#examing bone markings

[the-unrivalled-pessimist]

im so sick of people who know nothing about a field doing surface level research than trying to make an educational video

like please don’t try to explain to me, a person with a whole ass degree in molecular forensic science, that forensics is a "pseudoscience"

rosalind franklin rolling in her grave right now

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

[torusdove]

Med-student!Satoru who comes home late after spending the entire day cramming for his upcoming exam.

Don't get me wrong; he is insanely smart, and he doesn't need a lot of time to progress and understand the given material. He does, however, want to get to the bottom of things, understanding them beyond whatever the professor had taught them.

He took pleasure into understanding and getting down to a t about the different concepts. It's no surprise that he loves the complexity of neurology, neoplasia and the immune system.

However, something as simple as anatomy has had his heart ever since the beginning of his degree. Especially because it was something he could share with you.

—

"Nd this," he had whispered out, index finger softly pushing down on the little slope that was right between your collarbones, "this is what we call the manubrium. It's the first part of your sternum."

Satoru had learnt this in his first year, remembering the very few classes he had gotten about anatomy in the first quarter. How he had practiced on Suguru's chest to find the manubriosternal joint.

Now, he was trying to find it on you.

His finger trailed a little more downwards, just above the cleavage of your breasts, "then there is a thin line in between the first part, the manubrium, and the middle part, which we call the corpus of the sternum."

This wasn't the first time Satoru had laid in your sheets, hand resting in the palm of his hand, which he held up by leaning on his elbow in bed, half his body turned to you. You had loved it from the very first time he had started doing it. It felt intimate, and yet so meaningful.

Satoru chose your body to describe something he had an interest in, something he wanted to pursue a career in. He explained it in simple terms, making sure you could always follow along and understand what he was saying or illustrating.

"The thin line is known as the manubriosternal joint, an identification mark for doctors to find the second costa, which is latin for rib, as it is immediately attached to the manubriosternal joint." You could feel how his finger would move a little more tot the right, in search of your second rib. Once he could feel the bone underneath his fingertip, he smiled softly before going back to the very middle, trailing downwards in between your breasts.

When it fell right underneath your costal arch, you felt your breath hitch in your throat, eying his face, only to find his eyes completely focused on his fingertip, "The xiphoid process is the last part of your sternum, divided from the corpus by the xiphisternal joint."

You knew exactly what would happen next, already opening your arms widely to let him settle his head on top of your chest, right on the apex of your heart.

"To listen to your heartbeat," he had admitted once, after a very long day at his univeristy.

So, without keeping him up any longer to make sure he'd be rested for tomorrow, you had placed your lips against his temple, murmuring his favourite sentence against his soft skin, "I love you, 'toru."

[amourane]

smitten

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 0.7k

summary: jeonghan is completely smitten for you and he refuses to admit it.

warnings: noneee

a/n: aaa i hope you guys like this <3 i wasn't gonna post two fics in a row but i whipped this one up in about half an hour so i hope you guys enjoy it! not sure if i should make it a mini series, lmk!

Jeonghan found it hard to breathe with you around. He found it hard to focus, to concentrate. He had always been one to keep his cool, to stay calm and collected but ever since he met you all logical thinking had been thrown out of the window. He wasn’t a type of guy that would get nervous and he certainly wasn’t the type of guy that would get distracted. Jeonghan prided himself in being the stoic and very attractive star student at Seoul National University. 

So why did he find himself completely befuddled in front of you?

You who were so beautiful, so pretty, so gorgeous yet so annoying. He had never met another girl who would claw at his bones more than you. Your tinkling laugh and bright shiny eyes. It all made him go positively crazy and he couldn’t do anything to help that. You had this magnetic pull that would drag Jeonghan along despite his protests. 

His friends had all teased him for it. They had seen the way his cheeks would flush whenever you stared at him or the way he would look at you with the most lovesick eyes. Nevertheless, he continued to deny his affections. 

It didn’t matter anyway. You were too dense to notice how everyone seemed to snicker whenever you went up to Jeonghan or the way everyone would peer over their textbooks whenever you asked to partner up with the infamous student. You, who’s smile was so bright, failed to see how everyone could tell how smitten Yoon Jeonghan was for you even if he denied it. 

“Hannie!” Your voice echoed through the hallway and Jeonghan winced at the loud sound. His expression remained neutral as you came bounding up towards him with the most adorable grin on your face. “Guess who just got full marks on her test? Me!”

The test paper you shoved in his face made Jeonghan go cross eyes as he struggled to decipher your scrawled answers and the red pen the professor had marked with. The biggest thing that caught his eyes was the 100 in the top right hand corner. 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You pouted as you removed the test paper from his face. “I worked so hard for that Hannie, I pulled all nighters and everything! I didn’t even ask you for any help, isn’t that impressive?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan felt the cage of butterflies fly open in his stomach and he gulped. “That’s amazing Y/n but you really shouldn’t stay up revising, it actually decreases the chance of taking information in. You can enter sleep deprivation and it has a really high chance of simply going blank in exams and that’s not good at all you know.”

Your smile remained on your face as Jeonghan continued to rattle off the side effects of lack of sleep. You stepped closer towards him, only inches away. Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he stared at your pretty face. His eyes flickered to your lips and then your eyes. The eyes he could stare into forever and not get bored with. 

“Then you help me revise. I could use help from that brain of yours. I actually did go blank in my exam but it wasn’t because of sleep deprivation.”

Jeonghan knew better than to ask what but he couldn’t help the curiosity that was gnawing at his mind like a beast begging to be set free. He stared at you, your bright expression rendering him speechless as he tried to come up with words to say.

“What was it then?” He croaked out, voice trembling at the close proximity. “Why did you get distracted?”

You giggled leaning in closer so that your lips were brushing his ear. “You.”

Jeonghan froze, his whole body stood still like ice and you continued to giggle and he saw the way your smile seemed to grow bigger. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you step back, the test paper still clutched in your hands. He felt his cheeks burst into flames as his jaw hung open in shock at your words. 

“See you later Hannie! I’ll pop over so we can exchange notes.” 

You waved him goodbye before skipping away as if you hadn’t just caused the poor guy to melt in his shoes. Jeonghan gripped his textbooks tightly and he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. The beating of his heart could be heard in his ears and he tried desperately to calm himself down.

You were the only one capable of making Yoon Jeonghan grow completely flustered and he hated it.

[ruershrimo]

no because imagine pining for fushiguro megumi. like, that would be the most frustratingly confusing thing ever omg.

you’re trying to get closer to him; close enough to know his favourite colour, the music that’s playing in his earbuds and the dishes he loves to eat.

so you text him and this boy is DRY. hella dry. you text as casually as you can even though you know that a) your crippling social awkwardness hinders you from acting ‘cool’ with anything and b) how are you supposed to keep calm when he’s your crush and you’re that down bad? (and you really are. just one glance from him has your knees buckling and nobara facepalming.) yet each time you text him, he doesn’t like any of your messages, and seems to love leaving you on read. not that he’d be doing it on purpose— megumi is, in fact, not chronically online and is probably busy whenever he isn’t replying to you. but why wouldn’t he be prioritising you if he did like you?

so does he not like you? is there any way to change his mind?

yet this is what makes it so furstrating and confusing— he gives you hope. Because why is he sharing exam notes he made for you just so he could share them with you? and yet when you’re jumping around in your room like a loon and kicking your feet up in the air, he sends another text:

‘thought you might want them, since you’re the only person who wants them.’ which is true— so would he have sent it to yuji and nobara if they cared more about their grades? is he just sending it to you since you’re the only option? would he give them to anyone else if he had a choice?

it’s so confusing!

and when you thank him and give your notes to him as an ‘exchange’ (you’re just so deep in your delusions that you think sending him your notes will impress him somehow) he just writes, ‘thanks’. no capitals, no exclamation marks, no emojis whatsoever— just BONE DRY TEXTING.

then when you say goodnight to him, and he says goodnight to you, telling you to have sweet dreams and a good rest with the blandest of emojis ever: classic ‘😀’ and that goofy ‘👍’. ugh! does he like you or not?

it’s so bad that it’s reached the point you’re texting him without any hope left. full-on check-ups every day on him even though you know he doesn’t like you back. even if nobara and yuji say that he barely replies to either of them daily and never wishes them so much as a ‘good luck’ before a test, a ‘good job’ for a mission well-completed, or a ‘goodnight’, much less a ‘sweet dreams’, you’re not king to have that hope. you’re not going to believe that he likes you— you chalk it up to him just being nice, as much as you’d like to be wrong.

so you’re surprised and absolutely elated when he says that he likes you over text, and then again face-to-face.

you swallow your sense of embarrassment as best as you can, trying to level your head with his outside your classroom.

“you’re so confusing…” you tell him before kissing his flushed cheek.

bye this is so stupid help. can you tell that the confusing part is based on real life events. why is he like this

[vorfreudevortex]

the bites cut deep

a megumi x reader one-shot inspired by this smau // masterlist

cw // mentions of injury (dog bite), blood (minor), dead body (used as a simile). mentions of hospital/clinic, medical care. angst, no comfort, cussing. 1.2k words.

the bites cut deep in more ways than one.

megumi stands awkwardly before you now in a small room within shoko’s office. its familiar to him, but not to you. the room is uneasier than usual. the fluorescent lights make the white of the gauze around your leg glow and the red of your blood even harsher. they buzz too loudly in the silence between you. he wishes he could turn them off, he wishes they didn’t glare across your face so brightly.

“i didn’t tell them to attack you,” megumi finally says, stepping closer to you, just inches away. his words are cold though, unattached. his arms hang limply at his sides, he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. you don’t quite meet his, either.

“so why did they?” you respond, soft and confused. you can’t help but shift in your seat, the paper beneath you on the exam table crinkling through the tension. megumi swallows hard, his gaze flickering away to the linoleum ground beneath his shoes. his hands flex and release, wanting to reach out to you but unable to bring himself to do so through the lie that's about to boil over.

“i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” this time you look right into his unreadable face. “it’s… that’s not good enough for me.”

megumi clenches his jaw, the tension coiling like a tight spring. “it’s not about you.”

“what are you talking about?” your voice is still quiet, dismayed. “your dogs bit me. how is this not about me?”

“you’re taking this too personally,” you can see his eyes spark with anger, just for a moment.

your heart starts to pound in your chest, the fresh bite marks throbbing in sync with the rhythm. “how am i supposed to take it, then? you told me that your divine dogs respond only to you, to your thoughts and feelings. do you expect me not to feel anything with puncture wounds in my leg?”

“it’s not like i meant for it to happen,” megumi snaps, expression hardening as he finally meets your eyes. “you just don’t understand.”

“then tell me.”

“i don’t know how,” his voice starts to rise. “i don’t know how to explain how dangerous this all is! i don’t know how to make you understand that it’s not safe for you to be around here. or me.”

“i’m not asking for safety, i’m asking for the truth!” your voice cracks with your frustration finally spilling over. “just tell me.”

megumi’s breath hitches. just for a moment, something painful, raw, and unguarded comes across his face. but it's gone after a split second, replaced by the cold, stoic mask he always wears. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“i think i already know, so just tell me,” your voice trembles. for what seems like an eternity, the two of you just stare at each other. to megumi, you're staring into his soul; picking apart and analyzing every possible atom that creates him. to you, megumi's eyes are simply sharp and angry; deep-blue eyes swirling with hurricanes of regret and resentment.

megumi opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates with a small gasp. the words begin to fall, tight and strained, like you were wrenching them out of his throat by force.

"i don't know how to love you."

you don't respond. your heart twists violently, sending a surge of rushing blood and fear through your bones. it's exponentially more powerful than the adrenaline that ripped through you after the dogs' jaws clamped into your leg.

"i tell myself i don't love you. it's easier than admitting that i'm the one who makes... us... difficult."

"you tell yourself you don't love me?" you whisper, hot tears brimming in your eyes. "since when?"

megumi looks away. "since the beginning."

"the beginning?" the rushing blood in your veins turns hot, your anger growing uncontrollably. "so, what? y-you don't love me? never have? you've just been pretending- no, lying to me all this time?

"no!" he shoots back, voice piercing and defensive. "i wasn't pretending! i just-"

"-you just what?" it's another staring match again. you and the boy you've loved for so long now, bitterly daring the other to speak first.

"it's not that simple."

you don't say anything at first, blinking blankly, attempting to process the muddling emotions in your head. "then explain it. because from what i understand, you've been stringing me along this entire relationship. you've been telling yourself that you don't give a fuck about me while manipulating me to believe you did."

"i care," megumi's voice cracks.

"how?"

"i-that's the problem! i care too much. can't you see that?" he's flipped a switch, almost desperate through the anger to make you understand now. "if i keep loving you, i'm just going to hurt us. i'll just hurt you."

"like you just did?" with wild eyes, you gesture towards the gauze around your leg, still pulsing with pain.

"yeah..." megumi swallows. "...like i just did."

"...i don't get it, megumi," the tears are slipping down your cheeks now. "you just... convinced yourself i wasn't real? and the dogs came after me because of that? i don't get it."

"i don't know," his chest heaves. "i let myself feel what i want when i'm with you. and when i leave, i just... tell myself how fucking stupid i am for letting myself do that. it's better than hurting you."

"you've already hurt me, megumi!" you sob. "and you've been doing it this entire time we've been together, it's just that neither of us even knew it!"

his face completely falls now, eyes wide with disbelief. he doesn't even feel the pain of his fisted nails digging into his palms, knuckles bright white. "i thought it was better this way," he whispers hoarsely.

"maybe for you," you wipe at your tears, the aching in your chest growing stronger with each heartbeat. "i never wanted you to protect me from whatever feelings you were hiding. i just wanted you."

"i-i don't know how to do that," he stammers. "i'm sorry. i... don't know how to give myself to you."

"i just don't think you want to."

silence falls like a dead body between you. megumi is forlorn, grasping desperately for words, the right words, to say to you. he wants to tell you 'i do! i do want to! that's what i've wanted all along!' but it doesn't come. he tries to tell you 'i love you, please... i always have. please, teach me how to let me love you?' but he's frozen with a compulsing heart.

megumi watches your wet, wounded eyes rise from the floor and directly into his own. he watches you search hopelessly for something, anything, in his face. something to save you, something to save him. but it just isn't there.

in that exact moment, megumi realizes that he cares too much. he loves you too much. and no matter the extent his care for you goes, he will never be able to truly let you in.

"leave, megumi."

and without another word, he finds his body moving against his thoughts. megumi doesn't look back. the door latches loudly behind him, leaving you completely alone. the buzzing of the sickening flourescent lights returns in full force, making bile rise in your throat.

the bites cut deep in more ways than one.

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[bookyeom]

pairing: hoshi x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, reader is a bad dancer?

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

dance with me by sarah kang ft. cody dear

'cause boy when i'm alone with you you make me wanna sway, wanna move

dance with me 나랑 춤출래? i don't care about where or when pick a song that never ends

You and Soonyoung have been stuck in some weird, uncharted territory for months now. 

He’s your friend, but he’s also so much more than that. You know it, and you’re pretty sure he knows it, too.  

You’d do anything for him, really. So when he asks you to meet him at the studio before you head home so that he can show you something new he’s working on, you don’t hesitate. Even though it’s midnight, and you’re exhausted from hours spent studying in the library – because Soonyoung is calling.

You can hear music as you approach the practice room, recognizing it as the song for the dance he’s been rehearsing for his final exam, so you’re surprised when you don’t see him through the windows at all. You turn the handle on the door to the room tentatively, opening it just enough to peek inside. And you smile.

Soonyoung is lying flat on his back near the wall closest to you, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling. You watch as he marks the movements in small gestures from his spot on the floor, bobbing his head to the beat, as if he’s taking only half a break. You’ve been friends for quite some time now, and you know him well enough to know that his mind won’t settle until he’s perfected what he’s practicing. He’ll rest his body if he has to, if it makes him, but even then, you know he’s always going over choreo in his head. Like right now. 

You wait until the song is finished, until there’s quiet, and then you speak. “I was invited here to see some dancing, but it looks like I’m in the wrong place.”

Soonyoung’s head falls back onto the floor as he looks over, a grin spreading across his lips when he meets your eyes. He’s looking at you upside down, and it makes you laugh. Then you’re suddenly not laughing anymore, because within seconds he’s pushed to his feet and is bounding over to wrap you in a warm, sweaty hug. Now, your heart is racing.

“Hi!” He beams, moving back to squeeze you by the biceps. 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you manage. 

“I was just taking a break,” he explains, and you nod. “Don’t worry, that’s the first one I’ve taken all evening–”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I wasn’t worried before, but now I am, if you're telling me that’s the only break you’ve taken from dancing in the last four hours.”

He just laughs, letting go of you, and you roll your eyes. “Go sit over there, I’ll run it again. I don’t need you to help with much… There’s just this one part in the chorus where it feels a little stiff. Just tell me if anything feels,” he gestures into the air vaguely, “off.”

You nod, mock saluting him as you take your place on one of the chairs scattered along the wall on the other side of the room.

You watch as he sets up the song again, your cheeks warming when he begins shrugging off his hoodie. He’s turned away, his back and shoulders now on full display for you in the tank he’s wearing, and you can’t help but stare. You abruptly look down at your feet when he turns back towards you, the first beats of the song beginning to play. You look at him again as he zones in, squaring his shoulders and getting into position as he watches himself in the mirror. 

You don’t have a single rhythmic bone in your body. Watching anyone dance is mind blowing to you, but especially Soonyoung. He’s incredible. Why he wants your advice on his dancing is beyond you, but he always insists, and you’ve never been good at denying him anything.

And why would you even want to deny this? This — a front row seat to one of the most beautiful works of art you’ve ever seen. Soonyoung takes your breath away all the time, but especially like this. 

You’re so caught up in his movements that you don’t even recognize when the chorus hits, when it gets to the part you’re supposed to pay extra attention to. You’re in a trance, only snapping out of it when he makes one final turn, and the song ends. You blink, watching as Soonyoung returns to himself, the performer in him calming with every breath he takes. He lets his shoulders drop, lets his body relax, and then he lets out a loud sigh of relief. He crosses the room and joins you, falling into the chair next to yours, and drops his head onto your shoulder. 

You remind yourself to breathe.

“So?” He’s still breathless. You suddenly remember why you’re there, why he asked you to come and what he asked you to do, and you flush when you realize that you were too dazed to really notice if anything was amiss. 

“This is your best one yet,” you tell him honestly. Which is the truth, because despite your ogling, you would have noticed if anything was glaringly wrong.

“Really?”

You nod. “You’re amazing, Soonyoung.”

The words come out much softer than you intended, much more honest, and you can only hope he doesn’t read into any of it. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you’re running out of reasons not to panic when he says, “Dance with me?”

Your eyes widen as he lifts his head and turns to you with a smile. 

“What?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder and stands up, holding out a hand for you to take. “Come on,” he grins, wiggling his outstretched fingers when you don't move. “I’ll teach you some of the easier moves.”

You let him pull you up, even as you continue to protest. “Soonyoung, you know—“

“Come on,” he insists, “you can do it!”

You groan. “I really can’t, you know this! I can’t dance, Soonyoung, I—”

“You can’t dance well,” he corrects, and you level him with a glare. He just grins wider as he adds, “but I know you like to! I’ve seen you on our nights out.”

You willfully ignore how his last comment makes you feel, trying desperately not to flush crimson red at his observation. At the fact that he’s noticed these things. “Yeah, so you already know I look like an idiot.”

“You look,” Soonyoung counters, “like you’re having a lot of fun. I’ve seen the way you smile when you’re dancing with your friends.”

You try once more. “No one is judging me there.”

“No one is judging you here, either.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because you can’t argue with that. You know he would never judge you – for anything. You huff, narrowing your brows as you give him a mock glare, but your shoulders fall in defeat. Soonyoung giggles – your favourite sound – and leads you into the middle of the room.

He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to guide you through what he claims is one of the easier steps to master, and to your surprise, you actually kind of get the hang of it. He’s a good teacher, you note, because of course he is, and you feel a bit less anxious with every “good job!” and cheer he sends your way. 

You continue to practice the same small sequence for a bit. When Soonyoung places both arms on your shoulders and stares you directly in the eyes, you stop breathing for a second.

“Okay,” he says, “this is the last move of this part, but it’s a bit hard.” He draws his lip between his teeth, and you watch it happen, because what else are you supposed to do? You think he notices, because his mouth quirks up at the side, but he doesn’t say anything except for, “You up for it?”

You don’t think you say yes, but he begins to teach you, anyway. And he’s right – this last move is hard. He continues to encourage you, and you continue to try and try and try, and –

You let out an ungodly squeal when you finally land in the right spot, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes! I nailed that!” 

You try one more time, two more times, and it’s not perfect — but you do it. 

You don’t even notice the way Soonyoung is looking at you until after you do the move for the third time. When you do, your heart leaps into your throat. He’s got his arms crossed as he smiles over at you, soft, and you think there’s a pink flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. You try and tell yourself it’s from the dancing, even though you know it’s you that’s been exerting yourself for the last half hour, not him. He looks so fond, and happy, and there’s something else you can’t quite put a finger on. All you know is that it’s making your entire body warm. 

“What?” You ask as steadily as you can manage.

He just shakes his head. Then he abruptly looks down as if shaking himself out of a stupor, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you’re frozen in place. What was that all about?

“High five,” he offers, cutting of your train of thought, and it takes you a second to register what he’s asking for. 

And when your hand lifts to meet his, he doesn’t let go. 

It all happens at once. His fingers intertwine with yours, his other hand finds your waist, and suddenly he’s so close to you that you forget how to think. You know there’s no mistaking the shakiness in the exhale that leaves you. 

“Is this part of the choreo?” You finally manage, voice barely a whisper, and Soonyoung lets out a soft breath.

“No,” he admits, his voice low.

His hand slides around to your lower back, testing the waters further. His other hand falls from yours, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort before he pulls you in even closer, like he can’t stop himself.

“What about this?” Your voice is so, so quiet.

“No.”

His voice is soft in the emptiness of the practice room around you. Your bodies are flush now, chest to chest, and you think that if he wasn’t holding you up, your knees would buckle. His eyes still haven’t left yours, waiting, though you don’t know for what. His gaze only breaks from yours to wander across your face; your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You can’t help the soft exhale that leaves you when his eyes find your lips, and you know he notices because you can feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your shirt. 

Moments pass like that, and when you still don’t move away, Soonyoung lets out a soft breath of air that you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His next movements are slow and calculated, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut. Your hand lifts to his chest, and you’re surprised when you feel just how fast his heart is beating. 

“Soonyoung?” You question softly after a moment, impressed that your voice even makes it out at all. He responds with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes still closed.

“I just… Just give me a second,” he murmurs, and your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it in the quiet of the practice room.

“Okay.” 

You have no idea what’s going on. All you know is that you trust Soonyoung with your life, and if he needs a minute — you’ll give him ten. You think that maybe you’re the one who needs a minute, though, because you’re not sure how you’re still breathing, let alone standing upright with him this close. 

So close that your breaths are mingling together in the small space that’s left between you, so close that you can count every single one of those beautiful eyelashes as they flutter against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your eyebrows furrow. 

“For what?” Your hand moves of its own accord, moving from his chest to find his bicep and squeezing gently to remind him that he’s okay. He lets out a hum, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re almost worried now.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. If I’m being weird,” he elaborates. “It’s just that — well, honestly, ah,” he seems to attempt to squeeze his eyes shut even more, if that were possible. “I’ve really been wanting to kiss you lately — like, more than usual, which is already a lot — fuck, sorry.” He inhales sharply. “You just looked so cute watching me before, and dancing with me now, so I thought that I… and then you didn’t move away, so I thought that maybe you…” He trails off again, and you’re sure your ears are playing tricks on you. 

You move your forehead away from his, and his eyes finally open at the loss of contact. When your gaze meets his, your breath is nearly stolen away from you. He looks terrified as he searches your face, his eyebrows furrowed, and you know him so well that you swear you can hear him overthinking everything. His grip loosens on the back of your shirt but he doesn’t let go, and you can tell he wants to speak again based on the way his mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t. You haven’t moved, and he doesn’t either, and you know he’s letting you decide how to respond. He would give you all the space in the world if you asked for it, you know that.

You don’t want space, though.

“It’s not weird,” you finally say, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you speak. “I’ve been feeling like that, too.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen, and he blinks slowly. He takes a moment, processing, and then he starts, “You—”

“I swear all I think about these days is kissing you,” you blurt out, and you’re not sure who’s blushing harder now, you or him. 

Before you even know what’s happening, Soonyoung is surging forward to close the whisper of distance that remains between the two of you. Then his lips are pressed to yours, hot and slow and lingering, his hand lifting to your jaw to angle your face so that he can kiss you even deeper. You let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper at the intensity of the kiss, at how warm and soft and good his mouth feels against yours, and he hums in return.

When he pulls away, it takes a second for your own eyes to flutter back open. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes have turned into crescent moons. 

“Holy fuck, Soonyoung.” You’re breathless, and you can tell he’s pleased with your comment as his thumb caresses the side of your jaw.

“So much better than I could have ever imagined,” he returns, and you flush. “And trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

You move to bury your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, not caring at all that he’s sweaty and warm. His arms pull you in, holding you close to his chest, and you hum as he gently sways the two of you. 

“Now neither of us has to wonder what it’s like anymore,” you say softly.

“You’re right,” he agrees, pulling you back so he can look down at you again. His hands clasp together at the small of your back as he leans forward to teasingly brush his nose against yours. “Now that I know what it feels like to kiss you, though, I’m definitely going to be thinking about it even more than I already was.”

Your arms wind your way around his neck. “Me, too.” 

“I mean…” Soonyoung is grinning, smile so bright it could outshine the sun, as he says, “We could just… keep doing it.” 

You pull him into you so abruptly that it makes you stumble, falling in a tangle of limbs down to the practice room floor. You wince as you land on Soonyoung, but he’s laughing as you roll off and onto your back beside him. You throw a hand over your eyes, and you can feel it as Soonyoung lifts onto his side next to you. A hand moves to trace patterns on your arm, and you can’t help the shiver that courses through you.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he murmurs, and you can still hear the smile in his voice.

“I know. I’m just… Embarrassed.”

Soonyoung’s fingers halt their motions as he finds your hand and brings your arm away from your face, entwining his fingers with yours. He continues to play with your fingers, his body firm against your side as he leans against you. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“I was trying to be sexy and I literally tripped us, Soonyoung. This is why you’re the dancer and I’m not.”

Soonyoung’s mouth moves slowly, almost painstakingly slow, as a smile takes over his face. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re about to let out a whine because you’re even more embarrassed with him looking at you like that. But he sits up, bringing you with him. The soft smile on his mouth grows, and grows, and grows, until his grin has widened so much that it’s taken over his entire face. 

“You like me,” he whispers, and you can’t help the giggle that tumbles past your lips. You flush, giddy over how giddy he is, and you nod. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really, really do.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Sorry a new fic took so long, there's been a lot going on in my life that I did not foresee lol. Thanks for waiting xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf

(Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, I’m sorry!)

[callsign-rogueone]

bruised, but not broken

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 2.0k 🏷: pt5 for sawyer and peach, very mild iron flame spoilers, mild descriptions of injury, soft sleepy sawyer <3 (he's concussed and needs to be held, okay), second squad makes another appearance, peach has a mouth on her, peach getting distracted by his muscles, more will-they-won't-they (they will eventually, I promise), two updates in two days! that's a record for me. ok byeee

Tomorrow comes and goes with no sight of Sawyer or his friends. 

He wouldn’t have forgotten about you, especially not after all that ordeal yesterday with that piece of parchment that’s still burning a hole in your bookbag. Maybe they’re just busy training.

Yeah. Extra flight time, or something. Or they’re out in the woods again. But wouldn’t they have a healer with them, then? None of the third years are unaccounted for. Maybe the second time they send them without a healer, to make it more difficult — not that you really did anything for them when you were there, besides figure out that the two maps were different. 

You probably weren’t supposed to do that, but after passing by the same tree four times, it became abundantly clear to you that most of these city kids had never spent any time in the woods, and you just couldn’t help yourself.

You bring a hand up to hold the little flower charm between your fingers, taking a breath. He’s fine. He has to be fine. Just crack your knuckles and say a prayer, and he’ll be fine. 

The infirmary being full really isn’t helping you relax right now, either. Not when half of the patients are infantry cadets who have just returned from four days of camping in the woods, and James and his twin idiots could walk in at any time. You’ve had it up to here with one of them in particular, who has been mouthing off about how long he’s been waiting to be checked out for a tiny cut on his arm that would need one stitch, if any.

“They’ll get to you when they get to you, but keep whining like that and I will personally make sure you’re the last one to be seen today.” He starts to protest, but you cut him off. “Do I make myself clear?” you ask more firmly. He nods, looking sufficiently embarrassed. “Good. Now sit your ass down, and treat me and my classmates with some respect.”

The squad exchanges a look. “Has she always been like that?” Ridoc asks in a whisper.

“Only when I did something really stupid,” Sawyer replies, his eyes not leaving you. “I haven't seen her that mad since I pretended to drown in the river when we were sixteen.”

“That wasn’t funny then and it still isn’t now,” you chide, turning to face them. Your jaw drops at the sight of the two boys — and Rhiannon, too — all looking battered and bruised. 

“It’s worse than it looks,” Ridoc reassures, giving you a smile that stretches the purpling bruise on his left cheek.

“He means that it looks worse than it is,” Violet corrects from his side. She appears unscathed, but looks exhausted to the bone.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You point down the hallway. “All of you, exam room, now.” The infantry cadet opens his mouth, but you silence him with your stare. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you, kid.”

You exhale deeply as soon as the door is closed behind the five of you. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

“All good,” Ridoc supplies. 

“Her first,” both of the boys say in unison, looking at Rhiannon. She doesn’t protest, sitting down in front of you and stripping off her flight jacket so you can take a proper look. 

The first thing you notice is that both of her wrists are circled with patches of raw, irritated skin. “What did they do to you, tie you up?” you ask, incredulous.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Handcuffs.”

“For what purpose?”

“Top secret rider stuff,” Ridoc answers around a yawn, and you see an identical mark on him as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth. “Torture training. But we broke ourselves out, ‘cause we’re the best.”

“Gods above,” you swear. “I don’t know how half of what they do to you guys is legal.”

“It really isn’t,” Violet answers tiredly, “but we signed up for it.”

It still doesn’t sit right with you, but you can’t do anything to change it. All you can do is keep patching them up the best you can.

“Ridoc, can you…”

“Gotcha.” He takes the small bowl from you, holding it under the tap, and the flow of water turns into several small chunks of ice.

“Thanks.”

He hums in response, taking one for himself and holding it to the split on his cheekbone.

“What’s your date of birth?” Violet asks quietly, pen in hand. She’d managed to swipe a handful of intake sheets off the counter without you noticing, and is sitting in the corner, dutifully filling them in for you. Scribe habits die hard, you suppose. Nobody will care as long as it’s your signature at the bottom certifying everything, especially when you’re so short-handed and the leadership has a dozen more important things to do than check it.

Ridoc looks deeply offended. “Ow, dude. You don’t know my birthday?” 

“April 23rd,” Sawyer answers for him, not looking up. He’s definitely got some sort of concussion — the unfocused look in his eyes and his unusually quiet, slow-blinking demeanor give it away.

“See? Somebody knows.”

“Only because you made a ginormous deal about it.”

“Excuse me for wanting to celebrate still being alive!”

The room falls silent. You’ve only heard a few things about their squadmates that had passed, but it’s obvious that they were all deeply affected by the losses.

“I didn't mean…” 

“We know,” Violet says gently, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”

There’s another moment of quiet before you pull back, assessing your work. “I think that’s about all I can do.”

“Thank you. It feels a lot better already.”

The squad sits quietly, not saying anything as you patch up Ridoc, then turn to Sawyer. “You guys can head back without me,” he says quietly. There’s a moment of hesitation from the others, but they exchange a look and silently decide it’s okay. 

“For the road,” you say, handing them each a tin of bruise salve and a small bottle of pain tonic — and some more stretchy bandages for Violet. “Get some rest if you can.”

They take their leave quietly, thanking you, and shut the door behind them, leaving just you, Sawyer, half a bowl of ice, and the pile of neatly written paperwork. He slowly gets up, moving to sit on the edge of the table — almost at eye level with you now. “Hi,” you say softly.

“Hi.” He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, blinking at you slowly.

You cradle his jaw in one hand, tilting his head up so you can look at his pupils — they’re equal and reactive, with no signs of permanent damage. The few days worth of stubble covering his jaw tickles your palm as he leans into your touch, closing his eyes. “M’ sorry for bailing on you,” he murmurs. “I really was going to come get you, I promise.”

“I know, sweet boy,” you soothe. “Don’t worry about it.”

He reaches out, pulling you closer and resting his head over your heart — and whining like a sad puppy when you don’t return the hug.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say gently. 

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbles. “C’mere.”

You wrap your arms around him loosely, resting a hand on his back and stroking up and down gently while you work the other into the hair at the back of his neck, gently massaging away some of the tension. He hums in contentment, settling against you and closing his eyes.

You’ve only seen him like this once, this clingy and sleepy, when he’d caught the world’s worst cold during harvest season and you were tasked with taking care of him while everyone else was out working. Of course you’d gotten the same cold from him, and then the roles were reversed. He would actually have made a decent healer. If only he were safe here with you all the time instead of risking his life every day doing gods-know-what in the name of preparing for war. 

“I worry about you, y’know. All of you,” you admit. 

“Don’t. We managed to escape a literal dungeon together.”

“I wish you hadn’t been there in the first place.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

You feel your stress slowly start to drain away, replaced with the reassuring steadiness of his breathing and the soft tick of the clock. You can finally stop worrying about his name being on the death roll tomorrow.

He pulls back, looking up at you. “Can you check if one of my ribs is broken?”

Your eyes widen. “You really just let me — asked me to hug you, when you thought you had a broken rib?” He winces at your volume, and you apologize immediately. “Sorry, sorry. Take your jacket off?”

He complies, setting it on the table, then tugs his shirt over his head, and your jaw drops — both at the yellow-purple bruises across his chest and ribs, and the definition there. He’s always been lean, but the last year has really toned him. All the muscles you had to memorize the names of are on clear display. You pick them out one by one as your eyes rake over the exposed skin.

“Is it that bad?” he asks after a moment.

Busted. “No,” you stammer. “It’s not the worst I’ve seen. Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

You lay your palm against his side, feeling for an obvious point of discomfort. His skin is warm to the touch, and the muscle has just the right amount of give to it. He’d be nice to cuddle with, among other things.

He inhales sharply, distracting you from your thoughts. “There?” you ask, prodding gently. “I think it’s just bruised. There’s no swelling or evidence of displacement.”

“Ah. And the other side?” he asks hoarsely, his cheeks flushed pink.

There’s no bruises or cuts on his other side, but you humor him anyway, moving your hand down his ribs. Five… six, seven, eight… nine, ten… “Turn a bit?” you prompt. 

You’re very grateful that he can’t see your face right now. You’d admired his chest, but his back… the expanse of his shoulders and the relic stretched across them, the thick lines of muscle there… Focus. Stop being a creep. He’s injured, for Amari's sake.

You smooth your hand over his side, finding the floating ribs… there. Eleven, twelve. “Nothing broken,” you manage. “Anything else to report?”

He shakes his head no. “Just sore.” He pulls his shirt back on, and it takes you every ounce of self control not to look disappointed as his skin is covered in the tattered black fabric. He looks you over like he’s assessing you for injury. “How are you doing? Any creepiness I missed out on when I was chained up?”

You wince at the mental image, but shake your head no. “I haven’t seen him in a few days. Are you going to be okay to get back on your own?”

“I thought I told you to stop worrying about me.”

“You did,” you answer. “But I’m not going to stop.”

He sighs. “You’ve always been stubborn like that.”

“I should probably get back out there, but if you want to lay down for a while, I can keep the door locked.”

He shakes his head, standing. “I’m gonna go shower, n’ probably sleep for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Why are goodbyes with him always so awkward? You never know what to do, where you stand. You definitely aren’t in kiss territory. Maybe a cheek kiss, but that’s pushing it. You’ve settled for long hugs a few times, never knowing if it would be the last one you ever get.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For patching me up.”

“Always,” you answer softly, looking up at him. “I’ll always be here for you. Just keep coming back to me, okay?”

“Always.”

[prittiswaggy-co]

INSANE!AU - Tessa James Elliot

!!!! Chemical burns & scars Trigger Warning !!!

The very requested Tessa is here, click on the images for better quality.

More infos under the cut

About the healed Chemical burns: one day, when reviving a drone from the dead like always. The drone unexpectedly woke up and slapped her hand away, dropping the bottle of harsh products on herself. Touching her face and legs. (The drone screamed nonsense before realizing what happened. He didn't survive.)

Scratches all over her body, she had to cut her nails short enough to stop ripping her skin to shreds. Now it just marks and maybe bleed a little if she's really stressed. Her skin becomes itchy and the clothes unbearable when the panic sets in.

Idiosyncratic language user, she always talk in a formal way at the same time. Making outsiders wonder if she really speaks English or not. A messy mix of Australian and French slangs, formal English and teenager dialect.

Have to wear gloves to hide the state of her hands

Some people say she looks angry or at their souls

Nearly Only sleeps on the rocking chair in her room, cyn likes to tease her about being a old lady of 4 drones (reference of the cat ladies). Tessa hates it lol

Occult and paranormal fanatic, she still despite the unexplainable of it, but it's fun nonetheless. J says it's bullshit-

Always feels watched, cannot relax without having a "What if" thought, even if she checked her room for any spying devices almost every week. Nothing, but she knows.

Her room was her primary workshop/lab before having to move elsewhere (basement) when they found that the products she's using was intoxicating her whole bedroom, resulting of a huge fever and a "There's a monster under my bed" situation.

Absolutely hates the lessons her parents forces her to have, she's bad at both of the instruments. Her general (math, history, ectect) studies are also boring, being locked to her own desk, she struggles to even listen to the teacher. Somehow have bad-decent notes. But never enough for her mother who scolds her and punish her after each exams she takes.

Heavy eyebags/dark circles, seems to always had them since she was 5.

Undescriptive haircut, father couldn't care less, mother always become furious when she saw her without the low pigtails.

Shy around other humans

Her parents arrange dates with boys her age, sadly when they see her bones collection they go cry under their mother's petticoat. Lol.

Always see huge spooky snake thingies in the corner of her eyes. Cyn and N says it's just the fatigue.

Knows about the Solver, it was never hostile towards her, taking the form of a camera of some sort both it and Cyn acted like parent-daughter, Solver always wants left over oil. Tessa didn't want her friends to starve so she buys more and more oil. Also why is there bite marks on the drones she's repairing?

Likes to hangout and have tea parties with Cyn and Solver, they talk about anything and nothing at the same time, like the other day! It said that whole monologue about the best family is the one we choosed. Or the time cyn rambled about how great it is to be like them. Free from any rules, anything that could stop them... She wonders about the weird symbols though.

[juinxa]

BRUTUS

[ yandere! light yagami x reader | one shot (?) ]

[ based on the song “brutus” and was written in an hour,, enjoy! might be a full story, might not ]

There has always been a slight admiration in the things around you. Growing up was simply a walk in the park, you weren’t exceptional at anything, but you didn’t lack anything exceptional. School has always been mundane, so you never tried at your grades, studying was never an option because passing was always passing. The grades would suffice to counselors, so they wouldn’t bat an eye at you. To them, you were simply another student who was average. You never had a problem with it. If you were passing, why bother going above and beyond? Average grades, average friends, average reputation, and the outcome would likely be an average university, average job, and average life. Average was just a common vocabulary, and it would be enough for you.

Until him.

High school wouldn’t have come so sooner if you didn’t hear his name roll off their tongues so frequently.  Life had been fine, finally contempt at the way things were looking up. At this rate, graduation would go smoothly. You didn’t second guess yourself, nor did you berate yourself for being so plain. If it got you where you wanted, why would you complain? That is the entire point of this whole school system: to get a job and a real life. Not everyone could be surgeons and CEOs. The world needed plumbers and carpenters, too!

So when Light Yagami was shoved at the highest mark in the midterms, every damn year, you began to think that a future CEO was in the making. No matter, there wasn’t any harm in being at the top of school, plus it must be hard to maintain. You were curious to how this guy got the highest mark. Every. Damn. Time. But alas, you stopped caring because the world didn’t pay you to care.

However, the world must’ve been indebted to his ancestors because he was just about everywhere you went. Just when you pass the exam board, you saw a tennis championship, with, get this, Light Yagami. And to make matters worse, they made nationals! And this picture was the first actual look at him. Finally, a face to the famous name that’s plastered at the number one top is revealed. He was front and center, smiling with a grin that could put angels to shame. A frown etched into your lips.

Brown beautiful hair to match his brown beautiful eyes, why must God be so unfair? He was tall, too, with a lean figure. You had heard whispers about him from the girls around you, calling him attractive and a total babe. At first, you never knew the answer for yourself. Yet, upon looking at his chiseled features, it laid marked in a bubble sheet. It was sure to get an hundred. His nose was upturned and his lips were full, enough to make a pout noticeable.

A pencil snapped in your hand, frustration began to furrow in your bone marrow. You were stuck on this project, which exactly came after you got a look at Mr. Perfect. If he were here—actually, you had no reason to think about him. In fact, you had no reason to be jealous! Light has something you obviously didn’t: effort. The answer was obvious. Light had worked his ass off to get where he was at, and what had you accomplished? Nothing. You never attempted to make an effort at your work, let alone studies. So what if you can’t solve this problem? What’s another low C in this class? It wouldn’t harm your grade, why did you need to score an A, anyways?

To prove a point?

That not everything needs effort? As if. Scoffing, you throw the pencil in your bag, pulling out your phone to search up the answer instead. There was a reason you were stuck in this place, but you weren’t going to do anything. You would never reach the point of a CEO, so why bother? It would be too late to pursue that, you were in your final year of high school, everything that has happened, happened. You could obtain all A’s this year, but it would not erase the A’s and B’s (rare C’s) from your previous years. You could practice hard for a sport, but it would not guarantee a sport scholarship. You could make all the friends this year, but it would not shun your reputation from earlier years.

Point was: what’s done is done. You can’t change your future because you had drilled nails in it, locking it in place. Maybe you’d be able to wiggle it to allow some room for more but space was bound to run out. You’d like to think that in another life, you were different. Imagination helped.

Imagination did help you excel in one thing. Art. Art has always been at the tip of your fingertips. You were the president of the Art club, and you snorted. That would totally look great on resumes. Art club didn’t come with huge responsibilities like a tennis club, but it still needed time, nonetheless. You had painted murals for the school in different places. Effort was a major key in art. And by all means, did you put fucking effort in your pieces. They were your pride and joy, your babies that you held up to the light. Nothing would prune these pairings and sculptures you created.

Growing up, you wanted to be an architect. The work was exhausting, but you always thought it was just designing things and designing things is what you were good at. However, there was much more work that needed to be in it, which crushed your dreams. Sometimes, you wished you could’ve tried harder.

With a splat of paint, you dusted off any paint crumbs lingering onto your figure. The mixture of colors created a swirl of rainbows on you. Your hair was disheveled, paint specks in them. Stepping back, you placed your thumb up to measure it meticulously. You had decided that you wanted to submit your piece to a scholarship fund. Any creative piece was to be admitted for a chance to win 50,000 dollars in school funds. If you were extremely lucky, you would even get a full ride. This piece had taken months to finish, and you thought it was finally done.

This was your lifeline because you had spent too long on this. Your grades had even stumbled a bit from how much you focused on this. While that could’ve harmed you in the long run, you knew that it would be worth it when you won the prize. You had skimmed through the previous winners, all art pieces were amazing, but you had spun your own little twist to yours. Besides, this was a piece that had specific requirements based on GPA, location, age, and so on. This meant that your chances of winning were quite high.

Days had gotten increasingly slow since you’ve submitted your piece, but you had learned to keep it in the back of your mind. If you had thought about it so much, time would be much slower. There were top pieces that were picked, and people were able to see how far their art piece had gotten. You grabbed your mother in joy, seeing that you had made the top 20, but they didn’t give you any specific place. However, you couldn’t be more happy with where you were. You knew that this scholarship would help you so much with money problems. You could even pick which university you wanted to go to, granted it had to be in Japan.

Your friends had surprised you with gifts and compliments about your achievements. Even members of the art club had threw you a small party based off your performance. This made you heart heavy with how many people supported you. You couldn’t have been any more grateful.

The deadline was coming sooner than you expected. Every test you had taken had also been easy. Sure, Light Yagami had the spotlight as always with his accomplishments, but you were happy with your average life. With a small pep in your step, you made your way to the counselor’s office. She had rarely called you because there’s never been a reason to. This made you giddy, it might’ve had something to do with your scholarship. Your mind was too high off of dopamine to notice the brunet that walked passed you in a brisk hurry. In that moment, nothing could have popped your bubble of stupor, not even the doe of eyes that looked at you with curiosity—one that would soon turn into that of murder.

“[Name], I’m so glad you could make it! Congrats, I’ve heard about your standing of being in the top 10! I’m sure you must be very proud. This is huge for your future!” You counselor ushers you to sit across from her, the computer lighting up her features in a blue light.

”Thank you, I’m glad to have made it this far!”

”Have you thought about what universities you’d like to apply to after winning?”

You chuckle, “Well, if I do win, I’d like to go to maybe somewhere base. I’m not exactly sure what school specifically, but I’d like anything with a good art program.”

”You don’t think you’re dreaming too small?” She wonders, pushing pamphlets towards you. “You could reach incredible schools at this level. Your grades aren’t bad, so you have a real chance at going to be an Ivy school, especially with this scholarship. What about To-Oh?”

A grimace makes its way to your face, “I think that’s a little out of my league. That’s a prestigious school, and I don't think they even have an art program to begin with.”

”Nonsense, but they have this,” she pulls out a piece of paper. You notice it as an assignment from your freshman year about your future self and dreams. In slanted handwriting, you notice the words architect written with hurry in the “dream job” line. The word itself makes your stomach drop. You had written the quickest thing on your mind as to not be late for your next class. You remember being stuck on the question, thinking hard about what you actually wanted to do and not the salary portion of it. You had written it as a last resort, which is exactly how it’s still being treated now.

”I think it’s too late for that dream now.” You say, but she cuts you off.

”You can make this dream a reality. Grades like yours can do great things in life. Don’t doubt yourself. Besides, this scholarship is in correlation with To-Oh’s architecture design program. If you win this, it gets you a good chance. You just need to put a lot of effort in this.”

Effort, exactly what you didn’t have because you were no Light Yagami.

You left with the pamphlets in your hand has you walk back to your class. The words linger on your mind. You could still make your dream a reality. That’d be nice.

”To-Oh?! That’s elite.” Asuka jabs at your side with a grin. “You could totally make it!”

”No way, that’s too elite.” You shake your head, “I need something more realistic. Counselors are always like that with their ‘you got this’ crap and their ‘aim higher’ stuff.”

Asuka grubs on her black rice, “Well, you could always go with me, to some no name.” She cuts you off from continuing, “I’m kidding. You’re not supposed to agree. Your grades are good, [Name]. You shouldn’t be following after me, some girl with a ‘D’s get degrees mindset.’”

You don’t argue, but it does leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You would most likely be a major outcast if you went there. Everyone had probably come from rich backgrounds or because someone related was an alumni there or how Einstein level they were. It just didn’t feel like a place that could host you. Maybe in another life. But in this on, you were opting for the road most followed by.

School has started as any other. You sat at your table, discussing grades with Asuka about the last test, to which she admits she flunked, but she was barely passing with a C. It’s a miracle she’s made it this far, but you wouldn’t have anyone else by your side. When the teacher had came in, everyone had gotten to their proper place, ready to learn. This lesson wasn’t hard, and it was mostly common sense, which led your thoughts to go astray.

The window was a great place to distract yourself. You gaze off, eyes slowly fluttering with a jolt to open them. Sleep hasn’t been coming easily due to your excitement about the winner. It would be announce any day now, and you awaited for the check to come to your door. When your eyes were slowly closing, a flash blew by you, stuttering you awake. Blinking, you squinted your eyes. What was that? It looked like a book. No one else had seemed to notice, which led you to think it was probably that experience when you feel like you’re falling before sleeping.

A sharp sound from the intercom has disrupted your lesson, not that you were tuning into it anyways. It was a wonder as to what they had to announce so bad during lessons, but you didn’t mind the interruption. Asuka’s fingers nimbly played with your hair as she listened as well.

”We excuse the interruption to announce a special event that has occurred. The national art scholarship has made its final contestant to this very school! We like to send our congrats to the winner!”

Asuka grabbed your shoulders, clenching your now tense shoulders. Someone had won? And it was at this school! This was such great news! You had poured your heart and soul into that project, losing countless hours of sleep because of it. And for once, you had put actual effort. You didn’t think they'd announce it over the intercoms. You began to grow self-conscious about your looks. Did you look okay for pictures right now? Were they seriously going to announce it? Asuka held her breath as did you. Some heads looked your way, already knowing the outcome. Who else, but you!

”Congratulations to Light Yagami!”

This must’ve been what Jupiter felt like when it couldn’t be a star. You think. There’s a huge jab in your throat, and Asuka lets go of your shoulder to cover her mouth from the gasp. Everyone’s heads are not away from you, listening intently to Golden Boy. You almost throw up from the disappointment that’s stirring deeply like a stew of fucking stupidity. How stupid could you be? You? win? That was absurd. Those two didn’t even go together. Your hairs stand on edge, goosebumps and mouth turning dry from the air that’s been snatched from you.

”For his beautiful writing about the meaning of justice!”

Fucking writing? Fucking. Writing. Fucking. Writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing. Fucking writing.

The answer could not have been more obvious. The rest is tuned out. You don’t have the auricle to listen to the rest. You could to rip your hair out as well as your tongue. In fact, you wants to gnaw at your fingers for not doing something beautiful like him. Ripping them out would not amount to the pain your experiencing now. You want to gouge out your eyes to prevent the stares of concern that were flooding your ways. You want to pop your eardrums, deafening yourself from the cheers of the class behind you that held the one and only. 

God, you want to fucking gut Light Yagami.

You're quick to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Asuka wants to follow, but the teacher doesn’t allow it. He must’ve notice you wanted to be alone because he doesn’t bother sending anyone out before class ends. The duration of that class was you sobbing in the bathroom because for once, you were proud of what had done. You were bathed in your own glory for the effort your put forth. You felt so pitiful and useless. What was it all for? All for him to get what he wants. He had everything! He had the grades, reputation, respect, admiration, fucking everything! You weren’t even left with crumbs because he had robbed it of you. To make matters worse, Light came from a respected family! His dad was a chief officer!

Since when did Light even do art?! And since when did art consider writing excerpts? Let alone essays! When did he apply? When did he have time? He had so much stuff to do like his studying or his tennis games—or whatever else he does. You gave Light the benefit of the doubt that his life was hard because he had to maintain so much, but he does it so perfectly.

So effortlessly.

Your lips are caught between your teeth. Speak of devil, he will appear. Light Yagami is passing by you, in a hurry, you add. You’re unsure what came over you as you step in his way, mind consumed with rage. Just who was he?! He was a genius, you couldn’t deny it. 

“Congrats on the scholarship, Light! You must’ve worked really hard on it!” Your voice is chirpy, and Light stops to entertain you.

”Oh, thank you. It’s really nothing. I only applied because Professor Takashi said he’d give me extra credit for it. I wasn’t aware of the emails they sent throughout the duration. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get something.”

This must be how alcoholics began. You note, laying in bed as the ceilings have been the most interesting thing all day. There was a three day weekend, which meant three days to sulk and wallow in your own despair at your robbing—sorry, loss. Asuka had been blowing up your phone, trying to get you out of bed and go out. You couldn’t believe Light didn’t even want to apply. He only did it so his professor would give him extra credit! What went from three extra points led to 50,000$ in tuition funds and maybe a full ride. Light must’ve pulled the lucky stick from birth, or he was simply trying. That was also an option. He worked hard for it, you couldn’t deny that. He deserved it.

So why did you lay awake thinking instead of him, it should be you?

There were even interviews on his accomplishments. They all flocked to him like he was a mother duck. And yet, when you saw him, you saw a new entitlement in his eyes. It brought a foul odor in your nose, making you grimace.

The next time you see Light Yagami, you see him. You’re everywhere he is, breathing down his neck from afar. You gawk at the perfect specimen like you’re at a zoo and he’s the exhibit, like you’re a scientist and he’s the experiment, like you’re the audience and he’s the preformer. He was in your own entrapment because you can’t help but wonder, what made him so special? What went on the head of someone like Light Yagami? What were his flaws? What were his specialities? What was he?

You hate the way people preach up to him like a God. Students are so enamored by his good looks and good grades that he don’t see the underlying cockiness etched in his mold. They cling to him as the future hope, and teachers hold his name in high regard. Be like Light Yagami! They cried. Be the best you can! They shout. Be you!

And those go upon deaf ears as you doodle on your worksheet. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish upon his demise, but not his timely death. You didn’t hate him, per say. You don’t think you ever could. He’s never done anything wrong but he himself, so why were you feeling this way? Was this something you should embrace? Be afraid of? Run from? Maybe you were just slightly envious.

Or maybe, you wanted to be like him: loved, enamored, worshipped, special, praised, Light Yagami. That those around you would see you has the poet that created these lovely flows, and not the muse that will never be heard because your poet deemed you not good enough. However, he was already too far to be reached, so what more can you do than to be another step for him to reach the top.

Because Light has never been mean to you for these thoughts to be explored. Contrary to your belief, Light was always nice to you. He had helped you in the past growing up. You guys were actually in the same class at some point—a lot, really. That was until high school, where he decided to triumph above you everyone. Because at one point, you were with him at the top, albeit in his own shadow. But that was middle school. Those memories were far discarded.

But maybe, your name could also be known to your peers. Maybe the praise you seek wasn’t far. Maybe you could restore your former peak from back then, when you were at the highest point, when everyone crowded you with cheers and applause. They could chant your name with bliss in their voice—like a repeated mantra. In bed, your brain wandered about the day that people would look up to you like a God.

You began to get into your own head. Spiraling was all you began to know because of one failure. That was yours to claim! Yours to cherish! Yours to hold! Yours to mold!

You held your face with your hands, staring down at the study sheet with an immense pressure. Any harder and you might’ve burnt it. The pencil laid beside the flimsy paper, waiting for its use. A clock was set aside as well, signaling your next 5 minute break, which wasn't for another hour. This small room for your study session was perfect. There were no distractions in sight. Midterms would be approaching soon, and you wanted to study meticulously for it. The plan was to be the top ranked for yourself, of course. It was for no one else but yourself. The books of many tips were sprawled all over the place, but you didn’t mind them. Math wasn’t your best subject, so you had to pay extra study time for it.

Asuka had been blowing your phone about going out, but you had stated that’d you be busy. You turned off your phone until the end of the session to show how serious you were about this. Your snack consisted of a bag of chips and water, talk about nutritional.

The clock ticked away in the corner, reminding you about a deadline that was to come. Time was faster than before and you were anticipating the days or counting down to your glory. Instead, you were opting to go into this with a clear mind, clear as a low light beams in a foggy road. A bubble popped in your head when the door open unexpectedly. You flinch, looking up to see who disrupted your session. Jaws slightly clenching, you see the clay figure of perfection himself.

Light Yagami looks as pristine as ever. He’s shocked to see you as you are him. He looks down at your mess of a study session before looking up at the door number, rereading it carefully. 42. And then he sees the faint number behind the 2, which can read 49. How curious. He sees that they changed things around a bit. His usual spot has been swapped. And behind his gaze, you see he a bit surprised that you’re here. You conclude it’s because you’re not caught dead here, let alone studying. It’s not often you see people here. So Light and the three other specs of dust that come here must be what he’s used to.

He stares down at you while you stare up at him, slouched. It seems fitting, for a someone of your caliber to be staring up at the messiah himself. And you don’t speak because that’d be out of place for you. Light straightens very little of what he can and apologizes. However, you want to laugh because it should be you who should be apologizing for what will come to him. You want to tell him that your future actions are not only motivated by envy. Because like him, you have a right to establish yourself in this world. You have a destiny that can be created. It’s there you realize the pure irony of this whole ordeal. For you do not want what Light Yagami has.

You want to be Light Yagami.

[auras-moonstone]

Hey babe! I’m sure you get lots of requests but I’ve been reading all your stuff lately(so good omg and so addicting) but I was wondering if you could do enemies to lovers. With either Jack or ethan. Whatever comes to mind. Love ya!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.2k

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: ethan and y/n have a rivalry going on, until one day y/n explodes and ethan decides it’s time to change the core of their relationship.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: academic rivalry. enemies to lovers(ish). insecurities. fighting. screaming. making up (and out). a little bit of toxicity.

y/n left the classroom practically fuming, with a smug-faced ethan trailing behind her. they had just been given their marks on their econ exam, and while y/n had passed, ethan had beaten her once again. by far.

it was exhausting. the boy was so smart, he didn’t even need to study. paying attention to class sufficed, he memorised everything and understood easily. y/n, on the other hand, wasn’t a natural. she had to stay hours on a chair trying to get the contents in her mind. and while she made an immense amount of effort, ethan always managed to come out in top of her.

she was insanely jealous of ethan. yes, maybe the few times she achieved higher marks than him she’d gloat a little bit (a lot). and yes, maybe the nonsense rivalry between them had started because of her and her bitterness but she couldn’t help but put up a fight.

some days y/n would feel bad about being the detonator of the stupid enmity, but today was definitely not one of those days.

“hey, y/n/n, it’s okay. econ is a very hard subject, not everyone understands it quite like i do.” ethan said, cockiness trying to be disguised with a very poorly-done empathetic tone.

y/n kept stomping, not even the rain could stop her from trying to get away from him.

“i could tutor you, if you’d like.” he continued, ignoring the way the fabric from her polo shirt was starting to get soaked.

“what i’d really like is if you’d leave me alone.”

“nope, this is my favorite part of feedback day. i love rubbing my high marks all over your face.” the tall boy smiled.

it was a crime that the cutest smile she’d ever seen belonged to the most insufferable man on earth. it only made her more furious. “get lost, landry.”

“we live in the same dorm building.” he laughed.

“well, take another route.”

“my god, you’re such a sore loser. i don’t say a thing when you gloat. which doesn’t get to happen very often, but still.” he rolled his eyes.

was he right? of course. was she going to admit he had a great point? no. was she going to keep unleashing her fury and jealousy? hell yes.

“yeah, well, once you get to beat mr. perfect, it’s an inevitable thing to do.”

his jaw tensed. “why are you so frustrating?” he screamed over the rain and thunders.

“why won’t you leave me alone?!” she screamed back, stopping in her tracks. “if i’m so frustrating why don’t you just stay away?” he stayed silent because he didn’t have a reason why. at least, none that he could say aloud without her running away. “huh, ethan? why do you keep sitting next to me even though the classroom is always empty when we arrive?!”

truth was, he was addicted to the rollercoaster of a relationship they both had. y/n always challenged him, made him feel alive. it wasn’t sane, it was completely intoxicating and wild and crazy, but it was his serotonin and he was addicted to it.

but this? up until today, it has been silly bragging and comebacks. this y/n seemed deranged, absolutely insane. he didn’t want her to truly hate him, because there was not a bone in ethan’s body that held any hatred towards her.

ethan admired her. he admired her perseverance, her intelligence, her witty, her humor. and even though it had never been towards him, he witnessed how kind she was to others. he wondered when it’d be his turn to have that part of y/n—the one that smiled genuinely, the one that joked, the one that laughed warmly.

it was clear the end of the stupid rivalry was in his hands because it would be an endless battle if it were for y/n, she was never going to let her armour down. he was ready for their relationship to change.

so with determined steps, ethan made his way towards her until he was so close that her chest almost touched his. “because i’m so fucking attracted to you. never thought i could feel this much about someone that hates my guts, but here i am.”

y/n’s eyes widened and searched in his face for any sign that he was messing with her. but she only found pleading brown eyes and eyebrows furrowed in anguish.

“and i’m going to kiss you right now, in risks of getting kneed in the balls, which is something you’d one hundred percent do.”

y/n might’ve laughed at that, but before she could do anything, ethan’s big hands grabbed her waist and pushed her towards him, closing the distance.

they stayed kissing in the rain for a while, not caring about the clothes sticking to their skins or the amount of water that fell down their faces. maybe their fights had been the perfect foreplay, because the kiss was unlike anything they’d experienced before. the rush that ran through their veins was intense and heart-racing.

“wow.” y/n said when they had to pull away for air. her fingers were still threading through his wet hair.

“yeah.” he agreed, letting out a laugh. “now that my kiss sort of sedated the beast within you—”

“fuck you.” she muttered, but this time there was nothing but playfulness in her tone.

“—let’s talk about what is going on inside your head, because we can’t keep on going like this.”

the walk back to her dorm was silent but the tension that always seemed to surround them was gone. their fingers were intertwined, and y/n leaned on ethan’s arm with his jacket around her shoulders.

“i’m sorry, ethan. i’m the one that started this stupidity.” y/n said as they settled on the couch.

“i never put a stop to it.” he pointed out.

“you were just playing the game i started. you never had bad intentions, but i fought with you because i resented you.”

“resented me? why? why did i do?” he asked, taken aback.

“no. nothing, not really. it’s just… i envied that you were so good at every class. i hated that i spent hours trying to make sense of what was in front of me while you understood everything so effortlessly. and the marks always hit me in the ego and insecurities.”

“and everytime i paraded my mark… i was just fuelling your anger.”

“well, yeah, but it’s not on you. it’s all me, in my head. during high school, everyone practically patted me in the head and congratulated me for my marks… and now, in college, i’m struggling like i’ve never before. it’s so horrible, i feel like a failure.”

ethan pulled her into his arms as she broke down. “you’re not a failure, y/n. college is very different from high school, and everyone struggles in their own way. no, i don’t have any problem when it comes to clases but socialising? trying to make friends? that’s where i struggle. it terrifies me.”

and now she hated herself more because it was at that moment that she realized she had been mean to someone who did not deserve it at all. “i’m so fucking sorry, ethan. you’re amazing and i’m sorry that i ever made you feel bad.”

“i’m sorry, too. i never meant it, but i still hurt you with my mocking. so let just call it even and move on, please.”

“we’re not even close to being even, but i want to move on, too. i want to get to know you. start over.” she said, brushing away the wet strands of hair that sticked to his forehead.

“but can we, maybe, please, not obviate the kiss? cause that was really fucking good and i want more of that.”

y/n laughed and hugged his neck. “that sounds perfect.”

[jordynbreeloa777]

Can you tell me the things that you've manifested?

Take love 💖

Hi anon! Also im not FULLY DONE with all my “big” manifestations i have manifested a lot in my journey! LONG POST AHEAD👀

sharp jawline, high defined cheekbones, slim face, overall 0 face fat, and a L, V shaped jawline. I lovee that I manifested this one because people literally ask me if I do mewing, and how my jawline is so sharp I manifested this with subliminals, even though I kinda already had a defined face I definitely enhanced it to the max ✨

thicker, fuller, better shaped brows. I think I mentioned this in one of my last post but I also manifested this with subliminals & robotic affirmations, this is probably my biggest one since I manifest it in a day 😭 I swear before my eyebrows was so thin, didn’t fit my face, and was giving pencil. But now it’s so pretty and my mom always tells me “ you always look like you got your eyebrows done” and “ did you brush your brows today?” 💈🎀

smaller nostrils. Which also I used subliminals, there is a visible change in my nose as the nostrils go more /\ instead of () which I love and the tip is more rounded, im not really done with this though because I may manifest a desired nose shape instead of just smaller👀

lips, this one is kinda self explanatory but I manifested plumper lips, pinker, and pointy lip corners also by subliminals 👄

clear skin, which I love because my skin use to have tiny bumps, but it’s clear and even though I manifested this a while ago it still IS! my friend asked me for my skincare rountine which was literally a affirmation in the subliminal 🫣

hair. I’m not done with this, but my hair definitely got much thicker then it was before 💇🏽‍♀️

lashes. My lashes are thicker, but im not done with this eitherr because I want them to be a little longer so half succes story ig 🫶🏽

‘TEETH. I have braces, so I didn’t manifest teeth change, because obviously the braces is already fixing my teeth plus I love how they look on me, but I manifested white teeth 🦷

~BODY TEAA⏳

less neck lines, I got these because of fake necklaces and it made me not like it so I manifested it away💋

strong, defined, collar bones, I already had this but I enhanced it and it’s so much more noticeable!

arms. I manifested slimmer, toner, longer arms ( I already had long arms but again I enhanced them)

fingers & nails. This one is kinda big, but my nails are so long and strong even my toe nails 😭 But I cut them ofc and my fingernails break because of sports so I may manifest them to never break even though they grow SUPER fast💨

flat stomach, which I manifested using subliminals it’s literally like paper, but I may manifest for it to still be flat when I get bloated because your girl still likes to buss down food🤗

thicker thighs. My thighs don’t have a gap, and there a little toned which I lovee (also subs)✨

bigger booty meatt- this may be tmi but I had to add it. I may manifest it to be bigger but y’all… it be showing. literally my friends be harassing me everytime I wear dresses😒

🍒- I manifested for them to look pretty, there not to big, not to small there like C cup and I love themm, so mwah

taller height. I was at first like 5’4 and now im 5’6.. not to tall not to short but i love my height my Dad even asked me “are you having a growth spurt” plus my legs are so long now <3

i manifested good exam marks.. only A’s & B’s without even studying 📚

SATS.

i manifested for my knees, elbows, and knuckles to all be the same color by affirming I have a even body skintone 🤞🏽

now this is probably all i manifested in the 4 years i been in the community! I’m still not “done” with all my “big manifestations” or my “journey” but I know it’s coming to an end 💝

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part ten - Under the Mistletoe

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 3k

Author's note : I will be keeping the old aesthetic for this story, sorry for people who like the new aesthetic of my newer one shots. Also, clearly, this was meant to be a Christmas special, but we are in September and I kind of wanted to wait until December, but I've been holding off for months, so here it is and I do hope you enjoy this part. As always, have an amazing day and stay hydrated!

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arrange marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three. 

You jolted awake like you’ve done for the past ten days. Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t stop thinking about Kyoya and what he did so shamelessly to you. The memory of Kyoya's shameless actions consumed you, a relentless loop that replayed with vivid intensity. He had acted without a shred of hesitation, unburdened by remorse, leaving an indelible mark on your consciousness and your body. Your thighs clenched together and your face turns red at the thought of Kyoya back between your legs. 

It was short and passionate, he kissed you more afterwards and refused to give in to your pleasure to return the favor to him. To your displeasure, he refused and reminded you that this “deal” between you is only physical and he didn’t need you that night. The day after he had put back the wall he put between you and barely spoke to you and you did the same by ignoring him for all the next ten days.  No matter how hard you try to get him off your mind and ignore him, the second you close your eyes you can only think about him and what you wish he would do to you. 

All that daydreaming is costing you some A’s on your papers and you won’t settle for less!

This wasn’t you! You were so confused as to why you dreamt so much about him! You used to despise him and his shitty attitude and now you were sexually dreaming of him… Get a grip! You couldn’t lose to him either, you said you won’t fall in love with him, he’s just a high school crush… A crush… You couldn’t possibly have a crush on Kyoya Ootori? He’s a stupid teenager and you are so much more than a teenager that has a crush. You’re independent, you’re talented, intelligent and pretty. 

You went to your mirror to get ready and pointed at your reflection with a twisted expression. “You have to despise him again.” You grunt. “You don’t love him, you lust after him which is not better, but it’s temporary.” 

Under the chilling water, you braced yourself for the day ahead, feeling the exhaustion seep from your bones. It was shaping up to be another one of those rough days. After the shower, you reluctantly checked your agenda, and there it was, like a punch to the gut – an exam last period. Groaning, you realized the day wasn't going to cut you any slack. With a sigh, you steeled yourself for the challenge, hoping you'd find the energy to tackle it when the time came.

You’ve managed to survive two periods before Kyoya dragged you into an empty music room, his lips glued to yours. His gentle hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward to part your perfect lips so his tongue can meet yours. 

As your lips meet in a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, time seems to pause, allowing every tender sensation to unfurl. The warmth of Kyoya’s breath mingles with yours, creating an electric current that courses through your body. The gentle exploration of lips and tongues is a language of desire, each movement deliberate and sensuous. Every touch is deliberate, sensuous, and in those stolen moments, it's like you're wrapped up in this emotional symphony. The world outside just kind of disappears, and all that's left is this mix of vulnerability and desire hanging in the air. It's intense, like you're caught up in something so much bigger than just a kiss.

You broke the kiss first and his eyes searched yours with this lust that glimmered in them. 

You whisper while looking up at him.  “I can’t keep doing this.” 

He huffs. “What do you mean?”

“We only kiss when you want it, not when I want to.” You tell him. “I try to do it at school and you kind of… do not reciprocate until you want me.”

“Because it’s fun to see you turn red. If you want my attention you’ll have to try harder y/n.” He smiles softly, seeing you didn’t find it funny he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” That was the least you’d expect from him. You were quite shocked in all honesty. 

“I want to make a new rule to our arrangement. We can’t kiss or anything until the end of the winter exams.”

“That’s a whole month, you sure you want to risk it?”

She huffs. “Risk what?”

“Miss me.” He smirks. “Miss my touch.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear. “Miss my tongue.” You push him away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You're willing to go to great lengths to prove a point; I respect that," he chuckles. "But don't come running back when you start feeling those butterflies right here." He licks his lips as his hand trails down your lower belly. "And find yourself needing me to deal with it."

All that gentleness and kindness was now gone. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Aw.” He clutched at his heart with a playful smile. “Fine. I agree to your terms, we’ll wait after the final exams. We wouldn’t want your grades to be worse than they already are.”

“They are not THAT bad.” You roll your eyes again. “Besides, it’s only a slip up and you know it.”

“It's because you can’t stop thinking about me, is it?”

“You wish.” You bark back before leaving the classroom to go study on your break.

That damn idiot.

The first snow finally arrived and you were so happy, it was the middle of december and you were ecstatic. You and the Club decided to take your little club activities outside on a beautiful day like that. It wasn’t too cold, nor too hot, just the perfect temperature for you to be able to roam around the campus without freezing to death. You were walking with Haruhi and Renge arms intertwined together laughing at Renge’s behavior towards something Asahi said earlier that day. She was red with anger and told you how stupid that boy was and blah blah blah… You and Haruhi couldn’t help but roll your eyes and her poor attempt to conceal her attraction to that guy. 

Around you, the girls were gawking at the three of you hanging out together, seeing how fond you are for one of another made their heart melt. You realized a few months ago how easy it is to make them fall for false charm… or just being yourself. 

You can see on the ground two shadows behind you and you smirk to yourself as you duck an incoming snowball. 

“How did you know?” Hikaru gasps. 

You smirk. “You can’t outwin a snowball fighter champion.”

“Is there such a thing?” Haruhi asks, not entirely convinced and she was right to do so. It was a shit title you just had invented to make the twins busy up in their mind for you to catch the heavy snow, form it into a ball and throw it at Kaoru’s face. 

“You–!” He gasps as you duck to get another one in which you failed to hit the boy another time with the snowball and it was too late… he tackled you to the ground. You yelp as his heavy weight carried you to the ground, but never crushed you as he was holding himself up. You can hear soft giggles and gasp from some of your guests at this incident.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You chuckle at this embarrassing situation. Suddenly, someone shadowed the both of you. A strong hand gripped Kaoru’s collar and yanked him with ease off of you. The very same hand helped you stand up on your feet. You look up to see Kyoya’s harsh gaze on the twin. 

“Tackling a defenseless girl is not very nice is it not, Kaoru?”

“I wasn’t defenseless.” You mumbled under your breath. The boys were all confused as to why he was defending you openly in front of everyone. He rolled his eyes at your comment.

“It was all in good fun.” He replies winking at you and that owed him a snowball to the face by none other than Kyoya who had a shiteating grin glued on his face. “It’s on four eyes!” Kaoru yells picking up snow and throwing it directly at him and yet, it hits you. Kyoya used you as his personal meat shield. 

“Using a defenseless girl as a meat shield is not very nice is it not, Kyoya?” You barked at him and before another snowball hit you, he grabbed your arms and made you duck with him. 

“Less talking, more fighting.” He adds and you both grabbed a bunch of snow throwing it at the twins, which hit Tamaki and his guests further behind and you giggled at his blushed angry face. 

“Don’t forget about us!” Honey yells as he, Mori and Haruhi join the battle.

It was free for all, everyone was at each other's throats, there were no rules. Dirty tricks, playing safe, anything was on the table. Kaoru was mostly running away from Kyoya as he was chasing him and you running away from Hikaru and Honey as they swore you were their enemy. You were covered from head to toe with snow, you grew cold, but you wouldn’t admit defeat… Never would you admit defeat.

Kyoya was about to throw one at you, with the biggest smirk on his face. Before he could even throw it, Tamaki and Mori used a large empty flower pot filled with snow and dumped it on your opponent. You could keep your giggles in as his ego took a punch. Your laugh was loud and ugly at best, but it sounded melodious to Kyoya as he had made you laugh, a true one.

The bell finally rang and it was all over. “I guess that makes these two the winners of this fight.” You say between two giggles. Kyoya and Hikaru both wrapped one arm over each shoulder and dragged you inside with the rest of the group following you.

Tamaki, Kyoya, Honey, Mori and you were all sitting in the same class and the teacher could tell you were all playing outside by the way you were disheveled and face flushed from the cold. A smile was glued on your face as you felt Kyoya gazing at the back of your messy hair.

You kept ignoring Kyoya for the next month, burying yourself in books at school, at home, and even in your dreams. The grind of studying became a monotonous escape, but it couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. You couldn't shake the fact that you were shutting out Kyoya completely. The silence between you two weighed heavy on your mind, and even as you immersed yourself in equations and facts, it felt like you were losing something more than just time. The sacrifice of connection for academic gains started to seem like a questionable trade-off. You missed him? No. You’re not that desperate that you miss Kyoya. 

Tomorrow was your last exam before the Christmas break and you were thinking how excited you were to be done with it. You were in bed with your phone in your hands and texted Kyoya, but he was faster than you.  

Good luck tomorrow, goblin shark.

You crack a smile and respond quickly.

I changed my mind… You’re a sunfish. Good luck, Kyoya.

The final bell rang and she could cry tears of joy. You were done with your exams and could finally relax. You took your time to pick up your stuff as you reminisced about the last month and a half and how hard you’ve worked on your studies and how hard it was to actually ignore Kyoya. 

At first it was easy, he became this cold wall of ice as he was before you started school here and slowly it became harder when you two had to meet for a monthly dinner with both families. That night you sat side by side at dinner and his hand was on you the entire time. His slender fingers tracing circles on your thigh, his hand trailing up under your skirt just for you to want, no, need more. After that dinner, you came home like an absolute mess. You were angry at him and yet you only wanted him closer. When you came back to school, you avoided him like the plague no matter how close you two were sitting in class. 

After finally finishing packing your bag, your cheeks still warm from the lingering memories of dinner, you stepped out of the classroom. There was one last thing you needed from the music room before heading home.

The hallways were empty as you entered the music room, moving toward the secret trunk where you kept some of the eccentric costumes Tamaki always insisted you wear. You were so absorbed in whatever was on your phone that you didn’t even notice someone approaching—until you felt a hand pull you swiftly into the empty dressing room. You were about to yell at whoever dragged you, but were cut off by familiar lips crashing into yours. The soft groan that escaped his mouth made her knees grow weak. 

“The exams are over.” He whispers between kisses. “I’ve been patient, but I need this, I need you. Please let me have this.” Was he begging? You dropped your bag and lightly pushed him to the wall behind him, the mirror directly on both of them. 

You had the upper hand whether he liked it or not. And you were going to take advantage of it.

“We will do this my way.“ your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “Or we won’t be doing anything at all,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. “What will it be?” You’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening.

“Your way.” He breathes and you drop to your knees, your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip.

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck…” He looks down at you, then back at the mirror, eyes half shut. You take a peek at the mirror and he would be your undoing, he looked like a mess. You've never seen him like this and it was so satisfying knowing that he was the one who came crawling.

He groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  “Y/n–” He groans before he’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth. As soon as you were done, releasing him from your mouth he leaned down to kiss you again. It was needy, messy, but it was something you dreamt of no matter how pissed at him you were before.

He holds your jaw gently. "Don't do this to us, ever again." Us... She couldn't do this ever again, because she did miss his touch as much as he did and she was so close to give up may times, but her pride put her in place. She didn't have the proper words to answer him, so her lips found his once more.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl​ @randobeetlehouse​​ @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy​ @yuriklol​ @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin  @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[marigold-hills]

june 7: imaginary | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 448

PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

Sirius dreams before he falls asleep.

(Remus said I’m here he said I’m with you and touched him so gently. Put a hand in his hair, pulled on it until Sirius was forced to look him in the eye. What is it, Sirius? He asked.)

His bed is comfortable and familiar, notches on the wood from years of leaving marks, canopy spelled to show stars. He sinks into it gladly because the night is half-done and he wants to salvage the rest of it, sleep off the morning’s exam and the knot in his chest like he’s swallowed a stone along with his words.

(I don’t know, Moony. I don’t understand.)

He closes his eyes and sees a soft golden glow and eyes and curls. He can feel a hand in his, pulling him forward through the castle and into the safety of their dorm. Fingers tracing the lines of his tattoo.

Lips at his ear, words spoken like autumn wind.

(Tell me when you figure it out, mo réalta. There is no rush.)

Remus is in his own bed and the space between them is three steps but it’s as vast as a wait for a next breath. Sirius thinks I could cross it and imagines he does: opens the heavy canopy, climbs under Moony’s (his, his) many blankets. Falls into the warmth of the wool and of another body next to his.

Imagines: how would your hand feel between my shoulder blades? Your hip bone under my lips? Would you gather me to you and be soft and sweet, or would your fingers span the width of my throat and your nails drag down my spine?

(Go to sleep, Padfoot. I’m sorry I kept you up this long.)

Would you speak to me? Would the words be English or Gaelic, would you weave them like you weave new spells or would they be sharp and precise?

He imagines there would be soft light around the bed, like first rays of a summer sunrise. Thinks of the shadows it would cast and how it would illuminate moon-brought scars.

(Remus said: mo réalta. Sirius hangs onto both parts, the one which calls him mine and the one which calls him star. Remus said my star and from all the hundreds of things he has called Sirius, this one is different. My moon, Sirius wants to respond in kind, but he doesn’t know the words or how to make them sound sweet like Remus does. He doesn’t know how to give instead of taking.)

Sirius wakes up. Weird dream, he thinks. I wonder what that was about.

(Sirius feels each touch he dreamt like a wound in his skin.)

NOTES:

Part 7! I’ve mildly given up on trying to make these all fully stand alone as I want to give the characters a bit more depth and that only really works if I can build on what happened before.

mo réalta as far as I can tell means my star in Irish. Anyone who knows better please let me know. Lovely as the language is I cannot boast of being able to speak it.

I can’t believe this isn’t even 4K words all together so far? It feels so much longer.

@moon-girl88 @digital-kam @tealeavesandtrash @sweetstarryskies @alltoounwellll @hunnybeemarie @hoje--aqui

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)

[lmanburgseulogy]

C!WILBUR INSANE POSTING. guess what. It’s actually about revival arc 😎 wahhoo

Sorry if it’s unorganized i’m too lazy to read it back 💯 plus probably none of you have the attention span to read this /j

LONG LONG POST UNDER CUT!

Brown mop of curls that are frizzy and uncared for, white streaks contrasting the rest. They stick out no matter how much he tries to hide them. When he gets so stressed he tugs at his hair, he notices that its gotten longer since when he actually tried to keep up with it. It wraps around the curves of his ears and turns upwards at the scruff of his neck.

There’s a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows, a reminding mark of a general with a heavy expression going into battle.

His eyes look unfocused over cracked glasses, it always seems like he’s not fully in the moment. Maybe he isn’t, not anymore. His gaze only settles on the ways everyone has changed, when he’s the same person who stood at that button. His absent stare contradicts the heavy smile lines gained years ago. He can’t remember the last time his smile reached that high. Feels awfully forced these days, even when he is happiest. He knows he doesn’t deserve it.

Wilbur struggles with bright lights after being in the dark so long in limbo. His head is always throbbing, and by noon it feels like a very tiny man is pushing his eyes right out from behind. Sometimes he gets too overstimulated and can’t think or stand straight. Tommy worried about him, but he can handle himself.

He has permanent eye bags from decades of sleepless nights. When he puts himself on the stage to be perceived by other’s judgmental stares he lathers thick foundation over the darkest parts. he knows they would notice if he covered all of it. They notice every little detail.

Wilbur’s nose is crooked and hooked at the end. A bump holds his glasses in place where freckles spot his skin. He loves the sunrise, he likes the marks it leaves for him. Maybe the light is finally reclaiming him.

His chin is covered in scratchy stubble. It’s thick and itchy, but his hands are to shaky to shave anymore. He learned that the hard way. He could get someone to do it for him, but who would? People always attack him in the small, minor inconveniences. They seem to hit wilbur harder than anyone else.

His Adam’s apple is very prominent. He gets it from his father.

Two white scars cross down his chest, making an “X.” They are surrounded by dark, unruly burns. When he gets the motivation to change his clothes, he thinks about a fallen country’s flag, which looks very similar to his own body. A part of him hates it, a part of him knows there was a time he would live the flag with pride. He almost hates that more. Sometimes he feels like all he is is the day he got those scars, since that’s all they see him for. He tries not to think about it. Never turns out well when he falls in the pit that is his mind.

*weight mentioned ahead, implied starving as a form of self harm

Wilbur often squishes the fat on his arms and stomach. He doesn’t remember a time where his belly or thighs were this soft, only his ribs casting jagged shadows down his front or his skin wrapped tightly over his bones. It didn’t take long for him to get tired of the potatoes in Pogtopia. Or, that’s what he told everyone when they gave him that look. Pity, he knew it to be. He didn’t need to be pitied, not when this is what they want him to be. A man falling apart, another dog in the ring.

Wilbur thought it was odd, his new shape and stretch marks. He didn’t really hate it though. He is almost comfortable in himself, even when most of his meals were barely choked down. Phil likes to reassure him the healing continues, and he knows his dad isn’t a liar of course, but Wilbur tends to spill his uncontrollable emotion into every good thing. It’s whatever.

Wilbur has lumbar scoliosis, so right before his hips his spine curves into a “C.”

He remembers his mother talking to Phil after his exam for it. Her voice was wound up tight, ranting to phil about how he might be paralyzed when he got older. He can’t remember his mother much, yet that memory is clear as day. He would love to tell her he’s moving about just fine, except for the constant pain. Tommy says it’s normal though. (yes lets ask tommy for medical advice. sure king)

Scars litter his body, all around. Some big, some small. Some major injuries like The Final Control Room, and some are minor losses not even worth noticing during battle. A lot he doesn’t remember. Which might be for the better.

His fingernails are short and chipped. He expects it to be from clawing at the walls in limbo, the scraping sound makes him shiver to think of.

When Wilbur hits his head on doorframes he remembers family photos of him sticking out like a sore thumb in the line. He had his growth spurt early, and got a little too tall for his liking. Techno joked he was 1/4 torso 3/4 leg. Easy to intimidate people though!

Wilbur’s bones ache a lot. They’re old things, he thinks when he hears the pop of his knees. Sometimes the aching gets so bad he can only sit, which is embarrasing when he has to plop down on the prime path while Tommy gives him the worry look again. One time Eret found him catching his breath by the museum, boy he hated that. He remembered the last time they saw each other, when he apologized. Kind of awkward. He wished he could run away, like during L’manburg. A slight smile on his face when the breeze swept his hair back, legs moving in rhythm against the ground. He’s pathetic now, not even able to walk away if he tried. Potions never numb it as much as he hopes.

[hannahbarberra162]

You Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart Chapter 9

18+ MDNI

Now on Ao3 All chapters

Things only get spicier from here.

TW: dubcon, manipulation, mentions of past abuse, yanderes being yandere. check the tags

Chapter 9

Marco POV

Things had been going according to plan, until they weren’t. Marco figured that there was some kind of injury on your back, but he figured it was a shallow scar or maybe even a tattoo you didn’t like. He didn’t anticipate this.

The majority of your back, from the shoulder blades all the way down, was covered in thick, red, raised scar tissue. There was some kind of jolly roger, but the brand they had used on you was obviously too large - maybe meant for marking crates. The distorted figure was a grotesque mockery of a pirate flag. On top of the roger, there were more recent whip marks. Whoever had done them had meant to cause deliberate scarification on your body. He was already thinking of how to find the Marines who had harmed you. Regrettably, all the pirates were already dead. But the Marines were likely still alive, at least until he found them. He’d plan everything with Ace - the man could be creative when inspiration struck him.

It was painful to look at your back, he couldn’t imagine what it had felt like on the receiving end. No wonder you didn’t want them looking at or touching it. Even with the scar tissue, you were still responsive to touches on your back. Marco didn’t think you were ruined - he didn’t even think of it as an imperfection. It was a painful part of your past, and he could heal you from the physical pain. He said he would help you. And he would. Even if you didn’t agree with his methods.

He touched your cheek gently, gave you another quick kiss, then handed you back your shirt. 

“Come. I need you in the infirmary today. We’ll continue our conversation later yoi”

You nodded and followed him out the door meekly, face flushed and lips swollen from kissing. You looked so tantalizing, all he wanted to do was toss you back on the bed and fuck you until your tight pussy couldn’t take any more. But unfortunately, there was real work to be done. 

You tried to trail behind him, but he stopped and took your hand in his. You weakly tried to pull it away until he gave you a stern look. You immediately stopped pulling and walked hand in hand with him. What a sweet little thing you were - just the prospect of his displeasure was enough to have you compliant. He was looking forward to seeing if you obeyed the new rules. He hoped you would - but he also hoped you wouldn’t…

He entered the infirmary with you, and Tate gave him a questioning look. He didn’t say anything but smiled broadly. He purposely let the information out that you were with him slip to Tate-  he knew the rumor mill would start circulating the news. He wanted everyone to know you were off limits to the rest of the crew -a warning they should heed if they valued their lives. 

You did fix the autoclave as the infirmary came to life with the morning rush. Afterwards, you looked sleepy, closing your eyes slowly. He had woken you up, after all. “Y/N, you look tired yoi. Go to exam room 2 and lie down please.” He would throw you a bone this time - but after this nap, you wouldn’t be so lucky.  You bit your lip nervously but got up and went to the designated room. You didn’t shut the door all the way, and he knew the morning sun would be streaming in through the windows at this hour. That should be enough for now.

Besides, he needed time to meet with Thatch and Ace to discuss his plans. Ace was already aware of some of the situation after peeping on the two of you last night. But he had much more in store for you, and he wanted his brothers on the same page. 

Y/N POV

You woke up with a start, like always. But when you woke up, you were confused about where you were. You looked around and the memories of the night flooded back to you. You couldn’t believe you’d actually fallen asleep on the infirmary cot. You were nervous that if you slept in the corner or in the closet, Marco would see it as betrayal. So, you laid down on the bed and tried to relax. Your mind was swirling with the events of the night, you didn’t know what to think. But your body overrode your mind and you passed out for a blissfully dream free nap.

Exam room 2 was across the hall from Marco’s office, so when you started moving around making some noise, he poked his head in. 

“Y/N, please join us in my office yoi. We have a lot to discuss.” You got up, straightened the bed and cautiously made your way across the hall. Entering Marco’s office, you saw he was leaning against his desk, with Thatch and Ace in the room as well. It felt like a trial, and you were the accused. 

“Y/N, sit down.” Marco gestured to the small couch against the wall. You sat, anxiously fidgeting and waiting for Marco to tell you what was going on, pinching your fingers all the while. Ace and Thatch were looking at you sternly, adding to the tension in the room.

Marco crossed his arms and began. “I have informed my brothers of your actions, and we are all disappointed in your lack of trust. However, we have some faith that you could potentially reverse this situation if you behave yourself. Do you remember the conversation we had last night?”

You nodded your head. 

“Answer verbally, yoi.”

“Yes, I remember,” you said faintly.

“Then you remember agreeing to let us take care of you since you are not able to do so yourself? Or, did you lie about that too?”

“N-no, Marco, I didn’t lie.” Marco was unforgiving, staring down at you while using his harsh words. You were trembling slightly, unsure where the conversation was headed. 

Marco nodded, unfolded his arms and put his palms on his desk. “Then here is what you will need to do for you to remain on this ship. You will follow the rules we set for you yoi. Your physical, mental, and emotional health is poor. We believe this has contributed to some of your issues on board. It needs to be addressed. Starting with - you are no longer allowed to sleep alone yoi.”

You looked up at him, surprised. That was not the direction you thought this would go in. Marco continued, “you will need to sleep with either myself, Thatch or Ace during the night yoi. You may not sleep on the floor, sitting up, or hidden away. You must sleep in a bed next to one of us."

You were at a loss for words, which Marco took as an opportunity to continue. “You have not taken care of your physical health sufficiently. This morning you will have a check up with me, during which we will confront some of your medical issues that you have been ignoring yoi. Furthermore, you will dine with Thatch at every meal to ensure you are getting enough nutrition. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Marco.”

“You are overworking yourself. You will adhere to a schedule, including rest times during which you may do no work.”

“B-but what if someone needs-”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to argue yoi.  There will be more rules later, but that’s enough for now.”

You quickly shut your mouth. You looked over to Thatch and Ace, hoping for a kind face looking back at you. But they were not relenting either. You would agree to just about anything in that moment, to get this to end. Marco seemed to be waiting for you to say something.

“Alright. I understand. W-what happens if I break one of the rules?” you asked apprehensively.

“You will be punished.”

Your face drained of color when Marco said ‘punished.’ You’d been punished before and it always ended with your blood on the floor. Marco saw your rising panic, and crossed the room to sit next to you on the couch. He patted his lap, indicating he wanted you to sit on it. You were unsure - wasn’t that for kids? But you haltingly got up and sat yourself on his lap. 

He pulled you close to his chest and said “this is all for your benefit yoi. We want to see you happy and healthy. Can’t you see that these rules are to help you? You can’t move forward with your life with us unless you move past some of what happened. We will never beat you or torment you. We only want what’s best for you.” 

“I u-understand.”

“Show me that you do.”

He leaned into you, putting his face close to yours. He wanted you to initiate kissing him - in front of the other two? Hesitantly, you put your small hands on his shoulders and pressed your lips to his. After this small movement, Marco took over, controlling the kiss. You whimpered into his mouth as he bit your lip gently and deepened the kiss. You were getting lost in the moment, when Marco pulled back. 

“I know you can be sweet for me, but can you be sweet for Thatch and Ace yoi?” 

Your face flamed. You’d had sexual experiences of course, but nothing like this. This was intense and confusing and emotional. You wanted to do what Marco said, but didn’t know how to continue.

“Go on, show them.”

With his help you got off of Marco’s lap on wobbly legs and made your way to Thatch. Once you were standing in front of him, he picked you up and set you on the edge of Marco’s desk. He gently opened your thighs so he could stand between them, closer to you. He smiled at you kindly and put his hand on your nape and gently held your neck. He pulled his face in closer and slowly ghosted his lips on yours. He teased you, never fully giving you what you wanted. You were panting, your eyes half closed, trying to get more of something, anything, when he finally pulled you in for a full kiss. You sighed in relief when he stopped teasing you.

The kiss was different from Marco’s, less demanding and more romantic. You wound your arms around his neck to gather him closer to you. You were really enjoying the slow pace - you felt like a little treasure. After a few minutes, Thatch pulled away with a regretful look on his face, still looking you in the eyes. “Ace,” he said, still looking at you, “you’re up.”

“Fuckin’ finally!”

Ace got up from where he had been lounging on an office chair and threw his cowboy hat aside. He was practically radiating excitement. Thatch receded, and Ace came to stand between your legs where he had been. Ace was unusually warm, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Unlike Thatch, whose kiss had been slow and sensual, Ace dove right in. He leaned forward, causing you to lean backwards until you were laying on the desk with your legs dangling off. He leaned down over you as well, resting on his forearms. “Best for last, huh?” he said as he turned your head with one hand and started kissing your neck. After being kissed so thoroughly already, this was just fuel to the fire. You couldn’t help yourself and you started panting louder as Ace continued.

“Those sounds you make are drivin’ me crazy,” Ace said as he finally kissed your lips. It was intense and passionate, making you feel like you had been set ablaze. As he was kissing, one of his hands started to make its way up your shirt. He cupped your breast and started groping, growing ever bolder. He pinched your nipple, which made you gasp.

“Alright, get off my desk,” Marco said testily, now standing near the two of you. “You’re messing up my paperwork. You can have more fun later. We all have things to do.”

“Spoilsport,” Ace said with a pout. He was still leaning over you on the desk but righted himself with a sigh after a final kiss. He gave you a hand to help you lift you off the desk. Grabbing his hat from where he threw it, he put it on, smiled at you and said “later, toots,” as he walked out the door. Thatch was sitting on the sofa with a huge bulge in his pants, looking frustrated. “I’ve gotta go too,” he said “if anyone on the ship wants lunch today. But I’ll see you tonight - you’re sleeping with me,” he said with a wink. He left the room and you watched him leave.

What had you gotten yourself into?