#aw dammit why NOT make a tag

[with-my-murder-flute]

*bounce* OKAY OKAY I HAVE THEORIES THIS IS GONNA BE LONG

and sorry I will probably destroy your beautiful caanan house dreams

This bit!!! In Nona!!! (John 19:18)

IN THE DREAM the waters kept rising. They started making a hut at the top of the hill. Bodies were bobbing up and down in the water. He was scared of that—he was always scared of the water—and he made the waters go away for a while, and he raised up some parts of the earth that had been covered by sea. She watched them explode upward, shedding tonnes of water back into the soup. She asked him if it was hard; he said the hardest thing was remembering that he could do it, and not just doing things the old difficult way. On the new plank of land, all cut up from the water and the damage, there was a broken concrete building guarded by enormous shards of cracked bone. Like an egg that had been smashed from above. They wandered through the fields, slipping in icy brown mud, but they didn’t go anywhere near the building.

The "rectangular heads" sound to me like ordinary 21st century prefab industrial real estate. My assumption is that the bottom of the structure is the lab that looks like a freezing works in the Wairarapa, outside Greytown, New Zealand.

The Wairarapa has some truly breathtaking scenery:

Those are the Putangirua Pinnacles, near the coast, while Greytown is 40km inland from there, nearly at the foot of some mountains. I don't think Jod transported Canaan House out to the coast; I mostly suspect he'd put the "flood" back in "floodplain" above Lake Wairarapa, then small-business-entrepreneured himself his own oceanfront property.

And now...

Let me ruin Canaan House for you

I think: It's a dead, franken, zombie shopping mall

constructed from the salvaged bits of of even deader franken zombie shopping malls

(This is hugely inspired by growing up very near West Edmonton Mall, which is already the answer to "What if some small-time megalomaniacs decided to make the world's schmaltziest tribute to hypercapitalism and ancient Rome?")

(West Edmonton Mall's Phase 3 food court. I once went Christmas shopping with a friend who'd taken more Classics than I have, and she was 75% sure that statue is genuinely ancient.)

But I've mostly tried to pull up reference pics of New Zealand malls, and bits from Gideon the Ninth that give me that vibe.

It lapped back in terraces of what must have once been fabulous gardens. [...] The docking bay must have also been elegant in its era, a huge landing swath that could have held a hundred ships at a time (Chap 7)

(2001: Queensgate Mall, Wellington)

A VAST ATRIUM—a cavern of a room (Chap 8)

(2006: Botany Town Centre, Pakuranga)

through the glorious wreck of the smeared and vaulted ceiling light streamed down in such quantities it made Gideon halfway blind again. (Chap 8)

(2018: North City Mall, Porirua)

enormous twin staircases jutted up to the floor above, spread with narrow, moth-eaten rugs (Chap 8)

(circa 2019: Westfield Riccarton Centre, Christchurch)

Unsee it now. I dare you.

Canaan house/ tower theory

Okay I’m doing a Gideon audiobook listen, and just got to chapter 29 - when Harrow and Palamedes are discussing the possibility of a megatheorem.

Harrow dismisses the idea and focuses instead on how all the trails/ experiments requires a continuous source of thanergy that is hidden somewhere in Canaan house.

They call it her ‘secret door theory’ as she believes that they only have access to 30% of the tower, including the facility.

Makes me keep thinking about how Tamzyn recently said something like ‘we haven’t seen everything at Canaan house and we will return in Alecto.’

What also stood out to me is later when Harrow reveals to Gideon what is actually in the locked tomb, she says, ‘the water is salt and it’s deeps and it moves with a tide it shouldn’t have.’

I have no real theory (so that was a lie) but I need brighter minds to figure it out.

Is the locked tomb really on the First? Was Alecto the battery powering the house? Was it the souls of all of those that John didn’t resurrect that he killed on Earth powering it?

Is Canaan house actually the top half of the Tower in the river?

[bougiebutchbitch]

people talking about izzy and ed's weird as fuck codependent toxic unhealthy relationship: yeah!! yeah!!!!!!

people talking about izzy and ed's weird as fuck codependent toxic unhealthy relationship who obviously dislike Izzy as a character, and are acting like he 'deserved' everything he got and was somehow 'the real bad guy' of that whole situation because of the fucked up shit he pulled in S1: ..........?

[eddieandbird]

Answer the Question—

You and Eddie get interviewed and talk about your relationship.

Part 1 | Part 2

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.9k words | f!reader | rockstar!eddie

———

Eddie’s crooked smile was illuminated by the dim yellow light of the hotel room and that was about the only thing you could see in your haze.

“To us getting hitched. Cheers, sweetheart,” He said, severely underestimating your lack of coordination.

Your distorted vision paired with your poor reaction time didn’t allow you to correctly tip your wine glass to his beer. He continued anyway, pushing the glass right out of your hand and onto your dress.

“Aw, dammit! Look what you did,” You whined, uselessly patting at the crimson stain.

“It’s not my fault you’ve got butterfingers,” He grumbled, unsteadily hovering as he pointed to you.

“You’re such a dick,” You huffed, rushing to the bathroom to assess the damage.

You were much more of a mess than you thought. The formal up-do you had was holding onto your hairpins for dear life and your mascara had morphed into dark circles around your eyes.

Despite the rough state you were in, Eddie refused to leave you alone, especially when he felt guilty for ruining your dress. You tried to push him away as he attempted to interrupt you studying your reflection, yet his hands still found a way to get to you.

“C’mon, let’s take this off, huh?” He took the top hem of your dress in between his fingers and tugged on it lightly.

“No, I feel so gross,” You slurred, stomping petulantly in place.

“That’s why we’re getting you out of this thing, you brat. Just let me help,” Eddie scoffed.

He slowly unzipped the back of your dress, revealing your back. He paused, a lump forming in his throat as he drank in the sight of you. He'd seen you in tank tops and even a bikini once before, but seeing you nearly naked in front of him made him nervous.

He swallowed as he took a step closer to you, gently nudging you away from the mirror. "You're not gross. Don’t be ridiculous," he whispered, his eyes glued to you protectively.

“Oh, please. You’re just saying that because you’re my wife, huh?” Your brows were knitted with your eyes barely peeking open.

“You’re my wife, stupid,” He snickered at your verbal mistake. He couldn’t tease you too much for the slip up considering he was the one struggling to get your dress off, a bathrobe on you, and lay you gently on the bed without dropping you.

“Whatever,” You stuck your tongue out at him.

All his drunken hard work was for nothing as you just as quickly shed the bathrobe, tossing it over the bedside lamp and climbing into the covers.

Eddie took a moment to take in the sight of you in just your underwear, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of being so close to your nearly naked body. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed next to you, pulling the sheets up.

He moved closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. "Go to sleep, idiot," he sighed affectionately.

“You suck,” You quipped, playfully biting his hand as you watched it hover over you and rest right at your collarbone.

”Um hello? Did I lose you somewhere?” Eddie waved his hand in front of your face, making you blink rapidly.

“What? No- I mean yes! Sorry, what are we talking about?” as always, you were frazzled when you woke up from your daydream.

“God, you’re impossible,” he scrubbed his face in his hand. “I was asking you if we should say we went on our first date before or after you became my manager,”

“After. I think it’ll sound better,”

He rolled his eyes. It was the right answer, however, he could just tell you were only halfway there physically. The amount of times Eddie has caught you completely spacing out since your wedding night was becoming concerning.

“You’re about to do your first televised appearance as my wife, could you please act a little less like a zombie?”

“Cut me some slack! I don’t typically do public speaking, I’m terrified!” You squeaked.

Eddie scoffed, readying a quip to give back to you, but quickly dropped it. Instead, he hooked his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. For a split second, you considered pushing the gesture away, but similarly to Eddie, you gave in and returned the embrace.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a bit nervous too. I don’t want to embarrass you or whatever,” He muttered.

A pout crept up on your face as Eddie let himself slip into vulnerability again. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re really good at these interviews. You’re a pro at this point, I can’t imagine you letting me down,”

You applied a few comforting pats on his back. Eddie leaned into your embrace, taking comfort in the way you wrapped your arms around him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. "You're right, I just..." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to screw this all up."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes flitting across your face. "But I know I can count on you to have my back, right?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

“Always, rockstar,” You nodded before scooping his hand into yours.

“Mr. and Mrs. Munson, we’re ready for you now,” A stagehand popped into the green room to say.

In unison, you and Eddie both took a deep breath. Your hands remained linked as you stood up and began your journey to the back of the stage. Once there, the both of you instinctively got into your typical warm-up positions that you’d get into with the band; flicking out your wrists and articulating your faces to relax the muscles. Eddie couldn't help but feel reassured by the sight of your linked hands and your shared warm-up routine. He was grateful for the familiar ritual, something that felt like a small tether to the life he was used to.

“Break a leg, Munson,” You saluted him.

“You too, Munson,” He shot a smirk back.

With a final deep breath, he patted you on the shoulder before stepping on stage to the sound of applause and cheers. You and Eddie came out with your heads held high and your hands attached. With a few waves and blown kisses to the crowd, you sat on the set couch in front of the interview host, Jessica Terry.

Her first set of questions was pretty light. They were all surface-level and predictable; Where did you meet? How long you’ve known each other? You almost felt like it gave you a false sense of security because it wasn’t long until Jessica asked a harder-hitting question.

“Why did you wait so long to tell the world about your relationship?” The host asked.

That was the question that burned the hottest in the minds of spectators. Even though you and Eddie had spoken in great detail about how you wanted to answer this, you couldn’t help but feel like there wasn’t enough discussion to fully prepare each other. You swallowed your anxiety and let him take the lead.

Eddie was in his own head as you looked at him to answer. Even with a pre-made script in his head of how he should go about it, he still felt like something was missing. He had a strong desire to speak from his heart.

He cleared his throat before he said

“The obvious answer is for our privacy, but I think it might be deeper than that. When you have something special like love, you can’t help but want to keep it all to yourself, if only for a little while. I wanted to make sure what I felt wasn’t just a small rose bud, but a whole blooming garden before I got to make a whole bouquet out of it,”

Your jaw involuntarily dropped but you lacked any words to say. It was the most eloquent thing you’d ever heard him utter. An unfamiliar ache in your chest came crashing onto you in powerful waves. It now made sense why he refused to speak about his feelings for you before. He laid it out plainly for you and the whole room to hear. You startled yourself as you felt tears beginning to roll down your cheeks.

“Sorry, I um- I get really emotional when he talks like that,” Your voice strained through the tightness in your chest as you dabbed at your face with your knuckles.

Eddie's heart practically stopped as he saw the tears stream down your cheeks. He knew he was laying it on pretty thick when he spoke in such poetic terms, but he didn't expect it to impact you so deeply.

He reached over and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it. "Hey, it’s alright," he whispered.

Jessica smiled at your apology, touched by the sight of a rockstar known for his wild antics getting all soft and sentimental in front of the cameras.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Mrs. Munson. We all find your guys’ story to be inspiring. It’s obvious that you love each other very much,” The host offered a sympathetic smile and claps to encourage applause from the audience.

She mentioned that dreaded four-letter word and for a moment you forgot to keep up the etiquette around speaking to the interviewer and the audience. Your eyes were set on Eddie, looking a bit vacant as more pieces began to connect in your mind. He nodded at you, silently communicating that you needed to continue.

“Yeah, you’re right, Jessica. I do love him. I love him a lot,” Saying it caused your voice to tremble subtly, but the nodding of your head reinforced it.

Your sickly sweet response was enough to fool everyone in that room except for Eddie. His brain felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t tell if you were being an amazing actress for the sake of your precious plan or if there was any truth to your words.

He knew you well enough to tell that something was off. Your words felt too genuine to be entirely fake, but at the same time, there was something else in your tone. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was eager to ask why the hell you were crying and saying all these things, but for now, he was locked into this interview with no way out. He had to act like this was all some romantic moment between the two of you.

“I love you, too. More than anything, I love you,” Like a child would do with their favorite toy, he took your hand in his and pressed it to his chest. His heartbeat vibrated against your palm and it caused your own heartbeat to be just as erratic.

The audience let out a collective "aww" at his declaration. Eddie's heart skipped a beat at the feeling of your hand, the rapid beating of his heart almost as fast as the thoughts racing through his mind. The host, sensing the sincerity of the moment, wrapped up the interview quickly, leaving Eddie and you alone for the first time since you stepped on stage.

As soon as they called cut, Eddie practically dragged you behind the curtain, away from the prying eyes of the crew and cameras. Your legs struggled to keep up with his frantic movement.

“Hey! Slow down, you know I can barely walk in heels. You’re gonna make me break an ankle-”

“What the hell happened out there?” Eddie halted your half-hearted complaint with a more pointed question.

A shrug was accompanied by your sheepish, wide-eyed look. “What do you mean? I think it all went great. I mean the crowd was practically eating out of the palms of our hands,”

“Oh cut the shit, would ya?” he gave an exaggerated sigh. “You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me out there? All smitten and shit while you said you loved me,”

You wanted to take a step back, but his arm snaked around your waist and yanked you to him.

“Please don’t make me feel crazy. That look meant something, right? Don’t tell me it was part of the act,”

“That look? I mean-” You stuttered.

This should have been easy to deny. You should have been able to laugh it off, but your inability to lie to him came in when you least expected it.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” You sighed, hanging your head in surrender.

"Don't give me that!" he snapped, pushing you closer to him. "I saw you crying out there, and don't think I didn't notice you spacing out in the green room before the interview.”

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. “Just tell me. What the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know. I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear, but that’s the truth,” Your eyes widened like a scolded child’s.

“You have to understand how confusing all this is for me. We got married one night and the next day you’re telling me I need to pretend I love you, so I do it. I do anything to be a good manager and a good friend, but now I also have to be your wife for the cameras and you tell me you have real feelings for me and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,”

You two were silent for a moment, the only noise to be heard was the chatter outside and your heaving breaths. What tethered you to this moment was his golden brown eyes locked onto yours, both of your faces now mere inches away from each other. Eddie took his hand and traced your collarbone to your shoulder before pushing your hair behind it. From your shoulder, he dragged his fingers down your arm and connected his hand to his.

“I don’t care about how you think you’re supposed to feel… What do you actually feel? How do you feel about me?”

His request hung in the air like thick smoke. You couldn’t escape those questions for much longer, not when he had his hands on you like this. You could feel the heat from the crimson flush blooming on your cheeks.

“Eddie, please don’t-”

“Answer the question,” He deflected your plea.

Your tea kettle of emotions was finally whistling with steam. “Fine! I’m in love with you, okay?!”

You shocked him with your outburst. His mind struggled to process your confession. He knew deep down that you couldn't have just been putting on an act during the interview. He searched your face for any sign of dishonesty, but the flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes flicked between his own told him everything he needed to know. You were telling the truth.

“Don’t just stand there, Eddie. Say something,” You demanded quietly. He stood motionless. He could hear you, but he couldn’t do anything.

“Hey… Hey!” You swatted at his arm repeatedly, desperately trying to get him to say something. “This is your fault. It’s all your fault,”

It was just to get a reaction out of him, but it still didn’t prevent Eddie from scoffing into a chuckle under his breath.

“It’s my fault? My fault that we got married?”

“It’s your fault that I fell in love with you,” You pushed his shoulder to create distance, but all he did was grab hold of your hand again.

He took a step closer, closing the gap between the two of you once again then ran a thumb over your bottom lip. "Let me get this straight. You're saying falling in love with me was entirely my fault?"

You nipped at his thumb to get him to move then stuck your tongue into your cheek.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s your fault that you’re a pain in my ass but at the same time, the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” The fight in your voice died down as you finished your sentence. “You’re messy and annoying and charming and sweet and—“

“Mhm, mhm,” Eddie nodded almost condescendingly. “So when’s the part of your rant where you shut up and kiss me?”

“You really suck, you know that?” You shook your head with a wide grin of disbelief.

He began leaning toward you, his head dipping down to capture your lips with his. His teasing demeanor quickly faded as he kissed you. The initial soft pecks slowly turned into something deeper and more passionate as he held the back of your neck. He took a step forward, pressing you up against the wall and trapping your body with his.

Then the sudden sound of the curtain swooshing open startled you and Eddie, breaking your kiss.

“Ugh, gross. There you two are,” Gareth’s voice dripped in his disgust as he discovered the both of you.

“Dude, what the hell?” Eddie angrily gestured to his bandmate.

“I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere. We gotta get on the bus if we wanna make it to the next show. Let’s get out of here!” He lightly smacked Eddie’s cheek.

You could tell Eddie could beat the shit out of Gareth for interrupting the moment. You tugged on his arm and gave him a glare that said ‘Behave,’.

“He’s right, rockstar. We gotta go,” You smiled with your nose scrunched before leading him out.

[stunie]

ok so i hit 30 tags pretty early so i wanted to add extra thoughts under here i am SOOO SORRY OMFG ITS SO MUCH 😭😭 GOD

attempt 1 at reading - thoughts:

i love how you wrote the nervousness and hesitation of both reader and atsumu ): this relationship feels so genuine and realistic, like every thought is so real and complex and it all just plays out soooo vividly in my head. i can literally feel every single thing in MY SOUL. it got me holding my breath, my heart racing, my stomach churning

the kiss . the first kiss where mr suna interrupted . when i tell you i read it like this >//////< EXCEPT MY HAND WAS CLASPED SO TIGHTLY OVER MY MIUTH. oh my god the reaction i had. it really felt like a first kiss all over again, i was genuinely WARM and all blushy

attempt 2 at reading - thoughts:

i loved how u wrote out the tension again .. and your characterization for all of them ?? kita being all observant? osamu being all curious ?

the emotional rollercoaster i am on in this chapter is crazy. i took my first break after suna interrupted (the kiss killed me), and im taking my second break right after atsumu confesssd (i was killed a second time). i was irritated during the cafe bc WHY r u avoiding me, and then the next second i’m like squealing 😭 the way that u write yue !! the way that u write . i am such a mess right now give me another moment

attempt 3 at reading - thoughts:

holy shit this scene . the kissing ? THE AAY YOU DESCDIBED IT from the first kiss ?? this one made my stomach FLIP omfg .

oh god the neck kisses . the .. the everything . my left leg has goosebumps idk why it’s only my left leg am i okay yue ? am i okay what’s wrong with me

i have a little ways to go i’m almost done but i need yet another break holy shit i have been reduced to a dizzy lil mess what have i become

attempt 4 at reading - thoughts:

oh my god ): oh my god ): what am i even supposed to say here. i love how u wrote the smut part ?? it feels like actual love ? he is so sweet pls

osamu interrupting had me jolting upright BECAUSE SUNA FIRST NOW OSAMU ? is kita the next victim ?? poor baby

AGHHH THE ENDING IS SO CUTE i fr feel like im in an anime ): i feel so pretty and so lovely THIS WAS SO LOVELYYY TYSMMM YUE FOR WRITING THIS

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: vi. Epilogue: Sakura sweetness | series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?” 

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday. 

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’  What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it? 

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere. 

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!” 

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike. 

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

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[thatlotuscookie]

could you do for Dabi x villain reader who he has a crush on and one day after a mission he feels like shit so he just goes to his room because he's body's burned and hurting and reader goes to his room and helps him, kisses his scars, treats his injuries, hugs him and stuff. FEEL FREE TO COME UP WITH SOMETHING MORE IF U'LL LIKE

✧･ﾟ: a/n : thank you so much for the request! I absolutely love the idea of Dabi letting his guard down with the reader after a rough mission and getting the comfort he doesn’t usually let himself ask for. enjoy<33

✧ Title: ✧ Hidden Flames ��� ✧ Characters: Dabi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a mission leaves Dabi battered and exhausted, he retreats to his room to nurse his wounds alone. When you show up, intent on caring for him, he’s reluctant at first. But as you treat his injuries, kissing his scars and reminding him that he doesn’t have to face everything alone, Dabi realizes just how much he values your presence. ✧ Content/Tags: Injuries, Vulnerability, Comfort, Mutual Pining, Scar Kisses, Established Crush, Soft Dabi, Hurt/Comfort WC: 1365 words // 7.4k

The hideout was cloaked in stillness, a hollow silence hanging over the building like a fog after the chaos of their latest mission. Dabi’s feet dragged as he approached his room, a wave of exhaustion nearly toppling him as he stumbled inside. His vision blurred slightly, and he let out a frustrated breath, every fiber of his being screaming in pain.

He shut the door with his shoulder, leaning on it briefly, letting the cool wood press against his back as he caught his breath. His mind was a mess of aches and exhaustion, a hazy reminder of all he’d taken on tonight. The burns littering his skin throbbed persistently, a reminder that he wasn't as invincible as he liked to think.

Finally, he sank onto his bed, shutting his eyes as he tried to will the pain into silence. He hated this feeling—weak, vulnerable. It wasn’t supposed to be him. He’d built his life on fire and fury, not…this. Not whatever this gnawing, hollow feeling was. He exhaled sharply, mentally daring himself to stay conscious, to fight through it. But just as he was sinking into that fog, he heard a gentle knock.

He bit back a curse, forcing himself up enough to glare at the door. “Go away,” he called out, his voice rough and almost pleading, hoping it’d scare off whoever it was.

But the door creaked open, and there you were, a small first-aid kit in hand and concern written all over your face. Dabi's heart gave an unwelcome thud, a mixture of annoyance and—dammit—relief swirling inside him. Of all people, why did it have to be you? It was too much; the last thing he needed was you seeing him like this, all messed up and hurting.

“Dabi,” you said, your voice soft, cutting through his haze like a breath of fresh air. “You look awful.”

He wanted to snap back, deflect, say something snarky to keep you at a distance. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he just let out a low huff, rolling his eyes as he mumbled, “Glad you’re as blunt as ever.” He tried to sound annoyed, but the truth was, he was a little relieved to have you here. That was the damn problem—he was starting to like it too much, having you around, and it was messing with his head.

You ignored his attempt to play it off and stepped closer, your eyes searching his face with that worry that he could never quite get used to. His chest tightened as he watched you, that soft look in your eyes making him feel exposed in a way he’d never felt before.

“You’re hurt,” you said quietly, kneeling beside him, so close he could feel your warmth against him. Your voice held a tenderness that made his throat tighten. “Let me take care of you.”

Dabi felt something inside him give way, the part of him that was tired of holding up walls and pretending he didn’t need anyone. He looked at you for a long moment, the vulnerability in his gaze unguarded, and he finally muttered, “Fine.”

You set to work, gently cleaning his burns and cuts, your touch careful and precise. As you dabbed at his wounds, he hissed, the antiseptic stinging like hell. “Shit, that hurts,” he grumbled, half expecting you to laugh or roll your eyes.

“Sorry,” you said, glancing up at him, your expression apologetic but unwavering. “But it’ll help, trust me.”

Dabi tried to look away, to focus on anything else, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. The way you were so damn focused on him, so damn tender… it made him feel something warm and dangerous, something he’d been fighting down for too long. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, wasn’t supposed to let anyone this close. But you were different. You made him feel human in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it scared him how much he liked it.

Once you finished cleaning his burns, you leaned down, pressing gentle kisses along his scars, your lips soft against his raw skin. Dabi’s heart skipped, a rush of heat flooding his chest that he couldn’t ignore. “You…you don’t have to do that,” he stammered, trying to sound unaffected, but his voice was shaky, a little breathless.

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “I want to,” you whispered, your gaze steady and sincere. “You need to know that you’re not alone, Dabi.”

Those words struck something deep within him, a part of him he’d buried long ago. He looked at you, his walls crumbling with every second, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. It was terrifying and exhilarating, a pull he couldn’t resist. His chest tightened with feelings he wasn’t ready to name, but he knew one thing: he didn’t want you to go.

He let out a shaky breath, meeting your gaze. “Why…why do you even bother with me?” he asked, his voice softer than he intended. “I’m nothing but trouble.”

You paused, looking at him with a tenderness that left him speechless. “Because I care about you,” you said simply, your voice gentle but unwavering. “And no matter how hard you try to push me away, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dabi’s heart raced, a blush creeping up his neck as he took in your words. This wasn’t just some passing crush; it was more than that, something deeper that scared him more than any wound ever could. He reached out, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the comforting scent of you as he let himself relax, for once, in your warmth.

The hug was clumsy, awkward, but he didn’t care. He wanted this, wanted you, and that realization hit him with a force that left him breathless. He didn’t want to lose you, not now, not when you were the one person who made him feel like he was worth something.

“You know I’m… I’m not good at this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible against your shoulder. “I’m not good at letting people in.”

“I know,” you murmured, your hand running gently over his back, soothing him in a way that felt like home. “But I’m here. And I’m staying.”

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, the depth of his feelings clear in his gaze. “You’re…too good for me, you know that?” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was a tremor in it that gave him away.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Maybe,” you teased, your eyes warm with affection. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Dabi’s heart swelled at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but you were the light in his dark world, the one thing that made him feel like he could be more than just fire and destruction. He reached out, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding on as if letting go meant losing the only good thing in his life.

“Just…don’t leave, okay?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Not going anywhere,” you promised, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. You stayed there, holding him as the silence settled around you both, a comforting weight that wrapped around them like a warm blanket.

As sleep began to creep in, Dabi felt a strange peace settle over him, a feeling he hadn’t known in years. For the first time, he felt like he could finally let go, to trust that someone cared enough to stay. With you beside him, he could finally breathe, letting himself fall into a sleep that, for once, wasn’t haunted by nightmares.

In that quiet moment, Dabi knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you close, to make sure that, somehow, he’d find a way to deserve you. Because with you, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could be more than what he’d been before.

[winwintea]

A Kiss to Make it Better - Hong Seunghan

PAIRING ↬ hong seunghan x fem!reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ FRIENDLY REMINDER TO BOYCOTT RIIZE. RIIZE IS OT7, if ur ot6 briize pls get OFF my profile. guess what it's fei's birthday and it's also seunghan's birthday so double whammy. how does it feel to be born on the exact same day as ur bias huh. like thats crazy. not tagging her account bc she said she wants to remain "mysterious" wtv u suck. anyways happy 21 years old to both u and seunghan <333

GENRES ↬ fluff, romance, seunghan is sick, this is really just a short drabble i whipped up, lil suggestive esp at the end

WORD COUNT ↬ 1K

It was early afternoon, and you were humming as you made your way into Seunghan’s room. 

“Seunghan, isn’t it about time you took a break? I brought you some coffee.” It was right about the time Seunghan usually took a break, and you smiled as you knocked on his door and stepped into his room. 

He was sitting at his desk, hunched over his essays, completely absorbed. He barely glanced back at you, then turned back to face his work again. “Mmm, thanks. Just leave it there. I’m right in the middle of a very good creative burst, and you’re probably busy, too, so… you don’t need to stay.”

“Hmm? Okay, if you say so.” That wasn’t like him though–normally he welcomed you with a hug and kiss, no matter how busy or inspired he was. You frowned for a moment studying his back, and then you stepped closer, putting his coffee down and leaning in towards him. “Arthur, is something… hang on a minute!”

“Y/N, wait–”

You ignored his words and pressed your hand against his forehead, and sure enough… he was burning up. “Seunghan, you’ve got a fever!”

“Damn… you noticed,” he muttered, a weak grin tugging at his lips.

“Of course I did! Now put that laptop away and get into bed!” You shot him a stern look as you half-led, half-dragged him towards the bed. He was so unsteady on his feet that when you gave the lightest push, he practically collapsed onto the mattress.

“Am I dreaming, or are you actually pushing me down onto the bed? You na—” His teasing was cut short by a fit of wheezing coughs that left him breathless.

You crossed your arms, trying to look more annoyed than worried. “I’ll do more than push you down onto the bed if you don’t stop joking around and get some rest!”

“...Okay, okay.” Seunghan let out a long, loud sigh of resignation, and then he slumped back against the pillow, his eyes falling shut.

You tucked him in, and then hurried off to get some medicine, water, and a cool cloth for his forehead. 

Why the hell was he pretending to be fine, though? He clearly felt awful, and all he had to do was just tell you…

You sighed to yourself as you knocked on his door, and then hurried into his room without waiting for an answer. “Seunghan, I’m back–”

“Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, interrupted by another round of coughing. “...ahh, dammit, should’ve just locked the door…”

Wait. Locked the door? What was he talking about? You paused, a flicker of confusion crossing your mind, but quickly shook it off. That could wait. Right now, he needs you to focus on getting him better.“I don’t care about that right now,” you said, determined as you walked towards him, arms full of medicine, cold water, and a damp cloth. “I brought reinforcements.” Your doubts faded as you focused on helping him, determined to make him feel better, no matter what secrets he was keeping.

But before you could get too close, Seunghan lifted his hands, weakly making shooing gestures. “...Don’t come any closer,” he rasped, his voice barely holding together. Then, through labored breaths, he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “When I’m better… I’ll be as wild as you want me to be… to make up for it. I’ll be better soon, right?”

For a moment you just stopped and stared at him, but suddenly everything fell into place in your head. “Seunghan… when you were pretending to be busy earlier, and talking about locking the door– Was that all because you didn’t want me to catch whatever it is you’ve got?”

“...Got it in one.” He let out a deep, exhausted sigh, rolling onto his side as he gave you a tired, lopsided frown. “I knew if you realized I was sick, you’d go into full-on ‘nurse mode’… and I can’t let you get sick too. You’re already juggling so much… you don’t need to be fussing over me…”

Even through the fever and discomfort, his eyes were clouded with worry—worry for you. It was enough to make your heart ache, a bittersweet reminder of why you loved him so much. Even when he was feeling miserable, his concern was all for you.

“Besides, I can’t stand the idea of having you right here… but not being able to do anything with you…”

You rolled your eyes. Never mind. His annoying side was definitely still alive and kicking.

He still sounded so genuinely distressed even while making jokes that you couldn’t help laughing. “If you’re well enough to be thinking about that, then you’ll be feeling fine again in no time. Look, Seunghan, I’m really grateful that you care so much. But I care about you too, okay? So let me take care of you.”

“Fine, fine, alright already. And… thanks, Y/N.” Seunghan sighed again, and the smile he gave you was both troubled and relieved.

His small smile made your heart swell. Even in moments like this, it was clear—he wasn’t just grateful, he was reassured by having you by his side.

—-

Three days later, you stopped by Seunghan’s room first thing in the morning and he grinned at you as he sat up and stretched languidly. “Mmm, see? No more coughing, no more fatigue! I’m quite the picture of health.”

Seunghan had cut you off with a sudden kiss, one hand coming up to twine in your hair and pull you closer as he pecked teasingly at your lips.

You blinked in surprise. “What was that for?”

“Don’t you remember?” he murmured, his voice low and playful. “I promised I’d be as ‘crazy’ as you wanted to make up for things once I was better. It’s been three days, and I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for... and let’s just say, I’m feeling very ‘crazy’ right now.”

His grin was wicked, and suddenly, you knew exactly what kind of “crazy” he meant.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

It's the penultimate episode... so many feelings. *wistful sigh*

Wait, the Matt Mick thing is actually happening? Lolol.

BUT WHO IS GOING TO KISS BEER?!?! Boy is doomed to keep being the witness to all these gay shenanigans, he needs his own boyfie! Papang, still time for a cameo...

Q, you are turning into quite the smooth romantic...

I love that they tease Q about having a romantic moment when both Chain & Mick are keeping a constant hand on their boys, and Tan literally can't stand upright without holding onto Fang.

Six minutes in and I'm already dying.

Also Poon, Satang, & Boom living the dream, getting to feed cute little penguins for work.

Omg, Chain! You need to walk up to him and say "I like you!". (Also yes, I acknowledge as an American I have a strong bias on what counts as direct communication, lol. But the point still stands that Pun needs it right in his face to get it).

But also, please, yes, do a penguin dowry.

Also, it is funny to me that Tan, who has been pretty oblivious to every other couple's feelings, has picked up on Chain. Which shows how everyone knows but Pun.

I know I've said this pretty much every time, but I just adore how this show keeps showing that they are all friends with each other, it's never just about the couples.

Aw, Pun asking for snugs. Ooh - is Pun actually starting to get it?

Q literally can't see anything else when Toey is around, my heart.

You know, I think Toey still doesn't quite grasp how deeply Q loves him... it was one-sided for so long, he's still catching up on what it feels like to be cared for back. Don't worry boo, you'll get there.

Ok, was not expecting this! But I am here for it!

I also have to point out, in my obsession with what this show is doing with tropes, that Toey is the closest we get to a blushing maiden in this show, and he may be shy and inexperienced, but he still gets to enjoy sex. Excellent.

Lol, Phum does not have to be told twice he has a green light. Dude has been waiting since day one for this.

Gotta say though, the TanFang scene was still the hottest. AouBoom are so ready to be leads.

I love that Fang 100% knew Tan would come find him and demand kisses.

Lol, it's handy being friends with your boyfriends brother, you can get the intel.

Why does Pond holding a teddy bear always make me so weak?

Oh god, not the sad puppy noises.

I love that the most implausible part of this plan is Tan not being free for Fang.

Phum is so happy, I'm going to cry.

Lol, of course Beer already gave him a gift, he is the one who is always ahead of everyone else!

Swoon. Just swoon.

I love how they are communicating about Peem going to meet Phum's family. It's so lovely to have a couple who actually talk about things.

And this!

I know there will be people in the tags flipping out if Phum forgives his dad, but this is his story and his journey. It's not about if it resonates with every viewer, it's about Phum figuring out what he needs to move on with his life, whether that includes forgiveness or not.

Another stellar costume choice.

Also Tan making Fang wear pink, lol. He's going to show that love dammit!

Omg, not the whole group waiting for Pun to admit he likes Chain.

Good boy Chain! Love the confidence!

Perfect use of the festival to show how the love in this entire group has just expanded and deepened over the past year.

Gotta admit, I had some penultimate episode anxiety, but nope! Still fluffy!

[aluria-sevhex]

HELL FUCKING YESSSSSSSS

hey if you wanna read all of my posts as i play through ISAT, they are all tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

notes:

-aight i'm back yippee

-title theme my beloved

-i always find it so funny when an enemy tries to freeze Mira

-gonna try this boss again

-ok i think i'll just replay Floor 3 on this loop instead of looping forward after i find out another one of Bonnie's favorite foods so i can build up everybody's stats

-OH. BONNIE OVERHEARD THE DEATH CONVERSATION.

-heh Bonnie slapped Siffrin

-uh... the audio is REALLY ominous...

-oh, Bonnie...

-WAIT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT DID I JUST LOOP SLIGHTLY BACK IN THE PAST?

-Siffrin you ok i don't think that was helping ur mental health issues your eye is covered in shadow in your dialogue portrait

-i will once again NOT kill Siffrin via anaphylaxis. i will take the fish head

-...i didn't. get info on Bonnie's favorite foods this time.

-ok according to the save screen that didn't count as a loop

-anyway time to try looping to get the Bonnie snack info

-hey... the Tear dialogue isn't as silly anymore (it just says yes or no without the 'looping time' or 'living time')

-hey i didn't skip any loops this time!

-time to kill this pair of assholes again

-"carry my ashes with you" aw that's a sweet dialogue option

-i am so tempted to kill Siffrin. but i won't.

-awwww... i talked to Bonnie and now Sif is comforting them

-ok how the fuck do i get the info. BONNIE PLS.

-hold up. does Siffrin no longer nod when zoning out? :((((

-WAIT FUCK DID I FORGET TO GET THE KEY ON FLOOR 2.

-...Mira's roommate. was learning to make bombs. why???

-lol Isa knows how to make a bomb

-Mira has anti-anxiety meds. this makes a lot of sense tbh

-...what are these papers for???

-so i decided to try using the silver coin since a person said that you can do something with it related to the croissant lore. and it said "you think about the Incident" or smth like that lol

-lol Sif forgot the term 'stuffed animal'

-idk why but it feels like a lot of Craft skills are like. slower. or have bigger cooldowns in Act 3. even tho i KNOW they don't and my brain is fucking with me

-ok the game accounted for the key thing

-in the bathroom again

-Sif is calming themself again and figuring out what to do

-Siffrin, self-loathing and calling yourself stupid won't help :(

-i zoned out at some minor dialogue but i don't remember what the dialogue was the first time so i am fucking clueless about what was going on with a choice i made. sorry Mira idk why i 'saved you' by smacking your mouth ;_;

-i love getting to obliterate weaker Rock enemies with Paper α V

-i have now gotten Sif to level 60

-sometimes it's nice to take a break and talk to Loop

-wait a sec. doesn't one of the lower floors have a sharpening stone?

-ok it's been a while and now i have everybody back to level 52. time to kick the asses of the 3rd floor boss

-ooo Odile got a new skill

-time for the last snack break!

-Bonnie's upset now because i didn't try the fritters D:

-time to face the King again... and hopefully talk to him

-welp. *that* didn't work

-oh nvm now i can ask him questions via the Craft menu!

-you. you can give the King the flower.

-yeah the characters have a point! why Vaugarde specifically?

-the King is NOT responsible but he says Siffrin has an odd smell. huh... the only other things where an odd smell has been noted is Bonnie saying the star crest Sadnesses smell odd... but if Sif had that smell then it would've been noticed sooner...

-dude. how rude to say that if Siffrin doesn't understand Time Craft they can't understand the King's methods. maybe i should read more on Time Craft in one of the libraries? or that one book on craftonomy...

-the "you have heard this before" for zoning out got more and more annoyed

-once again. what does the King need to say?

-hm i was talking to Odile and Bonnie piped in really excitedly that they have more pineapple in their pocket

-GOD FUCKING DAMMIT MIRABELLE I LOVE YOU BUT YOU STOPPED ISA'S CONFESSION ToT

-time to talk to Euphrasie and loop again ig

-hey what's that in her hair?

-"you inhale sharply, almost choking on the smell of burnt sugar around you" BURNT SUGAR BURNT SUGAR THAT'S THE SMELL OF TIME SHENANIGANS AS SEEN WITH THOSE SADNESSES

-SAY SOMETHING ELSE EUPHRASIE

-how do i get the familytale?

-ok i talked to Odile and i'm gonna help her!

-am i gonna have to go all over town for this?

lmao yeah i think i will

-oh hey the wizard-loving kid is named Manon

-oh my god. i have to go back to the boulanger

-FINALLY

-:O THERE IS NO RESEARCH???

-oh THAT'S why Odile is in Vaugarde

-oh... her mom left... all of her travels here have been to try to reconnect with that part of her...

-HEY SIFFRIN I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING WHERE THE *FUCK* ARE YOU FROM?

-damn. bro has amnesia

-LMAO I ASKED MIRA ABOUT THE PAPERS AND THE BATTLE THEME STARTED

-...bonding proposals???

-oh my god Mira joined a dating website group

-"we have one of those at home"

-"oh, i don't have a type! i like all kinds of people equally!" is this in a bi way or an aro way

-YEAH AROMANTIC REPRESENTATION

-DIVERSITY WIN! THE KICKASS HANDMAIDEN WHO'S IMMUNE TO BEING FROZEN IN TIME AND THE SORT-OF CHOSEN ONE IS ARO!!! I FUCKING CALLED IT YEAHHHHHHHH :D

-oh, Mira :( you're not the problem you don't have to do anything like that you're not comfortable with

-hm this game is dealing with personal identity a lot

-:( :( :( oh, Mira...

-DIVERSITY WIN!!! THE SKETCHY WANDERER STUCK IN A TIME LOOP WITH MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS IS ACE!!!

-MY BLORBOS ARE ACE AND AROACE FUCK YEAH I AM SO HAPPY

-FUCK IT I'M POSTING NOW

SERIOUSLY THO I DON'T THINK I CAN ACCURATELY CONVEY HOW FUCKING HAPPY THIS PART IS MAKING ME. TWO OF MY FAVORITES ARE ACE AND AROACE HELL FUCKING YES

[dontcallpanic]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by a few people at this point - I'm so sorry I lost track of it all... I know @patolemus and @gege-wondering-around tagged me and I think @seaweed-water did too, once upon a time. Thank you so, so much - I am sorry literal seasons have changed while you've been waiting!

So... here y'are - Even this tiny snippet has taken so feckin long to write it's unreal!! Why is Derek's voice so hard to nail down!? I've written about 5 different drafts at this point! Dammit Sourwolf!

Anyway, This is the start to Manifesting Murder, wildly edited and then unedited, then edited again. All mistakes belong to me and my dyslexia - Mwynhau!

Stiles' fingers shake as he methodically wipes the blood off them, one by one. There's a detached calmness that's settled over him – he's in shock – and he knows what he needs to do next but he can't get his damn fingers to stop shaking. He almost drops his phone when he digs it out of his pocket. He's never been more grateful for speed dial, he thinks before holding the phone to his ear. It sounds far too loud in the oppressive silence. One. Two. Three. “Stiles?” He lets out a breath. Everything's going to be okay. "Yeah sorry to call you on your day off but I could use your help with something. Do you think you can get here anytime soon?" There's a long silence on the end of the line. "I'll be there in ten."

_______

Derek stares down at the motionless body at the foot of the stairs, a long list of expletives running through his head. One glance is all he needs to ascertain that the man is dead. Very dead. The head is cracked at an alarming angle and there’s a steadily growing pool of blood creeping across the uneven floorboards. It's an awful lot of blood for a broken neck but there are some things in the world that can walk away that. He should know, he's one of them. But this man… this man smells distinctly fucking human. Derek lifts his eyes back to Stiles who has been fidgeting restlessly the whole time, and rises one silent eyebrow. Stiles nods jerkily, grimacing as he twists a bloody cloth through his long, clever fingers. “Yeahhh… So. I – I er… need your help,” he says somewhat redundantly, gesturing towards the body. Derek's other eyebrow joins his first. Stiles waves him off, almost flinging the damn cloth with the movement. He fumbles at the last moment, hands flying out to catch hold of it before squeezes it tight between his fists. “Heh. Yeah. I know – understatement!” he laughs flatly before glancing up, eyes wild and slightly glassy. “Can you, er… help me get rid of him?” Stiles makes a shooing gesture, inadvertently wafting the scent of fear and death directly at Derek. He raises his eyebrows further and resists the urge to sneeze. He's actually somewhat relieved. He shouldn't be, he knows that. He should be calling it in. Giving forensics the heads up and letting the detectives do the rest. He should be taking pictures for evidence. He should be fucking arresting Stiles on suspicion of murder. Fuck his fucking life. Instead of doing any of this, he looks away first, using the moment to reflect on how perpetually screwed he is. He scans the body with a trained detachedness, eyebrows drawing into a frown as he takes in the height of the sweeping wooden staircase, the blood splattered on the nosing, the way it’s smeared across the treads. “He's definitely dead then,” Derek says, automatic and unguarded sarcasm falling flat even to his own ears as he leans back on old habits during these trying times. Stiles, unfortunately, thinks he is serious. “Are your eyes broken?” he yelps incredulously, flailing towards the body and sending another cocktail of scents directly up Derek’s nose. “Do you see the angle of his head?” Stiles makes an abortive motion before he shakes his head and strides up to Derek's side and gestures emphatically at the corpse. “Yes he's fucking dead! - Do you want to check for a pulse? Or do you think I need to call for a second opinion from Beacon Hills finest?” “Do you want my help or not?” Derek growls back, turning to meet Stiles' challenge as he slips into Derek's personal space. Derek bares his teeth, standing his ground and refusing to give way as he slowly folds his arms across his chest. Relief sparks in Stiles' amber eyes and Derek watches Stiles fight back a grin, tongue darting out to tease his bottom lip and he can't look away. “So you'll do it? You'll help me?” Of course Derek's going to fucking help him – is if that was ever in question. Derek is a sucker for anything that Stiles would ask of him and he fucking knows it. His features remain blank and impassive as he holds Stiles' gaze for a beat longer than is necessary, as if considering his options before he turns away and sighs loudly though his nose. “You got a plastic sheet or something?” he asks, teeth itching as the scent of blood and Stiles twists around him. He definitely shouldn’t like it as much as he does. Stiles lets out an intense sigh of relief that sounds a lot like a groan and Derek has to close his eyes for a beat. Fuck his fucking life.

_______________________

Okay... no pressure WHATSOEVER tags to the usual suspects @hellameyers @jadezdominion @gege-wondering-around @patolemus @seaweed-water

And the new suspects @teencopandthesourwolf @violetfairydust

And @oldefashioned and @cantchangemypast in case you wanted to read.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Well I guess the oneshot did the trick, because I finished a chapter.

Still not exactly doing great, but this helps a little.

And this overdramatic SOB just makes me swoon a completely normal amount.

don't stare at the nipple don't stare at the nipple don't stare at the oh dear gods honestly how dare he

Hearing Problems

LA!Mihawk x OC

Previous Chapter Link

Next Chapter Link

Chapter 3: Solidarity

Trigger Warnings: Mild Suicidal Ideation

Wordcount: 2.4k

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

People Tags: @mihawksdemoness also thank you for asking to be tagged like I am in awe thank you so much???

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing most of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

The stars were beautiful tonight, if nothing else.

Karimi did her best to focus her mind in on that, despite how they seemed to swim and swirl a bit in her vision, how her thoughts swam and swirled in her head.

How the image of his eyes seemed to have burned straight into her eyelids, to the point that she didn't want to do so much as blink.

How his words had burned into her ears, and she could still hear the threat behind them echoing around in her skull, hear his voice as clearly as if she were listening in on his thoughts at that very moment. Tomorrow, tomorrow morning, after the duel.

A heartbeat or a bloodied corpse.

Her own heartbeat raced into an absolute frenzy.

Part of her screamed loudly, so loudly that she could just slip herself right over the edge of the dock, to just slip into the chill of the ocean and sink down and never come up again.

She pulled her feet out of the water immediately, sitting straight up and wrapping her arms around her bended knees, shuddering the slightest bit.

His words. Not only his words, but his anger rang clear as day through her while she stared out at the night sky, out toward the horizon, wishing she could very far closer to it than to where she was right now.

There was every chance that she had just lessened Zoro's chances of survival rather than improve them.

She lowered her forehead to her knees. As the saltwater dripped away and her skin dried, the chatter of every person within a fifty food radius slowly began to raise in volume in her head. Closing her eyes a bit tighter, pulling her legs in closer to her chest, she bit her lip and focused.

Focused every ounce of her energy to making it stop.

Her own thoughts were too much right now, much less everyone else's.

And slowly—so slowly, but oh, so welcome, the silence came again. An audible sigh trembled its way through her lips.

Busoshoku haki. It wasn't fool-proof, but it worked when she needed it to. For the ten years she had spent with her grandmother, the older woman had employed it constantly to suppress Karimi's devil fruit abilities, but Karimi herself wasn't as proficient. She had less than two years of training in the art, from her time traveling with the Red Hair Pirates six years ago, and she couldn't do much with it except dampen her own abilities.

If she focused it in just behind her ears, focused it down to a pair of small points of energy and connected them together through her skull, then she had the sweet, sweet silence she so craved, that she could manage on her own on a day to day basis.

"So what did he have to say?"

The sound of Nami's voice, nearly monotone but with an edge of accusation to it, startled Karimi so badly that she nearly did slip off the dock.

"God dammit—"

Dear gods why couldn't everyone just leave her alone?

"Hey—!" Karimi grew instantly tense when she felt Nami's hand on her shoulder, steadying her before she could topple over. "Shit. Was it that bad?"

The accusatory note in her voice dropped away almost in an instant, and Karimi could only scoff, shaking her head. Her eyes briefly cut toward Nami when the younger girl took a seat beside her on the docks, looking at her in a mix of alarm and caution. "It wasn't great, no," she said shortly. Karimi shook her head, staring down at the gentle waves that rocked against the floating dock. She sighed, pressing her palm into one of her eyes against the sharp pain of a headache forming behind them. "You ever just want to...say the hell with it all and toss yourself in the ocean and be done?"

"Ah...yeah...." She noticed Nami reach around her and subtly pull the wine bottle away from her side. "Maybe we should just get back to Merry and—"

"I know what you're planning."

Nami froze in an instant at that, her eyes glued to Karimi's for a moment when she turned her head and looked over.

"I don't know what you're—"

"Don't bother," said Karimi, waving a dismissive hand, her voice still slurred. "You're leaving. And I get it. I would too in your shoes. If I could...." She swallowed. Exhaled a slow sigh that puffed out her cheeks slightly, looking at Nami, at how her brows furrowed. "I lost...everything ten years ago. My village. My friends. My...family." She shook her head. "I'd trade anything to have that back. So I get it. You'd trade everything too. But, look."

Nami froze when Karimi turned, reached out and put her hands on her shoulders, leveling her gaze with with hers.

"That—scrawny little shit back there in his silly little hat," she went on, nodding back toward the Merry, "I guarantee, if you go, he's going to chase you down, and he's going to do everything in his power to help whether you want him to or not, because that's what he does. So you need to think carefully about how you're going to proceed with this."

Nami stared at her for several long seconds, her eyes wide as saucers, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock.

And then she shoved Karimi's hands off of her shoulders, shifting away several inches. "How—how the hell do you—no." She shook her head, reaching down to her bag at her side. "No, why—" Karimi's eyes shifted down as Nami pulled an old, yellowed wanted poster out of her bag. "Why are you lying to everyone? Two billion berries?"

Karimi's gaze became glued to the wanted poster, and when she reached out to grab it, Nami pulled it back, holding it over her head.

"You think you can just, what, dye your hair a little darker, and no one's going to notice?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "Maybe the guys won't, but I'm not an idiot."

Karimi barely even heard her, her eyes glued to the paper flapping in the light breeze over their heads. She had kept that poster for the better part of eight years, kept it tucked away with her belongings, tucked under her pillow wherever she slept. She lowered her gaze, leveling her eyes with Nami's as she spoke through her teeth.

"Give. It. Back."

Nami's resolve faltered a little for a moment—but just long enough of a moment. Karimi was able to lash out her hand and grab the poster, pulling it to her chest and sighing slowly, her eyes slipping shut.

"Th...that's...not you?" she said slowly, and Karimi shook her head.

"It's my grandmother." She carefully folded the poster without looking at it again, slipping it into her pocket. "And it's the only picture I have of her." She glanced at Nami, trying hard, incredibly hard not to be mad at the girl as her gaze softened. "She was murdered right in front of me ten years ago."

"I..." She swallowed. "I'm...so sorry, I..." She shook her head. "You look...you could be her *twin*, I thought—" Once more, Nami shook her head, looking Karimi up and down quickly. "How do you know about my village?" she asked finally.

"I know a little about a lot of things." Karimi set to tugging her socks back on. "I...have a devil fruit ability. I can hear thoughts. I keep it suppressed the majority of the time because it would frankly drive me insane if I didn't, but..." She glanced at Nami, frowning apologetically. "When we fought with Kuro, I had to release it. I can't control what I hear. And your thoughts were a lot louder than anyone else's."

Nami swallowed, blinking several times. "You...can hear thoughts," she repeated quietly. Karimi shrugged a shoulder and gave a quick nod, pulling one if her boots back on now. "Th...that's..."

"Something that would have made you all a lot less likely to have me along had you known it off the rip," Karimi finished for her, sighing. Maybe not Luffy—it was incredibly likely he would have been in awe. "And for the record, I'm not using it right now. Shanks was able to help me learn to control it to some extent."

Nami nodded, standing with Karimi as she finished tugging her other boot on. "You...said your village was destroyed." She cut her eyes at Nami, taking her bottle of wine back when the orange-haired girl offered it to her. "Was it pirates?"

"Marines." She took a swig from the bottle, slinging an arm around Nami's shoulders. "There's good eggs and bad eggs in every batch. I don't like Marines on the whole, but there are a few exceptions. You don't like pirates," she went on as they crossed dock, "but I think you've seen enough to know that there are a few exceptions."

Karimi offered her the bottle of wine with a wry smile, and Nami took it, taking a drink from it. "Yeah," she agreed, staring up at the Merry as they stopped in front of it. "I guess there are."

Nami had to help her back onto the ship—she had definitely gone way too heavy on the drink tonight, something she rarely did and was sure she would be embarrassed about in the morning, but right now she didn't care. Right now, falling back into an empty hammock and tucking her hands behind her neck, all Karimi cared to give her time and attention to was the sweet release of sleep.

Hopefully a dreamless sleep, devoid of the annoyances and terrors of the waking world.

Hopefully devoid of her harebrained promise to serve a surly pirate warlord if he would leave an acquaintance she had met literal days ago alive.

Devoid of the heartbroken look on Luffy's face when he realized Nami was leaving—when he realized she was leaving.

Empty, dreamless, not a single thought of the face on the wanted poster she carried with her everywhere, the face she had watched break into desperate tears ten years ago, beg to let her granddaughter live, just let her live, she would give anything, she didn't care if they killed her—

Karimi's eyes snapped open.

And then they shut in an instant against the persistent and painful rays of the morning sun pouring throughtthe rounded window across from her.

As she did every morning, she started to focus, to employ her haki and drown out the mindless chatter in her head...and then she stopped.

She stooped as she heard the desperation, the horror outside the ship.

And she scrambled to her feet, stumbling out of the cabin to lean against the railing around the deck if the ship.

Just in time to watch Mihawk draw his sword from his back.

To watch him pull it down in a clean slash.

Watch Zoro fall to his knees and onto his back.

She sank down onto her own knees, exhaling a slow sigh, eyes wide and hands gripping at the railing around the deck. There, then, was her answer. There, in the form of one if her newest friends bleeding out in front of Baratie, clinging to the edge of life, certain to slip away at any moment.

"I hope you've already packed your things."

And she froze.

Karimi lifted her head slowly, meeting his yellow eyes as he stood over her, his arms crossed. Her brow furrowed as she glanced out toward the deck of Baratie, watching as the others surrounded Zoro, trying to keep him awake. She looked back at Mihawk, gritting her teeth.

"He's almost dead, you—"

"Almost, yes." He leaned his elbow against the railing if the ship. "And if he can't survive that, then he wasn't worth my time to begin with."

Oh.

Oh, the complete bastard.

He had left Zoro clinging to the edge of life, and he still expected her to keep up her end of the deal.

And yet...she had set the terms herself.

"F...fine," she said, pulling herself to her feet. She cast a glance down toward the docks, her heart clenching in her chest at the sight of Luffy kneeling over his first mate. "Just...let me say goodbye."

"Are you that close with them?" he asked, and the amusement in his tone was enough to boil her blood. She cast a glare over her shoulder in his direction, and he simply shrugged a shoulder. "Fine. You have an hour." He took a step closer, seizing her by her chin, his eyes searching hers for any sign of defiance. "Gather your belongings..." He leaned in closer, his forehead barely touching hers, the wide brim of his hat shadowing both of their faces. "...and your wits, and we'll be off."

His amusement was clear to her in more than just his gaze or his tone—Karimi could hear it in his head, hear just how pleased he was with himself as he left the ship.

And she didn't want to hear it for another second.

Karimi quickly employed her haki, shoved her walls up as high they could go, and watched him head down the docks, lowering herself back down to her knees to watch him through the railing. Her heart pounding, her bottom lip trembling, she knew she had no choice.

She had made her her bed amd now she had no choice to lie in it.

She had told him she would be his...and now she was.

Next Chapter Link again for your convenience

[flightfoot]

The word "fanon" doesn't mean a lot to me. Fandoms are big and diverse. No one has the full picture.

But YOU are the exception. You seam to know every aspect of the MLB fandom. Or at least most of it.

So when you reblog a post about disliking a fanon Verizon of a character I noticed.

Do you want to elaborate on that?

Honestly I was mostly thinking about Chloe Bourgeois. I was gonna elaborate in the tags, but well... honestly, even in this case, it's not really the fanon version of CHLOE that's the problem. Which is why I didn't elaborate on it at the time, because it didn't totally fit.

Thing is, I do like Chloe, and I especially like versions of Chloe that follow off of the earlier seasons of ML, when it looked like there was going to be more to her, when there are hints of her having these insecurities because of her awful parents and just wanting to be recognized. With her being a mean bully, but beneath all of that being deeply hurt and trying to fill in the holes left behind by her parents' neglect or disdain. With her desperately trying to earn Ladybug's approval, approval that she couldn't get from her own mother. With her not thinking much of most other people, but going far to help the few people she cares about. So stories where she's still recognizably herself and still can function as a classic mean girl bully if the story calls for it, but with more to her, where she's treated as a person beneath it all still.

I'm not so fond of stories just giving her a straight-up personality replacement, where she's Chloe in-name-only, and she turns into a nice person off-screen with little explanation. I don't hate it, but it also doesn't feel like Chloe, and takes away what could be a really interesting character development arc. It's okay, but not my jam.

The stories I hate are the ones that do either of these types of things (especially the second one where she just gets a straight-up personality replacement) and then the other, canonically nicer kids are made worse, with Chloe and Alya basically swapping personalities. Everyone knows how much I hate Alya, Adrien, and the rest of the class being bashed, and Chloe and Alya having swapped roles just showcases the intense double standards of the writer, and is incredibly frustrating for me since it makes me leery of Good!Chloe and makes me want to vent about people making Chloe into a nicer person when that's not actually my central problem with the trope. So I have to try and take great pains to convey that I like Chloe being good, but doing it at other characters' expense, especially with how Alya in particular ends up getting targeted in these cases, is not cool.

I still remember when I briefly filtered out "Chloe Bourgeois Redemption" on AO3 because of a fic that started demonizing Alya out of nowhere by making her be mean to Chloe, and that was the only tag the fic had at the time that was even remotely associated with salt. I took out that filter soon afterwards because I do really like fics that redeem her, but dammit, BECAUSE of how those good and redeemed versions of Chloe are used, I'm often leery when I see her treated too positively and it sucks to have that knee-jerk reaction.

[mo0dy-succubus]

Game On

Squirting,orgasm control(???), teasing,sex toy,(very lazy to add other tags so forgive me)

You have always been the gamer of the relationship. You could spend all day playing them. As most if not all people know that your girlfriend was terrible at playing games. You would absolutely beat her ass in LOL then gloat about it for days on end. But would try to refrain about bragging when you would see her pouting face cuddling up to her kissing it gently.

"Heal me!.. heal me!!...GOD! I SAID HEAL ME!!!" You said screaming into your head set at your teammate as you died. Soyeon walks past you with a smirk looking at your frustration. "It's just a game relax hun" she said mocking you. You turn around before making a sparky remark back at her. "Pshhh yeah like you can play better then me. I can easily win a game"

Soyeon looks at you in awe before smirking. "Ok since you think you are SO GOOD..I challenge you" she said. You laugh think she was joking before turning around confirming her seriousness. "You have to play with a vibrator in and every time you die I turn it up to the next setting if you cum you lose and I win and I'll get to punish you for back talk as my reward" she says.

"Annnddd...if I win?" You say a bit curious. "You decide then" she said. You thought about it before agreeing. "Challenge accepted!" You shouted. After your game round ended soyeon passed you the vibrator with a devilish smirk. After you were situated your challenge had started.

You buckle down focusing on trying to not die so you won't get close to being punished. You got pretty far into the game before you got your first death."God dammit.." you muttered under your breath. "Oh looks like you got your first death you now what that means" soyeon says before actually turning on the vibrator to the lowest setting causing you to jolt.

"I only died because someone is standing over me while I play" you say quit snarky before going back to playing. You try your best to ignore the sensation deep within you but it was quite bothersome. As you try to ignore the buzzing you got killed again. "UGH!!" You groan out in frustration. "Another death already..I thought you were good at this game" Soyeon turns the settings up again.

"I'm n-not backing down" you tried to have a strong mentality, avoiding your girlfriends sinful and alluring gaze. The game finally ended with you only getting two deaths. "Hah! I did it" you say. Soyeon gives a small fake clap. You were so excited the vibrator didn't bother you. That was your first mistake you died a bit more early than last time causing soyeon to increase the level to the third one.

This setting was more uncomfortable, no matter how much you wanted to squirm and moan now was not the time. You let out a small gasp, wetness now starting to pour out of you more and more. Soyeon looks at you before teasingly saying something."looks like you are gonna break soon."

"You are the worst..." you say after dying again. The fourth setting was absolutely agony. Not knowing how much you can last for. "You must want to cum so bad hun". "Why do you do these things to me.." you say feeling hotter by the second. "I just like to see you suffer babe~.." soyeon says grabbing your face before kissing you deeply. The kiss was passionate and hot feeling soyeon wrap her hand around your neck giving it a soft squeeze.

You pull away trying not to get anymore aroused before play another round. The vibrator in you makes you squirm uncontrollably making you lose your focus. Another Death after another. As you grip the desk Finally cumming. Your head bowed down in shame as the warm liquid poured out of you like a water fall. You can hear soyeon coo walking behind you kissing your neck. "Looks like I win and you lose y/n~.,you know what that means~.." you feel tears form in you eyes for what she was about to do next.

(I'm very disappointed in this, it's not that it's bad I'm just not very happy but I just wanted to get something out for being gone for like a week I'm not doing ok)

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  We're Counting On You, Lord

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Teen

Synopsis: In my headcanon Baby's a bit more tempermental than she is on-camera, and breakdowns happen often enough Sam has a routine down when it comes to busting Dean's balls over it.

Tags:  Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Baby the Impala, Baby is a brat, Sam is a brat, Dean is a brat, songfic

AN:  Song is "Mercedes Benz," written by Janis Joplin, Michael McClure, and Bob Neuworth, performed by Joplin on the album 'Pearl.' All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

If asked, Dean Winchester will call his car the perfect hunter's car.  Sure she drinks gas like water and doesn't do off-road, like, at all, and don't even ask about parking.  But the pros -- bench seats for emergency sleeping, trunk big enough for a small apartment's worth of gear, all sorts of nooks and crannies for hiding spare cash and ammo, surprisingly inconspicuous for her size and age, able to cruise at 70 for days -- far outweigh the cons as far as he's concerned.  Power, beauty, and able to bounce back from everything the job can possibly throw at them.  They're a matched set, Dean will tell you.

If asked, Sam Winchester will point out that the car sticks out like a bobcat at a dog show, the air conditioning barely works no matter how much Dean screws around with it, its zero-to-sixty can be measured in days, it eats brake pads like they're potato chips, and why in the hell hasn't Dean upgraded the suspension because he swears he can feel the car crying whenever it hits a pothole.  And with the amount of time they spend taking secondary highways, that's a lot of crying.

Most of his gripes get shot down with an annoyed glower and, "One word-- legroom."  And Sam will admit, Dean's got him there.  Getting stuck in Brady's Alfa Romeo Spyder had not exactly been the high point of his freshman year.

Questions about reliability will produce similarly opposed responses.  Dean will swear on any holy book you hand to him that Baby's a perfect lady, never breaks down, never strands him in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.  Sam will make sure he's safely out of earshot and swear the damn thing's never completed a journey without going bang, ever, not once in the thirty-odd years he's been riding in it.

The truth of course is somewhere in the middle.  Dean's been working on Baby since he was old enough to hold a flashlight steady and he's brought her back from scrap and spare parts more than once.  But the flat fact of the matter is, the car's a blue-collar broad of a certain age who's lived hard.  She has . . . quirks.

---

bang!

"What--"

cough

"Aw shit--"

"Mmm?"

"Don't-- c'mon Baby, just for me, be sweet to me--"

sick revving noises

"God dammit."

"I think the car just gave you the finger."

"Don't listen to him sweetheart, he's just being a bitch as usual."

bang! car lurches hard enough to throw driver and passanger out of their seats

"Definitely telling you to go fuck yourself."

"Shut up."

crunch of shoulder gravel, engine stops

"Well . . . at least it's not dark this time.  Or raining.  Or sleeting, Or--"

creak of door hinges, pop of hood latch

"Sam, shut up."

"No, you know what?  You're right.  I will shut up."

pop of trunk lock, clink of tools

"Because--"

dramatic clearing of throat

"Oh no you fucking don't."

humming for a note

"Start that shit and--"

voice rises in pitch

"'Like to do a song--'"

"Shave your head in your sleep--"

"'--of great social--'"

"Break every bone in your body--"

"'--and political import.'"

"Tie you to a bed naked and call that Becky chick--"

"'Goes like this.'"

thunking of a hand on a car's side panel

"Oh Lord! won't'cha buy me, a Mercedes-Benz?  Mah friends all drive Porsches, I must make a-mends."

"I will fucking end you Sammy, I swear to God."

"Don't call me that-- I work haaaard all my life time, no help from my friends."

"Sammy-Sammy-Sammykins--"

"So Lord! won't'cha buy me a Mercedes-Benz?  Oh Lord! won't'cha buy me, a color TV?"

"Sammycutiewootiepieface--"

"Dialin' for Dollars is tryin' to find meeee.  I wait for dee-livery, each day until three."

dark muttering about home perms and dye it all bright fucking pink I swear to God

"So Lord! won't'cha buy me a color TV?  Oh Lord! won't'cha buy me, a night on the town?"

soft whine of ultimate suffering

"I'm countin' on you Lord, please don't let me down.  Prooooove that'cha love me, and buy the next round."

"Make mine a double."

"So Lord! won't'cha buy me a night on the town?  Everybody! oh Lord! won't'cha buy me a Mercedes-Benz?  Mah friend all drive Porsches, I must make a-mends.  I worked haaaard all my life time, no help from my friends.  So Lord! won't'cha buy me, a Mer-Cey-Deez-Benz?"

silence

"Are you finished?"

a decidedly fiendish chuckle

"Just getting warmed up.  My car is a . . . "

sounds of two grown men trying to seriously throttle each other by the side of the road

---

"So, you boys wanna run that by me again?"

Sam and Dean glared while the Sheriff of Minnehaha County tried not to laugh.  She made a mental note to show Donna the video later.  The best part had to be the both of them looking up guiltily as Jody barked, "GENTLEMEN," Sam in a headlock and Dean with a bloody nose.

They pointed at each other, "He started it."

---

AN2: Oh, the song Sam started at the end is Psychostick's, "Two Ton Paperweight."

[rachelsshowerthoughts]

So you know how some fics have like "Andre Sugar" in the tags to indicate he'll not be portrayed as the bastard he is in S1/3?

I came up with an alternative type of tag, "Character X Cinnamon" with it basically being:

If this character is so good you are giving them some sin to spice things up. But if they are too evil you are adding a little bit of 'sweetness' without forgetting what they are.

In this context, an Audrey cinnamon fic would be like... she stumbles on a conversation Chloe is having with Andre trying to get comfort & advice on impressing Audrey & the mix of how that interaction looks and what Andre says.

IE stuff that makes it quite clear he's done nothing to disabuse Chloe of the notion Audrey just needs to be impressed to love her when frankly Audrey just does not fucking 'want' to parent & made that clear many times over.

Well it leaves her a little... Off, it feels a little too familiar, and a little too scummy for her to just write it off as Andre's usual neediness and simpering explanations and excuses for anything that creating problems in his life.

Cue, this is just an idea it could go many way, pulling Sabine aside at the fashion show either day 1 or 2 and being like.

"Your family's mundane. Tell me, does Andre's relationship with Chloe seem normal to you?" "...." "That silence does not fill me with confidence, unless you misunderstood." "I understood you fine, I was just thinking. But no, it does come off a little unseemly." "Dammit all." "Why are you bringing this up so suddenly, did you just notice?" "Obviously, why else would I be bringing it up this moment, use your head." "I can see where Chloe got her charming personality from." "I didn't raise her, if she's like me its... Ugh, because Andre probably wanted her that way, or is that assuming things? I don't know when children start thinking for themselves." ".... You should speak to Madame Bustier, her teacher, she might be of more help." Audrey's head tipped back in a beleaguered groan.

Basically Audrey's still fucking awful but she has like a handful of barely coherent & even contradictory standards for what she deems acceptable. Andre being a raising his daughter to be Audrey's carbon copy but one that 'needs' him & encouraging her to appeal to a woman he knows will reject her happens to tick such a box.

So she's going to have to do something about it, but she A, has zero idea what she's doing, B, fucking HATES doing it and C, is still by and large otherwise the worst (tm)

Like such a story would not end in Audrey being all, "Oh I actually want to be a mother & make up for lost time."

But more like, "I made a stupid decision having a child when I didn't want one & have neither the heart nor capabilities to parent. But I will do the right thing here; I am gonna be real bitter about it though."

This spin on Audrey would sort of rely on taking her abuse as mostly just her being indifferent to Chloe in a "I did not want to be a parent" way and so she treats her like everyone else. IE like shit.

As opposed to her having any other kind of motive or reasons for said behavior or there being more to said abusive behavior than what was seen. Which is very easy to conclude by just watching and musing but isn't like, overtly canon.

I feel like I am making this come off as more lighthearted than intended, but that's more a reflection of Audrey's like... Vibe? Sort of like how everything's more somber and clinical from Gabriel's perspective even if its a crack comedy story.

Audrey's perpetually proud, unsatisfied and irritable with little desire to empathize or wallow in any negative emotions that aren't anger or satisfaction born or breaking something. She might be better-ish at the end of such a story but she'd not do a 180 like Andre's shown to do in such fics.

Part of what would be good for Chloe in it is getting that sense of why her mothers like that, that Audrey being shitty isn't on her, and eventually kind of untethering Audrey from "mom" to just, "A woman". So she can seek out connections with people who can and will actually give her what she needs in a paternal relationship.

So, first, sorry this one took me so long to respond to, I've been sick for a few days, and swinging between "coherent" and "what time is it? Sleep, I guess"!

I do like the idea, and think it’s fairly funny, but . . . I'll be honest, I tried to imagine Audrey doing this and just. My brain was like "Error 404, File not found". I COULD NOT imagine Audrey Bourgeois doing this, or being like this. Like, at all. It would not compute in my head. The only way I could think about this idea working was to try and apply it to a different character, then smack it Audrey's name on it.

(Which, again, I'm currently kind of sick, so it could be that - though my friend Mimi started cackling at the fact someone suggested Audrey being in anyway even REMOTELY decent and I basically bluescreened)

If I was doing this, I think I would have some definite character growth for Audrey. Like you say, she still doesn’t become a "good" person. She doesn’t miraculously want to be a mom, or realize that she really DOES love Chloé. But I'd have her grow a bit as a character, to at the very least, treat everyone a little less shitty. Like, she's still blunt, and kind of a bitch, but she becomes a less toxic person overall. She learns how to communicate with other people, figures out how to . . . . I was going to say, "stop insulting everyone", but maybe "be less insulting" is more believable. She isn’t ever going to be "mom" or even "mom-adjacent", but she learns to stop penalizing Chloé for not living up to her impossible standards. She figures out how to interact at least neutrally with Chloé, who, whether she likes it or not, she's responsible for.

Chloé, meanwhile, yeah, should learn to disconnect "Audrey Bourgeois" from the idea of "Mom", which, I'm not sure about how easy that would be. It's definitely going to suck. But, and I'm not sure about this, I feel like Audrey and Chloé should at least develop a rapport. A comfortable way to interact with each other. Cause, at least until Chloé is eighteen, Audrey is partially responsible for her. I'm not saying Audrey has to be loving mom, or that Chloé needs to be "mini-Audrey", but they do need a healthy way to communicate. I think the end result should be something like "distant aunt". Like, you're family, you'll help each other out if you need it, you'll send a wedding invite, and occasionally update each other, but you aren’t super close, and you don’t talk much.

Though, for any of this, I think Audrey would need to divorce André and take custody of Chloé. Like, she doesn’t particularly CARE about being married to André - it’s a status thing, security, and Audrey can deal with him. But Cholé can't (that's the point of all this) so Audrey would need to get Chloé away from him, make sure he doesn’t have any legal say in Chloé at all. And that would be a hell of a headache for all involved.

(Somehow, during this, Hawk Moth's identity comes out. Audrey is left to question how SHE is somehow being a better parent than Gabriel, because my god, the bar is SO LOW, it is literally an INCH off the ground, yet somehow he isn’t clearing it.)

though, afterward, I can see Audrey setting Chloé up with her own place in Paris, with either a paid live-in bodyguard, or regular check-ins or something. Hell, have her move in with Marinette or something, and Audrey sends an allowance. Like, I don’t see Chloé actually wanting to permanently leave Paris, Audrey doesn’t want to stay (she has work), so they figure out some arrangement that lets her stay in Paris.

[undead-discourse]

Hey OP, has this blog and all the asks and stuff you get influenced any of your perspectives on shipping discourse and general media stuff?

Oh, for sure.

I don’t think my opinions on “problematic” media or whatever itself have changed at all, but my opinions on these communities definitely have. Of course, I can’t talk about every single proshipper/anti and I’m generalizing here and this is entirely just from my experience. If it doesn’t fit you, it doesn't fit you.

I don’t really know how to articulate this very well so I’m sorry if this makes no fucking sense.

The communities everyone has built feel so backwards. Going into this, I assumed the community built around problematic media would be centered around said problematic media, but instead, it’s centered around defending it while also never engaging with it at all. It feels so bizarre to me that you’ve created a community around “live and let live, just enjoy the fiction you want to, it doesn’t matter at all actually” and yet 99% of all posts I see from proship blogs is about being proship and not them actually just enjoying their little fictional guys. In my experience, there seems to be more “fictional incest is okay because it’s fiction” posts than “here’s a drawing of some fictional incest, which is okay because it’s just fiction” posts, if that makes sense.

I don’t know, it just feels bad, man. Running this blog has made me significantly less happy, and I don’t really know why anyone would subject themselves to such a soul-crushing community long-term when they don’t even care all that much. I don’t know why someone would run a proship (or anti) blog where you only post about being morally better than the other “side” about your fiction, while also… Never posting or reblogging anything about the fiction you like. It just feels like nobody is happy or posting about the things that make them happy, ever.

I have the opposite problem with antis and proshippers. Antis have some fucked up opinions and I think they’re awful, but at least they don’t post about other shit. It’s possible to enjoy the things an anti has made without being an anti because they don’t exclusively post about being an anti. The #anti and #antiship tags are overrun with crossposts because nobody fuckin uses those hashtags. Antis don’t post under ship discourse tags or search through ship discourse tags or follow blogs exclusively about ship discourse like proshippers do.

I obviously can't speak for anyone else, but from my experience running this blog, it is exhausting constantly surrounding yourself with a community entirely built off of outrage. Of course harassment and bullying are bad and of course we should be anti-harassment. But I feel like that should be the baseline for the community and not everything the community thinks and does.

The term “ignorance is bliss” comes to mind. You don’t have to post about “wow antis sure do suck haha” all the time when you could post about your fictional blorbos instead. Post your blorbos dammit, even if they’re siblings or what the fuck ever, it’ll make you happier than posting about discourse.

Enjoy whatever fiction you want, but at least post about things you enjoy. You can quit posting about discourse if it makes you feel worse, I promise it doesn’t make you an anti I swear.

[majesticbirdonascooter]

thoughts on hell breaks loose

ok y’all i KNOWWW i’m like a month late but honestly this was a strugglebus for me to read, despite being so short. and normally i whizz through SP books in a day or two, but this was just painful to read. 

tagging @facelessxchurch as i promised to be a massive hater (i hope that’s ok!! :’) and that this lived up to your expectations lolol)

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT !!!

starting out with the positives of HBL so i dont look like a COMPLETE hater!! so what i liked:  

the usual SP humour was in there and it’ll never fail to make me laugh

ghastly lore!! finding out about ghastly’s past relationships and his parents!!! 

mev and serpine canonly wearing wigs (& serpine’s wig being snatched) because they may be complete villains but GOD DAMMIT, THEY’RE VILLAINS THAT HAVE AN ✨ AESTHETIC ✨

rima being the best blink-and-you’ll-miss-it new character since phase 1

the saracen vs delicat fight (was hilarious if you look past the chivalry bullshit convo)

seeing mr bliss and meritorious again!!! and just the elders in gen!! they were fucking cool!!

seeing hopeless & him interacting with everyone (we have no choice but to stan) 

dexter vex being dexter vex

now we’re going hater mode and here are all the things i had problems with: 

literally everything else. ok bye

jk 

firstly. where the hell was china/the diablerie???? anyone??? okay now i’ve got that out the way...

terrible writing

Landy’s writing has always been simple but this story is like… simpler than simple. The sentences are also oddly structured and it SEEMS like he tried to give the characters’ speech an old timey vibe but it just comes off as... really awkward sounding.

the battles for this story were unreadable for me, i found myself skipping past them because there was just no substance/detail there, or if there was detail it was just filler (looking at the last fight with the dead men vs mevolent’s gang) 

i just got bored. and i never get bored with an SP book, but 3 chapters in and i left the book for a month before i could read it again, because there seemed to be no plot until the very end.

lack of characterisation

what are the personality traits of ghastly’s mother in this? i couldn’t tell ya. hell, what were the traits of ANY character in this story? what was the point of introducing ghastly’s mum after hyping her up for so many years if you won’t utilise her?

adding onto this, all the characters just read as samey for me, if we took away the names of the characters for dialogue etc i literally would NOT be able to tell who said what, because they all had the same personality.

which brings me to the stone sisters. they had so much potential but they were just SO boring. rapture had 0 personality and i didnt care that ghastly fell in love with her. i don’t even know how he did.

also found it wild that landy is trying to push a (forced) romance between ghastly and rapture. obviously ghastly would have other people he’s interested in before tanith but is it really necessary for a story this short? Like the anselm backstory + his parent’s lore would’ve been enough, the romance didn’t add anything to this shitty story.

valkyrie fuckin’ cain

dear landy, valkyrie cain doesnt have to be in every single story. the plot does not have to revolve around her. this has been a public announcement.

why oh WHY did this bitch rock up out of nowhere halfway through the story? 

in the end it’s not like she even does much. plus if it’s a story ABOUT THE DEAD MEN, keep it about THEM, not her. 

at one part she brags about all of her stupid powers and it’s at this point that i start drinking to forget how awful this story is

most of her conversations are just ripped from the pages of when she spoke to meritorious in the OTHER parallel dimension. what was the point??? 

oh pee pee poo poo angry birds!!!11 

fuck valkyrie cain she should’ve stayed tf out of HBL

other moments from when i live-reacted to this god damn story but can’t be bothered to write about fully:

Already like one page into the book and I feel like the writing is off…? Idk I’ve been reading phase one again recently so mb its just that I forgot what phase 2 writing is like (if HBL is similar writing wise to phase 2?)

Literally two pages in and theres already typos. Someone get this man’s editor an editor.

I dunno I feel like this book is trying too hard but simultaneously not trying AT ALL

Im getting a fucking drink. Maybe that’ll make this bearable.

Im in so much pain reading this book now. And I cant stop cringing. Someone tell me when its over pLEASE

Everyone’s dyng what the fuck

Landy really is obsessed with the “ooo it was all a dream” trope shit and “ooo the timeline that never happened” bullshit huh

And for my final thought:

if the hidden god bullshit is a set up for phase 3 I don’t even WANNA know