#but if they have a problem they should say it now before I explode

[bullet-prooflove]

Recipe For Disaster: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @alisbackalleybbq @mia1653 @privatetruths

You have a problem.

It comes in the form of a six foot three Army Ranger that you find standing in your kitchen, wearing an apron and following a recipe from one of your mother’s old cookbooks.

“Harry.” You say as you hear Rip’s footsteps on the porch behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“Making dinner.” Your ex-fiancé says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world before leaning over to adjust the temperature setting on your oven. “I thought I’d make you something special for your birthday.”

Your birthday…

That was three months ago.

You understand almost immediately what Harry’s in the midst of one of his episodes. They’ve become more common over the recent years, they often take the form of phone calls because he forgets the two of you aren’t together anymore. It’s part of his condition, a traumatic brain injury he’d received when an IED exploded back in Afghanistan. It fucks with his memory, makes him unpredictable.

Right now he’s reliving your birthday from five years ago, the one where cooked your mother’s humble pie before he got down on one knee and proposed to you in front of the fire.

You feel Rip’s presence behind you, the shift in the air as his gaze comes to land on the stranger in your home, the one with the knife in his hand. It glints wickedly in the light, reminding you of just how quickly this situation can turn if it’s not handled right.

“Rip.” You say as calmly as possible because you know that every single instinct in him is vying to take down the threat. “This is Harry.”

You see the moment it dawns on him, who Harry is. His dark eyebrows furrow into frown because Harry shouldn’t be here, he should be in the VA care facility outside of Bozeman that specialises in looking after veterans with his type of illness.

“You staying for dinner Rip?” Harry asks him, his hand trembling just a little as he continues to dice the carrots into cubes.

“I…Yea.” Rip responds because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving you in the company of a man who once choked you out in the midst of a breakdown.

“Cool.” He says setting the knife down, before he clenches and unclenches his fist. “Man I do not know what’s going on with my hand today.”

You know. It’s another effect of the brain injury, a tremor that comes and goes depending on his stress levels. Escaping from the facility, making the journey here and breaking into your home, it’s all exacerbated his condition and you know what comes along with that, you still have nightmares about it.

“Why don’t I help you out there?” Rip says, stepping into the kitchen, his palm coming to rest upon the knife, pressing it flat onto the counter. “You can start lining the tin with that pastry and I’ll take care of the chopping.”

Your body tenses because you aren’t sure how Harry’s going to react to another man stepping onto his territory. You wonder if his fight or flight response will kick in, the way it usually does. To your immense surprise he concedes by nodding his agreement and  busying himself with the task at hand. The relief you feel in that moment is palpable, Rip must see it in your features as he tilts his head up to meet your gaze.

“Imogen, why don’t you make those calls.” He says gently before tipping his head towards Harry. “I’ve got this.”

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[toastywindow]

.

[luveline]

Shy!reader and post prison Spence - the first time he calls her a pet name? I love that your Spencers always use “honey” or “dove” or “love” and we know she’d be a mess.

P.S. completely agree with how much I love the gentleness of your characters. The way you write Spencer in love is literally my favorite

ty for requesting <3 fem

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Spencer holds a hanging strap. You hold your own, core tense with the movement of the train. “I think I would’ve mentioned it before you got on the train if it weren’t.” 

You nod, glancing around the traincar at the other passengers. There's a stout lady wearing a large fluffy sweater, turquoise with two white kittens at her chest nuzzling one another in knit. A man with three bags of groceries sits just beside her. Further down, a teenage girl listens to music through leaking headphones, her phone reflecting blue light on her cheeks. 

“But are you sure I won’t be an imposition?” 

“You aren’t usually. I guess we won’t know until we get there.” 

“Maybe I should just find a hotel for the night.” 

“Y/N, I’m kidding. You’re not an imposition, it won’t be a problem. There’s enough room at my apartment for you to stay however long you want. Between all the books, that is.” 

It’s just not something you pictured asking him for. Your kitchen flooded in your apartment and the landlord had to put you up in a hotel until he could get someone in to make sure the stove wasn’t about to explode or catch light. But the idea of a hotel is rough torture —somewhere unfamiliar, living out of a suitcase, surrounded by people you don’t know without a door that locks properly. Spencer caught you sweating over it at your desk, pulling the story from you in reluctant drags with a hand on your shoulder. 

It’ll be okay, he said, you can just stay with me. 

Which is relieving and somehow a new can of worms to deal with. At least at a hotel there was no chance of seeing Spencer in a towel. Spencer seeing you in a towel, in your pyjamas, without your formal office protections. 

The worst part is the excitement. 

Terrified he’ll see it on your face, you stare at your shoes next to his. Spencer… Everyone told you he was a dork. When you joined the team in his absence, not once did you get the impression that the man who’d be coming back was like this. You feel like he’d been infantilised. Which isn’t to say he isn’t a dork, he is, he tells you the strangest things, facts or statistics to accompany each topic of the day, and he has all the manners and chivalry of someone who knows what it’s like to be as painfully shy as you are. But he isn’t shy. 

Autistic, he’d confided once. Probably. I’m better at dealing with it now. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nervous.” 

“I know.” He grasps your arm as the train screeches on tracks, turning a tight bend. You’re grateful, but immediately flushed with heat. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself.” 

“You couldn’t. I think I know you too well already.”

“You’ve known me for less time than the rest of the team, but you were the first person to offer me a place to stay.” You clench the rickety handle of your suitcase. “Thank you.” 

“That’s okay, angel.” He says it simply and softly, like you really are an angel. Something breathless to wait with. 

Angel, you think, heart skipping a beat, pulse slow and then suddenly ramped. 

His arm slips behind your back. “I don’t want you to stay in a hotel if it’s going to scare you. Besides, it’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.” He laughs. And you, despite your flush, heat sinking across your chest like a bruise, manage to laugh back. “I’ve never had one before.” 

“What?” 

“Never had a sleepover. I didn’t have any friends in school, and I haven’t had a girlfriend stay the night before.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, expecting a retraction. Not that you’re my girlfriend, not that you’re anything like that at all. 

He smiles at you. “Should we get takeout?”

“What were you thinking?” 

“There’s an Indian restaurant between the station and my apartment? We can stop in. Or we can order something to come. Or I can cook, if you want home cooked.” 

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to cook–”

His lips turn to a quizzical pout. “I don’t mind.”

You want him to call you angel again. You want him to take you home, make you dinner, and you want to sleepover. Like a girlfriend, you want to wake up in his bed. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod. “Alright. I was worried you didn’t like the pet name, but your pupils dilated when I said it–”

You can’t escape him. One hand in the hanging strap above, the over on your suitcase handle, you have no choice but to stand there with his arm around you to keep you from falling, face so hot with it that you’re sure you’d be feverish to the touch. “It’s fine,” you say, too afraid to look at his face that you end up staring at the nice shape of his throat, his black and purple tie. “Call me what you want. Um, I think we should get Indian.” 

“Good choice, angel.” 

[oceanicwriting]

jealousy.

summary: everyone knew, touching mattheo riddle's girl was a sure death sentence. did anyone know you were his girl? no, and maybe that led to things ending up the way they did inside his truck.

pairing(s): mattheo riddle x fem!reader

a/n: this one took me a while to write, hope you like it!

+18 smut, teasing, spanking, degradation, rough car sex, doggy, maybe toxic, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤit was a perfect night. you and your friends are having fun in the cold light of the night, sharing alcohol and practical jokes. george was sitting next to you, laughing at the story carol was narrating with exaggerated expressions. hearing the boys' laughter join yours was like a warm hug to the soul.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen your friend finishes telling her story, managing to get laughter out of both spectators, you can feel it. in the distance between the people, mattheo looks straight in your direction. you would have been worried that more than one of your classmates would notice, but they all seemed to be too busy with their own lives.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want another drink? —carol asks, forcing you to look away from the brunette.

ㅤㅤㅤthe glass of alcohol is still half-drunk in your hands, fearing that if you drink much more, you might not be able to stop. you look at your friend, and he doesn't look like he's in any condition to drink much more.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i think george shouldn't drink any more —you say, stifling your laughter.

ㅤㅤㅤcarol mocks the boy before going off to find more alcohol for his glass. george, on the other hand, looks at you with eyes so wide they could explode. just looking at him makes you laugh, but you should have assumed it would get much worse.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what? —you ask when he's moved his mouth, but nothing came out of it.

ㅤㅤㅤyou move closer, putting your ear close to his lips to hear him well.

ㅤㅤㅤ—where's carol? —he repeats with the words dragging in the air and poorly pronounced.

ㅤㅤㅤyou carefully tells george to lie down a little, obeying you without problem. on the floor, covered with the other end of the blanket you were sitting on, your friend loses consciousness in a second.

ㅤㅤㅤ—on five minutes. —you don't have to turn to see him to know that it's mattheo riddle himself. his voice is full of anger—. i'll wait for you in the truck. ten meters south.

ㅤㅤㅤyou catch your lower lip between your teeth and watch as mattheo now passes unconcerned through your field of vision.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen carol returns, she brings with her another group of friends who entertain you for a while. finally, when you make your escape into the darkness of the forest, you know you're minutes late. you had to admit that you were anxious to meet him.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo's truck is a huge black car, and it's parked between a bunch of huge trees. as expected, he's there too, standing with the glass of alcohol hanging in his left hand and a half-finished cigarette in the other.

ㅤㅤㅤ—mattheo —you greet, but he doesn't say anything.

ㅤㅤㅤthe two of you have been seeing each other secretly for seven months, thanks to the night that mattheo got his first taste of the girl he had so desired. you. although you had decided that it would be purely physical, for some time now, you have begun to feel emotions that you had pushed away from you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—get in the truck —he demands, opening the door to the back seats.

ㅤㅤㅤyou frown, confused—: what's wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤyou weren't going to lie. the relationship with mattheo was dominant and exciting all the time. that's why, when his deep voice orders you something, it's impossible not to feel your body burn with desire.

ㅤㅤㅤ—get in the fucking truck.

ㅤㅤㅤas you get in, you sit next to the window. mattheo doesn't get in behind you because he stays out of the car to take one last drag of the cigarette and drink the alcohol in his glass. after that, he's inside the truck, closing the door and looking at you from head to toe.

ㅤㅤㅤfrom one moment to the next, attracted by the force that his hands exert on your legs, you are sitting next to him with his lips biting and kissing without any shame. the taste of liquor, mixed with cigarette, is so perfect that the intrusion of his tongue only makes the kiss more exquisite.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo always kissed you as if it were the last time he does it. his tongue entering to steal your breath and his lips caressing yours with a dominant delicacy. you liked it. you really liked the way he always made each kiss an intense one.

ㅤㅤㅤyou can feel his hands squeeze your waist and, guided by the sensation, you raise your hands to his neck to deepen the exchange even more. then, leaving you surprised, he moves away.

ㅤㅤㅤ—who gave you permission to touch me? —your breath hitches at the way his dark eyes rake over you—. laughing at my own face, and you think you can touch me. it's so funny.

ㅤㅤㅤhe pushes you away, letting you fall back against the leather seats. his hand catches yours above your head, leaving you immobilized.

ㅤㅤㅤ—with stupid george? what a ridiculous name.

ㅤㅤㅤyou try to say something in defense of your friend, but his mouth crashes into yours firmly. his free hand slips under your clothes, squeezing your breasts, making you shiver from the cold.

ㅤㅤㅤ—george is my friend —you say, when he has stopped kissing you to take off your shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤthe laugh that leaves his lips is sour, and you can see how his jealous gaze doesn't believe your words. in your head, your hands are now tied with your own clothing.

ㅤㅤㅤ—trying to make me look stupid, bitch? —he questions, taking off your skirt to look at you. his hard cock vibrates from the perfect view he has of your body—. you're going to suffer so much that you'll want so much more.

ㅤㅤㅤhe doesn't let you speak when he pushes the fabric of your skirt into your mouth. you struggle to breathe through your nose, but you manage to stay calm when his hard cock is released from his pants. the stifled gasp only makes a silly smile appear on mattheo's lips, so satisfied that it could have left you begging for more.

ㅤㅤㅤ—already waiting for me? my needy girl. tell me, are you already wet and waiting for me to sink my cock into you? oh, let me check it out —he says, biting your ear and running his fingers through your wet folds—. i'm never wrong, right?

ㅤㅤㅤhis icy hand arouses much more than the need for his touch, and you move your hips in search of a stronger sensation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you want it so much that it's impossible for you to wait, right? would you have asked stupid george? —the mention of your friend makes you roll your eyes, a gesture that mattheo doesn't ignore but doesn't mention either.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo's penis slides through your pussy, caressing the wetness and sensation of your panties pressing against you. his hips moving until they brush against your clit makes you let out soft moans, enjoying the friction of his hot skin.

ㅤㅤㅤthe car windows were already fogged up by the heat of your bodies together, but there wasn't enough heat for you. you needed a lot more from him. with a soft whimper, you try to get the boy's attention, who, without stopping moving, looks at you attentively.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you look so pathetic crying for my cock —he says, mockingly with a half smile and still moving between the wetness of your folds—. a little slut. that's what you are, isn't it?

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo releases your breasts, and one of his hands squeezes your nipple. the sensations mixing together make you want to reach down to take off your panties and insert the boy's member yourself, but with the slightest movement, he stops touching you. the lack of connection feels like torture.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you really want to do that? —mattheo says, slowly removing your panties—. so gorgeous and insolent.

ㅤㅤㅤhe positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his hard cock transmitting heat to your entrance ready to deal with everything. the problem is that he doesn't move, looking at you with a soft smile.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how much do you want it? show me how much you want it, bitch.

ㅤㅤㅤthe tears that gathered in your eyes slide down your face at the need to have him. pushing your own body from the wall of the car to get as close as you can from there. you move, whimpering to have him inside you. the mere thought of you crying for something he'd give you without asking twice makes him vibrate throughout his half-naked body.

ㅤㅤㅤwith a single thrust he sinks into you, making you feel his balls stuck to your throbbing pussy. the muffled cry is silenced by the garment in your mouth and mattheo's growl. he moves closer to your torso, tracing a path of saliva at the same time that his hips begin to move.

ㅤㅤㅤ—so fucking tight. do you want me inside you so much that you squeeze me so as not to come out?

ㅤㅤㅤhis words are like gasoline on the fire, making you clench your muscles tightly and moan. the pace is fast, sinking completely every so often. from one moment to the next your hips are raised by the strength of his arms and, without stopping or slowing down, he begins to touch a part of your body that makes you scream and moan much louder.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, cum for me, bitch. i can feel how much you want it.

ㅤㅤㅤyour whole body shivers, increasing the heat of your face and losing your mind when his last movements are so deep that the sound of your skin colliding becomes obscene. mattheo curses, and with that, your hot liquid embraces his member. he had also cum inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou tried to breathe better, but it's so difficult when you had just exploded in front of him. his member is still inside you, and he doesn't seem to have any intentions of coming out for now. you don't know if it's because he notices your difficulty in catching your breath or he wants to listen to you, but he takes your skirt off your mouth, turning you around in a maneuver that allows him to remain buried in you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—m-mattheo... —the aftermath of your own orgasm still doesn't let you think clearly—. it's just you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou can feel it, his flaccid penis becoming hard again.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i just want you to fuck me. i-i want you to be the only one who can kiss me and see me naked.

ㅤㅤㅤmattheo kisses your shoulder, back, and neck. you try to move your hips in search of the friction you need, but his hand slams against your buttock with excessive force. your vagina only reacts by squeezing his member.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how could i think you're lying to me when you have my cock embraced so deliciously? —his hips begin to move again—. i want everyone to hear you, so they know how i'm the only man capable of filling this delicious and wet pussy.

ㅤㅤㅤhis slow and tortuous movements draw soft moans from you, but in a second he increases the speed to hear you scream between the beautiful sounds of your mouth. mattheo, who has no sense of anything, helps you keep up the pace to find himself balls deep inside you. then, when he knows you're close, he suddenly pulls out.

ㅤㅤㅤ—w-what..?

ㅤㅤㅤ—i want you to say it again. i want to hear you say how much you want it —he demands, so fervently that you could die in his arms—. tell me how much you love me.

ㅤㅤㅤyou try to find the words in your head, but you can’t. his hard cock threatens to enter again, and when you jerk your hips in search of him, he spanks you again, making you moan.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, say it. i can be here all night.

ㅤㅤㅤhe knows that you have already diminished the force of your orgasm, so he enters you again. it is so hard and fast that it doesn’t take long for you to feel like you will explode again. mattheo threatens to pull out again, but you don’t allow it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—o-only you mattheo, only you can have me like this. p-please. i love you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that’s how i like it, my little bitch.

ㅤㅤㅤhis hand tangles in your hair, pulling so that your last moans can reach his ears better. with his last deep thrusts, your entire field of vision becomes blurred, and a muffled cry leaves your lips as you expel your liquids for the second time. your body falls like a dead weight on the seats of the car, while you hear mattheo breathing heavily.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come here.

ㅤㅤㅤwith a handkerchief in the pocket of his pants, he cleans the seats, then both of you. from the floor of the car, he picks up your underwear to dress yourself with them and his shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤ—tomorrow everyone will know who you belong to. and i'm not saying this because of all the marks i've left on you —he says, laughing at the sight of your chest covered in hickeys and bites—. i'll take care of letting them know myself.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at him, trying to find some trick in his brown eyes, but there's nothing. he was being honest, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

[lovelynicho]

Hii!! I’m feeling angsty rn 😞

Andteam’s reaction when you walk away crying/cry or flinching in an argument you get the idea?? HSHSH hopefully it won’t be too hard to write and tyyy. Love your works mwaps!! 🫶🫶

&team reaction - to you crying/flinching in an argument

Pairing: bf!&team x gn!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: one curse word in EJ's; mention of abusive relationship in Yuma's; not proofread

Notes: it's my first time writing something as angsty as this so I hope you like it; english is not my first language I apologize for any mistakes; and I'm sorry for not posting for so long, I didn't have the motivation to write😔

Masterlist

K

He's very strong, therefore he can be really scary at times. Especially when arguing. You hate arguing with him, so you usually try to leave when it gets a little out of hand, so both of you can calm down alone. Him on the other hand, although he hates arguing too, is a firm believer that everything needs to be discussed right then and there. This difference between you can cause some problems. Once when you were in a big argument with him, you decided that it should be ended, told him that you can't deal with that right now and you're going to your room to calm down a little, alone. But he didn't want to let it go, so he grabbed your wrist and continued yelling his problems at you. But his grip was too strong, it was painful. You looked at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes "Yudai, it hurts" you said quietly. He looked at his hand and realisation hit him. He let go of your wrist, looked at you for a few seconds before saying "I'm sorry". Slowly and softly wrapped his arms around you and he kept repeating those words a million times: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry...."

Fuma

Although he is the most gentlemanly gentleman to ever step foot on Earth, he is incredibly strong and has a really deep voice. These two things can make him seem rather scary when you guys are in a serious fight. One day a little fight went a little too far. Both of you were just tired, working more than you should so even a little misunderstanding can turn into fighting. You two were just yelling at each other. At this point you couldn't even tell why you started to fight you just had to let the tension out. But when Fuma made a sudden move in your direction you screamed and backed until your back hit the wall. You were just looking at each other. His eyes were in pain, more like worried actually. He slowly approached you and when you didn't scare away he hugged you, his lips next to your ears whispering. "I could never hurt you. I love you so much, I would never want you to be in pain"

Nicholas

Although Nicholas is a sweetheart, I think we can all agree that from the outside he looks rather intimidating, even scary at times. And this feature of his does not do any good when the two of you are fighting. He also seems like the type to lose his temper pretty easily which is also bad for the situation. Once you had a really big fight. Both of you probably knew that you could settle it calmly but you built up so much stress at work and from life itself that you just had to let it out and unfortunately you chose to let it out on each other. You were at fault too, you said something really hurtful to Nicholas and he felt like he will explode if he doesn't release the tension. So out of anger he hit the wall closest to him. But that was right in fron of you and for a second you thought that he aimed at you. So you closed your eyes and just waited while tears were falling from your eyes. But instead the punch you expected you only felt warm arms wrapping around you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..... I could never hurt you" he whispered. Then you just stayed there for a while, crying everything out in his comforting arms.

EJ

Our leader is such a sweet guy. Even though he's tall and quite strong you just need one look at his boba eyes and you already feel safe. His soft speaking nature also adds to the feeling of comfort he gives to not just you, but everyone around him. But as the leader he has lots of duties and also has to take care of not less than eight people. Believe me when I say, sometimes man is tired. And that day when he went over to spend time with you he was especially tired and stressed from work, he just didn't want to cancel the date because he hasn't seen you for what felt like forever. But when he got to you and you kept just asking him about his day and what they have been up to nowadays eventough he said he doesn't want to talk about work, he had enough. "Why can't you just shut up for a second? I cane over to have a calm evening but you just keep bothering me, I'm literally just wasting my time with you now" he yelled. His words shot straight to your heart. You managed to mutter a small 'sorry' and at least start walking away to your room before the tears started falling down your cheeks but he heard your sniffles. And standing there he knew, he fucked up.

Yuma

He probably wouldn't have scared you like that if it wasn't for your past. You had an abusive relationship before you met him. Your ex used to beat you up and it was hard for you to manage to get away from him. But with Yuma it was different. He was the nicest man you've ever met and the thought of him hurting you never entered your mind. But when you were having a rather bad fight every memory of your ex that layed in the back of your mind suddenly came back. That's the reason why when he lifted his hand as he was aggressively explaining something to you in the heat of the argument you instantly put your hands infront of your face as protection. You weren't scared of Yuma, it was more like an instinct, but he didn't know that. "I didn't mean to scare you" he muttered, much softer now than before "I'm so sorry y/n". "No, it's not your fault" you said as you stepped closer to him to assure him that you really weren't scared at all "it was just an instinct because of my ex. It really has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry" and with that you hugged him tightly. But he still whispered in your ears hoping to comfort you "don't ever apologise for something like this. It's not your fault love"

Jo

He's a sweetheart. I don't think he could ever even talk loud let alone make you cry. So if you cry in an argument then both of you cry, there's no other option. When you ended up in a bad argument you just threw every word against each other even if you didn't mean it. You hated it. Seeing him mad, being mad at him. You felt tears in your eyes, slowly rolling down your cheeks. When he saw that he couldn't say another word, instead he did exactly what you did, salty drops of water running from his eyes. You just looked at each other. No talk. Words weren't needed. Those things made you cry. You ended up cuddling on the couch crying out everything silently.

Harua

Usually Harua is a very soft person. I mean you can already tell it from his cute almost boyish looks. However when he's in a fight he can be surprisingly strong minded. You learned that in your first serious fight with him. He stood very firmly by his point believing he was right, when in reality he wasn't. At first you tried to convince him calmly but after a while you just had enough and instead of keep trying to solve the problem in a calm way you started yelling at him. As an answer he also raised his voice and even gesticulated to prove his point but the moves of his hands were huge and firm you've never seen him raise his hand this strongly before so as an instinct you flinched. And that's when he realised that he went too far. "I'm so so so so so sorry" he said already crying with his hands infront of his mouth. "I don't want to hurt you I swear" he kept going on about that. "It's okay I just over reacted" you answered as you softly wrapped your hands around his waist and pulled him into your chest.

Taki

This guy is always full of jokes and pranks. He just sometimes forgets to think about what if the given joke or prank is not funny but actually hurtful to someone. One day when you were at the dorm, this exact scenario happened. Taki just intended to make a joke but didn't consider that it was actually pretty hurtful to you. At first you just stayed silent because you didn't want to talk about how wath he said made you feel so bad. But when he noticed that you became more silent than before he tried to make you talk with another joke which was a huge mistake. You flipped out yelling at him about how hurtful his joke felt for you personally and that he should have considered your feelings. But his reaction to that was just him saying "relax, it was just a joke, if you can't take that, say that, and I won't tell it anymore" and that made you angrier. "Taki it's not that I can't take a joke it's just that your joke was not funny, it only made me feel bad and I can't even look at you right now" you yelled as tears started to roll down your cheeks. And with that you just left the dorm. In shock, he just sat down on the ground trying to figure out what to do.

Maki

Maki is a nice guy, everybody and their mother knows that. But sometimes even he can have bad days. Unfortunately you decided to come over unannounced to the dorm on one of those days when he would just rather be alone. When you arrived of course he was still happy for you, but in contrast to his, your day has been so good that you kept rambling. After some time you asked about his day and even after him saying that he would rather not talk about that now you asked one more time if he was sure and that was it for him. He almost started to yell at you infront of everyone in the living room but thankfully he still had the manners to keep these things privately. So he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room, shut his door as strong as he could and he started yelling at you only noticing minutes later that you were so scared from his sudden change of moods that you backed away from him and tears were built up in your eyes. When he realised how bad the situation was he decided not to talk anymore. Just went up to you and wrapped you in a tight, warm, comforting hug. A hug that lasted maybe five minutes, maybe ten minutes, maybe half an hour. You didn't know and you couldn't care less when you had each other so close.

[novaursa]

Twin Fires

- Summary: Both you and Aegon have no problem expressing your desires openly and torment everybody in the Red Keep.

- Pairing: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 665

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You sit on the chair beside Aegon, your hand resting lightly on his arm. The room is filled with the dull murmur of the small council meeting, the voices of the Lords Tyland, Larys, Jasper, Otto, and Grand Maester Orwyle blending into an almost rhythmic drone. You can see Aegon's eyes glazing over as his mind drifts away from the discussions of grain supplies and tax levies. You know exactly where his thoughts have gone.

Aegon shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. He can't stop thinking about the night before, the way your skin felt against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. The council's voices fade into the background as he remembers the way you gasped his name, the look in your eyes as he pulled you closer. His lips twitch into a small, satisfied smile.

"Your Grace," Otto's sharp voice cuts through Aegon's reverie. "Would you care to join us in the present? We were discussing the matter of the Dornish threat on our southern border."

Aegon blinks, attempting to pull himself back to the present. "Yes, yes, of course," he says, though he has no idea what Otto was talking about. His mind is still on you, on the way your hair spread out across the pillows, the way you whispered his name.

Otto's eyes narrow. "It seems your thoughts are elsewhere, Your Grace. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us on what is so captivating."

Aegon feels the eyes of the council on him, but he can't help the smirk that forms on his lips. "Just thinking about my Queen," he says, his voice low and suggestive. "Last night was... eventful."

You feel your cheeks heat at the memory and the implication of his words. The council members shift uncomfortably in their seats, while Otto's face turns a deep shade of red.

"Your Grace," Otto says through gritted teeth, "perhaps now is not the time for such... reflections."

Aegon laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, come now, Otto. Surely even you can appreciate the joys of marriage."

Tyland coughs, trying to hide a smile behind his hand, while Larys's eyes gleam with amusement. Jasper seems to be studying a particularly interesting spot on the table, avoiding looking at anyone.

The Grand Maester clears his throat. "Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand," he suggests diplomatically.

"Yes, let's," Otto agrees, his voice tight. "As I was saying, the Dornish—"

Aegon's thoughts drift away again, this time to the look on Otto's face when he walked in on the two of you in the gardens. Aegon had you pressed up against the stone wall, your skirts hitched up around your waist. Otto had stammered and turned bright red, backing away as quickly as he could.

"Y/N," Aegon says, turning to you with a wicked grin, "do you remember when Grandsire walked in on us?"

You can’t help but laugh softly, nodding. "Yes, I do. He looked like he was about to faint."

Otto's knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the table. "Your Grace, please," he grinds out. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"Lighten up, Otto," Aegon says, waving a hand dismissively. "A little levity never hurt anyone."

The tension in the room breaks slightly as the other council members chuckle. Otto, however, looks like he's about to explode.

"Perhaps we should adjourn for today," Aegon suggests, rising to his feet. "I believe we've accomplished quite enough."

Otto opens his mouth to protest, but Aegon is already moving, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, Y/N," he says, his voice low and intimate. "Let's continue this discussion elsewhere."

As you leave the room, you can feel the council's eyes on your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the warmth of Aegon's hand in yours, and the promise of what the rest of the day holds.

Aegon leads you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, his grip on your hand firm and possessive. The flickering torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an intimate atmosphere that sets your heart racing. The echoes of the small council meeting fade away, replaced by the anticipation of what is to come.

Instead of heading to your private chambers, Aegon pulls you toward the grand library, a place of quiet refuge and intellectual pursuit. The scent of old parchment and leather-bound tomes fills the air as you enter, the dim lighting from the candles casting a warm glow on the rows upon rows of books.

"I've been thinking about you all morning," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't wait to continue where we left off last night."

You shiver at his words, your own desire mirrored in his eyes. He leads you to a secluded corner, hidden from view by towering bookshelves. Aegon presses you against the polished wood, his hands eager as they roam your body. The library's quiet solitude only adds to the excitement, the risk of being discovered making your heart race.

But just as Aegon is about to pull you into a passionate kiss, a soft cough from behind a nearby shelf makes you both freeze. Aegon straightens, his head snapping towards the sound. Emerging from the shadows, a book in hand and expression stern, is Aemond.

"Aemond," Aegon says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't expect you to be lurking in the library."

"I can see that," Aemond replies dryly, stepping into the candlelight. "Must you always be so public about your... activities, brother?"

Aegon laughs, the sound deep and unabashed. "Why not? What's the point of being king if you can't enjoy yourself?"

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly unimpressed. "There are other ways to enjoy oneself that don't involve making a spectacle."

Aegon pulls you closer, his hand slipping around your waist. "But where's the fun in that, brother? Life is too short to be so serious all the time."

You can feel the tension in the library, but there's also a hint of amusement in Aemond's gaze. He shakes his head, exasperated but not entirely unamused. "You are impossible, Aegon."

"That's why you love me," Aegon replies, grinning. "Now, if you don't mind, we were in the middle of something."

Aemond raises an eyebrow. "Clearly. But perhaps you could exercise a bit more discretion. The walls have ears, and not all of them are friendly."

Aegon waves a hand dismissively. "Let them listen. Maybe they'll learn something."

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. Aegon turns his attention back to you, his eyes dark with intent. "Shall we continue, my love?"

Aemond sighs, shaking his head again. "Very well. I'll leave you to it. But please, try to keep it down this time."

As Aemond turns to leave, Aegon can't resist one last jibe. "Don't be jealous, Aemond. You'll find your own fun one day."

Aemond pauses at the doorway, glancing back with a faint smile. "One can only hope."

The door closes behind him, and you and Aegon are alone once more. Aegon pulls you into a deep kiss, his hands eager and insistent. The interruption seems only to have fueled his desire, his need for you more urgent than ever.

"Now, where were we?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive whisper.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Right here," you reply, pulling him closer.

As the passion between you reignites, the lingering humor of Aemond's intrusion adds a layer of excitement to the encounter. The grand library might have its hidden eyes and ears, but in this moment, all that matters is the fire burning between you and your king.

Your bodies are entwined, the weight of Aegon's heated skin pressing down on yours as you both clutch desperately at each other in the dimly lit library. The scent of parchment and aged leather fills the air, mixing with the intoxicating musk of your fervent lovemaking. Aegon's platinum blond hair falls over his eyes, glistening with sweat, as he murmurs your name — Y/N — with breathless urgency.

"More, Aegon," you gasp, fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. His lips are on your neck, your shoulders, everywhere at once, as if he can never get enough of you.

"You always want more," he grins against your skin, his voice a low growl of pleasure and amusement. "And I always want to give it to you."

You arch against him, your breath catching as he moves within you, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. Your world narrows to the sensation of his body, the heat of his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

Just as the world is about to shatter into a million pieces of ecstasy, the library door slams open with a thunderous crash. "Aegon! Y/N!" Dowager Queen Alicent's voice rings out, sharp and furious.

Aegon jolts, startled, and the sudden motion pushes him deeper into you, causing you both to cry out in unexpected bliss. The impact sends you both stumbling backward into a massive bookshelf. There's a moment of stunned silence before the entire row of shelves begins to topple like dominos, books cascading to the floor in a chaotic storm of paper and bindings.

As the dust settles, you find yourself pinned beneath Aegon, both of you as naked as the day you were born. His violet eyes are wide with a mix of shock and lingering desire, but there's a hint of laughter in them too. You can't help but chuckle softly, the absurdity of the situation taking hold again.

Alicent stands there, her face a mask of fury, flanked by a pale and trembling Grand Maester Orwyle, who looks like he's about to collapse. His precious tomes from the Citadel lie scattered and crushed around you.

"Mother," Aegon starts, still half-laughing, "I didn't hear you knock."

"Knock?" Alicent's voice rises in pitch, her hands clenching at her sides. "You have no sense of shame or propriety! Look at you both!"

You glance at Aegon, then back at your mother, feeling no shame whatsoever. "We were...occupied," you say with a coy smile.

Aegon shifts slightly, still positioned rather intimately, and you can't help but stifle a giggle. "We were, indeed," he agrees, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Alicent throws her hands up in exasperation. "Occupied! In the library! Grand Maester Orwyle has important matters to discuss, and you are here...doing this!"

Orwyle makes a strangled noise, his eyes darting to the ruined books. "My...my tomes..."

Aegon looks around, still atop you, and shrugs. "They can be replaced, Orwyle. Unlike my dear sister-wife, who I cannot get enough of."

You can't help but laugh, reaching up to pull him down for a quick kiss. "Flatterer," you murmur against his lips.

Alicent's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "Enough! Both of you! Get up and get dressed this instant!"

With exaggerated slowness, Aegon finally rolls off you, standing and offering you a hand up. You take it, rising gracefully despite the chaos around you. Neither of you bothers to cover yourselves, reveling in your mother's discomfort.

As you both dress leisurely, Alicent mutters angrily under her breath, and Orwyle looks like he's aged a decade in mere minutes. The library is a mess, but to you and Aegon, it's just another amusing chapter in your reign as King and Queen.

Once clothed, Aegon winks at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Shall we continue this...discussion later once more, my love?"

You return his smile, feeling the heat already rising again between you. "Oh, absolutely, Your Grace. I can't wait."

Alicent groans, turning away with a huff. "Seven save me," she mutters, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Despite her anger, even she can't deny the unbreakable bond you share with Aegon.

You and Aegon stride through the open doors of the library, a sea of wide-eyed servants parting before you. Whispers and shocked glances follow your every step, but you and Aegon remain completely unaffected, wearing expressions of amused indifference. The thrill of your recent encounter still lingers, and you can feel Aegon's hand subtly brushing against yours, a promise of more to come.

"Well," Aegon muses loudly, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Since the library is no longer an option, how about the throne room next?"

You hear a gasp from a cluster of maids, their faces a mix of scandal and fascination. Just as you are about to reply with a cheeky retort, Alicent's voice rings out from the library, where she is still consulting with Orwyle. "Aegon! Y/N! I swear by the Seven, if you even think about it, you'll both be confined to your chambers for a month!"

Aegon grins, leaning close to whisper in your ear. "I think she's bluffing. The throne room would be quite the statement, don't you think?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Perhaps another time, Aegon. We should at least pretend to heed her warnings once in a while."

He sighs dramatically but nods, his arm slipping around your waist as you continue down the hall. "Very well, my Queen. For now."

The next morning, the sun filters through the windows of the council chamber, casting a warm glow over the ancient stone walls. Alicent paces back and forth, her brow furrowed in frustration. Across from her, Otto Hightower sits at a polished wooden table, his expression calm but concerned.

"Alicent," he begins, his tone measured, "we need to address the behavior of the twins. This...scandalous display cannot continue. It undermines their authority and brings dishonor to the throne."

Alicent stops pacing, turning to face her father. "Believe me, Father, I am well aware. Yesterday's debacle in the library was just the latest in a long line of their...indiscretions."

Otto sighs, folding his hands on the table. "We must find a way to curb their impulses. Aegon and Y/N's bond is undeniably strong, but it is also causing disruptions. The court is buzzing with rumors, and the smallfolk are beginning to talk."

Alicent nods, her frustration evident. "I've tried talking to them, scolding them, threatening them with confinement, but nothing seems to work. They simply don't care."

Otto leans back in his chair, considering. "Perhaps we need a different approach. Something more...persuasive. Have you considered involving the High Septon? His influence could carry weight, even with those as headstrong as Aegon and Y/N."

Alicent's eyes widen slightly at the suggestion. "The High Septon? Are we really at that point, Father?"

Otto nods solemnly. "If we are to maintain order and respect, we must consider all options. Aegon is King, and Y/N is Queen, but they must learn that their actions have consequences beyond their own pleasure."

Alicent sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Very well. I will arrange a meeting with the High Septon. Perhaps he can impress upon them the seriousness of their duties."

Otto reaches out to place a reassuring hand on her arm. "It is for the best, Alicent. For the realm, and for them. They must learn to balance their love with their responsibilities."

As Alicent nods, determined but weary, you and Aegon lounge in your chambers, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place. Wrapped in each other's arms, you share a lazy, contented morning, your laughter and whispered promises a stark contrast to the serious discussions unfolding elsewhere in the Red Keep.

Aegon presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "What do you think Mother and Grandsire are plotting now?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No doubt some scheme to rein us in. But we have each other, Aegon. Whatever they plan, we'll face it."

He smiles, a slow, lazy grin that makes your heart flutter. "Always, my love. Always."

[mahyuume]

MY PRINCE CHARMING!

— synopsis. like all fairytales, the princess always has her prince charming. but they never really explained how that prince courted her.

pairing. 1A boys (katsuki bakugou & shoto todoroki) x princess!reader | genre. romcom, fluff | mlist

reminders! your quirk is "summon", so basically you can summon anything and anyone to your liking along with it under your control! :3 you an activate it either by saying it out loud or manifesting it in your head. (ex. manifesting a whole army and ordering them to take down the enemy is possible.)

KATSUKI BAKUGOU, who's very well known for being brash, tries asks you out with(out) aggression.

“hey princess, come over here for a sec,” bakugou calls out to you from across the classroom, reclining in his desk with his feet up.

right now, you can't tell if the nickname "princess" is just his way of being rude or if it's meant affectionately in a mean way with hidden sincerity. either way, you haven't quite gotten used to it yet. leaving uraraka and tsuyu behind, you make your way towards his desk; which feels like an eternity in his opinion.

“what's your problem, bakugou?” you retort, unintentionally sounding harsh. “what's with your attitude princess?!” he growls, “just cause you’re coming from some stupid royal family doesn't mean you can talk down to the world’s soon greatest hero.” bakugou says in your face with his stupid grin. but right now, not only is he standing a little too close for your liking, but small explosions are going off in his right palm. is he trying to have a conversation by threatening you??

kirishima interjects, sweat dropping as he attempts to defuse the tension between his best friend and the class's princess. “I'm sure she didn't mean for it to come off that way!” he looks at you, hoping for agreement. “yeah, man! you just need to chill.…” denki adds on, but his voice trails off quietly. “also, you should just spit out what you wanted to say.” He says the last part a little louder before whistling and avoiding eye contact with the hot-headed guy who swears at him.

“spit what out? a threat or—“ “yeah! a threat that I'll crush you in training today, pretty girl.”

...

"bakubro,—" before bakugou can realize his mistake, you (along with kirishima and denki) beat him to it. “did you just call me pretty?”

finally, it dawns on him. and he feels like dying when realization hits. “what? no, I didn't. I called you ugly.” “nuh-uh. you called me pretty.” “no, I didn't.” he huffs with a tongue click following, “did all the tiaras and stuff you wear brainwash you and get to your stupid head?” you giggle slightly at his reaction as he looks away, hands in his pockets, ready to walk away from the whole situation. well, he’s trying to salvage his pride. you’ll give him that.

“stop fuckin' laughing brat!” he yells, clearly embarrassment took over. “dude just tell her already!” denki groans, hands in his face as he's already frustrated with how his friend's so freakishly good at stalling a confession. “bakugou, dude... I'm just gonna hang with mina.” kirishima comments, trying to give the two of you some space alone. “yeah, same here," denki agrees while giving a sly teasing smirk to his exploding friend as they both stand up and make their way towards their pink-haired best friend.

and now, it's just the two of you. you in front of his desk, and him with his back turned to you, head down.

“uh, I don't think there's anything interesting on the floor for you to be looking that long.” you tease him, ��shut up...” nice. you got him to talk. “is that all? so much for a threat.”

"go out with me."

so straightforward. “...speak up bakugou. I can't hear you!” I said... gooutwithme.” “still can't hear you~!” “I SAID GO OUT WITH ME DAMMIT!” he practically screams as small explosions go off. nervous much?

also as he screamed at you, the multiple heads of your classmates turned towards you and the boy who's most likely going to blow your head off after kissing you trying to comprehend what they just heard.

“show some respect towards your crush!” you deadpan, “shut it!”he scoffs as he finally faces you. “…is it yes or no?” the now less embarrassed or angry (you really couldn’t tell) asks quietly, surprisingly audible over all the chatter about the two of you.

“it would've been nicer if you did this properly,” you say. "wh—?!” “but sure, I accept your challenge of beating you to a pulp in training.” “…” bakugou stands there, looking at you with a mixture of confusion and a ‘what the fuck did you just say’ with slightly pink blush visible on his pale skin.

“...It's a yes, idiot.”

suddenly, he can breathe properly and releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “stop playing around, brat,” he smiles at you as you laugh.

he was nervous over nothing, just like what his friends said.

SHOTO TODOROKI, one of the most strongest guys in your class... no, in UA, verbally expressed he was amazed with your quirk?! is he flirting with you..?

“yn, please excuse my sudden compliment, but I must say your quirk is amazing. especially with your control, it definitely suits a girl like you.” the half-n-half user tells you, straight in the face even. you think you probably– no most definitely look stupid in front of him with your flustered expression, speechless too... “o—oh! you think so?”

...you wish shigaraki could decay this whole school right now and turn you into dust.

todoroki keeps his gaze on you as a small but evident smile shows on his lips. “yes, I think so,” he says in a more softer tone. you think it's much better than his stoic voice you often hear. “is there anything i said wrong? or made you uncomfortable?” you also think about how cute he can be without trying, and you hate it.

quickly brushing off his earlier statement, he sighs and fixes his stiff posture as response. “that's good to know. I wouldn't like upsetting a princess after all.” todoroki smiles at you before turning his heel to leave. “I will be taking my leave now yn,” how nonchalant could he be? “take care. I'll see you at the dorms.”

after todoroki bid farewell, leaving his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, you found yourself wishing he would stay a bit longer.

“wait!” you hastily exclaimed suddenly, reaching out towards him with an arm, but then stopping with a twitch. the volume of your voice higher than you intended, making you shock yourself. todoroki turns around, puzzled by your abrupt gesture. it was probably just a reflex, he thought, dismissing the sudden movement. because surely, you wouldn't want him to stay for anything else, right?

in a surprising turn of events, you sheepishly invited him for lunch or dinner after exams, revealing your want for him to stay.

“um, sorry. would you like to have lunch, maybe dinner? sometime after training and exams.”

having practically asked him out, you blushed as he smiled, agreeing and taking out his phone. “what’s this for?” you inquired, still a bit pink in the face. “well, I do need your number for our date, don't I?” the icy hot user replied with an 'obviously' look on his face.

if you weren't red before, you definitely were now; perhaps even resembling a sunburn. did he just activate his fire quirk or something? the air kept getting hotter the longer you both talked.

“oops! my apologies for that...” you muttered nervously, inputting your number into his phone, adjusting your own contact details as well. 'yn! (≧∀≦)'

SAVE CONTACT ? YES | NO > YES | NO

“cute emoji.” todoroki plainly says, with a hint of adornment in his tone as he looked at your newly saved contact name. he thinks he’ll start using those emojis often. “haha, I know right…”

giving back his phone, you offer walking back to the dorms with him.

“I would like that, as much I like being in your company.” okay. he's definitely hitting on you now. “todoroki... sorry for my sudden ask, but are you flirting with me?” you say a little quickly with a flushed face, looking the other way to avoid his gaze. as you do that, he stops walking.

noticing his presence gone and a few steps back, you look back and suddenly you see his expression as one you’ve never seen before.

“t—todoroki?” you call out to him with a tone tinged with tinged with a new found anxiety and concern due to his sudden silence. unsure if he’s flushed of getting caught or genuinely contemplating if he was or wasn’t. but one thing you were sure about was how crazy the two of you must look, standing in the middle of a hall way going back and forth on each other.

besides all this, you hurriedly apologize for catching him off guard, trying to ease any discomfort you might’ve caused (you hope you haven’t, or else you really wish the league of villains would take you the moment you leave the building.)

“ohmygod, please excuse me for just asking that out of the blue, you really don’t have to—“ “yes. I was.” “huh?” “I was actually flirting with you,” the dual colored hair boy who stands in front of you, smiling bashfully; his gaze struggling to maintain eye contact but always seems to meet yours.

“sorry, was I moving too fast?” todoroki asks you with the gently and sincere tone that you could listen to on repeat. wait, what the hell? he’s just trying to ease the tension between you.

“no!” realizing you responded too hastily, you try to regain a normal composure and talk to him; but your words fail to come out right “ah, sorry… but no! you weren’t, I was just… um…” lord, your words were really failing you. so you think of the only thing sensible to get you out of this situation,

“walk away from me!” you commanded him, and in doing so he does. involuntarily. you gotta thank your quirk for this, honestly.

“wh- wait, yn!” todoroki calls out to you in a shocked but confused tone, “turn me back, right now!” he says as his body still walks away from you, having no control over your quirk.

as you hear him ask to be released, you immediately regret your decision on using your quirk in him.“come back to me.”

after hearing your latest command, he feels grateful as his body obediently changes direction and approaches you, coming within 10 steps. now standing before you, he nervously sweats, unsure of what to do or say. meanwhile, you avert your gaze, looking down as he gazes at you. “i’m sorry I was too nervous!”you exclaim loudly as you attempt to leave, but he interrupts you before you can manage your grand escape.

“please don’t go,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. you stop in your tracks from the surprised by his sudden change in demeanor and how gently he reached out to your arm. looking up at you after a moment of silence, with kind eyes laced with a loving intent, he takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to speak. “what I meant was, don’t be sorry.” he smiles, “and don’t leave.”

you swear you feel a heart attack coming.

“I’m sure you’ve already known, but I just wanted to say...i think you’re amazing. and i would really like to get to know you better.” you feel your heart skip a beat as you realize his true intentions. (as if he didn’t tell you from the beginning) a smile spreads across your face as you reply, “I would like that too.” and in that moment, the nervous tension dissipates, replaced by a sense of excitement for what the future may hold.

“so what do you say,” todoroki starts again; “do you just wanna start the date tonight?” he asks, a hopeful like look casted upon his face. who could say no to a face like that? you gleem at him as the corners of his mouth curl upwards more, feeling a sense of relief.

as he stands there, now going walk with you towards the dorms, he thanks himself for getting over with his own nervousness and complimenting you.

BONUS: “y’know, I didn’t actually know i was asking for a date.” you admit to him as you lean on the kitchen counter, watching your new boyfriend trying to chop chives. “really?” he stops cutting, now looking at you with a surprised smile. “yeah, really…” you chuckle, “I thought I was just asking for you to hang out.” your dual wielder boyfriend laughs, “well I’m glad I took it the wrong way and started flirting with you.” he sighs as he resumes to cooking. “yeah. me too.” you smile at the scene unfolding in front of you.

“stop fucking flirting. it’s making me sick.” “oh shut up bakugou.”

HI GUYS!!! finally posting this after it’s been in drafts since like may I really like how this turned out especially todoroki hehehehehehehheh can u tell I really like him. but anyways, I’m thinking if I should do a part 2 with deku and uhh idk. but anyways!!!!! hope u guys like this 𝜗𝜚.

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary — Damian’s girlfriend is pissed off. 🖤 Word Count — 2.3k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. D/s undertones, rough, unprotected p in v, slapping, cum. 18+ 🖤 Notes — Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I'll fix it! 🖤 Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me, Priest,” she says, yanking her arm out of his grasp before shoving his stupid, giant body as hard as she can. He stumbles back a couple steps, arms spread, palms to his girlfriend, and the unadulterated befuddlement painted on his face is enough to make her head explode.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Damian chuckles.

“What’s wrong with me?” she screams. Damian’s smirk is gone in an instant and his muscles stiffen, bringing him to his full terrifying height, but she can’t back down now. Not after what she just saw. Fuck him and the click he claims. “The fuck is wrong with you?” she continues yelling. They’re drawing attention—well, she is, anyway—but she couldn’t care less. She wants these people—his friends, coworkers, bosses, fans—to know exactly how much Damian Priest sucks, what kind of man is, what kind of boyfriend he is.

“Come here,” he grumbles, snatching her bicep, squeezing hard enough she knows there will be a bruise left behind, and he lifts, nearly bringing her feet off the ground, making it completely impossible for her to escape this time. She feels like her shoulder is dislocating the closer they get to the locker room, and she’s nearly flung into the door when it opens unexpectedly.

“Everything … okay here?” Seth Rollins asks, chocolate eyes passing back and forth between the couple.

“Everything’s fine,” Damian roars, swinging the tiny woman inside the empty locker room. As she goes by, she lifts her middle finger at Rollins, who instantly backs away, hands up, not wanting any trouble. Damian releases his death grip on her arm before kicking the door closed behind him. “Okay.” He sets his hands on his trim hips, shrugging, big eyes and raised brows. “Seriously. What’s your problem?”

Her lips purse as she massages her arm and considers his question. On one hand, she’s pissed because the asshole should know what he did. On the other hand, she could accuse him only to have him deny it, and then what does she do? On the other, other hand—a much smaller, less significant, barely existing other, other hand—there’s a chance she’s wrong, and while it would be good news, she would be embarrassed, and their relationship would be damaged … if it isn’t already. But then the image from earlier flashes in her brain and, not only does she want to die a little, she believes she knows the truth, so decides to stay the course.

“You’re—” She clears her throat because suddenly it’s scratchy and it hurts much like the pain in her chest. “You’re cheating on me.”

The allegation hangs heavily in the ether. She feels stupid actually saying the words. She never, in a million years, would have believed him to be the type, but she knows what her eyes saw. Rhea Ripley—the incomparable, exquisitely beautiful—Rhea Bloody Ripley in Damian’s strong arms, her muscular legs wrapped around his waist. They weren’t kissing, but they might as well have been, and somehow, in her crumbling mental capacity, that alone served as plenty of evidence for an affair.

“What?” Damian asks, the tone of his voice lowering several levels. “I’m—” He pauses, shaking his head. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

“Yeah, Damian, you’re fucking cheating on me,” she replies with more force than she thought she was capable of.

He nods, plump lips forming a deep frown. “And you thought acting like a psychopath in front of everyone we know was the way to handle it?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” she seethes, nostrils flaring. Her skin crawls at the thought of the two of them together. She wants to vomit imagining a life without her Papí. She just can’t fucking believe they’ve ended up here.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Damian replies, bending over to her height. “You’re talkin’ nonsense!”

“I saw you, Damian. I fucking saw both of you.”

He shakes his head, shoulders coming up to his ears as he considers her statement. And then it dawns on him—she watches in real time as the lightbulb flashes on above his stupid man bun. “Are you talkin’ about Rhea?”

Her mind is blank, erased like a math problem on a chalkboard, leaving her heart in control of her body—and right now?—that heart is fractured, splintering, promising to disintegrate at any given moment. She feels her feet moving of their own volition, closing the space between them. She stands before him for half a moment at less than half his height before reeling back and slapping him across the face. The palm of her hand erupts with fire, tears she’s been battling since the moment she witnessed the embrace now streaming freely down her contoured cheeks. Damian stands frozen, looking somewhere over her head. The muscles in his jaws flex as he clenches his teeth, inhaling long and hard through his nose. He opens his mouth to spin a web of lies, so she slaps him again before he can get started. She’s crying now because of the pain in her hand and the pain behind her ribcage, so she slaps him once again because it’s his goddamn fault. Damian catches her wrist as she makes another attempt, and this is a brand new pain.

“Mírame!” he bellows, backing her up until she slams into the nearest wall. She loses her breath a bit, but Damian places his free hand behind her head to prevent any impact. His grip on her wrist is unrelenting as he holds it against her chest. She is miniscule in this awkward embrace, her eyes looking everywhere but where he wants her to. But when he bends his knees and dips down to her level, ducking his head until he’s in her line of sight, she’s forced to meet his gaze. “I’m gonna make you pay for those slaps in a minute …” he cautions. His hand starts applying pressure to the back of her head. “But first I have to tell you, because for some reason you need to fucking hear it, I’m not cheating on you.” 

She swallows, having her breath stolen again because she feels the truth of his words vibrating her bone marrow. She also feels the shame and embarrassment of being wrong. With her free hand she struggles to unclamp his vice-like grip from her wrist, and having had enough of her shit, Damian grabs both wrists this time and smashes them into the wall above her.

“Do you hear me?” he carries on, with quite a bit more hostility than she’s used to, shoving his knee into the wall between her legs. His knee pad becomes a cushion for her pussy—he’s still in his gear, still sweaty, because she accosted him right after his match—elevating her to the toes of her sneakers, and she is completely at the mercy of Damian Priest.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Good. Do you believe me? Hmm?” Capturing both wrists in one hand, he cups her chin with the other and touches his cheek to hers. “Do you believe that I’d rather die than hear someone else call me Papí?” It’s actually an incredibly sweet confession, but the venom in his tone scorches the honey in his words.

She believes him. By all that is good and holy in this world, she believes him and she is equal parts mortified, thankful, and contrite. She’d allowed her imagination to run wild because of an act of love between close friends, never once considering having a civil conversation with either of them about how it clearly made her uncomfortable. Did she just cause a rift in their relationship? Contaminate it with her jealousy? How many people is she going to have to apologize to? Seth, for sure, although he usually deserves any middle finger aimed in his direction. Christ, what’s she gonna say to Rhea?

“Damian,” she whispers, doing everything she can to not sound pathetic, and if her own ears are to be trusted, she is failing miserably.

“No,” he interrupts her, “you started this. I’m gonna fucking finish it. Now answer me.”

She grits her teeth, rolling her hips unconsciously because the position he’s put her in isn’t all that comfortable, probably by design, and suddenly she remembers how and why she’s propped on her boyfriend’s thigh. Even the slightest friction renders a groan from her. Damian tilts his head, eyes unforgiving, a sable shade she’s never seen before, and she regrets having made any noise at all, no matter how unintentional. His cheek is transforming into a furious vermillion, and the guilt that washes over her is nearly unbearable. She has no hand left to play, not that she did in the first fucking place, and she resigns herself to the punishment she’s about to receive. Well-deserved punishment, she understands.

“Yes,” she breathes, his eyes boring into her, chipping away any residual resolve she might have left inside.

“¿Si, que?” he booms, as if he expected the incorrect response. His anger hasn’t abated.

She can’t feel her fingers anymore and she’s struggling to maintain balance on Damian’s thigh. The slightest lean this way or that sends jolts of pleasure throughout her body, and it’s a losing battle trying to keep the satisfaction off her face. “Yes, Papí,” she says, “I believe you.”

He eyes her for a long moment, searching her face for any clue she might be lying or still angry. She keeps her own eyes open and on him, seemingly baring her soul before him, feeling more vulnerable now than she has in her entire life. At last he pushes away from her and the wall, releasing her wrists, removing his thigh from between her legs, and maybe she misses that last part a little bit.

“Now take those off—” He points at her denim shorts. “—and bend the fuck over.” And then he moves his arm to the right, pointing at a giant WWE trunk on wheels wedged against the corner of the room. She knows her place, and she has her orders.

She kicks her shorts toward him, standing before him in nothing but a pair of Nike hightops, a white thong, and a t-shirt-turned-tube-top that demands the audience to ALL RISE. He doesn’t even look at her body before nodding toward the trunk, and Jesus Christ, she’s in so much trouble. She passes him while rubbing her wrists and when she’s standing less than a foot from the trunk, she realizes she’s too short for this fucking thing too. She glances at Damian over her shoulder, and he’s stomping toward her, and her heart jumps into her throat. She hops onto the trunk, tips of her shoes barely kissing the floor just like when she was straddling Damian’s thigh.

The smack to her right ass cheek echoes throughout the locker room, same with the slap to her left, and she yelps.  Damian grabs her hair and pulls, arching her back into a spine-busting half-circle. He lets go, but before she can fall forward, one of his huge hands clamps over her mouth and holds her in position. With the other, he wrenches at her thong to pull it aside—she hears the material rip at the same time—then bends her leg at the knee and props it onto the trunk beside her.

“You know, the jealousy is kinda sexy on you,” Damian comments. Now she feels his hand working at his pants as it bumps against her sore ass. Then comes a different kind of smacking as he swats the sensitive skin with the underside of his rigid cock. He traces the head along both cheeks and along the crack, on down until she feels the huge, blunt head at her soaking entrance. “But don’t you ever fucking slap me again.”

Without warning, he is wholly sheathed inside her, his hips slamming into hers. She cries out from behind his hand, clutching his wrist with one hand as the other claws at the trunk in a desperate search for leverage to launch herself away. Damian is not a small man, in any way, shape, or form, so he’s always allowed her a few minutes to get used to his size. Not this time. This is her penance. He squeezes her hip, in full control of her body, and he’s simply using her pussy to get off now, without regard for her pleasure. She feels almost like a fleshlight, but her hormones are confused because she’s wet as fuck and, whether he likes it or not, she’s liable to get off just from him fucking her.

Damian stretches across her backside, her spine still bowed, and his teeth scrape across the shell of her ear as he grunts, “Say you’re fucking sorry.” He removes his hand from her mouth.

She gulps oxygen before panting, “I’m sorry, Papí. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He kisses her sweaty neck and sighs, hanging his head over her shoulder in unison with slowing the pummeling of her pussy. “I’m sorry, too. Lo siento, mi vida.” His rhythm starts speeding up following several moments. “But I am gonna cum in this pussy,” he advises, standing up straight, gripping both hips. “And you are gonna walk outta here with it dripping down your thighs.”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Because I fucking love you.”

She groans, bucking back against him. “I love you, baby.”

One final thrust and he makes good on his promise. He even squeezes the base of his cock to make sure every drop is inside her before pulling out. He’s much more gentle with her now, his enormous hands sliding up her back to her shoulder and arm so he can assist her into a standing position. As soon as she turns to him, she grabs his face and pulls his lips to hers. Their kiss is long, deliberate, and by the time they’re finished, his hands are cupping her face and hers are clutching his neck, and goddamn it, she’s so fucking stupid. But love makes people do crazy things.

“Now what do I do?” she asks, holding up the tattered side of her thong. Damian inspects the damage, then takes the lacey material in both hands and rips it into several pieces, which fall one by one to the floor.

“Problem solved.”

🎀 Mírame - Look at me 🎀 Si, que - Yes, what 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Lo siento - I'm sorry

[meiieiri]

𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 [geto suguru]

synopsis: suguru geto upped and left that day without a moment’s notice and he took everything with him — your heart, your soul — but as you look at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, you realize that he did in fact leave one thing behind.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, explicit sex.

a/n: i know, i know. i should be writing WE but this concept has been in my head far longer than WE and i just need to get it out there or else, i think i’m gonna go insane. if anyone wants to know the plot of this would have been fic, feel free to let me know lmao, of course it still involves gojo bc i can’t choose between the two of them since they’re both so baby girl—! also happy birthday to the loml, my pookie-wookie, honeybunch, suguru geto!!

It’s been a year since the happy side trip to Okinawa became a living nightmare that culminated in you, Suguru Geto, and Satoru Gojo on the brink of death and with many more scars than you could have ever imagined. The three of you had very different ideas on how to cope. Satoru spends the past year perfecting his cursed technique, often at the expense of his emotional well-being and energy but then again, after what Toji Fushiguro did to him leaving him with the trauma of being slaughtered without regard, it was only natural.

You and Suguru on the other hand retreated into yourselves; it was hard to believe that just a year before the two of you were a normal teenage couple who enjoyed walking the trendy streets of Shibuya in the weekend sunshine without a care in the world, whose only real problem is to decide where the two of you were gonna have your weekly dates.

Now, things were different. Rainclouds have gathered effectively blocking out the sun. As you sat on the desk reading through your textbook on reverse cursed technique, you glance at Suguru from time to time and you aren’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting by the dorm room’s windowsill, staring at the garden with an empty gaze.

You’ve had enough of this. This eternal state of limbo was tearing you and Suguru apart.

Slowly, you stand up from the desk, softly padding across the wooden floor to where your boyfriend is. It was the middle of the night, last you checked, it’s already nine in the evening. You should be heading back to the women’s dorms now but you couldn’t, not when things were like this, not when Suguru’s losing himself day after day, you can’t help him, you know that, but you could be there for him seeing that’s all you can do.

But even then, it’s never enough.

Your relationship with Suguru is like a lit dynamite stick, you know that it’s only a matter of time before it also explodes in your faces. So, Suguru takes the lead, like he always does, he’s so much wiser and stronger than you in every way though he doesn’t care to admit it, though he pretends he doesn’t know why you’re so dependent on him.

“I think we should break up.”

He says that while holding your hand. You saw this coming but just how long did you anticipate that the love of your life would eventually up and leave you? You squeeze his hand with every ounce of the grief you are feeling hoping it would transcend the confines of your skin and it would reach his heart. “Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

He stands up to meet your gaze, the throw blanket falling to the floor as he does. He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek with such tenderness and heartache that you feel your heart rise to your throat. Suguru is normally so gentle like a shower of midnight rain, but he kisses you like this is the last — it probably is. Lost in him, your hands trail over his chest, and he deepens the kiss hoping that you’d also understand that he doesn’t really want to leave but he has to. He can’t bear to drag you into his mess.

He could never do that to you.

You respond with a soft moan when Suguru slowly lifts your shirt over your head. He stares at your plump breasts for a moment, covered only by a thin lace-like material, before deciding that looking at you wasn’t enough. He has to take you, ravish you, fondle you, kiss you. Anything to let you know that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen out of love with you.

“Don’t leave,” you plead in between his soft kisses to your breasts, tears slipping from your eyes as he removes your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders which he was now kissing up to the crook of your neck. How could your hearts be so full yet so empty at the same time?

None of what happened should have caused this much heartache between the two of you. In fact, it should have made you rely on each more, right? It should have strengthened you not destroy everything you had: each other, the future you planned together.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he nips at your neck, sucking on the delicate flesh, as your forms gracefully fall on the bed, he stares at you with such love, such devotion, and you wonder why this should be the last time. His gaze falls to your vulnerable form, his cock hardening at the sight of your clothed pussy getting wet just from that. He grinds against you, sighing at the way you buck your hips to meet his wanting more of him. If this was to be the last time, then, you want to make it count.

“Suguru, I’m yours.” That’s all he needs to hear and he removes your underwear, kissing down your leg as he slips it off of you. He tosses it onto his nightstand, and he leans towards it to grab a condom from his drawer. You catch his hand. “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen at your request, his lips eliciting short huffs of breath. He’s never fucked you raw before. “Are you sure?”

You nod against his forehead. “Please. Please fuck me, Su.”

Slowly, his hand guiding his tip up and down your slit, smearing your wetness along the base of his cock before slowly pushing into you savoring the sensation of your cunt squeezing around him as he stretches you with his girth. A deep groan betrays him and his mouth hangs open as your tight walls envelop him as he bottoms out. He takes a moment to collect himself, not wanting to cum right then and there.

“S-shit. Ah, you’re so fucking tight.” He allows himself a small thrust, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive spot, having memorized you after many desperate nights of lovemaking. His fingers grip the soft skin of your hips as he pulls out momentarily before pushing back in again more forcefully this time.

“S-su! Mngh—please fuck me—I love you, I love you, I love you,” you beg.

A tear slips from Suguru’s eyes, it was becoming more real now — this final goodbye. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slowly builds up the pace of his thrusts, his cock bullying your cunt, driving himself in and out of your pussy, again and again. He brings your leg to his waist, holding it so he could angle himself better. “I love you too.”

You mewl as he pistons in and out of you, his balls slapping hard against your skin. “Sugu—ah! More—n-need more of you—“ You’re crying now, and he is too as he continues to ravage your pussy, his hand finds your other leg and he pushes your knees close to your chest, folding you into a deep mating press, slamming into your cunt.

“I’m yours. Always,” Suguru looks into your eyes amidst your desperate cries, your thighs trembling under his passionate gaze. He grunts when he feels the familiar tightening of your walls. “You’re close—fuck,” he takes this as an incentive to go faster, harder, and he fucks you in a way he never has before.

“So good—oh—“ you fall silent as he suddenly brings your hands to your clit, letting you touch yourself. You looked so beautiful like this, under him, your head thrown back against the pillows, your mouth primed in a silent ‘o’. He pants as he feels his balls tighten when your hips involuntarily buck into him as you climax. “Suguru!”

“Ah, baby…” He groans, the hot breath from his lips tickling your forehead as he rides out his high, spilling his seed into you not caring what the consequences may be. You did want this after all, and he did too. You feel full just from the sensation of his thick cum, he thrusts into you one last time, further smearing his release in your walls.

You sighed as he stays there, your weak and trembling arms coming up to embrace him. He strokes your hair, memorizing each lock, pulling out after a while. Suguru pulls you flush against his chest, the remnants of his and your release sliding down your thighs. “It’ll be okay,” Suguru catches his breath, kissing your temple. “Even without me. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t…you know I won’t.”

“You will.” He says firmly. “I promise. You know me, baby, I never break my promises.” You feel tears well up in your eyes again and he tenderly wipes it away. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

By the next morning, you already knew with the way the AC’s cold air nips at your skin without Suguru, your Suguru, there to embrace you that he’s already left.

Without a note, without a goodbye. Typical of Suguru who doesn’t want to stick around to see you cry.

You curl into yourself as sobs wrack your body, the promise ring Suguru gave you gleaming under the rays of morning sunlight.

A few years later, just as Suguru said, things did get better. You smiled as you arranged the last of the tempura into the bento box filled with soba noodles with nori and small containers of mentsuyu and wasabi. It’s amazing how much she takes after him. You look at the clock and your face pales. You’re running late, so, you head upstairs to speed things up a little. You creak open the door to see the little blessing of your life, the last gift Suguru ever gave you. She’s looking at the picture of you and Suguru which you placed in her room, and since you know it was highly unlikely she’ll ever meet your lover in this lifetime, you’ve decided you want her to know him if by his appearance alone and the stories you tell her.

“Riko? We’re gonna be late,” you gently reminded your four-year-old daughter. You shoot her a funny look when you see the haphazard way she placed her hair in a bun. She pouts as she tries to get it right again, looking at her father’s picture intently. “Sweetheart, are you trying to look like—?”

“Like papa,” she huffs cutely and you chuckle, moving to pick her up and sit her down on your lap. Kissing her cheek, you also gaze at the picture depicting a candid you and Suguru during your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, winking at the camera as he kisses your cheek, a silent gleeful laugh on your face.

You look at her, a little confused, you gently smooth her hair before planting a kiss between her eyebrows. “And why do you want to look like papa?” Riko shyly looks away, her ears turning a little red as she blushes, a trait she inherited from you. You flick her nose, giggling. “Well?” Riko laughs at the playful gesture.

“…So you don’t cry anymore, mama.” Your heart seems to have stopped beating for a moment and a warm, tearful smile appears on your face, wrapping Riko in a bone-crushingly tender hug. “Love you…” she sinks into the warmth of your hug and you kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Riko. So…so…much.”

At that, your little girl sighs in relief. “School?” she tilts her head and you suddenly remembered the reason you went upstairs. You had to get moving. Your eyes widened and you carry her downstairs, being careful not to jostle her too much. “My hair, mama!” she giggles at her still unruly hair and you grimace in embarrassment. Suddenly, the front door opens and Riko sees who it is, before you could grab the spare brush from your bag, she suddenly jumps out of your arms and makes a beeline for the door.

“Papa, papa!”

You turn around and though the sight pains you to this day, somehow, you’re starting to learn to live with the fact that things are always bound to change with time and that this is what Suguru would have wanted: a loving and complete family for his little girl. You wrap Riko’s bento and place it in her lunchbox before going to greet the visitor.

“Hi, babe.” He turns to meet your lips for a sweet kiss, balancing Riko in his strong arms.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

[livelaughpeg]

I'm writing this from a throwaway account, because you know...Scientology.

I want to preface this post by saying I am not one of those "I knew it all along!" people. I can't stand that attitude. I was pretty ambivelant towards Neil Gaiman. Prior to the allegations, I didn't hate him but I wasn't that interested in him as a person either. I don't think you can always tell when someone is a bad or good person simply by the topics they write about. If that was the case we'd be arresting every horror writer on earth.

But one thing that did always rub me up the wrong way was the way he talked about getting work.

I borrowed and read "Make Good Art" (a small book based on a speech he gave to graduates at the University of the Arts) at a time in my life that I was really struggling to get by (I still am to some extent, but in a different way). I expected to see some practical advice. Instead it was a bunch of glib shit like:

I got out into the world, I wrote, and I became a better writer the more I wrote, and I wrote some more, and nobody ever seemed to mind that I was making it up as I went along, they just read what I wrote and they paid for it, or they didn’t, and often they commissioned me to write something else for them. Looking back, I’ve had a remarkable ride. I’m not sure I can call it a career, because a career implies that I had some kind of career plan, and I never did. The nearest thing I had was a list I made when I was 15 of everything I wanted to do: to write an adult novel, a children’s book, a comic, a movie, record an audiobook, write an episode of Doctor Who… and so on. I didn’t have a career. I just did the next thing on the list.

Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do. Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn’t matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

Yeah, well, no shit. If you're a writer or artist you probably do anyway. Whether you get paid for it or not, whether you draw fan art or original art. But the point of Gaiman's speech was to give advice to people who wanted to be paid for their art. To make a career of it. Making art every day isn't always enough. You have to pay the damn rent, you have to eat, you have to network and do social media and promote yourself, and you have to do it while thousands of other people are doing the same thing in a massive crowd of people who want the same thing. Practical advice is much more valuable than platitudes and theory.

I am not a writer, I'm an illustrator, and let me tell you that for most people, 'getting your foot in the door' isn't a one time thing. Quite often you have to work at getting your foot in the door again and again until you become established, and it's very easy to be forgotten. I still feel like I'm in that stage now.

I watched my peers, and my friends, and the ones who were older than me and watch how miserable some of them were: I’d listen to them telling me that they couldn’t envisage a world where they did what they had always wanted to do any more, because now they had to earn a certain amount every month just to keep where they were. They couldn’t go and do the things that mattered, and that they had really wanted to do; and that seemed as a big a tragedy as any problem of failure.

The implication was that he was successful because he wrote every day and his friends weren't because they didn't, because you know, working a second job is tiring. He called this a tragedy, but there was something very glib about the way he narrated this.

I think someone had more financial cushion that he was letting on.

And yes, sometimes it does work that way, (some people are very lucky and make all the right connections) but Gaiman was getting Big Jobs right off the bat and something about that never smelt right to me after the way he talked about it.

And then I saw Jeff's tweets. Oh, that's why...

I suspect the truth is he was living off his family's money and connections, and while I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that if you're a struggling artist, his family are Scientologists, and I don't think he ever struggled.

I suspect it's all a lie.

[slayfics]

Katsuki reaches out to you after ghosting you.

Katsuki rested his head back on the headrest in the car chauffeuring him to his hotel. He had been on this mission for 11 days now on the other side of the country than he was used to. He was thankful this mission had a driver who specifically worked with chauffeuring heroes around. It meant not running into Uber drivers that were fans. Most importantly, the agency that assigned the chauffeur to Katsuki knew to pick out drivers who didn't make small talk.

Katsuki put in his earphones for the drive wanting to drown out the day's events in music. The problem was he had no idea what the hell to listen to. That's when he wondered. Were you awake? Were you listening to something?

Back in U.A., you, Eijiro, and Denki bugged the crap out of him until he agreed to join you all in a dumb-ass video game you three were obsessed with. He hated video games and thought they were a waste of time. But, he gave in just so you all would shut up. He even made a Discord to join in voice chat.

Although, It didn't take long for him to get angry at the game and accidentally explode his computer. He still kept the Discord app, however, and even installed it on his phone. From time to time he looked to see if you all still joined in the same voice chat to play whatever game caught your interest. The times he saw you all talking were few and far between now that everyone was busy with hero work. He had noticed though, that whenever you listened to Spotify it showed on Discord what song you were listening to.

From time to time when he was away on extended missions he'd look to see what you were listening to. It was hard when he was away. He knew he wasn't good at words. Honestly, he'd rather shoot himself than call you and say some dumb mushy shit like he missed you. Sometimes he hated that he was this way. He'd seen Eijiro communicate so easily with Mina every time he was away, why couldn't he be like that? Why was this shit so hard for him?

Katsuki opened his discord and saw you were indeed listening to Spotify. He clicked on your username and it popped up that you were listening to Shirt by SZA. He navigated to his own Spotify to play the same song and read the lyrics along with the song. Some of the lyrics jumped out at him.

Kiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me

In the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it

Is that how you felt about him? Lost and in the dark? Did his actions when he was with you not carry through the space and time when his hero work kept him away from you?

He knew he should have called you, texted you, or something in the past 11 days he was gone but- You could have called him too. Damn it. Why did you both have to be so fucking stubborn? Katsuki inhaled sharply. He was probably just thinking too much about it. Even though he hadn't listened well to this song before, he knew it was popular at the moment. That was probably the only reason you were listening to it. He was being too egotistical making it about him. Surly you were fine while he was gone.

The song ended and he navigated back to Discord to see what song you were listening to now. That's when his eyes widened, grip tightened on his phone, breath caught in his throat. You were listening to that damn stupid song the class of 1A played at the summer festival. The one he played the drums in all those years ago.

You were thinking about him. Fuck. He ran his hands over his face frustrated with himself. If he were more like Eijiro even that fucking idiot Midoriya, you'd never question how he felt about you because he'd be able to say easily and gracefully. The fact was though, that just wasn't him, and he just couldn't. Simple as that. However, this did give him the slap in the face he needed to reach out to you.

Katsuki opened his messages and scrolled down to his text thread with you to type out a message.

I'll be back next week, what are your days off?

He watched anxiously as three dots appeared while you typed. Would you tell him off for not reaching out to you for almost two weeks? Would you accuse him of not caring?

I have Monday and Tuesday off.

Can I see you Monday?

Your next response left a lump in his throat and mist in his eyes.

You can see me whenever you want Katsuki.

You were too forgiving of him, too patient and he knew he didn't deserve it. You deserved someone who could say all that fucking cheesy shit, someone that didn't ghost you for two weeks because they were afraid of their feelings. But for some reason, you never seemed to mind, and you always welcomed him back in. He tried so fucking hard to show it when he was there, and he hoped that you were seeing it. He was trying. In the best way that he could.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover

[bunny-1111]

Wooooo Theo requests are opennnnnn

Could we have some jealous Theo pls?

Ofc you can... jealous Theo, here we go.

Word count: 1.8k

warning: swearing, aggressive behaviour, sexual innuendo

unread or edited

likes, comments and reblogs highly appreciated <3

...

It was unusual for you to intentionally piss Theo off, yes, you loved to tease him from time to time, but Theodore Nott has always been a hot-headed assassin if you push him far enough.

That brings you to today, more specifically, one hour and three minutes ago, when Professor Snape entrusted your class to choose partners for an upcoming assignment.

Of course, as usual, you had made your way to Theo to get started. To your complete surprise, your teddy was already settled and started with none other than Daphne Greengrass.

The problem with Greengrass was that she and Theodore were both house Prefects together, and their corridor patrol had already been a tense conversation topic during your last argument.

She kept him from you. Yes, it was mandatory, but respecting your girlfriend's boundaries should also be compulsory, you recall stating. He kissed your forehead and muttered something about you being overdramatic.

So you suck your teeth and tap him on the shoulder, his body turning to you with such imperturbable composure that it was almost as if you were interrupting.

"Work together?" you smiled, your lips too tight

His hand had gestured back to Daphne. "I can't, Greengrass bet you to it, darling", he explained, letting out an almost nervous chuckle.

You took a moment to scan the scene; we're playing this game, sure, game on.

"Really?" You questioned, your voice a little higher than usual, only to be met with a nod, so you smiled once more before leaving him with a quick peck on his cheek.

That brings you to now, watching them from a distance, the quill in your hand threatening to snap from the grip you held.

"Oh, come on, working with me can't be that bad, can it?" Lorenzo joked, gently insinuating to let go of your death grip before ink exploded everywhere

"No Enzo, it's not, just plotting for murder" you sigh, nudging your head in Theo's direction

"don't go all dark on us common folk, kid" he laughed

"Oh, I'm not. The rest of you are safe... for now," you joke back

"But seriously, Enz" you continue, throwing your hand in their direction.

"Yeah, well, I'd say bring it up tonight, but your boy's got patrol tonight too. He told us he can't come for a late-night fly, you see," rambled Enzo, now joining your stare towards Theo and Daphne.

"He does?" you beam

"He does." Enzo states

You nod as your face reflects a plan coming into your mind, a taste of his own medicine

"Oh no, I don't like that look." warns Enzo

"I don't know what you're referring to?" you practically sing

"What's more, I don't like that tone in you're the voice," he says, moving slightly away from you.

"Have I ever told you how much I appreciate our friendship, Enz?" You almost pout

"Nope, no, don't start this", he complains

"How about for two hundred galleons?" you pry

"Ok, what're we doing" he smiles.

By the time dinner rolled around, you had made an undeniable choice not to sit next to Theodore. Instead, you nestled between Blaise and Lorenzo, moving in closer to Enzo than comfortable. Laughing a little too loud at his jokes, holding eye contact for a second too long.

You observed Theo's demeanour across from you. His fork clattered against his plate, his appetite visibly waning. Across the table, his dark eyes narrowed, flicking between you and Lorenzo.

It was working, and you would finish with a bang.

When Lorenzo reached out of his pocket a small piece of parchment and passed it into your hand without shame. Taking the paper you open it, smile and nod his way.

By instinct, Theodore's hand shot over the table to examine the note for himself, but you were a step ahead, moving it just out of his reach, before shoving it in your own pocket.

"Passing notes to your best friend, girl, huh, Enz?" Theos tone ice cold

"For our assignment in Snape's class, ain't that right?" Enzo smiled playfully, knocking his shoulder into your own

"Right, Snapes class" you reply

"ah shit, I slept in this morning. Who'd I get paired up with?" complained Mattheo

"Don't stress, Riddle. We get to pick; it's whoever you'd like," you explain, your eyes not leaving a now agitated Theo.

By the end of dinner, you’d had enough fun—almost. As you stood to leave, Theo caught your arm.

“Come by tonight?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You smiled,  sharp. “I can’t, things to do. You’ve got patrol, remember? Have fun.” turning on your heels, leaving him strained.

Theodore almost constantly got his way, but this, this had to be dealt with; what the fuck was your problem and what the fuck were you up to.

Late into the night, Theodore walked cooly through the dungeons, Daphne beside him; as they walked, Daphne rambled on about Merlin knows, but Theodore didn't hear a word. He heard quick, shuffled footsteps around the corner; assuming it was some trouble-making third years, he quickened his pace.

As he approaches closer, he finally spots a shadow, as he squints his eyes he thinks he can make the shape out to be a girl

"Hey, stop right there!" he calls out, his voice echoing back in the quite of the night

Turning around you prepare to shrug your shoulders or run, depending on his reaction

"Alright, caught me fair and square, Officer Nott," you say mockingly holding your hands up

"Baby? The fuck are you doing, do you know what time it is?" he rushes brows furrowed, hand reaching for your face, he almost feels the need to examine you for injury, you're never out this late.

"I'm just fine, you won't write me up for this, will you," you grin taking a step away from him "Hi Daphne," you say as she comes around the corner

Before Theodore could reply or get an answer from you loud footsteps are heard again, this time not coming from you

"Are you with someone" he spills out, his voice sharp, accusatory

Opening your mouth to answer, before you could get a word out Lorenzo appears from the corner behind you

"You ready?" Enzo calls out to you then turns to Theo. "Hey mate, patrol kicking your ass or what?" he laughs walking to your side

"No, but I'll be kicking your ass if you don't explain to me why the fuck you're meeting my girlfriend at half past one in the morning?" Theo practically growled

"We're going to the astronomy tower, if you'll excuse us" you explain brows raised, attempting to walk off with Enzo, before Lornezo and yourself could walk all but four steps, Theos extending his rough hand to Enzos chest, halting any movenmt

"I don't think so, Daphne if you wouldn't mind walking Mr Berkshire here to his dorm, make sure he gets to bed" Theo demands, stalking closer. "I'll handle trouble of here myself" His eyes darkening as his hand finds your back immediately ushering you away before Daphne can even agree.

Theodore took you down a long hallway, out of sight before pressing you against a wall "The fuck kind of game are you playing with me, you think this shits gonna slide with me?" he mumbles as his hand slides up the wall behind you

"I was just seeing a friend, we were gonna work on Snapes project" you protest

"Yeah not on my fucking watch you're not" his voice now raised

"We're trying to sleep here!" A portrait from above calls out

"See don't want to upset the paintings now do we, I'll be going" you smile foot in front of the other, before you feel a pull forcing you back in your place, Theodore fingers gripping you by the loop of your jeans

"you got a real knack for pissing me off, y'know that," he says, his lips inches away from yours, his voice low

"feelings mutual, Nott" you mutter

Before you can protest anymore, his lips come crashing down onto yours, heavy, rough, possessive. You try to wrap your arms around him only to be met with his hands tight-gripped on each side of your hips, like he is trying to anchor himself. He was literally putting you in your place as his lips left yours too quickly

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

"Let me make something clear, try to get it through your thick, fucking, skull", he spat, his finger gently digging into your temple

"I'm not spending tonight with Greengrass by choice alright, I know why your doing this shit, you have nothing to worry about, don't give me a damn reason to question you" he rants

"I-" you interject

"No, I'm talking." he interrupts

"I don't share whats mine, you're mine" he continues his tone so sharp, it wasn't up for question, all you could do was nod

"So now you're gonna say sorry, Theodore and then we're gonna go to my dorm, so when you get to Snapes class tomorrow, you'll be limping" he orders

"I'm sorry" you say almost too quickly hoping the two words would be enough to get you to his dorm as soon as possible

"Good girl, I'm sorry too, for not making things with Daphne clearer, we belong to each other you and me" he says as his hand rubs up and down your arm

You nod once again in agreement

"Now what the fuck to do about Enzo" he laughs, cracking his knuckles as if to prepare

"No! I paid him to do this, I knew you'd be on shift, I knew you'd catch us" you ramble out

The confession makes Theo stop dead in his tracks

"You what?"

"I didn't know what else to do" you admit

"How much did he take?" he almost smiles

"300" you mutter

"that cheap git" he spits out

"Alright" he mutters picking you up throwing you over his shoulder

"Hey!" you yelp out

"Shut it!" a portrait from above called out

Ignoring the crowd above completely, Theo picks up his pace. "So this time, you can't run away", he says, tightening his grip on your thigh.

Let's just say the next morning in Snape's class, partners were swapped very quickly, Theodore insisting Lorenzo and Daphne were stationed on the opposite side of class; coincidence? Highly unlikely.

woohoo jealous teddy put me in my place next

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day twenty five

prompt: magic pairing: lando/oscar word count: 900w

Oscar’s got his magic pretty much under control now that he’s older. There were a few incidents, when he was a kid, that time he accidentally floated all the furniture in the classroom because he was so happy he got an A+ on a test, that time he made it rain inside for a whole day because his pet rabbit died. But it’s all good now. No more weird incidents. No more letting his emotions control his magic.

Until Lando Norris walks into the break room at work and Oscar’s magic promptly sets the microwave on fire.

“Uh,” Lando Norris says. “Is that normal?”

“No,” Oscar grits out through clenched teeth, desperately petting at the microwave with a tea towel to make it stop doing the fire thing. It’s magical fire, though, so it doesn’t really care much about the laws of nature. Or about embarrassing Oscar in front of his crush.

Lando started working for their Design department roughly eight months ago, right around the time Oscar and Lily had finally called it quits after months and months of pretending everything was still fine between them.

And so Oscar hadn’t paid attention much, at first. Too wrapped up in his own life problems. But then the pain of the break up faded into a dull ache and suddenly Lando was there, with his cute smile and his mesmerizing eyes and his half unbuttoned shirts and Oscar had fallen hook, line, sinker.

Which was fine. Not a problem at all. Oscar had crushes before. It’s fine.

But then his magic gets involved. And that’s when shit starts hitting the fan.

“Okay, no, fuck this,” Alex says, diving under his desk, as all the pens in the office fly up into the sky and start spelling out terms of endearment above Lando and Oscar’s head.

“Ah,” Oscar says.

“Uh,” Lando says, staring up, squinting to read what’s being spelled. “Honey cakes?”

Oscar frantically tries to get his heart rate back to a normal level. All Lando had done was ask him to borrow a pen, and then their hands had brushed when Oscar handed one to him. And now this.

“Sugarplum,” Lando says. “Well, at least they’re creative. Does this happen often?”

“NEVER,” Alex hollers from under the desk, just as Oscar says, “Oh, all the time. Average accounting bullshit, you know how it is.”

“Hm,” Lando says. “Cool. Maybe I should switch departments.”

“DON’T YOU DARE” Alex hollers. “It’s pretty boring, all things considered,” Oscar says.

“I mean, yeah, but you’re here, right? So can’t be that boring,” Lando says.

The pens explode in a cloud of rainbow colored heart shaped confetti. Alex’s scream can be heard three floors down.

--

“Hey,” Lando says, a few days later. “I think we should talk.”

Oscar winces. “Is this about the fridge?”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “No? What’s wrong with the fridge?”

The fridge is currently full of all of Lando’s favorite snacks. Every time someone puts their lunchbox in it just turns into a pouch of capri sun. They have yet to figure out a way to fix it. “Nothing, the fridge is fine.”

“Oookay,” Lando says, sitting down on Oscar’s desk. Behind him, a stack of quarterly reports Oscar had printed out earlier start folding themselves into heart shapes. “Anyway, not why I was here. I actually, uh. Wanted to ask you something?” He fidgets with his hands.

Oscar steels himself. This has to be about the magic thing. Lando’s had enough of all the insanity, wants him to stop. Wants him to never talk to him again. Oscar wonders if it would be expensive to move to Iceland. Or maybe he can just find a really big forest somewhere. Those exists, right? No one would ever have to see him again.

“Do you… Would you want to go out with me?” Lando asks, looking up genuinely nervous.

“What.” Oscar says. Behind Lando, the swarm of origami hearts freezes midair.

“Like, on a date?” He fidgets with his hands. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to! It’s just I would really like to and everyone keeps telling me to go for it, that it’s like, obvious or whatever, but. I don’t know. If you don’t want to. I know you just got out of a serious relationship and such.”

“That was months ago,” Oscar says. “I mean, Lily and me. That’s. That’s actually so not the point right now, I’m. You want to? Go on a date? With me?”

Lando smiles, even though it’s a little brittle, a little unsure. “I would, yeah.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, and then promptly leans forward to kiss Lando on the mouth.

It’s a bit inappropriate, maybe, but it’s not like there’s anyone actually currently in the office. It’s late, most of the lights are turned off, so it’s just Lando and Oscar and the hundreds of paper origami hearts that flutter around them like little butterflies as Oscar kisses Lando like a starving man.

And Lando responds in earnest, kisses him back just as urgently, like he’s been waiting for this moment, too. When they pull away, Oscar leans his forehead against Lando’s, lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Mint,” Lando says, beaming at him. And then, because he’s a little shit. “My sugarplum.”

[maya-caffrey]

Short Circuit

pairing: connor (rk800) x reader words: 1k summary: reader sees Connor outside of work for the first time in normal human clothes and dies a little bit (comedy, fluff) warnings: language, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov a/n: let's pretend this is after the good ending and androids can own property now cause we're going to Connor's place etc

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words cannot describe the amount of hate I have for Fowler. On my day off he asks me to take some evidence over to Connor for a 'quick analysis', like, Jesus Christ dude wait for the labwork like the rest of us. The nerve of this guy, honestly. Anyway, if you were wondering why I was driving to Connor's place first thing on a Sunday, that was it.

Yes, I hate my boss, how original, but I would never pass up an opportunity to see Connor. Sure, he's my colleague, but he's also my friend. And also I may be in love with him have a normal, tiny, minuscule crush on him. I don't know how it happened, I didn't even realize it, but yes, I do, in fact, have feelings for Connor. "Oh but he's an andro-" Go fuck yourself, he's more human than most people these days.

Before I realized it, I was at his place and almost knocked on his door. Almost being the keyword here, because I heard a voice from the inside.

"Detective! Just a minute. I will be right there."

"Holy shit, how did you know? Let me guess, X-ray vision?" It's always something with him. Of course, Cyberlife's most intelligent android comes with X-ray vision. I feel stupid for not guessing right away. Wait, does this mean he had X-ray vision all this time? That feels like an ethical grey area. Is that allowed? My rapid descent down that rabbit hole was interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked.

"Ring Camera. Come on in!" He led me inside and I absent-mindedly followed him before I noticed it. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Connor Anderson (legal name, yes), android detective by day, who famously only wore suits, was standing in front of me, in goddamn sweats. And he looked like he stepped right out of my dreams.

I did not know it was possible to be any level of attractive in fucking pajamas, but oh my god, it absolutely was. He looked hot as hell. I don't know if it was from having only seen him in formals, or the fact that Kamski knowingly made a hottie, but I was reveling in this sight.

His T-shirt fit him exactly as it should have, and his sleeves stopped halfway through the biceps I didn't even know he had. His hair looked unkempt and tousled, which was questionable because there's no way he slept, right? I was very sure he could hear my heartbeat because that sucker was betraying me and beating way too fast.

I could not form coherent thoughts for another full minute or so. I am not even holding back, he genuinely looked so attractive he quite literally stole my breath away. All I could do was mumble nonsense while staring at him like I misplaced my glasses.

"Detective, are you alright?"

"What? Me? Yeah, no problem, bud." Bud???? I'd have slapped myself if I could.

"Your body temperature is rapidly rising and your heart is displaying signs of arrhythmia. I suggest we-"

"I suggest we nothing, Connor. I promise I'm fine." See that kids, right there, is what we call a bald-faced lie.

"If you say so. What brings you here, detective?"

"Detective? Come on, we're not at work, man. Chill."

"Alright then, (Y/n), what brings you here?" (Y/n). The way he said my name made me want to explode. Sure, everyone says my name, its my name but oh my god, when he says it, he makes me want to change my last name to his. Which would be Hank's. Huh. That's weird.

"Right, yeah, work stuff. Fowler sent me with evidence for you to analyze. Apparently, they can't wait for the lab like the rest of us mortals." I shoved the file into his hands a little too quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how my hands were shaking. He noticed.

"Your hands are trembling." Of course he noticed. Connor notices everything.

"I'm just… cold," I lied, despite standing in his very well-heated apartment.

Connor tilted his head slightly, that signature analytical look of his making me want to crawl under a rock. "You appear to be experiencing stress. Should I—"

"Connor, no. I don't need an analysis, I need to… sit down." That was the best I could come up with. Great. Very smooth.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing toward his couch. I moved to sit down, hoping a change of scenery would calm my nerves. It didn’t.

Connor sat across from me, still in those damn sweatpants, his expression unreadable as he opened the file and started flipping through its contents. His focus should’ve made me feel at ease- it was just Connor being Connor- but instead, I found myself staring at his hands. They were annoyingly perfect, like the rest of him, and I couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like if he- nope. No. Abort mission.

"Is something wrong with the file?" he asked suddenly, looking up.

"What? No! The file's fine. Great file. Top-tier evidence. You're gonna love it." Jesus Christ, someone take my mouth away.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "You’re behaving… unusually."

"I’m behaving perfectly normal," I said, crossing my arms in what I hoped was a casual way but probably looked defensive. "Maybe you're the one behaving unusually. I mean, sweatpants? Who are you and what have you done with Connor?"

He blinked, then looked down at himself as if realizing for the first time what he was wearing. "Hank suggested I try some human rituals like pajamas and sleep to better accommodate my deviancy. He claims it’s a key aspect of ‘human relaxation.’ Was this choice inappropriate?"

"No!" I said, a little too quickly. "No, you look—" amazing, perfect, hotter than anyone has a right to look "—fine. You look fine."

Connor studied me for a moment, and I swear I saw the faintest flicker of amusement cross his face. Was he… smirking? Oh no. Oh no, he knew.

"You should consider it," he said, casually returning to the file.

"Consider what?"

"Relaxing. You seem… tense."

And just like that, the ball was back in his court. I was flustered, he was composed, and I was left wondering how I was supposed to get through the rest of this visit without making a complete fool of myself.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

a/n: y'all, this is my first time writing dbh, sorry if it sucks T_T

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[franavu]

While the Archheart's plan seems completely in character for a chaotic god who just wants out of their current situation (kudos to Abubakar), it's also an absolutely terrible idea. Let's say the absolutely best case scenario is going to happen. In that best case:

Imogen and/or Fearne can control Predathos enough that they're not completely erased (this would be the least important part in the grand scheme of things.)

When Predathos is syphoned from the moon it only takes the energy and doesn't cause the moon to crack/explode/implode, causing it to rain chunks of moon down on Exandria.

All the gods actually leave. This is not a certainty as per Taliesin the Wildmother has invested so much of herself in the world that she likely can't leave. I would imagine that that means that the Lawbearer is sticking around as well. Not to mention what would happen to the Chained Oblivion, it's not the same as the other gods, and as far as I know it only showed up sometime during the schism. (Is it even prey for Predathos? Is it of the same species? Would there be a Chained Oblivion Predathos Kaiju battle, with Exandria as the battleground? Who knows?)

On the way out the lower and higher planes get locked down so there is no extraplanar invasion. (The biggest worry would be demons/devils but I can imagine planetars etc. can make a problem of themselves if they see a good cause)

On the way out Predathos doesn't decide to snack on lesser divine beings/things (Uk'otoa, parts of the Luxon, etc) leaving its mutating properties behind. (see the Savalir wood)

The bloody bridge gets dissolved and doesn't tear Exandria's magic apart.

Now, in the absolute best case scenario, none of the above is going to be a problem. Regardless, what is going to be a problem:

Divine magic is going to be weakened at the least. The number of divine healers is going to tank, and while there are lesser beings that can grant divine magic, and it is possible, but difficult, to wield it without any (see Calamity). That's going to take a while to sort out, and in the meantime there's going to be a lot less healing.

A lot of things that got out during the Solstice are still out, like the Phoenix thing that is similar to Uk'otoa (which is probably out again as well) and they are a lot more difficult to seal without divine aid.

There is also still a significant invasion force of Ruidians that are going to be a problem, not to mention the Ruby Vanguard

With the gods gone, a lot of semi-divine powers, whether good or bad, are going to be empowered through new followers and/or warlock pacts, without anyone to keep them in line (again, see Artagan or Uk'otoa)

Vasselheim, the oldest city in the world, is going to have massive issues of at least morale, and is likely not going to be in a state to do anything outside of its own borders.

Other political entities are also going to be looking inwards, consolidating their own resources, and shedding their pereferies. I'd say that, for example, the Dwendalian Empire is likely going to shrink. Countries that are less effected by the loss of the gods, may very well go to war. Places that have been protected by the gods are going to lose that protection, Niirdal-Poc and the other cities which were protected by the Wildmother are probaly going to be run over by the Iron Authority.

Outside of actual war, demagogues, warlords, cult leaders, etc. are going to spring up in the chaos, with various degrees of violence.

And finally there is the biggest problem, wizards. Since long before the Calamity the holy grail of magic was ascension to godhood, and now the thrones are empty. A whole bunch of wizards are going to try for them, and in the best case scenario they fail and only take a chunk of empty countryside with them. In the worst case they succeed, seeing that wizards who's ambition is godhood absolutely should not have it. And now there is no divine gate or other deities to curtail them. So there'll soon be a new, worse pantheon.

So the Archheart is right, there will be a new balance, but as that usually goes, the new balance is going to be built on a pile of corpses, and is likely going to be worse than the previous one.

But hey,