#Implied Short Reader

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Drunk in Love — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Masterlist

Summary: Campbell calls Y/N drunk so she can pick him up from his station’s night out at the bar.

Warnings: Drunk Campbell; Drunk Campbell is clingy, Reader is mentioned to be much shorter than Campbell who is roughly six feet tall (I am personally five foot two); Reader is implied to not be Scottish but it can be interpreted by being from a different part of Scotland (I am personally American)

Note: I'm not crazy about the Beyonce song, it doesn't really fit, but if you had any other suggestions of songs about intoxication and love...

(Post-Asylum; May be connected to ��Sweet Jane” or read alone)

"They were utterly intoxicated by each other."

"Even drunk, I am caught off guard by the way I remain intoxicated by you."

"Be drunk with love, for love is all that exists."

1994 *Six months after the events of “Takin’ Over the Asylum”

It was two in the morning when the phone rang about six months after Campbell got the Scotland Radio job. 

“Ahhhg.” She groaned, blindly and lazily feeling around for her phone, knocking some things over, and answered her phone, “Hello.”

“Heeeeeey! Baby!” Came Campbell’s voice, clearly drunk. “Oh, I love you so much. Also, I’m super drunk with Eddie and them from work. Did I tell you I helped Eddie get a job at the station!?”

“Yes, Cam. I did. I was there when you did it." Y/n said.

“Twice a week.” He laughed, “But I’m just so sloshed! I can’t drive and neither can Eddie. Francine’s picking him up. Can you pick me up!? Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaase…” He kept that high pitched tone up until she said yes which she was going to anyways.

“Okay, yes. I will, just stop whining in that tone.” She said, “Let me get ready to leave first.”

“Love you!” Campbell sang and then he started singing Goin’ Out of My Head before Y/N hung up.

She groaned and rolled out of the bed.

--

When she arrived at the station, everyone else was gone except Campbell who was singing, drunkenly, I Want Your Cray-Cray at a high-pitched singing voice dressed in one of his hoodies just as his girlfriend was.

“I want your cray-cray!”

"Hey, radio star." Y/N said, walking up to her intoxicated boyfriend.

"Baby! My love! My world! My universe!" He laughed, getting up and throwing his arms around her neck, with him being so much taller than her, he nearly knocked her over but she managed to get a firm footing before that happened.

"Why are you sitting out here? It's way too cold."

"It's too hot in there." He said and tried to take another swig of alcohol.

"No. No, Campbell." She said, wrestling the bottle from his boyfriend who was whining now like a baby. "Come on, let's get you home."

"You first. I'm loving the view." He flirted, looking her up and down shamelessly, as he brought his hands to her waist, running his fingertips gently on her skin, below the hoodie. "You know how much I love seeing you in my clothes, especially my hoodies."

"Campbell, you're drunk." She sighed.

"And I did exactly what you told me to. I called you."

"Yes, I did. And you did so well." She cooed, her hand cupping his cheek and he nuzzled into it, proud of himself. "now come on. Let's go home." 

She pulled him towards her car and helped him into the passenger's seat before moving to the driver's seat. 

Campbell dozed off on Y/N's shoulder during the ride before she woke him up.

"No..." He whined so she turned the car inside light on and he groaned, "Ahhhhhg."

"Come on, party animal. Let's get you ready for bed." She said.

Campbell tried to be on his best behavior while drunk but he felt anyone else would've just dropped him on the couch... but not Y/N, not his Y/N. 

She sat him on the edge of the tub in the bathroom. 

"How many drinks did you have?" She asked 

"I don't know." He mumbled without opening his mouth.

She brought a breathalyzer to him and held the nozzle to his mouth, "Open." He opened his mouth. "Breathe." He breathed. The breathalyzer beeped and read... ".16... so you had like seven drinks?"

"Sounds 'bout right." He slurred, nodding.

"Campbell, that's too high." She scolded and he pouted like a little puppy. She placed her hand on his forehead, he leaned his head back, looking at her with an alcohol-glazed lovey look, and then she felt his cheek and once again he nuzzled into her hand. "You don't seem cold or clammy, your skin doesn't seem to be any paler than usual. You're breathing is quick. So, you don't have alcohol poisoning..." She took him by the hands and pulled him to his feet, "let's brush your teeth, your breath stinks."

"I think a kiss from you is enough. Because you're so sweet." He flirted, leaning in for a kiss.

She leaned away from the kiss, making him pout and give her his puppy-dog eyes. "And you're so cheesy." She brushed his teeth for him and then told him to stay still in the middle of the bathroom while she got him some pajamas, slightly worried he might topple over and hit his head on the sink or bathtub. She got him a Radio Scotland t-shirt as he usually slept in a tee and his boxers. She brought the t-shirt as he started to shed his hoodie and unbuckle his belt.

She blushed, "Uh, Camps, here." She muttered, handing him the t-shirt, avoiding looking at him but he didn't take it and she looked at him as he had planned and he pulled his shirt over his head and smirked, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

"Campbell!" She said, sternly.

"Alright. I was just jokin'. I'll be out in a minute." He said with a drunken giggle in his Scottish accent and she left.

A minute later, he called, "Help."

She opened the bathroom door to find him just barely keeping himself from tripping due to his jeans at the floor now, pooled at his feet and him still being very drunk, and trying to put his head through a sleeve. "I'm stuck." She could hear the pout in his voice.

Y/N smiled, gently and she walked over to him, "stay still." She advised him.

"Never." He mumbled with a hint of a childish whine.

She eased him to stillness before fixing the t-shirt so his head went through the head hole and helped him navigate his arms through the sleeves.

"Aye, my hero." He smirked and she leaned up, gently kissing him and he never refused a kiss from her.

She was a goddess from Scottish or Celtic mythology in his eyes. She was the Baobhan Sith, the female vampire who seduced men with her beauty and he would gladly give her his blood if she asked. She was Mórrigan, the Irish-Celtic warrior-queen goddess. She was Cliodna, the Scottish-Celtic goddess of beauty, love, and passion. He worshipped her with his every being.

"Okay, superstar, time for bed." She giggled.

"Will you stay?" He asked, forgetting whose house this was.

"Well, this is my house. So..."

"I like to wake up, looking at you." He mused before flopping face-first on the bed.

Y/n rolled her eyes and pushed him on his side of the bed.

Y/N turned off the lights and climbed into bed. A few minutes went by before Campbell said, loudly, right in her ear, "WAIT!?" He startled her with the volume of his voice, making her jump and pull away from him, and he lowered it, "Sorry." She reached next to her and turned on the sidetable lamp. "What were you doing when I called you?"

"Sleeping..." She said, hesitantly.

His eyes turned back into puppy-dog eyes of sadness.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, love." He apologized, he cupped the back of Y/N's head. "I must've been pretty annoying all night."

"No, you weren't." She reassured him, puncturing each sentence with a kiss. A sure-fire way to keep his drunk self entertained--also a sure-fire way to keep his sober self enterained. "I'd get up in the middle of the night to come and get you as much as you need. I love you."

He smiled and kissed her before bringing her in so she could rest her head on his arm and he stretched the turn off the light and the two fell asleep to a morning of him whining about his hangover.

[madzzz0797]

Just thinking about Daryl pining after reader.

CW: mild cursing, cigarettes, alcohol, implied death of an animal(non specific), implied smut(non descriptive) Daryl is kind of ruining her purity.

!!!MDNI ON THIS POST!!! Also if any of this bothers you please just scroll, your mental health is important to me. 

He is so in love with her it’s crazy. The only problem is she was raised religious and was very sheltered her entire life. Even now in her mid twenties she still is just a pure and kind as ever.

Daryl would be scared at first of breaking her out of her shell. But after he does he shows her all kinds of things. How to hunt and track animals. He took her with him to check some traps he set the previous day. She feels bad and of course she cries a little. “Dammit, I’m sorry darling I never shoulda brought ya with me.” Daryl felt bad so he just hugged he in the middle of the woods. Cradling her to his chest while she sniffed.

He gives her the first cigarette she’s ever had. Daryl was scared that she may choke based on how hard she coughed. He took it away from her. “Pretty women like ya don’t smoke noways.”

After she begged him for days he finally caved and took her for a ride on his motorcycle. He went slower than he normally would but she didn’t need to know that. “You better hold on tight, ya hear?”

She stumbled upon him drinking one night and asked if she could have some. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea doll.” But he knew he could never resist the curiosity in her eyes. And of course Daryl could never say no to his sweet girl. He hesitantly gives her a beer. She gets super happy drunk and Daryl just finds it so adorable.

Her fighting was awful. Poor girl was so afraid of hurting someone she forgot that she also has to protect herself. Daryl eventually convinced her to at least learn how to punch someone. He knew it wasn’t in her character but, “this is the end of the world sweetheart.” After she punched him in the arm like he asked her too he instantly knew they had a long way to go.

He thought her how to ask for what she wants. “Daryl please,” she whined under him. Her breath was ragged and her eyes glossed with tears of pleasure. He looked down at her and smirked.

“Please what? What ya want girl?” He knew exactly what she wanted. But she needs to understand that she has to be able to speak for herself also.

“Please just fuck me Daryl.” As soon as his name left her lips he’s giving her exactly what she was asking for.

As always, feel free to like 💜, comment 💬, and reblog ♻️. It means so much to me every time someone interacts with my posts. Also please send in a request if there is something you want to see me try my hand at writing.

[lilacxquartz]

a bump in the middle of the night

oc male!demon × human female!reader

w.c: 1.1k

plot: a potential intruder sets midnight completely off and you learn just how dangerous he can truly be.

other works in this series.

—

The area I lived in was once decent, but now it was struggling.

A dwindling economy does that to a place. Most businesses that were once thriving were forced to close and those who could afford to leave, did just that.

Others stayed but they also struggled. I otherwise had the luxury of this apartment belonging to my grandparents so the mortgage was long settled, leaving me behind with only the regular bills to pay.

Most of the people that lived here did their best to just get by though, so for the most part it was safe.

But then the break-ins started to happen more often.

So maybe it was a blessing that I had a literal live-in demon cohabiting with me.

Keeping an eye on the things that went bump in the middle of the night.

Not that I could trust it. I still couldn’t bring myself to do so. Not one bit.

I woke up earlier during the night to a strange sound, though. I was a lighter sleeper than Midnight and would at oftentimes wake up to subtle sounds. This was initially annoying to me, but I quickly learned that as long as Midnight remained asleep, then there was nothing ever to worry about—so I always just dozed off again.

It was something about instincts, he said. If he’s awake during the night along with me, then that’s when I can feel worried.

I woke up to a noise just now, either way.

My eyes parted slowly, feeling the curl of his tail that looped around my legs. I could sense his breathing change and as he almost jolted awake. I shuddered at the sensation of his stare intensify at the back of my head as his body stretched, pulling me closer towards his chest.

Tonight, his instincts were on high alert.

“Quiet,” he whispered, noticing that I was awake too.

My voice remained hushed as I turned to face him, “Is someone else in here…?”

“Not yet,” Midnight replied, slowly bringing himself up to a sitting position, reluctantly letting go of me, “stay in bed.”

Something dangerous stirred within his presence and I harboured more fear for Midnight than the prospect of an actual intruder. It was as though his words were laced in something much more sinister, like a threat.

When the lock to the front door finally gave in, I could feel a change in the atmosphere almost right away. Midnight kept me grounded in bed by pressing his one arm behind him, locking me into place against the mattress. The way that he seemed to be guarding me felt territorial once again.

I remained deathly quiet as I felt the air continue to grow heavier; some type of droning sound playing from Midnight’s lips. His body reacted on instinct, almost, as his head jerked in slight movements—as though he was tracking something, or someone.

The hum slowly phased into a low growl, filling up the space with an unsettling aura that wafted through the confines of my home.

It was as though Midnight was making his presence known to send a warning.

People were reckless though. That’s what I started to understand after just a couple of weeks with him. Humans acted unpredictably, especially if influenced by fear.

So, perhaps he was just trying to strike enough unease into this person into leaving, but this didn’t seem to be the outcome just yet.

Midnight was gentle with me up until this very moment. He spent the last couple of weeks trying to gain my trust but he seemed to have a different priority right now. The way he seemed so tense during his investigation was quite jarring, especially now that he seemed hostile. Malicious, even.

Closer to an actual demon than ever before.

I felt afraid.

Noticing this, his demeanour softened for a moment, although it felt forced. He turned to face me, sensing my unease.

Cupping my face into his palms, he leaned in with a sedating kiss, “I’ll be right back.”

While his tone seemed calmer and while his touch bordered feather light, it was that same type of kiss that dulled my senses like all of those other times before.

Usually it was used as a nightcap for when I couldn’t get to sleep or for the earlier days when I couldn’t bring myself to relax within his company. However, it seemed to be for something else tonight.

Something seemed off.

His body language was different—almost erratic.

I drifted off into a fabricated sleep and phased on and off back into lucidity against my control. Certain sounds played in my mind, like screaming and low drawn out whines. Like bones waning and cracking. Faint imagery burnt into my mind of bloodied flesh and torn skin.

Under any other circumstance, I would have shaken that off as a vivid nightmare but it felt all too different this time.

Especially since the atmosphere since then felt even heavier than before and to an extent, almost suffocating.

My breath locked in my throat as I felt an anchoring presence settle over me, sinking me further into the mattress. I writhed just a little bit as my body tried to readjust into comfort, but I couldn’t move much at all.

I knew Midnight was on top of me, that much was clear.

I opened up my eyes once again, feeling the sedative finally fade. It was almost a jarring sensation, as if the ease washed away along with it. The air continued to thicken but now tinted with the smell of copper, my senses recoiling as something warm dripped from his lips and onto mine.

(Blood…?)

I couldn’t see him too clearly, but from the brief moments that the moonlight shone through the blinds—I could see it. He looked feral, almost as if he was drunk on something.

My breathing remained shallow as I felt some sort of innate fear settle deep within my core. I was starting to slowly understand why I felt so terrified in this very moment—my eyes widening in panicked realisation. I finally got it. My breath caught in my throat again as the dream-like stupor finally faded away, replacing itself with striking lucidity instead.

Midnight was savouring the taste of something.

Or someone.

Yet, despite catching onto my suspicion, he tried to brush away my almost overwhelming concern.

“Please don’t worry,” he cooed, that same soft tone returning as he finally settled, the one that carried the same facade as before, “go back to sleep, it will be okay.”

“But-“

“—the danger is gone, I promise,” Midnight purred as he stroked my cheeks with his fingers, leaning in closer as he licked the dried blood off of my lips, “in fact, the intruder isn’t just dealt with, he’s…”

“You didn’t?” I asked, finally able to say something. My voice sounded hoarse, almost dry.

Midnight simply smiled, his pointed teeth momentarily illuminated by the passing moonlight. He wasn’t going to elaborate even if he did suspect you knew. Instead, he fed you a cryptic response, sealed with yet another soothing kiss.

“Let’s just say that… he’s gone for good.”

[rainroses45]

Cherry Pie with Whip

ᥫ᭡description: Dean thinks there is not a single coherent thought behind those eyes, you prove him wrong ish Dean Winchester x Bimbo Fem! Reader ᥫ᭡a/n: I can't write the whole smut thing BUT I LOVE GIRLY POP READER SO MUCH ALSO LOVE THIS SONG SO VERY MUCH (Not Edited) ᥫ᭡song inspo: Every Man Gets his wish - Lana Del Rey ᥫ᭡warning: mentions of the devils tango

"Dean, I don't get it," you whined, your new glossy pink nails tapped against the table as you tilted your head, lips in a perfect pout. "Why does it have to be salt? Can't we just, like, use sugar or something? It's prettier."

Dean smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stepped closer, his boots heavy against the floor. "Sweetheart, if sugar worked on ghosts, trust me, l'd be throwing cupcakes at 'em." His voice dripped with amusement, “next time you can add glitter to the salt.”

You smiled up at him, your top hitched up as you reached over to place your hands around Dean’s neck. He squeezed you closer to him, pushing your bosoms up.

“Have I ever told you how much I love cherries,” he gazed into your eyes. The fresh coat of mascara and the shimmery eyeshadow made you look like a lost innocent baby doe.

“We should go get cherry pie,” you smiled innocently, unaware of the tall older man starring down your shirt. Your cleavage on full display for his lust full eyes.

“I think I got something better here.” He smirked. “Something bigger and juicier to fill me up.”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, “maybe we can get some whip cream on top?”

“Now we are talking, got to keep my blood sugar in check.” He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist which caused his shirt to ride up displaying his delicious v-line. Your clotthed cunt rubbing against his abdominal instinctively.

Dean groaned as his hands squeezed your heart shaped ass. You laced your fingers into his hair steadying yourself from floating away from the moment, Dean noticed the fog begin to form in your eyes. “I wonder sometimes if there is ever a coherent thought behind those y/e/c eyes.”

You softly pulled the ends of your boyfriend’s hair in response, “hey don’t be mean,” you pouted.

“You know what I mean princess,” Dean kissed up your neck towards the sensitive spot that he knew would make you weak. You moaned causing your chest to rise further up Dean’s face.

“where did you learn how to be such a tease?” Dean mumbled in your ear nibbling at the skin.

“what does that mean?” You asked.

Dean stopped his actions to view your face, trying to figure out if you were actually joking.

“Honey, do you not know what tease means?” He asked to which you shook your head.

“Do you know about sex?” You nodded.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked again, “I don’t want to pressure you in anything sweetheart, you are in control.”

“I learned how to make love from the movies.” You blushed, hiding away from his gaze. Dean chuckled at your innocent response, before feeling guilty, had he known your level of knowledge on the topic he wouldn’t have been so forward.

“Aww sweetheart that’s nothin’ be ashamed about,” you still avoided his gaze, “why don’t you show me what you learned and I could help you out…wouldn’t that be nice sweet cheeks.” Dean kissed up to your face, trying to pry your hands away from his face. “Of course with your consent and approval it’s all up to you.” You nodded, still a little embarrassed from your previous statement.

Dean smiled fondly at you, “I promise to make you feel so good you’ll be seeing stars sugar.”

“Really?” You moved your hands away excitingly. “Just like in pretty woman?” You asked.

“Even better.” He pecked your lips. “Just say the words princess and I’m on my knees.”

“You’re so sweet Dean.” You blushed kissing his cheek. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I got a few ways but first things first I got to take care of my baby girl.”

[monstrouslyobsessed]

love’s lethal bouquet

concept: in which the floral shop boss is in love with you—and isn’t a human. —momster

—a/n: well i havent posted in ages because of how bad my writers block was :( and i’m vvvvv iffy about this one. this is much more subtle and tamer than my usual too, but at least its something for the valentine’s day?

anyway, ima try and tackle a commission i owe next so please take care yall<3

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied drugging intention, implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the floral shop boss / plant monster (implied)

Valentine's Day proves to be one of the busiest days at the floral shop where you work. Breathing in the heady floral scents that permeate the store, you find yourself in continuous motion, assembling bouquets of pink roses, carnations, violets, and every red flower known to man into the van. With your back straining from the constant lifting, you absently listen to the gentle voice of your boss reassuring an irritated customer about their belated delivery—

and you wince.

Although you should be in a rush taking care of the deliveries, you tiptoe inside the back of the shop to avoid interrupting your boss—

But he merely hangs up the phone upon seeing your flustered face.

“S, sorry—” You begin.

He shakes his head with a gentle smile playing on his thinly bearded lips and says, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

The way he addresses you as ‘love’ used to bother you. It always seemed so…formal, old-fashioned, but coming from him—your boss—he somehow makes it work without needing to force the romantic undertone. Perhaps it is because he is on the older side and being a foreigner in this little town of yours.

The town lies deep within the trench of an endless forest, and you wonder how your boss had found his way here.

His arrival several years ago stirred many gossips about him, with him keeping his lips sealed about his past, but everyone slowly warmed up to him. His succulent blooms, never seen before even in the gardening magazines, certainly helped. Now, your boss is a familiar face among the townspeople, with very few not knowing who he is. And, of course, his handsome and charming demeanor won the hearts of many too.

“But I would’ve made the deliveries on time if I didn’t eat brea—” you try.

His piercing green eyes soften as you nervously fixing your rolled sleeves. You halt when he suddenly leans in.

“Boss—?” You rasp at the new weights on your shoulders, trying to pay no mind to the strange dark strains on his thick fingers.

The way he held you was almost…fond—

And he pushes you outside to the doorway. “Go finish the deliveries, won’t you?”

“Really?” You huff, trying to ignore the red tinge to your cheeks and the heavy thumping of your heart.

Your boss smiles that damnable handsome smile of his and pats you on your head, saying, “Get to it. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can give you your little Valentine’s Day bonuses for working so hard.”

While giving his employees gifts during holidays and special events is not new to your boss, you still perk up in eagerness and reward him with the biggest smile you can muster. As you dart away with a confident promise to complete the deliveries, he watches you scurry to the van, inhaling sharply,

“Soon.”

Your boss murmurs, rubbing his knuckle with his other hand—as if to hide the sudden green spot on it. Tiny vines emerge briefly, before he rubs them away and pivots back to his cash register where his impatient customers have started to queue. Flashing them with a dazzling smile to reassure frustrated customers with a wordless apology, your boss absently peers over to his office.

There, on his desk, is the special bouquet he prepared for you and only you.

Imagining you burying your face into the fragrant cluster of your favorite flowers, oblivious to the true intention of its purpose, the toxic drugging qualities meant to lure you into his arms—into his ivies and his binds of vines and creepers—had him biting back a shudder. Restraining himself before the antsy crowd, your boss rings up a customer with an invisible countdown ticking in his head.

A countdown to have you.

The blooms nearby writhe and shudder, with most dismissing it as mere breezes from the air conditioner.

It was not.

—end…?

[spitblaze]

when heterosexuals do literary analysis of works in which queerness and the persecution thereof are major themes which they just completely skip over or call 'confusing relationships'

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

what if you were from Khaenri'ah.

you weren't a noble or any type of royalty, just someone who was trying to live life to the fullest in the underground kingdom. yet somehow you still found Foul Legacy, an injured Abyssal monster who slipped past the city's defenses, and took him in to heal his wounds. you cared for him in secret, using your own medical supplies to patch him up and tending to him when he fell ill afterwards, all with a gentle voice and precise hands.

and Foul Legacy fell in love.

you showed him the passage to the Abyss once he was fully healed, expecting him to leave the next day... but he never did. instead, Foul Legacy stayed by your side, following you around the house and watching you work with curious chirps and trills. he perks up whenever you turn to face him, star-speckled wings fluttering with delight as you bring your hand to his face for him to lean into. he relishes the affection you give him, your kind words and friendly laugh, and tries his best to show how much he adores you through gentle nudges and purrs. he loves this new peaceful life, this second chance you've granted him away from the bloody chains of the Abyss, and he loves you most of all.

then Celestia rains its judgement down upon the kingdom, the sky turning red and buildings burning away into ash. amidst the chaos and screaming and fire, Foul Legacy loses track of you and awakens to the ruins of a great city, alone. you are nowhere in sight, and frantically the Abyssal beast looks for you, whining and crying out for you and receiving no response.

a scream of grief echoes through the rubble of Khaenri'ah that night, but Foul Legacy refuses to give up. the worst offenders of the kingdom, in Celestia's eyes, were turned to immortal Sinners, suffering endlessly but alive. you could be one of them- you must be one of them, for who else would ever hold his face and kiss his forehead and call him "my Legacy"? and that's what he is, your Legacy and your Legacy alone. so he journeys above, to Teyvat, the sun hurting his eye with its brightness, in search of you, a Sinner of Khaenri'ah.

for what is the greatest sin than to make peace with the Abyss?

[aerkame]

YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DO A CONTINUATION OF THE "I know what you are " thing it was so good !!!!!

Lil' bit of horror? (This is still in the Alive AU) Continuation of this post: "I know what you are"

I shall begin to chip away at the many many requests. ;-;

Warnings: Kidnapping (sort of? It's implied), threats, and lots of staring

________________________________________________________

"Was...was everything you've ever said to me a lie? Are the others in on this?"

You quietly weeped out, glaring right at his deceiving face. It was nothing compared to the look he gave you.

It was unnerving really, how wide his eyes had become. His eyelids no longer held that sleepy look them, instead they were wide open, pupils dilated until there was hardly any whites.

"No, not once have I lied to you dear host." His voice came out raspy, desperate. Please...please don't leave us, we're so lonely.

Wally's eyes shrunk ever so slightly as his hand slid over to cup yours that remained frozen despite your body fighting to move. Unable to look down or so much as flinch away you felt soft circles rubbing into your palm and the feeling of his hand engulfing yours squeezed tightly. "Everything I have ever said to you was nothing but truthful, though I never intended for you to figure things out. Not yet anyways." Wally never blinked, took his eyes off you, or moved his head as he spoke, you just felt completely frozen under his stare, stuck at the table, forced to sit and listen.

Sometimes you wished you had never picked up that stupid puppet, you'd still be living a normal life. Yeah it would be boring, but at least you would have been safe. These...people weren't who you thought they were. You trusted them, you loved them.

"The others knew but they wanted to do things differently." He finally answered the last question. "We love you dearly, haven't you realized yet?"

You began to feel the tears coming, face heated and eyes burning, you wished you could wipe all of them away, you wished you could run away. "Wally, I already loved you, I loved each and every one of you." Everything felt fuzzy as the tears kept coming, Wally's hand moved from yours to slowly wipe them away.

"We know." That's all he gave.

"But why..." You slumped forward slightly, feeling a wave of dizziness. Wally was quick to get up and stand behind you, the others peeking just around the corner watching the two of you. Poppy's feathers dropped in sadness, poor host...they hoped you would forgive them one day. Julie patted her in comfort, things would work out in the end, they all just wished Wally had listened and had been more patient.

"Because dear host...you are truly the most, and Darling, your magic touch is just what we need back Home."

Am I implying that in the Alive AU the reader quite literally has a magic touch that brought them to life and Wally is just obsessed with the reader over it? Maybe. ;) I will write more for this I am enjoying it now. Wally definitely wants to put a ring on it with the last name drop on the dear reader.

[ladyxskywalker]

Home Again

Anakin Skywalker x OFC

enjoying a lazy summer morning with anakin, surrounded by nature, waking up in your hammock🌼

She looked towards the tree tops, where for a moment, she could breathe in all of the air’s stillness.

It was nearing the end of Summer time. A strange, in between period right before the start of the Fall season. The ocean waves were moving swiftly from the wind, the flow of current especially made bright from the rays of sun up above. Reflections of light, glistening off the surface of the water. A sailboat crossing underneath the belly of a bridge. 

And all you could think about was that you had been glad to have been with him.

Happy to have been here in this place that was full of green and golden.

The morning’s strange, and overwhelming purpose being sleeping in.

It was the calm of dawn that before you knew it, would turn into midday, catching up to you, quicker than you both thought. 

“Mm…”

Turning over in your hammock, he stirs himself awake, facing you there; smiling, with his eyes closed. Breathing in the purest kind of contentment, not bothering to say a word when you can’t stop yourself from kissing him. Rare and cherished moments that you both hold onto while you have each other to yourselves.

Everything changes. Things often move too fast…

“Hi…” you tell him, all bleary eyed. Waiting there beside him for the welcome feeling of his touch. The strong wrap around that comes from the heavy weight of his arms. And, the grateful sense of acceptance that you have with him everytime he pulls you in close.

“I like when you yawn and play with my hair, that’s how I know you’re home”. He says, smiling to himself. The tiny crinkles in his eyes, all at once, scrunching up. 

He hates them. 

You don’t. To the point where you can spot the spirit of an inner child in there somewhere, and all of his rough edges start to fall apart.

“You’re going to make me cry…” 

So you curl into his chest, as being bashful would ever be the proper excuse for hiding yourself. Tired eyes veering off toward the clear blue sky again; a bittersweet feeling making its careful way there into your chest, because deep down, you really don’t want to go.

“Don’t cry. You’re my pretty lady.”

The palm of his hand graces the small of your back, gently, and his need for kissing becomes quick, yet soft. You hold hands, and he laces your fingers together. A motion that brushes and eases into a wordless state of interlocking comfort.

Your limbs do the same. His other hand, kneading at your flesh. Enjoying all of you, and his favorite parts. It’s always the slowest and most beautiful form of expression and exploration. 

The brush of your noses, one swipe at a time back and forth - laughing at this kind of new, and intimate way of togetherness.

His touch begins to gradually roam, looking for the very end of your shirt. Pulling it up with a slight tug as a sign for you to take it off.

There’s no one else around, but for some reason, you don’t have a care in the world right now. 

More kissing, harder now. 

Loving enjoyment.

Your fingertips grazing the curve of his shoulder, then the span of his chest. 

Fine hairs slipping through your meandering touch all across one another where it matters.

His thumbs graze over you, pebbling your skin. Hips gliding more and more with every shift.

Your hands, wrapping round his neck. Weaving their way through all of his lightened waves of hair.

He loves it most when you cup his face, cradling it. Mirroring you almost perfectly when you relax into his patient hands. 

That by now, you know that he will take it from here. 

The rest, you sense, will be as amazing as you could ever imagine. 

…💌

thanks so much for reading 💫 this was a daydream that turned into fanfiction hope you enjoyed it ! xo

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Winter Sounds — Campbell Bain x Reader

*This chapter has words with slashes. This is means you use the word that applies to where you live. Like GED in America means "General Educational Development Test" while there is no U.K. Equivalent (based off a thirty-second Google search) but I found A-Levels which is what Rose Tyler refers to when talking about school in the revival Pilot so... this is how I learn about things, I pick up what I've heard in TV shows. Obviously there are other countries but I’ve never heard of any other terms for these so comment if I missed some.*

Summary: It’s Campbell and Y/n’s last day together before he goes traveling for a Radio DJ competition, unfortunately Y/n can’t come with and Campbell has become a little clingy

Warnings: Mentions of the suicide of a good friend of theirs, Spoilers for Takin' Over the Aslyum, Winter activities, Skating, Implied Short Reader, Implied Non-Scottish Reader; Mention of Past Toxic Relationship; Referenced but not mentioned relationship involving rape.

Note: I had the perfect gif for this when it was on Wattpad but I have a new laptop now and they took down my account and I can't find the gif. It was a gif of a couple kssing on the ice and then they slipped and both fell down.

(Post-Asylum; May be connected to "Sweet Jane" or read alone; If you decided to include this in Sweet Jane, this takes place between the ending of the series and the epilogue written by me.)

"I want your love to consume me like an oversized winter coat. Hands clasped around my waist like buttons done up properly."

Early March, 1995 (Early Eight months since the events of Takin’ Over the Asylum)

They had known for nearly two months that Campbell would be leaving but Y/n was on her way to get her A-Levels/GED since she had dropped out of secondary school/high school to go to the asylum but now it seemed that it had hit Campbell as he was even more clingy than normal.

"Campbell." She groaned as he hugged her from behind as she was trying to make Scottish Lentil soup for the two.

"But... baaaabe, I'm leaving tomorrow. I won't be able to see you in three weeks." He whined, burying his head into her back. "I won't be able to touch you. I won't be able to snuggle you as we sleep. I won't' be able to hear your voice."

"We can still talk on the phone." She protested.

"It's not the same! I won't be able to kiss your back." He whined.

He kissed her back before trailing to her shoulder as he pulled her sleeve up to reveal her shoulder and kissed it, "I won't be able to kiss your shoulder." He moved to her neck, "I won't be able to kiss your neck." He grasped her hips and turned her around and kissed her cheek, moving to her jaw and chin. "I won't be able to kiss your cheeks, your chin, your jaw." He pulled away to ease her to the counter beside the stove before pressing her against it as she couldn't help but smile and giggle. He kissed up her face to her forehead. "I won't be able to kiss your face." He tilted her head up and he kissed her lips. "I won't be able to kiss your lips."

"Cam... we..." He kept quieting her with kisses before moving to her neck, though it seemed he was taking in her scent as he kissed her neck. She had leaned her head back so he could have access with he happily obliged with open-mouthed kisses. "Campbell, it's five. I, uh, I had some plans for a date tonight. But we need to eat first."

"What kind of date? Dinner? Movie?" He hummed.

"No, that's why we're eating now." She said.

"Wait a minute, it's nearly twelve in the morning. What date takes place after midnight?"

"It'll be outside. You'll need to dress in warm clothing. But I need to finish the soup first." 

He gave her a smile with a deep emotion in his eyes, she couldn't quite detect, "What?"

"I just love you so bloody much." He said, earnestly.

--

Campbell and Y/n walked through Glasgow with her being all vague which kept Campbell frustrated and all pouty.

"Be patient, Cam."

"I'm not a patient person!" He almost yelled.

"Oh, I know." She said, playing with her satchel that she refused to show Campbell what it contained. "Just wait and see."

"Just wait and see!? Do you have any idea how irritating that is!?" He whined.

She eventually led him to a park, it was a rather snowy March, so the pond at the park was frozen, she took a pair of ice skates out of her satchel.

"You want to skate at one in the morning?" He laughed.

"Well, I'm a looney." She teased.

"Yes, you are." He grinned and kissed her, he cupped her face with both hands. "Yes, you are."

--

Ten minutes later, Y/n was teaching Campbell how to skate, though he was a bit clumsy but she kept him up by holding his hand.

At one point, she did an impressive spin, which made her hair spin around her head like a H/C halo as Campbell watched with a dropped jaw... drooling slightly.

"How'd you learn how to do this anyways?" He laughed, flailing his arms, trying to keep himself upright.

Y/n spun around and her smile faltered before turning bittersweet, "Uh, when I first arrived to Saint Jude's... Fergus took me." 

"Oh."

"He took me a few times, not even expecting me to talk. I picked this up quick and I even laughed. He considered that a victory." She said, sadly.

Campbell slid over to her and embraced her, which he originally intended to do but also to stop him from falling. "I miss him too." Campbell said in her ear, he pulled away.

She handed her hand out in front of her, offering it to him which he took and she skated with him, he... well, to say, he got the hang of it isn't right, but he wasn't completely fall-on-his-face-with-each-stroke terrible. 

At one point, she tripped and nearly fell but Campbell caught her through this threw him off balance and he fell with Y/n landing on top of him. 

They laughed at this and kissed, they decided they had had enough and put their shoes on that they had clipped to their belts and got up on the ice.

 Campbell brushed off some snow and then turned to his girlfriend who was looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

"What?" He laughed.

"I love you so bloody much too." She said.

He grinned... like a maniac... like a looney and he pulled her in by the waist for a slow, passionate kiss but slipped on the ice now wearing his normal shoes and he pulled Y/n closed which brought them both down with her, once again, landing on his chest.

"I just can't play it cool." He laughed.

"I don't know. Nineteen-year-old Radio DJ. Hyperactive, loud, energetic, passionate, enthuastic, charismatic, spontaneous, easy-going, creative, independent, brave, funny, sarcastic, sexy..." He clicked his tongue and winked at her.

"Mmm, do say more things you like about my personality." He hummed, playing with a short lock of hair of hers. 

"Impulsive, loud, hard to keep track off." She teased.

"Oh, you wound me." He groaned, dramatically.

"How about this? Sweet, loyal, handsome, romantic, hot..."

"Yeah. That's the ticket." He said, nodding, "But you forgot one thing. Totally, ridicouslously in love with you and definitely going to miss you for the next three weeks."

"Me too. You've been in my life for less than a year and already... I can't imagine my life without you. You're all the things I just said and more. You are the best guy I have ever dated though granted, given the last and only other one abused me for years on end and traumatized me into muteness, that wasn't a high bar." She looked down, averting eye contact with Campbell.

Campbell tucked the lock of her hair behind her ear, "He won't ever hurt you again, baby. Never ever."

She shivered a little and concerned appeared on his face, "Shite. Your nose is all red. You're freezing. Let's get ho... let's get you home." Once off the ice and pulled him back and he looked at her.

She stepped closer, raising herself on her tip-toes while weaving her hand through his hair on the back of his head and kissed him slowly when she pulled away, his eyes fluttered open and then shook his head.

“Sorry, you know, most girls, normal girls, always dream of having the perfect kiss with the perfect guy.” She said and then cringed, “Sorry, that was like the cheesiest thing ever.”

“Yeah, it was. So that’s super embarrassing for you.” He teased but then she sneezed. “Let’s get you home before I have to drop out of the DJ competition to take care of you. Come with me, Juliet. Follow your Romeo.” Then he immediately slipped and fell back down, face first in a pile of snow.

--

Campbell handed her a cup of freshly made hot chocolate with whipped cream after she got out of the shower when they got home.

"Oh, how thoughtful." Y/n said, cupping her boyfriend's cheek and stroking it with her thumb.

She took the mug and drank a big gulp, letting it warm her insides as she had already began to get cold from the shower.

Campbell grinned when he saw she had whipped cream on her nose, he leaned over and licked and kissed it off.

"Campbell!" She laughed.

"Mmm. Tastes only slightly more sweet than usual."

"The whipped cream?" She asked.

"No, you. Your taste. The taste of your skin." He teased.

"God, you're a dork." She drank some more hot chocolate and as soon as she swallowed he kissed her, allowing him to taste the hot chocolate on her lips and she giggled against his lips. "You're so weird, Bain."

"You are simply beautiful, L/n." He hummed.

--

Thirty minutes, later at like, two-thirty in the morning, they were both finally in bed.

"Promise me something?" She asked, laying on his chest.

"Hmm-mmm." He hummed, half-asleep.

"Campbell." She smacked his chest and he propped himself of his elbows to look at her, albeit, slightly sleep blurry-eyed.

"Hmm?" He asked but she didn't answer, he looked at her and saw her biting her lip, nervously. He sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees, "Babe, what is it?"

"Promise me you won't find some girl wherever this competition is going to to take you, someone who's willing to have sex with you..."

Campbell tilted her head up and kissed her before pulling back and looking her dead in the eye and saying, seriously, "One year ago, if someone were to ask me what my perfect dream girl would be, she wouldn't even come close to you." He kissed her gently again and then gave her a goofy smile, "That cheesy enough for you?"

"Yeah, and it was super embarrassing for you." She teased and he pulled her into his chest as they laid back down with him burying his face in the top of her head.

"I'm in this for the long run, Y/n. I promise. Your first time should've be special but it wasn't, I'm willing to wait until you're ready." He whispered. "God, I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too." She said and leaned up and kissed him.

He turned off the light and they drifted to sleep.

--

At the airport, the next afternoon, Eddie was saying goodbye to Francine while Campbell hugged Y/n, repeating how much he loved her and kissing her passionately.

"Call me? Every day. Even if it's the middle of the night for me." She requested.

He laughed, "You bet. I'll tell you about my day. Probably have to get another room from Eddie or else, I'll annoy him. You call me too. If you just want to talk, you call me. Even in the middle of the night."

"Babe, you'll be having a competition. I can't do that. You call me, I'll call you if you're awake. You call me every time you land and I'll look up the time zone differences and call you."

"I'll keep my mobile on me at all times."  He promised and kissed her.

"Campbell, we've got to go." Eddie said, irriatedly.

Campbell groaned, "Bye, babe. I love you." He said and pecked her lips before going with Eddie to board the plane.

“Wait!” Y/n shouted, running at him, he turned and felt her attack him with a hug. "Two years ago, when I was still talking, if you asked me to describe my perfect dream guy, he wouldn't even come close to you either." She said into his ear.

He chuckled, “You stole my line.”

“Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

“IN A MINUTE! I have to go. Love you.” He kissed her again and ran off with Eddie.

[ikemenomegas]

in light of gojo's unsealing, ive thought about diff cute scenarios

gojo being the type of person to get his mate's phone and snap hundreds of pictures of his face

this would probably never happen given gojo's privacy when it comes to his marriage but in a different world i can see this happening Gojo naming his alpha as "mochi seller' on his phone and Itadori seeing the message pop out from the lock screen and accidentally somewhat outing gojo's rs when he asks him in front of the other students why the mochi seller sent an ily message

the tender moments where gojo lets his infinity down or lets his alpha inside his infinity and he gets to relish in the warmth of their skin

the sappy things gojo's alpha has to sometimes do whenever gojo gets too rowdy and they need to placate him for whatever reason (re: alpha reading a map together with nanami scenario)

gojo sending his alpha a picture of two rocks by the sidewalk with the caption: 'us'

gojo asking his alpha if they would still love him if he was a worm and the alpha saying: "no<33"

Awww! These were really cute anon! Very happy ending which I feel like we're going to need a lot of in the coming weeks...

(Also I ran with it but why is their name "mochi seller" haha)

[Ao3 link for those who prefer chapters]

⬖ Photomaton

"Device storage insufficient, please move or delete files to make room?" you read, nonplussed.

Nobara sighed. "Sensei, I showed you how to do that weeks ago."

"I did do it." You frowned, opening up your files. Why were there so many pictures...

Nobara rolled her eyes at you and beat a hasty retreat when your hand went to your mouth as your face went warm.

There were rows and rows of photos, none of which you had taken.

Most of them were selfies, but some of them were obviously the result of Satoru propping the phone up and attempting to pose for the camera.

He must have been swiping your phone every time you left it sitting out or went to sleep. He didn't rest much, but there were so many, more probably than you'd been able to take in the last five years.

There wasn't much thought for such things when you only saw one another a handful of days every month. The focus had gone to managing the present, not on taking pictures. You'd only really thought to regret it after that terrible Halloween, when you worried you'd never see him again.

Some of the photos framed Satoru inside one of your homes. Others were almost ugly shots, taken way too close, or blurred with motion artifact. There were pictures of him haloed in the night glow of streetlights or washed out in the halogen light of a konbini. There were those made grainy with low light and some that took your breath away because he was nice looking.

Furtively, you looked up but were alone and you silently thanked your student's exasperated impatience. A few of the photos showed just too much skin to be exactly proper.

You thumbed down. The pictures were a story all their own revealing some of what Satoru did when alone and you savored the honesty. You had to keep apart from one another for so long.

The last thing in the camera roll was a video.

It opened with the shuffling sounds and the wobbling display of someone walking. Satoru wound around furniture in the darkened interior of your apartment.

"I'm home. You're asleep right now," he said lowly, "probably won't be later. I don't know how most people can sleep so much." He spoke half to himself, the deep night laying over his words like velvet.

There was the sound of the door to the little balcony opening and then the faint tinkle of the glass bells hanging from the eaves.

"Must be nice," he mused, "you get to miss a lot."

The image on the screen steadied as he rested your phone on the rail. The familiar view of the city resolved as faint golden starbursts of light. The rustling of Satoru's clothing faded until all you could hear was the faint rush of night wind and his breathing.

The video went on for over a quarter of an hour. You scrolled your fingers across the screen. He didn't move, the picture stayed the same. You leaned against a wall and listened to the last few moments, your heartbeat low and slow, your breath in sync with his from some time both here and long ago.

Satoru spoke, amused over the night-sounds:

"Don't delete this. I'll know."

⬖ Daifuku

"Good job," Gojo congratulated his dust-stained students as the veil fell.

Maki and Toge glared while Yuuji gave him a tired thumbs up from where he was laying on the ground.

"Dinner is on me tonight." Gojo ignored their halfhearted grumbling. "Decide where you want to go."

He anticipated a larger than normal ding to his wallet, but they'd earned it (and it wasn't as though he couldn't afford it). Beating this curse was no minor feat and it had been a particularly crafty one, which was why Gojo had gone with them just in case.

The students made noises of acknowledgement with varying levels of anticipation, but to no one's surprise, Yuuji was the first to roll over and dig around for his phone.

He tapped the screen and groaned.

"Sensei, mine's dead. Can I use yours?"

Gojo unlocked it and passed it over without a thought. He wasn't particularly hungry, the kids could figure this out without his interference for once.

"Um, Gojo-sensei?"

"Hm?"

"Why is a "mochi seller" reminding you to stop at the pharmacy and sending you heart emojis?"

With uncanny synchrony, Maki and Toge's heads turned to look at their teacher.

The phone in Yuuji's hand buzzed faintly.

"I love you?" he read, sounding alarmed.

Toge's eyes went a bit wide but a grin that curled a bit too much at the edges and showed teeth took over Maki's face.

"Text back," she said, scrambling to her feet.

With all her quickness, she swooped in and snatched the phone when Yuuji hesitated.

The phone buzzed once more.

"I'll be home by 8:30, probably," she read.

Gojo took advantage of Maki's triumphant look to slip the device from her grip.

"I knew it!" she pointed at him. "I knew you were hiding something."

"Grown ups hide lots of things," he replied blithely. He was confident none of the students could tell that moment had been more like someone walking over his grave.

It was not as though he intended to hide his relationship with you. Hide implied shame, concealment on the other hand had been security and was harder to let go of. There would come a moment when the kids prised the truth from him. He was not about to have that moment with his kids now, or hopefully ever, because they accidentally read his texts out loud.

Maki reached for his phone and he easily tipped out of her way, walking off and heading towards a neighborhood he knew (and the students did not) had a lot of very good restaurants.

He was silently very thankful when the implied threat of no food at all distracted the students. Or at least had Yuuji barreling past Maki and kindly dropping the matter in favor of promising to "only look at the map this time, was there a good katsudon place nearby?"

⬖ Goose Down

Satoru spotted you hunched over a rail with your umbrella open overhead, held in the crook of your elbow.

He could tell from the set of your shoulders that the summer sun was getting to you, despite the cursed tool taking a majority of the pressure off.

Your energy was butter yellow and burnt red and lithium pink, mixing slowly around your body as you slowly cycled power into the umbrella and the short sword held loosely in your hands.

Satoru ducked around a corner and took a peak at your face. Your eyes were closed.

Smirking quietly to himself, he crept around, Infinity a barrier between himself and the world. For just a little longer...

You jumped when he dropped it, nearly dropping your sword and automatically holding the umbrella high enough for him to fit under it.

"Hah-"

"Speechless?"

You gaped at him, mouth hanging open.

He nodded as if you'd just confirmed it. "This is what they don't tell you about marriage. Making someone's heart race is important even after the wedding. We'll probably be together forever at this rate."

You mouth closed and then went a little wobbly.

"It's hot," you finally said, miserably. "And it's too sunny."

He couldn't hold back his laughter as he stepped closer and folded himself around you. Your scent tingled pleasantly in his nose and your skin was warm from both heat and light, like a sun-warmed blanket.

"Oh," you said faintly, "you're cool," and you all but melted against him.

"You could just go inside," Satoru said. "I sent the students off on an adventure. We wouldn't be bothered."

"That sounds nice," you murmured, but didn't make any move away from him.

He didn't either. He didn't feel much like letting go yet.

⬖ Orange Kazoo

Sometimes, you reminded yourself through your already strained patience, Satoru just needed to be left alone to make noise.

For a moment, you considered begging him for just a little peace, but you knew he was doing this for your benefit. Shibata Kin was a difficult pill to swallow.

"I never expected anyone to send Six Eyes to join us."

It was the weakest and most recent of Shibata's barbs. The oily way he said it and the implication that anyone would dare to subordinate Satoru to this boot licker rankled.

Satoru crinkled the package extra loud on a bit of melon bread and smiled. "I was in the neighborhood."

He took a bite, chewed and swallowed while you flipped through the mission report on a clipboard.

You sighed, exhaling your worry, and handed it back. "Let's go then. It looks like all the victims disappeared from the same place so we should start there."

That place was a building that straddled a moderately busy subway station and stacked part of a shopping mall, a cluster of private clinics, and a cram school all on top of each other.

Satoru trailed behind through the store, stopping at kiosks and chatting with saleswomen, picking up and putting down objects.

You could feel Shibata's irritation transform into something far less internal as he turned to you.

"He's like a child," he remarked coolly. "Sure we shouldn't just ditch him? The curse doesn't sound that hard to deal with since I've got you."

When you ignored him, he kept talking.

"He shouldn't even be here," the man drawled.

You shrugged. "Well he is."

Shibata sourly appeared to swallow whatever else he wanted to say. You turned around to see where Satoru had gone to. The thought of being stuck with the bitter other sorcerer was worse than waiting for them to pick their bickering back up.

He waved a stuffed cat in sunglasses at you and nodded eager agreement when you pointed out a cute little sparrow holding an umbrella on a shelf behind him. Sometimes, it was best to just humor Satoru and play along.

When you turned back, Shibata Kin was gone.

Since you were all concealing your residuals from the curse you expected was in the building, you had no idea where he went.

You looked over your shoulder. Satoru was gone too.

Well.

You tapped your fingers over your pocket and then decided to let them go. Satoru always seemed to know where to find you and Shibata had called you here as backup. You should probably go kill what you were looking for before it nibbled on him.

Many fewer curses than you expected lingered in the shopping mall. They were bizarre places with as many secret passageways as an ancient castle. Away from the popular shops and crowds, it quickly grew quiet and the bright gleam of displays gave way to more neglected halls.

On your way, you passed a small bank of capsule machines. You crouched down, and smiled faintly to yourself. Abandoned in the furthest reach of the shopping mall, almost near to where a service entrance lead to another stretch of winding halls and tunnels, the items here were both ancient (by city standards) and ridiculous.

Packages of candy that still held their shine but were likely far past their expiration date sat beside tiny figurines of a frog-shaped toddler in a little red hat. You grimaced back at those and moved on.

Near the end of the row was a machine that sold tiny musical instruments, plastic and paper and probably terrible sounding, but it wasn't expired food or frog children. You stuck a few coins into the slot and turned the dial.

An acid green ball spat out from the slot.

You picked at the latches on its side while you found your way further and further into the little used corridors.

There was a flash of something, like a burst of camera illumination from behind a door on your right.

You slipped through it, pulling your blade free from its sheath at the small of your back, and emerged into a tunnel that looked to be connecting to the nearby subway station. Not far ahead, the darkened path split into two.

You flipped the sword around so its blunt edge rested against your forearm and sprinted, dashing across the intersection.

A blur of motion came at you. As it grazed by, you snatched at that movement and sprang into the air, high enough to crouch on the ceiling of the tunnel.

The curse was a near perfect twin of the one a little ways down the way the attack had come, which should have maybe been your first hint. The one that had come at you was grinning, its face a rictus mockery of a theater mask.

They both sat, crouched like toads. You feinted toward the one that had come towards you, and at the last minute flew down to the other, its mouth bent in a painted looking frown.

It backed up in surprise, but not far enough and your blade nicked through the face, which was hard like dense wood. The air around your other hand shimmered in heat, as you struck for the thing's cavernous eyes.

It emitted a furious, scolding gurgle that almost reminded you of some of the window teachers from high school, and swallowed the burst of heat before it could crackled around it into full flame.

You hardly had time to reinforce your body with cursed energy before you were blasted from two directions, letting the momentum carry you and trying to wrap the more opposing forces and the roaring sound of displaced air into your own cursed energy. But something about it resisted you, and you were unable to absorb as much of the attack as you usually would.

A racking shiver radiated through your body right before you were caught by a broad hand on your back.

"Hi," Satoru said sweetly.

"Hi," you panted, automatic, eyes still fixed on the curse.

"What's going on?"

You looked up at him with incredulity.

Hoisted in his other arm was the limp body of your other companion.

Satoru's head cocked to the side, curious as he looked at the curse.

"I don't know yet. I hit it and then--" the mask of the frowning curse was ash blasted and the notch from your first strike still there, but it was not as damaged as expected.

You regained your footing and stood upright.

"If I give it another go I think I can figure it out."

He tilted his head.

You sized up the two curses waiting outside the reach of Satoru's infinity.

"Oh." You reached into your pocket and handed him the green orb.

"What's this?"

"Dunno," you said with a faint smile. "I got it for you."

"Aww, you shouldn't have."

Maybe not. Satoru thinks gachapon are funny, you should show him the line of machines if you get out of here the same way you come in, then he can choose something himself. You still have a few coins on you.

You flew at the grinning curse, both hands on the hilt of your blade, cursed energy flashing into a point a good six inches out from where the metal itself ended.

You held, crystalizing your own movement for a moment and stared deep into the thing's empty eyes.

It twitched, and then its arm moved and you slashed downward, intending to cleave the limb away.

The blade hit, you knew it did. You were able to dodge the attack you anticipated from the smiling curse. The frowning curse in front of you struck back, almost at the same time.

You pulled on some of the reserved momentum you'd held back in your initial strike and barely twisted out of the way.

You lifted the gleeful cackles of the twinned curses from the air and tried to twist them into a crackling rope of flame to surround the grinning one again. As you had expected, the damage did not seem to completely take and you were forced to duck when a bolt of heat tried to sear your back, culminating in another blast that shook the tunnel and thew you once more.

"That's enough."

Satoru appeared at your side again, pulling you back behind the shield of his power when the curse's retaliation threatened to cut through you.

"This one's a bad match for your technique," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Is it reflecting through the faces?" you asked, catching your breath.

He hummed.

Absently, you realized you could scent the sharp, fresh smell of citrus on his breath - the smell of the biting orange flavored candy you'd shared with him on the train ride here.

"If it reflects yours too--" you trailed off. What you did was firmly in the realm of the "real" and Satoru's abilities were not. If this curse were to reflect back blue, or red, or heaven forbid purple... well you'd never seen or asked up until if Satoru could stop his own techniques. It seemed a tactical oversight in this moment.

Satoru stepped forward.

"Stabilize him," he instructed flatly. He'd tossed Shibata Kin's still body where he had been standing barely a minute before.

The curses had moved closer and pressed together, beginning to meld into one another before your eyes. The damage you had already done was fading further.

You knelt at Shibata's side, shaking back your sleeves. "You know this is going to poison him."

You carefully set two fingers underneath his right collarbone, and three a few ribs below his heart on the left and focused in on the flickers of electricity that powered a human body.

"Oh well." Satoru's grin was a baring of teeth. "He'll get over it better than being dead."

You could sense the arrhythmic flutter of Kin's heart, like the popping scatter of an overloaded lamp, like a fractured version of that flash you had sensed earlier.

"You know he was trying to set you up right?" Satoru asked as he batted away an experimental chunk of rubble the curse tossed his way with a flick of his wrist. The stone was aimed right for the face of the smiling curse and even as it hit, it seemed to bounce back, hitting Satoru's shield and falling to the ground.

You sparked a bit of your energy to pure electricity, sending it jumping from one side of Shibata Kin's chest to the other.

"It crossed my mind," you admitted, murmuring as you concentrated. "But I didn't pursue the thought."

Satoru snorted. Yes, alright it was more likely you'd decided thinking about it too hard was going to distract you from the mission but you were here anyway.

You counted the pulse of electricity between your fingers to your own heartbeat until Kin's matched, or at least matched better than before.

When you pulled your hands away, Satoru cracked his knuckles. It looked like he was going to go in for physical attacks.

"You might need to manage the tunnel," he said.

Yet another reason this was a bad match up, not just for you but for him. Satoru did best in wide open spaces where he had room to move and didn't need to worry too much about collateral damage. Dropping a ton of rock on your heads and collapsing the buildings above sounded like a thing that could happen.

You had barely pressed your hands to the ground when Satoru was off like a shot.

The curse wasn't that strong - a high end second grade or low level first grade at best given that it wasn't itself attacking to provoke a response - but it split into those two halves of itself and reformed again as needed to minimize the impacts Satoru rained upon it or flank him.

Limitless lay against his skin between each strike so he remained unmarked, but the cavernous space still rocked with noise and dust shook from the gaps between tiles. You steadied it best you could, absorbing the oscillations and dampening the noise.

It did not take long for the frowning curse to realize what you were doing and send the smiling one racing for you. With one hand on the ground and one on your sword, brimming with unspent potential, you raised the point.

"Nah ah." This seemed at once to you and the monster charging your way. Satoru appeared in its path and bodily kicked it away.

It did not take long after for the twinned curses to be dispatched. Although the only reason you weren't holding your breath is because you were gritting your teeth with the effort of holding the ground together and trying not to shake apart yourself.

Satoru in motion, in a fight, particularly when physical constraint demanded more of his ingenuity, was always a sight to behold.

He came back to you looking unfairly dewy post exertion, with his hair in a sort of windswept disarray, the fabric around his shoulders bunched up. He shrugged out the wrinkles and dusted off his hands.

Your briefly pressed a hand to his knee after you steadied the last tremor from the ground.

"Thank you."

Satoru tapped his forefinger twice against your temple as he walked by. "A feedback loop between you and that thing would have been very messy."

You stood up, swaying slightly.

Even though Satoru would have happily dragged Shibata to the exit point, you insisted on tugging him upright and at least moving him through the air to a place where the three of you could safely rest and call a car.

You had settled him against a wall and were calling Akari when he finally stirred.

"What happened?" Shibata asked weakly.

You turned around to look at him and from Shibata Kin's tepid expression and the sound of shifting cloth behind you, you assumed Satoru must have copied your movement.

Still, you gave him a faint smile and couched down beside him. He didn't have the strength to move away as you grabbed his wrist and felt his pulse. It was thready, but he'd be good enough to get the rest of the way above ground until an actual doctor could take a look at hime.

"We're all alive," you explained unnecessarily.

Shibata Kin's eyes moved from your face to over your shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip.

From behind you came a buzzing hum, somewhat approximating a sad tuba. Waa wa wa waaaaaaaa, it trailed off.

Satoru had a the wide end of a grape purple kazoo held between his teeth, his sunglasses already exchanged for the bandages he'd had wrapped around his eyes.

Only just in time, you ducked your face into your shoulder and hid a smile.

⬖ Pet rock

You were walking down some quiet residential street, trying to match the map to the trail of the curse you were tracking. It was not very intelligent, but it had a pernicious little ability to draw other curses to it under the banner of a powerful command. You'd been swatting third and fourth grades out of the air as you chased it, trying to wear down its arsenal.

It wasn't a terribly good strategy however and the thing had been winding its way through side streets to buy time. If you could get in closer, you could chop away at more of its train of screaming fears, maybe get a head start on the main peril. Thus the attempt at navigating and figuring out its destination so you could cut it off.

At least Hirano-san would be happy. Maybe. Culling curses required balance; they were their own little ecosystem. As long as the things aren't eating anyone, a certain amount of apex predators in an area could be a deterrent, like the old practice of putting powerful relics out like roach traps. Have the inevitable critters fight and eat one another rather than their human hosts.

A notification popped up over the map, and then another after it.

You felt your shoulders drop as you recentered yourself with a faint smile.

At your hotel later that night, you recalled that Satoru had sent you a message. You fell onto the bed, wrapped up in the hotel bathrobe.

It was... nice, knowing that someone was waiting at home for you. Or if not at home, he was still busy as ever, out there in the world somewhere, thinking of you. Weirdly normal.

The message was a picture. You blinked up at it. Two little rocks and a flower growing out of a crack in the pavement to shade over them.

>> ?

Almost immediately you saw three dots appear.

<< it's us!

Is it? you thought skeptically, looking at the picture again.

The dots again.

<< You don't think so :(?

Your phone was buzzing in your hand before you had even a moment to answer.

It startled you enough to drop the phone.

Owww

"You took so long to answer. This is photography, are you discouraging my new passion? It could go on a greeting card."

The word salad was meaningless and silly, weightless.

"I dropped you on my nose," you said, eyes closed as you rubbed the spot the corner of your case had hit.

"Were you that surprised by it?"

A pause.

"It's cute." The notion of it and the fact that he'd sent it to you was cute.

"It is cute right?" His voice was bright but not overly loud through the phone, for which you were grateful, already settling into warmth. "The flower is poisonous too."

You curled up on your side and held the phone close. Maybe he'd get lucky and you would find something cute to send back to him.

⬖ Puddle jumping

a/n: You have no idea how much googling I had to do to figure out what the prompt meant. I am not on the tick-tock app lol or, I've found, a fan of this meme... the implication that girlfriends ask useless questions as a rule seems sort of meh. So I mostly kept to my original response to this which was "i don't know what that is and honestly probably neither does alpha"

Satoru was herding you down the sidewalk, occasionally listing one way or the other to get you out of the way of other pedestrians. Sometimes he did it for the simple fascination of how you swayed along by him like you were on a tether. Even while you eyes were all but fixed skyward, you stayed roughly the same distance from him.

It was the first day of sun after days of rain and also one of the first days he had off with you in so many apart. He had been too restless the day before, back off a bad mission that had more to do with the desperate unpredictability of people than the intrinsic darkness of curses. You had not resisted him when he drew you out, stifled by the low clouds and humidity and longing for openness. Even with Infinity blocking the rain, it had felt like being closed in again.

Relieved of their burden, the clouds had gone from iron grey to diaphanous white and pealed up and away in swaths like billowing curtains. This is what you were watching - their retreat from the earth. They had come so low they wrapped around skyscrapers and telephone poles on their back to their usual place.

Satoru watched the drowned earth. You had cut through a tree lined walk. The rich soil was churned and muddy and the long bodies of worms that had been washed out or crawled up were strewn about.

Your and Satoru's steps made no mark as he stretched Infinity over and around the two of you. Neither of you tread upon those blind, waterlogged creatures.

Satoru stepped behind you to allow a cluster of high schoolers to pass and hid a faint wrinkle of his nose as they squealed and ran by, realizing they were stepping on some of the remains.

Your umbrella was folded and carried at your side, and you tilted your head back at him, looking a little sun-drunk. He smiled at you. He could see the reflection of the sky in your gaze.

He adopted a pout, snickering internally as you immediately seemed to regain some awareness and a wary anticipation entered your expression.

"Would you still like me if I was a worm?" he asked.

You blinked at him. "Is this one of those things you learned from the kids?"

He slouched a bit, crowding into your space. "Would you still love me if I was a worm," he wheedled.

"Are you turning into a worm?" you asked, slightly panicked, hand going to his arm as though to check if he was going as wet and floppy as the poor things on the ground.

"I'm going to turn into one if you don't answer my question."

The last of the distracted fog lifted from your eyes as you shook yourself. You took his hand and pulled him close to let another couple pass you on the walk. They inclined their head in thanks.

There was no rush to get where you were going and you tugged him along a smaller path that cut under a row of thick-branched trees so you could walk side by side unimpeded.

"I still liked you when you were a semi-sentient six sided die," you pointed out, smiling slightly.

"It's not the same," he whined a bit, drawing out the words in a sing-song fashion.

"Isn't it? I'm not sure a die eight kilometers under the ocean is more useful than a worm."

"Hmph."

"Although I really hope the worm thing is hypothetical."

"Why?"

"Because with our luck that would mean I'm a worm too."

Satoru huffed a faint sound of amusement. "Nooo. You'd still be some kind of bird." He patted your back. "Don't worry I'll make sure to crawl out late so you can still be in time to eat me all up."

"... Are you propositioning me or telling me to hurry up?"

"Walk faster or I'll step on the backs of your shoes."

You did. The two of you walked faster and faster until you were all but chasing one another out of the park, laughing lightly as you dodged the spots of wet on the ground.

[faux-ecrivain]

Frightened Ex x Yandere reader

“When Cupid gets it wrong, goodbyes can be messy.” - that private eye who worked for the HPD for thirty years from that one episode of Hawaï Five-O where that girl in a red dress died and the private eye was narrating the story

(Trigger warning: murder, death and amputation are mentioned/implied.)

(Also, you, the reader, are the yandere here)

(Sixteenth Official Post)

(Merry Christmas)

(Happy Holidays)

(name is Anthony)

          When you and Anthony first started dating he thought you were an absolutely wonderful person, he admired you and would go out of his way to please you. Then just 4 years into your relationship, you started to behave… strangely. You were more possessive and would often isolate him from his friends (regardless of gender).     

         Sometimes, you would makes jokes about locking him up and killing all his friends, which made him very uncomfortable. Luckily, after expressing his discomfort, you quit joking like that, but now he was wary around you and he was considering breaking up with you. However, when he expressed this decision to you, you informed him that you wouldn’t let him leave and would make sure he knew his place.

——————————————————————

   Anthony’s breath was muffled by his hands, his eyes squeezed shut as he prays that you won’t find him. He doesn’t know why you’re acting like this, treating him like a prisoner and trying to lock him away in your dreary, albeit big, house. He shuffles further into the closet, his knees up and his legs pulled close to his body. Tears fall down his face and he sniffles, what once was a beautiful, loving relationship, was now massacred beyond fixing.

         He listens as you creep through the hallway, he hears your ominous voice call out to him and he fights the urge to run into your arms. Yes, he’s scared, but often when he was scared you would be there to comfort him. Your footsteps grow closer, the floorboards creak and you stop in front of the closet. You taunt him, calling out for him, even though he’s certain you know he’s in there. “Anthony, baby, wheeere are yoou? Are you hiding from me?” Shivers wrack his body the moment he hears a haunting giggle escape your mouth. 

          “That’s not very nice, Anthony. Didn’t your mommy ever teach you manners?” Anthony’s tears fall faster as you bring up his mother, he’s sure you’ve done something to her, probably killed her. You begin moving again, the creaking of the floorboards lessen in volume and he assumes you’ve moved away from the closet. Still, he doesn’t leave and instead waits inside the closet for a matter of minutes. He listens diligently for your footsteps and hopes you won’t come back. 

          After at least 20 minutes have passed he cracks the closet door open, his eyes roam across the expanse of the hallway and his fear lessens once he sees the hall empty. He sneaks out of the closet, quietly closes the door behind him and sneaks in the direction opposite of the way that you went. For a moment, Anthony believes he can escape, he thinks he can make it to the door and run away from you. He thinks he came leave you behind, but he was wrong, so very wrong. 

          His heart stops when you call out to him, your voice smug and haughty. “There you are, baby, trying to escape, again?” He turns around and his body freezes as you approach. His heart beats erratically and he can barely form a single thought in his brain. Then he quickly snaps to when he realizes the distance between you two is slowly closing. He wills his legs to work and, when they do, he rushes off in a random direction. One that will hopefully allow him freedom or a moment’s salvation. 

         You groan when he runs off again, it was getting quite annoying and each time he ran it made you want to immobilize him. You snicker at the thought, but since you have no desire to traumatize him, more than you already have, you decide against such an idea. You stalk after him, taking your time as you knew he was likely lost in the maze of a house you own. Your throat vibrates as you begin to hum, a tune much too joyful for the present time. You hear Anthony crack open the door to the left wing of your house, well it isn’t actually your house, but does that really matter? 

          Anthony closes the heavy mahogany door behind him and wince at the loud slam it releases. He wrings his hands together and begins to walk down the darkened hallway, he’s never seen this part of the house before, it’s all worn down. He exhales and continues walking, his eyes glancing around his surroundings and taking in the strange decorations hanging up. Some of them seem entirely too old for such a modern house, some seem to be straight from the eighteenth century. 

          He doesn’t have time to dwell on your strange interior choices, as he hears the mahogany doors creak open and slam shut. His hearts begins to race, once more, and he knows you’re near. He fears that he might never escape and that you would catch him. He’s so scared, so frightened. He doesn’t know what to do, should he run or should he hide?

(I know everyone voted yes go back to my old style, but I didn’t know how else to write this oneshot. Don’t worry though, I’ll still listen to you guys and will continue writing in my old style, but I might also write this way.)

(Hope you enjoyed and hopefully you guys are excited for the next part!)

—————————————————-

(Don’t worry, I’m going to post all three (or two) endings, I just need to know which one you want first.)

(Expect another post around 12:30 this afternoon)

[wandering-writing-waffles]

His Most Prized Possession

Rating: E for everyone

Word Count: 819

Relationships: Darth Maul x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Mentions of blood, implied romance, implied kidnapping

Notes: Hello there! So this is just a quick lil oneshot I wrote a while back but kind of want to make into a full-fledged fic???? Idk, I may continue this and may not. I would certainly like to! But hey! I hope you enjoy what I have so far!

Summary: Maul had only ever loved one thing in his life, and that was you... But one day when he came home and all he could find of you was a small trinket of yours lying dormant in the doorway, he knew there could only be one explanation... You had been taken... Taken right out from under his nose! Heart filled with a newfound rage, he vows to scour the galaxy looking for you wherever he can. He will do anything to get you back.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Maul felt the heat of the blade lightly graze the center of his chest. On a regular occasion, he wouldn’t have paid any mind. His body was littered with scars and scratches after all. Years of fighting for survival had left their mark in the form of nasty raised abrasions all across his body. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just his body that was at stake this time.

He lifted his hand up to examine the area at which the blade seethed his flesh and to his dismay, it was gone. All that was left in its place were burnt, broken tethers from where it once laid.

He quickly tilted his head back upwards, towards this so-called attacker whom he assumed was just some insignificant bounty hunter from some insignificant little planet looking for a quick and easy score. Oh was he mistaken…

Maul seethed at that thought, a newfound, burning rage beginning to build up in his core, ready to burst at any moment. ‘What a pathetic waste of time,’ he thought to himself.

The attacker went rigid. His eyes widened in a fearful stupor as he made contact with Maul’s piercing golden gaze. The sweat at his temple began to pool and drip down his now furrowed brow bone and Maul could see his hands and the pinprick tips of his blue lekku start to tremble.

Maul snarled in response, not feeling the slightest bit of empathy. As far as he was concerned, no one messed with his belongings and no one wastes his time.

Without hesitation, he leaped forward, eyes fixated on the young twi’lek who had unknowingly just sealed his fate.

The man jumped back in response, but it was too late. Lightsaber drawn, Maul slashed right at the center of his torso, effectively severing his cobalt body in half.

Maul’s senses were immediately filled with the smell of burning flesh, followed by a loud shriek and the sound of the assailant’s body plummeting against the floor. His breathing hitched in response, eyes trained on the man’s chest, making sure there was no longer breath in his body.

When he was certain he let out a scoff, quickly sheathing his lightsaber and turning around on the heel of his foot.

‘Where is it?!’ Maul internally cried. He began searching the area, desperate to find what had fallen. But the muck-stained floors of the alley were making it difficult to search. He became more desperate, removing his gloves and falling to his hands and knees to dig through the thick grime. He only found relief when he felt his fingers lightly brush against a small, cold object.

Quickly looping his finger around the base he pulled it out, taking care to brush off the dirt that it had picked up before resting the object in the palm of his hand.

There it was… His prize.

Maul smiled warmly down at the object as it gleamed against the dimmed light. His twin hearts rested, and he felt calm once more. For this trinket sitting in his hand wasn’t just any old thing. No… It was much more than that. It was a ring. But not just any ring. In fact, it didn't even belong to him. Its true owner, although indeed rare, was someone whom Maul had held and still holds in the highest regard…

For it belonged to you… His beloved… His whole world… His starlight…

Maul’s grip tightened as he held the gleaming ring in his hand, memories flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of his love for you who had been so cruelly taken from him. The ring symbolized your bond, a promise you had made to each other in happier times. It was a token of your unwavering devotion, an unbreakable vow etched into its delicate design.

Crafted from a metal found only in the deepest crevices of his homeworld, the ring radiated an otherworldly brilliance. Its intricate carvings depicted your intertwined destinies, your love story eternally etched into the precious metal.

To Maul, the ring represented hope in the darkest of times, a tangible connection to the one person who had breathed life into his scarred soul. Whenever he felt lost, his fingers would trace the contours of the ring, seeking solace in its presence. It was a symbol of his unwavering determination to find you and reunite with the one who had captured his hearts.

As he clenched the ring tightly, Maul's resolve solidified. Your trail… His beloved’s trail would not go cold. He would stop at nothing, traverse galaxies, and face any adversary to reclaim what had been stolen from him. With the ring as his guiding light, Maul embarked on a relentless quest, a love-driven odyssey to rescue you and restore your shattered bond.

For you, he would do anything. And that was what he was going to do.

Notes:

Thank you so much for the read! I know it was short but it means so much to me! Let me know if I should continue it and if you have any pointers for where it should go if I do! Thank you again! Chow!

-Waffles XOXO

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 3

Friend

Short drabble once again because my notebook has decided to give up the good fight but my phone isn't down for the count yet.

Showcasing how I'm not over the fact that Fi and Shadow Link (specially the Four Swords Manga iteration) are technically the One constant all of the Links all but share and how people don't talk about it enough. And also my way to cope over rereading the Four Swords Adventures Manga again and my denial over Shadow being gone.

In the late hours of the night, you liked to talk to Fi and Shadow.

You weren’t sure if they could listen, not really, Sky said she fell asleep after his journey and First confirmed it soon after he joined the Chain, with the most heartbreakingly saddest smile, not quite grieving, but not quite ready to let go as -out of perhaps Legend- they were the ones who handled it with the most care. An echo and reflection of the way Four couldn’t quite look at mirrors without the rainbow in his eyes becoming more visible, almost gray in the shared grief in his mind and would say naught when questioned about it, choosing to deflect rather than clarify.

‘An eternal dream.’ was how vaguely how it had been described should anyone ask, ‘Not death in a way that matters, but... Close, almost enough to count.’

So over time, as you remained awake for your shifts once you’ve grow closer to the Chain, once you proved yourself as someone who could keep up and stand their ground, and a friend and a confidant over many, many sleepless nights and laughter and adversity, you couldn’t help but want to include them too as the rest of the Chain went to sleep and your watch time came. Usually masking it as telling stories or singing to either Wolfie or Epona.

You knew First knew, you were absolutely sure Sky was aware as the one who held the Sword that Seals Darkness the most, and that Four was onto you whenever you leaned somewhere nearby where his shade was cast.

Given as none of them called you out on it, you didn’t see any reason to stop.

(You couldn’t hear Fi the way they could, couldn’t tell the subtle shifts in the shadows under warm firelight the way Four had grown used to as Vio, but some times, you swore you could listen to an accompanying chime in duet, or catch the glimpse of the mirage of a smile

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.)

[slimslamflimflam]

I want everyone to know that Koichi is canonically taller than me while being the size of a small chihuahua compared to literally anyone and everyone else

[onychespherein]

take my lungs

The person in the mirror looked wretched.

Hair all over the place, disheveled and sticking to his sweaty forehead. It had a greasy look to it, like it hasn't been washed properly in a while. Maybe it wasn't. Honestly, he couldn't remember. He felt like a wraith, a brittle shadow of his old self. Looked like it, too. Wide-eyed, with an ill gleam in the purple irises, glassy with tears; an ashen face with an unhealthy flush to the pale skin and a streak of blood running down from the trembling lips.

Yeah, Scaramouche was a wreck.

Another drop of crimson fell to the sink, lost in the small puddle of the similar ones with an unheard, silent drip. Scaramouche lurched forward when another coughing fit took over his body. He chocked on his own saliva and blood, his whole body trembling violently as something tried to force its way up his throat. He hated this, he hated this so much. His grip on the sink tightened painfully, muscles tensing one last time as the thing finally left his gullet. Or maybe the windpipe, whatever, he wasn't a fucking biologist.

He could feel it moving inside him, spreading like a disease, a parasitic lifeform alien and harmful to his organism. A cancer of sorts, perhaps. It weighted heavily on his chest, curled around his ribs and sprouting roots deep in his veins. It scratched his throat with its thorns every time he was thrown into a coughing fit after another, the teen was convinced that if he dared to look he'd find marks inside his mouth not unlike those left by a clawed animal. He didn't, too much of a coward, so instead Scaramouche chocked and spat flower petals mixed with blood and tried to breathe around the invader inside his lungs.

It was pathetic, really, how low he's had fallen. The way he's subjecting himself to this torture, perhaps as some punishment for even daring to sprout such feelings in the first place ─ truly disgusting. Scaramouche felt so sickened by it he might have puked, but as it was his throat was far too abused to stand it. He didn't want to find out how bile feels on fresh cuts.

Gods, how could one become more pitiful than that? Scaramouche didn't want to know that either, not really. Or perhaps he did. Maybe he'd feel less repulsed by himself if he knew, or maybe the opposite ─ maybe he'd be disgusted that he had ever needed such a reassurance, that he wasn't the most pathetic person to walk this earth. Who knows?

Feeling the spasming cease and the flowers settling beneath his skin once more, Scaramouche brought a trembling hand up to his mouth. The blood felt sticky under his fingers, wet and revolting ─ it almost made him bend forward again, this time to vomit not petals but the last meal he's had. The teen lowered his hand as if it burned him, smearing the blood on his chin in his haste. He gripped the sink with stained fingers like a lifeline, as if it would stop the tremors. The large eyes looked crazed in their reflection.

Fitting. Scaramouche did feel like he was losing his mind.

The teen closed his eyes, leaning his forehead, burning with fever, against the cool surface of the mirror. He took a deep breath, slowly inhaling the air he so desperately needed and lacked. The abomination inside his chest squirmed in protest, threatening to spill over the stained porcelain again. It did that often. It thrashed the worst when he laughed, twisting and clawing at his flesh like a feral animal, offended by his happiness. Because how could he? How could he feel it, how could he be happy? How dare he, when it was there, spread inside his vile veins, roots digging into the foul flesh? It was there to punish him for his depraved feelings; it was there to make him squirm in agony; it was there to make him regret this, regret not pulling that goddamn trigger when he had a chance; it was there, it was there, it was there, so how dare he?

And Scaramouche could barely breathe, amusement quickly turning into muffled, wretched sobs as he heaved out another portion of the poison invading his system. The last time he smiled without pain racking his whole body was months ago, before the disease took root inside of him. The flowers did not like it when he was happy. It loved to see him in pain.

He opened his eyes again. Well, too fucking bad for it because Scaramouche didn't plan on letting it win. He wasn't going to give that rotten parasite satisfaction of hearing him scream, of breaking him. (And what did it speak for his sanity, that he's started to think of it as a sentient being? What did it speak for the disease, itself?) With a sneer on his face, Scaramouche turned on the water and washed away the evidence of the sickness from his body and sink. Soon, the frankly disgusting bile of tattered petals attached through a mix of dark blood and saliva went down the pipes, never to be seen again. Or, at least, not until the boy has another attack. Either way was fine. Not.

Breathing hurt. It was nothing new, it's been painful for months now. The chest pains were horrible, the coughing fits even worse ─ the worst, however, would be the flowers. They squirmed and moved under his skin, deep in his throat, with every breath he took. They twisted and turned, always in motion, roots digging and digging deeper and deeper into his flesh and blood, curling around his bones like vines do around fences, and Scaramouche loathed every second of it.

He splashed his face with the cold water. Don't think about it.

He turned off the water and dried himself up. Just don't think about it.

A deep breath; the strong grip around his chest tightening.

Don't think about them.

Exiting the bathroom, Scaramouche wiped his mouth once again and, perhaps hysterically, thought of what would finish him first. The flowers tearing his lungs apart, or he himself? He snorted, self-deprecating and no trace of humour in it.

Roses. How cliché.