#also I guess maybe I should give that fic more than just a tags post

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[sadaveniren]

I don’t know how many people who follow me follow me for my writing (which I haven’t done for a few years now) or otherwise but if you don’t know I began my journey in this fandom as a fic writer.

The first fic I started posting was called An Illusion in Time. I began referring to it lovingly as my eternal WIP because in the middle of writing it Zayn left the band and I had a lot of mixed feelings about that, especially for the role Zayn was going to play in the fic. I’ve always been kinda vague about the ending because I do know what the ending is, so I never wanted to spoil it for people since the goal always was to finish it.

I’m ngl my guys. With Liam dead that’s…. Not looking likely.

But the previous post I just reblogged actually captured exactly how that fic was going to end. So for the people who loved that fic and were always curious where it was going (I’m thinking of one reader in particular who always tried to guess what was happening) this is for you 🫶🏻

For those unfamiliar with the fic and don’t want to trod through 105k of some of my most self-indulgent writing the skinny of it are Harry and Louis from January 2010 show up in Louis and Harry’s house in January 2015. They get a glimpse of the celebrity life (I was having them stay at OTRA until that break that they had in the beginning of March) and then they wake up back in January 2010. And yes, what got them put back in the past was going to be a past and future Harry/Louis foursome. That was literally the initial point of the fic 🤣

But once they got BACK to the past the question is where would they go from there? I never ended up writing the scene but at the present point in the fic baby Harry and Louis don’t actually know the truth of their lives. They think they are together and that’s that. But - not sure it popped through - I was laying the seeds that they were in Our Present. There was Eleanor. There was man whore Harry. And there was going to be a scene in one of the upcoming chapters where baby Harry finds out about Eleanor from fans in a coffee shop - has an absolute fucking meltdown - screaming, tantrum, you name it. He’s 15, he believes he’s met his soulmate and seen his future and that his future is good and it turns out it’s all a lie. Future Louis and Future Harry have been lying to him. It culminates in him (and Baby Louis) having Zayn tattoo something small on their inner wrists - thus (unknown to everyone) setting up to fully separate the timelines for good.

So when they go back and wake up they still have those tattoos and the knowledge of what happens. And they ultimately decide to change their destiny. In the final chapters they would have auditioned as a teen gay duo, and because fixed points in time still happen, 1D would have been put together ultimately but the band wouldn’t have become what it was. Because in that world they were openly together when the band started. They couldn’t be put back into a box. So 1D becomes like … B level famous in England, and Europe, and Asia, and South America, and they get richer than they ever imagined they could but it’s not the same level of fame. They had changed their path.

And then the epilogue would come, set in Baby Harry and Louis’ January 2015. And Future Harry and Louis from 2020 come back, and they both see what the babies made for themselves. And they are both … so happy for them but so tired. And it’s never explicitly stated in the fic but yeah - future Harry and Louis are still OUR Harry and Louis. They’re together, they’re happy, but it’s hollow. They’ve lost so much. And the babies haven’t. The juxtaposition would have been beautiful.

And then they would have had another foursome but this time Future Louis cries a lot 🤷🏼‍♀️ because I’m basic and like … hello that’s the point.

Anyway. Sorry for anyone who has been waiting for that fic to finish getting “spoiled” or whatever. Hope this is cathartic in some ways. Or not.

[bokunoheros]

LIPSTICK STAINS & MIRRORS

CHARACTER: SHOUTO TODOROKI

GENRE: FLUFF, SMUT

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but written to be afab (shouto calls you princess once), reader is implied to be shorter than shouto, y’all are like 20+, married and live together, mirror sex, kissing, so much kissing, i love kissing, oral (m. receiving), fingering (reader receiving),  inappropriate quirk usage (temperature play), shouto is a tease but in a loving manner, cervix kissing, chair sex, riding (reverse cowgirl), cumming inside, and aftercare, also kinda lazy ending?? bc i stayed up til 10am finishing this and wanna be done so bad

SUMMARY: you just ordered a bunch of new lipgloss and can’t wait to try it out — subsequently, your husband thinks you look beautiful, but doesn’t know how to verbalize it. 

WORD COUNT: 7.7K

🦊’s A/N: this wasn’t actually going to be the first fic i posted here, but i DID just get a bunch of lipgloss i've waited a week and a half for, and would love to do the following <3 anyway shoutout judydoll they didn’t sponsor this but i wish they would. // also i pulled like two all-nighters writing this so i’m sorry if it like. starts unraveling a lil at the end i didnt actually proofread this god bless everyone thank you for giving this fic a chance

you had just ordered a bunch of new lipgloss you’d gotten in a buy 2 get 1 free sale, and it had finally come in the mail! after squealing excitedly and startling your poor husband, and highschool sweetheart, you quickly ran up to your shared bedroom and sat down in front of your vanity. fumbling with the box for a second, you get up to grab a pair of scissors from the bathroom before using one blade to cut through the packaging tape sealing the contents inside away. 

once you’d managed to get your greedy little hands on the new products is around the same time shouto had wandered into the bedroom, where he stood leaning against the door frame, watching as you excitedly looked down at your lipstick and wondered which one to try on first.

hm……. maybe the more natural looking color instead of the red..? probably, since it's less likely to leave a stain, you think to yourself, oblivious to your husband's presence — until you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, that is. 

“oh! shouto, just in time,” you grin, waving him over. “which one do you think i should try first?” you ask, knowing he had always shown an interest in the process of how you did your makeup. not that he had actually verbalized said interest, rather, it was something you noticed while you were still in highschool. after months into the actual relationship, you two had finally had sex and you had stayed the night at his house. once this became an almost routine of sorts, you'd begin bringing stuff to stay overnight, and get ready for class in the morning, including a few makeup palettes. and so, shouto slowly took an interest in the way in which you’d do your makeup — be it just some eyeshadow/liner, or a fully beat face, he found it to be so…..interesting. 

that being said, the youngest of the todoroki family takes a step towards you and away from the doorframe to look down at the lipsticks in your hands and picks the one in the shiny silver, almost holographic, tube and says this one. 

huh, what do you know? he had picked the lipstain! guess it’s meant to be, then.

untwisting the cap, you shift in your seat slightly to better face the mirror as you pull the wand from the bottle, and find yourself face to face with the applicator you had been tweaking over for what felt like ever — a nice, smooth, iron tip! one of a kind, really, as you had never seen anything like it before! looking into the mirror, your gaze lingers on shouto for but a moment before focusing on your own lips and applying the stained lipgloss evenly — and then one more coat for good measure. 

“what do you think?” you ask sweetly, turning around in your seat to face him.

what he thinks? obviously, he thinks you look stunningly, jaw droppingly gorgeous regardless of what you’re wearing, or if you have makeup on or not (save for the times you’ve ugly cried around him…), but god…. he can’t ignore the way his body suddenly feels flushed as he looks at your lips and the red-ish color currently staining them.

“i think — it looks nice,” he says simply as he takes a few steps closer to you, up until he’s directly behind your vanity chair and planting his hands on the back of it.

“just… nice?” your voice comes out softer than normal, and you sound audibly disappointed. at this, shouto begins to internally panic as he thinks of a way to get his admiration.

“very nice,” he corrects quickly, and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle at how rushed he sounded — you understood that your husband wasn’t exactly a stellar wordsmith, so you weren’t actually too upset with him.

“that’s it?” this time, you sound much more lighthearted, as you raise a brow at him and watch him speedrun the five stages of grief through his expressions and slight body language.

“....i think, you look very lovely,” he’s finally able to vocalize. even after all this time, he still got somewhat bashful when complimenting you — it wasn’t his fault! you just happened to render him speechless and left his dick hard every time you did anything! fuck… how should he go about this? maybe he should just show you what he thinks? yes…. that should work. 

“stand up,” he says all of a sudden — he didn’t sound demanding or rude or anything, but there was a certain firmness to his voice that had you obeying without a second thought. without a moment of hesitation, shouto steps around to the side of the chair so he’s standing almost in front of you, and plants his large, calloused hands on your hips.

“shouto….” your voice comes out as a mere whisper as he pulls you closer toward him, left hand coming to cup your cheek as you look up at him.

“hm?” is all you get in reply as he leans in to kiss you tenderly.

tilting his head slightly to the side, he slots his lips over your painted ones in hopes of properly conveying his feelings on how he thinks you look. truthfully, as embarrassing as it may be, shouto wishes you’d put some lipstick on him so he could kiss you all over and leave a physical mark as you so often did to him. maybe one day he would have to sneak some of your lipgloss for himself to surprise you with? perchance… (you can’t just say perchance!) that being said, he takes advantage of the lipstick you’re currently wearing and hopes it transfers onto his lips. 

and just like that, you’ve forgotten all about your new lipstick, or anything that wasn’t your husband, really. when you first met him, it was a little difficult to imagine shouto todoroki as a good kisser, and it was kinda true initially!, but after a little guidance and experience, he very quickly got the hang of it and used his newfound skills to turn you into nothing more than a panting mess.

swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips, he pulls away with a slight grin just as you part them for him.

“hey…..” you whine. “that’s not fair.” 

“what isn’t?” he asks in a way that would’ve made you think he was playing dumb if he wasn’t….. well, like the way he was. you know your husband well enough to know that he was asking an earnest question, as he often teased you without meaning to or being aware of it.

“just… kiss me again, …please?” you ask in such a saccharine voice, shouto finds himself unable to resist for even a moment as he eagerly leans back in for another kiss.

god…. he was just so fucking weak when it came to You. he could never tell you no or deny you of what you asked for — hell, the first time you asked if you could kiss him (when he was still a kissless virgin), he accidentally bonked his head against yours in trying to copy the way you tilted your head to the side. …only, he had tilted his in the same direction as you, making for a very awkward, very laughable (but memorable) first kiss.

“mmh,” he hums quietly, pleasurably, as his lips work against yours — gently and tenderly, full of nothing but adoration for you, his sweet spouse. 

there just truly weren’t enough words in the world for shouto to describe his affections for you, so instead, he often took to showing you exactly how he felt; more often than not, this led to fleeting but heated kisses throughout the day that left you on your toes and wanting for more. jesus, did he even realize the effect he had on you? (he did Nawt.) 

this time, it was you to take the initiative to swipe your tongue over his plump lower lip before nibbling on it lightly and sucking it into your mouth. at this, the softest little moan slips past shouto’s throat at the feeling and he pulls you closer to him, so much so that your chest was now flush against his as the hand on your cheek leaves a cooling sensation against your flushed skin. 

releasing his lip with a wet, almost schliiick kind of noise, you go to pull away from the kiss, just as he had done earlier, just to find the hand on your cheek had shifted to cradle the back of your head, and the hand on your hip had turned into an arm wrapped tightly around your waist as shouto’s tongue manages to slip into your open mouth.

you can’t help but giggle at the almost ticklish feeling of the wet muscle running around the inside of your cheeks before his tongue is suddenly ice cold and you’re squealing and trying to push him away.

“shouto!” you cry with no real irritation or upsetness — all he had done was catch you off-guard, really. okay, so maybe he could tease you on purpose every now and then..! it just wasn’t often that he did such a thing! he was typically kind of oblivious to a lot of things — not that it was his fault or anything; he hadn’t exactly grown up with the best social cues or …. uhm. family, in general, really….. (touya and enji i’m looking at you). 

“yeah?” he breathes, looking down at you with stars in his eyes.

“what was that about?” you ask, trying to steady your breathing, chest heaving slightly as your hands find their way up to his chest, where they rest on his boo—well defined and muscled pecs. 

“what was what about?” he echoes, tilting his head, actually playing dumb this time—he knew damn well what he had done this time around, and he couldn’t contain the little smile that tugged at the corners of his plump and almost pouty lips. he loved using his quirk to tease you — given, he’d been extremely hesitant about it at first, worried he might hurt you, or somehow cause some kind of permanent damage. thankfully, as the years went by, he gradually warmed up to it, and now? he couldn’t get enough of your reactions! like when he was fingering you, and suddenly his hand started to get a little too hot, or a little too cold, depending on which one he was using; it wasn’t enough to actually hurt or cause any damage, just some mild discomfort turned to pleasure once you got used to the feeling. and sometimes, whenever you let him cum inside or somewhere on you, his cum felt hotter than it should — sure, yeah, cum is warm, but…. his was just hot! it didn’t scald or anything, but it was definitely an added sensation that wouldn’t be possible without his quirk.

“you know what..!” is what you would have said had shouto not leaned in to kiss you again—effectively cutting you off and rendering you speechless. so maybe he knew he was a good kisser; he was highly observant after all, and would have to be a moron to not realize that he at least left you breathless every time! sure, he didn’t realize the full extent of the effect he had on you, but… partially aware is better than completely oblivious, right? 

this time as you two kiss, the hand cradling your head moves back down to your hip, and before you know it, he’s picking you up and sitting himself down in the chair you were previously sitting on not too long ago. 

“ah–!” you gasp at the sudden movement and change in position. now straddling his lap, with your back to the mirror, shouto begins trailing kisses down to your jawline and then the column of your neck. now, your husband wasn’t a particularly sloppy kisser. no, more often than not, he was very put together in almost every aspect of his life, and the bedroom was no exception. well, save for the occasions shouto just simply could not contain himself, and it was beginning to seem like one of those situations as he runs his freezing tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck, causing goosebumps to form as he nibbles at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. 

“sho–shouto—,” you breathe as he peppers kisses over your tender flesh. it had taken him a long while to be able to show affection so freely, and even now, he still had some trouble, but compared to the todoroki you knew in high school, he had improved by leaps and bounds! 

your husband merely ignores your soft cry of his name—his dick doesn’t, though, and you can even feel it start to twitch to life beneath you. fuck. all you had done was put on a little lipstick, and?? now your husband was glued to your neck, nipping and biting along the way, even stopping in a couple places to suck against the skin there in order to leave a couple hickies! 

“don’t tease,” you try to chide him, but it comes off weak and a little pathetic sounding as shouto finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and takes full advantage of it. jesus christ! his tongue was so cold!! it was such a contrast to the heat of his breath, you couldn’t help but pant at the feeling. 

“‘m not,” is the only thing he says, it was more of a mumble, really, as he bites down harder than he had previously, and you can’t help the squeal that leaves you as his teeth sink into your skin.

“shouto!” if you didn’t know any better, or if you had married someone more… aggressive (katsuki)...., you might have thought your husband had drawn blood — he didn’t, obviously, as he would never intentionally hurt you, but he did like to toe the line of pleasure and pain often enough to keep you on your toes, just enough pain for it to be able to bleed into an acquired type of pleasure.

“yeah?” he all but hums in response, sounding pleased with himself.

he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, however, as he quickly pulls away from your neck to plant another heated kiss to your glossy lips. it doesn’t last very long, though, as he pulls away just far enough to look at you properly, and his eyes widen when he sees the way your lipstick had been smudged and it had spread slightly down to your neck (it was more like lightly red-colored patches in the shape of his lips peppered vaguely over your flesh). 

“will you put on some more lipstick?” he suddenly asks, sounding out of breath.

giggling quietly at his request, you nod and oblige, shifting to turn around on his lap so that your back was against his chest, and your ass against his steadily growing erection. grabbing the tube of lipstick from your vanity, you untwist the cap and begin to apply more, focusing wholly on your lips during the process, completely missing the way shouto was eyeing you in the mirror.

after putting the cap back on and setting the silver bottle full of what felt watery liquid when you put it on, but wasn’t actually, back down on your vanity’s surface, you tilt your head to face your husband, who had wrapped his arms around your waist while you had been applying the aforementioned beauty product, and smile at him.

“better?” you wonder aloud, knowing it was much better indeed.

“mhmm,” he hums sweetly, one hand coming up to all but squish your cheeks, just without the pressure, to better tilt your head towards him as he himself leans in for yet another kiss. you swear, the first time you kissed shouto, a switch flipped in that poor boy’s brain, because ever since then, he’s been addicted to them like they’re crack—he needs your kisses the same way he needs oxygen to breathe or a therapist for his generations of trauma stuffed into a single, incomplete lifetime. (please….. please, go to group therapy with the rest of 1-a, i’m begging.) 

shouto can’t help but smile against your lips as he pulls you flush against his chest and rolls his hips, and consequently, his hard-on, up against your ass. neither of you can contain the whimper or little gasp that slips past your throats, nor can you help the way one of your hands comes up to thread itself into his peppermint-colored hair as you part your lips needily, trying to shift around in his firm grasp. 

despite the quality of your lipstick, it still transferred partially onto his lips, simply due to how fresh the coat was, not that your husband minds. he’d revel in the way he’d get to smear lipstick over your body, and — pause. his hands suddenly find themselves planted on your hips as he manhandles you to face him again, and meets your gaze for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead. but in that moment, you could see all the love and admiration in the world swirling around in his beautifully mismatched eyes, and you couldn’t control the wide-ass smile that had spread across your face—so wide, in fact, your cheeks hurt. even though it was such a simple action, you could truly feel his love for you in everything that he did. 

“i love you—so much, y’know,” you practically coo, hands moving to cup his flushed cheeks as you simply just look at the man you had married. goddamn! he was so beautiful! taking in all the fine details of his face, you notice the faintest little dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and the way even his eyebrows, and even his awfully long lashes (he got them from his mother), are different colors. his perfectly plump and pouty lips to match his overall softer facial features. how could anybody be so perfect-looking? it was just simply unfair! even with his ice burn scar and somewhat sparse left eyebrow growth, it didn’t change a thing in your eyes. 

shouto feels his heart flutter at your words, and his grin stretches to be almost uncharacteristically wide as his hands shift lower on your hips, closer to your upper thighs, and his thumbs begin rubbing tender circles against the plush flesh there. 

“i — love you more,” he whispers back. the words sound shy coming from him, but you can tell he means his words. you may have fallen first, but shouto fell harder. his smile softens a bit as his hands move up to cup your cheeks tenderly before pressing another kiss to your painted lips. god. he truly could not believe how lucky he was to have you — you, who brought him out of his shell back in highschool, you who showed him love can be tender and soft, you who taught him how to let love into his heart. 

now, it was shouto’s turn to show you just how much he loved you.

sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, he lets out a soft hum as he grips your thighs before sliding his hands slowly upwards and up under the t-shirt you wore—it was his, actually!—and over your bare ribcage. you can’t help the goosebumps that broke out over your skin at the feeling of his calloused hands against your much softer flesh, nor the chill that runs down your spine and causes your nipples to stiffen under the thin fabric—especially with the way he begins to palm and grope at your tits. 

“mmnh,” you hum at the temperature difference of his rough hands, and let out a soft moan when it increases drastically all of a sudden, your right nipple freezing cold and the left a little too hot for comfort—even your body was unsure of how to react to such a feeling, but it sure does send a throb down to your clit, and you can feel a damp spot begin to form in the seat of your panties, which is all you happened to be wearing under your stolen shirt.

“shouto, please,” you whine, squirming around on his lap, and dragging your thinly clothed cunt over the erection in his stupid grey sweatpants that always drove you crazy. 

“please what, love?” he asks, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. 

“god…. just— fuck me,” is all your able to get out, but, lucky for you, your husband has something even better in mind than just that. sure, he couldn’t wait to get his dick wet—to feel the way your cunt wraps around his sensitive tip—god, he can feel himself leak pre-cum like he’s some excited teenager again, and he groans at the nature of your request.

“mm, …not yet,” he smirks, and, before he’s even processed what he himself is doing, he had already licked an embarrassingly hot stripe up the length of your neck.

“shouto!” you squeal. “what was that for?!” 

“felt like it,” he replies simply before attaching his full lips to your neck once more, where he began nipping and nibbling at all your most tender spots, before he finds your sweet spot and bites down particularly hard and begins suckling against the skin there, determined to leave a mark of sorts. now, while shouto was not one to leave marks in obvious places—he was perfectly content with marking you in places only he could see—he just couldn't help himself for some reason..! maybe it was because he was feeling rather bold at the moment, or because he couldn't get enough of the sweet, quiet noises you were making as he nipped and sucked at your flesh until you were sure the skin was raw. 

“sho—” you can’t help but wiggle in his lap, cunt grazing over his erection. when he groans at your actions, you repeat your actions, rolling your hips down against his as he marks your neck up in pretty blue and purple and reddish hues. 

suddenly, an idea pops into your mind, and you find yourself melting off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs, eager hands reaching to unbuckle his leather belt and pull it off of him. 

“wh–what’re you doing, baby?” shouto finds himself breathless with a flushed face as you begin to unbutton his pants and tug down the zipper, exposing his all-too-tight black boxers and the wet spot that had formed on them. you only grin and lick your lips at the sight, of course, eager to get your husband’s perfect cock in your mouth.

“what’s it look ‘m doin’, huh?” you look up at him with big wet eyes and pouty red lips. “now lift your hips f’me,” you instruct him, and he does as told, so you can tug his pants and boxers down in one swift go.

shouto hisses as his sensitive tip comes into contact with the cool air of the bedroom, and he looks down at you a little embarrassedly, biting as lower lip as you kissed his swollen and flushed head before taking it slowly into your mouth. 

“ah–!” your husband moans as you suckle around his mushroom-headed tip and he can’t help the way one large hand falls down to rest on top of your head, long fingers burying themselves into your hair as he begins to set a moderate pace for you to bob your head. unfortunately, poor shouto still had trouble controlling his reactions whenever you gave him head — your mouth and tongue were simply too skilled for your own good! for his own good! 

tilting his head back to look at the ceiling instead of you, in an attempt to not bust too early, he catches a glimpse of the lewd sight in the mirror and—oh god. his dick fucking twitches and he feels an embarrassing amount of pre-cum leak from his sticky tip and into your hot mouth. 

“jesus christ—fuck,” your husband groans—it wasn’t too often that he swore, only when he was especially mad, passionate, or, in this case, especially horny. “take it easy, honey—please,” he whines, hand gripping your hair tighter, forcing your head further down his thick length despite his contradictory words. you pay his actions no mind, however, only doing your best to suppress your gag reflex and hollow your cheeks out around him before swallowing thickly; you even went as far as to deepthroat him all the way, uncaring of the way drool seeped past your lips and all around the base of his cock. swallowing around him again once his leaky tip hits the back of your throat, and shouto’s hand grips your hair a little too tightly—not that you minded in the moment. if anything, it made your pussy throb. as did the way he was panting and moaning softly above you. god…… his little noises were absolutely divine and each and every one sent a jolt to your clit. 

much to his embarrassment, shouto is surprisingly noisy in bed — not exactly loud per se, but certainly unable to contain all his little huffs, puffs, and soft moans and quiet groans. but it wasn’t like it was his fault! how exactly was he supposed to stay quiet when you’re making him feel so damn good? jesus, it wasn’t fair! for him, anyway; for you, his sweet sounds only made you all the more hot and bothered. 

his gaze falls down to meet yours, and then further down to his dick and the way your glossy lips wrapped around it and the fucking lipstick stains you were leaving around him. how was he meant to last like this? (here’s a hint: he wasn’t!) 

pushing against his hand for a moment, he lessens his grip as you pull off him with a sickening schliiickk noise and wrap one hand around his base as you pant for air, looking up at him with doe-like eyes. 

“shouto?”

“yeah?” his heart is pounding and he bites his lip as he looks down at your flushed face that now had a thin sheen of sweat over it, and he feels almost ashamed for the way he immediately craves your mouth back around him.

“i want you to cum in my mouth, okay?” you tell him with a soft smile, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before taking him into your mouth once again, all the way down until your nose was flush against his mix-matched pubic hair and you had to actively breathe through your nose so you didn’t hurl. shallowly beginning to bob your head, your tongue laves over the underside of his veiny cock as the hand previously wrapped around him moves to cup his balls, fondling them softly before giving them a gentle squeeze.

“oh—sweetheart,” he moans, dick twitching violently in your mouth. “don’t stop,” he all but begs you, rolling his hips up, forcing himself further down your throat. you actually do gag at this, but are able to swallow most of your excessive drool down, only some of it spilling over and out of your mouth and onto to your husband’s dick, mixing beautifully with your lipstick stains, and poor todoroki groans at both the sight and feeling.

all it takes is a few more bobs of your head and another squeeze to his balls before they’re tightening and suddenly he’s cumming down your throat—just like you had asked him to. god, he swears you’ll be the death of him!

swallowing around his awfully sensitive length one final time, both to tease him and get his cum down, you pull off of him with another disgustingly wet noise before looking up at him oh-so-sweetly.

the hand that wasn’t still fondling his balls comes to wrap around his dick, pumping it slowly as you press a little kiss to his flushed and shiny tip, licking it playfully and swirling your tongue around it for a moment before you actually stopped teasing his cock with your mouth and just with your hand.

“baby, please—” his voice is uncharacteristically whiney and his hips buck up into your grasp. despite his natural temperature regulation due to his quirk, shouto finds his entire body feeling hot, so hot, thanks to your delicate touch. “just—ah!” he moans softly as your hand begins moving up and down his shaft slowly, moving up and up until you could place your thumb over the slit of his red and swollen head and run it over the horribly sensitive spot. 

“god–damn, sweetheart—give me a moment, please,” he begs you, hips bucking upwards as his cock twitches simultaneously. shouto feels like he’s losing his mind as you pump his oversensitive length and he has to keep his eyes away from the mirror lest he nut again—no, the next time he came today, it would be inside you, his beautiful fucking spouse. “just let me breathe.” one of his large hands comes up to run through his hair and push his bangs out of his face just for them to fall right back in place once it exits his hair. 

with a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you blow a puff of cold air over his cockhead and let out a playful okay. 

“i guess,” you giggle, looking up at him from your spot on the floor. it’s true that your knees were starting to get a little sore, but you figured you were basically done anyway, so, naturally, you went to stand—just for shouto’s massive hands to land on your hips, up under your shirt, and turn you around so that you’re facing the mirror before tugging your panties down to your now reddened knees in one swift movement.

pulling you onto his lap, his painfully hard cock pressed into the crack of your ass, you whine and squirm in your husband’s strong grasp.

“b-baby?” you sound audibly confused and shouto can’t help but smile at your reaction as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“shh,” he hushes you gently, one hand coming down between your legs to stop and rest on your clit. 

“sho-shouto,” you can’t help but whine as he applies a slow but firm pressure to your achy bundle of nerves, gently starting to trace teasing circles over it.

“can’t i make you feel good, too?” he whispers into your ear, catching your gaze in the mirror. his heterochromatic eyes are glued to the reflection of yours and you feel a chill run down your spine as he nuzzles his nose against your neck as his middle finger dips down to your dripping slit before bringing it back up to rub against your pulsing clit.

“ah!” an airy breath escapes you and your back arches at his calloused touch. “fuck,” you hiss as he begins pressing soft kisses to the already brusing flesh of your neck and finger moves with experience over your slick button. 

the first several times you two slept together, shouto was rather shy, and not particularly bold — always scared he was going to hurt you somehow or fuck up your pleasure, and then you’d want nothing to do with him; so it took a bit of instruction and teaching him what it is you do and don’t like, but shouto, ever the fast learner, quickly caught on and figured out what exactly he had to do and how he had to do it in order for you to feel good. 

“that’s what i like to hear,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you, nibbling on the lobe of your ear before blowing a puff of cold air onto it. todoroki could never get enough of the noises you made — the same way you couldn’t get enough of his whimpers and whines — and would do anything in his power to elicit such sweet sounds from you.

“sh-shut up,” is all you’re able to get out, unable to think as he brings his middle finger back down to your slit and actually inserts it into you this time — fingering you in the lightest, most teasing manner possible, while he heats up his hand, his right arm wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place.

shouto just chuckles at your poor attempt at a quip as he licks a chilly stripe up the column of your neck, causing you to shiver as a devious grin stretches over your husband’s usually sweet face. 

“oh, honey,” his voice is low and deep and admittedly makes your pussy clench around the single finger stuffed in it — god, you wish he’d add a second or third to actually stretch you out. and, almost as if he had read your thoughts, shouto curls his finger inside of you before pulling it out about halfway so he could slide another in until—he just stops, one finger half way in you with the tip of another barely poking at your entrance. 

“sho–shouto?” you all but whine, hips wiggling futilely, wishing he’d just scissor your cunt open already!

“look in the mirror,” he commands softly. nodding hesitantly, you reluctantly look at your reflection and take in the lewdness of the scene: shouto had your legs spread out over his, keeping them open by borderline entwining your lower legs with his, with his thick ring and middle fingers positioned against your cunt, and his chin now resting on your shoulder, piercing gaze capturing your own. 

as he finally begins easing his ring finger into along with the one already in there, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, and just like that, any movement stops.

“i didn’t tell you to close your eyes,” he mutters, right hand coming up to slip under your shirt and pinch a nipple. 

“ah! ‘m sorry!” your eyes immediately fly open as you try to focus your gaze on the sight in front of you as shouto’s fingers get progressively hotter the further they slip into you, and suddenly—you were burning from the inside out!

“mmh, shouto….” you whine, one hand coming up to tangle into his hair, giving it a light tug. 

your husband merely ignores you as he focuses on pleasing you instead; curling his all too hot fingers at just the right angle, spreading them apart to scissor your pretty pussy, his eyes trained on your reflection and each little way you react to his touch—the way you flinch and try to close your legs, just for him to effortlessly prevent this by spreading his a little wider. god; he had learned to be a little too good at this for your own good. 

“nngh—, c’mon baby, don’ be a tease,” is all you’re able to get out as your husband takes his goddamn time fingering you; this couldn’t even be considered as finger-fucking! the feeling of the calloused pads of his heated fingertips rubbing against your already hot inner walls as he pumps them slowly—your internal temperature felt like it was skyrocketing, when in reality, it was only one or two degrees higher, something shouto could easily remedy should he switch hands. 

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about, lovely,” he smiles gently, beginning to pepper kisses along your neck once more. fuck, you coudn’t stand when he played dumb like that — he had to have known what he was doing!! (and he did! that just wasn’t for you to know.) “if there’s something you want…. then you’ll have to ask for it directly, my dear,” he tells you cheekily, and you can physically feel his smile against your skin as he begins to suck against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

god! damn him! 

“f-faster,” you whine, wiggling and rolling your hips against his slow moving fingers, just for shouto to pull them nearly all the way out of you. “sh–shouto! goddammit! please don’t tease me!” you plead, eyes beginning to lightly water over out of sheer frustration. tugging at his hair, you try to twist around enough to give him another kiss — just for him to avoid your lips, too!

“uh-uh,” he chides, his freezing free hand pinching one of your nipples, and you gasp louder than you would have liked to at the feeling. “watch yourself in the mirror ‘n ask nicely and you can have anything you want, princess,” shouto says softly, physically unable to stop smiling. sure, most of the time, his teasing was truly unintentional, the other half of the time (a little less than half, really, it was closer to 60/40) was completely on purpose, as hearing you whine his name or for him to touch you never failed to turn him on or bring a somewhat sadistic smile to his usually stoic face. 

nodding, you refocus your attention onto the large vanity mirror, with the chair scooted far back enough so you could clearly see his fingers buried in your glistening cunt, and you physically can’t control the whimper that slips past your throat as his index and pinky fingers move to spread your slick folds apart so you could get a better view of what shouto thought was the most perfect pussy in the world—ever since you’d first had sex (despite his initial nerves), he had quickly grown addicted to the feeling of your cunt wrapped oh-so-snuggly around him. 

finally, your husband finally began to finger you in earnest, crooking his fingers in such a delicious way so deep inside you��much further than your own fingers could ever reach, anyway—and suddenly you wish it was his dick filling you up, not just his fingers..! unbeknownst to you, this was both shouto’s brief way of giving his sensitive cock a rest so he could fuck you properly without creaming too early and making sure you’d get to cum twice, too.

“you’re so tense,” his voice has a saccharine lilt to it, and you feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as he watches the way his fingers pump in and out of you, and he can feel his length twitch and drool pre as he imagines your cunt fluttering around his dick instead of his fingers.

“‘s not my fault—you’re not exactly making it easy f’me to relax,” you complain, shifting around in his grip as you give his hair a light tug. 

“oh? i’m not?” his gentle smile stretches into a shit eating grin as he slides his fingers out of you entirely before bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick your slick off the digits that had been nearly knuckle-deep inside you less than a moment ago, except—he only sucks off his ring finger, leaving the middle one for you to suck on instead, bringing it up to your plump, glossy lips whilst softly telling you to open your mouth. of course, you obeyed without a second thought, happily, and almost hazily, swirling your tongue around his finger in a similar manner you had done with his cock. the action reminded shouto of such, and he lets out a quiet groan at the feeling.

“mmh,” you hum pleasantly around the digit that was pressing down lightly against your tongue. you weren’t too pleased, however, about the lack of stimulation your pussy was receiving, and you decided to make this known to your husband.

catching his eye in the mirror, you let out a little whine and wrap both your hands around his thick wrist as you purposely let the drool in your mouth build up so it begins to seep down his hand and slowly trickle onto his forearm. 

“baby, please. please just fuck me,” you mumble, tugging on his wrist to pull his calloused, slick finger from you spit-soaked mouth. 

shouto really was planning to finger you to an orgasm, honest, but—when you asked so sweetly, he just couldn’t say no to you!

“fuck,” he groans, both hands quickly settling onto your hips in order to lift you enough to align your soaked slit with his flushed and achy cock. “y’know i can’t tell you no when you ask like that,” he says before letting you slowly sink all the way to the base. 

“you feel so good,” he groans out as your puffy pussy wraps around him tightly.

“s–so do you,” you whine out, feeling his head kiss the entrance to your cervix. jesus christ, how was it possible to hit so deep? “s-so, so good,” you tell him, trying to look at the two of you in the mirror and the way your cunt envelopes him and—it’s just too embarrassing to look at! 

squirming in his grasp, you try to turn around to better face him so you could plant a kiss to his plump lips. shouto, however, simply uses one large hand to squish your cheeks and hold your face in place to watch as he lazily fucks up into in the mirror. no matter how bad he wanted to kiss you (that would have to come (cum) after you), he just enjoyed that flustered look on your face too much to not indulge in it! besides, he was always so sweet to you, he’s sure you can handle some light teasing. 

“aa–ahh! sh-shouto! fuck!” you cry as he begins bouncing you up and down his needy dick. you whimper at the way he throbs inside you and your cunt clenches tightly around him—making your husband groan loudly too. “sho–!” it’s all you can do to look into the mirror at the lewd sight, and embarrassingly enough, it only serves to turn you on even more.

“hmm?” it’s all he can do to hum out a response as he keeps you moving up and down, strong arms moving with ease as he rhythmically rolls his hips up into yours. “what—” he hisses from the way his tip hits against your cervix, with nowhere left to go. “what is it, love?” he does his best to answer coherently, needing you to be the one fucked dumb first. without a second thought, one hand abandons your hip to slide down your abdomen all the way back between your legs where he began rubbing slow, tight circles against your neglected clit.

“ah! f–fuck!” you moan as he soon sets a steady pace against your throbbing bud, steadily working you up to an orgasm, the knot in your stomach tightening. 

it doesn’t take much longer before you’re quivering in shouto’s grip and whining about how close you were, and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride wash over him as he pushes you closer to the edge. 

as your cunt clenches and flutters around him, shouto feels himself growing uncomfortably close as well, and soon finds himself asking if it’s okay if he came inside.

“yes, please, baby,” you whine and nod your head, one hand moving to entangle itself into shouto’s hair as he finally allowed you to kiss him once again.

and, with a few more thrusts, you find yourself cumming in sync as the horribly tense knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re creaming all over your husband’s cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, dick pulsing once, twice, before finally squirting his thick, hot seed deep into your womb, leaving you feeling both gross and contently full.

after rubbing your clit throughout the duration of your orgasm, shouto still doesn’t stop, even once you began coming down from you high, and you can’t help but jolt in his lap from the oversensitivity.

“sh-shouto, you can—you can st-stop!” you manage to spit out, biting your lower lip as you watch his calloused fingers rub steady circles against your poor clit. 

“but—” he pants. “you only— only came once,” he tries to explain, rolling his hips up into you despite his own sensitivity, desperate to make you cum again. 

“i– i know, but—’m sensitive, baby,” you try telling him, quickly feeling that familiar knot start to form again.  “ple—please!”

despite your pathetic little mewls, your husband ignores you in favor of your excess pleasure, significantly warming up the fingers playing with your puffy clit. 

it’s not long before you’re cumming one more time, evening out your total to two—equal to what you had given your oh-so-doting husband (even if you only went out of your way to actually give him a single orgasm—he just happened to cum a second time because you felt so good wrapped around him).

“fuck, baby,” you moan, back arching deeply as he slowly lessens the pressure on your throbbing clit. shouto never disappointed you in bed, or in this case, just simply in the bedroom, and for that, you were eternally grateful.

once you were done making a mess around the length of his dick, your back falls flush against his chest, and you both pant heavily for a long moment before either of you are able to recompose yourselves.

afterwards, shouto helps lift you off his softening dick, and into the bathroom so you could piss (always piss after sex, y’all), before going downstairs to get you a glass of water and then returning back to your shared bedroom to wait in your king sized bed.  once you re-entered the room, your husband sits up in the plush bed, with his arms extended out to you, your water already on your nightstand. 

with a smile, you make your way over to the bed, with only slightly wobbly legs, and curl up in your loving shouto’s strong arms, where he holds you close to him, resting your head against his chest, where you could hear his beating heart—a sound so soothing you were almost lulled asleep by it until you heard the quietest, faintest whisper of, “you’re so beautiful,” and you can’t help the grin that breaks out across your face as you tell him he is too, something shouto has never been too sure of how to process, but over time, as the compliments he received increased, he slowly learned how to handle and accept them properly.

“i love you,” you say in sync, and you let out a little giggle at this before saying jinx! and pressing a kiss to his cheek before nuzzling your head back against his chest and yawning deeply.

[aziraphales-library]

I've been looking for some fics that are similar- or inspired by- it's a new craze by attheborder (on ao3), but haven't been able to find anything similar. do you have any recommendations? Thank you for running this amazing blog!

Similar in what way? We have a plentiful #social media tag you can browse. I found only a couple of fics featuring podcasts. Here they are along with a few more social media fics...

The Arrangement by apocryphalia (T)

After the failed apocalypse, Crowley convinces Aziraphale to start a historical podcast. Shenanigans ensue.

Paint a rainbow all around him by imaginary_glu (G)

Aziraphale takes up streaming. Crowley becomes "Mr. Teapot". They also really, really love each other, but that isn't new.

Read Between the Panels by comicgeekery (T)

Crowley is a big fan of Angel Reads, a niche podcast where a charming and snarky "Angel" gives his opinions on books he reads. Crowley's not a huge reader, but he likes the way Angel talks about the stories he loves. Meanwhile, Aziraphale isn't nearly as confident in real life as he seems on his show. It leaves him loved but still painfully lonely. One day a new Angel Reads episode comes out and Aziraphale insults books that Crowley actually really likes. It leaves Crowley mad enough that he actually writes in to complain...but it quickly turns into a playful, maybe even flirty, correspondence. It's not just heroes who have to be brave. Good thing these two have read enough stories to know how things go next!

Sin Pays But Botany Doesn’t by Anonymous (G)

After averting the apocalypse, Crowley is living in his car with a lot of free time on his hands. He posts a YouTube video talking about plants as a joke but finds internet famedom where a punchline should be. Being a YouTube botanist agrees with him, though. He likes talking about plants, and he usually doesn’t find many opportunities to do that outside of YouTube. So, Crowley adopts traveling the world in search of plants to film as a new hobby. Kept in the dark about this new hobby, Aziraphale, who is used to being Crowley’s sole object of attention and is unused to having to compete with anything for Crowley’s time, is curious about where Crowley goes when he’s not in London.

Press L in the Chat (for Love) by Phoenix_Soar (E)

Bickering fan-content creators Aziraphale and Crowley only have three things in common — they are both avid fans of a new revolutionary TV series about pirates, they are popular for their fantastic fanfiction and fanart… and they are members of the same discord server. Neither of them likes the other, but across the chaotic virtual world of a discord chatroom, who knows what can happen when these two unlikely fans are paired up for an exciting collaboration? Us. We know ;) Discord Server AU

And They Were Streamers by ghostrat (M) (WIP)

(Human) Twitch Streamer AU, as shared on Tumblr! Aziraphale and Crowley are two polar opposite Twitch streamers who are exceedingly popular in their own ways. Besides their moderators, no one watching would ever guess that they live together. Nor that their feelings run a whole lot deeper than friendship.

- Mod D

[forest-hashira]

Lucky Shot

I'M BACK AGAIN i have just been on a roll with writing lately but you know what? i'm not complaining lol. anyways, this is my second entry to @kentopedia's "Love Through the Ages" collab! you can find my first entry here, but be sure to keep an eye on the masterlist for the other entries!!! this is the first time i've written solo suguru/reader so. be nice to me pls. also plese check out this art by @/diosaurr! i had already started writing this fic when they posted it, but three separate people tagged me in it knowing i was writing the fic so i want everyone else to see it, too!

read on ao3 here | wc: ~2.7k | cw: fem! reader (i know who am i???), outlaw!suguru, saloon girl!reader, gun violence, mentions of blood/injury, mentions of death. if those things will upset you i suggest you give this one a pass!

Maybe you should have listened to your father after all.

He’d told you countless times that traveling west, especially without a family or close group to help you out and keep your best interests at heart, would be difficult at best and dangerous at worst. Especially for a young unmarried woman such as yourself. 

But you had always been headstrong and stubborn, and your father had always been a worrier, so you assumed he was exaggerating to discourage you, his eldest daughter, from following your dream and going out west. You secretly saved up money for months, and at the first given opportunity to leave your family and head west, you’d taken it, leaving only a goodbye note for your parents and younger siblings when you slipped from the house in the early hours of the morning. 

Turns out, your father wasn’t exaggerating. Joining a party as a solo traveler had proven even more difficult and dangerous than you could have anticipated. You managed to make it out west, just like you wanted, but you had no money to your name, only the clothes on your back and two other outfits in a bag as you walked through the town, wandering from business to business, asking for work; you’d nearly wept with relief when the saloon owner said you looked like you could have some potential as a saloon girl, after you cleaned up. 

He’d provided you a boarding room above the saloon and a new outfit – the ones you had weren’t up to his standards – up front, and while you appreciated it, you also knew he’d be taking that out of your pay until he decided those things were covered, which you could only guess would be never.

Despite the strings that came attached to your new job, things weren’t all bad. You got to know people in the town pretty quickly – the ones that frequented the saloon, anyways – and you were always in the loop about local “news”, most of which was just gossip. 

One character of particular interest in the local gossip was a man named Geto Suguru. When you’d asked what was so interesting about him, you’d gotten some questioning looks, until you’d said you had only just recently moved out west. After you were shown his wanted poster, though, you began to understand. 

He was one of the most – if not the most – attractive man you’d ever seen. Dark hair that fell past his shoulders; thin, almost cat-like eyes; and even in the poster, there was a sly look on his face. 

Not only that, but he was wanted for robbing stagecoaches, stealing money and jewelry from rich people who gave into his – apparently – intimidating presence. He was also known for spending that money generously in towns all over the west supporting local businesses; plenty of women from across the state also bragged about the jewelry he would gift them, simply because he thought it looked good on them. 

After spending weeks hearing stories – that you were certain had to be at least a little exaggerated – about this pretty outlaw and staring at his wanted poster, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would never see him with your own eyes. 

So you couldn’t have been more surprised when you watched the man himself walk into your saloon without any sort of fanfare or dramatics and sit at the bar. 

You stared at him, eyes wide, until he gave you a small smile. 

“I’ve heard you’ll catch flies if you leave your mouth open too long,” he said, smooth voice lilting with amusement. 

Realizing he meant you, you quickly snapped your mouth shut, your whole face burning with embarrassment. “You try meeting a living legend when you’ve only lived in the area for a couple months, see how you react,” you snapped back. When you realized what you’d said, you opened your mouth to apologize, but stopped when you saw the way his eyes sparkled with interest, one perfect brow arched in your direction.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” he chuckled. “I think I like you already, new girl.”

“What do you want to drink?” You turned away from him to grab a glass, hoping he didn’t pick up on how flustered you were over the nickname. 

“Surprise me.”

You straightened at that, and now it was your turn to arch a brow as you looked him over. His expression never wavered, his head tilted slightly as he waited to see what you decided to serve him. 

With a quiet huff, you turned your back to him, looking over your selection of liquors. Part of you wanted to serve him the cheapest, nastiest drink you carried, just to see if he would actually drink it or demand another drink, but ultimately you decided against it. Instead, you reached for the top shelf, grabbing the unopened bottle of some fancy imported scotch your boss had just gotten in a couple days before. 

“Opening a bottle just for me?” Geto asked, still with that playful tone. “Well now I feel special.”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” you threatened, turning as if to put the bottle back in its place. 

He held up his hands, as if in surrender, and you set the bottle down on the bar to grab a glass, though you took a brief moment to admire how strong even just his hands looked. 

Setting the glass in front of him, you broke the seal on the bottle, then intentionally poured him about three times as much of the amber liquid as you were supposed to. Your boss could yell at you about it later. 

Geto lifted the glass, tipping it towards you slightly in thanks, before taking a sip.

Just as you were about to speak to the outlaw in front of you again, the saloon doors swung open in your peripheral vision, and you looked up to see the sheriff walking towards the bar.

“Afternoon, sheriff,” you greeted him, glancing briefly at Geto to see what his reaction was, and you were only a little surprised that he had no reaction at all. “Your usual?”

The sheriff tipped his hat to you, sitting down at the opposite end of the bar from the bandit. “Please and thank you.”

With a nod, you placed the bottle of scotch on the counter behind the bar, then grabbed another glass and the brand of whiskey the sheriff always drank. You walked down the length of the bar, setting the glass in front of him and pouring his drink – the expected amount of liquor for him, unlike the bandit down the bar – before you walked away to put the bottle back. 

You felt hyper-aware of the two customers at the bar, worried that any second now the sheriff would recognize the outlaw and all hell would break loose, especially when the other patrons at the tables in the building were always itching for some sort of fight, just because they thought it was entertaining. 

In the end, though, it wasn’t the sheriff that recognized Geto, it was another customer that walked up to the bar to get another drink.

“You look familiar,” the man drawled, narrowing his eyes as he analyzed Geto’s face as best as his intoxicated mind could manage. 

“I get that a lot,” the outlaw answered evenly, not sparing the man a second glance.

“No, I’ve definitely seen you somewhere before…” he trailed off, scowling, his gaze wandering until it landed on the handful of wanted posters hung on the wall beside the bar. His eyes lit up with recognition, and you swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

“You’re that stagecoach robber!” the man exclaimed, turning back to Geto; out of the corner of your eye you saw the sheriff turn to face the commotion.

Shit, this is bad, you thought, placing the man’s beer on the bar in front of him, though he was far beyond caring about the drink anymore.

“I’m pretty sure you have no proof of that.”

“That’s your face on the poster,” the man insisted, then turned his attention to you. “Don’t you think?” 

“It looks like it could be a lot of people,” you replied lamely, grimacing at how obvious of a lie it was.

The man scowled at you. “Shoulda known better than t’ask a whore,” he spat, slurring his words a bit. “Whores always lie.”

Almost before he finished speaking, Geto grabbed the man’s collar and slammed his face down onto the bar. “Apologize to her,” he said, voice calm but eyes sharp with anger. 

You blinked in surprise at what had just happened, and once you processed what had been said to you, you found that you were quite offended, and also quite pleased that this outlaw had taken up for you so quickly. 

“Like hell!” the man protested, struggling against Geto’s hold. Even with his head forcibly pressed to the bar top, though, the man managed to pull his gun from his holster. 

The scene before you seemed to slow impossibly for a moment: the sound of the gun cocking, seeing it aimed at Geto, the man’s finger going for the trigger. Then suddenly everything was back to normal speed, and the outlaw used his free hand to shove the gun to no longer be aimed at him just as the trigger was pulled. 

You turned your head to see where it landed, and you watched in horror as a wound burst into existence in the sheriff’s shoulder, blood soaking into his shirt in an instant. He let out a shout of pain, clutching at the wound with his hand.

“You rat bastard!” the man shouted, working to cock his gun and aim it at Geto again, but the outlaw was quicker, pulling out his own gun, pressing it to the man’s ribs, and shooting him almost before you could process what he was doing. 

There was a wet gasping sound from the man, and when Geto’s hold on his collar was finally released, he dropped unceremoniously to the floor, his gun sliding out of his hand. You couldn’t tell if he was dead yet or not, but he certainly wasn’t making any effort to get off the floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the sheriff draw his own gun and aim it, but it was in his non-dominant hand, so the bullet did not hit the robber as the sheriff intended; instead, it shattered the whiskey glass on the bar in front of you, and you dropped to the ground in fear.

With your hands over your head, you kept as low as you could. You couldn’t see what was happening anymore, but from what you could hear, at least half of the other patrons of the saloon had joined in the gunfight. Stray bullets hit the wall behind the bar, shattering multiple bottles of liquor, including the fancy bottle of scotch. My boss is going to be so pissed, you thought, an oddly practical thought to have in the midst of hiding and praying you weren’t accidentally shot.

Almost as if summoned by your thoughts, a bullet tore through the front of the bar, sticking in the cabinet about six inches from your head. With a shriek, you scrambled aside, towards the end of the bar; maybe if you were lucky, there would be time for you to slip out of the building without being caught in the crossfire. 

You scanned the building as quickly as you could while keeping yourself hidden, not wanting to make yourself any more of a target than you already were. Bullets were still flying, leaving no chance for your escape, and you cursed under your breath; you were going to be stuck here until everyone ran out of ammo. 

As you looked around, you noticed the first man that Geto had shot, a pool of blood slowly growing beneath his torso. His chest still rose and fell slightly, but his eyes were glassy; he was alive, but he was not long for this world. Suddenly, you remembered that he had dropped his gun when he had fallen, and you scanned the area around him for it, finding it a foot or so from his outstretched hand.

Deciding to run the risk of getting shot, you lunged for it, gripping it tightly in your hand once it was in your grasp. You’d never held a gun in your life, much less shot one, but having this one in your possession made you feel a little less cornered, a little less helpless.

Daring a glance upward, you saw that Geto had turned so that his back was to you and another corner of the saloon. Another patron had somehow managed to sneak around into the outlaw’s blind spot, and was clearly gearing up to shoot him in the back of the head. Knowing you couldn’t just sit there and watch it happen, you fumbled with the gun, your sweaty hands failing to pull back the hammer twice before you succeeded. With no clue how to accurately aim the weapon, you pointed it at his leg, squeezing your eyes shut as you pulled the trigger.

A shout of pain a moment later indicated that you had hit… someone, and you quickly opened your eyes again to make sure you hadn’t somehow hit Geto by accident. Thankfully, you hadn’t. The man you’d been aiming at had taken the shot to his knee – which actually had been what you were hoping to hit when you fired – bringing him down to the floor on one knee.

The shout was enough to alert the outlaw to the threat behind him, and he wasted no time spinning around and drilling him between the eyes. He slipped his guns – you saw now that he had two, rather than one like you had first thought – back into their holsters as the last man’s body dropped to the floor.

Once there was no longer another person blocking you from his view, Geto blinked in surprise, smiling as he stepped over the body and crouched down in front of you.

“You shot him?” he asked, his eyes glinting. The sight made you realize you’d been wrong before, when you’d thought his eyes were catlike in his wanted poster; in person they were foxlike, sharp and intelligent and clever.

“I-I, uh… yeah, I shot him.”

“Have you ever fired a gun before?”

“Not until just now.”

He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the bulletwound squarely in the side of the man’s knee. “You’re a good shot,” he observed, turning back to face you.

“Uh… thanks?”

He chuckled then, a low, smooth sound that made your stomach cartwheel. “You’re welcome.” A beat passed, then another, as he examined your face, though you were unsure what he was looking for. 

“What?” you demanded, scowling at him despite the way your hands were still shaking.

“You should come with me.”

“Huh?”

“You should come with me,” Geto repeated easily. “I think you’d be a good addition to my crew. Besides, it really won’t be a good look for you if people come in and see you here with a gun after I get the hell out of here.” There was a slight smirk tugging at his lips, and despite the fact that you probably should have taken his words as a threat, you didn’t.

“What the hell,” you sighed. “It’s not like I have anyone keeping me here.”

“Wonderful,” he said, offering you a hand up off the floor, which you readily accepted. “Get what you need from your room and meet me outside. Be quick, my guess is that someone will come to investigate all the noise sooner rather than later.”

You nodded, brushing broken glass from your dress and your hair as you hurried towards the stairs, unable to hide the grin tugging at your own lips.

Maybe not listening to your father had been the right decision after all.

tagging: @kentopedia @kentohours @mitsuristoleme

[frango-maconheiro]

wow, wow, interaction.

also, there's a stupid meaningless ramble i made out of this incredible petpeeve of mine with EW x reader stuff and it's just down the cut sggkjdfjkk (it's fr just me being extremely salty)

Anyway, hello!

Haha, my curious and lonely ass really thought it was a clever idea to read 'eddsworld x reader' content because it spawned in my timeline.... thinking that maaaybe they actually got good at it and made not too ooc stuff (this is heeeeaavily on matt content)

Now, i am profoundly remorseful of that choice because when i wrote this hours ago woth no wifi, i was arguing with the air.

Like, i won't lie on this. EW x reader.. They have evolved, a loooot since those 2017 fanfics (why were the x yn fics from eddsworld all copy-paste back then???) actually, it really surprised me because i definitely don't have the most cool memories of such fanfics,, Buuuuut, they still have that STUPID FAVORITISM. IT'S SO DAMN APPARENT. YOU THINK WE CAN'T SEE IT???

i get madder from down this line, especially since i was veery hungry when writing this. That's why you should always stay fed, keeps you slightly happier.

nhamnhamnhamm, writes aaall cool stuff for edd, tom 'n tord... maybe with an ooc here and there, but enough to ignore,, but matt? Matt gets so ooc, he can be mistaken for an oc if no name is given.

like,,, did.. did we watch the same dude on screen? i know he was pretty neglected in content, but cmon, what is that?? He's practically a romance repellent with his stupidity (said affectionately)

it's the same 'pipipipopopo just a sweet mama's boy' and 'ooo, he's sooo romantic, look at how much of gentleman he is compared to otheeeers' and 'whaao he so silly ::3 *treats him as if he weren't an adult character' and so much more, all in this weird stereotype

I guess i'm just disappointed,,, all because he just, idk, still feels downright boring compared to how the other 3 are written in these kind of fanfics even thought it's 2024 already and not still 2017-2020 (don't even get me started on the weird fixation on making yn extremely specific which fr also makes me crawl away like a wet cat from EW reader interactive content, they don't even put tags of the gender, aaaaaargh).

y'all definitely have more content of him to write than just the saturation of him painting your nails, or going shopping, or acting like he's the center of the world 24/7, or making him the pure lil' angel, or having his memory issues being downplayed as him acting 'so silly lil' silly', i assure you.

When i tell you i got so invested in this useless anger i mean that i got compelled into writing down a bunch of matt x reader to try and give that man a cooler image,,, and i don't even see him that way (nor any of the characters.) , but GOD ARGHHHV I NEED JUSTICE FOR HIM.

i might be just a lil' hot headed while writing this whole stuff, but this bro got stripped out of BOTH his classic and his modern funky personality in 99% of these fanfics and nobody bats an eye, like, ever, unless they're another fan of the character. Free my ginger rat, pleeeeaaaaseee.

I need any weirdo, edgy, funky, unusual, vampire, zombie(heavily on you zombie matt my beloved), slasher, funny, whack matt written content that is not only interactive BUT friendly to all readers...

i don't even care what Matt is written, modern, or classic. Both types have their own weirdo charm, and i am willing to analyze them for a nice oneshot or spitball post.... where you don't get to a restaurant/picnic and receives flowers and it ends like that, without any more depth of such cute cliche fluff it is, and leaving you like you just licked off the scraps of a dessert from a plate given to you, so damn hungry 'n wishing you had eaten an actual dessert instead of whatever that was.

[youchangedmedestiel]

As promised I said I'll give you fic recs to celebrate the fact that I have more than 100 followers now. Again, thanks a lot! This makes me happy! :)

So now, here's my gift to you:

Every fucking fic by xylodemon

The writing is always perfect! I'm not kidding, this is my favorite writer so far! I've never been disappointed by their fics. NEVER! I haven't finish to read all of them but I certainly attend to.

Fics written by deancaskiss

If you like reading about Cas and Dean "just" kissing, then you should try reading those, if you haven't done it yet. I haven't read all of them yet, I read only around 10 fics for now, but same I'll attend to read more.

Then, more specifically:

Blackberries Wild by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) Angst, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Canon divergent after 13x12, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, brief mention of suicidal ideation - around 2500 words

This is so well written, the descriptions are everything, especially the ones for the kisses. It could totally happened like that. It's very true to their character if you ask me.

a kiss for every season (literally) by sobsicles and it is also available as a podfic here read by Scintillating Gatria (LadyLoralye) Canon typical level of violence, Canon Compliant, Brief Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kisses, Smut - around 22000 words

The title says it all, a kiss between Cas and Dean happens every season and since there's never enough kisses between these two, that fic is therefore perfect.

People Who Are Good Like Pie by sobsicles Blowjob, NSFW, Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean is In Over His Head, Flustered Dean, Confused Dean, Creatively ties eating pie into sex, Sounds disgusting but it's really not I promise, it's hilarious, fluff and porn - around 1800 words

And it is indeed hilarious imo as well as very hot. It's short and easy to read, really different from the above. But it's human!cas and I'm weak for him in a sense that there is so much potential with him in a fic and that I love him.

You and I Know the Way by aishitara Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Series, Canon Compliant through 15x18, Fluff, a smidgen of angst, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Mentions of Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort - around 4300 words

There is human!cas in there too, so yeah I'm sold. Plus some amazing, beautiful, stunning art from winchester-reload is included in the fic so it's even more perfect. This is smut yes, but, BUT you can really see all the love there is between them and that fucks me up. That's the type of porn that makes me cry. I never thought I could say that about porn one day. But maybe it's because it isn't, this is just LOVE!

Humans Do It Better by Hatteress Episode: s06e10 Caged Heat (Supernatural), Excessive Drinking, Light Angst, First Kiss, Second more heated kiss, Kinda Funny.

I invented the tags here because it isn't on AO3. I need to mention this fic because it was like one of the first fics I read. It was more than a year ago and I still remember it. Maybe because I wished it had a next FUCKING chapter. I want to read more about it. I want to see what happened when they meet again later. I want to see what's going on in Dean's mind the next morning when he realized what he did, thinking about how he corrupted a fucking angel. Feeling guilty about it because it's Dean. I - I, maybe I'll fucking write this second chapter one day. But I don't know if it's a thing, you know, writing a sequel to someone else's fic.

Anyway, I hope you'll like reading those if it's not already done. I for sure have more fics to recommend but I have to save some for the 200 followers I guess lmao. One can dream.

BUT if you need specific fics, like from an episode in particular for example, you can still ask me because I sort them by episode tag too.

[niamh-writes-things]

Sneak peak on the vampire fic

~ok ive gone insane for this dbd vampire au (i will be tagging it under "undead boy detectives" so if you wanna see all the posts in future you can search that) so i thought i'd post a snippet from the unedited, first draft of the first chapter of the fic, enjoy!~

The boys paused for a moment to gather more projectiles, so Charles took the split second opportunity to slip underwater and try to force his aching, stiffened limbs to move. The burning in his lungs, and now the rest of his muscles, only grew until it was less of a burn and more of a roaring bonfire spreading through his insides. It was a stark comparison to the pain biting into his skin from the temperature of the water, and certainly not a welcome one.

He resurfaced a few times for a small gasp of air, each time knowing that he was risking being spotted and having the nightmare situation continue. After what felt like an hour of battling his seizing muscles and the current of the water, he reached the bank and took a moment to cough and splutter. Just as he started hauling himself to his shaking legs, he heard a shout from one of the boys. They had found him.

He had to set off running as well as he could, he kept on stumbling, his body was starting to shut down. Then he fell over, and as he stood up he couldn’t help but heave. He really didn't want to be sick. Even worse, something in his mouth tasted metallic.He managed to keep on going for another minute before he began to realise that he simply couldn't do it. He felt tears welling in his eyes. Some part of him knew that this was the end.

He might have slipped into unconsciousness, because all he could remember of what happened next was the feeling of an arm around his shoulders and feeling weightless for a moment. Then he opened his eyes to see a dark room with a figure holding a light. This wasn’t how they were told death worked in chapel on sundays. He had expected a bright white light, some kind of warm embrace and a kind word. But maybe death was this, maybe it was just darkness.

Then a voice rang out. It was soft and sweet, like honey. It was far posher than his own.“Hello?” and despite the chattering of his teeth he felt the need to make an effort to answer “h- hi ther…” he barely managed to breathe out the two small words.“Oh!i’m terribly sorry, i suppose you are rather cold "Charles nodded, not that you could tell very well due to the amount he was shaking.

Suddenly, he could feel the weight of a blanket on his shoulders, and the boy brought the lantern closer to him “this should give off a bit of warmth” when he got closer, Charles almost gasped. He looked interesting. He was certainly handsome, with that jawline and the calm,collected look on his face and those eyes that practically pierced through him. He also noticed that under all that, he was just a scared teen, like him.

~this chapter is covering his death and how he was turned. i bet you can all guess who the boy who saved him and took him into the basement is haha!~

[phillippadgettwrites]

I love jealousy stories! Can you give us some good jealous Scully? Maybe it’s been stewing a long time or maybe Mulder got tired of her turning him down for dates and starts stating someone else. Just make her seethe with jealousy please???

One for The Road

Rated X / 3429 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully dials the number for the house phone from memory, then takes a big gulp of her wine. She listens to it ring once, twice, three times, four. She knows the machine will pick up after the fifth ring, and she prepares to hang up before she hears the outgoing message. Either she’ll hear her own voice, which will make her sad because he still hasn’t changed it, or she’ll hear his voice, which will make her sad because he has. She’s halfway through the fifth ring, about to pull the phone away from her ear, when he finally answers. 

“Hello?” he says breathlessly, like he was running for the phone.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out right away. She closes her eyes and forces herself to speak before either he hangs up, or she loses her nerve completely. “Mulder, it’s me.”

There’s a pause that’s a bit too long for her liking. Longer than a “shocked but happy to hear from you” pause. More of a “shocked and wondering why I’m hearing from you” pause. 

“Scully,” he finally says, her name leaving his mouth on a blustering breath. “It’s been a while. Are you okay?”

A little pang of something painful and beautiful spikes in her chest. He still cares about her. At least there’s that. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she reassures him. “How are you doing?”

She closes her eyes as she waits for his answer, unsure how explicit it might be. She wants to know, but she also vehemently doesn’t. If only there were some way to have both at once. Shroedinger’s knowledge of your ex’s love life. 

“I’m good,” he says, a polite non-answer. The kind you give to the checker at the grocery store or the coworker you don’t really like. The kind you give to your former partner who cut contact with you months ago to preserve her own sanity. 

“That’s good,” she says, disgusted by their milquetoast small talk. They used to talk about everything, and now they don’t talk at all. She takes another gulp of her wine.

He waits for her to explain why she called, and she waits for him to ask. 

“Did you need something?” he says when the silence becomes unbearable. 

I need you to wait patiently for me forever, she thinks. I need you to never, ever love anyone else. 

“I found some things of yours,” she says tightly, then clears her throat. “I must have accidentally packed them. I thought maybe you’d like to come by and get them.”

She already hates herself for being so petty. So immature. It’s really not like her, but then again she’s never loved anyone in her life the way she loves him. She’s never lost someone it hurts this much to lose. 

Mulder makes a little curious sound, and she feels hopeful that her plan will work. 

“What things?” he asks. 

“Um, some knick knacks,” she says, glancing at the pile of junk she managed to assemble. “A couple things you used to keep on your desk at the Hoover. Odds and ends. Sentimental things.”

Mulder has become increasingly sentimental with age. Year over year she continued to find little treasures tucked away around the house that looked to her like trash, but that he begged her not to throw out. She wasn’t sure whether to be touched or horrified when she found out he’d stashed the panties she was wearing the first time they had sex in a shoebox next to a set of tickets from a Knicks game he took her to—their first “real” date. 

“I hadn’t noticed they were missing, so I guess I don’t really need them,” he says, and she can picture him running his hand over the back of his neck as he’s prone to doing when he’s debating something. “You can keep them or throw them out, whatever you want.”

Her heart sinks. She was fairly certain he’d take the bait. Things he kept on his desk at the Hoover. That should have been irresistible.  

“Will you please come get them?” she says in a low, melancholy voice. “I don’t think I can bring myself to throw them out, but having them here is…It’s still difficult, Mulder.”

She’s not really putting on an act as much as she’s dropping it, but the impact is the same. He hears the hurt in her voice, the acknowledgement that she misses him and mourns their ruined relationship, and even if he’s no longer moved by her ten year old panties, he’s moved by her. 

He’s quiet for a few beats, and when he says, “Yeah, okay,” she has to suppress a victorious whoop. “Can I come by now? I can be there in half an hour.”

“Okay,” she says quickly, “Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

As soon as she hangs up, she drains her glass and pours another, then hurries to her bedroom to get dressed. She needs something sexy, but casual enough that it won’t look like she’s trying too hard. And she needs her water bra. 

This is all very much beneath her, she’s marginally aware of that. It’s quite pathetic, actually, and she should probably be ashamed of herself, but she’s not. She just has a very deeply held conviction that Mulder belongs with her, and thus any other woman who weasels her way into his life is encroaching on Scully’s territory. She doesn’t think this consciously—that would be far too catty and anti-feminist. But clearly that’s how she feels, given the way she’s responding to the news that Mulder has a girlfriend. 

She hasn’t spoken to him in months, not since the night that she tearfully told him she’s afraid she’ll spend the rest of her life mourning the loss of him if she doesn’t get some space from it. And space he has given her: complete radio silence. She was starting to think she was doing much better, maybe even truly moving on, but then she ran into Debra Kaufman at the Shop N Save and nearly dropped an entire carton of eggs on the floor when Debra asked her if she’d, “Met Fox’s new thing.”

“I’m sorry?” she’d said stupidly, open carton of eggs in hand, waiting to be examined for cracks. 

“Oh, I figured you’d have met her since I see you over there all the time. You still drive the gray Explorer?” Debra had asked, one hand on her rounded hip. 

Scully felt heat rise to her cheeks at the realization that her Wednesday night drive-bys weren’t as covert as she’d thought they were. 

“Yes, but I haven’t had the pleasure,” she said blandly. “How long has he…” she started, then caught herself. Gossiping in the grocery aisle is hardly her style. 

Debra layed a sympathetic hand on Scully’s forearm and smiled at her sadly, which made Scully’s eyes immediately well with tears. 

“A couple months,” Debra said gently. “She’s a nice gal, but not nearly as pretty as you.”

Scully stands in her walk-in closet, wine in hand, and flips through skirts and dresses, slim-fitting slacks and casual sweaters. She’s not totally sure what her goal is, she just knows that if Mulder is dating, he must be doing much better. And if he’s doing that much better, maybe when he looks at her there will be something behind his eyes again. And maybe if he sees her, and if he feels that thing he forgot how to feel, and if she sees him feeling it, then maybe there’s still hope. 

She picks up something she bought on a whim but has never worn: a black velour jumpsuit with a deep neckline and three-quarter sleeves. When she tried it on in the fitting room she felt bold and sexy, but outside of her fantasies she rarely has occasion for either boldness or sexiness these days. When she imagines Mulder seeing her in it she feels excited, and so the choice is made. 

She puts on heels and his favorite perfume, and decides that if he comments on her appearance she’ll tell him she’s going out tonight. Maybe she’ll let him think she has a date, depending how things go. She’s examining herself in the full length mirror, admiring the way the jumpsuit hugs her ass, when she hears the doorbell. She pulls the door open prepared to put on an air of sexy aloofness, but the second she lays eyes on him her unaffected facade crumbles. 

He looks good. Really good. He’s wearing faded blue jeans and a fitted white T-shirt, and his face is clean-shaven. She can already smell his cologne, the one he used to wear before William, and between the reaction from her heart and her cunt she’s disoriented and lovesick. 

Realizing that she’s staring, she snaps her eyes up to his face to find him taking similar stock of her body, his eyes lingering on the deep V of her jumpsuit where she’s pushed as much of her cleavage as possible to center stage. She pulls in a deep breath and he clears his throat, averting his eyes to the door jam and then back to her face. 

“Hey,” he says with a bob of his head, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. 

“Hi,” she says back, trying to regain composure. “Please, come in.”

He hesitates, giving her a quick head-to-toe glance before he steps through the threshold. Scully walks down the hall toward the living room and he follows behind her, so she makes a point of switching her hips. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” she calls over her shoulder, then bends down to pick up a small box full of the items she used to lure him here. 

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” he says haltingly. She looks over her shoulder and catches him staring at her ass. “I have somewhere to be.”

She stands up and turns around, propping the box on her hip. She hadn’t planned to ask about her, but it just comes out. 

“Plans with your girlfriend?” she says tartly, and she gets some satisfaction from the panicked look on his face. He doesn’t want her to know, which she takes to mean something. 

But then the panic fades into irritation. His jaw shifts and eyes harden a little. 

“You’re the one who wanted out, Scully,” he says, indignant, “not me.”

It hits her like a slap in the face. She never wanted out. In her experience, it was him who left her, mentally and emotionally if not physically. 

“Well,” she says tightly, handing him the box, “it seems like you’re doing much better than you were before.”

“I am,” he says. “But I seem to recall some stipulation about sticking around for better or for worse. I don’t think you’re supposed to pick and choose.”

Her throat is becoming too tight, warning her of impending tears. He’s being uncharacteristically mean, and she doesn’t understand why. 

“I tried, Mulder,” she squeaks, then swallows against the lump in her throat. “I held on as long as I could.”

His shoulders drop and his face falls. He shifts the box to his other arm, and she can tell that he’s debating hugging her. 

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry.” He looks at his watch and clucks his tongue. “I have to get going. Sorry I can’t stay longer.”

She nods and follows him back to the door, and then out into the driveway. He unlocks his car and then leans across the driver’s seat to set the box on the passenger side, and Scully takes the opportunity to both admire his ass and scan the interior of the car for any feminine looking items. Mulder rights himself and turns around, leaning against the open door frame. 

“It was good to see you,” he says earnestly. His eyes flash over her body so quickly she could have blinked and missed it. “You look good,” he adds. 

Scully looks down at her own outfit, smoothing her hands over her hips. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “You do, too.”

“I’ve been running again,” he says. “I’m training for a half-marathon, actually.”

This makes her smile. 

“That’s good, Mulder,” she says. “I’m really glad that you’re doing well.”

He smiles back, nods. There’s a little beat of hesitation before he steps forward and opens his arms, and she falls against his chest with a heavy sigh. Her arms wind around his rib cage and she squeezes him tight. He smells like home, feels like safety. She doesn’t ever want to let go.  But she feels him loosen his grip on her, so she does the same, leaning away a little until she can see his face. He looks right into her eyes, really sees her, for the first time in a long time, and she’s missed him so, so terribly much. She remembers his girlfriend, some nameless, faceless woman who wasn’t there for all the hard parts, but is getting the best version of him now, and it makes her angry. It’s not fair. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to get better and come back to her.

Continue Reading on AO3

[teecupangel]

Writing this as my pinned post since I have a bit of free time anyway.

Introduction:

Hi. You can call me teecup or angel. This is primarily my AC and writing tumblr blog.

I post my fics in AO3 as teecup_angel.

I also have this tumblr blog that’s mostly me reblogging other stuff and very rarely I post something personal, I guess.

I have a twitter too but I haven’t used it in… I wanna say nearing a year? Maybe??? Yeeaaahhhh…

I’m currently writing fics for Assassin’s Creed and my primary focus is Desmond Miles because he deserves better.

Warnings:

I will pair Desmond with anyone (and I mean anyone) and my OTP is AltDes. I also do write gen so if you want to look at my tumblr but you don’t ship Desmond with any of his ancestors, I suggest blocking the following tags (altdes, ezides, condes, haydes, eddes). I also use those tags even when it’s just hinted at just to be safe.

While I cannot stop any minor from looking at this blog, please note that this may contain nsfw posts and I curse like a repressed catholic who was not allowed to curse when they were young. Also, I use 'dumbass' affectionately.

For Asks and Requests:

My ask box is open for nonnies and I try to answer every ask I get unless they specify that they want to keep it private.

Also, if you left me a suggestion or request in AO3, I do try to keep notes of them.

If you do request something or just leave me a plot idea, the most you’ll get from me would be a rambling of how it could work and possible subplots we can add to it. I tend to write whatever strikes my fancy and I’m hesitant in posting too many wips in AO3. Here on tumblr though… short fic and drabbles galore. The only reason why I wouldn’t answer your ask is if I couldn’t get to it in time as I allot a specific time for all asks and reblogs I get. If you don’t see it answered, it only means I’ll get to it next time.

I'm also fine with anyone using any of the posts/fic here or in AO3 to write or draw something as long as the post is linked and I'm informed :)

Also, you can request any crossover ideas with Assassin’s Creed and I’ll find a way to kick Desmond into it. I am a big believer of Desmond is the ultimate isekai protagonist. XD

Concerning the tags of this tumblr:

I got lazy later on in tagging posts I reblog (mostly fanworks from other people) but:

Any ask I answer will have the tag: #ask and answer or #submission for long asks.

Any fic idea I write will have the tag: #teecup writes/has a plot or/and #fic idea: assassin's creed (note: this one usually does not get used for any reblogs with additional ideas so I guess check the reblogs and the replies? This also sometimes does not get used if I'm butting in on other people's posts because it kinda feels wrong to add it? I know I should add a different tag for that but we'll see if I do down the line XD)

Headcanons and analysis (they're sometimes the same???) have #teecup analyze more than necessary and/or #headcanon: assassin's creed

Sometimes I make edits with varying success of humor: #teecup edits (sometimes I do screw up use '#teecup edit' instead XD)

I also draw rarely: #teecup draws

AO3 Stuff:

At the moment (and this part will be updated if necessary), the following have a weekly Monday update:

Eagle of Alamut (Desmond gets thrown back to 12th century Jerusalem in his 16-year-old body, endgame: AltDes)

I also sometimes suddenly post sometimes 2 or 3 more fics all at the same time and it’s kinda my modus operandi to 'coincide' it with important AC dates.

(Also, for those asking me if I need a beta, yeah, most probably but then I would be obligated to remove the "No Beta We Die Like Desmond" tag and the tag is too funny for me to give it up. XD I'd appreciate any comments that tell me if I've written something wrong though, especially the non-English words I sometimes use.)

[dilutedconfusion]

okay listen so i've been thinking heavily on the yandere trope recently. but like with Kid as the yandere. and whenever i see yandere!Kid i feel like he's always the more sadistic version of yanderes.

basically used this post (hoping the link works for you🙏🙏) to look at the dif types bc i dont know all that😭 but i feel like he is always sadistic/possessive in fics. obvi all yandere!aus are gonna be at least a little ooc bc its a divergence of canon characteristics but hear me out girl...

delusional and overprotective yandere!Kid... like girl. or like basically a kinda soft yandere!Kid. but like still horrible and awful not GREAT at emotions. like he will still get mad and yell but otherwise? is strangely kind to you? (w you not really realizing any subtle manipulation tactics that him or Killer might be using cuz Killer is loyal asf to Kid🤞)

like being kidnapped by the Kid pirates, the worst of the worst generation, said to be cruel and sadistic. that's already bad, and you're terrified for your life. essentially having a meltdown because you had no idea what was going to happen to you, but you had a guess. you meet Kid and prepare to be tortured/killed. then he's like??? weirdly nice to you? like yeah he's gruff and kinda bitchy but that is a thousand times better than being killed.

thats as far as the thoughts go but see my vision?? figured you would appreciate the Kid thoughts🙏

OKAY OKAY I love this SOOO MUCH. Like I don’t think I can explain how much I love this but you SLAYED. GIVING ME LINKS AND DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS AND SHIZ 🤭💞 Okay so to get right to the point I will be of course writing a chapter on this (or maybe multiple on this because that’s how good of an idea it is pookie). BUT I don’t know when I’ll be able to churn out a full chapter. I mean probably soon but I sorta just want to get a better grasp of exactly the kind of character you want Kid to be before I start writing. So here’s a little traits list?? that I cooked up the minute I read over this just to get my creative juices flowing. Let me know if Im headed in the right direction and if there is any changes or additions you’d like to see. Other than that I’ll write up the chapter, tag and credit the hell out of you, and we can revel in softyandere!Kid together 🥰

Traits

Thinks that kidnapping you was the best choice for your life. That you will be the safest and happiest with him (even if you’re kidnapped and being held against your will)

Often uses manipulation tactics like love bombing, balant lying to keep you in the dark, and triangulation with Killer

Not only believes that everyone else in the world is a hazard to you (including most of his crew members) but you’re a hazard to yourself so he doesn’t allow you privacy??? This could be taken to the point where he feels like he needs to be in the same room with you at all times. Eyes on you whenever physically possible. Which is sorta intense so just let me know if that is too much for you (cause I could make it really gross or more mild lol)

Will do even the simplest task for you, not because he wants to do it to help, but because he doesn’t believe you can take care of yourself or MOREOVER he should be the only to take care of you because he is just that great. Which of course he will hang over y/n’s head in arguments and be like “BUT LOOK AT HOW MUCH I DO FOR YOU😡” type shit.

If you do constantly try to pull away from him he’ll think you’re just shy or playing hard to get and will therefore push your boundaries harder. But if you actually PHYSICALLY harm him or try to PERMANENTLY leave he’d rather tie you down until you apologize and say you weren’t in your right mind when you did that then listen to your plea seriously (HES SO DELULU) The punishment for this could also involve taking away material items or aspects of freedom because like you said he's not sadistic so he would never hurt you.

To put it simply y/n would feel like this “I like you Kid but I don’t like who you become when you're with me” WHICH WOULD CAUSE SOME SERIOUS TURBULENCE IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND SOME SWEET ANGST EVEN.

I would write more but I don’t want to give TO MUCH away plot wise. Sooo hopefully this gives you a good idea on how I’m thinking of portraying Kid. If you have any other questions of course ask me!! Any little tid bits will be much appreciated and thank you so much for requesting something from me Emma 🫶

[kairiscorner]

bc i have no life, i made (and will expand):

dialogue prompts list or something

REMINDERS! imma use these on fics if y'all want, though you guys can use these too for your own fics, just make sure to give me credit and tag me, attaching a link to this post is also appreciated if you use this ^^

(btw, i can also repeat some prompts, though please be patient, i might not be able to post so much this month ^^'')

1.) "you're a bad influence on me, y'know that?" (miles 1610)

2.) "yeah, i risked my skin saving you. i don't care if you wouldn't do the same for me, i'm not you."

3.) "mind using your eyes AND brain next time?"

4.) "my heart beats all the time, shouldn't be a big deal, but i can't help but notice how loud the beating is when you're around." (teen!gojo)

5.) "never really understood poetry, but when i read a few lines from this... you were the image that came out of the words." (noir)

6.) "if you really wanted to drive me insane... you'd hold my hand for more than 5 seconds, then you'll see me insane with love." (noir)

7.) "please, for the love of GOD, never shut up."

8.) "my hands are cold... wait, what are you doing, i thought you brought mitt--never mind, this is nice."

9.) "something tells me you aren't happy about it. and something tells me you'll be angrier if i keep asking. it's okay, take your time. just know i'll be right here for you."

10.) "if you can't believe me, then i'll have to show you that i'm serious about you."

11.) "sometimes, you don't have to worry about loving me enough--you do that too much already. what you should worry about... is giving me too much love that you forget who you're supposed to be loving first: you."

12.) "man, after 5 shots of whiskey and a good laugh, i think i've made up my mind--you're gonna be the one i'll marry." "we just met." "and i just fell for you."

13.) "they came to get their shit back without even getting their shit together, how nice."

14.) "i would've thrown a brick in your window if you didn't answer, and y'know, i was going to, but then i remembered you hated getting stuff on your carpet so i left and did it in my mind."

15.) "i want a platypus. and yes, i want you, too."

16.) "your place is filthy." "it's gonna be yours too, one day." "you mean ours."

17.) "why are my eyes gross right now?" "it's... you're crying." "nu-uh." "y'need a tissue?" "yes please"

18.) "you're so stupid, and reckless, and a literal danger to my very way of life--and yet i love you to bits!"

19.) "if i could just go back in time and see you again, maybe then i'd tell myself to love you for a long, long time. even if i never knew it at the time, i regret all the years we've lost together, i regret living my life without you in it."

20.) "now before you ask why i beat the shit out of him in the locker rooms, it was because he was gonna ask you out before i could, okay?" (soccer captain!miguel)

21.) "i am a fully grown adult. i am capable, i am independent, i am strong-willed." "and you lose your shit when you see me come home with a mcdonalds' kiddie meal."

22.) "nobody loves me..." "..." "ahem, i said, NOBODY LOVES ME" "and i'm nobody?" "yay"

23.) "i just wanna bash their head in, but... it's so distracting. their eyes get me lost and i'm, i'm out of it."

24.) "man, they're a lost cause. and yet i keep busting my ass trying to save them. i love being your spouse and curse being your spouse, dammit."

25.) "i wanna kiss... right now... but my spouse'll... hate me." "i am your spouse." "oh damn, then you'll... hate me if i... if i kiss your pretty face, love..."

26.) "go to bed right now." "no." "i guess i'll give your plushie all my kisses." "ok on my way."

27.) "again, would it be me or them? me who's been with you this whole time, me who's took you in when you're so used to being refused, me who's... who's loved you, all this time?"

28.) "where are my--" "keys? here, scatterbrain." "damn, i'm so glad i married you."

29.) "kids, go to your room." "as your co-parent, i say protect me from the dragon about to breathe fire on me."

30.) "i may be his wife, but i'm not his lover."

31.) "i think you have me confused for someone else."

32.) "it's because i care about you that i push myself away, don't you get that?"

33.) "we'll never be okay again, will we...?"

34.) "the noises in my head keep getting louder and louder and louder, but only you... only you help calm them down."

35.) "oh, i get it, fine. i'll fuck off."

36.) "i want that though." "it's a waste of money." "you got it for me anyway."

37.) "how could you say i don't love you when all my life, you're all i come home to and kiss a good morning and good night?"

38.) "what a stupid man i married."

39.) "don't... fucking move... not unless you want me to do it..."

40.) "you went in my ROOM?"

41.) "i accidentally broke the bed."

42.) "i love you." "what?" "ah fuck, i mean, i'll see you."

43.) "GOD, I HATE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH." "is that why you draw you and them kissing together all the time?"

44.) "i can make a mean burned down house and scorched lawn."

45.) "i'll admit it, fine, i can't win your heart. because your heart isn't any prize to be won, you're not an object. you're... you're you. and i LOVE you."

46.) "what, why're you staring? can't handle how hot i am?" "no, it's just that you've got a shit-eating grin on your face i'd love to punch off you."

47.) "i actually hate summer vacation... i won't be able to see you everyday for 3 whole months."

48.) "ooh, you drank from my cup, you know what this means, we had an indirect kiss."

49.) "just tell your crush you like them already and stop being a big baby about this." "okay, fine. i like you." "wait--"

50.) "i know it looks stupid, but... i tried."

51.) "it's funny, because i had you in mind while making it."

52.) "you think infinity is real, or... are we just living every day hoping tomorrow will come, despite all odds?"

53.) "you're so fucking stupid...! stupid, stupid, stupid... why did you... dammit, why?"

54.) "i don't even know who i share my bed with anymore."

55.) "bite me and get what you want, what we both want."

56.) "we'll never have to see each other again after this."

57.) "quit making promises you can't keep."

58.) "tell me to shut up one more time. go, i'm waiting."

59.) "ah, sorry, i... oh, your hand's really soft."

60.) "what are you doing?" "just capturing the moment in my mind when i'm with the most perfect person in the whole multiverse."

61.) "and you know what your problem is? you can't stand seeing me happy, that's your fucking problem."

[tealenko]

Tons of tag games

I gonna catch with tags from 3 months (sorry for the spam XDDD)

Here's the 1st:

WIP Anytime!/WIP Whenever

Literally lol XDDDDDDDDD Tagged by: @sillyliterature @vela-ad-astra

Thanks a lot for the tag, and sorry it's taken me so long to reply 😅

Just spent 5 months writing the last chapter of my fic (just posted it) so I haven't written a lot of my next chapter, but here are all my notes I guess XDDDDDDDDDD

Didn't Have the Heart ch.10 - Notes

⬇Keep reading to see it⬇

Ch10: The Next Time

Recorded notes

Potential flashback moments

In the Kodiac, back to the Normandy, with Legion / Kaidan / Garrus

Garrus (could be Tali, but I don’t think she’s been present for all of it in ME2 [project overlord] and ME3 [Grissom Academy], consult the timeline) freaks out a little

Recalls project overlord

Kaidan is like: yeah, I kinda agree, but Shepard is gonna do Shepard things.

He’s also processing all the new info like: wow…

He loves/hates her courage 

Perhaps Legion’s comments that they wouldn’t endanger Shepard.

G to K: “Aren’t you gonna say a fucking thing about this!?”

K to G: “What do you want me to say? I have no power to stop her from being that way. I’m a mere spectator here. Just doing my best to process everything while helping.”

G to K: Thanks for the help man.

G: I’m more affected: after all these years of suicide plans and all the Cerberus shit.

S to G: I appreciate the sentiment, Garrus, but I’m fine, as you can see.

Kaidan leaves them arguing and talks to Legion for a while -> last oportunity

Shepard picks Garrus on the mission because she wants to prove him wrong, but then she cannot help herself and adds Kaidan to the squad -> She sends him as leader of the 3rd mission because she’s kinda mad that he’s right -> back to back missions (just as they did with Cerberus) -> so the order is Korris/Geth dream/Filler mission

Admiral Korris mission related stuff

They talk as they get on/off their armor (alone)

Talking to the quarians / mission report

And now I have to go talk with the quarians, which I’m honestly dreading way more

 “That would explain the outfit”

She huffs and tries to stretch out the fabric arround her neck: “As if talking to politicians wasn’t torture enough…”

“Try not to punch anyone this time around…”

 “I won’t make any promises…

Things I really want to feature in this fic

There’s a cot in Starboard observation (Kaidan’s room) -> It’s Kasumi’s old cot

Have her mention the amount of reports she has to do

I’d like to add the ring thing -> nightmares (maybe I can show a little on the ME2 beginning when she gives it to Kaidan)

Actual Timeline

2 missions

They send another squad to the third one

She’s like: I should go get some sleep -> fluff moment

We do here the “smut path” 

She goes to her cabin

Tries to sleep

Sees her formal uniform in a puddle

Flashes of her table fantasy in her mind -> fuck it!

She goes to his room

Have her mention the amount of reports she has to do

And smut happens -> against the window?

She falls asleep on the sofa

And we do the “nightmare path” here

She has a nightmare

Mention the ring here perhaps

Flash to the bar chapter in LBIG?

She wakes up less shaken than usually -> Bittersweet moment of mourning the dead but being comforted by spending some time in their company, even if it’s on her dreams

Wakes up

Finds him sleeping, he’s done all her work

She hesitates, almost leaves, but doesn’t in the end

And we end with fluff

She joins him in the cot

He hugs her and smiles

She reprimands him for not following her orders (waking her up to do the reports and doing her job instead)

We end the chapter as he replies: I didn’t have the heart 

Fic timeline / Narrative order

Start at the entrance of the starboard port? -> Flashback

Decides not to enter -> Flashback -> Make it a tough one

Goes to the port observation 

Is about to serve herself a drink -> flash/expl. that she doesn’t drink alcohol when she feels like she need it 

Goes to the kitchen instead -> Flashback

Drinks water/coffee -> Flashback

Goes back to the room -> Flashback

Enters. -> The rest happens

Fluff to spicy banter

Smut

They spend a while talking on the sofa

She falls sleep

Nightmare

When she’s woken up she sees him passed out on the cot, surrounded by datapads -> she pulls all that stuff on one of the tables and checks that he’s done indeed all her job (informs and all that stuff)

Grabs a blanket and covers him

She’s about to leave but remembers his words

[mirrorthoughts]

WIP Whenever

I got tagged by my two lovely people, @dear-massacre and @aurevell!

So you get a snippet of a one-shot I'm currently editing and that probably will be posted, soon 😂

Also, this seems to be a rarepair that I couldn't (yet) find on AO3 😂 so have fun with my first Stannetopher fic! 😂

"Fuck." "There there, sweetheart. You of all people should know when to hold back, shouldn't you?" Stiles groaned in answer when he put pressure on his injured leg despite Peter supporting him. The wolf was probably only seconds away from gathering him up into his arms bridal style and carrying him home - or at least to his jeep - but Stiles couldn't let him do that. There had been a time when he'd welcomed Peter's flirting and mother henning very much. But by now he knew that despite the, sometimes on sexual harassment bordering, flirting, Peter was in a dedicated relationship. Stiles couldn't even fault him for that, but he definitely wouldn't be the asshole to get in between Peter and Chris Argent. He had to admit he'd never guessed the two being together at all if he hadn't seen them. And he would have dismissed it as a hallucination or maybe a joke but, well. The heavy make out session they started after Peter had seen him watching, spoke volumes. Allison's pitying face when he'd asked her if she knew about the relationship did, too. Stiles was used to being in love with people he couldn't hold a candle to. First there had been Lydia who hadn't given him the time of day until their unlucky stumble into the supernatural when they had become friends, to his surprise. Then there had been Danny at around the same time, who had made him realize that he might play a lot more for the other team, actually, which luckily hadn't become as weird as he'd feared during the times he'd spent in the locker rooms before and after lacrosse. Well. It had become weird and he'd become stupid around Danny, but that was something he'd already been used to in life. Other than the whole supernatural thing that had brought not only sexy evil werewolf Peter Hale but also just as sexy DILF Hunter Christopher Argent in his life. None of them had ever given him the time of day. Well, there had been that prom with Lydia who'd tried to make Jackson jealous and there always was Peter's flirting, but obviously, none of them had ever meant what they had tried to sell him. Or rather Peter obviously didn't mean it. After all Lydia had only smiled and nodded and not lied at his face while holding him upright after a fight with another one of their weekly monsters. Danny and Chris at least were honest enough to just tell him that they didn't want anything of what he had to give to them. He could work with that. A no was a no, after all.

[olderthannetfic]

Do you, or anyone actually, know where/when the '-bowl' sufix started being used in Fandom? Because I can't find any kind of origin, and surprisingly Fanlore doesn't have a article about it (as far as I checked maybe I didn't search well?). I just found and know that it's used for kinda old and relatively new fandoms, thanks to a two-year-old Reddit post.

For anyone who doesn't get/know about the '-bowl' sufix: is basically an All × One thing. For example, if you encounter 'Dekubowl' this means that Deku, the character, is shipped with everyone or that at least everyone else have a crush with Deku.

I can only think of the 'Super Bowl' (just as one comment in that Reddit post suggest) for its origin, but when we talk about Fandom culture we never know. It could have originated from anything no-related to the Super Bowl, LOL.

--

Ooh, interesting. I've never heard of this in my life, and I have no idea what a -bowl suffix is supposed to mean, even if I guess it has to do with the super bowl.

It's not surprising Fanlore doesn't have this if it's coming from BNHA or somewhere similar. Fanlore is fantastic on the history of Western "Media Fandom", zines, K/S, etc. It's much weaker in areas that OTW early adopters haven't spent as much time in.

You should write the -bowl article yourself!

--

I went into AO3's tag search and looked for 'bowl'. I found 1311 tags, 90 of them canonicals.

I'm seeing a ton of references to the Super Bowl, dust bowl AUs, pet play with pet food bowls, Dream in the fishbowl, unending uses like "I'm crying into my bowl of cereal as I write this", "bowl of honey nut feelios", "bowl of pornflakes", "me shaking the food bowl of sbi wilbur-centric angst: come get y'all's juice", etc., and plenty of references to YOI katusdon bowls. Lots of fandoms and episodes have 'bowl' in their titles.

Zeroing in on more related things, I'm seeing BNHA over and over and not much else...

EXCEPT!

Fruit bowls!

I see scattered references to "let's add him into that whole fruit bowl" and "the whole fruit bowl is here" and so on. Some of them are crack fic where everyone is a banana, but a lot of them seem to be a metaphor for "everything together".

Okay, I just spent far too much time trying to categorize tags. Out of the 'bowl' ones, about a third appear to be this kind of sense (counting by number of tags, not number of works).

Game of Thrones has a bunch, but they refer (as far as I know) to which characters will hypothetically kill each other and emerge victorious, not to group shipping.

Some tags I found, like 'edelbowl' sounded more like a group ship than an X/everyone. I also found a scattering of tags that were like 'all of them in a bowl together', which is probably related.

But mainly, what I found is that this is from BNHA and it's recent.

The other fandoms where I found it were:

Demon Slayer, Dr. STONE, Naruto, South Park, Fire Emblem, Genshin, HP, Lego Ninjago, My Next Life as a Villainess, She-Ra, Teen Wolf, Tower of God, VLD, A3! (Video Game), Assassination Classroom, Avatar, Batman, Black Clover - Tabata Yuki, Bleach, Blue Lock (Manga), BTS, Bungou Stray Dogs , Dangan Ronpa, Danny Phantom, Detective Conan, Dragon Age, Durarara!!, Fate/Grand Order, How to Train Your Dragon, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, Kaiju No. 8 (Manga), LEGO Monkie Kid, Osomatsu-san, Ouran High School Host Club, Percy Jackson, SK8 the Infinity, Soul Eater, The Disastrous Life of Saiki K., Toilet-bound Hanako-kun, Tokyo Revengers, Virtual Streamer Animated Characters, Warcraft, Xenoblade Chronicles 2

That's giving me a very distinctive picture of a fan who's probably in their 20s or 30s, mostly like anime and some video games, and is not the type that edits Fanlore.

There's nothing actually old here: it's recent anime and stuff that is still a megafandom, like Naruto.

I'm seeing a scattering of 'dekubowl' from 2017 and then other character tags taking off in like 2019. This is definitely a recent trend in terminology, at least on AO3.

[katyobsesses]

Snippet Sunday

I haven't been tagged but I wanted to post a snippet from the aroace!Eloise modern day Bridgerton AU I started thinking about the other day!!! And I'm only... An hour and seventeen minutes into Monday 🙃 it's still Sunday in many other places

“I am sure,” Penelope began, hand coming to Eloise's shoulder, not letting El interrupt her again, “that you will find someone, El. That you will experience this love too.”

El shook her head, turing to give Penelope a small smile.

“I don't believe I will,” She stated, but it wasn't a sad remark, simply one of acceptance, “and I am content with that, really. The idea of another person's life being entwined with mine in that way is…”

Eloise frowned, grimacing slightly, eyes on the glass of wine in her hand.

“It’s never something I wanted, and never something I’ve understood. I'm fine seeing others wanting that, acting on that want, but… I’ve never wished it for myself. Even now, feeling as lonely as I do, with you off with Colin, and my falling out with Cress… I still don't wish for a romance,” she fought back the urge to mask her look of disgust as she usually did, because she wished to be honest with her friend, “and I certainly don't wish for… the other things that usually come along with romance.”

“El-” Pen began again, a blush on her cheeks and a squeak in her voice, but Eloise interrupted with a guffaw.

“Pen, I really don’t want to know anything about the sexual exploits between you and my brother,” She said, laughter clouding her words, “and I really don't want ones of my own. I am nearly 30, it's not like I'm some blushing child about sex, I have experimented with myself, it just… feels more like a chore, maybe, than the bliss I've read it should be,” El sighed sipping her wine, “and, again, I had assumed it was like that for everyone, despite what the media I consumed was telling me,” she shook her head with another chuckle, “I guess sometimes you can believe what you read on the internet. Sometimes you don't have to take things with a pinch of salt. But I've spent so very long assuming everyone felt the way I did, that it's hard to reconcile that belief with reality. And it's hard - in the dark of night, on days where I have talked to noone but my colleagues, or even noone at all - to think that my days will forever have this feeling of loneliness blanketing them. All because I do not wish for romance, for sex. And there are dark nights where I do wonder if I am broken in some way, not wanting what everyone else seems to want. And it just feels so much more lonely now, than it ever has before. Because my siblings are pairing off, because every time I open Facebook there is an announcement of an old friend getting engaged, or married, or having a baby. And all I feel is… behind.”

The voice of this fanfiction is definitely different to my glee or 9-1-1 fics but it's so much fun to write in flowery posh British prose! I imagine the Bridgerton's and Featherington's would still be a part of high society even in modern day - Edmund and Archibald as politicians, probably - so Pen and El and everyone would still have these hoity-toity British accents just, ya know, would also use slang from time to time, because they are still of modern times.