#he doesn’t say anything just follows him home and listens to him mutter about trying to get the Joker to understand something

[snaileer]

Danny sighs. Wanting to get up and pace. But he was on the bus. And you can’t pace on the bus unless you’re a crazy person.

Which…. would not look good considering the current circumstances.

He could always just not get off. That was totally still an option. He could just keep going. Maybe ride to Old Gotham. Go get pasta or a deli sandwich.

The ‘Stop Requested’ sign dinged.

The bus looped back around to his dorm apartment anyways. He didn’t have to get off.

Ah frick this was his.

Danny’s hand pulls the bus cord against his permission. Oh ancients too late now, he has to get off or the other people will think he’s rude for pulling the cord and not leaving.

Okay. Okay. He can do this. He can do this

Danny resisted the urge to shake his hands and jump in place as he waited for the doors to open.

Pep talk. Pep talk.

Pep talk totally working. Uh huh.

The bus is leaving. Ok. Now it’s really too late.

Danny checks the google map directions again. A 23 minute walk was not bad.

If only the destination wasn’t Arkham Asylum and he wasn’t visiting the Joker with a grieving self-help book.

Really the most important stage here was acceptance.

He started walking.

It hadn’t even originally wanted to bring the book personally but apparently there was a ‘mail ban.’ The book came Jazz recommended anyways so it would have to be worth it.

Danny tried to ignore the ectoplasm thickening in the air like soup as he got closer. Oh this was totally a normal thing to do.

Just convince the megalomaniac murder clown that he’s dead and a ghost and needs to pass on and everything will come out hunky-dory!

Danny gave a fake laugh to himself as he buzzed the entrance button and was let in.

The secretary looked at him like he was crazy when he told her who he was here to see. Which… fair.

He tried to explain that, quite genuinely, he did not want to be here either. But ghosts were kind of his problem ever since the portal and even if this one wasn’t his fault… it didn’t feel right to just let him run wild when Danny knew the problem.

He winced and pretended not to notice as she pressed an alarm button before letting him through the metal detectors and towards the cell.

Yay for armed escorts.

Now here he was. Dodging a self-help paper airplane from the Joker. Danny sighed again.

Why couldn’t ghosts just stay in the Zone?

The Joker is Dead (and always has been)

Danny is attending Gotham U and gets caught up in a Joker escapade and realizes the clown is, in fact, a ghost.

Suddenly everything makes an insane amount of sense: the fact that no one has killed a psycho with seemingly human-normal abilities yet, that Arkham can’t keep him for more than a week, the obsessive behavior, the appearance.

Honestly, Danny should have clocked this before he even met the spook.

And Danny doesn’t want to step on any toes, really. The Bat and the Joker have A Thing going on. But, the Batman just isn’t equipped to really put a ghost away. No wonder there’s a breakout from Arkham every couple of months. How many other Gotham rogues are obsessive ghosts haunting the city?

Joker doesn’t display any of the usual ghost powers he associates with his own “rogues”—who’ve really become more like unwanted relatives over the years what with their dropping in uninvited, making a mess, and then ditching before they had to help clean.

It strikes Danny, as he’s being tied up by the clown-costumed goons, that maybe the Joker doesn’t know.

Huh.

How does he broach the topic in a sensitive way?

“Hey, uh. Not to be rude but… You know you’re dead, right?”

Danny winces. Not like that, probably.

The Clown Prince of Crime stops in front of him, the crazed light in his eyes dimmed slightly by confusion. He glances back and forth between Danny and the students around him who are shying away from their insane classmate. (Which is. Fair.)

A menacing giggle warbles from the specter’s throat. He leans into Danny’s bubble, that eerie grin stretching somehow wider.

“Ohhhh really?” The clown draws it out and Danny can hear the crackle of static in the high notes. Honestly. How did no one figure this out before? “And are you gonna kill me, hmm? Have I got a widdle hero in my bait tank?”

“No, no, I mean, it’s not… you’re not… like? You’re not alive,” Danny rambles, trying to clarify and failing utterly. “You’re already dead.”

The Joker tilts his head, eyes dilating and glowing toxic green. He considers what Danny said, then throws his head back and cackles like a hyena.

The ghost doubles over, even, laughing so hard it sounds like he’s gonna bust something. He puts a white-gloved hand on Danny’s shoulder for support and squeezes, just shy of hurting.

After an uncomfortably long moment, the ghost wipes imaginary tears out of his eyes and pats Danny on the back so hard he stumbles and falls to his knee.

“You’re a riot, kid! If I didn’t have a date already planned…”

He trails off and ambles away, still chuckling and muttering to himself. “And they say I’m crazy! Wait til Bats hears about this!”

Danny watches him go, despondent.

It’s always harder when they don’t know.

This is gonna be a mess.

[lemonlover1110]

Toji Fushiguro

Summary: Megumi hates nap time, a fuss that Toji isn't willing to deal with.

Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

“It’s nap time, Megumi.” Toji tells his four-year-old, a child who listens to no one– No one but you, of course. Whatever his mommy says, goes. But little Megumi doesn’t hold the same sentiment with his father.

“I’m not sleepy.” Megumi crosses his arms, becoming pouty at the mere suggestion of a nap. He’s too old for napping. He’s not little anymore, he’s four. Why doesn’t his dad understand?

“Oh, you’re sleeping.” Toji replies, unwilling to listen to argue with a four-year-old about nap time of all things. The child is just like him, if he doesn’t get enough sleep, he’s grumpy for the rest of the day. 

“Come here, shadow.” Megumi ignores him, calling for the dog that’s nearby.

“Leave the stupid hedgehog alone.” Toji responds, picking up the child from the ground and carrying him to the bedroom. Toji can only pray that one day Megumi will wake up and obey his father, but sadly, today is not that day.

“He’s a dog! He goes woof!” Megumi yells, kicking his feet in the air as his father carries him. When Toji finally puts him down, it’s on the bed which fills the child’s little heart with rage. He’s not sleepy, why is he being forced to sleep?

“Your mom is coming home soon, you don’t want her to find you misbehaving, do you?” Toji asks, and Megumi refuses to listen to whatever Toji has to say. Yeah, the old man brought you up and all that but Megumi simply isn’t sleepy. 

Megumi refuses to look at his father, and Toji begins to look for one of those stupid books that you read to get the child to sleep. Is that the key? Toji doubts it, but he’ll try anything to get Megumi to fall asleep. Watching after the child is an annoyance at times, Toji wants to be able to watch TV without worrying about Megumi putting a dog toy in his mouth. 

“Here. Let’s read– Goodnight Moon.” Toji reads the title, laying down beside Megumi. 

“It’s not even out yet.” Megumi argues, making Toji roll his eyes. What a sassy mouth. Toji opens the book, a yawn escaping his lips before he reads the first line.

“In the great green room–”

“This is boring!” Megumi cuts him off, which earns a hard cold glare from the man. A look that seems to solve all of Toji’s problems. Megumi becomes intimidated for a second, muttering, “Sorry.”

“There was a telephone,” Toji continues, another yawn escaping his lips. He feels a little head fall on his chest, noting that Megumi seems to have changed his mind. Is it interest in the book or the tiny detail that Megumi now feels scared? 

Toji’s free hand goes to the top of Megumi’s head, caressing the soft hair of the child. Regardless of how difficult the child is, Toji would die and kill for Megumi. There’s no one he loves more than the little rascal. 

“Oh, man.” Toji yawns again. How does this even work? He might fall asleep before Megumi at this pace– But then his eyes fall on the child, whose eyes are shutting on their own. At least it’s working, even if Toji is falling asleep as well.

“Keep…” Megumi murmurs, drifting off. He attempts to tell his father to keep reading, but he doesn’t have enough energy to finish. This is the same child who was set on fighting his father.

It doesn’t take long for Toji to follow Megumi’s suit, lightly snoring beside his son in a matter of seconds. 

[bellsbookshop]

let the light in

pairing: frank castle x reader

all the little ways that frank clings ⋆˙⟡

authors note: i just love the idea of frank being a secret cuddle bug, so this was born ! warnings for a concerning amount of fluff, frank being ridiculously cute with his need to cuddle up, and me waxing poetic ! as always, feedback [likes, comments, reblogs + asks] is welcome and appreciated ! title from lana del rey’s let the light in. reader is not explicitly gendered in this !

wc: 727

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you’ve always seen the light in frank, even if he’s convinced himself he’s nothing but darkness.

he’s rough and gritty like sandpaper, hard to love and harder to keep, but you touch him like he’s delicate, gentle and sweeter than anything he’s ever had. the first few months of dating you he’d been almost scared to touch you, afraid of staining your light with his blood soaked hands that’ll never be clean again. he tiptoed around you, treated you like fine china that he couldn’t afford, and he always woke up before you, disentangling himself from your cuddling arms as if he didn’t deserve them.

the frank you have now is worlds apart, like a stray dog who’s finally realized he’s home — there’s no more half worried glances after a hug, no shying away from your warmth with muttered excuses. now he craves your softness, burying himself in your light like he’s been born again within it. there’s hardly a moment where he isn’t at your heels, trailing after you with all the eagerness of a puppy; he’ll curl himself around you like a blanket, keeping you tucked up close under his arm without hesitation. his favorite moments are the simplest ones, the hints of domesticity he never thought he’d have again.

when you’re washing dishes he’s glued to your back, arms around your waist and big hands splayed out over your stomach. he’ll listen to whatever you’re rambling about, a few grunts and hums here and there so you know he’s listening. he’s got his head against yours, an unconscious sway to his movements as he soaks up all the love he can get before you start laughing at his clinginess, teasing the way he can’t let you move a step without being right behind you.

in the mornings he’ll drag you in closer when you try to get up, a firm denial of your need to get up and start the day — he never wants to leave the warmth and safety of your bed, not when the lights coming in so nicely, framing you in that golden glow. by the time he does let you up it’s nearly noon, and he’ll follow your every step even if he’s grumbling about having to get up, incapable of having you more than a foot away from him.

at the grocery store he’s boxing you in with his arms, pushing the cart with your back to his chest like a too big coat. it makes it a little hard to steer, but he’s making up for it by grabbing whatever you tell him, dropping kisses to the top of your head like he’ll die if he doesn’t; his warmth reminds you that you’re safe, no matter what or where you are. he carries all the groceries in one hand, the other arm wrapped tight around your waist keeping you tucked into his side even if the car’s only a few feet away.

he never lets you drive, says it’s because driving keeps him focused — but really it’s because of how perfect you look in his passenger seat, like you belong there with him in the setting sunlight. he’ll always have a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles mindlessly against it, keeping him grounded. sometimes he doesn’t even know how the two of you got home safe, completely distracted by the warmth of your skin and the sweet way you smile at him, pressing a kiss to your cheek at every red light to see it again and again and again.

he can hardly sleep without you when he’s home, the bed too cold without you in it, and he’s not above physically carrying you to bed when he’s decided it’s bedtime. your laughs fill the air and he can’t get enough, twirling you around a few times before dropping you down into the sheets gently and kissing you till he’s dizzy with it, perfectly content for a few brief moments. he’ll pull you in so close there’s hardly any space to breathe, burying his face in your neck and letting your warmth settle over him like a weighted blanket. he never lets you get far, not even when you’re sleeping, strong arms seeking you out to bring you back to his chest where you belong.

you’re his light, and he’ll never, ever stop clinging to that. ⋆˚࿔

[seellove]

Travel Time! - Sukuna x Reader

Just got done packing for a trip and just had to write traveling with Sukuna before bed lol. Mainly fluff with some suggestive undertones.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Traveling with Husband!Sukuna is always an experience given his grumpy nature.

Husband!Sukuna gets home from work and finds you’ve already prepared a packing list for your vacation tomorrow. You ask him to retrieve the suitcases from the basement and lug them up to your bedroom.

Husband!Sukuna who brings them up like you asked, a little grouchy but otherwise unbothered…until you tell him you need one carry on and one full sized bag, so you send him back down two stories to replace one of the small carry ons. He huffs and sighs dramatically as he reappears, but you just offer a happy “thanks baby” and turn back to gathering up everything.

Husband!Sukuna who gets annoyed when you come and ask for the fourth time to come look at his clothes with you while he’s trying to game. He is glad you are taking care of the packing but he claims to not care about what clothes you pack for him.

Husband!Sukuna who you know better than that because he’s way pickier than he claims to be, so you force him to come approve of what you’ve chosen and sure enough, doesn’t like the shirts you picked so he chooses some to replace.

Husband!Sukuna who likes to go to bed early and wake up early, starts getting ready for bed while you are finalizing everything. Before he can lay down though, you ask him to bring the trash out, bring the suitcases downstairs, and make sure his backpack is packed so that nothing is forgotten in the morning. More grunting and huffing follows as he brings everything down. Sometimes he thinks you just like watching him move around heavy shit and he’s not wrong because seeing the way his forearms flex and his biceps bulge isn’t a bad thing by any means.

Husband!Sukuna who is now grumpy and sleepy, asks if you need anything else before he finally lays down. You say no but as he sits on the bed and takes his shirt off, you ask if he can get you a glass of water. “Make up your mind woman,” he mutters before trudging back downstairs. Even if he moans and groans, he’ll never say no to you.

Husband!Sukuna who says he’s laying down for good, gets comfortable and watches you scurry around the room rounding up toiletries for tomorrow. He wishes you’d just handle the rest tomorrow and get in bed to snuggle up together. His gruff and grumpy exterior wouldn’t indicate this, but you know after a long day he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close. “Almost done Kuna!” you say as you zip up the toiletry bag, noticing his longing, red eyes from his pillow.

Husband!Sukuna whose alarm goes off bright and early, untangles himself from you, telling you to stay asleep while he finalizes everything. Sukuna loads up the car with everything, gets a coffee made for you, makes sure everything is neat and tidy for when you get back, and makes sure your electronics are charged for the plane ride.

Husband!Sukuna gently wakes you up, saying it’s time to get ready. He goes to heat up the car while you quickly get dressed and find your coffee hot and ready on the kitchen counter. You realize he’s taken care of everything else and your heart skips a beat. He’s always anticipating and thinking three steps ahead to make your life easier.

Husband!Sukuna who drives to the airport, listening to you yap about everything you have planned and how excited you are to be going on your tropical getaway. He hums in agreement, not really caring about the activities or the location, just that he’s excited to spend some time with you. In his eyes he just needs a nice, big bed that he can lay you down on without the distractions of your normal home life.

Husband!Sukuna is too busy day dreaming about fooling around with you and doesn’t hear you ask him where he was going to park for the third time. He chooses the garage closest to the airport, his woman shouldn’t be subjected to walking long distances in the winter cold. He’d carry you if he could, but he needs to handle all the bags, he wouldn’t let you life a finger to help haul everything inside.

Husband!Sukuna who follows your lead as you walk up to the airline counter. He has no idea about any of the trip ins and outs, he just follows you around, happy to be in your presence. He loves how much of a planner you are and it impresses him every time you plan a trip for you both. It’s certainly a gift you possess and he loves that about you.

Husband!Sukuna drops the bags off at the counter while you gather the boarding passes. With his hands finally free of the luggage, he laces his fingers with yours, you squeezing his warm, rough hand in return. You lean against his side and he leans down to plant a kiss on the top of your head. “Alright baby, let’s get this adventure started,” he says as you head towards security, excited to leave your busy lives behind for a few days.

Part 2 will be navigating the airport and the flights. This seems so random but I’m flying tomorrow and this just came to me lol.

[deonsx]

Second Request U can egnore! Rin's gi¹rlfriend loves to dress him and brags about the beauty of her boyfriend, she usually go shop for him (with his money ofc) and forget to buy herself anything the point that his clothes is more than her's! Nprp cuz rinnie will buy for her instead and make her wear his clothes🙂‍↔️💞

hiiii I hope it turns out the way you want, thank you for adding imagination to me.

Rin’s girlfriend loves dressing him up. It’s her favorite pastime, though Rin himself finds it mildly embarrassing. One Saturday, she drags him to a clothing store under the guise of “just browsing.” Of course, Rin knows what’s coming but goes along with it, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his usual stoic expression in place

After a couple of hours of her making him try on countless outfits, she holds up a sleek jacket and says “This would look amazing on you! Try it!”

Rin sighs but doesn’t resist, slipping it on while she beams. As he steps out of the fitting room, she gasps dramatically and says “See? You’re ridiculously good-looking! It’s almost unfair”

Rin, slightly flustered, mutters “You’re overreacting” But the faint blush on his cheeks gives him away. Later, Rin notices that while she’s piled his arms with clothes to buy, she hasn’t picked out a single thing for herself. When he points this out, she waves it off casually saying “I’m fine! I just love shopping for you”

The next day, Rin quietly goes shopping by himself and buys a few things for her, including a dress he’s sure she’ll like. When he gets home, he hands her the bag without much ceremony and says “You’re not allowed to forget yourself. Wear this tomorrow”

She’s surprised but grins brightly, teasing “Aw, you’re so thoughtful, Rinnie! But why do I feel like you just want me to stop wearing your hoodies all the time?”

Rin shrugs, barely reacting, though there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he replies “Maybe. Or maybe I think you’d look better in my clothes anyway” The following morning, she steps out in the dress Rin picked, only for him to grab one of his oversized hoodies and toss it over her head “Looks better now” he says simply, but his smirk betrays his satisfaction

Sweet Dynamic:

She loves bragging about how gorgeous Rin is to anyone who’ll listen, much to his annoyance “Did you see my boyfriend? Isn’t he ridiculously handsome?!”Rin, meanwhile, tries to pretend he doesn’t hear, though his ears turn red every time while she’s busy spoiling him

Rin quietly takes care of her in his own way—whether it’s making sure her favorite snacks are stocked or slipping a hoodie over her shoulders when she’s cold

Her wardrobe gradually fills up with Rin’s hoodies, jackets, and even a few T-shirts she steals from him. Rin doesn’t really mind—he thinks she looks better in his clothes anyway

When she gets carried away shopping for Rin, he eventually just picks out something for her, hands it to the cashier, and says “She’ll take this too”

When she teases him about how his wardrobe is ten times bigger than hers now, Rin deadpans “Your fault. You picked everything”

Enjoy!

[priyajoyy]

Sessions (blurb)

Martinez!reader x beginning to be dark!Lottie Matthew’s

YoungerSister!reader x platonic!Travis

Your lotties new protégé after reacting so ‘well’ to her sessions, only your brother Travis isn’t so sure it’s a good idea at all

Obsessed with being lotties little drug test subject atm

Also not properly proof read but I wanted to get something posted cause it felt like it’s been a while

I literally struggle with the wrapping up an imagine soooo badly which is why I always start new concepts and then let them sit in my drafts 😭

Mind you want a part 2 cause I’m feeling like it!!

Warnings:

Cannibalism, drug misuse, forced/pressured drug taking, manipulation, cannon typical stuff, toxic!lottie, Travis who doesn’t know how to control his emotions, ect

She’d moved you into her own hut.

It been so quick Travis hadn’t even noticed till he saw Lottie pulling your smaller form towards your now, shared, shelter after dinner.

One night you had been sharing with akilah, the two of you the youngest there and bonded over your love of caring for the animals together.

And the next, Lottie had you dragging your belongings to her own hut, and leaving akilah with mari.

It wasn’t till a couple mornings later that he got a chance to speak to you about it, watching you stumble out of the room early in the day when he happened to be awake.

You’d always been an early riser, your dad making you get up to practice for soccer with him before school everyday, trying to turn you into the perfect player despite your mother not allowing him to take you off of the jv team for varsity, claiming you were still too young.

But this morning, your eyes were cloudy and your walking was wobbly.

When he approached you and asked you about it, you had brushed him off, telling him you were fine and just a little dizzy from standing up too fast. Though your voice was quiet and distant, and you barely looking at him.

And before he could protest, Lottie was following after you and leading you off into the woods without a word to the boy.

He didn’t do anything the first day.

But when it happened again, and again, you up early and stumbling out into the woods, only half aware of your surroundings and Lottie not far behind, watching you intently, he knew he had to say something.

He didn’t protest when she was using him as a little test subject. He wanted to help them all get home and she was so persistent.

And when she took after akilah, taking her to the caves and having Travis soothe the younger girls for Lottie, he couldn’t bring himself to stop it, not if it meant they could go home.

But you were his little sister, and if he couldn’t save his dad, or protect javi, he certainly wasn’t going to fail with you too.

Lottie would just have to find another way to get you all back.

You laid there. Head in lotties lap, her hand stroking through your hair as you stare off into the woodland blankly.

Your vision was blurry, shaking like waves of heat were surrounding you and making the air bend infront of your very eyes.

“Listen to it” Lottie coaxed gently, “listen to what it’s telling you”

Your brain was foggy, everything was so loud and so quiet at the same time. And as your eyelids fluttered slowly, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed a break.

But you didn’t protest, not as Lottie whispered sweet commands into your ears. Not as she told you to listen to the wilderness.

“Y/n!”

You could hear a voice, calling out. You willed your body to move but all you could do was lay there, head in lotties lap, completely still.

You couldn’t decipher who was speaking, not when the other noises were so loud. It’s like the wind and trees blowing were amplified in your ears.

Your breathing was deep, slowly entering and exiting your open mouth in big gulps like you were struggling to take it all in.

“Shit there you are” Travis muttered, finally finding you both, watching you lay on lotties lap, not even looking up as he approaches.

“Come on” the boy commands quietly, heading towards the pair of you quickly and reaching out to pull you up.

You barely react, letting him guide you up as you continue to stare off disoriented. He watches your glassy eyes, not focusing on anything around you.

“What are you doing?” Lottie asks harshly, standing up after you were off of her lap and reaching for your other hand.

Your body now stuck inbetween them as both their grips tighten, being used as a tug of war between the two brunettes.

“Taking her back, she needs to eat something” Travis says sternly, making the taller girl frown at his change of heart, “this is too much for her she needs to stop!”

You sway uneasily inbetween them, a grip on each of your arms that grows stronger by the second, being the only thing keeping you somewhat grounded.

“She’s fine” Lottie says emotionlessly, sure in her words, “she’s nearly there”

“Jesus Lottie look at her!” Travis snaps, pulling you into his arms fully as lotties grip slips.

The brunette stares at you, watches your blank eyes stare back at her in your drugged up haze, and she frowns. She watches as you sway slightly, probably close to falling if it wasn’t for your elder brothers grip keeping you up right.

“You’ve been doing this at least once a day, you’re killing her!” Travis reiterated, practically growling at the woman who scowls in response, watching the two of you take a step away from her.

“You’re hurting her” he says finally, his voice now softer and so quiet it was close to a whisper.

With silence in the air, Lottie watches as Travis guides you away, dragging you back to camp carefully with a tight grip on your stumbling figure.

All she can do is frown as you both disappear through the woods.

The wilderness wanted to talk to you.

And Lottie wasn’t going to let him stop that.

She wasn’t going to let him take you from her.

[daryltwdixon]

Merry Christmas, Daryl

Daryl x Reader Fluff

summary: On a quiet Christmas Eve in Alexandria, an unexpected moment under mistletoe brings you and Daryl closer in a way neither of you expected. slightly nerdy awkward reader

author's note: just something cute to wish you all a happy holiday 🎄✨🎁❄️☃️🎅🦌🌟

The faint hum of conversation and laughter fills the air, the low flicker of candles and strings of scavenged Christmas lights casting a warm glow across the house. Alexandria feels… different tonight. Almost like the world hasn’t ended. Like they’re all just neighbors, throwing a party to pass the time. You suppose it's what it's been like for them this whole time, but for you and your group...it was a nice reminder of what once was.

Maggie is laughing at something Glenn said, her eyes crinkling in a way you haven’t seen in months. Carl and Judith sit by the fire with Michonne, her arm draped protectively around the boy’s shoulders as she listens to his quiet chatter. Rick’s laugh carries over the rest of the noise, and for a moment, everything feels—normal.

Instead of joining in, you linger on the outskirts, nursing your drink. It’s not that you don’t feel welcome—you do, mostly. It’s just easier to watch, to soak in the warmth and pretend the ache of missing something you can’t quite name isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Your eyes wander, always searching no matter what room you're in—for him.

Daryl.

He stands near the door, half in shadow, nursing a beer with one hand while the other rests on his hip. He’s not watching anyone in particular, but his eyes scan the room like always, as if he’s looking for trouble—or maybe just a reason to leave. There’s something about the way he stands, so separate from everyone else, that pulls you in.

You’ve always told yourself it’s nothing, this feeling that tugs at you whenever he’s around. But it can't be nothing. Not with the way your heart picks up when he looks at you, the way you catch yourself stealing glances at him when you think he won’t notice. It’s the way he speaks—not much, but when he does, it’s rough and honest and somehow makes you feel safer than all the walls around Alexandria combined.

You take another sip, your fingers tightening slightly on the glass. You like him. You’ve liked him for months, but it’s not the kind of thing you can just admit—to yourself or to him. You’re not even sure he sees you that way. You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t, because it’s easier than hoping for something you might not get.

Still, your feet move before you can stop them.

“You look like you’re having fun,” you tease as you approach, your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

He glances at you, his lips twitching in something that could almost be a smile. “Ain’t exactly my scene.”

You shrug, falling beside him to lean against the wall, “Not mine either, really. But it’s nice, right? Seeing everyone like this?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting back to the room. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah. S’good for ‘em.”

The way he says it—quiet, almost like it’s a secret—makes your chest ache. You wonder if he ever lets himself have anything good, or if he always watches from the sidelines, thinking it’s enough just to see other people happy.

You study him for a long moment, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his thumb taps idly against the glass bottle. But with a shift of his shoulders, he's pushing off the wall.

“You heading out already?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Think so,” he mutters. His voice is low, rough, but it doesn’t feel dismissive. If anything, it feels like an invitation—to follow, to keep talking, to… something.

Instead, you offer a soft smile. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

He dips his head in a nod, stepping away from the doorframe and into the chilly night.

The walk home is quiet, the air crisp and biting against your skin. You tuck your hands into your pockets, letting your breath mist in front of you as you replay the evening in your head.

You’re not sure why you feel so unsettled. It’s not like you expected him to stay. Daryl doesn’t do parties or crowds or small talk. That’s part of who he is, and it’s part of why you like him. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you should have said more.

You spot him just beyond the houses, leaning against one of the bare trees that line the edge of the path. He’s looking up, his face tilted toward the branches, and for a moment, you just watch him, the way he always seems to watch everyone else.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, your voice breaking the stillness.

He turns slightly, his gaze landing on you. “Could ask you the same.”

You step closer, following his gaze to the small sprig of green dangling from one of the lower branches. It takes a second to register, but when it does, your heart skips. Mistletoe.

A laugh escapes you, nervous and too loud in the quiet night. “Huh. Did you know mistletoe’s a parasite?”

His brow furrows, and you press on, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I mean, technically a semi-parasite. It attaches to trees and, you know… kind of takes what it needs. Pretty romantic, right?”

He’s watching you now, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” you blurt, and the words hang in the cold air, making your cheeks burn.

Daryl tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in that way he does when he���s trying to figure something out. You can feel your pulse quicken under his gaze, the weight of his attention making your tongue trip over itself. “It’s just… mistletoe. And, uh… you.”

As soon as the words are out, you wish you could take them back, your eyes darting anywhere but at him. The mistletoe, the ground, the shadow his boots make on the frost-bitten earth—anything to avoid the unreadable look you’re sure is on his face.

The silence stretches, thick enough to strangle you. You almost start rambling again, desperate to fill the gap, when he clears his throat.

“Mistletoe, huh?” he mutters, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

You glance up, startled, and your breath catches. He’s still watching you, but there’s something softer in his expression now, something almost shy. He shifts his weight, his thumb hooking into his belt loop, and the small, nervous movement sends a rush of affection through you.

“Well, yeah,” you say, the words spilling out faster now, your voice breathy. “I mean, technically it’s a semi-parasite. It grows on trees, kind of… leeching off them, but in a subtle way. You know, symbiotic. It’s not entirely—”

You stop abruptly when you realize he’s taken a small step closer. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you’re suddenly very aware of how quiet it is, just the faint rustle of the wind through the trees and the sound of your own breathing.

He’s not much taller than you, but he feels bigger somehow, his presence grounding you even as it sends your thoughts scattering. Your eyes flick to the mistletoe above, then back to his, and you swear he notices because his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips before snapping back up.

“Y/N…” he says softly, his voice rough and hesitant, like suddenly the name tastes different on his tongue suddenly.

Your breath catches again, and before you can second-guess yourself, you both move. It’s awkward at first, both of you leaning in too fast, your noses brushing in a way that makes you stifle a nervous laugh. But then his hand comes up, rough and warm against your jaw, steadying you, and suddenly the world narrows to just this—just him.

His lips meet yours, tentative and soft at first, but the moment stretches, deepens, like neither of you wants to pull away. You lean into him, your hands finding his jacket, clutching at the worn fabric like you need it to keep steady.

Daryl kisses you like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing but doesn’t want to stop. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, and it makes your chest ache because it feels so him. Honest. Earnest.

When you finally part, you’re both breathing harder than you should be, the air between you clouding with misted breaths. His hand lingers against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel your lips curve into a smile, the warmth blooming in your chest spilling out into your words. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

[b3ach-bunn7]

PLEASEEEE WRITE MORE FOR TOUYA 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Ur wish is my command 🛵

LEATHER COATS AND PIZZA

Never a dull moment when you hang out with Dabi and the rest of your friends

No quirks au, pining, LOV as high schoolers

part 2

—————————————————————————

“Move up.”

You shuffle to the left as Dabi plops down next to you. You’re currently all shoved onto Shigarakis couch, half watching the movie on his Tv and half chattering about whatever. You’re squeezed between Dabi, whose eyes are looking at the TV but not really watching, and Toga, who’s flicking through a Teen Girl magazine, absentmindedly filling out the questionnaires on the back. Shigaraki is sprawled on a loveseat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he plays some game on his switch. Twice is leaning on the arm of the chair next to him and giving very unnecessary tips that Shigaraki does not need. Spinner is lying down on the floor. You think he’s exhausted after his football training, but he’s usually sleeping any time you guys hang out, so you’re not too concerned.

You don’t really look like you fit in with this friendship group. They’re weird enough as is. Spinner has this weird obsession with amphibians and bright clothes. Shigraki always has gloves on because of his bad eczema and he’s always scowling, and Toga’s cute aesthetic completely opposes her love of all things gore and violence that she’ll tell to anyone who’ll listen. And Dabi, whose face was more metal than skin from all the piercings he has. That, and the mystery that surrounds the burn scars that litter his skin.

All in all, it was a pretty rag tag group. You were glaringly normal compared to them. No weird habits or affinities, but none of you cared. You can’t even remember how you joined their group but you know you don’t regret it. Some of their activities weren’t exactly your forte. You do walk away whenever they decide that spending money on stuff is too much effort, or when they’d rather stay in an abandoned parking lot half the night then get in bed for school. But despite all of that, you always meet them halfway. Shigaraki’s parents are never really home and so you always find yourselves lounging around his house every other day. You watch movies, order pizzas, finish your homework. Whatever you feel up for.

Today, your eyes are trying their hardest not to flit to your right. Dabi is so close to you right now. His thigh is pressed into yours and it’s so warm. You’ve learnt that that is always the case. You remember one night after a party he’d walked you home. Even through the layers of your coat and dress, your arm gripping his had heated you up against the cold autumn air.

You adjust your position and he glances at you, but he doesn’t move. If anything he gets closer, bringing his arm up behind the couch to rest behind your head.

“Guys, would you say I like my men edgy but fun, or preppy but unique?” Toga hums, biting the end of her pencil.

“Don’t care.” Shigaraki mumbles.

“Rude. I think edgy but fun.” You say.

Twice frowns, shaking his head. “No, don’t you remember that Deku guy you liked? He was definitely preppy but unique.”

“No, he was more like. I don’t know. A nice guy.” Spinner ponders from the floor.

“He was a pussy.”

“Dabi, don’t be mean, he was nice!” Toga whines.

Dabi just rolls his eyes and you giggle. You lean forward to read the page she’s on. Apparently, Toga is about to find the ‘guys she’s totally in tune with’. You point to one of the teenage boys imprinted on the page, all fake smiles and box dye hair.

“He looks like he could be totally in tune with you.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

Dabi leans forward over you to get a better look. You can smell that woodsy and smokey smell that always follows him.

“He’s too emo.”

“You’re one to talk.” Toga mutters, and Dabi smacks the back of her head.

Toga sighs and abandons the page and keeps flicking through the magazine. You yawn. It’s only seven pm but you’re tired. You’d stayed up all last night with Dabi on the phone. It was sort of a tradition the two of you had. You’d watch a movie together, the two of you counting down to sync up your Netflix on whatever movie you were watching. Somehow, you’d stayed up talking all last night. It wasn’t unusual for that to happen but after a long day at school it’s all adding up. You lean your head against the back of the couch on Dabi’s arm.

“The movie not catching your fancy?” He asks.

You smile slightly. It’s something stupid and full of violence, the kind of stuff both of you hate. “No. It’s awful.”

“Of course it is, Shiggy picked it.” Dabi rolls his eyes.

You go to grab the remote and Dabi does too. Your fingers touch, only for a second, but the heat blooms in your hands. You both apologise, clumsily, but Dabi picks it up regardless and starts flipping through channels.

“Hey, they have a truth or dare page! Let’s play!”

It’s a testament to how bored you all are that that catches your attention. Toga slides down on the floor and spinner and twice join her. Shigraki looks unbothered but he still turns his switch off and sits up. You and Dabi stay on the couch. Funnily enough, despite the extra room, the two of you don’t move, legs still pressed up against each other.

“Truth or dare? A bit childish, no?” You whisper quietly enough that nobody but Dabi can hear you.

“What, you scared?”

“Shut up. I’m scared of nothing.” You flex your arms and Dabi smirks.

“It’s been ages since I’ve played. Isn’t there meant to be a forfeit if you don’t do the truth or dare?”

Dabi nods. “Yeah, usually.”

“What’s ours?”

“You have to kiss me.”

You turn your head away so he doesn’t seen the flush on your cheeks. Flirting is nothing you’re not used to with Dabi. Any woman he speaks to is unfortunately a victim of it. Despite his whole punk ‘don’t talk to me’ look, Dabi is undeniably attractive. There’s something so obvious about it. Like if you look at him for just a second more than you’d think to, it would all jump at you; his soft hair, the bright blue eyes, and that boyish grin. So you’re not really fussed by all his flirting. You’ve been there, done that. It’s Dabi at the end of the day. Nothing means anything with him.

“You wish.” You push him away as he pouts his lips at you.

Toga claps her hands. “Okay! Who’s going first?”

“Me!” Twice springs up from his seat, excited. “I pick dare.”

“Daring choice! Okay, so. Go onto instagram and like every highlight of the first person that you see.”

Twice was not happy about that, considering the girl that popped up on his page was apparently ‘someone he was interested in’. But his mood lights up quickly once Toga passes him the magazine so he can ask a question.

And you carry on like that, getting through the group. Shigaraki reluctantly plays a ‘Kiss, marry, kill’ with some of the less attractive teachers at UA, Spinner eats a spoonful of sriracha.

“Dabi. Your, fuck, it’s your turn.” Spinner fans his face while Toga giggles at him.

“Truth.”

Dabi waves off the boos from the rest of your group. Spinner hushes them and reads the first truth on the page. “If you had to marry one person in this room, who would it be?”

“Y/N.”

He doesn’t hesitate in the slightest. Your name slips off his tongue like he didn’t even mean it to. His face looks surprised for a split second before he glances around the room.

“Uh, okay. Your turn to ask a question.” Spinner hands him the magazine.

You’re still slightly dumbfounded. So is Toga, because she is narrowing her eyes at Dabi very suspiciously. He notices her out of the corner of his eye and raises a brow.

“What?”

She says your name questioningly. You look down at your lap because the loose thread on your jeans is suddenly very interesting.

“Do I need to explain myself or something?”

Toga sighs, propping her knees up and leaning her head on them. “No, you’re okay. It’s your turn.” She leans her head up and it thumps against your leg. You run your fingers through her bangs and she smiles.

“Truth or dare?”

“Hm. Dare.”

Dabi grins. “Daring choice.” Toga sticks her tongue out at the horrible impression of her voice. “Wait, which one do I pick?” His eyes flit over the page of options.

“Uh, we’ve just been going down the list. I think we’re on number four?” Twice says.

Dabi nods. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he stops. Clears his throat, and tries again.

“Kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

You groan as the others start cheering.

“Finally, this is getting interesting.” Shigaraki laughs.

“Don’t get too excited, she’s not kissing you, Shiggy.” Dabi scoffs.

“Fuck off.”

You huff. “Why do I get the creepy one?”

“Hey, I’d gladly kiss someone than eat what I had to.” Spinner grumbles, still nursing a bottle of water.

“Okay. Okay I’ll do it.”

They’re all looking at you expectantly. You know who it’s going to be. Of course it’s going to be Dabi. You’re sure they all know it too, because the others are just looking at the two of you on the couch, giving no other signs of being ready for a kiss. You swallow once. Turn to your side and he’s already looking at you so intensely. The corner of his mouth lifts up slightly.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Aw, don’t act like you don’t love this, baby.”

You decide that instead of telling him to shut up you’ll do it instead. You grab the scratchy materia of his stupid band tee he always insists on wearing. It almost hurts when your mouths meet, and his hand immediately cups your cheek, warm palm almost covering your whole face. You’re sure the kiss isn’t meant to last this long, but you feel his teeth bite your bottom lip and you have to push away before you start moaning in front of your friends.

You break apart, breathless. Dabi’s lips are red and look freshly kissed and you guess you must look the same. You feel your face heat and you turn to look at the others who are all looking with different degrees of shock and smugness (the last one being Toga).

“Right.” You grab the magazine from his hands. “It’s Toga’s turn?”

The rest of the night goes by quite quickly. You all soon grow bored of truth or dare, which doesn’t get any more exciting after your kiss. Which you can’t seem to stop thinking about. You and Dabi immediately fall back into normalcy but something niggles in the back of your mind. It was just a kiss, but. Does Dabi kiss everyone like that? It must explain why he gets around so much. If a man kissed you like that you can only imagine how he can do everything else to you.

But you try to ignore that. Focus on the fact you’re braiding Toga’s hair or maybe listen to the story Twice is telling you about someone at his work. Someone orders a pizza and you bug Dabi until he passes you a slice. He gets the cheesiest one in the box, like he knows you love, and you grin your thanks.

The night ends swiftly after that. You all help Shigaraki clean because that’s the only condition he sets if you all use his house as a hangout spot. Toga catches a lift with Twice and Spinner leaves on his bike. Which just leaves you and Dabi. You stand on Shigaraki’s driveway, your foot kicking a rock on the floor.

“You walked here?” Dabi asks, shrugging his coat on.

“Yeah. Regretting it now.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“Thanks.”

He just makes a noise, gesturing for you to start walking. The night air is cool. You wish you’d worn something warmer. You can’t complain though. You love autumn. The leaves crunch beneath your feet, streetlights illuminating the path. The sun is just about set, and the sky is orange, pink, purple.

It's moments like these that you’ll know you’ll remember forever. It’s weird. You remember random things like an old lady you saw on the bus home one day, the slice of red velvet cake you’d bought at some random cafe. Little, irrelevant things that you can’t help but store. But moments like these, where the setting sun catches on Dabi’s skin, and your hands brush close to each other that they almost touch, you don’t think you could ever forget.

“You going to Hawks’s party next week?” He asks suddenly.

“Uh. I guess so.” You say.

Dabi quirks a brow. “Don’t sound too excited.”

“It’s not that, it’s just.” A breeze blows over and you rub your arms. Curse short-sleeved shirts. “His parties get too crazy for me. But I haven’t seen him in ages so I’ll probably go. I miss him.”

“Mhm.” He says, suddenly standoffish.

“Are you going?”

“I guess. I just miss Hawks ever so much.” He raises his voice so it’s all high pitched. You glare at him.

“I do not sound like that, you weirdo. And I do miss him. He’s so busy now that he started playing on the school team.” You shiver slightly.

Suddenly, you feel something warm envelop you. Dabi places his jacket across your shoulders. The warm leather immediately warms you.

“Aw. You’re such a cutie.” You grin, slipping your arms into the sleeves.

“Fuck off. I’ll take it back.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He doesn’t respond to that so you know you’re right. The sleeves fall over your hands and you flap them in the air. You always forget how much bigger Dabi is than you. Even now, he’s almost two heads taller, even with his horrible posture.

“You look stupid with that on.” He says.

“I’m warm, though. Sacrifices have to be made.”

Soon enough you reach your door. He watches as you fumble for your house key before brandishing them out your bag. You go to take the jacket off and he waves you away.

“S’fine, just give it to me tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure. It’s kinda cold out.”

“I’ll be alright.”

You both stand there then. Just looking at each other. Part of you thinks that maybe you should bring up the kiss. Is it worth bringing up? Did it even mean anything? You decide against it, only because that soft look on his face is so rare that you don’t want to do anything to ruin it.

“Thanks for walking me home, Dabi.”

“Touya.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Who?”

He smiles slightly. “It’s my name.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“You can- You don’t have to call me Dabi. You can- if you want. I don’t really care.”

You think he does care. Very evident by his stammering, something you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. It’s cute. You don’t look into why he’s given you this privilege. You’ve heard Shigaraki and maybe Toga call him Touya before, but some part of you always knew it was a line you shouldn’t cross. Not anymore, though.

“No, I want to. Touya.”

He breathes heavily. He’s looking at you the way he was before he kissed you on that couch. Your eyes dart to his lips, and you know he saw, because he does the exact same.

“I- I should go. Goodnight, Touya.”

He nods. “Night.”

You lock the door behind you, hang up your keys. You’re not ready to ruin your friendship because of a look. A truth or dare kiss that probably means nothing.

The leather of his coat feels sticky on your skin as you walk yourself to bed.

—————————————————————————-

God I’m such a sucker for dabi in everyday normal setting…… teenager Dabi…..

Part two is posted !

[endofthelinegang]

frank castle (pregnancy hc)

i love y'all but i have not seen one that feels accurate to me, and i feel i need to fix this kk love you all

The moment you tell Frank, he just stares. No immediate reaction. No joy, no anger—just cold, hard silence. You swear he stops breathing. It takes him a long minute before he mutters, “You sure?” like maybe, just maybe, if you say no, it won’t be real.

Frank’s first instinct isn’t happiness—it’s dread. This life? His life? The blood, the bodies, the ghosts that follow him? He doesn’t think a kid should ever be anywhere near it. And you? You deserve better. He tells himself that a hundred times. But when he looks at you, his hand unconsciously finds your stomach, fingers twitching, like some primal instinct in him won’t let him pull away.

If he was overprotective before, now it’s suffocating. He’s watching exits, analyzing rooms, hand hovering near his gun even in places that should be safe. He won’t let you carry groceries, won’t let you drive too late, won’t even let you think about going anywhere alone. You’re growing something his, and even if he doesn’t know how to be a father, he knows how to guard what’s his with his life.

He lies awake at night, staring at the ceiling, listening to you breathe. His mind is a battlefield. Can he do this? Can he keep you both safe? What if he doesn’t make it back one day? What if he’s just like his old man—violent, unhinged? You roll over and put your hand on his chest, half-asleep, murmuring, “You’re gonna be a good dad.” And that? That wrecks him.

If he wasn’t pulling punches before, he sure as hell isn’t now. The rage? The need to wipe out anything that could be a threat? It’s blinding. He’s more brutal, more unhinged, more likely to send a message with blood. It’s not just revenge anymore—it’s preventative.

Sometimes he just disappears for a night. When the weight of it gets too heavy, when the ghosts whisper that he’s already ruined too much, he puts distance between you and him. He goes out, finds a fight, a war, something to bleed out the ugly feelings. And when he comes home, torn up and bruised, you don’t even ask. You just sit beside him, fingers ghosting over the fresh wounds, and wait for him to let you in.

He doesn’t expect it. His hand is resting on your stomach absentmindedly, like it’s just there now, something he does without thinking. Then—movement. A real, solid kick against his palm. His breath catches, and for the first time since you told him, something cracks in his expression. He swallows hard, rubs a hand down his face like he’s trying to hold himself together, and whispers, “Holy shit.”

Frank never talks about his old man much, but you know. You know the way it haunts him. He’s terrified—fucking terrified—that one day he’s going to lose control, that he’s going to be more monster than man, that history will repeat itself. Some nights, he pulls away from you because of it. But you don’t let him. You grab his hands, make him look you in the eyes, and say, “You are not him.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. But Frank Castle in a hospital? Under fluorescent lights, surrounded by people he doesn’t trust? It’s a nightmare. Every nurse, every doctor, every person walking in and out of the room—he watches them like a hawk. When they take you back, he paces. He’s been through war, but this? This is the most helpless he’s ever felt.

He’s stiff at first. Huge hands, covered in scars, cradle something impossibly small. His breathing is shallow, almost scared. And then, the baby shifts, eyes barely open, fingers twitching—and Frank’s whole body just melts. A deep, broken breath escapes him. His head dips, forehead pressing against that tiny little body. And for the first time in years, Frank Castle feels something like peace.

[moosesarecute]

Part 3: The shadows sing

Part 1, part 2, part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

You were fuming with anger.

This male first of all thought of her as someone that needed help.

He killed your naga, making you distracted so that you missed the second one, leaving you without money. He then grabbed your wrist. And then he asks for your name?!?!?

You couldn’t do anything other than shake your head. What a prick.

You were just going to yell more at him when he yelled out “ouch” and hit something on his neck.

When he lowered his hand you felt all color leave your face.

A Gelbbug.

“Shit!” You said, trying to hold back a gasp. “Do you have the anecdote?”

The male looked confused at you.

“I don’t need an anecdote for a small bug bite,” he answered.

Before you could tell him your feelings about how stupid he was, he fell unconscious to the ground.

“Gods!” You exclaimed. “Just because you’re stupid doesn’t mean I wanted you to die!”

You knew you had to act fast.

You ran towards him and did your best to pick him up without hurting his wings or yourself.

You let loose the hold you had on your shadows.

“Stupid girl,” they muttered to you.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you answered. “Can you please help get us home?”

Luckily for you, they listen to you. They would usually spent some time being mad at you after you hid them for a longer period of time.

They must have understood the urgency.

The shadows transported you to your cabin. You carefully laid the male down on the floor, again making sure you didn’t hurt his wings.

He was out cold, but still breathing. Good.

“Where’s the anecdote?” You asked and soon both you and your shadows were looking.

You opened the door to your cabinet, looked under your bed, on the table, in the shelf, even in the holes in the roof!

“Here!”

You turned to where your shadows called you. The bottle stood in the behind all the other bottles you had. You hadn’t seen it in the stressed rush.

You grabbed the bottle and sat down on the floor beside the male.

You carefully opened his mouth and poured the anecdote in. You didn’t want to, but you gave him almost all of it. Just spearing a few drops for emergencies. You could never know when you would be able to get a refill.

“They say thank you for helping their master.”

You furrowed your brows. What were they talking about now?

“Huh?” You answered.

But then you saw them.

Shadows.

Much darker than your own.

They were circling the male. The Illyrian that laid on the floor in front of you.

You stood up abruptly. You felt terror spreading through your body.

Illyrian

“Oh gods,” was all you were able to say.

You couldn’t breathe.

You had not only helped an illyrian male, you had brought him into your home.

No no no no no

What if he’d seen your shadows? Why does he have his own shadows? Is he a shadowsinger too? He must be dangerous.

Your chest was in so much pain.

You couldn’t breathe.

You felt your heart beat up your throat.

The darker shadows moved closer to the male and when your eyes followed them, they were met with the most beautiful hazel eyes.

“Who are you?” The male said, raising his hand towards the knife that was strapped to his leg.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you had stumbled out the door of your cabin and ran away.

It was dark when you first dared to go back to your home. Except for the nagas, you had a successful hunting day. You managed to catch a few fireflies and 2 different types of birds.

“Is he gone?” You asked your shadows.

In your cowardly attempt to get as far away from the illyrian as fast as possible, you had left all your shadows behind.

“Hmpf,” they answered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I shouldn’t have left you behind. I’ll bring you next time, I promise.”

You spent a while waiting for their response. You stood outside your cabin, waiting for a few mad shadows to let you in. You felt like an idiot.

But luckily for you, the door opened and you got to go inside.

You stuck your head inside first. When you saw that you were alone, you walked in.

Everything looked like it did when you left.

You let out a relieved sigh. Maybe he just left and won’t bother you again.

You let yourself believe that you scared him away, even though he was the one scaring you.

You sat down on the tree stump you had as a chair and reached for the paper with the week’s assignments.

“Five fireflies and two birds is,” you spent some time counting. “15 coins.”

You stood up and started to get into your bed. Which was a mattress that laid on top of a few planks.

“Food?”

You looked at your shadows and let out a sigh.

“Not today. I don’t have enough. Unless a miracle happens, I’ll be starved at the end of the month. One meal a day must be enough.”

“What do you have?” Master Raven asked.

“5 fireflies, 6 birds and a stag.” You told him.

“You have to work harder than that to get anywhere in this world.”

Master Raven walked to the next person.

It had been an entire week since the incident with the illyran. Which meant you had three more weeks with only 10 percent of the profits from your hunting.

The rest would go to play your debts.

However, for you to hunt and pay your debt, you had to be alive. And with this little money, you were struggling.

Which only meant one thing: you’d have to fight.

Master Raven always kept 10 percent of everyone’s profit and spent it on food or tonics you could need.

Usually, you didn’t need to fight, you hunted for your own food and used the little money you had on oatmeal and ingredients to make your own pain medicine.

The rest you saved to buy the more complicated potions.

But now you had less and less food and your energy levels were on the ground.

“I have two breads, a kilogram oatmeal and 500 gram chicken. Who’s fighting?”

All 19 of you raised your hands.

“Y/N against Hazel first,” Master Raven declared and you and Hazel both took a step forward. “What are you fighting for?”

“Oatmeal,” Hazel said.

Hazel was half high fae and had been born into the Autumn court. After a few centuries she got sick of the treatment she got and ran away.

She was a good hunter, but not that good of a fighter.

“Oatmeal,” you agreed with her.

Both of you took your places, ten steps in between. You had picked knives as weapons and the fight began.

She attacked first, but you easily blocked the hit to your leg. You were next and tried to go for her arm, but she blocked you as easily as you did her.

Maybe you underestimated her.

You were singing with happiness as you walked towards your cabin. You had gotten two servings of oatmeal and half a bread.

Almost all parts of your body hurts, but you didn’t care.

You had won three fights! You had proven yourself to not be as useless as Master Raven thinks!

Finally a good day!

You swung open the door to your cabin and danced your way in.

“You won’t believe it!” You said. “I won three fights! I have food for like 4 days!”

But your shadows didn’t answer.

However, someone else did.

“Who are you talking to?” The illyran from a week ago asked with a raised brow.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark

[airandyeah]

Crying For Help (Alpha!Higuruma X Omega!Reader X Alpha!Nanami) Pt.8

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, I will mark every chapter as 18+ like all of my other A/B/O stories. Drunken confessions, late night calls...

The next week is hard.

Between Sukuna being, well… Sukuna—with his relentless smirks, innuendos laced between legal jargon, and the way his eyes always seemed to find you first in a room—your patience wore thin. He flirted shamelessly during case discussions, only stopping when things got serious… or when Higuruma’s jaw visibly clenched across the table.

The case itself was an absolute monster. Pages upon pages of conflicting testimonies, shady evidence trails, and enough red flags to start a parade. You barely had time to breathe between sorting files, updating logs, and prepping Higuruma for court.

And then there were the Alphas.

Nanami, always composed, always watching. You could feel the weight of his gaze like it had heat—sharp and assessing. He didn’t speak much, but his presence lingered like a pressure behind your eyes.

Higuruma was different. Warmer, closer. The way his voice dipped when he asked how you were holding up, the way his hand brushed yours a second too long when passing a document. He wasn’t subtle—but neither were you.

They hovered. They watched. They circled. And you? You were one snapped pencil away from losing it entirely. ~~~

It was late, the kind of quiet where the city outside your window felt half-asleep.

You had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, steam still curling in the air when your phone buzzed on the counter.

Higuruma's name lit up the screen.

You hesitantly answered, holding the towel a little tighter around yourself as you pressed the phone to your ear.

His voice came through—drunken, slurred, warm with something unfiltered. “You’re… you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, breath hitching slightly. “A perfect omega… can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your stomach flipped, heart caught somewhere between panic and something else—something softer, something dangerously warm.

“Higuruma… are you okay?” you whispered, voice barely above the hum of the bathroom fan.

He laughed, but it was low and almost sad. “Shouldn’t call… know I shouldn’t. Just—fuck. You don’t even realize, do you?”

He continues, voice thick and slurred with drink, but still somehow gentle—too gentle for someone who always kept such a pristine, buttoned-up image.

“D’you know how hard it is…?” he murmurs, the words tumbling out with no filter. “Workin’ with you, Watchin’ you walk around all confident, like you don’t even know what you do to people.”

You swallow, unsure what to say, heart thudding louder with each confession.

“You’re a perfect omega,” he slurs again, softer now, almost like a secret. “Smart. Sharp. Gorgeous. And fuckin’ kind. S’not fair.”

There's a pause. You can hear him shift on the other end, maybe sitting, maybe lying back.

“I shouldn’t be sayin’ this,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I think ‘bout you too much. Too damn much.”

The silence that follows is heavy—hot and electric. You're stunned, frozen in place, the phone still pressed against your ear, towel forgotten.

Do you say something? Or just listen, like a fool, heart aching in your chest?

You snap out of the haze his words put you in, blinking back the warmth crawling up your neck.

“Higuruma,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Are you home? Or… somewhere safe, at least?”

There’s a pause on the other end—quiet, except for the faint hum of city traffic and his uneven breathing.

“I’m… yeah. M’home,” he finally mumbles, though it doesn’t sound convincing. “Took a cab. I think. Maybe.”

You sigh, running a hand down your face, heart pounding with concern now more than anything. “Okay. Just—don’t go anywhere, alright? Drink some water. Lie down.”

He chuckles lowly. “You worry about me?”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a flutter in your chest. “Someone has to.”

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound crackling through the speaker. “You’re so freakin’ perfect,” he drawls, words slurring together like honey over gravel. “All worried about me… like a proper omega… always so sweet ‘n thoughtful.”

You can practically feel the smirk through the phone, the weight of his words curling around you.

“Bet you’re sittin’ there all neat,” he mumbles, “pillow in your lap, brows all furrowed like you do when you’re thinkin’ too hard—‘cause you care. ‘Cause you always care.”

His voice dips lower, breathier. “Fuck, y’really are perfect.”

His voice turns softer, almost vulnerable, slurring just a bit as he continues, “I wish you were mine, y’know? Not just… this. I mean—shit—I think about you all the time. Nanami does too. He just—he’s too proud to say it.”

There’s a heavy pause, the line filled with his slow, uneven breaths. “We’re both so fucked when it comes to you.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, heat prickling at your skin as you stare at the ceiling.th

“Higuruma…” you murmur, voice caught between concern and disbelief.

“I mean it,” he breathes. “You’re—God, you’re everything. How the hell are we supposed to work with you every day?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. This was too much—too fast. “Okay, I’m hanging up now,” you say, trying to keep your tone steady despite the flutter of something you can’t name tightening in your chest.

“Wait—no, don’t—”

But you’ve already tapped the screen, the call ending with a hollow beep.

You stare at your phone for a moment longer before sighing and tossing it onto the couch beside you. This week just keeps getting worse. ~~~

The next morning, you’re a mess of nerves.

You keep checking your phone like it’ll spontaneously combust with some regretful message or angry voicemail, but… nothing. Not a single text from Higuruma.

When you walk into the office, he's already at his desk. Calm. Focused. He gives you a polite nod, no trace of the drunken slurring or raw honesty from the night before.

For a moment, you wonder if you dreamed it. But no—your call history is right there. One call. Nearly twenty minutes. His name lighting up your screen.

Still, he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t look at you like he remembers baring his heart—or that he mentioned Nanami, either.

And maybe that should be a relief, but somehow it just makes your chest ache more.

In reality, he remembered every word.

The slurred confessions. The way your voice wavered with concern. The silence before you hung up.

But when he passed your desk the next morning—he was pretending. Letting you keep your dignity, sparing himself the awkward aftermath. It was a silent agreement, unspoken and suffocating.

You hated how relieved and disappointed you were at the same time.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @ollyissleepy , @erintaro , @hellv1ra Perma Tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You don't hear from Faye. You don't expect to. Can you blame her? You're much happier with your absentee dad than an overbearing brute like hers. And it's fair to assume you snitched her out, why would she suspect her own father of tracking her phone? 

That's deranged. Truly. Once more, you're thankful that no one really cares enough to be strict with you. Sometimes you swear your mom forgets she even has kids. 

She's on the porch that day when you leave for work. You have the green grocery store blouse on with a pair of thrift store slacks that don't breathe. It's hot out and many of your neighbours are hiding inside with their window fans and raggedy old AC units buzzing. Some kids run through a sprinkler at the end of the street and two men drink cold ones on their stoop.

The block can be shady but it's home to you. The few times Faye came around were fleeting. She only stopped by to pick you up or drop you off. You often caught the look in her face, that one of judgment but pity. 

You don't hold it against her. She can't help the gap between you. You've accepted your place. You'll ruin your arches slaving away as a cashier and she would have stopped talking to you anyway once she finished school. Frankly, you're surprised she hasn't already. 

A honk makes you jump. You stop short as a car pulls up in front of you before you can cross. You back up as you recognise the finish. You cross your arms. What the hell? 

You go to circle around the back of the car and he shifts into reverse. You huff and he rolls forward as you go back the other way. You stop and stomp your foot. The window rolls down on your side. 

"Mr. Marshall, I'm on my way to work," you grit.  

"You? Work?" He says. 

Your rage simmers and you measure your breath. He's not going to ruin your day. You stand still and stare over his car. 

"Some of us have to," you sniff, "isn't that what you always said?" 

"Didn't realise you listen to me," he scoffs. 

"Are you going to let me pass?" You snip. 

He's quiet as he idles by the corner. He leans over the passenger seat to see you better, "you got home safe." 

"Don't act like you care," you retort, "alright? If you're looking for Faye, I haven't heard from her. Besides, don't you have GPS?" 

"I didn't say anything about Faye," he insists. 

You curl your fingers as your frustration mounts, "then why are you bothering me?" 

"I'm on duty. Was in the neighbourhood," he says coolly. 

"Right, sure," you mutter and check your phone. 

"Gonna be late? Hop in." 

"You're not serious. After last time--" 

You stop yourself. Why is he doing this? He just wants a rise out of you but why? Why do you matter to him? He only ever thought of you as a bad influence for his angel of a daughter. They can both piss off. 

"You really don't let things go," he chuckles. 

"Speak for yourself," you sneer. 

"So... this your neighbourhood?" 

You turn on your heel and cross the other way. You're done. You're not going to stand there and be mocked. Maybe if he ever asked instead of glaring and growling, he'd know more than he assumed. 

You don’t look back and he doesn’t follow. You’re happy at least for that. You get your fair share of jackasses at work, one on the way is too much. 

🌙

Your shift drags on. You’re thankful for the air conditioning but not the work. Customers barter over the cost of potatoes or complain that you’re out of their preferred seasoning. You try to look like you care but that’s the hardest part of the job. 

The dinnertime rush peters out and you lean on your till. Brandy goes to stock the shelves with Ricky as Ariel texts away on her phone. The monotony is set to drive you crazy, that and the dad rock wafting from the speakers and droning through the mostly empty aisles. 

You pore over an Archie comic as the seconds tick by. You’re only taken away from Riverdale as you sense a shadow at the end of your lane. You stand up and close the magazine, tucking it back on the shelf. You nearly let your disappointment bubble out to sigh as you recognise your customer. 

Walter sets down a glass bottle of root beer and one of the ready-made meals from the deli. You don’t say a word as you push them across the scanner and to the other side of your till. You hit total. 

“Cash or credit?” 

He doesn’t answer. He steps close to the other side of the till and looks over easily at you. You squint back with derision. 

“Sir, you gotta pay--” 

“Is it any good?” He points to the tray of rice and fixings on the far end of the till. “The General Tao chicken? Don’t want crunchy rice.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can put it back on the shelf if you don’t want it.” 

“If you had to recommend something--” 

“I don’t eat that stuff. Too pricey,” you focus on keeping your eyes from rolling back in your head. 

“Sure, still cheaper than the burger joint across the lot,” he takes out his wallet, “long day. I’m starving.” 

You tap the machine to signal him to pay. He taps his card and you print his receipt. You place it on top of the tray of chicken and rice and reach for the Archie comic once more. 

“So you haven’t heard from Faye?” He asks. 

“I knew--” you stop yourself, “no, Mr. Marshall,” you lean back and open the book, fluttering through to find your page, “she isn’t my daughter.” 

He lets a breath out heavily through his nostrils. He grabs his soda and the chicken. You ignore him for the antics of Jughead, his existence lingering just along the edge of your vision before slowly stalking off. 

You can’t help but wonder why he’s looking for Faye and if she’s okay. 

[emmyc0z]

Can i ask for some headcanons about Zack from final fantasy kissing the face of a s/o who is crying and comforting them? I hope it doesn't seem weird, I just thought it would be cute ♡ thank you for reading and I love sm your hcs its perfect!

Zack Fair with Crying S/O

pairing : zack fair x gn!reader

cw: none! zack is a cutie patootie and he deserves pure fluff.

it genuinely would probably take zack a hot moment to notice your crying at all.

i mean he comes home, all sweaty after a gruesome training session, muttering a soft, “hey baby,” and placing the gentlest kiss on the top of your hair, hand resting on the back of your head.

but he’s focused on hitting the shower.

so focused that when you try and wrap your arms around him for comfort, he’s pushing you away from him, “ah, baby y’don’t wanna touch me right now. i’m all sweaty and gross.”

he thinks nothing of it, it's not the first time he's rejected your touch to prevent you from smelling him after training. he's saving you from it, he thinks.

so he continues on to the bathroom, bag of equipment thrown loosely on his shoulder.

that is, until, he hears soft sniffles coming from behind him, making his shoulders droop.

zack has tuned himself to understand your emotions. a simple sniff could mean you were getting sick, or that it was simply dusty in the house and he would need to clean soon.

but multiple, in a row, followed by hiccuped breaths. not good.

suddenly he's regretting not accepting you hug.

he turns in an instant, dropping anything he holds to rush over to your side, sitting the two of you down on the couch, face to face.

“what happened baby?” “hey, hey, look at me, my love.” and while he means to comfort you, his words have your cracking and you breakdown in front of.

zack would take your cheeks into his hands, making you face him. his brows furrow when he sees the tears slipping from your beautiful eyes, running down past your lips.

though at first you refuse to speak, his thumb’s gentle caress of your cheekbone coaxes the reasoning out of you.

even while tired after a long day, he listens to what you say, following every word. gaze never faltering, hands on your face never dropping.

“awh, my baby doesn’t deserve that..”

“poor baby.” his thumb wipes a tear that falls from your lashline line.

he places the softest kiss to your cheek, then another in the same spot.

he notices an instant change, it seems to soften your breathing. and your sniffling subsides. you’ve calmed.

“that helping, love?” yeah it is. he knows.

so he places another. and another. and one more.

his lips covered the stray tears on your cheeks, kissing them away.

zack moves your face, giving him the perfect angle to any spot he wishes to kiss.

he covers your jaw, cheeks, forehead, in soft kisses.

at first it feels sporadic, like he’s calculating where his lips will land.

but in an instant he find a steady rhythm, planting kisses wherever his lips land on your face rather then picking a specific spot.

it has your face heating up, and your heartbeat leveling to a steady beat.

you push him away, with gentle hands, almost whining between giggles, “zackk stoppp.”

but he knows that really means, ‘keep kissing me please.’

when he notices a smile on your face, placing another kiss on your nose, he feels that his methods have worked.

“feeling better? yeah?”

zack looks at you with tired eyes, always on you, always giving his full attention. he would never dare to leave you feeling worse than before.

he places a final kiss on your lips, lingering, purely a selfish act now that he sees you have calmed down.

“come shower with me baby, that always helps me calm down.” and he grabs your hand, pulling you slowly from the couch.

[mountainrusing]

In their classroom, the empty one which had become their place at this specific time, every week, Mary hoisted herself onto a table, kicked her legs while she waited, and as soon as Remus walked in, she ambushed him with, “Has your Jamie told you about the Order yet?”

Remus rolled his eyes, “He couldn’t last a second without telling Sirius, then them two couldn’t last a minute without roping me into it, and when they decided my reaction wasn’t dramatic enough, they told Peter, on the condition that he had to be over the moon about it. Then they tried to jump over me…” he trailed off. “Honestly, I don’t think Peter really was over the moon about it, but he pretended to be, for their sake.”

Mary huffed, “They should let him do what he wants.”

Sitting beside her, Remus nudged her shoe with his, “What he wants is to be wanted by them.”

“To find his people,” she sighed. “So, you?”

“Joining,” he confirmed. “You?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Joining ‘cause you’re a werewolf and you think this is the only thing you’re useful for?”

He glowered at her. “No.” At her raised eyebrow, he acquiesced, “Maybe. But also. James is. Sirius and Peter are. They’re my family.” He kept his lips tight.

Mary smiled, “Good. If it’s for the home you love, then good.”

“Maybe I’ll find a home with werewolves too,” he hypothesised.

“As long as you love them and they love you.”

He chewed his lip. “Sure. Yeah. Or I’d teach them better, and then they’d change for themselves. And wixen wouldn’t hate us anymore…”

She raised her chin, caught his gaze, “I’m a witch, and I don’t hate werewolves.”

“Greyback?”

“Yeah, I don’t hate werewolves. I just hate Greyback, who happens to be one werewolf,” she presented her case with open arms.

“A lot of werewolves are like him,” Remus scuffed his shoe on the tile.

“And you want to change it?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, in both relief and anticipation. “I’d show them there’s another path. I know… there must be good werewolves, as there are good humans. And I’d tell them that the option to be whoever they want to is available. Just because others decide to ‘other’ us doesn’t make us what they say we are. We are what we want to be. What we try to be. And we can try to be anything. In my world, at least.”

“The world you’re gonna fight for,” Mary hummed, and swung her legs, loved Remus a little more than she did before. With everything. Everything for everyone she loved.

Carefully, Remus chose his words, “People may… call you, well, cowardly for not joining. But you’re brave,” he looked at her with his quiet determination. She wanted to say how flattering this was, but she decided to wait for him, for his stagnant, heavy tongue to finally unstick in his throat. “‘Cause, well… You’re not letting any peer pressure get to you. You’re not doing it ‘cause people tell you to, you reject all that and stay set on what you want. Which is brave. A lot of people would conform. Like, er— Peter. He doesn’t want to…” Remus muttered. “He doesn’t, and he’s a coward, because he does anyway. I’m happy you’re not joining,” he told Mary sincerely.

She found his hand, squeezed her thanks, “I’m happy too.” She paused. Addressed the Peter problem, “Should I talk to Pete—?”

“Won’t listen,” Remus shook his head. “He doesn’t listen to anyone who’s not James. Though sometimes he listens to Sirius. But rarely to me. I don’t know what he’s looking for, maybe James’s constant approval, and anything that goes against that, he just… ignores. Like it doesn’t exist. It’s like… James is in charge, right? Peter feels safest being close to that. He’ll never be harmed if he follows the person with the most power, at least, that’s what he seems to think. James can protect him.”

“You don’t think James can protect him,” Mary observed.

Remus lifted a shoulder half-heartedly. “It’s unhealthy to depend on just one person.”

“I think I should at least try talk to Peter.”

Remus smiled at her. “And that’s why you’re brave, Mary Macdonald. Always trying to do what you think is right.”

Mary Macdonald.

— — —

It turned out Remus had been right. Peter didn’t listen.

Mary had found him in his usual spot — James’s group, pretentiously self-proclaimed as ‘The Marauders,’ all seemed to have their own spots around the common room, Remus by the desks and armchairs, curled up with a book or tutoring students, James sprawled out on the carpet in the centre, laying out explosive card games and tripping people up, Sirius dangling some part of himself out of the window while James cheered, and Peter by the fireplace, with his chessboard, and a nerdy little fan club, their cheeks flushed ruddy red as their eyes glinted at chess pieces, as if it were Christmas day and they were unwrapping presents. Slowly. Methodically. Calculated.

She’d slid in for a game, “Oi, Pete, save me a match?”

He’d nodded, not taking his eyes off the board, and Mary couldn’t tell if he was shy and awkward, or an anti-social misanthrope. Maybe both. The chess pieces were sort of alive. At least, they moved. Maybe they were his best friends, and he needed no one else. Or he did, because he needed James, except was that for friendship, or was that for protection? She scanned the way he held himself, uncomfortable in his own body, splotchy cheeks, downcast eyes, hunched shoulders. It said, I don’t want company. It also said, to bullies, This is someone you can pick on. And how to avoid being picked on, and still have as little company as possible?

Follow the person with power, the one who’d provide security for those beneath them, but who wouldn’t fully befriend those lower than them either, because they weren’t equals. Peter wasn’t James’s equal. James preferred Sirius and Remus, but he still cared for Peter, because Peter followed him. Mary thought she’d cracked them. This dynamic. If she was right, then Remus was right, and Peter wouldn’t listen.

She didn’t want to be right.

So when it was her turn to play, she hissed to the gawking, gawping fan club, “Give us some space, yeah? I can’t concentrate with all of you leering over us,” and waved them away dismissively.

Affronted, they turned to Peter, but he merely shrugged, not even trying to hold their gaze.

They left, and Mary smiled mischievously, “D’you think I’m up to something?”

To her surprise, his mouth twitched upwards, “Something no good.”

“The Order,” she let on.

He paused. Stared at the chessboard, where neither of them had yet made a move. Sighed, under his breath, “No good.”

“I agree,” she laid out her hands plainly. “The Order ain’t good.”

He hummed.

She pushed, “So, why’re you joining?”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers. Visibly, he swallowed, throat tight. “I just want…” he shook his head. “I want to make the world safe.”

“You mean, your world,” she raised a brow.

He frowned. “My world is the world.”

Or is your world just you?

Mary couldn’t ask that. He wouldn’t answer. Instead: “I’m not joining. I’m gonna stay safe, you know?”

“No,” he stated with finality. “I don’t.”

Denial. Imagine telling him, Peter, these five stages of grief? Been there, done that, eventually we accept it. She couldn’t say that, either. “It’s not your duty to join. If you don’t want to, then don’t, ‘cause you’ll be happier doing what you want. And when you’re happy, you’ll feel safe.”

This time when he hummed, it was perfunctory.

“I think, maybe, you won’t feel safe when you’re actually part of the Order, since, well, you were pressured into it, so you’d feel all this stress about it, like an obligation you don’t want. A burden. And that won’t help you—”

Brashly, he cut her off, “You don’t know me. I’m not being forced into it.”

“But—”

“No,” he repeated, his voice wavering. He bit his lip, whispered harshly, “You’re a coward, Macdonald, because you won’t join. You won’t stand up and defend when you can, when this is your world too. It’s important to fight back, and you won’t, you have nothing. Nothing,” his voice cracked. “You’ll just watch the world die and leave us all to rot, you don’t care about any injustice…”

“Peter,” Mary murmured softly. “That’s not you. Not fighting won’t make you like that. In fact, fighting might even—”

“Shut up,” he snarled. “Not fighting will make you like that, not me. Because I’ll be fighting, and I’ll have—”

“James?”

He ignored her, then. “Pawn to E4.”

A minute of still silence, like stale, lukewarm water, passed between them.

“Are you playing?”

“No,” Mary got up. I’m a cowardly quitter, right?

— extract from

she’s Black, she’s Broken, she’s Beautiful

[joocomics]

not me getting an idea the second i read this, love @elllisaaa

jiseok watches you walking towards the bathroom, wrapped in a small towel and immediately feels the urge to jump off the bed and join you, but no… he should give you some space. you’re tired and groggy from spending the whole day at uni… he doesn’t want to be annoying and clingy.

however, few minutes later, as he listens to the noise of the running water coming inside the room, he impatiently gets rid of his clothes, and sneaks inside with a grin, already hard.

“jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you mutter, enjoying the warm water, soothing your limbs. “what are you doing here?”

“i just wanted to hear about your day,” he closes the distance between the two of you, wrapping his hands gently around your neck. “how was uni today?”

“it was good,” you reply before he places a kiss on your lips. you continue telling him more about what you did today, what lectures you had, and that one exam you took in the morning, meanwhile he caresses your warm dripping body, reaching lower and lower.

“exam? was it hard…” you breath in, as his fingers slide down your pussy. he starts rubbing in circles, causing you to shut your eyes from pleasure. his thumb goes along your lips. “tell me more, doll. don’t fall asleep on me.” the way you get weaker with every rub makes him chuckle.

his laugh echoes through the tiled walls when you open your eyes, trying to get back to your story. but all thoughts in your mind are melting from his touch and you only breathe out messy incoherent words.

“there… s-some questions about… n-ngh..” you throw your head back, as he wraps full hand around your throat. he doesn’t squeeze yet, just teases cause he knows you like it. “some q-questions were h-hard, yea.. but—“

“but what? will my dirty girl pass or will i have to discipline her, huh?”

“n-no, i will… i a-answered everything e-else, fuck!”

he spins you around, pressing your cheek to the wall. before you say anything else his cock is inside, hitting deep, rapid and hard, as his hands find your throat again, causing you to arch your spine. his movements are rushed and intense, and you feel getting dizzy as the thrusts keep coming.

“f-fuck, baby, feels amazin’.. your pussy’s always ready for me to fuck it real good…” he smacks your ass a few times, not looking away from the water splashing off your cheeks, as his hips slam repeatedly with force. “did my dirty girl think of my cock again when she should be doing her exam, huh? shit, is that why it was difficult, doll? you couldn’t wait to come home so i can give it to you.. such a good slut for me…” he loosens up his grip, so you can answer.

“y-yes, yes, yes..”

“full sentences, love,” he squeezes harder again.

“mhmm, i was thinking about y-you, your c-cock…” you breathe in more freely when he removes one hand, burying it into your wet tangled hair. “m-my panties got so f-fucking wet from thinking about you all day..” your words follow up with a moan, as your throbbing walls hold his cock tight, leading into both of your highs clashing together.

jiseok always cums faster when you talk back and the provocative words echo into his ears.

[lucyheartfiliqx]

His home

Ship: Natsu Dragneel x Lucy Heartfilia

Summary: Natsu finds out that Lucy’s gone on a date, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.

This is the first time I’ve written anything for Tumblr, I hope anyone who sees this enjoys it! :)

_________________________________________________

“Damn, I’m stuffed. This new fire roast of yours is so good, Mira.”

“It really doesn’t take much Natsu. You literally just set the thing on fire.”

“You set them on fire so well thouuuggghhhh.”

It was the early evening, and Natsu and Happy had just come back from a job. It wasn’t difficult, all they had to do was protect a merchant and his wears as he travelled from one town to the next. The money they’d made, which wasn’t much anyway, went straight into Natsu and Happy’s meal. They didn’t regret it one bit.

He wiped his face with his sleeve and stood up. “Right, we’re off to Lucy’s. See you later!”

“Oh no you can’t Natsu, she’s busy right now.”

He turned around to look her, “doing what? Is she out on a job? She went alone?”

“No, no she’s…. on a date!”

Natsu’s eyes became saucers. Mira cupped her hands over her mouth, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“A date you say? How dare she not tell me…” Erza muttered, who could hear the conversation from where she sat nearby.

“Juvia thinks we should stalk!”

“Gray thinks so too.”

“Guys… no.” Came Wendy’s voice from a little further away.

“Oh, Lucy’s going to have me dead by morning. I can’t tell you much about it, but…”

Natsu had stopped listening, the cogs in his brain slowly trying to process this new, shocking information. Hit feet carried him to a bench in the corner of the guild. He slumped down and placed his chin on the table, eyes still wide. Happy followed him over, “hey, you good?”

“…I don’t know.”

The sun had completely set by the time Natsu forced himself up and out of the guild. He began to wander home with Happy slightly lagging behind. He sped up a little every so often to see if Natsu looked like he was in a talking mood, but he never seemed to be. His eyes were trained on the pavement and his feet kept catching on it, not bothering to pick them up properly as he walked.

“…You okay buddy?” He eventually asked, catching up enough to reach Natsu’s shoulder.

He didn’t respond at first. “I’m fine,” he muttered eventually, “just tired. I wanna go home.”

“Why don’t we go to Lucy’s?” He chirped, “we always go to Lucy’s.”

“She’s busy.”

“She won’t be by now, she’s probably back.”

“Let’s just go home, Happy.”

The conversation was decidedly ended on Natsu’s end after that. He picked up his speed and said no more, leaving Happy behind again.

Conversation remained few and far between after they’d returned home. The two of them hadn’t been there in a long time after getting into the habit of staying at Lucy’s every night, so it had accumulated a layer of dust on most surfaces and thick cobwebs had formed on the ceilings and on the corners of some of the furniture.

This, on top of the mess that they’d already left it in, made it look more like a garden shed than a home. To Natsu, in spite of how long he’d lived there, it didn’t feel like home anymore.

Without speaking, he batted his hammock in an attempt to rid it of some dust and clambered up onto it. He turned on his side and faced the wall, bringing his legs up to his stomach as he curled up under the scraggly blanket. Happy understood the message and went to lay on his little bed on the other side of the room, not bothering to try talking anymore.

Instead of going to sleep, he looked up to the collection of requests he’d made above him. His eyes fell on the job at the Evelue mansion that he’d labelled as ‘the first job I ever did with Lucy!’ He smiled a little and looked over some more. Though unlabelled, he could remember every single detail, everything himself, Happy and Lucy had done during the jobs they’d been on as a three.

Though many were unpleasant at best and she’d moan sometimes, Lucy tried to make the best out of bad situations. They always ended up being worthwhile, and more than just for the money. His smile grew as he recounted the memories, but the happiness was temporary and quickly replaced by a dull ache in his chest

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. He wanted Lucy to be happy, yes, but not with some random guy. Not with some random guy that didn’t know her like he did. They don’t know what she likes, what she doesn’t like. What she reads when she’s happy or when she’s upset, that she will try and reserve at least one evening a week to getting better at baking. That she likes her apartment to be clean and orderly or it stresses her out, that she sticks her tongue out a little in an act of concentration when she’s writing. That she likes to be hugged from behind to keep warm when she’s too tired to be embarrassed by it.

No.

He had to see her. The thought of her with someone else left a hole so deep in his soul that it hurt. He didn’t know what the rollercoaster of emotions Lucy made him feel meant half the time, but he knew this one.

-

It’d reached half past midnight. Lucy had just finished getting changed and was getting ready for bed when she heard the regular tap on her window. She smiled, rolled her eyes and walked over. She was met with Natsu, his lips forming a thin line, but no Happy. Not thinking much of it, she opened the window and he hopped in, landing quietly on the floor in a more cat-like manner than a human one.

“Where have you been?” She asked, grabbing her dressing gown to cover herself up a little, “it’s so late, I thought you’d decided to stay at the guild.”

“I went back to my house.”

“Oh, really? Why? Did you miss it?”

He looked down at the floor and moved slowly towards the sofa in the middle of the room. He sat down and stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

“Are you alright?” She asked, tilting her head and also walking over to the sofa and sitting down.

He didn’t respond for a while. Eventually, he said, “how was your date?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You know about that?”

“Mira told me. She told quite a few people, actually.”

“Oh, figures. Typical Mira.”

“So?” He pushed, “did you enjoy it?”

She pondered on his question. “It was alright at first, but by the end I knew we wouldn’t click. None of my jokes hit home and he did an awful lot of talking about himself.”

Natsu’s brows raised. “So you’re not going to meet with him anymore?”

“Probably not,” she answered, “there’s no point in putting effort into something that won’t ever work.”

“…Why didn’t you tell me about it? That you were going?” He asked. For a split second, he looked genuinely hurt.

She sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell anyone until it was over. I only told Mira so that somebody would know where I was in case there was an emergency. I would have done, just not beforehand.”

She sighed again, deeper this time, and put her head in her hands.

“Clearly I’m just destined for a life of being alone.”

“…But you’re not alone.” Natsu murmured quietly, not looking up.

She sat up and turned to him but he didn’t meet her eyes.

“You have us,” he continued, “you have… me.”

He looked up at her, his eyes swimming with something she couldn’t quite work out.

She took a moment to respond, somewhat shocked by his words, a light pink tinging her cheeks.

“I-I know.”

“Are you sure you know?”

She smiled and leant her head back against the sofa. “Yeah I do. We’ll always be together, right?”

He nodded with a smile. Lucy figured that he didn’t mean what he’d said in the way that a small part of her heart wanted him to, but it still made her happy regardless.

“I can’t say I plan on going on anymore dates anytime soon.”

“Good.” He whispered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Come on,” he began to clamber into her bed, “bedtime now. It’s late.”

“You’re not sleeping in my bed!” She moaned, pulling at his clothes with the strength her tired body could muster.

He didn’t move a muscle and looked at her, “are we really gonna play this game again?”

She rolled her eyes, reluctantly accepting defeat. She took her dressing gown off and climbed in after him.

“What was that guy’s name?” Natsu asked after a couple minutes of silence.”

“Why?” She asked.

“So I can set him on fire.”

“Oh for god’s sake.”

“Kidding, kidding. Sort of.”

It wasn’t long until she was fast asleep. Natsu stayed on his side of the bed until he could hear her breathing slow and deepen. Slowly, he crept onto Lucy’s side and slid one arm over her waist. He then waited for a bit to make sure he hadn’t woken her up and began the harder of the two. He cautiously slid his other arm under her neck. Still asleep, she felt the movement and received it, sinking into his bicep. He then snuggled up to and sank into her, fitting his knees into the little nook hers had made.

And there he stayed, listening to the rhythmic sounds of her breathing. In, out, in, out. He was warmer here. Calmer. More at peace. He didn’t like his old shack. He wanted to be at Lucy’s house. With Lucy. Not long after, sleep succumbed to him too.

Right where he belonged.