#he gets old and becomes a bear u can’t take that from me

[hotluncheddie]

For @steddie-spooktober day 3 prompt : apples

rated: T | cw: none | tags: old queers, mechanic eddie munson, they're in love

🍏🍞🍏🍞🍏

Steve is stirring the saucepan of soup he made as strong arms wrap themselves around his waist. The softness of Eddie’s middle-aged belly pressing up against his back, the familiar scratch of salt and pepper stubble as his husband leaves a kiss just under his ear.

Steve’s sighs happily, leaning back into Eddie’s warmth.

‘It’s really that time of year again already?’ Eddie mumbles, his face buried in Steve’s shoulder.

Steve hums, turning the stove off and shifting them so he’s leaning against the counter and facing eddie, wrapping his arms around his neck. ‘Yup, collected them from the tree this morning.’ He supplies, tucking a looses strand of Eddie’s work sweaty hair behind his ear.

Eddie’s eyes close sleepily and he opens his mouth. Every year Steve makes apple bread from their apple tree in the back garden, and every year Eddie acts like he’s surprised; before asking Steve to make more once there’s none left to pack with his lunches.

Steve breaks off a bite from the now cool loaf next to him, pulling it off with his fingers because it’s not like he’s sharing with anyone but Eddie. Getting a bit with a chunk of apple inside and feeding it gently into his husband’s waiting mouth. Eddie licks the crumbs from Steve’s fingers and steve marvels at how Eddie’s crows feet are always visible now, not just when he smiles. Older and wiser but just as pretty and goofy as he was when they were 20.

They’re really growing old together, who would’ve known.

‘You’re an outdoorsman and a housewife, how’d I get so lucky?’ Eddie mumbles, opening his big Bambi eyes again as mischief grows on his face. ‘The boys at the shop better be ready to hear me braggin’. “He does it wearing grey sweatpants too.” They’re young, they know what that means.’ Eddie teases, squeezing Steve’s ass with his perpetually oil stained hands.

‘You do not tell them that!’ Steve argues, cheeks flushing at the implications of the nicknames and gossip.

‘I employ them! I can make them listen to me talk about anything. My hot husband who bakes for me and literally forages outdoors is definitely on the yap agenda tomorrow.’ Eddie says matter of factly, nuzzling against Steve’s hot cheek. ‘They made enough fun of me after seeing what a beanpole I used to be in old pictures, least I can do is brag about the guy who turned me into a bear.’

Steve purses his lips but he’ll never not enjoy the way Eddie shows him off, how special it makes him feel. And he can’t help his brain going a little fuzzy as Eddie crowds closer, his bulk pressing in all over. It’s Steves favourite place to be; pushed against anything with Eddie’s weight holding him there.

So when Eddie removes Steve’s glasses gently, setting them on the counter and holding firm at the base of his skull, Steve goes willingly. Always has and always will, mouths dipping together with the sweet taste of autumn on their tongues.

The familiar burst of love that Steve feels for Eddie every day, every year, every season, filling his chest.

And he hopes, knows, that he’ll get to feel it for the rest of their life. For all the autumns still to come.

🍏🍞🍏🍞🍏

Tag list (message to be added/removed):

@scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @marvel-ous-m

@thecatkingsthrone @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[coryosbaby]

— ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ, ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

cowboy! Coriolanus snow x fem! Reader

synopsis: you meet a handsome, mysterious cowboy at a carnival.

content warning . western au, dumb choices, handjobs, cunnilingus, age gap if u squint ig

When you first lock eyes with him, it’s at a county fair.

How cliché it is, but in a small southern town of Kentucky it’s not that uncommon to meet your lover at such an event. Everyone from your town knows each other, knows every name, face, and house. It’s a wonder that anyone has any privacy at all.

But the man you’re looking at, you’ve never seen him around these parts before. His brown curls are hidden— you know he has brown curls because of the way the brunette locks peek out from underneath his cowboy hat. He’s wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and the usual pants you see on every other man. But he wears all of this so exceptionally well that you can’t take your eyes off of him.

And he’s looking at you.

You shiver as you watch him watch you. Your momma stands beside you and gossips with her church going friends, and you hope she doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving this perfect stranger. She’d pound your hide for sure. You smooth down your dress, your eyes wondering to the man’s muscle-ey arms. He must be very fit underneath that outfit.

He moves, walking towards a ring toss game and winks at you. Heat creeps down from your fingers to your toes, your bloomers become drenched with arousal. You want to talk to him— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Your momma is busy, anyway, so what harm could it really do? You say goodbye to her and tell her you’re going to go play a few games. You’re not exactly lying about that. Your heel clad feet make their way across the dirt as you subtly take your place beside the man. He smells like soap and cigars, and you’re thankful that he isn’t like the smelly men that plague your location. He turns to look at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Do you wanna play?”

His voice has a soft southern drawl, not as vibrant as yours but still there. He must be from somewhere more up north.

“I’m not that good at these games,” you sheepishly reply. “But I’d like to watch you, sir, if that’s okay.”

“Sir, huh?” He seems amused, and his big hands toss a ring that lands around an old milk bottle. “I’m not that old, y’know.”

You nervously fumble on the balls of your feet.

“I jus’ turned twenty.”

He looks at you again, taking in the sight of your lipstick smeared lips.

“Thought you’d be younger,” he teases, and you smirk.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” he laughs, throwing another ring and once again, landing it onto the milk bottle. You wonder what else his hands can do besides play carnival games. “I’m twenty five, sweet thing.”

A slight age gap, but nothing you can’t handle. He tosses the last ring towards the bottles, and it lands again. The man who’s monitoring the tent lets out a loud whistle.

“First winner of the night,” he says. “Which stuffed animal d’ya want?”

At the mention of the wall of prizes, your eyes dart to all of them. They land on a brown bear with a pink bow wrapped up around its neck, and you frown when you realize that you weren’t the one to win the game.

But to your surprise, the man beside you smiles with his shiny white teeth and points at the bear.

“That one, right there, for this pretty lady.”

Excitement floods through you as the man grabs the bear from the shelf. He hands it to you and you squeal, hugging the bear to your chest.

“Thank you, sir!”

You’re talking to the one beside you, not the vendor, and he chuckles.

"Coriolanus,” he says, and it rolls off of his tongue like honey. “My name is Coriolanus Snow.”

You smile at him as you reveal your name. His hands are cold against your skin when they brush against your shoulder.

“Well, [y/n],” he starts. “Do you wanna get out of here for a little bit?”

It’s against your better judgement to go off from your family for the comfort of a stranger. But this man— Coriolanus— he’s different. Your undergarments are soaked, too, you know they are.

“My momma told me I shouldn’t be alone with strangers,” you chastise. “Promise not to hurt me, Mr. Coriolanus?”

He leans in close to you, something dark drawling in his voice.

“I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

—

You didn’t tell your family where you went. They were probably going to be occupied for the rest of the night, anyway. Your feet pad against the ground as Coriolanus leads you out to his pickup truck. It’s a bit rusty, but it’s a lot better than the vehicles you’re used to. He opens the door for you— a gentleman— and you climb into the passengers seat with little struggle. You lean back in the seat and place the stuffed bear in between the both of you as Coriolanus takes his place beside you. The ride to this mysterious destination is shorter than you expect. He turns into the woods— a little creepy, but you have a switchblade in your corset so it’s fine. When you arrive in front of an opening in front of a lake, your eyes light up.

“You can swim, right?” Coriolanus asks you.

“Of course.” You reply, opening the car door. You skip over to the edge of the water, dipping your hand in to get a feel of the temperature. It’s a bit cold, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re so distracted by the scenery that you hardly notice the sound of Coriolanus’ belt buckle until you turn around. He’s unzips his fly and begins to unbutton your shirt. A humored smile spreads across your lips.

“Skinny dipping? Really?”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” he shrugs, pulling his pants down past his thighs. “Unless you’re a coward.”

You gasp, lifting yourself back up and putting your hands on your hips.

“I am not a coward, Coriolanus Snow. I’m just a lady.”

“A lady who snuck off from her momma to be with a boy she barely knows?”

He has a point with that, and you let out a frustrated noise. You try not to blush as he slips his shirt off, left in nothing but his underwear. He takes his hat off, too, and his hair is just as perfect as you imagined. You finally give in, beginning to unbotton the top of your dress.

“You’ll have to help with my corset, I hope you know. This thing is such a hassle to unlace.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He seems smug when you pull your dress over your head, your bloomers and corset being revealed to him. You pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and turn around so he can undo the laces on your corset, and his fingers strategically remove the strings in a matter of a few minutes.

“Seems like you’ve done this a lot, Coriolanus.”

He hums. “I guess you could say that I don’t lack experience.”

You scoff, turning around and sliding the corset off of your shoulders. Coriolanus gapes at your now bare chest, your hardened nipples on full display and your chest full and inviting.

“Neither do I.”

You move towards the water, and like a puppy dog Coriolanus trails in after you. The water goes up to your chest by the time you’re done moving, and Coriolanus pulls your half nude body close to him. You giggle, feeling like a giddy child, feeling free. He presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and another. It’s like you’ve known him your whole life. His lips brush over yours, not quite touching but just enough to give you the impression of his desire.

“Can I?” He asks, sweet and gentle. You nod, your head spinning, and his mouth molds to yours perfectly. His hands wrap tightly around your waist to hold you to him, and your arms come up to grasp the locks of his hair. He breathes heavy, pushing his hips against you, and you laugh against his lips when you feel his hardness press against you.

“You’re a filthy man, Coriolanus snow.”

He rolls his eyes, his palm coming down to rub over your breast. You gasp against his mouth, your mound pressing against his bulge, and he chuckles.

“Me?” He chastises.

“Mmm..”

Your hand reaches down, not shy to a man’s body as you move past his waistband. Your hand grips his cock, your tongue coming out to lick your lips when you feel how thick he is.

“Big boy, aren’t you?” You say with a throaty breath. He groans, his face burying itself in your neck as you begin to stroke him.

Your hands are like magic, your skill magnified tenthfold because it’s been a while since Coriolanus has been touched by a woman’s hands. His hips buck against you, precum dripping out of his swollen cockhead, and when your thumb brushes over the underside of his cock he lets out a deep, gravelly moan.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathes out, his grip on your waist the only thing keeping him up. “So good, darlin’, Fuck.”

You whine against him, his praise making your knees buckle. The water around you is still cold but it’s warming now because of your adjustment and your shared body heat. You can feel a few rocks poke at the bottom of your feet, but you can’t think about that right now. Coriolanus’ pleasure is like your own, and with the way he’s feeling… you don’t know how you’re still standing.

You reach past his cock for a moment to feel up his balls, soft in your palm, and the sound he makes is so guttural it’s almost as if you have killed him. His cock kicks, you can feel it and hear the water below you splash as your hand moves faster and gets him closer. He keeps spilling precious moans from his mouth, and you think you could spend everyday with him like this, even though you’ve only known him for a few hours.

“Gonna cum…” he whimpers out, his legs shaking. “Gonna cum all over your hand, baby.”

And you’re perfectly fine with that. You bite down on his earlobe, letting out a tiny giggle.

“Cum for me, Coriolanus. Cum.”

It’s an automatic command that has the boy thrusting one final time against you before he spills inside his underwear. Thick ropes of cum squirt against your hand, sticky and hot. You let him ride out his high before you press a wet kiss to his neck. He sighs against you, and he knows his body would be nearly limp if he wasn’t so fit. After that sigh he lets out a laugh, serotonin flooding his brain as you pull your hand out of his underwear. You smile at him.

“How was that?” You ask him. He tilts his head, biting teasingly against your cheek.

“So amazing that I need you up on that shoreline, darlin’. I needa touch you, too.”

You bite your lip, nervous as you reply.

“You don’t gotta do that. I know some men don’t like to.”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow, a look of disgust crossing his features.

“No man hates eating pussy. What kind of boys have you been hangin’ around?”

You stutter, trying to come up with a response but Coriolanus just shushes you and guides you back to the shoreline with his hands. His back muscles ripple as you watch him from behind, and you wonder what a wanderer is doing with muscles like that.

When you both get back to shore he tells you to stand and wait. He comes back soon with a blanket in his hands and spreads it out on the shore. You lay down on it, trying to calm your beating heart. Coriolanus takes a spot in front of you, sitting on his knees in between your legs. He smiles at you, his thumbs moving to the waistband of your bloomers. You nod to him, and with callused hands he pulls them down past your ankles. He throws them in the sand, the smell of your pussy hitting his nostrils and making him groan. His nose scrapes against your inner thighs, his hands holding your legs open as he begins to mouth closer and closer to your pussy.

“Coryo,” you whine, the nickname making his cock twitch. “Please? Y-You don’t have to, but I.. I really, really want you to.”

“Want me to do what, honey?” He says, his mouth hovering over your dripping slit. “Eat this pretty little pussy? Is that what you want?”

You cry out, nodding your head, begging for it now, and finally Coriolanus licks a long, wet stripe up your juicy cunt with his tongue. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His tongue moves up and down before probing your hole, slipping just the tip in as his nose rubs against your clit. You desperately hump against his face, riding his strong nose and squeezing around his wet tongue. You’ve never been eaten out before, never in your life. Not even with the handful of men you’ve lain with— none have ever wanted to do this or try to. You’re practically in heaven right now.

“Nghhh..” you moan, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You jump when his finger brushes up against your entrance, slipping it inside next to his tongue and scissoring, and fuck, you never knew this could be so good. Your legs try to close around Coriolanus’ head but he grabs one of them with his free hand and pushes it down. Your legs hitch up, a sob spilling from your throat, and the man below you can’t stop humming and making precious sounds. Slurping noises echo throughout the empty, wooded area, and you can’t help but fantasize about being caught. How hot it would be, someone walking in on this, on this hot cowboy devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, your fingers gripping his curls like your life depends on it as he drives you closer and closer to the edge like no other man has.

Coriolanus slips another finger inside you, removing his tongue from inside you and making his way up to your puffy clit. He captures it in between his teeth, suckling with everything he has, and without warning your body is seizing up and you’re cumming, a sob escaping you, your hands yanking on his hair, your legs shaking. Coriolanus drinks up your spend, his chin dripping with your release as he pulls away and wipes his mouth on his wrist. You look down at him, and a grin spreads wide on his face. You grin back at him, the post orgasm clarity overtaking you as gets up and digs in his pants pocket. He lays down beside you, taking out a cigar and a match as he lights it up. He takes a long drag and a silence overtakes the lakeside, the only sound the light summer breeze and the crickets in the woods. You turn on your side, the moonlight reflecting off of Coriolanus’ jawline. He turns to look at you too, passing the cigar off to you. You take it, trying not to cough or embarrass yourself because this is your first time ever touching one of these things. When you clumsily inhale and exhale, you give it back to him with curiosity on your face.

“What’s a man like you doin’ around here anyway?” You ask him. “You some kind of outlaw?”

He chuckles, his fingertips grazing your thigh as he looks up at the full moon in the sky.

“If I was, would you tell on me?”

He knows you wouldn’t, but he teases you anyway. You shake your head.

“I wouldn’t. It ain’t my business.”

He sighs.

“Maybe I am. And I think that’s why I need to tell you to stay away from me from now on.” He explains. His finger grips your wrist, tickling you. “I’m bad news, sweetheart.”

“I can handle it, cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back again and closes them. He changes the subject.

“Do you need me to take you home?”

You shrug, grabbing the cigar from him.

“It can wait a few more hours. My momma’s gonna be livid when she sees me.”

And it’s true. Because when Coriolanus drops you off in his pick up truck with a promise to see you again (after your persuading), you show up at your front door barefoot, the teddy bear in your hands, and without a corset— Coriolanus had taken it from you as a souvenir, and he said he didn’t intend to give it back. In return, you had taken his hat and perched it on your head as a reminder of his touch. You give him a small thumbs up when you watch him get the hell out of dodge.

Your momma is furious when she opens that door, but you don’t regret this night one bit.

[petrichorium]

i am not vic but ohhhmhyyogofr your post about gojo and his greatest fear of getting you (us???) pregnant is making rounds in my head. if u would like to share more of your thoughts please know i will be SEATED!!!!

I will not lie the thing I have written is more about his mother and how he projects her onto you wrt his fears abt getting you pregnant so it’s v much a gun Ive cocked and aimed at vic specifically LMFAOOOO

But there’s many angles to his refusal to have kids imo so I’ll ramble abt a few of them. If this is going to hurt ur feelings DO NOT open the read-more it’s not a happy take on motherhood

he does not believe he’d be a good father point-blank. I think his dad was p much nonexistent in his life—in fact I can’t decide if I think he even knows who his dad is/was—and in general he keeps too much of an emotional distance between himself and everyone else for him to be comfortable with the idea of being responsible for raising a whole child. His role as a teacher is not paternal to me, in contrast to chars like Aizawa or Qifrey who are paternal in their roles. JJK is very explicit in its depiction of sorcerers as people who do not have long lifespans, and the majority do not make it past high school. The teaching role in that sense is less a father figure and more someone raising cattle for slaughter. He can’t afford to become too attached to his kids; the vast majority are going to become Haibaras or, if they’re strong enough, Getous. It’s a hard life. He firmly believes he’d treat his own kid the same way. You are the exception, and sometimes he still has to distance himself from you—a kid doesn’t deserve that from its own father.

he is RADICALLY oppositional to everything that has to do with the old conservative way. This includes providing his clan more breeding stock—because frankly, that’s what his children would be. There’s no chance of him passing his powers down (only one person can have Limitless at one time, a power that isn’t even that enormous without the Six Eyes and he’s the first person in 600 yrs to have them both) and he’s also aware that either he or his kids will die first, and if it’s him there’d be nothing to stop his clan from just taking them away to use them to breed another one of him. Idk how any decent person would be comfortable having kids knowing that or assassination would be their fate, but hey I’m kinda an anti-natalist so I’m pretty biased LMFAOOOOOO

BUT FINALLY. THE PART WE RLLY CARE ABOUT (and the most important part to him—again those first two points are why he’s always been terrified of having kids but this one shows up when he realizes he wants you for the rest of his life) if there’s anything worse than being gojo in a situation where he’s had a kid, it’s the poor soul he impregnated. Because like. He’s GOJO he’s untouchable but you, no matter who you are but esp if you’re not a particularly strong sorcerer/a non-sorcerer straight-up, are absolutely touchable. Like the odds of you being outright assassinated (during the pregnancy by other clans or after the pregnancy by his OWN as a power grab) are so high that the chance alone would be enough to make him get snipped. But having his children would erase you. You’re no longer you the moment it happens; suddenly you’re the mother of gojo satoru’s children, and you bear the burden of everything that entails.

You’ll be blamed when his kids are powerless even though everyone knew it would happen. You’ll have them stolen from you the moment you let your guard down. You’ll be ridiculed and shamed and dehumanized until you’re a shell of who your used to be. And it won’t matter that unlike his father he’ll stay by your side, because ultimately he’s the one who did this to you. It won’t matter if you do everything right, their lives will still end in tragedy. It won’t matter if you truly genuinely wholeheartedly always wanted children and always loved them… you’ll end up resenting them. And him. And yourself, for your resentment. And if you’re like his mother………. you won’t be able to take it. Nobody would be able to take it.

He cannot allow it to happen

[fatuismooches]

SMOOOCHES!!! Hii cutie!!໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

So we all agree fragile!reader was in a coma for centuries, right? And obviously time waits for nobody. And that included Zandik. So when you do wake up, you realize he’s changed, both physically and mentally. Sure there’s still some remnant of the same grumpy Zandik you knew back in the Akademiya. But it’s almost like you don’t recognize your own lover…there’s just so much angst potential with this idea 😭 because you missed out on so much precious time with him and now he’s more mature. While you’re just stuck being the same old you. I’m sure fragile!reader definitely cries at night blaming themselves for their illness (I know you already wrote a fanfic like this where the clones catch fragile!reader crying !!) and for missing so much precious time with their only loved one. :( but I hope you’re well!! I love u sm I’m sorry if I’m a little inactive brainrots are being slow ;; but I love you so much!!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon ౨ৎ

HI 🎐 ANON!! MY LOVE 🥰🥰 I am doing well, just a bit stressed with school but I've expected that 😅 And don't worry about it, just take care of yourself, I'll happily wait however long for your brainrots or whenever you want to pop in ❤️ Love u more!!

AND GOD THIS JUST MADE ME WAY MORE SAD 😭 I didn’t even intend for that brainrot to be angsty but OMG… I LOVE THIS. Fragile reader would be so confused for a bit as to why their Zandik wasn't all annoyed and scowling like he used to be. He doesn't seem to be bothered much by your hassling anymore... simply letting out a low laugh. He doesn't get all irritated at physical touch anymore, which is nice of course, but among other things... he's so different. He's so confident as if nothing could ever go wrong with his plans. Nothing fazes him. What did he go through without you, you wonder.

You didn’t expect to be hit with so many insecurities this quickly. You should be grateful to be awake now! And you have such a wonderful lover and his clones! But you can’t help but feel the opposite sometimes… When you look in the mirror, you don’t see the person deserving of Zandik anymore. You see someone weaker, tired, not as good… but Zandik’s smarter, stronger, to the point of Gods all without you… he’s so handsome, mature… he’s made all these achievements while you’ve done nothing for the past hundreds of years. What could you ever have to offer, to someone like him? How could he even love you? You're like a burden... you're not even the same person from the Akademiya, you've gotten worse.

The angst has been hitting me so good lately. Me is thinking about Dottore noticing you becoming more and more distant from him as the days go by. You don’t come to bother him in his office anymore… he didn’t realize how much he became used to you sitting in his lap. You've stopped fighting about wanting to leave the lab to explore the outside world. You don’t even leave your room much anymore, and you keep it locked unlike before. The other clones and Zandy especially miss you… sometimes it’s hard for you to muster up a smile even for the child. You even start to shy away from physical affection, something you’ve always begged for. He doesn’t like that. In fact, he hates it. Despises it. More than failed experiments or inaccurate results and data.

But what could the Doctor do? He doesn't think he can "comfort" you, he's not sure if he has the capacity for that. He knows you have in the past, multiple times, although he got annoyed in the beginning, as he mistook it for pity and didn't believe you were trying to "care" for him... but that was just in your nature. His nature, however, is far different. Though, he's going to have to try something if he doesn't want to lose you.

[runelocked]

rune speaks about remnant & rotten old men becoming computer viruses

in my version of gli.tchtrap, it actually IS william to an extent. not the version of him that got springtrapped though it does have a partial memory of that, kind of like it’s watched it happen in a movie, but the part of him he used remnant to extract and put into the computer. this is gonna be rambling probably bear with me ALSO IF YOU WRITE ANY OF THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED. your canon takes precedence in my threads w u!!! — this is just me trying to sort this out in my head svkxbdk

trigger warnings for child death / murder, human experimentation, mental instability, self harm ( but because of self experimentation ), general dark themes !

so remnant !!!! is kind of a weird ambiguous thing in my canon mainly because i haven’t thought much about it. it keeps william alive, it’s extracted from the blood of those that have suffered agony in their last few moments, without agony it’s less potent and kind of useless. it extends lifespan and gives users extra invincibility against horrific injuries, but mainly just keeps them alive no matter what state their body is in. that’s the extent of development i’ve done of remnant in my canon so far.

but i’ve been toying with what gli.tchtrap actually IS recently and think it’s explicitly linked to william’s experimentation. because of course he experimented on himself too — he HAD to. he wasn’t about to waste remnant on anyone else, and he wasn’t about to give anyone else a substance that kept them alive and then experiment on them: that would just create more problems for him lmao. so yeah, 100% experimented on himself, very carefully, and gli.tch.trap is the result of william realizing he could utilise his OWN remnant for his own gain.

so remnant: the substance that keeps the spirits tethered to animatronics and to their bodies, right. but it exists in everyone: it’s only made POTENT by the release of a chemical / substance during bodily agony. this . . . doesn’t actually mean DEATH, though. william kills because it’s much easier to deal with dead people than deal with leaving them alive after putting them through agony — it makes more sense to him to kill them instead of dealing with the fallout ( and because it gives him that extra rush and them that extra despair ). if, then, he can extract remnant & agony WITHOUT killing . . . there’s no real reason he can’t extract his own.

which means what, then ? well, it means that william probably at LEAST once or twice inflicted excruciating pain on himself to bottle his own agony & remnant. probably at his most unhinged ( just before liz died ). he’s not thinking straight, he’s sleeping maybe like. four hours every few days, he’s killing and experimenting and generally at his most unstable. there’s no real reason he WOULDN’T experiment on himself, first out of curiosity, then out of the realization he can use his OWN remnant to further his lifespan — rather than keeping THIS body alive, he can use it to tether an ‘imprint’ of himself to something else.

to a computer.

remnant essentially is just that, in my canon: an imprint. a ghost of a person in their worst most painful moments, tethered to the living world while the actual REAL part passes on or in william’s case springlocked in eternal agonising life. so glitchtr.a.p is . . . just that. the part of william at his most unstable and powerful, captured forever in that computer virus that its creator transferred it to. it’s not william exactly. but it’s also not NOT william. it’s like a snapshot of him captured in time with one fixed personality and one fixed goal, unable to ever change or develop unless it gets corrupted or something idk. it’s clever, and knows how to manipulate to get its own way, but it’s not . Fully William ? it has his wants, goals, needs, memories, feelings from the late 80s. it sees itself as human, in a way. and it acts that way: it can be affected by emotion and experience in the exact manner of way that william would have been, at the time of its creation.

but whereas william deteriorated drastically after liz’s death ( which happened like. 1989/1990-ish in my canon, but obv changes dependent on who i’m writing with as does all of this post!!!! ), the part of him that is glitch.tr.ap does NOT. it retains that same feverish dangerous personality, still fixated on killing & eternal life, whereas william in reality kind of . . . falls apart. first time experiencing real consequences to his actions and first time he can’t blame someone else. this last part is v dependent on who i’m writing with so is v open to changing but this is how i set out writing william: mounting in instability & power until liz’s death, where he shrinks, and begins to try and focus more on trying to move on with his life. glitch.t.r.ap doesn’t have this though — he’s william frozen in time essentially, forever at that height of his work.

[t4rt4gl14]

#.you’re a v1rg1n?!

!! featuring : kaeya. zhongli. childe.

?! warnings : mndi !! dark content ahead. fem!reader. v1rg1n!reader. + soft!dom + overstim + edging + pounding + praise + degradation + teasing + temperature play + size kink !! + [ i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything !! ]

KAEYA.

-> kaeya is a bit too happy when he finds out your a virgin. but ofc incredibly turned on, the mere thought of taking your virginity makes him feral- but since it’s your first time he won’t be rough. kaeya isn’t a virgin himself- he hasn’t been in past relationships, just had one night stands 💀

-> a lot of teasing and foreplay !! he enjoys watching you squirm and beg for his cock. he’ll often degrade you, “my little slut..so impatient.” his long fingers prodding at your sweet spot again and again, using his vision to cool your warm insides to see your flushed face. the face you make when he makes you cum on his fingers twice- he relishes in how your eyes roll back and your tongue falls out- moaning his name into the night air.

-> when it comes to actually taking his cock inside- he’ll be extremely slow, he’s not even trying to tease he just wants to make sure that you’re not in any pain. kaeyas length is well around 7.9 inches with hella girth. one hand of his will rub comforting circles on your hips whilst the other circles your clit, hoping that the burning stretch would be eased out by the extra stimulation.

“ a-anghh k-kaeya-!~”, you moan, bottoming out on his cock, his cold yet smooth thumb circles your clit in figure 8’s, “shhh s’okay just relax bby- it’ll feel so good in a min m’kay?”, you whine with a nod as he slowly guides your hips- and later on you’re bouncing on him like a cheap whore, chasing your own orgasm as your vision is blinded with pleasure. “c-cumming m’gonna cum!!”. kaeya only chuckles with a moan as he cums right after you do. he’s been edging himself for a while but the tightness of your gummy cunt was too much to bear.

ZHONGLI.

-> yh im sry guys this man isn’t a virgin 💀. he’s 6000+ years old it’s understandable tbh, but the good thing is, he hasn’t loved somebody for a very long time until you came along ofc. he wasn’t even that surprised when you’d told him you’re a virgin, but he did wanna make you feel the best you could for your first time so expect him to be in between your thighs for a while.

-> zhongli will eat you out like it’s as if he’s starving !! and to get you extra sensitive, he’ll edge you- kissing your clit just before you cum. he’ll often gaze at you and smile, reassuring you that he means no harm and that it’s just for preparation. kissing your inner thighs whilst holding them open as you whine and thrash from your orgasm escaping. zhongli will edge you for around 20 mins- until he’s feel as though you’ve had enough and that you’re ready.

-> he’s 8.5 inches- long and thick so he defo has a size kink, enjoys watching your whine and claim that you can’t take anymore even tho he’s barely half way. how the bulge becomes almost evident with each harsh thrust of his. he’ll start of soft at first but he’ll destroy your insides towards the end.

“aahhh!! s’too big z-zhongli u-uwah!”, your tongue lolls out as he rails you into the mattress. the tip kissing your cervix with every thrust, “b-bear with me love n-ngh m’almost gonna cum..”, he cant. he’s so close, you’re suffocating his dick with how your clamping down on his cock, you claw at his back as he marks you one last time. “unghhh! c-cumming !!~ m’fucking cumming!~”, you cry as he releases his thick load deep inside you whilst convulse around him.

CHILDE.

-> where do i even start with this man? 1st off- he alr somehow knew you’re a virgin. he says that you give you off ‘huge virgin vibezzz’, whatever tf that means 🤨. isn’t a virgin but he’s only slept with one other and he done it whilst he was drunk so 💀. he’s happy that your first time will be with him, but he’s just slightly sad because he regrets sleeping with someone else. now you won’t be the first person who got his dick wet 🥺.

-> mans got noooo self-restraint. he’ll tease you, edge you then make you dumb on his cock. fucking you over and over till you cum for the entire night- he just won’t stop, he enjoys stretching you, he wonders what that feelings like. but god does he enjoy seeing your fucked out expression, when you squirt on his dick.

-> will only be gentle when putting it in- be in for a ride for the rest of the night- childe has an incredible amount of stamina so he won’t ever stop. you’ll be deadass fucking for so long- you’ll be sore the next night but it’s okay, a night with ajax in the sheets is worth it ♡

“ah ah ahnnnnn!! ajax g-gentle pleasesss unhhh-!~”, he only moans into your ear, “fuck baby you’re so tight- m’gonna fuck you for the entire night m’kay?”, you shake your head, claiming that you can’t take anymore and that you’re gonna cum again but he only muffles your moans by kissing you deeply, dumping another load of his cum inside you. he slows to a stop and you thought you were finally over until he just kisses his teeth, “no wanna feel you cum again, you can do that right baby?”, and at this point you’re too dumb for words.

[kiribaku-queen]

Hiii congratulation for 1000 followers! U deserve it! So i was thinking of bakugou!prohero a reader where he's always busy and always hv this photoshoot with these hot models or hot pro hero that made reader feel left out. And the last straw was when a newly magazine publish of him kissing other girls cheek (or mouth) (u do u;)) and thats when they had a bad fight that caused reader to run away. I would like it to be heavy angst with a happy ending. I love angst but after a heavy angst i like a happy ending to soothe my heart 😂 if u do choose this, gudluck!

Blinded by the Fame

Angst

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Thank you so so much for this request! I was actually so excited to do this piece because I already had an idea I wanted to use and this scenario was PERFECTO~! So painful yet so good!

Thank you for the congratulations and I hope this request met your needs! Please let me know your thoughts!

Who said dating an upcoming hero was going to be easy? It certainly wasn’t easy, not in the slightest. You definitely had hard days. There were times when it got so difficult that you wanted to quit. But was loving the hero worth it and fulfilling? Absolutely.

Bakugou Katsuki was the love of your life. Relationships were never easy. Couples always have obstacles and challenges they have to overcome. Even when you were in tears, screaming at each other at the top of your lungs, even if you gave each other the cold shoulder the entire week, nothing could replace the warmth that was Bakugou’s arms. You would never much refuse his touch every tine, but that wouldn’t stop Bakugou from having you in his arms every night, whispering sweet nothings in your ears despite all the things he said prior. And you would forgive him. Of course you would. How could you not?

But being with a rising hero came with bearing a lot of burden that you had to keep to yourself. You didn’t like how he was working all the time. You didn’t like how he came home bruised up, sometimes not even going to the hospital if it means not being able to see you for the night. You couldn’t bare seeing him like that. But that was part of his job and that was never going to change. So no matter how much you absolutely hated the sight, you let him do his hero work because that was what he loved to do. You couldn’t interfere with his dreams of becoming the number one hero.

But the thing that itched you the most was when Bakugou was forced to promotional shoots to get his name out there. The memory of when he first started made you laugh. Being the Bakugou that he was, he flat-out refused to do it. He didn’t like getting his picture taken. He’ll dress up once in a while, and when he does it’s real clean, but he wasn’t a fan of constantly dressing up. But when he finally let go and tried it once, he saw how much fan votes and popularity he was getting and eventually, would do more here and there.

And you didn’t mind if the shoots were by himself, but most of the time, they were with other pro-heroes or very attractive models. And that you feel insecure. How could it not? Your boyfriend getting close to other women while you looked nothing like these women? You didn’t have the body, the face, the money, or the fame these women brought to the table. You would never admit it, but you hated when other women were in the picture. And you hated when one of the women would be touching him. It left a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. You were so sure that he was going to leave you for one of them. But he proved his love by dropping down on one knee with the most gorgeous ring.

“Come with me to the shoot,” Bakugou proposed but you hesitated.

“I can just meet you at the restaurant,” you decided. The mention of being on set for one of his photoshoots seemed like a bad idea.

“I want to go together. It won’t even take long. One hour tops,” he swore and brought you by the waist, your body flushed against him. He takes your face in his hands and gently puts your foreheads together.

“I know you’ve been wanting to go to this restaurant forever. Let’s go together,” he whispers and you couldn’t help but fall for that voice over and over again.

“Okay,” you whispered back. He smiles at you, places a small kiss to your forehead, then your lips, before taking your hand to lead you to the car.

The set of the shoot was intimidating. People were running around everywhere, cameras were set in all positions, lights were blinding and hot, the space just looked so busy. And you felt like you didn’t belong. But Bakugou was so used to this kind of scene. He leads you to where the photographer and the director were talking.

“Ah, Pro-Hero Dynamite, you made it!” the director greeted your boyfriend. “Your stylist is in the next room. Go ahead and get changed and we’ll get started.” Bakugou nodded and turned to you.

“I’ll be right back,” Bakugou said and kissed you on the forehead. You watched as your boyfriend disappeared in the sea of people and then you were left all alone.

This was fine. You would just wait in the back patiently for him to be done. And then you two could enjoy a nice evening out at that fancy restaurant you’ve always been wanting to try. Just relax. You closed your eyes and took deep, but slow breaths. There was nothing to get worked up over. Afterall, it looked like Bakugou was doing this shoot by himself.

But you spoke too soon. Bakugou had appeared from the dressing room, looking all dashing and handsome. You felt your heart skip again. He was wearing a red shirt that was unbuttoned to the third button, exposing his broad and muscular chest. Over, he wore a black jacket with leather gloves and pants. His hair was styled slightly back, forehead showing. He was mesmerizing to look at. But shortly after his appearance, two women walked out behind him. Two gorgeous, fit, and slim women who wore skin tight, elegant dresses were doing the shoot with him. And for some reason, your heart began to hurt. The pang in your heart was constant that you had to beat at your chest to calm yourself down.

They were beautiful. And you had recognized one of the women: Pro-hero Miruko. You knew their history together. Bakugou had worked under Miruko during his school days and eventually worked along side with her after he graduated. You knew she was a flirt. She flirted with everybody. And that was fine, until she got alittle too touchy with your boyfriend. And that bothered you. But Bakugou was so used to her behavior that he didn’t even notice.

You couldn’t say anything. They are old time friends and co-workers. What? Are you supposed to say that he can’t be friends with her anymore just because you didn’t like it? And then you would look like the possessive girlfriend? You were fine with him being friends with other women, but they did make you nervous. Nervous because all the women he’s surrounded by are so unbelievably good looking, it put you to shame. Why would he want to be with you when he could have all these women to choose from?

But you tried to shake these negative thoughts away and playfully tugged at the ring on your ringer. There was a reason why he chose you. There was a reason why he gave you this ring. You shouldn’t think this way. But you couldn’t help it. You tried not to let it bother you, but in the end, it did. It really did. It bothered you so much that you couldn’t stop fidgeting.

You watched at Bakugou sat on the couch with both women on each side of him. His arms were lounging on the back of the couch while one girl sat next to him and Miruko stood behind him. Looking at his facial expressions, he didn’t seem interested in any of the girls. Which is a good sign?

And so the shoot started. Nothing else could be heard besides music playing in the background and the loud click of the camera. Everyone else was watching the shoot take place. Everything looked okay so far. Their outfits were scandalous but nothing scandalous was happening. The only directions the models were given was to look sexily at the camera. Bakugou delivered that perfectly with his go-to signature look. But now the photographer wanted more.

“Can the two women get a little closer, please?” the photographer asked and put his camera up to his face once more. The girls did what they were told and Bakugou didn’t even flinch. But you were growing nervous. There was more skin happening, more touching and it was making you uncomfortable. You gasped when you saw Miruko grab Bakugou by his chin to lift to towards her direction. Then she leans in, her lips ghosting over his ever so slightly, like they were about to kiss. Tears were spilling out and your cheeks heated up in anger until you finally exploded.

“Stop!” you yelled, stopping all production. Heads from all around turned to you. Mirko looked at you shocked and Bakugou was wide eyed with curiosity and concern. You gripped the handle of the purse that was slung around your shoulder, feeling anxious now that everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry, give me one moment,” Bakugou apologized to the staff. He got up, rushing towards you. He takes your hand and brings you in the dressing room. The door slammed shut and Bakugou turns to you in a huff.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed. With tears streaming down your face, you were shocked by his reaction. But you were going to stand your ground.

“I don’t like how she was touching you,” you say.

“It’s my job,” he sighs in exasperation.

“Well she should learn her boundaries, whether it’s a job or not. And if you respected me at all, you would tell her no,” you stated firmly. But all Bakugou did was roll his eyes.

“You’re overreacting.” You scoff and it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m overreacting? Is it wrong that I don’t like when other women are touching you?” you started to raise your voice and talk back.

“Do I have to say it again? It’s my job. If I’m going to make it big, I have to do it. What? You think I like her? You think I was going to let her kiss me? It’s just for the pictures. Geez, how sensitive can you get?” he stabbed you right in a sensitive topic. You stayed silent because you weren’t expecting him to say that. The moment you think he’s going to stop there, he keeps going.

“I might need to save lots of women who are in danger. What? You don’t want me touching them? You’re going to get jealous because I’ll have some stranger in my arms? You’re afraid that she’s going to cling to me for dear life because I’m saving her? You don’t like that?!” he was practically screaming now.

“No! I don’t like that!” you screamed right back, giving back the same amount of energy. The tension in the air was so thick, anyone could feel it. Hell, they were all listening from outside and they felt uncomfortable with the ambiance of the situation. Both parties’ chests were heaving up and down from the labored breathing. And you just glared at each other. Bakugou turns away from you, breaking the ice.

“Fine. If you’re going to be this jealous, then maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together,” he said. That was it. That was when your heart broke into a million pieces. You felt like if you stood there any longer, you would have suffocated.

“Fine,” you whisper. He doesn’t even spare you a glance. With teary eyes and a heavy heart, you tighten your jaw as you take off your engagement ring, wiggling it off your finger and then setting it down on the counter beside you. The sound of the metal hitting the hard desk was loud enough for Bakugou to hear, but he still chose not to turn to you. You thought that maybe, just maybe, if he turned around and said he didn’t mean it, then you would have been okay. You would have forgave him for those mean things he said. And then you would have apologized to him. But he looked set on his decision.

Without another word, you turned around and sped out of that building, tears never stopping. Everyone saw you go. Miruko laid her sad eyes on you and her broke for you. Shortly after, Bakugou walks back to the couch, plopping down with a huff.

“Let’s continue,” he says begrudgingly. But nobody moves, still shell-shocked about yousr argument. But this causes Bakugou to explode.

“Are you not going to start? Let’s get on with it!!” he hollers and everyone rushes like mice to get back to production. Bakugou lets out a long sigh, face in a permanent frown.

Miruko sits on the back of the couch and looks down at her old friend. She could tell that he was hurting just as much as you, if not more.

“Idiot~” Miruko sang.

“Ha?” Bakugou glared up at his past mentor. Mirko looked at her nails, not paying mind to the hot head who was on the verge of exploding.

“You need to go apologize,” she told him, more like ordered him to.

“Like it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t take her feelings into consideration,” Miruko pointed out, silencing Bakugou on the spot. “If she was feeling a little jealous, then her feelings are totally valid. You need to do something about it and make her feel like she doesn’t need to worry about anything.” Bakugou was only getting more annoyed.

“Whatever. It’s just business. If she can’t understand that, then we don’t need to be together,” he tried to convince himself. But that only hurt himself more.

“Whatever my ass. Then if you can’t be a good boyfriend and comfort her instead of making her feel insecure, then she doesn’t need you. She can find a better man who treats her good.”

“I do treat her good,” Right?

“Oh yes, I can tell,” Miruko said sarcastically. But in all seriousness, she knew he was hurting and she was trying to give advice from a woman’s perspective, but he is so stubborn and hard-headed that he doesn’t want to admit that he was in the wrong.

“Look, you let her go home like that right now, you’re not going to get her back. Go after her,” she advices on a serious note. Bakugou takes a moment to think but it’s all too much. He ruffles his hair and shoots up from the couch.

“Fuck this shit. I’m not doing this anymore,” he announces and storms out of the building. But not before shoving the metal jewelry in his pant pocket.

You didn’t know where you were going. You just walked and walked until you wind up somewhere. And god, you were so hungry. But you couldn’t go to that fancy restaurant that Bakugou had already made reservations for. God forbid he walks in while you were eating. And with another woman? How embarrassing. You couldn’t use his name or his fame anymore. You didn’t want to go back home. What if he shows up at your place? It probably wasn’t likely. He said he was done with you. You left the ring back with him. You guys were over. He wouldn’t show up uninvited. He has no reason to. You didn’t have money on you. You didn’t have any mode of transportation. The only think you had was your phone but the battery can only last so long. So you continued on walking until you hit a park and sat down on one of the benches. You were left alone to bathe in your thoughts until the set sun.

“Where the fuck did she go?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. He checked all the alleyways, in between streets, high and low, but he couldn’t spot you. No matter how he was frustrated he was feeling, he started to get nervous. He wondered if you were okay and safe right now. You hadn’t eaten all day. Wait. There’s no way…

“Hi. Reservation for 2. Under Bakugou,” Bakugou told the hostess. He arrived at the restaurant, in hopes that you came in. But when the hostess said that you hadn’t shown up, his shoulders deflated. Back to square one. So if you weren’t here, then where were you? Had you eaten yet?

Trying his luck, he went to your apartment, but after many attempts, you didn’t open the door. You could either by ignoring him or you weren’t home yet. Knowing you, you probably weren’t home. Then he was going to wait until you came home. Taking a seat next to your door, Bakugou waited. And he was going to wait until he could see your face.

You watched as happy couples and families walked by you, having the time of their lives. You smiled sadly seeing all their smiles and laughter. How you wish you could be like that. But now you don’t even know if or when that was going to be possible. That was all you wanted. Was to be happy. You didn’t want to be in this rabbit hole of sadness. You didn’t want anybody to pity you just because you were crying. But you did long for somebody to listen to you. For somebody to tell you that it was going to be okay and that you are loved. Love… You wanted someone to love you. He just wasn’t the one for you. Then who is? Will you ever find it? Was this your only chance and you ruined it all just because you couldn’t help but feel jealous?

Stupid.

Stupid (y/n).

You always ruin everything in your life. The one time you got something good, it’s gone in an instant. You knew it was too good to be true. But there’s no going back now. It already happened and now you have to move on.

By the time you noticed, the sun had already set and darkness fell upon you. You wanted to stay longer. You debated whether or not you were going to sleep on the park bench. But after recalling new articles of kidnappings happening around the country recently, you decided to go home.

It took you a while to go home. You walked as slow as you could, taking your sweet time returning back to your apartment. All you want to do is snuggle up in bed and go to sleep. You were so exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. You just needed some rest and then you can worry more in the morning. You were coming up to your apartment and saw a person sitting on the floor what looked like in front of your apartment door. No. But there’s no way.

Blonde hair.

That was all it took for you to turn back, go down those stairs and back to the park. You couldn’t face him right now. You were already broken up so why was he there? He said all he needed to say so why was he there?

You thought you were being sneaky but Bakugou caught you. He saw you going back down those stairs and he immediately got up and chased after you.

“(y/n)!” he called out to you but you ignored him. The sound of his voice made your heart clench.

“(y/n)!” he called again, but louder. Again, you continued to ignore him.

“(y/n)!” he called for the last time, this time grabbing your arm. But you shook him as fast as he grabbed you.

“No, leave me alone,” you managed to say. Just keep on walking. Maybe if you walk long and far enough, he’ll give up. But he wasn’t giving up.

“(y/n), stop!” he grabbed you again, yet this time tighter so you couldn’t escape. Then he traps you in between him and the wall, forcing you to face him.

“Stop! Let me go! Leave me alone!” you cry. Your tear stained face and puffy eyes broke Bakugou’s heart. He did this to you. Fuck. He was the worst. You thrashed around, forcing him to let go, hitting him to push him away. Anything so he could get away from you.

Bakugou let you hit him. He deserved it. Every hit that you take at him, he deserved. Slowly but surely, he pulled you in for a hug. You were so drained that you let him. And as soon as you were in his embrace and your cheek hit his chest, you cried. You let it all out and didn’t stop. Bakugou didn’t say anything. He just held you, patting your head until you calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He kissed the top of your head and rested his head there. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He continued to say. Your cries were muffled by being buried in his chest.

You held onto him tight, continuing to cry your heart out. You thought you were never going to see him again. You thought you were never going to hold him again. Or smell him. You world was crashing down on you but was slowly being put together again.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asks you softly. Your voice was too hoarse and sore from all the crying, so you nodded your head, not letting go of him. Bakugou got the hint and picked you up princess style and led you into the house. There was going to be a lot of talking happening soon in that tiny apartment. It was going to be a long night.

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

[the-cult-of-russo]

gotta know how u think billy would be as a dad with his kids :D

I had so many requests for Dad!Billy headcanons 😭

I hope you're ready for this chaotic ramble.

Please remember this is my Billy I'm writing

-

You know those parents who take like a million pictures of their kid and show them to everyone? The kind that talks about their kid nonstop to anyone who'll listen? Their family, friends, the poor random old lady at the store that just wants to buy some damn milk.

That's Billy.

He's such an unbelievably proud parent, his pride for his kids knows no bounds. It doesn't even need to be some kind of milestone worth celebrating, everything his kid does makes him proud. You better believe when his baby has an explosive crap and ruins their clothes, he's boasting about it the next day to Frank and the guys at Anvil.

-

He's incredibly protective. Murder is a possibility if his kids in danger. He wants nothing more than to keep his kids safe. If they're being bullied, it takes all of his willpower to stop himself from kicking the kids ass for doing that to his kid. He's not above picking a fight with the bullies dad though if they don't get their little shit head in check and also making it known to the principle that this shit won't fly with him.

~

"Mr Russo, I don't think you understand how serious this is. Your son broke a kids nose," the principle mutters with a glare.

Billy tilts his head, regarding the teacher with those unsettling eyes that has the old man squirming in his seat.

"You’re damn right he did," Billy replies seriously, a proud tone to his voice. His dark eyes cut to his left where his son is, practically his double. As Billy smirks, unable to help himself, his son wears the same one although he's lowering his head to hide his amusement.

"We don't tolerate that behaviour here, Mr Russo," the principle huffs. Billy's eyes harden then as his eyes narrow, sitting forward in his chair just the right amount to be imposing. The second the man leans back he knows it worked.

"You know what I don't tolerate? My kid bein' bullied. You assholes won't do shit to stop it, so I say let the little fucker get a taste of his own medicine. Serves him right for messin' with a Russo," he smirks wickedly.

~

He teaches them self defence, wanting them to be able to look after themselves if it ever came down to it. Naturally, for their 16th birthday, they're gifted with a big ass knife.

-

Billy as a dad is so stupidly soft.

We all remember the scene from the show, right? Where he's in the hospital with his mom and he says;

"Maybe you did me a solid, you know? I mean, the way I see it, you want weak kids, give 'em everything. But if you... if you want 'em strong... treat 'em hard."

When he has a kid of his own he realises just what utter garbage this is. The idea of all the shit he's been through making him into the tough son of a bitch he is today is born from trauma that he still hasn't dealt with. The way his brain tries to rationalise what he went though. To make it make sense instead of it being so goddamn senseless.

But if he's honest, more than he'd like to admit, he finds himself wondering just what his life would have been like if he grew up in a loving home. What it would be like to feel wanted and cared for. To rise to the top being helped and cheered on by others instead of clawing his way there with bloodied and dirty fingers, the weight of the world bearing down on him as he's beat down at every turn.

He never wants his kids to feel that way. Not even a fraction of how unloved and unwanted he felt. He does everything in his power to make sure they know just how much he cares about them. There's literally nothing he wouldn't do for his kids. They could turn up at home one day and confess to a murder and Billy wouldn't hesitate to ask where the body is so he can handle it for them.

-

Billy is ridiculously sentimental when it comes to his kids. Drawings go up on the fridge and when a new one takes its place, the old one goes into a box of many others that he can't seem to ever throw away. He has multiple pictures of his kids at his office, even some framed cute drawings they did for him. He's kept all the mementos from the pregnancy, birth and onwards. They're his little treasures.

-

Billy is super supportive of everything his kids do. He makes sure they get a good education but he never pushes them to do something they don't want to do. Despite the large college fund he's got for them, if they choose not to go to college, he doesn't pressure them. Instead, whatever hopes and dreams they have, he does everything in his power to support and help them. Whether that's moral and emotional support, money or even breaking a few jaws of people standing in their way.

-

Let's look a little bit at how he is throughout some of the ages of his kid.

Billy with a baby is a sight to behold. No one has ever seen Lieutenant William Russo so goddamn soft. Once he's got hold of his baby, you've got no chance of getting them back off him. You'd have to fight him. He adores holding his little one close, soaking them in. He's constantly holding them no matter what he's doing and baby carriers and wraps are a godsend to him. You'd heard about them from a friend and told Billy and you better believe by the time the baby's born that he's an expert on all things baby wearing. He's a perfectionist and carrying a baby wrong can be dangerous. He makes sure he knows how to do it right.

Just as he has little affectionate touches for you, he has the same for his baby. His large hand stroking their tiny head and little hair. His finger stroking their chubby little cheek. He's a tactile person and touch is grounding for him. It soothes him to do so with his baby and reassures him they're really there and that they're okay.

He's super attentive. Of course he works a lot but as soon as he becomes a dad, he doesn't stay late anymore and makes sure to have days off. The second he comes home, he's making a beeline for his baby, scooping them up with a grin. He loves to read to them, something that continues as they grow up. His weekends used to be restful or if he was feeling like a masochist, he'd work from home. But now weekends are his time to shine. By the time you wake up on a Saturday morning, he's already up with the baby, making you breakfast as he's got the baby attached to him via baby carrier.

As his baby grows into a toddler, each milestone makes him tearful and full of pride. He kisses any booboos that happen and he's constantly playing with his child. He has a pretty silly side to him that most don't get to see. Making his kid laugh and smile brings him the greatest joy.

He loves taking his toddler to the office with him. Everyone dotes on his kid and treats them like royalty.

When they turn into a small child, he watches with a proud smile and amusement as his kid wants to fight with his men, watching them 'beat' the shit out of them. The guys at Anvil are more than happy to very dramatically go down, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree when the tiny Russo grins smugly at their 'win'.

Their first day at school and Billy's a mess. It's such a turning point and he doesn't know how to deal with how fast their growing up. But every achievement at school, even minor ones, and he's showering them with praise.

He encourages them to work hard and as soft as he might be, he is still the boss. He makes sure they do their homework and don't fall behind on their studies.

One thing Billy loves is teaching his kids stuff. Whether that's mundane stuff to help with school or teaching them shit he knows like survivalist things, because you can never be too prepared, right? He loves helping them with school projects and answering any questions they might have about one of the many things he's knowledgeable about.

When his kids moves onto those hard teenage years, the ones where everything feels so dramatic and world ending, he's a little tougher when it calls for it. Billy is no novice to rebellion, he has a rebellious streak of his own and marches to the beat of his own drum half the time. He respects that. What he doesn't respect or tolerate is behaviour that's going to fuck his kid over in the long run or self sabotage. He will be firm and a hard ass if he needs to be to keep his kids on a path where they don't get hurt or ruin their life.

Billy has a zero tolerance policy on drugs. After the shit with his mother, he won't budge on this. If he finds out his kid is dabbling in drugs, they're grounded until they're old enough to move out.

-

No matter what age his kids are, Billy loves them immensely. He wants to be the father he wished he'd had growing up and he pours all of his anguish and pain from his upbringing into it. Channeling it into the purest form of love for his kids. To break the curse that had hold of him. He won't perpetuate the cycle.

Being a father brings him a sense of completeness and peace he didn't think was possible for him to achieve. It fills the void that's been eating away at his soul from his lack of love as a child and he loves every second of being a parent. Even the hard moments.

-

Bonus:

The Russo's and the Castle's go on monthly camping trips together. Billy loves the outdoors, the mild survivalist feelings he gets from it without the real danger. He loves taking his kids there, teaching them everything. In his role as dad and uncle, he sits around the camp fire at night, the light of the flames dancing along his face as he very theatrically tells the kids a spooky story.

You and his kids are his immediate family but the Castle's are his family too. So he really loves it when you all get to spend time together like that.

[spiderling-space]

This idea is inspired by @zozobegone ‘s this post 

Setting: Grim goes platonic yandere mode when he realizes MC is going to go back to their world

It is written from Grimm's perspective

Italics indicate thoughts

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

The Great Grimm

Warning: Unhealthy dependency and friendship

"Henchperson, give me those candies!" Grimm ordered (Y/N) after trying so many times to reach the top shelf.

"Aw, you couldn't reach yourself?" (Y/N) had seen Grimm jumping and trying to climb to take the candies. They didn't do anything but watch him fail for the last 10 minutes, they couldn't help themselves as he was being so cute. "What's the magic word?"

After grumbling a little, Grimm spoke coercively, "Please..."

"That's a good boy!" They patted him on the head before grabbing the candies and giving them to him. 

He started devouring them the moment he got his hand on the candies. He thanked them quickly before focusing entirely on his food. They were just so delicious, he couldn't resist it!

"Honestly Grimm, what will you do once I'm gone?" They sighed as they took a seat in the kitchen.

The words didn't register for Grimm at first. "Eh?" He stopped eating for a moment and looked at them. "What nonsense are you babbling about?"

"Hmm? Oh! Well, you know, it's been months and lots of progress have been done. Crowley finding a way for me to return home is right around the corner." They spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That birdman doesn't do anything but whine and pin all the tasks on us."

"I convinced him to do the actual work and he made a progress on finding a way for me to go home." (Y/N) stood up, walking toward him and kneeling to his height. "I'll give you a secret, I haven't told anyone this." They gulped before smiling, "Crowley found the way for me to go back. We just need ingredients and get some tests done then I'll be able to go back. I haven't told others about it yet because I wanted to have something concrete but since you are like my second family, I wanted you to know first."

Huh, he thought.

Grimm continued eating, ignoring what (Y/N) had said who got up and left the kitchen after sharing their secret. At that moment, it didn't bug him at all since he thought they were joking.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

It didn't even pass a week that (Y/N) started to tell the others that they would be leaving soon and ask their help to get the ingredients and spend their last days together. Meanwhile, Grimm became more and more irritable as the days passed by.

Grimm didn't have a family nor a friend. When he opened his eyes to the world, he was in a back alley by just himself. He fended for himself and decided to become the greatest magician when he heard people talking about Night Raven Collage. He didn't have anyone who supported his dream nor he needed one. He would accomplish it on his own and show everyone how great he was. Of course, things didn't go as planned and he got thrown off the moment he revealed his true self at the entrance ceremony and was even threatened to get eaten. What's worse was that when he returned to NRC, showing the persistence of an NRC student, he was about to be thrown again. That would be the case if it weren't for (Y/N) sticking up for him. He wasn't a sentimental monster and he hated to be called cat by (Y/N) despite his catly activities as they called it. However, deep down he knew it was because of (Y/N) that he became a student in the NRC, getting one step closer to achieving his dream. Heck, he and (Y/N) were considered one student together.

It wasn't just (Y/N) creating him an opportunity that made him care about them, it was everything. They studied together; they slept on the same bed, shared meals and snacks, played games, did homework, complained about the school and students together. Not to mention, how much he enjoyed getting petted, belly rubbed and washed by them. They had each other when no one was around and always stood against overblot student together. In Grimm's eyes, they were an inseparable and astonishing duo; even a family he never had, not that he would say it out loud.

Maybe that was why he was miffed by everything that was going on... What would happen to me if (Y/N) were to go back? Become alone again? Get kicked out of NRC? Have no friends and family? No, that's not going to happen!

As the days passed, the attention he got from (Y/N) diminished gradually, came to a point that he only saw them in classes and when they got back. They were out with another person every day, not sparing enough time for the Great Grimm. 

How dare they, he thought while heatedly huffing and puffing on the couch.

Grimm dearly missed the old times when (Y/N) wasn't obsessed with going back. He didn't even receive enough petting last few days nor they studied together. His mind wandered to their time spent together when he noticed something. (Y/N) would leave everything behind regardless of how important it was when he got into serious trouble or got hurt. They would sweep in to save his neck. It just clicked at that moment. 

He would get into trouble or injured to get their attention on him. However, then the other minions would gather around them too and their attention would be divided. It was not something he wanted. An idea struck in his head after a few minutes of thinking. As expected out of the Great Grimm, it was a brilliant plan.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

"Oh my goodness, Grimm! What happened to your paw-paw?!" (Y/N) rushed to his side, kneeling and examining his paw.

Grimm grumbled acting as if he didn't want to tell them. "Nothing, Great Grimm is fine!"

"Don't be ridiculous! It looks broken!" The worry on (Y/N)'s face was gratifying since he got their attention back.

"Ask your best friends," He answered with faux melancholy, withdrawing his paw near his chest and turning back as if he would leave.

"What does that supposed to mean?" They asked, confussion evident on their face just like Grimm wanted.

"Azul tricked them into doing his work and asked them to collect all the feathers on the roof. Ace and Deuce took me with them then we got into a fight and I fell off the roof." He lowered his head for extra effect.

"And they didn't even take you to the infirmary?!" He managed to get them riled up.

"It was my fault th-"

"That's not an excuse! For fuck's sake! C'mon, we are going to the infirmary." (Y/N) wrapped their arms around Grimm and lifted him en route to the hospital wing.

"Hey (Y/N)! Do you -"

"I can't believe what you two did!"

"What we did?" Deuce mumbled, fearing their wrath.

"Don't talk to me for some time and at least take responsibility and apologize!" (Y/N) stormed off before Ace could finish his sentence. Both Ace and Deuce look perplexed as (Y/N) marched away. Grimm was looking at them over (Y/N)'s shoulder, taking in their puzzled looks and flashing a grin as (Y/N) walked away.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

For the next two weeks, Grimm continues with his plan.

"I swallowed a lot of soapy water." Grimm said as he was rubbing his belly, it genuinely hurt. Swallowing soapy water was more awful than hurting his paw.

"Azul! You promised to not do this and shame on you Jade, Floyd!"

3 more down, plenty to go...

"Leona, have you seen Grimm? He is way smaller than you! How couldn't you realize what your claws would do on Grimm?"

"Ruggie, Grimm got food poisoning because of you! You could have just stolen his food instead of replacing them with expired ones."

"Jack, I've never expected this from you. I'm very disappointed."

"What? What are you talking about?" Jack asked hastily but it fell on deaf ears as (Y/N) didn't even listen to him, grabbing Grimm and leaving them standing.

Woo hoo! My plan is working fantastically! 

"He could have died Kalim if it were higher!"

"Jamil, I thought you would stop making people poison taste. Grimm has been puking all day long because of you!"

Grimm grinned wickedly as he was once again carried by (Y/N).

Wait until I'm done with all of you! HAHA, You cannot defeat me!

Grimm was thinking of new original ways to distance (Y/N) from the rest of Heartslabyul, Pomefiore, Ignihyde and Diasomnia. The last one would be the hardest as he had a powerful competitor who also sought (Y/N)'s attention but it didn't matter, Grim would be the only one!

That was what he thought until Birdman came bearing the news...

"(Y/N)! Good news! All the tests we did on the mirror worked! You can go back now!"

Everything stopped right there and then. 

Grimm was so focused on getting (Y/N)'s affection and attention that he forgot about the tests they were doing on the mirror.

Now I am too late...

"My goodness! Thank you! I missed my home so much! I'll start saying my goodbyes!" (Y/N) spoke rapidly, they truly were happy to hear the news.

Happy to leave me all alone!

"No worries, they all gather around the magic mirror, waiting for you." Birdman informed, "Are you coming now?"

"Yes!" (Y/N) said before turning to him, taking him in arms and carrying him outside.

That is not how it was supposed to go...

As they were walking outside before leaving the Ramshackle perimeter, Grimm jumped on the ground.

"What's wrong?" (Y/N) stopped to ask.

"What's wrong?!" Grimm couldn't contain it anymore. everything was too much.

"(Y/N), do you need a moment to say goodbye to the dorm?" Birdman questioned, getting closer to where they were standing.

"Uhm... yes... I mean I spent months here so I should say goodbye to it. You can go, we will catch up in a moment."

With that Birdman walked away, leaving (Y/N) and Grimm alone.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" They asked idiotically. 

Are they too dumb to understand?

As Grimm was about to tell them what was on his mind, unfiltered, he felt a power within himself. A power that wanted to surge out of him and he let it since he had nothing to lose anymore.

"You will leave me all alone!"

"But you already knew that, Grimm. This place isn't my home and if I took you with me, you would be discovered and people would do experiments on you." Their voice was so soft as they tried to reason with him but none of them mattered.

"We are one student together, you can't leave until I graduate!" The power inside of him grew even more.

"Well, Crowley said he-"

"We fought the monsters together. We are a team, you called me your son!" He could feel that power getting closer

"I-" He wasn't going to let them speak anymore!

"So you see me as a family but you abandon me!" He felt the power leak outside and he didn't even care about it.

"GRIMM!" (Y/N) yelled, taking a few steps back. "I, I, I changed my mind, we will be together!"

"You want me to have no one again!" Grim screamed, not even noticing how his voice changed. "AAAAAHHH!"

Everything went black for a moment and the second he reopened his eyes, everything was different. He was no longer looking up to (Y/N); he now was looking down on them. They were so tiny.

"YOU CANNOT LEAVE!" Grimm screeched when he saw (Y/N) backing and running away. He jumped, landing right in front of them who fell on the ground from the shock and still trying to crawl away.

"G-Gr-Gr-Grim, i-i-it's me! We are friends, remember? I know you wouldn't hurt me because we are family, innit?"

"It is too late for everything but you are right. We are family..." Grimm said, his voice echoing, giving it more menacing feelings. 

Grimm was no longer waiting for (Y/N) to understand that they couldn't leave him. He had no intention of waiting anymore. He leaned towards them slowly, biting their clothing and lifting them.

It was always (Y/N) who carried Grimm around relentlessly now it was Grimm's turn. Once he was sure that they wouldn't fall, he took off, running away from the Ramshackle, leaving NRC behind.

[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble iii

this a skirt chasers drabble in case u couldn't tell uhhh here’s i and ii lol

summary; “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?” warnings; alcohol mention, tit sucking, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, uhh making out??? ratings; mature (18+) misc; educational abolitionist!jungkook, drunk jk, mentions of throwing up lol, jk is an anatomy frEAK, more skirts, more jk has questionable kinks wc; like barely 2k

notes; i wrote this in like 40 mins bc i couldn't stop thinking about STIMBO jk from skirt chasers and how cool he is enjoy xxxx also i barely rmr shit from anatomy bc it was the worst course of my life so pls bear with me

His first mistake is getting drinks with the boys. You like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well, know what he’s good at, where he excels, where he thrives, and well. Drinking doesn’t rank too high on the list.

Jimin calls a little past midnight. “Kook’s on the table,” he slurs into the phone, too loud and too sloppy for a Wednesday night phonecall.

“Ha?” you mumble back, rubbing your eyes until you see stars. The room is dark, practically spinning from how out of it you are. Chaeyoung is dead asleep in her room, so even whispering feels like a crime. “Where are you guys?”

Some bar on the south side of town, that strip where all the newly turned twenty-one year olds go to get wasted. Jungkook’s supposed to be studying for some big exam he has on Friday— at least, that’s what he told you —so it takes a few minutes of convincing on Jimin’s part until you’re shrugging your coat on, blindly navigating through your apartment for your keys and wallet. You briefly consider taking an Uber, but ultimately decide you’d rather get stabbed to death on a public bus so at least your family can sue the city afterwards.

Jungkook is indeed on the table, except the table has long since tipped over. So now he’s just sprawled across some dirty bar floor, puppy-soft head of curls spilling over his forehead. He’s so cute, so adorable. You want to kill him. “Up,” you command, channeling the strength of twelve football players to haul your beefy boyfriend off the ground.

“Baby,” he beams, looking at you but not actually looking at you. “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?”

You don’t even know what that means, can’t even question him, because then Jin is angrily yelling at you to cover his tab. You pay with a stiff middle finger, flail the three dollars in your wallet at him, before sweeping away your poor damsel in distress. “You’re supposed to be studying,” you huff, can’t even be mad when he stops to throw up in a bush outside the bar. You’re so embarrassed, pretend you don’t know him as you pull up the bus times on your phone.

He’s huffy by the time you get on the bus, sniffling against your neck as he cries about his common hepatic portal vein thing— you don’t fucking know.

Chaeyoung isn’t too impressed with you when you bring him home, dump him on the couch while she steals your AirPods from your room. “Explain yourself,” you demand, and his head rolls back.

“I hate school,” he complains, slaps a hand down against his forehead. You’re certain he’s concussed himself this time. Then he’s bending over, head held between his hands. “Wanna cry.”

You sigh, kneeling in front of him. “You’re almost done,” you comfort him, hand on the back of his head. He’s so sweaty, and smells like all his friends colognes at the same time. “You’re smart, baby, you can do this.”

Your words have the opposite effect, because then he’s rocking forward childishly, nearly rams your skulls together and kills you. He’s reached the point of his insobriety where he’s too sad and huffy to think, sadly leaning against your shoulder as if that’ll somehow solve all his problems. You doubt it will, but there’s really nothing much you can when Jungkook reaches this point, so you settle on softly patting the back of his head until the fool is fucking snoring against you.

Chaeyoung blesses you with her divine retribution the next morning by using up the last of your body wash, and then you’re left to deal with a hungover Jungkook on a Thursday morning. You’re pretty sure he had a class that morning, but he wakes up too late for you to even try to convince him to still go, and then he’s moping on your couch in last night’s clothes. You’re getting ready for your internship, blouse half buttoned, pencil skirt wiggled up to your waist.

“Abolish exams,” he mutters, numbly staring at the ceiling as you wipe his face with a cleansing towelette. He doesn’t seem remotely interested in the shower or the pancakes you made, which lets you know this is a much more serious issue than just a drunken episode. “Aren’t they stupid?” You nod. “Sure, test me on every damn thing we’re learning right now as if science isn’t always changing and I’ll have to keep learning anyway.”

He looks over at you, under-eye bags absolutely horrendous. “Tests are stupid,” you agree, and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear as he sinks into your arms, face buried in your chest. “Too stupid for smarty-pants Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook groans, flops over you on the couch all smelly and gross. “They test you for memorization and not comprehension,” he adds, finally wiggling out of his stinky clothes.

With Jungkook, you can never tell where things are going. One minute he’s cursing the education system and the next he’s kissing along your neck in his rambling fury. “As if I these materials will somehow become nonexistent once I’m working,” he huffs, hands on your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, fingers digging into his biceps as he mindlessly kisses down the valley between your breasts. “Shit’s so fucking stupid,” he spits, bunching your skirt around your waist.

“Jeon—“

“I’m just trying to be a fuckin’ pediatrician, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, hastily undoes the front buttons on your blouse. Your black bra comes into view, heart pounding in your chest as Jungkook makes quick work of reaching behind and undoing it, pushing it away, and cupping your breasts in his palms. He guides one of your legs around his waist, tucks it around him as he gets to work raining down kisses on your tits. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, pretty pink lips leaving smooches down your chest.

You bite down on your lip, watch through hazy eyes as those big doe eyes flick up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. “N— Not tired anymore?” you pant, hands in his hair. It’s still dry and knotted from last night’s adventures, but you don’t mind. Not when Jungkook’s hard cock is flush against your thigh.

“Nah,” he confirms, rolling his hips forward against your core. Oh he was horny horny this morning. Or was he angry horny? You don’t care, either way you were winning. “I serenaded you last night, y’know?”

You snort, but it morphs into a whimper when he captures your rock hard nipple between his perfect teeth. “Not a serenade,” you whimper, fingernails running along his scalp, “if I’m not there.”

Jungkook leans back, lets you breathe for a second as he unbuckles the front of his pants, jeans pulled down around his thighs. And of course he’s hard as fuck by now; this was Jeon Jungkook you were dealing with. He could get it up and going in two seconds flat at the mere sight of your collarbones. “You were there,” he insists, capturing your hand in his all romantic like until you’re flustered and shaking him off. He levels you with a cheesy grin, presses your palm against his chest. “Here.”

You gag. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook laughs, all squeaky and airy because he’s never given a fuck about looking cool in front of you. His next words only prove your point. “Why? Don’t like being nestled against my left lung and esophagus, all sexy like?”

You roll your eyes, tug your panties aside to give him a full view of what his dorky anatomical talk has done to you. “Dick me down or go away,” you say, pointer finger nudging his chin up when he stares too long

He snaps his teeth at you, almost bites your finger, the fuckin’ weirdo. “Sassy today,” he teases, presses the tip of his cock against you. Both of you groan, watch as he glides himself up and down your folds, angry mushroom head pushing against your clit. “Always so wet for me,” he mumbles shakily, eyes zeroed in on your wet folds and how slick they feel against him. “Didn’t stretch you out again.”

“Yo— You’re mean about that anyway,” you pant, pulling him closer by those firm ass cheeks of his. “I can tell when you’re using me as a reference model.”

Jungkook gasps as if he’s genuinely scandalized by your claim, follows your wordless command and finally lines himself up with your quivering entrance. “I’m a hands-on learner,” he offers, his cheeky smile still on his face until he finally sinks into you and his features twist up all pretty. “Your pussy’s just so pretty, baby,” he grunts, hand on your hip.

Your face feels warm, from the pleasure that rolls over your body and the vulgarity of his words. “Shush now,” you say, try to sound strict and in command, but he’s got his other hand cupping your jaw, looking at you like you’re a goddess and not some dorky college student in their even dorkier internship uniform.

“Temptress,” he mumbles, pushes past your clenching lips until he’s flush against you, your walls spasming around his cock because he just feels so good. “Tried to sneak past me in that tiny skirt.” He draws back, lets his swollen head catch at the entrance before sliding back in, pace slow and sensual, too intimate for some random Thursday morning. “Little doll just needs to be fucked in the morning, doesn’t she?” A pitiful whimper catches in your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head with every glide of his dick back inside of you.

“N- Not my fault you have naughty eyes,” you whimper, hand coming up to bite at your knuckles as Jungkook continues to fuck you so sweetly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook ducks over you, wavy hair tickling your forehead as his hot breath fans across you. Smells like the mouthwash you made him take and hints of last night’s alcohol. “Can’t help it,” he husks, capturing your lips in his. Sloppy and wet, tongue clashing with yours as he guides you along, hips slowing to rhythmic ruts that have you moaning after each roll.

A few drawn-out thrusts later and you’re coming, body so sensitive this early in the morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that Jungkook looks like that (sweaty and worn, dark eyes watching you writhe beneath him). Surprisingly, it takes him a few more rushed thrusts before he follows, barely managing to pull out in time before his sparkling cum is splattering over your tummy and the skirt bunched around it. “No,” you whine, melting into the couch. “Jeon, this is my only one,” you complain, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that’ll somehow make your legs work again enough to push him off.

Jungkook says nothing as he tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving from exertion as he crashes back onto the couch. “Liar,” he responds after a moment, out of breath and half asleep again. He’s still technically hungover. Hand lazily drawing circles on your knee as you sit up, wiggling your skirt back down. He gives you this indecipherable look. “I hid the other one under your dresser.”

You smack his arm. “Why the hell would you—“

He tackles you back into the couch, presses the stain into your skirt. It must feel gross against his naked tummy, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. “Makes me too horny,” he announces, pout pressed against your neck. “I had a teacher fantasy the other day. Did I tell you?” You roll your eyes, resigning yourself to this new life squashed beneath your boyfriend. “You were my high school anatomy teacher and I failed, so you made me stay after school for supplemental lessons—“

“That’s an abuse of power,” you point out, back to carding your hands through his now sweaty and greasy hair. “And you would never fail an anatomy class, that’s literally your comfort area of study.”

“Listen,” he stresses, lifts his head until he’s peering at you with these humongous Bambi eyes. “You spanked me and—“

“Go get my skirt.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[reinerispretty]

warm hands. (mako x f!reader) rewrite.

hello everyon!! a while ago i wrote a request called warm hands that got deleted by tumblr when i tried to edit the post on mobile :/ i’ve been on this hellsite for years and it still sucks but ANYWAY. as a thank you for supporting me and also as an apology for not updating lmao i wanted to repost a better version i wrote <3 much love to u and to mako

She turned to the man standing just a few feet away from her, surprised at how familiar his face had looked. His jet black hair, thick eyebrows, and golden eyes were from somewhere, but (Y/N) couldn’t place if she had dreamt about someone like him or had actually met him.

It would bug her the rest of the day if she didn’t say anything to him, so she had. “Excuse me,” She said, lightly touching his arm to get his attention. “Sorry to bother you, you just look really familiar to me.”

He had stared down at her silently, his brows furrowed, and in normal circumstances (Y/N) would have felt absolutely mortified...

There were dozens of libraries within Republic City, yet so far none of them had what (Y/N) was looking for. She had spent her entire day off trekking through the busy streets and bustling sidewalks, hailing cab after cab until her resources ran just low enough where she would have to be very picky about what groceries she picked this week. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck as she walked toward her destination. Summer was in full swing and it felt like the sun was after her specifically. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. So far, she had visited fifteen libraries, and was walking up the steps of the very last, hoping that someone inside would be able to help her with her request.

She passed through the double doors and was met with a rush of cold air that sent a chill down her spine. She must look ridiculous, she thought, as she approached the information desk. An old woman was positioned behind it, her back hunched over a book. She hadn’t heard (Y/N) approach, so the young girl rang the bell that set on the counter. The old woman jumped back, a startled expression on her lined face.

“I’m sorry!” (Y/N) exclaimed, then clasped a hand over her mouth. This was a library, she had to watch her volume in here. “Sorry,” She said again, her voice lower. “I was wondering if you could help me with something? I’ve been looking all over town for books on firebending and I can’t seem to find any.”

“We’ve got some!” The woman chirped, seeming to have recovered from her startle. She rose slowly to her feet and grabbed her cane. “Although they’re not technique books, if that’s what you’re looking for. My grandson has a great firebending academy just down the street if you’re interested.”

“Oh, no,” (Y/N) said as she followed the old woman through the enormous stacks of bookcases. “I don’t need any training, I’m just looking for a fact book or something like it.” The woman nodded and silently led (Y/N) to a very dimly lit section of the library. Just as (Y/N’s) feet began to ache from walking, they stopped, and the librarian pointed her cane up at the top shelf. It was out of her reach, but just within (Y/N’s).

“That’s the one you’re looking for,” She said, smiling pleasantly. (Y/N) looked up and found an enormous book, bound in red cloth with the Fire Nation emblem on the side. She reached up and took it into her arms, nearly toppling over at its sheer weight.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) strained herself to say. The librarian nodded once more before disappearing into the stacks of books. (Y/N) waddled herself over to a table in a more well-lit section of the library and sat down.

She had never cared much for bending. Being a nonbender herself in a nonbending family, she had watched indifferently as some of her classmates developed their bending skills. (Y/N) was always able to get through life without bending, so she had never thought of it as something important. Even probending, which rocked the city with its competitions, had never interested her.

(Y/N) sighed as she turned to the first page. To think, she was going to all of this trouble for a boy.

(Y/N’s) older brother had known Mako first, when they were just kids. Both worked for the Triple Threat Triads for a number of years. (Y/N) had remembered Mako as the serious (and slightly intimidating) friend of her brother’s that would stand outside waiting while her brother tried to convince her to cover for him. He might not have been a bender, but he was as strong as a platybus bear for a boy of fifteen, so the Triads made great use of him. (Y/N) had never liked it, but she always lied to their parents on his behalf. Sometimes, she had glared down at Mako from her bedroom window, and it seemed like some nights he frowned right back up at her.

This was all years ago, of course. Once her brother went off to join the United Forces, (Y/N) had forgotten all about Mako. It wasn’t until this past spring that she had seen him again. They had been waiting for their food outside of a soup shop. It had been the lunch hour, so (Y/N) had known they would take a while, but she didn’t mind, because she liked to people watch in order to keep herself occupied. She turned to the man standing just a few feet away from her, surprised at how familiar his face had looked. His jet black hair, thick eyebrows, and golden eyes were from somewhere, but (Y/N) couldn’t place if she had dreamt about someone like him or had actually met him.

It would bug her the rest of the day if she didn’t say anything to him, so she had. “Excuse me,” She said, lightly touching his arm to get his attention. “Sorry to bother you, you just look really familiar to me.”

He had stared down at her silently, his brows furrowed, and in normal circumstances (Y/N) would have felt absolutely mortified to be having this exchange with a total stranger, but something about him was different. She felt calm around him.

“I know you from somewhere, too,” The man said then, a small smile appearing on his face. “Did your brother used to work for-“

“The Triads!” (Y/N) finished, whispering the words excitedly because you couldn’t just shout the name of one of the leading gangs in Republic City in a crowd full of people. “You’re…Mako, right?”

“You must have a great memory, it’s been years since I’ve waited outside your house for your brother to come down.” (Y/N) laughed. “If I remember correctly, you used to give me the evil eyes from your bedroom window.” She smiled.

“That was me!” She extended her hand. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Same here,” Mako said, shaking her hand. “How’s your brother doing?”

“Very well, I think! He’s with the United Forces now, so I don’t hear much from him, but his last letter sounded very promising.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“How are you doing? I’ll have to write to him about you, I’m sure he’ll be so excited to hear it.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Joined the Republic City Police, so I guess I’m arresting the people I used to work with.” He shrugged.

“Beats getting arrested,” (Y/N) offered, and Mako cracked a smile.

“It sure does.” Her order was called from the counter, and (Y/N) scurried over to pick it up. When she returned, Mako had his own food in hand.

“Before you go,” (Y/N) started, and it was like the words would come out of her mouth before she had the chance to stop them. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me sometime? I’d love to give my brother a detailed description of what you’ve been up to.” She was never this bold, but it was like something else entirely had overcome her. He was handsome, and it was just a cup of coffee. Nothing too scary.

Mako had agreed to the cup of coffee that week and one cup had turned into three before turning into dinner. It had been nearly eight months since they met and the majority of their free time away from their jobs was spent together. Things were surprisingly easy with Mako. He was a fantastic listener and offered her the advice that she needed to hear. He had a bit of a rough shell on the outside, but (Y/N) worked tirelessly to break through it and revealed a man capable of so much love that she came to learn very few had ever actually given him it in return.

She was always completely lost when he talked about his probending days, but she enjoyed hearing him talk about his youth so much that it had set her on a course of research. (Y/N) was at the library today to better understand firebending. It was part of Mako, and she loved Mako (even if she hadn’t admitted it), so she would learn to love firebending as well.

She read for hours, until the sun had set outside and lanterns were lit within the space. (Y/N) looked up from her book, eyes heavy and dry from reading so many pages. She had only made it about halfway through the book, so she checked out the heavy title from the librarian at the front and made her way home. Mako would be working the night shift that night, so she didn’t have to worry about any interruptions.

---

Mako wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into his girlfriend. (Y/N) couldn’t bend. Not that there was anything wrong with that of course, Mako respected nonbenders just as much as benders (except for, y’know, the Amon thing), but lately (Y/N) had become a walking fountain of knowledge on firebending. At first he hadn’t thought anything of it, but as it continued on he started to sense that something was up.

The first time it had happened was on one of Mako’s days off. He had slept in late even though (Y/N) had promised to wake him up. With disheveled hair and his eyes squinting at the bright late morning light, he shuffled into the kitchen to give his girlfriend a very soft piece of his mind. She was scrambling eggs in front of the stove, turning to look back at him with a smile brighter than the sun. Mako allowed himself a smirk before his face turned stern.

“You were supposed to wake me up,” He had said, his voice gruff from having not been used. (Y/N) shrugged.

“I don’t think an earthquake could’ve woken you up,” She said in her defense. “Plus, you deserve extra sleep.” She had poked him in the stomach. “Firebenders can’t firebend if they’re exhausted.” Mako had chuckled. It sounded like the sort of thing mothers told their children in order to get them to go to bed.

But a few days later, she had mentioned something similar. They had been walking down the streets of Republic City, on their way to go visit Korra and Asami for lunch, when (Y/N) stopped suddenly in front of a store display. Mako jerked backward, unaware that she had paused.

“Do you know what that is?” She asked, looking up at him with an expression that indicated that she was testing him. Mako stared at the storefront.

“A clearance sign?” He questioned. (Y/N) had rolled her eyes.

“Not that,” She sighed, and pointed her finger at the tapestry that was hung in the back of the store. How she had spotted that from the corner of her eye, Mako had no idea, so he shrugged. “It’s the symbol of the Sun Warriors,” She explained. “They were the first firebenders, after the dragons, of course. They’re extinct now, I think.” (Y/N) smiled up at him while he raised an eyebrow at her. He cracked a smile before tugging at her hand.

“I’m about to go extinct if we don’t get some lunch.”

The biggest indicator by far had been the other night, when he was getting ready to leave for work. (Y/N) had sat on the bed as he stood in front of the mirror and buttoned up his uniform. He kept spares at (Y/N’s) place now, since he spent nearly every night there anyway.

She was looking at him with an expression he had never seen before. It was like she was analyzing him. Mako turned around as he finished the last button, but before he could speak, she beat him to it.

“How do you do it?” She asked, and Mako furrowed his dark brows.

“Do what?”

“Bending.” She looked into his eyes at this point and Mako had felt his heart swell. He had a hard time transmitting the emotions that he was feeling inside to his appearance outside. If he could, he would have melted into a puddle on the floor for this girl. In a matter of a few months she had become something to aim toward, to strive for. Catching criminals and solving cases mattered to him, but not nearly as much as returning to her apartment in one piece.

He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand it, you know? How does it happen? Do you just think about it and it happens? Or do you have to focus?”

“A bit of both, I guess,” Mako said. “When you’re first learning, it takes a lot of focus to master a new move. But once you’ve got it, it kind of becomes second nature.” He sat on the bed beside her to put on his work boots. “It’s like writing something. When you were little, you had to think about how to hold the pen, how to form the letters, what the letters meant. Now you just know.”

“Do you have to think about using lightning rather than fire?” Mako shook his head.

“It’s different movements.” She hummed, staring down at her hands as she contemplated what he just told her. Mako checked his watch for the time. “I’ve got to head out.”

“Okay,” She said as she turned toward him. “Be safe! And don’t forget to invite Bolin over for dinner this weekend.”

Mako let out an exaggerated sigh, at which (Y/N) frowned. “I’m serious Mako,” She continued. “I’ll call Bolin myself to make sure you ask him!”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Mako asked as he packed his badge and wallet.

“It’ll mean more if it’s coming from his big brother.” Mako leaned down and cradled the back of her neck with his hand, leaning for a kiss to which she happily obliged. Mako had many favorite things about (Y/N), but perhaps his most favorite was how she smiled into every kiss he gave her.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Mako had said as he ran out of her apartment. If he was late again, Chief Beifong would kill him.

Mako contemplated these instances as he walked back to her apartment. (Y/N) had never expressed very much interest in bending, pardoning recent weeks. He wondered what had gotten her so curious. Perhaps she listened to a new radio show that talked about it. Mako never really listened to the radio anymore—he used to, but Bolin talked over all of the stations so he just turned it off whenever he was in the car.

He hadn’t told her that he would be coming back to her place tonight. He hadn’t entirely been planning on it, but one of the rookies was somehow put in charge of the schedule and put Mako and a kid named Lee on the same shift. Considering Mako had the seniority, he had gotten the night off, but not before completing the copious amounts of paperwork that had piled on his desk. It was nearing one in the morning, so (Y/N) would be fast asleep, but he figured she would enjoy seeing him again. Or at least, he hoped so.

To improve his chances of not facing the wrath of disturbing her slumber, Mako stopped by a late night dessert shop and picked up some of her favorites before returning on his way. When he finally opened the door to her apartment, Mako was unsurprised to find that every light was off, save for the light that peaked underneath her bedroom door.

Mako took his shoes off at the front and dropped the desserts on the kitchen counter before quietly making his way to her bedroom. (Y/N) lay curled up underneath her covers, fast asleep, with the biggest book Mako had ever seen lying beside her. He lifted the heavy book into his arms and thumbed through the pages. Each and every chapter was about firebending. Its origins, its practices, and its faults. Mako smiled to himself. So that’s how she had become a walking encyclopedia.

He changed into his pajamas and slid into bed beside her. Startled, she opened her tired eyes and furrowed her brows at him. “Chief let me go early,” He whispered to her, reaching over her body to turn off her lamp. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead she moved closer to his body and took his hands in hers. “I was reading,” She whispered slowly, as if her brain was cranking back to life. “That firebenders can control the heat in their bodies.” She placed his hands just below her bellybutton. “My cramps are really bad tonight, can you—”

Mako pulled her into his body and kissed her shoulder, spreading his hand wide so that it would cover as much surface area as possible. She hummed as she felt the warmth emanating from his hands. “Thank you.” After a few minutes, her even breathes indicated that she was asleep.

Mako wondered then if he had been the reason that (Y/N) had a newfound fascination with firebending. While he was a great detective, he was absolutely clueless. She had gotten a whole book about firebending, had shared her knowledge to let him know that she cared about something that she had never cared about before. Mako pressed his face into the crook of his neck to hide the wide smile that no one would see.

(Y/N) wanted to know more about firebending because it was part of who he was. No one had ever taken such an interest in Mako’s passions. He had figured before, but was now certain, that he loved the girl in his arms so, so dearly.

---

TAG LIST

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @sokkashonour , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy , @busyforkuvira , @error-loading-sorry , @bombardia , @la3divine , @just-a-teal-android , @theeavtrkyoshi , @brokennerdalert , @sukifans , @sunflower-mami ,

[yoditorian]

wait for me

din/reader

this is kind of a hybrid of my take on haunted!din and a kiss me (you will go) sequel because both have me in a chokehold. you don’t really need to have read kmywg to get this, but it’s some of my best work and will for sure ✨enhance this experience✨ - it’s short and dialogue heavy but u know what i’m very happy w it

main masterlist

word count: 922 // warnings: haunted!din, death mentions, grief

It’s so loud. 

Din drops the darksaber from his belt as soon as his chamber door closes, kicks it straight across the room and it skids to a halt under a cabinet. He’ll get it later. Even without the damned thing attached to him, they’re still there.

Every voice of every wielder before him, every life the legendary blade has ever taken, every hand it’s ever passed through - blend together and echo through his mind. They don’t stop, even when he sleeps. Instead, his dreams are haunted by lives he’s never lived, faces he’s never seen and battles he’s never fought. He lives every life and death of every Mand’alor before, every night. Whether he sleeps or not.

The beskar is stripped from his body, piece by piece, with exhausted hands. A weakness he’d never show to another living soul. Living, because he’s sure the dead ones can see them tremble clear as day. He lays it gently on the bed ready for the morning, the sheets far too soft for a man like him. He takes the chair by the fireplace each night instead. The ache in his shoulders keeps him awake in meetings, he pretends. 

Din’s feet drag as he shuffles towards the attached bathroom, almost too tired to even go - but the hair on his face is starting to itch under his helmet. 

There’s an old cloak strung up over the mirror. He’s never much liked looking at his reflection, but the act becomes even more difficult when it’s not even himself looking back half the time. He takes the shroud down as much as he can bear, face warping in the glass as he shaves until it isn’t his face at all. Until a stranger’s eyes stare back from a stranger’s face, always somebody new. Still, he pulls the shaving kit from its place on the shelf and tugs the cloak down. 

And he almost shouts.

Because perched on the edge of the bathtub, right behind him, is you. 

Except it can’t be. Because he held your dead body in his arms. He stripped your armour and set light to your wrappings himself. But you’re right there, taking stock of him as he is now, and your eye meets his in the mirror.

You look - you look older than he remembers. Soft lines around your eyes when you smile, as though you’ve aged the years with him. And he can’t help but think that’s how it should be now, how you should have been by his side through the waking nightmare that’s got him here. 

“You’re beautiful. I told you that before, but-”

But you were dead.

“You look like you.” 

Your admission almost brings him to his knees and he wants to look away out of embarrassment, but he won’t break your eye. Too afraid to turn back into the mirror and find you gone. Nothing but a wisp of smoke and lost love.

It should feel odd to have you looking at him, seeing his face, he’s sure that’s how it should be. But honestly, it’s the first time Din feels like he’s taken a breath since he watched the Jedi walk away with his son in his arms. Stars, Grogu would have loved you. If Din hadn’t been so weak as to just let him go.

“It was the right thing. You’re doing what you can.”

You always did know what to say to make him feel better. 

“Is this,” He flounders for a moment, “Is this because of that?”

He nods his head in the direction of the door, towards where the darksaber lies forgotten under a cabinet, and you shrug with a sad smile.

“You married me.” There’s that glint in your eye, the one he always imagined would be there. 

“I promised, didn’t I? Never broken one of those.” 

You rise from the edge of the bath and his breath stutters in his chest as you walk to join him at the mirror over the sink. He still doesn’t dare turn from the reflection. Not even as you lean against his arm and rest your head on his shoulder, and warmth spreads through his side as if you were actually there. 

“Din.” You say his name softly, for no real reason, and his heart grows so big in his chest he’s worried it might burst. 

It’s the most at peace he’s felt in years, standing there with you in his bathroom. He flinches as your phantom hand drops to find his, it’s warm but your grip just isn’t quite there. Fear floods his veins. You can’t leave him alone, not like this, not again.

“Wait - don’t go. I can’t follow you there, not yet.” His voice is so small, so fragile, so unlike who he has to be when he steps out of your safety.

“No, you can’t, but that’s okay. I’ll wait for you as long as you take.”

“Will you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

Your weight is warm and solid against his arm, so much so that part of him is sure he could turn just a little and drop a kiss where your head rests on his shoulder. 

“All that noise up in that head of yours, listen out for me. I’m there.”

Din is helpless but to let his eyes fall shut as you shift to press your lips against his cheek, reveling in the ghost of your breath on his skin. Exactly how he always imagined you would feel.

You’re gone as soon as he opens his eyes again. 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44 @captain-jebi @sarahjkl82-blog​ @thatonedindjarinfan​ @thisshipwillsail316​ @amneris21​ @thatonedindjarinfan​

[marvelslut16]

Inseparable

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x reader

Synopsis: Reader and Reggie have been best friends since they were toddlers, nothing tearing them apart until Veronica their Junior year. This follows the rise and downfall of their friendship. Can they mend their friendship and be back to what they once were, will they be too hurt to fix their broken hearts, or will they finally admit their feelings for one another?

Word count: 2.6K+ (my hand slipped)

Warnings: Mr. Honey; he’s the worst villain to ever enter Riverdale, you can’t change my mind. Mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic past the mention of a black eye. Some angst. Spoilers for s4e4 technically, I still can’t believe what Mr. Honey did. 

A/N: I have like 11 requests I still have to get to, yikes. I swear I’ll do them soon, but inspiration hit and I ended up writing this. there isn’t enough Reggie love on Tumblr, plus I have a tiny crush on Charles Melton, so writing this was a win win. let me know what you think, and if I should write more for Riverdale. Veggie is better than Varchie (don’t come for me), but I still think Reggie deserves better than Ronnie. 

Growing up in a small town like Riverdale there weren’t too many kids to become friends with, but when you met Reggie Mantle on your first day of preschool you knew he would be your best friend for life. Archie was showing off on the playground by walking up the slide when the teacher wasn’t looking. The problem then being that Archie's foot slipped right as you were walking passed the bottom of the slide, and he slid down and ended up knocking you on the ground. You started to cry because he scraped your arm bad enough that it started to bleed. Reggie, whom you shared a table with in class, watched from the sidelines as your teacher helped you up and took you to the nurse, he got his revenge during arts and crafts later that day- ‘accidentally’ spilling red paint all over the front of Archie’s khaki pants. When Reggie made it to the table you quietly thanked him and shared your paint with him since the teacher said he couldn’t have new paint as a lesson to be more careful next time. 

As the years went on, yours and Reggie’s friendship only grew until you were inseparable; you two went on family vacations together, you went to every single one of his junior bulldog football games from the ages of eight to twelve, he went to your ballet recitals when you took classes in grade school even bringing you roses. Reggie was your rock at your grandmother’s funeral, you helped him pass his geometry class Sophomore year so he could stay on the football team, and you were the only person that he opened up to about his father’s abuse- having witnessed it with your own eyes a handful of times. 

Your mom was convinced you and Reggie would fall in love and get married one day, and your father was convinced your friendship would crumble and ultimately go down in a blazing fire. Going into your senior year you hate to admit that your father was right, his words bouncing around in your skull every time your brain shut off for longer than two seconds. Veronica Lodge moved to town Sophomore year, enticing every boy within a fifty mile radius with her upper East side charm. Reggie didn’t fall for Veronica right away, he fell for her junior year when he was helping her with La Bonne Nuit. And as cliche as it is, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, you had been for a while. The small nagging voice in the back of your head told you that it had been since that day in preschool. 

But you would grin and bear the pain, the soul crushing pain, if it meant that Reggie would still be in your life. And you did, for a while at least; until Reggie stopped calling and texting you back, until he stopped begging you to come to his games, until he stopped sneaking into your room every friday night after a game to go over the play footage where you would help him come up with new plays and tweaks to the old ones, until he started ignoring you in the halls in favor of making out with Veronica. You never hated the girl, she had been nothing but nice to you anytime you would interact, but God, you just wished she would disappear and give you your Reggie back. 

You resented Veronica, leading your interactions with the girl to be more tense and your answers clipped, and that was what led to the blazing fire your father talked about. Reggie offered you a ride home one day after school, and of course you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him again. Instead of going to pops and talking like you thought you would, the two of you got into your biggest, and last, fight ever. 

It started with Reggie asking why you hated Veronica, where you defended yourself and swore that you didn’t. But he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, continuing to press you as you two kept driving. The closer you got to the edge of town the worse the fighting got, your voice raising along with his. You accuse him of abandoning his friends, abandoning you, to be with Veronica all the time. He gets mad that you don’t understand why he’s with her all the time, claiming that you couldn’t understand not when you’ve never had a boyfriend. Something that he’s the reason for, since he scared all of the guys even remotely interested in you away with just one piercing glare or one lowly growled threat. 

The comment picking on your relationship status, or lack thereof, is the straw that broke the camel's back. You let loose just as you pass the sign thanking you for visiting Riverdale, the town with pep. Pep your ass, the small town is full of death and endless heartache wherever you look. You rip into Reggie, letting the hurt take over as you scream and scream at him-calling him a terrible friend. He finally screams back, claiming that you’re worse because you hate his girlfriend. He has to pull his precious car over, the car you helped him pick out when he turned sixteen, because he started swerving when you two got into a screaming match. 

The interaction ends with you getting out of the car on the side of the road leading into Greendale, slamming the car door behind you, knowing that he’ll get mad with how aggressive you’re being with his baby, his Bella. He does a sharp U-turn driving beside you, trying to coax you into getting back in the car with him. But you can’t do that, you can’t face him right now. So as you watch the taillights of the gun metal grey Chevelle disappear around the curve in the road you finally let the tears fall down your face, they stream harder and faster the closer you get to reentering the town with pep. 

Reggie had dropped your backpack off at your house when he got back into town, so it was sitting there waiting for you in your living room alongside your worried mother. You cried into her arms that night for hours, until you were all cried out, not caring that you look like a big baby. You had just lost Reggie, you had just lost your everything. You hadn’t talked to him since that day in the middle of your junior year, even after him and Veronica broke up and she went back to Archie like always. The days of your senior year seemed to fly by, October coming in what felt like mere days as opposed to months, and your last Halloween in Riverdale is today. 

You and Reggie would always wear matching costumes to trick or treat, and school just for fun as you got older, this always prompted your classmates to wonder if you two were finally dating. But that wouldn’t be happening this year, for the first time ever. You had even dressed up and sat on his porch in costume when you were six, handing out candy to the other kids so you could talk to Reggie, who was in costume too, through the window because he was sick with a 102.2 degree fever. You were dressed as Kim and Ron that year, his mom had even crocheted him a little Rufus to stick in his pocket. You couldn’t wait to get out of this town, away from Reggie, away from the places where you would see ghosts of your younger selves everywhere you went. 

Kevin calls you freaking out after he and Reggie got caught tp’ing Mr. Honey’s office. Kevin caved after Mr. Honey threatened to make sure he wouldn’t get into NYU if he didn’t. Kevin felt guilty for his actions, and even though you hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year you were worried about him. Worried what his dad might do to him when he hears he got in trouble at school again, and worried what the unhinged Mr. Honey might do to him himself. 

You don’t hear anything from Reggie the next day, not that you really expect to. You more-so hope he’ll call you, but you know what they say about hope- it breeds eternal misery. The day goes by at a snail's pace as you stare at your phone throughout the entirety of said day. You finally curl in on yourself and go to sleep after midnight, however sleep doesn’t stay for long. You’re awoken around two in the morning from your phone’s incessant ringing, in your dazed stupor you don’t realize it’s Reggie’s special ringtone- the bulldog cheer from Kim Possible. 

“Hello?” you ask hoarsely, making sure to stay quiet so your parents won’t hear. 

“(Y/N/N), can you talk?” your startled to hear Reggie’s voice on the other line. It sounds scratchy, like he was recently in a screaming match with someone. You open your eyes for the first time, finally accepting that you won’t be able to just roll over and slip back into your dreams. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table and your eyes widen at the time.

“It’s like two in the morning Reg,” you sigh, hoping he’ll wait till morning. 

“Can I come over?” Reggie’s pleading now.

“Later, we can go to Pop’s for lunch or something,” you yawn loudly into the phone in protest. 

“I’m already here,” before you can respond the line goes dead.

You can hear quiet, almost not there, footsteps outside your window as Reggie expertly navigates his way through the flowers and bushes outside your window. He taps on the window three times in quick succession, your old signal for when he would sneak over letting you know it was him at your window. You reluctantly get out of your warm cozy bed, stumbling to the window to open it for your former best friend. 

Your plans for just slipping back into bed anf hopefully nodding off while he talks go out the window as you come face to face with Reggie’s swollen face. He has a split lip and a black eye, you’re sure he has belt marks on his back too. You don't care that Reggie is climbing through the window a little too loudly, your sole focus now on fixing him up. Once he’s in the room you sneak to the kitchen and quietly grab an ice pack, stopping in the bathroom to grab rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and ibuprofen.  

You hand him the pain reliever and your bottle of water, it’s not the first time you’ve shared, as soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He swallows the pills down with ease, and you both settle on your bed, a sad depressing routine. You don’t say anything as you clean his split lip, he winces slightly when the alcohol drenched cotton ball makes contact with his open wound. 

“Mr. Honey caught Kevin and I last night,” Reggie admits quietly. 

“I heard, Kevin told me,” you murmur unsure of where this conversation is headed, so you continue to dab at his lip.

“Mr Honey, he said that no one takes me seriously, no one since you. He said that he heard around school that I made my ‘persona’ bigger, became more of a prankster, after I lost you. He-he knew about my dad, (Y/N),” Reggie’s voice cracks, you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Said people at school are laughing at me, worst of all, you’re laughing at me.”

“Oh sweetie, no!” you're quick to jump in and defend. “I would never laugh at you, you know that. Never. No one else is either, he was just saying that to get a rise out of you.” Your arm moves without your permission, you push a strand of black hair out of his eyes before caressing his cheek softly. 

“He tp’d my car, that I get. That was actually funny,” Reggie hisses, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re lightly pressing the ice pack to his shiner or because of what he’s about to say next. “But he broke Bella’s windshield, shattered her passenger side window, and busted her left headlight.” 

“I’ll kill him!” you jump up from your spot on your bed, no longer caring if you wake your parents. Reggie holds the ice pack to his eye with his right hand, cautiously reaching for your hands with his left. You calm down when his fingers intertwine with yours, sinking back down next to him. 

“I avoided going home all day, but when I did and my dad saw the car,” Reggie takes in a shaky breath, and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “He did, well he did this.” He uses your joined hands to gesture towards his face. 

You don’t say anything, instead just pulling him in for a hug. Reggie tenses at first before melting into your warm embrace. You pull him down onto the bed with you so you're laying side by side, he rests his head on your chest as you tuck the two of you in. 

“I know we haven’t talked in a while,” you let out dissatisfied hum as you card your fingers soothingly through his hair. “But you're the only person I wanted to see, the only person I ever want to see. It’s been torture without you (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you say under your breath, but he hears you clearly with his ear pressed to your chest. 

“I was an idiot, I let my ego keep me from you,” he moves his head to look up at you, his brown eyes shine with sincerity. 

“Don’t do this right now Reggie,: your eyes fill with tears, “Don’t do or say anything you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Reggie moves his right arm from around your waist to brush away a stray tear that slipped out of your eye. He moves his thumb down your cheek to your lips, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Reggie lightly tugs down on your lower lip causing you to uncage it from your teeth, when did you even bite it in the first place? 

“I love you (Y/N), I always have,” he looks away from your mouth so he can stare into your eyes. “And I think you have too.”

“I have, I love you so much Reggie,” he pulls your face down to meet him. The kiss is searing, and a little wet due to the tears leaking out of both of your eyes, but it’s perfect. You pull back when you get the slightly tangy taste of blood on your tongue. You immediately fuss over Reggie’s lip, said lip splitting again during the makeout. Reggie pulls you back down onto the bed and into his arms after you’ve dabbed at his lip with the cotton ball again. 

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes shine with unshed tears as he stares lovingly at your face, almost like he’s mesmerized by you. “Not just tonight, but leaving you for Ronnie so I could try to get over you, and for every other night you’ve taken care of me.”

“Just never leave me again,” you whimper, which is cut off when he kisses you again. 

“Never,” Reggie’s never been more serious about anything in his life. 

You cuddle up to Reggie’s chest, his warmth and scent quickly lulling you into  a deep comforting sleep. You don’t care that he should sneak out the window and go home, or that your mom will find you two cuddled up in your twisted sheets when she comes to check on you at ten. All you care about is Reggie being safe, in your arms, and finally having him back in your life-but with one vast improvement to your relationship.

Permenent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[ginazmemeoir]

IT. IS. STORY. TIME.

and here you go with one of my favorite stories, ever.

tagging @dragonfairy1231 @mango-pickle @momo-all-the-way @the-fault-in-our-inquilab @aadyeah @holding-infinity-and-a-book @weird-u-deactivated20210917 @carmen-riddle @the-actual @taareginn @rebelliousrochelle @catsandbooksandstuff

@ people who i forgot to tag sorry

I can feel his breath on my shoulder, his husky, sweet as honey voice whispering in my ear, “Come. Be my queen Shachi. Become the queen of the devas.” I can feel his fingers leaving marks on my arms as I struggle to break free of his grip. I somehow manage to rip free of his clutches, and turn to face him, my face flush with fury. Nahusha, the temporary King of the Devas, had just crossed a line. But he just looks at me, his gaze making me feel as if I am being stripped naked, and then turns around with a smirk, his robes and ostentatious amount of gold flowing after him.

I stomp back to my palace. Indra had always been an impulsive person, but murdering Trishiras was not an accident – it was a paramount sin to kill a god. And now he has merrily fled away, leaving me and the rest of the devas to deal with his mess. I was actually the one who had voted for Nahusha to rule us while Indra was in exile. He was the most exemplary human being, plus being the son-in-law of Mahadev carried some legitimacy as well. Initially he was a better king than Indra - and then followed the same power that had corrupted the minds of those before him. First, he replaced those favoured by Indra, primarily the Maruts, the gods of wind. Then he disrespected Brihaspati. And then he turned his gaze on me. I wasn’t his paramour or his fancy, indeed I was another object of power for him to seize. I was the one who decided who got the throne. And only the man I was married to could become the true king of the devas. I sit on my divan, ruminating thus, and ask an apsara to fetch some soma for me. As the cooling effects of the liquor wash over me, a plan begins to form in my head. A plan which required the assistance of some of my closest friends.

The following night, I invite Guru Brihaspati over. He looks at me with sympathy and then sits down. “Gurudev, Nahusha has grown to be a menace.” “I agree Your Majesty. The council’s decision has proven to be – disastrous, to put it politely.” He says, wrinkling his nose. “As you know, he has now set his sight on me. You might be familiar with the erotic letters and the incident in the Nandaka Gardens?” Brihaspati averts his gaze, his nostrils flaring in anger. “Don’t worry Gurudev,” I placate him, “for I have a strategy to get rid of him, forever.” Having gained Brihaspati’s attention, I describe my plan to him, his face changing from worry to glee. “Brilliant Devarani! I must admit, your political acumen is frightening.” He admits, his hands glossing over the letter I hand him. Smiling, I stamp it with my seal – an elephant with a flower in its trunk – and instruct him to deliver it to Nahusha.

Brihaspati leaves soon after supper, and as the servants dim the lights in my palace, I lay in my bed, restless in anticipation of what was to follow the next morning. The first rays of sunlight break into my room after what feels like an eternity, and with them arrives Usha, the goddess of dawn, and my dear friend. I get up and hug her, her warmth permeating my being and filling it with hope. Her fair skin and blonde hair are in strike contrast to my own dusky skin and jet-black locks. “Shachi, it has been far too long dear friend” Usha says, holding me at arm’s length. “I need your help Usha, and there’s not much time. Help me find Indra.” “Why what happened?” she asks, oblivious as always. “Seriously? Where are you?” I ask in disbelief. “Sorry, it’s just most sneaky activities are carried out at night and not at dawn. But enough about that, follow me!” she replies sheepishly, then grabs my arm, and we both jump out of the window. I use my powers to cushion our fall as we land on her gleaming gold chariot, drawn by red cows and we gallop away into the horizon. Usha travels at the speed of light, as she brings dawn all over the world, scanning the universe for any trace of Indra. The hours fly by, and Usha begins turning her chariot towards the heavens. “Shachi, there isn’t much time left, I have to go back and let Lord Surya take charge now.” I am about to ask her for just some more time, when my gaze lands on Manasarovar, Mahadev’s sacred lake. I ask Usha to land there, and we land on the surface of the frozen lake, dotted by the occasional lotus. Usha assumes her full form, her rosy glow warming the chilly air and wielding her bow and arrow. I inspect the lake, and feel drawn to a particular lotus. I reach it hesitantly, and then cut open its stalk. And there, in the stalk of a random lotus in the Manasarovar, I find the mighty Indra, cowering in its safety. “Indra, it’s me, Shachi,” I begin, when Indra cuts me off. “Please return beloved. I am not worthy of love or respect. I have killed a god. There’s still a long way for me to atone repentance for my sins.” My anger, which was simmering until then, threatens to boil over. “Repentance. So your own reputation is more important to you than your wife and your subjects?” Indra looks at me, his face stricken. “I have been enduring the harshest of tapas here for eons and you have the gall to…” “YOU LEFT US TO COWER IS WHAT YOU DID. You have already repented by slaying Vritra with your Vajra. What more do you want? Your subjects are suffering, Nahusha lords over us, and he’s hell bent on having me. I married you Indra, and that makes you the rightful Devaraja. Come home now.” I reply. Indra looks at me remorsefully, and says, “I cannot return until the previous king is dethroned Shachi.” “Technically, you can’t take the throne while another king sits on it. But you can indeed return back to Swarga. And if I know Nahusha, my plan should be bearing fruit as we speak.” I interrupt him. “What plan?” asks Usha. “You will see. Now we must hasten Usha, for the wedding of all time.”

I return back to my palace just in time. I hide Indra in the gardens, and then ask my maids and apsaras to ready me. They bedeck me in the finest of fabrics woven out of air and mist, and celestial gold infused with Usha’s energy. Parijata flowers are braided into my hair, and I then wait at my palace gates atop Airavata, Indra’s elephant.

Brihaspati has executed my plan flawlessly. The streets of Amaravati are lined with numerous devis and devatas, apsaras and gandharvas, celebrating the marriage of their king to me. Nahusha rides atop an open palanquin, carried by none other than – the Saptarishis, the seven revered sages. I had told him to approach my palace atop a palanquin carried by the Saptarishis, and the naïve fool had agreed.

I can see the excitement on his face, alternating between his anger at the sages for their slow speed. Agastya’s short stature makes matters worse for the other rishis, resulting in the palanquin tilting towards one side. Some more time passed, and then Nahusha lost his cool. He kicks Agastya on his back, and his shout carries throughout the assembly - “MOVE STUPID OLD CRONE YOU WALK AS SLOW AS A LIZARD!” Everybody stands shocked. The sounds of trumpets and drums and veenas cease, while everybody else is mortified at the disrespect done to a Saptarishi. Agastya’s eyes however, blaze with fury. He slams the palanquin down on the ground, and then turns to face Nahusha, his anger making him seem larger than his height. “Listen, O vain descendant of Chandravansh, false king of the devas! I curse you to return back to earth,” roars Agastya, looking at Nahusha with a sly smile, “and spend the rest of your days as a lowly lizard yourself.” The lizard part was a fun addition, but I was indeed counting on Nahusha’s banishment. Agastya’s curse quickly shows its effect, and where once stood a king, now lay a lizard, quickly scampering its way out of Agastya’s legs, who tries to stomp on him.

I beckon Usha to retrieve Indra, who is brought before us in the same dishevelled state I found him in. And then, I begin. “Here you see Devaraja Indra, your true king. Slayer of Vritra, wielder of the mighty Vajra, absolved of all sins. Bow to your king, my loyal subjects, and bow to your queen!”

[scrawnytreedemon]

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

I.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r  o w n  G o d  O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--