#honestly it feels like a waste of money and time but at the same time i dont really have anything else for my future so i kinda need it

[yellowistheraddest]

so much money gone.... i hate capitalism

[the-kipsabian]

.

[hecksupremechips]

Had a very bad day Gotta eat gravel

[isekyaaa]

k*veh's habit of self-sabotage when it comes to money and time is actually very relatable haha

[klausysworld]

He Left First

He turned up late, again. It was obvious he forgot we even had a date planned let alone what it was for.

He was underdressed for the Restaurant reflecting his lack of effort, no flowers or anything. I know I shouldn't expect a gift but I thought he might've for our two years.

His eyes were so distant when he looked at me. He only looked annoyed as he looked over the menu, as if it was a waste of his time.

Hesitantly I grabbed the little gift back from my side and placed it on the table infront of him.

"I wasn't sure if we were doing gifts, I know it's only two years...I don't know I just got something small." I muttered, feeling stupid for even bothering. I glanced at his face and saw it dawn upon him why we were here. His mouth opened a couple times, the guilt started to form as he placed the menu down.

"Love-" He whispered and I forced a smile.

"It's nothing special, it's only little." I mumbled, waiting for him to open it. Slowly he opened the gift, it was just a painting. In the early stages of our relationship he had tried to teach me but I wasn't much good so I had been practicing the things he showed me to make him it. "I know it's not great-"

"No...It's perfect." He muttered as he stared at it.

I felt a little awkward as it went quiet before the waiter came over to ask what we'd like to have, I just ordered a grilled chicken salad and Klaus mumbled for a steak. He let out a small sigh once the waiter left and put the gift back in the bag.

"I haven't been here enough as of late and I'm sorry." He apologised, his eyes boring into mine. "I'm gonna buy you a hundred presents tomorrow to make up for this-"

"It's really fine, I just want to have a nice night." I told him and he nodded, getting up and moving his seat round to sit beside me and wrap his arm round my waist. It felt nice to feel the warmth of his touch. The touch of his lips on my head and he whispered he was sorry.

When the food came he stayed beside me and we ate with light conversation of past dates that had been particularly funny or eventful.

Honestly it was going so well, one of the nicest dates we'd had until his phone lit up on the table. A collection of messages lining up on his screen.

He picked it up and unlocked it, revealing Camille's name to pop up over and over. A frown overtook his features as he opened the messages. She said she needed him, his help. I heard him sigh and I looked down at my half eaten meal knowingly.

"Y/N..." He whispered and I let go of my fork.

"Can't we just have one night without her?" I ask, my voice cracking.

"Love, she's my friend. I can't just leave her when I know she needs me-" He defended but I couldn't understand it.

"I need you." I argued but my voice was weak. "I need you but you'll leave me?"

"I'm not leaving you. I'm just helping someone out-"

"Yeah? I bet you help her out a fucking lot." I snapped and his eyes narrowed.

"If you're insinuating that I've been unfaithful..."

"So what if I am? Am I wrong? You haven't been sleeping with me so you're getting it somewhere-"

"Shut your mouth." He warned. I glared at him and felt my face burn with heat as people around us came to a halt in their conversations.

"Or what, Klaus?" I asked and his jaw tightened.

"I'm not doing this with you." He muttered, getting up and taking his phone. I should have just let him go but in that moment I needed him to hurt like I hurt.

"What, you're just gonna run away? You always gonna be a fucking coward Klaus?" I yelled and he didn't answer. "You're the same bastard your father raised."

He faltered in his step at that, his hand curled into a fist at his side but ultimately he kept walking out of sight.

I glanced round at everyone staring and just sighed. I grabbed my purse and pulled out enough money to cover the meals, leaving it on the table and snatched the disregarded gift bag before walking out too.

I cried in the street, facing a wall as i tried not to make any sound. I pulled myself together as quickly as I could before walking home. Realistically I shouldn't have even considered going back to that stupid mansion but I did.

I ignored everyone as I went upstairs and got in one of the spare beds. I didn't bother cleaning my skin or changing my clothes, I just went to bed.

Even in the morning I just didn't get up, I just stayed there wondering what the fuck was going to happen. Part of me wanted to pack up and leave but...I loved him. I'd stayed with him for so long now, through far too much to just leave him right?

That being said when I heard the front door go and Rebekah asking where Klaus had been all night broke my heart because I knew he had been with Cami. I accused him of cheating so he decided to prove I was right.

I sniffed back my tears, refusing to cry anymore especially with him in earshot.

I forced myself up and got out of bed, stepping over the heels I had kicked off last night and opening the door. I stepped out and immediately saw him stood at the top of the stairs. Hair ruffled and eyes tired.

Neither of us spoke a word as I went into the bathroom next door to shower. When I came back out in my towel I found my comfy clothes laid out on my bed. With reluctance I accepted the gesture and got dressed. There was no point in drying my hair or having any makeup on so I just wondered downstairs.

Everyone was being awkward. Rebekah tried to come talk to me but I told her it was okay and it wasn't a big deal and I'd come talk to her when I felt a little better.

I went back to the guest bedroom and stared up at the ceiling. There weren't TV's in the rooms nobody used and I didn't have anything to do on my phone after the first couple hours so I just laid there.

When it got dark again a knock sounded at my door and Klaus came it. I didn't look over at him as he sat down beside me on the edge of the bed. His hand moved to touch me, stroking my palm and my fingers.

"Did you sleep with her?" I whispered, a little scared to ask.

"Not...technically" He muttered, his voice hesitant and guilty.

I didn't want to ask what that meant. Did he finger her? Eat her out? Did she suck him off and make out with him while convincing him to leave me for her? Was he here to break it off with me so he could just be with her?

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, a feeling of indifference bleeding through me as a numbness protected my heart. It was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"I don't ever want you to leave." He whispered. "I shouldn't have ever gone to her house especially when I was angry already. I ended up drinking so much..." He trailed as if remembering something. I sighed and stared into space.

"It's fine." I whispered and he squeezed my hand.

"What?" He asked and I shrugged.

"You haven't wanted to be with me for a while now...I just loved you too much to let you go but I don't have to let you go anymore, you left instead."

His fingers interlaced with mine but I didn't hold his hand back.

"I haven't stopped loving you." He admitted but I wasn't really sure I could trust whatever he said.

"You just love her too." I muttered.

"No, I don't love her. I truly don't. I don't know what's wrong with me but I know I'm wrong and I know I'm hurting you and out of all the people in my life, you are someone I never want to hurt so..." He paused for a second and I forced my eyes not to weep. "So I'm gonna do whatever you need me to do. I know we can't be together...I've broken your trust and I can't get it back until...well I don't know if I can."

"I'll just pack my things." I whispered.

"I can give you money to help-"

"I don't want your money, or your help. I just need you to leave me alone, I can't see you with her- I can't see you period." I told him.

I could physically feel my mental walls building up around me.

He left me alone a moment later and stayed out of sigh as I stuffed all my things into a case and called a cab.

It was a hotel I stayed in for a few days before I found a shitty motel that allowed long-stay for little money while I applied for jobs.

I was on my way to a work interview when I saw Klaus again. It had only been two weeks and I knew I looked shit. The shower at the motel was inconsistent of when it wanted to work, there was no hairdryer and I didn't have anything to straighten it or products to let it stay curly so it was just frizzy and I had no makeup or money to buy it so I looked as tired as I was due to the pathetic excuse of a mattress I was sleeping on. How I was going to get any job looking like I did would be a miracle or a massive pity party.

Klaus looked as perfect as ever, not a hair out of place when his eyes met mine across the street. He was there with Rebekah and I felt his gaze drift over me even after I kept walking away.

Part of me just wanting to feel his arms around me. But I knew that was wrong and I needed to get through this and he couldn't help with that. I wasn't sure anything could help, even if I had a new job and a beautiful house with a loving faithful family and two healthy children, I don't think I'd be able to look at Klaus and not wonder why I couldn't be enough for him.

If I wasn't enough for him, would I be enough for someone else?

[snowsinterlude]

misunderstood.

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: being the only district girl other than sejanus plinth and having to adapt to the capitol, you thought you could still count with coryo. it seems like you were wrong.

based on this ask

c.w: district n capitol reader, coriolanus snow, coryo being kind of a jerk, heartbreak, drama, quite the slowburn, fluffy, angst, reader has a crush on coryo, mentions to bullying, reader is shy and insecure

moving from district 4 to the capitol after the war when you were small, you never forgot your roots. or whatever was left of them.

your father and your mother made sure to educate you the best they could. private teachers, whatever they could afford witth the new money they had.

now, at the age of seventeen, the closet person you had within you at the academy was coriolanus snow.

athletic skinny, smart, pretty, blonde, gorgeous coriolanus snow. the one boy you knew that probably had a liking to you even if it wasn't much.

of course you would develop a crush on him. he was so gentle with you, so kind. so good to you, he was always there for you, specially since you were so shy, even more shy to defend yourself, so he was always taking the matters into his own hands, defending you from any dumb jerk who thought less of you.

however, as you walked through the academy in search of him, you found festus voice, and your name coming out of his lips.

“so, snow. why does the district girl is always clinging on you?” he asked, and you immediatly hid himself behind the wall, waiting for the answer.

now you could know his thoughts about you! now you would know of he really liked you, if he felt the same, if-

“man, she's a leech.” he said, and you gulped your heart back “i only tolerate her because the teachers always tell us to “be nice” to her, but honestly? sometimes i can't stand her.”

oh.

so that was it? what you thought to be love, kindness, was only tolerance? not even once of kindness was there on his voice, not even one bit of respect- he hated you. maybe he loathed you too. you were probably the same thing as an insect to him. a fly. buzzing on his ear, getting on his nerves.

with that in mind, you rejected every move he made towards you- you loved him, and it hurt. but more than that, the fact that he tolerated you during all those times, made everything worse.

“y/n! finally, i found you-” he said, and you passed through him like you hadn't seen him, like he was invisible. like the way he said your name didn't make your heart flutter and your eyes shine.

you distanced yourself from him the best you could. it didn't matter anymore. he didn’t like you. he never did. didn't even consider you a friend or anything. a leech. a leech. a blood sucking energia draining leech.

without coriolanus by your side, without him protecting you, the only one who could defend you was yourself, but would you do it?

of course not.

you're nothing compared to them. you're district. they're not gonna allow you to be or feel anything other than mediocrity.

you didn't stand up for yourself under any circumstance, letting the bullying be done, letting the food fall to your hair and letting your material things suffer further damage because of their hatred towards districts- towards you. no one was able to help you. no one wanted to help you. and even if they did, you didn't want to bother anyone.

it was humiliating.

"gosh, finally coriolanus noticed what a waste of time it is to be around you," a girl said, accompanied by whoever was by her side. you didn't bother looking up, seeing their faces and the way they looked at you was humiliating.

"c'mon now, don't be quiet just because we spoke the truth." she said, poking your head with her index finger. you closed your eyes shut. this corridor always seemed to happen something that would hurt you?

"hey," his voice. it was his, and you almost looked up to see him, to see him in this stupid uniform, in this stupid hair of his, those stupid expressions of him. "leave her alone."

"coryo-" the girl said, looking up behind you.

"don't call me coryo. i never allowed you to. leave her alone." he said again, and the girl flinched a bit, but she left after giving you a last stare.

"you were lucky, he's just taking pity on you."

"leave!" he growled, putting you behind his back and watching the girls go away.

there was an awkward silence between both of you, and then, when he began to spoke, you interrupted him.

"thank you," you said. "but you don't need to pretend anymore."

"what? y/n, i-"

"-i hear what you said." you interrupted again. "i'm a leech. i don't want to be a leech to you. not to you."

"y/n."

"i thought you liked me." you said, your voice hitched by how much you wanted to cry. to come undone.

"i do like you."

"no. you don't. if you did you wouldn't say those things. if you did, you wouldn't call me a leech. you don't like me."

"i lied"

"i know you did. that's all you do. you lie about a lot of things, i just didn't think you would lie about me too."

"i'm sorry, i was wrong. i don't know why i said that but please- forgive me."

you cried. finally, after so many days crying only to the warmth of your room, you cried freely at the sight of him, at the sound of his words.

"you're so stupid," you sobbed

"i know. i am." he hugged you, arms surrounding your shoulders as you cried on him. "i like you, y/n. i really do."

"you're gonna have to proof that."

" i will."

and he did. coming to the class with his hand on yours, sitting by your side, letting others know that he liked you, that he would protect you. that he loved you.

it wasn't a surprise to others when you began to date. it was a surprise to you.

but finally, the misunderstood was over. and just like that he was head over heels to you.

[edgeray]

Hi ray

Could write dragon! Arlecchino x hunter! Reader who hunts dragon because she was tasked to even tho she didn't wish to do so but little did the reader know that arlecchino is very strong

So when the reader was tasked she was warned by the villagers but what could the reader do but to only obey the orders when the reader met arlecchino trying to hunt her down she failed to do so

Dragon Hunter Mother

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Like always, if you want to request something from me again anon, give yourself a name/emoji ☺️ Also, I love this idea. I don't plan out my requests, plot just kinda comes as I write, so let's see what I do with this. I'm assuming you also want reader to be afab as well. Since you didn't say about arlecchino having a human form, I'm just not going to write it. Don't ask me how this turned to be over the limit I said these requests were gonna be. I got carried away with world building and plot. Sorry 😬 . Hopefully this was okay? Honestly, didn't know how I would make it romantic, but I guess I'll put it under romantic? I tried by best anon, feel free to request again if you want me to write it in a different way 🫶. Sorry for taking so long, but here it is!  Content warnings / info - author doesn't know how to write dragons, semi-graphic violence, if it wasn't obvious, Freminet, Lyney, and Lynette make an appearance, 2.6k words 

Stemming from a long line of dragon hunters, it was no surprise that like the rest of your siblings, you would take up the mantle of also being a dragon hunter. Dragon hunting is a service to the kingdom exclusive to only a few noble families like yours, hence why its hunters are practically revered by the kingdom's citizens. Protecting the kingdom, receiving glory after every slaughter, earning a large chunk of the kingdom's money, it's no doubt that many aggrandize and covet to be in the same position. 

You've never wanted to be a dragon hunter. It's an arduous job in a kingdom known for its dragon outbreaks. The Majesty is prompt in requesting dragon hunters, sending them from one corner of the kingdom to the other unhesitatingly, and frequently underestimate the duration that these kill orders take. When the process of dragon hunting involves tracking the dragon, finding the dragon's sanctum, preparing to combat against a dragon, and finally, killing it, it takes at least a week if it's one of the older dragons. The Majesty has high expectations, and it's a struggle to keep up with them. Kill orders were often piled on top of one another, which means immediately after you complete one, it is off to finishing the next one.

It is a job of ruin. When was the last time you've gotten more than a few hours of sleep? The last time you've had a full meal? The last time you were able to have a relaxing bath? 

Killing dragons is not how you would like to waste away your life, slaving away under a duty that everyone idolizes. As you carry on your role, you begin to learn more and more about these flying reptiles; dragons are fascinating, intelligent creatures. It is a shame that many villagers are so terrified of them, dragons actively avoid humans; though for one reason or another, dragons occasionally seek the nearest human civilization, eating farm animals and destroying any shelter or barricade that stands in their way. Perhaps you're just foolish, but you believe that there is a real reason for this behavior, and that there could be a solution to this. 

Until then, you could do little more but heed each order, slaughtering dragon by dragon. Their dying cries plague your dreams every night, leaving you empty and restless. 

You arrive at a village, the emblem on your chest plate that indicates your occupation glints as you step out of the carriage. The village head greets you quickly, settling you down in front of a cup of tea and some snacks, before cutting straight to the details.

“This dragon… I'd be careful. I've heard of you, a genius among geniuses in terms of dragon hunting, but I warn you right now. This dragon is different. Smarter, more powerful than your typical one, I bet. Its fire… even among other dragons, isn't comparable. It can torch the whole village, and it got damn near close to. Cunning bastard as well, it can pinpoint where our sheeps are and it can evade our traps. It disappeared from our village a few decades… we assumed it died naturally, but then it returned again earlier this season.”

“When was the last time it attacked? Do you know what kind of dragon it is?”

“No. We’ve never seen a dragon like it before. I'm not sure if it follows under the kingdom's classifications. It's black and white with three pairs of wings! And its tail… sharp like, like…like a scythe, can slice houses in half! Its claws are just as dangerous too. Can breathe fire, of course.”

Three pairs of wings… that means this dragon is considerably old. Dragons gain pairs of wings after their first set through molting, which only occurs every fifty or sixty months following reaching maturity, meaning this dragon was at least a century old. You grimace. Older dragons are always harder to get rid of. Most of the dragons that you encounter only have one pair, on the rare occasion, two. This is the first time you've been assigned a three-paired dragon.

Its colorings are also strange; you've never heard of a black and white dragon specifically. The tail description, however, isn't very uncommon; it could be a signifier that this is an incredibly rare hybrid among dragon species. If it's as powerful as it's said, and if you consider its age, then perhaps they come from one of the Dynasty species… but a descendent of that species hasn't been seen in many years. If this is true, then of course it wouldn't follow under the kingdom's ordinary classifications of dragons. Still, a hybrid? Mating between different species almost never happens. This really was a special case. And its disappearance? You couldn't even fathom why.

“Do you know at least where it lives?”

The village head turns to his right, pointing in that direction. “If you continue that direction, you'll come across a forest. That's where it goes. We don't know where it lives, we've been too scared to try and find out ourselves.”

You sigh. Well, this wasn't much to work with. “Is there anywhere I can stay?” 

“Yes, yes. There's a room above the bar that's just for you. Free of charge, of course. The food as well. Just please… eradicate this beast.” 

“I'll do my best.” 

—

No matter how many forests you go to, you never become fonder of them. Traversing them was always annoying. Too much greenery to walk through, too many streams and rivers to cross, and just too many damn trees. This terrain is especially difficult to find traces of dragons in. It'd be better to make your own traces then scour through the forest to search for them, hence why you're at a stream, catching as much fish as you can with a net. Fish makes for good dragon bait, though you don't intend to use it to trap the dragon. You doubt any trap you could make in the little time you have could kill or harm the dragon, but it will lure the dragon to you.

You pause to take a break, glancing at the pile of fish you've collected. The smell is starting to assault your nostrils. Ugh. 

You hear a crunch behind you, and you turn. Your eyes widen and you pick up your sword, raising them towards the three dragons that surround you. Adrenaline pumps through you as you stand up, observing the creatures. 

All of them only have one-pair of wings, with similar features and size; they’re as large as bear cubs, if you subtract their tail length, and you realize that they're baby dragons, yet to reach maturity. They have, notably, distinct colorings, but they all share the same black and gray coloring. Perhaps they come from the same hatch? The one to your right has red, almost maroon, splotches over their scales. This one is wide eyed, but its features are relaxed as if playful and curious. The one in the middle seems to be the smallest, fearful as if it’s cowering with its dipped head and the tail wrapping around itself protectively; this one has almost a marigold accent to it. The one to the right is teal, and passive, like it doesn't see you in the slightest. 

Baby dragons are hardly as aggressive or destructive as their adult counterparts, but that doesn't mean they can't pose a danger. Still, you don't want to harm them, not when they haven't done anything that would warrant you to.

The red one approaches, deliberately, sniffing towards your direction. You brace your sword, and it trudges up to you, nostrils grazing against your armor before it nudges against your hand. It then walks past you, its focus deadset on the pile of fish behind you. The two other dragons follow in the red one's lead, and you sigh in relief, placing your sword back in its sheathes.

Baby dragons, three of them especially, are a rare sight, as they're often sheltered in their father's den, and they don't venture out until they've fully matured. This being because they're quite vulnerable despite the threat they hold once they've matured. Eliminating them is a part of your duty, however, you never feel right killing creatures that have just hatched. They couldn't be more than ten years old; they still had a few more decades before they could pose a danger. If they're out like this, it's likely they've been abandoned. Mother dragons often leave their young after childbirth, and the fathers are left to take care of them; it could be that the father died recently. 

Whatever the case, you think that they deserve to live a little longer. Plus, they're kind of cute… 

Although, the more you observe them, the more you feel you should prevent the fish supply you spent all day getting from declining. They seem less cute now. You groan as they eat until there's no more fish, and they turn back to you, croaking as if requesting more. 

What are you, their mother? Your eye twitches in vexation. 

You spend your evening fishing for baby dragons at the river. Un-fucking-believable. Weren't you wonderful at your job? 

You decide to leave the dragons at the river bank as you search for wood to make a campfire. To your slight annoyance and amusement, the young dragons trail behind you. You get random twigs and branches that scatter the forest floor. One of the dragons, the yellow one, picks up a branch in their mouth, before offering it to you. 

Damn it, why did you have to be a dragon hunter? You take the stick in your hand, hesitantly petting the top of its head. This is something you’ve never done before, but you wouldn't mind doing it again. It leans into your hand. You don't deserve this treatment, you hunt their kind. Oh, how you wish you could tell them what you'd have to do once they grow up. Why did you have to be a dragon hunter? You're holding back tears as you continue the petting action. 

Its other siblings, unbeknownst to your existential crisis, follow its behavior, and you've turned the baby dragons into your personal campfire wood carriers. You think dragon trainor fits you better than a dragon hunter at this point, but that profession doesn't grant an affordable life. 

Seating yourself on a tree stump, you build your campfire and light it. You use it to cook a fish over, while you try to fend off said trout from being eaten by the dragons. By the time it's done cooking, the little creatures are exhausated, curling against you as the three fall asleep against your legs and back. You don't want to admit it, but it's a comfortable weight against you. You didn't even know that dragons snore until now.

Peace at last, you think, finally able to eat your fish alone. 

Too soon, too soon. You hear it before you see it, the whipping of winds that you can only associate with the beating of dragon wings as it flies. The sound grows louder, meaning it's heading straight towards you. You stand up, unsheathing your sword and bracing yourself for an assault. Shit, shit, shit, you're not prepared to fight in this territory whatsoever. What was it attracted to? The campfire? The smell of your fish? Or perhaps… you glance at the still sleeping creatures. 

You don't have much time to ponder as the ground shakes when the beast lands in front of you, right on top of the river, its gargantuan form making you tremble. An earth shattering roar escapes its throat, nearly making you tumble back from the sheer force, and your ears ring painfully. 

You've never seen a larger dragon before. You count the pair of wings through squinted eyes. One, two, three. This is the dragon you've been hired to hunt? 

The hand holding your sword doesn't stop shaking, no matter how much you try to control your muscles. The adult dragon nears, and your heart rate pounds louder and louder with each footstep. Black and white colorings? Check. Sharp tail? Check. You know you have to fight it, but how could you possibly? It dwarfs you in every single way possible. 

It swipes its tail at you, and you duck as fast as possible, just barely missing being sliced in half like the trees behind you. Its tail retracts to lunge at you again, and you block the sharp end with your sword, though it just swats you away easily, throwing you across the bank of the river. You land on the gravel with a pained groan, and you scramble to get up, facing the dragon. 

Piercing red-crossed eyes gaze back at you, and you no longer feel like the hunter. Instead, you feel like the prey, and every fiber of your being is telling you to run. You wield your sword again resolutely. If you die, then you die, but you'll die knowing you tried. The dragon tilts its head back, preparing its fiery breath, and you ready your wrist shield. 

Suddenly, a familiar croak comes from behind the adult dragon, and you see the baby dragons rush into the adult dragon, headbutting its feet. The dragon snaps its head back into its normal position, gazing down at the small dragons at its feet. You're afraid that the larger dragon will crush them, but instead it growls. The young ones chirp back, communicating with it. 

You stand there, bewildered, the pieces coming together in your mind quickly. Is the black and white dragon their father? Are they trying to save you? The tension in your shoulders relaxes the slightest bit. The father dragon whips its head back to you, and you freeze, paralyzed under its predatory gaze. Too swiftly does its tail shoot towards you, but instead of impaling you as you prepared, it merely wraps around your midsection, lifting you effortlessly. You drop your sword out of pure shock from being in mid air, and it brings you face to face with the dragon. 

The dragon snarls, baring its teeth, and you think it's the end once you see its pearly whites. Instead, however, it sniffs you, before pausing, observing you more. You're holding your breath, wondering when you will meet your fate. It opens its mouth wide, displaying a row of teeth in its oral cavern. You squeeze your eyes shut but all you feel is something warm, wet, and slimey. A tongue drags across your face, and you cringe, immediately bringing your hands to wipe away the thick saliva. The tail around you loosens, and you fall on your back, grunting from the impact of hitting the floor. 

Okay. Well, you're alive at least, you think, once you get the liquid out of your eyes but it is unfortunately in your hair. If it hasn't killed you yet, then it must mean that it likes you? 

You open your eyes, and see that the dragon lays in front of you, its snout just a feet away from you. Each huff from the dragon blows your hair back with hot air, but you don't mind it. The smaller dragons prance by your side, chirping and croaking with a high-pitched tone. Bemused but just grateful that you've yet met your end, you pet their heads. By the growl from the father, they approve of your action, and your heart melts. You reach out to pet the snout of the larger dragon, and it closes its eyes, further nudging against you before a grumbly purr escapes its throat.

Seems like you've just been forcibly adopted by a family of dragons. You don't think you'll complain that much. 

[justaz]

arthur has always been suspicious of the tavern excuse for merlin’s absences, but he has no proof on the contrary and when confronted merlin either tells him outlandish tales of near death experiences that have no chance of being remotely truthful or he admits to and apologizes for slacking on his duties to get drunk. one day, he decides enough is enough and he and all the knights go to the tavern with merlin and arthur casually brings up merlin’s history in the tavern and says he could probably beat gwaine in a drinking contest. merlin tries to divert the discussion away from the idea but arthur is determined. they receive a round of drinks and arthur pushes a pint of ale into merlin’s hands with a look of challenge. merlin’s options are to either commit to the lie to hide his secret or admit to the lie and risk exposing his magic. he takes the former. merlin gives lancelot a Look and then slams back the pint of ale with a minor bit of gagging and pauses to breath. gwaine already finished his pint thirty seconds ago but its entertaining to watch merlin so he doesn’t say anything.

merlin (built like a twig, rarely drinks, lightweight) is proper sloshed. arthur is almost vindicated but he needs merlin to admit it. he orders two more pints and gives one to gwaine and the second to merlin, instigating the competition further despite the fact that gwaine won already. merlin grimaces and tries to do the same thing again but only gets a few gulps in before he folds. he slams the mug down and gives arthur a kicked puppy look before admitting and apologizing for lying. arthur is Vindicated. merlin is still wasted.

the nights wears on and merlin feels the effect of the ale more and more every minute that passes. he sits between arthur and lancelot and feels almost unbearably warm but that could be bc of the alcohol in his system, or the crowded tavern. merlin looks around and watches the people that pass their table by while the knights talk and joke and laugh amongst themselves. merlin feels relaxed and excitable now, his worries seem to have melted away and he cant seem to remember why he was always so stressed and worn down before. he sees a game of [insert game here] (i was gonna say darts but google says that game hasn’t been invented in canon time so ill leave it up to interpretation) going on and climbs over lancelot to join in.

the knights watch with amusement and anticipate merlin’s clumsy attempts at [whatever]. oddly enough tho, merlin is a fucking god at [game]. a small crowd gathers and betting pools form and then challengers approach and put money on the line to go against merlin and merlin absolutely demolishes them all. honestly if arthur didn’t know any better, he’d think merlin was using magic to win bc there was no way his bumbling fool of a servant was that good at…anything.

the challengers take their defeat with honor and grace. the audience is a huge fan of merlin and they keep buying him drinks but he just sends them to the table for the other’s to drink. many people come up to him and flirt, maybe motivated by all the money he won that night or maybe just bc he’s merlin, and when merlin responds to them he’s………..he’s a real good fucking flirt? like could put gwaine to shame and he’s rejecting them???? how can someone come across so flirtatiously while turning down offers to take various beautiful people to bed??

arthur was already itching to intervene when people were flirting with merlin but he seemed to have a handle on it so he let it slide, but then people started touching merlin and arthur’s hand had drifted to his hip where his sword was usually sheathed. however, again, merlin was very skilled at escaping the situations with little to no conflict and he came back to the table with his winnings. the knights cheer for him and order more drinks with his money which merlin is too inebriated to notice and truthfully doesn’t really care about. his eyes are on arthur and if arthur thought watching merlin flirt from afar was bad then having him up close in his personal space, hands brushing against his arms and dark eyelashes fluttering softly against his pale skin, breathing his name into the space between them and licking his full pink lips was absolute torture and the worst and best agony he couldn’t even dream up.

[sensei-venus]

S1 Robby Keene Liking A Good Girl

(Unedied) (Honestly kinda tame for S1 Robby, Drugs mentioned, Weed Smoking, Drug Dealing, Reader had mentioned anxiety??) ( @gemini-sensei )

😈💕He’s kind shy at first when he realizes he may have a crush on the new girl at school. He sees her in the hallways, in class, at lunch, in the parking lot. He sees her everywhere. It doesn’t help that she is a “good girl” in his book. She’s not rich or stuck up, she’s just too nice in his opinion and doesn’t do anything that he would consider bad. To him he had no chance with her, he definitely didn’t fit in her kind of world.

😈💕It wasn’t until he found out that she had anxiety super bad that his views on her started to change. It was weird how all of it started.

“I uh heard you might have some weed?” She was a little nervous as she corned him in the parking lot outside the school. The bell rang over a hour ago and his friends ditched him not long after. She had come out of no where, clenching the arm of her backpack. He raised a brow at her appearance.

“I have my card if that makes this better, I just don’t have enough money this month to go the dispensary. My insurance won’t cover the amount I need- I kinda wasted half of mine if accident. You don’t want to know.” She nervously giggled. It wasn’t like Robby was going to question her on it. Honestly he didn’t really care either. He looked for the nicest bag he had on him, and secretly he may have given her more then he said. She dished out a good few bucks before wondering off. Robby was quick to count it and noticed that she had given him WAY more then was needed. Before he could even say something she was already gone. He pocketed the extra and tried to not think about it.

😈💕It started to get harder for him to pretend his little daydream crush wasn’t starting to get bigger as the days went on. He started to see her more and more in and out of school. She would give him small waves and smiles, which he gave back in smirks and grins. He hoped he didn’t look like to much of a asshole. But with his friends watching be and to keep his guard up. The boys where already getting supsious of his feelings.

😈💕He really didn’t think she would come back to him for more weed after that month. But she did, asking for the same amount every time. She simply told him that it was cheaper to get it from him then the dispensary. He didn’t know if that was true but he didn’t care. As long as he got to spend a few minutes with her every now and then. She quickly started to warm up to him, no longer acting as nervous or scared around him. Smiling more and even cracking a few jokes which he admitted made him smile. She was just so cute that he couldn’t help it.

😈💕One day he just couldn’t take it anymore and asked her if she wanted to go smoke with him. At first she was little embarrassed but happily accepted his offer. He had no intention of taking her to the little hideout where the other guys liked to smoke. So he decided to take her to his place. His mom had been gone for weeks and even if she did find them in the apartment smoking, she couldn’t say much. Her drinking and pills where enough to throw back her way to get out of a little weed smoking. It was a Saturday when she came over. He tried his best to get the place cleaned up, made sure the light bill was actually paid that month. Showing up at his door with a bag full of junk food and a small giggle on her lips.

😈💕They spent the rest of the day on the couch smoking and watching tv. It was nice, it was nothing like when he smoked with the guys. They where always high and taking shit about anything they could think of. There was no peace and quiet which is what he liked. Just getting high and chilling out for a few hours. Reader seemed to like the same thing as she just sat quietly next to him. Only occasionally laughing and giggling at what they where watching. They both seemed to like watching cartoons while high. The pretty colors and high pitch voices making them laugh.

😈💕It started to grow late but Reader didn’t seem to care. She offered to order a pizza which Robby had no issue with. They ended up eating and smoking more while watching a late night show together. That was when things started to change in the vibe that was going on between them that night.

😈💕 “You ever shotgun before?” It was a smile question. She asked while looking over at him on the couch. Robby didn’t know what to say, he knew what it was but had never actually tried it. She slowly shook his head. Reader giggled saying “Well do you want to try it? You can say no if your don’t want to.” He raised a brow before thinking it over in his head. He could at least give to a try, and he would be doing it with Reader of all people. The girl he had a huge ass crush on. With a small nod Reader smiles and takes a nice drag of the blunt she was smoking. Soon enough her soft hands are cradling his cheeks as she leans over to him. Their lips meet in a soft kiss, her tongue prodding at his bottom lip trying to get him to open up. With just a small amount of energy he finally does. She gently blows a long stream of smoke into his mouth. He can’t help but moan a little as he takes it into his lungs.

😈💕A few seconds later the kiss gets hotter and hotter. He’s grabbing at her soft thighs and belly though her shirt. Her hands move, one cradling his neck and the other on his back. Her fingers dig into the flesh of his shirt covers back. He rolls his shoulders as his tongue works along side hers. Smoke escaping though their lips. He can’t tell who is being louder with their moans. As the minutes pass by he can tell this isn’t the high that’s making them like this so much. Reader is fully invested in this kiss. Robby smirks into the kiss as he starts to realize this must have been her little plan. Offering to help teach him how to shotgun. God she was so smart.

😈💕The rest of the night is spent kissing and cuddling on the couch together. Robby doesn’t even care anymore about school or his friends. If messing with the chubby good girl was so wrong, so be it.

[thedeerman]

Spam blogs in the Hazbin tags

I posted about this once before and it seemed a bunch of people had gotten similar messages, so I'm compiling a list of the AI art scam blogs that I’ve come across so far. (Details below- Full list at the bottom of the post)

So the scam goes like this: The blog follows you. Shortly after, (sometimes a few minutes, sometimes a few days) they will send you a generic greeting, ask how you're doing, etc. They'll sometimes ask about favorite characters and OCs as well. They then ask if you'd like to see some of their art (which is generally AI made), and afterwards will offer to make you something. Whether they actually deliver on this 'art' or not I have no clue, but when you tell them you don't want a $40 commission, they start asking things like "Why? Is it the money? When do you get paid next?"

It goes the same every time and there are several repeated names in the blog urls. Whoever this is is very bad at scamming, however, and I honestly originally thought they were a bot. Either way, looks like they don't like lizards...

(RUDE)

Anyway, these blogs are extremely easy to pick out once you've seen them, they're practically all the same. They'll all be very recently made and have no content other than 5-20ish reblogs from Hazbin and Helluva tags. They also sometimes post AI art with big 'PREVIEW' bars across it and these blogs then share and compliment each other's AI art (seriously, how do they find the time??)

If this has happened to you and they aren't on here, please feel free to reblog with the url or send me a message (I'll add the blog to the main list once I take a look and make sure it's not just someone being a jerk and handing over a real person's url)

And whoever you are that’s doing this, please do us all a favor. GET A LIFE AND STOP TRYING TO SELL AI IMAGES GO TAKE SOME TIME TO PRACTICE ACTUAL ART INSTEAD OF WASTING YOUR LIFE BEING A JERK

scuse my rudeness there, anyway:

The List

Loonaartist

Nyraozzy

Jacksonharper90

Avadaisy

Danijohnsworld

Miraxmichael98

Harrison2020

Daisythomasworld

Oliviasaysblog

Dannyarts01

Mia-artss

Lourasarts

Eliastonny

Kimberleyk

Innercherryblossomvoid

Spookyyouthtriumph

Cameron198

Lunajames251000

Quinnart78612

Melinack

calantheee

Please, if you get messages from these blogs, report them as spam!!

[babbymochiiii]

💋 VALENTINES WITH JAEHYUN

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ established relationship! jaehyun x reader

decided to do a little something something for jaehyun’s b-day and for valentines all at once 😚

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves and Happy Jaehyun Day!! 💖

divider credit @missroki 💌

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ JAEHYUN

this could honestly go both ways; either you celebrate both valentines and his birthday in one day or you choose to celebrate Valentine and his birthday separate depending how busy his schedule is

jaehyun always makes sure to ask you to be valentines the moment it’s Feb. 1, only once did it slip his mind…he learned his lesson there when you were about to sell him on Twitter 💀

for his birthday I feel like he would try not to make it a big deal but at the same time does just because he knows what some of the plans will be since he always ends up having last minute scheduling and wants to down his as much time as he can with you before said schedule

rarely do you guys have to reschedule things…but SM can be a pain in the ass so you guys always gotta make room for everything

honestly for moments where you do have to reschedule, he just brings you along with him. man don’t care about the public cause at this point SM is literally asking for it 💆🏻

everyday leading up to v-day he writes you hand written notes about the things he loves about you 💌

let’s be honest here…Jae is a BIG romantic fellow when he wants to be. like yeah he’s all shy and flustered about it but it’s what makes you love him and it makes you wanna squish him for how cute he’s being

i see his ears turning red the whole time just because he’s that shy about it :( such a cutie

the sex; oh my gods it’s intimate and passionate as fuck!!! literally what you both will be waiting for by the end of the day (if y’all can even make it to the end of the day)

jaehyun would seriously buy you sexy pieces of clothing just to end up ripping it off of you 🤪

“I’ll buy you new one baby don’t worry.”

literally would tell you this just so you’re not worrying about the fact that he “wasted” his money like that (man could care less because he’s pleasing both of y’all)

Okay but the after care???? honestly one of the best things he ever does for you 😩🫶🏼

Always getting you water, making sure you’re okay, giving you a well needed shower cause babes y’all were nasty nasty that night WHEW 😜

“You did so good for me baby.”

like UGHHHHHHH man makes me feral honestly

if you’re feeling up for it, he would carry you to the living room and make y’all food 🥹

you would protest that this was supposed to be his day and you would be the one doing everything for him but he would always brush you off and tell you that he loves taking care of you even if it is his day

get married at this point folks cause I would 😭💍

honestly…he would propose

and I KNOW it will be out of the blue 💀 like you’re just chilling in the living room eating ramen together, watching what’s every playing on the tv.

“we should get married.”

YOU WILL LITERALLY CHOKE ON THE NODDLE 😭😭

“W-what!?”

“I mean why not? I don’t think it’s a bad idea..do you?”

the puppy eyes he would give you

literally like this 🥺🙏🏼

how could you say no???

had to make a little post for our Valentine’s boy Jaehyun 🥰

first time I do something like this and I’m honestly thinking of doing more like this cause this was fun 🤭

Lemme know what y’all think! Should I make more posts like this 🤔???

Much love 🖤

— mochi 💌

[creedslove]

DAVE YORK AND YOUR PREGNANCY - HEADCANONS

Dave York x f!reader

A/N: hi besties! I'm glad to see you all coming down to ask box to talk about Dave because honestly, I think the world needs to recognize more of murder daddy and our Dave York apologists™ community needs to grow! Also, I sort of kept this headcanon here in my mind and I've also had a bug craving of female rivalry with our favorite person to hate: Carol, hehehe enjoy 😉

• it's not a secret to anyone the whole reason why Dave married Carol was because she got pregnant in the first place; they didn't love each other that much, but their relationship wasn't all bad, so when she showed up knocked up it was only the logical step to jump into marriage

• and it was already in the early stages of the pregnancy, Dave noticed the task wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would, or more like it, it would be as easy to be around Carol as he thought it would. Quite the opposite, she managed to show her true colors as soon as it finally sank in she was indeed pregnant

• their relationship wasn't the best thing that'd ever happened to either of them, but at least they had an active social life, had a decent sexual life and other stuff going on, things weren't always miserable, but whatever kind of bond that could exist between them was suddenly gone, as she did everything in her power to keep Dave away from her

• first of all, all she would complain was about being nauseous, which is common for pregnant women Dave knew, he wasn't a man cave after all, although it started to annoy the hell outta him the fact she claimed to feel sick at the smell of his perfume, his aftershave, his shampoo, his clothes and eventually himself

• and then, it started with the fact that whenever he put his hands on her, she couldn't even hide his grossed out she was; she simply didn't want to feel him, she didn't want him cooking her food and whenever she had an outburst for gaining weight or looking bigger, she would cry, scream, accuse and pick fights blaming it on him for making her body

• and as the pregnancy progressed, so did this situation, it was so stressful and annoying, the way she would just waste money on things, complaining about cute, heartfelt presents she got because she said her baby didn't need anything given to them, she also complained about whatever Dave bought, it was never correct: it was either too pink or not pink enough and so on

• by the time their daughter was born, Dave was already exhausted, and even if he loved her with all his heart, it wasn't what he expected from fatherhood, deep down he feared she would be just like her mom one day - sad news, she turned out exactly like Carol

• and Dave carried on his marriage without the same flame, he was disappointed in the person he married, and when his second girl came along, the experience wasn't any better, but there wasn't anything he couldn't do about it

• so when Dave got divorced and married you, things were so different, he enjoyed how light and gentle your marriage truly was; he loved the good dynamics you both had; how caring and affectionate you were towards each other, how fun days were without a heavy routine, just doing as you pleased and spending time with each other

• things were so good between the two of you, and as Dave finally learned how to sort of balance the distance from his daughters - you still found him in his office staring at pictures of them as toddlers during special holidays at the same time he sighed whenever he tried calling or texting them and was completely ignored it just replied with dry, annoyed texts, was when you found out you were pregnant

• Dave was a mix of feelings, he knew it was a possibility, after all you two weren't so careful with preventing it, but he couldn't help feeling his heart drop, just to imagine he would lose that close side of your relationship because of his experiences as a father and he was so scared about resenting his baby over it, as much as he tried reminding himself he wasn't like his mother at all

• so when you came to him and told about your suspicions, he was supportive, but you could tell he was holding himself back, and knowing about his marriage background and the real drama he often went on with Molly and Alice, you could have a good picture of how complicated things were

• so he drove you to the drugstore, he bought tests next to you and he waited by your side until you got the results - positive, of course - the next day, he drove you to the clinic and waited as you went through every single exam that could attest if you were indeed expecting

• and as much as he held you, kissed you and showed happiness, you still saw something was off, deep in down, Dave's biggest fear was that he was going to lose you to the baby, because Carol wasn't a great partner but whatever he had with her, was gone, and he couldn't face the same happening between the two of you

• you then, gave him some time and space, knowing he had a mission coming in the next few days, you really thought of asking him not to go, but you knew you couldn't actually do it, so you just wished him a nice and safe trip and reminded him how much you loved him

• and once Dave came back was when he realized that perhaps things weren't going to be lost between the two of you, because yeah, he called every single day to check up on you and the baby, and he knew you'd started your nausea/hunger/sleepy phase so he figured once he got home, you would star drifting apart from him

• but much to his surprise, you didn't, quite the opposite: you practically jumped on him, because you wanted to hug and hold Dave in your arms, you wanted to feel his warmth and weight, and god, his scent simply drove you insane with desire and satisfaction

• you complimented his cologne, his shampoo, the scent of his clothes, soap, you name it... you just loved everything and you loved burying your face into his neck and sniffing him

• his pancakes were also to die for: it didn't matter if he made them sweet or tried different salty recipes, if it was breakfast or just breakfast for dinner, you loved spending time with him and appreciating his food, and you also thanked him for adding fruits and many other healthy things into your diet

• your sex life also improved, with differences of course, mostly, Dave wouldn't be so rough, he was more romantic and soft towards you and there was no stress: you wanted him as much as he wanted you, the hormones, the passion, the romance was all in synch and even if you eventually got a little insecure about your body changes, there weren't cries, arguments, all it took the two of you was just some reassurance from Dave's side, the way he would sometimes hold you in front of a mirror and grab your lotion and spread all over your skin, or how he would nuzzled your neck and whisper into your ear how sexy you were becoming or even when he would bury himself between your thighs until you couldn't handle it anymore, was enough to settle things

• over the course of your pregnancy, Dave realized your bond was stronger than never, because you two were very much in love, you were expecting a child Dave already loved so much without the fear of this baby growing into an obnoxious child like it happened before

• the fact he was going to have a little boy after two girls was also pretty exciting for him, as he figured it would be somehow easier and he kind of had hopes to fix his own traumas by being a kind father to a boy, knowing what a boy needed as growing up

• he loved how happy and careful you were with everything you got as a gift for the baby: baby shoes, clothes, onesies, you were so thankful for people's kindness to gift your baby, never trash-talking anything you got and also thanking Dave for the gifts

• he realized you were both more united, not working against each other with a baby in the middle, but instead, working together in order to raise that precious little thing you two loved so much and it showed him a real meaning of family to him

• you two were meant to be, your baby was loved by the two of you with all your hearts and you couldn't want another life, things were good and the Yorks were finally happy the way they deserved to be ❤️

____

[illubean]

Can i ask for grocery shopping with chrollo lucilfer??? Like it would be so cute just being domestic with him (>w<

Shopping W/ Chrollo

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

just set up my pc after moving but im still a lil busy this week so >.<

Warnings: None

when it comes to shopping, Chrollo is a man on a mission

he knows exactly what he wants, where to find it and how to get to it

this man wastes ZERO time

its probably best for you to just wander off because keeping up with him isn't easy when he knows the store like the back of his hand

will 100% notice and stop you if you try sneaking something not on his shopping list into the cart

he also hits you with the "do you have ___ money?" or "we have ___ at home"

but sometimes he will indulge you and let you pick out some extra sweets/snacks

your house is full of off brand stuff, he refuses to pay more money for a name when the knock off is just as good

"Why would I buy that when this one is the same thing but a dollar cheaper?" he also brings his own reusable shopping bags because again "Why would I pay 10 cents a bag every time when I can just bring my own?"

the coupon and bargaining MASTER

every time you go to the grocery store this guy pulls out this giant book of coupons he's been clipping from the mail

his favorite thing to do is go haggle at flea markets, swap meets and farmers markets

and he always WINS

its honestly really impressive...

"This man was selling peaches for $15 a bag but I managed to get one for $3!" and he has the proudest look on his face

like yes, you saved money but also you kind of feel bad for the farmer...

so overall he's really cost efficient and straight to the point with his shopping... if you want to just go window shopping or browsing its best to ask someone else.....

[wttcsms]

excerpts;

i have over 100k+ words in unfinished drafts/wips in my google docs. yikes.

in an attempt to gauge general interest + also to motivate myself in attempting to at least finish half of the projects i've started, i'm going to share some of the fics i think y'all will be most interested in 🤍 (and also because these are my usual first rough draft attempts, so these are just the best of the worst LOL)

as always, lmk what you think, what you're most excited for, and i'm always open to chatting about any of my concepts in depth 🤭

featuring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, sae itoshi, tobio kageyama, naoya zenin, satoru gojo, + a plot that's still open for any character so tell me why ur fave deserves it (all with fem reader)

— brace for impact, keiji akaashi elevator pitch: rich college girl with daddy issues is roommates/put under the care of old-time family friend, 20-something y/o keiji akaashi

“I just don’t want you to waste your life away.” He answers, which is the truth. He really hates picking you up when you’re drunk off your ass, unable to defend yourself against the swarms of sleazy college guys that are attending the same party as you. He hates the fact that you’ve been raised — if the dozen father-daughter interactions you had with your dad counts as him “raising” you — to believe that money can solve all your problems. Because, sure, having money has gotten you out of many tight spots, but it wasn’t money that drove to a college on the other side of the city to pick you up, it was him. He has to stand here and watch you push the universe’s boundaries, trying to test your luck, to see if there’s a problem or a bad situation that you can’t get out of this time. You’re reckless and privileged and insecure and rich — the deadliest combination for any college age girl to be. You’re going to ruin your life before it even fully begins. It’s like your default mode is self destruction. 

“Not this speech again.” You sigh, shifting your body so that your knees are turned towards the door instead of him. “Y’know, Akaashi, you’re not my dad.” 

“Yeah, because unlike him, I actually care about you.”

You’re silent now, still staring out the window. He’s usually better at keeping his mouth shut, but it’s hard to do whenever you’re constantly pushing and pushing and testing his patience and he’s just so—

“—sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how the words leave his mouth; you think the way he’s clenching his teeth acts as a formidable enough boundary. 

Actually, you think, it’s entirely justifiable. You’re coy, not dumb. You know when you’ve pushed Akaashi too far, and this is one of those times. And, really, you kind of — scratch that — you do deserve it. All of it. And then some. You’re irresponsible, and you drag him out to the other side of the city so he can act as your guardian, your protector, even though that is most certainly not the role he planned on playing. Honestly, you’re just surprised that he hasn’t left you out to rot like everyone else, and you’re thankful, you really are. But what are you supposed to say? That? The truth? Probably. 

You don’t, though. You just mutter some weak ass retort that sounds an awful lot like “you need to get laid” before staring out the window for the rest of the ride. 

— devil on my shoulder tellin' me i'll die soon (i don't really want that to impact you), atsumu miya elevator pitch: yakuza au but a healthy amount of porn and plot. sequel to this.

The first time Osamu Miya meets you, you’re unconscious, and he has a feeling you’d be grateful about this fact considering the state you’re in. 

Atsumu’s carrying you bridal style, and even in your sleep, you still cling to him. The sight would be almost sweet, but Osamu’s not an idiot. There can never be anything sweet in his dear older brother’s life. Even in the pale moonlight, Osamu can see the bruises and hickeys lining your neck, a trail of them that seem to disappear underneath your clothes (he wouldn’t be shocked if there’s a map of hickeys littering your skin). Your hair is sticking up at odd angles, your lips are swollen, and you are knocked out in every sense of the word. 

If the situation wasn’t serious (even without verbal confirmation, he’s well aware of how dire this situation is right now; Atsumu wouldn’t have visited him if it weren’t), Osamu thinks he would have made a comment about his brother’s rough handling. 

(He doesn’t, though, because Osamu knows all about just how rough his brother can get — after all, they both had the same upbringing.) 

“‘Samu,” Atsumu says, and his voice makes him sound like he’s worse for wear. He sounds like when he was fourteen and had his first taste of initiation, when a group of the strongest men would beat him relentlessly for thirty seconds and he wasn’t allowed to fight back. The crack in his voice is subtle, and even though Osamu rarely speaks to his brother anymore, he’s still a master at reading him. 

“Who’s the girl?” Osamu nods to your sleeping form, trying not to focus on the purple and red marks. God, he can’t tell if he, Atsumu, you, or all three of you are lucky it’s so dark. Osamu can’t really believe it’s possible to go out in public after a night with his brother; not without being on the receiving end of a few concerned looks. 

“I need a favor.” Atsumu ignores his question, which is typical behavior for him, so Osamu’s not entirely too surprised or annoyed. “She’s in danger, and it’s—” 

Atsumu grimaces like the next words he’s about to say are going to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. And maybe it’s because that’s his brother and they grew up together, or maybe it’s because ‘Tsumu’s always been a little predictable (or has Osamu just always been good at predicting?), but Osamu can almost mouth what his brother’s about to say.

“—my fault.” 

So, you must be someone awfully important to his brother then. Important enough that Atsumu would finally visit him in person after all these years (with barely any warning beforehand, too). Important enough that Atsumu would treat you so roughly (if the marks on your body are any indication of what you’ve been through) and still care about you so deeply. Important enough that he’s finally taking accountability, finally taking the blame for his actions.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Atsumu’s left him genuinely speechless for a moment. 

“Please, ‘Samu.” Atsumu Miya is not the type of person who breaks down easily. He does not beg, he commands. But right now, Atsumu sounds like he’s this close to getting down on his knees and clasping his hands together if that’s what it’ll take to get Osamu to help him. “You told me you would owe me after what I did for you. Consider this your repayment.” 

Apparently, you’re someone so important to Atsumu, he’s cashing in a favor that’s worth his life just to ensure your safety. Osamu can’t tell if that’s true idiocy or true love — then again, there’s hardly a difference between the two, is there? 

“Idiot. I would have helped ya regardless, y’know.” He means it. Every word. 

“I know.” And Atsumu means it, too. Because even if they’ve went years with little to no contact, even though they both belong to two completely different worlds, they’re still brothers. Which means that they also know each other as well as they know themselves, and Atsumu knows that Osamu can never truly be at peace until he feels like the completely imaginary debt he owes is paid back in full. 

The universe must have a taste for irony, though, because Atsumu thought that ensuring your safety and bringing his brother peace would make him feel good. Instead, transferring you to his brother’s arms allows the weight of the world to rest more comfortably on his shoulders. 

Osamu takes one last look at his older brother, and he’s not entirely surprised to see that his attention is on you, dark eyes staring so intensely at your sleeping figure, he wonders if he’s trying to commit your face to his memory. He’s worried about Atsumu. Sure, he’s got a whole entire gang on his side, a rather powerful one too, but ‘Tsumu’s never been the greatest at being left alone to his devices, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

But then Atsumu looks up at him, and Osamu feels like they’re both fourteen again. Trapped, vulnerable, in immense pain… But not alone, never alone. 

“Thanks, ‘Samu.” 

“Any time, ‘Tsumu.” 

(It’s the same words exchanged by their teenage selves years ago, whenever Osamu would help him clean his cuts and sloppily stitch him up.

To them, it was another way of saying “I love you”.)

— it always leads to you [chapter one], sae itoshi elevator pitch: literally the long ass, long awaited start to this series. if you listened to taylor's new album (ttpd)... yeah, that's basically the new soundtrack for this fic. do what u will with that info <3

A hard pill to swallow is that people never get over their first loves. 

It’s like, scientifically proven, or something. There’s been studies, you think. Not to mention that you belong to the group of people who have never gotten over their first loves. 

You’re aware that it’s probably embarrassing and should be something that brings you shame, but when Sae comes knocking on your door, infrequent, surprise visits that always catch you off-guard, you find yourself opening the door for him. 

(He has a key. He can let himself in any time he wants. You think he must forget.)

This time, he’s not knocking on your door, but he is waiting in the stairwell near the entrance to the floor of your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap on and a dark sweatshirt, and you want to tell him that everyone who lives here is most definitely getting shitfaced at the college bar you just left (the one whose only redeeming qualities are that it’s by campus and the drinks are cheap). He doesn’t have to worry about hiding his identity. 

You frown when he approaches you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you pout and complain about this halfheartedly, but it’s all for nothing. Sae never tells you when he’s coming; it’s almost like you’re just a spur-of-the-moment decision to him, which doesn’t feel right since the Sae you grew up with was always meticulous and purposeful with his actions. Granted, the Sae you grew up with left on a plane to an entirely different continent four years ago, and the one you have standing next to you now sometimes feels more like a doppelganger than your ex-boyfriend. 

He doesn’t answer, because of course he fucking wouldn’t. He waits for you to fumble with your keys; if you knew he was coming, you wouldn’t have let Akane convince you to take as many shots as you did. Now everything is kind of blurry and hazy, and your hands shake despite the lack of coldness you’re feeling. 

You delude yourself into thinking that there’s something of the old Sae left inside of him as he gently pries the keys from your fumbling fingers and unlocks the door to your apartment himself. 

Entering your apartment feels like traveling in a time machine, only instead of traveling back in time or to the future, Sae is entering a present-day parallel universe. This apartment, with its best (and only) amenity being a short distance from campus, could have been his. Could have been shared by the two of you, even. 

If he had stayed, that is.

Sometimes Sae ponders what his life would be like if he stuck around. If he had never had the ego or the audacity to want to see more of the world. You know better than to ask him why he never visits you when you’re on a holiday break from school, and he thinks it’s because you still know him the best out of anybody, even Rin. The truth is, Sae is too uncomfortable to come crawling back to his childhood home that he grew up in, the one he’s spent years determined to grow out of. He only comes back home when absolutely necessary — out of eldest son/family obligation. 

This college apartment, seeing remnants of a life you’re living that he doesn’t know much about (even though all he has to do is ask, and you would gladly tell), feels wrongly nostalgic. Like, the sweatshirt lying haphazardly on the couch displaying a big, fat Tokyo U logo on its front could have been his instead of your roommate’s. He could have played college ball instead of trying to get recruited directly to the big leagues. Sae’s good enough to get a scholarship. Even received a letter informing him that Tokyo U would be more than glad to have him, full-ride. 

(The letter resides in the back of his closet, crumpled up but never forgotten.) 

And, most importantly, you wouldn’t be looking at him like this. 

Even drunk off of cheap alcohol, you sober up startlingly fast when you see him. You shouldn’t give him so much power over your life, but he’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t relish in the overwhelming relief that you still love him just the same. Nothing ever changes back home, and he says this with disdain, but when it comes to your unshifting affection for him, he figures staying the same can’t be all bad.

“Y’know, it always feels like you’re judging me when you just stand there and look at everything.” An intoxicated you is an honest you. If he wasn’t so determined to mask everything about himself, he would have smiled at your admittance. 

He doesn’t smile, though. He just continues to let his cold eyes roam across the entirety of your cramped, college apartment.

— an indentation in the shape of you, tobio kageyama elevator pitch: idol!reader who goes into hiding after a major scandal despite being the victim x pro!tobio who's been hopelessly pining after you since forever. now you're in hiding, but also living in the apartment right across from his.

SEARCH NEWS: [NAME] [SURNAME] > TOP RESULTS (SORTED FROM MOST TO LEAST RECENT)

WHERE DID [NAME] [SURNAME] GO? *INCLUDES EXCLUSIVE PHOTO OF HER MOST RECENT SIGHTING!*Posted on March 10, 2019

[NAME]’S SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN DOWN, IDOL HAS NOT BEEN SPOTTED IN A WEEK Posted on January 4, 2019   BREAKING: [NAME] [SURNAME] GOES SOLO! LEAVES IDOL GROUP TO START HER OWN CAREER! Posted November 6, 2018

KENTARO TANAKA NOW DATING J-POP IDOL AYAME MATSUMOTO, [NAME]’S FELLOW GIRL GROUP MEMBER!Posted on November 1, 2018

AFTER RECEIVING BACKLASH FROM ANNOUNCEMENT OF HER RELATIONSHIP, [NAME] [SURNAME] ISSUES AN APOLOGY ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS Posted on September 3, 2018

NEW COUPLE ALERT! IDOL [NAME] AND HER RECORD LABEL’S EXECUTIVE, KENTARO TANAKA, SPARK DATING RUMORS Posted on August 16, 2018

When you spend most of your adolescent and young adult years standing in front of a camera, constantly served on a platter for the masses to scrutinize during your most formative years, you get used to being seen. People’s eyes locked in on you isn’t a comfortable feeling, but it’s one you’re very well acquainted with. Watchful, judging gazes cling to you like a second skin. 

It comes with the job is what your personal manager, Fumiko Gima, tells you, right before she tells you to toughen up. You had been fifteen at the time and saw a blogger discussing how you were the least attractive cast member on the children’s ensemble show you starred in. 

All eyes are on you from this point forward. You really going to let them see you cry? Fumiko is not a nice person, but she is incredibly kind, in her own way. She’s the type of person who believes in tough love, all while claiming that she doesn’t even think love exists. 

You think about the disapproving frown on her face when you revealed your relationship with Kentaro Tanaka. 

“You think you’re in love with him?” Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Fumiko is barely seven years older than you. Her youth is evident in her flawless skin and shiny hair (both of which are maintained by very meticulous routines), but the flat expression she wears on her face makes her seem like a woman who found out the hard way that her thirties are not going the way she planned. You’re eighteen when she asks you this question, and you don’t know how a twenty-five year old woman can have such an intimidating aura, but you think that only adds to her beauty. 

“He told me he loves me.” 

“People like him and I don’t believe in love.” Fumiko makes a face; sometimes, she lets her poker face drop in favor of making a face of disgust, annoyance, irritation, or extreme smugness. Right now, she looks disgusted. “Well, I wouldn’t normally place myself in the same group as him, but our industries are pretty much the same. You don’t get to where we’re at because of love, that’s for damn certain.” 

At this point in time, you’re adamant that it’s love because that’s what he says it is, and you’ve never been in love before, but you know that it’s something great. You’re eighteen, and insecure, and he’s in such a powerful position — he could have anyone he wants, and he loves you, so he picks you. Maybe Fumiko is just bitter because no one’s ever chosen her. 

— angel of the morning, atsumu miya elevator pitch: historical, ambiguous war au ft. soldier!atsumu x the civilian sweetheart reader who nurses him back to health

It’s the thunder that wakes you first. 

Lately, you’ve been a light sleeper. Paranoia is a good companion whenever you’re a young, pitifully unmarried lady who lives alone. You keep a chair propped under the knob of the front door, and you no longer open any windows, scared that you’ll forget to lock them at night. 

Normally, it’s the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, or the creaks that come and interrupt the silence of the night (your parents used to swear that old houses just make those noises) that keeps you up. Sometimes it’s the neighbors next door; they like to get into screaming matches that seem to be so loud, they shake the walls of your home. 

It’s not your neighbors’ arguing that rattles the walls tonight. It’s the thunderstorm that the sweet old man at the farmer’s market warned you about. You be safe out, miss. Take some extra apples. It might be too flooded for you to go out like you normally do. 

You pull your blanket over your head, enveloping yourself in darkness but doing very little to block out the noise outside. The thunder seems to only grow louder, each boom punctuating the lightning that you’re certain is striking through the sky. It’s too loud. 

And rhythmic. 

You listen closer… Three booms in succession. A pause. Three more booms. After a minute of this pattern, the sound only comes more rapidly — louder than before, too. 

The loud booms — it’s not from the storm, then. 

There’s someone knocking at your door. 

You debate hiding under the blanket forever. Maybe this stranger will go away and leave once they realize that no one is going to answer the door. Besides, no one trustworthy is roaming the area at this time of night, right? What possible explanation could there be for someone to be stranded outside at midnight during a major thunderstorm? 

But the knocking persists. Whoever this stranger is, they don’t know when to quit. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so paralyzed with fear. 

“Open up!” A muffled voice still manages to cut through the front door, traveling all the way to your bedroom. It only serves to make you more afraid; what sort of monster is waiting for you outside? The storm rages on, and the knocking won’t stop. 

What happens if this person is in genuine trouble? Would a murderer truly be going through such lengths to kill someone? A thief? 

Well, you rationalize, it’s not as if you have many items worth stealing. Besides, you have no family, no marriage prospects, and a dwindling stash of money with no means to make more. You’re just existing at this point, and you’re surviving on limited time.

So you make your way to the front door, cringing as one section of the floor creaks as you tiptoe through the darkness of your home. You highly doubt the stranger outside can hear you, but you still hold your breath as you peek through the curtains. It’s too dark inside and out for anyone to notice the movement, and all you can make out is a large figure. There’s a knapsack by their feet and hanging off their shoulder is a gun. 

The knocks shouldn’t catch you off guard by now, but one particular hard bang against the door has you jumping in surprise, away from the window. 

This stranger must be a soldier. 

There’s not a lot of fighting to be done down here. The southern towns have mostly been unaffected. Most of the war is being fought up north. All the southern soldiers write back home, telling stories about the cities they visited, careful not to mention the red that runs through the streets and the way the citizens will have to update the population count on the sign outside their City Hall. 

But still, you know what everyone knows — when a soldier, especially one from your side, shows up on your front step, you better let him know that this home is now his. 

You slide the deadbolt with shaky hands, turn the lock on the doorknob, and only hesitate for a few seconds before removing the chair that serves as your last barrier. He’s a soldier, you remind yourself, hoping that you’re not wrong. The least you can do for him is offer him a hot bath for leaving him outside for so long. 

You open the door, revealing a blond-haired soldier weighed down from the weight of his sopping wet uniform, his hair sticking to his forehead because his face is also covered in rainwater, and it’s now that you notice that he’s got one arm wrapped around his abdomen. His hand is pressing down on his side, and you don’t think the dark liquid coating his fingers is water. 

“Finally.” He says. “I’m First Lieutenant Miya, and I fight for the south. I am seeking temporary refuge in your home, and I require only what you can afford to give me. I–“ Before he can finish rattling off what he’s been forced to memorize for times like these, First Lieutenant Miya falls forward, his body crashing into yours. 

It’s been a rough day. 

A rough week. 

A rough month.

A rough life, really, but Atsumu Miya’s long past the days of whining and complaining about things he can’t control. For example, he no longer dwells on his father abandoning his mother right before she gave birth to him and Osamu. There’s still a bitter taste that gets left on his tongue when he mentions dear old pa, which is why, for the most part, he chooses not to discuss him at all. He can’t control the way the north and the south view each other; sure, the mandatory draft isn’t his definition of a fun time, but he honestly didn’t have many plans after school, anyway. He probably would’ve joined the cause, regardless of the law or not. It’s just… A choice is nice to have, y’know? 

Like, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have gotten caught up in some ambush tonight. If only he weren’t just a lieutenant. If only his captain weren’t such a dumbass.

If he had a group to command, Atsumu’s certain that he wouldn’t lead his men into obvious traps, unlike some captains. But newly promoted Brigadier General Kita isn’t here to force people to listen to what Atsumu has to say. Kita has bigger problems to worry about, bigger troops to organize. 

Atsumu’s morning starts off bright and early with a five mile trek in the woods. The sky is overcast, and anyone with eyes is capable of predicting the storm that’s coming. Atsumu suggests building temporary shelter before the rain makes it too hard to walk; it’s already hard enough to navigate now, but Atsumu’s visited this town before, when he was a little boy. It floods easily, too easily. 

His captain doesn’t listen. Typical.

Around noon, they take a short break to eat. Rations are getting lower. Atsumu suggests that two or three soldiers turn around and head towards town to get supplies. His captain argues that their group is already small enough and sneers that Atsumu must be a northie lover since he’s trying so hard to sabotage this plan. 

The plan is shit, by the way. The captain swears his intel is good, that he’s just oh so certain that a troop of northern soldiers are planning to invade a series of small southern towns. They’re supposedly cutting through the woods to be discreet, and they plan on striking at night.

Atsumu thinks that the captain is just falling into their trap (spoiler: he’s right). There’s no way anyone would bother capturing small towns, just like there’s no way people ever want to listen to someone who’s just a lieutenant. Nobody thinks they have anything to offer, so it’s not worth the time to even pretend to care. These towns aren’t loaded with resources. They aren’t located in any coveted areas. There are only a couple of farms, but even then, they’re not big enough to justify wasting troops to terrorize the townspeople. 

But First Lieutenant Miya follows his orders anyway because what else is he supposed to do? Unfortunately, talking back comes to bite him in the ass because as nighttime starts to settle and the first drops of rain start to fall, his captain gives him a slimy smile before telling him, “Since you have such great ideas, Lieutenant, why don’t you go ahead and turn back into town to get us some of those supplies we needed?”

Well, Atsumu has a few choice words in reply, none of which will get him back into his captain’s good graces (not like he cares to be anyway). Atsumu can argue that it’s dark out, and no one in their right mind is going to be up at night. Atsumu can throw back his captain’s words and remind him that their measly team is already lacking in numbers. He can make the captain look dumb and ask him where the supposed enemy troops are at, since apparently they’re supposed to be capturing the town right about now. He can abandon the men, go back home, and enjoy a homecooked meal from ma. She wouldn’t care enough to scold him for being a dirty deserter; the lecture will come, surely, but she wouldn’t be too harsh with him. Atsumu misses home. He misses his brother, who belongs to a different troop. He misses Shinsuke, his former captain. He misses his mom. 

What he does end up doing, though, is biting back his tongue. He barely nods, clenches his teeth as he reluctantly says yes, sir, and treks off on his own. 

He’s about three miles in when the bullets start flying. 

Isn’t this just a lovely way to finish off the night, he thinks, before sprinting through the trees, weaving between them, trying to ignore how loud and how close the shots sound. He thinks he’ll probably go deaf by the time this damn war is over. A bullet narrowly misses his face, and then he starts to think he’ll probably be dead before then.

He can’t see. If he can’t see, he doubts the enemies can, either. That’s when he gets an idea. His legs are sore, he’s thirsty, and every step he takes is punctuated by a sloshing sound because the area is flooding, just like he predicted it would.

(Sometimes it’s a pain being right all the time.)

The shots are still coming at him in rapid succession, and he believes maybe it’s because they still think they have to shoot at him. If they think they got him, maybe they’ll leave him alone. It didn’t sound like anyone was bothering to chase after him, meaning they’re all probably perched in trees or hiding in bushes, shooting blindly into the night, hoping to land a lucky shot on a target. 

Before he can pretend to be hit, though, some bastard does get a lucky shot on him.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but yell out, the bullet piercing the side of his abdomen. A burning sensation begins to form on the spot where the bullet decided to make its happy home, and Atsumu can’t help but fall to the ground, clutching at the bottom half of his body. 

A minute goes by with no more shooting, and he’s glad he’s in enough pain not to realize that had he thought of his little plan of pretending to be shot sooner, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. 

It’d be so easy just to lie down and die. It’d be a slow death, sure. Painful, very much so. But no more fighting. No more captains belittling him. 

But if you die, a tiny voice in his head reminds him, it wouldn’t just be you that dies. It’d kill ma. It would ruin Osamu. Don’t be a selfish bastard. 

He allows himself only one more minute to stay absolutely still. He thinks the adrenaline pumping in his system helps to numb the pain, which is saying a lot, considering the fact that death would be preferable over this excruciating sensation. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he struggles to stand and keep himself steady.

He cannot die like this. 

Atsumu Miya knows better than to get upset at things he can’t control. He can’t control flying bullets aimed at him. He can’t control enemy soldiers; hell, he doesn’t even have soldiers he can control, enemy or ally. He can’t control a lot of shitty things that seem to happen to him, but as long as his heart is still beating, Atsumu Miya controls his own fate. He decides what happens next. 

It’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, he rationalizes. He walks all the time. It’s not such a hard task. The storm continues to rage on, and Atsumu pretends he doesn’t even mind the water. He pretends that he’s not freezing. He pretends that he doesn’t care that his uniform is sticking to his body, making the dirty fabric cling onto him as if to act as a second skin. 

There’s a white flag in his knapsack. During training, they said to use it as a last resort. Die before you wave it, or something like that. 

He knows the intended use for it, but right now, he needs it as a tourniquet. He tightens the flag around his waist, using all his diminishing strength to get it as tight as possible. He can trick himself into thinking it’ll stop the flow of blood leaving his body, but at least it’ll slow it down. It’ll grant him enough time to make it into town and get help. 

He doesn’t choose the first house he sees; he chooses the one he likes the best. It’s nothing all too impressive — certainly not the biggest, but from what he can make out in the dark, it looks quaint. It reminds him of home, almost. There’s a porch with a bench outside and flowers on a window sill. It seems to glow in the darkness of the town, its paint a much brighter shade than the surrounding houses. A nice family must live here then. 

He knocks on the door, and there is no answer. Atsumu Miya did not walk this far with his life literally draining out of him to only make it this far. He knocks and knocks, and because he is too stubborn, even to the very end, he doesn’t quit. Someone must answer the door. It doesn’t cross his mind that perhaps this lovely family he’s envisioning might not even be home. It feels like ages since he first started banging on this door, and he thinks this might be it.

And then the door swings open, revealing a young lady with a certain glow about her. Maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but right now, you look like an absolute angel. His bright beacon of hope. 

“Finally.” He swallows hard, trying to remember what he’s supposed to tell you. The proper words are evading him right now. Honestly, even standing is a struggle now. He thinks he does a good enough job, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open back up after that.

— to the victor belong the spoils, naoya zenin elevator pitch: the dark longfic i mentioned abt borderline yandere naoya + how he basically slaughtered your whole entire clan and is going to force you to marry him because you have a cursed technique that will basically grant him invincibility

“Who did this?” You’ve seen Naoya so angry that his words seemed to shake the very interior of the room he was shouting in. You’ve seen Naoya so furious that he had everyone in his vicinity cowering in fear, scared to face his merciless wrath. Never have you seen him so enraged that he can hardly speak, the sentence coming out from between bared teeth; they’re discernible growls more than they are words, but his message doesn’t need to be understood in order to know his intent. 

Naoya Zenin is out for blood. 

“Tell me who did this.” He demands, hand gripping your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and stare him directly in the eyes. You know why he does this; he can read you like a fucking book. He’ll know if you’re lying before you can even finish whatever fabricated story you’ve spent forever formulating. There’s no point in trying to trick him because it’ll cause him to get angrier, and then what? Then, you’ll have the whole entire room’s blood on your hands. A massacre dedicated just for you. 

You hadn’t cried when he had taken you from your home. You hadn’t cried when you were about to be killed by that curse. You hadn’t shed a single tear despite the unfamiliarity of the Zenin Estate, despite the fact that you were forced into a marriage with a man you did not know, despite the fact that you’ve never been this far from home, suffering silently in feelings of isolation and despair. You hadn’t cried after all of that, yet now you’re sobbing? Now you’re here, struggling to stand on your own, clutching onto the material of his shirt as if he’s your only lifeline, dangerously close to burying your face in his chest and crying your little eyes out. He’s been angry more times than he’s ever felt any other emotion. He’s numb to the feeling of his blood rising, of his vision being tainted with red, of having nothing but sick thoughts and vivid memories of torn flesh and severed limbs surrounding him. This emotion isn’t foreign to him; it’s a part ofhim. And he’s angry, yes, but there’s something else that he feels when he looks down and sees you making yourself smaller, as if trying to use him as your own personal shield.

— balancing act [chapter one], satoru gojo elevator pitch: the first month of your bet will you and gojo inevitably get together <3 the start of this series.

You have what you order down to a T. You first started your tried and true method of restaurant ordering when you were but a wee little intern, too shy to go to town on a rack of ribs in front of your peers and bosses. Once you entered the city’s dating scene (which is actually Dante’s tenth circle of hell — it’s just never discussed because that’s truly how vile trying to find a good man in a big city is), you realized that there’s not much difference between lunch dates and client lunches. 

You have the obligatory greeting exchanges (“hi,” “hello,” “how are you,” etc.), the awkward smiles, the mental countdown going off in your head as you wait for the perfect moment to get right into business (“what do you expect to gain from this partnership?” — a line surprisingly used more often in your meetings with potential investors and clients). There’s the pained professionalism, the tight-lipped smiles, the napkin resting in your lap, the battle to maintain constant eye-contact. When you sit across from someone at a table, date or client, you don’t see the person; you see a goal. 

And you’re good at working towards a goal. It’s why you’ve always been the analyst your managers rely on, why you’ve morphed into the senior associate that all your juniors look up to at G&G Capital, and why you automatically figure that if you set your sights on a man only to have him end things, it’s not you who was at fault. It has to be him. You’ve charmed the toughest clients and built fantastic working relationships with the most well-connected M&A lawyers; if you’re this good at professional relationships, why wouldn’t you also be fan-fucking-tastic at a romantic one? 

All the men who have taken you out on dates before wanted to sweep you off your feet. An ex-boyfriend once admitted to you that you appeared so unimpressed at everything, it had become this fun, twisted competition with himself to see what he had to do to get a look of amazement on your face. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re impressed.” Gojo says gleefully, holding open the dirty glass door so you and Utahime can walk in. 

Utahime looks like Gojo just slid open the backdoor to a white van and told her to get in. There’s shock with a hint of disgust evident on her pretty, doll-like features, and you know you’ve got a similar expression, too. 

The floors inside this restaurant — if the dingy, dimly lit shack crammed with small tables and rickety chairs can even be considered a restaurant — are sticky with decades’ worth of mystery liquids that have congealed into the half-inch thick residue that coats the floorboards. You have to purposely think about moving one foot in front of the other in order to walk because actual pressure needs to be applied if you don’t want your heels to become glued to the floor. You’re walking in front of Utahime and Gojo, and you end up choosing a table in the far back; it looks the cleanest. Briefly, you wonder if you’re allowed to be here, then think better of it as Utahime takes the seat next to you, and Gojo takes the one across. You highly doubt there’s a hostess here that’s dictating where the customers sit.

Especially since, upon one glance of the whole place, you realize that it’s empty save for you three. 

“Gojo, if we get killed, I hope they murder you in front of us first,” Utahime hisses. Her family’s so rich (and traditional), she’s never willingly been to a restaurant that doesn’t have a Michelin star. Before college, she’s never even eaten out at a chain restaurant. Being caught in a place like this has Utahime mentally spiraling towards rock bottom. 

“I hope they would, too. I don’t think I have the stomach to watch you meet your grisly end.” Gojo says serenely. Usually, he says things loudly, teasingly, gets all up in your face. When it comes to Utahime, he likes to play at being nonchalant. He’s been doing this to her for over a decade now, and it still grates her. 

Before Utahime can reply, the shaky voice of an older woman is exclaiming, “Oh! Welcome in! Have you gotten a chance to look over the menu?” The voice belongs to a short, plump woman with gray hair, a wrinkly face, but a kind smile that reveals yellowing teeth. She’s got a slight hunch to her back and nails with overgrown cuticles. You try to do a mental calculation of what you could buy this building for, to ensure that this sweet old lady never has to work a day in her life ever again. 

“You know what I want, Mrs. Kimura.” Gojo is giving her one of his signature dazzling smiles. “You can just double the portions today since my friend Utahime here eats enough for a family of five.” 

Mrs. Kimura lets out a throaty laugh. Utahime kicks Gojo in the shin from underneath the table. You’re wondering what Gojo orders from this place, and why does he order here so often to the point of them memorizing his meals? 

“I’m glad you brought friends with you today, Satoru. Meals always taste better when shared with loved ones!” She directs a warm smile in your direction, and you feel bad for returning it with your normal polite one. Tiny and brief. It’s more muscle memory than born from any real emotion. She’s shuffling away to the kitchen before you can try to summon a genuine smile for her, and Utahime’s phone is ringing, filling this near empty space with the tinny, anxiety-inducing sound of an iPhone ringer. 

She doesn’t excuse herself; just looks down at the glowing screen, grabs her phone, and heads outside to take the call.

Which leaves you sitting across from Gojo. Just the two of you. Just the two of you in a dingy restaurant seemingly run by only one old woman. The table looks older than you. The chair you’re sitting on makes a weird squeaky noise with any slight movement of your body. There’s no decor on the walls, no windows either. Nothing to distract you, nothing for you to feign interest in as you wait for Utahime to come back. 

You straighten your posture, try to discreetly look out the front door to gauge how close Utahime is to wrapping up her conversation, and find yourself with no choice but to look in front of you. All you see is Gojo.

He’s tall, you know that. Broad shoulders. Definitely not hideous, you can give him that much. You just feel shocked at how much space he takes up, how it feels like your eyes have to stretch to try to accommodate all of him. 

You don’t know why you feel so awkward, almost like a teenager going on her very first date with a boy she barely knows but still, for some inexplicable reason, wants so badly to impress. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt this way, and you definitely don’t like this feeling at all. 

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“I like to support small businesses.” He’s not teasing you, but Gojo has this bad habit of always adding a playful inflection to his words. 

“I hope you tip well. You look like their only supporter.” It’s not meant to be an insult to the painfully empty restaurant. You know how much Gojo is worth; when Itadori Googled “Satoru Gojo net worth” and showed the results to everyone, Gojo caught him in the act, looked at the top result, and threw his head back in laughter as he told Itadori to “add an extra zero and triple the number.” You think back to your calculation and assessment of the place. “Might as well buy the business.” 

“You make capitalism so cute.” He has to be teasing you now. You scowl. 

(He means it.)

— i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed, satoru gojo elevator pitch: yandere gojo, royal au, nanny!reader... yeah idk what happened to this fic either, just that it was depraved and i wish i wrote more to share LOL

You’re acutely aware of the noise you’re making, every huff and small, desperate gasp for breath only further betraying your location, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You know, deep inside your pounding, frightened heart, that it doesn’t really matter how fast or how far you run. 

I will always find you.

Just the mere thought of him is enough for you to ignore the ache in your legs and push forward. If you can find the exit, if you can just see the daylight, surely you’d be able to—

You stop in your tracks.

There are two paths: one right, one wrong. Left or right? Freedom or imprisonment? 

There’s no time to waste, but you can’t make a choice. Which decision would be the right one? Surely either route would still be able to lead you to the exit, right? The sharp snap! of a branch being trampled on leaves you even more frightened. Without thinking, you take a left.

— i think you're too divine for my human mind, undecided elevator pitch: rough around the edges but w a heart of gold underground fighter!character x ring girl!reader. i think this was gonna be for bakugo LMAO but i do not have bnha brain rot so maybe a bllk or jjk or hq boy... NO ONE SAY ATSUMU I DON'T WANNA GIVE IT TO ATSUMU

The couch seems to shift with his weight, and you swallow hard, staring straight ahead at the same cement wall you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes because you’re still too much of a fucking wimp to navigate this area by yourself. 

Despite the two of you sitting at opposite ends of the couch, there’s only about one foot of space separating his knee from yours. You suppose that he gets away with the manspreading since he probably has no qualms with punching anyone who voices their offense. After witnessing just how brutal the infamous [ring name nickname] can get, you know that you’re definitely not going to be the one to say shit to him. You can’t even look at him.

Where the fuck is your sister? You have your arms crossed, covering your torso, and you think you must have subconsciously pressed yourself as far back into the couch as you possibly could. Everything about you must scream out “she wants to disappear!!!”, and the worst part of it all would be the fact that it’s the truth. You knew coming down here would be a bad idea, and the sinking feeling of regret is practically solidifying itself into your stomach. You think you could throw up. 

“Hey,” a voice — a deep voice, scratchy and low and so scarily close to you — breaks the silence. “You must be…”

Of course, you’re used to it by now. Always being referred to as “Akemi’s little sister” no matter the situation, the person, the setting. It makes sense, you rationalize. Everyone knows Akemi. And so, by extension, they must know you — her shadow, her little sister. 

“...helped out Sakura.” 

“What?” You don’t know anyone named Sakura, but you finally turn your head to properly look at him as you answer. He’s got on a white shirt now, incredibly form-fitting, and he’s staring right back at you. You're quick to meet his eyes before getting too nervous and focusing on the space just below his eyes. Then, that becomes too close to eye contact for comfort, so you settle for staring at his jaw. It’s a nice jaw. Sharp. He could probably cut you with it if you contradict any of his statements, so maybe you should pretend to know this Sakura girl. 

“You must be the girl that helped out Sakura.” He repeats. He says it slow and almost carefully, like he thinks you must be some sort of idiot who can’t comprehend the most basic of statements. “Gave her your jacket.” He clarifies, and it makes sense. The girl with the hot pink colored hair must have been Sakura. 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

“So why are you here?” 

“Huh?”

“Y’know… Pretty girls like you don’t normally end up here without a reason. So what’s your reason?”

He says it so casually, throwing it out there as easily as a punch. He probably means nothing deep by it, probably doesn’t even realize the fact that it is a compliment. 

He called you pretty.

“My sister.” You answer, finally looking away at him to look down at your hands that have settled nicely into your lap. Your cheeks feel a lot warmer than they did a second ago. You decide to blame this as a result of too many sweaty people in one basement. 

“She a ring girl?” 

“She’s dating a fighter here.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” 

“Are you dating a fighter here, too?” 

You look him properly in his face after that comment, almost resisting the urge to laugh. Fear that he’ll get offended and smack you into the floor stops that reaction. Instead, you stare at him, slightly surprised, lips almost curled up into an amused smile at just how unbelievable it would be for you to date anyone like him. 

“You finally did it.” 

“Did what?” 

“Look at me.” He holds eye contact, almost as if he’s trying to challenge you into looking away. “I don’t bite, y’know.” He smiles, showing off a surprisingly straight row of white teeth, not a single tooth missing despite the nature of his… job. “It’s against the rules.”

Yeah. Because [character], the fucking [ring name nickname], looks like the type of man who follows the rules.

[2346khith]

Bi Han’s irony and pain

So I was doing some research for my mortal kombat au when I came across Bi Han tower ending from the first game.

This stuck out as a little weird to me because well… retiring? From the Lin Kuei? The clan who kills people without remorse? Who are willing to kidnap children to recruit to their ranks? Who will sacrifice their members to create cyborgs. Who are willing to team up with know threats to Outworld? Yeah, if anything I think it more likely Bi Han was going to run away from the Lin kuei and you live off the money he got from the kill. But then that got me thinking… since is from first timeline, he was born in America and raised there with his mother right? What if he was specifically trying to run away to America to find his mom. Okay yes I know that probably not what they intended but ,at least for me it makes sense. We’ve already other timeline Bi Han’s having high reverence for their mothers.

What to say original timeline Bi Han the same. But that got thinking on how that might explain Bi Han actions. Again hear me out. We know Bi Han tends to be more hotheaded and aggressive than his younger brother. But what if the reason for that isn’t arrogance or bloodlust but anger at the Lin kuei itself. Imagine your just living your life as a normal child when all of a sudden you’re kidnapped but some strange people to work for them, forced into hard training regime your body isn’t used too and forced to commit horrific acts at such a young age. We don’t know how old Bi Han was when he was taken but we do know he was a kid when it happened so his mind and sense of self were still developing and he had some time to live a normal life before he was taken. His stubbornness and hotheaded nature were a result of him angry at the Lin kuei for taking what essentially his life away. And maybe his more aggressive ways could be due to trauma caused by the Lin kuei, damaging his mental state. This might also explain Kuai Liang as well. We don’t know how old he was when he was kidnapped but what if he was only a baby when it happened. He wouldn’t have know any other life other than the Lin Kuei. The harsh training and killing wouldn’t affect him as much because in his mind it this was normal. He wouldn’t have a reason to be more angry or aggressive because to him this was fine. Heck who knows maybe while Bi Han may have become more aggressive he could’ve taught his brother about morality to ensure his brother didn’t go down as much of a violent path as the rest of the Lin kuei. Maybe this is why he spared Sareena, not just because of mercy specifically but because he saw another soul who was forced into a life they didn’t want and he was felt bad for her and wanted to give her a chance. But honestly the thing that stuck out the most was the complete irony of his situation later on his life. This is a version of sub zero who constantly fought for his freedom, yet when it was in his grasp, he was killed. And when he entered the Netherrealm, even there he wasn’t freed as he was then made into a servant of Shao Kahn and Quan Chi . Maybe that why he hates his brother in that timeline. Kuai Liang escaped the Lin Kuei, he was free yet he went back to the Lin kuei he wasted his chance which Bi Han in his alter state despises. Or maybe he was envious of the time Kuai was free, feeling that it should have been him. Maybe he tried to take over the Lin kuei to destroy it or build it into something else so no one else would feel the pain he felt. I know all of this seems illogical and stupid and it probably wasn’t what Netherrealm had intended but I can’t help think what could’ve have been, something that could’ve made Bi Han more interesting. But nope now we got a Bi Han Lin kuei extremist who just completely evil and not broken. But hey the noob sailboat trailer gave some interesting hints, which could redeem his character. But then then again, we’ll have to wait and see.

[youcouldmakealife]

Ty/Johnny, Various Wilsons; hunting season

Another Kickstarter fill, for the request: I love, love the story of the guy dating into the youngest of a hockey family with all the older brothers threatening him. I think there have been two stories to date. Will you write something in that line for me?

Here's a bit more about them. They've appeared on tumblr before here, which is the exact same prompt because...I filled this prompt right after the Kickstarter closed. And subsequently forgot, because that is how long it has been

Please enjoy laughing at me and, hopefully, this.

Ty didn’t really know what he was getting into, going to the Wilsons’ cottage. Like, sure, the whole ‘dudes out for his blood for besmirching their baby bro (who besmirched his damn self before Ty ever met him, but Ty isn’t suicidal enough to say that out loud)’ — that he knew about. But he hadn’t expected it to be so — remote. Like nobody can hear you scream remote. Like nobody will find your body remote.

It’s not that Ty hasn’t been to cottages before, but they weren’t anything like this. Maybe he just hung out with rich dudes cosplaying at outdoorsy or something — absolutely zero comment about the Wilsons — but usually the cottages were just, you know, nice houses on a lake. Some cool boats and shit to play with. Sure, you’re in nature or whatever, but also there’s a convenience store a ten minute drive away that will sell you a case of beer to go with your bait and your tank of propane. Maybe throw in some ammo, or something from the hush hush fireworks selection.

But this isn’t charming small town cottage. This isn’t even kind of sketchy small town cottage. There’s nothing around but woods, and forget about picking up a case of beer: Ty doesn’t even know if he can get to a neighbor in ten minutes. It’s making him feel very 18th century or whatever. Like if he gets a small cut it’ll get infected and by time the doctor gets there they’ll have to cut his foot off.

“Antibiotics are a thing,” Johnny says, surprisingly patiently. Ty thinks he’s just relieved that he used an example that didn’t involve his brothers. Little does he know, that small cut is Wilson inflicted in this scenario. And every scenario, honestly. Ty’s cause of death is almost certainly going to be Wilson related. “Also, do doctors even do house calls anymore?”

Ty considers this. “So you’re saying I’m definitely getting gangrene.”

“I get it, Ty,” Johnny says. “You don’t like it here.”

Uh oh.

“It’s not that I don’t like it here—“ Ty says. He’s sure it’s very charming when he isn’t sharing it with three dudes plotting his murder.

Well, even Johnny’s brothers weren’t there they’d be just as far from civilization, and they’ve just established that doctors don’t make house calls anymore, so maybe Ty would die of gangrene anyway, and he’s not big on the idea of running out of anything turning into a whole ass trip for provisions, but —

Johnny rolls away from him, so Ty can no longer see his pout, but he swears he can still feel it, tragic Johnny face delivered at the wall. Johnny may, unfortunately, be the Wilson most likely to lead to Ty’s death. Ty isn’t afraid of him at all, though, which is what got him into this whole mess.

“Johnny,” Ty says. “Come on. I like it here.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Johnny says, voice small, and Ty closes his eyes, gathering his strength.

“I like it anywhere where you are,” Ty says. This room, for example. It’s small, the bed taking up practically the whole room, and the mattress is a little lumpy, like nobody updated it even after four members of the family started making NHL money, but it’s got Johnny, so it’s a great room. Fantastic.

There’s a bang on the door, not so much a knock as someone slamming a fist into it. The door knob rattles, but doesn’t open. Ty’s very favorite thing about this room is the lock on the door. “Up and at ‘em, daylight’s wasting.”

“You heard the man,” Johnny says, sitting up, not meeting Ty’s eye. “Daylight’s wasting.”

And why waste daylight when they can waste Ty instead?

“I’ll be right behind you,” Ty says. He spends a couple minutes in the room — not as charming now that Johnny isn’t in it, but Ty still loves that lock — before he starts getting paranoid about what Johnny’s brothers must be saying about him while he isn’t there, and almost runs to the kitchen.

Four Wilsons look up at him, conversation halting. It definitely feels like there was some Ty talk happening.

“You want bacon?” Jeremiah asks from his spot in front of the stove. “Toast? Eggs?”

“Sure, that all sounds good, ” Ty says. The spots on either side of Johnny are taken — he’d like to think that was something his brothers coordinated, rather than something Johnny did — so he sits down across from him. “Any plans for today, or—“

“The guys want to go for a hike,” Johnny says. “But we don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Ty swears he can feel three sets of eyes like laser beams right now. And what could go wrong, going even deeper into the woods?

“No, sure, I love hiking,” he says weakly.

“Great,” Jack says.

“Glad to have you,” Jason says.

“Wonderful,” Johnny says sourly, and it’s only then Ty realizes he just agreed to give up their only chance of time alone.

“I mean—“ he says.

Three sets of laser beams on him again.

“Should be fun,” he mumbles.