#bc it makes it easier for him to hold back his anger

[blackicek1lls]

this man is always the second sketch in my sketchbook— this is an older sketch

usually in my aus, he's unhinged as f u c k and hates the canon version of Cobs

[tojipie]

mma fighter toji? (im so happy tk see that you’re back btw ❤️)

i really do think this is the best ask i’ve ever gotten pls feel proud of ur brain before u go to bed tonight bc ily. wrote this on the verge of falling asleep if u see any spelling error no u did not.

mma fighter!toji x reader | 1k words

content: violence, injury, blood, reader objectified by stranger

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“you got it, you got—don’t fucking look at her, look at me fushiguro!” your boyfriend’s manager yells, holding a bucket to the younger man’s heaving chest with a sigh.

toji nods at the command, taking a swig of water and spitting into the vessel before wiping his mouth with an ungloved hand. fighters never drank in the ring, it’d only settle heavy in your stomach. make you easier to catch.

blood and saliva drip down his chin and onto the floor of the ring, bright red patters against black mesh.

you watch the veins in toji’s neck pulse underneath sweaty skin, decorated with swirls of black and grey ink. his tattoos extend down his chest and back, working to cover the mess of purple and blue bruises across his body.

on his rib lies a scrawl of your name, etched into his skin for millions to see every time he stepped into the ring.

the raven haired man says something unintelligible to his team before smacking his temple with his glove, almost as if he was trying to knock something back into place.

you cringe at the thought of a brain injury so early into his career. you’d heard stories before, world class fighters reduced to shells of themselves. shot memories, seizures, even paralysis. you try not to think too deeply about it.

the TV screens in front of you pan to across the ring to his opponent. ryomen sukuna, 2 years into his career with every title under the sun.

everything except heavyweight champion. the name belonging to the winner of this very match.

sukuna was terrifying, completely unfazed by the rivets of blood pouring from his temple and left nostril. you’d quite literally watched him pop his nose back into place during the first break after your boyfriend had dealt a serious blow to it. to say this man scared you was an understatement.

toji notices your anxiety, leaning against the mesh wall of the ring to look down at you in the front row.

“you watchin’?” he yells with a grin, barely coherent over the mixed sounds of cheers and boos.

you smile, though your boyfriend scowls at the onslaught of paparazzi trying to capture the tender moment. he spits at the see-through wall of the ring to serve as an unspoken “fuck you.” cheers ring out from the sidelines as the screens capture the interaction.

toji turns to you and pushes off of the mesh wall, throwing his hands out with a “tsk” and a shake of his head.

“you worried about me baby?” he teases, fully aware that the cameras are still on him. “you don’t gotta worry about me, right?.”

you laugh, motioning for security to shoo any onlookers off. the mix of adrenaline and attention was clearly getting to him, though you loved when he got cocky like this. he always fucked you hardest after a big win.

the two men settle back into the middle of the ring, the referee separating them with an stern arm. sukuna looks down at you with an unreadable expression, pinning you to your seat with just a glance. toji’s pink-haired opponent turns back to him with a sinister grin, taking out his mouthguard to speak clearly. you only manage to make out the end of his insult, blood running cold as his words register.

“..and after they give me that title? i might fuck that little girlfriend of yours, fushiguro.”

toji says nothing, expression blank. you begin to wonder if he even heard the other man, but the buzz signifying round 3 pulls you out of your thoughts. you brace for whatever may come next.

sukuna is a brick wall, but toji’s light on his feet, weaving in and out of punches with his gloves guarding his face.

he’s faster than usual, spurred on by adrenaline and anger.

he lands a kick to sukuna’s ribs, the sickening crunch reaching the front row right on impact. definitely two, maybe even three broke ribs you hear a fan spectate.

his opponent curses, landing two punches to his chest before knocking toji to the ground, just barely missing the raven haired man with a solid blow right as he springs upwards.

“you gonna fuck her?” toji scoffs, landing another kick to sukuna’s injured ribs. you can barely make out their conversation even with a front row seat, you doubt anyone in the stands has been able to understand them this whole time.

the pink-haired man winces on impact, his first show of weakness since the beginning of the match.

“huh? tell me.” your boyfriend muses, dodging a kick and throwing sukuna to the floor. cheers ring out in the stadium at the direct show of brutality, you cover your mouth in anticipation.

toji settles his body weight on the man below him, twisting his arm as far as it will go while keeping his face to the floor. his legs wrap around and under the second man, squeezing his injured ribs like a vice with his thighs.

sukuna lands a blow with his free arm, then another, then another. toji does nothing, holding his opponent down with a smile almost too wide, too sinister.

“fuck.. fuck!” sukuna yells, struggling under the weight of the man above him.

the crowd is in hysterics, the announcers are out of their seats. “an unprecedented burst of energy,” you hear them call it. nothing like they’d ever seen before during any of toji’s matches.

you have to fight off the ego boost it gives you, knowing he’s only fighting this hard for you. because another man dared to speak on your name in his presence.

toji takes a couple more punches with that same smile, finally grabbing his opponent’s free arm to render the other man motionless.

you stagger out of your seat, running into the isle to get a better view of the ring.

the referee crouches by the two men, waiting to call the match. sukuna shares a look with third man, groaning before tapping toji’s wrist three times.

the crowd is animalistic. screams, wails, jeers, all of it meshes together within seconds.

toji’s security forms a circle around you, leading you towards the ring as fans flood the isles in celebration.

that was it, he’d won the title. Fushiguro Toji, heavyweight champion.

sukuna is led out of the ring by his team, choosing to forego any post-match interviews. he doesn’t dare look at you as he passes you on the steps, humiliated beyond belief.

calls of your name echo out from the center of the ring, your boyfriend pushing past paparazzi to scoop you into his arms.

the heat from his torso melts into yours as he clutches you to his body. he’s sweaty, practically bleeding from every direction too. but he’s smiling.

it’s not the smile he puts on for press, a quick flash of perfect teeth to keep the morale light, keep his sponsors happy. not the sinister smile he flaunts during matches either, fueled by bloodlust and pure adrenaline.

not even the cocky smile he puts on for the crowd when the match gets tough, the one that gets his opponents mad, gets the crowd hit and bothered.

this smile is soft, private. a small show of love in a sea of flashing cameras and prying eyes. this smile says “i love you, I do this for you.”

you reach for his face, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. toji wipes the blood—his— from your lips with a calloused thumb, pulling your head to his chest with a soft murmur.

“i love you.”

[demonic0angel]

Prolonged ecto contamination can cause regenerative abilities. This is great when something important is stabbed or a limb is lost. But for other things, not so much.

“Daddy,” A five year old cried, “somethings wrong with mommy!”

Jason ran to his and his wifes room. He stopped by the door, taking in Jazz's tense still frame perched on the edge of their bed. She gazed at a small cylinder object cluched in her hands.

"Jazz?" Jason called.

She slowly lifted her gaze to him and turned the object around, revealing two pink lines.

"Is-is that an old one?" Jason stammered.

Jazz moved her head to side to side.

"Defective?"

"I've done ten of them, all the same."

But, but that couldn't be. Jason mentally floundered. After a failed vasectomy resulting in kid numer six and then a failed tube tying causeing baby number seven, Jazz had a hysterectomy.

Jason opened his mouth to address this but then remembered that their kids were in the room. It wouldn't be good for kids to witness their parents having a meltdown over a positive pregnancy test. Or discuss a possible lawsuit against a certain hospital and surgeon.

Switching gears, Jason called to his kids, "Come on tribe! To the living room for a movie."

"What about Mommy?" the five year old protested.

"Don't worry," Jason scooped up his kid and pecked her forehead. "Your dad got this," he said with way more confidence than he felt.

(OML I LITERALKY FUCKING ROLLED WHEN I SAW THIS ASK ASDFGHHKLLL THIS IS SO FUNNY BC IN MY ORIGINAL IDEAS ABIUT ANGER MANAGEMENT, THEY HAVE 5 KIDS)

Jazz stared at him blankly. Jason stared back. They both stared at each other. Then he admitted, “I don’t think I got this.”

Thank goodness their oldest, Elinor, was able to understand and distract all of her siblings. Now it was just Jason, Jazz, and their Ancient ghost dog alone to discuss what to do next.

Jazz continued staring at him, holding Shadow in her arms before she said, “Y’know, we could….”

“Don’t even start,” he said in exasperation. While he would always give her the choice, he knew that none of them would actually genuinely consider it.

She sighed. “I know. I want it anyways. It’s mine. It’s our baby.”

Her possessiveness was so cute. Jason reached over to hug her, squeezing her gently and placing his chin on her head. It was a bit difficult due to her height, but she hunched over to tuck herself into his arms, so it was a little easier.

“We’ll handle it. Together, like always. It’s not like we’re lacking in money anyways. And we have plenty of rooms and we can get help from our support groups. I can take another break from being Red Hood and you’ve never stopped your online therapy sessions, so I think we can do this.”

Jazz sighed, nodding before she suddenly groaned aloud and used a fist to hit Jason’s chest. Jason blinked. “What?”

“You know what my siblings call me?! They call Miss Weasley! At this rate, we’ll have a football team by the time we’re done!”

Jason tried not to laugh but a twitch must’ve alerted Jazz to his amusement because she looked up at him and glared. Shadow growled lightly on her lap. She scolded, “You’re giving the news to our families again. And I won’t stop Dan from trying to kill you this time.”

“Even if it makes you a single mother to 7 kids?” Jason asked idly.

Jazz paused and then she cursed softly. Jason snorted into her shoulder before Jazz then said, “I think after this, we’re using condoms again.”

Horrified, Jason lifted his head up and stared at her in disbelief and shocked horror. “What!”

“Jason! We have 7 kids now! Can I please get a break!”

Jason groaned, long and loud. Then he sighed, rubbing Jazz’s sides in faux sadness as he bemoaned, “Fine… since I love you so much… I’ll wear protection next time…”

Jazz pinched his cheek with a little narrowed eye stare and smile, shaking lightly but she said, “Thank you, dearest. We’ll handle this together, alright? It won’t be easy, but we’ve done this six times before, we can do this a seventh time. I think I should ask Dan how he does it…” she mumbled more plans to herself, as Jason just held her, closing his eyes.

If his past self was ever told that he’d have a wife and seven kids, he was sure that he’d probably snitch to the cops that someone was hallucinating.

Not that he’d ever trade this for the world, of course.

[moonstruckme]

Omg Mae more Spence please!! I love him ❤️❤️ what about the team is out at the bar after a case and some guy is flirting with reader and not taking no for an answer and spencer steps in even tho it’s out of character for him bc he’s so so jealous

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: minor assault, fictional confirmation that most guys are douchebags

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 926 words

“Right,” JJ says, “so Henry had actually been trying to say ‘fork,’ but of course everyone heard ‘fuck.’” 

You double over, laughter bubbling to the surface even easier than usual with the help of the couple of drinks you’ve had. Garcia has far surpassed you, tears leaking from her eyes as Morgan all but holds her upright. 

“And Will’s mom was…” JJ shakes her head with a smile, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, she was pretty upset. She accused Will of using that language around Henry, because she said he’s always had a potty mouth.” 

“Will?” Garcia cackles. “Our sweet southern beaux? There’s no way.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “I can see it. But he wouldn’t do it around Henry, for sure.” 

“Actually,” Spencer pipes up, “studies show that many children pick up swear words regardless of their parents’ usage. Even if they don’t know what they mean, most have a vocabulary of thirty to forty offensive words by the time they start school.”

The humor drains from JJ’s face. “Like, kindergarten?”

“Sometimes earlier,” Spencer says, before seeming to realize JJ finds these facts more alarming than fascinating. “I’m sure Henry will have a higher vocabulary than that by the time he gets to that age, though.” he adds hastily. “Probably won’t even need to resort to swear words.” You grin at him, laying your head on his shoulder consolingly. You might not have done it if you were completely sober, but right now it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and Spencer only tenses for a second before relaxing.

It’s Garcia who notices first, stiffening and straightening in her seat, but Hotch is the one to ask, “Can we help you?”

“I think so,” drawls a voice from behind you. “You can give me your friend’s number.”

You turn, finding yourself too close to the man standing with his hand presumptuously on the back of your chair and grinning like your agreement is a done deal. 

“Thanks,” you say, not unkindly, “but I’m not looking for anything.” 

The man tilts his head as if to say come on. “But don’t you just love when you find it anyways?”

“I’m here with my friends.” 

“And I’m not asking you to leave them.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, undeterred when you lean away. “Just give me your number, and next time you can be here with me.” 

“She said she’s not interested.” Emily’s voice is hard. If this guy weren’t so unpleasant, you’d be impressed that he’s still here, with your whole team staring daggers at him. 

The douchebag only smiles. “She didn’t say that, though. Did you, sweetheart?”

Your blood runs hot at his disregard of Emily. A man like this, you know—the assertive, overly masculine type—can be dangerous to piss off. But so can you. “I’m not," you say, finally letting the disgust you’ve been holding back seep into your voice. “Leave us alone.” 

Anger sparks in the man’s eyes, just like you knew it would. You don’t expect your gaze looks much different. His grip on your shoulder tightens as he gets in your face, close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. “I know you don’t mean that.” 

You tense, ready to shake him off you and drag him back to whatever musty corner of the bar he’d come from, but Spencer beats you to it. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says, prying the fingers from your shoulder. You stand, a protective instinct moving you in front of Spencer, but he pushes past you, badge outheld. “FBI. Do you really wanna pursue this? Because if so, I’ll have no problem cuffing you and explaining it to the local police.” 

The guy makes like he’s going to dart for you again, but Spencer steps in his way, pushing him back with a hand on his shoulder. His voice is quiet but clear. “Do not touch her.”

“Fuck off,” the guy shakes Spencer’s hand off, stalking away. He’s drunker than you thought, wobbling his way back to the bar. 

“Spence,” you say, taking his hand as though mere contact with the man’s shoulder could hurt it. “You didn’t have to do that, I could have handled it.” 

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replies, pulling back the collar of your shirt distractedly. His fingers skim over tender skin, and you look down to find your shoulder is red where the man had gripped it. It’ll probably be a bruise tomorrow. Spencer’s eyes darken. “I can still arrest him. That’s assault.”

“It’s fine.” You move your shirt back into place, pulling him back to your seats. “I’m fine, really. Sorry about the scene, guys.” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Hotch says severely, still eyeing the man from across the room. 

Morgan lets out a low whistle, relaxing back into his seat. “Way to go, wonder boy. Got a little jealous there, did we?”

Spencer lets out a little laugh, though it sounds more strained than usual. “I just did what all of us wanted to do.” 

“Agreed,” Emily says gruffly, toasting with her beer. “I thought I was going to have to go all the way around the table to kick that guy’s ass.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate the support, but I can take care of myself, you know.” You adjust your collar self-consciously, and as soon as you drop your hand back to your lap, Spencer’s taking it in his under the table. 

“Yeah,” he says casually, thumb stroking soothingly at your wrist. “We know.”

[starrylanex]

hello! could i request an imagine with Sam where you're frenemies (only get along bc of work) and something causes a massive argument and he breaks down bc he's feeling really down & it ends with lots of fluff and them making up, then the reader admits she's had a crush on him this whole time and is willing to start again? thanks!

You and Sam Winchester had never really seen eye to eye. It wasn’t like you hated each other; you just clashed—constantly. He was methodical and calculated, while you were instinctive and impulsive. You worked together because you had to, both bound by a shared goal of saving people and hunting things. But if it weren’t for the job, you probably would’ve gone your separate ways a long time ago.

Yet here you were, storming out of the latest hunt with Sam right behind you, tension bubbling between you both.

“Next time, maybe you could listen to the plan instead of doing whatever the hell you feel like!” Sam snapped, slamming the door of the motel room as you both piled in. Dean hadn’t even made it out of the car yet, and you could feel the intensity of Sam’s glare drilling into the side of your head.

You whipped around to face him, anger sparking in your chest. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize following my gut and saving your ass was such a crime!”

“You didn’t save my ass,” Sam bit back. “You nearly got us both killed by that demon because you didn’t wait for my signal!”

“Maybe if your ‘signal’ wasn’t to overthink everything, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation!” you shot back, your voice rising in frustration. “And for the record, Sam, I’ve been hunting long enough to know when to trust my instincts!”

“You always think you know better, don’t you?” Sam growled, stepping closer to you. “Like you’re the only one who knows how to do this job!”

His words stung, but you were too angry to back down. “At least I’m not a control freak who has to micromanage every little detail just because things don’t go his way!”

Sam clenched his jaw, his face tight with frustration. You could see the veins in his neck standing out as he fought to keep his cool, but then suddenly, something in him snapped. His shoulders sagged, his chest heaving as his anger dissolved into something else—something heavier, more painful.

“God, I just… I can’t do this right now,” Sam muttered, his voice breaking. His hands went to his hair, tugging at it in frustration before he collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so tired…”

You blinked, your anger dissipating as confusion settled in its place. Sam wasn’t one to break down easily, and seeing him like this… it took you off guard. You stepped closer, your voice softening as you crouched in front of him.

“Sam?” you said quietly, unsure of how to approach him in this vulnerable state. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t look up at you, his hands still pressed against his face as he shook his head. “I’m just… done. I’m so tired of fighting, of losing people, of feeling like everything I do isn’t enough. And now I’m fighting with you… God, I hate this.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. For the first time, you realized that maybe—just maybe—Sam wasn’t the control freak you thought he was. Maybe he was just trying to hold everything together, and you were making it harder for him without even realizing it.

You hesitated for a moment, then gently placed a hand on his arm. “Sam… I didn’t know.”

He slowly lowered his hands from his face, looking up and finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression weary and defeated. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I just… I’m not handling it well, and I know that’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, guilt washing over you. “No, I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I’ve been pushing your buttons because… well, honestly, I think I was trying to keep you at arm’s length. I thought it’d be easier i just kept fighting with you, but it’s not working, is it?”

Sam let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No, it’s not.”

You took a deep breath, deciding now was as good a time as any to get everything off your chest. “The truth is, um,” you hesitated, swallowing a lump, “I’ve had a crush on you this whole time,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I picked fights with you instead. It was stupid and childish, but… I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way.”

Sam stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “You… you’ve a crush on me?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

You nodded, sitting down next to him and biting your lip nervously. “Yeah. I know it probably sounds crazy after everything, but it’s true.”

Sam was silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, to your shock, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “That’s… kind of a relief, actually,” he said softly.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “A relief?”

He nodded, his smile growing a little. “Yeah. Because I’ve been feeling the same way about you. But I didn’t know how to tell you, especially with all the fighting.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through your chest. “You… like me?” you asked, your voice small.

Sam let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I do. More than I’ve wanted to admit to myself.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of your confessions hanging in the air between you. It felt like a massive shift in your dynamic—like the tension that had always simmered beneath the surface had finally found it’s release.

“I guess we’ve been pretty stupid, huh?” you said with a sheepish smile.

Sam chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You took a deep breath, then reached out and gently took his hand in yours. “Maybe we could… start over? Try again without all the fighting?”

Sam looked down at your intertwined hands, then back up at you, his expression soft and hopeful. “I’d like that,” he said quietly. “I’d like that a lot.”

You smiled, warmth filling your chest as you squeezed his hand. “Me too.”

As you sat there, hands entwined, the tension that had once defined your relationship slowly melted away, replaced by something new—something softer, more genuine. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things were finally falling into place.

Sam smiled at you, a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “We’ll figure this out.” he promised softly.

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you sat beside him. “Yeah,” you agreed, squeezing his hand once more. “We will.”

[xo-cod]

popstar!reader writing a song about ghost like y/n ends up writing so many songs about ghost it’s not funny, they have amazing lyricism but the first song they write about him isn’t necessarily a love song but more so goes along the lines of like ‘guys my age�� by hey violet or ‘older’ by isabel larosa when they start getting intimate with each bc You know they start fucking before they truly acknowledge their feelings for each other especially since ghost is emotionally constipated and ghost trying not to react to their newest song since they performed it live before releasing it on streaming platforms Ugh

awww babe, i love this sm!! i did the older song instead! :") nsfw + angst ahead! <3

think i need someone older

just a little bit colder

take the weight off your shoulders

think i need someone older

simon had heard the song and he'd never been so grateful for his balaclava before. he'd never been so grateful for his face covering, disguising how he truly felt inside. this song, the words, all of it was a direct message to him. he knew that, he wasn't stupid. why did it feel so hard to swallow? why did it hurt so bad? was it supposed to be a sad song? was there another meaning hidden between the lines?

he inhaled deeply, your words practically reverberating around his skull. ghost wasn't usually one to analyse every single detail but he found himself hanging onto your every last word in your songs.

what would a fully trained sas soldier, second in command to a dangerous task force have any business mingling with a popstar? god, he almost wished you were those snobby cruel people, it would make hating you that much easier. but you're everything he had ever wanted. he found himself lingering close to you, claiming it was for your protection when really it was for his own pleasure. your scent, your body, your warmth, he wanted it. he needed it. how could he go without it?

but the sex made it all the more worse. it was true what they said, never mix pleasure with business. the lines were too blurred, too quickly. now every outfit you wore, his vision burned right through your clothes and deep inside to your soul. his hands itching to hold you, biting his lips to not kiss every inch of you. his pants tenting everytime he could think of how you took him, remembering the countless times he hooked your legs over his shoulders as he pressed in further to your tight heat. how many times his chest heaved, his breaths coming out in pants when his thrusts became heavy and longer never wanting to leave the sweetness of your dripping cunt

ghost promised himself he wouldn't catch feelings, he made you aware that it would just be fucking and no feelings. he couldn't afford to be in love, not with his lifestyle. and you agreed, you nodded to all his conditions. and yet, he still found himself aching for more. he made love with you, he cherished every single second secretly with you. how could he admit to his truth? how could a pretty thing like you exist in a cold harsh world like his? the sex was a means to hang on to you like a lifeline, knowing the second you'd get dressed and leave the room he would hold onto the shatters remains of his heart until you came back to him <3

anger, passion and bitterness. what a potent mix of emotion indeed

[scekrex]

TW(If you dont want to do it it's completely fine)

Can you do a adam x male reader where the reader is depressed because his life when he was living was shit and he thought it would be better but it still haunts him, and he starts to date adam and a few months into dating Adam saw reader SH and gets all sad but becomes more protective of reader and explains to reader how much he loves him and he bandages reader and they cuddle together(I love your writing BTW, you don't have to do this if you think it's shit)

I absolutely do not think it's shit, I hope I did it justice - as a person who suffers from depression myself this kinda is/was my view on the world. Really hope it's to your liking :3

Burning, I feel it too

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt/angst, suicidal thoughts, self harm

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

With him around, heaven seemed brighter. With him around your past life felt less heavy, the burdens you carried were easier to lift and he seemed to bring a reason to all of existence.

But when Adam wasn’t around for a couple hours, the world turned dark again, like he was purposely taking all the bright colors and the joyful emotions with him when he left. The burdens turned insanely heavy again, unable for you to lift, let alone carry on your shoulders and every reason that caused you to take step after step was gone. Adam knew your life had been a dark pit of hopelessness and tiredness. There had been nothing that held you, what was holding you now? A single person and that person wasn’t even yourself how it should have been. It was Adam.

Heaven, the paradise of afterlife that everybody dreamed of, not you though. You just wanted to rest, not continue to suffer above earth in another world. You wanted peace and quiet, eternal rest. But that had been denied, not only by God, but also by Adam. The first man was worried about you and while others thought of it as cute, you felt like a burden to him by making him worry so much. He cared, that you were aware of, he let you not only hear you about it, no, he also showed you that he cared about you. And that caused the clouds that covered your view to lift temporarily. But once Adam left - even if it was just the room - the clouds came back, painting the worlds in black, white and gray again until he came back.

Extermination days were the worst, not only was your partner gone the entire day, no, he was also at risk of getting injured, maybe even killed. Who was there to promise you that Adam would make it out alive? And what would you do if Adam wouldn’t make it out? If Lute would come back alone, nothing but his halo in her hand that she would hand over to you as proof. Would it hurt? Would it hurt worse than the pain you inflict on yourself?

You flicked the lighter on and for a short moment you watched the flame dance in front of your eyes, then you moved the lighter close to your thigh until the flame licked on your skin, the burn that followed felt save, it felt like coming home after a long trip, it welcomed you with open arms and you were so used to it that you closed your eyes and enjoy the silence the pain brought. That was a thing you had missed so much, the silence in your mind that pain brought with it whenever you invited it to visit you. You had been so lost in the quietness that you hadn’t heard the door to the bedroom slamming open. Your eyes cracked open when the lighter was harshly ripped from your trembling fingers, the usually so calming voice of your boyfriend was now the reason for you to flinch away from his body, “What the fuck are you doing?” He sounded mad and you hated the way anger made his voice sound. Why was Adam back already? Was it already that late, had you lost track of time again? Did it even matter if he was back earlier?

Paralyzed you watched as he pulled you off the bed, you weren’t reacting to his words at all, not because you didn’t want to, but because you found yourself unable to. The brunette pushed you flush against his body, you felt the soft golden feathers that wrapped around your nude body to shield you and just like before, there was silence in your head - not because of any pain, but because of Adam. Adam, who had returned the colors to your world, Adam, who was drowning you with his body warmth. “I don’t want to fucking lose you,” he mumbled against your head as he buried his face in your hair. He spun the both of you around slowly, then he let himself fall backwards onto the soft mattress of your shared bed, pulling you with him. “You can’t fucking leave me too, I- for fucks sake Y/N, you can’t fucking-” he interrupted himself and it was only then that you felt the salty tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t fucking want you to-” he tried again but failed yet again, a sob fell from his lips and you couldn’t help but hate your self for making him feel that way. Adam deserved better, you had tried to explain that to him ever since the both of you had started dating. Yet the brunette had always disagreed. “Please,” he whispered and his voice sounded so unusually broken it tore you apart from the inside. You hated the way it voice was able to sound so unstable, so broken, so sad. You hated that you had caused Adam to feel that way within seconds. “I fucking love you, Y/N,” he mumbled, clearly out of words. You knew he wanted to scream and yell, that he wanted answers. And he knew screaming and yelling would only push you further away from him and that you’d give him answers once you were ready to. So he bit back all the questions he wanted to ask you, all the things he wanted to get off his chest and placed a soft kiss on your head instead. “I’m sorry for being such a mess,” you whispered quietly and maybe, secretly, you hoped it had been too quiet for him to hear. But it hadn’t been, “You’re not, babes, you’ll never fucking be.” But the both of you knew that wasn’t true, that he was lying. You were not only ruining your own mental health but also his. It was only a matter of time until Adam would either drop you or fall into the same hole you were already sitting in.

[bestworstcase]

Wait, hold on, does Salem not know about Oz's whole like. Security measures Light put in. I feel like if she did she'd be more forgiving bc Oz is literally constantly being subjected to psychological and even physical torture (if he fights the merge). He's on The Tightest Leash Ever and basically has very little to no control on what he does. Like it's pretty clear he secretly agrees with Salem, but he can hardly think about it (seemingly has to communicate that vaguely via fairytales in a book) let alone actually act on it.

I feel like she likely doesn't know. I think if Salem knew about the metaphorical shock collar she'd be pissed on his behalf and probably be more forgiving. Granted it doesn't undo the hurt she's experienced but I think it'd make a lot of things make more sense to her. Can only imagine how that revelation would go down

yeah exactly literally all she knows is that

he was given a choice to come back

to unite humanity on light’s behalf

he said yes

he intends to see it through

he reincarnates by taking over somebody else, almost instantaneously*

because that is everything ozma knew when he told her the truth.

(*this changed after he divided his magic to create the maidens—using what magic he has left accelerates the merger; getting rid of most of his magic was likely ozma’s best effort to stop killing his hosts, even if it didn’t quite work)

hence "why do you keep. coming. back." to salem this looks like oz has been choosing to come back, over and over and over again, killing someone each time, solely for the purpose of enacting his god’s genocidal design—and she’s laying that next to her memories of the person who rescued her from her abusive, tyrannical father, and her memories of the person who lied to her for more than a decade to manipulate her into unwittingly serving her own tormentor, and going WHY while also, i’d imagine, questioning whether that person she remembers from millions and millions of years ago was ever even real, or if she was just too naive and too blinded by infatuation to see his true self.

after all… she only knew him a few years, before he died, and then she was alone for all that time, and then he came back and deceived her, tricked her—she absolutely does not believe anymore that he truly loved her at all, the second time—and he has to all appearances spent thousands of years since then DETERMINED to rid the world of her at any cost. what’s more likely? that he really was this wonderful person she remembers, or that a girl who’d never left her cell before and never known anything but cruelty and abuse saw her rescuer through the rosiest of rose-colored glasses?

with the history and the scant information she has it is so much easier for salem to believe that ozma is just…awful, and she was a naive love-blinded fool not to see it before he stabbed her in the back, than to hold onto “no, the good person i knew for a tiny fraction of our lives millions of years ago is the one who’s real, something is wrong.”

but yeah like. the instant she learns what’s really going on here, that ozma agreed to something he didn’t understand once and he’s been shackled to it ever since by a curse designed to destroy his sense of self and Force Him to obey… like at that point it isn’t even really a matter of forgiving him, it’s all of the hatred and anger and hurt and confusion she feels toward ozma now wrenching away from him onto the god of light. i think she’s going to snap to HOW DARE HE DO THIS TO YOU so fast it’ll even make her head spin.

esp bc like, waves at 6.4, salem is already boiling alive in guilt over her part in their daughters dying. as soon as she has the information to put together that ozma has essentially been psychologically tortured into becoming light’s weapon i think she is going to immediately realize that light set her and ozma up to fail on purpose, counting on her to lash out when ozma betrayed her so as to seal off the only possible escape he might have, meaning she has been manipulated into becoming an instrument of ozma’s torture just as he has hers. which 1. will obviously inflame her self-hatred to horrific new extremes but also 2. this woman is going to be out for BLOOD.

this is the why and the how of the ozlem reconciliation; ozma is cursed and salem doesn’t know that yet, so she’s furious and vengeful because she doesn’t understand why he’s doing this but she’s also just one revelation away from snapping back emotionally to the time she tried to Bodily Shield Ozma From Divine Fire.

[feralfather]

If you're taking requests, could I have something with Spider being manhandled by the recoms and Quaritch? Like, he's literally just being carried around over Quaritch's shoulder bc he wouldn't go when he was told to, or he's just held in the air until he tires himself out when he's trying to attack them, etc. Just the recoms taking advantage of their size and Spider being about as effective as an actual child against them (hopefully inspiring some Dad!Quaritch feels as well?) Sorry if this is too detailed!

Oh yes yes yes! I accept requests! I love it!

If there’s one thing Spider got from his father, it was his stubbornness and anger… definitely his anger. That boy could blow up like a grease fire when provoked; try and douse it out with water, and it’ll only grow. You have to smother it.

Now, that isn’t to say Quaritch actually smothers the boy whenever he gets mad. He wouldn’t never.

No, instead he’s found it easier to snatch the kid up by his armpits and hold him at arms length while he screams curses and tries to punch and kick Quaritch in the chest. He learnt the hard way not to hold him close, after receiving a hearty kick to the chest, resulting in Spider rocketing himself backwards out of his grip and onto the floor, nearly giving the Quaritch a heart-attack while the other Recoms burst into laughter. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong Spider was, but his bruised chest left him with a reminder of that strength for the following week.

Even if he had scolded Spider’s ear off for it, he couldn’t help but feel pride at the boy’s strength. He’d never say any of this, of course. He didn’t want to encourage Spider’s violent behavior towards him… but it made Miles feel better to know his son could wipe the floor with anyone who made the mistake of thinking he was an easy target.

And if Spider could bruise a Na’vi, he could only imagine the damage that kid could do to another Human with a single kick.

Maybe he should be more concerned with the amount of anger Spider seems to fall in, but he had his fair share of anger issues in his youth, and still does, so when someone pushes Spider’s buttons a little too much, Miles isn’t too hard on the kid when he blows up.

But none of this matters, as currently Miles is dealing with a different kind of situation. This isn’t angry Spider, this is stubborn Spider.

Z-Dog had been messing with the kid all day as they traversed through the jungle, like the absolute child she is, and Miles could only roll his eyes at the immaturity of it all. They taunted, poked, and argued with each other like children.

Spider eventually got fed up with her, and planted himself defiantly on the next large root they passed.

Miles had an ear tilted back towards the kid, so when he heard the crackling of Z-Dog’s laughter, he expected his kid to snap something back, but was met with resounding silence.

Brows furrowed, he turns his head to make sure he was alright, only to come to a halt at the sight of Spider sitting grumpily on a root, arms crossed over his chest, and Z-Dog bent over and snickering at his expression as she popped a bubble in his face. The rest of his squad paused at the sound of Miles’ growl.

“Zdinarsk!” Miles snapped, causing her to shoot up and snap to attention, looking like she got caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “The hell happened?” He continued as he quickly walked over to the two, frowning as he scanned Spider for any injury.

Z-Dog tried to keep a straight face. “He refuses to move.”

Miles couldn’t see anything wrong, but his tail still lashed in worry as he leans down to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You hurt?”

Spider only huffed, giving Zdinarsk a side-eyed glare. “No, she’s being a stupid butthole!”

Miles deadpans at the boy, ear twitching at the sound of Z-Dog’s snort of laughter. “Whatever you say, Tarzan.”

“I don’t even know who that is!” Spider snaps back, snarling up at the woman, who only popped another bubble at him.

Quaritch finally blinked, letting out a harsh sigh. “You’ve gotta be shitting me- alright, enough! Both of you!” He scolds them, letting his hand slip from Spider’s shoulder as he stood. “Get up.” He orders the kid, motioning for him to stand.

The boy only sneered and shook his head. “Not until she leaves me the fuck alone!”

Miles took a deep breath in through his nose. Lord, give him patience. “Zdinarsk, go bother Lopez.”

Said marine perked his ears. “What? Why me?!” He protested.

He was ignored.

“Yes, sir.” Z-Dog salutes.

“Liar!” Spider hissed, puffing up when she sticks her tongue out at him.

“What did I just say?” Miles growls, to which Zdinarsk raised her hands in surrender before leaving to pester someone else. He turns back to Spider. “There, now get up. We gotta get a move on before we run out of daylight.”

Spider didn’t move, still not convinced Z-Dog wouldn’t bug him again the moment they start moving again.

“Spider. Don’t test me, boy.” He threatens, eyes narrowing and a stern frown in place as his tail flicked in agitation.

The boy didn’t budge.

Lyle made his way over. “Maybe we should set up camp, night will be on us in a few hours.” He tries to pacify, but Quaritch only hissed as Spider side-eyed them.

“No. I ain’t givin’ in to this tantrum. We’re moving.”

With that, he swooped down and snatched Spider up before the boy could properly react, throwing him over his shoulder as he strides forward back to the front of the squad. He held tightly onto the back of Spider’s legs and ignored the kid’s hissing, cursing, wiggling, and kicking as best he could. He also ignored the other’s snickering coming from behind him.

It took about half an hour, but Spider finally tired himself out enough to allow Miles to slightly loosen his grip on his legs, and the boy rag-dolled against his back, head pressed into Miles’ vest and arms dangling in defeat as he tried to catch his breath.

… With Spider calm and not fighting him, Miles began to feel a light feeling building in his chest, like the weight of the word was slipped from his shoulders and replaced with the comforting weight of his son… he didn’t want the feeling to leave. It felt.. nice, oddly enough.

They carried on like this until Spider grew bored.

Quaritch jolted slightly when little fingers brushed against his tail, causing it to lash away from the touch. He clears his throat as some of the others chuckled. “The hell you doin’, kid?”

“I’m bored. Put me doooowwwn.” Spider whined into his back.

“Hell no. Can’t have you tryin’ another stunt like that and slow us down.” Was the excuse Miles came up with, unwilling to admit that the idea of putting the kid down was feeling more and more unappealing by the second. He didn’t realize how much he would enjoy holding his son, until this moment, and he was unwilling to part with the boy.

Spider only groaned and went back to trying to catch his tail.

… and if Miles indulged the boy by flicking his tail near his grabbing hands, no one said a word against it.

[olliegolliegee]

short story i wrote! putting it here bc it'd prolly be easier to read than dms. sorry if it sucks, it was written by me and also like 5 months ago so uh yeah no i probably didnt get any better tho

I stop dead, panting. I can feel the dust in my lungs, smell the steady, fresh scent of redwoods, barely register the faded, vibrant patches of sorrel. Collapsing onto the strong roots of a gentle giant, I scrunch my eyes closed, pain staining my face.

How much Xanax kills you? 

Xanax. Such a balanced word. Unlike her. I don’t know what to do. How I should feel. So I curl up, tuck my head into my knees, and let out my ragged, choppy breaths.

Their voices still echo in my head, ringing with anger, resentment, fear. I bet they’re still going at it back in the house. I shake my head wildly, scraping the side of my head against the tree. No, I’m not going back, I can’t handle it. No one can see me but I can’t help it. I shake my head desperately, a flood of dread filling me from head to toe.

I slacken, every part of my body numb. I grab onto the rough bark of the tree, pulling myself up. My legs shake. I kick the ground with a grunt, face screwed into a twisted features of a feeling I can barely feel. Dust flies back into my face spitefully. Coughing and blinking the dirt out of my eyes, I collapse, back against the hard, reliable bark of a giant.

I can see her face vividly in my mind. The woman who gave me life and made it miserable. Scowling. Dead-eyed. Quiet. Terrifying. Wants to die.

How much Xanax kills you? 

I hope whatever she took was enough. Wait. No. I don’t wish my mother dead, right? I may be a horrible son, but I would never think that about my perfectly good mother, right? My breathing grows desperate.

I turn and wrap my arms around the tree, pressing my cheek into the rough bark. Holding it as close as I can. Unlike her, I feel hugged back. How is it that it doesn’t move, and I feel loved, but even when she does hug me back, giving me that dead fish hug, I’m forsaken and cold? 

What I would give to be a tree. Strong, wise, supported. I’d have seen, withstood, everything, fingers intertwined with my friends. Or maybe a wolf. Wild, free, part of a family. Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Footsteps come crunching towards me, and I scramble, throwing myself into a tree hollowed by fire. Crouching in the charcoal trunk, I tense every muscle, trying my hardest not to move, not make a sound. The footsteps crunch closer.

“Jackson!” he croons, making me jump nearly a mile. “Jackson!” he yells again, louder, impatient. I’m properly trembling by now. “Come on out, buddy.” I tense more, if that’s even possible. Will I face her wrath more if I come out now or if I don’t?

My breathing gets ragged again, and I can feel the tears pressing against the corners of my eyes. Tears make their slow way down my cheeks as I let out a pitiful, mewling cry. Before I have any idea what’s happening, I can’t get enough breath. I’m dizzy and scared and swear that I can hear her. Slamming, banging, knocking so hard the door rattles, the tree rattles. Another whimpering cry escapes me.

He crouches by the gaping split in the tree, peering into the shadows. He found me.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay.” He crawls in, squishing himself inside, rubbing his palm up and down my back cautiously. I only cry harder, the terror of being seen too great. 

Chest heaving painfully, tears drying, I look up at him with bleary eyes. If I’m not wrong, he’s scared. Just like me. Like she’ll come bearing down any second now. He never admits it, though. I’ll never know if I’m alone or if he’s just too scared to be a dad. 

A wry smile comes from his lips, and I feel empty.

I fall against his shoulder, leaning on him. I think I should, I guess. I let the emptiness cover the burning acid of resentment. I’m not such a terrible son that I resent them. The pit of acid eating away at my stomach says otherwise.

He puts his arm around my shoulder, resting there. I should feel comforted. I scrunch and unscrunch my eyes, trying to escape from the clawing numbness. There’s a white hot terror screaming through my body, a burning pit of acid in my stomach, chalky hate scratching my throat. I’m vaguely aware of them, a little relieved because of the numbness. Even knowing they’re there is too much.

I let my muscles go limp, breathing in the charred wood of my guardian. Tilting my head up, I see him against the tree. Uncertain, small, and weak, against stable, giant, calm. A tiny part of me that I can’t listen to says that I wish the tree was my dad. At least the hollowed out redwood gave me protection. I shudder, sliding into the dirt.

The feeling of stinging mint fills my throat, and saltwater crowds into my eyes. A tiny, choking cry comes from my throat. Chest convulsing, I gasp for breath, both flooded with and numb to terror and despair. He doesn’t say a word, just rubs my shoulder in silence. I weep against him.

After I gasp and shake and cry until all of my breath and strength and tears are spent, he taps me lightly on the shoulder. He hauls himself up, pulling me with him. My legs are trembling like a fawn’s, and I take a tumble back down, covering my sweater with charcoal and dirt. Clawing at the walls of the tree, I pull myself up, scraping blackened tree under my nails. I can’t even feel it.

He gives me a smile, barely hiding his dread and fear and exhaustion. He grabs my hand, nudging me forward. I can’t hide from her anymore. With my hand limply gripped in his, I stumble over the dirt to my doom.

[trickstarbrave]

hey i wrote more

modern au is BACK. nerevar and voryn are also back together !!!

i havent proofread it tho bc im miserable and tired sorry if theres weird typos. i wrote most of this on my phone

Nerevar was once again sitting on the couch, now anxiously waiting. He kind of felt sick if he was being honest, nauseated at the idea of confronting Voryn. 

Voryn was going to be mad at him, right? Nerevar would have been angry in his shoes. Sure, Nerevar was told to leave by Voryn’s brothers, but they didn’t force him to. They could have threatened Nerevar or used violence, or even just harassed him into leaving. Instead they just told him to leave, saying it was for Voryn’s future. Hell, maybe the three of them genuinely believed Voryn would have been disowned or disinherited if he had a baby at 18--it wasn’t implausible. Nerevar also believed the same thing. But Nerevar was the one who went along with it. He could have called Voryn at any time telling him his brothers were distracting him intentionally. He could have told Voryn over the phone he was pregnant. He could have told the truth. But Nerevar ran away like a coward because it was easier than sticking around for years and years, giving Voryn the chance to leave him. 

Voryn had every right to be furious with Nerevar, telling him he was horrible for keeping this secret from him. Voryn had every right to demand answers for what Nerevar was thinking by going along with his brothers’ plan and not telling him anything. Voryn had every right to demand an apology, and there wasn’t much Nerevar could do to make up for any hurt he caused him. 

He heard the sound of the door opening and on impulse stood up. It was annoying to stand up this far along, but he was already doing so without really thinking about it. Maybe it was actually an instinct to run away, but there wasn’t anywhere else he could really run to. 

Next came the sound of footsteps, and before he had a chance to fully prepare himself, there was someone familiar in the living room with him.

Voryn’s hair looked bad. It was the first thing Nerevar noticed, trying to avoid his eyes initially. It looked frizzy and kinda dry, as opposed to shiny and sleek as it usually was. His clothes were also wrinkled and kind of frumpy, something Voryn would normally do everything to avoid. Even when he would wear just a t-shirt and slacks, he made sure they matched, were wrinkle free, and always fit properly. 

Finally, Nerevar met his eyes, and instead of finding anger, all he saw was a mix of emotions that made Nerevar feel like all of the wind had been knocked out of him. 

Nerevar would have preferred he be angry. He didn’t like Voryn being angry at him, but this seemed even more painful. Instead, Voryn looked at Nerevar with a heartbreaking mixture of sadness and relief, his hands reaching out hesitantly, unsure if he was allowed to touch Nerevar. Under his eyes were dark circles, his brows ungroomed, and his beard scruffy and a bit unkempt. Nerevar felt his own tears welling up, his heart lurching, and equally hesitantly opened his arms as though asking for a hug. 

“Neht,” Voryn whispered, stepping forward quickly to wrap his arms around him. They couldn’t hug properly, not with Nerevar’s stomach being as big as it was. Instead it had to be an awkward, partially to the side hug rather than chest to chest. Still though, it felt like a sweet relief, the familiar warm of Voryn in his arms and the scent of his cologne faintly clinging to his clothes, the tears in Nerevar’s eyes quickly starting to fall. “Thank god you’re safe.” Voryn continued, pressing a kiss to his messy hair. “I was so worried about you…” 

“I’m sorry,” Nerevar’s voice broke in a sob. He hadn’t intended to cry and babble apologies like this. He intended to just sit down and talk about it, let Voryn yell at him if he wanted to, and try to work something out. But having Voryn holding him like this was too much. “I’m so sorry, Voryn,” The feeling he had when he sent that text came washing over him all over again, that much stronger. All of the guilt he’d shoved aside, all of the pain and loneliness he felt after leaving, everything was catching up to him. 

“Shh,” Voryn hushed him, “Everything’s alright now, you’re safe and that’s what matters.” Voryn then gently prodded Nerevar to sit on the couch, helping him down, not letting go of him for a moment. 

“You should be mad at me.” Nerevar knew he was making a mess of Voryn’s hoodie with how much he was crying. It would be covered in snot and tears and spit. But he didn’t want to pull away yet, not when it felt nice being held. Instead he’d rather Voryn start scolding him first. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” Voryn asked him incredulously, stroking his hair. “Neht, you did nothing wrong.” 

“I left…” He continued mumbling into Voryn’s hoodie. 

“My brothers lied to you. They misled you and told you to leave.” Voryn pulled Nerevar away just long enough to start wiping his face, but still didn’t let him go. “You thought you were doing the right thing, for both me and our baby.” Nerevar’s heart skipped a beat as Voryn said their baby. Not just Nerevar’s baby, but Voryn’s too. “I know you wouldn’t want to leave on your own. I know that you wanted to tell me.” Nerevar chewed on his lower lip in guilt. 

He had wanted to leave. He was convinced that Voryn was just going to leave him anyway. He only wanted to tell Voryn because it felt wrong to hide it from him, but he was already thinking about what a horrible life their son would have if Nerevar stayed. 

“I did want to leave though.” Nerevar admitted. Honestly, maybe at this point he wanted Voryn to be angry with him. Part of him was coming clean just so Voryn could see him as the person he was, and stop acting so kind and caring. To either realize Nerevar was right or be so insulted he didn’t want him back anymore. “I thought you might just--that you would get sick of me and want to leave eventually. I could handle that myself but I wouldn’t know how to explain that to a kid--” 

“You thought I’d leave you?” Voryn’s voice broke. “Nerevar,” Nerevar couldn’t look at him again, instead closing his eyes since he didn’t feel it was appropriate to bury his face into Voryn’s chest again. “Why on earth would I leave you?”

“Because I’m… I’m lower class than you.” Nerevar hiccupped even though he found the fact obnoxious. He was trying to will his tears away and failing. “Eventually you’d get sick of the fact I was embarrassing to be around and you’d want someone your family doesn’t hate--”

“Nerevar, I’m not so shallow that I’d do that.” Voryn was still stroking his face, trying to get Nerevar to look at him again. “If I was, why would I date you in the first place?” 

“Because I seemed interesting to mess around with.” Nerevar couldn’t really place why Voryn would either, just that he caught Voryn’s eye. “Or maybe you just think I’m hot.” That was also a possibility. Nerevar didn’t think he looked bad; in fact he thought of himself as quite good looking (or rather he used to, dysphoria was kicking his ass at the moment). Wasn’t that why most people their age dated anyways? “But that you’d realize as you got older you’d need something more…”

“Why did you date me?” Voryn’s question was unexpected. Nerevar thought he might fight it or dismiss his concerns, childishly having not even thought about it and assume Nerevar was simply thinking about it too hard. 

“Because you’re…” Nerevar finally looked at him, his hands clinging to Voryn. “Because you’re beautiful and smart and… Confident and strong willed…” The tears started coming even faster as he felt the love he’s always had for Voryn washing over him. “You’re also so kind to me, always know what to do to make me feel better, always make me feel…” He couldn’t continue the sentence, he was sobbing too hard now. Part of him wanted to cling to this, to beg Voryn not to leave him, that Voryn was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, but he also felt like he would be a terrible person for holding Voryn back. 

“Shh…” Voryn hushed him again, rubbing his back and pulling him back into a hug. Nerevar again felt guilty about crying like a child and ruining Voryn’s hoodie further, but he also didn’t have it in him to pull away and he couldn’t make the tears stop. “Nerevar, I wasn’t just dating you because I liked the way you looked. I love you.” Nerevar choked on a sob, digging his nails into the fabric even further. “I love the fact you’re confident and intelligent, the way you always manage to come up with a plan and never want to give up. The way you can convince just about anyone of anything you want, and how much you love protecting the people close to you.” 

Nerevar didn’t know how much he wanted to hear that. He still couldn’t believe it, but it sounded so sweet in that tone of voice, sugary and syrupy and tender like it was the most heartfelt love confession in existence. Maybe he just wanted to believe it, as illogical as it was. 

“I love you,” Nerevar mumbled into his hoodie. “I love you so much, Voryn…” He hiccuped again, before he felt a painful kick in his stomach, wincing. 

“What is it?” Voryn said softly, pulling away just enough to look down at him, while Nerevar rubbed his stomach. Another kick followed, and then with it pressure on his hips that made pain shoot down his right leg. He hissed, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. Voryn was at his side, hushing him, helping him lean back against the couch, before rubbing his stomach too. “Is that better?” 

“Yeah,” Nerevar mumbled into Voryn’s shoulder where he was now resting his head, the pain in his leg going away and the kicking slowing. “He--he really hates it when I’m crying.” 

“It’s a boy?” Voryn asked, a sort of wonder in his voice Nerevar knew very well. It was one thing to know about the pregnancy, but the more you knew about the baby and how they were developing, the more ‘real’ it became. 

“Yeah,” Nerevar couldn’t help but smile, warmth flooding him now as the tears began slowing. “The doctor said he’s able to hear things outside my body now too.” It was something almost magical to know, though a bit weird to think about how he could hear his stomach growling and heart beating before that (or still could, really). 

“Have you thought of a name?” Voryn asked, his voice soft, even more tender than before.

“I haven’t been able to think of one, no.” He snorted. “My mom said to just wait as she didn’t know what to name me until after I was born… But I also just kind of suck at naming things.” 

“I could…” Voryn began, his expression somewhere between hopeful and worried that Nerevar would refuse, “I could help you pick out names if you’d like, Neht.” Nerevar snorted, before laughing happily. 

“I’d like that.” He wanted Voryn to be a part of this, if possible. Part of him was still reluctant, anxious that Voryn would leave him eventually, but he was trying to force that down. He loved Voryn more than anything, and part of loving someone meant trusting them. His mom was right in that Voryn hadn’t done anything to break his trust, and Nerevar wanted Voryn at his side. He was prepared to do this with just his mom supporting him, but he wanted Voryn there helping him, supporting him, loving him. Even if Voryn might change his mind later, he wanted to believe they’d work something out. Voryn wouldn’t just leave him and their son coldly and callously, saying he didn’t care about either of them anymore, and if he did there would be hell to pay for it.

At his answer, Voryn looked overjoyed, warmth in his eyes. “Do you mind if I… Talked to him a bit?” 

Nerevar snorted again. “Go for it.” It would certainly be cute, right?

Voryn then kneeled down in front of the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Nerevar’s stomach. “Hi little one,” Voryn never had a more tender expression on his face than he did at that moment. “I already can’t wait to meet you.” He leaned in to press another soft, gentle kiss, and Nerevar felt a slight kick. “I love you so much. I can’t wait to hold you, sing to you…”

“A lot of it is going to be him crying and making a mess.” Nerevar reminded him, but mostly that was just to cover up the fact his eyes were already watering again. He wasn’t normally this much of a sap who cried this much, but he’d blame it on pregnancy hormones. 

“I’m sure I’ll be miserable alongside you, Neht,” Voryn looked up at him, still smiling so warmly it got Nerevar’s heart racing, “But I’ll still love our son dearly and treasure all the special moments we’ll have with him.”

He sat up on the couch once more, taking Nerevar’s hand. “Please,” He pleaded, now desperate, “Please let me do this with you, Neht. Please come back with me.” Seeing Voryn like this once again left Nerevar feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of him. “I want to get a place for us and our baby. I want to help you through this. I want to be there for you and our son.”

“I…” Nerevar knew this was a possibility, but he was still hesitant. Not because he didn’t want to trust Voryn, but instead because he had done so much to set up here. It wasn’t fair to ask Voryn to live in his mom’s house, but Nerevar leaving would mean packing up the nursery, getting a new doctor, not to mention traveling while pregnant and reworking his birth plan. Still, he didn’t want Voryn to leave him again either.

Seeing him hesitate, Voryn continued. “I think it would be good, Neht.” Voryn explained. “You’re used to the city more, you’ll have your friends close by… We can get whatever kind of place you want, move everything you’ve got for the baby in… We can even have a nanny help out a little after you’ve given birth so you're not exhausted.”

Nerevar didn’t like the last part. While he was missing his friends, along with pregnancy cravings for many restaurants back home, he didn’t like the idea of a stranger handling his baby. “Moving all of the nursery stuff seems like such a pain,” Nerevar groaned, “And I don’t think a nanny would be a good idea.”

“It is,” His mom chimed in, entering with Voryn’s mom. Nerevar jumped at that, forgetting the other two were also there. It seemed they were giving them some privacy to make up, but came in to check in on or speak with them. “You have no idea how miserable it is with a newborn.” His mother looked tired just saying that. “Even though I had your father, we were both miserable. The house was a mess, we were barely getting sleep, had no time to do laundry, and god forbid you heard the dryer go off if we did have time to do laundry, because then it would wake you up and you’d scream your little head off.” Nerevar glanced away; it wasn’t his fault, but he felt guilty putting his parents through that. 

“You’ll want help. Trust me. And if you have the chance to get help so you can have time to sleep and eat and shower without feeling like a zombie or being on edge, you should take it.” She sat on one of the chairs in the living room. “It’s better to look for one now while your head’s clear.”

“I thought you were going to help?”

“I can come too and help.” She shrugged. “I doubt you’ll want your mom staying with you long term, but I’m still not a professional.” 

“Besides,” Morvani began, “I assume you’ll want to go to college, right? It would be good to have the boy accustomed to a nanny from a young age. It’ll be harder on him if he has to adjust to someone new, and it’ll only make you anxious when you’re in classes. It’s best to find a good one ahead of time and all three of you adjust to them.” 

It was a good argument. He should get a feel for the nanny before he started college, that way he knew if he could trust them with his son while he was out of the house for longer periods of time for classes. He didn’t plan to go to college until the fall semester since he wouldn’t have enough time to recover properly for spring. A little over half a year would be plenty of time to adjust and see for himself if they were trustworthy. 

“… Alright.” Nerevar sighed. “I guess I’ll have to pack everything up.” Nerevar felt anxious about this, but normally Voryn was more anxious than him. If Voryn seemed alright with it, it probably would be.

[carmillas-vampiric-rage]

some random blues klues/bitana headcanons bc i love them and want to pull my skin off

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

kitana is calm and collected, and is able to cool (hehe) down bi-han when he gets into one of his moods the usual. she has the ability to use just her soothing voice to bring bi-han back to reality

bi-han is driven by independence and self confidence and so basically drills into kitana that she is capable of leadership and just as- if not better- than her entire family when it comes to her ability and skill to lead.

kitana validates bi-han's anger and annoyances, bi-han doesn't often have people actually listen to him, and so this is a very strange occurrence that takes him by surprise.

bi-han basically orders (out of love) for kitana to focus more on herself, on what she wants to do, as opposed to just what her mother, sister and empire want. they don't matter. the only thing that matters is what kitana really wants.

both kitana and bi-han are very awkward and stiff when it comes to physical touch, cuddling or hand holding, and it takes them both a while to get used to it. they're both opposed to physical touch in most aspects of life, but something about the other makes it easier, it's still weird, but they quickly warm up to the idea.

kitana loves resting her head on bi-han's back as he's sitting down on one of his rare breaks from work or training. his quick breath and rising body is weirdly relaxing to her, and bi-han has found her asleep on several occasions. he'll (definitely annoyed lie) gently pick her up and carry her to bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

bi-han loves having kitana just hold him, as he buries his face into her chest as she talks about her day, various plans for outworld military, things like that. he feels...safe. something that took him a while to realize or even admit. and he's able to just forget about the outside world and all his annoyances.

kitana has never really had anyone to talk to in a way where she can fully let her guard down, and not just be "princess kitana", but bi-han was different. sure it took him a while to get used to actually having a partner, and for the two to get used to each other, but bi-han truly listens to her, he doesn't expect her to be a princess, to put on the mask she puts on everyday. kitana is able to be raw and vulnerable with him, voice her anger and concerns about her family, the royal house, everything. she doesn't have to pretend with him, and it means more to her than bi-han will ever know.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[house-on-sand]

outing parts of my rp responses to the public bc they make me insane :/

idc if this doesn't like match everyone's interp of him this is for me and i like it

let it be known that there is not much that makes the red hood waver – not much that makes him doubt himself, or feel chastised, not in the way that huntress' glare does. it reminds him of a time before his death, when his most pressing concern was fitting in at a new school surrounded by people who'd always been privileged, not simply uprooted and transplanted into the life like he had been ; everyone, the students and the teachers, seemed to know what he was, like they were bloodhounds who could still smell the grime of crime alley on his skin, no matter how much he scrubbed away at himself. they knew he was not one of them, there was no silver on his tongue from being born into old money – no new money blood in his veins, hungry for more and more power ; he was born with a different kind of hunger, one that his peers and teachers would never understand. all the fancy clothes that bruce could buy did not stop his teachers from looking at him the same way huntress was, like he was doing something wrong (here, in this moment, he think he is doing something wrong, but that was so rarely the case before). the hand holding his gun shakes, not so much that it'd be visible to the average person, but enough to further irritate him — he relaxes his arm, lowering the gun from where he'd had it aimed at her. "sorry –" the young vigilante pauses, shifting his weight from side to side. he finally slips his gun back into its holster, deciding for the moment, that she isnt a threat. the truth of his reaction tastes bitter as he admits to it ; he hates the way his anger is uncontrollable sometimes, hates how its easier to respond with violence over reason. when he's finally alone later he'll try to ignore the thoughts that tell him he's just as bad as willis, he can't argue with them anymore. not since he clawed his way out of his grave, not since he woke up on the edge of the pit ; his temper has had a hair trigger since he started his second chance at life.

[ratedfleur]

i need more dirty talk w hao & ganda.. tagalog dirty talk is just something else 😵‍💫 hao and ganda getting home from pogi’s game all angry n stuff bc another athlete from the rival team hit on her, tapos alam mo naman si hao! syempre di nya yan palalagpasin. him degrading her all while rough fucking her with HIS jersey on.. basta dirty talk & degrading w hao! fic sana hehe

had been nearly an hour since you and hao got home after his game sa moa arena, as usual, some nobody from the rival’s team was hitting on you so hao was on the angrier side more than usual despite winning the game.

he had you underneath him, stomach lying flat on the bed as he pounded away, taking his anger out on you when he remembered how kupal the guy was kasi nga naman he was blatantly flirting with you even is kilala kayo ni hao as thee campus couple.

“i just fucking hate it when people do that, i hate it when people look at what’s mine. akin ka lang dapat, akin lang.” hao muttered while punctuating each period with a hard thrust, making you whimper as you held onto his arm that was slightly squeezing your neck.

“i-i’m yours, baby. sa’yo lang— god, ang sarap aahh!” you moaned before hao licked your earlobe, “sarap no? sakin ka lang makakatikim ng ganiyan, wala kang mapapala sa nagkakanda-rapa sa harap mo.” hao smiled when you cried out, nails digging into his skin before he quickened up the pace, making you moan out loud.

“oh my god, yes baby.. ikaw lang! ah fuck, baby harder please!” you moaned out once more, making hao slightly get up, pulling you up with him as he got you on your fours, making it easier to fuck and pull you off of him at the same time.

he has his hands digging right into your skin, because of how tight he was holding you, alam mong magpapantal yan right after.

hao’s thrusts were ruthless, ears blocking out your begging and cries to slow down. his energy burned with eagerness and fury, taking it all out on your sweet cunt.

you on the other hand were tired, you wanted hao to make you and himself cum, spurting ropes of cum to ease his anger. but it’s not that easy, kailangan papaiyakin ka muna.

“cumming already, my love? intay ka muna, hmm? can’t let you cum without me eh ako nagttrabaho dito. not unless gusto mo yung puta ka nalang?” hao chuckled as he fucked you, watching your ass bounce against his pelvis as he moved you back and forth against him as he thrusted into you.

you didn’t reply, how could you even reply when hao’s thrusts became even faster, fucking you in a animalistic pace.

“aw baby, putang puta ka na agad.” he cooed as he kept thrusting, now listening to your cries and sniffles as you shakily held yourself up, wanting to be his good girl.

he slightly bends down, one hand reaching down towards your core, index and pinky finger spreading your puffy lips before the middle and ring finger made contact with your clit, rubbing it harshly while simultaneously thrusting into you.

your cries become even louder, begging to make or even let you cum because you’re at the verge of doing so.

hao shakes his head even if he knew you can’t see him, still mindlessly rubbing and thrusting into you. his pace never slowed down even if you screamed that you were cumming, he went on and on with his thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm.

[evenmoreofadisaster]

Regarding the last ask my interpretation of two and he and one’s very umm messy dynamic is that I don’t think two really would want to understand that one loves him. Like there’s huge messy mistakes and hurts caused by both side that make it hard for either one or two to understand love in general let alone acknowledge it.

But.

But. How I’m perceiving two in how he’s been presented to us is that even if it (one loving him) could be pointed out to him in a way he understands I think he’d refuse to acknowledge it because atm he holds so much resentment and bitterness and hate* towards one that having it pointed out that one loves him would not be something he could handled because then it would be like forcing him to realize the hurt he’s causing someone who loves him and it would force him to grapple with the fact that the feelings he holds for someone that loves him are not necessarily good or healthy and that in turn would probably make him feel flawed and like the monster the hidden city believes him to be and I don’t think he could handle those feelings and so he just…wouldn’t. He’d deny any evidence of one’s love solely so he didn’t have to deal with what it means and his own messy complicated feelings

(* when I say hate i don’t mean two hates one we know he loves him back but I mean like there is hate and it does get projected on one a little maybe but it’s more hate about the lack of respect and lack of equality and hatred of the situation and ranks and how one enforces it just as strongly as Draxum like I could see two saying he hates one but it’s misplaced it’s not actually hatred of his brother it’s more hatred of the messed up dynamic they have and since that was set up by Draxum it’s easier and safer to blame one then it would be the commander)

The flip side is I have a lot of thoughts about one on this too because he’s is obviously not like without his own set of issues and mistakes that he brings to the dysfunctional relationship between them but the ask was more about two so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ that’s my take on how twos being written so far and I could be way off so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong!

Anon I really like where your head is at. This actually made me think of some important things we have to figure out before s1 part 2

Ok so i really think you’re onto something. Two doesn’t understand that One loves him not because he hasn’t noticed but because he doesn’t know what it is. For Two, everything he and One do is a product of their mission and purpose as Draxum’s experiments. That’s his understanding and just generally how he sees his life, including his relationship with One. Here’s where it gets tricky. I know in the ask you’re referring to i said Two doesn’t understand that One loves him, and that’s true on a technical sense. I think on some level Two understands that One cares about him because Two cares about One too. As much hostility and mistrust as there is between them, theyre still very close. That relationship is just tainted by a lot of bitterness, so much so that I think Two has lost that feeling of caring and trust that they used to have as children, pre-rank. But he hasnt forgotten about it entirely. Its why one does what he does snd probably part of why two’s so angry all the time.

I love your thoughts on Two reacting to this all being spelled out to it bc, like I said, he doesnt’ actively recognize where One’s motives are coming from, since hes blinded by his anger rank and desperation/commitment to draxum’s mission. If he was told One loves him, itd probably come as a surprise. He wasn’t aware that could even HAPPEN. Two barely remembers behaving like a child and being so carefree, likely assumed that One shed the empty “brother” and “family” mindset like he had, and “woke up,” so to speak. But I actually think that realizing that would just make him angrier. How could One “love” him but still treat him as an inferior? He’d probably think of it as pathetic and weak and just an excuse or maybe simply dismiss it as not true. Underneath that, though, he’d probably panic a bit (fueling his anger), and yea maybe wondering why they’re so different, which honestly could either make him feel insecure or more isolated from One. But that side of it probably comes out in season 2 :)

Two and One’s relationship is super messy and it absolutely infuriates Two most of the time. I really loved hearing your thoughts they made me think a lot about Two’s internal feelings and thoughts :)

Also, we would love to hear about your thoughts on One, if you're willing to share!

[prettyboykatsuki]

I love love love yandere tropes I will restrain myself to just one I prommy. Im feeling geto today. Geto & wisteria 💜

a /n ; hello miss aleks... thank u for requesting getou bc im insane abt him. a lot of requests for wisteria!! v interesting

cw ; yandere, captivitity, implied violence, reader talks about being hungry but it's largely metaphorical, gn!reader

W - Wisteria (long life, immortality): “Tell me I’m your god/goddess and I’ll grant you a slice of heaven.”

You're of the belief that your anger will someday mean something.

You hold onto this belief. You nurse it like a child that cries so loud it could shatter glass windows. More than anything, you want this anger festering inside of you to mean something. To be visible or potent. You hope with utmost sincerity that someday you will reveal it to someone and they will be the one to shrink back.

Getou is not above being cruel. He doesn't prefer it. The cruelty is not sadistic in nature - it's not something he draws pleasure from. Not usually. Not often enough for you to notice, though some times there's a gleam to him. A sharpness at the corners of his mouth when he twists your wrist just a little too hard that makes you wonder if you're missing something.

In all the ways Getou is cruel, it's not the violence nor hunger that makes you feel the most vulnerable. It's the indifference to your own humanity that you regard as most inhumane. It is the almost pitiful glare as you push towards him defiantly, unwilling to stand down.

Getou is authoritarian, but not pragmatic. This means, if you bare your teeth at him he will only go so far as muzzling you. Even if it's more practical to shave your fangs down to nubs - the practically of a tamed animal is not enough for Getou Suguru. He would rather you keep them sharp, keep them bared - and to teach you the same lesson until your exhausted. To beat it into you until your howl is faint in the wind.

Getou shows preference for taming. He does not punish your hostility with violence. It's never an eye for an eye. That would assume that you and him are equals and that could never be. There's no such reality where a human being could be equal to him. You can't see curses. You bruise easily. You shout and light your temper rise even easier.

The days pass by. Slowly like time is hesitant to widen the gaps of your sanity, though you know that is unavoidable. You hold on still. Your hands are holding on so tight to the thing within yourself that feels you're sure your knuckles are white.

And Getou remains. Still. Steady. Not omnipotent. Because even a foolish human like you can recognize that only old times Gods are capable of acting selfish.

The chain around your neck feels heavy when Getou enters your quarters. A place with no sunlight and no wind. Getou approaches you like always, a softened smile. Long hair that flows down his back, tied half-up.

He always walks towards you, but never crouches to your height. As if he's waiting for the day you come to him obediently. Crawl towards him on your hands and knees with nothing but desperation. It hasn't come yet.

But he feels merciful. So he bends down and comes towards you, reaching his hand onto to touch you. Your limbs are heavy from exhaustion. Nothing much of a fight today, as he reaches his hand to pet your cheek.

"Tired today, hm?" He asks. He's not smug about it. You almost wish he was.

"Fuck off."

"So cold to me. Such a shame. I really cherish you, you know? I don't do this for just anyone." He says, nauseatingly sincere.

"Is this your idea of being cherished? You're sick."

"Don't be silly. Of course it isn't. I'm disciplining you. Trying to help you understand."

Anger bubbles up within you again. If your throat wasn't so hoarse you would scream.

"Understand what exactly?"

"That you're doomed to this, but you don't have to be." He strokes your thumb with your cheek, growing close. His eyes are so dark you can see yourself in them. You don't recognize your reflection anymore "Tell me I'm your God. Mean it. And I'll grant you a slice of heaven. You'd be happy if you could listen."

"I'll never give in to you. Never." You say, all too bitterly. He gives you a fond laugh.

"I like that part of you too. It reminds me of someone."