#i do think he would at the very least get a side eye?

[ditzydoe444]

thinking about mean jason who has a love-hate relationship with reader nd fucks her dumb on his fat cock after a nightly patrol — getting all his frustrations out😻😻 .

god i need him.

MDNI 18+

mean jason! x reader

jason todd smut

you and jason weren’t officially together but were also hooking up. despite that, it was a love-hate relationship, jason said that you were too demanding at times, and clingy, whilst you told jason he was the opposite. he was too cold and not emotionally available when you wanted him to be.

it was well past the middle of the night, where jason had just returned back from his nightly patrol due to the slam of the front door. “look who decided to finally come back,” you retorted, crossing your arms across your chest. you knew jason’s schedule all too well, and you also knew that due to the rocky relationship the two of you were in, it also meant that he would stay out longer in patrol just to stay away from you.

“save your commentaries for tomorrow morning, i’m not in the mood right now.” he grumbled. of course he wasn’t. he was never in the mood to discuss the weird relationship that you two had. “i just think it’s unfair that you go and disappear in the middle of the night when your patrol is over”, he immediately cut you off by standing right in front of you. his tall frame towered over yours.

“you better shut that pretty little mouth of yours, or i’ll do it myself,” he narrowed his eyes. you always had an issue of being a bit of a brat, and jason never tolerated it. stubbornly, you tilted your chin up, refusing to back down. “i think the issue is that you can’t handle my attitude,” you raised a brow.

jason let out a low chuckle, “trust me sweetheart, i can very very well handle your attitude.” he stepped closer, caging you in like a predator. “so you better shut that pretty mouth of yours before i fuck it myself, stuffing it full will keep your mind occupied from being a brat.”

**

and god did he keep you occupied. you were currently sprawled out on the couch, your legs on top of his shoulders whilst his fat cock bullied your cunt. “the only way to keep your mouth shut is to fuck this pretty little hole huh?” he grunted, his thrusts never faltering one bit. “such a fucking slut.”

your mind had gone blank, jason had always fucked you dumb. he always fucked both your mouth, cunt and ass, making sure they were filled with his cum. essentially he would just cum all over you. “all you do is whine and get fucked like a whore,” he groaned, his large hands gripping your waist tightly. “whilst i do all the hard work, going on patrol, working and earning money for you.”

one of his hands went up, towards your neck gently squeezing the sides. “all you do is just sit back, relax and get fucked like a slut, seems quite unfair don’t ya think darlin?” jason looked at you expectantly, but you couldn’t even think properly, giving occasional whines and moans. you were fucked dumb.

“what was that? no more smart retorts from you huh?” he grinned, his thrusts were now deeper, moving the couch across the side of the living room. you were nothing but a whimpering mess, your whole clenching on him like a lifeline. you were at his mercy, his use to use and fuck as he wishes.

your mind was blank, all you could even think about was how much you loved this. how much you loved him, and his fat dick. “come on sweetheart, i’m sure you can think of something to say. you were talking so much before,” he teased. though you really couldn’t think, “i l-love this,” you whined, you loved every part of this. his cock bullying your tight cunt, and god how you looked forward to him fucking your mouth and ass.

he grinned. “i love this too, having you all to myself, mine to love, mine to fuck.”

you were close, so fucking close.

“j-jay,” you whined, gripping his bicep for dear life. you were so close, and you knew it wouldn’t be your last orgasm. jason always fucked you until you were completely limp, giving you at least a few more orgasms. two were child’s play for him.

the moment he pinched your clit, you came and came hard. you squirted. covering his cock in your slick, where some even went to his pubes. “there you go,” he grinned, “coming on my cock like a pretty little princess,” he cooed. “now, you better hold on sweetheart, because i don’t plan on stopping.”

[dirtylittlesecre7]

Oh my gosh— someone who writes for nam-gyu? Am I dreaming?! I CANNOT find any fics of him!! Need headcannons about him rn😩 I feel like that man would enjoy making you cry and upset, like he would grin and laugh while doing so. (Cough— Hatefuck—cough..) Just need headcannons about that man so bad😩🫣

This is actually my first time asking, so I really don't know what to say🥲 but I hope you consider this🫶🫶🫶

-🌟anon

warning | nsfw content

word count | 0,6k

a/n | thank you so much for your request luv! I hope I could write something as you wanted

！he's had mixed feelings from the moment he first saw you. hate? anger? like?

oh no, not like. he just hates you so much that he wants to fuck you until you know your place.

"fucking bitch."

"huh?" thanos looked at him incomprehensibly, about to turn his head to you, but nam-gyu quickly changed the subject "nothing."

！he's insanely jealous of thanos👀 even if you don't respond to his flirting, seeing a man next to you makes him angry enough. at least it gives him a reason to make you cry more.

！he should be the only one who annoys you. if he sees someone picking on you, he'll quickly intervene, at first he'll protect you from that person, but then...

"are you too stupid to not protect yourself? no. don't even think about crying." his emotionless voice makes you tremble as he watches you quickly wipe your tears away "good. don't you dare unless I make those tears flow."

！he likes to tease you until you cry because he thinks you look so beautiful with tears in your eyes. If you turn your head and try to hide your face from him, he will forcefully grab your chin and make you look at him with your eyes full of tears. you will see that he is trying to calm down by taking a deep breath because oh...you have no idea how horny he is.

！If he can't sleep at night, he will come to your bed and bother you. If he can't sleep, you can't sleep either. but strangely, talking at night is when you get along the most. guess you are both too tired to argue, but that doesn't mean he won't say a few things about you.

okay, now please hear me out..

！this man is completely clingy when he loves you, but he is also hard when he fucks you, I can't say he doesn't like slow sex, but when he can fuck you like crazy, he doesn't really think about the other option.

！I say clingy because he can never be comfortable if his hand is not on your body in some way. he has to touch you in some way so that he feels better. when you least expect it, you may find his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him "mm...look who's here?"

！If we talk about life outside of the game, you can become his only world. yes, he likes to make you cry and upset. but only you. the others have never caught his attention and they don't. he still thinks you have the most beautiful tears.

！I can't say he's very loud in bed. he'll mostly let out short gasps and short moans. he likes listening to you more, whine for him and he'll make you see stars.

！he likes to tease you and make you cum so much that you cry from sensitivity. when you beg him to stop, he just puckers his lower lip in a mocking tone.

"aw.. does it hurt? what should I do?" he leans into your ear while his fingers, which don't stop, hit the inside of your pussy hard while you just had your 3rd orgasm "Is that all you can take? c'mon.. you can give me more, hm? ah..yes don't hide your voice from me, fuck-"

！he'll run his hand over you while you're sleeping at night, sorry not sorry. when you open your eyes and notices how his fingers are expertly tangled in your wetness, he'll smirk and say "you awake? good. now you better spread your legs for me and be loud as possible."

he's obsessed with you in some way, romantic or not, and he has no plans to leave your side.

[ma1dita]

love spells evol

wc: 1.7k summary: [sylus qin x reader based on nightplumes] there’s an ancient myth about seeing the first snow of the season with someone you (might) love; based on the crash landing on you k-drama plot a/n: here’s a gift after not being able to put any creative words to paper for months. fluff! kinda angst? title from evol by adrienne lenker

—

A myriad of colors reflect in your eyes as the night sky booms with color. Despite the noise, a peaceful silence occupies the space between you and Sylus at the Linkon riverwalk tonight, the wind swirling around you as if trying to push you closer. 

But you resist.

You can barely call him a friend, after all. 

You’re not sure if he’d let you even if you tried. The words roll around in your mouth— a confidant, perhaps? An ally, for sure at the very least. You’ve both come far from your initial faceoff with the big and bad Onychinus leader. Now, he’s just…. you still can’t find the right words. He’s not just anything to you—that, you’re sure of.

Right now though, he’s as still as a statue watching the fireworks display while you get knocked around by gusts of cold air. You bear down, grabbing onto his solid arm briefly, before realizing you’re tugging at the wool of his sleeve like a petulant child. So, you decide to hold onto the metal railing instead.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, still not looking at you. Sylus is almost picturesque under splashes of iridescent light as if an artist let loose to make a masterpiece of him. And you can’t do anything but watch, mesmerized by all of him, from the sweep of his silver hair, down the steep slope of his cheekbones, and the small smirk that always seems to surface when he’s about to taunt you.

“There she goes. Without even looking back. How ungrateful,” he jokes, lining up his pointer finger with your viewpoint so you can spot the feathered friend you imposed upon him days earlier. He’s gentle, you realize—- when he wants to be. Protective when it matters. Despite the chill that races up your spine, you feel warm huddled close to him, chin against his sleeve as you see your dove flap its wings in the sky, getting smaller as she flies away from Linkon. 

“Bye-bye, my dove. Do you think she’ll remember me?”

He looks down at you with something softer now, as you wave at the white speck in the sky, realizing that you’re nestled against his body heat. No matter how cold-blooded you say he is, his cheeks admittedly warm at your proximity to him. He clears his throat, finding his nerve as he says, “Well who would want to forget you, kitten?”

A smile spreads across your face before you realize it, instead, glancing at the flicker of sincerity that crosses his gaze. 

You catch him looking at you like this a lot when he thinks you don’t notice—like how someone tries to remember the melody of a song; subtly in broken parts and then intensely, all at once. Sylus’ stare is equal parts wistful and affectionate, if he would only let himself be caught by you—but at the last moment, right when your eyes catch a glimpse of garnet, he always looks away. 

“We could’ve gotten Mephisto a girlfriend,” you bite back a smile, and now he’s chuckling, eyes shut and turning away from you. He would never admit it anyway. There’s a part of him that stays locked where your hands still cannot reach. Like a hidden treasure you have to scavenge for. Maybe one of these days he’ll let you in on the secret. 

But you are nothing if not persistent.

“That’s impossible. You do know that Mephisto’s made of metal right? And your dove…is real. Down to the bone.”

“But he can feel, right? You programmed him to feel—I swear he laughs at me when I get lost at the base,” you reason. Your mitten prods at his side, wanting him to continue the banter. Only you can do this to him, and Sylus rolls his eyes almost grumpily because he knows it too.

“Dove,” he calls you, “They’re incompatible. It’s impossible for them to be together.”

Your brow furrows, “Can’t you pick already? Am I a dove or a kitten?” 

He doesn’t answer.

You’re everything.

“Ugh. But they were happy together. Right, Sylus?” you prod again, wanting to pull him back from wherever his mind has escaped to. Whenever you’re together, his focus is always on you, except in tiny moments where his eyes get glassy and contemplative, like he can see something you don’t. And then even when he’s next to you, he’s not fully there. Sylus goes somewhere far away, somewhere you could only dream to be. 

You wonder what he could be thinking of wherever he goes. 

He blinks, coming back down to reality and seeing the hope in your eyes. It tethers him more than the linkage you both unwillingly share. 

“Yes, they were. Even for a short moment.” 

A beat of silence passes again. It’s not uncomfortable at all, and you find yourself leaning against his bicep before something catches your attention. A white speck. Could your dove have come back? But there’s more of them, dotting the sky, falling slowly towards the both of you.

You gasp then, quite dramatically. 

It’s snowing.

“Oh no…” you sigh dreamily, cheek against his thick coat. Of course, this had to happen with Sylus here.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold, kitten?” Sylus pipes up, slinging an arm around to wrap your scarf around the base of your neck, up until it covers your head.

“Sylus!”

The sound of his laughter stokes the fire burning inside of you. It’s a nice, velvety tone. You think he should laugh more often, even if it’s usually at your expense. When you free yourself from the woolen trap, the softness hasn’t left his face.

“Is this the first snow? We’re in trouble…”

Your words confuse him a lot—sometimes he wonders if you do it on purpose, or if your words are intentionally reactionary. 

He’s never met a girl like you, ever. And he’s been around for a while. 

Sylus scoffs, poking at a puffed-up cheek, “Compared to everything we go through on the daily, Miss Hunter—I never thought you’d be scared of a little snow.”

“Am not! Just you know how the story goes…”

“Do tell,” he drones, remembering he shouldn’t be so… vulnerable in his actions towards you. His hand lowers back to his side like he’s burned himself. 

Can’t get ahead of yourself, Qin. Just a while back, she was repulsed by you.

But your face inches as close as it can towards his, hands on his chest and tippy-toes in the snow as you speak as if it’s a big secret no one else can find out about. Despite the fact that there’s no one else out on the riverwalk, your voice is hushed, “Well, there’s a story…actually, I think it’s a myth, that whoever you watch the first snow of the year with will be destined for great love.” Your eyelashes are dusted with snowflakes, and Sylus has to restrain himself from brushing them away. And then your mitten extends upward and pats his hair clean like it’s nothing of the sort. Taking a step away and falling back to your natural height, you chuckle listlessly, “But well, it’s not supposed to work between us anyway,” you sniff, stating it like fact, “I mean, with what we both do for work and all.”

Eyes falling closed, you take a deep breath in of frozen air.

“Yeah. We would never work. It’d be a mess.”

One eye snaps open to stare up at Sylus nodding to himself, hand scratching his neck as he looks off into the distance again. His expression is unreadable, and the weight in his throat feels like lead.

“Wait a minute. I said we wouldn’t work, but why would YOU say we wouldn’t work?”

It feels like walking into a trap. Or better yet, a minefield with a blindfold on. Sylus blinks, trying to navigate through this conversation and he’s still unsure of how you feel.

“You’re one of the good ones. The best hunter in Linkon City. And I’m…”

Where should we begin? A convicted criminal, most wanted in all of Philos, actually. THE bad guy, head of Onychinus, and the list can go on…

“---My friend.”

Blood red eyes meet yours in surprise, but you show no fear. Not then, and not now. He looks at you like he doesn’t believe you, but you dust fresh snow off the lapels of his coat even as it continues to fall. Honestly, you just need something to do with your hands.

“Sylus, you know I trust you with my life right?”

It’s hard to read you sometimes. You chastise him on his way of life and criminal activity, and he can’t tell if it’s because you take your job seriously, or out of concern for his wellbeing. He doesn’t answer, letting you continue, “I wouldn’t have resonated with you if I didn’t.” And his signature smirk creeps back onto his face, any previous softness gone as you watch him build his walls up. He doesn’t take kindness very well, and some can say he even reacts badly to it. Sylus Qin is a man who loves to be in control, and that’s the truth. But two things can be true at the same time—the other is that when he’s with you, he can relinquish all of it so easily. 

You set the pace. 

You call the shots.

“Sure, kitten,” he drawls, “be honest. You’ve just been dying to get rid of me.” Your body vibrates underneath the coat you have pulled tight around your waist, and from where Sylus is standing, he’s unsure of if he’s said the wrong thing until you look up at him again and the sound of your laughter catches up with the rest of you. Sticking your tongue out, you say, “You wish! You can’t get rid of me that easily, you crow!” He grins now, shaking his head and turning away to start walking back to the car, because with everything in him he hopes that’s true.

“Hey! Sylus, wait up! Your legs are too long!”

No matter which way you choose to look at him— friend, or foe, you find yourself falling slowly, just like the snow that settles upon Linkon City.

—

“Deep in my enemy I find the lover.” -Pierre Corneille

[moonjellysfeast]

My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader

cw; (C/n) is Code name, manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

You were probably too young to be involved in such an experiment, not even proper college age nor finished with your classes. But, you were very advanced in your studies, you were still top of your classes despite moving up several grades when you were younger, and they were getting desperate. You remember sitting in the meeting, this company had really only planned to discuss simple matters as a way of showing you how you were expected to interact once you finished school and they actually hired you. They got caught up in more urgent matters and forgot you bore witness to their panic and desperation until you raised a hand to silence the room and flatly announced.

"I have the darling gene... I could probably further his infection. He'd listen to me, I promise" They weren't happy about it, but they were truly desperate, so you were hired.

You first met him in the facility's basement, he was in a large glass room, a small hole cut into the bullet-proof glass to keep you safe when talking with him. You had several psychology classes and so you felt confident in your scheme to make him obedient.

"Hello" You spoke softly and he turned to you, clearly upset, "It's nice to meet you. Do you have a name?"

He glared at you for a bit before walking towards the hole in the glass and quietly grumbling, "I do... A real one..."

You smiled at him, he was only a year or two younger than you, but you would have to treat him more like a child until he knew you were safe. You approached him, ensuring you looked as confident as you felt, you weren't scared of him and he had no need to fear you yet.

"Give me your name, then. We can't be friends unless you tell me at least that much" Your words were laced with honey, he eyed your sweet smile with suspicion and you watched his eyes shift. He was coming around to the idea.

"Elias... I think... no, I am right... I am named Elias..." Even just at the confusion of his name, his eyes were round and damp. You held back the tug of a grin to give him a gentle smile instead.

"You can call me (Y/n). Elias is a beautiful name. It suits you" He looked at you with awe now, like it was the first compliment he'd ever heard, "You know, the people here call me (C/n), isn't that a funny name? Do they call you something like that?"

"Yes. Crybaby... I don't like it" He'd looked so adorable, crouched on the other side of the glass, confessing his thoughts like deep secrets, and watching you with those wet eyes.

You had been completely correct in your assumption that you could further his infection, when you next saw him, his irises were clear heart shapes and he hopped up to greet you at the glass.

"Good morning, Elias~ You seem energetic" You mused as he fidgeted a bit and nodded. "I'd like to play a game today, if you're up for it"

"A game?" He was clearly wary, surely experiments had been done to him in the form of 'games' previously, but he had to trust you.

"It's like simon says. Do you know that game?" he shook his head slowly, "Well, I'm going to tell you to do things, but I only want you to listen when I call you Crybaby, Ok?"

"Why?" He whined

"Because, It'll be fun. Friends play games all the time and we're friends now! We'll start easy; Crybaby, sit down," He sat with little hesitancy, "Very good. Stand up, Crybaby," He stood, "Elias, please come closer"

He walked toward you and you made quite a show of disappointment, causing him to scramble back into place and apologize, already welling up with tears.

"No, no, it's ok. You forgot the rules. Like I said, we're starting easy so it's not a big issue. Crybaby, come here" He hesitated before scrambling to the glass window, tears streaming down his face already.

The games continued each day, once he was good at listening as crybaby, you started referring to Crybaby and Elias as different people, even giving them rules.

"Crybaby doesn't know my name, you only know me as (C/n), right? You pet his head, watching him nod along to your words. "Who am I?"

"(Y)- no... (C/n)..."

"Good boy, you're really learning. I'm sure Elias would be proud of you as well, Crybaby"

You also had begun entering his cell, he adored when you did and would cling to you until you demanded he stop. With becoming so close to him, you also had to begin enforcing all of your rules more strictly.

"(Y/n) I don't kno-" He crumpled to the floor the moment you hand landed on his cheek.

"That's not what you call me, is it, Crybaby?" You sneered as he cradled his cheek and began to tear up again.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorry- mhhn, Please don't be mad! (C/n), sir, please!" You placed a hand over his own, silencing him.

"I know you didn't mean it, but we can't have you being bad, can we? No, Crybaby, you have to be a good boy and listen to me. Now, you remember where it is, mark the artery I told you to."

He shakily got up and made an x on the mannequin's neck, precisely where you told him to.

"Good boy" you smiled a bit, " We'll have to work on your crying. as much as your name is apt, no one will like you crying so much when you start to actually work..."

There will be more of this fic but I am stuck.

[jjscrybaby]

the birthday boy

daryl dixon x fem!reader | fluff | (cringe, cringe, cringe! i can’t help who i am😖basic gift ideas bc i couldn’t think of anything, kissing.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing you were you would never get back was knowing the date. You’d spent the last couple years in the dark, you had a brief idea of how many years had gone by but dates? Absolutely no clue. It was when you and your group got to Alexandria that you learnt they knew the date, they’d kept track; it wasn’t like they were out killing walkers and fighting for survival, so they had the time to do such a mundane thing.

You’d asked Daryl when his birthday was a long time ago, just after the farm fell and before you reached the prison. The two of you were on watch whilst everyone else slept — or at least tried to — and you wanted to know his zodiac sign. It was silly, but you wanted to talk about something that wasn’t the hell your lives had become. He’d muttered out ‘January 6th’, and then gone silent once again. You kept that information stored in the little Daryl section in your mind, and you hadn’t forgotten it.

“What’re you doin’?” Daryl muttered sleepily, waking up to you sitting on him with a wide grin on your face. He opened one eye, looking from you to the window. “The sun ain’t even fully risen. Better ‘ave a good reason to wake me up.”

“I do,” you murmured, leaning down to catch his lips with yours. He didn’t argue, his arms loosely wrapping around your waist as he kissed you back.

“You alrigh’?” He checked quietly. You definitely weren’t the early riser out of the pair of you, in the morning’s that he had to go on an early supply run and tried to wake you to say goodbye he’d usually be cursed at.

“Yeah,” you reassured softly, running your hand through his growing locks. “Happy birthday, handsome.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he let out a soft huh. “Is that today?”

“Yes, it’s today you idiot,” you giggled, pecking his cheek. “Do you want your presents now or at the party?”

“What…” he muttered, eyes widening.

You snorted, swatting at his chest. “I’m kidding. There’s no party. But me and Carol are baking a cake and you can’t say no, I already had to talk them out of finding a birthday banner.”

“Mhm, appreciate it,” he smirked lazily, drawing circles into your thigh. “Can we go back to sleep now, darlin’? I appreciate the birthday wake up, but ‘m exhausted.”

“You don’t want your presents,” you pouted.

“Thought you were kiddin’?” He questioned, leaning on his elbows to sit up slightly.

“About the party, yeah. You really think that I wouldn’t get you presents? Have you met me?” You teased. He smiled softly at you, a quirk of a lip that you were sure no one else was ever on the receiving end of.

“Didn’t even kno’ it was my birthday, so I wasn’t expectin’ presents,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes fondly, switching the bedside table lamp on before getting off of him to rush over to the closet. You pulled out a paper bag, handing it over to him. “I couldn’t find any wrapping paper,” you sheepishly explained.

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, reaching out for your hand. You sat down next to him as he sat up, looking between you and the bag. “You know you didn’t ‘ave to get me anythin’.”

“I wanted to,” you argued. “Now, open it, please. I’m getting impatient.”

He let out a quiet laugh, opening up the bag. First he pulled out a knife; it wasn’t new, or even very sharp — although he’d be able to sort that out — but there was something on the side of it. Both yours and his initials carved into the side. You knew that wasn’t really his thing, something so cheesy, but you wanted his gift to have meaning. It was difficult to find things for anyone’s birthday in an apocalypse, but Daryl? Well, that’s pretty much impossible.

“Thankyou, darlin’.” He ran his fingers over the messy carving you’d done, a fond look in his eyes. “I love it.” He leant in and pressed a peck to your lips, making your eyes twinkle.

“Really? I know it’s not much…” you said, about to go on a classic ramble.

“Stop. I love it, seriously. I ain’t ever— I’ve never gotten a birthday present before, ‘least not one that I can remember,” he admitted, squeezing your hand.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, but you kept the smile on your face. You hadn’t expected that Daryl had many fun birthday’s growing up, not with the family he had. Maybe Merle took him to a bar on his 21st to have his first legal drink, but that was probably it. You kissed the corner of his mouth, stroking his hair.

“Well, now that we’re not fighting for our lives constantly anymore, expect presents every year. Christmas, too,” you said softly.

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you,” he responded, caressing your cheek lovingly. He placed the knife on the bedside table, moving to switch the light off.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“Goin’ back to sleep?” He answered, looking back at you over his shoulder. “That alright with you?” He teased.

“But… you haven’t opened your other present,” you explained. There was something in your tone, nervousness, shyness, he wasn’t sure.

“Another one?” He looked at you in confusion.

“Don’t be dramatic, Dar. It’s not like I spent any money,” you giggled. You went behind you, opening the drawer and pulling out something. You held it in your hand, not letting him see. “It’s a bit stupid, but I wanted to give you this for awhile. Since you gave me mine, at least.”

You opened your palm and revealed the silver band, a shy smile on your face. Six months ago, Daryl had gone on a week long supply run and he’d returned home with a ring. It wasn’t like you could have a proper wedding, not like the one you used to dream about when you were younger, but you wanted to marry Daryl. You wanted to tell people he was your husband. So, of course, you’d cried your eyes out and said yes. Ever since you’d wanted him to have a ring, too. Your engagement ring would probably be your wedding one as well, it wasn’t like you could go shopping. If you were going to get married, both of you needed proof of the wedding.

It was silent, you stared at him waiting for some sort of reaction. Slowly, a smile made its way onto his face. “You ain’t gonna ask me?”

“What?”

“I ain’t acceptin’ a ring without a proposal,” he joked.

You giggled, moving to straddle his waist once again. “Daryl Dixon, will you marry me?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, cradling your cheek in his hand as he brought your face down to his. “‘Course I will, baby.”

His lips moved against yours, arms wrapping around your waist to tug you to lie down on top of him. You pulled away first, grabbing his hand to slip the ring onto his fingers.

“Wouldn’t want to spend my birthday’s with no one else.”

[causticsodaa]

What I personally think is behind Suo’s eyepatch: A Delusional Theory

The title explains itself (heed the disclaimer please), so I’ll get straight to the point.

Firstly, I believe that Suo is blind in his right eye.

Typically, eyepatches are mainly worn by people who

Are recovering from surgery

Cosplay

Have eye trauma or are half-blind

The first point is immediately negated, since it’s confirmed that Suo has been wearing an eyepatch on his right eye since middle school at the earliest. I doubt that even the most extensive eye surgeries would need him to be wearing one for years on end. Most eyepatches are made out of adhesive material, whilst Suo’s is made out of leather. I won’t dwell on this point much since I don’t think this outcome is very likely, but I just wanted to bring it up anyways (lol).

The second point could be plausible, considering that Suo voluntarily draws attention to his eyepatch in his introduction, even stating that there is “an ancient Chinese spirit sealed” in it—there’s a story behind it.

However, Nirei’s question immediately disproves this. Nii Satoru is a very deliberate writer; I don’t think there would be any reason to include Nirei’s dialogue about a ‘past accident’ (more on this later) if it wasn’t meant to serve as foreshadowing or at least be somewhat true.

Theres also the fact that Suo directly agrees with Nirei’s claim, though his wording is very vague (ie. it’s what other people say rather than Suo himself confirming it).

I believe this scene is mainly meant to showcase Suo’s goofy side (backed by Nirei’s comment about expecting Suo to be more cold/aloof and with Suo introducing himself as Leonardo di Caprio); but I also assume that he decided to make up a story about his eye because he’s been questioned about it many times in the past. It’s obviously not true, but I don’t think that Suo would voluntarily wear an eyepatch for years on end just to look cool (not to mention the depth perception issues!).

It’s also important to note that Nirei’s information is scarily accurate as well. He even figured out that Suo hated natto despite how secretive the latter is, but I digress.

This leads me to the third point, which is what most of the fandom (myself included) speculates. However, I’ll be focusing more on the prospect of Suo being half-blind.

If Suo is blind in his white eye, he would have a white iris. Although many blind characters in anime/animation have their eyes closed or just lack pupils, some do have white/clear/sheen irises:

Additionally, some people who are blind do have ‘milky’ eyes in real life!

Even other animanga characters who wear eyepatches have some sort of eye trauma (if they aren’t pirates/concealing some power/forced to give their eyeball up for a contract, though WBK isn’t that kind of story) such as Hange Zoë and Asuka Langely Soryu.

Personally, I believe that Suo had injured his right eye in the past to the point of blindness, given with the evidence presented before. I can’t really provide any theories as to how this happened due to a lack of canon evidence, but it’s probably linked to why he tells Nirei to never close his eyes. It’s highly probable his right eye is linked to a traumatic incident of his past—though anything further related to Suo’s backstory prompts an entirely different conversation.

Theres also a possibility that Suo might have been born half blind as well, and uses his eyepatch to protect/cover it; though it’s merely speculation on my part (and I’ll talk about this theory more in a bit).

You’ve probably noticed that I’m drawing a lot of attention to the color of Suo’s right eye, rather the cause of his blind eye. This is where my theory gets delusional.

Let me bring in our beloved protagonist of Wind Breaker; Sakura Haruka!

Wait, isn’t this a theory about Suo? What does Sakura have to do with Suo’s eye?

Although Sakura and Suo do have their stark differences, they’re also eerily similar (and this criteria applies to Suo + Nirei and Sakura + Nirei as well). The most prominent thing they have in common [design wise] are their ‘abnormal’ eyes (with Sakura having heterochromia, and Suo with only one eye visible), and how they’re somehow linked to some sort of past trauma. I (albeit briefly) went over how Suo’s right eye connects with a potentially traumatic incident earlier, so I’ll be focusing on Sakura in the meantime.

In the beginning of the anime, we see snippets of dialogue by people from Sakura’s past, which mainly consisted of a barrage of criticism and rude remarks towards him. This line in particular stands out to me:

Japanese society is very conformative both in real life and what we see in Sakura’s memories—being unique or looking different from the norm is 🆖. We see different people in the series poke fun at Sakura’s hair, but I feel like this comment hurts the most. You can’t exactly change your eye color easily without contacts, unlike hair in which you can style/dye it as you please (though I’m not trying to justify the mistreatment Sakura has experienced by comparing apples and oranges; simply put, it’s incredibly vile).

Because of the above, Sakura has been consistently ostracized in the past mainly due to his ‘weird’ appearance. This causes him to internalize those sentiments for years on end before coming to Furin. He then begins to project his insecurities externally throughout the manga whether it relates to his leadership skills or how he interacts with the other students (initially questioning why people can accept him given his ‘strange’ appearance and mannerisms). There’s also this:

Sakura used to cover his hair and eyes with hats/sunglasses, however it failed to work as people still avoided him. This is even shown in the anime!

Poor kid took all those comments to heart and internalized it to the point it essentially crippled his self-esteem—but who wouldn’t, honestly? Being constantly alienated and perceived as ‘disgusting’ by others causes a sense of distrust to a person, especially during their developmental stages (as Sakura experienced most of this as a child/teen), hence why I’m classifying this as traumatic for Sakura. Even though he’s in a better place now, the ghosts of his past still haunt and affect him to this day.

Since Suo + Sakura are written to foil/parallel each other at times, there is a chance that Suo might have also covered his eye for a similar reason to Sakura’s: he doesn’t want other people to know he is blind (either to not be perceived as weak, or Suo was ashamed of for a different reason—perhaps other people thought his blind eye was scary?). Maybe Suo was born with a blind eye, much like how Sakura was born with a “half and half” appearance.

As I’ve mentioned before, Sakura has heterochromia (wow no shit Sherlock); his left eye is yellow, while his right is black[ish-grey] (his eye is sometimes colored a light grey/blue but thats usually a stylistic choice)

Both Sakura and Suo’s character colors are based off their left eyes: Sakura’s being an amber and Suo’s being red (rather than mainly sappanwood but its a shade of red anyways—and Suo is usually represented with a bold red in other official/merch art so shhhh)

And if we were to follow my theory, Suo would hypothetically have a milky colored right eye and a red iris for his left as in canon. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Both Sakura and Suo would have their character color as their right eye (amber and red respectively), while their left eyes (black and white) would contrast each other. Black and white are considered opposites, after all.

If my (delulu) theory holds true, this could perfectly showcase Suo and Sakura’s differences and similarities—but instead of it being almost hidden through the layers of their unspoken relationship, they are physically represented through their character designs.

Okay, I know you’re probably thinking that this theory is too far fetched (hell, even I think the same). But hear me out:

There is another duo in Wind Breaker who have character designs that contrast each other: Togame and Choji!

Nii Satoru makes it a point to emphasize how different these two are—and it’s no secret given their designs: Togame is tall, beefier, and has straight dark hair while Choji is short, lankier, with light and curlier hair. Even their eyes contrast each other; Togame’s are thin, slanted, and green while Choji’s are wide, round and red[dish brown]. (I KNOW THAT HIS EYES ARE MORE BROWN IN THE ANIME BUT THEYRE COLORED RED SOMETIMES BY NIISATO PLEASE TRUST ME ON THIS)

Honestly, this entire section makes me want analyze Choji and Togame (must… control… my demons…), so I’ll just move on to my next point.

Additionally, Sakura is sometimes drawn with his hair slicked back, which makes him look eerily similar to Umemiya…

I believe this is entirely intentional by Nii-sensei, but if I speak any more I fear that I will start rambling about Umemiya/Sakura parallels like a madman. My point is, two characters with similar/contrasting designs do already exist in WBK.

And in the case of Suo and Sakura, these two elements could possibly coexist in their character designs via their ‘irregular’ eyes.

TLDR; Suo and Sakura are the only characters in the cast with messed up eyes -> If Suo’s blind in his right eye, it would be white -> which would contrast Sakura’s black iris thats also in his right eye -> this shows their differences -> but also reinforces the fact that they are similar since their left eyes are red and amber -> which are their character colors -> I am severely delusional -> and I need to be euthanized immediately

[bunni-v1]

sunday x m reader who wont shut up while hes working so he makes reader cockwarm him to shut him up

Cockwarming With Sunday

🍓Dom Sunday makes my skin crawl. Anyway, I went for a softer take than what you wanted, sorry lol. Even when Sunday tops I can't see him as all that mean, at least, not in the way this was worded lol. Anyway, I'm very well Sunday's biggest hater (I love him more than life itself), so I hope you enjoy this. I want him dead.

Tw: NSFW; Implied power dynamics; Mean(?) Sunday; Grammar Errors; ts kinda ass

Info: Dom!Sunday x M!Reader (it's hard to tell lol); Cockwarming; pre ae sunday; Nsfw

Word Count: 1.5k

Sunday was always considered to be a patient man, especially with those he considered important to him. He had put up with plenty of Robin's silly plans and humored her with delight -- he loved her after all, and any plan she had wasn't truly all that silly so long as it came from her. He even enjoyed her endless conversations when he was meant to be finishing up paperwork. His time with her was sparse, he could afford extra time away from his duties for her. She never kept him for long anyway, understanding his position better than anyone else.

You, however, did not have the excuse of being his darling sister. You spent a significant amount of time with him, both in and out of work, and he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Which meant you knew better than most others how much he needed to fill out this report today. Yet... you kept running those stupidly pretty lips of yours.

He wasn't even sure what you were talking about, he'd tuned you out about ten minutes into your talking. Nearly an hour had passed, and you were still going on and on about something or another -- he catches that it's about an up-and-coming artist you'd seen, not that he cares for any musician that isn't his sister. It wouldn't be so bad if you were just talking, he'd mastered the technique of ignoring things that seemed to get under his skin, but you needed assurance that he was listening.

He would occasionally have to pause and answer questions without much context, or hum in acknowledgement of your words. Your incessant rambling is normally incredibly endearing to him, but with the deadline looming over his head, and the ache stinging between his brows it was enough to make it vexing.

He lets out a sigh, hands pressing the pen to the desk just a bit too harshly. You silence yourself, flinching back a little in surprise. He nearly coos, he hadn't meant to scare you, but you were very cute when frightened. (Perhaps he shouldn't be thinking such things...)

"My love," He hums, meeting your gaze with a calm smile, "you know I love having you around, don't you?"

You nod, nervousness shining in your eyes, giving you away despite the brave front you put on. You were always too easy for him to read, a bit concerning considering the enemies he has, but he'd prefer you pliant than hardened -- at least, in that way.

He gestures to the papers on his desk, "You also know how important it is that I get this done today, yes?"

"Of course," You answer immediately, and he can see the realization of why he was scolding you across your face. So very cute. "Was I talking too much?"

He hums an affectionate smile on his face, and gestures for you to come to his side. You do so with no arguments, as expected. He turns in his chair, grabbing you by your hips to situate you between his legs. You flush a bit at the contact, predictable as always, but he chooses not to comment on it.

"I need to get this done, angel," He asserts again, and you frown shamefully.

"Would you like me to leave?" You offer, but the idea sours something in his chest.

He shakes his head adamantly, "Of course not. I love having you here, but you'll have to behave for me."

There is a spark behind your eyes at his words that makes him ache a bit, his member coming to life much too fast for his liking. The effect seems to be mutual, as far as he can tell from his position near your crotch. His placid smile morphs into a slight smirk, and his eyes meet yours again, "You can behave for me, can't you?"

You nod adamantly, "Of course, s-sir." The title is stuttered, somehow unsure despite your knowing very well what he wanted from you now. It was so adorable how concerned you were with overstepping with him. You truly could do no wrong in his eyes, even when you were getting in the way of his work.

"Then," he pushes you to step back, leaning back in his chair, "Take your pants and underwear off for me. Quickly, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible."

You nod again, doing as he says like a well-trained pet, pretty eyes looking to him for approval as you shove the clothes to the side. He rewards you with a smile, leaning forward to run a finger along the bottom of your hard cock. You hiss at the sensation, drawing a chuckle from his chest.

He eases himself out of his pants as he tugs on your sensitive member a few times, enjoying the little whimpers you give him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach. He leans back again as it does, telling you what to do with his eyes alone. You follow along like in a trance -- he'd almost believed you were under the influence Harmony, if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t using it in the moment.

You hiss lowly as he slides into you. Going raw must've been painful for you, but it felt heavenly for him. Your ass squeezed him so well like it was meant to hold him deep within. He smiles reassuringly at you as you finally sit fully on his lap, taking your chin in his hand to settle a kiss to your lips.

"Very good," He compliments.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze, "Thank you, sir."

He tuts at you, drawing your gaze back just as quickly as it left, "You can sit still and wait like a good boy, can't you? If you can't well..."

"Of course I can!" You respond with a desperation that surprises both of you, quickly adding, "Sir."

"Good, good," he hums, pressing a warm hand against the back of your neck. Your chin rests against his shoulder on instinct, getting comfortable against him. Once he's satisfied with you behaving, he leans forward and starts back to working on the document you'd been distracting him from.

The scratching of his pen is one of the only things keeping you grounded in reality. The stretch of his thick cock in your ass is almost too much for your brain to handle. You shouldn't have been talking so much, honestly, this is no one's fault but your own. Still, the torture of not being allowed to move for fear of worse punishment is enough to make you want to cry.

You sit there pretty on his dick like a good boy, though. Always so obedient for him, if only he didn't have to tell you to behave. No one is perfect, so this was a sacrifice Sunday had to make to keep things as he liked.

His fingers climb up your spine, tingling across your body right to your achingly hard cock. You almost hear Sunday chuckle when it twitches between the two of you, but it's so quiet you believe you might've made it up in your fucked out brain. You wiggle your hips in an attempt to get some friction, but all Sunday has to do is place his hand on it and you cease all movements.

Sunday seems, on the outside, entirely unaffected by everything. For the most part, he really is. He's blasting through his work faster than before, but that was because he couldn't wait much longer to bend you over the papers and reward you for good behavior. Each squeeze around him has him swallowing down groans, determined to not give into your temptations -- no matter how wonderful that sounded.

When he signs the last dotted line and closes the stack of papers back to the front page he lets out a sigh that resembles more of a moan than anything as you clench anticipatorily around him yet again. His pen is set on the desk with a little 'click', and he finally looks at you after agonizing minutes of your squirming. Lust has clouded over his gaze, and he looks positively angelic nearly lost to his own sin.

You are no better, pleading with your eyes for him to fuck you like the sweet thing you were. Tears pricked at the corners of your lashes, a picture of absolute beauty. He smiles at you, wiping them away from your cheeks as they spill over.

"You were very good, my sweet angel," He hums, moving his hands to your hips, "you deserve a reward for behaving, don't you?"

You nod adamantly, your heart picking up in excitement. He raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, and you know what you're meant to do next without the need for words. Standing from his lap, hissing as he leaves your tight hole, and bending over his desk like the good pet you were.

"Very good..." He hums, and your spine tingles in excitement as you hear his pants and belt hit the floor around his feet.

[priv-heree]

Things/details I miss when reading fanfics

okay, recently I had a strange thought: I miss reading 3 types of things in heroes/DC/batfam fanfics. Like, the things I'm going to mention here are not mandatory to write, and if you think they are unnecessary details, okay. I also won't stop reading precious fanfics because of this. I just thought about creating this post commenting on the subject, because I thought it would be interesting.

So, I miss 3 things in fanfics:

(headcanon) the fact that the heroes, at least public figures like Bruce/Oliver and Batfam, know how to apply makeup professionally (at least, do the foundation). They probably have someone who knows how to do this for them, like Alfred. But they alone must know how to apply makeup very well. Bruce for exemple has to know how to do this, because he must have A LOT of dark circles under his eyes and permanent bruises on his jaw, and he's probably paler than he appears to be on television. It's so funny that he probably puts on makeup before appearing in public! It would be great to see fanfics show this side of him without makeup: worn out and with several scratches on his chin.

Training or warming up. Like, they're already strong naturally, especially with daily practice on the streets or saving the world. But sometimes it would be so cool for more fanfics to casually describe, for example, Jason at his place lifting weights, doing sit-ups and other warm-ups while talking to someone (or just warming up for a patrol). This is a simple detail, not necessary, but I dunno, just imagining it makes me like: 🫦🫦. Imagine Cass doing push-ups all sweaty 🫦 (we listen n we dont judged).

body hair. I don't read a lot of straight sex, but of the few I've seen, the characters' private parts are either smooth, or there's no mention of hair. And it’s like that in lesbian and gay sex too. Of course, there are fanfics that describe characters having body hair, but it's not common. DON'T GET ME WRONG, this is not a fetish of mine, and I personally prefer my partner and I to be "smooth" (forgive me for the gratuitous intimacy), but in the superhero universe it makes sense for them not to be smooth. Some of the characters may like to shave, especially women characters, but they wouldn't always have the time. Describing the characters as having body hair would be more realistic for me. Normally for hero men in comics, their chests and legs contain some hair, although not all of them and it depends on the artist. Of course, sometimes the writer might not like this, or don't think it's an important detail to mention. I know! With this post I'm not trying to force anyone into anything because it would be more "real". These are just thoughts that came to my mind.

[gretavangroupie]

Still

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Male OC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, Sexual Themes, Crying, Mentions of Illness, Unrequited Feelings and Kissing.

JOSH

You can hear the gentle tapping of snowflakes as they brush your window. The cold January night has brought you a rare snowstorm, gifting you tiny perfect flakes in mass amounts. The snow has fallen for hours now, with no signs of stopping any time soon. You reach for your tea as it sits on the top of your piano, still steaming and fragrant as you bring the edge of the mug to your lips. 

It wasn’t too often that you weren’t able to sleep, but sometimes, on nights like tonight you would find your mind was too busy to wind down from the stress of the day, needing a few more hours to work itself out before you could fully rest. 

In tonight's predicament you find yourself perched in front of your piano, letting your fingers put music to the sounds in your mind, scribbling down notes and letting lyrics make their way from the pencil to the page. It's a rewarding process, usually coming out on the other side with a song, or at least a few stanzas of usable lyrics. Your mug-warmed fingers seem to be moving across the keys with a mind of their own tonight, and you keep finding yourself lost in the moment.

The tea is hot as it slides down your throat, a warm feeling washing over your cold body with the taste of chamomile and honey. Your eyes are drawn to the snow, watching the dark of the night transform into a white lucious landscape you would only find back home in Michigan. Your mind starts to drift as you stare out the window, the darkness against the stark white, all consuming and drawing you in. The house is silent, and as you close your eyes you get the momentary reprieve of quietness in your mind, too. 

A loud, unsettling buzzing snaps your eyes open, seeing your phone as it inches its way across the top of the dark, wooden piano. Your brow furrows and you set down your mug, reaching for the phone and finding the notification that illuminates the screen. 

Harrison Carmichael would like to send you a message on Facebook Messenger.

Your heart drops into your stomach as you read it again. You hadn’t seen that name in nearly ten years, but somehow just the sight of it brought back every single emotion ever tied to it. You bite your lips together as your finger hovers over the notification. 

Why would he be messaging you this late? 

Why is he messaging you at all?

You take a deep breath as you tap the notification, your phone pulling up the long forgotten messenger app for what had to be the first time in five or six years. You watch as the message populates, displaying his profile picture and the time stamp of 1:47AM.

Harrison: I know we haven’t talked in a long time but I just thought I should tell you I’m getting married in March. It's at the rose garden in memorial park. I remember we used to walk by there sometimes after school and now I kinda always think of you when I go there. I was thinking maybe you could come to the wedding if you wanted to. I know you’re busy and doing big things now like you always said you would. It’s been a long time but I do think about you sometimes and what happened between us. The wedding is at 4:00 on the 19th if you can make it. Hope you do. 

Your mind feels blank as you read the message again, swallowing back the emotion crawling up your throat. Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and you shake your head, kicking yourself that somehow despite all the time and distance he still has this effect on you. 

Hesitantly, you tap on his photo and bring up his profile. He’s changed a bit since last you saw him, but hell, you had too. Though, the more you looked it was still him. Beneath the hair and the mustache was the boy you’d fallen for all those years ago. The very first one.

Your relationship, if you can even call it that, with Harrison Carmichael was anything but simple. You didn’t even know you’d fallen in love with him until it was all but over. Before it all burst into flames, and left you standing in the ashes of the happiness you thought you’d found. Feelings that you’d buried down years ago were now sneaking their way back up with just one look at his photo.

At one point in your life, a long time ago, you believed it would be you partnering forever with Harrison. The two of you standing at a rose covered arbor saying vows to love each other forever. Telling the attendees how you met in highschool and fell in love. How you were inseparable, and nothing could shake the feelings you held for each other. Though, that’s not how things turned out. In fact, quite the opposite happened. Your life changed course overnight, and so did his, though you’re unsure if his life turned out the way he wanted.

You stand from your piano, beginning to pace the living room with the phone clutched tightly in your hand. The only sound in the house was your feet on the hardwood as you wore a path into the floor. Your mind was a chaotic mess, old feelings, old memories and more swirling through your mind at a mile a minute. You hadn't thought of this man in years, though he always would occupy a small space in your heart. It was just like him to show up when you least expected it, after all, that is how he came into your life in the first place. 

It was second period Chemistry, senior year, when your world got flipped upside down. A new student, a transfer from a few towns over. He seemed quiet, and kept to himself, that is, until you got to know him. He was placed as your lab partner for the semester, and after several months the two of you seemed to naturally become friends. Friends became best friends, and from there you found that nearly every free moment was spent with each other, outside of your theater practice and his soccer. You’d never had a best friend like this. Someone that wasn’t Jake. 

He was tall, well, taller than you were, standing roughly around five foot nine inches. His hair a sandy brown that seemed to lighten in the sun. His eyes a crystal blue, and a beaming smile he didn’t show often enough. His laugh was loud and attention grabbing and you were sure there was no sweeter sound than his laugh when it was by your hand. 

You were a naturally touchy person, and thankfully so was he, but when you started to look forward to the way his hand would brush yours, or the bump of his shoulder against yours, you began to wonder if all you felt for him was friendship. That was something you’d yet to explore about yourself, always wondering if it was a normal feeling or if there was something wrong with you. You didn’t dare speak about it to many, only Jake, and even then it was like he already knew. You were reassured time and time again that it was a natural feeling and soon enough, with enough encouragement, you began to feel comfortable in your own skin. 

There were times you started to wonder if maybe Harrison felt it too. The times where his touch would light you on fire, and you could feel your heart beating harder when he was near. Did he feel it too? When you would attend Jake’s soccer games, just to see Harrison search for you in the stands. The moment your eyes would meet across the field, you would be secretly validated in your feelings, though the words were never spoken out loud. You wondered if the smiles he would send you from across the room meant more to you than they did to him. If the hours spent texting each other, instead of girls were misinterpreted on your end. You began to wonder if maybe Harrison was just that nice of a guy. If your feelings were reciprocated at all.

You got your answer that night in May. A text from Harrison, sent late at night, far later than your typical conversations. All it said was ‘come over’, and you knew something was wrong. It wasn’t like him. Only hours earlier you promised to meet up before school the next day. 

You drove to his house, far faster than you should have, taking Jake’s car with no warning. When you saw him you knew something was wrong. He hardly spoke that night, and you sat with him in his bedroom, listening to him cry as he told you his father wasn’t doing well. That his illness was progressing. It was the first time the two of you held each other in a way that was more than friendly. He clung to you, and you to him. You let him cry as your own tears fell for him. As your heart fell for him. As you realized that you loved him. 

In the silence of that night, and through tears you shared your first kiss, confirming what you always wondered. That Harrison Carmicheal did feel the same way you did. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but a kiss that communicated the need for each other beyond what was already there. A kiss that was a year in the making for both of you. 

It was when he pulled away though, that things went silent. His hand left yours as he moved to the other side of his bedroom. He seemed conflicted and you didn’t dare speak. Your biggest fear had come to life. Maybe the feelings aren't reciprocated afterall. Maybe it was an accident. 

You prepared yourself for the heartbreak, and to this day you can still remember what he said to you, when the heartbreak never came. ‘Josh, dance with me...’

Such a simple request, but it took you by surprise. There was no music, and truthfully, you wanted to tell him no, that now wasn't the time for dancing, but instead you stood and reached for him, praying he would reach back, and he did.

It was in those four minutes spent in each other's arms that the two of you confirmed everything you ever wanted to say to each other, through whispers and the brushing of lips. He was everything to you, and he felt the same. You both knew it could never be, so you enjoyed the moment while you had it. You sat with him until he fell asleep that night, making your way back home with no trace you'd ever left in the first place. 

The two of you never spoke of what happened after that. You knew why, but didn’t want to face the reality of it. You refused to believe it. You were something he wanted, but couldn't let himself have. Something forbidden.

The crackling of your fireplace pulls you from your memories. You wonder why you’re on his mind at this time of night. Is it the same reason he never truly left yours? You wonder what would happen if you went to the wedding, and what you would say to him after all this time. You’d wear your best suit and bring the smile he loved as you sat there and watched him marry someone that isn’t you. You’d sit there and pretend to be just friends when you never really were. The two of you used to make fun of the kids that married young, but now you find it’s not so funny when it’s someone you loved. 

You briefly consider calling him in the dead of the night, finding his number still saved in your contacts after all these years. Would he answer? Would he drunkenly confess everything to you? Would he call it off? Is he awake right now, remembering things the same way you are? Would his story be different than yours?

Again you wonder if he’s just being nice, but if so, why is he inviting you in the middle of the night?

You find yourself perching back in front of your piano, letting your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think of a response, or if you even want to respond at all. All you know for certain is that a response could lead to more, and you refuse to be the reason that someone else cries. 

But why did he invite you in the middle of the night?

You lock your phone and toss it on top of the piano, letting out a sigh as you make the decision. You won’t respond to him, and you won't go to the wedding. You’ll leave his memory nice and safe in the back of your mind, remembering him as your first love and that’s all. 

As you reposition your fingers on the piano keys, you look up, noticing that the snow has finally stopped falling, and all at once, everything is still.

.

.

.

.

.

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[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience, pt 2

(Cont. from this) (all parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 2nd snippet. Adar finds someone to officiate the marriage. The elf in question does not think this is a good idea and is pretty vocal about it. Celebrimbor must convince a good friend to help him - even if by, well, unconventional means.

Hiii guys this AU is slowly but surely taking over my brain so - have another snippet. No guarantee how many I'll end up writing, but well, this one exists, so I want to share it. If anyone else wants to try their hand on this concept/AU, be my guest!

"I refuse!" Galadriel spat, after Adar had dragged her into the tent after himself. Celebrimbor had very little time to be elated to see the other elf again before she ripped herself from Adar's grasp and put herself between Celebrimbor and the uruk. "You are trying to force him into something he does not want, would not want if he had any other options left. I refuse to lend you the legitimacy to the claim you seek. I will have no part in it."

She was as brilliant and fearless as the smith remembered her; despite her being in chains and how the two of them were surrounded by potential enemies from all sides, Galadriel was willing to risk her safety and lay down her life for Celebrimbor.

Which was precisely the reason as to why he would not take her up on the 'offer'.

He held up his hands and stared beseechingly at the uruk, who appeared stoic at first glance - but whose gauntleted fist was tightly clenched at his side, grasping the handle of his sword. At Celebrimbor's silent request, the uruk stopped his attempt to get closer. He even motioned the two uruk who had come in alongside him to stand down with a glance, before his eyes settled onto Celebrimbor again. Adar seemed oddly curious now, as if the tension had bled out of him.

The elf brushed it aside, and carefully came closer to Galadriel, humming before he touched her arm as not to startle her. She stepped back, closer to him.

Apropos of nothing, she hissed. "He speaks Quenya and Sindarin. Don't say anything you don't want him to hear."

Celebrimbor blinked, confused. Both at Galadriel's warning, and the fact that this unusual uruk spoke their languages. Then again - he did look elven enough that he might indeed be Moriondor. A terrifying thought, perhaps, but also one that held possibilities.

With gentle motions, the smith began to rub Galadriel's arm, and coaxed. "My friend, be at ease. Let me talk to you, first. Are you alright?"

She seemed torn between turning towards him to reassure him, and keeping an eye on the three uruk in the tent with them. Celebrimbor stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her, so the two of them were shoulder-to-shoulder - they'd cover their backs and she'd still be able to look at him. He had a hunch he'd need to be able to do that for the conversation that would follow.

Her eyes were wild as she was moved, her glances brief, but eventually she allowed herself a moment to take in the smith's face. "I am unharmed," she replied, brief and non-committal. Her glare went back to Adar. "You?"

Celebrimbor continued to rub her shoulder. "I've been treated well. He gave me food and drink," he paused, and looked at Adar. "He didn't even bind me."

This time, Galadriel did whirl around. Celebrimbor held up his hands and indeed, he had neither ropes nor manacles around his wrists. She tilted her head like a bird, and then glanced back at the uruk. Her expression still spoke of suspicion, but at least she wasn't quite so full of hatred anymore.

"Their leader told me he is planning to force you into a marriage," the word sounded like an insult from her mouth. "And tried to lie to me, claiming you'd accept to such a ludicruous idea-"

"Galadriel-," Celebrimbor sighed, gentle. Something in his tone must have given him away, because when Galadriel next turned towards him, she completely forgot the other people in the room by turning around fully. And shock was written all over her face.

If the situation wasn't so dire, the smith would have laughed at the picture she made. She was usually nearly unflappable in times of battle.

"-listen to me, I-"

"You cannot be serious," she breathed, still in shock, and grabbed Celebrimbor's hands with her own. "Tyelpe, listen to yourself. This orc-"

"Uruk," came from the other side of the room. Celebrimbor briefly looked up to see that Adar had spoken the words, but there was no heat behind them. If anything, he looked almost mildly amused. Celebrimbor threw him a glare and then focused on his friend again.

"Orc," she doubled down. Celebrimbor groaned internally. "Is speaking lies! He is trying to rope you into a plan to attack your own people, because he thinks-"

"Sauron is in Eregion. Yes," the smith finished her sentence, and Galadriel's expression fell out of her face at the name. "He's right. I- I have seen him. I know he's there because-"

He hoped, prayed to the Valar that his friend would forgive him. "Because I chose to ignore your warnings when 'Halbrand' returned to Eregion. I..." his voice broke. "I let him in, and now he won't leave. He's- he tricked me and my people, and when I realized it was far too late already."

His confession threatened to tear him apart, and he felt tears of frustration and shame gather in his eyes. "I am so sorry, my friend. I made a terrible mistake. And now my city is going to pay for it."

He would not crumble in the middle of an enemy tent, in front of the leader of a dark army that was still readying itself to attack Ost-In-Edhil if he diverged from the path he and Adar had set themselves onto.

Galadriel's gentle fingers at his cheek were a balm to his soul. As were her kind, understanding eyes. Gone was the commander of the Lindon elves, replaced with a kind smile and an imploring gaze.

"He tricked me too, same as you," she confessed. "Same as he has done to others," Adar's voice drifted over. Celebrimbor looked over in confusion and saw an unusually vulnerable expression on the other's face. And then the smith noticed how Galadriel's eyes had sunk to the floor as if contemplating something herself.

"It's not your fault," the female elf finally settled on, and looked at the smith, imploringly. "Almost none can resist him. And he set out to trick you, it wasn't a mistake or a coincidence on his part. When he first sets his sights on you...it already becomes impossible to escape him. Do not blame yourself for it."

"But I do," Celebrimbor said, and hushed Galadriel as she tried to reassure him. "I am the lord of this city. Of its citizens. I am meant to be their protector, and yet I couldn't even protect myself..."

"Which is why you must do me this favor, and help officiate a marriage between me and Adar." It was, perhaps, unfair to end his heartfelt confession with such a demand, but time was of the essence. Celebrimbor could apologize to her later, if she took offense to it. "His reasoning is sound - he plans to vanquish our common foe. As his husband, I can hand over control of my city to him. My people would have to accept that claim. He could enter it and drive out Annatar- Sauron. Hopefully with little bloodshed."

He trembled as he repeated Adar's plans at his friend, whose face was moving through different emotions at a speed too rapid to keep up with. Still, the smith pressed on. "Please Galadriel - like this, he will advance on Eregion. Elves and uruk will die, and Sauron will reign over whatever is left. Likely, he'll take the city and the army both. I know not how. But whatever he plans cannot be good," another pause. "He's tried to get me to make more rings."

At the mention of Sauron taking over the uruk army, there was a loud hiss from across the room, but it was Galadriel who was jerking in the smith's grasp at the mention of the rings.

"Over my dead body," Adar snarled, but the smith chose to ignore him for the moment. He could discuss this further with Adar when they were alone.

"He wants me, Galadriel," Celebrimbor pressed, and sought out her eyes. "Please, I need you to help me put a stop to this." "There's got to be a better way than this." The smith could tell it was her last attempt to reason with him, and already, it sounded more like a plea than an exclamation made in full confidence. He guessed that she was quickly arriving at the same conclusion he himself had come to.

"If there is, we have no the time to parse it out, or to pursue it," he said, and there was a finality to his words that made Galadriel deflate in his hold. He drew her closer and pressed their foreheads together. "Officiate the marriage. Stand by my side and give legitimacy to Adar's claims. Help me bring this to Gil-Galad so we might unite their- our forces against this greater evil. You want to get rid of him too, do you not?"

She looked back at him. "I can tell you are trying to appeal to my sence of vengeance," she said. And then sighed. Celebrimbor could tell he had gotten through to her, and it made him sigh in turn - in relief.

"I will do as you ask," she told Celebrimbor, and threw another glare at Adar, whose expression was a mask of indifference - thankfully so, for the smith was sure that if the other had been smug about it, Galadriel would have made an attempt on his life, no matter the circumstances (or consequences). She turned back to him. "And I will stay by your side to make sure he won't go back on his word. If he does, I'll cut his throat."

Her bold declaration was met with enraged growling from the two uruk guards who had brought her in, and a watery smile from Celebrimbor, who nodded and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. "Of that, I have no doubt."

This put a small grin to her face, at last. Good.

"Now that this matter is settled," a voice cut through the small moment of peace, shattering it. "I believe we should start. My children are getting restless, and morning is fast approaching."

Celebrimbor sought out Adar's gaze, who still seemed as unaffected as through most of the conversation, safe for the fact that he wasn't grasping his sword anymore and was infact walking over to the nearby table to drink from a goblet - wine, the smith presumed.

"Untie her, and then let us be done with it quickly." It sounded as if this marriage was merely another task for Adar to fulfill - the smith couldn't quite fault the uruk for that. There was no love between them, not even affection, safe for how he couldn't quite help following the motion as Adar lifted his glass and drank in big gulps, throat moving with the motions.

It was an oddly arresting sight, and Celebrimbor was thankful when the two approaching uruk guards helped him to tear his gaze away. They were cautious to touch Galadriel, and surprised the others in the tent when they gave Celebrimbor the permission to open her manacles with a key instead.

The smith rubbed her wrists between his hands after he'd handed the keys and manacles back to the guards without a fuss and thanked them. The raised eyebrows that greeted him were unexpected, however. He gave Galadriel a lopsided smile and made sure the commander would not require a balm for the chafing.

He was surprised to see that while the manacles had certainly worked, they hadn't cut into her skin. Even with how Galadriel had behaved - and Celebrimbor was sure she hadn't been caught without a fight - Adar hadn't had her bound so tightly that she would bruise.

Perhaps, he mused, there was indeed a way this alliance could work out. "Well then," the smith clapped his hands once. The finality of his words didn't escape him. "Let us proceed."

[stupidphototricks]

Rincewind just might be the character of all time. (Part 1, probably)

“You’re all missin’ the point. He survives. You keep on tellin’ me he’s had all these adventures and he’s still alive.” “What do you mean? He’s got scars all over him!” “My point exactly, Dean. Most of ’em on his back, too. He leaves trouble behind. Someone Up There smiles on him.” Rincewind winced. He had always been aware that Someone Up There was doing something on him. He’d never considered it was smiling. -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

Rincewind shook his head. “It’s no good,” he said. “I hate it when people are nice to me. It means something bad is going to happen. Do you mind shouting?” Ridcully had had enough. “Get out of that bed you horrible little man and follow me this minute or it will go very hard for you!” “Ah, that’s better. I feel right at home now. Now we’re cooking with charcoal,” said Rincewind, glumly. -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

Adventure! People talked about the idea as if it was something worthwhile, rather than a mess of bad food, no sleep, and strange people inexplicably trying to stick pointed objects in bits of you. -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

He was no good at anything else. Wizardry was the only refuge. Well, actually he was no good at wizardry either, but at least he was definitively no good at it. He’d always felt he had a right to exist as a wizard in the same way that you couldn’t do proper maths without the number 0, which wasn’t a number at all but, if it went away, would leave a lot of larger numbers looking bloody stupid. -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

And he probably had saved the world a few times, but it had generally happened accidentally, while he was trying to do something else. So you almost certainly didn’t actually get any karmic points for that. It probably only counted if you started out by thinking in a loud way “By criminy, it’s jolly well time to save the world, and no two ways about it!” instead of “Oh, shit, this time I’m really going to die.” -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

“Say something in wizard language!” “Er. Stercus, stercus, stercus, moriturus sum,” said Rincewind, his eye on the knife. “‘O excrement, I am about to die?’” -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

“I saw him, I tell you! A legion of soldiers collapsed with the wind of his passage!” The wind of his passage was beginning to worry Rincewind as well. It always tended to when he was frightened. -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

“That is correct,” said Two Fire Herb. “We will overcome because history is on our side.” “We will overcome because the Great Wizard is on our side,” said Butterfly sharply. “I’ll tell you this!” shouted Rincewind. “I’d rather trust me than history! Oh, shit, did I just say that?” -- Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

[voxofthevoid]

Yo, it's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #16—first WIP Wednesday of the year, technically, since the last week ended up being excerpt games.

I still don't have any straight-up porn to post (only two such scenes left in the whole fic, and the next two chapters should cover those), but I did write two interlinked scenes featuring Yuuji, Gojou, and Tōji that should be entertaining on their own—and maybe tease some of the missing context 👀

“So he did come,” Satoru murmurs. “We have a guest, Yuuji.”

Yuuji drags his mind to the present—and the man lounging on Satoru’s front steps. “Tōji-san?”

A lazy wave. “Yo. Playing favorites, Six Eyes?”

“H-huh?”

“Not you, kid.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Satoru says pleasantly. “I’m perfectly willing to involve Megumi. Are you?”

Tōji continues to stare up at them, his eyes narrow slits despite the angle. When Yuuji looks at Satoru, he finds a bland smile that gives nothing away.

“Involve Fushiguro in what?” Yuuji asks. “Guys?”

“Training.” Satoru’s the one who replies, and it’s the same tone as before but…different somehow. “Tōji here would make a better teacher for you than for Megumi, but I’m far more versatile. There’s a lot I could teach your cute little son—isn’t that right, Papa-san?”

“Don’t push it, you little shit.”

Satoru’s grin widens unsettlingly. “Is that a no?”

“You know damn well you’re not touching that brat for three more years. Or did you get fucked so hard you forgot to count?”

Heat rushes to Yuuji’s face, but Satoru only laughs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” Yuuji grits out.

Two pairs of unfairly intense eyes snap to him. Yuuji holds Tōji’s gaze and ignores Satoru’s. Both these men are intimidating, but Yuuji’s been surviving Sukuna and his freakshow for fucking months.

“Heh.” Tōji stands up—and up and up, unfolding his entire immense bulk. He finishes it off with a leisurely stretch of his arms above his head; the fabric around his biceps cries for help. “At least you’ll be more fun than all this grunt work. Don’t disappoint me too much, pinkie.”

“Careful,” Satoru chimes in. His hand comes to rest on Yuuji’s shoulder, the touch light but the weight heavy. “You’re not allowed to break Yuuji.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“Stupid?” Satoru tilts his head, the movement oddly liquid. “Not at all. You do, however, have a track record of trying to kill hapless teenagers.”

Tōji snorts. “Hapless my ass. You and your dead boyfriend were monsters.”

Satoru’s hand flexes on Yuuji’s shoulder, tightening briefly before relaxing with a deliberation that makes Yuuji’s own knuckles ache. “Takes one to know one.”

“Sure does.” Tōji’s eyes sweep back to Yuuji. “Let’s see where you fall on the spectrum. Training wheels are off, kiddo. You’re playing with the big boys now.”

“Uh…” Yuuji looks between the two of them; Satoru’s smile tells him as much as Tōji’s sneer does—absolutely nothing. “I have no idea what you two are talking about.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Tōji’s here to train your body. I’ll take over later to hone your spiritual senses. Ideally, I’d do both, but I have a demon to corral—and you two get along well enough. Still, don’t let him bully you, Yuuji.”

“You’re one to talk,” Tōji drawls. “The kid looks like he’d crawl out of his skin to get away from you.”

Yuuji freezes.

At his side, Satoru does too. Then the hand on Yuuji’s shoulder falls away.

Yuuji doesn’t miss it; he doesn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Satoru says blandly, stepping back and out of Yuuji’s peripheral vision. “Yuuji has a key. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

There’s a soft, strange noise—displaced air, with an electric crackle. Yuuji’s heard it exactly once before, in that deserted road in front of Sukuna’s church a second before Satoru showed him it wasn’t so deserted after all.

When he turns around, Satoru’s gone.

“Idiot,” Tōji scoffs behind him. “Come on, pinkie. Let’s beat you into shape.”

-

The spar with Tōji ends very predictably.

There was a moment there at the start when Yuuji thought he might be able to put up a better fight. Sukuna is a lot more formidable than the high school bullies and yakuza wannabes who had been the extent of Yuuji’s fighting experience the last time he’d tangled with Tōji, and Yuuji’s never once won against Sukuna either, but he’s learned a lot.

He’s changed, in ways he can sometimes feel like stains in his soul.

But one second was all it took for Yuuji to realize just how much Tōji had been holding back the first and no-longer-only time they’d done this, and then he was getting real closely acquainted with the bark of a tree.

That first and no-longer-only fight feels like a joke now. It must have felt like one to Tōji. And it’s not like Yuuji had walked away from that either, but he’d felt all warm about Tōji’s appraisal afterward, and there’d been a fun thrill to the way Fushiguro had looked at him, his expression grudgingly impressed despite how he’d warned Yuuji away from his dad’s antics.

What just happened feels more like utter slaughter. Yuuji’s bones are unbroken and there are no holes in his body, but even the worst Sukuna had done to him hadn’t been so one-sided.

A pair of feet enter his peripheral vision.

Tōji’s dark eyes peer down at him. His expression is…no different than what he wears when he greets Yuuji at the door. Boredom, mostly, but with an edge to it that warrants straightened spines and ready hands.

He says, “You fight differently.”

Yuuji tries to ask a question, but all that comes out is a weak croak.

Tōji lets out an amused huff and raises a hand. It’s clutching a bottle of water. When did he—

“Ack—” Yuuji gasps and sputters as the water is poured onto his hot, swollen face, and some of it goes inside, soothing his throat almost by accident. It’s a miracle none of it ends up in his windpipe. “Tōji-san! Cut it out!”

“Look at that, you’re alive,” Tōji drawls, but the stream of water cuts off. “Just watering you. Hydration is important.”

Yuuji glares up at him. “I’m not a plant.”

“You’re about as useless as one right now.” Tōji crouches down, and Yuuji tries to brace himself, an instinct violently obtained in the last handful of minutes, but those hands don’t reach for him with the intent to hurt, just dangle between Tōji’s spread legs while he surveys Yuuji with unreadable eyes. “Eh, I guess you’ll do.”

“What did you mean?” Yuuji asks, blinking hard to make his eyes stop stinging from the water assault. The cuts all over his face and neck burn, but that’s easy enough to ignore. The rest of his body feels like one big bruise. “How am I fighting differently?”

“You’ve learned what real pain feels like.” Tōji’s voice is low, his eyes unblinking. “And it doesn’t bother you much. It shows. It always does.”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t let it get to your head. You’ve still got a ways to go.” Tōji cracks his neck, veins bulging along the thick column of it. “At least training you won’t be a total waste.”

Yuuji bites his lip, reminded of something he’d thought of in scattered bursts in the couple of minutes between Satoru leaving and Tōji laying into him. “Tōji-san, is it really alright to leave Fushiguro out of this?”

“Out of what? This ain’t some super cool club, pinkie. You’re here to get beaten up till you’re a little less likely to shit yourself and die if one of those fuckers that go bump in the night looks at you wrong. What, you want company in your misery?”

“No, that’s not—” Yuuji takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what he does want to say. “It’s nothing like that. I’m just worried. Sukuna knows him, he’s—sorry, it’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“Can it.” Tōji pulls a face, blowing out an explosive breath. “Kids these days. You didn’t do shit. This is just the ugly, festering face of reality. Most people just can’t see it. Sometimes, they’re lucky for it. Sometimes, they’re just dumb cattle. That’s the way it is.”

Yuuji can’t help thinking of what Satoru said yesterday about monsters and people—about food and feasting.

“Won’t he be safer,” he asks quietly, “if he can protect himself better?”

Tōji blinks, a languid motion that leaves his eyes heavy-lidded. “Is that what you think he’s doing with you?”

“H-huh?”

“Gojou,” Tōji clarifies, except it doesn’t explain anything at all.

“I don’t—”

“Make no mistake, kid—this is a farce. I don’t know why he’s bothering. I can guess, but I don’t really give a fuck. Just take what you’re given and hope you’ll live long enough to use it. It won’t be here. It won’t even be this year. I know too well what it takes to make a hunter worth the air they waste.” The base of the plastic bottle, still heavy with water, is brought to rest against Yuuji’s stomach. It taps idly, once. Then it presses unerringly into a bruise, and Yuuji’s left breathing slow and soft past the burst of pain. “At least you’ve got a good body. You even know how to use it. It’s still not enough. Megumi? He’d need to eat the thing in the church to even taste his own damn power. Now call that a fucking birthright.”

Yuuji swallows, tasting blood, and that’s just the cut inside his mouth from when a punch shoved his flesh against his own canine, but the undertone of rot is something else, isn’t it?

“Tōji-san…”

“You’re just brats who’d be useless in this fight.” Tōji rises to his feet in one fluid motion, turning away from Yuuji. “So stay brats.”

Yuuji breathlessly watches him take a few steps toward the open back door of Gojou’s house.

Then— “Satoru said you tried to kill him.”

Tōji pauses, doesn’t look back. “Sure did.”

And Yuuji’s not surprised, not really. He heard what these two said. But it was a lot, and he still doesn’t know what to feel about hapless teenagers and dead boyfriends and monsters.

He can still see the shape of a story; it’s not a good one.

“Was he my age then?”

“Who knows.”

“He was still young.”

“He was a brat too, if that’s what you’re getting at. Should’ve been an easy kill. Would’ve saved us all some trouble if I’d finished the damn job.” Tōji sticks a finger in his ear, giving it a violent shake. “Whatever. This pays better.”

[chiarrara]

PART THR33 (finallyyyyyyyy):

so after all THAT nobara and megumi are, predictably, avoiding the subject... basically, they were both like "that's crazy, he's crazy right? that's crazy" and focused harder on the obvious distraction of liking yuuji. the whole thing seemed to calm down yuuji a bit though! he's being less cagey with them, and after a few days, the initial weirdness mostly calms down and things fall into a (three-way denial fueled) equilibrium

SCENE - INT. DINING HALL, MORNING

they're grabbing breakfast (again)(as you do) but nobara splits off to eat with the upperclassmen (N: "I don't wanna eat with you assholes today"; she already had plans to eat with maki)((she may also be avoiding one or the both of them))(((any reason honeslty, everyday is a new minefield with these losers)))

SIDE NOTE: for some reason in this, nobara developed a really contentious one-sided feud with yuuta. maki and yuuta might be a thing, or just besties, idrc because that has nothing to do with nobara's dislike of him (really, what it comes down to is in first year she didn't get to go to kyoto because "he won the exchange event last year" and she's held a grudge against him ever since) of course, he's very nice and welcoming to her at all times, which gives her lots of opportunites to snap back at him and roll her eyes and ignore him to talk to maki. he has no idea what's going on.

Things are awkward between yuuji and megumi. things have mostly gone back to normal but this is still the first time anyone's been alone with yuuji since the incident. they're pretty much just sitting in silence until yuuji breaks the tension.

Y: I can't believe gojo-sensei actually assigned us a reading this week. he's never done that before has he?

M: technically, he's supposed to assign readings every week. it just never matters if we actually read them or not.

Y: wait, really? but...didn't he say he was gonna quiz us?

M: it's probably just because he's going out of town all week. he has to pretend he's still teaching while he's gone.

Y: oh…so you think he's gonna forget by the time he gets back?

M: probably. but even if he doesn't-- you know, right after I graduated middle school gojo told me all of sudden there was an entrance exam for jujutsu tech.

Y: really!? but all I had to do was--

M: trust me I'm getting to that. he gave me like 700 pages of reading and told me I was gonna get tested on all of it. I spent the entire break pulling all-nighters, reading everything, reviewing it over and over, running practice exams and everything. Then I showed up on the first day.

Y: and?

M: Yaga-sensei beat the shit out of me.

Yuuji laughs. Megumi smiles.

Y: was anything in the reading helpful at least?

M: not even a little bit.

It's the first time Yuuji's laughed so easily around him since stuff got weird.

Y: what did Gojo say?

M: "I never said it would be a written exam"

Y: you're kidding

Across the room, Maki's glancing over Nobara's shoulder

Maki: looks like they're finally getting along again. shit's been weird with you three lately. (N: mm.)

Yuuta: the two of them would be cute together, don't you think? (N: glares)

Maki: How would Nobara feel about getting third wheeled in her little trio though?

Nobara peeks over her shoulder to see Megumi smiling softly at a grinning and laughing Yuuji, the two of them looking realllll cozy together.

Nobara: Whatever. I just don't want Yuuji to get a boyfriend before I do.

((((Maki: what about megumi? Nobara: couldn't care less))))

SCENE - EXT. TRAINING GROUNDS, AFTERNOON

that same afternoon, they're out getting ready for the afternoon training session. it's independently lead today. megumi's planning on training with his shikigami getting ready to do another subjugation ritual. he's warming up by himself a ways away from the other two. nobara gets her hammer and nails and approaches yuuji streching on the ground and asks him to spar with her

yuuji: I mean....okay, but are you sure? you're more of a ranged fighter, right? how well you can fight kinda depends on how well you can take advantage of your environment, especially one-on-one against a hand-to-hand fighter. and...well, we're in an open field.

nobara smirks (she's secretly always impressed by yuuji's fight sense, but she's also the most competitive person she knows): you scared?

yuuji looks back up at her, blinks at the challenge, then a smile slowly grows across his face. holding eye contact, he cocks his head and says: no way

they set up about 10 yards (meters) apart. yuuji's bouncing on his toes, rolling his shoulders ready to close the distance. he drops his chin and locks eyes with nobara. she slots three nails between her fingers on her left hand, adjusts her grip on her hammer and locks in.

nobara has to keep her heart from beating out of her chest

yuuji takes off, a huge burst of speed that kicks up the turf behind him. in practiced motions, nobara slams three nails in a spread pattern into the ground between them. the earth explodes in front of yuuji, breaking and shooting up into jagged crags of earth in his path. he skids, taken aback by a technique he didn't know she had. he quickly changes direction

nobara takes advantage of the moment when yuuji has lost the line of sight and quickly scales one of the new formations jutting out of the ground, pulling as many nails as she can hold at once out of her hip pack. the moment she sees yuuji veering around the obstruction, she shoots a nail directly at his head

he catches sight of her just before the nail whizzes past his face. he has to halt his movement and pull his head back to barely miss being hit. He uses the sudden stop to change directions again, and start bounding up the broken earth toward nobara

she shoots another, he dodges to the left. she shoots one more, and it catches him on the cheek. he doesn't even flinch, bounding forward until he's just a step away from catching up to her

nobara jumps backward off her perch and slides down another chunk of jutting turf, turning as yuuji jumps across to follow her. the moment he touches down, she shoots a nail into the ground right below his feet, destroying it.

she takes the opportunity to gain some distance, running away from the destroyed turf back into the open field. she'll only have a moment to do what she needs to do.

the ground explodes behind her in a crack followed by a blast that blows her hair around her and sends debris flying past. he'll be on her in seconds. if she's lucky

nobara pulls six nails out of her pack and floats five around her with cursed energy. she spins around, kneels down in the center and slams the last one into the ground, bringing all the others down with it and shooting cursed energy deep into the earth

immediately the ground beneath her shoots up into the sky carrying her up with it

the sudden upward momentum knocks the air out of her for a moment. she stabilizes herself on her hands and knees as the acceleration slows near the peak. she brings her eyes to the ground below her. yuuji is locked onto her, just below bouncing on his toes waiting for the moment she lands.

she reaches the peak and her stomach lurches as she comes to a stop. she takes a deep breath.

the moment the ground begins to fall she stands, reaches out with her cursed energy, and takes aim

one shot to the right. he dodges and rolls. but as he moves to pop back up, he's jerked back by his left arm, stuck to the ground. his head flicks over to see what's holding him back, but the nail she shot is feet away from him. nobara smirks.

three more shots. his right arm is pinned down. then his right leg. and his left.

she launches herself off the chunk of land just before it crashes back into the ground and lands kneeled over yuuji, a nail to his head, hammer over her head

"i win"

yuuji's shocked face pulls into a wide smile as his eyes light up and his body relaxes

"how'd you do that?"

she smiles, and pokes him in the cheek where the nail grazed him at the start of the fight.

"that tiny bit of blood?"

she nods

"on one nail?"

she nods again and smiles

"no way....when did you learn all this?"

"maybe i've been practicing when you weren't paying attention"

"you're amazing, kugisaki"

the praise shoots electricity straight down her spine and sets her skin on fire.

"yeah. i am." she tries to maintain an air of confidence, turning away as her face heats up. she drops her cursed technique freeing yuuji from being pinned to the ground and moves to stand up.

the moment the curse drops he hooks his leg around hers, one hand presses into her shoulder and the other wraps around her waist. before she can process, he's flipped her onto her back, pinning her down by her wrist, immobilizing the hand that holds her hammer. he smirks down at her.

"I win"

nobara's heart is going to kill her. yuuji's face, inches from hers, self-satisfied grin and sparkling eyes is going to kill her.

"get off me, loser" she pushes him off with one foot. He falls off easily laughing.

"let's call it a draw!"

"no way!"

he laughs harder. megumi watches them from across the destroyed landscape. nobara is pushing herself off the ground flicking dirt and grass off her uniform while yuuji is laid out on the ground beside her. she's frowning, but her face is flushed. he knows it's not from effort.

"other people have to train here you know" he mumbles to himself. he's definitely mad about the damage. only the damage. he's not getting anything done today.

SCENE - INT. DORM HALLWAY, EVENING

that night, nobara knocks on megumi's door again for the first time since the incident. she slips in quietly and shuts the door with a soft click. they hold tense eye contact from across the room before nobara finally speaks

n: you think you're slick?

m: what?

n: i saw you flirting up a storm with yuuji at breakfast.

megumi slams his book closed

n: "oh yuuji, you're so funny, yuuuji. let me bat my eyes at you some more yuuuuuji!"

m: I was flirting?? (he gets up from his bed) "spar with me yuuji-kun! let me show my moves yuuji-kuuun! oops i'm straddling you yuuji-kuuuun!"

he's halfway across the room taunting her

n: i don't know who the fuck you think you're talking about, cause I know it's not me

she's halfway across the room up in his face

n: sounds like you're jealous

m: i'm not jealous

n: so you're a liar too

m: (softer this time) not a liar...

megumi's looking down into her eyes, she's glaring up into his. his eyes drop to her lips. nobara just deflates like we're doing this again, huh? megumi just shrugs like can't help it. in moments, they're all over each other again, falling back onto his bed, wrinkling the sheets, and rolling awkwardly over the book he deposited there earlier.

nobara slides her hands into megumi's hair and pulls, he gasps and bites her lip. she pulls her lip through his teeth and sits back breathing heavily. megumi catches her eye and they pause.

he shakes his head and pulls her back in.

"let's not talk about it yet"

she nods and crashes back into him.

once they've worked off the initial burst of energy, slowing down until nobara's forehead is pressed against megumi's, breathing evenly, his hands holding her lower back and waist, neither of them making direct eye contact, she falls to the side and burys her face in the bedding.

m: soooo....

n: (groans)

m: we should probably talk about it now

nobara turns her head to look at him, her face still half squished against the mattress, pouting

m: nobara...what are we?

END OF PART 3, PART 4 GONNA BE WILD GET READY

new itfskg based on a hc post i saw on here in my fugue state rbing last night i'll add a screenshot or link or smth later maybe idk. okay so baskially how it goes:

megumi and nobara both have a crush on yuuji. this is especially hard for nobara bc she spent the whole first let's say year of their friendship being extremely vocal about how she'd never be into either of them but oops! she got too comfy and caught feelings

nobara eventually breaks down and goes to fushiguro to lament her plight and ask for advice. she's dramatically revealing the source of her suffering when his face gives him away (a big ol "oh no" written on his forehead) (N: what's that face? M: what face... N: oh my god... do you like him too???) (Megumi doesn't say shit cause he's a repressed loser embarrassed of having feelings)

Turns out meg's had a crush on yuuji basically since he met him. he didn't realize it at first of course cause he's way too good at lying to himself. not that good though. he's been silently fostering a deep deep crush for months.

having learned all this, for the next few weeks, nobara starts visiting fushiguro in his dorm anytime she's too overwhelmed by annoying feelings, or pulling him aside during downtime to let off steam, sharing knowing glances and silent communications across rooms. megu's surprisingly glad to have someone to confide in, especially in a way where he's not the center of attention. Since they're both pathetic losers with a crush, he finds it's easier to talk about his feelings than with anything before.

regularly commiserating about how down bad they both are leads nobara and megumi to spend more time separated from yuuji. it's really good for their friendship actually. previously they were both a bit closer to yuuji than to each other, but having a crush to bond over gives them a lot to talk about. yuuji does notice they're spending more time together. and without him. wonder how he feels about that..

one night, nobara barges into megumi's room to complain about yuuji being way too cute and funny at dinner or something while megumi's laying in bed reading. she just plops down half on top of him and starts in. He reluctantly puts his book down but he doesn't object. they've gotten pretty used to each other. so she's going off, grumbling into his shoulder, gripping his sweatshirt out of frustration, and when she looks up, fushiguro looks down at her. their faces less than a foot apart as she's leaning into him, lying together in his bed and...

N: what's that face

M: what face?

he looks away. nobara turns his face back to hers

N: that face

M: (without breaking *very intense* eye contact) I dont' know what you're talking about

they make out

it's very much teenagers with a lot of pent up energy that needs to go somewhere fooling around like teenagers with pent up energy that needs to go somewhere. they kind of crash together, they're grabbing at arms and shoulders and faces, pulling each other as close as they can without ever breaking the kiss. At one point, nobara in readjusting to keep from falling off the bed ends up on top of megumi, knees on either side of his hips, one hand propping herself up and one gripped in the fabric of his sweatshirt. he pulls her into him and rolls them over so they're chest to chest with him on top. he's pushes his hands into her hair, she wraps her arms around his back and twists her leg around h--

two knocks and the door opens

"Hey Fushiguro, I wanted to see if you..."

Yuuji's halfway through the doorway and his face is morphing into the picture of absolute despair

megumi and nobara are...like this

(they're not naked, they're just microsoft paint stick people)

"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I'll just..." Yuuji sputters and stumbles out the door.

(simultaneously) M: Shit.. N: Fuck!

so the mood's kiiinda dead.... megumi ends up leaned up against the wall with his head in his hands. nobara's staring blankly at the ceiling. Eventually, nobara says, "did you see his face?" M: "mm" N: "so...which one of us do you think he likes?"

---END OF PART ONE---

(I'll continue it in like... 5 minutes probably)

[fennelwasp]

Being the patho protagonist does kind of mean you look unhinged to any outsiders

[qiu-yan]

i'll write a more in-depth post later, but imo one of the reasons for the level of disagreement in this fandom is that many of us readers can see what mxtx is trying to imply about ethics through her work and simply do not agree with her base premise. like i think that there are some conclusions about the various characters in mdzs that mxtx wants you as the reader to draw. you can kind of tell even if you don't agree with those conclusions. more importantly, though, you can also tell exactly what kind of moral philosophy mxtx (consciously or unconsciously) favors, and what she treats as the granularity of morality, so to speak. the most commonly-held positions in the fandom are those mxtx intends for the reader to reach using her own beliefs about ethics as fundamental axioms.

the problem, then, is when the reader does not agree with mxtx's unspoken axioms of morality. if you come into mdzs with a moral framework different enough from what mxtx has (consciously or unconsciously) used to write mdzs, then of course you're going to come to different conclusions regarding the characters or even the object lessons of the story.

or rather, in simpler terms: the rammies, mxtx....the rammies....

[sysig]

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