#also rewatched it and fell in love all over again

[saturnniidae]

"I should've seen the signs" I feel like Stoick was basically reliving the way he lost Valka.

To him, after a lifetime of wanting nothing but to kill a dragon, Hiccup's suddenly and inexplicably changed his mind. To him, Hiccup saying he can't kill them is just like when Valka refused to and tried convincing others as well, then as a result was 'killed' by one herself.

To him, way Hiccup tossed his weapon and shield to the side then approached Hookfang while speaking about how dragons aren't what people think they are probably bares an uncomfortable resemblance to the way Valka put down her weapon and stared a dragon in the eyes and as a result was taken.

To him, attempting to do anything but preemptively defend yourself against a dragon will only end in tragedy, so he has to do anything he can to stop Hiccup before it's too late.

(And just like with Valka, he unintentionally escalated the situation by trying to protect Hiccup but only agitated the dragon, causing it to panic and react, inadvertently putting someone he loves in danger. again)

Stoick of course, wasn't acting rationally, but it makes sense when you think about how traumatizing Valka's 'death' must've been for him (and how much Hiccup reminss him of her); he watched her get taken, presumably killed, and couldn't do anything about it.

[tsuncda]

so am i right or am i right in my assertion that bridgerton doesn't actually do character work, it just rebrands it's main characters before their season begins and tries to recontextualize them as poor little meow meows.

[lcvenderblues]

ty for the tag @rebelscoundrel !!! this was fun 🤍

six shows from my 2022:

np tagging: @psithurista @eupheme @ohheyitsokay @princessxkenobi @redahlia-writes

[lnfours]

Lando making reader go from "don't forget to pull out, okay?" to "pleasepleaseplease come inside, i need it, i need it"

the switch up would be absolutely bonkers and i know it. also my friends and i just rewatched all the after movies and all i could think about was that one scene in the home gym but w lando and i need it.

smut (18+ please!)

lando thoughts? lando thoughts.

your nails digging into his biceps felt like heaven as his lips kissed yours, a soft moan rising from his throat. your head tilted back against the pillows, letting his lips travel down your jaw and your neck. he kissed all the way down to your collarbone, his hips meeting yours as you tugged on the curls at the top of his head.

“lando, fuck,” you sounded so pretty moaning his name. breathless, back arching off the mattress. a sight he never wanted to forget.

“yeah?” he asked, hands grabbing your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. the new position making him fuck you deeper. you moaned loudly at the feeling, fingers now raking down his back, “like this baby?”

“mhm,” was all you could manage to say.

“where do you want me to come?” his hands slipping between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. your mouth fell agape at the feeling, hips bucking up into his touch.

“fuck- in me. please.” you begged and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“thought you wanted me to pull out?”

“not anymore,” you panted, “i want you to fill me up.”

his eyes rolled back, hips suddenly slamming into you a little faster, “shit, you’re sure?”

you nodded, the familiar warm feeling spreading through your lower stomach, “please. i’m so close.”

“me too, baby,” he said, “gonna fill you up. just like you want.”

you moaned at his words. thighs shaking as he worked you up, “i’m gonna come.”

“me too,” he said, “come for me, love.”

you moaned as you squeezed him tightly, body convulsing as you let your orgasm wash over you. he followed in pursuit, his orgasm getting buried deep inside you as he rode out his high.

you whimpered softly as he pulled out, eyes locked to where your bodies were previously conjoined. he watched the way your thighs shook, spreading your legs and watching his cum drip from inside of you. he moaned at the sight, damn near hard again as he leaned down.

you gasped as his tongue gently licked a stripe up your pussy, his fingers replacing it shortly after as he fucked the remaining fluids back into you.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled, kissing the inside of your thigh as you grasped at his curls, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

[bloodstained-ballgowns]

i just rewatched ‘the woman who fell to earth’ a couple of days ago for the first time since it aired back in 2018 and the more i think about it, the more i like it.

thirteen is the only doctor for whom i feel a tangible, rose-tinted nostalgia. she wasn’t my first doctor, but she was the first doctor i watched live, the first doctor that i spent an actual extended period of time with over the episode rollout. her intro episode has middling parts (as can be expected with most episodes of Who) but there’s also so much good that i really want to highlight.

first of all, there are some really great character dynamics set up here. much more interesting than i remember, tbh. ryan is a guy who loves mechanics but is stuck in a warehouse job he hates, a guy who obviously wants to connect to people, a guy who by the end of the episode has lost both his mother and grandmother in the space of a couple of years and the step-grandfather he didn’t really want is all he has left (minus his absent father). that’s interesting.

yaz has a keen sense of justice and this raw, intense yearning to help people, to do something worthwhile, something more - the way she has chosen to express that is through law enforcement, but it’s not quite giving her the satisfaction she wants. that’s interesting.

graham’s experience with cancer means that he constantly feels like he’s living on borrowed time. meeting grace gave him purpose, gave him family, gave him the will to fight when he fought it was all but over, but now grace is gone. he and ryan aren’t related, but they’re family, and now they’ve got to figure out how to care for each other without the very lynchpin that brought them together. once again with feeling: interesting!

“i’m just a traveller. sometimes i see things that need fixing. i do what i can.” i like that they circle back to the ‘just some guy’ portrayal of the doctor here, both because it’s the one i’m partial to and because it feeds particularly well into the whole ‘the doctor is an unreliable narrator’ aspect, especially in the wake of the increased deification in the moffat era. it's a nice set up, even if it gets completely overhauled circa series 12/13. in fact, having thirteen keep this as a persistent attitude throughout the Timeless Child of it all could have been really effective re: her reticence with her companions and refusal to address or deal with her past.

the scene where thirteen builds her sonic screwdriver might be one of my favourite sequences in nuwho. i love that it’s a hybrid of alien tech and sheffield steel. i also love that they highlight the ‘mad inventor’ side of the doctor here (her teleportation circuit is based around a microwave?) and wish that they had carried it forward more. it would have been the perfect basis for her to bond with ryan over. jodie also pulls off the humour of the episode well, considering the significant shift from moffat dialogue.

i enjoy thirteen's outfit: the vibrancy of it as mirroring her childish excitability, but also as another part of the mask - if i dress all colourful then maybe i can ignore/outrun/masquerade my great capacity for darkness! etc etc. the shopping trip with yaz and ryan is a bit shoe-horned in at the end but it's cute that she finds it in a charity shop. (back in 2018 i bought a t-shirt with a couple of stripes across the chest solely because it remotely resembled the one she wore lol. nerd from a young age, me.) jodie also looks soo hot in capaldi's outfit though so a spin on the traditional suit would also have been appreciated.

some miscellaneous points: i like that she tells Karl off (“you had no right to do that”) right after saving him. i like that she gets it wrong at first and makes it clear that she’s working on the fly. she’s following her instinct, and that instinct is to help people. doctor who has been beautiful before but the cinematography takes such a huge step this era. “it’s been a long time since i bought women’s clothes” i am choosing to believe this is about river thank you and good night.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once

Pairing: aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 2.4k)

Summary: Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source.

Warnings: gaslighting and manipulation on Aemond’s part, reader being slightly naive :(

A/N: I love rewatching certain eps or scenes for inspo. I got inspo for this watching the iconic knife scene. Very interested lately in writing women that eventually (and rightfully) snap after being actively harmed by patriarchy/the men in their lives. Also alys and aemond meet after the dance starts but let’s pretend they meet right before viserys passes. This will have a slightly ambiguous ending… for funsies 🫶🏽

Blog masterlist

Fmo Masterlist

You consider yourself a forbearing person. Your resigned nature was natural to you, but also the way you’ve been bred to be. Your mother especially preaching that good things come to those who not only wait but keep their heads while waiting. This idea only got compounded once your family arrived at court in King’s Landing. Now you had septas, on top of your mother, teaching you the ways of a ‘proper’ lady. Demure, well read and groomed, and obedient. You did was expected because what else could you do. Your parents were in your ear telling you do not waste the opportunity in front of you. An opportunity for a better life.

For a time, you thought your mother had a point. You did as you were told, and good things fell into place. Princess Helaena and you became fast friends through your lessons. Your interest in plants crossing over with her interest in insects and arachnids. Through your friendship with her, you caught the eye of Queen Alicent.

Despite your shy disposition, you managed to get in the good graces of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. You trusted the process.

But the cracks in the restrictive facade started once the discussion marriage entered the picture. You knew marrying for love was not something everyone was afforded, but you thought maybe you had a chance. There were tries for courtships here and there, but it was something you kept putting off. The clock was ticking, and no one let you forget it. Especially after your friends, including Helaena, started getting married and having families of their own.

You still remember the thrilled smile on your mother’s face when Queen Alicent not so subtly suggested a union between Prince Aemond and you.

The One-Eyed Prince. He had been nice enough towards you. But you were sure most of that was out of sheer obligation because his mother and sister liked you. Despite the love you have for Helaena and the respect you have for the queen, the idea of marrying into the family terrified you. You saw the burden and hurt each of them carried. Even with the possibility that Aemond wasn’t as bad as Prince Aegon or King Viserys, his brooding nature still made you nervous for what a marriage with him would mean.

“Your work has paid off my sweet girl”

It took a simple sentence from your mother to change your mind. The ever growing need to be validated spurred you into a decision you’d later question.

The courtship was quick and to the point, much like Aemond. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision. Then again, happiness was not an emotion you’d seen him exude very often. You did not know what it looked like.

Throughout the courting, wedding celebrations, wedding itself and after, you two had a mutual understanding or so you thought.

You saw the change in him. When you’re all but forced to spend your days with someone, you notice their behavior more. He’s lighter it seems. You don’t know how to explain it, but he moves different.

The only feeling you can compare it to is when you were pregnant with Daella, your daughter. For all his faults, you can acknowledge that Aemond is a good father. He was from the moment the maester told you two the news. He was attentive and uncharacteristically warm to you during your pregnancy. And then he acted as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders when she was born. Even now, he indulges her rambunctious antics and playful conduct in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. His precious byka zaldrīzes

His devotion never wanes when it comes to her. It was a different story for you and him.

It was foolish, but so typical of you. You had done your duty so well that you’re now in the position of having genuine feelings for him. Wanting your husband shouldn’t be a problem. But craving the love and affection of an enigma like Aemond is not for the faint hearted.

“Is my brother with his whore tonight,” his words were cruel, but he genuinely seemed curious. Aegon and you always had a strange relationship. He wasn’t rude though certainly not kind. You remember overhearing the way he described you after you two first met: pretty but terribly dull. You didn’t know what hurt worse: him saying that or the lack of pushback from Aemond.

“Aegon!”

Alicent gives you a pained look before pulling Aegon to side during dinner. You can tell by her scowl and his now sheepish facial expression that she’s using some choice words.

You thank the seven that Daella was asleep after a long day of playing with her cousins and wasn’t at dinner. The empty spot next to you feels vast. This is the third dinner he has missed. It never occurred to you that Aemond would seek companionship elsewhere. Now that it’s on your mind, you can’t forget it.

His whore

Aemond and Aegon are not the same. You know Aemond is not the type for frivolous intimate moments with silk street brothel women. You also know the intimacy he seeks requires knowing someone. He requires way more stimulation. Whether that is a blessing or a curse… you don’t know.

Aegon’s comment had you on high alert. Paranoid even. When Aemond is away, you wonder what he’s doing and who with. It only gets worse the sicker King Viserys grows. It shows on everyone in the family. Queen Alicent gets more anxious for what’s to come, Aegon lashes out, Helaena becomes more cryptic and silent, you wonder how this will impact your already complex relationship with this family, but then there’s Aemond. He shrugs off any ill feelings towards the situation.

At first you wondered if it is because he’s the only one that’s made peace with that relationship never being mended. He didn’t seem to seek out the same approval or explanation for Viserys’ bad parenting that everyone else still craves. With the King dying, meant the chance of change dying as well. But really his mind is elsewhere.

You know you’ve reached a new low when you try to pry information from Ser Criston. If anyone knows where Aemond sneaks off to, you assume it would be Criston. But in the end, it was wrong to go to him. Criston is fiercely loyal to Alicent and in turn fiercely loyal to her children. Though he has treated you kindly, he would never give up more information than he had to.

The idea greatly backfires when then you find yourself the one being questioned.

“If you want to know where I go, you could simply ask,” Aemond’s tone is cool and composed. It makes you uneasy.

He leans leisurely against the wall. You freeze hearing that declaration. Criston must’ve told him about your worries. It feels a bit surreal now having the opportunity to confront him about your thoughts. The words run through your head but never seem to make it out of your mouth.

“You know I like going for long rides with Vhagar,” he starts walking towards you. “She’s older; she needs to stay sharp.”

You do know that. It’s something you found endearing about him, despite how you feel about dragons.

“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much,” you manage to get it out with a forced smile. “Like you’re always away.”

He tilts his head to the side in question. You feel like one of Helaena’s bugs. Inspected and poked.

“You don’t like being around Vhagar,” he points out. “I’d love to take you with me, but you don’t want that now do you.”

You look down at your hands. He doesn’t get it. He has the blood of the dragon flowing through him. For him, Vhagar is a symbol of pride and declaration of love for his ancestors and house. To you, she’s an unpredictable power that you still think humans should not mess with. It’s better to chalk it up to you fearing versus bringing up how you really feel about them. How you share the same skepticism many people across the Seven Kingdoms do. It scares you to think about Daella getting a dragon of her own. You see the awe in her eyes when she looks at her egg or when Aemond tells her stories of the past and present that include them.

Oh, the irony of you being weary of dragons while bounded to a man who rides the biggest of them all.

“No, I don’t,” you mumble. You finally work up the courage to bring up what you really want. “It’s just Aegon said something about you, and I guess it made me think about where you go so often.”

The words adultery or whore make your tongue feel heavy, and don’t come out He sighs once he reaches you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.

“My wife do not let the thoughts of the small minded people cloud your judgment,” he leans his forehead down to yours. “You’re smarter than that.”

He’s not wrong, it is like Aegon stir things up. Aemond has a way of doing this. A way of making you feel silly with his self-assurance. He makes it easy to doubt your gut instincts. His affection has a similar debilitating quality. It’s why your head gets a bit fuzzy when he kisses you. A warm and gentle kiss that left you a bit weak in the knees. You sigh when his lips move to the sensitive spot under your ear.

“We should have another babe,” his whisper makes your eyes shoot open. “Give Daella a sibling.”

You pull away, eyes wide. As much as you loved how Aemond doted on you while you were with Daella, you also remember how difficult the experience was. How towards the end, you were basically confined to the castle as to not risk your health or the babe’s. Your every thought being on the life in your stomach.

“A little warrior would be nice, no?”

Aemond had told you he’s not picky about how many children you two have or even the sex of them. But you’re sure like any noble man, he wants his blood and name passed on as much as possible. Especially as a Targaryen. You’d be lying if you said the thought of a little boy didn’t make you happy. Your children hopefully having a strong bond.

You look at the seemingly earnest look in his eye. You nod with a nervous smile, and he kisses you again. That night being the first of many he tried to put an heir in you.

He wouldn’t want another child while his heart is not it… right?

You gingerly rub your stomach while leaning your head back against the seat. Ever grateful that you have Queen Alicent and Helaena to keep you company and help. Taking Daella off your hands during the day while you rest, your pregnancy making you more tired.

Before you can fall asleep, your lady in waiting peaks her head in the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you princess, but Lord Strong has requested to see you.”

Your brows furrow. You have seen Larys Strong around, but outside of that he’s been a mystery to you. A figure looming in the background but never someone you interacted with regularly.

“Send him in.”

Lord Strong comes in, small smile on his face. You motion for him to sit in the chair next to you.

“Princess, you’re glowing,” he starts as he sits. “The halls are buzzing with excitement about a new babe.”

You raise a brow. Maybe you outwardly look better than you feel because you don’t feel positively glowing. Not in the slightest. You didn’t feel this exhausted till later when you had Daella.

“Thank you Lord Strong,” you try to keep a kind smile on your face. “What can I do for you today?”

“I just wanted to check in. Let you know that if you need anything, I am always of service.”

You nod slowly, confused about where this is all coming from. What service?

“I know how stressful being with child can be, especially when the father is… busy,” he continues, leaning back in the seat.

Your smile drops. For a time, you did think things were getting better. Aemond seemed excited when you two found out you were with child again. Things were good till they weren’t anymore. He’s not around again, and now you are going to bring another life into an unstable situation. The tone of Larys’ voice makes you uneasy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t.

“I appreciate the kindness, but I do not think your um services are needed.”

He nods at that before reaching into his pocket and handing you what you assume is a letter. He motions you to read it. You stare at the outside of letter. recognizing your husband’s handwriting.

My Alys

Your hands shake as you open the letter. Your vision gets blurred with tears as certain words and phrases stand out. Miss you, need to see you, miserable at King’s Landing, love you. Your squeeze your eyes shut when you see words mistake, baby, and your name in the same sentence.

“Those pesky ravens, sometimes they do the maddest things,” Larys whispers softly. “My princess, the woman the letter is for is an… old friend of mine. If you need me to keep an eye on this or even take care of anything, just let me know. I am always here.”

You look at him as he gets up to leave, lip trembling. Your eyes move stare at the fire in front of you. Fire, blood, and dragons have all consumed your life now.

Is this why you don’t under the understand the obsession with dragons. You hate the ludicrous insistence that you can control them. That if you give them enough love and patience that they will need you the way you need them. Good behavior has gotten you nothing. Doing right by the dragons in your life has gotten you nowhere. Aemond is not yours despite the vows you took, or sacrifices you’ve made for him. The same way your children will never be yours despite the pain you take to have them.

You’ve been burned by the very dragon that’s supposed to protect you.

“Lord Strong,” you blurt before he gets to the door. He turns to you expectedly. “There is something you can do for me actually.”

[shangchiswife]

dating aragorn headcanons!

hi guys this is the first time in a while that i've written something so i hope that you enjoy. i just recently rewatched lord of the rings and i'm obsessed with aragorn again so here are some headcanons!

aragorn x gn!reader

Aragorn is the biggest gentleman ever. You basically won the lottery when you started dating him.

The lyrics “In a world of boys he’s a gentleman” are about him 100%. Taylor Swift you are not slick at all.

Do not be fooled by his rugged looks, this man is the biggest romantic. He will plan the most romantic dates for the two of you even when he’s busy trying to be King. Even when he’s busy with his kingly duties he will still find a way to shower you with affection. Whether it’s leaving little love notes on your nightstand or bringing you a flower bouquet, he always wants you to make sure that you know that he’s thinking about you.

Aragorn’s love language is through acts of service. He wants to do everything for you. You are his first priority. You’re not feeling well? He’ll drop everything in his schedule to make sure you’re alright. Your weapons aren’t clean? He’ll clean them no problem. You’re cold? Bro will gladly take off his shirt and give it to you so that you’re not cold anymore.

When you guys were trekking through Middle Earth this man made sure that you got as much rest as possible

“Aragorn it’s my turn to take watch” you had said, rubbing your eyes with exhaustion. He walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re still tired, rest, sweet one, I’ll take care of it.” “But-” “No buts,” he said as he pushed you down gently. “Alright well I’m taking your shift tomorrow night,” you grumbled as you put your head in his lap and immediately fell asleep.

Let's just say he didn’t let you take the shift the next day.

He is soooo overprotective of you. He’s always been very protective over those he cares about but he’s especially protective over you since you’re his number one priority. Aragorn's actions are driven by genuine concern and love. He simply cannot bear the thought of losing those he holds dear and will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

He’s the person who taught you how to fight. You were so embarrassingly bad at first but Aragorn never once made fun of you. He was patient even as you started getting annoyed with training. He was determined to make you a great fighter and it worked.

During the fellowship, you fought fearlessly alongside Aragorn and took down hundreds of orcs together. At one point, Merry even playfully called you guys a power couple because of how hard you both fought together, which made you both grin at each other.

You and Aragorn are basically the hobbits’ parents. They all love you so much and look up to you both with the utmost respect. You both admire them a lot too. Their loyalty and determination never fail to inspire both of you to keep going, even when things get tough and the future feels uncertain.

You’re also best friends with Gimli and Legolas. They have so much respect for you. They are also always trying to one-up each other when it comes to you so they can be your favorite. Spoiler alert you could never choose between them!

Gimli often pretends to be grossed out by displays of affection between you and Aragorn, and likes to tease the two of you with mock disgust. “Oh, just get a room already!” he’d say which would make you and Aragorn laugh. However, deep down, he secretly harbors a soft spot for romance and enjoys witnessing the love and affection between you two. He may grumble and groan about it on the surface, but in reality, he finds it heartwarming to see the bond you share and the happiness you bring each other. 

Aragorn isn’t really big on PDA but once you’re alone together, he's affectionate and attentive, making sure you feel cherished and cared for in every moment you share.

In public, he keeps it subtle with affection, but every now and then, he'll gently caress your palms or hold your hand, just enough to let you know he's there. It's his quiet way of showing love without drawing too much attention.

This man loves to give you forehead kisses. Whether you're feeling on top of the world or weighed down by the challenges of the day, Aragorn's forehead kisses are his way of saying that he’s always going to be there for you.

You often find yourself snuggled against his chest, your hand resting over his heart while his arm encircles you protectively. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, a soothing sensation that relaxes you. 

He also has the softest singing voice. It’s so pretty. He mostly sings old Elvish tunes but sometimes he’ll sing some songs in English.

You and Aragorn both share a love for animals, and you often find yourselves adopting stray creatures in need of a home. He's clearly a dog person through and through (I don't make the rules), but he has a soft spot for cats as well.

You love it when Aragorn tells you stories about his past. Whenever he starts recounting his adventures, you're all ears, completely mesmerized by his past. Secretly he loves your fascination with his stories and it fills him with a quiet sense of warmth.

You have a shared love for adventure and often find yourselves exploring new places together, whether it's hiking through scenic landscapes or just going around Gondor.

He is also the best listener. You tend to yap a lot but he does not seem to care at all. He will listen attentively, asking questions every so often, drinking in your every word. He always wants to make sure that you feel heard. 

Aragorn also dreams about starting a family with you. He's always imagined the joy of being a father and raising children together, but he'll only take that step if you're both on board and excited about it. Your comfort and readiness are his top priorities, and he wants nothing more than to embark on this adventure together, hand in hand.

[eriexplosion]

Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

[astralis-ortus]

weighted blankets and projector

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— as long as you're happy, then chan is happy too.

w.count → 0.6k genre → fluff. very soft fluff. warning → none! a.n → originally wanted this to be a single post with streetlights and warm nights, but the fluff would be out of control (and i got too delirious to actually continue writing lol) sooo here's the second part! ⋆ see masterlist

although chan loves adventures, he also doesn’t mind spending your date nights inside.

foods and games would be the most important factor chan takes into consideration. your pool of dinner choices might be a little more limited when you’re bound to a certain location, but that’s what his little games are for.

you’re feeling like having some fried chicken? of course he’ll get them for you, but make sure you win the rounds of truth or dare or you might not be able to get even a single bite of those golden goodness (who are you kidding—he’ll definitely cave once you put on your puppy eyes, just like how seungmin taught you). hot pot night? no worries, his uno cards will help you two determine whether your dinner of the night follows his mild tastebuds or your daring ones. chan will get your every dinner requests, and put a fun twist on them just to see your smile.

when all the food is gone, chan would then pull out the weighted blanket he bought and kept especially for your date nights, all under the pretense of ‘i heard it’s good for you’ (when in actuality, he just needed wanted a tiny extra help in keeping you glued to his side).

what you’ll be doing from then on is a free arena—there are days where you’d just talk for hours on end, laughing at whatever silly things each other would say. on other days, you’d spin a wheel and let fate choose which of your all time favorite movies will you be rewatching that night (which, oddly enough, mostly fell to either the deadpool series or a few ghibli movies). there are also days where both of you decided to just melt next to each other while doing your own thing—chan with his laptop, while you, on the other hand, finishes the book you’ve been dying to read all throughout the week.

just as you’re about to feel drowsy after all fully digesting your dinner, chan would then draw a warm bath for you to relax in, bath bombs and all. he’d always tell you to take your time when you’re having your bath; he needed the extra time to pick out your set of matching pajamas set (yes, he wears one too), as well as setting up the candles and the new galaxy light projector he just bought a couple days ago. you once told him it looked pretty, and being the good boyfriend and devoted astrophile he is, of course he remembered it.

if your bath was chan’s way of taking care of you, then you doing his skin and hair care routine is your way of taking care of chan. you always treasure every opportunities you have to be so up close with him, taking note of his features while he’s surrendered under your gentle touch. you’d note every single speck of his freckles, every stray curls on his forehead, every faint smile lines he had etched over the years on the surface of his skin, which only grew in definition after he met you.

and you fall in love again.

maybe a little bit harder,

maybe a lot deeper.

now all warm and cuddled up under the layer of comfy duvet, you finally snuggled close to chan, allowing his body heat to entirely encapsulate you. the echo of his heartbeat is loud and clear, turning you all blush and giggly while sleep gently knocks on your eyelids. chan would say a couple things—noting how nice your new shampoo smelled, or how soft the layer of pajama is over your skin, but when he noticed your absence of reply, his smile would soften as he watches your sleeping face. chan would place a kiss on your forehead and held you tighter, wishing that even in his dream, the only person he would see is you.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[mysterystarz]

just keep falling for

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x g!n reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, boatload of an oblivious but perceptive reader, kuroo really doesn’t know how to get the obvious out and reader cannot really tell him they know what he means

notes: rewatching hq and i literally fell in love w everyone again — dedicated to all kuroo fans, not proofread at all

also i haven’t written in so long so my style is all over the place so pls critique me and also my hand slipped

reblogs and opinions are appreciated <3

kuroo was taking an awfully long time in the locker room.

standing in the gym, you watched as the first years helped with deconstructing the volleyball nets for the day. while you offered your help, they politely declined, suggesting you wait to accompany their captain out to advertise their great work.

normally, kuroo was quick. any jokes that happened inside the locker room were quick to reach your ears, and you knew how much he tried to include you in everything.

you leaned against the wall, watching the clock tick for a whole minute before opting to pace around the gym.

little did you know, kuroo was having a meltdown inside the locker room.

“kuroo!” yaku yelled, brandishing his towel. “you need to get a grip. stop freaking out. you’re supposed to be the composed one!”

“seriously kuroo,” kenma agreed, “why are you acting so surprised. it’s not like this is new news.”

“guys,” kuroo began, raking a finger through his hair, “this messes up everything.”

“is this about y/n?” lev asked, finally entering the locker room. “did kuroo finally do something about that crush?”

“enough!” kuroo sighed, sitting down at one of the benches. in the span of the last ten minutes, kuroo had one of the most dramatic realizations of his life.

he liked you.

you, his best friend and his other half. you, who cheered for him at every game and even lended him cool analogies to use in captains speeches. you, who stole his jacket and ran away from him, leaving him to chase you as far as the two of you could run.

he wasn’t sure what had changed. somehow, you’d entered his head, and with every pump of his heart, you sunk deeper and deeper into his bloodstream.

“did you seriously not know?” yaku asked gently, “because if you ask us, it was obvious from the very start. you hold them in such high regard.”

“i didn’t,” he admitted, turning to meet yaku’s eyes. “i didn’t know and now, i don’t know what to do. we’ve been friends for ages….i don’t even think they see me that way.”

“just tell them kuroo,” kenma said, not looking up from his console. “they like you a lot, they’re not going to say no.”

the team voiced their agreement, and began to file out of the locker room at last.

“sorry to keep you waiting,” he smiled, meeting your gaze as he walked out of the locker room.

“no problem,” you said, returning a grin of your own. “was there something going on in there?”

“nahhhhh,” he laughed, “someone was just having a meltdown about how to do a proper confession.”

“confession?” you rose a brow, and kuroo silently cursed himself for letting such a specific detail slip.

for a moment, you were stunned. as you walked, you considered all the possibilities.

you knew lev had been racking up quite the fanbase through his games, and you also knew how yaku was starting to branch out a bit more. if kenma had a prospective partner, you would’ve already heard of it by now.

unless…unless it was kuroo having the meltdown.

you pondered this detail as you walked out of the school doors, holding them open for your lanky best friend.

“hey dork,” you began, “who are you planning on confessing to? it was your meltdown, right?”

kuroo felt his heart drop in his chest. curse you and your quick connections.

“what makes you think the meltdown was mine?”

“because i would’ve known about everyone else,” you smiled confidently. “you would’ve told me.”

kuroo simply looked at you, distracted by your smile and the way it lit up your eyes. if only he could put it into words.

you had a way of making him nervous.

“i’d tell you details if you stopped smiling at me like that. too bright — it’s hurting my eyes.” he teased.

what he didn’t expect was for you to laugh and immediately drop your smile, transitioning to a serious face.

“tell me now,” you huffed, “i deserve to know who’s on your mind these days.”

he sighed.

if there was one thing worse than your uncanny ability to read his mind, it was the lack of that ability to tell that you were the only person he ever thought about.

kuroo got home, resting his bag on the floor of his room and immediately dialing kenma. he picked up in an instant, and kuroo couldn’t help but be thankful for his setter.

“kenma,” he sighed, “this is like one of your games. impossible.”

“let me guess. y/n didn’t catch a hint?”

“they know it’s me” he groaned, “they know i had the meltdown. they know there’s someone in my head. they keep trying to ask me who it is, but i can’t just say ‘it’s you’ can i?”

“being direct is actually a good idea.” kenma suggested, “go retry that level kuroo. maybe you’ll have some luck this time.”

with that, kenma hung up, leaving kuroo frenzied with an emotion that felt a lot like hope.

sitting and staring out the window, you wondered if now was a good time to acknowledge your growing crush on nekoma’s middle blocker.

he was everything you could ever ask for. thoughtful, sweet, laughably charming, and with a nerdy twist that made him a dork and undeniably your other half.

it didn’t help how handsome he’d become over the years either. he’d gotten taller and taller, his eyes golden and his hair endearingly messy. he was solid from all the days spent practicing, and after every embrace, you were left craving more.

as much as you didn’t want to admit your discomfort, the sensation hovered over you like a fog.

the idea of kuroo having feelings for someone else was bittersweet. you adored him — you really did, and his happiness was yours.

but….you couldn’t help but wish that you could both be happy. that he’d see you the way you’d always seen him.

someone to just keep falling for.

the next morning, kuroo came to grab you from your house for the daily walk to school. he’d made an effort to make sure his tie was on incorrectly in the hopes that you’d fix it for him.

you greeted him at the door, breaking into a grin upon seeing his disheveled state.

“come inside,” you sighed, dragging him by the hand into the foyer. he stood patiently as you reached for his tie, straightening out the edges and meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt.

“it’s almost like we’re married.” he teased, happy at the flustered expression that shot onto your features. “what? cat got your tongue?”

“shut up tetsu.”

“i don’t want to.” he said, looking into your eyes. he hoped that there was something conveyed in the silent space between you. the tenseness was all but palpable.

“oh.” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “so this is your confession? a messy tie and a lot of cheek.”

“of course,” he smirked, “you’re the only person i’d do that for.”

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

[ikkosu]

Earthspark bumblebee is currently rotting my brain from the inside out so could I ask for so fluffy fem shyer human and bumblebee who are crushing hard for each other but keep both of them keep prolonging confessing to the other the terrans realize what's going on and take it upon themselves try to get them to confess their feelings to each other

SUNSHINE

bumblebee x shy!fem!reader

a/n: tfe bee is so big brother energy 😭 he reminds a lot of what rid bee could be. I had a lot of fun writing this ! totally didn't rewatch all the bee scenes to get his character right,,,,,totally didn't. (I don’t write fluff often so i treid my best I swear)

[i]

"When are you gonna suck it up like a man and confess?"

Twitch startled you from above as the whirs of her fan hummed gently, hovering around you in her alt-mode.

"C'mon! What're you gonna say, huh? Turn away from the problem like you always do?"

Gloved hands, scathed with dirt, halted in the midst of pulling out a persistent weed. You feel your temple burn, a nervous laugh bubbled from your throat as your fingers plunged into the soil once more, pawing around to find the root of the problem.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!".

"I don't know what you mean."

When you did find the source, delicately you curled your fingers into the crevices, balling the soil then, with a huff, yanked the roots out. You're careful not to damage the nearby flowers.

When confronted at the baselines of your problems, you often churn into a sputtering mess. Sometimes, you have to clarify that no, you’re not angry, or no you’re not daunting — that’s your facial expressions constricting. Because if you don't. You're going to cry. And you're going to cry lots over matters daintier than an atom.

"Wuss."

"Twitch. Really you are trying." You sigh when the drone nudged your back.

A quick zip-zap of metallic whirs and she’s in her usual form, yellow eyes ablaze, arms crossed, leaning over with a scowl. Her hips jutted out, sassed-esque — a pose Dorothy used often when she's mad.

"I appreciate your concern but—"

“Dont even try to push it away. I'm not stupid." She prods, getting up to your face. Really, this adorable thing is half a step away from making you ostrich-dunk your head into the soil. "Oh, let me guess : tongue, tied? Busy thinking about a certain someone? Someone, or a bot so yellow like the sun, it’s blinding your eyes?”

You don’t even know where to begin. So, you look into the soil really hard, like you’re trying to find something worth focusing on. Oh, look. A worm. Bingo.

"I'm going to eat that worm if you're not going to look at me."

"Twitch—" You began.

Then, she’s shoved away.

"Sorry, you see. Wh-what she's saying is that, well, you know—" Thrash nudged his head into view, twiddling his thumbs as a demure, placating smile eased on his soft face. "...it's high time you...tell 'im how you feel?"

This time you want to plunge your head into the soil. It’s not a want, it’s a need. The scent of earth was purging strong, beckoning you with it's heed, as you, yet again, choke back another sound. You laugh, nervous. God, this earthworm! So, interesting. Haha. So...so...er. Hm.

"Pshh. How I feel? I feel fine."

"I mean...about your, uh, crush on bee."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Twitched groaned, rolling around the grass all the way from the stack of hays to the tip of your boots. Then, she repeated the motion, each rant about your supposed love life —also, none-existent, if you will— becoming more fervent. That is, until Thrash had plucked her up by the arm pits and she fell limp like a doll in his hold.

" You said you’d be nice about it."

"What’s there to be nice about?! They’re being so smushy mushy , oh darling so lovely, it's giving me the critters!” She growled, clawing the air

You stood up with an uncertain hunch in your shoulder. You’re still holding the clump of soil in your rubber gloves, back taut and jaws slacked. The earthworm was gone, buried in the soil somewhere. You hoped it had a a nice stay unsurfaced for once — and you really should keep twitch away from Wheeljack. She's even swearing, now. She swears!

“Come on, now Twitch. It isn’t so bad.” You say quietly, not trusting yourself to yell at the skies in full volume. Really, you’ll disentigrate.

“You don’t get to talk, wuss.”

“Twitch!’’

“What?”

“Mom said be nice. A person’s word is like a kni—“

"Yeah, well she's a liar!" You shrunk asher digit juts your way. "That's gotta breach the fifteenth rule, right? A whole machete stab?"

Thrash seemed surpise. "You actually remember the rules."

You're exasperated. "What rules? And, what on earth are you both talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me!"

"Really, I'm not." Oh my god, are you really having a verbal spar with a — with a child of all bots that's half your size?!

"Oh, yeah? Then why you're nervous, huh? If you're not nervous then you've got nothing to hide."

"I'm not nervous." You said, blinking profusely.

Twitch made a face. "You're gardening."

"The grass looked bad."

"You garden when you're nervous."

You feel your lungs gave out. Your inner you's are bouncing around in your skull, panicking and screaming in disbelief. Alarm signals, blaring inside. How did she know?!

"N..no? I garden when I'm....happy." You kick the ground sheepishly. Bad call. The soil tipped over a your hold, little dots of brown mingled with the grass. Oh, dear.

"Happy? Please. You're nervous because big 'ol bee didn't have the spark to confess to missy sweet spark with barely any roots to hold herself." Twitch huffs. She's getting to sassy for her own good — "And so are you, wuss."

"We're friends!" You said, though the term was lacking. "Normal friends. Buddy, even. Buddy friends...haha...."

Thrash stiffens.

Twitch deadpans.

Both at the same time uttered : "Really?"

[ii]

They're hiding in a bush. A bush of all places. No, not the tree, obscured by the leaves and a leverage with the branches. Or, whatever hiding place is deemed suitable for this operation. A bush. Can you believe that?

Fluffy Ears nestled herself on the grass, curious eyes skimming over the several Terrans peeking over the bush. Thrash brought it upon himself to hide in the barn because, as per his words, a good spy needs a good hiding place.

The only good thing about his 'prowling' tendencies is the fact he falls asleep during these so-called covert operations. Which is why he gets most of the ranks during training. What a scammer.

Jawbreaker was too large to hide behind a,ugh, bush so he was demoted to simply standing a few meters back, loitering by the fence.

Twitch feels something poking her rib plate. Can't the spot get any more cramped? "Nightshade, I swear to Primus—"

"Hush! There he is! The first move. Hashtag, commence operation : video!"

"That's not even—"

"On it!" Hashtag wrangled out the most, honest to Unicron, humongous camera in existence.

Silence veiled the three Terrans as they spot the yellow black approaching their resident gardener-who-normally-comes-at-the-weekends-and-bee-is-distraught-over-that-fact, tending the newly planted flowers by the hedge.

"So, I was wondering..." He's stretching on his toes, not exactly looking at you.

How could he? Everytime he so much as to catch a glimpse of your face, he feels like tripping over his own pedes and burrowing himself into the ground until comets rain, the world in flames — and god knows when would Primus let him out again.

"You need something, bee?" You swivel up, pawing your apron to get off the dirt from your gloves.

But he looks confused, optics lowered downwards, brows furrowed. You look as well, then up.

"Yellow, huh." He looks away, pointing to your torso.

You look down again then realized what he meant. Your face burns with a vengeance.

"My other apron broke." You try not to stammer but it's proven futile as an amused smile eased over his face. "A-alex decided to give me his, well, you know one of his precious merch which...is typically your...um face on it. If it makes you uncomfortable—"

"No! Gosh, no. You can wear it all you want. I'm just surprised, that's all. You never really... Besides, it's nice...." He looks down and kicks the grass a little, servos behind his back. "It...suits you well."

At the compliment you look up, hoping not to make eye contact, but he does as well and you're both held at a stalemate. His round almond optics droop. For a moment, his lips part, then it shuts. He looks down, avoiding your gaze.

Is he... flustered? At that thought, you fisted the apron, bunching it a little. You look away, hiding the way you smiled a little. " ...It's a pretty color. Yellow, I mean. Honeybee. I love bees."

He looks back up, blue optics flared, and into your eyes. His chassis did those little backward flips and, he swears to Primus, he'll simply disintegrate. You're a lovely color too.

Bee flinched the moment you turn to him at break neck speed, sputtering, eyes wide and face, all the more flustered.

"What?"

"What?" He said that out loud. He said it. Out. Loud. He held up his servos. "I-i meant it's a lovely color. As in, you know, you're a lovely color so like when you said yellow was a lovely color. I thought— What I mean by that is— Oh, forget it." He lets out a deep vent. "It's been a long day. Sorry."

"You're fine. It's fine, I mean." You said. When silence veils over you both (Twitch really wants to strangle you, right now) you speak up again, quietly. "You were going to ask something...?"

His door wings pike up in surprise, much to his chagrin.

"Oh, right. Forgot about that." He coughed and cleared his throat. " I was wondering If you were...you know..." Gosh, what's that word. "Freethisweekend?"

It was so quick and quiet, you didn't really grasp much of what he uttered. “I got free— what's the next—"

"This weekend." He said, then trailed off. "Free... this weekend."

"Oh..." You look to the ground, hands primly folded behind your back.

"To... ah,” Just ask her out. Just ask her out. Worse she can say is no and no. No is fine! If you don't ask, you'll never know. That's what Elita said, right? Right? He sags. She said a lot of things.

He decides to go in for the kill but the moment he met your eyes, your pretty eyes, your temple grew warm, like really warm. He feels his own face burning and he starts stumbling over his words. “Free to. To go. To, um, a, well, a...d—dah, dah, duh, die, no! A, ah, diversion! Yes! Right. Diversion."

A domino effect of forehead slapping commenced. Bee, you fool! Twitch was wrangled back by Hashtag from leaping over the bush.

"Diversion?" Your face furrowed.

"With the....Terrans!" He snapped his servos. " Right, the Terrans. You know, a new lesson I made. Figured you'd be there for support. It's all about the essence of....diversion."

You stand there, mouth opening then closing. "...Sure, I guess. What time?"

"Anytime you're free." He says it, almost breathlessly.

You blink. "I thought it was a scheduled lesson."

His door wings pike up again. He groaned internally. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, uh. Yeah. Right. Schedule….schedule…So, how's ten tommorow? I'll round up the kids by then."

"Sounds good."

"Good. Good. See you....later."

You wave, then turned around, rounding the corner of the house. The moment you did, your face crumbled and you hid your face into your palms, a whine seethed inside your throat. Bee, however, pressed his helm against his servo, sighing.

How did I messed that up so badly?

Meanwhile, in the bush.

"Cut the film, Hash." Twitch resigned.

"But he could push on!"

"I highly doubt that." Nightshade was already crawling away.

Jawbreaker clicked thought the comms. "I saw yellow leaving. Is everything alright?"

"Nothing. Is Thrash dead? Thought so. Saw his head peeking out from the barn. Someone get him, please."

And, while they're all about to regroup. Twitch just had the perfect idea. It's about time she takes matters into her own hands.

[v]

Night plunged the skies, freckled with stars reflecting off his windshield as he rolled underneath the veil of darkness.

"Bee quick! Come to the barn! A problem just came up!"

"Twitch?" He was about to scale another ramp when he halted midway, changing course immediately. "C'mon talk to me. What's the problem?"

"Just come! It's urgent!"

Seeds of inky doubts blotched into his mind. The little runt had a lot of tricks up her sleeves. Sure, she's a heavy hitter but also a decent liar. Last time she pulled off the same shtick he was pushed into a hole....filled to the brim with mud. He walked around the vicinity and stank like cow feces for days.

He really should stop letting twitch mingle with Wheeljack.

His wheels rolled up to a stop in front of the barn. The trees, inky black, loomed around the farm, towering above him. He felt a shudder up his spine. Leaves rustled. Crickets chirp. All was quiet. Too quiet.

"Twitch? Kids?" He slid the barn door aside, joints whirring with every step. Hay crunched under his pedes. " Ugh, not this again. Guys, seriously. If, if this, Primus who littered this place? If this is one of your jokes I swear to— huh?"

The basement door was open. A gaping hole, black and swarthy greeted his eyes. Who left that open? He took a step closer. "Guys? Are you in there? What's going on?"

Another step. Then another.

"Look, you can come out now. This isn't funny."

The hole grew bigger, bigger and— Footsteps pattered behind him. It was gentle but it drew alarm as Bumblebee whirled around. And, there she was. Twitch stood before him, a wide, chesire grin on her face. The moonlight illuminated her from behind, casting an ominous shadow that loomed In front of her figure.

"Adios!"

He sputtered in confusion and felt two pedes connecting with his chest and he's sent stumbling back down the steps of Nightshade's underground lab. His shout of surprise was quickly drowned out when Twitch pulled the door shut.

"There! That'll do it." She grinned, fists on her hips. “You got that hash?”

“All on tape. Even his face too! Did you see how he looked like?” Hash stepped out of her hiding place, literally behind the hay. The original culprit of hay litter-er. "They're gonna be there for hours! Trapped in each other's embrace! Oohhhh this is so rad. You've seen those rom-coms, right? It's going be so funny when they come back out.”

"With result." Nightshade chirped, coming up beside them. "It's been awhile something has transpired. A change of the usual routine. Oh, the bore of waiting so long. As a scientist myself. I admit — it can get a little bothersome. Let's only hope the heat from the generator can keep them warm."

Silence. Hashtag feels two optics on her.

"Generator, what generator?"

"....Hashtag." They begin slowly. Twitch looks mortified.. "....Please tell me you didn't cut off the generator when I said only to cut off the vault."

Confusion furrowed her brows. "How else would the door be locked if I didn't?"

Twitch groaned, head into her palms.

Nightshade stares at the closed vault. "....Oh, dear."

[vi]

"Unnfh!" His helm collided against the floor. Great. That’s just great. Mentor student. Mentor student! You don’t do this to your mentors! Annoyance bubbled inside his chassis and he grits his teeth. That is it. That is it. He’s had enough of her tomfoolery, her jokes, her tricks! Tommorow, he’s going to put her through hell and back—

“Bee?” He feels something warm touching his shoulder.

His helm swivels up, then his optics widens in surpise when your nose is inches away from his own. You make a flustered sound, suddenly falling back on your ass to put space between you both, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d uh be that close.” Was a soft mumble. “The fall looked like it hurt. You okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine.” He breaths out, scrambling up to sit properly. He’s not sure what position, so he curled up his knee plates to his chassis. Your eyes are too…impossible to look at. “Think I broke a joint there.”

“You break joints too?”

He huffs a laugh, “You don’t think we do?” “I mean as in,” You gesture to his body, “ You know, cracking joints. Is it equivalent to me popping my knuckles? I saw you did it this morning when you stretch.” You trailed off, then shake your head. “Sorry, it’s a stupid question.”

“It’s fine. It’s not stupid. You’re not….stupid.” He clears his throat, “We also experience cramps. Tension in the joints when, well, like how a rusty hinged door won’t open up all the way.”

“Oh, that’s one way to put it.” You scoot a bit closer, pressing up against his leg. Bumblebee stiffens, servos moving over to stiffly cup your back to keep on you warm. The air was unusually chilly today. His quick scans showed the generator wasn’t working. Did the lights went out? His servos graze over your shoulders, massaging it a little, then behind your neck.

“And, and that one time. I don’t think you know him yet, he’s an old friend back during the war," He starts rambling for something to say anything to keep the conversation going, “His name’s Ratchet. Old bot forgot to oil up his pistons and couldn’t move for an entire day! Can you believe that? We had to carry him everywhere we went. Once, I was caught in the crossfire. Bullets were raining. Full on barrage. Nonstop. And he’s just like that, a plank of wood in my arms as I ran. You should’ve seen the look in his face!

“I can imagine he’s not happy,” A giggle bubbled in your throat. His audials perk up. “Yeah, I can tell. He’s a lot less crass in his manners when he dealt with me,” Bee leans a bit close, the servo skims down to your torso. “After all the bedgruding looks I’ve gotten from him — he’s got no choice but to give me special treatment of letting me off a few scolding.” “Oh? Why’s that,”

“I’m not exactly the prim and proper type.”

“My, my is bee the rebellious type?”

He lowers his voice into a playful whisper. “I had a phase, okay? Everyone does. Mine, though, it’s just worse than Arcee’s. She’s unhinged too but waaaay less moody. But don’t tell the kids that. I’m not going to have my name sullied, you hear?”

“Noted, officer. But I really can’t promised I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

He groans then a digit nudges your ribs. “No, really I’m serious. They’re going to kill me with that. I don’t want another incident to tarnish my reputation. Ive got Jawbreaker pestering me about how I made a mistake choosing my first alt-mode, I don’t need another slander. My feelings,” he says with a servo over his chassis, “they’re fragile.”

“Come on,” you leaned forward, cheek against his leg plate. Bee looks away, holding himself back from, well, squishing that…squishy part of your face. “It’s not so bad. The beetle looked adorable.”

“Beetle. Really? Beetle?” He looked almost offended you termed it that way.

“Isn’t that what it’s called?” He leans over and flicks your head. “I’d prefer it if you called it something else.”

You laugh. “I’ll bite, then. The Beatles?”

“No,” He said the words too fast, “Honey.”

You freeze. He freezes.

He did not just say that. Oh, no. He did not. He did not. When you look away that’s when he panicked. No! He’s not going to let the past few minutes go to waste! “As in yellow! Honey as in yellow!” He backpedaled, raising up his servos. “You know when I— when you said that, I was—" What’s up with him today? Then, he sags, muttering defeatedly. “It’s not what you think I meant to say.”

He’s blown it. Thrown it all down the drain. All his hard work now crumbled at the mere touch of his fingertips. You speak up after a moment, “What if…I wanted it to be what I think you meant?”

He looks at you again, surprise. He felt his spark clenching. This time you held firm eye contact despite your hands that were shaking. Think about gardening. Think about gardening. This is like that! Like he’s a flower. Gentle to hold. You steeled yourself and stood up on your toes, palms on his knee plates as you leaned in close.

“What did you meant?” You said softly.

His servos reached out to cup your cheek, curling his digits around the back of your hair. You leaned against his touch, closing your eyes. It was warm. His touch was warm. Pulsing and thrumming against your face.

“What I meant is that you’re someone important to me.” Then, he pulls you close, his optics flickering back and forth nervously. “So important I….think about you a lot. Like, a lot. I can’t….really stop. Even when I want to….its hard.”

Your face burns but you’re not letting that deter you. If god decided to kill you today, you’d steel on, wading through his comets. Think about the garden! You close the distance and your lips find the crook of his nose, pressing a gentle kiss to it, then his cheek. Your palms rested on his shoulder. Bee blinks, choking back a surpised sound at the touch but his servos manage to find your waist, curling his digits around the fabric of your shirt and pulls you close. He tilts his head so his lips would find yours.

“I think about you too.” You mumble against his lips.

[illmother]

ೀ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ⎯ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝖕𝐚𝐫𝐚deisos 𝓼𝗰𝘂𝗺.

A/N: rewatched the rain burst event AGAIN and fell in love with rahu all over again, i now declare myself vice president of rahu nation. (if you will 🙏) i’ve been reading “On A leash” again and got inspired, so soldier x doctor it is

⏜ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ݁ Rahu x Paradeisos!Doctor!Reader

cw: a bit suggestive

Resilience, strength, obedience. Those words could very well describe Rahu as a whole, a headstrong, dependable soldier who wouldn’t hesitate to kill in order to pave the way to victory. Being part of the FAC elite division, she has faced many dangers alike, big and small. But regardless of this fact, it’s not uncommon for her to get injured despite also being a sinner with immense power, which brings Rahu to this predicament quite often.

The doors of the infirmary opens, and in walks the tall sinner. Immediately upon arrival, Rahu was hit with a nauseating scent, which in turn made her brows furrow. “That habit will kill you one day.” She sneered through her mask, walking up the source of that wretched smell that kept assaulting her senses, smoke and cheap cologne. Rahu’s expression remained stoic and stern, as she came up to the root of her irritation, and more notably—desires. Yet, only a small laugh could be heard, a sound so empty, so hallow, it made Rahu tense. Damn, that women, that damned doctor that claims she’s only here to treat patients, but rahu knew better than to trust paradeisos scum. Her eyes narrowed at the figure in front of her, draped in a white coat, head tilted away from her, she seemed to be paying to mind to the sinner.

“You say that yet, you come back to me all tattered up weekly.” You countered with a smile, leaning against the crisp, white wall of the infirmary, with a cigarette in hand. Finally, for the first time since Rahu’s arrival, you turned to face her, before your eyes trailed down to the state she was in. You noticed a rather large wound right on her abdomen—not deep, but enough for it to cause pain and discomfort, alongside other smaller injuries, and a visible frown formed on your delicate features. But for some strange reason, some stupid reason, seeing that change on your usually serious face was…weirdly intoxicating to Rahu. But just as fast as it came, it was gone, she was intrigued, she needed to see it again, see that look on your face, see what other expressions that stern face can morph into. “Really, who’s actually going to die first?” You asked with mild irritation and a hint of—concern? in your tone, snapping Rahu out of whatever trance she was in. You heaved a sigh of frustration before putting the cigarette out and throwing the bud in the ashtray.

“Come, let’s get you fixed up.” You gestured for her to come sit on a hospital bed with a nod of your head, and she complied, not that she had a choice if she wanted back on the frontlines as soon as humanly possible. You stared Rahu down, hands in your coat pockets, and she instinctively gripped the sheets, your stare was intense, and she needed stability. There was silence between the two of you, and you raised your eyebrow. “Undress.” You ordered sternly, to which her expression faltered, she let out a small sound of surprise. “What?” Rahu questioned, her hands gripping the sheets tighter, as her brows furrowed. You only looked at her with that same deadpan expression on your face, it only made her more irritated.

“Do you want to get treated, or no? your pick.” You gave her an ultimatum, either get treated or die in battle, her choice. Though, in all honesty, you were going to treat her either way, and you were well aware how suggestive you sounded when you told her to undress, but you couldn’t help but find every reaction of hers…quite endearing. A smug smirk was plastered on your face, as she begrudgingly started rid herself of her dark coat, leaving her in her white now blood soaked button down—if you were feeling optimistic, you’d think the blood wasn’t hers, but in this case you knew it was. Once again, there was silence, a deafening silence, one you would deem peaceful if it wasn’t for the sinner glaring holes through your skull. You sighed, before getting on your knees, kneeling down. Rahu watched your every move, from the way you gently lifted up her shirt to inspect her wounds, to the way you eyebrows furrowed when you were deep in thought. She seemed all too focused on your expression, your face, your lips—

Rahu instinctively shoved you away, when she felt you unbuttoning her shirt, her hand situated in your hair. You stare up at her, her face was covered by her oni mask, yet the tips of her ears were red, how…cute. Coming from someone like her. “What—what the hell are you doing?” Rahu stammered out, her grip firm on your hair, yet you didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “How else am i going to treat you?” You countered, but still let go of her bloodied shirt, crossing your arms in mock irritation. “You should have just asked, i’ll do it myself.” She says simply with mild annoyance, before her large, calloused hands let go of your hair, and moved up to unbutton her shirt. “Rather skittish today, aren’t we?” You teased, before getting to work, cleaning and fixing her wounds up, before she inevitably gets injured again or exerts herself too much, so much so her wounds reopened. It happened more than once, more times than you can count, or even remember.

As you treated her wounds, occasionally hearing pained groans above you, it amused you to no end if you were, truly, being honest. Seeing her pale hands, covered in countless scars that had built up over the years grip the sheets until her knuckles turned white, it was beyond amusing to you, but even despite focusing on treating her, you could practically feel her eyes on you, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you shiver.

“Alright, you’re all fixed up.” You stated calmly, before standing up and straightening yourself out. “As always, i insist you stay here and recover. Going back to the frontlines in this condition would—” You expected her to just fix her appearance up, and walk out without another word, but to your surprise she only responded “I’ll stay.” Rahu stated firmly, before crossing her arms, you almost let out an laugh at how unexpected this behavior was, especially coming from her. “Have you gotten yourself so beat up, you’re finally listening to me?” You teased, before eyeing the bloodied shirt she had on. “It’ll do me some good if you get rid of that, it’s gonna reek up my infirmary. I’m sure the FAC will provide you with another in due time.” You hummed, gesturing to her shirt, to which she reluctantly complied and took it off. What a strange change of pace, not that you were complaining, she was much more tolerable, but somewhere, deep down, you knew why she was so hostile towards you. You were from Paradeisos, it was natural for her to be on guard, you really couldn’t hold it against her.

“You’re making that expression again.” Rahu commented, which makes your gaze shift from her discarded shirt to her face, and your eyes shine with a hint of attraction at seeing her exposed, toned stomach, your eyes trailed higher until they settled on her chest, and collarbone—you quickly snapped out of the daze you were in, and stared her in the eyes. “Do you enjoy looking at my face that much, you even notice the smallest of changes?” You teased with a grin, to which you noticed her eyebrow twitched, just the tiniest bit.

“You’re free to stare as much as you want.”

[so-long-soldier-writes]

The Light in My Darkness

damon salvatore x gn!reader | requested

summary: after your boyfriend's death, you fell back into old habits. now that he's back, you're having trouble kicking them again.

tags: angst, hurt / comfort, depression, s3lf h4rm, kisses

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i typically don't write for damon, however i feel comfortable writing this subject matter and i'm getting better with understanding his character. honestly, too, i rewatched s7 and i'm starting to love him even more. (i just love the traumatized characters.)

also, i'm not good at titles. my first title had the word 'put' in it, but i stared at it so long, it didn't look like a word anymore and i had to change it. i think i like this one better. i stg, titles are half the reason i take so long to post. whew, anyway... enjoy ❤️

“Stefan needs help at Whitmore,” Damon says hurriedly. He puts his phone in his back pocket and sighs. “Another Enzo situation.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, you stay here. I don’t want him anywhere near you, given he’s in one of his moods and would hurt you for no reason.” He gives you a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He speeds out the door a moment later, leaving you alone in the large, empty house. You sigh. Your life is so full of supernatural drama, it’s hard to keep up. Honestly, you’re not even sure what the situation is with Enzo, or why he and Stefan hate each other so much, or how Damon knows what to do to de-escalate their arguments. Of course, Caroline debriefed you on it sometime ago, but with all the craziness happening lately, it pretty much went over your head. 

It’s been hard these last few months. Only recently had Damon returned to you from four months after being considered dead, alongside Bonnie, as the other side collapsed with him in it. Those months had been the hardest of your life, and you doubted your ability to make it through them. Losing your best friend and your boyfriend was something you never thought you’d have to endure, yet it happened. Losing them almost killed you, too. 

For three years, you were clean. You hadn’t touched a single blade since you and Damon got serious. He gave you a reason to stop without even knowing it, and with a lot of patience with yourself, you managed to kick the addiction. After he died, though, when you couldn’t bear to live without him, you picked it back up. Part of you is pissed for falling back into your old ways, but the other part has convinced yourself it’s what you need to do to survive. 

When he came back unexpectedly, you were filled with just as much panic as you were joy. You had him back, but had relapsed majorly, and now have to recount your old steps into being sober again. It hasn’t been easy. 

It’s been a couple days since your last time, and while your skin’s no longer bright and swollen, it seems to beg for your attention. You have to plan it carefully, making sure Damon will be gone long enough that he won’t sense the fresh blood. When he grabs your wrists to kiss your face, you don’t want to flinch in slight pain, or let him pick up a chance in your heartbeat. 

It’s such a complicated addiction to have when dating a vampire, yet fighting the urges are so hard, sometimes you can’t help but give into them. 

The blades in the bathroom are ready for you when you enter. A brand new pack sits in the drawer. The boys won’t miss one or two. The one time Stefan did notice, you blabbered a quick lie about needing one to scrape a bit of food dried to the stovetop. He was in such a rush that day, he didn’t catch any lie, and you were able to smile and flee the scene a moment later. Since then, you make sure to hold onto the one you have until there’s enough to not see one missing. 

With everyone seemingly involved in the Enzo situation, you don’t bother to shut the door completely before dragging the blade across your skin. The boarding house is empty, and this bathroom in particular is tucked away nicely behind the stairs. You make a few scattered cuts and watch the blood seep from them. It always seems to calm you in the most grotesque way, and, quite ironically, gives you the perfect dopamine rush that raises your spirits despite the pain. It’s a terrible addiction but with a high reward… until you have to hide the evidence. 

That little reminder makes you sigh. Too many scars are hard to hide, and with Damon back, you have to be careful. It would break him to see you this way; that thought alone makes you put down the blade. For a moment longer, you stare at the tricking blood, committing the sight to memory to maybe fend off the next urge. To imagine the blood on your skin may convince yourself it’s there, and maybe you won’t cut the next time you’re so desperate. Maybe. 

You reach for a piece of toilet paper to dab the wounds. The bleeding needs to stop before you crave another scare. It’s so tempting, but-

“Hey,” Damon appears suddenly, peeking through the door. His eyes are narrowed, as if sensing something’s wrong. “What are you doing?”

You turn to face him and hold your hands around your back quickly. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” He opens the door a little wider, seeing the reflection of your hidden hands in the mirror. “Let me see your arms.”

“I’m okay.” Nervously, you pull down your sleeves to hide your wounds as much as possible. Your eyes meet the floor, unable to lie if you look into his blues.

“No, you’re not.” He argues, anxious to see your face; to not let you shy away and avoid his gaze. His approach makes your heart race, confirming his worst fears. “Let me see.”

“I thought you were leaving. I thought Stefan needed you.”

“He does, but he can wait.”

“But-”

“You’re my first priority. I can tell something’s up. Please,” he brushes a hair away from your face, “let me in.”

“Damon, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurting, and I can smell the blood, and I’m really trying hard not to freak out right now.”

You huff at the realization that he could smell it. You should’ve waited for him to be gone longer before breaking your skin. “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just promise me.” Tears well in your eyes, but you let them fall, unwilling to take your hands off your sleeves. 

“Y/N, I promise. I could never be mad. Just let me see it.”

Slowly, you release your sleeves, but leave the task of rolling them up to him. You can’t bear to do it yourself. Damon takes one hand gently and pulls the sleeve back. Upon seeing the numerous cuts, he pulls the other back with a little more vigor, but is still careful not to hurt you. He stares, unable to speak or move, as his heart breaks with every passing second. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. His eyes meet yours and you finally break down into tears. 

Without a moment of hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms protectively around your body. You feel safe in his arms, you always do. Damon has a way about him that always makes you feel safe, no matter what anyone else thinks of him. He’s loyal and understanding, and that is part of the reason you feel so horrible for not telling him this. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, now sobbing into his chest. 

Your heart beats and reminds him that you are alive. The cuts made into your skin weren’t deep enough to take you. The pain you have been feeling hasn’t swallowed you whole. He concentrates on your breathing, and your crying, and uses it to anchor himself before asking the thousands of questions flooding his mind. 

He pulls away, finally, and wipes your tears with his thumbs. His hands grip your shoulders with a gentle desperation, as if he’s afraid you could dissipate at any moment. 

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

Your heart feels heavy as you reply, “honestly, no.”

“Why not tell me, Y/N? You know I love you. If you’re hurting, I want to be there for you.”

“I know… I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint you? Some part of me was embarrassed about it, and I didn’t want you to see me differently because of it. I don’t know.” 

“Baby, there’s nothing you could do that’d ever make me love you less. Nothing that would ever make me feel a different way, or see you in another light.”

“I know. I know my feelings are totally irrational, I just… they’re fears.”

“I understand.” He kisses your forehead, then releases your shoulders to hold your hands and kiss them, too. “Hey, can you promise me something?”

“I can try.”

“Come to me the next time you’re feeling like you want to hurt yourself, okay? Let me help you through it.”

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter what’s going on, or who’s texting, I will drop anything and put you first. But you gotta let me in when you need it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now,” he pauses, biting into his arm and holding it out for you to drink. His other hand meets the back of your head, stabilizing your neck to keep you comfortable. 

To his dismay, you refuse. You try to pull away, but his other hand prevents that, so you look down instead. “I can’t.”

“Y/N…”

“The scars are a reminder that I bleed. As soon as they fade away, the urge returns, but if they’re there for a little while, the urge is less strong. They’re kind of a comfort, I think. A reminder.”

“So you don’t want me to heal them?”

“I’d rather not. They don’t bother me too much. Do they bother you?”

You can see the hesitation in his eyes. He fights with himself, knowing the sight is a reminder of your pain, but understands their existence helps you heal. After a moment, he shakes his head. “No, baby, I only care that you’re safe.” He kisses them one more time. “Have you eaten much today?”

“Not really.”

“Well… do you mind if I make you something, even if it’s just something small, and then we can sit together on the couch? We’ll take today slow.”

“Okay. Wait, but what about Stefan?”

“Caroline can handle it. Then he’ll be in her debt and she’ll be happy about it,” he jokes.

You smile, appreciating his humor despite the somber mood hanging above both your heads. He’s the light in dark times, the much needed laugh that breaks the awkward silence. It’s part of the reason you fell for him so quickly. 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. And thank you.”

He pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then reaches for your hand. “Of course.”

[arcielee]

the salver & the sword

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 4.4k+ warnings: AFAB reader, more missed moments, just sprinkling some seasonings and placing you back into this crockpot that is slow burn author's note: Sorry this chapter was delayed. I have been rewatching jjk and Nanami crept into my brain. I always knew he was going to show up but I was unsure as to how. Also, Runa belongs to @itbmojojoejo (thank you for letting me borrow her) from their amazing story Crimes Of Passion (another fandom, but I don't care). I just fell in love with this OC and thought, "Yes. This is perfect. This is exactly what Nanami needs." Also, oji is uncle in Japanese. Enjoy! 💜

Chapter IV ~ No Hesitation

At first your sorrow held over like a heavy fog, a slow dissipation as you settled into a routine with the days that followed. 

The general was a man who seemed to wake before the sun, tending to Mimiko while you remained curled in the furs, hazy blinks into the sunlight spilling through the trees. You helped pack up the camp, saddling everything onto the horse, and Suguru would take the lead while you walked along the other side, just as before. He kept Mimiko at a steady pace, allowing you time to unfurl from your silence, from your lingering grief that grew lighter with your steps. 

He asked you simple questions which allowed you to tell memories of your father, and you found it soothing to share your history, the story of how Atsumeru was passed down. It was an endeavor began by your grandmother, who was a renowned healer across the sea. She taught your father everything he knew and when he came of age, she gifted it to him, telling him to go and make his own name. 

It was a dam broken, and you continued on to share about your mother, something that was both familiar but foreign on your tongue, a pain more muted after all the time that passed but never forgotten as her very fierceness was embedded into your blood. She had fled the Ryomen Kingdom after Sukuna’s violent claimant of the throne, and was just a wounded refugee that your father came across. 

He cared for her and as she healed, she could not help but fall in love with him. 

“After she died, I knew I wanted to follow after my grandmother and my father.” Your cheeks were warm from your overshare, and you peered over at Suguru. 

He was watching you, a pain flickering over his features before he dared ask. “What happened to her?” 

His thoughtfulness touched you, though that pain was not as raw as it once was, just another event in that lifetime ago, back at Hoshi. It was something else that fell into place, creating this pathway that seemingly carved its way back again.

“She was cut by a shi no ha during the battle of Hoshi. It was not deep, of course, so she and my father focused on helping those more grievously injured.” 

Your eyes stayed forward, hiding the shine of unshed tears, habitual now with your current heartache, but you noticed the tension that rippled over him. “The death blade.” It was a statement confirming what you shared. 

Hemlock grew rampant in the north and was poisonous when ingested. The Ryomen soldiers would ground it and line the insides of the scabbards and sheaths with it, a tactic that allowed a fatality with shallow swipes of their steel. This method allowed a slower, painful reaction, with stomach cramps and a rapid pulse, a slight fever that could be ignored until it would scorched through, boiling the marrow of your bones. 

And then, it was too late. 

It was new to the battlefield, nothing to be prepared for. Your father did not realize what was happening until he noticed how her eyes dilated, black swallowing the color, and her jaw locked, saliva frothing at the corners of her lips. It was a chain reaction all around, plaguing those who thought they survived the battle, and his supplies were sorely limited.

Nothing could be done to save them all. 

“I now try to always be prepared,” you admitted. 

Suguru was quiet for a moment. “The charcoal?” 

You nodded, a warmth with the thought that he recalled the pouch that you tucked away along with the other herbs purchased. “You can mix it with water and it helps prevent it from being absorbed from the stomach and into the body,” you confirmed. “And besides, I need to take whatever I can find these days.” 

He was watching you, his stoicism held on like a guard with glints of unsaid emotions that came and went with the flutter of your pulse, a silence that now curled into your abdomen. You allowed him the time, as you realized he took a conscientious effort to gather his thoughts. 

“I believe you will make your own name,” he said, “just as your father had.” 

The sincerity in his tone prickled your skin and you looked ahead again, your face burning. “That is what I hope. I know I can start again–I have my father’s book, I have the few mementos of my mother, and I still have that pouch of silver.” 

Suguru only hummed his acknowledgement, but you caught the smile touching his lips. 

The days were spent in this way, a conversation revived that allowed you a raw honesty you never shared before, but it was something you wished to give him. Suguru still felt like an enigma, unreadable, and at the same time, he returned that candor with any question you dared to ask him. 

For Suguru, you found it to be an even exchange, with his ceaseless patience shown to you in every situation. There was no hesitation because of your sex, but he would share tasks, like capturing smaller wildlife of the forest: he showed you how to strip away the fur and cut the meat into strips, placing them over the fire to dry out. He was not one to bloat you with praise, just his low murmur when you mastered whatever was shown.

You preened from that attention.

He gifted you his hunting knife which felt comically big for your hand, but he showed you how to keep a firm hold and cut some rope to knot around your waist, a place for its sheath. His hands were careful and the warmth of his palms bled through your dress, fluttering into the pit of your stomach. 

“So you can protect yourself,” he told you, “if I am not there.” 

That struck you deep, rattling you with the thought, if I am not there, and it spilled past your lips before you could stop it. “Then I will pray to the gods that you always are.” 

The unsaid flared in his eyes, a conflicting desperation to press onward or remain rooted in the moment, and you were the one to pull away from him, your disappointment carving into your belly. He needed a distraction, it seemed, and you allowed it. 

Autumn allowed berries to blossom, and you showed Suguru the difference between the edible ones and the poisonous ones. You held on your skirt to carry, picking until your fingers stained and washing them in the river that followed along. It was a treat to share until you both ate your fill. 

Still he remained guarded, still deliberate with his every action towards you, and it left you craving for something unknown in return. You found yourself mindful of the setting sun with the stretch of shadows, eager to help set up the campsite. Your patience petered away until the blackened blue sky extended overhead and the stars glittered bright above, and only then would he reach for you, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around to hold you close.

It lulled the disappointment, the craving that wound tight within you, scattering away into the solace he unknowingly created at night. His steady breathing and his warmth were comforting in a way you wished you could dig your fingers into and never let go. 

But the sun would rise again and pull him away. You would wake, alone, to repeat the day. 

It was not anything you experienced before. Other suitors would come by and speak with your father about your “need” for a husband, a good man, but he would chuckle and tell them same thing, “It is her decision. Only she will know.” Time again it proved that whatever you were looking for did not exist within them, and you wondered if it could ever be found.

And now you were walking across the Tengen Kingdom with the purple-eyed demon. It felt that you still did not know him, truly, though his actions showed you one man versus his legend known throughout. Your curiosity knitted onto your features, stealing bolder glances across Mimiko.

The amber hues of the coming dusk washed over Suguru, illuminating him–his eyes showed golden in the light and the black silk spill of his hair gleamed, the sun reflecting Nanako and her gemstone that glittered in her hilt over his shoulder. 

Worthy, returned the thought, followed by the intrusive: He is so very handsome. 

“What about you, Suguru?” 

Autumn decorated the road with leaves of burnt orange and red, the crisp air returning as the sun curved to tuck away. You had been bared to him and felt desperate to understand the man beneath the myth, but hid your eagerness with your almost teasing tone, beneath your sly smile. 

“What about me?” He asked, his eyebrow arching, daring you. 

You swallowed. “I wish you to tell me more of who you are.” 

“But I do not have much to tell.”

His smile spoke otherwise, and you continued. “You are the most fearsome swordsman of the Queensguard, and you have nothing to tell?” Your palm pressed to Mimiko to guide your steps without looking, to tilt your head towards him with a mocking pitch. “The very same man who wields a legendary blade that chose him?” 

You relished in the rose tones that flushed his face, the soft smile that touched his lips. “I do not believe that you do not have much to tell. Nothing to share outside of your lore?” You hesitated. “No lady of the court that awaits your return?” 

That thought had been twisting in your stomach, but you were determined to remain coy, flippant as you waited for him to pick out his words. When he looked to you, the shadow cast cut away the gold glow, his purple eyes pinning you. “My life is my duty to the queen and to the prince. No one stays very long, and I cannot blame them.” 

It was sombering, and it left you burning with questions you could not stomach to ask– a feeling that replaced the dull ache with something that seemed unattainable. For Suguru, a general’s devotion was his life, just as being a salver was your own, and to ask him for anything else… 

You broke away from his gaze, biting into your bottom lip, caging your thoughts behind your teeth. 

“Besides,” –you dared to look back to see him smirking, and it flared through you– “who would wait around when I am sent on a fool’s errand?” 

Suguru was never what you were expecting, and your laughter spilled in a way that felt absurd, pulling a string of merriment that pearled tears in the corners of your eyes. He was pleased with your reaction. 

“General Suguru Geto.”

You froze, the voice cutting through. Suguru looked ahead to see a man walking up from a pathway with a fishing net over one shoulder and carrying a basket brimming with mackerel. “I had thought the gods bless us,” the stranger seemed dour, unsettling, “but I see it was only to prepare for you coming across my path unexpectedly.”  

A smile stretched across Suguru’s jawline, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and you exhaled, unaware you had been holding your breath. “We both know you do not believe in destiny in that way, Kento Nanami.” 

“Perhaps.” He was sunkissed, his golden hair slicked back and the gleam of his perspiration pulling his cotton shirt to his form, to his broad shoulders. The severity etched onto his sunken features softened as he came closer, his hazel eyes flitting from you and settling onto Suguru. 

“Either way, here you stand now,” he gestured, a smile curving on his lips, dimpling into his cheek. “Come, follow me home to see Runa and the kids. We can eat and you can tell me about whatever Satoru has you doing now.” 

+ + + +

Kento Nanami had grown up in Hoshi, serving alongside Suguru and Prince Gojo during the war. He found his notoriety when he led a small militant group, cutting westward to ambush and kill the infamous major general, Mahito, which resulted in crippling the Ryomen force. The tandem continued, allowing Suguru to press north, Nanako in hand, beating them back across the border and ending the war. 

You were already aware of these tales from the ballads and songs about the purple-eyed demon and the valiant fight that echoed throughout the Tengen Kingdom, their efforts forever immortalized. 

What you did not know was the kinship that was forged during this. You also learned that Suguru Geto, and sometimes the prince, would come and visit in the springtime, and how Kento’s children referred to him as oji.

You followed along in a daze, the road ahead splitting and a stone path weaving away into an enclave of trees. A wooden fence bordered around, providing ample room for livestock where some goats and a cow grazed. Suguru unhitched Mimiko so she could join, and you helped him carry what you had back towards the cabin aglow, smoke curling up from the chimney. 

A woman came to the doorway, tall and lean with a copper spill of curls and blue eyes that pierced through you. “Suguru,” she called his name with a warmth, a fondness that touched her lovely features. “We were not expecting you so soon.” 

“This is my wife, Runa.” Kento moved towards the steps of the wooden porch that stretched around, setting down the basket before wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. You felt your blood simmer and looked away, spotting two more sets of eyes peering from around her skirts, a little girl and a little boy. 

“Off with you!” Runa pushed Kento back, still smiling. “You smell like fish!” 

“Oji!” The little girl burst forward, unabashed, her eyes golden, with a wildfire of strawberry curls and freckles strewn across her nose and cheeks. 

Suguru crouched on command to scoop her up and she giggled as he tossed her upwards. “Hana, I want you to meet my friend,” he said, settling her onto his hip before turning towards you. 

Her eyes widened with your name, a toothy grin on display when she asked if you belonged to her oji. You wished for the earth to swallow you, but Runa was quick to react, sweeping Hana back into her arms and chiding her– “You little minx, you cannot ask that.” 

“But you said that he needed a lady friend!”

The warm tones clashed with Runa’s hair, panic glinting in her eyes as she ushered the little girl back inside, along with the basket of fish. You could not look at Suguru, but focused on the other pair of eyes–blue like his mother’s. He stepped forward on unsteady legs, his hands reaching to grab your skirts with a shy smile as he looked up at you. 

Kento reached to ruffle his golden hair. “And this is my youngest, Nobu.”

“Hello.” You kneeled to be at his eye level and his skin stained pink, his smile dimpling his face. “Do you want to come inside with me?” 

He nodded and you took his hand, allowing the men their reunion. You followed after Runa and Hana to the kitchen that was wide and spacious. A table was placed in the center where the basket spilled, and the stove burned bright with a warmth that filled the room. 

For you, it felt like a long-lost home. The children played on the floor while you followed Runa’s command, taking the spare knife to remove the heads and split the fish in half while she tended to the broth and rice. Hana offered her services to spot and pluck the pin-bones and Nobu watched with a wide-eyed wonder. 

Runa was effortless, a sharp wit that had you tittering, a boldness that allowed her prying to understand the guests her husband brought home. “What brings you both out here?” 

Your embarrassment prickled over and you cleared your throat. “Uh, the prince commanded for me to be fetched by…” you faltered on his name, “the general, so that I can become his wife.” 

Runa stopped to look at you, aghast, her empathy bringing her brows together and her lips downturned. “Poor Utahime. I see that Satoru remains as rash as always,” she tsked. “And pulling you into it, you poor thing.” 

You giggled again. “I feel bad for Suguru, if anything, as he has been given the duty to return with me.” 

“I see we have nothing better to do with a decorated general,” she began to stir the broth again, shaking her head. “So what will you do?”

It was only fair for her to ask. Runa did not know you. “I have to go and let the prince know that I will not marry him.” 

It was her turn to laugh, a warm raucous that filled the air along with the gustful smells of supper. “I like you already.” 

The men came inside as dinner was served, the children eating their fill while you listened to more of the stories shared about Suguru and Satoru and Kento, with mentions of that blustering knight, Yu Haibara. You ached from your laughter, savoring this unconditional friendship shown at the table, flowing with ease and filling your chest with a warmth that touched your cheeks. 

It was getting late and Nobu had fallen asleep, curled in his mother’s arms though Hana fought to stay awake, her head dozing against Kento. You watched their affection, the tenderness in this family that called to you–the vast difference from the loured expression Kento greeted you with earlier. Now he held his daughter with one arm while he reached with his other to pull on Runa’s curls, and the gesture forced a blush in response. 

You had to know. “How did you two meet?” 

It was curiosity, or perhaps a sort of envy coiling in your chest, watching their love so bold in front of your eyes. Throughout the night, Kento always looked to his wife, to his children, with a softness to his features, a glow reserved for them. Runa would catch his wandering eye and her radiance returned, brightening the blue of her eyes. 

It was something almost tangible. 

She laughed at your question, pulling your attention. “You may somewhat relate, but imagine waking up and finding a damn soldier bleeding in your garden.” 

“She actually thought I was dead,” Kento corrected, his eyebrow arched at her, a good nature scowl scrawled across his sharp features. “I woke up to her going through my belongings–”

Runa held your gaze. “It was war and things were dire,” she defended with a wicked grin. 

“Nonetheless,” he shifted to pull Hana up, resting her head on his shoulder, “I found her holding my sword–assessing it for its worth, in retrospect,” –a manic giggle spilled from Runa’s lips– “and noticed some of the surviving men of Mahito coming up behind her.”

You saw that Runa’s eyes shone as she listened, as if she was hearing it for the first time. You looked to Suguru and saw his smirk on display for whatever was coming next. “I was going to warn her,” Kento continued, “but she quickly turned to them, portraying this damsel-in-distress act, begging them to remove me, luring them closer and then…”

Kento paused, a slight smile on his lips with the memory. “Well, I had not seen such skill with a blade since Suguru–” 

“My father taught me and my brother very well.” Runa boasted. 

“She cut through them all, hacking them into pieces to dispose of them.” Kento was proud. “I watched her, covered in their blood, and I told her she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” 

Runa smirked. “I thought he had lost too much blood.”

“She pulled me inside and took care of me until I healed, and I would have stayed if Suguru and Satoru had not found me.” 

“She begged us to take you away,” Suguru scoffed, adding to the retelling. “She told us that he had gone mad.” 

You looked back to Runa and she shrugged. “Kento proposed,” she explained, rolling her eyes, but she was luminous with rose hues. “He told me that he wished for me to become his wife. I told him no, that he needed to go and end this blasted war, and only after, if he still felt compelled, he could come back and perhaps I would reconsider.” 

Your heart fluttered with the prospect, the possibility of leaving a life of sworn duty, seeing how it now thrived in this very residence. You licked your lips. “And, I am assuming, you did just that?” 

Kento returned a war hero and the queen had offered him whatever his heart desired; she granted him a dishonorable discharge. “I had to go back to her,” he explained.

“He never stopped talking about her,” Suguru teased. “It was endless about this red haired beauty who wielded a sword so fine, piercing his heart…”

Amongst the tittering, Kento looked to you, his asperity returning with his words. “It was not love at first sight, but something that came from the moment that I truly saw her. She called to my heart and it recognized her.” His smile was soft again. “I would do it again.” 

His words rolled over, pulling at your heart, and your eyes flitted back to Suguru. He looked away, crimson on his cheeks. 

It was the sleepy whimper from Hana that broke the moment and Kento pushed to stand. Runa shifted, but Suguru was quicker, moving to pull Nobu into his arms, following after his friend to put the kids to bed. 

She watched her husband walking away, her head tilting to admire. “We do have a spare room for you and Suguru,” she told you without looking. “It’s for when my brother comes through, but the bed should be cozy enough for the two of you–” 

You nearly squeaked your surprise. “But, we are not–” you stammered, unwilling to say it out loud. 

“Really? I was so sure,” Runa turned to face you, surprised. “But–I apologize, I only assumed with how you would look at him, and the way Suguru blushed with what–”

The thought never finished as Kento and Suguru returned. Instead, baths were to be drawn for their guests and for the day to come to an end. You followed after Runa, lost in your thoughts and the steam that rose from the tub, almost startled when she pressed something in your arms: a clean dress to change and a chemise, along with a belt. 

“For your blade,” she smiled. “I noticed you had it knotted around your waist.” 

You flushed. “That was Suguru’s doing. He wanted me to be able to defend myself, if I needed to.” 

Runa watched you for a moment, the scrutinous blue blaze of her eyes. “Then allow this belt to help with that.” She turned to leave, pausing in the doorway, peering over her shoulder back at you. “Suguru is… not shy, but he holds onto his honor like armor.” 

“What do you mean?” You were quiet with your question, your eyebrows knitting together. 

Runa sighed. “He would never try anything, especially if you are intended for Satoru.” 

She left you alone with a scurry of thoughts and emotions that twisted throughout, a wave of gooseflesh in its wake. Intended, the word repeated, almost poisonous, and you felt as if you were burning. 

You peeled away your old dress and slipped beneath the water with the bar of soap you made, the honeysuckle and tree oil soothing. You soaked, your mind pulling back to Suguru with an absent-minded tracing of your fingers along the top of your thighs, moving up to press into your knee before falling away again. 

It always returned to him, a muscle memory formed since he first came and found you in your garden. 

Your agitation had burned bright despite the legend that stood in front of you, irksome with his subtle arrogance he carried with his posture, his gait, his certainty with every word spoken as bold as the blade strapped to his backside. There was a power to his gaze, the glitter of amethyst that pulled you with some unspoken emotion that danced, while his lips held onto his infuriating, perpetual smirk. 

But your perspective of him had changed, though you could not pinpoint the moment with so many woven together in the short amount of time shared: the market, the fire, the nights curled up against his chest under the endless stretch of starlight. 

You always thought him handsome, you could admit, but that seemed a girlish crush at first. This was something that matured without you realizing; it was the way his gaze always seemed to find you, rooting you, and how he would tease you when you balanced on the precipice of your temper, and how it would ground you again.  

That night at the market–you asked him to stay because something told you that he could be trusted, that he was safe. He showed you glimpses of his true character outside the lore and legend with how he touched you that night of the fire, his gentle wipe away of your tears mixed with ash, his empathy somber on his face. 

He did not let you go that night, you realized and that memory flushed through you, curling into your lower abdomen. You shifted, water spilling over the edges, and you slipped beneath, washing away the suds before you finally pulled yourself out. You dried with the sheets left behind and changed into the cotton chemise, brushing the rose oil into your hair and plaiting it back, moving back through the quiet home and towards the spare room. 

Moonlight spilled through the windows, and tapers were lit for an amber glow. You saw Suguru at the other end, dressed in a clean shirt and slacks from Kento, baggy on his lithe form. He paused. “I was going to just sleep in the loft,” he offered, looking at you. 

And your heart recognized him. “You should stay.” Your voice was quiet, careful with your shy admittance. “I sleep better with you at my side.” 

At first, he seemed stricken with your words, and his jaw ticked as he processed them. Suguru then nodded and reached to take your hand, leading you towards the spare room.

The bed was as cozy as promised with the scent of fresh hay and clean linen, mixing pleasantly against his skin, warming your cheeks as you curled back on his chest. 

taglist: @sugurubabe @elliesndg @paprikaquinn @yeehawbrothers @witchbybirth

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[anamenooneowns]

Urges

Summary: Jennifer is always greedy for you.

AN: i rewatched jennifer's body last night so i wanted to make a spicy fic. its just our cannibal, succubus girlfriend loving up on her chubby girl. enjoy!

Pairing: Jennifer Check x Chubby black reader

Warnings: Dub-con (not previously consented demonic hypnotizing), no use of y/n (Angel isn't your name, it's a nickname), fucked grammar, degradation, biting, smacking (like once), cursing, almost caught, possible voyeurism (not really just tryna cover all the bases, these also sound like porn tags)

MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

This wasn't good. No- it wasn't good at all. This was terrible, in fact. What the fuck were you thinking? Anyone could see you here.

But as Jennifer's tongue slid up through your folds, parting them like Moses did the goddamn Red Sea- it was the best decision you've made in your life. Her plump lips pursed around your swollen clit, gathering spit to the front of her mouth to rub over the throbbing nub over, and over, and again. Your leg was thrown over her shoulder, and for a girl so skinny, it was surprising that she didn't falter at your weight pressing down on her at all.

It was your fault that you looked so precious wearing the crop top that you had taken from her closet. The spandex pressed your tits together while creating a delicious spillage she was quickly developing a taste for in Biology. And now she was having her fill in the gym locker rooms when you were both supposed to be practicing a new routine.

"Jen- Jen, fuck," you mewled. It was hard to focus on the door where anyone could come in when she was doing that thing with her tongue. "Any... anyone c'n come in."

Jennifer pulled away to laugh at your slurred words, rubbing your clit with her thumb to keep you just at the edge. "Oh, they can come in, can't they, Angel?" she mocked your moaning voice. "Then I guess the smart thing to do would be to shut your whore mouth, right?" the drop of her voice was cold and sudden.

Your sucked your trembling bottom lip into your mouth, stifling your tears at her nasty words even though your nipples were twisting into thick, hardened peaks against your cheer shirt. Her eyes locked onto your chest and she pushed your shirt up with her free hand, a dulcet noise coming from her throat as your heavy tits fell out of them. 

"Fuck." she huffed out a laugh, rising from her haunches slowly as she pressed kisses up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. "For someone so scared they're gonna be seen, it feels like you're just getting wetter and wetter," she hissed in your ear like a dirty secret.

Jennifer punctuated her sentence with a sharp smack against your pussy, eliciting a squelch that sounded so nasty- so lewd that your knees buckled. 

It took a moment to realize that you never hit the ground. Then another to register that Jennifer Check was holding you, above the ground, against the lockers, as if you were weightless. She dropped to her knees now, settling your legs over her shoulders to return to licking the honeyed sweetness you were dripping. All for her. The feeling of her mouth and fingers pleasuring you made your concern slip from your mind, head nodding off as the rise of your orgasm coiled and got hot in your belly.

"Ohgodohgod- wanna cum. Jen.. Jen, lemme cum, baby- please."

Collective laughter in the hallway almost distracted you. Almost. Jennifer's teeth sharpened and she moved her face away from your cunt to bite your thigh, smiling when you cried out in pain. "If you wanna cum, then you keep those eyes on me, Angel. Or maybe you want them to see us, see how good of a little slut you are for me, letting me eat your pussy out?"

It was adorable how you shook your head even though she could hear you chanting 'yes' in your mind. All the times she wondered where your head went off to before she was cursed had been answered. The scenarios of the salacious, perverted things you wanted her to do to you and vice versa made her write a checklist in her diary at home. This was just number five that you and her would both be crossing off soon.

It was when you started hearing the words of your fellow friends and cheerleaders that your diverted your attention again. Jennifer growled and pulled away, slick dripping down her chin, lipgloss smudged. "Angel. Look. At. Me."

Your pretty brown eyes locked onto hers and the sparkle in them started to fade as you fell into her hypnosis. Her demonesque eyes dilated at the sight of you, jaw half-open and eyes lidded as you looked down at her. 

 There we go, now you gotta work for it yourself, sweet girl.

You carded your fingers through Jennifer's hair before stopping at the back of her head, rolling your hips forward. Jennifer moaned as your eyes rolled back, riding her face at an angle where your clit bumped against her nose with every hump. She sucked your inner folds into her mouth, teasing their lineation with her tongue to scoop your cream into her mouth before letting them go. 

The doorknob twisted and turned from across the room but it didn't open. A muffled collection of groans echoing in the hallway from sweaty and tired cheerleaders at the jammed door. It made her want to laugh at how you were getting a much different workout in here.

When your hips started stuttering and frustrated whines spilled from your swollen lips at missing her nose from rutting so desperately, she grabbed the undersides of your thighs. God, you were so warm and soft. The feeling made her hungry. And the second she felt her teeth shift and sharpen, cheeks thinning to accommodate an unhinged jaw–she slammed the door on the feeling. Looking back to your soulless, brown eyes she couldn't- wouldn't succumb to her newly cannibalistic urges.

Instead, she focused on how she could have cum alone from how sopping wet and sticky your pussy was as she pushed her ring and middle finger inside your walls. It felt like hot silk as she curled them inside of you, slowly letting go of her reigns on your mind. The light in your eyes flickered on and your brows drew together, a sob leaving your lips as you looked down at her glacier blue eyes. Did you black out? 

When she put her mouth back on your cunt, you quickly agreed that you did because who wouldn't go unconscious from such good pussy eating? 

"S'right there- stop, Jenny, wai-wait!" you babbled, trying to tuck your hips back, away from her dangerous mouth.

Whatever the noise she made though, something guttural and warning, stilled you as chills ran up your spine. Your body shuddered, head tilting against the lockers and eyes rolling back as you squirted into her waiting mouth. 

She drank as if she had been deprived of water, refusing to waste a drop before crooning, "My pretty Angel," between breaths of air. She made out with your pussy as soon as she caught her breath, swirling her tongue through your swollen vulva until you were wet with her spit and whining.

"Alright, I'm done. C'mon, Angel-baby," her voice was softer as she lowered your legs to the floor, wrapping a thin arm behind your waist because she didn't trust you not to fall. 

Your eyes fluttered open when she started peppering kisses over your neck, and the kisses stopped once your eyes latched onto hers. "C'mon, I'll walk you back home, s'not safe to be alone."

You didn't argue that she would then be alone, knowing that she'd brush your concerns off with a mind-numbing kiss. And you also didn't say a word when you watched her tuck your panties into her bag unabashedly. 

When you walked into the hallway it was clear, and confusion clouded your face. Jennifer didn't have to look at you to know you were confused about what happened to your cheer squad coming toward the locker room.

"The door was jammed silly, duh." Jennifer said. "You know we always get lucky when we're in public like this," her hand crept up your skirt and you squealed as she squeezed the fatty flesh.

"Jenny, anyone could have seen my ass!" you whispered angrily, lips scrunching into a pout.

She stopped walking and grabbed your jaw, kissing you in the middle of the empty basement. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, impatient- everything was always impatient with Jennifer. Your gasp is swallowed as she presses her tongue against yours, the potent taste of you being dressed over your tongue. Pulling away, she swipes your bottom lip and collects the string of saliva connecting your mouths to pop it into her own. "They wouldn't live another day to even talk about my girlfriend's pretty ass."

You rub your lips together, moisturizing them with what was left of Jennifer's strawberry flavored gloss. Finally, you sweetly say. "Well then.. I guess it's okay."

God, you really were an Angel. Always willing and okay to let Jennifer do whatever she wanted.

As you both kept walking, Jennifer's hand rubbing your ass, she decided you didn't need to know that she literally would tear someone limb from limb for you. Or that the door to the locker room wasn't actually jammed and she had locked it from the start, the key shoved in her bra.

It was late when you and Jennifer finally got off of facetime, you insisting that she at least do this for you the moment she dropped you off so you could see her get home safely. You grabbed your pajamas which was really only panties and a tank-top you stole from your girlfriend before going into the bathroom.

You peeled off your cheer uniform, and that's when you felt it. Hissing, you turn to the mirror in your bathroom and raise your leg.

It felt like an icy hand clutched your heart as you looked at the ellipsis of small holes decorating your inner thigh. The oxidized reddish-brown blood was smeared all over it and there was only a one-word question that flitted through your mind.

Jennifer?

[raitonsfw]

There srsly needs to be more bby boy Nagito stuff, idk what's wrong with ppl 😭 I'm requesting Nagito with his s/o that were a couple before the neo world program, and once Monokuma announces the killing game, Nagito's sweet mommy s/o makes it clear that no one's laying a finger on him, getting very overprotective. During Nagito's hope rants, his s/o is just glaring at the classmates like "dammit y'all better listen to what my bf has to say". They/she also praises him a lot during investigations and for leading the class trials. 🤗

𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 | 𝚔𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚎𝚍𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚘

synopsis: The sun and the sea taunted you as the bear played with your downfall, but more detrimentally, your boyfriend who had offered himself up to the entire class with the extent of death knocking at his door. or; a rewritten chapter one of super danganronpa 2, with an insert of overprotective reader and slight baby boy nagito.

warnings: gn!reader and or fem!reader, spoilers for chapter 1 of sdr2, cursing, fits of despair, a crapload of hope references, a kiss with implied smut (nothing nsfw is explicitly written), nagito and reader are a couple, slight praising, affection, petnames (my love, angel, baby boy), reader would do anything for nagito, implied violence (the first victim), mentions of death, mentions of blood, primarily angst?, its not totally on brand with the request im so sorry!🥺

a/n: gave me a beautiful excuse to rewatch the entire first chapter of sdr2 (tysmmmm). i tried my best for the baby boy(ness) of it all, but my brain wasn’t working with me as i wrote so there’s only slight mentions. i didn't write past the second half of the trial because if i actually wrote in the blackened from chapter 1, the reader probably would’ve jumped over the trial stands to attack them for trying to hurt nagito. idk why i struggled so much, ugh but i promise promise promise i can write nagito better than this i swear. wc: 2.9k. m.list

now playing: moving up in the world by dagames

divider credit: @benkeibear & @firefly-graphics

The sun shone against the beach and you squinted at it in confusion. Another bad dream, you thought but then it all rushed back to you. It was something like a dizzy spell, the classroom you had been seemingly teleported out of felt surreal as you sat on the grains of sand surrounding you. You looked over to your right, your vision blurred and saw someone also laying next to you, unconscious and plastered on their side.

And then the pixelated green came into view as you blinked away the fuzziness, your heart nearly punching up to the base of your throat. You let out a disgruntled noise, crawling over towards him to see if he was breathing, ‘cause if he wasn’t– You couldn’t bear that thought, pushing it back within the crevices of your mind as you ran your palm over his arm.

“Nagito, Nagito!” You called out as you shook him gently from the rasps of the trance, hoping he’d respond. His chest rose and fell to your relief, and you studied the details of his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth slightly agape but no noticeable scars or wounds stuck out to you and your heart fell back to normal with a steady pulse. You shook him again, this time a little more forceful, and he awoke with a start. His eyes shot open and he took in the picture before him, sitting up quickly. Nagito groaned quietly as the sun hit him directly in the eyes and he rubbed them carefully, trying to make sense of what had happened.

You saw his realization dawn on him. “Y/N.” 

Nagito immediately hugged you, much more tightly than he ever had before and you held onto him as he buried his hands into the wisps of your hair. He felt calm, the aura around him filling up the spaces in your confusion as he looked at you for the first time since the classroom. His grayish eyes clued in onto the mayhem they had encountered when the pink rabbit explained their future school trip. But what he couldn’t hide was his truth, the iniquity wedging itself in between his seams, the spiraling circles within his pupils, the hope that he so desperately craved on the tiny island. 

And you were to make sure he had all the hope he needed rushing through his veins, whatever it takes for your partner. 

When you two met each other’s eyes in the midst of the tiny classroom, you were both confused. It seemed as if you had forgotten things about the other, something in between but you couldn’t quite figure out what. All that came to you was the newfound love you had acquired for him, being as you had started dating him a few months before he was accepted into Hope’s Peak Academy. 

You tried to remember the missing piece but as he glanced at you, his mouth opening slightly, the doors slid open again and the last student made his way into the classroom. Your head had become totally muddled and as you moved on closer to Nagito, his mouth had been basically sewn shut with the presence of the new classmate. He was assessing the reality of the issue they were facing and you decided not to bother him, letting his mind wander. 

As the waves crashed against your ears in the background, you were faced with another revelation. That he was safe– here with you, that one instance made the whole weirdness much more easy to handle. 

“I’m sure everything’s okay.” Nagito assured, a kind smile resting against the frivolities of his demeanor.

“It’s just a school trip.” You nodded, agreeing with him. It was going to be okay. 

“A happy school trip full of hope.” 

“Wh-What just…happened…?” Nagito spoke in between the dead silence, the other students peering at each other with horrified looks. 

No one dared answer him, half of the students looked like they were about to faint. You included. 

The entirety of Jabberwock park had felt like death seeped in and took hold, the pained feeling sinking into the cracks of the sidewalk. Monokuma had just disappeared along with the Monobeasts hovering behind his tail and you felt the anguish of his despairing words weigh you down heavily, your heart threatened to burst as the thought of what the stuffed bear explained. 

You needed to protect him, the thought following closely as you remembered every single syllable of the rules Monokuma mentioned. You didn’t want to be murdered, your brain reeling with all the possibilities of what could happen. But more importantly– most importantly, you didn’t want Nagito to die. You were painfully aware of his self-depreciating tendencies and sometimes he scared you with quiet comments about death. 

“I guess I’ll offer myself up first if this is a killing game. Maybe we can find some hope in my death if we all work together in favor.” You heard Nagito announce with a wavering confidence and you snapped your neck towards him. 

Like that.

A staggered look spread on your face and you felt your cheeks become hot with anger. You couldn’t find your footsteps fast enough, your entire body moving into front of Nagito and you shielded your hands up. Hajime went to protest but you beat him to it, your mouth flying open. 

He was not fucking sacrificing himself in the name of hope. You cut that cord short, on second thought he had all the hope he needed at the moment.

“No one’s laying a finger on anyone, you hear me?!” You burst out, your annoyance through the roof. “Especially not Nagito. We can figure this out another way, we’re not sacrificing our friends. Don’t even think about it.” 

“We’re not going to kill, no one here’s like that.” Hajime interjected, albeit a bit hesitant. “We’re not sacrificing anyone.” 

“The fear that Monokuma instilled in everyone though...Hajime, are you positive someone won’t? At this point, it seems to be fully plausible that someone could potentially kill someone with the notion of that escape motive.” Byakuya spoke up and his words felt like a thousand bricks. 

He was right, that motive was extremely compelling. But it didn’t phase you in the slightest.

Everything you had was behind you, the white haired man leaning into your backside as you defended him. There was nothing for you at home, everyone just about had left you and you promised with a solemn word that you’d give your everything to Nagito. You tried not to be too mad at him, you understood the situation completely. He was just trying to help, even as fucking idiotic as his words seemed to be in that precise moment.

“Babe, it’s okay.” Nagito leaned down towards your ear, murmuring the pet name affectionately and you felt his hands rest against your shoulders. “I don’t mind being a stepping stone for hope.” 

You whipped your head around to face up at him, the insolence draining within your vocals as you spoke to him. “We’ll talk later.” You continued, towards the rest of your classmates. “If you so much as look at him the wrong way, the blackened will certainly be me. And I will get both of us off this island without so much as a hint of regret.” 

“It doesn’t work like that.” Mahiru stated. 

You didn’t care. Everyone looked uneasy, a great tension had begun to hover over you. If you had to be the bad guy in this situation so no one would touch your boy, it was worth it for them to be basically eying you like a mastermind. Hajime glanced at you as you nearly seethed your sentence, backing up into him as a way to protect him. “Do not touch him.” 

Without a second thought, you grabbed Nagito by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back towards the bridge to the cottages, his small frame bending down as you two walked. As you passed through the hotel gate, you let his shirt go with a sigh as you fully realized the scene you made. “I’m sorry, angel. I got too carried away again.” 

“No, it’s okay really! I was out of line.” He apologized with an awkward smile and you were taken aback by his confession. He straightened up, smoothing over his shirt with a quiet hum. “Someone will kill someone though and if it has to be me, I honestly don’t mind.” 

“Promise me you won’t start anything.” You made to say, ushering him inside of your cottage. He immediately beelined for the foot of your bed, sitting against it carefully as you closed the door behind you. You locked it and made to shut the blinds of the windows when you heard him flop onto the bed with a tired exhale. “Nagito?”

“I’m okay, just thinking.” He said with a sigh, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as you made your way to him. You sat next to him, crossing your leg over the other as you leaned one of your palms on his thigh. He glanced down at you, his eyebrows raising slightly as you gently patted it.

“No, seriously. Please don’t start anything.” You quietly said again. “I don’t want to lose you, you’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Nagito sat up, his shirt rucking down the pit of his tummy and you smiled at him as he leaned closer to you. His hair was a bit messy from the day and you tangled your other hand into it, smoothing it upwards. He hummed happily at the feeling, closing his eyes. “I’m happy that it’s you I’m trapped on an island with.” 

“And a bunch of other people.” You laughed quietly, intertwining his hand with yours against his thigh as you continued brushing his hair out with your fingers. “But yeah I’m glad too, baby boy.” 

You saw his face light up, a blush spreading across his face. You swore you felt his heartbeat quicken, the small pulses against your chest as you leaned into him to kiss him. He returned the gesture with another low hum, with much more oomph than usual. 

“You take such good care of me, Y/N.” He whispered against your lips, smiling into it. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re lucky to be alive, you know.” You wearily reminded him as you pulled away from him and his face dropped with the realization. You don’t know what Nagito had realized, maybe it was the subtle hint of his talent keeping him alive but you were not expecting his next words as they fell from his lips a bit too seriously.

“Promise me something if I do get murdered? Don’t find the culprit.”

You struggled to wrap your head around his words before a bubbly laugh escaped you, trying to lighten the situation. You moved to straddle his hips, trying to desperately shut up the plan that was herding in his mind. You looked down at him as he looked back up, his hands resting against the small of your back and you saw it– the spiraling, the mess of his unwanted trauma, a plot that he conjured up within the walk back towards the cottage. 

The killing game was a bonus. 

“What if the culprit’s me?” You asked, pushing him back onto the pillows and Nagito let out a quiet noise. “Surely, you wouldn’t want me to die?”

“I would gladly die by my lover’s hands.” 

The pitch black clouded your eyes and you let out a quiet yelp. You didn’t know what was going on, why did the lights go out during the party? A few loud shouts surrounded the room and you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of everyone panicking. You huddled yourself against the wall, practically tripping over the cord connected against the wall and you felt it lift up slightly as you sat there on the ground.

Where was Nagito? A minute ago he had been next to you and Hajime but when you had fumbled for his hand when the lights went out, it wasn’t there in reach.

The lights came on with a blinding shine to them and you immediately scanned the area for Nagito. He had fallen near the back table and he glanced towards you with a panicked expression. His name fell from your lips quietly as everyone else gasped at Mikan, but you didn’t care to react to whatever had happened in the middle of the room. You rushed over to where Nagito sat, clearly in a daze and you helped him up quickly. “Are you okay? Did you trip?” 

“I did, yeah.” You dusted off the backs of his thighs for him, checking for any scraps and bruises. He hugged his jacket over himself and bit, his cheeks blushing red as you finished up and you planted a small kiss on his face. “T-Thank you, Y/N.”

You had to make sure he was alright, there was no telling what had happened during that blackout. Someone could’ve brought in poison and tainted a weapon with it, though you weren’t quite sure how it would’ve made the pat down as Byakuya had checked everyone thoroughly. But still if there was so much as a scratch on Nagito, the entire world was going to burn with you.

A stench of blood had perforated your sense of smell and you were just about to double check your partner’s clothing again before Hajime flipped up the tablecloth that had laid stagnant against the back table, revealing the first kill of the game that taunted your demise.

The investigation began not long after the screams died down, the remnants of sniffles and sobs overtaking the hallway. You walked around aimlessly with Nagito, trying to get information out of your classmates but there was no luck for the both of you. Ironic huh.

“Hey, Hajime. Can Y/N and I join you for the investigation?” Nagito asked as he spotted Hajime opening the door to the crime scene again, having just finished speaking with Sonia. “I think it would be easier for us to talk in groups rather than one on one.” 

“So smart, my love.” You murmured out loud, which made Nagito immediately take your hand as Hajime muttered out a ‘sure, just don’t get in the way.’ You squeezed his hand as you felt the sweat on his palm, trying to reassure him internally that everything is okay. He was probably just spooked that he had predicted the killing, how could he have known? 

And how could you have known Nagito’s motive? 

As everyone stood around the poisoned circle, you folded your arms across your chest. Stationed next to Mahiru and Hajime, you peered in front of you. Nagito was a ways away from the cursed podiums that had you cornered in truths and interjections, standing in between Ibuki and Mikan with dignified silence.

As the trial went on, he didn’t speak much and he certainly didn’t pass up the chance to eye you up from the distance as you stated your case when you were suspected because of your outburst. As you scrambled for an opening, something to show for accountability, Nagito spoke for you. 

“We’re all friends, aren't we?” He laughed it off, the tone switching and you almost applauded his efforts to help you. “We don’t even have any clues to go off of, not a single one. Let’s just give up, we wouldn’t want to waste Monokuma’s time.”

So you want us to die? You couldn’t exactly argue with him now, his plan revealing itself to you. A thick band of trust snapped against you, he had broken it. But you saw the hope rushing through his veins, the pure bliss you had managed to capture from the corner of your eye, the despair that battled his hope swirling in them– and you made your decision right then and there. If you insist. If it means we die together, Nagito Komaeda.

“No, he’s right! Listen to Nagito here, let’s just give up.” You advocated, the reasonings blurting from your mouth faster than you could speak. As you looked around the room with confidence practically pouring out of you, you caught everyone hurriedly agreeing with Nagito. You shouldn’t be so presumptuous but it was the truth, after all. There wasn’t a fucking thing anyone could say or do, the clues had been wrapped up by the killer, swept underneath the rug that had been laid out in its foyer.

That’s wrong, I think.” Chiaki piped up, downcasted but a willingness snagged in her voice. “There are clues.”

Nagito’s eyebrows furrowed and you shot a look at Chiaki, glaring at her with suspicion. What did she mean by that, huh? “There aren’t any clues. We investigated the entire building, searched every crevice, every single piece of evidence–” You started, nearly spiraling yourself. There was no way there was a clue, because if there was…

“The desk lamp.” 

“Desk lamp? That’s impossible, Hajime. How would that be a clue?” You argued, but he had already proved you wrong. 

“Nagito… It was you, wasn’t it?” 

“M-Me?” Nagito almost stepped off the podium, just barely catching himself as he lunged for the center. It was surely just a coincidence you found him next to the blood splattered table, the lamp cord tangled up against his ankle. A coincidence? No, he didn’t kill anyone. He simply meddled with the killer, sparking interest–perhaps fear into them. You looked over at Nagito, noticing the way his hand trembled against his chest.

Then your boy burst into a fit of laughter. It was going to take a lot to protect him now.

Whatever it takes, my love.

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