#embarrassing! they all wish he had better taste. he's making them all look bad. letting down the side

[coquelicoq]

the reason for all the marriage offers isn't because everybody wants a piece of that sweet sweet matoba power but because the old exorcist aunties think it's such a shame that some two-bit soap opera actor is stringing along that nice matoba boy. they just want to help him get over this unworthy charlatan who is clearly never going to give him the time of day. remind him there's other fish in the sea, sort of thing. matoba is taking longer than planned to fall in love with one of their grandchildren but they are not above leaving a little cursed voicemail here and there and one day, their efforts are bound to bear fruit. surely any day now.

[pumpkinbxtch]

Yes well, I've been following you for a while and I like a lot of yours… Well everything, I would like to request a Leo Valdez (We all love him, I don't argue) x Children of dionysus, thank you!

love at first eightminutes sight ෴⁠

— leo valdez x children of dionysus!reader

warnings; none, language a/n; hi! thanks for reading me. i'm so flattered 🥹 i hope you like it ): andd ik, In the photo they are cherries but let's be silly, lol.

Those 8 minutes were the toughest for Leo.

Dealing with his concentration issues when people talked about things he wasn't interested in was bad enough, but having to face someone as cute as you while that was happening didn't seem like a good decision on Dionysus's part. Leo was surprised because, being the god of wine and other pleasures, he thought Dionysus would understand.

— Valadez, are you listening? — The god tapped the table, bringing Leo's attention back. Leo saw his name on the corner of the blueprints made by Athena's children and wondered why that man never bothered to pronounce his name correctly, neither his nor anyone else's.

— Yeah, sir — Leo replied, not too enthusiastically, but it was enough for Dionysus to continue his speech, which Leo decided to ignore to keep admiring you. Seconds were enough for him to notice how your lips sparkled with some kind of gloss that tempted him even more to taste them, as well as the way you occasionally bit your lower lip, making him wonder if it tasted as sweet as your gaze, which, unlike his, was focused on your father's explanation.

— Do you understand?—Dionysus asked insistently, thinking Leo was playing dumb. Although he wasn't wrong, the son of Hephaestus nodded confidently for him to continue.

If he could get closer to you... would you smell like grapes? Maybe with a gentle breeze, he could find out, and then he wished he had Jason's power.

— Am I right? — Your father asked you in the middle of his explanation, and you nodded.

— Yes, father.

Leo opened his eyes slightly wider, hearing your voice for the first time, feeling a warmth in his fingertips warning him not to get too excited, or he would end up revealing his interest in you in front of everybody. The way you smiled at Dionysus made him truly want to be interested in what he was saying, but it was a lost cause; you had him in some kind of trance from which he didn't want to escape either. How would Leo feel if he were able to make you smile?

— Then, in this part of the plan is when you come in — Leo was startled by the sudden increase in volume and nodded repeatedly to disguise it, stealing quick glances in your direction to avoid being caught. So when your eyes met his, Leo almost burst into flames from embarrassment. You didn't immediately look away; you held his gaze, and he saw a sparkle in them that he had never seen in anyone else's. Was your mother Ariadne? Were you made of something truly divine, being one of Dionysus's only children?

A smile began to form at the corner of your lips, making Leo feel like he was about to fall flat on his face, but the table he was leaning on wouldn't allow it.

—So? — Dionysus asked, tapping the table hollowly, and the empty look in the boy's eyes said it all: He hadn't heard a damn thing. The god let out a guttural groan and rolled his eyes, muttering something about when his father's punishment would end.

You let out a laugh that immediately relaxed your father's shoulders, and to Leo, it seemed better than any power anyone else could have. Dionysus snorted and rolled up the blueprints, handing them to Leo, who clumsily took them.

—You'll figure it out, kid. Now, scram.

No, he didn't want to leave. Leo began to stammer, trying to find a reason to stay a little longer, but before he could do so, the god was dragging him toward the exit with a flick of his finger.

— Father — you called, and his attention shifted to you, halting the magic. Your father's purple eyes questioned you, and you smiled calmly as you pointed to some papers on the table that had slipped from the blueprints.

Dionysus tried to take them, but you stopped him, asking him to let you do it for him. Leo was dumbfounded. Would you accompany him to the exit? Had he died again? Why didn't it feel as bad as the first time?

Your hair shimmered in the light as you leaned over for the papers, and he noticed that your nails were painted with burgundy nail polish. Everything about you was intoxicating, new, and when you started walking, he felt a heat burning from within him as if he had taken a sip of sherry. Was it because he had fallen in love with you at first sight? Or was that the effect you had on him?

The tips of your shoes touched his, causing him to lose his balance, and you shook the notes in the air.

— I'll walk you out —you said. Dionysus glanced sideways and suppressed a curse because he knew you very well. You never approached anyone.

Leo swallowed hard and nodded, taking steps back to walk with you to the exit of the Big House.

—And well...— Your words came without warning, even to you. You didn't know you had the courage to confront a guy as handsome as him. When Leo turned to you, his curls bounced, making you want to run your fingers through them... and you did.

The brunet jerked back and started to stammer again, yeah, he always acted like don juan, but few times did someone approach him the way you were doing.

—And well?— he asked when his tongue allowed him to form something coherent. You sighed as you descended the first step.

— Are you going to ask me out, or are you going to keep staring at me every time my father calls you?

He froze, wanting to meld into the porch wood, but you didn't let that happen because you pulled him towards you, confirming many of his suspicions. Yes, you smelled like grapes, and you were more beautiful up close.

— Do you want to go out? — he managed to ask after stuttering like an idiot. He looked at your eyes shining along with the smile you showed him, and now he knew how it felt to make you smile, and he had become a fan of it.

— I'll see you around, repair boy —and you pushed him down the last porch step before going back inside.

Oh shit, to hell with the camp blueprints, he had to plan a good date for you.

*don juan: kind of womanizer but not that too much.

[hyunjinets]

Paring: Gang leader Mingi x Lawyer reader

Word count 2.2k

Genre: Romance, slight angst, non idol au

Warnings: some suggestive themes, some cursing and some violence

Notes: this is my first fanfic since I was like 14 so please bear with me while I learn how to write again ,I didn’t dive to much into the lawyer part but there is hints

Tried to make it gender neutral, there is no y/n but just some lil names like : Angel, Love, Gorgeous

Heavily inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song and mv Please Please Please cause I just love the concept of it

“ I know I have good judgment, I know i have good taste  “

I sighed as I slid into the seat and took my sunglasses off and gazed at the little smirk my boyfriend gave me through the glass. I grabbed the phone that allows me to talk to him “ hi baby”  he said while putting his hand up to glass, i did the same giving him a little smile “hi Mingi “ Mingi has always been a trouble maker ever since i met him, he was a pretty notorious gang leader, i was a lawyer who had to deal with his gangs cases all the time. I knew better than to fall for someone like him but he had some sort of charm that attracted me to him when I met him. When we first started seeing each other he promised me he would do better and he was for the most part but now I'm looking at him through a glass right now. he got caught doing something stupid again, deep down i was disappointed but i know he’s different than the rest so i decided to listen to his story this time “Minks what happened love?” He made this face that always got me hooked, he looked at me with such love but always had this dopey little grin on his face as he told me he got caught doing some petty little crime. It’s bad  I know but I couldn't help give him that same soft loving smile. He continued his story and we talk about some other things before visitation was over, he gave me sad puppy eyes as i got ready to get up leave placing his hand on the glass like he did before “ i wish we had more time together, I miss you so much my love” i instantly melted at the sight “ i know baby i will get you out of here soon my love “ placing my hand where his was, wishing it could just go through the glass and hold his “ see you soon minks “ i go and stand up adjusting my outfit. I wore something somewhat discreet  as I was not one to bring attention to myself, I waved at him and he blew me a kiss “ bye baby, thinking about you always” I couldn’t help but  smile as I started my way out of the jail.

A few days later Mingi was put on trial and I was able to bail him out. I sat outside leaning against my car waiting  for him to be able to leave more dress up than usual just for him. The doors opened as he sauntered out with that same stupid little smirk of his. I smiled as  walked up to me and warped his arms around me and gave me a kiss “ hello gorgeous, i missed you so much” even though it has only been not even a week i also missed him just as much. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he placed his hands on my hips, slightly pushing me against my car “ I missed you too my  love “ I smiled at him before poking him sternly in the chest “ but you have 3 strikes mister. If you keep messing up like this you will have to be punished” he gave me that same smirk and lifted one of his eyebrows in a questionable look “ oh?” i nodded before slipping out f his grasp and walking to the driver side, as he immediately followed and opened my door for me “I'm serious Mingi, please don't embarrass me” even though i tried to be serious with him i couldn't with that face he gave me “ I wouldn't  dream of it angel”   he laughed and walked over to the passenger side and got in. I started the car and before we drove off I looked over at him and smiled, only hoping he wouldn't prove me right.

“ whatever devils inside you, don't let them out tonight”

It’s been a few months since the first incident and things have been going smoothly, Mingi has been so dotting and  loving, taking me out on dates and buying me nice things, I never questioned how he got the money or how he got some of the things he did but i could assume he had to rough someone up for it. The night was going so well, Mingi invited me out to a club

with some of his gang members. Normally i don't go out and party often but I couldn't deny his puppy eyes plus he has been so attentive and despite what they do I actually get along with his members especially wooyoung. We had a few drinks and Mingi seemed to be having a good time  with his members when i walked up to him and gently tugged on his shirt, i leaned into him and got closer so he could hear me “ minks can we please step out for a little bit i could use some fresh air” he nodded slightly concerned “ everything alright angel?” I nodded “ I just need a breather, " I smiled at him and took his hand into mine as we walked out the club.

We stepped out and he led me to  a small side alley away from the entrance where people are still trying to get in. I leaned against the wall as he wrapped  an arm around my waist and rested his forehead against mine looking into my eyes. He gave me a soft kiss and i leaned into it, we continued to share soft kisses until a shadow came over us and he was suddenly pulled away from me , ‘ what the fuck “ he yelled as he was suddenly punched in the face, as he stumbled back he was grabbed by the collar. A man who was not much bigger than Mingi had him in his grasp yelling “ how fucking dare you show your face around here, after what you and your gang did!” from the looks of the man he looked to be another rival leader and he had few of his members with him. I gasped in shock and fear as he landed another punch on Mingi letting him go, Mingi’s head sharply turned to the side as he spat out some blood that has build up in his mouth, he turned his head back and glared at the man seemingly recognizing him “ maybe you and your lackeys shouldn't have been on my turf messing with my things”.The man angrily growled and Mingi got ready for another blow he quickly yelled out for me to go get the others from inside. I nodded and hurriedly went rushing back inside, hardly missing one of the man's members reaching out to grab me. As I ran  in I hurriedly looked around for one of the others quickly spotting them standing around a table drinking, i rushed over and started yelling over the music so they could hear me  “ guys please help, Mingi is being jumped by some rival gang “ as i was telling them where he was at the first one to jump up and rush out was Yunho who was like his second in command  the others quickly following behind him wooyung decided to stay behind with me to make sure im okay, after some time past and i sat worriedly, wooyoung led me out and back to my car. As we reached my car Mingi was there waiting for us his face bloody and bruised, wooyoung led me over to him as I sat on the hood of my car taking Mingi into my arms, wooyoung patted him on the shoulder and left to go home telling Mingi to text him later. I gently grabbed Mingis face  gently running a finger over his bruise, he winced away at first before leaning into my touch ‘ you okay Mings” i say as he gives me that dopey little smile “ m’fine Angel, you should see the other guy “ he laughs and i give him a soft smile caressing his cheek, We sat there for a few minutes before i felt my car move move slightly, something was in my trunk. I gently pushed Mingi off me and hopped off my car with him following me. I quickly opened my trunk letting out a short gasp as I saw the guy who Mingi fought with battered, bruised, gagged  and tied up in my trunk. I slowly turn to Mingi giving him a disappointed look : Mingi what is this “ he gave me a sheepish smile “ sorry love but i couldn't let him get away with this” i sighed and asked him how this even started in the first place  and he told me how this guy has been messing around his so called “turf “ for months so they finally got back at him, apparently the rival gang just so happened to be at the same club and decided to get revenge tonight. I shut my trunk back and gave Mingi a pointed look  feeling a flush of embarrassment wondering is someone potentially saw the chaos or if they saw who was in my trunk at the moment  “ Mingi we talked about this, you said you would do better and not start unnecessary

fights” Mingi shrugged “ technically he started it soooo “. I sighed, feeling so disappointed in him that I stepped away and started walking to the driver's  side. Mingi followed closely behind, opening the door for me like he always did. I sat in the driver's seat and started my car. He closed my door before while pouting “ you’re not mad at me are you Angel?” I gave him a look to express my feelings with him “ You really need to learn to do better Mings” I didn't want to tell him that I couldn't have him embarrassing me and that his actions could ruin my reputation. He continued to pout as I drove away while trying not to cry the makeup I did perfectly just for the night, while on my way I had to figure out what I was gonna do with the guy in my trunk.

 If you wanna go and be stupid don't do it in front of me”

It took about a week or two for me to finally give into Mingi’s begging and pleading for me to give him another chance. I ultimately decided that was his second strike and he has one more before punishment. He swears up and down that he wouldn’t do anything stupid and that he would be good for me. So when he came to my door begging to take me out for dinner and take me to an  arcade because what could go wrong there, I said yes to it. He took me out to a nice little restaurant and then took me to an arcade that stays open later. Everything was going well until someone accidentally bumped into him and he ended up getting into a fight with the said person and accidentally breaking one of the claw machines during the fight. I stood in front of him as he was being put into handcuffs. One of the workers was tending to the person Mingi fought with while the others looked in shock. I gently caressed  his face as he struggled to get closer to me while the cops were pulling him away. While they were taking him away i just watched, crossing my arms and shaking my head while whispering to myself “ please please please don’t prove I'm right” 

Another week passed and I was able to pull some strings and get him bailed out. like the first time I was leaning against the hood of my car waiting for him to walk out. When he finally did he looked more down than he usual cocky smirk. He walked up to me and i sighed rolling my eyes before getting up and going to the driver's seat, he like always opened the door for me then got in on the other side,   

When we finally made it home I decided that was his final strike. He was sitting in the chair in front of me, giving me this look. I couldn't tell if he regretted it or not but either way he needed to be punished for it. I grabbed some handcuffs that I got from a cop friend of mine before dangling  them in front of his face. I got up and started to walk towards him seductively, when I was finally in front of him he gave me a smirk, I just smiled at him before going around and handcuffing his arms to the chair. I went and grabbed some duct tape and went to face him again. I laughed slightly at his  face. He caught onto what I was doing and seemed to accept his fate. I leaned forward and put a piece of duct tape over his mouth. I stepped back admiring my work before  and taking on his reaction. I thought a lot about my feelings for him and  even though he does stupid things sometimes I know I could never change him and maybe just maybe I liked him this way. I caressed his face and leaned forward once more before giving him a kiss that he leaned into. I  patted his cheek and straightened up before walking away to let him sit there and suffer for a little bit longer. I love him but he is still being punished after all. When I left Mingi just sighed and accepted his fate but he knows that he is completely whipped for me.

   “ Please Please Please”

[daisybianca]

pleaseeeeeee do a age gap fic with Daniel , Lewis, or Seb I need more of these😭

pairing: daniel ricciardo x femalereader

summary: it's your 19th bday. daniel is invited to the party. drunken dances, strong fists, statements of lust, acts of jealousy, and wound tending. most of all... a twisted fate. because daniel ricciardo is a lot of things, a sexy f1 driver, a not-so-good liar... your father's best friend is, unfortunately, one of them as well.

warning: sexual tension, bad words, alcohol use, sexual actions, angst, sexual harassing

(a/n): I loved this request! Thank you! Please suggest more of these, and I'll try my best <3

YOU DIDN'T REALLY know if it was your drunken ass or your blurred vision, but you could tell that he looked at you with his fiery gaze and his dark eyes piercing your soul without betraying his thoughts behind them.

Daniel raised his glass to his lips, and you flinched... the way he gazed at you felt like something unreal. It was as if he was whispering to you that even if the entire world were to crumble before you right now, he would continue to stare at you without even blinking.

It was your 19th birthday, and your friends decided to throw you a lavish party at the trendiest club in town.

You weren't really sure inviting Daniel was a good decision after all, but your father insisted. He wanted someone to take care of you and knew you wouldn't let him come to your party, so he brought he sexy ass best friend instead of him.

Fuck.

As the night went on, the music grew louder, and the atmosphere grew wilder. You danced and drank, enjoying the electrifying energy surrounding you.

Suddenly, a bit of liquid courage found its way into your system.

Feeling confident and carefree, you climbed onto the bar, delighting the crowd with your lively dance moves. "What the hell?!" You heard your best friend yell behind you, but you didn't mind turning around.

As you weaved your way around the crowd, the music a hypnotic symphony in the background, the sweet taste of alcohol on your tongue seemed to cloud your better judgement. Your body moved in ways you never knew it could, as if possessed by the beat. You allowed the heat of the moment to transport you, to sweep you away from your senses.

You didn't notice the eyes on you, or the hands that reached out, grabbing a hold of you. You were too lost in the sensation of the music, the rhythm, to the sway of your own limbs. Your dress rose higher and higher, but you didn't seem to care, as the world around you faded into the background.

The music crescendoed, the drums pounding like the beat of your heart. You closed your eyes, letting the alcohol take the reigns. You felt free, untethered from the weight of responsibility and expectation. You surrendered to the music, to the rhythm, to the moment.

Seductive and playful, you unknowingly invited unwanted attention from some intoxicated men.

Your dress was a mess, your hair was a tangle, and your eyes felt heavy. You felt a sudden sense of embarrassment and awkwardness, like you had crossed a line you never should have crossed.

Suddenly, a pair of faniliar eyes pierced into yours from across the room. He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. You could see the worry and concern in his stare. You felt yourself shrink into your dress, wishing you could disappear beneath the tables and chairs.

It was uncomfortable, embarrassing--your father's best friend's intense gaze on you--and yet, you kind of enjoyed it.

You sensed a hand touching your thigh. "Yes, baby, c'mon!" A guy shouted from a group of men.

You could bet a hundred bucks they could see your underwear at the moment and just wanted to disappear.

The alcohol danced, you didn't.

A man jumped and jumped again, trying to touch you inappropriately.

"Hey, what the hell are you doin--"

All of a sudden, you could see Daniel swiftly making his way through the crowd and reaching you--more like grabbing you. "Get the fuck away from her, you son of a bitch!" His protective instincts kicked in.

Without hesitation, Daniel swooped in, picking you up and carrying you over his shoulder like a knight in shining armor.

"What the he--" Your heart raced, your breathing quickened, but the alcohol in your system inhibited your ability to think clearly.

You heard Daniel's voice, firm and urgent, as he sprang to your defense.

He threw a punch with all the force of his being, connecting with a man's face. The man that tried to touch you stumbled backward, staggering for a moment before finding his footing. He charged forward, fists flying, but it seemed Daniel was prepared. He ducked beneath the flurry of punches, connecting with a powerful blow to the man's ribs.

"Daniel!" You shouted, but he didn't seem to care, even if he had heard you.

The man winced, his breath hitching for a moment, before he swung back, his fist connecting with Daniel's stomach. Daniel stood firm, his fists flying rapidly like a machine gun, connecting with the man's face again and again.

Daniel didn't seem pissed off.

He seemed furious.

More than that, maybe.

You weren't sure there was an appropriate word that could describe his red face right now. Only his strong fists could.

The man stumbled backward again, his face and clothes streaked with blood.

Daniel's shirt was torn, his breath coming in rapid pants, but the fire in his eyes remained. "We're leaving." He announced loud enough for you to hear.

The grip around your hand was so tight and strong that your hand ached.

Exiting the club, he picked you up and threw you on his shoulder again in order to get you in the car. He damn knew your stubborn ass wouldn't comply to his command to get inside it without a little fighting.

Oh, fuck me.

The ride home was filled with tense silence. Anger brewed within you; you couldn't believe Daniel had ruined your birthday party by thinking he could become your knight in shining armor. His actions had not only embarrassed you but also... maybe you were delusional, but you also felt a glimpse of jealousy in his eyes as he through those punches.

As the car pulled up to your apartment building, frustration consumed you. You turned to Daniel, ready to unleash your fury. "How could you, Daniel? You ruined everything!" You shouted, your voice slurred from the alcohol.

Sternly, he shot back, "I did what any decent person would do. You were in danger."

"I didn't ask for your help!" You retorted, tears welling in your eyes. "And why do you even care?!"

The words hung in the air, heavy with hidden desires and unspoken emotions.

"Fuck, (y/n)." He looked at you. "Why do I care? Really?"

"Yes. Answer me."

He hesitated for a brief moment. "Because you're my best friend's only child. I've known you since you could barely walk."

You couldn't tell why, but you felt anger rising in you at his statement. "So, that's what I am to you? Your friends' beloved daughter?" Your tone was more that ironic.

"Yes, (y/n). That's how it has to be." He said. "That's how you should think of it as well."

Keep telling yourself that.

"So, hey. If you can tell what I should think of it or not, that means you're my therapist now?" You shot.

"Oh, come on, (y/n)!"

"Well... tell me, Mr. Sexy Ass Therapist. Do I need proper medication if I keep having very inappropriate thoughts and dreams of my father's best friend?" You could see him gripping the weel and digging his nails in it.

"Stop."

"Does it mean I am insane for having a crush on him since I could remember myself."

He stopped the car abruptly.

You stumbled out of the it, unleashing a barrage of insults and bad words.

His hands came around you again, throwing you were you belonged. Once again.

The alcohol in you tried to complain even though your body insisted that he hands were more than pleasing on your skin. "Let me down, Daniel! You're nothing but a caveman, you know that?! You don't know how to act like a decent human being!"

As you walked across the street, you felt your dress ride higher and higher. Panicking, you let out a warning, "Daniel, everyone can see my underwear!"

Without a word, he placed a hand on your dress, shielding your modesty. But then, with a touch of mischief, he gave your rear a gentle slap. "There, problem solved. Happy now?"

Fury burned within you as you stomped up the stairs to your apartment building. Daniel followed suit, still carrying an unspoken tension between you.

You could feel a throb. Both in your chest and a little lower.

You studied Daniel. Even upsides down, you could see the wound on his face bleeding.

He flinched.

"Does it hurt?" You whispered.

"No." His answer was instant.

"Yes, it does." You said, mumbling. He was good at lots of things, but lying wasn't one of these. "Let me tend to it."

"What?" He stopped walking. His hands were strong around you though. "Fuck no."

"Why?"

"Because... fuck no." He shook his head. "I'm fine."

Another lie.

"Then why are you burning up?"

♡♡♡

Inside your apartment, the tension lingered as you offered to tend to Daniel's wounded eye. He kept declining, but you insisted, determined to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

Reluctantly, he sat down, and you carefully cleaned his injury.

"You don't have to do this." He said.

"Yes, I do." You gently touched the cotton on his bleeding skin. "Shut up and tell me if it hurts too much."

His gaze was intense. Too much.

Everything was too much.

Your blurred vision was replaced by a scorching burning in your chest.

The alcohol was still there, but it had no effect on you anymore.

As you neared the end of your makeshift first-aid, Daniel leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. "(y/n)..."

"What?" You instantly ceased your actions. "Does it hurt?"

A moment of hesitation held you both captive. "No. I just..." He leaned closer. You were inches apart.

So close.

Too close.

"Daniel..."

"Hmm...?"

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"Yes, I might to." You felt those butterflies in your stomach. It felt good. "If you let me."

He looked at you.

You nodded and without warning, Daniel closed the distance between you, his lips gently capturing yours. The kiss was filled with all the pent-up emotions, years of longing finally unleashed.

Their kiss broke only when Daniel pulled back, concern etched on his face. "Y/N, are you sure about this? You've been drinking, and I don't want you to make a decision you might regret."

Leaning into him, you intertwined your fingers with his, reassuring him with unwavering determination. "Daniel, I've dreamed of this moment for as long as I can remember. I want this more than anything."

"What dreams and thoughts were you referring to previously?" A smirk appeared.

"Do you want me to tell you?" You asked and smiled.

God, this was too good, and it had never even started yet.

"No." He said. His hands found the back of your dress and started to unbutton it gently. He cupped your ass and squeezed it in a way of saying 'this is mine'. His hands felt perfect there. "I want you to show me."

Temperature rose, and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

And with those words, doubts dispersed, leaving only the burning desire between you and Daniel. As you surrendered to the passion, your hearts danced to a melody that had always been playing, but you refused to name it.

[urapunk]

(TW; mentions of self harm and vomiting.)

A Gary Smith writing that I made, and'll probably make more of.

People Dont Consider Me a Tradgedy And I Wish They Did

It's funny how alike he is to Petey. He's no different, he gnaws his nails quietly in class and listens to conversations around him because its embarrassing to start a conversation other than being the one spoken to. But thats a lie. He's just nervous and it tastes bittersweet and disgusting in his mouth like straight syrup.

But he cant even get better. He just cant. And so in the back of the ambulance with his snapped arm and new cuts from glass, he found himself crying. Crying for once. He's going to be fixed up and.. And well.. Sent away. Three months they said. Thats an entire summer. A summer in a looneyhouse and then its right back to the hell of bullworth if his grandpa decides to offer enough money. Those same faces. Those same, disgustingly familiar faces that he knows are staring. They're always looking, looking and looking and looking.

The EMT can see the cuts lacing his arms up and down until they get to his upper arm, because they feel even worse there and he doesnt hate himself so much as to make it sting even worse.

But he still does it. Theres atleast 12 cuts on his upper arm and they were all from really bad times. Times he's repressed and forgotten, times that make him want to rip his arm off and grow a new one, times that make him vomit from the anxiety of them happening again.

The lights are so bright in the roof of this death van. They hurt his eyes so bad, and he's sure his ankle is broken or wrist is shattered. He doesnt even know its his arm yet. Why didnt he just get Jimmy kicked out instead? Did he have to take over bullworth? Couldnt he just... Couldnt he just talk.

But he doesnt know how. He babbles like a small child when it comes to his stupid emotions because what are they. They all feel the same, his heart races, his face contorts, and thats it. Thats only how it feels and it will never feel different, and thats only the literal sense. They can either make him feel like hes driving a bumpy road or they can feel like his guts are spilling out so disgustingly in his lap.

It doesnt stop, and when they give him a therapist in happy volts itll still be the same. His therapist would ask him questions, like 'what caused this for you,' or 'why'd you do it?'...

'Why'd you do it?'

'Why'd you do it gary!'

And thats when he let out a loud, frustrated groan of pain.... He couldnt hear the sirens. Where had the sirens gone? Why couldnt he hesr the ambulance that he was in-?

He noticed he was wrong. He wasnt in it. He was now in a hospital bed, light beaming through the curtains and illuminated the cast on his right arm.

The cast. The cast that would restrict him. He was restricted now. Restriction is a bitter word. He doesn't like it because it specifically restricts him. Restrict, restrict, restrict.

It hit him that he had just woken up. He disnt remember falling asleep, maybe they out him out because he was writhing too much or- crying. Did he cry? Was he crying? He shouldnt have been crying. But nevermind that. He had obviously woken up from something frustrating him and he had no clue what it was. Maybe its best he doesnt remember.

It wasnt much longer in the day when he was checked into happy volts. He felt sluggish, and he quickly recognized the disgusting, stomach churning 'calm' of medication. His therapists all said the same things throughout those 3 months. Each time he was first meeting them he'd do a survey; with one question that stumped him every time, not matter how many times it was explained. 'Are panic attacks frequent? On a scale of one to 10, how bad do your attacks get?'

What is a panic attack. His therapists all just gave him the same answer, but he was searching for one that really set it up in him. He underatood it, a little, but it was like the knowledge of the ocean. It has fish and is very deep; it's emotional and very scary.

The thin mattress he slept on was annoying, and he couldnt tell if it made his slouch better or worse. He didnt have to wear one of those stupid gowns, they gave him a nice blue sweatshirt and white sweatpants with...

Grippy socks.

It made him want to die the amount of times he tried to slide down the hall only to remember, these arent normal socks. They have GRIP to them. He'd nearly fallen a less than safe amount of times. He couldnt even be childish, he had to be reduced to a 'calm' medicated zombie that felt sick all the time.

The clothes were comfortable though, the bed was.. Okay, but the showers were awful. He didnt feel clean. It never got hot enough to help him feel soft and fuzzy.

And it reminded him that he'd never wipe away the punches thrown at him over the years.

But that was for his therapist to hear, only because she was paid to. He's talk to his grandpa when he got home, but.. His grandpa wouldnt want to hear that. He wouldnt want to hear about how his grandson fought more than he should. That his grandsontried to take over the school and broke his arm in the process, that he fought ontop of bulworth academy and his last name would be slandered now. They shared nothing but the word Smith sometimes.

When he finally got out his grandpa had brought him clothes to change unto before leaving, a soft white tshirt and black cargo jeans, and a dark green jacket. He loved that jacket so much. It was like the perfect shade, the color that was the embodiment of gary! When he finally settled in the car he noticed his grandfather gripped the wheel angrily.

"So why'd you do it Fish?"

'Why'd you do it?'

'WHY'D YOU DO IT GARY!'

That made him wanna hurl. He couldnt stop thinking of Jimmy when anyone asked, but hearing it from his grandpa was sickening. Especially with the nickname he had aince a boy. He always loved aquariums and fish and all to do with fishing, so papa called him Fish, or just... Gary.

His grandpa was met with silence... And it did worry him. A little bit. But there wasnt room for worrying about gary now.

"Fish, tell me." He wasnt spitting venom out alongside his words, but more like a bittersweet syrupy medicine thats overly sweetened, the kind you'd take as a child and wanna throw up after.

"I dont know."

...

[slashers-and-rats]

mimic.

billy lenz x fem!reader | nsfw | msub!billy, masturbation, billy playing with your lingerie, some humiliation but he’s mostly just embarrassed

rat chat: i love a desperate man. i love a pathetic desperate man, and i like it even more when they can’t control themselves. so, let me share my vision here.

billy’s hands were hovering over the brass knob of your dresser drawer. if he listened extra close, he swore he could hear it whispering out to him, calling for him to rip it open and throw its guts all over your bedroom floor.

you had left awhile ago for work. he was left to his own devices, and had found himself pattering around the house like a lost puppy. claude was nowhere to be found, likely batting around mice in a crawl space somewhere, and billy had gotten bored of television an hour into your absence.

he frowned. if you had been there, you would’ve kept him entertained. you didn’t even have to try. for someone like billy, who could barely sit still, just laying in your arms and breathing in your scent felt like riding the worlds scariest rollercoaster. every brush of your fingers through his hair, and trail of your touch down his spine made his stomach toss and turn. it always kept him on his toes.

he didn’t feel any of those feelings at all. he felt as though some part of him had been removed, like someone had yanked his heart from his rib cage. the only thing that reassured him it wasn’t missing was the fact that it ached, yearning for you to be back. it was always like this. it never got easier to see you leave for your shifts, and often times he’d just lay by the door and wait for you to get back. he had at least learned to keep his hands as much to himself as possible while you left, as before he would do anything he could to make you stay.

today, it all seemed heightened. billy woke up on the wrong side of the bed, he hadn’t slept well, he has refused breakfast, and had clung to you when you said your usual goodbyes. he wished he would’ve worked harder to convince you to stay, but he knew better. he knew to let you slip from his arms when you gave your final kiss, and he knew to wave you off, looking as happy as possible. often times when you called in sick in the past it was because he was being dramatic, but today you had insisted you had to go. you left him.

he tried to be mad. he loomed over your possessions, wanting to throw them against the walls and break all your precious belongings. if it was before, when he was untamed and wild, he would’ve without hesitation. you would’ve come home to all the little pieces laid carefully out in front of the door, just so you’d step on them and bleed. he would’ve licked it up after too, getting to taste the metallic tang of your blood. it would’ve felt good to make you upset, to hurt you, to bring you to tears.

it didn’t feel that way anymore. he was domesticated now. as he stared down at your dresser, he felt frozen. in the pit of his stomach, a heavy weight sat. he knew better- he was better. you were so kind to him. you gifted him with new virtues. if he threw a tantrum now, he’d be undoing so much work. or, worse, he’d make you upset. he didn’t like the look on your face when you saw him misbehaving, at least when he was doing it in a bad way. sometimes he was naughty and you liked it, and enjoyed the punishments you gave him after. but things like this, where it wasn’t fun for you both… it had lost its charm. he didn’t even understood why he ever liked it in the first place. sometimes, he was a stranger even to himself.

his hand reached up, and in a trance like state he opened up your underwear drawer and examined it’s contents. it was divided down the middle; one side was your usual comfortable sets, and the other was the nice, lace things you wore when billy was being extra good.

billy reached inside and ran his fingertips over the fabric. the texture felt good. he could remember how much better it felt when it was on you. the way it fit snug against your skin, and the way it left little imprints. he liked leaving imprints too, though usually it was of his teeth or his nails. he didn’t leave as sophisticated of patterns as your lingerie did. he tried to.

billy sighed heavy. he looked over at the clock resting on the wall, and carefully counted the numbers being ticked away. you wouldn’t be home for another few hours. it was a shame. it made him feel restless. he had already done all his chores, a guarantee that he’d get something nice when you got home, and he had even found an old trinket you had lost a long time ago. he could imagine your smile when you saw it. he knew what you’d say. you’d praise him for being so good, and he’d make you give him kiss after kiss until he felt he had been properly rewarded.

he wanted those now. he wanted to feel your warm lips pressed against his, he wanted to feel your hands pulling him closer by his belt, he wanted to feel the way you pressed your breasts up against his chest so that he could feel the softness and the beating of your heart. he wanted you. oh, how he longed for you.

billy breathed in deep. if he focused, he could smell you. your room always smelt faintly of your scent. he looked down at the underwear again, rubbing it between his fingers. your clothes, he supposed, would smell like you too.

he hesitated for a moment, before gathering up a pair in his hands and pressing it to his face. he knew the exact set by the way the lace rubbed against his cheek and jaw. it was a soft pink colour, with bows and frills, and a flowery print in the lace. he remembered the last time you wore it. the way you gasped and gripped at his head as he devoured you, the way the matching stockings squeezed against his temples and created dents in his skin.

he took in a deep breath. it smelt so lovely. he felt his head lift up into the clouds, and he had to sit down on your bed to steady himself. it only made this feeling worse. your sheets not only smelled of you, but of the things you both did together.

he laid down on his front, pressing his cheek into the comforter and nearly suffocating himself with your smell. you kept saying that you had to wash your sheets soon, that you’d get to it when you had a moment. he didn’t want you to. if he really pressed his face down, he smelt the sweat of sex and the hints of your tears on the blankets. he loved the way you weeped when he made you feel so good. he loved when he was rutting into you deep, pushing his hips like a piston, fucking you with such purpose, and you sobbed and gripped onto his body.

he squirmed. he opened and closed his mouth in the sheets, gathering the fabric between his teeth and biting down. he moaned, high and soft, mimicking the sound you would make when you were in his same position. it sounded so good. it filled his head with memories, and made his stomach pool with arousal.

billy shook his head. he was being silly, such a silly billy. this was wrong. no, he couldn’t do this.

he had to put the panties on too, obviously, it was the only way. how else would he mimic you like he wanted to? moans were one thing, but the outfit was a part of it too. if he couldn’t see you, or feel you, he’d become you. just for a little, just so he could relieve himself of all this tightening pressure wringing out his organs.

his hands were uncoordinated and rushed as he dragged his pants down his front. for a moment, he didn’t rise from the bed. he didn’t wanna leave that sweet little paradise of the senses he had created. but, when it became too little for him, he weaned himself away. he sat up on his knees, filling the near silent house with his loud pants and whines. he sounded so desperate, and for what he didn’t know. for you? for your insides? for your touch?just for your presence? if you even let him lick a rogue drop of your wetness off of your thigh he’d be satisfied for life.

part of him, deep in the back of his head, was a little embarrassed he got this desperate. it hated how easily these feelings overwhelmed him, and how quickly he was drooling and whimpering under his breath. the majority of him didn’t have enough sense to care. so, he pulled his sweater over his head in a flourish, and yanked your panties on over his throbbing cock.

it didn’t fit him right, of course. he was a skinny, smaller guy, and while his hips were broad you had a bit of size on him. but they were snug enough that they weren’t pooling around his ankles. his cock peaked out from the waistband, and every twitch made his head rub against his stomach. his shaft created friction with the lace, and it made him mewl.

he laid back down, nestling himself snug against the blankets, and bit down once again on the fabric. his hands slipped underneath his chest, running all the way down until he could wrap it around the head of his cock. once he was in the right position, he moaned again.

he had heard you enough times to have your sound down. the way you whined high in your throat when he teased the head just at your entrance, the way you went low with surprise when he slammed into you deep and without warning. the way you whimpered and begged for him to slow down when he was barely pulling out, and just humping into your wet pussy. he let it all fall out into your mattress.

he had smell, he had sound, he had touch; he even had taste with the blanket against his tongue. he was drowning in you, and you weren’t even there. he wished it was you. this wasn’t enough.

his cock throbbed hard against the surface of the bed. it made him moan, the real him, and it came out a deep rumble. he hesitated for a moment, before beginning to drag his cock up and down the sheets.

the lack of grace was almost painful. he didn’t have enough time to coordinate. it was one thing when you were there- he had to be coordinated then. he had a job to do. fucking you was practically his 9 to 5. this was just a side job, something under the table. it didn’t matter if he did it well, it was just to relieve this fucking heat burning in his head.

his hips were slow at first. it was a shaky, harsh drag of his cock, and a push of his hips up into the hand around his head. he dug his feet into the bed to get leverage, and pushed his torso up just a bit so his dick wasn’t suffocating against his own stomach. it was wet, already leaking precum in a puddle onto the bed. it became faster as he went. he allowed himself to let go, to forget the little inhibitions he had left, and just rut.

he felt a little pathetic. for a moment, he thought of putting everything away, and going about his business of waiting for you again like nothing had happened.

the second he thought of you, and the way you’d hold his face and coo at him, and tell him in the sweetest tones to keep humping the bed like a good boy, the idea went out the window. he wouldn’t fail you, not even the you in his mind.

with new determination, he went flush against your sheets, and began humping hard. he squealed into the blankets, his free hand bunching up a bit of the fabric so he could press it harder into his face. he felt like a pervert. he was a pervert. but it felt too good for him to take it negatively. he knew if you were there, watching him writhe and thrust like a whore, you wouldn’t care. maybe you’d even praise him for putting on a good show.

the lace scratched at his shaft in a satisfying way. every push and pull of his hips made it rub harder against him, and the only safe-haven from that feeling was the inside of his hand, where his head dragged against his palm and drooled onto his fingers. his back arched, his muscles tense and flexing every time he thrust into the thought of you. in his mind, you were there too, and he wasn’t the one getting teased.

“f-fuck me, billy,” he whimpered out, trying his best to match your own voice. it worked well (for him, at least), feeling right on his tongue, so he continued. “f-fill me with your h-hard cock, billy…! touch- touch me! fuck me! s-slutty billy, just a toy, my toy. [y/n]’s toy.” he purred out the last words, the sound devolving into a long, feminine moan.

he was fucking into nothing. your panties were smothering his balls, and bunching up in his ass, and every single thrust made them pull taut against crotch. he was drooling all over your comforter. his eyes were squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to build a you, a dream you, that maybe would appear in front of him and let him fuck it.

“i-i’m close… you’re such a g-good boy… b-billy’s a good boy… i-i wanna cum, i wanna cum inside of you…! cum inside of me, billy, fill me up. be a good- be a good boy,” he babbled, his hips already beginning to grow sporadic. this was pathetic. he was coming in under ten minutes all from his own sick mimicry of you. he wondered if you’d think less of him if you knew how unhinged he could be when he was all alone.

it didn’t stop him. none of the negative outweighed the positive in his mind. no, if anything this was an homage to you. it was like performing a play in honour of a queen. it was done with respect, with reverence- you were his best muse. you inspired him every day to be the dirtiest man he could be.

he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d say when you saw him. he wondered if you’d make him clean up his mess with his tongue, or if you’d do it yourself. he quite liked the second idea. the idea of you walking in on him, the cum on his stomach still hot to the touch, and saying nothing, instead licking up the mess off of his skin. you always gave him a look when you cleaned him like that. it was hunger; it was a fire behind your eyes that could cook him alive if he looked long enough. it was searing, it was blinding, it was-

it was too much. billy came hard, his body wracked with an orgasm. it didn’t drag out or linger as it usually did. it was like getting shot in the back of the head for him. it was quick, knocking all air out of his lungs and making him go lifeless against the bed. he could feel his seed spurting out against his hand and stomach, and gluing the sheets of your bed to his body. for a moment, while the after shocks still ran through his nerves, he was sliding his cock in and out of the mess he had made. it got onto your panties too. your lace was quickly muddled with cum, and clung to his skin. he felt sticky and spent.

he came to his senses slowly. he unlocked his jaw, pushing himself up with an arm and surveying his mess. his drooling had created a large dark circle just under your pillows, and the load he had released onto the sheets was already growing cool in the fall air.

he wiped his chin, his other hand swiping his semen onto the bed in a dismissive way. his head was still dazed, but he was trying his best to focus. you’d be home in a bit, and he didn’t know if you’d be so happy to see the scene he had left for you. it was one thing for him to dirty himself, but you already had enough on your plate.

he swallowed hard, his throat dry. he knew what he had to do. first, get water, you always said it was important to hydrate after play.

second, learn to use a washing machine.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.12 Mukami Ruki Animate Tokuten CD

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol. 12 無神ルキ アニメイト 各巻購入特典ドラ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 12 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Takahiro Sakurai

Translator’s note: What better date spot for Ruki than a book cafe? This man really has an obsession with literature after all. I’m not much of a reader myself, but Ruki’s natural charms could probably win me over to start reading more lol. I do wish the CD elaborated more on the picture book which the MC gave him though. It was really cute how she sees him in such a different light than he sees himself and it got me intrigued about the actual plot of the story. Unfortunately, it got completely forgotten afterwards as the focus shifted to the book Ruki picked out for her instead. 

The two of you are at a cafe. 

*Thud*

“I was somewhat worried that there might not be any open seats given the small size of the cafe, but we got lucky.”

You note that it is a very nice cafe.

“Yes. It’s a lovely store, isn’t it? I have always wanted to take you here. The library section over there is part of the interior, allowing you to enjoy a good book while also having a cup of coffie or tea.”

You tell him these kind of stores are rising in popularity. 

“Is that so? I had no idea these kind of book cafes were popular nowadays.”

A waiter approaches them.

*Thud*

“Ah, we’d like to order. For me...Hm. A decanter of mandheling coffee, please. What about you?”

You frown.

“Having a hard time deciding?”

You nod.

“Simply pick whatever you enjoy. ...However, I do not dislike how you are asking for my advice. Let me think. ...How about this red smoothie for you? I believe the berry base will make for a light drink. Besides, red is truly your color.”

You ask him what he means by that.

“Heh. No hidden meaning. If you have no issues with it, I’ll place our order. ...Okay. I would like one of these for her.”

The waiter leaves.

“Well then, why don’t we go pick out some books next?”

The two of you get up.

*Rustle*

“Hm? What’s the matter?”

You explain.

“Once again, you have come up with quite the strange suggestion. You want to pick out books for each other...In other words, you will choose a book which you want me to read?”

You nod.

“I do not mind, however, where is this suddenly coming from?”

You start blushing.

“Huh? Why get embarrassed about it now? Ahー I get it. To pick out a book for someone, you need to have a solid grasp of their interests and thoughts. One has to really think it through, trying to imagine what the other person would enjoy. I assume you want to enjoy seeing me go to such extends for you?”

You shake your head.

“I am not too far off, am I? You want me to pay mind to you, don’t you? Not a bad suggestion. In return, you should wreck your head picking out a book for me as well. I am sure you are aware what will happen...if you choose a book which is not to my liking?”

You flinch.

“Hah...Well, good luck looking for a book which fancies my tastes.”

*TIMESKIP*

You return.

“Heh. You sure took your sweet time. Our drinks have long arrived to the table.”

*Rustle*

“Oh? You went for a rather hefty-looking piece of literature. Is it a picture book?”

You nod and explain.

“I see. When you say it is a book you read as a child, it does pique my interest. However...I did not expect you to match me with a picture book.”

You start to panic.

“Don’t worry, I know. You went to the section with academic studies first, didn’t you? I saw you pick out one book after the other, dropping your shoulders in defeat. I assume you tried to go for something a little more sophisticated to fit my interests, but you failed to grasp the contents of them yourself, hence why you chose a different approach.”

You ask him if he was watching.

“Yes, I was watching? ...Is there a problem with that? ...Heh. Your face is bright red. It’s not like I’m not aware of your ignorance on the topic. Besides, I think it was a wise decision of you to go for something a little more in your comfort zone, rather than to force yourself to pick a difficult piece of literature. 

...So, what is so fascinating about this picture book?”

*Flip* 

“It is very colorful, that is for sure. So much so, I’d call it somewhat of a misfit for me.”

You frown.

“Eh...? ...! It fits me? I have a hard time seeing that. Personally, I would argue that black, white and other monotones fit me much better. I am that kind of man after all.”

You disagree. 

“You think so? That’s unexpected. Do I really give off such a vibrant image to you? ...I wonder if I have begun to change from spending time with you? I shall gladly read this picture book.”

You nod.

“Why do you seem so happy? ...Once a strange girl, always a strange girl, I suppose. ...Oh, right. I have yet to give you your book. For you, I have picked out Plato’s ‘The Apology of Socrates’.” 

You seem intimidated by the book.

“Your expression visibly changed. No need to be so nervous. It is actually much easier of a book than you might assume. I believe that by comparing the trial and the way the characters’ express their beliefs at court as described in the book with your own personal situation will make for an interesting interpretation of this Classic. ーー After all, you were thrown in the Vampire’s den, your life now in their hands. It might actually help teach you a thing or two.”

You get upset.

“I am only joking. Don’t take my words so seriously. I simply hope that this could serve as a leaway to introduce you to the world of philosophy. Go ahead and take a peek instead.”

*Flip*

“What do you think? ーー Although I suppose that is an unnecessary question. You are frowning. To think you would struggle from the second you turned the first page. ...Oh well, I suppose it cannot be helped.”

Ruki gets up.

“Allow me to take a seat next to you.”

*Thud*

“What’s making it so difficult for you? I’ll explain to you as you read.”

You seem flustered by the closeness.

“What’s the matter? The book is slipping from your hands. I’ll suppor your hands, so keep a tight grip, okay?”

*Rustle*

“...Hm? Is it just me, or is your face even redder than before? Don’t tell me...You’re not nervous simply because our hands are touching, are you?”

You explain.

Ahー I see. I’m sitting too close to you, correct? You do have a point. However, the book is too difficult for you to understand on your own, right? In which case, we will have to stay like this until we’ve gone through the entire thing.”

You ask for his help.

“Heh. ...Such a charming reaction. I’ll show some mercy and leave the teasing at this for today.”

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh? You’ve only realized just now. Of course I did it on purpose. If I selected a difficult book, you would definitely seek out help from me. I could imagine your innocent reaction if I were to sit down next to you and read along from the same book...The end result was very much worth it.”

 You pout.

“No need to sulk. This is just my way of showing that I was thinking of you when I picked the book. When thinking of you and the feelings you trigger within myself, I felt a strong desire to simply spend time by your side.”

*Rustle*

“I want to feel your touch, even by something as simple as holding your hands like this. To feel your warmth. ...I simply could not stop those feelings from welling up inside of me. I suppose I truly have changed quite a bit ever since meeting you.”

You look up at him. 

“Hm? What’s the matter? If you want to say something, go ahead.”

You admit to feeling the same way.

“You feel the same way? How so?”

You explain.

“Heh. ...I see. In that case, let us stay like this for a bit. We can read a book just fine even while holding hands like this. Spending our afternoon drowning in a sea of words together does not sound half way.”

*Smooch*

ーー THE END ーー

[demosuo]

The Snow Melted (Giyuu Tomioka x Reader)

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

tw: physical abuse, alcoholic parent.

Kind of slow burn bc idk how to pace in stories, childhood friends to lovers in a way. I’m doing character building in this chapter, you’ll meet the man in the next chapter, promise. 

You walked through the village, periodically adjusting the basket of charcoal on your back as you greeted everyone. You were trying to sell as much as you could, hoping that you would be able to save up enough money for you and your family to have an extravagant dinner, where everyone can eat as much as they wanted.

“Oh, (Y/N)!”

“(Y/N), (Y/N)!”

“Tanjiro! I didn’t think you’d show up today! I see you’ve bought some company!” You waved him over, jogging over to meet him up in the middle. You gave the short boy a quick hug, squeezing him tightly before doing the same to his younger siblings. You and Tanjiro would bump into each other often during your runs through the village, it was only a matter of time before the two of you became close. There were occasions when he would invite you over for dinner and vice versa. Although, both would rather just go to his instead. Not only was it closer, but a safer option.

“They snuck onto the cart...” He pouted.  “By the time I realised that they were on, it would’ve been too late to turn back.” He sighed. Not in the slightest was he annoyed, more just worried that he had to keep an eye on them while trying to sell. He watched them hop off the cart to run around before turning to face you. “How much have you sold already? Would you like to walk around together?”

“I haven’t sold that much yet but I’d be more than happy to do it together.” You ruffled his hair before dragging him along. He would talk about what had been happening with his family, all the silly little things his siblings would do, and how his mother's new recipe tasted amazing. Never once has there been a dull day with him, he was like a little brother to you.

“Hanako! Shigeru! Please don’t run off too far!”

“You’re such a good brother to them, Tanjiro. I’m glad they have you.” He looked up at you, ready to throw his modesty at you before he saw the soft look in your eyes. “I wish I had an older sibling like you, it’s too bad that I’m an only child.” He suddenly let go of the handles of the cart and grabbed your hand.

“If it makes you feel any better, everyone in my family thinks of you as their older sister! Especially Takeo, but he’s too embarrassed to admit it. Mother really likes you too!” Shock flew onto your face. Man he could be so obliviously bold sometimes.

“Tanjiro-”

“Oi! You two! You guys are being very cute and all but can you help me with something? I also need a restock on some charcoal!” Their heads snapped towards the voice.

The two of them immediately jumped to help the old man waving them over. The day continued on as per usual; the two of you walked around chatting and selling as much charcoal as you can, helping with day-to-day problems the civilians had, and fixing small items.

“See you later, Tanjiro! The two of you better behave, Hanako! Shigeru!” You gave one last tight hug to the boy and his siblings before departing in the direction of your home.

Home was supposed to be a place of safety and comfort, a place full of memories attached to every room and every item. So why was it that you felt so much dread and fear every time you had to leave the village? Or why even the thought of having to walk through the front door had your breathing hitched? Would you even consider it your home or a place you live in?

You rushed through all the snow, legs burning as you kept running. You had to get home before sun fall, you couldn’t let your mother and father be mad at you. You quickly dropped off your basket the second you reached the grounds of your home before running to the door. Noticing how dark it has gotten, your hand froze near the handle. Your heart racing with anxiety, the uncomfortable sensation crawling from your stomach up to your chest, your hands shook and you knew well enough it wasn’t from the cold.

Each inhale got released quicker than the last, you had to enter through this door, what was so hard about opening a door? You took a deep breath in and shut your eyes, sliding the door hard enough for it to slam at the stopper, bracing yourself for what could come.

“(Y/N), come here.”

“Yes, father.” You shut the door as you entered the building. You kept your eyes trained to the ground, not daring to look up at the man. You knelt down before him, closing your eyes shut once more. Your body tensed, your hands gripping on to your robe, ready to shoot up to protect yourself.

“Could you please explain to me why a broken bottle of sake was spotted near the trash?” There was that feeling again. You felt the walls closing in on you, you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Oxygen wasn’t reaching your lungs properly, it felt uncomfortable with every breath you took in and let out. A wave of heat splashed on your body, your hands were starting to get clammy.

“F… Father, it was an accident, I promise! I didn’t mean to break the bottle or to hide it from you-”

“You piece of shit!” A loud slap echoed in the room. “You can’t do one single thing right! You should’ve never been born in the first place, I should’ve left you to die!” 

You bought up your arms to block your head, hoping that the impact wouldn’t be as harsh. One after another, his hands started to curl into fists. His knuckles buried themselves into your skin every time they make contact. Why couldn’t you fight back anymore? You used to be able to fight back so well, why couldn’t you bring yourself to yell back at him, try and physically fight him back? What changed?

“I’m sorry! Stop, please, I’ll do better! You’re hurting me too much!”

“Honey, that’s enough!” Your mother grabbed onto his arm, only to be flung into the closest wall. He stared down at the woman, the cries that tried to be silent never reaching his ears. “Did you seriously just do that?!” The older woman yelled. He turned his full body at her, arguing back with her.

The screaming and yelling.

The burning, throbbing pain all over your head and arms.

The strangling in your throat as you tried to hold back a sob.

It was too much.

All the tension in your body finally snapped. You turned towards the door and pushed your body to move. Stumbling towards your only exit, you slammed the door open.

“Get back here! I’m not fucking done with you!”

Don’t stop, keep going. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

You heard a pair of footsteps behind you, fearing that it may be your father, you didn’t dare to look back in case it was. You dodged through the trees, trying to keep your stride short enough to run effectively in the snow. The only thing you didn’t account for, was the narrowing of the path. You were running alongside a cliff, a once easy walk through was now a death trap as the ground beneath the snow started to ice over.

“Wait!”

That voice didn’t belong to your father. It was laced with hope and desperation. The second you looked back, you saw a taller figure with a red and white kitsune mask on. Just as you tried to slow down, your foot slammed into a root hidden beneath the white blanket. Your eyes widen as your body falls forward and over the edge of the cliff. A hand grabbed onto your haori, tugging you into an embrace before the impact of the ground hit. The hold was protective, it was warm.

“Hey, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can.” The man felt your hand curl around his, nothing close to a squeeze but it was a sign to him that you were still alive.

“I’m going to take you back to my place, you deserve better than a house full of those wretched demons.” He stared down at you, feeling your hand go limp. You were now unconscious; all the adrenaline finally knocking you out. The man carefully picked you up, gently placing you over his shoulders as he trudged through the thick snow. “Speaking of…”

He placed a firm grip on your back as he raised his katana at the glowing eyes that stared him down. It was going to take a lot longer to reach home than he would have liked but as long as you were safe, he could let it slide for now.

--

Your eyes shot open as your body threw itself forward. You were going to have a look at your surroundings before your vision darkened. Everything started to blur, your head feeling light, it was only seconds before you slammed your head back down on the pillow.

“Hey, be careful now.” A hand caught your head, easing it down on the soft pillow. “Your body is still recovering.”

“Who are you?” You croaked out, turning your head to look at the voice. The same red and white kitsune mask you saw from last night, sitting on the side of the man's head.

“My name is Fuyuhito Touwa. We met when you were younger.” He placed a warm cup of tea beside you. “Please, take your time. You are safe here under my protection.”

“Oh… I remember… You and father wanted to train me to be the next snow hashira?” You slowly flipped onto your side and propped yourself up on one arm. “What happened to that?” You grabbed the handle of the cup, bringing it up to your lips to take a sip.

“Your father and I got into a rather big argument about you becoming one. I can understand where he was coming from to an extent, but I did not support his way of training you.” His focus was on you, gauging your reaction with every word that fell out of his mouth. “He would use his hand against you a lot. It is absolutely no way anyone should be treating their own kid. If you want to stop talking about this, please let me know.”

“I will.” You softly spoke back. Memories flashing in your head from what he reminded you of. You placed down the cup, not realising how quickly you skulled the drink. “I will be honest, I did forget about it. It’s one of those memories I’ve suppressed.”

“Understandably so. Would you like a refill?”

“Yes please.” Everything about him felt comfortable. It was the opposite feeling to your father. Instead of dread and fear, it felt safe, peaceful even. “What made you come back? I wasn’t expecting you to be the one chasing me.” You tried to joke around, not liking the depressive atmosphere.

“I must’ve frightened you quite a bit, I apologise for that. I wasn’t expecting to be chasing you.” He chuckled, going along with your attempt to lighten the mood. “I felt… Something off. I regret leaving you behind with that man and his wife, so I came back to try and ask if he would let me resume training you as an excuse to get you away.” Your gaze softens at the man, heart warming with familial love.  

“You came back for me.”

“Of course, I did.” He placed his hand on your head, ruffling up your already messy hair. “On a more serious note, would you like to continue your training?”

“Yes,” Without missing a heartbeat, you responded with no hesitation. “I want to be able to fight back and not only protect myself, but the people I care about.”

“There’s that fighting spirit again. Rest up for now, we will begin the day after tomorrow. We shall talk more in the morning.” He blew out the candles that lit up your room. Before leaving your  new room, he glanced back one more time, a small but noticeable smile creeping his lips.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

--

please leave a comment or reblog it if you want! I'd love to hear everyone's feedback on this series!

[soleminisanction]

Just saw an impossibly bad take, so to balance that out: in the past you mentioned a story where Tim comes out as a trans woman, what would that look like for you? Do you have any thoughts on making that into a fic?

I've had a lot of scattered thoughts about it but never been able to pin down any scenes concrete enough to turn them into an actual fic. But I love trans!Tim stories whether he's trans fem or trans masc so I've tossed the idea around here and there. Gonna be a little fluid with the pronouns here as Tim's thought process evolves but the basic idea here was:

The seed of the idea would get planted in Tim's mind just before War Games, specifically the one and only time he sees a picture of Steph as Robin. Along with the hurt and anger he expected, there's emotions he doesn't understand, a feeling of longing, jealousy, and desire; not for Steph herself, but for the way she looks in her new costume. For months he's been asking himself, "What do I want, for me?" and now the answer is staring him in the face: This.

But he keeps pushing it aside because there's always something "more important" going on. Worse, as things start to fall apart around him and he loses first Steph, then his dad, and then Kon, the musings about his gender keep getting mixed up in his feelings for other people, especially Kon.

Basically, take all the angst and pain of that era and make it even worse with disphoria and Tim being deep in both denial and the closet and feeling completely unable to open up to anyone about it because of how much it scares him to want something, something she feels like she can't have. Things like him not knowing if he's attracted to Cassie or if he wants to be Cassie, wishes his body looked and moved like that while still having so much strength and power. Fantasizing about how things might've been different between him and Kon, or him and Dick, or him and Damian, if only he'd been born a girl. Falling asleep in the cloning lab and having a nightmare about miscarrying Kon's child, then waking up to find the most recent clone has failed.

Through all that, the only person who has even a hint of what's going on is Cass. She reads it in Tim's body language while they're in Bludhaven together, but understands his fears and lets him keep his confidence. Even after things go to shit for her, she keeps that secret; even brainwashing couldn't get it out of her.

Then Final Crisis happens. Bruce "dies," Dick becomes Batman, Damian becomes Robin. Tim finds himself adrift, with nothing but this crazy-sounding notion of Bruce's survival to his name, and runs away from the Manor...

And this is part of where I stumble because I don't know if it'd be better for Tim to run into Cass at this point or for her to leave him her Batgirl costume and a letter. One way or another, Cass leaves Tim Batgirl, and that's the push she finally needs to crack her egg and start pursing a transition, socially and medically.

She avoids Babs for a few weeks out of shyness and embarrassment until Oracle manages to track this mysterious new Batgirl down, but once confronted she comes clean and Babs is instantly onboard to support her and also keep Dick and Damian out of the loop.

Dick thinks his little brother skipped town and is both confused and a little hurt that Babs won't trust him with the new Batgirl's identity. Damian takes it as a personal insult and starts going out of his way to find and harass said new Batgirl but then she kicks his ass and it turns out Damian shares Bruce's taste in women so now whoops he's got a puppy crush, which everyone who knows the truth about Tim finds hilarious.

Cass one way or another winds up being the one who goes on Brucequest instead of Tim and follows similar beats as Red Robin, minus Tam Fox or losing her spleen. Speaking of Tam, she has a much easier time finding Tim because while her dad does call her home from Russia to help with the investigation at least she doesn't have to globe-trot or get kidnapped by ninjas, she just has to hunt him down in Gotham, possibly while accidentally allied with Vicki Vale.

Tim enrolls in college under Caroline Hill's name and mostly attends to practice passing in public and live out some normal girl fantasies. Kon, Cassie, and Bart all learn what's up even though she's still taking a break from the Titans and of course they're on board and supportive.

And... yeah, that's pretty much the extent of my ideas so far. Broad scope but not a lot concrete to latch onto, which makes it difficult to convert into a fic, but I do love the concept.

[mslanna]

Disclosed Desires

Chapter 4 of A Mortifying Ordeal now up on AO3

95% smut. You can skip when he vanishes his clothes.

I have no idea how I got through that dinner. The food was delicious, like utterly out of my budget and Raphael just sat there like a statue of Adonis only looking better and alive. Has the world ever seen eyes so brown? Probably not because it didn't implode and gods know I was so close.

Also, that voice. Once he realised The Purr had me in a stranglehold, he defaulted to it. Kept quizzing me about Baldur's Gate 3, too. Embarrassing and the one thing that saved the chair I sat on. I'm bad at meta, won't lie, so trying to explain things to him was pretty excruciating.

He kept insisting on me having a favourite way to play dialogues and such being a sign of me remembering and trying to be who I was before. Looking at that sopping soft guy who hid a complete devil under that face, was close to making me believe. No other reason anybody's pursue me with such fervour. But then I also have a favourite way to play Dragon Age 2 and I'm certainly no Hawke.

The thought of Varric turning up and trying to convince me to return to Kirkwall stuck around for almost half a minute. Mind you, he wouldn't have such convincing arguments for making me want to be Hawke and return.

Raphael, though? He's truly impossible, not gonna lie. I have to admire his staunch belief that I am in fact his Tav!Tav. Almost enough to make me doubt myself.

And gods do I wanna be them. He woos with the fierceness of a thousand suns, looking about as hot. Doesn't help if he's in his human form, guy is on fire! And not backing off. I am be as red as his devil skin when we arrive back at my room. Godsdamned, it is shabby. I am shabby. And he doesn't even care.

Also, he's utterly gorgeous. Tall. I have A Thing for tall guys, might be a reason none of my guys was under 2 meters. And in devil form Raphael is even taller. And so big. Need I say I wanna be all over him? Probably not, I am thirsty. I am horny and I want to cry so bad.

Poor sod deserves better. Deserves his actual real Tav. I know they'd love him so good. Kiss every inch of that man. Empty him like the last capri sun on the planet. Damn, they lucky. And I just have a finger under my chin and stare up into those damning eyes. Needs a licence for those, he does.

"Having second thoughts?"

Gah, I hate the soft insecurity in his voice. "Not about the – the thing itself no." Honesty, I whack myself internally. Honesty served me well so far. Gotta keep it up. "I wanna bang you so bad. 'til we both see stars and worse."

"But?"

"I know you think I'm your Tav. And man do I wish I was." I take his hand that holds my chin between mine. "But I'm not and you – you deserve better," I sigh. Can't hold his gaze either.

Waiting for him to react is the worst. My flight or flight instinct kicks in hard and my heart at least listens and pumps like mad. Thanks body.

Raphael is silent way too long. Probably having second thoughts himself and third thoughts and fourth thoughts, too. He's a crafty one. What am I even thinking? He got better things to do with his life than me. Which is why I can't let the Tav angle go. It's my one and only chance to get my hands on him. I am corrupt down to the bone. Or at least down to the cunt.

Doesn't help I had a taste already after amarettini and espresso. How he tastes so good, flavoured with almond and coffee. It's a small miracle we ended up in my room again and not in jail for public fornication. Coulda climbed him like a tree there and then.

"I appreciate your concern," he finally says. "It is very – consistent for you to put me and my feelings before yourself despite your obvious state. Please know that I acknowledge your worry, though I do not share it. Of course it is up to you, if you want to proceed. I will accept your withdrawal, much as it pains me. But you don't have to do anything more than let your gut guide you. Trust me."

How did he make so many words for before getting to the point. I get lost in his voice immediately and barely surface for the final 'trust me'.

"I do." Gods it is the most stupid thing ever. But I trust him. And I want to believe him, not only because his voice is utterly gorgeous but also because he says things I am desperate to hear. I want to believe so bad.

"Then, with that out of the way, you should ignore your misgivings for now. "

Wish it was that easy. Like, in theory it is, people making their own decisions, being their own people and you having to accept that. But it is hard to watch somebody you love, of fuck, I'm up in delulu-land further than the maps chart it. Still, it is hard to watch him throw himself uselessly at the nearest lump that looks like his Tav.

He must read my hesitation all wrong (unsurprising) because he takes my hand and brings it up to his lips. Damn demon devil. The way his index finger pokes into my palm is outrageously suggestive for it being mere hands. Good lord, sir what those fingers do?

"Maybe it will help bringing your memories back." He straightens with that predatory smile and my inhibitions don't even pretend to put up a fight.

"You fucked?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"You know that Tav fucking Haarlep and you fucking Haarlep in Tav's form isn't really you two fucking, yes?"

"Well," he grins like a wolf, "maybe it is time then to do the real thing."

In a swoosh of hellfire. Raphael transforms and also, sheds all of his clothes. I freeze except for my mouth that manages to go completely dry and water at the same time. Raphael's smile turns sharps as a knife as he points downwards. "Kneel."

Oh. Oh, hot damn, I will. I so will. But first – I cannot not touch him. His chest is broad and inviting and the skin is hot and all those ridges swirling everywhere. Gods strike me down if he didn't shudder when I placed my hand on him. He's burning under my fingers that move down his sides, up his arms and head. I can't reach very high on the horns but it doesn't matter. They feel alive under my palms, rugged.

The smile spreading on my face threatens to split it in half. Raphael is a sight. A whole banquet. More than I can hope to ever eat and most likely more than my mouth can hold. My hands round back over his shoulders, feathering over the collarbones. So many delicious ridges. I wanna bite them all. Nibble and munch until my jaw tires.

"Something you like?" His tone is only half mocking. "I am not used to having my orders disobeyed."

My eyes hitch on his mouth, that moves temptingly as he speaks. "Kiss me." I don't think. And when his hands alight on my sides, I jump at him, wrap myself around him any way possible and strain towards his lips.

Raphael laughs, low, and I feel it hum through my body. He takes it slow, lips tantalisingly out of reach until they meet mine ever so softly. I moan. He tastes so good. And as soon as his tongue demands tribute, I open up and swallow it whole.

Bad in bed whatever. He can kiss. If I didn't cling to him like a desperate koala, I would have melted into a puddle on the floor. As things are. My with feet hooked at the small of his back my legs can go as wobbly as they want. I am secure against him, ruining my pants and trousers too. Totes worth it.

He pries me off way too soon. The coronas in his black hole eyes burst with fire. "On your knees," he repeats and the low rumble is in itself enough to send me to the floor.

Not quickly, mind you. Can't pass on the chance to kiss all them ridges. And that is obviously allowed. My hand vanguards between his legs and damn. He's big. He's full of bumps and ridges I can't wait to pommel my insides with. But first – the chest. Only a little hair remains, but I'll take it.

As long as my head is on a slow descent, I can nibble on the red skin wherever. Don't care if my moans are louder than his. I'm in heaven. His problem now. Then I reach the happy trail and boy does it make me happy. I want to slurp it up, swoosh down and suck up the whole devil cock first.

Taking time is so hard, but then, so is he. Oh how delicious to arrive at a full on erection. My fingers mover over the pronounced ridges, feeling for future pleasure as I lean in. He's got a little crown of bumps just under the tip that looks absolutely delish.

A hand slips under my chin and raises my head. "Look at me."

Oh hot damn, if that's how he wants to play it. I lock my eyes to his and slip my lips over the very tip of his cock ever so slowly. He's so very still I can feel the tremble of his muscles tense to keep in place. I press the tip of my tongue against his tip, move it slowly, keep his eyes caught. This is a battle of wills he won't win.

Listen, I may be a little out of practice but I know my stuff. And he's signalling like nobody's business. Gods, he tastes so good, little burning flecks of precum on my tongue and the way he shivers when my tongue laps it up.

My head moves on without breaking eye contact. His cock slips in easy and deep and my tongue can't get on to those ridges fast enough. I'm sucking him like a lollipop. Every inch is to be explored, tasted, caressed. Rumbling sounds fall over me from above and only entice me to go down deeper. I want all of him inside of me and if this is how it happens, I will swallow.

His hands tangle in my hair. Gotta hand it to a guy who can find purchase in a pix cut. Not that it'll help him any. I help myself liberally to all of his cock abolishing my gagging reflex on the spot. Ain't nobody got no time for that.

I suck him in as deep as I can and then some because I am greedy. I want all of him and that's what I'll have and if it kills me. I don't care. I suck him in hard, deep and hungry. My teeth hitch on the ridges. My hands tighten on his balls and I wanna wring him dry, crush him like a lemon in the squeezer. Mine now. All mine.

Raphael's hands close on over my scalp. I am rabid. Clawed fingers press in tightly. I feel the nails pierce my skin as I go all in. The pain is familiar and exquisite. Unlike the fire erupting into my mouth, running down my throat like whiskey and chili.

I gulp it down as if I hadn't just feasted on the finest Mediterranean food. Gotta keep going. The cock is easier to take now that it softens and damned if I won't gurgle it down to the hilt. I'm almost offended when he pulls me up and definitely too short when he bends to kiss me.

Doesn't deter Raphael the least. He's big (oh yeah) and strong and just stands me on the bed so we can smooch good. He's sucking his taste from my mouth as if I stole it. Well, I'll gladly give him all I got. Also, I'm having an advantage because my hands run over hot skin (oh those swirling ridges!) and I'm still dressed.

His fingers bunch the fabric of my shirt and his tail wraps around my right ankle. Oh that's driving me wild. I'd be moaning all over the place if my mouth wasn't busy exploring every inch of devil it can reach. Little tugs of the tail in reaction to what goes on further up. Enough to turn my knees into pudding.

Raphael pushes me back a little, running a hand down the button tab. A knowing smirk plays over his lips. I wanna kiss that away. I wanna drink it up until it fills my whole existence. And he knows. Raphael tilts his head a little. "Open up."

Oh there is good reason that line isn't in the game spoken by him. I'd open up my legs wide no questions asked. Unfortunately, he's still looking at my shirt. Reluctantly I take my hands back to myself. If that's what he wants, he can have it. Gods, this guy can have everything. (Doesn't he know it.)

I hold his gaze and open the first button. Very slowly. I can see the fire flare up in his eyes. I can also feel his adventurous little tail move up my leg. The next button and another upwards slide wraps the tail around my knee. Raphael's grin a threat and a treat. Sweet hells. I can't even slow down any further because I started at least possible speed.

My fingers play with the next button and the tip of his tail dances against the inside of my thigh. Swallowing hard, I open the button and let the caress of skin snaking around my thigh wash over me. Two buttons left to go.

The second to last button brings him up against my cunt. The tail has no problems slipping between my folds; I'm wet as a waterfall.

I open the last button and nothing happens. I cock my head in a question and Raphael motions to brush the shirt of my shoulders. With a dry mouth I do and as soon as the fabric crests my shoulders, he moves in. His tail is hot, smooth and prehensile. I drop the worst moan ever as my knees give in, shirt hanging forgotten at half-mast.

Raphael catches me. Shirt forgotten he buries his face against mine again, tongue digging deep as his tail. My hands are on his chest again, gripping and grappling. Raphael pulls me close. His left bunches my shirt behind my back, trapping my hands as he bears down for another kiss. I'm flush against him, and my mans is working up an erection again already.

My cunt rises like a neon invitation. I arch perfectly against his chest, diabolical alchemy, I'm sure. Can't think further with my cunt full of tail and moth full of tongue – both slithering and slipping and demanding.

Clawed hands move down my sides, leaving red trails of fire. His fingers close in on my pussy and while I am all for that, he is in his cambion form. Pain is fine in moderation but there is some things I am not ready for yet.

"Before you can even think of putting any of those in down there, we gotta file of the claws," I gasp. In retaliation, I get his index finger into my mouth I suck down hard and accept the middle finger that follows.

His left still presses me against him, tail working up my cunt and fingers down my throat I hang on by that thread. I'm overflowing. I still need more. And he's generous. Boy is he giving. I may not be stuffed, but I am not empty either. My walls clench taking what they can and my mouth is muffled by fingers and want as he bends me backwards.

I fall freely and unworried. Hit the mattress soft enough. Barely registers through my horny haze as I rut at him like the last freak alive. He tastes so good. I wanna suck his mouth dry as well. Doing my best. Getting paid in hungry growls. Oh we feasting tonight.

Then he goes down. Not even slow. Skips all the in-between steps (it's fine, nothing to see there) to breathe hot air over my clit. And before I finished gasping out a hopeful moan, his tongue descended and I am deceased.

Doesn't matter if he'll come two thrusts in. I'm fucked already, writhing like a snake on silk sheets, getting nowhere but deeper into desire. Devil down there hums, send that reverberation into my bones through my sogging wet pussy. I'm so far gone, I can't even wish for him to finish me off.

Raphael's mouth works my clit as if I won't ever need it again, hungry tongue making short work of my arousal. I clench around the tip of his tail, riding on waves of ecstasy. Best night of my life.

[bibeebuneee]

☆》 it was the best of times, the worst of crimes

angst ☆ songfic ? ☆ reunion ☆ smoker kei ☆ cheating ☆ alternate ending

inspo : getaway car <> taylor swift (I love her sm guys wtf)

part i , part ii

ㅤNo, nothing good starts in a getaway car.

ㅤDull beats of music bangs in your head, your heartbeat seems to copy the fast pace of the beat, breathing even faster. You didn’t expect to see him, Tsukishima Kei, in a random college house party your boyfriend had invited you to. Your boyfriend knew you weren’t too social, you didn’t have much friends, so he thought it would be a good idea to invite you, he was such a good man, he cared about you and he took care of you, he encouraged you to make more friends, he helped you with anything you asked. He was such a good man, a better man, than the one standing in front of you right now.

ㅤHis tall frame even taller, he’s still active in volleyball, after all. He looked so much more mature. And oh wow, he still smokes. “Can I help you?” he scoffed, somewhat annoyed. Oh, he doesn’t remember you? maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe he doesn’t remember you at all, or maybe it’s the wrong person. You’ll assume the latter, seems like the safest option. Acting drunk even though you’re stone cold sober. Going back to what you were here for, you didn’t want somebody to like you because of your actions while you were drunk, you wanted them to like you for you. And you’ve found a person that does love you for you, two, actually, hell, you’re dating one right now, but for some reason it doesn’t feel right.

ㅤ“Nothing. You just look familiar” you sigh, turning your head to the ground from the patio you are standing on. You leaned your body to the fence of that patio, letting your elbows support your weight. “Really? How so?” he copies your movements, leaning to the fence next to you, smoke exiting his lips just like how Tsukishima used to in the back of your high school, somewhere you can be together (and your other friends) and nobody else can see you.

ㅤ“Well, there was a guy I liked in high school. He was pretty mean, kind of a bully” you chuckle, recalling all the times you were with him clearly. “He never paid any attention to me, I thought he hated me, but one night, he kissed me. It was… wonderful… I still think about that kiss, I still think about him. I miss him. I have a boyfriend though, so I doubt I could ever be with him again” a wave of overwhelming sadness sucked you in. You miss him so much. You miss how he looked at you that night. How his lips tasted like strawberries and how his breath smelled like smoke and how loved every single second of it.

ㅤ“Are you drunk?” he chortles. His teasing goes unanswered. You are so into your thoughts about him and how you wished you could’ve said or done something sooner. Coughing to hide his embarrassment, he speaks up again, “Alright, when did you kiss him?” he rests his chin on his palm as he looks at you as if he knew something you don’t. “Night after graduation?” “Night after graduation” you both say in unison, his more of a question. You twist your head towards him. Your eyes widen in shock. Something pierced through your heart, you felt so happy and relieved. But you can’t do anything, now. You have somebody else that loves you, and you like enough to be with.

ㅤ“Kei…?” you whisper in disbelief. “What’s up?” he laughs. That handsome laugh you haven’t heard. Finally, after 3 years you hear it again, and his smile. Oh my god his smile. You need to kiss him again. “I miss you too, too bad I’m also dating somebody else” he inhales his cigarette bud, his smile wiped off.

ㅤ“Well, you don’t seem too happy with your guy” he blows the same smoke ring into the sky. It’s almost like that night again, but now its somewhat cloudy. It’ll probably rain soon, you don’t have much time with him before it’ll start to rain. Raining means your boyfriend will search for you to take you home and no words will be exchanged. Even if you talk, its always the same thing, he always gives out the same responses, “that’s great, honey” “isn’t that fun” “aww sorry for that” “mhm, oh wow” you felt like a child, you wanted to be treated to an equal, not like a toddler babbling about their newfound interest.

ㅤ“Yeah, go figure” you sigh, once again. “Wanna tell me about it?” he asks, lowering his face to get closer to yours. Everything lines up like that night again. “Would you listen?” you reciprocate softly. “I didn’t get to two years ago, so why not now?” he put out his cigar on an ashtray readily available next to him. “Three years ago, Kei” you slide down to the floor, crossing your legs. Tapping the floor next to you, looking up at him, inviting him to sit down next to you. “It’s been THAT long?” he plops down next to you. something in him wants to lay his head on your lap, but he knew he couldn’t do so.

ㅤHe's been waiting for you. All this time. He isn’t sure why he lied about having a partner too, perhaps to have some relatability, connect to you in some way, but it’s not important now, what is important is now you, and how you feel and how he’ll never treat you like however this scumbag you’re treats you, although he hasn’t even seen or heard about him yet, he already hates him, all for you.

ㅤYour boyfriend, God bless his soul, is a good man. He loves and cared deeply about you. But lately, you’ve been, just, bored. He’s so nice, too nice. He’s so loving, too loving. There is no conversation to build your relationship, you can’t see his point of view, you can’t understand his stance, because he never told you. He always avoids self-inspection; everytime you try to raise your concern about how he acts towards you, he didn’t listen, resorting to empty apologies, instead of making things better. He would never start speaking about what does and does not bother him, nor listening to you explain what does and does not bother you. He treats you like a child. He isn’t a bad person, perse, maybe he just, isn’t Tsukishima.

ㅤYou wanted to leave him. You needed a reason.

ㅤAnd you admit all this to him. He laughs and groans at your stories and how you really just can’t take him anymore. But y’know who you can take? Tsukishima Kei.

ㅤDense silence fills the air. How do you tell him you love him? You kind of did that night, but it never was said, word for word. Fuck it, you’ll say it now. “Hey, Kei” you turn towards him, his face is so alarmingly close to yours, you can just-

ㅤYou instinctively crash your lips against him, it’s your turn to make the move. He still tastes the same, just like when you were 17 again. Tangy smell of smoke mixed with soursweet taste of strawberries deliciously, bringing memories back to you. You missed him and you missed his taste. His fingers interwaves with yours. Not waiting anymore, he shoves his tongue into you. his muscle scanning all parts of your mouth. You whine in pleasure, wanting more.

ㅤ“[Y/N…? [Y/N]…!” your boyfriend calls out your name. You want to stop. No, you need to stop. But you just can’t. You can’t let go of him ever again. “[Y/N] are you fucking serious right now!? What the fuck are you doing?” you can hear your boyfriend screamed from a distance, his body squeezing and pushing against all other bodies on the dance floor. Tsukishima pulls away from you. “No, no, no. This… this is wrong, [Y/N]. I’m still immoral, or whatever the fuck I was when I was in high school, yeah maybe I’m still him, but I can’t.. no, I can’t. You’re with him, you can be happier with him, I just. I don’t deserve you” he stands up, towering over you.

ㅤYou jump up, grabbing and shaking some sense into him. “Yes we can! Please! Can we please just try it!? Please say you love me too, so at least I know that we could!” you yelled. Tsukishima has never seen you yell before, He can see the desperation in your eyes. He feels so bad. You want him, he wants you, but he knows you’ll regret it, and so do you, but you’re willing to risk everything to feel the thrill of it all again. He stares intently to your eyes, he can see clearly your brows furrowing and tears threatening to spill from your eyes, your whole body shaking. He can see it. He can feel it all. It hits him like a truck all at once. His head cannot keep up with his heartbeat. It is all too fast, he needs to sit down, but this is his only chance to be with you.

ㅤBut he knew, he would, and could never, be the right one for you. Don’t let his bigger, more built body deceive you, he hasn’t emotionally matured yet. Unlike your boyfriend, who at least is ready to take responsibility. He isn’t ready. He’ll hurt you.

ㅤIt’s no surprise he turned you in.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]”

ㅤCause us traitors never win.

a/n : this is pretty bad but i had an idea and i had to get it out somehow lol

[unknownjpegs]

apology

When Benji finally musters the bollocks to do it, the evening is wetly humid. The air heavy and full, ready to burst like a swollen gut. The downpour starts around dinnertime, announces with a bright flash and clap of thunder so loud it makes a candle on the windowsill wobble. 

“Well,” Tino says, swiping at his beard with a napkin and standing. “Mighty strong storm incoming, I guess. Gonna go check that we got enough juice in the backup generator, just in case. Close the windows upstairs, too.”

Benji doesn’t move, and neither does Lark But Xavier, all proper soldier’s posture, jerks into a standing position to follow. To help. 

(Benji does not smile about it.)

“Nuh-uh,” Tino says quickly, flapping his hand at Xavier until he slinks back into place. “You stay there and finish your food, son. I can handle a couple latches.”

“Yes sir,” Xavier says, watching the priest’s form retreat with a kicked sort of but I can help eagerness. 

Benji snickers. Two pairs of eyes land on him — brown and confused; green and peevish.

“Uh.” Lark says, a note of what the fuck to it. "Chill?"

The tension goes above his head, but its fizzing between the other two men is palpable enough to feel. And he would shut his mouth, but there’s such a punchable look of victory set over Xavier’s face that he decides on another course of action.

“Never mind sir,” he says to Lark in, what he thinks at least, is a rather good American accent. He tops it off by offering them both a saucy two-finger salute. 

“You’re not funny,” Xavier volleys across the table, glaring. Musta had a bad day.

“Lark laughs.” 

And usually, yeah. He does. Big, wonderful peels of it. Lark has a good laugh.

But he doesn’t now. And somehow his silence, his confusion at Benji's sudden attitude, is the worst sort of response. It makes him feel senseless, silly, unwarranted in his sourness. It makes his shoulders curl in dismayed embarrassment. It fucking smothers him harder than a verbal reprimand, one of Lark's cutting, steely looks that he loves watching slice across the room at someone else. It makes him feel as though Lark has just strode deliberately across one side of a line.

He knows what the bitter touch of jealousy on a tongue tastes like. A family coming together in am amoeba hug, crying and holding each other at the end of a particularly nasty exorcism. Watching Tino being similarly folded within the arms of his siblings. 

Lark's lack of laughter doesn’t hurt in a I want you, you’re supposed to be mine, it’s supposed to be us, you chose someone else way. There’s no burning bitterness on his tongue left by his silence, no twist of jealousy. 

It feels like: you’re gone again.

The subsequent moments are incredibly, unbearably uncomfortable. Without Tino to buffer the strange, triangular energy, Benji spirals a bit more under Xavier’s stare: fuck. Lark's not laughing. He knows. He knows, and he fucking hates me, and I have got to fix this. We can’t keep going like this, or somebody’s gonna get hurt. And that’ll be on me too, because this is on me. This is my fault. I gave in. I’m the one who keeps letting my emotions get the better of my judgment.

*

The rain has ceased a bit by the time Benji feels ready. Or, at least, as ready as he can be. How the fuck does he do a conversation like this? An apology?

He finds Xavier on then back porch, temple propped to one side against the crumbling stairs’ stone railing. 

“A’right?” Benji greets, feeling frozen in the doorway. 

Xavier tucks his chin to his shoulder, barely assessing Benji. His eyes briefly flash — Benji wishes he was turned more, so he could try to read that expression better. Yet…he’s glad he doesn’t, because he’s entirely sure it’s just cold, immature dislike. And for some reason, the idea of seeing it there makes his stomach curdle. 

Can’t blame him, can you?

Xavier kicks a foot out, pointing his trainer down at the ground past the bottom step.

“Watch out. Rain made it all gross. Don’t, like, trip and absolutely eat shit into the mud. That would be so unfunny and not make my day whatsoever.”

Benji glares at the back of his head, a bubble of annoyance nearly strong enough to overtake the anxiety. “Could make mine. I could push you.”

“Do it.” He clips back cheerfully. “And I’ll take you down with me, asshole.”

At his sides, Benji’s fist clench. It is an incredible act of willpower to stop his foot from lashing out square into that lean back, to follow through on Xavier’s brattish request. 

“Go fffff—” He grits his teeth. “Mate, I do not want to fight, okay?” 

And that…isn’t entirely true. From the moment Lark had introduced them, the tension had been thick and short-fused. If he was being entirely honest, Benji might say something like: it’s fun to rile you up. I can tell getting angry makes you embarrassed. I can tell when you’re embarrassed because you scrunch your nose and blush. It feels a little like a victory to get that expression, to watch you stomp around like a petulant cartoon character with steam out your ears.

 It feels like something else, too. Something that isn’t allowed. 

So Benji refrains from being entirely honest, because yeah. He isn’t allowed. The last time he allowed himself, the last time he gave in to the emotion that beat at his chest — 

Well. That’s why they’re here in the first place, isn’t it?

Benji swallows and shakes his head. He takes slow, deliberate movements out under the awning. Crouches and settles himself down next to the other man. He’s careful to keep the distance proper, elbows balanced on tucked knees.

Xavier looks at him sidelong. “Why. ‘Cuz you’d lose?”

The fuck.

“Sorry?” He scoffs. “You think you’d win a fight with me?” A sweeping gesture over Xavier’s form — tall with more reach, but certainly lighter than Benji. Certainly less strong. Benji knows who’d win. It’s funny that Xavier seems not to. “Naw, c’mon. Don’t be daft.”

That makes Xavier twist, shoulders tight and rolled back, to glare at him. There’s no confusing his expression now. Benji has been unintentionally successful in pushing him square past bristly annoyance. Needled directly onto the other end: proper fucking furious. 

“Think I can’t?” Xavier fumes. His nose wrinkles, lip curling ferociously. “What, you think I’m fucking weak just because…” A threatening, humorless huff leaves him. His eyes are steely and spine-chillingly hard on Benji’s face. “Only reason I won’t is because it’d make Lark—”

Lark.

Reminded of why he’d come out in the first place, Benji puts his hands up. He’s sure his face is also twisted with a faint hint of his own cold, rising tide of anger. Hopes the gesture placates a little.

“Xavier. M’serious, okay. I do not want to fight — I…” he shakes his head. “Really. I want to apologize.”

He’s still hackled like a short-leash dog, brow furrowed. Except now it smooths a bit in confusion. His eyes widen from slitted anger to perplexed. 

“You capable of that?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Benji rolls his eyes and draws a deep breath. He looks away from Xavier’s glinting, mossy glare. Occasionally (often) finds its hard to meet because of how pinned he feels. How intense it gets, like they’re lit from behind.

Benji swallows. “Right. You have every right to be pissed.”

Nothing. Silence. 

He rubs his hands on his thighs. “It was a bit ago, now. When you —” came home. “When you both joined back up. Um. It was just one kiss. And it was weird. When we were younger we had - not a thing, but kind of? And we decided...well it was weird. So it was weird this most recent time."

Xavier stares at him. Benji's stomach flips with anxiety. The words keep spilling out.

"Not that it makes it better. So I get it, y’know. I understand.” He spreads his hands, wrings them. Quickly, fiercely, he asserts: “And I’m not trying to absolve myself. Not trying t’speak for him, either. But it wasn't anything. Other than weird. We were just confused, and we've been through a lot together, and were trying to figure out - well that’s his business. Yours, I guess.” A nervous chuckle. “Yours, plural. Not, like. Yours, Xavier yours.”

“What,” Xavier says after a beat, “the fuck are you talking about?”

Benji looks out over the green, wet grass and wishes it would open up in an awful sinkhole, mantle-deep, and swallow him the fuck up. 

"I feel like you took him from me." Benji admits in a whisper barely audible above the rain. "I feel like you're taking him from me every day. He's so much more — him. Happier. I guess I was trying to hold onto something that wasn't meant to be held onto? Does that make sense?"

The rain is a steady, thrumming beat against the ground. Against the makeshift tin awning — the original had crumbled years ago, and Benji had been meaning to help Tino repair it. Hard to find the time with all the travel, all the work. Now he’s a little thankful for the rhythm. Lets him focus on something else instead of the curdling, sour fist of emotion in his chest as he waits for Xavier to speak.

I’ll apologize, Benji says, studying ripples in a puddle forming near the toe of his boot. He dips the tread in. Watches the reflection of the grey sky waver. But I don’t regret it. It's good to know. It's good to have him. Have each other. Be normal, again.

He tips his chin up at the sky. A streak of heat lightning flits across the gloom, illuminating everything in a brief flash of white-gold. Benji squints. Feels eyes on him. He tilts to look at Xavier, whose chin is turning away.

“I’m sorry.” 

Not that it happened. What were the types of love again? Tino taught us, at some point. Pragma is commitment and time — Tino, Lark. Agape is universal — Tino, Lark. Philia’s like friendship, also Lark. Storge is family. Them again. And the others -

Benji watches him, pale fingers tapping on his knees. They’re bare, jeans torn and fraying at the seams. The white elastic looks time-worn, almost fluffy and soft. Old pair. 

He can't remember the other types of love. Or he does. Is scared to bring them to the surface. Fuck it all up again.

 Xavier is quiet for a long, long moment. He wishes he were any better at reading silence. Outside of his noisy, spinning head, the lack of sound has always made him feel starkly seen but unable to observe. No noise to dissect —as if he were stuck in a one way glass cage.

“Why?”

“What d’you mean why?” Benji echoes in disbelief. “Why am I sorry?”

Xavier waves his hand, and for some reason it’s almost enough to spark his temper to the tiny quick.

“Well, why then fuck else would I be sorry, Xavier?” He snaps. “Because I ...because that’s a boundary, right?  I crossed it. Lark is my — ”

Companion, confidant, first, equal. Friend. More, when I realized that was an option. Less, when we realized it didn't have to be. We didn't really think. We just did it. Talked after. Like I am with you, now. Always talking after the fact. Cleaning up after the mess’s been made. Fuck’s sake, Saha. Now would be nice.

“Well, whatever. It’s complicated. That isn’t important. Because he's your…” He searches for a word, and realizes he doesn’t know. Nothing to articulate with any cleanliness from a messy assumption.

“Your?” Benji repeats, trailing off. “Shit.”

“I —yeah, shit. This is weird. Uh.” Xavier shoves a hand back through his hair, which is a motion that Benji has tried to stop watching so closely as of late. Found it more than a bit difficult. “We’re friends?”

Benji stares at him, mouth slightly open. “There is…okay. There’s a question mark at the end of that.”

“We’re friends.” Xavier says again. Then, more firmly: “Best friends. He's my my best friend.”

He stares in circles around Xavier’s face, searching. Not for dishonesty or indecisiveness but…more. 

“You — listen, not to get in your fuckin’ business, since we don’t know each other, but. I thought that…that it was —” Benji fans the air. “I mean, you’re both always…” He clears his throat, glancing away now with cheeks that have begun to feel hot. “Tino gets three rooms.”

Xavier’s eyes narrow with the tight pull of his brow. “Three?” 

“Three rooms.” He repeats, tilting his head down expectantly and holding those fingers up. “Him, me, Lark. Not four. Because he has you in there too?” 

Any other situation, one that wasn’t so supremely fucking uncomfortable, Benji would find the quick, immediate red flush to his face funny. 

“I — Jesus!” Xavier laughs too loud, puts both hands on the back of his head. He leans back a bit, stomping his feet on the concrete step in a frustrated, dancing mini-tantrum. It’s almost cute. “Jesus Christ, wow. Okay. Didn’t realize we were, uh. That you were paying attention like that. Ew, first off. I'm not -” he shivers like it's truly a disturbing. "God, no. We're friends."

Oh, shit. No, no. He thinks I’m a proper fucking pervert.

“I’m not,” Benji says quickly. In his head, a voice goes: lie. “I’m not. Paying attention, that is. It’s just noticeable.” 

Xavier stares at him.

He coughs.  “Ah, fuck. The r-room sharing, not anything else.”

Xavier laughs. Rather than loud, it wheezes out at the end. Thin like tissue paper, a breathless sort of huff. He drops a hand to his chest then brushes the back of his knuckles over his jaw. Fidgeting. Benji glances down at his tapping boot, his bouncing knee. Fidgeting.

I’m so fucking uncomfortable, written across his face, both of theirs, when they make eye contact once more. This is exactly why I don’t do this shit — talk. Make a fucking fool of myself, because what? Because we’ve — well. In this situation because there’s been no talking at all, right? Fuck. Avoided, because it would be uncomfortable. And now…

His turn to chuckle at the washing machine spin of his brain. He fishes the pack of cigarettes from his jacket, taps two out, and hands one to Xavier. 

“Sorry. If —” he tucks it between his teeth. Nearly fucking swallows the thing when their fingers brush as Xavier takes the offering, does the same. “I need it.”

“Yeah.” Xavier agrees. Benji does not look at him when he holds the lighter up, arm outstretched, but he feels the soft puff of air against his knuckles. “Thanks.”

He snorts. Feels absurd, gratitude. Especially from Xavier, especially now, especially — 

“We’re friends too.” Benji says. To his own ears, he sounds petulant. He hopes Xavier can’t pick that up. The space lingers quiet at the end of that; at one point, Benji might have tacked on best friends with a challenging sneer. 

Some days, it feels like that Lark's out of reach completely; just as nebulous as his younger self. Like they’ve both died, in a way. That they're a thing of the past. Benji huffs a laugh at the morbidity of that, coughs out smoke. 

“Lark and I. We’re friends but, I mean, back before —” He snorts. “Never mind. It’s complicated. Always fucking is, with them. But that, y’know, it was just the once, this go ‘round. And I figured I owe you an apology. Didn’t take into account…y’know. Feelings.”

He looks over at Xavier, even though the embarrassment, the vulnerability rises steady and burning in his chest. Wonders why he wants to bother about sparing feelings, now. 

“I am now. I’m choosin’ to make it right, best I can.” Benji stares up at the sky again, because looking into Xavier’s knowing eyes is like staring at the electric green grass, tinged bright and vibrant by the dark storm. “Might be a little too late, but I gotta try. So.”

So. So what? There’s a bunch under the surface, multitudes of explanations and questions and clarifications that he could offer. That he wants to request. From Lark, from Xavier. The words don’t come, though. They never do when he really, really needs him.

Xavier doesn’t seem to need them at the moment, anyway — he pulls on the cigarette with a distant gaze cast across the grass.

“Nah, I don’t think it’s too late.” His long leg knocks against Benji’s, frayed elastic sticking to his own pants with all the staticky ozone in the air. “I still think you’re an asshole, though.”

Benji grins, a sense of relief accompanying the next rumbling crack of thunder.

“Yeah, well.” He tilts his head to the side. “And you’re a prick, so we’re good.”

[rubykgrant]

(some of this extends into the big story-line I started working with the characters a couple years ago, and some is based on stuff from the actual series that gave me ideas)

Church; (I have him come back in a synthetic human body, created with a DNA sample from the Director) he is SHORT and CHUNKY~ His eyes are sort of steely-gray, but when one of the Fragments are "vibing" (fronting) with him, they will have a little shine of color (like iridescent pigeon feathers). He loves the fact that he can actually eat food and taste it with his own mouth, so he gets into cooking and baking (he also likes to smell the onions as he chops them). He is indeed Jewish, but hasn't had much of a chance to really explore what that means, so he finds some Jewish culture groups, and eventually invites his friends to celebrate certain holidays with him. He still talks like a rude little smart-mouth, but he catches himself in the middle of doing considerate/comforting things for his friends, and can't stop (he gets embarrassed when he's caught CARING, but he's also secretly proud of it). Likes having "spa days" in which he lets Donut wash/style his hair (with a shave if he needs it), while telling him Red Gossip (he also listens to Kai, while she reads him magazines and talks about famous people she hates, they have the same kind of mean sense of humor)

Tucker; he's a shameless flirt, but he doesn't know how to respond if somebody genuinely flirts BACK. He collects lots of different movies/books to share with Junior (some of it is stuff he remembers from when he was a kid, and some are things he missed out on, so they both get to enjoy it together). While he was an only child, he had lots of cousins, and was awkwardly in the "middle" of everybody- way older than the younger ones (babies and toddlers when he was 13), and way younger than the older ones (in their 20s and 30s). It kinda makes him crave attention (and when he's around people like Grif, he gets to be a little-bro). Tucker is a manlet short king, and is also somebody who looks like he could still be 19 even into his late 30s. Not only is he good at dancing, he's good at teaching people to dance. He's always wished he could have been in a food-fight, like he's seen in movies. When he gets through his own issues with confidence/insecurities, he's actually VERY intuitive when it comes to being a leader and solving problems. He has pierced ears (usually just wears small studs, some look like little gem stones). Plays hand-held games while taking baths, he hasn't dropped it yet, this is fine

Caboose; the Moon city where he was born actually had a "plan" for how long people were supposed to wait until having children... Michael was a very early surprise that nobody was ready for, so he was the oldest kid on the Moon. He's actually had better luck with dating than most of the others. He knows how to cut his own hair, but he likes asking his friends to help with it, just as a nice bonding activity. Sometimes he wears his armor for certain events/holidays (he just decided that if you dress up in a "costume" for Halloween, you can do that for every holiday, and Caboose likes to go as Caboose), and he's actually really good at entertaining people/interacting with kids, and he usually gets invited to be in parades or hang out at carnivals. He usually doesn't like wearing long sleeved clothes unless they're loose/soft material. He makes and wears different little beaded bracelets, and shares with his friends (Church gets the most). From his point of view, Tucker and Church need his help, he can tell it is hard for them to admit when they care, and Caboose will lovingly bother them so they don't feel lonely (from their point of view, they want to make sure Caboose doesn't feel rejected anymore, so all of them have an unspoken agreement of- "they need my help"). Has a jar full of marbles, and he named them all

Kai; she used to get really bad tangles in her hair as a kid, and her big bro had to help find some good cream rinse to help with it. She has always dyed her hair occasionally, but never really knew WHY color it was, she just like seeing different streaks and such... more recently, Donut has helped her pick out colors so her hair has a gradient (her dark-brown, to gold, to yellow). She also usually keeps her hair back with a braided-ribbon headband. Once when she was a kid, she and her bro were separated in different foster homes, and the family she was with wanted to "forbid her from seeing Dexter"... one night, Kai literally dumped EVERYTHING out of each food/soap/paint container in the house in retaliation (she got to see her brother again~). She loves the "reject treats", like black licorice and candycorn. Has a dozen different blogs for the same sites, because she keeps forgetting her passwords and different e-mails, so she just keeps making new ones. Has trouble keeping her focus on one project, but finally finds a niche getting an entertainment business for different kinds of parties going (she also started a night club and a costume shop). Paints her nail polish on WAY too thick, and then peels them off as one big chunk

Wash; he's struggled a lot with feeling like a loser, having anger issues, trying to be Mr Serious, and reacting to bad situations with rather EXTREME negative behavior... he's better at recognizing all this now, and has embraced his dorky-side. He loves old-school cartoons, and will subject his friends to marathons of Care Bears movies. When Donut started volunteering at an animal shelter, Wash happily offered to help care for and socialize "problem cats" (he keeps them until they're ready to be adopted... except the ones he really bonds with. those are his forever). Goes to farmer's markets with Doc, and gets into arguments with people who think taking honey from bees kills them somehow. Was a little skater boy as a kid, and also had a punk phase. Eventually lets his hair grow out long, and keeps the beard. He's very good at reminding OTHER people to have a decent sleep schedule and eat a variety of different foods, but when it comes to taking care of himself, he'll run on 3 hours of sleep and eat macaroni-n-nothing as his only meal. His fashion sense is kind of "comfortable beach vibe" and dad sweaters. He collects music soundtracks from movies he likes

Carolina; used to be one of those kids who took EVERY dare, even if she got hurt. Got kicked out of a few private schools for being a "problem child". Unlike other agents, she had not been recruited for Project Freelancer... her father kept trying to hide it from her, and not allow her any access to a mysterious secret project. Carolina had to literally infiltrate it and steal files to learn more, and after that, it was impossible to ignore her skills, so she became part of the program. She really is a red-head, but her natural color is more of a carrot-orange (she used to dye it fire engine red, but now she has it a little darker, and cut it short). She's an enabler when it comes to Church's ego, and encourages him during his rants. Will keep adding one stick of gum after another, until she's chewing the whole pack. She and Sarge both have scars on their knuckles from literally PUNCHING SO HARD, they tore through the inner padding, and scrapped against the armor from the inside. When she and Epsilon were having their solo-adventure, he would sometimes feel it when she had a nightmare, and try to help her "redirect" them into a more pleasant memory. She is secretly an anime nerd

Tex; (similar situation with Church, in a synthetic human body based on a DNA sample from Allison); she's considerably taller that Allison, with a thicker body-build (not and identical clone), and ironically resembles a grandmother Allison had, who Carolina also takes after. Gets really into decorating for Halloween. Purposefully messes with people at carnivals and fairs, pretending to be timid, and then cleaning up with prizes at game booths. Does the same thing to hustle random people in arm-wrestling, and she SLAMS them. Buys fancy scent-boosters for her laundry, she likes when it smells really fresh. She's a total channel-flipper when she watches TV. Often wears all black outfits, but insists she's NOT goth. She likes going to motorcycle racers, both dirt track and ice bikes. Eventually finds that she enjoys gardening (flowers, and also various vegetables/herbs/fruit). Hospitals kind of freak her out when she's there alone, of it seems too empty/quiet. Her favorite flavors are dark chocolate, and fruit like pomegranate/fig/cranberry. Loves horror movies... and also horse movies

I need everyone's takes, headcannons, character analysis or whatever on blue team like right now.

I need to fuel the raging obsession.

[heavenlybarnesss]

My Eternal

Pairing: Druig x reader

Summary: Druig walks in on you during a little fit of nostalgia.

Warnings: A little bit of smut, but mostly fluff & fun with the enemies to lovers trope, which I’m obsessed with 🧚🏻‍♀️ Also slight spoilers! Nothing too bad but I just wanted to throw it out there

Author’s Note: I literally only saw Eternals yesterday and I couldn’t help myself. This idea has been bubbling and brewing since I listened to “You Oughta Know” this morning when getting coffee and I got to typing asap. The world needs more Druig fics, it has to be done. Happy reading! 📚

You walked into the bedroom, the dust on the window sill proving just how long you’d been away. Sure, every so often you would visit Makkari and bring her little trinkets and staples of the decade you were in. But each time you came you’d only stay for the span of a few hours, never long enough to have to sleep in your old bed. You placed your hand on the white duvet cover, smoothing out any wrinkles lingering on the cotton surface. You turned to sit down, the long rusted bed springs creaking beneath you. You felt something hard on your backside. You peeled back the duvet cover and smiled. It was the portable CD player you had brought and misplaced when you last visited the ship.

You picked it up and clicked it open, revealing none other than an old Alanis Morissette CD. You laughed quietly to yourself, reminiscing about all the times you screamed the lyrics aloud to yourself in your car. You had gotten accustomed to the mortals and their taste in music, so to say you were heartbroken when you’d lost it was an understatement. You looked around, making sure nobody was near before you untangled the headphones and placed them over your ears. You skipped to track number two, and pressed play. You closed your eyes and let the nostalgic words flood your brain. “I want you to know, that I am happy for you. I wish nothing but the best for you both.” You bobbed your head up and down as the lyrics came back to your memory, until eventually you felt confident enough to sing along.

“And older version of me, is she perverted like me? Would she go down on you in a theater?” you sang, not realizing just how loud you were being. “Does she speak eloquently, and would she have your baby? I’m sure she’d make a really excellent mother!” You were lost in the music as your hips swayed along to the beat. You had removed your jacket, tossing it on the bed and dancing shamelessly around the room. Little did you know, Druig had been watching from the doorway, captivated by your free spirit and your intoxicating movements. You were a ray of light, casting your beams onto his dark and brooding nature. He had a soft spot for you, his beautiful, beautiful Y/n.

“And I’m here, to remind youuu of the mess you left when you went away! It’s not faaair to deny me of the - oh my god! Druig!” you screamed, clutching your chest. “What the hell, how long have you been standing there?” you asked, your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Oh, just long enough to hear you admit you’re perverted. I always knew you thought about me naked from time to time, Y/n,” he replied cockily. You rolled your eyes, smacking his shoulder.

“Oh please Druig, I can assure you that’s not a thought I want swimming around in my head,” you shot back. Sure, it was a total lie. But he didn’t need to know that. There was a time or two when showering after battle that you’d caught a glimpse of his sculpted physique. More than once he’d caught you staring, smirking as you looked away suddenly. You were certain he would bring it up it front of the other Eternals, but he surprisingly never did.

“And going down in the theater? Well I didn’t know you could be so nasty, m’lady. I quite like this side of you.” You turned back to face him, your eyes like cold daggers.

“Don’t you have something better to do than watch me dance in the privacy of my own room?”

“Well I suppose so. But Ikaris isn’t as fun to look at, and not nearly as pretty.” Your cheeks grew hot once again, and for a reason besides embarrassment this time. Druig stepped towards you, his slender fingers moving a stray hair away from your face. He tucked it gently behind your ear, allowing his thumb to linger on the supple skin of your cheek.

“Careful, I might have to tell him you said that,” you whispered.

“As much I love seeing Ikaris all bent out of shape, I’d much rather look at you. I could watch you dance forever, pretty girl,” he whispered. His hand left your cheek and ghosted down the length of your bare arm. Goosebumps soon covered the skin his fingers danced upon. “It’s been centuries since I last saw you, and you’re still as breathtaking as the day we departed.”

“And you’re still just as full of yourself,” you smiled. He smiled back, pressing his forehead to yours. Your noses touched as you closed your eyes, breathing in the scent of your sweet Druig. He smelled earthy and masculine, a scent you’ve searched for a hundred lifetimes. He soon pulled away, his hands finding their way around your waist. He leaned in, his cool breath fanning over you as his plump lips hovered over yours. You moved your head to close the space between the two of you.

Your lips met his, first delicately and then passionately. There was a hunger within both of you that had laid dormant for centuries. You craved one another, your kiss a desperate mess of teeth and tongue. Your hands tugged at Druig’s soft locks, his grasping roughly at the flesh of your hips, thighs, and backside.

“I love you,” he said feverishly between kisses. You stopped, blinking as if to make sure you heard him correctly. His eyes widened, worried you might not feel as strongly as he did.

“You love me?”

“My dear Y/n, can’t you see that my heart beats only for you? Like us, my love for you is eternal. Not a day went by that I didn’t imagine you showing up at my doorstep in the middle of the night, asking if you could stay with me for the rest of time. Every night for years, you’d visit me only in my dreams. And every morning I’d wake up disappointed that it was all a figment of my imagination.” He caressed your hair, letting his fingers run through the tangles carefully. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I love you Druig. I’ve missed you as well. There were so many sleepless nights where I’d just pace around the house, praying you’d show up out of the blue. You can imagine my disappointment when Sersi, Sprite, and Ikaris showed up on my doorstep and you had yet to be found. For a second I was afraid you’d declined to come with us.”

“Oh trust me, my darling. Any battle you’re fighting is a battle I’m showing up for. Someone’s got to protect you.”

“You know I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. I don’t need you to fight for me.”

“No of course, my love. I know you can hold your own, and I love that about you. You kick all the ass you want, I’ll just be there if you need backup.” You giggled, reconnecting your lips.

“You know, I was thinking -“ you started.

“Oh no, that can’t be good,” Druig cut you off, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek.

“Shut up!” you squealed, shoving him away from you. He laughed, grabbing your waist and pulling you back towards him.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” he said between placing wet kisses all over your face.

“I was thinking about how after we stop the formation of the celestial, we’ll have nothing but time to catch up.” You raised your eyebrows mischievously at Druig, who in return smirked back at you.

“Oh is that so? Because I was actually just thinking I’d head back to the Amazon alone, you know?” I think it’s what’s best.” Your expression faltered, your smile fading.

“Oh, I just thought - you know, maybe it’s too soon, so I shouldn’t have even -“ Druig placed his hand on the back of your neck, kissing you intensely while using his other hand to guide you to your bed. He laid you back, ensuring not to break the kiss while your head hit the mattress.

“I’m only kidding, my beloved. Of course I want you to come back with me. Please. Say you’ll come home with me, darling.”

“I want to come home with you, Druig. Home is wherever you are. Take me with you.”

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/n. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” You sat up, pulling at his shirt as your mouths fought for dominance once more. He slipped his hand beneath your blouse, kneading your breast. He hummed in appreciation at the feeling, for his eyes had always lingered when you wore a low cut top.

“Oh my - oh my god! You guys, please! This is a communal space and we’re all here. Come on!” Kingo yelled. “No, no Karun. Do not film that, that is called pornography. Give me the camera!” Druig being ever the gentleman, covered you with a blanket before letting Kingo have it.

“Aye, Kingo! Get the hell out of here! Go film your stupid documentary someplace else!” He even went so far as to remove his boot and throw it at him.

“Alright, alright! Geesh.” Kingo replied.

“Give me one second, yeah?” You nodded your head, smiling as Druig got up to shut the door and lock it behind him. He walked back and leaned down to hover over you. “Now, where were we?” he winked, leaning down to finish what the two of you had started.

“I adore you, Druig.”

“And I adore you, my love. Perverted or not.” You erupted with laughter, for you never grew tired of Druig’s wholesome teasing.

[whltlock]

for the blurbs can i ask for more Jason x sex worker!reader? I'm high key obsessed with them

A/N: this is set further in the future than my other one-shots, when they're realising they're falling in love 🥰 just plain ol' mundane domesticity

Jason ducks around the corner at the same time you reach it. You peek over your shoulder, eying how far you’ve wandered from the club. Sometimes, if you’ve been good, Tomas doesn’t mind as much if you take a little trip around town. As long as you come back within a couple of hours. And usually, you have an escort, but what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Even if it might kill you.

Jason watches your fur coat bristle in the breeze. It’s dark and lush, perhaps one of the few items you own that is; it also shields your body from passersby.

You squeeze it tighter around yourself as you look up at him. “Hi,” you say, voice delicate rather than sultry.

“Hey,” he replies. He glances down at his hands where two steaming cups are housed, then holds one out. “Dunno if you drink coffee, so I got hot cocoa,” he says, a little sheepish. “Whipped cream, too.”

He’s mesmerised by the smile that lights up your face.

Your hand curls around his as you take the cup, but you stay there a moment, wishing he wasn’t wearing his gloves; wanting a bit of human contact.

Slowly, you trade.

“Mmm,” you hum after a sip, expression still bright. Your eyes land on him and he thinks the splotch of cream on your lips is adorable. So, so different to the persona you use to survive.

Until your tongue flicks out and licks it away, then his chin drops as his cheeks grow hot. Your smile turns wily.

He thinks he likes your company. Likes it a lot. Maybe too much.

“We’re not allowed chocolate,” you say then, pulling him from his embarrassment.

“Figured,” Jason says, and it tastes sour on his tongue. The perils of man-unkind. “Could you hide some if I got more?” he asks.

The tang worsens when your mouth tugs forlornly.

“Probably not.”

He sighs. Not wanting to ruin the mood, he continues, “You need anything?”

You shrug casually. “You’re not the delivery man, you know.”

Jason makes a displeased noise. You smile.

“Blankets? Socks?” he suggests, ignoring your amusement.

You shake your head. There’s such a fine line between what will and won’t be noticed; what will put you on the boss’ radar in a bad way.

He deflates.

Your eyes trace the cup that’s cooling as you search for a name. There isn’t one. Your fingers tap the thin cardboard.

Your eyes drag up again, tracing his dark clothing, the couple days’ worth of stubble, the sharpness of his features. His eyes that are bright and feel omnipotent. The nervous swallow that passes through his Adam’s apple.

Every time you see him, he gets more handsome. You think about kissing him.

He’s not the saviour the world pictures, but he’s better, you think, because he actually cares about you. Not the glory or the money or the blood—just you.

Finally, you ask, “What’s your name?”

His weight shifts feet. He stares. You wait.

He clears his throat, and then, “Jason.”

“Jason?” you echo.

He nods.

Jason.

You step forward. Jason watches your every move, terrified of the power that he’s handed over.

You look him up and down, then quickly and to his surprise, you hug him. He sways as his balance is interrupted.

“Jason,” comes out muffled against his shirt. You feel his warmth and nuzzle into it; breathe in his delicious, inviting cologne. “Thank you.”

It’s not just a thanks for the drink; it’s for everything.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed by the gratitude, and gradually, he sinks into your arms. His nose settles in your hair, and just like you, he savours the sensations, all of them new and thrilling.

Jason.

Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason.

It rings in your head like a prayer and you want to fold yourself into him, a willing disciple.

His hand lingers on your spine as he says, “I got you.”

Your eyes slide upwards. Slyly, you tease, “I had you first.”

He doesn’t let you deflect as his palms swiftly cup your cheeks. He holds you firm and steady, unwavering eyes on yours. “I got you,” he says, each word pronounced gravely. “I’m with you. Understand?”

You can’t help but glance at his mouth, although you nod. “Yes,” you whisper. Without realising it, your fingers have tangled with his, mirroring the hammering insides of your chest. He squeezes them.

“Good.” After a moment, as the seriousness fades, he taps your nose with glittering eyes. “Now drink up. I got more snacks on me.”

MASTERLIST IN NOTES

[diadxrling]

rubbcrhose​:

A N all but familiar taste enters Mammon’s mouth, forcing him to swallow. Hard. Talking about these sort of things seem to have this effect on him, so he’s glad when Dia doesn’t press him to speak more of them. When he notices her beginning to cry, that only compels him to kneel down near the edge of the bed, arms settling down to have a finger gently wipe her cheek.

“W E L L it wouldn’t be my intention to do that– To purposely hurt you.” Honestly what would he even get out of that? Dia was already quite loyal to him and was working for him as well, entirely on her own violation. There was no need for his usual manipulating tactics. Not when she seem rather adamant to be around him quite often.

“I can’t undo what he’s done to you, but… I can try my best to.. to give you what you want and what you need as long as you… You stay here. With me.”

T H E Sin draws closer, lips pressing a faint kiss to a wet cheek. His head tilts to the side, sinking into the bed and for a moment he closes his eyes; tiredness beginning to set in.

“P E R H A P S I’m not as bad as him as I thought. I mean, I have you here, don’t I? And he probably wishes he could have you back, but I’m not going to give you over. Once I deem something as mine, I have a hard time letting go…” That encourages a small smirk to form, his eyes blinking open.

“Y O U seem to be a lot happier here with me and I… I suppose I have trouble understanding why. I don’t make others happy. I usually do the complete opposite so to see and hear I am is.. is weird.” His fingers rubs at his eyes as he sits back and lets out a small yawn. Smothering his face into the covers, Mammon chitters; a rare noise of his. He’s so tired that he can’t even feel embarrassed that he’s made such a noise. The rest of him soon follows and he’s back to laying on the bed, his face still hidden within the covers.

“D I A, Dia, Dia…” The Sin turns his head, a purr coating his every word, “My radiant ruby. I don’t think you know just how much… I love you.” His eyes shutter close as exhaustion finally settles in. He was so tired that he was unaware of the words that left his mouth but that would have to be a problem later him would have to deal with. Mammon was already starting to doze off.

She leaned into his touch, the safe feeling she was so used to when around the Sin returning once more. It was strange, in a way Dia thought she knew what had happened. She knew how busy minds could get and how sometimes when you can’t seem to quiet down those voices, you say things without thinking about them enough. 

“And that’s what I want, to just stay here, with you” Mammon already gave her what she wanted and needed. For the first time in maybe forever, the succubus had a save place to live, a work she enjoyed and company she... liked. She wouldn’t have been around so often if she didn’t want to be here, there had been nothing forcing her to be here for the longest time. If anything, it had been the other way around, with her being forced to leave. 

Not anymore though, now there was nothing making her leave the place she felt most comfortable at. Smiling softly seeing the Sin slowly give into exhaustion, his mind hopefully a little clearer now. “I would fucking hope you wouldn’t give me over to him” Dia said playing offended before chuckling, laying down in bed “You are so much better than him” she added softly looking at him as her own yawn escaped. 

Musing, his question over the succubus herself didn’t really have an answer as to why she was so happy here. Well that was a little lie, she knew one big reason for her happiness, but just thinking about putting that into words made her brain short circuit. Before she could find anything to say, Dia was caught off guard by the chitter which was the most adorable sound she had ever heard from the Sin. 

Moving closer to him trilling a little in responds being too tired to try and mimic his sound. Laying down by his side, opening her mouth to finally comment on what he had said but getting cut off by the Sin starting to talk. A light blush tinting her cheeks at the nickname, a tired smile on her face not thinking much more would be said. 

Dia was right about that Mammon not speaking many more words, but the ones he did make the succubi’s heart stop. Now staring at him, eyes as wide as they could be her whole body seemingly pausing for a few seconds. Tail starting to go crazy behind her before she managed to pin it down with her leg still just looking at the other waiting for something to happen. 

But nothing did happen, there was no reveal that this was a joke or her waking up from a dream... this was real. 

“I love you too...” her voice gentle and filled with more emotion then she sometimes showed in a whole conversation all packed into four little words. Words she repeated a few more times as she cuddled into Mammon, slowly falling asleep. 

This better not turn out to be a dream...