#but i’m a firm believer in telling people how much they mean to you—otherwise how are they meant to know?

[bluejay-07]

end of year asks 12 14 25!!

14. Favourite book you read this year? (Usually I do these chronologically but I’m leaving the sappy answer for last lmao)

If I had to pick only one, The Mars House, by Natasha Pulley! Something about this novel just grabbed me and won’t let go; some mixture of the Gender Stuff and the excuse to research things I usually wouldn’t. It’s delightful. (And, of course, my new blorbo lol)

25. Did you create any characters this year?

Yes! I am cheating here and describing more than one, because I fully drafted a post about Nikola and just haven’t come back to it lol. I did a lot of fleshing-out for House Liu, actually; it’s been great fun!

I’m going to start with the prior generation; Junjiang Liu and Anastas Tsahar. Junjiang was everything the scion of House Liu was supposed to be; they put in years of service to the military without complaint or fear, never faltering. They fed their whole life to the war machine. And then one day, when they were overseeing an exploratory mission on Io, Anastas crashed into their life. 

They were a geologist, sent by the Tharsese government, and Junjiang is taken with them immediately. And honestly, of course Junjiang was—Anastas saw good in everything and anyone, even the awful volcano moon that wanted to kill them. So for the first time in their life, Junjiang disobeyed orders; the very day the two of them landed back on Mars, they got married.

The issue was, Junjiang was meant to marry someone else entirely. It was a deal brokered to save the last of a waning house, and the marriage would have sealed it. Instead, House Liu was thrown out of the Senate and consigned to obscurity.

It wasn’t the worst fate. Junjiang and Anastas were happy together—Junjiang was learning to live without outside orders to keep them together. And then one day, Anastas died.

It wasn’t important how, or why. What was most important was that Anastas was dead; the light had been turned out in Junjiang’s life. They spent the rest of their life alone, mourning their spouse, slipping further and further into obscurity and senility.

With Junjiang no longer fit to manage the affairs of the House, the responsibility fell to their heirs. Like most other houses, House Liu had always had two, as an insurance policy; should one die, the other would take up their duties in the field. 

As such, Niko has seen the worst of Tharsis. They have sent their sibling to die, for no good reason other than Parliament ordered it. They have seen their House destroyed, for the crime of simply going against what is expected again.

Niko has decided that it is not worth it. They are going to burn Tharsis in its current state to the fucking ground. That’s why they work so hard to get into the good graces of Guang Song specifically; the Great Houses, the whole system, needs to be obliterated. It is principle, yes, but it is also revenge. If Tharsis is made a true colony, none of this can ever happen again. 

12. Tell me about a new friend you made this year.

Okay, I fully recognize this is sappy as hell, but I believe this season is for showing your loved ones how much you appreciate them. And I really enjoy being your friend—whenever we speak, be that in tags or messages, it makes my day. Thank you for letting me ramble at you about TMH, and for always leaving lovely comments on my fic. It is an honour and a privilege.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Marriage Proposal

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You should’ve broken up with Peter long ago. Now you deal with the consequences. 

WARNINGS: --  

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

You reluctantly look up from your plate at the feeling of a hand covering your own, the warmth irradiating from the firm palm making you itchy to remove the hand, but you let it be. 

"Happy anniversary, babe.” Peter smiles at you, so genuine and loving, and you force your lips to stretch into a pleasant smile. 

“I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year now. I feel like we’ve only met yesterday but here we are.” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s as if time flies away when you’re in love, right?”

You weakly nod, opting to bring the wine glass to your lips to give you an excuse to avert eyes. But that doesn’t stop the turmoil of emotions that devastates you inside, the guilt eating you away.

You’re a horrible girlfriend. And a coward one too. One that keeps prolonging and dragging time, too timid to break-up. 

Not tonight, you decide, delaying the confrontation furthermore. Peter is so happy and you’d hate to break his heart on such an occasion.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

“This place is really gorgeous, I love it.” you say, allowing your eyes to wander around the restaurant.

The place is indeed pretty. Elegant but at the same time, private and personal. It suits Peter. 

Tension accompanies throughout the entire dinner as you play the girlfriend role dutifully, pretending to laugh at Peter’s jokes and smiling at him. 

A part of you feels so bad for it, there used to be a time where you actually loved Peter.

You still like and respect him, he’s a great guy, unlike many men. But you’re no longer the same person that you were when you meet him. 

And Peter…

He’s the one that took a 180º change. Deep inside, he probably means well, intending to protect you but that isn’t enough to make you stay.

Not if you want to have a toxic-free life. A life without having to answer a full interrogation when you plan to hang out with friends.

A life without having to call and text your boyfriend about what you’re doing, otherwise he’ll most likely show up at your workplace, face pinched with worry because you failed to contact him. 

You’re so caught up by your thoughts that you wince, surprised when people start clapping and cheering, everyone’s attention fully on your table. 

When you confusedly look for Peter, your whole world drops. 

The world seems to stop when you look to your side as Peter gets down on one knee, a jittery smile curling his lips. 

Your face drops in horror, mind frozen and unable to think. 

“Peter…”

“I know, I know.” he brushes you off, joy irradiating from him, “Just let me say this first, yeah? I’m so nervous.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times and you blink, unable to fully comprehend what’s going on. This can’t be true…

This has to be a prank, there’s no way that Peter is actually proposing to you. But your doubts are swiftly cleared as a small and elegant velvet box appears in the scene.

No…

Peter clears out his throat with a small noise before looking at you, and you realize how nervous he actually is, a light layer of sweat in his forehead.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know. Been preparing it for weeks now.” he confesses after a long moment, shaking his head.

“Tony helped me write it. Lots of fancy poetic words and-and I completely forgot all of it.”

“But what I really wanna say is that I love you, Y/N.” Peter declares, his voice gaining determination, “From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one for me. I was lucky enough that you gave me a chance to prove to you how much I care for you…”

Your heart tightens at those words and you clutch the table’s fabric, feeling yourself helpless. 

“... and this past year has been amazing. The best year of my life. All because of you.” Peter smiles tenderly at you, his hands working on opening the velvet box and you feel yourself tensing up when a delicate silver ring comes into sight. 

“So…Y/N L/N, will you give me the honor of being your husband?” 

And just like that, you faintly nod, not trusting your voice to speak. Peter beams at you and you do your best to retribute, despite the numbness that strikes you like a bullet.

The restaurant explodes in a loud applause and Peter wastes no time in pushing the pretty ring on your hand, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“I love you so much.” he feverously kisses your head.

You push your face against his chest, hoping to hide the tears that burn in your eyes as you start regretting saying yes already.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hi

I'm new here but I've read almost all your mm prompts and head canons and i reallllly loved the way you described the characters. That's why i want to ask you a rather wierd question....

I was wondering how you imagine saeyoung's sex life...like what is sex to him? How important s it to him in a relationship? Will he be fine with an asexual partner?

Almost everyone that writes about him describe him as a person who has a lot of fun with sex but i think he as someone who worked in the dark side of the world for a long time might have seen and understood things that made him repulsive towards sex and the whole sex industry from porn to even nightclubs

I would love to know your opinion on this

Hello there, my lovely anon! I’m so glad you found my blog and thank you so much for reading and enjoying what I write 😊 That’s really sweet of you to say and makes me really happy. Now, I’m answering this less with actual headcanons but just kind of a blanket statement that I’ve made a couple of times and then I’ll share some of my views! I apologize in advance if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted though, and as a note, this definitely isn’t a weird question at all!!

So, plain out and out blanket statement that I will always hammer home – I might write Saeyoung one way. A lot of the writer’s might write him a certain way too, a lot more sexual than you see him being. But that doesn’t mean that you’re wrong in how you view him in any way or that we’re wrong in viewing him as we do. That’s the wonderful thing about the characters, that we can all see and write them however we want, unless the creators tell us specifically not too.

So, if you see Saeyoung as sex-repulsed, that’s a valid interpretation and you should feel free to continue thinking and writing that, even if others write otherwise!

Another blanket statement that I cannot make clear enough – If you are asexual and are wondering if your favourite character would like you and be okay with it, YES. YES, A MILLION YESES. Your favourite character is going to love you and want to be with you no matter what you look like, no matter your sexual orientation or lack thereof, your gender identity or lack thereof, no matter if you have mental health struggles, no matter what really. I will never, ever, EVER tell anyone their favourite character wouldn’t like them; the only time I ever take my personal headcanons about sexual orientations or how important sex or any other big issues regarding the characters is when I  do matchups, when it’s part of my job to do so, so to speak.

So yeah, Saeyoung will be okay with an asexual partner because my writing is meant to make people feel happy, not to make them feel excluded or like their favourite character wouldn’t be cool with who they are.

Also going along with that, I do think asexuality or being sex repulsed is not necessarily caused by trauma, in the majority of cases actually. And just as a reminder, from someone who hasn’t been a virgin since I was seven, trauma related to sex can actually lead to just the opposite, hyper-sexuality where a person starts to heavily tie their self-worth into sex.

Now, we’ll get into my opinion around Saeyoung and his views on sex. I don’t actually think he has a lot of trauma tied around sex itself, but I do think his religious views really do impact his views on sex. I think that he does believe in waiting for marriage to have sex, whenever at all possible, or at least a firm commitment towards marriage, so he does have some surprisingly traditional views on sex.

To him, in my opinion, sex is a way to not only connect with his lover and feel closer to them, but he gets a lot of his physical affection through sex, and it helps how touch-starved and affection-starved he really is as a person. It’s not quite healthy, I’m not going to lie, but I do think that he does rely on sex for just that feeling of connection and love from someone else in a physical sense.

On top of that, in bonus stories from the same, we do see Saeyoung get very flirty, touchy, and seductive in a very playful way, which really is where a lot of the fandom, including me, does get the impression that sexually speaking, once his sex life with his partner does begin, he is someone who brings a lot of fun to sex, who isn’t afraid to instigate, and who does find the fun in the experience.

That being said, I do want to point out that I actually heavily agree with you in that Saeyoung has a pretty low view of nightclubs, they’re not something he would enjoy in any sort of way, but I think that’s less to do with anything sexual. I do think his mother was a drunk, that Saeyoung has very poor attitudes towards alcohol. The pure amount of people getting absolutely piss-ass drunk at a nightclub? It’s not going to be something he can deal with, and the situation would make him exceptionally anxious and unable to deal well.

[rebelelegance]

Calloused Hearts

Hi! New story, new series in fact. It’s scary, it’s new, I’m excited. Hope you guys like it.

Summary: You’ve been a part of Kaz Brekker’s life for a long time. Some people said it was before the cripple, before the gloves. Maybe they were right, but it didn’t change the fact that you’d disappeared for 6 years of his life. You weren’t there, and that meant you couldn’t be let back in….right?

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Tidemaker!reader

Warnings: Angst, violence, kaz’s touch aversion, but a lot of fluff towards the end.

w/c: 1419

Chapter 1:

Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason. Everyone knew this. Everyone feared it. It’s why he could walk down an alleyway in confidence. Of course, he was alert, because there was always someone who felt himself to be the bigger and better man. Which is why, when he heard someone grunt behind him, someone who he knew wasn’t Inej, he stopped.

“You know better than to sneak up on me.”

He heard the softest thud, one he wouldn’t have heard, had he not noticed the grunt before.. 

“You had to choose an alley with the worst houses in the Barrel?”

Kaz’s heart dropped. He knew that voice. How could he not? It was engraved in his mind, he knew it better than he knew his crows, better than he knew his trade, perhaps better than he knew himself.

“Why are you following me?”

He hated how his voice wavered. Your mere presence had such an effect on him. ‘Pull it together Kaz. You’re Dirtyhands. The Bastard of the Barrel. Act like it’. 

He heard a huff, some shuffling, before you spoke again, “6 years, and the first thing you ask is why I’m following you?”

“You said it yourself. 6 years. So why?” He gripped his cane to ground himself. He had to remind himself that you weren’t the girl he knew. This girl wasn’t his best friend. 

“I’ve been following you for nearly over 3 years now. You’re telling me you hadn't realized? Not once?”

“No.”

That was a lie. He had. He’d seen your navy blue coat in the small light of a shop window on a few occasions. The way that the rain didn’t seem to fall much on him and his crows, while others nearby got drenched. The shadow of your figure flying past his window. He’d seen it. But he’d refused to believe it. He’d blamed it on his mind. Was convinced that it was just his imagination. “No, I haven’t,” he said. Stronger this time, more firm, as if trying to convince himself. 

He heard a sigh, more shuffling. “Ok. Alright, I guess I’m just that good then, huh?”

He knew what you were trying to do. You were trying to irk him. To get under his skin, to get him to spill the truth. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction, nor did he want to play along. Both were costly. So, he opted for silence.

More shuffling. Another sigh.

“Do I have to continue talking to your back? Or are you going to turn?”

He didn’t want to turn. Turning would mean seeing you. Seeing you would mean backtracking on all the efforts he’d put into forgetting you.

And yet, his heart yearned for it. To look at you, to see your face. One of the few good things in the Bastard’s life. He couldn’t afford it. He always trusted his mind. Not his heart. Yet somehow, he turned.

He couldn’t see your face clearly. It was hidden behind the shadows of the night, only the silhouette of your body. You kept your style; he could make out the jacket you wore, something like what Inej had, and your hood. You moved your hand and it came to a stop in front of you, where the moonlight illuminated your awkward wave. Gloves. He remembered those gloves. Fingerless, black leather. He’d given those to you. Kaz’s fingers curled around the crow on his cane. She’s not the girl you gave those too, she’s a betrayer. He stayed silent.

“Wow, no waving back? Okay.”

“Stop pretending like we’re friends. Like we know each other. Like I know you,” again, he was trying to convince himself. This wasn’t you. Part of him believed otherwise. Part of him wanted to take you back to the Slat. Catch up over whiskey, laugh it all off like you always had. He wanted to revel in your comfort. Your smile. Your lau-

‘Kaz stop it. Don’t let her in again’.

You stepped forward, and Kaz had to prevent himself from moving back. The moonlight fell on your face now, and his fingers ached from clutching his cane. Your features were more defined now, your eyes darker, without the spark he’d known. A scar, starting a bit above your eyebrow, ran down, across it, and ended just before your eyelid. He was right. This wasn’t you.  

“We were, before,” the hurt in your voice did something to him. It made him want to give in. But he couldn’t. He remembered waiting for you, hoping you would show up. He set his jaw. No. He wasn’t going to give in to a traitor. “Before,” he said, still not in complete control of the confidence in his voice. 

“Ok look, I can explain Kaz. Please let me explain. I-”

“No.” He cut you off. You froze. He took a deep breath in. “No Y/N you may not explain why you betrayed me. Why you broke your promise. I am not the slightest bit interested. I’ve learnt to live without you.” Lie. “I don’t need you.” Lie. A pause “I don’t need you,” he repeated. He was convincing himself, he just hoped you didn’t know that. 

He watched you stiffen. Your expression dropped, shoulders sagging. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to turn around and leave. He wanted you. He wanted to forget your existence. He wanted so many things. All contradicting. He hated that you could do this to him. That you could turn his world upside down. That you could make him confused, and not know what he wanted. He hated you. No, he wanted to hate you, but his heart wouldn’t let him. He huffed. Get a hold of yourself Brekker.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Soft, hurt, confused. He couldn’t read the emotion.  Your hand moved to clutch your side, a small whimper leaving your lips. Were you going to cry? That’s when he saw the sticky substance that coated your fingers. He froze, his eyes widening slightly. “Fuck,” you muttered. You looked back at him, eyes widened, face pale. 

“I-” 

“You’re bleeding.”

“Believe so,” you chuckled dryly.

“How?” He cursed himself internally. He shouldn’t care. 

“Must’ve gotten shot escaping PR. But then I saw you outside alone and I followed. Kinda didn’t realize”

PR. The code you created for Rollins. Makes him seem too important, he’d say. Yeah, but PR’s are annoying, you’d bite back. 

Kaz’s free hand curled into a fist. Did you think he couldn’t handle himself? Why did you follow him even after being shot? Why were you shot in the first place? And by Pekka? Why were you shot by Pekka? How by Pekka? What is up with Pekka, and him constantly messing with people he cared about? Why did he include you in that group? He flexed the hand holding his cane, it had gotten too stiff from all the gripping.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go. Just forget this ok? I thought it would go well, clearly it didn’t so, just ignore me.” You rushed with your words. 

Kaz had to think fast. He didn’t want to let you back in. But he could have you healed right? Just once? Would it hurt? No it wouldn’t, right? Nina could fix you better than you’d be able to fix yourself. You’d already lost quite a bit of blood from what he could see.  C’mon Kaz. She left you to fend for yourself. But the sight of you bleeding, hurt, and the fact that Pekka Rollins had done that to you, it changed something in him.

Just as you turned around, he called you out. “Wait.”

You turned back around slowly. “Look Kaz, I should go-”

“Can you walk till the Slat?”

He couldn’t see your face, you were in the dark again but he could hear the shock in your voice as you asked “What?”

“I was clear, I believe. Can you walk till the Slat? I assume you already know where that is.”

There was a pause, and then “Yeah, but-”

“Then we better get going before you faint, because if you do, I’m not carrying you.”

He walked up to you, pausing to look, “Let’s go,” and he walked off. He didn’t wait for you, fighting the urge to look back. After a few seconds he heard your huffs and then you yelled “Wait up Brekker, I’m hurt if you remember.” And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fight the small smile that made its way to his face.

Chapter 2

[acourtofthought]

Rhys was Feyre's biggest supporter. He was the the one who wanted her deepest, darkest thoughts, who got real and raw.

“You are no one’s subject.”

“You want to save the mortal realm?” he asked. “Then become someone Prythian listens to. Become vital. Become a weapon. Because there might be a day, Feyre, when only you stand between the King of Hybern and your human family. And you do not want to be unprepared.”

“You didn’t ask. And why bother? Better to be miserable and alone.”

“Work for me,” Rhysand said.

Rhysand was silent beside me. Yet after a moment, he said, “Out with it.” I lifted a brow. “You say what’s on your mind—one thing. And I’ll say one, too.”

Cassian was Nesta's biggest supporter while also the one who wanted to understand, who confronted her with hard truths.

“You won’t join me for practice, so you sure as hell aren’t going to hold your own in a fight. You won’t talk about your powers, so you certainly aren’t going to be able to wield them.

I’m pissed off that you can’t seem to believe even one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her. Was it necessary to bait her like that?

“I’m tired of playing these bullshit games.”

Her gloved fingers scraped against his calluses, but he held firm. “Talk to me. Nesta. Tell me—”

Was either male always perfect? No. Did they make mistakes along the way and say the wrong thing from time to time? Definitely. Did other characters also show support for Feyre and Nesta? Sure.

But it cannot be denied that Rhys and Cassian were the main catalyst for both Feyre and Nesta's transformation into who they were meant to become. They were the ones who, throughout the females depression, kept pushing for them to fight and live (and I don't just mean in a warrior fighting sense. I mean to be more and do more). More than any other character, Rhys and Cassian fought for Feyre and Nesta.

Can the same be said for Azriel? Is he Elain's biggest supporter? Have we ever seen him encourage her? Tell her she is capable of more? Even with TT, he wasn't telling Elain she had it in her to wield it, he told her the blade itself was possibly magic and would strike true so really, she didn't need to do much at all. And thank goodness Mor begged him to sit out of the war otherwise I doubt he'd have offered up TT in the first place anyway.

Every single moment where Az could have stepped up for Elain, where he could have encouraged her to say more, could have encouraged her to do more, he dropped the ball.

“Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer.

First Az tells Elain the dagger will serve her. She doesn't need to do much at all since it's magic will strike true. Then when Elain expresses concern over her ability to use it, Az doesn't encourage her, he doesn't tell her he believes in her. Instead Feyre says "you won't have to" and that's that. Neither Az or Elain push Elain to believe in herself.

Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. “I’ve never participated in one of these.” Amren supplied from across the room, Varian at her side, resplendent in his princely regalia, “They’re highly overrated.”

Again, Elain opened the door to further conversation with Az after he greeted her. It would have been a perfect time for him to ask what she thought of the festivities so far, the buildup to the holiday. This is her first celebratory gathering since leaving the Human Lands and Az has nothing to ask her?!? It's a big deal for her when you think about why she's never been to one of these yet SJM chooses to have Amren respond, leaving Az to completely drop the conversation with Elain. Sure we later see Feyre mention that he's listening to her talk about seeds but when you look back over the endgame couples, that would be like Rhys asking Feyre in ACOMAF about what paintbrushes she likes best 🤦. We never witness Elain and Az having a deep and meaningful conversation about the real problems they've got going on.

Even in ACOWAR / ACOFAS, we see Lucien talk about her being in love with Graysen and we see him discuss that she's been through something terrible. You know what Az talks about? "You got a power and the NC could use one of those!". He literally says nothing at all to her or even Feyre about the very major problems Elain is dealing with at that point in her life. How she was violated, changed, her physical decline due to eating. Even Feyre thinking about how Az stared at her too-thin body is Feyre's thoughts about Elain's fragile state, we don't know what Az is thinking.

Cassian looked at Rhys, who’d dropped off the middle Archeron sister before retrieving Cassian from Windhaven.

“You and Nesta are wanted down there.” “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Elain is about to see her sister for the first time in a long time yet SJM has Rhys there to fly her back and forth. And later, we find Azriel had no idea that this major moment between the sisters happened until Cassian tells him. Lucien stays away because he knows Elain doesn't want him around right now (or that's what we're to assume she feels since we don't have her pov). Rhys stayed away from Feyre at the start of ACOMAF because he thought she was happy with Tamlin. Cassian stayed away from Nesta in ACOFAS because Nesta didn't want him around (which she told him in actual words). Az stays away from Elain......... because Az chooses to stay away from Elain. Every other male did what they thought the female wanted while Az does what he wants because of his issues, not because Elain asked that he stay away.

Nesta said to Feyre, “Did you tell Elain?”. Before Feyre could reply, Azriel said, “What about Mor?”

This conversation occurred after Nesta and Elain's fight about her searching for the Trove but in the same scene. The very first words Az speaks after that fight, after Feyre announces her pregnancy and Nesta asks if Elain knows are "what about Mor?". That is what / who Azriel is worried / thinking about?! Considering this male loved Mor for 500+ years but is now supposedly over her, I'd be a little triggered that Mor is the person that he's focused on at this moment.

“Do you think Nesta can find the Trove?” Azriel asked Cassian

(in one scene, we have Azriel ask if Nesta can find the Trove where in a later scene, he flat out tells everyone Elain shouldn't even try)

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.”

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Who stands up for Elain in this scene? Certainly not Az who seems to have no issues with Nesta searching for the Trove. And since when does an SJM Endgame male love interest believe the female he cares for is less capable of doing something than her sister? Imagine if Rhys had said, "Feyre, I don't think you're able to handle the Weaver so lets send Nesta instead." 😬. And when Amren called Az out, SJM could have had Az apologize and admit she's right but.... we..... get..... NOTHING.

“She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

Another instance where Az could have said something, ANYTHING to Elain, about Elain. This entire scene is Elain talking about her happiness over Nesta and the Valkyries, Elain talking about an experience she had in the human lands, and you know what Az wants to know? What happened to the duke. 🤦

where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them.

Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

Yes, let's again sit here and just watch Elain yet say nothing to her (which is not the same thing as what's going on with Elucien. Lucien has picked up on Elain's social cues that she is not ready to interact with him so he is respecting that). Az doesn't even nod to her in greeting, just stares at her. This female he's somehow become oh so close to and he's got nothing to say because somehow love is only heated glances and lingering touches. Can you show me one SJM endgame couple whose relationship was built on that?

“Why did you come if it torments you so much?”

“Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn’t come.”

So I guess it wouldn't hurt Elain if Az didn't show up? He's only worried about how his absence would make Rhys feel? Not the female who, according to some, loves him? And again, since when does an SJM male avoid a female who is open to seeing him because he can't handle it? Elain is willing to be around Az yet he is putting himself first by avoiding her? 🤔. Every other SJM male is willing to take whatever scraps the female throws his way. Rhys knew he was Feyre's mate and when she claimed she only wanted him for fun and a distraction, he gave that to her despite how awful it made him feel. Despite his worries that no one could ever truly want him because of who he was and the baggage that came with it.

Cassian suspected Nesta was his mate yet he still took her offers of "only sex" regardless of how that bothered him and worsened his belief that he'd always be a bastard born nobody. He still pushed to be near her anytime she showed the tiniest bit of willingness.

Az is the only male who avoids a female love interest, unwilling to accept whatever attention Elain might give him since he can't stand that the "third sister" has a bond with someone else and Lucien got to be part of a group with his brothers. Love is supposed to trump the bond, is it not? In the end, the bond isn't supposed to be the thing that matters, right? It's just supposed to be a nice bonus.

"I wasn't sure if I should give you your present". He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, and sleeping a level up."

"He left the rest unspoken". This would have been the moment folks! The moment where Az could have broached the subject about Lucien, with Elain. The moment for us to see him ask her about her bond and what her plans are. It is a huge problem that Az completely avoided the topic that they really need to discuss if they're truly in love with one another.

"This was a mistake".

No, no, no. This is all backwards because SJM likes her females to say this sort of thing, even if they don't mean it. In a romance, no one wants to see the MMC hurt the female, it's much more difficult for the male to get in our good graces after he screws her over. Unless you're into bully romance, then you know what you're asking for, but that's not SJMs style.

"Are you out of your mind?"

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

"What of Mor, Az?"

Azriel ignored the question.

"You believe you deserve to be her Mate?"

Azriel scowled. "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway."

"So you'll what?" "Seduce her away from him?"

Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to."

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it"

Azriel snarled softly.

"Rhys, I'm over Mor!" "I want to be with Elain because I care for her!" "I don't want her just for sex!" "We plan on talking to Lucien together!"

There are any number of things SJM could have had Azriel say to Rhys to ease his fears yet Az said none of them. And I don't want to hear that BS that Az doesn't know how to communicate well and that's why he didn't respond. If he's a big enough boy to risk the peace of their entire nation for love, if he's a brave enough boy to risk his life over and over again, he should be able to talk to his friend of over 500 years and reassure him he's not just using Elain to get laid.

If he can't do that then he isn't mature enough to be in a relationship with anyone.

But, I think what it all comes down to is the author purposely chose to let these moments pass by showing us where Azriel dropped the ball. Where he doesn't have what it takes to be the right person for Elain. There were so many opportunities where he could have been her biggest supporter (not protector), where he could have tried having a real conversation with her about her struggles, where he could have opened up and admitted to his own, and where he could have convinced Rhys, aka the readers, that his obsession with Elain was more than lust but he wasn't and he didn't.

And I think that's a pretty strong argument for why E/riel is not meant to be.

[rust-bearer]

https://www.tumblr.com/were--ralph/738710446832500736/you-become-infected-in-a-zombie-apocalypse-how-do

Link to a poll for reactions to getting bitten by a zombie above, and I figured I’d send it your way because it makes really good brain material for thinking about what our poor survivors might do in such a terrible situation.

I gave some simple answers for Combaticons/First Aid in a separate post but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it, if you had any. Bonus points if you’re like “character x wouldn’t do any of the above, they’d do this” etc etc honestly no wrong answers but I love the endless potential. Also, you probably already know this, but any and all characters you wanna study for this would be great, I’m down for anything. Just love your zombie au thoughts ngl.

Ok I spent a few days thinking about this one. And obviously I’m going to go with First Aid first because of course I will.

Drawing inspiration from Delphi, the infected patients pose no threat as we know. Aside from wandering around maybe, and dying. First Aid isn’t shown to be very affected by this- both literally and metaphorically. And even before he found out he was ‘immune’, he and Ambulon took on the burden of care for those infected. (Meanwhile, Pharma- KNOWING exactly how this disease worked, how it infects, how it triggers, what it does to you- hid.). It speaks a lot to how First Aid is. The same sort of, self sacrifice and care and firm badassary without meaning to.

So First Aid would logically get infected in the zombie au. If it was any sort of real life scenario. Maybe he’s a carrier for the disease actually. But, he absolutely would realize he’s infected when he’s bitten. Even if it’s a scenario where only 99% of bites lead to zombification, he would treat it as 100%. He would never risk anyone’s life for even the idea that maybe he could survive.

If he’s fast enough, I can see him severing his own limb. Otherwise, he doesn’t tell anyone. He is infected and he’s going to die, and so he quietly leaves one day under some pretense. He still has one last thing to give everyone else, and that’s hope; hope that he’s okay, and he’s alive out there, even if he’s dead and he knows he’s dead. He gives them that hope. And he goes to die alone.

Vortex never really saw much of a big deal on zombies. ‘Turning’ into one isn’t a change, in his eyes, it’s just sort of… a logical conclusion to his life, he thinks. Any life. It’s not so bad. You live forever, probably, you’re never hungry, you don’t even kill each other- only the guys you want to. And that doesn’t seem so bad. So if he’s infected, he’s the wild card that might not tell anyone, or might tell everyone. Who knows what he does.

Swindle blames someone else. He likes his family, but uh, hey, come on, him? Infected? There’s a 1% survival chance too, and he’s got all these meds stockpiled; come on, as if he’d die? You don’t really believe that, right? And he’s not even infected; it was someone else. Someone else got bitten. He wasn’t bitten, he was scratched. This even his blood. This is just a bruise. Don’t look under his sleeve.

Brawl doesn’t have much feelings of sorrow about the thing. If it was later on in the apocalypse, he’d be remorseful, and even scared. But early on, it’s just… well, that’s that then. He’ll go down fighting. He tells everyone, and then goes out and kills as many zombies as he can before he dies to.

Onslaught is also a contender for chopping off his own limb. Though, this isn’t like First Aid, who knows medicine and knows where to cut, how to cut, what to do; this is, grab a knife, and cut. Of course he’d tell the group. But only because he isn’t going to die. He’s the guy who’s not in denial, he absolutely believes he can beat this infection. The person who fights anesthesia before surgery. That kind of guy. Sort of a flipped mirror of First Aid too; where there’s life, there’s hope.

Blast Off tells a few people. Maybe only one, even. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s- he’s realistic. It’s terrifying, isn’t it? To suddenly realize your mortality. He doesn’t want to die. But maybe that’s all he can do now. He tries to hold it off, but it doesn’t work; and the group can’t decide what to do with him. He asks First Aid, in the end, to help him out. He doesn’t want to die as a zombie; he wants to die human. So Blast Off spends the last day alive with his family, shooting zombies from afar. Before he, quietly, turns in and does the same to himself. First Aid will lie and say he died in his sleep.

[oakandgumtrees]

The Lady in the Library, Part 2

Part 1

The woman in front of me was wearing a white shawl over a blue, empire-line dress with long sleeves and a long skirt. Her light brown hair was in a high bun at the back, and short ringlets around her face. In one hand, she carried a candle on a saucer, the flickering light casting odd shadows. Her face was plainer than an actress in an Austen production, and the clothing wasn’t as flattering on her figure, but that’s because she wasn’t an actress. She couldn’t be.

I was still staring when a burst of static came over my radio, followed by John’s voice:

“Checking in, Beth, what’s your status?”

What was my status? How the hell did I explain this?

Everyone had heard stories about library time travellers. (‘Temporally displaced persons’, technically, but no-one called them that.) Most of the stories were bullshit, but people went missing in libraries once or twice a year, and they were usually surprised about the date when they came out, one way or another. But this, this was different.

I fumbled for the button and held it down, far too conscious of the other woman’s eyes on me. “Unexpected item in a time dilation pocket,” I reported - which was technically true, if a massive understatement. “No apparent danger. Give me five minutes?”

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining the suspicion in John’s voice when he replied, “Five minute timer confirmed. Take care.”

I looked back up at the time traveller, and said awkwardly, “I’m Beth. Bethany Fowler. Um. Maybe we should…sit down?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Fowler," she replied, pale, but otherwise composed. I figured that staying outwardly calm made sense with her being some sort of Regency-era gentlewoman. “I suppose, under the circumstances, I had better introduce myself. Miss Anne Stockton.”

I gave my bastardised half-curtesy again and - to Miss Stockton’s credit  - she didn’t laugh at me. Instead, she led me back to a reading nook with a pair of wingback chairs and a little table, while I tried to work out how to explain what was going on.

I mean, how do you tell someone that their whole world disappeared while they were lost in a book?

.

While I floundered, Miss Stockton watched me, and after a minute or so she said quietly, “I do not keep myself abreast of all the continental fashions, nor those of the natives of the colonies, but I must say that your attire is exceedingly unusual, Miss Fowler.”

I looked down at my cargo vest and jeans, and winced. 

“And I do not believe I have ever heard of a mechanical device that can speak like a parrot,” she went on, “Much less one with which a meaningful conversation may be had.”

I could feel my shoulders creeping up towards my ears.

She looked at her candle, then down at her hands in her lap. “Your language is no less understandable then Shakespeare, at least,” she murmured. “...Dare I hope that it has not been an entire millennium?”

My training hadn’t covered how to tell someone they were a time traveller. It definitely hadn’t covered someone else working out they were a time traveller. “I’m sorry,” I said helplessly. “Not that long, no. From your clothing, I’m guessing about two hundred years. I… I can tell you how I think it probably happened?”

Miss Stockton swallowed, and looked at the candle again. “Two hundred years in less than two hours,” she breathed. “It scarce seems possible. But…no, Miss Fowler. I know it is the library that is to blame.”

.

We sat together in silence - me useless, her…processing, I guess - until my radio crackled again.

“That’s five, Beth,” came John’s voice, a little distorted, but still reassuring. “What’s your status?”

I looked over at Miss Stockton and said quietly, “Is it alright if I tell him we’re coming out? You can’t stay here, not now we’re going to move the books.”

She firmed her shoulders and nodded. “I cannot change my fortune, and nor can you,” she said wryly. “Better to meet it bravely.”

John was waiting, but I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen something as impressive as Miss Stockton’s determination right then, and it took me a minute to get my breath back.

“Beth, come in.”

I fumbled for the radio button. “Sorry!” I said quickly. “I’m fine, John, but I’ve gotta abort the walkthrough. There’s someone here.”

There was a pause. Given how rarely anything actually surprised John, I’ll admit I was smug about that. “...Displaced?” he said eventually.

“By about two centuries, yeah,” I told him, getting to my feet. “We’re gonna follow the rope out, can you warn the housekeeper she’s going to have a guest?”

John’s voice was a little shaky when he replied: “I’m looking forward to hearing the story of this one. See you soon, Beth.”

.

I looked at Miss Stockton, and this time, I had the presence of mind to just plain bow. “Ready to go?” I asked.

She stood, smoothing down her dress, then took up her candle and nodded. “Since you have Ariadne’s thread, you had better lead the way,” she said. “I thought I knew this library well, but it seems I was mistaken.”

I unclipped my anchor rope so I could bundle it up as we went and shook my head. “Libraries play tricks like that.” Especially huge ones like this. No sunlight, no sound, dense shelving… “It’s not your fault.”

It might have been the candlelight, but I thought I saw a slight smile on her face. “You are very kind, Miss Fowler,” she murmured. 

And then, together, we made our way out of the library.

[sapphirehearteyes]

Respectfully disagree. I can certainly appreciate where you’re coming from. I’m a big fan of ignoring canon AND not ignoring canon, and although I personally dislike things that differ too far from the source material, I’m a firm believer in not trying to tell people how to fandom or participate and or create in it.

If an au is completely disconnected, so what? Let people enjoy their hobby how they want- I’m very big on this. In the Ewan fandom there is still too much controlling/judging of other people. As long as someone’s not being hateful then I personally have no problem with it.

I also don’t think- in my personal experience- that a strong deviation for source material and characterization means someone truly hates the source material (although I certainly can’t speak for everyone, especially when explicitly stated otherwise lol). But you can still have very very complex feelings towards the source material and operate in fandom as you see fit (again, emphasis on I only support this if one is not being hateful in how they conduct themselves.)

Anyways, hopefully this made sense- it’s late and I’m still stubbornly refusing to go to bed. Appreciate the original post because I found it thought provoking and interesting. And who knows, maybe I read too much into it but felt inspired to communicate my thoughts, especially for any fandom outliers lurking out there.

"we ignore canon in this house" "we disregard what we don't like in canon" "there's no need to consume the source material" "fanon >>>>" Y'ALL pLEASE. stop. stop it. the source material is the foundation? why are you here if you hate the source material? yes haha funny joke about all sw fans hate sw but my guy, I don't hate sw. it gets on my nerves sometimes but the first six movies are the reason I engaged with the fandom at all. and this isn't just a sw issue!! if you don't pay any attention to canon, you're not talking about blorbo!! you're talking about an oc!! and that's fine!! but good god just make an oc or build your own world or whatever. you can do that without being a drag

it ain't that deep or whatever but when your non-au fic is completely disconnected from the source material or I can tell you just read the wiki or your flagrantly mischaracterized blorbo hcs pick up traction in the "I ignore canon" crowd? that drives me banana sandwich insane

[sukirichi]

earned it [02]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, suggestive content, unedited fic

notes. err, i’m only doing this on impulse. i would like to continue it, but i think part one stands enough for itself :> i might delete this if i don’t like it a few days later lollll

series masterlist

Your infamous customer hadn’t arrived even as the restaurant closed. You watched close enough, fidgety in your movements and often bumping into other servers, all because your gaze kept darting back to the front door, awaiting his presence.

There’s no actual reason why you want to see him. Maybe it’s because he left an impression? The guy didn’t even budge after finding out someone had snuck into the kitchen to poison him, leaving you to wonder why anyone wanted to kill him. Not that it was any of your business, but you figured it was only common between powerful people who are equally greedy. Still, you’re unfocussed in your work, apologizing every now and then when your boss shook their head at you.

Thankfully, you managed to get back to your old pace. Thoughts of the white-haired tall man left the room at the same time everyone did, leaving only you and your boss in the locker room. You ended up working two shifts again on this weekend, your co-worker asking you to cover for them due to sudden family issues.

It’s tiring, that much is for sure, but you won’t complain when it’s more money down in your pocket. You’re dazzled, however, as you leave the locker room and see that your main chefs are still there.

Upon seeing you, they immediately usher you into a lone table, table 98 that remained untouched the whole night, a two lit candles illuminating the otherwise darkness of the isolated restaurant. Only this time, it’s occupied by him no less, his azure eyes flittering up to yours at the sound of your hesitant footsteps.

You’ve been looking for him the whole night, yet now that he’s in front of you, you don’t have any words to say. Instead, you bow down deep, the hands clasped in your lap shaking.

“S-Sir.”

“No need to be so nervous. I only wish to discuss something with you,” his laugh is so carefree, lighthearted as he gestures to the empty spot across him. “Take a seat,” Wordlessly, you foolow his orders and dash down to the seat, spine straight and head held high. There’s a hint of amusement in his small smile, but he doesn’t tease you, save for the lilting tone he held. “So you’re in sophomore year of university?”

“Yes, Sir. How’d you know?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of whether you’re supposed to expensive meal served in two.

Gosh, and this was on page three too, a single meal cost at least six months’ worth of rent.

“I pulled a string or two,” he lifts one shoulder lazily, waving his knife in the air. “And please, call me Satoru. Assuming we come to an understanding, things will go well for the both of us. You are in need of financial aid, yes?” You nod, utterly clueless in where this is leading, but Satoru’s already made up his mind long before he came here that he found no need in beating around the bush.

“Good. Then what do you say about being my sugar baby?”

“S-sugar baby?” you repeat the word first in confusion, then with distaste. He simply hums around the meat he’s eating, as if it’s a normal occurrence for him to inquire such things, and you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

You don’t care that this guy is your precious customer – he was just the same as everyone else.

“Is that the reason why you asked me to stay behind? Do you think you can just pay people to sleep with you? It may have worked on others, but not to me. I would rather keep my dignity than be with you,” you breathe hard after your rant, slapping your palms down on the table. The impact of it makes the table shake, his hand reflexively reaching to steady his wine glass. “As for what happened yesterday, you don’t have to thank me about it. I did what any right-minded person would.”

“And if I said I never wanted to be saved?” he asks, his tone still so calm that it further infuriates you. You stare at him, stunned and mouth gaping. “Sit down. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Thank you for graciousness, Sir, but I really don’t—”

“Angel,” You freeze at the nickname. He chuckles with his forehead pressed to his clasped hands, “Do you really think I need to pay people to sleep with me? I could have anyone I want,” his voice falls an octave or two, the sonorous warning rumbling something…alien inside your body. You stand there, unable to move, and he easily sees through this as he hides a smirk behind his drink. “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”

You don’t know what snapped in you to actually follow, but his words weren’t just that. They were always laced with eased dominance, the words leaving his lips coming out as a command. No, it was more like a hypnotizing order, and you’re nothing but a puppet enslaved by it.

His smile only grows bigger, and you hate that he looks ridiculously handsome under the dim lights of the room. Life would’ve been much easier if this man had been ugly.

“As I was saying, this relationship should be casual, no strings attached. I’d prefer if you’re exclusive to me, and in return, I’ll cover all your school fees and everything else. As for the sex,” he cuts his eyes straight to yours, an intense burning heat in them. You squirm in your seat, a little intimidated, albeit excited, by this proposition too, though you’d rather die than let him know that, “I don’t need that from you. I just want someone to talk to.”

“You’re paying me to talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckles, “I’m saying you form a relationship with me in exchange of financial aid. You’d be similar to a lover, nothing less of a friend,” he stares at his drink so hard like he was having a debate with it. A few seconds later, he found his answer, the gleam in his eyes surreptitious as he says, “Someone I can trust.”

You huff. Surely it wasn’t easy as that. “Why me?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, “I just find you endearing, that is all,” You lean back on your seat, trying to process all this. The hesitance must be written all over your face because he adjusts his tie, sliding a white business card your way before sliding his chair back in. At least he’s well-mannered enough to do that. “You can take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush.”

Somehow, seeing his figure retreat triggers something within you. You watch as silhouettes emerge from the darkness trail after him; must be his security team, serving as an additional note that what you so struggled to achieve was likely nothing for him.

Was it fear? Desperation? Shame?

You don’t know, you won’t ever really know, but you run up to him anyway, brave enough to tug at his sleeve. The guards surrounding him tense up at the contact, stepping away only when he raises a finger that spoke a thousand words.

“You-you’ll pay for everything?”

With his back turned to you, you failed to see that victorious grin he wore. “And everything more,” he reassured. He turns around to confirm your submission, but you’re quivering under his towering frame, poor hands clutched around the card so tightly he won’t be surprised if you break it. He chuckles, coaxing the worries out of you as he caresses your cheek, his breath evident of expensive liquor hitting your cheeks. “Relax, angel. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to the devil.”

Your pupils blow wide at the close proximity. If he was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the clarity of his sharp, angular features that are softened by his playful smile. Oddly enough, his thumb caressing your cheeks is tender yet calloused.

There’s no telling when who put who under a spell, because you’re clutching helplessly at his suit jacket, whispering, “Am I not?”

You are, he wants to say, but you’re so innocent, so vulnerable – such an angel, he can’t help but hum in his head – that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know. He already knew things were bound to fall out of place one another, but until that hasn’t happened yet, he’ll have to keep you close. He’ll make you his.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he declares so confidently that you couldn’t even question his capability to do so you, and for a moment, just a moment, your knees weaken under his stare. “Now that, I can promise.”

Should you have pulled away then? When he leaned down to seal the contract with a kiss, should you have pulled away then? Or better yet, could you even pull away then?

You’ve been so alone your whole life that each moment with him is awakening, soul-crushing, mind-shattering and so damn weakening that you should’ve pulled away then. If anyone were to tell you you’d share your first kiss after work hours with a man whose name you don’t even know of, you’d tell them they were crazy, crazier if they claimed you would enjoy it.

But you did. Oh, you did, you were addicted to him – his taste, his scent, his touch, everything about him – that when he pulled away, taking away every last breath in your lung that formerly remained taint-free by him, you’re left wanting. Craving.

And he knows this. How could he not? Your eyes are hazy with lust, chest pressed against his firm ones that would soon be the same body you found home over and over again.  You’re not the only left intoxicated from this sudden agreement. Whatever you feel, he feels it twice as much after years of watching you from the sidelines, asking himself a million times over what it is about you that pulled him in so much in the first place.

The innocence? The dedication? The youthful naivety?

Gojo wants to laugh at himself. It was never any of those – he simply wanted to fool himself that maybe he’s worthy of this, of your love, of your purity. He’s selfish, manipulative, heartless, and he wants nothing more than someone like you to make him feel like he’s everything he’s not.

He steps forward to brush his nose against yours; breathing in the tiny gasps you reward him with. And he’s barely even touched you.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he rasps, butterfly touches all the way down your back to hold you flush against him, letting you feel that he’s all muscle and hardness, while you’re the complete opposite, composed of softness and little ghosting kisses. Perhaps when he gives you by a name, he was right to call you –  “My Angel.”

The loud blaring of your alarm cuts through the silence of the room, its shrill sound piercing your ears. You groan, blindly patting the bedside table to swipe snooze. The spot next to you has been cold for a while now, but it’s normal for Satoru to leave early for work that you burrow yourself deeper in the covers. Five more minutes of sleep shouldn’t be so bad; it’s the weekend, anyway. You’ve got nothing else to do.

Waking up after that, on the other hand, now that is an impending task on itself.

You’re beyond sore, your inner thighs littered with handprints and your shoulder covered in love bites. “Jeez,” you mutter to yourself, stepping out of the bathroom. Tying your robe around you, you go out your shared bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out.

It’s past noon already – Satoru really wore you out. And fuck, you could barely walk. You had to grip the counters just to sit on the stools, and even then, you’re wincing from the pain.

He should be doing paperwork in his office right now or something; he never really told you what to do. You don’t feel like asking either since he’s made it clear he prefers to keep his personal life, well…personal. But nevertheless, you swing your legs back and forth on the stool, texting him a quick I love you baby :)

Satoru doesn’t reply.

Usually, he’d respond in a few minutes, always supplied with a wink and an eggplant emoji. It was so him to act this way, that when those few minutes turned into a few hours and you’re met with radio silence, you can’t help but worry.

You try to brush it off, ignoring the deafening silence that rings all over his penthouse. He’s busy, he’s working, he’s got things to do – that’s all it is.

You convince yourself hard enough that you’ve cleaned the place until it’s sparkling, your reflection bouncing off the black marble floors. Every minute, though, your mind would race back to him. Not thinking about him proved to be a really daunting task because you think of him when you’re eating, reminiscing the way he’d always surprise you with a back hug, muttering morning angel all over your skin just to distract you from your meal. You think of him as you’re killing time with boring dramas; if he was here, he’d nudge your leg with his foot, pushing your shorts until it exposes your panties. He’d make sure you don’t get to focus at all, riling you up and kissing you hard that the show playing becomes nothing but background noise. You think of him, you dream of him, you remember him – and yet, you can’t feel him.

Nails bitten down to the skin, you scramble for your phone, swiping call over his contact. It doesn’t go through. Now that’s another odd thing; Satoru never fails to pick up your calls.

“He’s just busy,” you lie to yourself, telling the same thing over and over again even as night falls and you’re staring at the empty left side of the bed, hands smoothing over where the curve of his body would’ve been. “He’s just busy,” you say once more, giving into the exhaustion brought on by your worries. “He’ll come home soon. He always will.”

Except he didn’t.

And that was two weeks ago.

“Angel, I got you—” Satoru immediately clamps his shut, his footsteps muted as he walks closer to you. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and you’re still very wary of the nature of your relationship so you refuse to move in with him. He doesn’t mind, he respects your space and decisions, but now he’s starting to regret letting you have your way. You’re hunched over your swiveling chair, cheek pressed against the opened textbook and glasses perched on your hair. The lamp desk illuminates the dark circles lining your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

Thanks to his help, you’ve been able to spend more time focusing on your studies. It should be comforting, but Satoru’s heart aches as he thinks of what you’ve been like prior to meeting him.

How long have you stayed up all night just to pass your exams? How long have you cried yourself to sleep, unable to handle the burden placed by the world on your shoulders at such a young age? How long have you had to turn down friends’ invites to parties with a forced smile because you had to go to work? How many times have you stared at a failing mark, teeth clenched because you studied well for it; your exhaustion just got the best of you and muddled your brain?

Satoru places the beer and dinner he’s got you on his way back home on top of your one-man dining table, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. You look so beautiful this way – unaware, unknowing, and focused in nothing but the future ahead of you that you don’t bother yourself with his past.

Perhaps…it was comforting, after all.

He’d rather have you worry over your own studies than worry about him. Satoru can’t stomach the idea of you – his precious angel – being involved in his own shit, possibly get caught between the crossfire. It pains him to say it, but he doesn’t want you getting too close for comfort.

So he stays there by your side, simply because it would expel all ideas of you wanting to be beside him. He’ll be right where you’re safe, and the sigh that leaves your lips when he moves you to your bed, fitting in his long, lanky bed on your cramped mattress an immense struggle. As if feeling that you’re finally home, you snuggle closer to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings that tug at his heartstrings.

Satoru rubs circles at your back, staring so hard at the chipped paint on your wall that he’s sure he’s got it burned in his memory.

Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve been satisfied with that. He should’ve held back in his desire to have more of you. He should’ve just tucked you in and left, but he was never really in control of himself. Before he knew it, he’s pulled in by you too much, encouraging him to move in with you under the lie it’s easier to keep an eye on you.

Had he just left you earlier…would things have been different then?

He’s asked himself this question too many times. Satoru always came to one conclusion. He loved you way too much that it consumed him, and soon the love he held for you slowly burned you inch by inch. The only way to save you was to pull away – but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not now – but he’s too scared, too deep in love that he ignores the warning signals and holds you close instead, finding comfort in the warmth of your arms.

Fuck. Satoru downs his second drink, glaring at everyone beneath his shades. Geto snickers beside him, sending side eyes to his boss every now and then just to check. Of course, Satoru’s not actually going to pass out, he was no lightweight, but he’d been uneasy every since that pretentious gold envelope landed on his desk.

One of the downsides of being a mafia leader meant you had to mingle with other clan shit, including him of all people. There were always new leaders popping out of nowhere, Satoru quote unquoting, criminals be spawning like maniacs.

For fourteen years – fourteen fucking years – his clan had been in bad blood with the Zen’ins. They were pretty new in the illegal side of business, starting off as a powerful name in the trade industry before they got interested in oil. One thing led to another, the family began to realize they could have so much more if they turned a blind eye to a law or to, soon shifting into illegal weaponry trade, human trafficking, then drug manufacturing.

These bastards had the audacity to insult the Gojo Clan when Satoru’s family dropped by to strike a contract out of curiosity to their goods, only to be turned down because they’re ‘barbaric’ and ‘informal.’

Satoru still remembers that humiliating moment of being escorted out by bodyguards, but he held his head high, vowing to show that bastard Zen’in guy that the Gojo’s were one of the powerhouses for a reason. He doesn’t even know where the elderly guy got his confidence from. Mafia business was not the same as their former expertise, yet they acted all high and mighty with their rules and standard of being sophisticated even in a life or death situation.

Gojo doesn’t know whether he should be happy or sad that the old man died, his son taking over just as soon as his father perished. He would’ve celebrated with a whiskey or two, except the new clan leader was quite adamant in cleaning up their name to prove he would not create the same mistake his father did.

The new leader threw a large cruise party, inviting pretty much everyone they were chummy with, and Satoru has never felt more out of place. He recognized a face or two, but he couldn’t really give a fuck. He hated events like this – it was all about establishing power and face.

Satoru groaned under his breath, swiping at another flute as a waiter passed by. He felt the bubbles fizzle down his throat, the slight burning sensation somewhat easing his nerves.

He leans back at the wall and checks his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It’s been two fucking hours since they arrived, and the host still hadn’t arrived. If they planned on being ‘fashionably late’ Satoru won’t hesitate to slice someone’s neck tonight. He hates his time being wasted the most, and his eyes slid over to his friend’s still posture, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Suguru,” he sighs through his mouth, “Don’t be so tense. This is a formal event – no blood will be shed tonight.” Suguru had a weird skill of being able to read Satoru’s thoughts that he raised his hands in surrender, silently promising that he’s not going to kill anyone.

“You’re not sure of that.”

“I won’t lose my composure, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he rolls his eyes, not looking back as he effortlessly places the empty glass back to another waiter. Satoru stands next to his friend, sucking his teeth out of boredom. Suguru, on the other hand, is tenser than ever, his eyes locked onto something in the middle of the crowd that began to cheer.

Faintly, somewhere at the back of his mind, Satoru hears someone whistle in signal. A few seconds later, the fireworks are lit and decorate the night sky, bursts of gold and beauty accompanying the entrance of the woman who’s so effortlessly caught everyone’s eye tonight.

Satoru is rooted to his spot, taking off his glasses the same time the crowd parts. Then, his breath is knocked away from his body, his heart pumping so hard he actually struggled to breathe.

Because you’re there, smiling and waving at the crowd as if it’s second nature to you. Seven years of being apart from one another and Satoru is still bewitched each time he lays his eyes on you. You’re the same…from your face down to the angelic feeling you always carried, but at the same time, you’re different. Gone was his precious angel who shied away from too much attention, his precious angel who would’ve never worn such a bodacious ring embedded on her left ring finger. Your smile is more charismatic, confident, and even fierce compared to the small, private ones you always shared with him – he almost couldn’t recognize you.

As if feeling someone’s eyes on you, you spot him leaning languidly against the walls, those lips you used to kiss turned downwards.

Seven years ago, you would’ve kissed him until he smiles again, singing to your pouty and clingy boyfriend who never voiced out the reason of his troubles. Seven years ago, he would’ve carried you and swung you around, showering you with affection as he reminds you how lucky he is to have you.

But this was no longer the past – that much is clear from when he left you without another word.

Still, you smile at him, an empty one that showed nothing but concealed anger. He was sure though, so fucking sure, that for a split second, he saw you light up. That may have been seven years ago, but you loved each other to the point of insanity – surely you still held some sort of fondness of him.

Satoru takes long, self-assured stride towards you, his gaze never leaving yours with his hands tucked into his pockets. There’s no telling what he’ll do, but in his mind, it’s clear.

You still love him, he still loves you. He’ll do something about it. It doesn’t matter what, he just will. That was until a young man closer to your age with blond hair and pierced earrings, narrow feline eyes lined with eyeliner hobbles beside you, his weight supported by a cane that Satoru stops in his movements.

He’d recognize that face anywhere.

The youngest and perhaps most mischievous leader of them all, Naoya Zen’in. Albeit not as hard-headed as his father in comparison with his rather laid-back and welcoming nature, Satoru knows a monster when he sees it. It takes one to know one, after all, and despite the heir being crippled from a former accident, his intelligence and power was not to be overlooked through his appearance and coy smiles.

In fact, he might even be more dangerous than his old man, this theory only proven when his arms snake around your waist. The matching rings gleam from under the light, and you press yourself closer to him to whisper in his ear, your attention very much still on Satoru.

Satoru’s entire body burns.

“Still there, Sir?” Suguru asks, gripping his boss’ bicep to hold him back. Smart of him, Satoru exhales through his nose, unable to stop his glare from darting to your husband’s.

He’s heard of you, of him, of how his most annoying rival had a phenomenal trophy wife who looked harmless at first look, but was actually the brains of most of his operations. Satoru forgets how to breathe normally because he’s heard of you, and the rumors he’s gotten wind of about Naoya’s trophy wife are nothing less of how dedicated and perfect the two of you are.

Slapping Suguru’s arm away from him, Satoru grits his teeth. “Get me a drink.”

His precious angel was gone. No, this woman that stood before him…you were an entirely different entity, something darker, something along the lines that were more like him.

What exactly happened the day he left you?

taglist: @ladywaifuuwrites​ @savantsoulfinder​ @my-reality-is-in-my-head​ tagging the ones who asked for part 2, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[whoopsieintheuniverse]

Headcanon Time!

Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh I’m writing for Naruto again!

Kisame Headcanons

NSFW under the cut so Imma need the minors to not go under there. Thnks. 

Very polite, mhm. 

This is kind of canonical, but I just wanna emphasize how polite Mr. Hoshigaki is. He will kick your ass in training and then tell you to have a good day and genuinely mean it. 

He’s also just not very judgmental, which is probably due to how he was raised. 

I headcanon that Kisame had a very country, almost hilly-billy like family. In canon, there are no Hoshigaki names on memorials in his village; they’ve been expunged. I don’t know why but that’s some Hatfield-McCoy type shit. The Hoshigakis were menaces to society for no particular reason, and Kisame just had to go with the family.

After seeing what he’s seen, yeah Kisame is not judging you at all. 

Talks to Samehada and knows its responses like the back of his hand.

I think the bond to Samehada and its user works similarly to Venom and Eddie Brock. 

That shit is a symbiote and you cannot change my mind. 

A FULLY SENTIENT SWORD?? THAT HAS FOOD TASTE PREFERENCES??? yeaaaaahhh your honor, that’s a symbiote. 

Sometimes, who Kisame trains with is dependent on what chakra Samehada has a taste for that day. Kisame definitely soils her. Talks to her like a dog when no one is looking. 

Itachi has seen it. He says nothing, but he think it’s cute. 

Because of the bond between him and Samehada, I think Kisame can kind of taste chakra, too. He’s been bonded to the sword so many times that he has some of its powers even when not formally bonded together.

Kisame can swim, but he can’t fish.

 It makes no sense, but Kisame is terrible at fishing. He isn’t all that patient, and sedentary activities like that don’t strike his fancy all that much. 

Itachi is convinced that sometimes Kisame scares the fish away on purpose. 

As for swimming, Kisame, of course, is a strong swimmer, but did you know that wasn’t always the case? 

Kisame couldn’t swim all that well until he hit the ninja academy. I definitely think his family just chucked him into the water, and poor baby was pretty sure he was drowning until he remembered his gills. 

I think the “fussy, nervous kid growing up into a laid-back adult” trope is just funny, and it fits Kisame in my mind. 

Instigatorrrrrrrr. 

Again, pretty canonical, but one of Kisame’s favorite hobbies is starting shit. 

The rest of the Akatsuki is sooooo used to hearing him pipe up,” You just gonna take that?” during an argument. 

Itachi tries to get him to stop with one of his patented “Uchiha glares” but pouring fuel on a fire is too good for Kisame sometimes. 

Besides, he doesn’t do it often. More of just messing around. The Akatsuki is really the first place Kisame has been more comfortable of being himself and not just a weapon or tool, so his personality really has a tendency to chime through when he finds something funny amongst the members. 

In addition to this, Kisame also is very physical in a big-brother way. Very much will give Deidara a noogie. Is also the king of the shoulder-bump thing guys do when they pass you. Kisame is your annoying frat-brother confirmed. 

To go with the above, Kisame has not had many friends.

He didn’t allow himself to have friends. Thought they were liabilities. 

As such, even though Kisame will consider you a friend in his mind, he will be very independent. 

This is because he still struggles with the “shinobi have no friends” mentality, and because he doesn’t want his friends to think he can’t handle himself. 

To Kisame, if he isn’t firing at 500%, he isn’t good enough and other people will think that as well. 

Pls tell him he’s good. 

***********************NSFW CONTENT BELOW!!***************

 NSFW Kisame Headcanons

Get into it, yuh

Firm believer in “attitude adjustments”. 

Like, if there’s something seriously wrong, of course he’s not gonna be one of those guys that just pop it out unprompted. However. 

You feeling bad, babe? Shooot, let your man fix it. Hidan pissed you off? Yeah, let him make it all better. That movie made you sad? Sit on his lap and tell him alllll about it.

Let. Him. Pin. You. Down.

Kisame has such a huge thing for immobilizing his partner. Not even in a bondage way, but definitely with his body. Gets him hot for sure. 

It also makes him feel all mushy that you trust him enough to let him have that control. Think about it. You trust him, a missing-nin, a mercenary, and whatever else people call him. Despite everything he’s done and everything he’s been through, you still trust him and love him. Makes Kisame love you more each time.

Adventurous in bed. 

The Kama Sutra is a checklist for Kisame. No, I will not accept criticism, and no, I will not take it back. 

Every time, it’s kind of interesting to see what positions Kisame will think of next. 

He can’t help it! He loves every part of you, so of course he wants to see and touch and taste everything. One minute, you’re face to face and the next minute, he’s slinging you into a different  position. Just how it is babes. 

He will look out to not stress or stretch your body in any ways you can’t take, especially if you’re not a shinobi. 

Kisame has a thing for being used by his partner.

Now let me explain. To put it lightly, sit on his face. Use him as a dildo every once in a while. Take what you want from him, pls. 

Kisame just wants you to be completely satisfied by him. Using his body to get off like that is just *static noises*. Please just top him once in a while, I promise he will love it. 

So sweet after.

Kisame is not stupid. He knows his stamina is crazy, and he knows he’s rough.

Gives the best massages! Let him work out those knots he’s put into your back.

Likes to cuddle. He’s touch-starved and the first time you curled up to him, it freaked him the hell out. After that though? If you don’t cuddle up to him post-coitus, he’s going to assume something’s wrong unless you tell him otherwise.  

He also likes little forehead kisses and kisses on his shoulders. Don’t tell the guys, he has a reputation to keep.

[cinebration]

None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! — Request by anon

Warnings: blood

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.

You should have paid better attention.

When King Henselt’s only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.

“It’s time,” she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.

“For what?”

“To be someone.”

Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.

It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.

The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.

Then the night turned bloody.

~~

Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didn’t care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.

Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.

You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.

The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.

“What happened?” His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.

“Death,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. “Some…thing.”

“It’s dead now.”

You fixed him with a wary glance. “Truly?”

He grunted.

You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.

“Did you fight it?” The surprise in the witcher’s voice drew your ear.

You wheezed. “I slashed it, yes, but fight? No.”

Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.

Unease coiled within you. “What is it?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didn’t shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.

“Good horse,” you murmured, appraising it.

The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.

You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vial’s contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.

“To prevent the venom from killing you,” the witcher explained.

“If the pain doesn’t kill me first,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

A smirk tugged on the witcher’s lips, followed quickly by a frown. “What were you doing traveling with those soldiers?”

You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.

“King Henselt sent them,” you confided slowly. “They believe I am his bastard daughter.”

“A princess.”

You elected to ignore the mild groan in the man’s voice. “Can you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.”

His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. “You don’t want to go to the castle?”

“Is it safe? As safe as home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then take me home,” you insisted. “I’m no princess.”

~~

The witcher smelled. You couldn’t ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasn’t made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldn’t relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.

You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.

It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.

You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.

“Bandits,” the witcher noted.

Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.

Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.

You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. “I can’t stay here.”

He frowned.

Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.

“I have no money,” you confessed, “but if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.”

The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.

~~

It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horse—named Roach, you learned—could only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.

You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry to burden you,” you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.

“Why don’t you want to be a princess?”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. “Why would I want to be one?”

“Riches. A comfortable life.”

“I had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just weren’t gold.”

“Gold is necessary.”

“Gold means nothing if your life is miserable.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.

“Am I keeping you from work?”

“Are you always so concerned for witchers?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yet there you sit.”

You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. “Then tell me where to go and I will get there myself.”

“The road is dangerous.”

“Being a woman is dangerous.”

He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.

“So tell me where to go,” you insisted. “Then I can leave your remarkable hair.”

His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, “I will take you.”

You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.

~~

Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldn’t be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.

“Do you know many princesses?” you asked him.

He grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I know one or two,” he said. “But none like you.”

You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. “Yes, I suppose I’m nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmer’s daughter.” You snorted.

“I think they could use one.”

Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didn’t quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.

“Well, when I am princess,” you said, “I will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. That’s all that matters.”

A faint smile touched the witcher’s lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.

[bokettochild]

A Hero Protects His Own - Part 1

Ao3

AU is by @ryssbelle I just write for it!!!! Go check them and their awesome AU out!!!!

..........................................................................................................................

Loud.

It’s loud and the camp is overwhelmingly tense as Legend screams harsh words in a language Twilight doesn’t understand. The others sit in silence, either burying their heads in their hands or trying their hardest to ignore it while Sky stares cold and impassive at the vet.

He shrinks back into his hood.

He’s fought the worst of the worst; monsters, evils, shadows and nightmares from realms beyond what the others will ever know, but somehow hearing his brothers screaming at each other like this is what it takes to make him shiver and shrink back.

Or maybe it’s the steel in Sky’s eyes.

He’s tried to separate them, tried to stop Legend antagonizing the Chosen Hero, and for a while he even thought it worked! Sky and Legend had bonded some after what the three of them refer to as “the bunny incident” Legend with a fierce blush and Sky and himself with grins and teasing. The vet would tease them, stand at their side and back them up, and they would do the same for him. That’s just the power of secrets, sharing them makes you closer to other people.

But then they’d been dropped in Legend’s world. They’d come to the veteran’s Hyrule and spent a day at his house and gone out to the forest with Ravio to investigate something strange that the merchant had seen. When they'd come to the cozy cottage, Sky had been teasing Legend and receiving playful jabs in return, but the next morning when everyone woke up there was stone cold silence between the two, Ravio overcome with nervous energy that, to their collective shock, had earned him some rather sharp words from the Skyloftian when the merchant had gotten them lost in the woods.

From there it got worse.

Legend and Sky are almost always at each other's throats now, icy blue and raging indigo burning into each other as Time has struggled to keep them separate, neither willing to explain their spat and Ravio to overcome to even attempt it.

The bunny merchant clings to Warriors even now, their scarves wrapped over the both of them and tying them together as Warriors paints the merchant’s nails, speaking softly and recounting adventures the two had apparently shared in an attempt to distract him from the shouting that fills the camp and the heated stares being shot between two heroes.

Sky’s hand grips the hilt of the Master Sword where it lies in his lap and Legend’s fist at his sides while he stands over the older hero, face twisted up in an ugly expression as he spews words Twilight knows he doesn’t want to understand.

“Make it stop.” Four whimpers, head buried in his side as the smithy’s shoulders tense further with each word. “It hurts.”

“Guys-” He tries, he really does, to be firm, but when there's so much anger already in the air, he knows that yelling will only do so much good, and when Sky’s sharp eyes meet his, usually so gentle and dreamy but now flashing with lightning and shadowed in thunderclouds, it’s all he can do to keep his voice low enough to not worsen things for Four.

“You’re hurting Four.” Time scolds.

Legend’s mouth snaps shut, Sky’s hands twitching as the two both look over the miserable bundle against his side.

“Fine.” Legend snaps, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Apologies.” Sky nods.

It’s easy to believe Sky will be a king one day when he acts like that. There’s no doubt that their usually sleepy friend can rule and command when he sits poker straight, actions clipped as his words and tone deep enough to rival times when he speaks. Gone are the gentle words and reassuring smiles, instead replaced with regal nods and flashing silver eyes. The war cape that usually warms shivering heroes on cold nights is a cape, and the halo cast over the Skyloftian’s honey-hair is a crown in the firelight.

Twilight has to shift in his place.

Thank Ordonia the two both have a soft spot for the smithy, otherwise they’d be here all night! And, while he loves the wolf that nestles inside of his heart, he also hates how the wolf’s senses affect his own. Legend’s shrieks might be annoying to the others, but to himself and Four, they’re agonizing.

Then again, he has to muffle a strained chuckle as Legend stomps past on his way to his bedroll, which is as far as possible from Sky’s without Time raising his brows, rabbits do scream rather loudly, don’t they.

“Are they done?” Four’s eyes actually have tears in them when he looks up, face flushed and miserable as he peeks up out from under the tail end of the wolf pelt.

“Yeah.” He has to keep his voice low as he answers, Four’s headaches are well known to be absolutely awful, and he can’t help but gently pet the smithy’s hair in an attempt to comfort him.

Baby.

Twilight has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Four’s nearly an adult.

Baby. The wolf in his soul rumbles, and Twilight has to mentally restrain himself from pulling the little smithy into his arms and absolutely suffocating him with his fluffy pelt and arms as he holds him as tight as possible. He thinks Four once explained why they want to squeeze babies and small things so much, but he can’t be bothered to dig through all of the smithy’s rants about Hylian behavior in order to remember it.

It was something related to eating though, and the thought makes him wrinkle his nose.

“Good.” Four sighs, flopping fully against him and tugging the pelt over his eyes. “They do that again and I’m gonna slap them both. Jerks.”

A laugh rumbles through his chest as the wolf growls in approval.

Fierce baby. The Wolf laughs.

He’s close to our age. Twilight reminds himself. He jist looks small and young.

Never mind that the smithy has his childish moments, eyes glimmering red and warm as he laughs along with Wind as the two watch some prank or another play out. It’s always hard to tell if Four is just laughing at their misfortune or if he’s the reason for it and is reveling in his genius, because when questioned the smithy always looks so childishly innocent or entirely unimpressed. It’s a difficult thing to pin the blame on the smithy, and they’ve all quite given up. Except Sky.

Sky, who can read Four like a book and is currently shooting worried glances in the smithy’s direction, all fire and rage gone from crystal eyes when the Skyloftian catches sight of the smithy curled up beside him, only his legs and stockinged feet visible beneath the pelt. “Is he okay?”

Twilight nods. “Exhausted, fightin’ a bad headache, but he says it ain’t quite a migraine.”

The other hero nods with a wince. “You got him then?”

Oh definitely. This is his little brother! Of course, he can take care of him! “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He’s feeling guilty.

They are close, he prob’bly just wants to help.

“You good, Sky?”

Crystal blue meets his slowly, a pained smile on his brother’s face as Sky settles down on his other side, reaching over quickly to gently pat Four’s knee before answering. “Yeah. Legend just-” Sky answers, running a hand through his hair with a huff of his puffed-out cheeks. “Vet’s a Hylia Blessed piece of work somedays!”

Laughter spills from him this time, and he can’t stop it even when Four pokes his side irritably. “That has got to be the nicest way I’ve e’er heard someone call another person an ass! Did you just say ‘Hylia blessed’?”

Sky rolls his eyes. “I love Legend same as any of you guys, he’s just...” Another heavy puff of breath, one that he didn’t know Sky could even manage with his asthma, billows out, ruffling the Skyloftian’s bangs as he motions to where Legend is sat with his back against Warriors, Twilight would almost dare to say that the vet is pouting as War reaches over to gently ruffle the vet’s hair fondly while Ravio chirps something nervous and encouraging at him.

“He can a bit difficult.” He finishes, but Sky shakes his head fiercely.

“That’s not it! I deal with difficult people all the time! My best friend was the biggest ass I knew before he stopped trying to one up me and started to actually help. I can handle a bit of sass and snark, I mean, look at us!” Sky exclaims, motioning to the camp and everyone in it.

“Keep it down!” Four hisses. “Headache!”

“Sorry.” He choruses with Sky as the smithy glares up at the both of them before retreating back underneath the protective shade of his wolf pelt.

“It’s not the grouchiness, or the snark.” Sky explains softly, blue eyes pained as they glance at Legend. “We’re just. We have very different opinions about some things.” He’s about to say something when Sky cuts him off, eyes glistening softly in the fire as he stares across at the pouting vet. “I get that he doesn’t care for the goddesses. I’m not happy with it, but I can respect his opinions; they’re valid as much as mine are, and he has his reasons to feel the way he does. But some things-” The Skyloftian shakes his head fiercely, eyes going stony again. “Some things aren’t open for discussion like faith and beliefs. Hard, cold facts can’t be denied, no matter how much Legend would like to.”

There’s a bite in Sky’s voice again, and it makes him flinch back. Beneath his pelt, Four’s fingers clench his tunic, the smithy stiff as a board again. He sneaks an arm around the younger hero, squeezing gently in reassurance as he follows Sky’s gaze to the trio opposite them, where Legend is glaring at a laughing Warriors while Ravio giggles softly along, the three melting back into their seamlessly antagonistically friendly behavior around each other.

“Legend’s smart. But he’s also blind.” Sky bites out bitterly. “And it’s just gonna get him hurt.”

He’s about to ask what Sky means, but at that very moment Wild jumps up from sitting beside Time, ears pricked and eyes wide as a hoarse-shout rings from his cub’s throat. “Monster attack!”

Monsters.

The growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls himself to his feet, Four following with a groan and Sky already sprinting across the camp with the Master Sword drawn and in hand.

The monsters are on them before most of them even have a chance to draw their blades.

Mindless beasts swirl about, blocking his vision of the others as he dances through them, fending off any headed towards the suffering smithy while simultaneously trying to carve a path for himself and Four to where the others are.

“Eyes out for the black one!” Warriors voice rises over the din of blades crashing and monsters squealing, all of the playfulness of the moment before replaced with the practiced calm and clipped tones of a soldier.

“Aye Captain!” Wind shouts back, followed by Wild and Time, the only one’s accustomed to a soldier’s commands, as they thrust themselves into the battle.

The monsters swarm thicker and thicker, but in every spare second, he keeps his eyes open, searching the crowd for the black lizalfoes that’s been the source of so much of their trouble lately. Nothing can be seen save monster after monster of the normal sort, their blood streaking red across the dirt, thin and weak as bodies fall with more ease than any of their previous battles.

“These ‘blins are red blooded!” He calls out. “Keep your guards up! They strong one’s are prob’bly holdin’ back!”

The Ordon Sword sings through the air, but despite his own warning, the monsters are already starting the thin. More stream in from the forest, but they runabout wild like any old ‘blins and lizards, none of the intelligence or strength of their corrupted cousins making an appearance so often recently. The same can be said of the black lizalfoes; no one can spot it, there’s no flash of black in the crowd save for his own pelt as he spins and stabs, dancing easily along to Warriors’ side.

“Any sign?” The captain pants out, parrying an enemy blade and thrusting forwards to skewer the moblin before him.

“None.” He heaves back, raising his shield against his own opponent and pushing back against the spear that embedded it inside. “Have you seen Four? I lost him in the mob?”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before a scream, all too harsh and broken sounded across the field. “Sky!”

Midnight meets royal blue as soldier and rancher lock eyes for all of a moment before swinging out with all their might at their enemies, razing them low and clearing their vision long enough to stare over the field.

Four is clutching at his sword arm, eyes wide and staring as they looked to where Sky has been cast onto the ground a few paces away, thrown by the force of a blow that no doubt had been headed for the smithy himself. No ordinary monster could land a blow on Sky unless he was rushing to someone else’s rescue, and the guilt already filtering into the smithy’s eyes was all that is needed to confirm the thought.

The Master Sword lies on the forest floor, to far from Sky for the knight to grasp it as he pulls himself to his knees, enemies already baring down on him from all directions.

“Sky!” Twin voices shout.

Flying-Heart!!!! The Wolf screams inside of him, pushing his feet forwards to charge to Sky’s side.

Red flashes before him, swirling fabric, the color of aged blood and wine, a hood like a poe’s drawn up over a being’s head, a single blackened hand reaching out from beneath, red swirling over clawed fingers as Sky’s breath comes heaving from his lungs, side bleeding from the blow that had downed him.

A voice, neither high nor low but pitched in such a way that none could hear quite what was being said, murmurs something as the power on the blackened hand pulses.

Monsters rage around the hero and poe-like being, but none step closer to Sky, although their eyes trail to him eagerly every so often when Heroes, desperate to save their brother, aren’t hacking through their numbers.

A moblin rises before Twilight, blocking his vision for precious seconds before a roar built in his chest and his sword cleft the being in two. The second was enough though. Sky’s scream sounds over the field, harsh and grating and agonizing! The wolf throbs inside of him, tearing at the walls of his mind as he attempted to press through the creatures keeping him from his brother.

“Get back you-” Legend’s words are cut off sharply by Time’s scream of rage as the biggoron sword swings and fells three monsters at once. The Master Sword gleams in Legend’s hands as he launches himself at the being, teeth set and eyes flashing as he swings down, making the red-cape dart back as the pink-haired hero came to a halt between hero and monster, Sky’s weakening breath ringing over the field.

The vet’s eyes flash to meet his for only a moment. “Kick ass! We need to end this!”

A firm nod, the wolf is already raging inside him and he gave it full control as his blade and shield fend off and fell enemy after enemy, their screams and blood running over him like the air itself, so little he cares for them. His only job now is to beat back the monsters, give Legend space to work, keep Sky safe.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Like a dirge of war, the wolf’s thoughts swirl with his own, red clouding his vision as the Ordon Sword severs limbs and head and cleft bodies in two. Feet dance the war stomps of bloodlust as eyes flash with the golden of the wolf.

“Portal!” Wild screams over the din of the monsters falling. “Hylia’s!” His pup sounds strained, rage and terror mixing in a cocktail of fury as arrows plunge into the enemy and weapons fly loose across the Champion’s personal battle space, an area where even the monsters drew back in fear while the rest of the heroes give the youngster ample space to cause chaos.

Sure enough, the portal’s golden power is sweeping across the field, the faint brush of feathers over their cheeks and shoulders and the whisper of warmth and honey as the goddess’s strength flows over the field.

“Legend, watch out!” Hyrule’s cry cuts through, and Twilight only has enough time to see the blackened hand swing forwards and catch hold of Legend’s tunic before the golden glow of the shift swept it all away.

[kkusuka]

We all know how looks can be deceiving right? I’d love to request head cannons of Kuroo, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Konoha, Terushima, and Atsumu with a gf that’s gifted with that super-soaker, wet-wet pussy, a pro at riding that dick, and has the gwak gwak thotty throat slobber 9000 but she is so shy, cute, and innocent at first glance. She looks like the soft-spoken librarian but when they get down and dirty, she puts her body to work and these bois just don’t know how to act from how amazing she is. Let’s say they teased her too much, so she revoked their sex privileges for a few days (not knowing how addicted these guys are on her body). Desperate bois are best bois 😈

:o

i’m shell shocked anon, you’ve blown my mind

Cw: hair pulling, super WAP, kinda fem dom but not really, severe pussy-whipped men  

Kuroo

firstly, he thought you were the innocent type up until you sucked him off for the first time

Honestly, he thought you were a total virgin prude

It wasn't really his fault, you two had met as lab partners for an AP chemistry class

You know, a class full of nerds and people he just assumed would get a job and married when they were thirty

Looking back he should have caught on after seeing you unconsciously jerking of a test tube

But, contrary to popular belief, kuroo is not the social cue master

After a few months of dating, you guys were just a horny time-bomb

Ahh~ the first blow-job, one for the books

He should have known it was going to be good just from the way you were unzipping his jeans, was it normal to almost cum just for your girlfriend palming you?

When you did get his dick out and had it all the way down your throat within the minute, he really did think you were a godsend

He didn't even know what you were doing with his balls, but whatever it was it was working

You didn’t gag or cough, even when he grabbed that back of your head and practically face-fucking you

(the real kicker was when you licked your lips after he came  and gave him that small fucking smirk, mans was done for and he knew it)

Even with all that, nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the first time you guys went at it

when I say that you guy made out for five minutes when he went under your panties and felt the pacific ocean in your panties

He was about to propose right there (and about to cum in his pants for the thousandth time)

He didn't need to but he still rubbed a few circles around your clit, but apparently, you were ready enough

Considering you grabbed his dick and fully sunk onto him in one motion

Poor baby didn't know what hit him

You had to have done this before, and if he hadn't met you in class he would have been sure you slept around and learned everything in the book

You would clench every time your sims met and- AND THAT THINGS WITH HIS BALLS AGAIN

His mind was bungled, especially after you had both come and you fell onto his chest going back to the shy and sweet version he knew you as.

What the hell was that????

Was he fucking you or were you fucking him?? Because at this point he didn't even care

After that experience, you fucked like bunnies, all the time, even in school more than a few times.  

And we all know kuroo can't shut his mouth

And he always teases you about how cute and mouse like you are outside the bedroom and how it's like he’s dating two different girls

....that hit a nerve...

Two different girls??? Well he’ll just have to endure one girl until he realizes what a blessing you are

5 days, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, and 432,000 seconds, that's how long he lasted

He was going insane, and so he explained that he didn't mean it in a bad way and that he loved how you acted

Forgiving him you rewarded the poor cat boy, 5 rounds for five days

(he didn't want to admit it but he’s pretty sure his dick would have fallen off if you didn't relent when you did)

(he just didn't want to admit that he was pussy-whipped)

Bokuto

You actually had met at a library

One of his teachers wanted him to get a bit of extra tutoring and volunteered you for the job.

You had hit it off great! Personality-wise

(you’ll never tell him but it was frustrating that he clearly didn't understand anything you were telling him)

And you were so sweet and cute, and such a good teacher

He would know that if he wasn't too busy just staring at you and thinking about you and thinking about what you like and what you wear outside of school

(or how good your lips look, or how your thighs look so soft, or that when you get up he can see under your skirt.)

Your guy’s first time was an experience

(bokuto is the cunny easting master, don't call me out)

More cunny juice = more food for owl man

He was excited, somewhere in his mind he knew that it was gonna get better from then on

He wasn't wrong either, although he didn't let your mouth near his dick just yet, he knew that would be good considering the ‘art’ you've created on his neck

The true fuckary started with him on top, but the second he was in you he...froze

Poor baby was shell shocked, you felt better than he had thought, and he just slumped over, you thought he came but he wasn’t ready for it to end so soon

He just sat there for a few minutes, fucked out, before you just decided to flip you both over

That was more his speed at the moment

So he grabbed onto your hips for dear life and you got working

Within two minutes the two of you had created a pool of juices on his bed (bokuto had a lot of precum ok), not that he really cared

You were not competing with anyone but he already had you 2 to 0

(point 1 for the meal and point 2 for being an Olympic dick-rider)

I am also a firm believer that bokuto thrusts up, he just can't help it

You are too addictive, or the way you ground onto him in between every bounce was addictive

I also don't believe that you could even truly deny bokuto sex, he was good at guilt-tripping and he was soooooo adorable

(not to mention the puppy dog eyes  he does that could convince good to do his will)

So I’m sure the only way he wouldn't get sex would be no nut November.

(aka the devil's month of torture, actually not month, week give or take)

This year it just happens that he set a new record, 8 days

He went a whole 8 days without trying for sex

Truly he went about 10 days before he stopped begging and just took matters into his own hands

(under enough pressure Bokuto become a hard dom and no one can say otherwise)

The entire time he was telling you how pretty you were and how well your pussy takes him and that you had no ‘right’ to tell him he couldn’t have sex

He even gained a new phrase “this pussy belongs to me”

You were going to have to set some things straight once he was done ;)

Iwaizumi

You were on the student council, it felt sacrilegious to think anything but pure thoughts about anyone on the council

(that didn't really stop him)

honestly, from the moment his crush festered he wanted to ruin your little innocent vibe  

You always smiled so sweetly at everyone, and just seemed like a true goody two shoes.

And that point seemed to have been correct when you began to date

Until! The fateful day where his perceived innocent girlfriend pulled a full 180 on him!

Firstly, you had offered, out of the blue, to suck him off in the middle of the movie you were watching.

Second, he asked if you knew how, and you giggled at him with that smile he loved so much

Thirdly, when you did get his dick out, you swirled some of the pre-cum on his tip with your thumb, he started getting a bit suspicious

Lastly, you completely swallowed him down, face pressing on his hip, cheeks hollowed.

That’s when he realized that you did know what you were doing

(that also arouse the thought that you had been with someone else, which was counteracted with the fact that you knew how to suck dick by practicing on hair brushed and popsicles)

((it also helped that you barely had a gag reflex))

Truly trying to put that to the test, dom iwa came right out, grabbing your hair and telling you  to suck harder

And you impressed the man, to say the least

After that he had to fuck you, he really just had too

For the first time, he went with a solid missionary, just to test that waters

He didn’t think anyone's pussy should feel like that, but since you were his it was ok

All was well he was lost in the feeling of your pussy and the deciding moment was when you pulled him against you and started to grind your body onto his

You were putting a whole lot of body into it too, and you were so soft, and unless he wanted to cum early something was going to have to change

So he flipped and changed to doggy style, which made thighs worse???

From there you got tighter and he could see all of the wetness drips from your fold onto the sheets

Yup, you were the one for him

(solidified when he pulled your hair and you moaned like a street whore)

As for the no sex thing, that was a ride

It started when Makki asked you if you were always dripping for iwa

And after a week of no sex, he confessed to letting them on his phone and  watching a recording of one of your nightly escapades and he was sorry

(and he just wanted to show them what they were missing, y’know brag a bit)

That was, and he says the only time, he let you try to dom him

You truly were the most amazing woman in the world

Konoha

( i made him kind of an ass lol sorry)

You wee the girl who sat next to him in class

(not to be mean, but he thought you were a nerd)

You always had your uniform covering everything and you were always playing with your short sleeves

You raised your hand a lot in class, always had a pencil to borrow

He just assumed that you had cobwebs in your pussy

Proven wrong at one of the volleyball teams parties, you had apparently been dragged there by a friend (surprising)

And you both were dragged onto some weird spin the bottle game

The bottle would spring and someone would draw an action from this jar and the two people would have to do it in a bedroom in the house

Seeing as that’’s how fate goes you and him were chosen

A blow-job card was chosen

And he laughed with a friend about how you wouldn’t know what to do

Mistake, that struck a real nerve, was this guy for real?

Oh hell no

Being the baddie you were, you walked to him, grabbed him by the arm, and locked lips, breaking away after a moment you asked if he was ready to go.

Poor boy didn't even respond, he just nodded and stood up

Two minutes in, he knew what he had done

You were blowing him like it would be your last time, it should be illegal to be able to suck someone off that well

And damn you pulled away right before he was going to cum.

And then just left him! Walked out of the closet like nothing had ever happened

That couldn’t be it, he wouldn't let that be it

After two weeks of non-stop begging from the guy you agreed to a date, which led to many dates

Which led to him finally being able to fuck you

God damn, he didn't think it would get better, and it did, it really did.  

You were laying on top of him and grinding your entire body onto him

Dripping all over him and squeezing him like crazy

He was never going to let you go

Now, that same friend from that party seemed very intrigued with your relationship

And he just can't help but tell him about how amazing you were, it just sucks that he did it right in front of you in the middle of lunch

Pussy pass revoked

He didn't think he did anything wrong so he went two whole weeks without any touch and he went crazy

He fell apart and apologized

After he begged enough you gave him the pussy pass back

And now he doesn't do anything to jeopardize it

Terushima

this is gonna sound weird

But

I feel like terushima knows when someone is a good lay

It's like a secret talent of his, he just knows and his radar went off when he saw you

But he thought it was wrong at first considering you were wearing leggings and a huge sweater

Not good fuck material  

But he had to make sure, so he just walked up to you and asked if you were a good fuck

Surprisingly you didn’t punch him in the nuts, instead, you laughed at him and said that he would just have to find out

And that he should at least take you out to dinner first

Adm he took you up it, made it the best damn dinner date he’d ever be on

And you reward him

With what?

The best damn blow-job he’d ever get as long as he lived.

And it fit that to the T

It started with the little licks and swirls, then, you gotta catch the man off guard, and just take his entire dick in your throat

And with that, he was sure he had superpowers

When He came, fairly quick for his taste, you swallowed all of his cum and he was ready to marry you

If he needed to take you on a date for that, he would take you on a date every day for the rest of his life

(not every day) but that's what he did

But eventually, just a blowjob wasn't enough, oh no he knew you had a tight hole

And he knew you were gushing most of the time (ushy gushy my pussy-)

If making him suck the fingers you used to fuck yourself after he came was anything

And you tasted good, really good

He was so ready for it that he let you ride him the whole night

He thought his dick was a]going to fall off, you were just that damn good

It was insane, you were almost using him as a dildo, grinding your clit on the base of his cock

And you looked glorious, he was going to have to talk to you about recording it so he could watch it over and over

Maybe show a few people-

And that's what he did, poor unfortunate soul got the silent treatment for two days before he fell apart

He literally got on his knees and asked for forgiveness

(biggest simp on the planet, but only for you (and your dripping cunt))

He’s sure to never do it again, he’s also sure that if you asked him to step on him he would let you

(and I think he’s the most pussy-whipped)

Ok maybe you didn't fully forgive him until he showed you what his tongue piercing could do, but it was worth every moment.

Atsumu

Honestly, he was dared to sleep with the next girl who walked through the cafeteria door

And that just happens to bring you, miss. I remind the teacher there was homework

(Well he actually wasn’t really sure about that but that's what you looked like and he was already regretting his decision.)

In defense of him, your hair was in a messy bun and you had this teacher's pet aura around you

But he would be damned if he lost this bet to his brother and Suna, oh no

The moment he wa[lked up to your table you knew what was happening, and shut it down immediately

After that, you officially had his attention!

Lucky you!

Unlucky you for the fact that all he wanted to do was get in your pants.

But lucky you again because you could hold this over his head!

But one day you just woke up and chose dick (respectable)

So when atsumu did his daily “c'mon baby, you know you want some” you just stood up, scaring him

(he finally thought you were gonna kill him)

Instead, you grabbed him by the dick, literally grabbed his dick through his pants, and tugged him all the way to the roof

“Hey-hey baby, no need to be that rough”

“Shut up, Miya. pants down, now”

That was not where he thought that was going but he isn't going to complain.

“You want your dick wet so bad? Here you go!”

Honestly, he could die happy.

Not so sound gross, but you were slobbering around his cock like a pro. Now that left the thought, you had to have done this before.

You had hands on the back of his thighs pushing him further down your throat, hollowed cheeks, damn he should’ve done this was sooner

He was gonna cum-

And your mouth was gone, your hand was jerking him but that wasn't nearly as nice

“Lay back.”

Yes, yes he will do that. If what’s about to happen is what he thinks is about to happen  

And now your pussy was above his face. Ok a little detour but he’ll take it

You were literally dripping onto his face while he got to work, and you went back to sucking him off

Yup, heaven.

After you both came he made sure to tell you that that had to happen again.

And it did, you rode him to hell in the hole to heaven, and he couldn't help himself from telling the entire volleyball team about how good you were

Now he really didn't think about what would happen if the news got back to you

But he definitely didn't think that meant a whole week of nothing

Well nothing for him, you made sure to send him more than a few videos of rigid dildos and fingering yourself

A week of torture, but when it was finally over he had an entirely new folder of spanking material

he was sure about who he told about your escapades, as in he told himself and Osamu if he just wanted to vent

poor guy was paranoid now

[palimpsessed]

Please please please could you talk about this parallel internal monologue—what are your thoughts?

BAZ

I kiss him back, squarely. Firmly. Matter-of-factly. You’re all I want, I think. And you can have everything you need.”

“I’m not sure what he’s telling me with this kiss. I pretend it’s Yes and Yes and Be kind to me.”

SIMON

“Fine, you fucker. Have me. Just have me. Do your worst, you stubborn twat. Be the death of me. You’ll be the death of me.”

Oh ho ho, my dear Anon. Of course I will talk about this part!!! What a meaty passage to sink my teeth into.

To put things as simply as possible, the juxtaposition we see between these two sections is the perfect encapsulation of the different ways Simon and Baz express and receive love.

Let's start by taking a look at Baz's piece, as it does come first. (Read that sentence out of context, I dare ya.)

At this point in the book, Baz and Simon have just had one of the most critical relationship-building conversations thus far. Simon has set boundaries about magic being cast on his body that Baz has agreed to. They've talked about Lamb and America and settled that matter for good. Baz has managed to lasso Simon with own tail and proceeded to do some very interesting things to it. (I'm going to do my best not to get distracted by that, but, Anon, if you know anything about me, you'll know what an absolutely monumental struggle that is.) Simon has asked Baz to be less kind to him and Baz has delivered, as only Baz can, one of the most romantic lines in the entire trilogy: "I can touch you less gently, but I won't love you less kindly."

And that leads me neatly to my first point: Baz wants to be gentle and kind with Simon, because that's what he thinks Simon needs and deserves. Gentleness and kindness are what Baz wants from Simon. That's how he thinks love should be. They've both seen and done horrible things, and he believes their love should offer a solace from all of that.

(That offering of solace is a theme throughout AWTWB. Slightly off topic, we see their bed become more and more such a sanctuary—perhaps the only place where the troubles of the outside world cannot reach them. @theflyingpeach has shared some beautiful thoughts on the bed's symbolism—their own Eden/paradise and a place where they help one another lay aside the burdens that could otherwise separate them. I've remarked before that Baz's childhood bedroom serves as a kind of refuge for them in CO in the midst of some truly steep trauma, so it was really lovely to see this kind of idea brought forward and deepened and expanded on in AWTWB in this way.)

Baz wants to give Simon kindness, safety, gentleness—three things he's been sorely deprived of in his life. When Simon is beside himself because Baz makes him a sandwich the way he likes, Baz responds internally with: "As if I wouldn't make the world spin backwards if I thought he'd like it better that way." Baz would give Simon anything, would do anything to make him happy. Baz wants to be a kind, caring, thoughtful boyfriend to the love of his life—who he knows is struggling with trauma and self-worth. All the while, Baz himself is also struggling big time with trauma and self-worth. (It's almost like they match.) It feels pretty logical that someone in Baz's place would look at Simon's struggle and wish to be soft and gentle—especially basing this logic on how he feels. He asks Simon to be gentle with him their first time together. Maybe that's because it's Baz's first time. Maybe that's because he wants to feel fragile instead of being reminded that he's an indestructible vampire. Maybe that's because gentle is just what he wants. Maybe it's all of the above. In this case, the reason isn't really important, but the fact that it's what Baz needs is. If it's how Baz needs to receive love, then it follows it's how he would give love. (Rainbow tagged a post about AWTWB shortly before the book was released with the Beatles' lyric: "and in end, the love you take is equal to the love you make". I don’t think that was by chance.)

All this is to say that the conversation Simon and Baz have before the parallel passages in question reveals that Simon isn't comfortable receiving love in this same way. He doesn't want gentle and kind and soft because he doesn't know how to process feelings like that. I'm going to do something different and tag the @youhearbiggirls podcast whose July 29 episode talked about this in a really great way (at 26:20)—including discussion of a message from Rainbow's now-deleted Twitter account. I was so happy to hear that old tweet being talked about, because I thought it was really great and was sad it was lost when Rainbow deleted her account. And! Because they mentioned the date of the tweet and people and the search function on discord are awesome, I was able to locate a screenshot someone shared!

The takeaway here is that Simon isn't programmed to accept love and kindness from others. His brain and his body have been conditioned for violence and fight or flight by trauma. He doesn't know how to accept or process good feelings and sensations, because to him, those sensations actually feel bad. They're foreign, and therefore frightening to him. That's why he feels like he has to flee when he's being physical with Baz—or, rather, I think, when Baz is trying to be physical with him. This is what Simon is attempting to express when he tells Baz that he doesn't "like that feeling. That, like, feathery feeling. Like, touch me or don't—but don't, like, whisper on me." Simon takes a huge step forward when he's able to finally verbalize this to Baz—it also goes a long way to allowing them to be physically intimate.

Baz's half of the parallel passage addresses this directly: "I kiss him back, squarely. Firmly. Matter-of-factly." This is Baz consciously making an adjustment in how he treats Simon to better give him the kind of love that Simon needs, the kind of love he asked for. His thoughts here reinforce this. "You're all I want" he tells Simon in his head, and he means it.

He understands much more about Simon now. He's seen more of who Simon is. And he still loves him. Simon—all of Simon—is still the only person Baz wants. "And you can have everything you need", Baz promises Simon. He's going to give Simon the kind of love and affection that Simon has asked for. He's going to be firm. He's going to kiss him squarely on the mouth, not softly. He's going to be direct and he's not going to let himself be scared or timid or shy away. Simon needs boldness and bravery and unequivocation. Baz is up to the task, and this is his way of showing that to Simon.

And then…! "I'm not sure what he's telling me with this kiss. I pretend it's Yes and Yes and Be kind to me."—Be kind to me.—Baz has admitted that he's "more used to guessing what Simon is thinking—what he's feeling, what he wants." He's once more trying to fill in those gaps in his mind, except this time, he actually understands Simon. They've finally gotten to a place where Simon is speaking for himself and Baz doesn't have to guess. The kiss comes immediately after Simon asks Baz to be less kind, and Baz has refused on the basis that it is exactly the opposite of what Simon needs, even if Simon doesn't see it that way. While Baz is kissing Simon—firmly, squarely, not in a new way, but definitely in a way he hasn't for a while—Baz is hoping that Simon will feel differently. That he'll feel good enough and safe enough with Baz to not only accept kindness, but to ask for it. To understand and internalize his need for kindness, and then to be able to accept it from Baz. For Simon, accepting kindness is being vulnerable, and as much as he loves Baz, he's not yet at a place where he feels safe and settled. He convinced himself early on that there was no security in their relationship, and he doesn't yet trust any security in his life—it's not something he's had to count on. So for Simon to ask Baz with his kiss to "be kind" would be monumental—it would be him undoing a lifetime of programming for violence and giving himself fully into their relationship and their future together.

Of course, we know what Simon is really telling Baz with his kiss. Onward to part two!

"You're all I want," Baz says, trying to convince Simon not to be jealous of Lamb. "Fine, you fucker. Have me. Just have me" then serves as Simon's response. In fact, this whole section seems to be in conversation with Baz—but more so the reconciliation scene than their preceding conversation.

Let's take a little trip back to Chapter 16. "If we do this", Baz says then of getting back together—of Simon trying—"I want the full Simon Snow treatment…I want the locked jaw. The squinty eyes. The shoulders." (I mean, same, Baz.) "I want you to slay a dragon before you give up on me, do you understand?...I want you to try everything before you give up on us again." If we start here, then I think we can trace these threads through directly to what Simon is thinking when he kisses Baz.

Baz wants the full Simon Snow treatment? "Fine", Simon says, "Have me. Just have me." Baz wants him to fight and "try everything" before he gives up? "Do your worst" is Simon's answer. "I thought you'd go down fighting if you believed in something…" Baz says. So, Simon responds with: "Be the death of me. You'll be the death of me." The kiss in Chapter 32 then becomes a rebuttal of sorts. It's Simon's closing argument. He's opened himself up to Baz and told him what he needs. He's "Use[d his] words" and now he's using his mouth the way he's most comfortable—kissing Baz. Kissing him fiercely and telling him everything he's feeling with it. More than that, it's his way of showing Baz—not just telling him—that he's going to keep his word. He's going to try now, and this is him trying for Baz. This is him meeting every challenge, every demand that Baz issued, and slaying them like dragons. He's going to fight, he's going to give his all, he's going to risk everything to make his relationship with Baz work this time. Simon asking Baz for what he needs was a major victory in his ongoing battle with insecurity and I think he's feeling buoyed by that, a swell of confidence that comes through in the fierceness of his thoughts.

I'd like to spend a little more time with the last line: "Be the death of me. You'll be the death of me." Let's look at this in terms of what we know of Simon. He needs fierceness, passion, violence to feel comfortable.

Both Simon and Baz are all or nothing in the way they think about each other and the love they feel, but I think we're seeing something else with Simon's "Be the death of me. You'll be the death of me." The first time he tells Baz that he loves him, Baz is shocked. He truly doesn’t believe that Simon is in love with him, and when he questions it, Simon's reasoning is: "I've killed so many things for you." And when Simon is facing off with the goblin, he lets the goblin get close because "The Mage taught me that sometimes the best way to get under someone's guard is to let them close." If violence is what Simon knows and understands, if that's what's comfortable to him, then it makes sense these are the terms in which Simon views everything, including his relationship with Baz. From his earliest moments under the Mage's control, Simon learned to think of himself as expendable. He was the Chosen One, a weapon, a blade to be kept sharp. He internalized the idea that he wouldn't live through the war and the Humdrum—he said "I’ll fight until I can't anymore". He spends most of his childhood with the belief that the greatest thing he will ever do is die—fall in battle saving the world. His highest aspiration in life is to sacrifice himself for the people he loves. I think this is at the heart of what he's thinking during that kiss with Baz: the way he knows best to prove his love to Baz is to offer him his life—"Be the death of me. You'll be the death of me."

I don't think Simon’s moved passed this way of thinking about himself & the price he thinks he has to pay to prove his love. (Further underscoring this, Baz tells him to “slay a dragon” and Simon is—probably—a dragon...) But I think this is so much of who Simon is at his core, beyond the manipulation he suffered at the Mage's hands, that he'll always play the hero because it's inherent to his nature. He does put himself into harm's way & lies to Baz to protect him. The good part in all this is that living a life of peace with Baz will present far fewer chances for Simon to put his life on the line in order to prove himself, and finally, someday, he'll realize that he doesn't have anything to prove. Until then, he'll keep trying for Baz in the best way he knows how.

Thanks so much for this ask!

As ever, if anyone has thoughts to add or other questions to ask, please do send them along. 😘

[bubblybubbubs]

Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1  2 

taglist - @lonely-kermit @lifeasdreamgirl @mera-shifts @abbyloubaton @clumsilyclueless @confusedscreaminggremlin @seanh-boredom @weasleysmalfoyxstyles @thefandomplace @mayempress @shadyrose66622 @jay-jay-love @ktvia @lovebynorth @sweet-creature98 @remmyswritings​ @chaoticgirl04

Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.  

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

-

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

-

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him  

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

-

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred’s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

-

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

-

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

-

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

[sunkaashi]

— OVERTIME

↬ Pairing. College!Atsumu x Manager!Reader

↬ Genre. Fluff. A hint of enemies to lovers if you look really closely.

↬ Warnings. Mentions of alcohol. I guess nothing else? Let me know if you think I'm wrong!

↬ Summary.  Atsumu Miya is hopelessly in love with you, but how could he ever catch your attention if all you do is ignore him? Well, maybe his plan starts to work out when he finds out that whenever he stays longer for practice, you have to stay too.

↬ Word count. 1.7k

↬ tris' note: I wrote this in the spur of the moment, but I had so much fun! feedbacks are extremely appreciated! if you wanna be added to my general taglist, fill out this form.

anyways, did you know that only hot people reblog the works they like? NO? well, now you do ;) jk, but reblogs help me tons and I'm very grateful for them <3

Sweat dripped down the back of ATSUMU's neck as he jogged around the college tracks for the nth time that afternoon.

"Just one more lap." He kept telling himself over and over again as if repeating it would make it any less of a lie.

But who could blame him when this was the only moment of the day that he could spend with you? When he just knew that, by the end of that turn, you'd be there to receive him, water bottle and towel in hand? If anything, that just drove him more and more motivated to get to the finish line.

Those seconds in which your hands slightly brushed off against each other's; the way you laughed whenever he tripped over himself, too tired to carry on; the sarcastic sneer on your face every time you scolded him for wasting your time, but still wouldn't leave. To Atsumu, that was his reward, better than any shining trophy.

"Oi! Miya!" Your voice woke him up from his trance as the blonde boy finally shot up a glance at you. He rested with his hands on his knees, chest going up and down in strong and unsteady motions, legs still trembling a bit from the training. "We've been here for almost two hours! Everybody has left already, and I want to go home for God's sake!"

Atsumu snickered at the way your voice got higher with each word, deflecting from his gaze while you said you wanted to leave. He also didn't miss how you knitted your eyebrows together just before going off at him, carefully scanning his shaky body.

"Ya could've left, ya know? I never asked ya to stay!" He replied, smirking a little while making sure to stare right into your pupils.

If eyes are the windows to the soul, that must be the reason yours were so beautiful to him. As he tried to get an answer through them, he also delighted himself in such a vision. That's why he was quick to notice their slight tremble at his remark.

"And leave you to die?!" Your voice, once again, cut him off of his daydreams. "You've been running for more than an hour after a pretty rough practice, if you go into cardiac arrest who's gonna call an ambulance?! I'm the team manager, I don't want any deaths on my back!"

In his defense, he was only there because of you, but — obviously — he wouldn't tell you that. He decided to just laugh it off.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day!" He teased.

"What?!"

"Yer’ worried ‘bout me!" Atsumu said, trying to suppress the smile forming in the corner of his mouth.

Even though his tone was playful, he knew something was off when his words were left hanging in the air, no snarky comments added to the back-and-forth banter you were both so used to.

Seeing your widened eyes, he started to question if he was right or, worse, if he had crossed a line.

You gulped down as if this would prevent you from spilling something you shouldn't say. Atsumu was dying to know what it was.

This had become a little routine of yours. Staying for a couple more hours after practice as you helped him out for a while. At first, he knew you're just doing your job, after all, you were there to assist the boys, it didn't matter who they were. Still, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, something had changed as the months went by.

He remembered it perfectly. It wasn't that long before that you used to curse him for making you lose such precious time of your day. He knew you had your reasons! Staying overtime underneath the unforgiving sun, having to catch up on your studies while sitting beside the filthy running tracks, surrounded by sweaty and dirty athletes.

Even so, it wasn't pleasant for him either. Jogging for endless hours, the summer heat consuming him as if hell were just around the corner.

Usually, he would run only half of those miles. But how could he stop? How could he stop knowing that the minute he did, you'd have to go home, and he would only see you the next day? No, he needed more time to win you over. He needed those small talks in between his breaks. He needed every single one of the few glances you exchanged every time he ran past you. He needed to hear you giggling at his jokes at least once more.

What once felt like dragging insufferable after hours, began to seem like less and less time over the weeks. Those little details were what made it all worth it. They were his private entrance to heaven.

And he believed that you might've been starting to feel the same way too.

He'd caught the way your lips curled up into a shy smile the last time he'd offered to walk you home. He also had noticed how your irises shined a bit brighter whenever he bought you food, worried because he knew you'd be there with him for those extra periods. He'd seen the way you laughed at his childhood stories just a tad too hard, always asking for another one.

Atsumu had always been aware of how he comes off to people: the arrogant self-centered jock. He never really cared about any of those things, but he did care about how you perceived him. The man just hoped that soon enough, you'd learn he was more than what others wanted him to be. Not a pretentious athlete, albeit a normal guy as any other, just with an ambitious goal set to his mind. And whenever you shared one of those intimate moments, he thought that, perhaps, you were one of the few people that actually saw him for who he was.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to admit the feelings he'd developed for you.

"Oi! Are ya alright?" Atsumu said, trying to catch your attention, a delicate expression laying on his countenance. "I'm sorry if I overstepped in any way, ‘kay? It was a joke, I promise." You didn't answer him just yet.

"Hey!" He proceeded, lifting your chin up so you'd look at him. "Now I'm the one getting worried 'bout ya! Snap out of it and get back to hating on me before ya realize I might have a heart!" Atsumu mocked himself, but shied away from your glare while doing so.

At least he'd made you chuckle.

“I always knew you had one, Miya." You said, rolling your eyes at the man. “I just didn’t know it worked!”

“Oya! That was mean!”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” You asked, arching your brows.

“Well, maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt if ya were a little nicer to me once in a while!”

“Yeah? How so?” The words slipped past your lips without missing a beat, and Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if the flirtatious undertone was something he had only imagined. He decided to take the bait.

“For starters...” Atsumu began, slowly making his way closer to where you were standing. “Ya could buy me a beer after we’re done here.” Was he crazy or did he really see your shoulders relaxing at his words?

“Oh, is that easy?” You responded in the same toying manner.

“Hold up!” He said, raising his hands to the air. “That’s just the first step!”

“And then what?”

“And then…” Atsumu continued, moving further towards your figure. “Then ya could let me hear that beautiful laugh of yers a few more times.” He completed, stealing a giggle out of you. “Just like that.”

“Great, so I’m halfway through it.” Your tone may have been monotonous, but your eyes told him otherwise. “Anything else or can we get this over with?”

“Maybe, while yer’ laughing, ya could finally realize that I’m not as bad as ya think I am.” He pondered, moving a loose strand of hair out of your features, clearing the view to your gaze.

“Now you wanna tell me what to think?” You scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Is just a suggestion! Take it as ya wish!” He winked at you.

“And what if I told you that I already did?”

“Ya did?” This time, he sounded soft, breaking out of the teasy character for a second.

“You’re not bad, Miya... Far from that.” 

“Well, that’s a shock.”

“You don’t look surprised.” You stated, pointing out the crescent grin on his face.

“Too much wishful thinking made me ready for this moment.”

“And what exactly is this moment… Atsumu?” The way you said his name, in a hushed voice, almost like a secret meant to be shared by only the both of you, gave him the green light he needed to go on.

“It’s when I finally kiss ya.” 

Atsumu was quick to grab your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, and finally closing the gap between you two. His gawk rapidly traveled from your mouth to your eyes, longing for a confirmation. It didn’t take a second after your subtle nod for him to merge your lips together, your body melting at his touch. His grasp was gentle, but firm, like you were something he treasured, something that he never wanted to let go of. And by the way you gripped onto his neck, the boy could tell he wasn’t alone in this.

Atsumu moved his palms all the way up your back, briefly running his fingers through your hair, but resting them upon finding your face. His tender touch cupped your cheeks in between his hands, pushing away just when he inevitably ran out of breath. 

"Do I still have to buy you that beer or is this nice enough for you?" You said, unable to repress a smile.

“Hm, I’m not sure… Why don’t you kiss me again and we'll see?"

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