#drunken compass

[maedhrus]

#imo he's nothing like crozier at all tbh. bc crozier starts giving up the moment things start getting worse#he straight up stops caring. or at the very least avoiding his sense of care and responsibility through drink#making the worst calls ever bc he's angry all the time#when he goes fully alcoholic that's him avoiding his responsibility.#for everyone on those two ships. that's the entire point. it takes blanky losing a leg for crozier to think wait actually#i should be giving a fuck. bc that's my job!#and sure then he goes all redemption saviour arc but too bad! damage already been done by that point.#you know who carries on with a million burdens on his shoulders while crozier is off drinking himself into a stupour? edward.#every time i think abt it i get mad on edward's behalf like what do you MEAN you're still this loyal to a man who did all of that.#to you personally and to all the men on the expedition. how is there still any hope in you.#when people r like 'wow edward isn't suited to command he could not be a captain he's so anxious' i don't like that#he is anxious bc he wants to keep EVERYONE alive against all odds. and he never gives up even when he's scared out of his mind#and constantly abused by a direct supervisor whose condition he has to keep a secret from everyone else#idk this is a personal opinion but sometimes i feel like at the end on the shales when crozier is like 'no we need to bring everyone home'#i still feel like a big part of that is him looking for redemption. that he leans into this saviour complex#bc he feels extreme guilt over what he did. and bc he knows what his own rash decisions have led to re: feelings amongst the crew#nd when things go wrong he still takes that out on other people (like edward). which im not saying no one else out there is making mistakes#bc well they are. but personally! personally. i am a little tired of the way crozier is so often#painted as this flawless human being once they're out there on the shales. and im like actually he is still being a person#with conflicting emotions and being unfair sometimes and not always capable of assessing ur own mistakes#he's just as full of trauma as everyone else. (via @abrahamvanhelsings)

Matthew McNulty on Edward Little

Q:  At what point do you think Little begins to give up hope/worry about survival? A: I think Little's probably one of the most hopeful out of them all, simply because he has clung on to his humanity. I don't think he's compromised his morals up to this point, despite everything that's happened. So, I would say that he's still hopeful. He still thinks that humanity will prevail in this dark, dark world. There's definitely still a chunk of positivity in him.

[yueebby]

sooo i read your "indulge me?" piece and that's why i wanted to ask for gojo simping for reader that doesn't really seem him as more as a friend and he's fine with it (lol he's not but he's need to keep the facade you know???) hope you write it at some point! btw loving you writing so far <333

11:34pm — gojo satoru

contents. highschool!gojo, fluff, he’s so in love bye, underage drinking, tokyo and kyoto students have a little get together!

“what’s wrong with him?” utahime watches her white haired underclassman down another can of beer. it was rare to see gojo drinking with the rest of the group, always opting for a soda instead.

shoko takes another swig out of her drink, unsurprised. “[name] is on a date.” 

a pathetic groan leaves gojo’s lips and the upper half of his body is splayed over the kotatsu in shoko’s room, sunglasses long forgotten somewhere. he lets out an unapologetic burp. everyone at the table spares him a glance of pity. 

utahime grimaces and mutters a quiet, “gross”. 

“don’t provoke him,” geto scolds shoko, flicking some ash from his cigarette to the ashtray below. “she’s just dealing with clan matters. arranged marriages and whatnot.” he used his free hand to land a firm pat on gojo’s back. what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t try to comfort satoru? 

“poor thing. i can keep you company in the meantime,” mei mei’s smile is far from something with good intentions. gojo shakes his head to refuse, but with the way his forehead was pressed to the table, it looked comical. like a child throwing a tantrum. 

the only thing that managed to get gojo satoru out of his drunken slump was a soft knock on the door. he could recognize that pattern anywhere. could it be–? the snow haired boy immediately perks up. his drunk dazed eyes brighten as he quickly makes his way to the door. 

geto snorts at the way his best friend reacts. he thinks he can see an imaginary tail wagging, as if he were a dog. 

“you’re late!” gojo accuses you when he opens the door. you blink.

“are you…okay?” your voice is laced with concern as gojo’s large frame towers over you. gojo preens.

“awww, is my [name] worried about me now? don’t worry, ‘m doing just fine!” there is a goofy grin painted on gojo’s face as he leans against the doorway. all conversation has stopped and every sorcerer was listening attentively to gojo's hopeless conversation with you. utahime can’t help but feel just a little compassion for the boy. he was pining so much it hurt.

“i wasn’t worried. it's just that your words are all slurred– don’t tell me you let shoko talk you into drinking with her again?” you sigh. it was hard to miss the smell of beer on him. gojo and alcohol never mixed well, and the last thing you needed tonight was another lecture from yaga. 

from inside her room, shoko shouts, “it wasn’t me this time! the idiot decided to drown himself in beer after we warned him not to!” it was common knowledge that gojo couldn’t handle his alcohol. 

the male in question pouts.

“can a man not grieve about the love of his life being married to another?” gojo deflates. on the other side of the threshold, you wrinkle your nose.

“who said anything about marriage? like hell i’m going to accept a proposal from naoya zen’in.” you grumble. it had been a long night. dealing with your family and naoya was enough to scare you into staying in jujutsu tech for good. you’d rather lose your sanity to gojo than your dignity to naoya. 

“never mind that though, are mei mei and utahime still here? i was hoping to catch up with them!” you smile, crouching under his arm to make your way into the room. gojo doesn’t hesitate to trail right behind you. 

“[name]!” utahime waves happily at you, her mood no longer sour after she sees you. your wave back is enthusiastic. mei mei acknowledges your presence.

“how was dinner with naoya?” suguru asks. your face pinches up. he laughs before handing you a cold can of soda which you accept graciously.

you hear gojo mutter to himself from behind you.

“what’s up with him?” you whisper to suguru.

“you know how he is when he drinks,” he sighs, ushering you to sit beside him. gojo seemed to have his own agenda though, forcefully squeezing himself between the two of you. you shoot him an annoyed look to which he responds with a grin on his face. 

“‘m tired,” he whines, stretching his arms dramatically while letting out a loud yawn. you grunt when there’s a heavy weight on you; gojo has thrown his entire body on your side.

you don’t bother pushing him off. you’ve learned in the two years you’ve known gojo that he is like a baby when he gets drunk. it’s best if you let him have his way.

“go to sleep then, idiot,” you flick his forehead. he juts his bottom lip childishly, looking up at you with wide eyes. his eyes are captivating and you think you see nervousness through those azure orbs.

“will you come to bed with me too?” he rests his chin on your shoulder. you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“eh? why would i?”

“because i’m cute.” gojo bats those long eyelashes of his innocently. you roll your eyes playfully before taking another sip out of your soda. 

“you’re weird– that’s what you are.” your lips quirk upward, eyes twinkling with mirth. he sulks, chin still comfortably supported by your shoulder.

“‘m not that bad!” he protests, a frown forming on his lips. you look at him for a long moment. this was the first time you’ve ever gotten to look at gojo this closely. 

his hair was getting longer, you note silently. with your free hand, you slowly move a strand of hair out of his face. gojo watches you earnestly. if his cheeks were not already flushed, they are now. 

“can we stop it with the flirting? let us single folk live in peace.” shoko speaks up. you turn your attention hastily from gojo to the rest of your fellow peers. 

“i feel like i’m intruding on something,” mei mei says scandalously. your eyes widen.

“we are not– no way!” you shake your head repeatedly. no one believes you. especially not while gojo is still resting on your shoulder, eyes watching you, full of love.

“stop giving him all your attention and talk to us! we’re much better company,” utahime scowls, pointing her beer disapprovingly at the white haired boy on you. you think you hear gojo grunt.

“alright, alright,” you concede. 

“i hope you don’t mind me asking again, but do tell us how your night with the zen’in kid went,” suguru snickers. you groan exasperatedly.

“where do i even start?”

the rest of the night goes by pleasantly. you had been so engrossed with retelling your experience with dealing with your family that you had failed to notice what gojo was up to. by the time everyone left their respective dorms (or temporary dorms), you noticed the head of white hair sleeping soundly on your lap.

he mumbles something in his sleep, nuzzling himself closer into your stomach. cute. you giggle at how innocent he looks. 

you don’t know what took over you, but you remember bending down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. to your surprise, gojo reciprocates your kiss. to the best of his capabilities anyway. you watch as he puckers his lips in his sleep. oh my– how precious.

you suppose he isn't so bad.

notes. THANK U FOR BEING MY FIRST ANON ASK. ily!!! i saw somewhere that gege confirmed gojo would have drunken failures when he was a student haha this is my take on that. hes so bf

also thank you for all the support on my first post?!? you guys are too sweet im crying. i literally giggle and kick my feet reading your feedback ><

[chuluoyi]

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

[gojonanami]

GOT YOU - SATORU GOJO

☆ summary: satoru finally found you -- and he's not going to let you go this time. (in other words, feral dub gojo had me by the throat). ☆ cw: 18+ only, dead dove, do not eat, smut, yandere!gojo, non/con (at the start), dub/con, mentions of noncon masturbation w/ clothes/in bed, manipulation, gaslighting, light choking, degradation (slut, whore), fingering (f!receiving), panty sniffing, oral (f!receiving), breeding kink, cumplay (slightly), multiple orgasms. ☆ wc: 3,132

“Got you,” a familiar voice hums in your ear, and the floor was yanked from under you - mentally and physically, because now you were pinned to the floor, looking up at the same blue eyes you had prayed you would never see again, “miss me sweetheart?” 

And he knew the answer from the wide eyes and trembling lips, but that only made him all the more eager. He leans down, pressing his lips to your soft cheek, “come on, baby, not even a hello? I’d even settle for a kiss or a smile,” he pouts, feeling your hands squirm under his grasp, as he straddled you, “trying to wave hello? Thought we were closer than that,” he hums, “don’t I deserve a warmer welcome, after all the effort I took to find you? To wait here all day for you,” 

You swallow the bile rising in your throat, harsh and bitter, as bitter as the words you wished to scream at him - but you know that would get you nowhere, “how about you let me go, and I’ll give you the welcome you deserve?” And the quaver in your voice isn’t what gives you away, he knows you all too well, and you know he won’t let you go that easy. 

“Aw baby, I'd love to believe you,” he sighs dramatically, “but after I lost you for two years, I can’t risk you slipping away again,” he noses your neck, inhaling deeply, “I had to have such patience over the last few weeks, had to make sure you hadn’t picked up on my presence, and you didn’t,” he grins, as he traces a finger down your jaw, “you know how hard it was? I spent so many mornings in your bed after you went to work, slept in it, still warm from your body, and I could smell you,” his lips curled into a smile that would have been so gorgeous, if it weren’t terrifying, “made me so needy for you baby, I had to relieve myself,” he admits with a sigh, “luckily, your hamper was full of clothes with your scent, and in your bed, it made it even easier,” 

And your stomach twisted at the thought of him touching himself in your bed — and oh god, with what clothes? 

His thumb brushes against the length of your cheek, “why did you run from me, baby?” and you’re silent — he knows why you ran. 

Satoru Gojo was perfect when he was your best friend — the perfect shoulder to cry on when one of your crushes didn’t work out, when a job prospect didn’t pan out, or a friend had hurt your feelings. What you didn’t know was he was the reason none of these crushes ever had worked out, why a job prospect that took you too far from him didn’t hire you, and why these friends who hurt your feelings and took up too much of your time had left shortly after. But to you, he was your savior, his compassion limitless, his patience infinite — and so you fell for him, just as he knew you would. It was a drunken kiss one night when he knew you were vulnerable, when he knew that your feelings for him were so close to the surface, you couldn’t help but kiss him. And kissing lead to a confession, and then the two of you were together. 

It was perfect — for a while. 

Soon, you couldn’t deal with his jealousy — over coworkers, friends, even your family, and with his controlling tendencies — he wanted you to spend every waking moment with him, he even wanted you to quit your job, to let him take care of you, and you couldn’t handle his constant suspicion — the constant questions of where you were (even when you had told him) and the accusations that came along with them. 

So you tried to break it off — tried. The first few times, Satoru sweet talked his way back into your heart — and your bed — with false promises and sweet kisses. But that soon wore old when his promises remained broken and his kisses left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. And when you tried to leave for good once — your bags packed — he had grabbed you, held you down, and stared at you with the same paralyzing look he gave you now, lips twisted into a smile you had never seen before, as he whispered the same two words he said when he greeted you now, “Got you,” and then he added, “and I’m never letting you go.” 

“Are you going to answer?” the present Satoru snaps you back to reality with a gentle hand around your throat, his thumb running over the hollow, before he kisses it, “or should I make you?” 

“Satoru, please, stop—” 

“That’s what you always say, baby,” he rolls his eyes, as if he was exasperated, “and then you always end up under me, begging for more,” and he squeezes your throat lightly, “nothing but a little slut, aren’t you?” and you gasp, as he loosens his grip again, “have you whored yourself out to any of those men at work?” and he’s grazing his teeth against your jawline, “if I leave a mark, that should keep them away, right? They’ll know you have a loving boyfriend — one who’s not afraid to claim what’s his,” and he’s smiling again, “now, tell me, have you slept with anyone else?” 

And you don’t want to answer — the answer’s no, you hadn’t, but you didn’t know whether that would make it worse or better. But his hand around your throat tells you, you don’t have a choice. 

“No, I haven’t,” you confess — and his smug grin only serves to irritate you, as he sighs far too contently, parting your legs as he moves to settle between them, “please don't—” 

“I have to check, don’t I, princess?” he murmurs, and his hand is drifting up your tight skirt, “such a slutty skirt for someone who hasn’t been sleeping around. Did you wear it just for me?” and he’s raising a brow, as his fingers roll your skirt higher, fabric straining as he did, “well, I don’t want you wearing it for anyone else, so—“ and the fabric tears apart, your legs jumping as he does, and his lips press to your knee, “there’s my perfect baby,” 

Your hands are free as his hands busy themselves with spreading your leg, inhaling your scent, as his fingers trail up your inner thighs. Your hands are trying to push him away, kicking your legs helplessly, but he’s got them under his grasp. Fingers pressing into the soft flesh a little too hard, and you know he’s going to leave bruises at some point or another.  

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that,” he hums when he finds a wet spot on your underwear, “look, you’re already ruining your underwear, and I’ve barely even started  — you’ve been wanting this too,” and your hand finds his face, trying and failing to push him away, but he only licks the space between your fingers, “now be a good girl for me or I’ll make you,” the last words a growl, “and you don’t want me to do that,” but he feels you grow more damp with your slick as his fingers press against your clit through your underwear, “or maybe you do.” 

“Satoru, please don’t do this,” you’re begging, but his crystalline gaze only grows more cold, as his lips curl as he sees hot, fat tears well in your eyes, “just let me go, I won’t run. I just don’t-“ 

“C’mon now, what’s wrong? How could I ever let you go?” He coos, as he watches the first tear roll down your cheek, as he leans down and tastes it, “I need you, baby, and now that I got you,” his two fingers sneak into the elastic of your underwear, snapping it against your skin, “I’ll never let you leave my sight again,” 

You flinch from his touch, squirming underneath him, “Please, I-I’ll do anything, just don’t—“ and his thumb pressed against your lips, as his lidded eyes and smirk only draw nearer. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, don’t you remember? You asked for this — you made me promise to never leave you,” twisting the words you had muttered to him that drunken night, whispered after your first kiss with him and now he purred them as he bent down, breath warming your lips, as he tilted your chin up, “and I always keep my promises,” 

“Now tell me,” he smiles that same smile that had caught your heart, “tell me you want this,” he’s nibbling at your neck, and you’re melting into his touch — and he knows you’re so close to submission, “tell me, baby,” 

And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, your body burning from his touch, “I want you,” 

His lips curl into a wide grin, teeth flashing. 

He kisses you, lips sliding against yours, and your lips shut even as his tongue tried to slip inside. And he bites your bottom lip, drawing a delicious gasp from your lips, and his tongue plunges in, as you moan, boneless and helpless. 

And his hands slide down your sides, teasing the hem of your shirt, “Fuck, baby, I’m addicted to you — you taste so good,” and he’s tugging your shirt over your head, as his lips attach themselves to your jaw. You whimper as his teeth draw marks along your jaw, before trailing a path down your neck, kissing the hollow of your throat, before leaning down to the swell of your breasts right above your bra. 

His fingers press against your soaked panties, the fabric doing little to prevent the full force of his touch, thick and mean fingers rubbing harsh circles against your clit, “Too fast,” you whine, back arching against the rough carpet of your living room, “too much,” your mouth falling cutely open and eyelashes fluttering, as your slick leaks through the thin material making his fingers grow sticky. 

“But your pretty cunt doesn’t agree, sweetheart,” he reaches around and unclasps your bra and tosses it aside, his teeth grazing your nipple before sucking, a grunt leaving your throat, heat blooming a trail down between your legs, “it wants me to fill you — fill you like you deserve,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs and then pulls them to his nose, “so fucking sweet,” and he’s pocketing them for later use — your cum not going to be the only thing staining it later. 

And he’s slipping down your body, kissing down your breasts, mouthing each nipple, before placing wet kisses between the valley of your chest, and down your stomach, pausing to slip his tongue into your bellybutton to make you gasp, as he hums against your skin. 

“Been dreaming of tasting this sweet pussy,” he sighs dreamily, as he settles between your thighs, his large hands spreading you open for him, fingers spreading your dripping folds, making you clench around nothing, before, not one, but two fingers slip inside with ease, making you choke on air, as he steadily begins to fuck you open, “you sure you haven’t whored yourself out baby, or do you just want my cock that badly?” and he tuts, “nah, can’t be. You’re too tight, so fucking gorgeous,” 

And you swallow thickly, hating the way his words make your resolve buckle — want seeping through the cracks, leaving only need behind — why were you weak for him like this? He knew you too well — knew where to touch, knew what to say to make you lose all sense, and he knew he could. 

And he would do it too. 

Soon enough, he’s pulling his digits from you, only the tips pressed inside as he spreads you, his mouth leaning do to press a sloppy kiss to your weeping cunt, “this pretty thing was made f’me, wasn’t it, princess?” and his hot tongue dragging your release up and down your pussy, before his fingers sink again for a hot minute, deeper than they had until they find that spot that has you seeing stars, making you moan louder, “Ah, this is where you’re weak, right, pretty baby?” And his mouth latches to your clit, sucking as his fingers bully your walls, “fuck, you’re so wet f’me, practically leaking all over your carpet, now what will your guests think?” he hums, a grin on his lips, “maybe after I fuck you, I’ll make you lick it all up f’me, clean up your mess,” 

And his words drive you over the edge, making you cum all over his fingers, your slick slipping onto his palm, as he pulls his fingers from you as you moan wantonly, his tongue darting out to lick and clean his fingers clean, pressing his digits into his mouth, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve tasted, baby,” and he’s parting you again with the tips of his fingers, before his tongue slips in. 

And his tongue parts your cunt, beginning to fuck you in earnest now, as his jaw aches as he does, hot and warm muscle reaching depths you didn’t know were possible. He’s licking, prodding, and sucking, and your soft grunts and moans only made him even harder, straining in his pants, “g’nna make me cum in my pants baby from your taste and sounds alone,” and you’re already so close, too close — your first orgasm making you so sensitive, but right as you give that telltale clench,  he’s pulling away a moment, to watch your chest rise and fall with half lidded eyes glazed over with lust, pretty, pretty cunt quivering from the lack of sensation, and a long whine leaving your lips. 

“Want you to cum on my cock this time, baby, not in my mouth,” he says, lips and chin glossy with your slick, “we have time for that later,” and now you’re growing desparate as he just watches you, cleaning up your release from his mouth, tongue darting out to lick what he could, before using the back of his hand to wipe away what he couldn’t. 

And the plea leaves your mouth before you realize it, “Please,” you swallow thickly, your words weak and broken, “Satoru, please,” 

“Please, what?” he teases, as he pulls his shirt cover his head, your eyes raking over his abs and lingering on the v-line as his sweatpants rode low, doing very little to hide the large bulge that your eyes were glued to, “want me to split you open with my cock?” and he wanted nothing more, as he slips his pants and boxers off with ease, his dick nearly slapping against his stomach as he did, a pearly white bead of pre-cum resting on the flushed red tip, his hand grasping it, as he pumped it slowly to spread his release, “gonna have to use your words baby, don’t care if they’ve been fucked out of that little brain of yours,” 

You pout so beautifully, bottom lip quivering, all of your resistance and fear eroded away by lust and need, “I want you, need you to fuck me, please, Toru,” you squirm, thighs parting for him, “need you inside me, please,” 

It doesn’t take more than a second before the tip of his dick is pressed to your folds, “Look at you now, baby — you were begging me to leave, and now you’re begging for this cock,” and you’re moaning as he feeds your insides his dick, inch by inch, “fuck, practically swallowing me up — want to be fucked that bad baby?” And finally he’s inside you, fully seated in your sweet cunt, “or maybe, you want me to fuck a baby into you? Want me to breed this pretty pussy, sweetheart? Make me a daddy?”

And he’s starts to fuck you, hips snapping against yours — and he was unrelenting in his pace, cock breaching and bullying your insides, brushing against your sweet spot again and again. Your teeth bared down on your bottom lip, trying to hold back your noises, but he can’t have that, can he? 

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, “Wanna hear every pretty sound, sweetheart, wanna hear you scream my name as I fuck you,” and he begins to fuck you even harder, hips slapping against you, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching from his cock, your sweet moans of his names, and lust glazed over gaze was almost too much for him. 

But it only made him more desperate to fuck you harder, until all you could feel was him between your legs for the next month, as he grabbed your legs and placed them over his shoulders, making himself sink even deeper, deeper, deeper. 

And it was too much, too much for you, as you came around his cock for the first time in two years, and god, it was the most beautiful thing Satoru had seen. Your mouth parted in ecstasy as your release slicked up his cock, as he fucked your cum back into you, as your princess cunt clamped down on him hard, again and again.

You were moaning his name again and again, the only word you knew now, mouth parted open as he fucked you through your orgasm, “Yeah, baby, cum on my cock, pretty pussy was made just for that. Gonna make you cum again and again, until you can’t live without my cock between your legs. You’d like that, huh? Make you walk around with my cum inside you, even when I get you pregnant, I’ll fuck you again and again, until you’re leaking with me.” 

And you’re just moaning, nodding and broken, lost to the pleasure, as he grits his teeth, cock twitching at the sight before him, watching his dick slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release around the base of his cock. 

It wasn’t much longer, until he notched his cock as deep as he could, holding himself as he gave only shallow thrusts, his hot release pumping into you, continuing to fuck it deeper, “gotta make sure it sticks, don’t we, sweetheart” he murmurs with a smile, as he captures your lips in a kiss, cock still stuffed inside of you, “can’t let you get away from me now. It’d be much harder with a baby, won’t it?” 

And he’s easing himself out, groaning as he watches your mixed releases beginning to trickle out as the tip of his cock slaps against your weeping cunt. He pools the cum on his fingers, pushing it back in, making you flinch and moan, utterly blissed out, eyes fluttering as you gazed up at him. 

He only smiles the same way he always did, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I got you.” 

☆ a/n: i usually don't write things like this (i.e. non/con), but the dub feral gojo lines lived rent free in my head, until i wrote this (they still do, it's fine) I also don't post fics this often, but I am writing a lot of fics.

☆ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @miss-nightray

[ceilidho]

I’m sorry, guys……but I’m a “Price has 1-2 shitty basic tattoos and that’s it” truther. He has an anchor or a compass on his arm that he got during a drunken night at 21 and he’s super embarrassed about it.

[whxtedreams]

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love.

A Jackson!Joel x f!reader oneshot

Summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Jackson!joel, mentions of ellie and her AMAZING puns, Tommy providing comfort, pain, heartache, fear, anxiety, love, apologies, kissing, desperation. reader has she/her pronouns as i write in third person POV, reader has hair Joel can play with, reader has no other descriptions- photos for aesthetic purpose only.

Main masterlist

With pain and heartache, she watched him live without her. 

Her eyes watched every move he made. Every step he took. Every smile he blessed those around him with.

It was an aching reminder of what could have been. The weight of their unresolved past seemed only visible to her. Every breath she took a battle in the heaviness in her chest.

She longed to reach out, to bridge that gap between them she did not realize had begun to form until it was too late.

But the fear of making what little they had left worse held her back. So, she stood in silent agony, her heart breaking as she watched Joel from across the bar.

Tommy had found his way to her, a smile of sympathy and drink in hand. His eyes filled with sadness and understanding, a silent acknowledgment to the suffering.

He knew, after all. Knew how prone his brother was at breaking those he cared for. Tommy had been broken too. 

He held the drink out to her. “Thought you could use this,” he said softly. His voice was gentle like a comforting embrace. 

Her eyes slowly pulled away from Joel as she accepted the drink. She watched the liquid within swirl around in the glass and she found herself hypnotized by its movement. The memory of Joel's drunken state when he pushed her away resurfaced, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The sight of the drink in her hand now felt like a cruel reminder of his harsh rejection.

“He’ll come around, always does,” Tommy said, his hand gently placed on her shoulder.

The words were meant to comfort her, but they felt hollow and insincere. She knew the truth, deep down. This time it felt different, a finality to Joel’s actions.

His absence stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. She forced a small nod, struggling to feign optimism. "He said he could never love me." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tommy sighed. His hand fell from her shoulder. He cast a glance at Joel, then back at her, conflict and concern etched across his face.

Her eyes trailed back to Joel, drawn by Tommy's gaze. There he was, laughing heartily at Ellie, her pun book in hand as she hunched over in laughter.

The sight of him happy and carefree, the sound of his laughter filling the air, made her heart ache. She tried to hold back the pain, to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help but yearn for the past.

"He's scared of losing you," Tommy said.

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing the silent weight that rested on her shoulders. She knew he was right, that fear had been a driving force behind Joel's actions. But it didn't make it any easier to bear the hurt and disappointment his fear had caused. She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on Joel and Ellie, their joyful exchange a bittersweet contrast to her own internal turmoil.

Her eyes left Joel and locked onto Tommy's. "If he's so scared of losing me, then why did he push me away?" she asked, her voice quivered as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The desperation and confusion in her voice hung in the air, seeking an answer that she knew might never come.

Tommy's expression softened as he looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

 "He's lost a lot, I suppose he'd rather push you away on his terms than let fate do it for him.”

The pain of Joel’s past losses echoed through her mind. She knew the weight of his pain had shaped him, had forced him to build walls around himself. He'd rather sever ties than risk the hurt of losing someone he let himself love, even if it meant losing them in the process.

Her eyes slowly returned to Joel and as their gazes locked, she saw the intensity in his eyes. It was clear he had been watching her, their gazes drawn to each other like magnets. There was something different in his eyes, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze for a moment, questioning the thoughts and emotions that flickered across his face.

Did he regret it? she thought, her mind filled with uncertainty. Did he miss her like she missed him?

Did he still lie in bed, reaching for her in the early hours of the morning? Like he had on those nights under the stars during their journey to Jackson.

Did he still clench his fists by his side or fidget with the watch on his wrist when he didn't know what to say? Did he miss her taking his hand in hers to distract him?

Did he wish that he loved her?

Or did he regret it all?

"It might not seem like it anymore, but he cares for you," Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I saw it when he carried you in, see it now." She turned to him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but there was none.

Only honesty and concern reflected on her.

Her gaze returned to Joel, drawn by his movement as he stood from the table.

His eyes were on her, only her.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she handed the glass back to Tommy. Ignoring his call for her, she turned and walked out of the bar, desperately needing some fresh air and space to collect her thoughts.

The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cold and crisp, and it provided a respite from the oppressive atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and tumultuous emotions.

Oh fuck, she thought. She fucking missed him.

And as if her heart seemed to call for him, she heard the door open once more. She turned to see Joel step out, the soft light of the moon bathing them in a silvery glow. It was as if the night itself tried to bring them together.

She looked at him from behind watery eyes, her emotions threatening to overflow. In turn, he watched her with eyes that mirrored her own pain, a reflection of the suffering that had come between them. They stood there under the night sky, silent and yet speaking volumes, each knowing the depth of the other's heartache.

Only difference was, he had caused all of this.

The unfairness of it all, the weight of the isolation and pain he had inflicted upon her, pressed down on her like his own heavy hand. He stood there, the cause of her heartache, while she endured his consequences alone. The anger and anguish in her heart flared, but it couldn't overpower the deep love and longing she still carried within her.

Joel didn't utter a word, and she didn't expect him to. Instead, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. His hand rested on her head, his touch gentle and comforting as he cradled her against his chest. His nose to her hair. Her hands trembled as they clutched onto the fabric of his jacket, holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He pulled back slightly and lifted her face gently. His fingers traced her cheek as if his touch would break her. Their gaze met, and she saw the well of pain reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper that hung in the night like a fragile thread.

From anyone else, the apology may have felt hollow, meaningless. But from Joel's lips, it held a weight and significance that she understood. For an apology from him was rare and precious, like discovering clean, fresh water in the middle of a vast wasteland. The impact of his words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within her heart. She could feel the significance of each syllable, was a lifeline in her sea of despair. A flicker of hope in the darkness that had enveloped her heart.

"I should never have told you to leave." He spoke again, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes never left hers.

The words hung heavily in the air, a confession of regret that cut deep. A single tear slipped down his face, a testament to the depth of his remorse. It was a crack in the stoic facade he often wore, a glimpse into the depths of his own hurt and guilt.

She had never seen him cry.

The tear, a crystalline droplet that glistened on his cheek.

"Why did you push me away, then? As if I never meant anything to you," she said, her heart shattered by his own hands.

Joel shut his eyes, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her face. His other hand clenched tightly at the fabric of her waist, while the one holding her face remained gentle and tender, a stark contrast to his tense grip.

His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with truth. "I'm so scared I'll let you in, only for you to die on me," he confessed. "I can't lose you too."

His fingers trembled against her skin. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, bringing it to rest over her heart. It beat a steady rhythm under his palm, a silent reassurance that she was there, alive and breathing.

“You are losing me Joel.”

Joel opened his eyes, so full of pain as he took in her words.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was a mere whisper against her lips. And then, a breathless moment.

His lips delicately touched hers, a whisper-soft kiss filled with tenderness and vulnerability, as fragile as a butterfly's wing. It was as if he were afraid to press too hard, to cause her any more harm than he already had.

As quick as it began, it was over. He pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before he tucked her head back into his chest. His fingers played with her hair as he looked up at the starry night sky and she could feel his body relaxing as he held her close.

"If the Lord gave me another chance, I would go back and make things right," he said as his heartbeat quickened beneath her ear. Her hand found its way to his chest as it laid over his heart soothingly, if only to calm the anxiety that had taken root within him.

"All I do is miss you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I was so stupid to push you away," he confessed, his chest shuddered with a soft sob. She pulled back slightly, only to witness a torrent of tears streaming down his face. The single tear had multiplied as it turned to a river of sorrow that spoke louder than any words could.

She gently wiped the tears from his face as her own fell silently in tandem.

His bottom lip trembled, and without a second thought, she did what came naturally to her. Her lips found his in a tender kiss and she could feel the tension in him slowly melt away as he released a shuddering breath.

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. He poured months of pent-up emotions into the kiss, a mix of regret, yearning, and a love so powerful it threatened to consume them both. Teeth scrapped against teeth, a primal collision of passion and desperation. It was a moment of intense connection, a release of the feelings that had been locked away for far too long.

Her back shoved against the hard surface of the wall. His hands roamed over her body in a desperate attempt to re-familiarize himself with every contour, every dip and curve. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, as if he were afraid she would disappear from his grasp once more.

The pain she had carried with her began to fade away under the onslaught of his lips against hers, his touch hungry and urgent. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric tightly as if she was afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, he too would slip through her grasp once more.

Their mouths explored each other fiercely, the taste, the feel, the essence of each other an intoxicating drug that they had been deprived of for too long.

So desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

The sound of the bar doors opening shattered the intimate bubble that had enveloped them. Noise spilled into the night air from inside as they hastily tore themselves away from each other. Their gazes locked with Tommy's as he stood frozen in the doorway, surprise etched across his face.

Tommy's eyes flicked down to where Joel's thigh had found its way between hers. "Jesus Christ, can you two make up somewhere else?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Joel's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he chuckled, out of breath. His calloused hands held her face tenderly; the rough pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks. He looked down at her with tenderness and amusement, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Tommy mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside.

“What do you say, come home?” he asked. A hint of hopefulness in his voice, tempered by the fear that shone in his eyes.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

“I want to try.” He said without a beat.

“I think I can live with that.”

The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the soft whisper of the wind as it blew in through the open window. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the stars outside, their light danced through the gaps in the curtain that fluttered in the breeze.

Joel's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his body wrapped tightly around hers. He inhaled deeply; his breath warm against her neck. His arms encircled her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to let go. He was seeking comfort in her presence, finding solace in her warmth and familiarity.

She was too afraid to sleep. Worried that when she woke, he would be gone once more.

As the first light of day crept through the window, her eyes slowly opened and she expected to find an empty space beside her. However, his grip on her remained firm as he pulled her closer into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he slept peacefully, forever reaching for her. A wave of relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She made a silent vow to herself as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. No matter how far he tried to push her away, no matter how much pain spilled from him and to her, she would never let go of him again. She would fight, crawl, and struggle with every ounce of her being to get back to him.

With comfort and love, she watched him sleep by her. 

Notes

this was meant to be around 0.5k but it just kept going??? also Flora writes about kissing as someone who’s never been kissed so as always, take it with a grain of salt as i have no idea what i’m talking about lol - should honestly be a warning itself had a yucky day so here's some hurt & comfort also the starting line and ending line match and im proud of that lol.

[pippin-katz]

6 Little Faces Alex Makes That I Love - Part 1

(not ranked in any order)

No. 1:

There is no other word for this expression than starstruck and it’s adorable. ✨

No. 2:

I’m completely obsessed with the way he watches Henry come closer. It’s so clear that he’s not done something like this, and he’s a little out of his element, but doesn’t care cause he’s so enamored with Henry. There’s just a bit of nervousness and curiosity in his eyes, like he doesn’t know what Henry is going to do next. I think he was already surprised by the way he pushed him.

One of the things that drew Alex to Henry in the first place was the sparks of personality he hadn’t been expecting from a prince. It looks like Alex was genuinely surprised by how forcefully Henry pushed him, like he wasn’t expecting something like that, and he probably wasn’t. Like he told his dad later, “he’s tougher than he looks” and you can also substitute that “tougher” for all the other traits that surprised Alex, like his sense of humor, his authentic and deep compassion for others, and his ability to stand up for himself.

There’s this little trace of awe within the surprise and curiosity. I see that expression and I can feel the way his heart is pounding.

And then of course he starts to get that smile on his face, that somehow still maintains a level of disbelief or admiration. It’s like he just had the brief thought of “I can’t believe how lucky I am”.

I am completely obsessed, how dare you Taylor Zakhar Perez, you adorable, talented, and attractive bastard.

No. 3:

This is like the look he had when Henry first arrived at the dinner, but even more unabashed. You can see the nerves, and the way he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees him. It’s like his mind is going, “wow, he really is beautiful, and now we’re alone”. It’s like he’s thinking “don’t freak out, stay calm” while also being completely blown away by how handsome Henry is.

It is so cute, I hate it.

No. 4:

It’s fast and a bit hard to see, but he gets this quick smile on his face that’s like “oh, okay, we’re doing this then”. He still has that little bit of surprise too, like “damn, alright”, cause Henry pins him hard against that wall.

It makes me think of that moment in the book when they first hook up and Henry tells him why he kissed him on New Year’s, and he mentions being jealous, and Alex says: “You were jealous. You want me.”

And he’s teasing him, so you know he has a shit-eating grin, but also he’s registering the fact that Henry has wanted him for a while, like he’s a bit surprised that he actually wants him, and that the kiss wasn’t just a drunken impulse, or Henry being lonely, but something Henry was wanting to do, with him specifically, even while sober.

That’s kind of the vibe I get from that smile, like “oh, Henry really wants me like this, alright, this is fun, I’m down with this”. I don’t know if I’m making any sense for this one, but hopefully you get what I mean.

No. 5:

This is a sweet moment because you can see the change in his eyes. Henry is explaining why he was a prick to him, so he's still primarily thinking about himself and how Henry's behavior bothered him. But here, you can see the moment he actually registers what he said about losing his dad, and the crown using him, and it's not about him anymore.

Even if you've never experienced the loss of a loved one, you can still understand the gravity of that situation. You may not know exactly what it feels like, but everyone knows it feels horrible.

You can see Alex thinking, and realizing that it had nothing to do with him. He's thinking about the fact that Henry had to deal with the loss of his father, which is already tragic and heartbreaking, but then on top of that, he hears that the crown used him for the attention his grief would bring them. Alex quickly goes from being mad about Henry's attitude to feeling so sad for him.

No. 6:

He laughs a little bit about Henry's quip about him being "ghastly", but it shifts into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. He's so content and happy to be talking to him. Henry probably is too, but both of them are kind of aware that there's no reason for them to stay on the phone any longer. There's a pause before Henry finally says he's going to hang up, and Alex, being the little shit he is, wants to be the one to hang up. Henry lets him, but it takes him several seconds of silence, and Henry making a comment about what the red button was for, before he actually turns over and hangs up. It's so obvious that he doesn't want to, but he subconsciously knows there's no reason to keep talking.

Sometimes when you're on the phone with a friend (or partner), you fall into this rhythm and comforting space of having a friend with you, even if they're not in the room. It's a nice feeling, and when you have to hang up, it can bring about this little wave of sadness. When you hang up, you're suddenly very alone again. I've had it happen to me tons of times after talking to friends on the phone.

The way he smiles softly tells me he's feeling that comfort and relaxation that I described. Then he's reluctant to hang up, because even if they're not talking, they can feel each other's presence through the phone, and that makes him feel like he's not alone.

That's all for now! I might make a part two, we'll see! Thank you for reading if you got this far! :3

Update: If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

part 2 | part 3

[parlerenfleurs]

Ah, to be clear this is about people's general response to the cooking poll and not about the grilling art. I've never tried but I guess grilling is its own separate skill, I wouldn't know, and in any case this brings joy and is funny (he would react like that to finding out he lacks a skill he deems important xD). I'm just unhappy to know so many people don't know about one of Lan WangJi's loveable qualities/impressive skills and are running away with weird headcanons.

*gnashing my teeth, clenching my fists* I will.. spread love... Not hate... So I guess my only recourse is to singlehandedly flood the tag with "Lan WangJi can cook as well as Wei WuXian's favourite restaurant and it's canon" art.

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexYou Hiding at the Goblin Camp

This was inspired by @orangekittyenergy's list of ideas for pre-relationship and pining Gale and I am just putting their idea to paper. I plan to write more of these based off of them, we all deserve a little more pining and fluff! I gave myself butterflies with this one sheesh

Summary: Gale and You (Gender Neutral) are forced to hide in the Goblin camp in close quarters and Gale is unable to stop thinking about your proximity and the blossoming feelings he has for you. Straight up pining and fluff.

Master List

“Shit!” You ducked down abruptly and pulled Gale down by the sleeve eliciting a quiet grunt of protest. A pair of drunken Goblins hum into the room, blissfully unaware of Priestess Gut’s eviscerated body as they sing in merriment. Gale’s throat closed and his knees cramped as you pressed back into his thighs, turned into him. He swallowed hard as he feels your hand against his lower back for purchase, to make sure you both fit in the secluded hiding spot. It was hardly big enough for one grown person, let alone two. 

Gale tried to focus on the dank, disgusting smell instead of you nearly in his lap. The warmth of your body pressed against his and as your breath mingled, he thought surely the orb had taken him. Your cheeks were flushed and a light sheen of sweat covered you. Gale desperately wanted to lean forward and kiss you, delicately against where your ear met your neck and taste the salt of battle. Sinful yearning thrummed in his core, his stomached knotted and goosebumps enveloped him. Despite the fear of imminent death, Gale’s mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was the brush with danger that evoked such a strong arousal. He’d read about it, countless times. His heart thudded erratically and heat licked up his spine. Your legs were warm against his and the closeness made him flush with embarrassment. 

As your gaze was on the Goblins, Gale inhaled and adrenaline rushed through his veins when your scent wrapped him in bliss. He had forgotten the sweet musk of mortals, having spent so long isolated or with Mystra. The day’s sweat lingered on your skin and as you tussled your hair he was hit by a wave of pine mingled with dirt. It drove him mad and he felt electricity pierce his DNA. He felt like he was suffocating and wanted to rip off his skin. He knew so little about you and yet felt he had known you for a lifetime. He felt pathetic, so starved for attention he was enamored with the first empathetic person he saw. The moment you pulled him from the portal, Gale knew he was ruined. It was your eyes, the curiosity in them and the kindness you extended without knowing who or what you were helping. And then, when he revealed his sordid past to you instead of disdain and judgment you offered compassion and kindness without knowing more than he had a cat, a library, and enjoyed wine from time to time. Gale wondered how, despite the horror and looming threat of becoming a mindflayer, he had gotten so lucky to have met you. 

Gale couldn’t remember a time where he experienced such visceral longing for another. Although he had plenty of mortal conquests before his time with Mystra, he didn’t remember them feeling quite so profound. Don’t be ridiculous, he thought. With his condition as it was, he tried to avoid any unnecessary stimulation and you were exactly that. He tried to keep away and was (obviously) unsuccessful. You felt like breathing for the first time or learning a new incantation. 

It was all too much. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he cleared his throat. He almost groaned when you, without turning to look at him, placed your fingers against his lips to hush him. Your fingers lingered for a moment and Gale felt unholy warmth pool in his core, a shudder rolled through him. When you dropped your fingers, they grazed across Gale’s chest and he stopped breathing. 

Get a grip, he scolded himself, this is just the first contact you’ve had in over a year, you hardly know this person. It’s their biology, nothing more. Unless it isn’t, which is not likely. 

Although he could not yet admit it to himself, it was not just biology. 

He had successfully, up until this point, avoided being in such close proximity to you for this very reason. Even though you had only been traveling together for a few weeks, the chemistry that sparked between you and Gale was intoxicating and he chased the rush like a love-sick puppy. Despite his best efforts, once he understood the fluttering of guttural feeling was in fact not the orb, but you he found it almost impossible to keep far. Gale loved sharing information with you, adoring how your eyes gleamed whenever he was deep in monologue. You were one of the first who allowed him to provide his talents and intelligence without mockery or malice, especially in such a short time. Even though Astarion would groan every time he spoke, you would hush him and encourage Gale to continue. It was how you bit your lip when deep in thought and how he wished he could taste you, to share a tender and slow kiss… Gale tried to ground himself and recenter his thoughts, but it was too late. As you huddled for safety, his body pressing tightly to you. At first, Gale ignored the sensation and attributed it to the orb. The feeling wasn’t dissimilar, though the orb’s persistent ache was more of a gnawing hunger where food does not quite sate you. 

This hunger was all together different. Gale tried earnestly to maintain his composure, wondering what you were thinking about. 

Once the Goblins stumbled out of the room, somehow oblivious to their murdered healer, neither you nor Gale moved. You turned to look at Gale and he fell into your emotive pools, neither of you moving. Your breath and his echoed between the wall and crate, the air between you thick with words unsaid. 

That was until Karlach peaked her head over, raising her eyebrows. “So… are you both ready to join us again or what?” 

Gale and you laughed awkwardly in unison, still holding each other’s gaze and stood, your bodies synched now. They know each other and cannot wait until they can have more. 

[fanaticsnail]

Little Sparrow

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,298

(Image Link)

Summary: Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Warnings: husband!mihawk x wife!reader, father!mihawk x mother!reader, sweet domesticity, brief mention of birth trauma.

Notes: small drabble brought on by the ask of @hungrhay. Got the cogs turning in my mind. I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

Tag list: @sordidmusings, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @feral-artistry

Soft melodic hums cascaded down the empty halls of Castle Kuraigana. No whisper of a word, nor fall of a footstep, broke your trance as you sought out the source of the melody. You silenced the drop of your slipper against the cool floor, in an attempt to not shatter the world Mihawk was crafting for himself so early in the morn.

You knew where you’d find him. He was where he always was at this time of night. The kitchen was his place where he’d find the most solace, resting his body in a chair with his feet slotted beneath the dining table. The cryptid hours where your daughter would be at her peak of restlessness, the purple crying she’d been producing during her leap weeks held you hostage to her woes. The first time you had experienced this leap had you both struggling and clasping at straws for solutions. 

He began calling on your household Den-Den-Mushi, all those who you both knew had experience with young children: starting with Vice-Admiral Garp. He proceeded to bark his laughter and give you hope of: “this too shall pass,” and sending you a small crate of rum in sympathy. 

The next point of contact you had sense to call was Shanks and his Red-Hair crew. Shanks was absolutely no help to you with any advice, the jovial hooting and hollering in their drunken stupor in the background having all cohesive words falling on deaf ears. The receiver Den-Den-Mushi was stolen from Shank’s hand, and into the mouthpiece barked the burly voice of the first mate.

“Mihawk. The nights are long, but the years are short. You’ll get through this,” his gruff voice informed him, inhaling deeply from his cigarette. Upon his exhale, he offered a soft word of advice, “You’re a swordsman, one of the warlords of the seas. You have been through worse, she has not. Be kind to your wife. Let her have the night to rest.” Mihawk offered no further conversation, but greatly appreciated the compassion the First-Mate of his oldest rival offered him.

As you stood in the threshold of the doorway, you witnessed your husband cradling your daughter into his chest and continuing to sooth her. His gentle hums and slow rock of his body had her eyes heavy and falling closed. It was an old tune, the native rasp of his mother tongue falling from his lips as he whispered the words with his hum. 

“You are going to have the world fall on their knees, my Little Sparrow,” he whispered down into her hair. His lips caressed her scalp, watching as he deeply inhaled the scent of her bundles of silken hair. His deep frown softened, his honeyed eyes closing as he leant back into his chair. As he lulled his head against the frame of the chair, you approached him and placed a hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes a small crack, sighing as he felt your lips press against his forehead. 

“She started early, didn’t she?” You asked him, his response being a small hum in confirmation falling from his nose. You brushed your nose with his before turning to place the kettle on the stove and lighting the flame. 

“Did you rest well, my love?” his lazy drawl called over to you, voice only harboring affection and adoration with his question. You sighed with your smile, grasping the handles of two mugs and beginning the routine of readying your morning dose of caffeine. Guilt wracked your heart, your brows upturning and lips pouting. Before you could utter a response, Mihawk’s reprimand called out to you.

“Don’t you dare,” His words sliced your worries like the fell swift of his blade, Yoru, “It has been eight weeks since she’s been with us, and you are still recovering from the trauma of her birth. Don’t you dare, my love.” 

You sighed, your shoulders slouching at his comments. It was true, your body was still recovering from bringing life’s first breath to your daughter; your routines shifting and adjusting to her each subtle moment, lives changed forever. He was nothing but supportive of your recovery, doting on his girls with his attention equally. 

“Thank you,” you sighed, turning with both his and your coffees prepared, placing his on the table in front of him and elevating yours to your lips. Your daughter began to stir in his arms, her lip quivering as the groggy girl opened her eyes once more. 

He immediately recommenced his humming and rocking of her, staring down into her own honeyed eyes as his lullaby soothed her once more. 

“My love,” you slowly called out to him, placing your coffee down on the table beside his and walking behind the chair, “I read that these leap weeks only occur when children are learning a new skill.” His humming ceased as you both stared down into her eyes. 

“I wonder what our Little Sparrow is learning to bring on such cries of grief,” he muttered, looking down into her eyes in curiosity. You drew your own eyes down to meet your daughter’s, her eyes darting between each of you as she lay on her stomach on Mihawk’s chest.

It was then you saw it: the small twinkle of recognition behind her gaze. The upturn of the corners of her eyes and her cheeks balling in two perfect rotund spheres. 

Your daughter was smiling. Truly smiling. The first smile not induced by wind, nor a grimace as she experienced pain in her belly. She was smiling at you both. 

An audible sigh fell from your husband, his lips circling and forming a soft “O” shape as his eyes softened. Your eyes pricked at the corners, witnessing such pure and unbridled happiness from your daughter as your husband became hypnotized by her radiancy.

“All the cries in the twilight hours are worth it to see your smile, Little Sparrow,” he whispered, taking her small cheek within his palm and smoothing over her skin with his thumb. You circled your arms over his shoulders, pressing your lips against his whiskered cheek before staring at your daughter. 

“She is going to accomplish such wonderful things,” you uttered down into her, your voice up-pitched and playful, “Aren’t you, little Sparrow?” Her toothless grin widened, an inhaled coo squeaked from her lips as drool began to glisten at the corner of her lips.

Mihawk turned his head to gaze at you, his eyes half-lidded as he witnessed such sweetness occurring between his wife and daughter. He slowly raked his eyes over your smiling expression, your prior slumber written on your face as you gazed lovingly at your daughter in his arms. He wanted to hold this moment close, committing every subtle change to memory to draw on when your daughter picked up on her inconsolable cries tomorrow night. 

It was all worth it: every cry, every disruption to his sleep schedule, every coffee bringing him life-sustaining energy. It was worth each and every night he soothed her cries and hummed his melodies, just to have this moment with you. 

Breaking himself away from his enraptured hypnosis, he quickly arched his head forwards and pressed his lips against your cheek. You broke your attention away from your daughter and hastily turned your head to claim his lips against your own. The swell of his heart was tangibly felt in each moment he held your lips beneath his. 

His appreciation, his adoration, his love for you felt with the soft hum of his voice against your lips: his eyes closed, brow furrowed and lips smooth against your own. Breaking away, he smiled lazily at you and held his twinkling gaze against your own. Elevating his voice, he allowed himself to ponder with you.

“I wonder if she will have your laugh, or she will have mine.”

[controld3vil]

black cat

pairing(s): kenshi, johnny, havik, kuai liang/scorpion x gn!reader (seperate) synopsis: you’re a thief — a riff raff amongst the scum of seido. yet somehow you’re on the wrong side of justice, serving outworld. notes: - out of my volition, this was inspired by batman and cat woman’s cute dynamic <3 - LIKE REMBER THAT SCENE… where selina touches bruce’s face ?!?! (from batman 2022!!)

KENSHI TAKAHASHI -> There were many things Kenshi expected from his visit to the Outworld. Meeting you was not one of them. From your first encounter, you captured his attention — as subtle and graceful as a feline, he would say, your presence startled him and the rest of his friends. “General Shao, how unwise of you to berate our guests at first notice!” Your lively manner relieves the suspense between Outworld’s militaria and Earthrealm’s protector. He could discern the disturbance from the man in question as General Shao crudely sneered. Liu Kang clears his throat and gives you a content nod. You are fast — he thinks, always swift to leeway into conversations that have gone bitter. Kenshi does not recall mention of you - but it didn't matter.

-> “This is none of your concern, ambassador,” Shao’s words were only meant for disdain and spite. You modestly give a lazy smile — like a Cheshire, not taking his insult seriously. “Oh, but my duties are to accompany Liu Kang’s champions. The Empress demands it.” Your indulgence prevails when the general fails to make another quip. In the crowd, Kenshi is impressed by your way of words. You were an intriguing person – he will give you that. But you did not seem a person particularly invested in politics. You were apathetic to your job. -> At dinner, you conveniently visit his table with a wine glass. Liu Kang seemingly welcomes you, taking the seat across from the swordsman. Conversations were comfortable with you. As a diplomatic envoy, you’re surprisingly judgemental - and not afraid to communicate the demands of other cities. Glimpses from the princesses as you proceed with a story about the rulers of Sun Do. Infuriating it was to comply with their city’s needs like a glorified servant. Kitana is quick to pick on your drunken pursuit and drag you to your quarters. By the time you left, Kenshi felt enamored by you and your stories. “They're quite the character.”   -> There were rumors about you he could not ignore. Everywhere in the palace were snakes, more willing to let him know of your past. They say you were once a thief, a lowly criminal in the capital. How you came to become the royal ambassador was appalling to others at court. You were born into the lowest class. And here in Edenia, it was deemed as dishonorable. You did not grow up with the same education or environmental conditions. It makes Kenshi question your motives for coming here. How did you end up at this high establishment? It was not from pity - he knew from that. Maybe you were a strong fighter. Who was stubborn and willing to do anything to achieve your goals.  -> Unbeknownst, as his interest in you escalated, you took notice of him. The swordsman with an unfortunate past, you held compassion for Kenshi. And as your relationship bloomed, your respect for each other was apparent. You both worked harmoniously together well. In unison with your devious yet insightful strategies and his keen and precise swordsmanship. You taught Kenshi the ins and outs of the city. Tried to teach him how to steal and work up to the market sellers to bid lower prices. You always kept him on his toes. And Kenshi loved that about you. To you, the ex-yakuza held you in check – of your duties. Although he enjoys your time fooling around together, it would put the swordsman much at ease if you took your job seriously. With the realm's tense position, he urges you to take control and compromise with the other cities for the coming battle. And hopefully, when the war is over, the two of you will reconcile your relationship and make it official. [ kenshi ]: how can i convince you to stop stealing? [ you ]: have you ever thought about asking nicely?

JOHNNY CAGE -> He’s the one to catch you first. Johnny had clear suspicions of you during the first night of the tournament. When you spoke with officials and the royal family, it was too noticeable to miss. You were hiding something - Johnny wanted to get to the bottom of it. He finds your kindness to the princesses overbearing. Because why would a constable be affiliated with the royal family more than themselves? And the movie star had to open his mouth at dinner, eyeing you down with an arched brow. -> “Uh Liu Kang, I don’t mean to be rude but,” Both your eyes make contact – he quickly reverts his view to the god in question, “I think that person’s kinda shady, don’t you think?” His remark makes the rest of the Earth’s champions freeze, and the tightness of the air becomes far too evident. Liu Kang pauses, setting his teacup down, and looks to where you stand. From the far corner, you were chatting with Li Mei, arms crossed. You were enjoying your discussion until you sensed Liu Kang’s stare to tilt your head and give a playful wave. The First Constable thought nothing of your actions, how accustomed she is to how you acted around Earthrealmers, always telling them outlandish lies about Outworld. And constantly pretending to commit some heinous crime against the royal family. Something you would never do. -> “Fear not, Johnny Cage. They are no threat.” The Fire God’s words relieved the tension in the air. As everyone’s shoulders relax, Johnny probes on. He knows what trouble looks like – his mother was a cop! However, Kenshi waves his bickering off and waves them off as dull excuses. Nothing to worry about? You could be doing something behind the Empress and Constable's back. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself that got his attention. Or the comments his mentor sarcastically made about the dangers of Outworld. It was unlike Johnny to feel this paranoid. He had to figure out who you were. -> The movie star believed that once he caught you in an act, it would prove to his friends and Liu Kang that he was right about you. When he, Kung Lao, and Kenshi snuck into Shang Tsung's laboratory, surprisingly not, you were there alongside Rain, Tanya, and Princess Mileana on a medical chair. Just when Shang Tsung slowly approached the princess with a syringe with Tarkart's blood, they attacked. The movie star willingly stepped in your direction as if he caught you red-handed. “I knew it! You were behind all of this!” -> Everything turned bitter when Kenshi lost his eyesight to Mileana’s outbreak. It leaves a foul taste in Johnny's mouth once the situation is to be the treatment for the princess’s prolonged illness. When the royal guards come, you turn to face the Earthrealmers. “Did you truly think I would go against the royal family?” There was a flash of fury to scorn. “You Earthrealmers know nothing about Outworld business.” Johnny could only accept his wrongdoings, face facing down to the floor in shame and guilt. While what Liu Kang suspected of Shang Tsung was true – his assumptions of you weren’t. And for that, the movie star genuinely feels like he has misjudged you entirely. -> It takes time for him to reconcile with you. Escaping from Shang Tsung’s laboratory with his friends, he doesn’t meet you again. But when Earthrealm compromises with Outworld, you reappear alongside Li Mei and the royal family. In a different light, you’re easy on the eyes. Johnny desperately tries to make it up to you, always finding ways to warm up to your bitterness. Though much like a cat, you’re persistent and glares in his direction. Soon after, he learns of your past and is suddenly guilt-ridden even more.

-> Your relationship is a slow and rocky one. The two of you did not see eye to eye at the start. Johnny was wary of you, and you only made it worse by indulging in it. You two were at odds with each other. However, Johnny was somehow smitten with you. You were cunning and sly in all the ways a constable shouldn’t be. It was one of the ways he got your attention – suggesting all kinds of schemes against his friends. Your past never bothered him. Stead, it’s something he’s proud of you for. “I mean, thief turned cop? Now that’s a story I can get behind.” It brings a sort of middle ground and closure to both of you. [  johnny ]: look i know i misjudged you pretty harshly, how can i make it up to you? [ you ]: you can start by loaning me some money.

HAVIK -> He longs for you. Havik is too cruel and adamant to tell you, but he misses you. Many years before you left Seido, you were happily thriving as a criminal. He recalls his younger years, you and him pillaging villages. Stealing all you can to survive in the cruel world they decided to reject you from. Back then, you were free – out of touch with humanity and the rest of the Outworld. You didn’t care for his plans to run Seido to the ground and bring chaos. You didn’t understand it – you were merely teenagers, children. -> Before long, you slipped out of Havik's hand. The life you two endured was not living. Every day, you struggle to find food and shelter to stay by. It did not help for your kleptomaniac habits, mugging passing citizens of whatever they had on. Eventually, it had caught up to you, Havik deciphers. Because why else would you leave him? Unlike him, you left clues for the military to track you. You loved the thrill of leading them to nowhere. -> But now, the thought of you brings turmoil into his heart. He sees you in the distance when Quan Chi is interrupted by a former ally. There you were, he stands almost in shock and petrification. Havik was furious. All he could focus on was the plan to allow time to release Quan Chi’s creation, Ermac. He never considered where you would be until now that you were on the opposite side of justice. Why? -> “How could you,” Your name runs down his tongue like a pack of needles. It’s difficult to pronounce your name after many years of separation. Whatever he felt for you was long diminished in the fire he created when he left Seido. “After so many years, this was where you were.” He didn’t expect less from you when you curtly accepted his words. Yes, you said – it’s so bitter against him. What happened to you? When did you become so weak against the hierarchy? Where were you when he set ablaze to the city and joined forces with Darius? -> “What we had would have never worked,” You say this truthfully, getting into a defensive position. It hurts - how easily you dismiss it. Havik never thought of himself as a sentimental man – but the thought of you returning to him was a constant in his mind. From days to years to his study of sorcery and alliance with Quan Chi, Havik has destroyed more cities than he can count. Leaving you was a blessing in disguise. Because of his misfortunes, Havik retained powers that could destroy civilization. It drove him mad. -> Even with you against him, he was more than willing to suggest an act of mercy – if you were inclined to break a few bones. [ havik ]: look how weak you've become. have you not forgotten where you came from? [ you ]: i remember it clearly. you are the one who has gone too far!

KUAI LIANG/SCORPION -> Kuai Liang met you more than once during his time in Outworld. He merely appears when Lord Liu Kang intends to be present with business with the Empress. Years prior, it was the Emperor. But with the reign of Sindel, peace and prosperity had become a failing occurrence between both realms. Outworld claims to be growing more powerful – to overpower Earthrealm for the upcoming tournament. It makes Kuai Liang question his integrity and place at the palace when the Fire God asks for his presence instead of his brother. Bi-Han is the grandmaster of Lin Kuei, “Shouldn’t Bi-Han be the better option to accompany you?” -> “I do not want to provoke the Empress,” Liu Kang explains, looking at him from the portal. The pyromancer had confidence in his protector, nodding. His plain response was all it took to understand the weight of their appearance in Outworld. Though Bi-Han would be the rightful companion, it is Kuai Liang – the younger and more compliant brother who could ease into any circumstance. But his nerves are jaded. Kuai Liang is nervous, not knowing what the occasion was for. There could be many reasons for their requested presence. Yet he could not think of one that involved Lin Kuei.  -> Scorpion’s mindset eases when you surprise him. Guests are presumably guided by the First Constable, Li Mei, to the courtyard leading to the royal palace. Your head pops out from a bush, smiling in all your glory. “Lord Liu Kang, what a pleasant surprise!” The fire user's heart pounces every time you do this. It would be wrong not to expect you to greet Outworld guests in such an unconventional manner. Your name comes easily to the Fire God, with a sense of familiarity. “How nice of you to see us first,” Even Liu Kang takes joy in you. Unlike the many faces of the royal court, you are much more tolerable and pleasant to converse with. Even Kuai Liang thinks highly of you. -> Nodding your hair flows in such an elegant way. The Empress dotted you – but your loyalties lay with General Shao. Your go-lucky personality was in defiance of your rank as a lieutenant general. Yes, Kuai Liang recalled the previous tournaments and how distant Lin Kuei was from the Outworld’s military. They do not see eye to eye in handling foreign threats and commoners. It is your chief's distaste for Earthrealm, always speaking out of malice. But you were not like General Shao or Reiko. You never showed hatred towards Lin Kuei or Earthrealm. -> Kuai Liang feels restful chatting with you. He sat in the conference room with the Fire God as the rest of the court minded their seats. In such a large establishment, it holds divinity and high status, not even Kuai Liang is used to. Empress Sindel, alongside General Shao, you and Reiko arrive and take your respective seats. You are a few seats left of him and warmly nod in Scorpion's direction. He flushes at how a casual gesture from you can incite him. -> Ordinarily, matters began. The pyromancer had no desire to speak amongst the crowd, only per Liu Kang’s permission. Yet, a disagreement broke the two sides of the table in half. “Why should we allow Earthrealmers to roam unworldly like children while our cities burn?” General Shao and his recurring rants about Earthrealm. No one could convince him otherwise, not even the Empress. He then directly sneers at Liu Kang. Kuai Liang darts a stern look until he hears your voice in the corner, standing firm from all the voices that cower over you. There is a hint of softness out of the goodness of your heart addressing your superior. Compared to life in Earthrealm, life is precious, a tangent between innocence and purity, something Outworld is indifferent to.

-> In response, a repulsed look forms on Shao’s face. “You dare defend Liu Kang's wishes? You have no right!” In truth, you knew you could never quench his thirst to repress Earthrealm. But to try to diminish his outrageous outburst for another day is good enough. Curses and insults were spat from all sides, even directed towards you. You and your kind would not understand. You come from the slums of Seido. Do not forget your place, soldier. The court is a spoiled place even Kuai Liang wishes never to be a part of. Tonight was apparent why. You, who only spoke of the truth and fairness, were brought down by your general. It was unacceptable.   -> In the late hours at the palace, Scorpion resides in the guest room, where he fails to find peace. Liu Kang had bid him to rest to prepare for the following days to the other cities they must visit. But the second brother of Lin Kuei failed to do so. The palace was too foreign to the cold tundra of his home. Eventually, he chose to take a walk across the courtyard. The moon was bright and shadowed all the land. The murky ponds had unbloomed lotuses. They were not in season yet. He could still make out the premature colors from their early forms. The ripples of water were tranquil, featherlike. And of the reason why he did not notice your presence before. -> His body freezes when you tap his shoulder. His breath comes short before choking out your name. “Must you always frighten your guests?” You laugh, seeing how startled he has become. “My apologies, Scorpion. I could not resist,” Nights like these with you were ideal. Prevalent to his previous visits, the two of you would do all sorts of activities. You would invite him everywhere, across the palace and into the city. Wherever you went, he would follow willingly. A heartwarming meal by the port. Or even now, a peaceful walk through the gardens. With you, nothing is dull. -> However, when you are not running around, you are predictable. Such as now, as you both rest at a stone bench. Across, the pond was luminescent of the reflection of the night sky. If you were to look, it would be like looking in a mirror, the water clear as crystal. “I’m assuming you leave at first light?” Tragic how your relationship is. You and Kuai Liang reunite with each other like strangers, never touching. In another, you were like twin flames, never leaving. A small part of Kuai Liang feels regret for every time you depart on missions. He will never see you again for some time. “General Shao was furious! It was his way of punishing me for talking out of turn.” He has no right, is what Kuai Liang wanted to say. But with how things were, he said nothing. -> But you look beautiful like this, under the moonlight wake. Without the garments that shield your figure, you are relaxed. The days that turn to months are cruel - but willing to linger for you. Fortunately, a few moments of silence allowed you to rise, brushing the nonexistent dusk from your pants. You had nothing else to say to Kuai Liang. Was he expecting something? He follows your pursuit and looks at you promptly. Without the mask, he is handsome. “Maybe under different circumstances, we would have more time,” Your heart skips as you slyly glance at him. Placing a hand on his jaw, “Maybe next time…” You see his eyes trail from your fingers to your lips. It was not right - you both knew that. [ scorpion ]: the general's mistreatment of you is unacceptable. [ you ]: (laugh) fortunately that is how things work in outworld.

[meganelixabethh]

I know I won’t get it- but I want Sunrise on the Reaping to be about Effie Trinket- it would be such a good book!!! All we really know is that the book starts on the 50th reaping and that it’s a look at propaganda. We also know our girl Suzanne only writes when she has something to say- and what better time to make the Effie Trinket Point than now?

Don’t get me wrong- I love to read the fanfics of Effie being disenfranchised from the top of the first book and helping the rebels every step of the way- I live for it- but I also don’t think it’s reality for the canon. Effie Trinket is a character with grey morality at best in the first book. No she’s not organising the games, or planning them, she’s not the iron fist that forces the children to comply nor is she the driving force behind the tradition- hell if she didn’t do it someone else would, right? But she picks the names. She chooses to be close to it. She isn’t as horrified as she should be

SHE. IS. COMPLICIT.

But if you asked her- if you sat her down and said heart of hearts, do you care about these children? She would say yes. She has a complete mental disconnect between the harm she is causing and the compassion she feels for the people being harmed. This is a direct comparison to the modern approach to harm. Just look at Palestine.

I also don’t believe Effie saw anything wrong with the games until one very specific moment. She looked at the glass ball at the 75th reaping and saw a single piece of paper, and she thought ‘this isn’t chance. This isn’t a game. This is a choice and I don’t want to pick up that slip of paper’. I whole heartedly believe it took an emotional closeness to the person being harmed to make her realise all those people were just the same as her- EXACTLY LIKE WE DO IN THE WEST.

Further details under the cut. TW for death, implied SA and pregnancy loss.

So the book starts with the 50th reaping- Effie is between 6 and 16 depending on how old you think she is. I personally think she’s about 8-10. I also think this is the first games where she’s really gotten involved in and is interested in the whole thing from start to finish. She watches the reapings and is absolutely enraptured with Haymitch from the moment he gets on stage- full on little girl crush mode. She follows the whole game and is so happy when he wins. This is the summer she decides she wants to work in the games. She follows the games every summer, gets a glamorous games job in the Capitol when she graduates (I think she went to uni tbh our girl is smart) and then became an escort.

When she’s offered 12 she’s annoyed- after all she’s the darling of the games circuit and she’s put her time in- but 12 is the only job going and if she wants the promotion she needs to take it. She thinks fondly of Haymitch’s games though. She no longer has her little girl crush on him, but she assumes the drunkenness must be an act for the Capitol, some kind of play. When she gets to 12 she realises it’s not. She sees how broken he is. She sees that this destroyed him and she just… doesn’t get it. She develops a fondness for him, still completely believing in the games, and they work together happily enough as far as she’s concerned. She starts dragging him out of bed and shoving him into nice clothes to make the district look good at first, but then she does it because she thinks it might be the only time he has anyone making sure he looks after himself. She is genuinely sad when their tributes die every year. She cries in her room at night after they go, and Haymitch can hear her through the wall when he’s sober enough.

Then the 74th happen. She loves Katniss and Peeta- I fully believe that. She likes them from the beginning, she agrees they have a chance, and when she’s not trying for sponsors, her and Haymitch sit in silence in the penthouse, watching and watching and watching. She grips his hand tightly for hours at a time, eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the screen, knees drawn up to her chest. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and she almost breaks his knuckles during the finale with the mutts. The moment they win, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and went to celebrate her first victors. She deliberately turned her face away from the horror because it was easier to not feel the breadth of it. She does exactly what we did to Ukraine. What we continue to do to Palestine.

To be completely clear- she still thinks the games are right through all of this. When she comes back for the victory tour she still thinks this is all fantastic. That mental disconnect is still there. But then eleven happens. If I’m remembering right she gets blood on her and is freaking out about her dress but I would like to see that from her side. I want to see that an innocent man was shot through the head so close to her, his blood and brains splattered across her dress and her skin. I want to see her freak out and everyone assume it’s about the dress but it’s actually about the fact she saw the light leave his eyes. This is the night she goes to Haymitch. She asks him for a drink and she asks him if he thought the man felt it. He isn’t kind to her. He asks her if she ever wondered if the kids felt it? If he felt it? This is the first time they sleep together. She doesn’t spend the night in his cabin. Their physical relationship continues but nothing else changes.

Then the quarter quell- she’s upset when Snow announces the rules. She feels hard done by but also scared for Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. She understands that she’s avoiding the issue in her mind but she clings to the idea that the games are good so she doesn’t have to face up to the horror she helped meter out. It’s that glass reaping ball that does it. That glass ball with a single slip of paper in that breaks the back of her indoctrination. It all falls on top of her all at once. Her sobs after the bloodbath, alone in her room, the desperation she felt, not just for Katniss and Peeta to live, but for her to not have to watch them die, the man in eleven, the quarter quell, Hatmitch’s sharp words, the drink she craved after she saw it, the smile she plastered on, Haymitch’s hand gripped tightly in hers, the most genuine connection she’s felt in years and oh god are you supposed to be this fucking tired when you’re only 35? She looks at that paper and she is almost incandescent with rage. She loves Katniss and she doesn’t want to be the one who says her name. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want this life. She doesn’t want the games to happen at all. She’s done.

But now she’s afraid. She’s seen avoxes, she knows what happens to rebels and she’s not quite brave enough to say anything to Haymitch other than veiled comments. She’s not sure he agrees with her and he’s not sure it wasn’t an accidental turn of phrase. The moment the arena blows out she’s dragged away in handcuffs. The prison is harrowing. What little hair she has is shaved off and she spends hours having questions thrown at her that she doesn’t have the answers to. She’s beaten, electrocuted and starved. Her bones are broken, they pull a few of her teeth out and some of the things they do are so awful she can’t even bring herself to think about it inside her own head. She doesn’t feel brave. She doesn’t have the answers to give them and she’s not sure she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She’s too Capitol for the rebels and too district for the Capitol. She’s not rescued, she’s released at the end of the war. Well, ‘released’ is a strong word. The guards unlock all the doors and tell them they have been pardoned and then walk out. She drags herself outside, clutching the walls and collapses in the courtyard as a humanitarian aid worker rushes over.

She spends the first tumultuous month sedated in a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of Coin’s assassination and the last games. When she comes to, Haymitch is sat at her bedside, looking haggard and tired. She looks better than she did on the floor of the courtyard, but not by much. When he sees her open her eyes he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He apologises for not managing to get her out. She knows she should be cross with him, but she can’t find the energy to blame him. They’ve both wasted so much time already. She pushes herself up shakily and wraps her atrophied arms around his neck, telling him that it doesn’t matter, that he’s here now. When he lowers her back down, she asks immediately after Katniss and Peeta. He tells her what happened in as painless terms as he can find, and when he’s done, she can barely keep her eyes open, tears tracking silently down her hollowed cheeks. He gently kisses her on the forehead and says he’ll be back tomorrow. It takes her a long, long time to recover.

She finds out the rest of what happened while she was imprisoned and hospitalised in dribs and drabs. Some from him, some from news, some from conversations she overhears. It takes months and months before she tells him, in halting sentences, when happened in the prison. She doesn’t tell him everything. Some things are too awful to know. They’ve not resumed their physical relationship, but they feel inexplicably drawn to one another, and in a fit of impulsivity, he invites her to come to 12 when he leaves and she does. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she does tell him, eventually, all the things that led to her renouncing the games just before the rebellion. He admits to her the doctor told him she was pregnant when they found her, but miscarried while she was asleep. She can’t get out of bed for days afterwards and he brings her food and water until she’s ready to get up again. She’s glad he knows in a way. She’s glad she never had to tell him what they did to her in there.

The next summer rolls around, and Effie is finally well enough to walk up to the woods outside the district and spends all day picking wildflowers. She ties them into attractive arrangements just like her mother taught her, using brown string instead of satin ribbons. Haymitch is in the newly built square when she arrives with her flowers. She lays them all gently on the ground, one for each child she reaped, including Prim. Haymitch walks over to her as she bows her head, slipping her hand into his. She says she’s sorry, he says ‘I know sweetheart’ and the book ends there

I know we aren’t going to get this, it’s not even a possibility but a girl can dream.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

“Women like tough guys with big bulging muscles and lots of money and a cool car”

Once upon a time I was a drunken layabout with no prospects and no car and this one time on a date I started gushing about the Great Barrier Reef and the vast variety of beautiful life that lives there, and as I got progressively more drunk I started getting into ocean acidification and coral bleaching and then proceeded to weep openly in front of her over the death of beauty and she proceeded to let me hit it for 3 years so

Maaaybe passion, compassion, and love are the things that Women actually find attractive.

I dunno. Food for thought.

[nectardaddy]

OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN  . . . single dad! meian + f!reader

                              DELETE DELETE DELETE 

✮⋆˙ notes/CWs - suggestive, 17+ to read, language, meian is insanely flirty, formatted differently than my usual so lmk if we like it! I probably won't stick to it but I like it in this instance :), not proofread bc I'm lazy sorry, dedicated to the wonderful, amazing, best friend forever @nekozaki who truly outdid herself for my secret santa gift so I'm here returning the favor!! you're amazing ellie thank you for being such a wonderful person and writer, I hope you enjoy <33

Re: today is awful  From: Meian Shūgo I can make your day 10 times better if you come over tonight ;)

The woman stared down at the email with baited breath, held it so long she thought she might get dizzy. Until finally a strangled breath passed her lips, filled her lungs before she swallowed harshly. Over and over, she read the sentence; over and over until her heart surged to her throat with her cheeks hot. 

He sent that to her work email. 

A cheeky habit the pair had, emailing each other. A nice surprise to see kind, often silly emails, throughout the day - sometimes he sent pictures from practice, but more often than not he sent terrible dad jokes - so she always replied. Normally, she would send an update about her day, and he would always reply with an endearing message back. But today was different, today was spicy; Meian had a fire underneath him and didn't mind the consequences. 

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she swiped away from the email; torn between wanting to smile and wanting to tear him apart for sending something like that. Her fingers were quick to find his contact and hit call, and she decided to draw and quarter him the moment he picked up. 

The man was at practice around this time, and she knew he had slinked himself away just to answer - which only made her more riled. He answered because he knew what the call was about, no doubt.

“You got my email, didn't you?” A coy question that made her stomach drop and twist in knots; the man had the unique affinity of leaving her breathless. “You miss me that much, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with a faux sense of sympathy, a teasing aura muddled behind a true care and compassion for the woman.

“You can't send shit like that through a work email, Meian!” A hushed tone as she put force behind the man's name, which only made a chuckle sound from the other end of the line. “Oh yeah, laugh it up, those emails are screened by the way. Let's not forget I work at a school.” 

“It wasn't even that bad,” he reasoned. “So put the family name away, I could've sent a lot worse.” 

“I bet you could've, jackass,” she rolled her eyes at his brashness. Her eyes flickered up to the closed door of her classroom, then to the clock on the back end of the wall. At least he knew the times when people weren't in her classroom, that was the only redeeming arc of it all. “Not the point though. Use your brain before you send an email like that again. Think to yourself: is this helpful, is this kind, will it get flagged by my girlfriend's work because I don't know how to contain myself?” 

Another chuckle, and she let out a loud groan. “Pretty hot when you use that tone with me,” he chided, she could practically hear him smirking through the line. “You should use it when-” 

“Dear god, don't finish that sentence right now.” She closed her eyes and groaned once more, and the twinge of exhaustion that settled upon her was apparent even over the phone. He frowned once the tone had shifted, although she couldn't see it. 

“Alright, alright, I'm sorry.” Spoken genuinely, with a small breath, before she heard him smile again. “‘Love you.” 

There was a small pause, one she could’ve excused as poor signal, but didn’t as she took a sharp inhale. The pair had just recently shared the intimacy of such words of adoration, pouring their hearts out on a drunken escapade that spilled over into the next day, and the day after that. The freshness of the statement still made her stomach fill with butterflies and her cheeks hot; for once, she was glad he wasn’t around to see just how flustered he made her. 

“I love you, too.”

She heard him hum just before the loud bang of a door swinging open on his end rang through. “I’ve been found,” he chuckled, “I’ll talk to you later, alright?” 

“Have fun at practice, Shū.” Instead of his own voice ringing through; however, another took its place. Farther back from the phone, as if they were in front of the man she wished to speak to, and loud - obnoxious. 

“Holy fuck is that your girlfriend? Let me talk to her!”

The click of the call ending was loud, and she only chuckled when she took the phone from her ear. 

3 new notifications from Shū ❤️🏐  never said I wouldn't text you though [image attachment] you should still come over 😏 I can make you forget all about your bad day

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[yenonnoff]

ೃ⁀➷ from beginning to end | (day)

synopsis: peaceful days on the alcor with kazuha and his lovely significant other.

content: established relationship, fluff, comfort, kazuha just loves the reader; wanderer's part is a parallel version to this <3

note: this was completely written and dedicated to @kqbukimono (may)!!! it's a crime to subject kazuha to any pain. this is for all the times when ure genuinely rly nice and funny ᐢᗜᐢ hope u enjoy!!

the wanderer's love (wanderer) | from beginning to end

to kazuha, loving you was like a breath of fresh air. it was a walk through pretty gardens of cecilias and scenic views. your touch, your gaze, your presence—everything about you made things idyllic, and kazuha loved you dearly. 

he was stuck in a cycle of stagnation before you joined the crux. it was the same routine everyday: relax on the ship, have writer’s block, deal with beidou and the crew’s shenanigans, and so on. you were the gentle breeze that moved things along, at least with you this routine was bearable. 

kazuha was a man of placidity, he was also a man with a zeal for adventure and stories… he was also hopelessly in love with you—the combination of everything he treasured and more. 

mornings on the ship were mostly peaceful: kazuha could be found right by your side, always sharing meals together while he told you stories and haikus (you had reignited his motivation to write). 

afternoons were even better when beidou would anchor the ship and head into town. sometimes you stayed together; other times, you went separate ways, coming back with a million things to tell one another. he’d listen softly as you spoke, humming in response or making a comment that was often accompanied with blissful laughter. 

he could never get tired of this: conversing about nonsense that effortlessly filled him with love and admiration. he was comfortable with you, drunk on the way you understood one another. you consumed his writing and his thoughts. everything kazuha wrote overflowed with compassion, each word painting a precious memory. 

however, he found it difficult to write about you specifically. no amount of metaphors or similes, pretty diction or imagery could ever fully depict your grace and splendor. he’d struggle and feel dissatisfied. still, kazuha tries again everyday, realizing new things just by spending time with you. 

nights on the alcor consisted of inane celebrations and drinking contests. asinine rambling would fill the ship as platters of food scattered across the deck. there was no escaping beidou and her crew’s drunken mischief so the two of you would often sit side by side and enjoy a drink. you’d only excuse yourself when the night breeze got too chilly and your lover’s warmth could no longer blanket you. 

nights always ended with a kiss and the whistling of ocean waves. the two of you would slumber until a new day started, this time more unexpected and spontaneous than the last. that was just how life was with you, and kazuha wouldn’t trade it for any treasure on teyvat. 

he slept soundly every night knowing you were by his side; he slept knowing he was the luckiest man ever.

when the sun rises again, kazuha will wake with gratitude and affection coating his heart. the two of you will have all the time in the world to go on adventures and converse about trivial matters. he’ll have all the time to say, “i love you,” over and over again.

[diejager]

hiiiiii like i've wanted to send u a request for like a while and i'm so happy i finally got u

i sadly forgot my og idea buuuuuut luckily i got a new one cus i'm bestie besties with a lurker who is like a friend with a writer cus they know each other irl and cus she gave me a lil spoilie

i wanna use like what i was told for dis request

like ik the thing is about a champion/warrior and their god and like it's a certain king being absolutely PATHETIC for like the first one (like ik my opinion cus i luv pathetic men and like i wanna know ur ideas about this)

like i love the idea of cod boys being a god or champion cus like y'know the smut that can be made

so could i request my second fav boy soap or even ghost being a SIMP like full on worshipping their god after hunting for their pretty

LUV u darlin and like KEEP ON writing because i am GOBBLIN up everything u and my other favs make but make sure u also rest

Cw: God/Champion stuff??, inaccurate Greek mythology, worshipping, offering/gifts/sacrifice, oracle, tell me if I missed any. Note: this reminds me of… the name’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember exactly who wrote about this before. Could you also send me the @ of your writer friend? I’d like to credit them if possible. And thank you! Just make sure to take breaks in between of reading, yeah? You have to rest your eyes every hour or so.

Johnny couldn’t believe his eyes when he stumbled into this small sanctuary outside the sacred precinct, outside any protective walls and guarded cities. Nestled into the side side of a mountain, the marble stones carved intricately in pretty vines and gentle flowers only to be placed in an isolated place. Away from any travellers and warriors, and hidden away from prying eyes of thieves and charlatans. This little, marble shrine made of white marble, painted murals and gold ordained altar - one of the prettiest he’s seen - was left near forgotten, overgrown with fauna and collecting dust. 

And despite that, the statue that stood behind the altar, tall and imposing, curves soft and tunic flattering, the Goddess loomed over him with a shadow of warmth and compassion, much unlike the statues of the ruling Gods and Goddesses he was used to —it was ethereal. Your image was one of love and care, a stark dichotomy to the arrogance and self-importance of Zeus and his siblings. You were welcoming towards him when they spurned him for his foreign appearance: a child of slaves that had bought their freedom, a potent sign of determination and strength.

“Perhaps that Oracle wasn’t crazy,” he gawked at the falling leafage, ribbons of round leaves hiding the entrance, parting like a curtain to the main stage of a theatre.

He had tried his luck with the Oracle of Delphi, in a drunken daze that failed to strip him from his embarrassing misadventures around Delphi’s bars and temple. Johnny had wanted to see what all the fuss was about, the mile long travel many made to see her and her prophesies. He wanted to know if she was a true oracle or a scam, a charlatan like many others, but lo and behold, she was blessed with the sight. 

He still remembered her words, her words spoken from the Gods’ whims, giving him the blessing of finding a Goddess he would willingly kneel to, one that would show him the same love and devotion he gave. She foretold that he would meet a Goddess of Health and Hunting that he wanted to worship, a give and take cycle —of life and death. And here he stood, before the statue of a benevolent Goddess he knew he already loved.

You were a minor Goddess, able to gift your champions with totems and blessings, but not a miracle. Your sacred temple was warm, the air filled with the scent of fresh spring and dewy mornings, candles miraculously lit, wrapping the room in a golden embrace that felt akin to a mother’s kiss. Johnny’s eyes wandered around the room, taking it in while he walked to the altar, he stared at the dusty and empty marble, a sad sight for a Goddess so warm.

He searched around his belt, looking around his clothes and padded leather for an offering to wake you up. Something simply - anything - would work, if only to rouse you from your slumber, be it a year or a century long sleep, he would wake you and dub himself your champion. He picked a pelt, an apt offering for a Goddess of Health and Hunting. It was freshly skinned and cured, brushed with care and killed with sympathy. He wasn’t a ruthless killer or an avaricious hunter, he took what he needed and left what he didn’t. 

Nodding at the brown pelt, he wiped away the dust that had collected and placed it on the marble, taking care to place it flat and straightened the fur. He took a step back to admire the sight, eyes filled with wonder at the sudden glow, bathing him in a calming light. He felt better, his once aching arms gone, his bruises gone and his strength returned. Waking you had brought a blessing, you had healed him of his aches and pains, restoring him to his peak.

“Welcome,” he heard you whisper, your voice sounding like a bird’s song, pretty and awestricking, “Will you become my champion, dear warrior?”

How could he say no at your sweet plea? You were the warmest being he has ever met, your very essence an embrace full of passion. 

“If yer wish me so, Goddess.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled and he’d never felt so lovesick before, his heart so full, yet light.

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