world rocking debut was still a year or more off it means that the earliest records of his public persona are...strange.

He very quickly made his services available to local police and got into a very public game of cat and mouse with the Tigress, the first true supervillainess. He sold newspapers that was for sure, but nobody really had the terms to describe him.

He's sort of treated in those early days like a Sherlock style civilian detective, a captivating eccentric chasing after equally eccentric criminal personalities with his unique set of skills (obviously no one at that early date believed his magic was real)

It wasn't until after the Mystery Man became public, the JSA was formed, and indeed the All Star Squadron manifested that Zatara made the conscious choice to lean INTO that label. He wasn't even drafted by the All Star Squadron's original sweep. He marched himself up to the front door and volunteered.

This means that, for the war years he holds a fascinatingly weird series of roles. His identity was obviously never private and he continued touring and selling out shows all over the US, Canada and Britain (Even a tour of Australia and New Zealand in '44) with the USO.

He was really the only Mystery Man of his era to be a 100% public and open figure. Lord only knows what might have happened in the aftermath of the HUAC trial if he hadn't already been forced out of the public spotlight because of arcane complications and later the birth of his daughter Zatanna.

I don't really have a closing point here, he just fascinates me. Also I've seen his daughter perform and it is always, ALWAYS worth the money. If Zatanna is coming to your town, get a ticket, leave your skepticism at the door and let her blow your god damn socks off.

[c-cal]

Trapped .

Short lil angsty Andrew fic !!

Content / summary : Andrew crying , gender dysphoria , comfort from self , sui implication !!

Again no tq for the fic !

Andrew was laying on her bed, staring at her wall. She was "zoned out", you could say, but in reality, she was thinking about anything and everything.

"Why was I born like this? Why am I who I am? Is this really who I'm destined to be?" Thoughts raced through her mind a mile a minute.

Before she even knew it, a tear rolled down her cheek. It was getting to be too much.

"Why am I damned to spend two to three decades in this body?" She thought. This disgusting, human, male body was not fit for her. Not fit for a femme ghost like her.

Her soul was always femme, since she was just a child, even if she didn't know or realize it then.

However, the universe decided not to give her the female body she desired and deserved most, instead, it decided to damn her in the living hell that is being a biological male.

"Hey, it's okay." A voice called out to her from the corner of her room. She turned her head to look over, but nothing was there. She just chalked this up to her imagination.

"I'm here for you" it called out again, this time Andrew got a little freaked out. The voice sounded eerily familiar, almost like it was herself.

"W-who's there? Who are you?" Andrew questioned the dark corner of her room where the voice seemed to be coming from, fear and curiosity washed over her face.

"I'm you. I'm you in your true form, your true body." Andrew was confused, "but what do you mean you're me? I'm me" Andrew asked.

"I can't explain it, I'm simply you." A face emerged from the shadow of the corner where no light could hit, it was her. It was really her.

The blue hair became clear as she stepped into the light, her voice now much more clearly Andrews.

She floated a few feet above the ground, the white hue around her. It was genuinely Andrew, the ghost girl she always knew she was.

"B-but how-" she cut Andrew off.

"There's no need to ask questions." She stated.

"There isn't much time left" she said, tears almost pouring from Andrew's face.

Her ghost form hovered there and continued talking.

"You'll be in your true form soon - a ghost girl. You'll be with Rachel and Mackenzie soon, I promise." She reassured.

"H-how?" Andrew questioned, still stunned and utterly shocked from what stands - or, 'floats' - in front of her.

"I can't give out too much information, but you will cross over into our dimension and live on with us someday soon. I promise." The ghost girl spoke, moving over to sit on the bed with Andrew and hugging her gently.

"A-are you lying?" Andrew questioned, not even sure if this was just a hallucination or not.

"No. What good would it do to lie to yourself? None."

"I'll really be a girl? A ghost girl?" She was still skeptical of this whole situation.

"You'll really be a ghost girl." The ghost replied.

Andrew was almost overflowing with joy and fulfilment in that moment, all her dreams have just been confirmed real.

"How long?" Andrew sniffled.

"I can't tell you, I'm sorry. It will affect how things go, how this happens." Andrews face dropped, tears began to pour once more.

Her immediate thought was that it'd be years, she couldn't wait years. God she needed it now.

She closed her eyes and cried, pulling her arms to her chest and holding them with her arms, her forehead resting on her knee caps.

"I-i can't live in this b-body.." Andrew said, choking on her own words and stuttering between sniffles.

She felt her ghost self hug her, it was... Warm, surprisingly. This only lasted for a moment, however. The feeling faded slowly, and when Andrew looked back up;

She was gone. Her true form had faded out, perhaps to prepare for her soon coming to the dimension.

"I c-can't do this.." Andrew cried.

"I'm a girl. I'm sorry mom and dad, but I'm not sorry." Andrew said to herself as if her parents could hear her.

She sobbed in her own arms, pushed against her legs.

She slid down from her sitting position and lay flat on the bed. She was sprawled out in a starfish position.

She pulled the covers up and turned over onto her side. She cried herself to sleep that night, just to wake up the next morning and do it again.

"Soon.." Her voice called out to her again, this time farther away and in an echo just before Andrew fell asleep.

Tagging @reallife6anoufriev6boy6 !! ^_^

———————————————————————————

Lowkey love this one ?? I've never done a angsty fic so tell me how I did !!!!! :3 also hope y'all enjoyed the journal quotes in here ^_^

[ninikrumbs]

risk

basketballplayer satoru gojo x reader. fluffy fluff. feat. a bit of geto, shoko and utahime.

The roar of the crowd resonates throughout the entirety of the huge gymnasium. People wearing different colors of the team they're rooting for, already screaming and hyping each other up like they all drank a can of red bull beforehand.

Amidst the noise, the squeaking of shoes could also be heard from your place at the top of the bleachers. You can see the players warming up on each side. The sight of a familiar white head of hair made your heart skip though he was too focused to notice you were even here.

You take a deep breath in as your nervous gaze swipes through the area. You bit your lip, hands fidgeting, not knowing what to do. Deciding to come here was a last minute decision, a whim, a risk. So you failed to inform anyone of your attendance, including the man who's last name was currently printed on the back of the jersey you were wearing .

Its not like you haven't been here before. You've come to countless practices, just not an official match. And in the thick of the crowd, you can't locate your friends that were surely here. You could feel pairs of eyes burning a hole on your back, probably wondering why you were wearing the jersey of the basketball teams star player.

Maybe, you should have thought this through. You didn't need to come here, you could have caught the next game where you could have actually told Satoru and your friends you were coming. Then you could have avoided this awkward situation.

But all of those thoughts gets push back when your mind races to Satoru's dejected eyes.

"Its okay, sweets. You don't have to go tomorrow." Satoru assured you as he brushes a stray hair away from your face.

You sat on the kitchen counter, with Satoru between your thighs, his big hands squeezing your hips comfortingly. "But you want me to go."

"I do wanna see my gorgeous girl cheering me on from the sidelines," You rolled your eyes at that, making him chuckle. "But, I don't want you to feel pressured. If your not comfortable making out relationship public yet then its fine."

And you know he means it. He has been nothing short of perfect throughout this budding relationship of yours. Sure, he can be a bit childish, but you liked that about him. In fact, it is still a mystery to you how you landed him in the first place. Though your insecurities had no time to properly take root with how Satoru showers you constant praises and compliments. Its like he wants your head to get as big as his, which you think is near impossible.

"Are you sure, Toru?"

He nods before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Im sure, baby. There are still plenty of games this season. Missing this one doesn't matter."

Yet you couldn't help but notice the downhearted look in his eyes that he tried to hide by slapping on a dorky grin, but even that looked a little forced.

At that moment, the apartment doorbell rang. "Ooh, must be the pizza!" Satoru immediately started walking to the door, leaving you to your thoughts.

Its not like you didn't want to go. God knows you want nothing more than to scream your heart out as you sat on the bleachers with Shoko and Utahime. Its just the thought of everyone finding out that you were dating the star player of one of the most renowned universities in the country is a tad intimidating. Not to mention the scary fans, that look like they would have shrines built for Gojo and immediately despising anything that would come in between them and their idol.

Having a history with bullying in high school, you weren't good with hate, with the backtalking, the whispering and countless of judgemental eyes on you. Plus, sometimes your overthinking mind wins when Satoru isn't around, what if you broke up? Then everyone would know that you got dumped and that would be a million times embarrassing. Is this new relationship really worth the risk?

You sighed, damn you really needed to get a grip and grow a spine one of these days. Satoru walked back to the kitchen all giddy with two pizza boxes in hand. He grinned as he opened them one by one on the table. "Here's my pizza with cheese and crumbled oreo cookies on top."

His pizza choices made your nose scrunch everytime. "And here's your triple cheese pizza, and I got some lactaid in advance so your tum-tum won't get all weird."

You pursed your lips, your inner spiraling made you a bit emotional, as you hastily try to blink back the tears that were starting to form. Stupid Toru, It was your heart that got all weird and warm. He said that like it wasn't a big deal, like he didn't know that were gonna be deeply moved that he remembered. It really was the little things that got to you. He turns around to get the pizza cutter in one of the drawers.

Hastily, you jump down the counter and hugged him from behind. You embraced his waist tightly, nuzzling your head on his clothe back.

"Woah, whats this for? " He said, startled. "Not that Im complaining. Jump me all you want." He chuckled, clasping his big hands over your smaller ones.

"Nothing," You murmured, breathing in his scent. "I don't think you know how much I appreciate you, Toru."

Yes, you were a bit scared. But if there was anyone you would dive head first for, it was this man right here. Satoru was worth the risk.

"Well, there are someways you can sho-"

"Satoru Gojo!"

Yeah, you'd sleep on it.

So here you are. You showed up for him and somehow also for you. You were proud to be his girlfriend, jealous fans be damn. You weren't about to disappoint one of the best things that ever happened to you just because of a bunch of unwelcomed stares and whispers.

Thankfully not a minute to soon, a familiar voice calls out your name and you turn to see Shoko's surprise face that converted into a wide grin. "You actually came!"

You let out a breath of relief, finally a friendly face. "Shoko, you have no idea how glad I am to see you." "You should've told me you were coming!"

She excitedly pulls you by the arm, leading you down the stairs to the front of the bleachers, bumping into a few people that curiously stares at your oversized jersey, "That idiot is gonna be jumping hoops once he sees you."

Finally, the both of you made it to the seats right in front of where the team was warming up. Utahime jumps and gives you a hug. Obviously pleased with your arrival. "Hell yeah! Now we're a three girl cheer squad!"

Before you could take a seat Shoko pulls you by the arm once more, making you face the court. She puts a hand to her mounth as she yells, "Yo! Gojo! Look who's here!"

Suguru who hears the commotion first, nudges Satoru by the arm with a satisfied smirk on his face. Satoru turns his head, confused. His eyes lands on Shoko then on her hand that was obnoxiously pointing right on the top of your head.

The moment his eyes lands on you, he took a double take, as if he wasn't sure if his eyes were deceiving him. Clarity seems to find him as half a second later he beams at you, a wide grin breaking on his face, his bright blue eyes sparkling delight and happiness. He immediately ran towards you, screaming. "You came! You freaking came!"

You squeal as you were swept off your feet in seconds and into Gojo`s warm embrace, spinning you around in glee. You couldn't help but giggle at his unrestrained reaction, "Toru, put me down. Im getting dizzy!"

Unwillingly, he place you back on the ground, but he still held you flushed against him by the waist. "You're here, you're actually here. I just can't believe you're here."

You put your hands on his chest, rubbing soothingly as you look up at him shyly. "I couldn't miss my boyfriend's first game of the season now, could I?"

His cerulean eyes soften, gazing at you so tenderly, lips smiling gingerly, "You didn't have to do this, pretty."

"I know, but I wanted to."

Honestly, you didn't expect that you coming here would mean so much to him but the pure joy in his eyes were undeniable. How did you ever think of passing this up?

He rubs soft circles on your waist, eyes glancing at your outfit as he noticed you wearing a jersey. "Wait, are you wearing my.."

You laugh at his surprise. Pulling away, you give him a little twirl, showing off the huge Gojo printed on the back. "Of course I am. Whose else would I wear?"

"No, Its just-"

"Should I have worn Nanami's? but that wouldn't be appropria-"

You were cut short as he pulls you back to him possessively, tucking his face into your neck, making you laugh "No! You're mine!"

You could practically hear the crowd talk and whisper at Gojo's displays of affection, but honestly you didn't care right now. The only thing you cared about was the man that clung on to you like someone was about to steal you away from him.

Laughing softly, you manage to hug him back. "Im kidding, Satoru."

"Not funny." He pouts.

A tap to Satoru's back snaps the both of you out of the your little bubble. Its was Suguru, "The game's bout to start, man."

Satoru reluctantly untangles himself from you. "Yeah, yeah. Ill be right there."

"Hurry up, you can flirt with your girlfriend later."

He waves Geto off nonchalantly before he faces you again. He was gonna get scolded by his coach at this point. You push him away playfully to the direction of the court, "Go! I'll be right here."

Warm knuckles brushes your cheeks as he nods. "Cheer real loud for me, okay?" Your cheeks heat up as you give him a determined nod, "You got it!"

Geto practically drags him away from you. Halfway through the court though, he runs back to where you were standing.

"Toru?" You tilt your head.

He grins cheekily as he says, "I forgot something." Warms hands cup your face as he leans down and presses his lips to yours, your hands flew to his wrists as you kiss him back. Lips molding against his. It was short yet intense. It made your toes curl and your head spin.

"Gojo! " Utahime`s screeching voice flits through the air. "Save the kissing after the game when you win and actually deserve it!"

Gojo chuckles as he breaks away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Your mind was still in a daze when he winks at you. "Nah, I already know Im winning."

Yep, he's definitely the risk that you would take over and over again.

Youre the risk, Im gonna take it. Obessed with this song lately.

[sturnswrites]

terms and conditions - pt.4

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ angst, arguing

⤳ you move in with the triplets after losing your apartment prompting a "roommate agreement". after having a tricky relationship with matt, some of the rules begin to blur.

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

It was Nick’s idea to throw the party.

“I’m serious,” he’d said one night as we all sat in the living room, Matt editing a video on his laptop while you and Chris played a mindless card game. “We haven’t had people over in forever. It’ll be fun.”

Chris immediately jumped on board. “A party sounds sick. We’ve been too cooped up here lately. Let’s invite everyone—make it big.”

Matt groaned from his seat. “A house full of drunk people? Pass.”

“Oh, come on,” Nick protested, waving a hand dismissively. “You need to loosen up. Y/N, back me up here.”

You looked up from your cards, trying not to smile. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a party. It could be fun.”

Matt gave you a pointed look. “You too? Great. Guess I’m outnumbered.”

“Damn right you are,” Chris said with a grin. “It’s happening. You’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Matt sighed but didn’t argue further, and a week later, the house was packed with people, music blasting through the speakers and the smell of beer lingering in the air.

-

The night started out as chaotic as expected. Chris played the role of the charismatic host, bouncing from group to group with a drink in hand, while Nick mingled with his usual charm, effortlessly entertaining anyone who crossed his path.

You spent most of the evening chatting with friends from work and school, sipping on a drink as you tried to relax. Matt, on the other hand, stayed in the background, leaning against walls or perched on the couch, his gaze scanning the room with an unreadable expression.

Despite the energy of the party, you couldn’t help but notice him. He wasn’t loud or attention-seeking like Chris or Nick, but his quiet intensity made him impossible to ignore.

And then there was the flirting.

You weren’t trying to be obvious about it, but when a guy you barely knew started talking to you, and you didn’t exactly shut him down. He was nice enough, complimenting your outfit and making you laugh with his terrible jokes.

You told yourself it was harmless.

Matt’s mood darkened as the night went on.

You could feel his gaze on you from across the room, heavy and unrelenting. Every laugh, every playful touch on the arm from the guy you were talking to, seemed to make his expression grow more severe.

By the time you stepped into the kitchen for a refill, he was waiting for you.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice clipped.

“About what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“You know what,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s go.”

Before you could argue, he grabbed your wrist—not roughly, but firmly—and pulled you toward the hallway, away from the noise of the party.

-

“What the hell are you doing?” Matt demanded as soon as we were out of earshot.

“Excuse me?” you shot back, pulling your wrist free. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “You’re out there, flirting with that guy like—”

“Like what?” you challenged, your voice rising. “Talking to someone? Laughing? God forbid I have a conversation at a party!”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped.

“No, Matt. I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

He exhaled sharply, pacing a short circle before stopping and pointing a finger at you. “You were flirting with him, Y/N.”

“So what?” you threw your hands up, incredulous. “Last I checked, the ‘roommate agreement’ didn’t say anything about flirting with people who don’t live here.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think it’s about the stupid agreement? You’re doing this on purpose.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his accusation. “Doing what on purpose?”

“You’re trying to get under my skin!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in frustration. “And it’s working.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Matt,” you shot back, shaking my head. “Not everything I do revolves around you. You’re not the center of my universe.”

“Really?” he countered, stepping closer, his voice low and biting. “Because you’ve been pushing my buttons since the day you moved in.”

You laughed bitterly. “Pushing your buttons? You barely talk to me unless it’s absolutely necessary. You ignore me half the time, and now suddenly you care who I talk to at a party?”

“I don’t ignore you,” he argued, though his voice faltered slightly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You act like I don’t exist, and then the second someone else gives me attention, you get all possessive. What is your deal, Matt?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. But his silence only fueled your anger.

“You know what? Maybe you should go back to ignoring me,” you said, your tone cold. “At least then I don’t have to deal with your mood swings.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t make everything so complicated,” he shot back, his voice sharp.

You laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I’m the complicated one? You’re the one acting like some jealous, overprotective—”

“Because it pisses me off seeing you with other guys, alright?” he snapped, cutting you off. His voice was loud enough to echo slightly in the hallway.

You froze, his words hanging in the air between the two of you like a live wire.

“You’re jealous,” you said quietly, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice dropping as he stepped closer. “I’m jealous. Happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy!” you exclaimed, your emotions boiling over. “Because you have no right to be jealous, Matt. You’ve treated me like I’m invisible for weeks, and now suddenly you care? You don’t get to do this to me.”

He exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair again as his eyes searched mine. “You think I don’t care about you?” he asked, his voice softer but no less intense. 

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like you both were teetering on the edge of something neither of us could name.

“Well all you do is keep your distance from me, what am I supposed to think?” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something you couldn't quite name.

He didn’t answer, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“What am I supposed to think, Matt?” you demanded, my voice breaking slightly. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like friendship.”

Matt’s gaze dropped to your lips for a split second, and your breath hitched. The space between you felt charged, electric, like something was about to snap.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Chris’s voice rang out, breaking the moment.

You and Matt jumped apart like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Chris and Nick stood at the end of the hallway, both holding beers and wearing identical expressions of confusion and amusement.

“What’s going on here?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Matt said quickly, his voice cold as he stepped back.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Nick chimed in, smirking.

“Mind your own business,” Matt muttered, brushing past them without another word.

Chris watched him go, then turned back to you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just needed some air.”

Nick tilted his head, studying me for a moment. “You sure?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, brushing past them and heading back toward the party.

But as you rejoined the crowd, your heart was still racing, and your mind was spinning. Whatever had just happened between you and Matt, it wasn’t over.

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things are getting interesting... sorry this is pretty short again :(

⭒ margot

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@mattsdillon @hesvoid3434 

[droumack]

happy american thanksgiving, bruinss!!

↻FLIP FLOP: I would LOVE to see a Nate POV of when he met again with Jo in "into the wild blue" and realised that Jo was a sex worker. excitement? nerves? was he thinking at all?

HAPPY AMERICAN THANKSGIVING!!!!!!!! alright lemme give this a go

-----

Nate isn’t expecting much of anything when he heads into the brothel in the early afternoon, road-weary and exhausted, looking just as much for a place to lay his head as he is for decent company. 

He doesn’t know why his eyes catch on a neatly-dressed man sitting at the bar, nor why he allows his eyes to linger in a way he normally doesn’t, not with another man. 

But there’s something—familiar, maybe, or at the very least, welcoming. 

And then he turns his face so Nate can observe him in profile, and even after years, Nate thinks he’d know that crooked smile from anywhere. 

He’s crossing the room before he can think better of it, long legs eating up the space between them. 

“Jonathan Drouin?”  he asks. 

Jo’s head jerks up, eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. He just stares for a few seconds, and Nate takes the opportunity to return the favor. Jo looks healthy, if not a little skinny, the way everyone is in these parts. But his face is just as warm, his eyes just as bright as they were when they were kids. 

From what Nate remembers of the boy he used to know, it’s out of character for Jo to be in a place like this. 

But maybe Jo has changed. God knows Nate has. 

“Who’s asking?” Jo asks. 

Nate smiles. “You are Jo Drouin, right?” He pulls off his hat and sets it next to him. 

Jo’s eyes have nearly doubled in size, his disbelief visible. 

“Nate?” he asks, lurching to his feet. 

Nate smiles even wider, and Jo half-embraces him, half-falls into him. They pat each other heartily on the back, Nate laughing as Jo demands,

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Could ask you the same thing,” Nate replies. Jo had plans to stay in Cole Harbour until he died; it must have been something drastic, to drive Jo away from the familiarity of his family and the coast. 

“Town got sick,” Jo says, his smile dipping slightly. “Figured I’d try my luck out here, seeing as it ran dry back home.” He sits back down on his stool and gestures for Nate to join him. 

 “Well, I wouldn’t say there’s much luck around these parts,” Nate says, sliding into the seat Jo had offered. “But there’s a helluva lotta trouble.” He grins. “And gold.” 

Jo snorts, smile twisting into something wry, as thought Nate is telling him something he already knows. 

“You here to indulge?” Nate asks, gesturing for the barkeep’s attention and holding up one finger. 

Jo’s smile falls, and Nate has a horrible moment of wondering if he’s misstepped. Normally, this is where bullets start flying with the type Nate tends to deal with. He doesn’t think Jo will draw on him, but that’s worse somehow, that Nate has caused Jo’s smile to slip and Jo won’t do a damn thing about it. 

“I work here,” Jo says. 

Nate’s eyebrows quirk, and he glances around, whistling softly. “What, like you own the place?” Jo has always been ambitious; Nate shouldn’t be surprised, but Jo also doesn’t seem the type to get into…this kind of business. 

When Jo doesn’t answer, Nate glances back in his direction. Jo just purses his lips and shakes his head ‘no.’

Nate’s lips part slightly. “You mean you—”

He forces himself to reassess Jo’s posture, his dress. Jo actually does look at home, like he’s lounging in the kitchen of his own house, comfortable and at peace, despite the rigid set of his posture. 

Jo works here. Jo works here. 

Jo spreads his legs, opens his mouth, for any man willing to shell out enough money. Lets them run their hands through those curls, yank his head back to expose his neck. Maybe they get to bite him, mark him up, leave little bruises of ownership on that pale, pale skin. 

Nate hadn’t known that was an option, when he’d known Jo. 

But it was. 

It is. 

The satchel of gold at his side suddenly feels much heavier, and Nate knows, without a doubt, that it’ll be that much lighter by the time the sun sets on this day. 

[fcdcdmcmories]

"YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR MIND. LANEY'S MY FAMILY. SHE'S MY BEST FRIEND. YOU.. I.. SHE LOVES EVIE. SAME AS I DO. WE BOTH HAVE THAT IN COMMON." he had never doubted her. in fact, he didn't think that he ever could - she was the first person that he had ever called family and.. right now, he was DAMN aware of that much. but still? what could he say? "no. i only ever saw what you wanted me to see. you fooled me. that's just what you do. I DON'T KNOW YOU." but he did, didn't he? he had a feeling that he had always had and right now, this was too much. where was his head? where? NOT IN THE PLACE THAT IT WAS MEANT TO BE IN THE SLIGHTEST. "you never cared about that. you never gave a damn. we went behind his back for nearly ten years, before-- BEFORE THAT NIGHT. BEFORE THE GAME." before the night where she had stuck a knife in his side and left him to die. it felt like forever ago and at the same time, it felt as if it was happening all over again now. fuck. "i don't know. then, if you're not lying- what--" he saw it in her face. but that would mean that it hadn't been her and then.. WHO? TIFFANY? SOMEONE ELSE? "no. no, you did it. stop trying to get in my fucking head. it's not working." scoffing, as he shook his head again. because it was working, wasn't it? she was making him questioning everything and that was not okay. nothing about it was. "SO I THOUGHT, BUT YOU SAID IT YOURSELF. THAT YOU'D NEVER WANT TO BE A PEDERSON AGAIN. THAT YOU HATED THAT NAME." it hadn't made sense to him at the time and maybe, it still did not. did it? but he had known, in his heart of hearts, that she was not lying about that much. right? "THEN, DON'T LOOK AT ME! LOOK AWAY!" he knew, because.. right now, he also didn't want to be looking at her and yet, right now, he still was. right? "you're the one that's making me look fucking insane. that's what. just.. god, i would have been so much better off if i had never met you!" it was as if they were one person and that.. right now, he could feel what she was feeling. it was fucking insane. and.. when she moved forward, he did the same thing, crashing his lips right against hers halfway. he moved one hand to her waist, pulling her against him. NOTHING - NOTHING HAD EVER FELT AS RIGHT AS THIS - AND.. HE HATED IT. HER. HIMSELF. BUT NOT REALLY, DID HE? in fact, the words going through his head right now were others. i missed you. i l- "I HATE YOU, YOU KNOW?" but he didn't. / @xtinyslip

"is that not the point? one would expect your daughter to be your whole fucking world… as you put it and how far would you go for your whole fucking world?" cecilia didn't believe that this was anything more than control, she would know all about that. not that she was keen to make that well known but she was in a similar position. was she not? "no, you wrongly claim to see right through me or… perhaps you do? but only when it's convenient for you. hm? pffft. TYPICAL." if he saw right through her, he would have seen that she was telling the truth about this situation. would he see how deep down she was startled by this? that this encounter had her rattled. well, he'd have to look deep because she wouldn't dare to show it. "go behind my father's back? you don't know what your saying..." that was absurd? did she sound shocked at even the notion of that? there was no going behind her father's back. of course, she wasn't expecting this man to know the consequences of doing as such. "wow." she scoffed. once again, not believing that he had the nerve to accuse her of such a thing. "you say you see right through me? lets put that to the test. shall we? I DARE YOU! come right here and look at me when i tell you ; i did not touch a hair on her sweet head. come on, i am lying?" she wasn't. "that's… you would never find me saying that." not wanting those things? who even was she without them? "YOU-- DO YOU THINK I WANT TO BE LOOKING AT YOU?" but she was and she didn't even know how she was looking at him. all she knew was that she couldn't seem to pull away. "I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN WHAT I WANT! IT'S LIKE YOU'RE TRYING TO DRIVE ME FUCKING INSANE RIGHT ALONG WITH YOU. HM?" the fact he had now pinned her against the side of the elevator should have scared her, the last thing his touch should have been was as WELCOMED as it was. she needed to shake this, she needed to shake whatever hold he had on her but even when she tried to catch her breath. cee could feel his heart beating, it was like their hearts were beating in synch and she couldn't shake him. at this point she was fighting herself against the fact that she didn't want to shake him. move. the only place to move was forward, and forward was towards him. cecilia didn't know what took over her but nothing had felt as right as when she did move. move forward to angrily press her lips against his and it was anger, it was frustration but there was also certainty. "you said move, you didn't say where." @fcdcdmcmories

[fighting-these-demons]

Divorce Saga Domon - A Haunted Honk Prequel

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a fic set in an Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

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Ended up outlining a completely different fic as a Segway for an explanation instead of making progress on the Royal Flush Haunted Honk AU's Clown Motel Fic like I wanted to but uh....

For y'all's review for the AU: A Prequel Outline - Divorce Saga Domon

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Hey real quick - I'm thinking of maybe changing the timeline to 2 years post canon as opposed to 3 years and change post canon.

The reason being: I had a thought that this scene could either be part if the fic or if it's getting to big then it could be a stand alone tie-in prequel fic as part of this AU but - like

Immediately Post Divorce Domon Needs Space and runs off. As one does. And he runs to Earth because he just wants to Get Lost for a while.

He has Argo smuggle him out to avoid detection.

Argo has Andrew help stow Domon in a storage hanger of a Neo Canadian supply ship that's returning to the US - they have trade often enough and share agricultural resources - which leads to Domon ending up in New York when he hits Earthside pavement.

He's privately worked on his English the last couple of months and after being dropped in New York with a different hairstyle, outfit, and accent he's unrecognizable. 

He considers making his way west to get some solitude in the wilderness, but something about that initial plan feels off now that he's on the ground.

Chibodee is also Earthside for a special series of prize fights aimed at raising charitable appeal for the US in the eyes of Neo Americans.

Domon decides to hit up Chibodee for a fight on a day between matches hoping it'll clear his head and give him the clarity to decide on a course of action. What ends up happening is an unexpected heart to heart via blows and a breakdown.

Domon is happy for Rain and Kyoji, and he knows it's not true; but he feels like he lost a piece of himself when his relationship with Rain fell apart.

Domon's instinct is to run after that but Chibodee knows this city and Domon doesn't hide out for long before Chibodee drags him back to his place to stay and just "Chill out and breathe. You don't have to be anyone but yourself here. You can take as long as you need to find out what everything changing means for you." Friends and teammates stick together.

So Domon spends a few weeks with Chibodee sparring and hanging out in New York. Chibodee does a frankly awesome job at containing his feelings because he's focusing on Domons feelings and being a good friend first and foremost. Whatever he's feeling can wait until after Domon is done going though it.

There's a bit of a twinge in Domon's heart as he leaves that he can't really place.

After he returns to Neo Japan and gets settled back into life with his family, The Dreams start.

They're mainly set in New York. Small things first like noticing Chibodee's smile and his eyes. Then sparring sessions that begin to turn lurid.

He thought these kinds of dreams would stop after he was married.... he doesn't know what to do about this.

I just figure it gives more clarity and sense of time for the journey from Comphet Marriage Dissolution to Feelings to Confession. Idk.

But I got stuck on a bit and then had this thought and needed to get it down before I lost it and it was so long it made sense to make it its own post as opposed to several replies.

The Maize and Clown Motel will probably still be 3 years and change post canon for clarification.

@thedragonchilde @amplexadversary @youreaclownnow

[starryluminary]

FINALLYYYYY GOD. THIS TOOK 2 WEEKS TO BEAT

Reached 30 tags so here’s the rest of my thoughts:

AND I PLAYED FOR ANOTHER TEN HOURS. IT NEVER ENDED

but yes. despite all that whining I did have a blast with brothership

I want to play through it again. I feel like this is the kind of game that needs a second play through to digest it properly

Ok that’s it. Glad I finished l. Goodnight folks

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[rosicheeks]

i do not know if i ever sent this to you. i have posted it. i hope you like it Princess.

[orcelito]

I'm doing soooo amazing (weeping) like so great and cool (crying) feeling amazing (sleep deprived)

I finally got a load of dishes done though. This, at least, is worth celebrating.

[dutybcrne]

Smth smth, Khaenriahns having similar thing to the Ackermans in AoT