#but i wanted to make it extremely close to their canon voices for a reason

[strawberry-nugget]

Chapter 2 // prev. chapter

~Technically this should be your fresh start. Moving to Japan as a single mom and getting a regular job, living the peaceful life you've always wanted. But trouble finds you in every corner, taking either the form of those weird monstrous things you catch in a blurry half gaze ocassionally, or of that extremely hot single dad, whose son, Megumi is friends with your daughter.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, canon divergence, single parents au!, slow burn(ish), car sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, handjobs (yes while driving), creampies, kinda sleazy Toji, reader can see curses, drifting

Word Count: 9,9k

It’s been a week since he came to your house.

The days stretch long, hot, and quiet. Toji hasn’t texted again. Not a meme, not a dad joke, not even an accidental thumbs-up reaction to his own message so you can convince yourself he checks maniacally for a response as much as you want to give him one.

Still, it’s only ever just that single message from the other night staring at you from behind the screen. The one he dropped between you like a match and walked away before it could catch fire.

You figure something must’ve come up. Probably Megumi—maybe he got a cold, or got that dreadful stomach flu that’s been going around that you are praying your daughter doesn’t get as well.

With the way your engine has been growling this whole week, you’d die if you had Mai-Mai cry over her tummy hurting too.

Today, the evening settles in with a haze of humidity and burnt orange sky. You’re under the hood of your car, determined to find the reason behind the weird sounds your engine’s been making—sounds you’re now convinced are from that fucked up gas you filled it up with last week.

Your tank top clings to your back, sticky and damp, your arms streaked in grease, your collarbone darkened with fingerprints of oil and sweat. Your hair’s pulled back but messy, a few strands curling against your temples, and your hands are wrist-deep in wires and metal.

You find yourself thinking about it—the text—as the air thickens and your fingers search for problems in the guts of your car. You’d let it sit too long. That’s what happens when someone like him sends you something so casual, so simple, and you don’t know how to answer without sounding like you’re choking on your own anticipation.

Next time I see you, you better show me how you drift.

He didn’t even add a smiley face. Just that low, heavy suggestion sitting at the bottom of your chat like a weight.

Maybe if you busy yourself enough, you won’t keep replaying his voice in your head. The way he said your name—rough and warm, like it meant something. The soft rasp of it, half-dragged over a laugh. And that look he gave you, like you were a question he was dying to answer with his hands.

It shouldn’t get to you. It’s your own thoughts, you tell yourself. Your imagination going wild. If he’s so casual to be like this with you an hour into knowing you then…He’s probably like that with every woman. Probably doesn’t even remember what he texted. Probably didn’t think twice about the way he leaned too close or brushed your fingers when he handed you his phone or offered to help with getting Mai-Mai into your car like it was instinct.

Still.

Still, you feel him like a pressure behind your ribs. Still, your stomach twists when you think about the way he looked at you up and down.

Now, with sweat beading along your spine and your hands sore, you don’t expect anything except maybe a cold shower and a frozen dinner, if you’re lucky enough.

Luck has always been a weird concept to you though. Maybe it’s that weird manifestation thing you’ve realised you can do, or it’s that gut feeling that something’s bound to happen if you keep thinking about it because there’s no other way you can explain how on earth he runs into you in your backstreet.

For all that's worth it— you hear him before you see him.

It’s like he’s already making a habit out of creeping up on you when you’re bent over your car.

For a prideful moment, you convince yourself he’s just drawn to your ass; then you shove that thought away like a bunched up paper in a trash bin. Like he can’t be.

But you can’t help it—the awareness is instant. Your spine straightens a little, the drag of your fingers slows in the engine, and your mouth goes dry before he even says a word. You tell yourself to be cool. Which works about as well as it usually does.

“Didn’t know you were working on her tonight,” he says, voice low and curved with something unreadable.

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t say hey, doesn’t greet you in a normal way at all, like the two of you are way past that even if it’s just the second time you're seeing each other.

Quick — how do you talk to someone whom you’ve practically ghosted?

You don’t look up right away. Let him wait. Let him see you wipe the sweat from your brow with the back of your wrist, grease smearing your temple. You know you look fucked up, even feel how gross you might look or smell but at least you’re trying to convince yourself you can make it look even a tad bit sexy.

You turn, slow, like you’re not internally vibrating as you are met with the sight of him in a shirt that hugs his frame like it was born there, baggy sweatpants —you ignore the crocs, so you don’t laugh in his face about them and because his biceps look like they’re about to burst. So much that it serves as a great distraction.

“Didn’t plan to,” you say, casual. Careful not too be not too much “She was whining again. Thought I’d check the belts.”

He’s closer now. Arms crossed, weight leaned into one hip, eyes flicking between the hood and the tank top clinging to your ribs. You feel the heat of his stare like a spotlight.

“And? Find anything?” 

“I think it’s the gas I put in it yesterday. So much for trying to get the cheaper choice. I should have known better”

You wipe your palms onto the sides of your cargos at that, turning to fully focus on him. A bead of sweat runs down your chest and he catches it with his eyes, like it’d ever escape him. 

It’s too soon to make such a bold move as to reach his hand and wipe it off—or worse, lick it. The sight punches something low in his gut, drags his attention from the smudge on your neck to the way your fingers curl around your tools with muscle memory. Like you belong there. Like this whole scene belongs on a magazine spread labeled.

“Problem?” You look like you’d just smirk from under your lashes.

“You sure it’s the car that’s whining?” he asks, and there’s that smirk again, like he’s already tasted the silence that follows.

You tilt your head. “You calling me dramatic?”

He almost turns around. Raises both his hands in the air in surrender.

He’s not proud of the part of him that wants to watch you longer, silent, soaking in the view like it’s his business. But he clears his throat and steps into your clear line of sight.

You look up, and he sees it—that flicker in your eyes. The flash of surprise. You cover it quick, but he catches it. Just like he catches the way your jaw tightens. Like you’re mad at yourself for hoping he’d show up.

That's exactly when he knows, he’s got you right where he wants. 

“God, you’re a piece of work, ain't you?”

You shoot him a look that lands somewhere between annoyed and amused. Exactly where he likes to keep you. 

The ball is yours now to shoot.

And you do—only not in the way he expects.

“Haven’t seen you and Megumi all week, is everything alright?”

“He's been feeling under the weather, you know how four year olds catch a bug and suddenly you’re canceling your whole life to wipe noses and warm soup.”

You nod, trying not to show too much relief, or worse—interest. But it’s already out there, raw and embarrassing. The truth is you’ve been wondering. Not just because you’ve missed the kid’s giggles echoing through your living room or the way Toji has that infuriating ability to take up space without asking—but because you care.

“You didn’t tell me” you say, softer now, wiping your hands on your cargos again just for something to do. 

Toji tilts his head. He doesn’t look sorry. Not exactly. But there’s something in the way his gaze narrows, like he’s reading more out of your words than you meant to give.

“Didn’t think you missed me that much.”

You roll your eyes so fast you almost give yourself a headache. “Mai-Mai missed Megumi.”

He hums. “Suuuuure.”

There’s a beat. You’re still half-under the hood, half-exposed to the dying heat of the sun, and Toji’s leaning closer now, like your little denial just fed him instead of shut him down. He taps one knuckle against the frame of the car like he needs something to do with his hands, like he’s trying to anchor himself.

Toji lets out a slow breath. Then, almost too casually, “You know, you could’ve texted too.”

You peek at him from under your arm. “Yeah. I… didn’t know if I should.”

“I texted you first”

“That you did”

“And I hate waiting” he smirks again, pushing past that unspeakable and invisible barrier that should be between you and him -an almost stranger- “you gonna show me how you drift or what?”

You like it— the way he catches you off guard and pushes in closer with just words. And even though he doesn’t say it, he likes seeing you like this too—raw, annoyed, sweat-slicked and glowing in the burn of the sun— it does something to him he’s not ready to unpack, but will, nevertheless.

You ponder about it for a moment. The thought of you showing off how you drift to him, that is.

It’s Friday, there absolutely should be a place in the heart of Tokyo to drift, one of those usual get-togethers that you went to during the week and the idea of winning a drift race, getting money and impressing Toji is too mouth watering. However it’s also illegal. And you can only waste too much of your luck once a week.

Then again, now that you’ve planted this idea in your own head it’s hard to let go of it.

“Well I could-“

“Atta girl” he says and interrupts you, but you don’t wield this simply.

“-tonight.”

Toji blinks at you.

“My sister came to visit so she can watch Mai-Mai, if you can find someone to watch your Megumi” you say “I’ll shower, get ready and I’ll pick you up. And please by love of god, lose the crocs. These guys are gonna eat you up”

Toji snorts, shoulders shaking just a little with the kind of laugh he only lets slip when something really amuses him. You’ve got him aaaaall wrong. But he doesn’t mind, because you are way more readable than you think.

“Didn’t know you cared about my fashion choices,” he says, half-teasing, half-testing. “You trying to get me to impress anyone?”

You blink, mouth parting, but nothing comes out except the faintest uhhh. He grins, like he’s won something you didn’t know you were playing for.

“Thought so,” he mutters, then straightens up and stretches like he’s got all the time in the world, like you didn’t just invite him into a part of your life most people never see. Not just the drifting, but the in-between. The sweat and grease and dumb jokes. The space where he could, if he’s careful, belong.

“Alright then,” he says, nodding, looking just smug enough to be annoying. “I’ll see if the neighbor kid’s mom can take Gumi for a few hours.”

“Great,” you reply, with more bite than grace. “Try not to show up in pajamas.”

Suddenly you find out that keeping this teasing tone between you and him suits the tone and nature of your relationship.

“Can’t make promises, sweetheart.”

You flip him off without even looking, already halfway back under the hood to hide your face.

But Toji just walks away, steps slow, deliberate—grinning like a fucking bastard the whole time. Because tonight, you’re going to show him what that car can do. And he’s going to see exactly how far you’ll go to win. Maybe even how far you’ll go for him.

_____

You pull up outside of his apartment just past nine, the engine a low purr under your seat as you lean an elbow against the window frame. The street is quiet, lights dim and flickering over the cracked pavement, but your car is anything but subtle tonight—cleaned until it gleams under the yellow and orange street lamps, tires still warm from the tension of anticipation.

You text once. 

Well, at least it’s not double texting since he did send you his address after you messaged him asking for it.

You: I’m outside. Don’t take ten years.

A minute later, the front door opens and he steps out, hands in his pockets, wearing the same black compression shirt from before, silver chain catching the light around his neck and fortunately he's made the effort to pair his top with dark , baggy jeans. His hair’s pushed back like he didn’t try too hard, but the second his eyes land on you—really see you—he stops in his tracks.

Because, well yeah, maybe you went a little overboard. Black halter crop top, tight across your ribs open all over your chest, breasts all pushed by just how tight it is, a denim skirt, belt buckle winking like a challenge. Brown leather jacket draped over the back of your seat and matching cowboy boots, lips glossed just enough to look like trouble. 

You’re not even trying to seduce him—at least, you tell yourself that—but there’s something about the way he just stands there, smirking like you’ve already stepped into his trap, that makes your pulse skip.

He opens the passenger side door slowly, leans down just a little, eyes dragging over you as if he’s reading a fucking manual.

“Well, shit.”

You glance over at him, feigning innocence. “Something wrong?”

He huffs a low laugh, gets in, shuts the door.

“Nah,” he says, adjusting his seat in need of a distraction. “Just didn’t know I was gettin’ picked up by a Bond girl.”

You roll your eyes and turn the key, shifting into gear. “Thought I told you to ditch the Crocs.”

He wiggles his foot, now covered in dark sneakers. “I listened. Proud of me?”

“Hmm, yeah yeah” you pout.

But your voice has a rasp to it now, tight in your throat. Because he keeps looking at you—up and down, like he’s taking inventory. Like he can’t decide whether to whistle or bite.

Well, if you were trying to seduce him, you would have loved the way he decides to bite his lip and shakes his head in amusement as he slides into your passenger seat.

“You dress like that for the crowd,” he says, casually, “or for me?”

“I dress like this for me,” you answer, trying to keep your tone flat, steady. But you know he knows it’s a lie. Or at least, not the whole truth.

Uh-oh, he’s onto you.

“Huh,” he says, dragging the syllable out as he settles deeper into the seat, getting too comfortable as he eyes you up and down “So it just happens to be my lucky night, then?”

You don’t reply. Not right away.

But your hand shifts on the wheel. Tightens just a little. Your nails dig into your palm.

And Toji sees it.

He grins like a man who’s just seen the river card fall in his favor.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he says, voice low and continues before he cuts off his own self with a laugh “If you drive like you look tonight… I might actually-”

You snort under your breath, cheeks hot, heart hammering and finally, you turn the keys into the ignition.

___

The city swells around your car in waves of neon and engine growls, headlights slicing through alleys that don’t belong on any map. You’re driving fast enough to make the suspension whisper, but smooth enough not to jostle Toji in the passenger seat—he hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, which is impressive considering he’d been side-eyeing your outfit since he stepped out of the house.

Now, he’s sprawled in your passenger seat like he owns the damn thing—legs open, one knee bouncing, hand tapping against the door in slow, rhythmic thuds, the other resting over his knee. You catch him watching the skyline blur out of the corner of your eye, a faint grin tugging at his mouth like he’s already five steps ahead of wherever you’re going.

“You always take your first dates through a construction zone?” he asks, voice gravelly amused.

You scoff. “This ain’t a date.”

“Mmh,” he hums, not arguing, just letting it hang there between you.

The alley opens.

And there it is.

A rooftop lot that pulses with life—part underground haven, part holy ground. The air here tastes like exhaust and trouble, music pounding from subwoofers stacked on milk crates. Floodlights cut sharp shadows over every cracked patch of asphalt, every spray of tire-burned circles. Hoods are popped. Boots are up. Eyes are watching.

Toji lets out a low whistle and leans forward, elbow on his knee. “You brought me to a damn Fast and Furious reboot,” he says, sounding more entertained than scared.

Your mouth opens and shuts once. You’re tasting how sweet your lipgloss is, smell your perfume—you definitely look the part he states. But….You didn’t do it for him. 

You didn’t.

In retrospect, maybe you shouldn’t have brought him to such an illegal place, you barely even know him and you’ve got a whole kid in a foreign country that ideally, you wouldn’t want to get deported from and you still don’t know if you can trust him and yet as if he reads your mind, Toji chuckles low. 

“Relax. I ain’t judging. Just… surprised you’d bring me here.” His voice dips, almost amused. “Place like this? It’s dangerous.”

You glance at him sideways, engine now idling low. “Thought you liked danger.”

That gets you a sharp look, quick and loaded. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he nods toward the starting line where two modded imports finish a race with the stench of burning rubber curling behind them.

You pull into a spot off to the side and let the engine purr, hands still on the wheel, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek hard enough to cut through the delicate tissue.

You smirk, awkwardly, keeping both hands on the wheel. “You said you hated waiting.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna take me to a pit of unpaid parking tickets.”

You don’t answer—just pull into your usual corner spot, not too far from the start line. You slide the car into park, engine still humming beneath the hood, and finally glance at him. He looks like he belongs here without even trying—black jacket draped open (how did you never notice he was holding one in the first place is behind you), dark eyes roaming the crowd like he’s already assessing which of these men are too drunk to bet against you.

As your usual ritual requests, you just have to open the hood of your car for the world to see. You eye Toji, signaling him to get out of the car and push the button to open your hood before grabbing the door handle.

You step out into the night, a little adrenaline already licking up your spine. The pavement is warm under your boots, and the air’s thick with engine smoke and sweat. Familiar faces nod your way. Some cheer. One girl whistles.

“You judging my taste in extracurriculars?” You mutter, bending over your open hood, this time saving Toji from sparing him a glance to catch him red handed. You’re too sure he’s looking.

Toji shrugs. ���Nah. I’m impressed.”

But the attention Toji draws is different. Curious. Appraising. Some of the other drivers clearly don’t know what to make of him because they’ve never seen him before, and you know that smirk on his face well enough by now—he’s enjoying it.

Someone approaches. A guy in a muscle tee, cocky and slow, eyes flicking from you to Toji. “He your spotter or something?”

“She’s my ride,” Toji says smoothly, before you can open your mouth and your face purses in sourness.

The guy pauses.

And you—deadpan—just raise your brows. “I’m driving. He’s observing.”

Then when the guy shoos away, scared of the death stares by the both of you; you say it.

“I’m gonna race.”

Toji’s brow ticks up. “Yeah?”

You don’t look at him, eyes on the lineup. “I know these guys. They’ll throw down good money if they think they can smoke me.”

A pause. You feel it when he shifts, weight turning just slightly toward you.

“You think you can take them?”

“Oh…” You smile, lips dry. “I know I can.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he clicks his tongue. “Now this I wanna see.”

You wave the marshal over with two fingers, voice steady even as your stomach tightens. “One round, cash in hand. You want drama, I’ll give you smoke.” He nods, even smiles at you and mutters something about being happy to have you back and gives you a playful pat across your shoulder.

“Now we wait” you turn to Toji, who cocks an eyebrow at you, too nonchalant to ask ‘what’.

“See how much people bet”

Something in his gaze darkens. Like he’s found his next betting addiction.

To anyone betting money on you or your car, Toji’s presence is oil on fire.

He doesn’t say anything, not right away—just leans back against your car with his arms crossed over his chest, that lazy, dangerous grin playing at his mouth like he’s more comfortable in this chaos than anyone else. A cigarette dangles between his fingers, untouched. Like he lit it just to pass the time, not because he wanted to smoke. He doesn’t even look at the other guys. Doesn’t have to. They’re already looking at him.

And not kindly.

You hear one mutter behind you, “Who’s the suit?”

Toji catches it, of course he does. Doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Just tips his head slightly in his direction.

“He your sponsor or your bodyguard?” someone else snickers. A guy you’ve smoked twice before, who always bets against you like it’s a personal mission when he’s not racing.

You don’t answer them. You just check your tire pressure again and pop the trunk for your helmet. But Toji… oh, he’s getting that look again. That glint that says he’s seconds away from doing something wicked.

“The helmet’s for you. You’re riding with me”

“Damn,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Should I be wearing a helmet?”

Toji smiles, then rushes into your car when the marshal announces the money price you asked for has finally been gathered.

The crowd’s grown louder by the time you line up. Neon strobes sweep across your dash as you adjust the mirrors, the lights stinging pink and green across Toji’s face. He doesn’t say anything. Just watches you with that sharp, too-aware stare while he’s trying to figure out what exactly you’re made of.

Your opponent rolls up beside you in a lowered RX-7, a veilside one, but it just doesn’t look like yours, decals crawling across the hood, the engine guttural and twitchy.

“Great,” you mutter. “Another twitchy trust fund kid.”

Toji laughs once, low in his throat. “You nervous?”

You tap your fingers on the gearshift. “Not about the race… try not to flinch Pa-”

Toji stills.

Then he smirks, slow and crooked. “I'm not that old now Ma, huh?”

The flag drops before you can even fire back.

You floor it.

The tires shriek, the rear kicks, and the force yanks both your shoulders into the seat as the car surges forward. You’ve done this a hundred times before—breathed this heat, kissed this speed—but something about having Toji beside you, cool and wordless, changes the pulse of the air. Every move you make, he’s watching. Not the road. You. 

Your helmet stands on the floor between his legs and he. doesn’t. flinch. he doesn’t even blink. Like he’s felt this speed and energy before.

That eerie feeling about him is back again.

The second you slam the clutch and whip the wheel, tires screeching, he grins.

It’s not  just any grin.

That feral, toothy thing you’ve only seen from gamblers mid-win or men about to do something stupid.

The first turn comes hard and fast, and you ease into the drift like your body’s stitched into the machine—tires skimming the paint of the barricade, smoke curling behind you like a signature. The RX-7 is just a breath behind, but your line is tighter, smoother.

Another turn comes ahead.

You take the turn tighter than you should. The back fishtails and you catch it clean, body jolting with the force—and he’s laughing. Actually laughing.

“Holy shit,” he says “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Well I did just meet you” you remind him

You can feel the way Toji shifts, not afraid—interested. The corner of your eye catches the way he presses one palm flat to the dash, not because he’s bracing. But because he’s feeling it.

“Are you betting?” you call over the engine.

He grins. “Didn’t have to. You’re already paying me back in full.”

You take the next two curves without thinking, pure muscle memory, slicing through Tokyo’s underbelly like it’s yours to conquer. The final stretch is a blur of lights and screaming engines and one wrong move from chaos.

There’s smoke everywhere and that unpleasant smell of tires melting and merging with the street underneath.

But you don’t miss.

You cross the finish line three seconds ahead from what you had originally counted. And your opponent, distracted by it, crashes the tail of his car, earning the crowd’s distress—Toji’s too.

You win. 

Clean.

The moment the tires screech to a stop, the crowd explodes behind you—cheers, catcalls, people slapping bills into open palms like they can’t believe they lost.

And Toji?

He whistles low, looking at you the whole time. You don’t let him speak, set on pumping a punchline at him. Show off.

You bite back a grin, eyes still on the crowd gathered around your car. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Then he leans in, close enough that his breath slides across your cheek.

“I knew you were a menace,” he says again, voice low and warm.

You grin, still panting, still burning.

But behind his smile—behind the praise—you’re  too naive to see the glint of something darker, something sharper.

A man doing math.

A man realizing just how dangerous and efficient you are when you drive.

And exactly how much he could make off that danger.

____

By the time things have settled down, it’s late. The kind of late where the air gets thick and sticky and makes everything feel a little slower, a little dirtier. The crowd’s thinning out—just the die-hards and the degenerate hangers-on now, loitering with smokes and plastic cups of warm beer.

It’s fine— you like warm beer anyway. But Toji doesn’t; he sets off to fetch two fresh, ice cold cups that you insist are your treat and gets lost in the crowd.

You’re parked under a flickering garage-like light in the back corner of the lot, hood popped open again. The engine’s still ticking as it cools after you’ve spent so much time revving it just for the tired to smoke out, to show off and you’re leaning over it with a wrench in hand, half your weight on one arm, your top clinging to the small of your back. A blotch of grease, smeared across your shoulder looks war paint. You look like the problem, and maybe that’s why someone decides to try you.

You hear the voice before you see him.

“Nice ride,” he says, like he owns the ground you’re standing on. A hand reaches out—dumb and slow—to tap the inside of your engine bay like it’s a vending machine he just fed a coin. “Whatchu say I race you for it and have it towed to me?”

You don’t even look. Just smack his hand away with the flat end of your wrench. Not hard. Not soft either.

“Touch it again,” you say calmly, “and you’ll be the one getting towed.”

He flinches, more from the tone than the contact. “Jesus, it’s just a car.”

You look up then, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. And you’re just a guy. Can’t win even if you tried, pick your battles, king”

He stumbles back with a half-muttered insult and disappears into the night, 

Toji sees all of it from a few feet away, where he’s busy getting cornered by someone -still holding your cups of beer, mind you- while she’s trying way too hard to be interesting. She’s cute, objectively. Tight dress, loud laugh, hands that keep brushing his bicep like they’re gonna conjure something.

And he’s being polite. You hate that he’s being polite. He came here with you, not to smile at strangers in a parking lot.

You remember that saying, that you lose someone the way you find them and something low burns in your throat. It doesn’t have a name, but it’s mean. Ferocious. The same kind of energy you get when a guy tries to overtake you on a drift without earning it.

You wipe your hands on a rag and stomp over, uninvited, the heels of your boots clicking in the loud way you’d normally hate. But here, in this place, it doesn’t fucking matter. The louder, the better.

“Hey, babe,” you say to Toji, sweet as antifreeze. Grabbing your beer from his palm, you loop your arm through his, lean into his shoulder like you’ve been doing it for years, even rub your cheek against his bicep. “You left your phone in the car. Thought maybe you were gonna disappear on me.”

Toji blinks, just once. Then he smiles—slow and wicked, realising what game you’re playing and deciding to raise you, play along.

“Thanks, doll,” he says, playing along instantly. Arm sliding around your waist, fingers settling a little lower than they should, the tap on the clothed skin under your ribs once, twice, thrice. Just enough to be mouthwatering “Didn’t mean to get caught up.”

The girl’s eyes narrow. “Oh. Sorry—I didn’t know you were—”

“You didn’t,” you cut in, unkind, sipping on some of your beer before smiling at her “But now you do.”

She excuses herself fast, face tight, heels clicking back toward the shadows she came from.

Toji turns toward you, still holding on like it’s just the natural thing to do, even if your head shoots away from his shoulder instantly.

“Babe?” he repeats, amused.

Oh you want him.

You shrug, trying to play it off like your heart isn’t doing acrobatics in your ribcage. “I panicked.”

“That was hot,” he says plainly. “You got a little mean in you.”

You pull back just enough to see the look on his face. Half impressed, half something else you don’t wanna name. You simply sip on some more of your beer.

“Don’t get used to it,” you say. “You can’t survive here if you ain’t mean”

Toji hums like he agrees, but his eyes haven’t left yours—not really. He lifts his beer and clinks the rim of it lightly against yours, like a toast without words. You both drink in sync, long pulls that drain half the cup in one go. It goes down easy, sharp and cold, numbing the edges of whatever that little scene stirred up between you.

“Let’s get outta here,” you say after a beat, voice low, head tipping toward the lot’s exit. 

“Before I start a fight just to watch you finish it.” 

Toji jokes, but you don’t need convincing in this setting. The heat’s still clinging to your back, sweat drying sticky beneath your tank top, grease on your skin catching the green light of the overhead bulb like armor. You’re tired, wired, and suddenly hyper aware of how close Toji is walking beside you.

Of course you’d give him anything he asks for right now.

However, you’ve got a daughter at home, no need to get tougher and end up with a new set of mugshots.

Toji just grins, like he can read your mind again, drinking the rest of his beer like he’s hot nothing to apologise about. Like he knows you would pick a fight for him.

By the time you toss the empty cups into a trash barrel and slide into your car, the lot’s almost dead. Only the die-hards remain, arguing over borrowed tires and split winnings. Toji settles into the passenger seat like he’s done it a hundred times, arm slung lazily over the back of your seat. His thigh brushes yours when you shift gears. Neither of you mention it.

The engine rumbles to life with a low, satisfied growl.

You’re halfway back to your place, cutting through city streets that still buzz with leftover adrenaline. The windows are cracked, the cool night air threading through sweat-slicked skin. Your hands are still loose on the wheel, fingers flexing now and then, like your body hasn’t figured out the race is over, like you’re drifting still for the final price.

Toji’s in the passenger seat, silent in that way of his. Not tense, not uncomfortable—just… watching. Legs spread like he owns the floor space. Arm braced against the door. He glances over every so often, and every so often you feel it burn into the side of your face.

You let him smoke inside your car and you do too, silently, only asking for his lighter every now and then.

You pull up to a red light. One of those long ones, the kind that sits forever like it’s waiting for something to happen. Toji exhales slowly. And you take it as a sign he’s trying not to say something.

You cut a look at him, not letting it slide. “What?”

“Nothing….You’re a good driver.”

You scoff. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He hums, lazy. “You get cocky when you win.”

“You get quiet when you want something.”

That earns you a look. A real one. And he turns in his seat, just a little, so he’s angled toward you more than the road.

The light is still red.

And your fingers are tightening slightly on the wheel, but your chest is stupidly loud. Stupidly full. You expect the next moment like you knew it would happen the second you chose that good tasting lip gloss.

Toji reaches over—slow, deliberate—and brushes a stray piece of hair from your cheek with the tips of his fingers and slides across the underline of your jawline. Doesn’t say anything. Just lets his fingers rest there, at the middle of your chin, light as breath. He’s giving you a chance to stop him, when he knows you won’t.

You don’t.

He leans in. Not fast, not hesitant either. Just sure.

You meet him halfway.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy and warm, your lips a little dry despite the lip gloss, the center console pressing awkwardly into your ribs—but none of it matters. 

It’s his hand coming up to cradle your jaw, it’s the taste of the night still clinging to both of you, the ash and spice and sugar from juice boxes and late dinners. It’s heat that doesn’t come from the engine.

His lips press hungrily against yours, dangerously, fuelled with the intention to bruise as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth the second he feels you try to pull back.

He bites down, hard enough to draw blood and smiles against your lips when you pull back.

The light turns green.

You don’t move. The road is empty anyway. You simply kiss him again, more fiercely than how you initially did and Toji knows—he knows he calculated right. So he kisses you softer, pressing his face into you, his nose bunching as it collides with your cheek.

Toji breaks first, resting his forehead against yours. Breathing heavier than before. “Shit,” he mutters. “You taste so good, you’re gonna get me in trouble.”

You blink, trying not to smile from your nervousness. You’re flustered and taken aback.

He laughs under his breath.

And when you drive off again, neither of you say much—but your hand stays close to the gearshift, and his stays a little too close to yours.

The city hums low outside, golden streetlights stretching across the windshield like molten wire. Your hand shifts gears, heart hammering like you’re still at the start line of a race. Toji hasn’t leaned all the way back yet—still angled toward you, one arm draped over his seat like he might reach for you again, if the car hits another red light.

But you don’t stop this time. You keep driving, one hand firm on the wheel, the other resting just close enough to his thigh that your pinky keeps brushing the denim of his jeans every time you shift. Neither of you talk. It’s thick in the air now—this thing, this pull.

He finally breaks the silence. Quiet. Low.

“I’ve got an idea”

You huff, trying to play it cool even though your chest feels like it’s glowing. “Like what?”

Toji’s mouth curves into something crooked. He doesn’t ask if he can, doesn’t ask if he should, hell he doesn’t even keep any form of good manners as he shoves his foot out of the window, manspreads even further into your car and then turn to you. He runs his fingers down your neck and hisses, edging low, low, low to the v line of your halter top.

You gulp. Hands twitching on the gearshift and the steering wheel, sparing him a look. Partly because you're scared he’s going to leave a stamp of his shoe in your car, partly because whatever idea he has you know is wicked.

You’d be stupid not to see the bulge print between his legs. And you love the way he touches you smoothly, like water, as he trails his hand over your shoulder, your bicep.

“Gimme your hand” he mutters and you wish he was testing the waters but he isn’t. He snatches your hand, like it’s his to take. “Just tell me when to switch gears”

You don’t answer. You can’t—not without sounding like an idiot, and you’d rather crash this car than let him know just how much that kiss scrambled your thoughts. You shrug instead, eyes making an actual effort to stay on the road, not on his lap, where your hand stands as a prisoner.

He runs his fingers through yours, guides your hand between his legs and urges you to feel. What you’ve done to him. With acting badass, your outfit, the way you kissed him. The way you try to not make it obvious that you want him.

And just like he predicted, you rush. To untangle your fingers, try and work his zippers down, but he’s allowed you to think you’re dominant for way too long.

This is his territory now.

He squeezes your hand like it’s punishment and growls at you. Then he unbuckles his belt and his trousers come shortly after, he takes your hand again and turns his head to you so fast that you can’t help but look back, magnetised by what he’s going to do next.

Toji stares into your eyes and smirks before bringing your palm to his mouth and sticks his tongue out. You feel how hot and wet his breath is when he inches your hand closer and finally after gathering all the spit that’s in his mouth onto his tongue— he licks it.

He shoves your hand into his boxers so quick that you don’t even manage to notice when he even shifts the gearstick.

“Look at the state you’ve got me in.” His voice is raspy, his smirk widening as you feel his hot, hard length throbbing against your palm. “Move your hand” He demands, his voice leaving no room for arguing. “Now.”

His smirk turns into a full-blown grin as he watches you try to focus on driving while his hand guides yours along his length underneath his boxers. “Mhm? Keep driving then.” He challenges softly against your ear before nipping at it playfully.

You burn the next red light.

Your heart is palpitating everywhere in your body, pumping in adrenaline and save for feeling the excitement of fulfilling this dirty little fantasy you’ve always had, you convince yourself whatever’s happening right now is because Toji is pumping in adrenaline too. Be it from the race or that facade you had on. Maybe it’s even the fact that you called him baby, to save him from getting cornered by someone random.

Maybe you gave him the wrong impression. 

Or maybe you gave him the correct one.

Νο matter what you overthink, on your left, Toji throws his head back, laughing darkly as you keep driving, his hand moving your wrist in quick, jerky movements along his length. He’s so hard it’s almost painful, and the fact that you’re trying to focus on the road while he’s being jacked off is only making him harder.

He lets out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly as you continue to stroke him. He leans back in his seat, one hand gripping the gear stick tightly while the other guides your movements, until your hands entangle. 

"Fuck... keep going." His voice is strained, and he bites his lip to suppress another moan.

You feel it, how the hem of his boxers is getting wetter by the second. Your hand moves quick and rough, and unbeknownst to you it’s just how he likes it. He watches your profile, your expression as you drive. Lips pursed tight even if your lip gloss remains strained. 

He realizes you're good at multitasking– handling a car and jacking him off without causing an accident.

He spreads his legs wider unconsciously, giving you better access. His boxers are getting wetter and wetter with pre-cum. He watches your serious expression again– no smirk, just big doe eyes as you turn them over to his direction. Just driving and jacking him off like it's your job. He swallows hard. 

"Baby..." he says, just to jab, sharp, like a wasp.

“You're so fucking good at this." He admits quietly, hips bucking slightly against your hand. He's so hard that your hand can't even close in its own fist, precum leaking from his tip in thick ropes. You move your hand rhythmically, up and down in a hammering motion, thumb barely brushing his tip every few strokes "Keep… fuck, i love that, don’t stop" He orders, softly. 

His eyes roll back and the way you slam on the gas, serves as a promise not to stop.

You feel he's getting closer, as his breathing turns into shallow pants, his cock twitches in your hand. He can feel his balls tightening when he moves past your hand to grasp them; at that, his length throbs in your hand. 

He reaches out blindly with his free hand, grabbing onto your thigh tightly -so very tightly that you think it’s inhuman- as if anchoring himself. "Fuck... I'm gonna come..." He warns hoarsely.

You don’t answer him—not out loud, anyway. You just take the next turn off the main road, rip your hand off him so you can change the gear, tires skimming gravel as you pull into a side lot behind an old batting cage that’s been closed for years. 

Toji audibly protests at the lack of the warmth of your hand, but shuts up, the second you pull the e-break.

Wherever you even are, everything on sight is a wreck. The fence is half fallen, the floodlights dead, and it's only the view of the city that glitters over the rise like it was lit just for you.

You kill the engine, but neither of you move.

Toji raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning the dark lot and you unbuckle your seatbelt so fucking fast, he thinks you could outmatch his own speed.

You pounce onto him, feet moving faster than your brain just to straddle him and your hands wrap around his neck like it’s instinct.

"Oh fuck-" He gasps when you suddenly attack him, his back hitting the seat as you straddle him. His hands immediately go to your waist, gripping it tightly as he looks up at you with slant eyes. Aroused. 

You answer that look.

“You okay?” you ask, voice smaller than you mean for it to be.

He nods, once. Then leans in slow. Like he’s giving you the chance to stop him again. But when you touch your lips to his, you’re practically telling him you don’t want to stop him.

This time, the kiss is heavier. More certain. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek like he’s mapping the shape of your face. He tastes like spice and smoke and something sweeter —your lipgloss— as you’re pulling him closer, chests colliding against each other.

You grind your hips on him and the second you feel his throbbing cock catch your clit through your panties, a moan escapes you. 

You breathe in through your nose, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. It’s too much and not enough. His teeth graze your bottom lip and you hum into it, letting your hand slide up to his shoulder, just to feel the strength there, to anchor yourself before your body forgets it has a shape at all.

He pulls back only slightly, eyes half-lidded, his forehead brushing yours. His gaze fixated on the way your skirt has bunched up on your hips and his hands come, strong and firm to work you onto him.

You blink at him, lips parted. 

You moan but the sound never makes it to fruition— only because your mouth is too busy finding his again.

And in this quiet, empty lot, under a broken streetlight and the hum of the city beyond, you kiss Toji like you don’t care how complicated things will get. Like you don’t know him for a week, like it isn't your second time seeing him.

You’ll allow yourself to feel wanted, you’ll break the celibacy oath to yourself in shreds, You'll feel alright with actually participating into your new life in this new country.

Maybe for once, tonight doesn’t need to make sense. You’re allowed to want something just because it’s yours to want.

And right now, he’s all yours.

You don’t know how long you’re kissing him. Minutes? Hours? Your sense of time slips between the cracks of his hands, the press of his mouth, the warm pulse in your chest that keeps rising, higher and higher, like your body’s chasing something it doesn’t have words for.

Toji shifts closer, pushes further and suddenly there’s nowhere else to go. The center console might as well not exist with how he leans across it, hand skimming your thigh like he’s testing the weight of permission. You suck in a breath, every nerve in your leg lighting up under his palm.

He pauses.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice low. Rough around the edges. “If you want to.”

You don’t. You really, really don’t. But the way he asks—the fact that he does ask—hits you somewhere deep.

You shake your head. “Don’t stop”

That’s all he needs.

His hand squeezes lightly at your thigh before it starts to travel, slow, deliberate, like he’s relearning anatomy by feel. You arch slightly and suddenly you're met with the feeling of your dashboard on your back. 

Now that you're all cornered, he smirks, the pads of his fingers tracing a slow, ghostly line over the centre of your panties. You squirm at the teasing, yet as to make you suffer further, he presses his pointer finger flat onto your clit and moves left and right as agonisingly slow as he could.

You’ve never been one to plead, and you definitely can’t think of the right honorific to do it right now, but you squirm again and he knows what you want.

He pushes your panties to the side and fuck, even that is too hot because he did it.

“Fuuh- pretty pussy”

Your stomach flips. It shouldn’t be allowed, how his voice sounds like sin itself when it drops like that. You roll your hips just a little, testing as you grab both hands around his cock and urge it towards your slit. He catches the shift with a low noise in his throat.

He mutters softly, something almost inaudible, watching your hips roll experimentally. Surely, the hand he intended to grab around your throat grabs the base of his cock and pays no mind to your hold on him as he slaps his bulging head once, twice over your pushed open lips.

His smirk widens as he realizes how sensitive you are— how your body reacts to the smallest movements. He pushes your thighs wider apart with his knees, spreading you lewdly on the dashboard.

"Fucking hell..." He groans, his fingers tracing your entrance lightly before he pushes two fingers inside you. You're so wet that it's almost obscene, and he can't help but let out a low, appreciative noise. "You want my cock in here instead?"

He groans, low in his throat and fuck there’s a vein even there, watching you nod your head. He pulls down his pants as much as he can and he's already hard again. Harder than before, as if that's even physically possible. 

“Ma, speak up”

“It’s just, I’ve never” you stutter, words getting caught in your throat for what you’re about to say “I’ve never had sex in Japanese”

Toji clicks his tongue, an amused chuckle coming from his chest, he looks at the mess between his and your legs, how you’ve practically drenched his cock already with how wet you are and speaks “‘S fine, we don’t gotta talk”

He guides his tip to your entrance, pushing inside slightly, watching your reaction. "You okay?"

You nod—hum, whatever. You don’t even know how you respond, but somehow you do.

He pushes in, just barely below the tip before he decides this isn’t going to work if he doesn’t spread open your pussy, so he pushes out, gets his thumbs to work and pushes in again with a loud hiss.

When he tosses his head back, he's reminded he is in a car, with minimal space. 

Not that it’d stop him anyway.

He ruts into you slowly, giving you just a little time to adjust to that monstrous size of his before he bullies his cock all the way inside you with a smug smile. Whatever’s left of you that’s not spent, squirms.

You cry out slightly, claws scratching his shoulders, digging through the fabric of his shirt.

Toji groans, his hips moving faster. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours as he fucks harder into you with half thrusts.

"God, you're fucking squeezing me perfectly..." He grunts. And it’s the truth, your walls flutter and tighten around him with every single move and you're shaking, your legs are shaking when he hits that spongy spot inside you.

For a while there are fast, needy hands everywhere. Around your neck, through your hair, over the outline of your breasts and waist and squelching sounds fill the silence of the car until it’s no more there.

"You're going to make me come way too fast, you know that?" His lips brush your ear, words coming out despite his suggestion as he latches himself into the soft skin of your neck, not to suck, but to bite. His teeth sinking into your skin in synch of that numbing feeling his cock stirs in you.

You’re already whimpering in protest as he finally wraps his lips around the painful spot on the side of your neck, swiping his tongue around it in smoothing motions.

"How close are you?"

“Mhm-‘m not close yet." You pant and earn another deep chuckle.

Toji, spent on your words like it's personal now, reaches between your bodies instantly, his fingers finding your clit. He starts rubbing circles around it, matching the pace of his thrusts. "Better now?” He growls softly. 

You slur an inaudible ‘yes’ and then a ‘more’

"You're so fucking needy..." He hisses, his fingers picking up speed. 

He leans down to suck on your neck— no your collarbone, biting gently as he hammers his dick inside you harder, faster. And fuck, maybe it’s the pull of the moment and your dizzy head but you feel like your car might actually break with how hard his thrusts are.

You’re too far gone, drunk into this moment like your body won’t stop wanting more and more from him with every buck of his hips. You push back the splitting pain of his girth, past the sound of skin clapping on skin and Toji groans, his thumb pressing down on your clit as his fingers continue to circle it.

“‘S too good”

"Damn it..." He laughs softly, his hips snapping forward harder into you.

He feels just how sensitive you are there, so he hits that spot again and again and again. Fingers spreading your pussy lips apart slightly, giving him better access and rubbing your clit faster.

You like it more than you want to admit, you like being spread open and played with, you love the way he drags his tongue to whatever skin is exposed from your chest and this angle— it’s him hitting all the right spots all at once that makes that knot in your lower stomach tighten.

“Fuck, you're killing me..." He adds a third finger to your clit, pressing down hard, way too fast as he thrusts deep and holds himself there, grinding against you. "There it is... right fucking there..." His voice is strained as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

You don't even care to fix your face to make it sexy, make it appealing; your lips are open in the shape of an ‘o’, your eyes are closed and there’s surely a bead of sweat forming at the edge of your hairline, ready to run down your forehead.

And Toji thinks, with his eyes snapped wide open, that this is definitely a sight for sore eyes. You're just like he likes his girls. Raw, desperate. Chasing your release while being split on his cock.

He feels you clamp down around him and almost loses it completely, unable to even hold it for even a second. His hips start to jackhammer against yours as he moans against your chest, one hand coming to grab onto the hair at the base of your neck.

"That's it, fuck yes, come for me..." he orders —All the while, his fingers keep that perfect pressure on your clit, making your legs shake. He can feel you're there, before you even do.

He keeps his fingers moving on your clit, feeling your body convulse with pleasure as you come undone above him, hips spasming and thighs clenching hard enough for you to get cramps. Toji watches your face, eyes and mind mesmerized by the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“Goddamn..." He lets out a deep groan, one hand still grounding your hips way too harshly as his thrusts become faster, his hips loose at the feeling of drenching him, sogging his cock into you "Fuck...Fuck yeah..." 

He pulls out abruptly, making you gasp at the loss of being stuffed to the brick. He grabs his cock, and you widen your eyes at just how hard it is. You only watch, lazily and out of breath as he aligns his tip with your clit and starts jerking himself off quickly. His face contorts in an expression of pleasure similar to yours as he gets closer.

"Fuck..." He's barely holding back his own orgasm as he watches his cock head rub against you, messily parting your pussy lips with each slide.

Back and forth. Left and right.

If the sight of you coming was too much, if it burned like hell, then this? This is purgatory.

"I'm gonna " His breathing is ragged, he's moving between your folds faster, grabbing your hand to guide it through giving the last few strokes before release "You're making me- fuck! Im gonna cum"

It’s on cue after that. The way he moans betrays him, the way he lazily slows down his pace and pushes his hips so far up that your head collides with the roof of the car, the way he says that sudden, deep ‘fuuuuuck’, it all adds up to him, coming undone. Spurting hot strings of cum against your clit and your thighs, even the hem of your skirt and your side pulled panties.

Between heavy breaths, his eyes move down your body, where you're wet with his cum, your sleek and an excessive amount of sweat, watching as his cum drips down between your legs. 

"Fucking hell that was so good..." he sighs and slides a finger through the mess on your clit, making you flinch with oversensitivity, deciding to be a gentleman for a second and pull your panties back to their original place.

But truly— it’s just so he won’t get hard again after watching the mess he's made out of your pussy.

And then, gently, flustered and spent, while he's trying to catch his breath, he leans in to kiss your neck gently.

You don’t protest, being fucked out of your goddamn mind, as he pats your ass, giving you a little squeeze that is accompanied with a sinister chuckle, signaling you to get up.

He curses whatever demon possesses him to lean towards you, while buckling his pants closed, to peck you, especially because he catches you off guard– you don’t even manage to turn your head toward him when he catches the left corner of your mouth with his lips.

Your goddamn skin is too soft, too youthful. He wishes that side of his own mouth was as kissable as yours.

“This,” he says against your mouth, “this is exactly what I thought would happen when you showed up lookin’ like that.”

____

The ride back is quieter now that you’re all dressed neatly and into the driver’s seat, because you’re trying to ignore the actual ache of being split open, between your legs.

At least this silence– it’s simmering, not awkward. It’s the kind of quiet that hums with all the things neither of you are saying, thick with adrenaline and aftershocks and something else you don’t quite want to name.

Toji hasn’t spoken, touched you, or cracked a joke in five minutes, which might just be a record. He’s slouched in the passenger seat, one arm resting on the door, the other draped over his thigh, hand flexing like he’s still feeling the echo of your touch. His eyes keep flicking to you, sharp and unreadable.

You pull into his street, slowing to a crawl near the curb outside his building. The streetlight flickers above you, spilling just enough yellow light into the car to catch the sharp set of his jaw.

“Here we are” you announce, hand cradling the side of your face.

He doesn’t move to open the door.

Instead, he clears his throat and you can already  tell he’s thinking way too hard.

“Hey…” he starts and you glance over at him, laced with curiosity “Can I crash at yours tonight?”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

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[qoldenskies]

Gonna be totally honest here. I tried to read caged lungs. Emphasis on TRIED. I got to, like, the part where Raph asks Donnie to undo the changes to his weights and I couldn't read past that. IT'S SO WELL WRITEN, IT'S SO WELL WRITEN THAT I CANNOT PHYSICALLY READ IT. IT'S SO PAINFUL UGH, YOU'RE A MASTER OF YOUR CRAFT.

And that's why I've been just. reading your answers to asks because it spoils the fic to me. BECAUSE I'M SO CURIOUS BUT I CANNOT READ IT FOR THE LIFE OF ME. I'm just, like, hopping onto the comfort like a coward :D

This is in no way /neg I hope you know; it's extremely /pos because wow, this has never happened to me before. Normally I can read angst just fine, BUT GOLLY THIS KICKED MY HEART AND I'LL ONLY RECOVER IF I JUST READ YOUR ASKS INSTEAD KSHDKHD. Keep up the amazing absolutly marvellous job, have a great rest of your day! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

oh my god yeah if that's too much for you, i really do not recommend trying to brute force your way through it because it culminates in a really upsetting murder attempt (like. it is essentially a foxhunt. leo pins him down and stabs him while he screams for his dad. he begs raph not to kill him. they talk to him like they would any villain in the show, with this callous disregard for the fact that he is starving and sobbing and begging for his life.) and on a more emotional verbal/psychological abuse levels there's things like the FAMILY MEETING which is genuinely just...... horrific lmfao, it gets Nasty (although personally i find the weight rack scene more upsetting because its so much more grounded to reality, i can FEEL the shame oooh man)

i am a little sad that there are people who read CW and not CL because i think CL is my favorite thing that i've ever written so far, but i completely understand if its difficult to stomach. you can probably pick everything up through context clues (especially if you've also read ME) if you think CL is too much for you!! id write a summary to help, but lol CL is just a collection of scenes and there are some things that are better not clarified/revealed later down the line. reading asks here might help though, yeah!!

[scivors]

Andre Nikto head canons

We have little information about Niko but here's what I've gathered..

((Also I'd like to kindly add, hi, hello, my name is Mika and I am a Bosnian. The chances of me adding some accurate slav head canons are always high but never low!!🙏🏻 ALSO IM TERRIBLY OBSESSED WITH NIKTO SO IF ENJOY THIS AND YOU WANT DATING NIKTO HEAD CANONS PLEASE LET ME KNOWWW))

Genuine head canons:

Andre Nikto (Никто) is a (scary) Russian military man, roughly 193/194 centimetres (when you compare him to Simon's height) He suffers with acute dissociative disorder (better said DID) yet is still serving the military cause of how he preforms during battle.., so the military still views him as a ideal soldier for combat despite his disorder..

No hate but from what I've seen in some art works claiming it's his "face reveal" you people have to understand that under his mask, his face is disfigured.. so, no he won't be an attractive super model under that mask of his..

I don't think you people are aware how badass Nikto is as a character, almost SIMILAR as Ghost who's in the military for the same reason as everybody else, to risk their life.

Although judging by Nikto's voice lines, he doesn't care who he's killing..if it were up to him, if his teammates serve him zero purpose he'd care less if they die..(after all, you're just a target..) but being a professional, he can't allow that to happen to his teammates

If you look up closely, Nikto wears a military uniform that is different from everyone else with MP-0 written on it. Now if you don't know, MP stands for Military Police (enforcement agencies connected with, or part of, the military of a state.) and zero next to it meaning "nothing" and this is important which is what Nikto refers himself as..

Yeah so about that..

I have a theory about Nikto's nickname

After being captured and brutally tortured with whatever sick tendency mister Z had in store for him. It was Mister Z that couldn't really get much Information about Andre.

They would start torturing him while repeating to Andre that he's nothing, he's no one, what he is is nothing but what he is is everything. Those words play in the back of his head and they never seen to go away.

(This is extremely relevant cause Mister Z tried to get to know a bit of Andre by looking through some research come to find his citizenship and language are censored making him a nobody. Keep in mind, if he found any information about Andre viewing from personal life etc. it will be used as blackmail..)

After recovering his scars and taken to therapy after 7 years he was diagnosed with DID

NOW moving on to the DID part

(What I said about the fact that people overlook Nikto's disorder, I mean it..

Some don't really write about his disorder which is fine but when someone does it gets messy. )

Alters aren't easy to deal with, it's actually gonna haunt you till the day that you die cause there's no cure for it. And in Nikto's case it's from PTSD and Nikto is very aware of his alters..

Let me tell you how Nikto's disorder affects him. Switching can be consensual, forced or triggered, Nikto values silence as much as the next person cause he's dealing with much inside his head already. The kind of guy that would "watch TV" while dissociating with a 100 yard glare with very slow blinking and a slight headache..

There are times where his personalities would correct him when hes referring to himself (example: I'm up..(his personality correctes him) WE'RE up..)

"He made us do this" (and other voice lines I can't recall..)

Maybe cut bits of an apple with a knife and eat it while watching TV..

He has medication prescribed for him but he didn't wanna depend on medications cause they're just drugs..they're nothing to him but just drugs..

He has dissociative amnesia too, sometimes he would wander around confused maybe even annoyed. The amnesia appears to be caused by traumatic or stressful experiences endured or witnessed..Although the forgotten information may be inaccessible to consciousness, it sometimes continues to influence behavior

Like I said he likes quiet people, someone who doesn't waste their air on small talk..

Example; don't really talk to him about the weather, unless you have something interesting to say but if the conversation is gonna go nowhere , don't talk..he finds that a waste of time

People assume just because he's Russian that he likes vodka, he doesn't like vodka...-He doesn't like any alcoholic beverage cause it makes his problems a lot worse,...maybe If you were lending him some as an offering, he'll take it but he has SOME self control, he's okay with coffee, though..

It's relevant cause he stays awake at late hours since he finds it difficult to sleep, he'll stay up late with no music, nothing, just a silent room. It doesn't matter if he tries the military tactic where you just close your eyes and turn off your thoughts, it's very different when you have voices screaming inside your head...

Despite everything he's still intelligent, so being smart + strength + sharp reflexes and you got yourself a criminal

Death doesn't phase him, but to him death is like sleeping, he's not scared of death considering that he's been through hell those past few months.

He likes the simple things, don't complicate anything..because he's quick with catching an attitude..be blunt and forward and stumble over your words..

Nikto shows confidence in the battlefield,just like König, except he has a high rush of adrenaline and will laugh at the enemies death.

Fun fact: in this one comic Price calls Nikto "psycho"

And it's without a doubt that he is one.., a sadistic, sociopathic, psychopath

After splitting, his alters can and will get more aggressive and do more harm and damage to others cause they're doing the most at protecting the host.. (depending on the alter, some wanna protect him while some wanna hurt him)

Oh by the way about the intelligence part, I mean he has a good good memory with remembering faces..

He doesn't like people looking at him funny, he'll get angry really fast and annoyed at the same time.., he won't show hesitation when it comes to approaching you and asking you what are you looking at (it's like trying to avoid eye contact with a homeless man Infront of a store, that's how scared you would be)

He's slow with jokes or any form of humor that you throw at him??? You'll be excited to tell him a joke, and when you do he just looks at you and tells you never to do that again..,or just straight up tell you he doesn't get it...??? and probably trying to explain it either he gets it or not he'll still tell you that it's not funny

He doesn't argue, or he does? Arguing with him will costs you avoiding getting objects thrown at you so you can get out of his sight..tragic, now you have a teammate that hates your guts and won't apologize for it.

[accidentcache]

the five stages of grief

feat: slightly canon adjacent ! shigaraki tomura / tenko shimura

warnings: angst. language. violence and mentions of injuries, major character death, implications to suicide, close to canon events as i could remember, 3.9k read!

cache notes: uhhhhhh this my offer for tomura's bday fic. IM SORRY

m.list

you thought you were experiencing the stages of grief out of order after the war. come to find out, your subconscious knew tenko died long before he physically left you.

DENIAL

— the action of declaring something to be untrue.

"tomura's being weird," spinner sounds upset, but when you look up from your gaming console, his face betrays no emotion. almost like he didn't say anything at all. his fingers push at buttons and he looks immersed in whatever mission that has his attention at the moment.

you want to say i know or something along that line— you can't help it. it's something that runs deep in your psyche to be an asshole back to him. he's never been too cordial with you, but spinner's respectful enough. if tomura likes you, there must be some reason he's keeping you around. the two of you have been toeing the line of being at each other's throats since you joined the group.

instead, you choose to grunt in response. "you're overthinking things," is what you choose to say. because for some god damn reason you can't bring yourself to even think to agree with spinner.

you end up running around in circles in your game, now distracted. what would spinner know about tomura that you don't already know? spinner might be his closest friend— he might believe that he knows tomura fairly well. but you know him on a more intimate level. sure, tomura doesn't tell you everything— you could thank all for one for that.

but what's said in the dark of night, on top of cheap pillows and underneath thin blankets is something you know for sure spinner doesn't.

tomura lies next to you, an arm slung over your waist lazily. he's knocked out cold, his nose twitches with every inhale of a snore. the bed sags underneath the both of you, the sheet is warm with shared body heat.

you can't help but watch his features as he sleeps. if he were conscious, he would've called you out for it. being weird— staring at him while he slept like some sort of creep.

but he also knows that you like to look at him. he'll never know why, but you're quiet when you do it and you keep comments to yourself. so he lets you. only speaking when you need to, or when he needs you to.

tomura stirs slightly, bringing his arm around your waist tighter. the weight and warmth of his skin against yours brings comfort, like always— but a slight twinge of unease.

you have to blink to clear your head. spinner's words are not getting to you. he doesn't know what he's talking about. tomura still looks the same to you, he still acts the same. the tension was subconscious.

"you're thinking' about something," tomura's voice is low and still extremely heavy with sleep. it startles you, but his grip around you tightens when you jump. your cheek warms with the push of his voice. "what are you thinking about?"

your teeth pull at the seam of your lip. normally, the silence would mean you're simply just thinking about what to say— and to be honest, you are. but there's hesitation in this silence, which causes him to open his eyes ever so slightly. he can barely make out your silhouette in the darkness, but he knows you're still looking at him.

"you'd tell me if something was changing, wouldn't you?"

it's tomura's turn to hesitate.

you try to ignore it. "you'd tell me if something was different, right?"

tomura's eyes finally adjust to the darkness and he can make out your expression more clearly. the furrow of your brow and the heaviness set in your eyes. it's such a vulnerable look on you, it's not a look he sees very often.

he forces himself to swallow. "nothing's changing, promise."

"promise?"

in the darkness, tomura doesn't see you lift your hand until he feels your fingertip graze along his cheek. the pressure is gentle, feather-light; reverent almost. you trace the grooves that the scars have made on his features like they are a road map. the destination changes every time, but you follow it with such enthusiasm every single time. tomura's come to accept it, and over time has learned to lean more and more into it.

your touch seems to soften, and in return tomura softens as well.

"i promise."

ANGER

— can sometimes function as a coping mechanism, providing a sense of control or a way to express frustration in the face of helplessness or disbelief.

"this is fucking stupid, tomura," you hiss out while taking an aggressive seat beside him. the motion kicks some dirt up, tomura ignores how some of it lands on his shoes. he keeps his eyes trained on gigantomachia as the behemoth sleeps. in another hour and a half, the two will start fighting again and you will force yourself to follow.

"don't say that," he mutters back. his fingers are carefully bending and twisting a twig into odd shapes, challenging it to break even though it's a fairly young clipping. there's plenty of twigs to choose from littered along the ground around the two of you. when this one finally breaks, tomura will just move onto the next one.

"well, it is," you counter. "you've barely made a dent in the progress. he's not weakening. ujiko is just stringing you along."

tomura's head tilts to stare at you out of his peripheral. he really doesn't want to fight with you on this. you were there when the group got warped to the lab, you heard the entire deal. you know his entire stance on the situation. he doesn't know if this is the lack of sleep talking or the lack of eating— but he's explained it how many times?

"ujiko is not stringing us along, [y/n]. how many times do i have to tell you this?" tomura says. his fingers finally snap the twig between his fingers and he tosses it a couple feet away in front of him before reaching for another at his feet. this one breaks much easier when he bends it. "it's going to work out in the end."

your elbows dig into your thighs as you lean forward. chewing on the inside of your lip, you mutter a bitter sounding "doubtful" and keep your gaze off of him.

there's tension between the two of you. there are inches in between the two of you but you've never felt more far apart.

when's the last time you've touched him? since tomura's held you in his arms? when was the last time the two of you lied face to face in bed together and just giggled about silly things you've seen online. you want to reach out and touch him but something inside of you refuses to. would he even feel like the tomura you were used to?

muscles and scars aside, would he feel like tenko?

you don't realize just how heavy your shoulders feel until his eyes finally meet yours fully, and he looks you up and down. your eyes burn and you realize you've been glaring at his side profile for the past couple of minutes of terse silence. something bitter and harsh has been simmering low in your gut for a while.

"this is more than machia, isn't it?" tomura asks in a low tone. there's a warning laced in between each syllable, you'd be dumb if you didn't notice the tone shift. but when do you not challenge tomura? he will deny it until the day he dies that it's one of his favorite things about you.

however, it is AFO's least favorite thing about you.

tomura still continues to fight with enabling this kind of behavior, or just not engaging at all. AFO tells him that you're a problem. a hindrance. you can't be trusted. you're going to do something big and take him away from his goal and everything is going to go to shit because of you.

tomura's known you for how long? he's seen you change in so many ways. you've burned through so many costumes, you've cut your hair in so many gas station bathrooms. there's a certain twinkle in your eye whenever you look at him that's never changed.

tomura hasn't seen that sparkle in months.

tomura hasn't seen so much aggression behind your eyes since the day you two met. you clearly don't audibly make it known, but you're upset with him. why else would you glare at him like that? why else would you look at him like he's not the same person at the moment?

it it because he's not?

maybe somewhere deep inside of you, you've already figured it all out. you just haven't pieced together all the parts yet. tomura isn't sure that your denseness is a blessing, or a curse in disguise.

tomura is still silent in front of you. the longer your gaze is deliberately met by his, the stronger the feeling of hate bubbles in your gut. your hands clench and unclench at your sides and your knuckles ache with tension. is this tomura you're feeling hate towards? surely it's not. you've been mad and angry at tomura before, yes.

but you've never hated him.

"this better be worth it," you manage to hiss out. your teeth grit so hard you can hear them squeak when they grind against each other. you force yourself to stand and move— away from him, away from him. white hot tears are beginning to well up, your eyes are burning and you'll be damned if you let him see you cry.

somewhere inside of you tells you tomura would comfort you if you did start crying; but a larger part of you tells you that you're wrong. why would he comfort you if he were the source of the tears? why would he apologize for the pain he had caused when that was the plan from the start?

BARGAINING

— attempt to negotiate or make compromises.

you had a violent realization when the tides had turned in the final war. aside from being aggressively pinned into the dirt, the fact that you were so easily overwhelmed in a matter of moments had your head spinning in ways that the concussion you were given didn't.

you smelled and tasted iron. there was blood pouring from your nose and mouth contributing to the taste and and scent, and the blood loss was starting to make you delirious. you were seeing double. there was a knee pushed between your shoulder blades and your wrists were being sliced open practically with how tight the cuffs were.

spinner's voice crackled in your ear. "[y/n], shigaraki needs help—"

he's cut off and racked with coughs and sputters. you try to ignore the stabbing pain in your spine, your cheek pressed into the gravel. the rocks are being pushed so hard into your skin that you know there will be indents. "what's wrong with tomura?"

when spinner doesn't answer, your heart practically throws itself against your rib cage. there's ringing in your ears, drowning out the rest of the screams and shouts of other villains and heroes fighting around you. drowning out the voice of the hero above you that only shoves his kneecap further into your back once he feels you squirming underneath him.

you didn't want to admit that you were right when the heroes split everyone up that something would go wrong. you no longer had eyes on tomura; and he to you. though you were sure he wasn't thinking in the same sense that you were when it all happened. was that part of their plan? to separate tomura from you?

you don't care that the last interaction with him was a screaming match. you don't care about the selfish words that came out of your mouth, or the cold tone he had used on you. or that tomura didn't look like tomura at all. didn't even resemble tenko either.

"spinner!" you practically scream into the dirt. the tears fall freely from your eyes but you don't have it in you to acknowledge them. they feel like fire when they fall, mixing with the blood and dirt already embedded in your skin into some grotesque mess around your mouth. "iguchi!"

your mind races. not a single thought connects properly, your body buzzes with new motivation to get out. the scream that leaves your mouth is raw and so painful that even the hero above you pauses with the force of his restraints. you can feel your quirk starting to overload your senses, clogging the sensors in your body with power and strength that it cannot handle.

"shuichi," your voice does not sound like your own. your forehead meets the dirt because you think you can reach him with your voice through the ground. "where is tenko?"

you want to believe that spinner had just run into a little problem and was just letting you know that tomura needed backup to finish the plan. you want to believe that he just needed help for a big finish. tomura would reach out to you personally if things went wrong, wouldn't he? he still cared about you like that, didn't he?

tomura had AFO's strength now. he was more than capable of holding his own; there's no way he needed actual help. there's no way, right? there's no way.

how would you even get there in time to help him? what higher being do you need to plea to in order to get you to tomura's side before something worse happens? would that supreme being even listen to you? were you so beyond saving that not even god would help you save the one you loved? or was that privilege only reserved for heroes?

your quirk was draining your stamina. you were feeling weaker and weaker; the idea of begging to god was sounding more and more like a good idea.

anything to get to tomura.

even with your vision gaining the vignette— darkening more and more as the seconds passed. you could not feel the oxygen going in through your mouth or leaving through your nose in short, harsh puffs. you'd do anything.

you'd do anything to see tenko again.

DEPRESSION

— a common mental health condition characterized by persistent sadness, loss of interest, and other symptoms that can significantly impact a person's ability to function.

the next time you see spinner, he is dressed in orange. it matches yours, your numbers are far apart but you are treated the same. it's mid spring in the courtyard, the sunlight feels like it should burn your skin the longer you stand out in it.

this time outside is mandatory. you'd rather still be in your cell— away from the cherry blossom scent, away from the petals that fall so delicately onto the asphalt.

away from the harshness of spinner's gaze the moment his eyes find yours.

your hair had been trimmed short. you tried to wrap it around your throat at one point so the orderlies buzzed it all off a week after you had been thrown into prison. the bags under your eyes have darkened over the months. you've been to solitary more than once after your night terrors had turned violent and you tried to attack your cell mate.

spinner doesn't look any better than you do. his actions are fueled by rage as he crosses the courtyard to stand in front of you.

"he's gone," his voice is full of hurt and pain. as if your shoulders weren't heavy enough, the weight of his tone adds more pounds that you decide to selflessly take on. "everything he fought for, [y/n]."

you're far past feeling anything at this point. you know what the media is painting tenko as. what they're painting the league as a whole as. what could you do about it? there was only so much that you could attempt with eyes on you at all times and a trigger itching to be pulled if you moved too fast.

"he didn't sign up for this."

"i know," your voice is dull and almost lifeless. you don't have the balls in you to meet his eyes at this point anymore. you've admitted to yourself that spinner was right all those months ago when he first noticed something was off with tenko.

"he died a hero, [y/n]!" his voice raises.

you don't know if he was talking more to you, or himself.

"i know," your voice repeats like a broken record. it breaks on the last syllable and both you and spinner cringe at the sound of it.

"we could've— should have done something," he forces out. you can audibly hear him swallow and your own throat mirrors the noise as you swallow a painful sound of your own. "to save him. he should've destroyed society. he could've changed the world."

your voice is barely audible when you speak next. you blink back tears, but they end up falling anyway. "i know."

ACCEPTANCE

— learning to live with the loss and finding a way to move forward, even though the pain may still linger.

the tip of your boot meets a tuft of grass. the grave in front of you has not been taken care of, there's moss and weeds that line the cement. you can still see the faint outline carving of his name, however.

tenko shimura.

even though there's no remains underneath the gravestone, this isn't his official burial spot— but this is your spot for him.

only a select amount of people know about this spot. your parole officer, mr compress— spinner. the three remaining league members still alive. they don't question the location. they come, give their moment of silence and leave.

"i feel like i should leaves flowers or something this time," you say to the empty air around you. your hands clench around nothing in the pocket of your hoodie. you kick at the tuft of grass again and sigh to yourself. "you hated flowers."

there's a tree that offers some shade a little off to the side. you're surprised that it's still standing, surprised that the gnarled old bark still tells stories to people who won't appreciate them. the roots are as old as time. the branch you fell off of when you were younger still hangs low and off kilter from it snapping under your weight.

it's been years since the war. you were lucky enough to finally get put on house arrest after a good couple of years. your parole officer sits in a car just a couple yards away— waiting. watching. though he knows you won't make a run for it. you've been on a streak of good behavior since gaining the privilege of visiting your makeshift grave for tenko.

"i uh…" your hand rises and rubs at the back of your neck in an awkward fashion. your hair had been kept short— a turning point. a way of admitting that you've changed; that times have changed. "i apologized to iguchi. finally."

that he was right. he saw the signs before you did.

"i miss you," your teeth pull at the corner of your mouth. you know you won't cry. you feel like you should— for the past few times you've visited you've ended your visits early due to the sobs that have racked through your body. "iguchi's right. you were a hero to us."

as soon as the words leave your mouth you hate how they sound.

"you are a hero, i mean. you're my hero. our hero."

yeah, it sounds cringe. awkward and unfamiliar in your throat. it's the truth, you've known it for years now. you realize you don't say those words out loud enough— that's why they feel so… weird. coming out of your mouth.

you make a promise to say it out loud more often.

the tip of your boot meets the concrete gravestone in front of you again in a lingering touch. you offer a final sniffle, the only sign you give that you're about to let go of your emotions. "until next time, yeah? promise it won't be months from now."

you turn on your heel and shove your hands further into the pocket of your hoodie.

"promise."

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[varyajc]

UNHEALTHY BEHAVIORS(?) THE HASHIRA HAVE

Pillars x GN!Reader

a/n; Friendly reminder that this is how I view them. None of the things below are canon or hating on their character. I’d also like to add; I don’t know what to make the title, so I’m making it unhealthy behaviors. Some may be healthy, some may not, so ignore the title and enjoy these headcanons (?)

warnings; unintentional gaslight / intentional gaslighting, toxic behaviors / habits, angst(ish), toxic relationships(?)

bold words = unhealthy behaviors

GIYU TOMIOKA

~He has extreme depression episodes to the point he doesn’t want to see you, in order to prevent you from getting hurt.

Tomioka loves you, he really does. However, in order to prevent him from hurting your feelings (or hurting you in general) he distances himself whenever things get slightly bad. He thinks he’s a disease and doesn’t want to affect you in away way, so he does it in the worst way possible; not talking with you.

~He ghosts you unintentionally

This is similar to the first one, however, he does it whenever he’s feeling better, but still feels guilty for not interacting with you. He doesn’t speak with you, avoids you like the plague, sometimes doesn’t attend Hashira meetings in order to avoid you. After a few months, he goes back to you like nothing had happened. This ended up the relationship forming between the two of you to die out.

SHINOBU KOCHO

~She’s really rude to you for no “apparent” reason.

When the two of you started your relationship, you knew she masks her hostility with a soft smile. She didn’t feel the need to mask her true self around you. However, she can be rude to you for no reason or that something is bothering her. Sure, she’s a mature person, but even mature people can be petty. She doesn’t tell you what’s wrong and even sometimes blames it on you.

~She doesn’t take your concerns seriously.

This applies to her consuming poison. You worry for her health, obviously voicing your concerns. However, she brushes it off like it’s nothing. You guys had numerous arguments because of this subject.

KYOJURO RENGOKU

~He’s too pushy

Whenever you need comfort, he tends to give advice that would more likely help his situation rather than your own. He doesn’t understand why you won’t take it, he tends to get upset because you don’t ’trust him.’

~Too positive

He always tries to find the bright-side of the situation. For example: whenever somebody you’re close with passes or gets severely injured, he always tries to find positive energy of the situation. Which, understandably, makes you upset. He doesn’t mean it, yet he can’t help it in a way?

TENGEN UZUI

~He gets upset when things don’t go his way

Now, I’m not saying this man is a child, but I do sometimes see him getting upset over things that aren’t important. Like, choosing where the five of you get to eat, who’s choosing the dress, etc. He just finds it somewhat degrading..in a way. Like, he’s the man, of course he should have the final say in everything. (Sarcasm)

~His mood determines everybody’s moods

Whenever he’s angry, everybody else’s mood is suddenly down. The air is extremely palpable.

MITSURI KANROJI

~Overthinks, a lot. This sweet angel, known as Mitsuri, tends to overthink a lot. She knows you’ll never cheat on her or betray her in anyway, but she still can’t help that you have eyes for somebody else or wants to pursue someone else. You have reassured her many times that your eyes are on her and her only, but she still has doubts and it just won’t go away. She wants it to go away, but it simply can’t. These doubts in her mind made her somewhat self-conscious.

~Unintentionally guilt-trips you.

Mitsuri tends not to watch her wording or how it’s phrased, so she’ll often say things like, “I’m sorry, I’m such a screw-up, I ruin everything.” However, I don’t think she’ll word it like that, but it’s something along those lines. She doesn’t mean too, but it just slips out, like word vomit.

OBANAI IGURO

~Is extremely controlling, jealous, and manipulative + it’s all intentional

This man right here, knows you better than anybody else, he KNOWS how to get into your head and make you rethink everything. “You’re crazy, I never said that!” Or something along those lines. He always twists things into thinking you did something wrong instead of him.

~He twists your words often

Despite Obanai’s tough demeanor, he actually takes everything bad you say about him to heart. He often uses it against you or make it sound worse than it already is.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

~Extremely possessive

Unlike Obanai, this man knows you can’t and won’t find somebody better than him. However, he still likes to claim his territory? I guess you can say. Whenever you’re out and about with friends, he’s calling you like something happened, and when you rush over to his side, he always repeats “Oh, I just wanted to spend some time with you, baby.”

~He can’t open up

Sanemi is NEVER willing to open up to you, no matter how much you try to persuade him. He pushes you away, and, sometimes, yells at you for trying to persuade him. He doesn’t mean it, I think, however, he finds it offensive that he needs to open up.

a/n; UGH. I didn’t do Muichiro + Gyomei because this an an 18+ reader and I dunno how to write for Gyomei..so. Yh! Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

@varya-jc — DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPOST, OR CLAIM MY CONTENT AS YOUR OWN! YOU WILL GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[dropoutconfessions]

It makes me incredibly angry when people say "Riz is canonically aro/ace" and act like you're a horrible person if you ship him with people. Like. Nowhere in the show is it ever stated that he's aro/ace. The conversation people reference as him being "canonically" aro/ace is just him expressing his lack of very specifically sexual attraction, and even then the response from his dad (and by extension Brennan and the show as a whole) is that it's okay, and that it's specifically unclear whether he's ace or whether it's just not something that's happened for him in specific yet. It is intentionally vague as to whether he is ace or not, and there's genuinely zero indication in the show that he's aro other than that he doesn't have a love interest which could be completely unrelated.

Right so I'd like to share my opinion on this for a brief moment. I am still fully here to give people a voice, but this is just, an issue that kinda hits close to home since I'm demiaro.

The most annoying thing in a lot of media is when representation is shoehorned in as a list of labels and buzzwords we're given. Queer people should not have to turn to the screen and say their full identity in order for them to be canonically queer. That's what subtext is for. That's what good writing does. Is not spell it out for you when it's not necessary to do so. They do not need it to be spelt out for it to be very clear that he's ace/aro.

I am going to assume ignorance here instead of assuming malicious intent. The idea that the reason he isn't ace, is because "it's not something that's happened for him in specific yet", is an extremely common thought process behind asexual erasure. I'm sure that's not what you intended, but that is something to reflect on in general.

Both Adaine and Riz have yet to have relationships or display crushes (not counting junior year since most of the evidence comes from sophomore year) . Adaine hasn't gotten an entire nightmare sequence / arc around dealing with here friends all finding partners and leaving them alone. Adaine hasn't expressed or had conversations about any lack of sexual or romantic feels to the extent Riz has. Adaine is headcanoned as ace/aro by some people. Riz is more than that. Riz is very much canonically ace/aro if you do the slightest bit of character analysis. There's accidental coding and then there's Riz Gukgak.

List of every single Riz trait that is hella ace/aro coded

A lack of sexual and romantic attraction to other people (I'm not counting the time where he said he was kinda into Sexy Rat, that whole scene was a bit, and absolutely insane)

Making up a partner/crush in order to fit in (I have 1000% done that and so have a lot of acespec and arospec people)

A fear of being left behind by his friends because of a belief that they will find partners and move on from him, largely caused by alloromantic culture's insane emphasis on how the most important relationship is a romantic one

The fact that almost every other fantasy high pc has been in a relationship or a crush (kristen had tracker and gertie, gorgug had zelda, unit, and mary ann, fabian had aelwyn, ivy, and mazey, adaine had oisin and possibly zayn depends on your interpretation, and fig has had ayda and a string of professionals in a variety of fields across seasons 1 and 2) with only riz as a single character

The fact his sophomore year arc was entirely about his lack of sexual/romantic attraction and fear of being left alone because of it

Like not even a joke, it was that and his dad, that was the whole arc

His junior year arc was also about his obsession to stay together as a friend group, which like I mentioned above, is very clearly based in his asexuality and aromanticism

I am not going to stop people from shipping characters ever. If you want to rewrite character sexualities, that's fine by me, I'm a big believer in "Don't Like, Don't Read". I am not gonna pretend like characters are not their sexuality in canon so that people feel justified in writing their stories. People who rewrite character sexuality can do so without making everyone else assuage their guilt for them. I know I'm on the "piss on the poor" reading comprehension website, but it's not hard to tell Riz is ace/aro in canon, and pretending otherwise doesn't help your case.

[creampuffqueen]

We need more yangvik headcanons!

you're right we absolutely do. here's a random collection of headcanons about them separately and together <3

yangchen has a very phenomenal singing voice (which is kinda canon) but doesn't really recognize it

despite having lived in the earth kingdom for several years, kavik has an abysmal spice tolerance

since she has to spend so much time appearing formal for all her meetings and work, whenever yangchen gets away from that she sits in the weirdest positions possible. i'm talking backwards, upside down, you name it. she will not sit in a chair properly if she doesn't need to

again, already based of canon, but her sleep schedule is completely wild as well. she's wide awake at 2 a.m but falling asleep at her desk at 4 p.m. she goes through periods of being basically nocturnal. and periods of not sleeping whatsoever

conversely, kavik is a very deep sleeper, and not a morning person in the slightest. he can wake up early if he has to, but will do so with a high amount of complaining

yangchen is extremely competitive, especially in regards to physical sports/games (airball captain, anyone?) when she's in the zone it's kind of scary honestly

kavik and yangchen are very close in height. during the events of the books kavik is slightly taller, but at some point afterwards yangchen has a late growth spurt and ends up being just barely taller. she never lets him forget this

the two of them are honestly just. huge fucking nerds. kavik is a math nerd, yangchen is a history/politics nerd, together they can nerd out for hours, and frequently do

before they actually get together they have a bit of an unspoken arrangement of occasionally falling asleep together. it happens by accident a few times while working late, and both enjoy it way more than they want to let on. it begins to happen more frequently, especially as they subtly begin to recognize how yangchen has less nightmares whenever it happens

it takes yangchen quite a bit to start recognizing her feelings for kavik. both because of her trust issues and also because she hasn't ever really had a close friend like him before, and isn't sure what kind of feelings constitute as romantic vs. platonic

continuing the above, i also headcanon yangchen as being both demisexual and aroflux. for those unfamiliar with the terms, demisexual is where someone needs a strong emotional bond with someone before their feelings can develop further, and aroflux is a romantic orientation where someone's ability to feel romantic attraction fluctuates. (at least, i hope that's a good definition of those terms; these are not my personal identities so i've had to do a bit of research on them). all that to pretty much say yangchen has a bit of a complex relationship with romantic feelings

though despite this i do consider yangchen and kavik's relationship to be explicitly romantic. regardless of how yangchen feels on the daily about romance, they have a really deep, caring bond that is always there

both of their favorite colors are blue! yangchen really likes a deep ocean blue (the color of kavik's eyes) while kavik prefers a lighter sky blue (the color of yangchen's tattoos)

^^^^^ seriously they're so obsessed with each other

as much as they love just making out whenever they have the chance, i also think they both have a lot of love for non-lip kisses too. kavik always loves to kiss her forehead and eyelids, and loves when she kisses his chin/jaw. yangchen loves to kiss his shoulders and hands, and loves when he kisses her wrists

and last but not least, a couple of my sort of... distant future headcanons? i guess?

personally i don't see either of them wanting/having kids, for all kinds of reasons

also i know that it was "confirmed" that yangchen lives to 155, but that is something i will never, ever, accept or believe. i've already posted about how it was a stupid fan theory, and unfortunately said stupid fan theory became "canon" for some reason. (again, not accepting it). not only does it do a huge disservice to yangchen's character, it also doesn't even make sense within the wider atla timeline or universe. believe whatever you want, but i will be out here believing that yangchen lives to a solid but normal age, somewhere in her 80s-90s

again, everything in this post is just a headcanon, so feel free to accept/reject as many or as few as you'd like! it's all just for fun, really. thank you so much for the ask, i hope you enjoy!

[odileeclipse]

HIII HELLO ODELIE!!! Hope You're having a nice day/night, especially after that card incident! I'm gonna get straight to the point, because quite frankly, I'm very bad at starting up messages (and this is probably my 2nd or 3rd ask on Tumblr, EVER)– I LOVE the way You portray the reader in Your Sage of Truth fanfic! I'm personally more of a Pure Vanilla gal myself–something about him scratches my brain in just the right way (another reason I love Your blog <3 ), but Your Sage of Truth characterization.... Amazing. Jaw dropping. Makes me giggle and kick my feet like a lovesick schoolgirl. Just the right amount of compassionate & understanding, and ABSOLUTELY intimidating (because of both his patience AND authority). BUT! Back to the reader; I really enjoy that we can actually see them STRUGGLE. We can see the gears turning in their head, the knowledge doesn't just come to them with a snap of the finger or materialize in their head out of thin air. They have to work for it, and oh boy, do they work HARD! When it comes to the teacher/student, or mentor/protégée trope–I notice that the readers (who are most often the students/protégées in question) are often quite glamorized, so to speak. In a lot of fanfics with said trope, we don't really see the struggle of a student desperately trying to keep up with their peers, feeling like they are somehow worse or dumber for not immediately understanding hard concepts and ideas. And don't get me wrong, not every fanfic has to show that! But I have to say, I found it quite comforting–to see a reader that a LOT of people, myself included, can relate to. Someone who IS more than willing to learn– but someone who also needs time, patience, and compassion too.

And on another note; I ADORE their little friend group, too. Reminds me so much of my own friends and how we jokingly bully each other. Hazelnut Biscotti is an absolute mood.

Hope this message was somewhat coherent and understandable! English isn't my first language, but I tried EXTRA hard to show just how much I love your work lmao!

– ⚜️anon

You know what's really funny I'm a pure vanilla person too but my audience seems to really really love shadow milk cookie, which I love both and found myself almost faltering and betraying Pure Vanilla but I am true to myself and at heart Pure Vanilla is my #1!

The sage of truth to me is someone who is kind and compassionate, the reason he isn't as theatrical right now currently in the story is because he isn't particularly close to the reader yet so he isn't going to disrupt the boundary of student and tutor because we haven't gotten there yet. But also, in the KR version (I've said before I go based off of the KR voice lines) he is more soft-spoken less theatrical and a lot more kind. His voice lines reflect that, but the tone is just so much kinder, and it has this sense he always wants to see people enlightened with knowledge and encouraging other cookies to disagree with him. Of course, he will ask for evidence and all that jazz. And this gives me a chance to address some questions I've gotten frequently, the (y/n) or mc or whatever anyone prefers, is NOT stupid. And to the people who asked no this is not me reprimanding you because I understand however, I wanted this to be realistic. Think about it being at an academy where "The Sage of Truth" is I imagine it's a very competitive place to be and the classes are extremely difficult the reader got there somehow which means no they are not dumb but the academic life at a rigorous level is difficult for anyone.

I also wanted to reflect on how hard it is that some professors do in fact call out students who don't know the material, but I know a majority of them do it because they want to see you succeed. I think I did include that the reader had been previously attending office hours with Professor Almond Custard Cookie if not this is now canon to the story. Which is why the professor knows them by name and calls on them in class. It has definitely happened to me before irl too except I don't know why my professor knows my name...I guess it's because I was in a discussion section with them...anyways I rambled but my point is I wanted to make an interesting story about what I think Shadow Milk could have been like while using my own experiences to shape the story, which is only really in the academic sense.

I also wanted to base the cookies on friends I have now and have had in the past, I didn't really want them to come across as yes men to the reader but as actual friends and what I think is the most fun dynamic between friends. I wanted the cookies in the story to seem like they were their own thing. Reading all of this I didn't mean for all of this to come out poetically or anything, but I really am passionate about writing.

Thank you for the kind words and for allowing me to reflect on this story, I really do appreciate and love when people send in long messages like this concerning anything really...Thank you for reading my story and enjoying it I hope today's update will keep you guys full for the next 2-3 days!!! I'm glad you put in the effort to ask anything it's a lot more meaningful than you think <3

-Odile

[hopalongfairywren]

HElllo hi i heard you were willing to ramble about egg lore? (<- knows nothing about egg lore but somehow ended up writing a fic about the egg and i need to pay for my sins)

Oh boy. Where do we fucking BEGIN! (This answer will be late and probably go on so many side tangents) Alright, so I'm just gonna recap the "smaller" events leading up to and surrounding the early part of the egg lore first. The Egg arc was so long I could probably make several long posts JUST for recapping the general events that happened in roughly chronological order as well as important tidbits to the egg lore. That's assuming either the ADHD spurred motivation fuel I'm running on while writing this doesn't dry up, or that I get the kind of motivation to write more posts this long from other asks like this. I'll also try to do more seperate posts on the more lore analysis-y side of the egg arc. So like how the egg's story was impacted on a more meta scale by the way the dsmp's story over all was being played out at the time by its' creators, the implications of its existance in both dsmp fanon and canon... IF I'm motivated to that is.

The Egg arc began when c!Badboyhalo found the "egg" in his statue room, which he was digging out to make way from the Dreamon Hunters (totally different lore plot, but that's for another niche dsmpblr blog) He soon showed it to c!Sam and c!Dream, and for context those two had been terraforming a part of the SMP close by the Badlands and therefore the statue room in order for Sam to complete the giant mega prison Dream had hired him to construct.

Bad was immediately drawn to the "egg" (which was called that because of it's shape and not because at that point it was confirmed the thing was an egg), where as both Dream and Sam were immediately weirded out by Bad's sudden affinity for it and the own bad vibes it gave off to both of them. Shortly after leaving the statue room, they spotted red vines growing by first by Hutt's Pizza - and then shortly after at Bad and Skeppy's mansion. This was extra concerning because they reasoned no player could have spread those growths up there on the surface, to those two different locations, in the time they were all down in the cave. This creeped Dream out enough he tried to manually remove the growth at the pizza place. This caused Bad to become agressive and he attacked Dream for 'hurting it', reasoning that the vines were beautiful. And it spread even more rapidly after that, with red vines being spotted growing around Jschlatt's grave, even on the Power Tower in L'manberg. Bad became even more attached to the egg and it's various offshoots, even nicknaming the egg "baby".

At this point most people on the server who interacted with the egg were, understandably were uncomfortable with the rapid spread of the vines and Bad's weird devotion to it. (Execptions to that being c!Puffy, c!Ponk and c!Antfrost who agreed with him) Bad and Ant eventually both started hearing voices from the egg, commanding them to spread the vines even further, while Puffy also started exhibiting the extreme fawning and obsession over the egg at that point. (She nicknamed it Eggy) Bad and Ant actively started spreading the vines; at c!Punz's tower and Sam's base. They also started urging other people to follow them back to where the Egg's main structure was, presumably in order to persuade more people over to becoming obsessed with said Egg. Sam tried putting a stop to this by trying to move the egg's structure physically, but he was stopped by Bad and Ant. The conflict was broken up when Punz came over, and remarked that he found the egg strange but "ultimately harmless." (Punz later elaborated that he was actually neutral on the egg and leaning towards viewing it as a potential threat, but to avoid direct conflict just wanted to see how everything would unfold. He also refused a proposal from Sam to fight Bad and Ant should the need arise.) Ponk was yet another case of someone initially opposing the egg but coming to view it favoriably. He had seemingly mixed opinions for a while, admiring the beauty of the vines but also being creeped out by the degree of devotion Bad, Ant and Puffy were showing to the egg over all. Ponk Eventually went to visit the Egg's main room and actually touched it. Like Bad and Ant, he reported hearing the egg make audible noises. Unlike Sam and Ant, he did not apperantly hear distinct words but rather "growling". Overtime, Ponk started referring to the egg as beautiful as well. Also he too began pushing for Sam to "join the egg" Leaving off here, with the next post (if it happens) being on the canonical timeline of events leading to most of the egg's followers disinfecting at that point, until probably the establishment of the proper eggpire. And then the red banquet of course gets it's own special post.

[viridescentelf]

Inhibition - Beau x Elliott Fluffy Fluff

Hello!! I love @fuerrziah and her beautiful SDV art, especially her farmer Beau and (my love always) Elliott!

I hope you like this extreme slow burn (non-canon) fic of their first kiss and love confession, idk if I missed some of the lore but I tried to stick to your updated ship dynamic🩷

(also sorry it took so long but work and stuff)

I listened to this gorgeous song while writing:

Warnings: Swearing, Lustful Kissing lol idk

————

The song of the waves echoed sweetly in Beau‘s ear. Willy had gifted him this crappy fishing rod some time ago, but it was better than nothing. Fish always got him decent coin and he was too lazy to craft a newer one.

The rusty flakes of the handle chipped away with every strong gust of wind. Some landed in the farmer‘s long hair, but he barely acknowledged it.

It was close to midday. Last time he checked the time it was around 10:00, but that was after leaving his farm.

His red eyes couldn‘t help but dart to the shack sitting peacefully on the sand while he prepared the bait.

Beau wouldn‘t admit it to anyone, but he had a different reason to be there almost daily. Even if just for a quick wave or a short glance.

It was worth it every time.

Still too early, he thought, as he stretched his back while preparing to throw the line. The spring flower scented air swirled in his nose and mixed well with the oddly comforting salty mist that prickled his cheeks.

His skin glistening with kind droplets, Beau took a strong step back and hurled the fishing line into the water.

Knowing that the fish here usually took some time to notice free food above their heads, the farmer plopped himself down on the dock and let his legs swing above the soapy water.

Staring at the horizon, he felt a yawn tickle the back of his throat and he allowed himself to let out a loud sigh. He hadn‘t slept well. Some nights had been better than others, but the vile voices had won last night. It was difficult to feel at home in Stardew Valley, yet. The only real comfort he got was Miso and the girls in the Valley. And the nice conversations with someone in particular.

After what felt like an hour, Beau‘s stomach began to growl. He forgot to eat breakfast. He stared down at bit more impatiently at the slack line bobbing on the water‘s surface. He could make out a few fish shadows that rudely ignored his bait.

A particular one seemed to stare at the bobbing treat for a while until hastily turning away and swimming deeper into the blue hue.

„Asshole…“ Beau let out as he watched the tease.

„No luck today?“

A hot shiver snaked its way up the farmer‘s back, making him jolt and almost lose his grip on the fishing rod. He had already recognized the deep, sweet voice but turned anyway to gaze upon the one he had hoped to run into.

Elliott stood on the edge of the dock, a few long steps away from Beau, and waved kindly while the strong wind swept his luscious red hair to one side.

How can he look so good with messed up hair?

He realized he had been staring without answering: „Uh- nope. The fish don‘t seem that pleased with the cheap bait I made.“

Elliott gazed at the sunshine speckling the water. Beau tore his eyes away from the writer and pretended to fiddle with the line as he felt another yawn escape him. He tried to hide it in his sleeve. As he haphazardly pretended to busy his hands, Elliott walked towards the farmer.

Planting himself quite close, the redhead left his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. The sound of his exhale gave Beau goosebumps.

„You look weary, dear Beau. How about we meet at the Saloon later for a few hearty laughs with fine ale“ Elliott suggested, his calm exterior hiding the internal fireworks.

„SURE!“ the farmer answered a bit too loudly and quickly. Beau‘s face felt like lava. He was both weary and exhausted. His energy had been at half its volume the entire morning. He really just wanted sleep. But he couldn‘t pass up a chance to hang out with that hunk of a man again. It was always a good time.

Elliott chuckled: „I‘m looking forward to it then. I‘ll probably head over there around 4. See you then?“

Beau nodded hastily, while he was internally calculating if he had enough time to take a nap, shower, find food and eat something. His chickens needed food too.

Elliott smiled down at him, secretly clenching his fists in triumph, and then ventured back towards the beach walkway up to town, most likely on his way to the library.

When the writer was out of his frame of vision, Beau frantically packed everything together, leaving the rod in the water. At that moment, he felt a sharp tug.

„Oh for fuck‘s sake, NOW you bite?!“

Taking it as the taunt that it was, he dropped his bag and tensed his muscles to pull it in.

„You‘re not getting away!“ he growled at the fat fish tht writhed under the surface. It wasn‘t letting up so easily. It thrashed and wiggled trying to escape, but he was determined to at least throw something into the Shipping Bin today. The tug of war strained his muscles, but he clenched his thighs and biceps with one final pull, yanking the big halibut out from the splashing ocean. It jittered feebly and Beau let out a loud „HAH!“ when he held in his hand from its fin.

A flash of Elliott‘s face across his mind made Beau shriek quietly and remember he needed to get ready. Hastily packing everything up with the fresh halibut in his hand, the farmer ran back towards his farm.

———

The nap hadn‘t really happened. He barely got a few minutes in before remembering all the things he needed to do before going to meet Elliott. He still needed to put the harvested strawberries in the preserves jars so that they would be ready for Gus in a few weeks. He had forgotten that Robin had ordered a ton of stone that needed to be delivered today of all days, so he would need to do a whole round through the Valley to meet the deadline and still make it in time to the Saloon.

Beau now quickly shaved the bits of stubble on his chin, while his towel clung for dear life around his hips. Hair still damp, he attempted to brush it, but it kept getting caught on some knots. Brushing more aggressively while inventing new swear words, he finally managed to make it look somewhat presentable. It would dry quickly anyway while walking.

Running to his closet, he was briefly frozen in front of it unsure what to wear that wouldn‘t look too disheveled. Briefly experimenting with new combinations in the mirror, he threw the ideas on the ground and settled for his regular set.

Pants half on, Beau skipped towards the door, avoiding Miso who lay on the warm wood by jumping to the side. Her eyes slowly followed his movements keeping her head comfortably nestled on her paws, somewhat judgmentally.

„Sorry, Miso-„ Beau grunted with his shirt in his mouth while he buttoned his pants. Throwing the shirt and jacket on, the farmer ran to his fruit chests by the house, picked up as many strawberries as he could carry, threw them haphazardly into the preserves jars, ran to the coop to open the door so the chickens could eat and then continued towards the pile of stone he had freshly mined the day before. Stuffing them without counting into this bag, he glanced at the clock to see a scathing 3:30 pm appear on its face.

„Fuck!!!“

Jumping to his feet while flinging the backpack onto his back, Beau ran up to the side passage leading towards the mountains.

Sprinting with exhausted limbs and an empty stomach (he forgot to eat), he made it to Robin‘s Shop. He opened the door with such force, that it banged against the wall.

„Beau!? Wha-“ Robin attempted to speak.

„Here!“ The hectic farmer began unloading the stones onto her desk. Not waiting for a reply (and forgetting his payment), he turned on his heels and bolted back out the door, leaving an extremely confused carpenter yelling after him to collect his reward.

Beau tripped over a rock but caught himself quickly while dashing down the mountain to reach town. People passing him tried to greet him, but were met with a gaspy: „No time!“ while he continued panting down the road.

———

Elliott stood at a high table, scribbling frantically on a small piece of paper. He crossed everything out and grunted at the continues disappointment in his own writing.

Gus eyed the pile of scrunched up paper on the floor beside the distraught red head, but chose to wait if he would actually leave it there. Usually, the writer was more considerate than that. Something seemed to preoccupy him today. Cleaning a glass carefully, he watched Elliott vigorously scratch out another line and then exhale loudly with an exasperated „Come on!“

The saloon owner watched Elliott take another huge sip of his drink.

In that moment the door burst open rather inelegantly. Beau stood in the door way, the green hair wild from the wind and letting it air dry. Gus blinked, noticing Elliott‘s sudden straight back and swift hiding of the sea of papers by letting his jacket fall on the floor. Realizing why the writer was so desperate to finish in time, the saloon owner began moving towards the side of the bar where Elliott was seated; to clean of course.

Beau panted a bit, his eyes pulled like magnets to Elliott‘s red hair.

He felt his knees shake at the sight of him: he sat so properly with that gorgeous smile and luscious locks, directing that beam at the farmer. Beau felt unworthy of his attention, but he couldn‘t help but want to be close.

„Beau!“ Elliott called sweetly, waving towards the high table, invitingly. Gus watched the writer kick his jacket a bit further under the big curtain next to him.

Beau was breathless and attempted to squeeze out of a response while walking towards his friend, but his throat gave up. Reaching the table, he coughed briefly into his closed fist and joined the smiling writer.

Elliott looked over at the bar, where Gus pretended to be particularly interested in his coffee machine which he wasn‘t using at this moment. Seeing the writer looking his way, he met his gaze.

„Another round for me, Gus! And uh…“ Elliott looked back at Beau who blushed uncontrollably, „you prefer wine right?“

Beau nodded and called to the bar keep: „Red wine for me!“ Gus nodded and went on to prepare the drinks.

The farmer was dead tired and running on an empty stomach. This could only go well.

Elliott and Beau talked about daily chit chat things, which would normally bore the farmer to death. But with him, sharing these small insignificant details about life felt strangely comforting. He just had a way of turning the mundane into magic with the way he spoke about things. Beau could listen to him for hours and Elliott, oddly, loved hearing about the farming shenanigans he got up to. He was always particularly fascinating by Beau‘s mining stories.

„And you truly don‘t feel frightened down there? In the dark?“ Elliott asked with a sweet viridescent twinkle in his eye.

Beau chuckled: „Not really. I have my sword and I found a ring that emits a good amount of light, so it‘s never too. The zombies surprise attack me sometimes, but they’re pretty slow. Cause you know… they‘re zombies…“

They shared a laugh, taking another swig of their drinks together. Beau already felt lightheaded. The air felt fuzzy and warm, the tender voice of his table companion making his body simultaneously tense up and relax at the same time.

„You‘re so brave, I could never venture down there…“ Elliott looked up from his pint, a particular stare that Beau had noticed before. His eyes wandered from the farmer‘s eyes down his arms and across the chest. It was only for a brief moment, but it made Beau feel dizzy. He was probably imagining it, wishful thinking. He was tipsy anyway. Everything sounds like flirting when you‘re inebriated. He tried to mimic Elliott’s sultry stare just in case he was flirting, but one of his eyes twitched uncontrollably from exhaustion, so he stopped trying and kept his focus on his glas.

„More stupid, than brave.“ Beau replied jokingly, while swirling the red liquid in his glas.

Stupid. A familiar insult he was trying to reclaim for himself.

Elliott‘s eyes immediately widened in response.

„Oh no, Beau! Please don‘t say such things. You‘re not stupid at all.“

It happened so suddenly. Elliott‘s soft hand rested on Beau‘s and they both stared at the sudden impact.

Beau could feel his cheeks burning up and noticed the same happening on the writer‘s. They didn‘t notice, but Gus had paused his cleaning and remained frozen, just like they were as well.

„Ah!“ Elliott took his hand away suddenly. „I apologize, I - uh didn‘t want to -„

Beau wasn‘t sure what to do. He liked it. Loved it actually. But Elliott‘s fast recoil confused him.

„It‘s fine, don‘t worry about it“ Beau tried to sound calm but the hoarseness in his voice gave away his nerves.

Not knowing what else to answer, Beau chugged the rest of his wine and waved weirdly to Gus for another one.

Elliott seemed to be fiddling with a scrunched up paper in his lap, cheeks still a peachy hue.

„So uhm… Beau, we‘ve been hanging out a lot and uh…“ Gus came over and replaced the empty glas of wine with a new one. He seemed to take his sweet time returning to the bar.

The paper crunched again. Beau wasn’t sure if he was opening or closing it. In any case, Elliott seemed to be particularly fascinated with his own lap.

„You see… I really...“ He paused again, his head jolting down again, rereading what he had written apparently. His face was turning purple now.

Beau‘s grip on the glas was so tight, he was terrified it would break in half. What was he trying to say?

Elliott gulped. Gus hadn‘t moved. He was fixed in his „walking away“ position.

The door burst open again and some more towns people wandered it, immediately increasing the tranquil volume of the Saloon.

The kids walked in, as well. Abigail spotted Beau and waved frantically. She started towards their table.

Elliott, seeing that she was approaching, sighed.

„Nevermind.“

Beau‘s entire body slumped. Elliott couldn‘t look him in the eye, disappointment clearly visible on his serious face as he chugged more from his pint, requesting another.

Gus shook his head and finally returned to his station to prepare the writer‘s drink and take new orders.

Abigail reached them and made the rest of her friends join her, not realizing the moment they had interrupted.

They sat around Beau and Elliott, telling them about their newest song, while Abigail asked about any cool stones Beau might‘ve found in the mines recently.

———

Hours passed, the Saloon filling up even more. Beau and Elliott kept drinking, not being able to hold their personal conversation here and deciding to drown that fact with more liquor.

Still, they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Even after a frustrating start, being near each other always felt strangely like home. A home in a homeless place. At least it did for Beau.

But they were smashed. Walking out of the Saloon, it suddenly hit Beau how drunk he actually was. Did the lamp posts always have three bulbs?

Stumbling, the two of them decided some fresh ocean air would help them both stand a bit straighter.

Struggling to walk normal in the sand, Elliott held his belly from laughing so hard while Beau walked like a dizzy flamingo towards the water.

Looking back, having finally reached the dock and hearing the comforting waves, Elliott had joined him wiping tears of laughter from his eye. Beau tried to take his shoes off, but fell over.

Elliott grabbed Beau‘s arm and pulled him back to a standing position, giggling still.

„Careful there. Are you alright?“ he asked.

Beau tried to focus on his handsome face. Seeing three of them wasn‘t that bad actually.

„Fine and dancy~“ he replied.

Elliott was still holding onto his arm. Letting go slowly, he looked up to the night sky and took a deep and slow breath. He turned away, looking into the distance. The stars twinkled on the water‘s surface. Beau wanted him to hold his arm again, mostly for stability because he couldn‘t stand straight, but also because it was nice to feel his touch.

Elliott seemed more stable. Probably because he hadn‘t drunk on an empty stomach.

„Beau…“ Elliott said gently, still looking out towards the ocean.

„Yessir~“

What the fuck was that? Say something normal.

Elliott chuckled cutely. Catching himself again, he pulled a paper out of his pocket. He looked at it briefly, then put it away again.

„A heaven on earth I have won by knowing thee…so are thou to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground…“

There was a brief pause. Beau wasn‘t sure what to reply to that. His sober brain knew it meant something profoundly sweet, but the wine made it difficult to understand.

„Thee? Am I a king or something now?“ He noticed the world spinning a bit too fast. It was hard to stand still. He caught himself from falling backwards, edging closer to the dock‘s end.

Elliott laughed again. His eyes finally moving away from the ocean, he looked at the farmer with a tenderness Beau wasn‘t sure what to do with. Although he was clearly blushing, something seemed to be giving him courage this time.

„Shakespeare does have a way to alienate. I have been trying for weeks to write out my own words, but nothing came close to his...“

Elliott turned himself towards Beau, taking his hands out of his pockets. He fidgeted a bit with his jacket.

„I…really enjoy being in your presence, Beau. I haven‘t felt this way before…you‘re just… so easy to talk to. I don‘t want anything to ruin what we have so I‘m struggling to- uhm…“

Elliott gulped once again. The tension in Beau’s muscles convulsed as he heard his heart beating so fast, it might burst. Was this a confession?

Taking another deep breath, he finally stared intently into Beau‘s eyes:

„I have a bouquet in my shack. I want to give it to you.“

There was an eruption of glee within Beau‘s chest. An unstoppable need to say everything at once. He had wanted this ever since he‘d met the writer here on the beach. But Elliott had prepared a sweet speech and written stuff about him for weeks?! He bought a bouquet for him?!?!?! For him?!?

Beau felt his body fall backwards, he had tried to catch himself from falling and unknowingly took a step into thin air. Not realizing he was actually falling into the ocean, Beau exclaimed:

„YOU ARE SO FUCKING HANDSOME!!!“

Water crashed into his ears. Silence encompassed his entire body as he sank deeply into the dark ocean. Instinctively kicking his feet, he tried to breach the surface, but he was confused which way was up.

A slight panic gripped him as he thrashed about in many directions. The residual air quickly depleting his lungs from the fear of drowning.

A strong hand wrapped around his flailing arm. With a sharp tug, he suddenly broke out of the crushing depths and took a harsh inhale of fresh air.

Elliott pulled Beau back onto the sand, his wet red hair sticking to his neck. Beau coughed aggressively, spitting out water. The sobering event making his thoughts a bit clearer, he sat up quickly and was met with Elliott‘s face right up close.

„YOU LIKE ME?!“

Elliott coughed a bit while he laughed once more at the comical priorities Beau had: „Yes, I really do…“

Beau couldn‘t believe it. Was he dreaming and actually snoring in his bed? Had this whole day actually happened?

Realizing Elliott was checking him for injuries, Beau took the writer‘s hand into his own. They were both now new colors of deep red.

„I‘m fine. Sorry about that.“ He kept his hand in his grasp. The world wasn‘t spinning that much anymore. They were so close, like never before. Foreheads were almost touching and Beau could smell the sweet and sour scent of ale from the writer‘s mouth.

„You think I‘m handsome?“ Elliott purred, lips so close they had their own gravitational pull.

Beau nodded. His eyes flickered between Elliott‘s and the lips drawing closer.

Giving in, Beau let his head tilt forward and their lips finally collided.

At first it was soft and hesitant, both feeling each other out. Briefly releasing, Elliott fell forward again, deepening the kiss into a more firm and longing one, which Beau responded in kind. The kiss grew hungrier the more their lips met, as their bodies pressed into one another. Elliott snuck his leg under Beau‘s, forcing his hips to open slightly.

Elliott released, breathing heavily: „Is this.. ok?“

Beau nodded immediately and quickly, not wanting his lips to be apart from the writer‘s. They reconnected again, sinking deeper into the cold sand the more they writhed within each other‘s embrace.

Feeling the chill of the night‘s air surrounding them, Beau placed his hand on Elliott‘s cheek and stared into the gorgeous green eyes that sparkled back at him.

„Wanna go someplace warmer?“ he asked, feeling Elliott shake slightly.

Elliott laughed again and agreed. He stood up first, reaching his arm down to pull Beau up, which he did easily. Both walked with their arms around each other‘s waists towards Elliott‘s house, still peppering kisses on each other.

„I assume this means you‘ll accept the bouquet?“ he asked, somewhat jokingly.

Beau let his head rest on Elliott‘s shoulder, giggling as well:

„Of course, I was hoping you‘d give me one.“

———

Back at the Saloon, Gus was picking up the pile of papers left behind by Elliott.

Curiosity getting the better of him, the barkeeper opened up a particularly crumbled up one and read:

„Dearest Beau,

With every glance, inhibitions fade,

Your touch a promise that I‘ve made,

To be unmasked, unchained, unafraid,

In my tender love for you, courage I save.

With you, my muse, I‘ve found my end“

Gus‘s mustache twitched as a brief smile etched across his face.

[patrickispinky]

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.4

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Long Flash Back. Rehab. Mention of Overdose. Blood. Hearing Voices. Disassociation. Vomit. Dead Body. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

3k words

Pt.3

-

The ticking of the clock and the tapping of your knee was all you could hear as you waited for the nurses to arrive. It was a small empty waiting room, the smell of disinfectant filled your senses. It felt familiar, almost like you belonged here. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a room like this, same reason, different intentions. 

A young nurse with a bright smile walked into the room, it was forced, you could tell by the bags under her eyes she was just as exhausted as you were. I mean who could blame her? Working all night, hearing the same stories just in different fonts, smelling coffee breath from all her colleagues, sounds like hell. “Okay, so I'm gonna have to take a picture of you for our records then I'm gonna get you situated in a room. How does that sound?” She talked all bubbly but there was an edge hidden beneath it. 

“Perfect” You didn’t bother trying to make your voice sound happy to match her fake energy. Your hands were in the pockets of your burgundy hoodie, the strings already took out. You sifted back and forth, swinging your elbows nervously.  It was 5 in the morning, the EMT’s had to come from the district you were being placed in so it took them 4 hours to get there then 4 hours to transfer you. You sat in that hospital bed for 4 days just to end up in another hospital, except this one was worse, you had to actually talk to people and pretend like it was making you better. 

“Great, I just need you to stand still for me.” You didn’t protest, you made sure you were standing right in front of her as she lifted her camera and clicked the button on the top. There was a flash that burned your eyes slightly but you kept a straight face, just wanting to curl up in a bed, even if it wasn't your own. The smile on her face didn’t falter as she let the camera rest by the strap hanging on the back of her neck. “This is just gonna be used to identify you, mainly so we can keep track of your medicine.” What she really meant was that it was so you couldn’t lie about your name at the medicine counter and get someone else's. 

“So you gonna pat me down or something?” The memory of that little 12 year old you used to be getting stripped down to her underwear as a lady with a thick African accent counted the cuts that adored her arms and thighs with a judgmental look makes you want to curl in on yourself. 

“I am gonna have to have you strip down to your underwear, I’ll try to make it quick. I know it's not exactly fun.”  That stupid fucking bright smile still present, but something lies underneath it, almost like sympathy. 

“Great” The frustration was evident in your voice. The woman's smile grows more apologetic as she turners to close the door to the small waiting room. 

“I'm just gonna have you slide off your hoodie, shirt, and pants. I’ll just need to search the pockets and see if you have any cuts or bruises.” You don’t wait for further instructions, wanting to get it over with,you unzip your hoodie, placing it in the chair you were sitting in before the nurse walked in. Next was your black cropped t-shirt, you repeated the same process before sliding off your black plain slides, leaving your exposed mismatched socks to be seen fully. While you were sliding your blue nickelodeon pajama pants she reached over, checking the pockets of your discarded hoodie. You put your pants with the rest of your clothes once she was finished checking your hoodie. 

“The pants don’t have pockets.” You gave her an awkward smile, arms crossed over your chest attempting to cover your exposed cleavage, your breast only being covered by a gray sports bra. 

“I'm gonna take your word for it.” She was looking at your eyes, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “Do you have any cuts or bruises that you’re aware of?” 

“Just scars.” All the damage you used to put on yourself became internal over the years. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna need you to pull your bra and shake it.” You let out a sigh but didn’t protest, your arms unfolding and grabbing the bottom of your bra, giving it a shake before letting it go with a snap. She gave another apologetic smile, sympathy dripping from her. “Alright, you can get dressed then I'll take you to your room.” You gave her a nod before you grabbed your clothes, slipping them back on. Once your hoodie was zipped back up you crossed your arms over your chest once again. Thinking it would  somehow make the exposure you felt moments ago disappear. 

“So, um, when am I gonna get my stuff back?” When you first walked in they took the bag your dad had brought to the hospital when he found out they were sending you away, claiming they needed to make sure there was nothing dangerous in it. 

“You should get them back by tomorrow morning, if not then you'll have them by lunch.” She spoke as she opened the door, walking out with you following behind her. There was nothing special, just a hallway, then you reached an entertainment room with a front desk. “We do vitals at 4 but you missed them so we're just gonna go off of what the hospital in SplitRiver gave us. We do them twice a day, one at 4 and then one at 12 right after lunch.” She began walking you down a hallway. “This is where all the girls sleep, we do two to a room so you already have a roommate.” She stopped in front of a room, the door fully opened. It was dark but you could see two beds, the one on the far end, next to the window, already being occupied. “This is gonna be your room. There is a bathroom and a shelving unit for you to put all your stuff. Your bed should already be made and ready for you.” The smile still on her face but faded, possibly from exhaustion, the same exhaustion you felt. “We’ll wake you up in a few hours for breakfast then you’ll go about your day with the rest of the girls. The morning shift should take it from there but I think it's about time you get some sleep.” 

“That sounds great.” You couldn't force yourself to smile, your brain fuzzy and numb. Every noise around you being silenced by the ringing in your ears. You couldn't tell if it was from the remaining withdrawal or the fact that you haven't slept in days. The sound of the woman standing beside you's voice drew you back into reality. 

“You all set?” That fucking smile started to feel taunting. Why the fuck was she still smiling? 

“Yup.” You didn’t want to walk into your new room for the next- well you didn’t know how long yet, but the idea of walking into it felt like signing yourself off, surrendering to your fate. 

“Perfect” Yeah you're definitely not imagining it, her smile seems less friendly now. She gestured with her hands for you to walk into your room, but she didn’t understand, she got to go home at the end of the day to her own bed in her own home. You’re stuck, and that STUPID FUCKING SMILE IS STILL THERE! God how could she not see that she's expecting you to walk into your own prison cell, what a selfish bitc- “Are you okay?” That anger must have been present on your face based on the look she was giving you.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” But you weren't, you weren't fine. You were put in a place of impending safety with no escape. A place with fake smiles and exhausted faces, a place where you had to force yourself to be fine. But you couldn’t tell her that so you just stepped into your room, knowing that now you were just another number, that your free trial was over and you’re just another patient to deal with. She gave you one last polite smile, probably to comfort you, but it didn’t work, if anything it made you want to scream till your vocal cords snapped and your throat filled with blood. 

You could feel the tears forming in your eyes but you choked them down, not wanting to break just yet. Walking to your bed, ignoring the sleeping girl in the other one, you touched the thin blanket that laid on top of the mattress. Though you weren't sure you could call it a mattress, more like a yoga mat, regardless you climbed into bed, pulling the blanket on top of you as you laid your head on your pillow that had a weird plastic material protecting the soft cushioning that was hidden inside it. You let your eyes drift closed knowing no sleep would come, despite being exhausted your brain was still too wired to sleep. So you just laid there, imagining you were at home, playing Rocket League with your brother while he chewed pizza way too loudly. The closest thing to a happy place your brain could muster up. 

(“1 fish, 2 fish, this flashbacks been too long bitch” - My Brother, 2024) 

It felt like a million tiny needles were stabbing you in the lungs. Your surroundings are blurred and there's a heavy pounding in your head that makes you want to rip your brain out and throw it against a wall. You couldn’t make out where you were, your senses being fried as a state of confusion took over. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice was groggy and broken from being waterboarded. The wateriness in your eyes began to clear as you sat up, wincing as a pain shot through your whole body. The room looked familiar, no not just familiar you’d been here before. The same worn down walls, cracking ceiling, and water damaged floor. The same place you took your last breath 4 days ago, or at least you think it was 4. The days had already blurred together. 

It looked the same as it did when Charley had guided you out, telling you about how the rest of your existence is gonna be spent on the school grounds. The only difference was that there was now a smell, a disgusting rotting smell. It wasn’t too strong but definitely noticeable and you knew it could only be one thing. No one had found your body yet, the last bit of you that clung to the living world was stuck, slowly rotting right next to you. 

You debated looking over, not needing to see what you looked like with all the life sucked away from you again, the image was already burned into the back of your brain. The memory of it made your stomach turn, vial pooling but you knew it wouldn’t come up. You spent 30 minutes dry heaving the first time you saw yourself, still warm, vomit and blood covering your chin, only it wasn't yours, it was the lifeless body’s you once belonged to. 

You didn’t want to stay there any longer so you tried to stand up, eyes averted from the sickening sight but as you tried to stand your body went limp, another pain shooting through you. You felt almost like you were in shock, something you were used to by now after several near death experiences and well… dying.  

Nothing really felt real. Your therapist used to call it disassociation, something you’d do when a situation was too stressful. It felt like the right word to describe this. You weren't in your body, literally and figuratively. Like you were watching your movements from above, desperate not to look at what lies beside you, a reminder of where you were, what you’d become, and worst of all a reminder that no one knew you were gone. They just let you rot, but could you blame them? I mean look at you, a fucking mess. You can't even stand up. Just get up, GET THE FUCK UP!

That's when the tears fell, sucking you back into reality with a dreadful pit in your stomach. Why were you crying so much? You never cry. Why can’t you just be stronger? Be the girl you used to be, before death, before drugs, the girl who stayed up late comforting her dad when he was drunk and confused, the girl who convinced herself she could win in a fight against a bear, the girl who prided herself on being the bullies bully. You needed that girl right now, but she had died a long time ago, long before the girl you became had. So all there was left to do was cry. Cry and sit in self pity for allowing yourself to become this, for not being stronger, for not being someone that young girl would be proud of. Why the fuck did you do this to yourself? And why the fuck are you just sitting there? Get up and do something. 

What could you do? You were alone, something you used to love but this was different. You were never really alone, there was always someone you could run to when it became too much. Now it was just you, you were the only person who knew where it all started, why you’re the way you are, alone. The familiar stabbing pain comes back, your organs feel like they are gonna rip out of your body as you bleed out, leaving another body with the one you had already abandoned. 

Get up, get up you have no reason to cry. You did this to yourself, get the fuck up you selfish bitch. “I'M TRYING!” Oh god it felt good, it felt good to scream and cry. To silence the voices with your own noise, why should they be the only ones that get a say? It’s your brain that they constantly control and the only bit of sanity that you had already slipped away with your life. So why weren’t you allowed to cry? 

That's when you heard footsteps and giggling. Your dazed state not being able to process the sight of people, alive people. Sadly they weren't able to process the sight in front of them either, and that's when it happened, two high pitched girlish screams that fully snapped you out of it. They’d found you, the cold, lifeless, smelly version of you.  

It all felt too real, like you were being saved. Though you knew that wasn't true, you were still trapped but some part of you could finally escape this hell hole even if that meant leaving the only conscious bit of you behind. Closer I guess you could call it, finally knowing that someone knew you were gone. In some selfish way you wanted to be missed, see if anything changed now that they knew, they knew you weren't coming back. 

The girls stood there, shocked, staring at the horror. Part of you felt bad for them, they didn’t deserve this, but it was better than someone you know having to find you. That guilt alone would have haunted you for the rest of your existence. You wanted to reach out, tell them you were okay even though you weren't, but you couldn't, so you were forced to watch as these innocent girls ran out the door. You got up, chasing after them, ignoring the remaining pain in your limbs. One of the girls, she had short blond hair, doubled over, was vomiting onto the pavement as the other one, with curly brown hair, dry heaved. 

The sight alone made you want to do the same but you knew it would do no good. You had learned that seeing a dead body in fucked up movies you spent way to much time on and seeing a dead body in person were two different things. No movement, no breathing, just cold dead eyes that stare into your soul, daring you to look straight into them. 

You could hear the sound of frantic footsteps drawing close, probably someone who had heard the girls scream. You look over to see a boy with short brown hair and big brown tired but panicked eyes. He looked familiar, and maybe a year younger than you. He ran to the blond girl, concern filling his eyes. 

“Maddie, are you okay?” Maddie? So that was the blonde girl's name. She looked up at him, whipping puke off her chin as the other girl looks over. 

“Go get Mr.Mandela.” Her voice sounded harsh and scared. 

“What? Why? What's going on?” Poor boy was lost and concerned. There was a slight look of disgust on his face as he took an inhale of breath. “And what's that smell?” 

“Don’t worry about it, just go.” The brown haired girl spoke up.  

“Okay, okay, fine.” You watched as the boy ran off, you knew what was gonna happen next and didn’t want to be around to witness it. Reluctantly you left the two girls, thought it didn’t feel right. You wanted to apologize, their minds forever scarred by you. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, it’s you. This is your fault. 

You walked to the school, even if you didn’t really know anybody being around people would help you keep whatever bit of consciousness you had left in you. You directly avoided going near the principal's office, knowing that's where the boy would be, frantically trying to explain what was going on even though he had no idea what the girls actually saw. Hopefully he never would. 

The halls were filled, most likely kids heading to the first class of the day. Ducking and weaving through kids, making it your life mission to never know what happens when you come in direct contact with the living, you walked to the gym. It's the only place you could think of. You weren't exactly an expert on where the dead hang out. You pushed the door open and heard the sound of sneakers squeaking, only it didn’t sound like a group of people, just one. Just your luck, it's the boy you blew off. 

(evil cliffhanger with wally making his 2 second appearance)

Pt.5

[arrowfleur]

“What was that for?”

Some more thoughts on Darlin’s love languages and Sam’s HBS. Part 2 headcanons yay!

@darlin-collins <3

Darlin feels like they are never close enough to Sam, they will be laid directly on top of him and still trying to figure out ways to get closer

Sam, although quite outwardly stoic, does not only use his ‘pretty prose’ on Darlin’ (although they get the most and the best ones). Since his turning he is so aware of how short life can be and when he truly admires something about a person he’ll let them know.

This is usually with close pack/clan and also always when he’s just on his own with the person he’s talking too. But, if the timings right, he lets out these poetic observations, usually leaving the other person speechless before he quickly changes the topic. Not always realising the (positive) weight of his compliments.

On multiple occasions Sam has used words to describe Darlin that they didn’t know. Not because they’re dumb but because some of his vocabulary is rather niche. And upon looking it up they almost always perfectly describe Darlin’ in whatever situation he was talking about.

Although not the best at giving compliments, Darlin’ does tell Sam that he’s beautiful, gorgeous etc depending on the vibe he’s giving at the time and they’re the first person to ever call him anything other than handsome or hot.

‘You’re so pretty’

‘Pretty?!?’

‘Mhmm’

‘Darlin’ I ain’t-‘

‘Especially right now, with your hair like that’

‘Alright…. Well, thank you.’

I’ve mentioned before in a head canon post that they like it when Sam runs a finger up and down the bridge of their nose. Darlin’ will also full on nuzzle into Sam when cuddling/hugging. Especially into his collarbone/neck

Although comfortable with (platonic) touch from people they know, Darlin doesn’t like it unexpectedly, nor will they usually initiate it.

Unless someone they love is upset, then they’ll be getting a hug or an arm wrapped around them without any hesitation (if that’s what they like ofc)

Sam feels like he’ll never be able to fully voice how much Darlin’ means to him, Darlin’s heart practically skips a beat when he simply calls them beautiful. (Or when he makes a joke or complains or laughs or….)

When comforting Darlin’ about something, Sam often adresses problems/reasons for their behaviour/feelings that Darlin’ hadn’t realised themselves yet. He is so careful with his wording and extremely observant of them.

Darlin’ although previously independent to a fault, realised that the best comfort they could give Sam was to let him help them. On multiple occasions Darlin’ has let him heal paper-cuts and small bruises (which is a ridiculous waste of magic in their opinion) because otherwise he’s not going to stop thinking about it.

Sam knows all of Darlin’s tells by their body language and Darlin’ know Sam’s by his tone and the amount he’s speaking for example: if he says he’s ‘fine’ then he’s not but if he says he’s ‘alright’ then he probably is

The same way Sam felt bad about not being able to give Darlin every physical action that they wanted Darlin feels bad that they can’t verbalise their feelings for him correctly.

Sam found a scrunched up love letter from Darlin’ and keeps it in his wallet. They’d wanted to write down their feelings so they wouldn’t mess it up when sharing them with him but ultimately hated the end result.

They do however leave little notes for him sometimes while he’s sleeping , since they tend to work on different schedules, that Sam also dearly treasures and keeps in a shoe box.

Sam is really good at writing professional emails and has on multiple occasions written some for Angel and Babe when they’ve had problems with their bosses

The perfect mix of polite, professional and passive aggressive

Another way Darlin’ helps Sam is by reminding him of his talents/abilities and how he uses them for so much good, they will not let that man be humble. His #1 cheerleader FR.

Even with all of this in mind both of their most comfortable ways of communicating their love is through acts of service. That way they get to keep up their grumpy outward personas that the pack/clan have long since learned to see right through.

[moraymoth]

 JAMES BLACKBURN HEADCANON AND NOTES BY DEVI MORAYMOTH

jorkfolfe hinted and tw for mean parent.

 Felix Wolfe really, really wants Blackburn in his gang, of course, probably because he knows he’s been going against Edward - however, what if there was more for it? This isn’t canon or anything, this is headcanons as a heads-up. I don’t mind if you disagree either.

James, of course, denies each and every time when Felix offers that odd thing and makes a scene; as said, James openly goes against Ed.

 So, what if, in the past - James and Felix used to be extremely close. Say throughout elementary up until 7th or 8th grade? They knew everything about each other, even if one was more melodramatic they would have got along and SOMEWHAT evened each others personalities out and James was relatively content and comfortable with this whole thing compared to how extreme or angry they act now. 

 So I’d say, like, middle school crushes type shit. You know?? That leads into a small idea I have of James’ family. I call James Jameson for this exact reason as well. Mr Blackburn, a short mean old man with a raspy voice and a flat expression. I’d say he’s homophobic, extremely homophobic - and with the two of them being middle school crushes and Mr Blackburn finding this out would make things absolutely horrible.

  Basically a, ‘if youre gay i’ll kill the both of you and you aren’t my son if you don’t follow in MY tracks’. Again, when I say Mr Blackburns short I mean like 5’0 short. 

 In return, James got so scared to the point he began to distance himself from Felix and get pretty pissed and angry overtime mainly at himself for doing something like that - which makes Felix more hopeless in his eyes, which since he was already acting out a bit in the past it gradually got even more extreme. Should probably throw in there, I feel like Felix and James are both seniors.

 Felix wants to befriend James again, and I can heavily think that he may already have an inverted letterman waiting for him somewhere on hand or in a bag or in his car. Since Felix would technically know where James lives(I see the idea here where only Felix knows since James may not bring the Basketball team over at all due to his fuckass dad and hes afraid for them) so Felix will stop by with gift baskets, in which James will only keep one or two things or throw the whole goddamn thing away as much as he wants to see that boy. Felix would also beg James’ parents to see him and talk to him again, which that’s actually pretty crazy to think about but what more do you expect from Felix? Either Demand and Beg or just demand it straightout with the door being shut completely on him.

 The Jameson name comes from the idea that’s his government name, and being called Jameson triggers something in his brain where he’s like don’t EVER call me that. It’s why everyone calls him James, or such as the basketball team may not know about the name all that much. The reason he hates it is because of his Dad naming him that. Jameson also means “Son of James” (Could be funny if his dads name was Jayson or James too but.)

 James has a hard time showing his care, obviously, and it’s probably affected him up in the basketball team as well since his home life (i.e mainly his dad…).

 I also feel like James’ family does magic shit or have demonic connections, more so than the Wolfes, mainly with the dark arts. They use blood to their advantage when doing it, since instead of a spellbook like Lous family or Felix using papers for it, or it being a supernatural powers - they can use the blood to make any spell although on the darker side of things with a few chants. If they do end up using books, it is written by the person who knows those things (Such as James having his own written one, called The Book of Shadows in a particular language and all the spells hand made by him) In which, that would be why Mr Blackburn and Mr Wolfe may have been close in the past as well (just not gay) to where their sons would have met, only for them to be torn apart by the same people who introduced them to eachother. (James would have done magic too then.) 

 James, on the dark magic end, used to do it as well. However, since then, he has not done it since he feels like it hurts people around him (such as something bad always happens after he does it and he regrets it heavily)

 James does not want to be like his dad at all, but he’s following in his steps because he’s afraid for the people around him, it’s why he shut Felix out. He didn’t want him to get harmed, nor did he want to think being gay was good (because of the thoughts Mr Blackburn injected into him.)

Jameson also has horribly bad anger, that much is obvious in IBVS all together - but this can be added on here. He bottles his anger up to a point he hurts anyone in his vicinity because he doesn’t know how to contain it or handle it at all. This leads into him accidentally punching one of his friends - regretting it and storming off out of fear they’ll hate him. 

 This could add into Felix wanting Ed to fuck off thinking he’s also causing grief upon James 

in which, he is unknowingly actually doing that with this whole change thing < will lead upon later

So, to that one poem in James’ redesigned reference sheet, to Felix, James is a star that got flew way too close (got caught) and now he feels he has to save him and all. ^ Relates to a song on the Jorkfolfe List (this post may also help you guys learn more about such songs on the jorkfolfe list.) Mr Blackburn has also cursed Mr Lopez to the point he has almost died, however Ms Lopez can keep him stable. Louis and Laurel are afr to scared to enter that room since they don’t want to see their father ill (he’s no longer on his death bed, just extremely sickly). ^ Mr Lopez is a really really good dad. He’s just sickly and his kids are scared to see their parent hurt.

Anything related to Felix that James may have was all mainly thrown away by Mr Blackburn while James was begging him not to do that at all. So, He had to hide very few things from his dad that he wanted to keep (a photo of him and felix hidden in a spot in his closet around 6th grade). A play on skeletons in his closet. Jameson also, as said, wouldn’t use Jameson in the basketball team at all. This gives Felixs reason a bit more depth and a bit more to James refusing to go with Felix, in which, in the end he may actually head off to his side any way.

A key point in one of the servers I was describing this to, was, ‘A fight between Xavier Jackson and Mr Blackburn would be great’.

I feel like James’ family also leans into the more gothic side of things, which would be a crazy change from the more normal looking parents (i.e antonio, janet, william, etc). His house probably has a spiked metal fence around it tucked deep into the darkest area of foxfield as well. Probably also a dead tree in their yard? ^ James’ room is likely similar, but I feel like he would have a lot of skulls that are real, or bones for that matter. Which would be extremely fun if anyone woul draw it (probably me if i do do that) where his room has shelves and stuff with plenty of skulls, and of course those volumes of dark spells tucked into it.

 He is greatly afraid of change, because he’s already had to make so much change between him and Felix so he doesn’t want to see himself forgotten by the basketball team nor have to distance himself. Since Edward may have helped him in some shape or form, which is highly likely that everyone in Edwards group has helped James in some way. When the group changes, even if it’s very little, he starts to grow a sudden dislike because of the worries he has stored away. However, it does rock back and forth in his head due to Mr Blackburns actions and how they have always affected him and his relationships. Whether for better or for worse the changing is, he’s scared. He thinks Isaac is going to change Edward(and his attitude makes him unbelievably mad), he thinks he’s going to lose Ed who will stop being friends with him just as he did with Felix (not because he likes ed unless you, the reader, portray it such as,) because of Isaac. It’s not just James’ interalized homophobia, it’s more than that.

If he does move onto Felixs side, he would have to fight his interalized homophobia further (I see felix being an absolute freak and kind of a flirt and it makes him EXTREMELY pissed off), but the even bigger change will drive him even more insane because of Felixs group (mainly evil justin… if you read his sheet, he’s EXTREMELY clingy.) and they could possibly bring out more bad then good in James (not ethan because ethan either switched sides and if he stayed is far too anxiety ridden or nervous to do so. Also hes probably the sweetest out of all of them.)

 A song I wanted to do with these two were, 

Tim, I wish you were born a girl by of Monteral   Which i still really want to do but it would be more exciting to do it with a surprise.

 Speaking with that member more, you know who you are, James definitely sucks at communication horribly and probably doesn’t want anyone to know whats going on with his dad at home. The day James cut Felix off was, he said (which is why people keep drawing it), ‘Felix… I wish you were born a girl.’ Before up and leaving that other boy there where he tried to tell him he had to leave in which Felix watched the other leave, saying- ‘jameson- wait–’ before James disappeared into the background. Of course Felix may still try and interact, but we know James would either avoid or lash out.

 One line that person said was, ‘not mr blackburn trying to mold james into him in the worst way’ James may really really want to go back to Felix, but he doesn’t want Felix (or himself) hurt in the process. 

 The scars upon James in the redesign is NOT from his father though, because James seems like the angry and blinded by rage type - he has had plenty of fights over things with other people at school. They would of course scab, in which James would pick at them either way making the other jocks try and stop him from picking at them however they still end up in scars.

 I wouldn’t think Mr Blackburn would put his hands on him (maybe a bit, but not often… probably a quick smack across the face or using a spatula. We don’t talk about the spatula part though getting his with a spatula hurts REALLY BAD.) but mainly yell and freak out on him, to the point he hits a wall or the table and freaks out further - in which James wouldn’t flinch anymore at it because he’s grown numb to it. If he does hurt him in a smaller fit of rage, he’s either grabbing him by the ear or yanking his earring which is why he’s missing one.

He’s likely attacked teachers too.

James has nothing but taking it out on the people around him, or buildings. He has a lot of rings on his hands I feel like, and he would punch the walls of the outdoor of a building until theyre bleeding and bruised.

 He hurts his friends too, but he regrets it heavily and doesn’t think before he does it - and he blames himself even after months have passed.

Obviously, his friends would understand this and would reassure him but it doesn’t make it okay because they did infact get hurt and he knows that.

 When James gets really upset or mad, the one who can probably hold him still and comfort him best is Cody - for one, because he’s basically the basketball players tank and can keep him still, and for two Cody is basically a big teddy bear (like ethan possibly is to the packe, who can calm Felix in perhaps the same manner?)

 Justin would have invited everyone to the group, except Louis inviting James. So basically it would go, in my eyes, Justin invited, Justin has been friends with Louis since they were little so Louis is invited, then Louis invites James, then Justin invites Cody. There. That’s how it goes in my opinion (and headcanons). I really like this idea in my head too I’ve teased on a few times. James takes care of crows and ravens, having fed them a lot. It’s probably one of his soft spots too. They tend to stick around him a lot because they know they can trust him. I saw this one thing of this crow waiting everyday for this little kid to get home from school, only let him pet it, and would always check on him. Which I find absolutely adorable in all manners. So, in my brain, it went, aww James would actually be really cute with birds similar to that.

 Some of these crows are blind, missing a limb such as a leg or a wing or maybe is deaf. He treats them.

The two I have in my head have names and personalities. The crow would be called Pestilence, a female crow who is extremely noisy and chaotic. She tends to curse, due to picking up on James’ constant swear words. She also torments people around James if she feels like it, but her favorite spot to hide or sleep is in James’ letterman hood. She likes to mock people around her, and she loves making noise when she gets gifts for James even if it’s as simple as a piece of wood. When Felix is around with James and shes there, she’ll stick her beak in his ear or peck his face and then laugh about it. James relies on her to speak about the way he is feeling sometimes, but sometimes she leaves for some time since she’s still technically a wild bird.

 The raven would be called Bionic, with a hand-made little leg though flimsy. She’s also pretty chaotic, but is a lot softer around the edges. Her favorite part is to sing songs that James may listen to - and she likes saying, ‘boop boop’. She also rests on his head, cleaning his hair even if he doesn’t need it. ^

May possibly update said post if I feel like it.

possible doodled designs below.

needed mentions : @moldieecheese (since you love jameson), @qhostpi22 (you wished to be tagged), @jamesblackburnn1fan @over-dvse

[hello-universe-lovers]

SHENANIGANS: Where Mai gives headcanons to the Voices in your Head ™️ based purely off vibes!!

This episode: THE VOICES IN COOKING/BAKING

So we are back here again. Time to whip out the cakes and be sure to NOT forget to turn off the oven! Uhh spoilers kinda

Voice of the HERO: Look, I love Hero. And she is admittedly good with a lot of things. Fighting, leading (when push comes to shove), negotiating, gardening...but COOKING is where she struggles. Like, she's not bad that warrants a ban from the kitchen, and she can cook. It's just not great. And she beats herself up over it. The food itself is fine, maybe a lil burnt but serviceable.

Voice of the SMITTEN: do I need to say why he would be a good cook? This is a canon fact!what else is there to say?! Well...I can say he prefers to experiment and go overboard. Leftovers are NOT allowed when he's in charge, so everyone leaves stuffed.

Voice of the SKEPTIC: this may just be me, but Skeptic is the guy you go to for if you want something good and simple. He's not the best, but unlike hero he doesn't beat himself up over it. He makes a lot and there is plenty for tomorrow, if you feel like it. The Prince of Comfort Food.

Voice of of the CHEATED: luck may not be on her side, but the culinary gods sure are! She is EXTREMELY careful so there's no spill to trip over, no accidental knife tricks, no using the wrong ingredients or spices, unless they just don't have something. She basically "cheat-proof" the kitchen the best of her abilities. Sometimes she fails, and that sends her spiraling. But when she succeeds, she is so happy!! Oh, and her food is OK. What? Smitten takes the crown of Cooking King, she ain't beating him.

Voice of the PARANOID: surprise, surprise, he stress bakes. But only in the oddest of hours during bouts of nightmare and insomnia. Sure he doesn't do it ALL the time, but hey, can't go wrong with chocolate chip cookies at 2 AM with some Chai. Default Comfort Food King of the Voices.

Voice of the STUBBORN: In line with my hc of him being Aussie: let the man GRILL. He is meticulous in prepping, cutting, marinating the best meats he can get his hands on. He treats the kitchen like a battleground (which is why someone needs to help him clean up). But you don't wanna eat JUST that every day. Luckily, when he cooks, there's plenty for the next month or so. That's plenty of time to cleanse your palette.

Voice of the BROKEN: due to her legs, she can't exactly stand still and make a meal for 10 other people. But she is willing to help with cooking all the same. It makes her feel useful. Often with Hero or Cheated, you'd find her on a chair or in the corner, diligently peeling onions, potatoes, and such with automation not unlike a robot. Her appetite, though, leads her to not being able to join them for meal time. But it's ok, she grabs a plate later and enjoys it then. Sometimes you don't gotta force your gut.

Voice of the OPPORTUNIST: As a diligent boyfriend, he has picked up a recipe or two to show Thorn. Much like Hero, his meals are fine. Not good, not bad. The issue comes from actually being left alone to do anything. Most of the time, he doesn't like cooking for himself, let alone for the others. It's just something he picked up out of necessity. He'd settle with any leftovers if Smitten didn't had a say in that. However, they have a chore wheel for a reason so every 2 weeks, he sucks it up and cooks. He would just intentionally suck ass to not be put up to this, but that's not who he is, anymore.

Voice of the COLD: much like his hair still being silky smoothe for no reason, so is his "non-existent" cooking skills. Every time it's his turn, there's only one thing and it's a stew from some kind. Its a good stew, but since they never see him do anything, everyone thinks he just got Belle over to cook for him. Cold is not answering their questions, so it's a mystery. (Skeptic has tried to catch Belle, with no luck).

Voice of HUNTED: he doesn't cook, case close. He hates the conflicting smells and spices, he hates the stoves and oven, he hates how there are so many knives in one place. Sometimes he's more paranoid than Paranoid, in the kitchen. If you let him cook, it's something that won't straight up kill you, but he woule be uncomfortable through the process. Though, if it's just to watch others cook, he is perfectly fine, excited even. Because he's not alone and he can step in and help them if they get injured.

Voice of the CONTRARIAN: you'd think she's chaotic and...you'd be absolutely right. Weird food cravings and combos, odd snacks and drinks, Connie is the food fiend and OFFICALLY banned from the kitchen. That sign doesn't stop her bc she can't read tho. So rather than entering the kitchen alone, she sneaks in to modify that day's meal. This is where Hunted comes into play. It's a cat and mouse game, in there. Still, no one can stop her from eating stuff like lady fingers dipped in ranch dressing. Or bacon wrapped strawberries. (Smitten absolutely had a heart attack)

BONUS: COOKING TOGETHER.

They rarely cook together, like all in one, since they only have one kitchen. But it's their best memories together. Sometimes they invite the Princesses so they can make much more than usual. It becomes a psudeo date/picnic with everyone enjoying each other's company.

And they always save 2 plates for Shifty and Larry. They may be Gods who are experiencing everything through their voices and vessels, but they still deserve a plate at the table. (They appreciate it)

[killcodesashes]

[QUICK RANT ABOUT QUEER REPRESENTATION IN TSAMS/TSBS SHOWS]

[As a genderfluid aroace person myself.]

TSAMS

Uh. I don't like it. Aroace Moon? Cool. Absolutely valid, we love him for that. Wasn't adressed much except in a few episodes which are pretty good, I liked the one where he rejects Foxy a lot!

But recently- g e e z. I understand wanting to bait people in with ships people want! Specifically KidsCove. Same in tmgafs! But the problem is that they do it not just to tease/mess around with the viewers in good fun, they genuinely seem to hate the shippers and actually want to make fun of them? Not just with kidscove but with any other ship that isn't canon. They don't even want to confirm Sun's sexuality, just constantly making it a gag that he has a bisexual flag in his room. Which as a queer person? It's just annoying. Just really annoying ? Please all we want is a confirmation or something? We want queer characters we can actually relate to. And we don't really get that :( Then New Moon came along and said it was possible he wasn't aroace. . . And then they never mentioned it again. So why mention it in the first place ? I don't think I would've minded it if he had just changed how much attraction he felt but was STILL aroace/on the aroace spectrum. As long as it was actually clarified. But they seemed eager to rush to his evil era so they didn't bother to close to any lose ends before hand, though I guess being aroace might've just not been as relevant.

On a bit of a side note- Ruin feels very gay coded. Very gay. There is no way he's straight T.T he's a villain but he's a zesty man and we absolutely adore him for that!!

That was probably an accident, though. Every theatre kid seems gay! /lhj

Just overall upsets me that the VAs seem to act offended by the mere idea of shipping characters? As if that's not a common/vital part of every fandom.

[OTHER SHOWS UNDER THE CUT]

TMGAFS

Upsets me that they can't clarify Puppets identity or pronouns? [Or maybe they have recently but I genuinely doubt it]

Because who are they meant to actually represent ?? It's probably just me but I wish it was more clear or something. I appreciate the VA for trying I do though, absolutely love that guy[Foxy’s VA, genuinely seems to just be a chill guy. And I think it's really cool that he actually does roles that could come off very cringe, voicing most of the cringe dimension characters +struggling with Puppets voice for the longest time.] I just wanna know if Puppet is a trans fem queen or trans masc slay or just trans ? But nothing seems to be clarified.

Again with KidsCove? Genuinely just annoying how they blatantly just do it to make fun of the people who ship them and get views from them.

Foxy seemed to have been gay before his memory loss. Or was at the very least interested in men to an extent. But since he began to be the main character of a show he suddenly only likes women?? S u s. They really keep insisting he's extremely straight and genuinely just annoys me that they erased him being interested in men [Proved he liked men in the episode he asked Moon out.]

. . .now. . . M o n t y. As a genderfluid person? I hate them and literally feel more represented and seen by cis characters from other shows. For the longest time Monty being genderfluid wasn't even adressed and was usually just brought up for plot reasons or something? And it pissed me of that every time they correct a character on Monty's pronouns.. they immediately go back to using he/him pronouns. I think the new fem body is pretty neat! Though I think it would've been more interesting for Monty to stay masc but ACTUALLY get their right pronouns used and their identity getting genuinely respected DESPITE of their appearance. But the body? It's genuinely completely fine! /gen I used to hate my body too and understand that the writers might've thought it might be easier for people if they just used a different body completely! But it annoys me that my gender representation comes in the form of M o n t y. The annoying character known for constantly hating on others and partially destroying their lives. Anyone can be genderfluid, yes. But when the representation is so little? I just wish it was at least a bit better or with a less hateable character.

TLAES

Lunar! Uh. Again can we just get clarification on his sexuality? Is he polyamorous? Bisexual? Omnisexual? Just any clarification please?

Gemini! I wish they were canon nonbinary. They're literally stars. Why did they have to be gendereddd. Also curious about their 'sexuality'? Will also likely never get clarification on it :/

OTHER SHOWS/SIDE NOTES

Roxanne is canon lesbian and so is Glamrock Chica! I'm so sorry but I forgot his name T~T I think it was Tiger Rock[??] Is also canonically gay! Glam Chica has a girlfriend! And I do think their relationship is pretty cute [from what I've seen] and overall wish I would finally get to watching the show a bit more! Funtime Foxy feels very queer to me? Not just because his design is pink but his overall characterization! He does have a girlfriend! But he seems to be comfortable in his own identity and presentation from what I've seen? At least, it seems to be more comfortable than some o t h e r characters. I feel more represented by Funtime Foxy and Lolbit than I ever felt represented by Monty. But that is a personal opinion!

I overall have just lost interest in all of the shows. I'm tired of being constantly disappointed and lead on. But I do wish I could watch more of the other shows since they seem to show more love and care towards their characters :)

CLOSING THOUGHTS!

It's just shows. Does any of this really matter? I think it matters when the shows are claiming to have good representation when they really don't. And they're allowing people who aren't queer/a part of the LGBTQIA+ community to feel like they have the right to shut real queer people down. I've seen so much acephobia and overall homophobia even in this community. A l o t in this community. I wish the writers would listen to ACTUAL QUEER PEOPLE!! I wish the VIEWERS listened to ACTUAL QUEER PEOPLE.

That's what I really want. I just want to be heard and represented.

I don't claim this community. I CAN'T claim a community who is constantly against us.

LISTEN TO QUEER VOICES.

[lokisprettygirl]

My Love is mine, All mine (18+) (CEO! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon -Modern AU)

Read Chapter 4 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 5 (Last)

Summary : You leave Daemon to protect him from your insecurities and to find some answers.

Warning: 18+, smut, insecurities, miscarriage , mention of abuse, smoking, extreme insecurities and trust issues, mention of infertility, reader has anxiety, mention of infidelity.

Note: I had plans to keep it short and for once I have succeeded as I didn't want to stretch the story unnecessarily. For once I have no idea what I'm going to write next but hopefully the inspiration will strike soon. Thank you to everyone who read and supported this story ❤️🙏🏻

Daemon never realized how loud he was being with his laptop keys whenever he was stressed out of his mind, you were living in one room apartment with him and the sound awakened you at times while he was working on a presentation late at night.

As you sat up on the bed and watched Daemon frantically typing away on his laptop, you couldn't help but notice his thick luscious disheveled hair, no doubt the result of running his fingers through them in frustration, a smile graced your features as it only made you want to pull him in bed and cuddle him.

As you got off the bed, Daemon turned his head to look at you, his eyes locking onto yours. He could see the love and concern in them,

"Did I wake you, my love?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with worry.

Without a word, you walked closer to him and stood behind his chair to massage his tensed shoulders.

The silk nightwear you had on made him want to make love to you right now but he couldn't afford it at the moment, he was looking for a sponsor and he was failing miserably, he had spent his life savings into building and developing this product and the only reason he wasn't living on the streets was because you were here with him, supporting him in every possible way. Feeding him when he forgot to do so, paying the rent when he couldn't contribute, holding onto him when he was giving up on himself.

He snapped out of his thoughts as your fingers trailed down from his shoulder to his forearms slowly, you leaned down to press soft kisses on his neck, your scent made him lean back into the crook of your neck, perhaps he could just calm down, just for a moment

“How long?” you whispered in his ear so he brought his hand up to caress the side of your head.

“I can't sleep darling” his voice came out gravelly, full of tiredness that you just wanted to take away

“Mmmm i know”

You mumbled as you walked around the chair and sat down on his lap as you kissed him passionately, his arms quickly wrapped around your waist, fingers roamed all over as he kissed you with equal intensity.

“Do you have five minutes?” You asked him so he chuckled in response.

“Five minutes huh?”

“Mmmhm I can make you cum in five minutes” his breath hitched as you mumbled in his ear.

At times he felt like a perv, a selfish arse, a beautiful, sweet, young girl like you deserved the world that he wasn't offering you at all but those thoughts vanished as quickly as they would come whenever he felt your loving touch on his skin.

“Do it please” he almost whined in your ears and you were quick to shove your hand inside his pants to grab his cock, all he could do after that was lean back into the chair with his eyes closed and enjoy the moment, enjoy the fact that even at his worst he was blessed with a woman who he knew would never leave his side, no matter what.

Daemon immediately picked up his phone to give you a call as he didn't find you anywhere, members of the staff told him that they saw you leaving with a packed luggage and his heartbeat sped up. Where would you go without telling him and why? Your phone wasn't reachable so he seeked Otto as he knew you must have used his services to go wherever you wanted to go. Otto informed him that you had asked him to drop you at the nearest airport, his heart sank as he heard that, why would you go somewhere without telling him? What were you doing?

He was worried, anxious and was becoming increasingly terrified with every passing second.

The feelings of fear, anger, and confusion washed over him, and he felt powerless, he couldn't do anything but wait for you to get in touch and explain, but then his eyes fell upon the note you had left on the closet door and he was already assuming the worst even before he had read it.

“I am not going anywhere where you can't find me love but I really hope you won't, not for now at least. Before you start worrying let me tell you that I am not leaving forever, and I'm not going to go anything that would hurt you or us, none of that, I just want to love you the way you love me but I have been failing lately.

Everytime I have looked at you in the past few weeks, my eyes held a sense of suspicion, and that's really not fair to you my sweet husband, you're the best man there ever could be, the greatest indeed and I want to be able to treat you like that. Want to show you how much I appreciate you in my life and how lucky I am to have someone like you who's all for me, I want to be able to believe that you're all for me Daemon because I can't go on like this forever, i can't keep hurting you this way when I'm so clouded by my insecurities.

I know you're going to be hurt with my decision and I'd deserve it if you choose to be angry with me and punish me however you see fit but I'll give you a call as soon as I reach there and i hope you'd want to hear my voice because I do, i have not even left the house yet but I already miss you and I am going to miss you terribly.

Pretty sure I'm about to lose my job, luckily you're not my boss ;)

Happy birthday baby, I love you so much even if my actions say otherwise at times, I really do love you alot.

Forever Your wifey”

His eyes welled up as he finished reading the note. He waited anxiously for his phone to ring but two hours had passed already and he was losing patience. He looked around the room and it just seemed hollow without you, that's how you must feel too when he was gone on those long business trips he thought but then he went away for work, while you went away to escape him. This decision of yours had made him worried about your relationship with him, what if the distance makes you realize that he wasn't enough for you?

Or that he was too much for you?

As his phone rang he quickly pressed it up to his ear and sat up on the bed. He wasn't able to speak, there was a lump in his throat that was making him unable to speak to you.

“Dae?” You mumbled softly and immediately heard him sniffling on the other side,

“Comeeee back please darling please come back” his voice came out in broken whispers and in that moment you absolutely hated yourself, more than you usually did anyways.

“I will Daemon, i am not gone forever, did you read my letter?” You asked him softly so he sniffled once more as he wiped his tears.

“I did..I don't understand it darling, aren't we supposed to deal with this thing together?” he asked you, through thick and thin he vowed to be there for you so he wasn't wrong.

“We are together” you told him and the anxiety he had been feeling lessened slightly.

“You promise?”

“I promise..you're stuck with me forever” he couldn't help but chuckle as you said that to him.

“I sure hope so..are you going to tell me where you are?”

“Mmmm in Heathrow..to see my father”

Daemon went quiet for a moment as you said that, you had not spoken to him since he had cheated and divorced your mother.

“Why?”

“To get answers to questions I have never dared to ask..he's the main reason why I am the way I am”

“There's nothing wrong with you my love, not a thing” your eyes welled up again as he said that. Daemon wasn't a reason for your Insecurities, not once in your relationship with him he had made you feel anything but loved thoroughly.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“Then come back to me as soon as you can” his voice was pleading and almost begging for you to return to him.

“I will..soon i promise”

He sighed as he laid down on the bed, he didn't want to overwhelm you, it wasn't like you to take such steps so he knew he'd have to give you time to figure this out on your own if that's what you wanted.

“You were right about her darling” your heart stopped for a second as he spoke.

“What?”

“She's into me” he got worried as you didn't say anything for a good few seconds but then you responded exactly how he had imagined.

“I knew it, that fucking bitchhhh…what did she do?” You asked him so he sighed and sat up again as he detailed everything that had happened after you had left the office party.

“The audacity, I just knew I couldn't trust her”

“She was drunk but that's not an excuse to speak wrongly of my wife” he mumbled softly.

“You defended me? She wasn't completely wrong you know” you told him as you knew how unfair you have been to him in the past few days with your constant suspicions.

“Hey darling? I love you but shut up please”

.. The next few days he was in touch with you via calls only, you didn't even allow him to see you on Skype as you feared it would break your resolve. At the firm Daemon had a difficult decision to make with Sheena, he had given her a notice period so she could look for another job, he was even willing to write a recommendation letter as he didn't want to be cruel. Since that night she hadn't really looked him in the eye, perhaps she was embarrassed, or it was the guilt but he didn't want to speak to her about this.

“Sir, may I say something?” Sheena mumbled as she put the files down on his desk.

“Don't say anything, you're only going to make it worse and you still have to work here for a week”

She looked down as if she was ashamed, she was going to say something but he wasn't interested so she turned around to leave..

As she left he picked up his phone to give you a call and you picked almost immediately.

“Calling me from work? Who are you?” You joked and it made him smile but then his eyes teared up because he missed you terribly, he missed your laugh, your kisses in the morning, he missed touching you not just sexually but in a way that affirmed to him that you did exist in his life and that you were all his.

“I'm calling because I know you won't be home when I go there” your smile faltered as well as he said that. You won't be there today, that was true, but you'd be there soon.

“I miss you alot, i think about you all the time”

“Even while you're showering?”

“Especially while I'm showering” he chuckled as you said that

“Did you see your father?”

“I saw him yes and I was right to come here”

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?”

“I got a few answers”

“And?”

“I need help–”

“I'm here sweetheart” your eyes teared up as he said that, always so kind and supportive and you had been taking this for granted.

“You can't help me baby..i love you so much and I don't want to ruin what we have” he sighed as you said that. If you had said something like that to him in person he'd have just wrapped his arms around you to comfort you but you weren't there.

“You can't..no matter what you do or say when you're not feeling so good, you can't ruin us…you can't make me unlove you…it's too late my sweet girl”

“God you're insufferable” you mumbled softly as tears made you unable to speak any further.

You wanted to go home, you wanted to hold onto your husband and never leave him again.

You still remembered the first time he was hit on by a woman right in front of your eyes, his business had begun to do well, he had bought this new apartment for you two where he had invited all the ten employees for a dinner party.

One of the guys had brought a female friend of his. As soon as she stepped into your home she had her eyes on him, you saw the immediate crush she had developed so quickly, now he wasn't just a genius or just another good looking man but he was also becoming richer everyday and women liked that alot.

But you were right there, right in front of your eyes that woman flirted with him and that's when you felt that first wave of insecurity coursing through you regarding your position in his life, even though he had shot down her advances immediately you felt scared, if they were willing to do it right in front of you then he must be facing such temptations all the time and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd ignore it.

You had asked your father why he had chosen to cheat on your mother, and why he chose to ruin his marriage and leave his daughter behind. He gave you a short simple answer, something that you had hoped to hear, he told you that it wasn't your mother's fault, it was all him, he cheated because he wanted to and not because of something your mother had done to him that made him want to take that step. He knew the heartbreak it would cause but he went ahead with it anyway because he didn't care.

Your father was a different man, and so was Shelley's husband, Daemon wasn't like that, he'd never hurt you this way, he'd never go out of his way to break your heart.

The following night as Daemon reached home it was quiet, usually he'd hear the murmurs of the staff working but it was eerily quiet tonight, when he went upstairs he found you standing on the door wearing your sexiest nightwear.

He wanted to run to you and hug you but the way you looked at him made him stop in his tracks.

You bit on your lips as you looked at him from head to toe, he looked deadly on a given day but the all black suit he had on was your demise. You were going to seduce him, use your charm to apologize but you found yourself bewitched instead.

“Hiiii” you mumbled softly as you leaned against the door frame so he walked closer to you and placed his hands on the wall, trapping you between his body and the door. He wasn't saying anything, was just staring with an intensity that made you nervous and made you drip at the same time.

“You can be upset with me, you should be” you mumbled as you loosened his tie so he grabbed your hand to stop your movement before he turned you around and pressed you against the closed bedroom door flat on your stomach, next thing you knew your hands were tied using the same tie.

“Never again you hear me? You're not going to just take off without telling me first” he whispered in your ear before his lips latched onto your neck and he sucked a mark that you knew would last for days.

“Never again I promise..i promise” you could barely speak coherently because his fingers had reached under your dress already, fingers played with your clit mercilessly as he brought you closer to your release. It's been a while and you hadn't touched yourself in his absence, you wanted to wait and suffer for this very moment.

That night was eventful, he made you cum right against the door, then you sucked his cock like a whore while you told him how sorry you were and then he fucked you on the bed, his thrusts and words equally possesive, equally desperate.

When you woke up the next morning he didn't go to work, he stayed home all day with you and treated you like a queen, he apologized for being neglectful even though he wasn't.

You didn't come back home all fixed as if you never had any problem, far from it, but now you knew that you had a major problem and you knew you needed someone to tell you that, someone to hear you and someone to help you with your thoughts. You knew you needed therapy and you were determined to get it.

A few months later you were out shopping with Daemon for Christmas and perhaps it was just your luck but you bumped into Sheena, literally, you bumped right into her.

"I have been meaning to speak with you Mrs Targaryen" Sheena spoke to you so you looked at Daemon confused.

“I'll go look for that thing you keep asking about” he mumbled softly as he kissed you briefly so you gave him a smile and watched him walk away from you both.

“Mrs. Targaryen” she smiled as she spoke so you reverted it. You didn't want to be rude, there was no point anymore.

“Just call me y/n, he's not your boss anymore” you told her so she nodded

“I know you must not care but I really wanted to apologize” you crossed your arms as she said that.

“For hitting on my husband or for insulting me?”

Okay you couldn't help yourself.

“For both, I was..just jealous of you to be honest”

Your eyes narrowed as she said that, you were jealous of her, why on earth was she jealous of you?

“Why is that?”

“You seem to have it all, you have everything I have ever wanted but never had. I was out of line and it was just my jealousy speaking..nothing else” she looked down as she spoke before she continued “Daemon is a good man and anyone with eyes can see it but if he chose you then there must be a reason for that right? My life was in shambles at the time and i misspoke, i couldn't help but wonder why I couldn't be you and have a good job, a good husband, a perfect life”

You chuckled as she said that.

“My life is not perfect Sheena, nobody's is”

“I understand that, I just wanted to apologize because I feel guilty about what I had done, my stupidity caused me a job i really loved” you could tell that she was being genuine but you didn't want to entertain her further, therapy hadn't turned you into a saint. At the end of the day she was a woman that had tried to hit on your husband and you didn't want her anywhere around him or you for that matter.

“I'm sorry but you're capable of doing great things, don't be so hard on yourself”

As Daemon returned you gave Sheena one last smile and she mumbled a greeting before she walked away. You spent weeks feeling inferior to her and for what? She was insecure as well, even with all that she possessed she was insecure, her insecurities were different that yours but not any less debilitating.

“Are you alright baby?”

You looked at your gorgeous husband as he asked you and you couldn't help but smile. Lucky, you had gotten so lucky.

You were more than alright, you felt good, you felt happy, you felt perfect in that moment.

Because now you believed, deep down in your heart you knew that your love was yours. All yours.

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