#i got nothing to say besides. i just wanted to doodle really

[p1x1x]

shikimaya, insight being her usual freak self. dont look at me look at what canon did

[firelightmlpoc]

In regards to the current Pansear Doodles problem, I have this to say, & will continue to stand by this until further proof is presented:

Firstly, a statement of mine I’ve been saying for a bit now:

“So, is this account in the screenshots that is claimed to be Pansear actually 100% confirmed to be Pansear’s? The grammar pattern isn’t matching any other messages Pansear has posted in any other server I’ve seen them in, nor was the actual ACCOUNT actually shown besides the nickname & the pfp (Which is barely able to be considered solid proof, especially with the advent of server profiles allowing specific names & pfps for other servers on a whim) You can click an account to see the full account details, mutual servers, ect cetera & show that information WITH these screenshots real easily, so idk why that wasn’t done.

Fuck, it’s still really easy to fake Discord screenshots nowadays too. Is this 100% confirmed to be Pansear in the screenshots being posted?”

As of the time of writing this post, this STILL hasn’t been addressed, nor has any further proof been given. Furthermore, with regards to how Pansear responded to just the allegations themselves, I guarantee they didn’t try to defend themselves & keep their accounts up because of actual threats to their person.

Just look at what happened to their Tumblr handle LITERALLY, AT MOST, HOURS AFTER THEY TOOK THEIR ACCOUNT DOWN.

You all think that the horribly socially-anxious, anxiety-ridden person known as Pansear Doodles could handle that kind of harassment directly to themselves, much less WANT to? No wonder they didn’t even try to defend themselves.

Now, another user I was talking to about this mentioned a good point as well (Not going to give their name to avoid them getting harassed as well.) They said this in response to the screenshots:

“There is no solid proof the Feral Porn screenshot or the Self Harm screenshot are truly Pansear or Emily, but there is some weird oddities regarding the two that show "multiple members". Occasionally, you can see a blue blip peaking behind the censor that matches the color of the 0303Emily account in the FP screenshot exactly. More critically, all of the accounts in the screenshots that aren't "Pansear" have the time sent value uncensored, and they line up with eachother pixel for pixel. This means that if you wanted to fake this screenshot, it would be really easy, as you only need 2 accounts, or just one friend. Also Pansear mentioned how they blocked 0303Emily months ago, so them talking like nothing happened makes no sense. I find it VERY hard to believe the screenshots are real considering all the oddities, the story holes, ease of fakery, and the anonymous source of the information. Every one of these points isn't enough to prove that it is fake, but it certainly isn't enough to prove it's real, and them combined all point in the same direction...”

Now, today I hear that more crusading is occurring from these same people who made these claims about Pansear.

So, @iridescentipede & @azrielfiend . You got any actual PROOF, or is this all stemming from your prior incident with Pansear not immediately trusting you when you accused their friend with minimal proof before?

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[xhoneygirlxx]

Watermelon Sugar

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary: Eddie shows you the eight wonder of the world. his mouth.

warnings: reader and eddie are 18+, established relationship, fluff, Eddie being a munch. nicknames/pet names used (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.) MINORS DNI 18+ smut: fem oral receiving, blowjobs mentioned, talks of past sexual experiences, praise/body worship, swearing. *Skin Color/Ethnicity not mentioned! not proofread, spelling errors and horrible writing.

if I miss anything plz lmk!

a/n: hello my loves! thank you all for the kind words and reactions on my last couple of posts! as you all know smut is not my forte but I felt the need to write this. am I projecting??? maybe but we’re gonna pretend that i'm not :)

The low hum of Steve Nicks’ voice plays through Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of your makeout session with your boyfriend. Orange glow from the late afternoon sun comes through the window, an angelic glow casting around the frizz of the mentalhead’s hair.

It started as an innocent day, hanging out together in a comfortable silence in his room. Him doodling in his notebook and you flipping through one of his old comic books. Somewhere along the way a featherlight touch turned into shared giggles, sitting in his lap turned into a chaste kiss, and it ended up with him in between your parted knees, kissing like his life depended on it.

A curtain of curls block out the skylight, tender lips on yours like melted honey, and big hands roaming down the expanse of your body. When Eddie moves away from your mouth, he takes the oxygen from your lungs with him and you whimper at the loss.

"Gonna let me have a taste of you, pretty girl?" Big doe eyes shine down to you, way too eager and excited. Your stomach twists into knots, the training you put yourself through in case of this moment, has all been for nothing. What do you say to the man that hovers over you with so much love in his eyes?

"How about I suck you off instead, hmm?" You try to come off as sensual but instead you sound scared.

It's an offer that you've made so many times over the short course of your relationship with Eddie. This was your first real relationship besides the eight grade love affair you had with Simon Willard. That only lasted a week.

You weren't anywhere near a virgin, that so called sacred part of yourself is now in the possession of a random boy you met on vacation before your senior year. Hookups weren't uncommon to you but what was uncommon to you was the affection you received during the sex.

People you've hooked up with never really cared to get you nice and ready the way Eddie does, prepping you with two or more fingers, working you open so that it doesn't hurt going in. Guys didn't care if you got off or not, they were just looking for a hole to fill and someone who wouldn't get clingy.

You had guy friends, including Eddie before you started dating, and you heard the horror stories they had of going down on a girl. It was never in mean spirit, although the discussion should've stayed in the bedroom, but it still scared you shitless. How one girl didn't properly take care of herself, causing the smell to be rancid. This girl didn't wipe the right way, leaving scraps of toilet paper down there. And the one that really settled itself into your brain, was how good or bad a girl tasted.

Of course you, and all of your guy friends, knew that girls didn't taste like ice cream, or strawberries, or candy. It was made up, another bullshit beauty standard for woman to worry about.

You had paid attention to the way guys would ask you if you wanted it done. The way they would sigh and roll their eyes like it was the biggest task of their lives. You would end up telling them that you're more of a giver than receiver, and that you just weren't interested in that whole thing. When they would release a breath of relief you would fill with shame, almost like you were the one who requested it to be done and had been turned down. The embarrassment of rejection you didn't even ask for.

So when you and Eddie first had sex as boyfriend and girlfriend, you made it your mission to never let that horrid question come from his mouth. You always made sure to offer him head first, and if it looked like he was about to ask, you'd simply tell him you couldn't wait anymore.

Now here you are, under him, ready and willing to take him in your mouth, and he's gotten the question out before you could beat him to the punch.

"Ya know I will never say no to that, sweetheart. But-"

Uh oh. That's the word that comes before a life or death sentence. It's hanging heavy over you, the once comfortable silence is now killing you. Squeezing all of the air out of your body, limbs going numb with the loss of circulation, all the while your ears ring like an explosion has gone off.

"I want to return the favor." It's so sincere when he says it and it makes you want to cry. A boyish smile taking over his mouth, deep dimples appearing on the fat of his cheeks.

You must look like you've seen a ghost because the pretty smile that was written on his face is now taken over by worry.

"I mean, I don't have to. It's just- I feel like," Eddie's a panicked mess, backing his face further away from your own. The small bubble of love that the two of you created has now been popped with your own doubts and fears.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I just thought I could make you feel good s'all." The confident man that you know all too well is now reduced to a fumbling and anxious person. His fingers work at the chunky silver ring on his finger, twisting and twisting and twisting it around.

"You just always, I don't know. It just always seems like you never ask for head and I just wanted to offer it to you, I guess."

The whiskey eyes that never left your gaze won't even look at you anymore. Focusing on that damn ring that goes faster and faster the longer you wait to respond. You want to run and hide. Dig a deep hole and never come out. Your lovely boyfriend who's done nothing but treat you like the queen of the goddamn universe, now thinks he's made you uncomfortable.

Embarrassment rushes through your veins, throat closing with the grip of shame making it harder to breathe. Tears prick your eyes, hot and heavy, ready to fall at the drop of a dime. You feel so guilty for not just telling him the truth, for not saying all the concerns that you had. Even before you started dating Eddie always confided in you, telling you the deepest secrets that kept him up at night and you couldn't even tell him this one thing.

"I'm embarrassed." It comes out in a sniffle, lip wobbling beneath the teeth that hold it down, trying to make it go away.

"I'm just embarrassed I won't be good. That I'll be another conversation for you and the boys to drink to. Will I taste good? Do I smell weird? Does it look pretty? All of these questions circle my brain and I'm so fucking scared that you won't like me anymore." It comes out like word vomit, so fast and uneven in tone that you're not sure if it even made sense.

You don't have time to think it over anyway, Eddie's too quick putting his hands on your cheeks, gently making you look up at him. The same kind eyes that you always see meet yours. Thumbs gentle swipe the fat tears off of your face, his cold hands extinguish the flames of your skin.

"Honey, I promise you I would never, ever do some dumb shit like that. What the guys and I talk about is irrelevant, half the time they don't even know what they're talking about. I felt the same way when you wanted to suck me off the first time, every single question you ask yourself is what I ask myself." Eddie's eyes are searching yours, looking and waiting to see the dread leave your head.

"Like I said before, I would never want you to be uncomfortable but if you're okay with it, I'd really," He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, "really," he continues to place more delicate kisses around your face, "really love to make you feel so fucking good."

When he's done, he looks back down to you with a dopey smile, he's low and hazy drunk off of you. A smile tugs on your own lips, so warm and fuzzy off of him. You know he means it and you feel sad that you even questioned him. Childish laughter rings out between the two of you when he pinches your sides, tickling out the stiffness in your body.

When the laughter dies down, he asks you again by cocking his eyebrow up in question. Nodding your head, you give him a confident yes, something you didn't feel the first time he asked.

Moving down your body, trails of kisses are left on your skin, mapping out his journey to your center. When he reaches the hem of your pants, he looks up to you once more waiting for a reply. Encouraging him to go further, his chilled fingers douses the warmth radiating off of you.

Leaving you only in your polka dot designed panties, Eddie teases you by running his fingers up and down your thighs.

"I gotta say bub, I love the pink dots. Top notch fashion if I don't say so myself." Eddie jokes and it makes you giggle. Swatting lightly at him, he returns the laughter.

"I'm not lying, I swear! If only you know what you do to me." As much of a joker Eddie is, he was never one to joke about your beauty. He found everything you did, said, and wore so fucking breathtaking and flawless, he'd probably get hard from the sight of you in a Tin Man costume.

"If you, at any time, want me to stop just tell me. I won't get mad, just let me know, okay?" Eyebrows scrunched with seriousness, Eddie makes sure to be loud and clear with his instructions.

"I promise, Eds." You say and he takes that as the green light.

Eddie's index finger teases your cloth slit, running up and down so slowly it feels like torture. When you lift your hips looking for more friction he snorts lightly.

"Patience, my love." His fingers continue to dance over your panties, running back to the top of the band and pulling them down in a swift motion.

When the cool air hits your wet seat, you whimper slightly at the feeling. Eddie has seen your pussy multiple times, but when he spreads it with his fingers, you can't help but feel shy, closing your legs around his arm.

"Don't go shy on me, baby. I just wanna see the prettiest picture I've ever seen." His eyes are still trained on the glistening of your sex, glimmering like bright pools of water.

It feels like an hour of no movement from Eddie before he goes to change his position between your legs. Shuffling back on his knees, he picks your thighs up to place on his shoulders as he lays on his stomach.

Still having doubts, you lean up on your elbows, watching your boyfriend to see what his reaction is. To your surprise, he looks like a kid in a candy store, awe and wonder swimming around in the big brown pools of his eyes.

When an obscene sniff rings through the air, you can't help but cringe a little. Waiting for him to look repulsed, you're again astonished when all your met with is a feral look.

Very tentatively, he runs his flat tongue from your hole to the top of your clit. Moaning deeply, he moves his gave up to you. A smirk breaks out on his features, so devilishly and mischievously.

"Oh baby, you have no fucking clue how good you taste." There is no questioning in his cadence. It's smug and cocky and it makes you shiver with need.

Repeating his motions from before, you mewl at the feeling, lifting your hips again. The chuckle that comes from Eddie vibrates off of you, make you move you squirm. Reaching his strong hands around your thighs, he holds you in place with his firm grip.

When the wet muscle breaches your needy hole, you fall back onto the bed moaning out in pleasure. He works your open with it, flicking it in and out efficiently.

Pulling out of you, he moves up to your bundle of nerves. Starting slowly, he circles around once or twice, before working it in figure eights.

You melt into the bed like a popsicle on a hot summers day. There's not a single thought in your head other than the feeling of his mouth. You're a livewire come to life, so sensitive and lost in the haze of pleasure.

You think this is the precipice of ecstasy but then one of his thick fingers enter you and his mouth sucks hard on your pulsing clit.

It feels like fireworks on the fourth of July, bright and explosive, big loud bangs ringing out into the night sky. It's like the feeling of going down the big drop on a rollercoaster, tingling deep in your belly and a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. It's like winning first place, heartwarming and shocking all at the same time.

You feel all these things at the same time, every single one of them caused by the actions of your boyfriends mouth. It's overwhelming and so fucking delicious but you can't say anything than cry out in bliss.

Letting go of your clit with a pop, Eddie's head pokes up at you like an excited puppy. "S'it feel good baby?" You want to answer, you really do but the way he sneaks a second finger into you and crooks them at the perfect angle makes you lose all motor skills.

"Awe, honey" he coos mockingly, "Is it that good?"

"S'good Eds, so good." You're a blubbering, crying mess. So hooked on the feeling of him, hooking on the feeling of how he made you feel.

He doesn't say anything else, too busy pushing his face back between your legs. His motions go faster, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside of you that he only managed to find, his mouth switching between motions, driving you closer to the edge as he does.

The string in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter, barley hanging together by a thread. You're a thrashing, sweaty mess on his bed, gripping the pillow underneath your head that your knuckles will probably be stuck in that position. You don't care, not when he's moving his head back and forth, slurping up your wetness like a handmade milkshake.

It's filthy, down right dirty the way it sounds. The noises that carry out into his room echo so loud the neighbors could probably hear. The squelch of your wetness being pounded into by his hand, the way he's drinking you up like a dehydrated plant, the moans that escape out of your parted lips.

"Eddie, please. FUCK, please." You're blathering at him, not even sure at what you're asking for.

Separating himself from you again, he continues working his fingers deep into you.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl? S'that it? Wanna cum all over my fingers?" You moan louder in response, clenching around him harder as you do.

"Go ahead, be a good good and cum for me. Come on, honey. Cum for me." That's all you need to hear before you're hurtling off the edge of your release.

You release with a silent cry, all the air being punched right out of you. Your body feels weightless, like you were thrown up into the clouds and not being able to come down.

Your whole body shakes, tears streaming down your face, all while your hole pulses and quivers around Eddie's fingers. A gush of wetness coats his fingers, a big puddle under your ass, leaving another stain on his bed seats.

He watches in awe as you hit your peak, how your back arches off of the bed and how you look so fucking perfect like this. The shy girl that never got experience this kind joy, now swims in the ocean of euphoria of the climax. He feels so lucky to witness this, to be the first and last person to ever see you this vulnerable.

Eddie wishes he could paint this moment, make a portrait of the way your kiss bitten lips form the perfect O, make the brushstrokes of your hair and some of it sticks to your sweaty face. You're so beautiful and he doesn't know how blessed to be yours.

When you float back down to earth, to the springy mattress of Eddie's, you take a moment to catch your breath. When he removes his fingers from you, you weakly hiss from movement and he offers a quiet sorry.

Moving back up to his knees, he hovers over you and smiles brightly down at you. Smiling weakly back at you, he uses the hand that's not supporting his weight to place it on your jaw. His thumb brushes back and forth and you melt right into it.

"How was that?" Pink tints his cheeks, grinning ear to ear.

You chuckle weakly, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think I went to outer space for a second there."

A booming laugh leaves his chest and it makes you smile even harder. Your heart feels so full and so happy. You're so in love with him and it makes you delirious. You want to see him like this for the rest of your life, big smiles and even big laughter, so pretty and delicate only for you.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself there, space cadet." Leaning down to press his lips to yours, your soak in the feeling of it. When he moves away you pout at him, and he bops you on the nose with his finger.

"I was thinkin' I could return the favor, big boy." You whisper seductively.

"Oh baby, that sounds wonderful but-," He makes eye contact with you, "I need to be in you like yesterday because that, right there was the hottest thing I've ever witness."

"I happen to be a romantic. So I shall wait until my fair maiden is okay to resume our activities." Closing his eyes with pride, he places a hand on his heart.

Hiding your face with your hands, you bust out laughing at his little antics and when you peek between his fingers you see his teeth flashing back at you. Removing your hands from your face, you tuck a loose tendril behind his ear.

"You're a dork, but that sounds good to me."

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Thank you all for reading! I loves you all and hope you enjoyed!!!

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[simphornies]

Artistic desire [Husk x Shy!Reader] Fluff

A/N: This was a request sent by a lovely follower. I'm not particularly good at writing shy characters but I did my best. Hopefully this suits your taste.

Word count: 3.4k (3,481)

Warnings: none unless you count mentions of mommy and daddy issues

You were a bit of a social recluse. Your parents fucked off and died somewhere in one of the seven rings when you were a teenager and since everything is basically free, besides drugs and sex, you just stayed in your parents’ manor. The only person that really checked up on you everyday was Charlie. You crossed paths when you were younger, rode through the emo phase together and now you’re both older.

Before her hotel opened up, she was eager to tell you of all the plans. Every. Single. Plan. Of course, you didn’t mind the chatter through the phone. You enjoyed something that filled up the empty halls in your home. You helped her redesign a bit but after a while, you were in a pit of…the opposite of an art block?

You spent every waking moment, painting and creating art. If you thanked your demon parents for anything, it’d be the part where their powers passed onto you naturally. Your mother was a beautiful muse, perfection in keeping everything aesthetically pleasing. Your father painted his muse at every given moment. You didn’t necessarily hate them per-say but you sure as hell didn’t love them. The moment you kept something out of place, an inch off the center, your mother scrambled to fix it.

She didn’t yell or bother with correcting you, she would just obsess with the finer details. Your father never stepped up for anything other than painting. Hell forbid you switch up his paints and he’d be locked in his room all day. Finishing piece after piece.

You didn’t take after any of their obsessive traits. Instead you embraced the messy lines, the off-centered pieces. You embraced the imperfection and impurities that came with hell itself.

And that is exactly how you ended up in Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel. She convinced you to take your artistic abilities to brighten the place up. With the surprising help of Alastor, you chose compromise on the color palette. The fabrics, the decor, the lights, the curtains, the rugs. It was all your choosing. And when Alastor decided to phase in a bar with Husk included, the odd placement of green itched your brain in a good way.

The bar wasn’t the only thing that got you going. A surge of inspiration waved through your entire being the moment you saw him. The moment you heard his voice you wanted to capture it in art. There wasn’t a passing day where you didn’t sit at his bar, eagerly waiting for his next story.

At first, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you considering how well you got along with Alastor. But that opinion quickly faded the more you hung around him. Every time he’d tell a story, he noticed you always doodling in delight, listening to every detail. You didn’t participate in conversations much but he could tell you were listening to the whole thing. Your legitimate interest in his stories warmed his heart a little bit more than he’d ever admit. He soon realized that you two were probably the most sane demons in the entirety of the hotel.

“The usual?” He asks. You nod and continue to fill your sketchbook with drawings, the act visible to him by the way your eyes shine. He poured three glasses for you both. One glass of whiskey for him, a glass of champagne for you, and one of your old paint cups with water. He handed you your drink in a champagne glass and your cup next to your sketchbook. Last time he handed that to you, you accidentally drank the paint water.

You quietly thank him as you gleefully kick your feet in the empty space under you. The chairs hoisted you up enough for you to not touch the floor when you sat, something he found admirable. He hummed as he cleans a couple of glasses left over from when Angel was drinking.

Oh how he wished to take a peek at your drawings. He would never try to ask, he learned from one of your small conversations together that you said it’s like a diary. And he’d be damned if he pried into that. The only time he’ll ever get any information from people is when they’re absolutely fucked up wasted. He watched as your face was unbelievably close to the book, the sound of your pencil against the paper was soothing to him. Oddly enough, it was never complete without it.

“Hey, Y/N? Could you do me a big big big favor? Pretty please?” Charlie speaks up, breaking the silence between you two. He sighs and starts to stock up his shelves knowing that you were probably going to get hoisted away now. He feels the weird shift in his chest that made him realize he was actually in love with you this whole time.

“Yes, Charlie?” You looked up at her as you put your pencil down. “What can I do to help?” Your voice was smooth jazz to his ears. He wanted to hear you speak more. And he hated when other demons talked to him. But your voice. He’d fight in a war with the exorcists to hear you speak to him more. He secretly wished you said his name instead.

She gives you a guilty grin, “So, I was trying to make a sign for Sir Pentious and well…”

“It looks a little bit like vomit!” Nifty chimed in, unashamed.

Charlie laughed nervously, “I may have chosen the wrong green…Would you mind, helping me out?”

You smile, “Of course.” You get up, following Charlie and Vaggie to the opposite side of the lobby to give aid in their color struggles.

Nifty continued her cleaning and while she did, she realized that you had left your sketchbook wide open. Of course, as it is in Nifty’s nature, she snatches the book off of the bar’s countertop, just out of Husk’s view and takes a look at the page it was open to. She gasps and runs over to Angel and Alastor, eager to show her finds.

“My my. What a wonderful find you’ve got there, Nifty.” Alastor grins. He was not much of a lover but he sure as hell enjoyed seeing his little pet get flustered. And perhaps he’s been more tolerant lately so he figured he can have a bit of happiness in this hotel.

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Angel stares at the sketches you have of Husk. The two pages were filled with him and just him. Him cleaning the glasses, him fixing his hate, him with his wings out. Some were obvious direct sketches from his day-to-day life but the others were all from your mind. There was one of him in a fancy suit. One with his hair slicked back the way he briefly mentioned it during his stories of being an overlord. Angel stares at the page a bit longer before looking over at Alastor who shared his mischievous grin.

While you were painting the sign with Vaggie, Charlie is pulled to the side by Alastor. “Charlie, my dear. You would say that you are a lover girl at heart, would you not?” He asks.

“Uhm. Yes. Yes I am, Alastor.” She answers with confusion in her voice, “Why?”

“Why, Nifty had some groundbreaking finds just a moment ago that I believe I should be sharing with you.” He smiles widely as Angel hands her the open sketchbook.

“Somebody,” he whispers, “Got a little thing for Whiskers~”

Charlie takes one long look at the page and was about to start squealing in delight until Alastor puts a finger up to her lips. “Ah ah, my dear. Now’s not the time for that. Wouldn’t it be best that you talk about this with her in private.” He suggested.

“You’re right! Ohhhh my gosh! This is amazing!” She grins, “I’ve known her in all my years here in hell and I have not seen her take a liking to anybody. I’ll definitely talk about it with her!”

-----------------

The sign for Sir Pentious was up in congratulations for his arrival and his development. Everyone was cheering him on by the bar. You scout around for your sketchbook, swearing you left it by Husk. He wouldn’t be the type of guy to take personal things like that.

Just as you were about to ask him where it was, Charlie quickly drags you into a spare room, filled with excitement. Excitement that drove you a bit nervous.

“Charlie? Is there anything you need me to do here?” You ask, scanning the empty room around you.

She simply could not contain her excitement. “It’s come to my attention that you, my lovely lovely friend, may have a teeny tiny crush on someone.”

Oh fuck.

“Haaaa. What?” You ask, trying to contain your composure. “I don’t like anybody. That’s funny. Hah hahhh…” You nervously laughed.

Just then, Charlie hands you your sketchbook. “Nifty found it and well…you left it open to your most recent sketches…of Husk!” She squeals.

Your face turns a bright red as you swiped the sketchbook out of her hands. “Charlie! Oh fuck, please don’t tell me you told him.” You were every shade of red possible in hell out of sheer embarrassment.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t take that adorable opportunity away from you and him!” She hugs her shorter friend, “So. Tell me all about it! When did it start? When did you know?” She gasps in excitement as she thought of more questions to bombard you with, “Why? How did you find out? What do you like most about him?”

“W-well I…” You stutter, hugging your sketchbook close, “I’m not sure when but I just know that, these last couple of weeks he’s been…um…you know. Kind of inspiration? My…muse. If you will.”

Charlie loved your answers and continued to ask more questions. “So when are you going to tell him?” She gasps, “Oh my gosh—You guys should totally go on a date!”

“A DATE?” You choke, “Fucking hell—Charlie. I cannot bring myself to do that. You’re the only person I can talk to without stuttering too much and you want me to go on a date with the very demon I like?”

The answer was yes and before you know it, you and Husk are getting pushed out of the hotel with a pile of cash in both of your guys’ hands, courtesy of Charlie. She somehow got you both into matching outfits. A dress with hearts on the collar with a white and red pearly necklace to match. Husk was somehow, probably by Alastor, shoved into his overlord suit and tie.

“You motherfuckers better not fuck up my bar! I worked all day to keep shit organized!” He yelled at the closed door, “I’m talking about you, Angel Dust!” He scoffed and fixed his sleeves.

You couldn’t bear to look dead at him. You safely got peeks from your peripheral. On one of your attempts, the two of you made eye contact for a brief second. You immediately looked away, muttering an apology under your breath.

“Are you gonna stand there staring at nothing or are we going?” He elbowed you gently.

“Oh! U-Uh. I’m not quite sure…where we have to go.” You admitted.

He rolls his eyes, “Thrown into battle blind, huh?” He chuckled before moving in front of you, “Take my hand. Can’t have other demons fucking with our artist.”

You look at him, memorizing the way his grin sat on his face. A light blush forms across your cheeks as you take his hand. He walks with you down the city and into the nearest fancy club in your area.

“Ah. I think this is gonna be a little…”

“You scared?” He grins, “You’ll be fine. You’re with me. I’ll fuck shit up if I need to.” He flashed you his playing cards, edges as sharp as can be.

You sigh and nod, walking in with him. He sat you down at a quieter side, as quiet as a famous club can be. You both share a bottle of whiskey, your sudden interest shocking him.

“You know, that art thing you do is mesmerizing.” Why did he have to bring that up now? You internally groaned. “It’s like magic whenever you put whatever’s in that brain on paper.” He stirs his drink with a claw, looking at you. You swear you see a bit of sparkle in his usual dull eyes.

“Th-thanks, Husk.” You stutter. The way his name came out of you warmed him up more than his drink. He wanted you to say it again so badly. "I’ve seen you do magic too y’know.” As much as he paid attention to your work, so did you. You have endless sketches of him playing with cards, fucking around with Angel’s hand with a smooth move so quick one could barely catch it without attentive eyes.

“Ohhh,” He leans in a bit, a teasing grin plastered on his face, “So you watch me that close, huh?”

You choke on your drink, spitting a bit out, “Wh-what! No.”

He chuckles a bit, leaning back, “Cut the act, Y/N.” He closed his eyes, putting his glass up to his lips, “Alastor told me already. And Nifty. And Angel. And Charlie, you know she can’t keep a secret well.”

You were a mess. They told him and they didn’t tell you that they told him? You’re definitely messing with their rooms later. But how much did they tell him? You can’t pinpoint it. “I-” You coughed, trying to clear up your throat from your near death experience via literal drowning in alcohol. “I can’t help that you’re just…nice to draw.”

You turn away, a bit ashamed and definitely flustered. He was quiet, watching you intently as he sipped on his drink. “I like drawing anything I like.”

Now it was his turn to choke a bit but you didn’t catch it. He wiped his mouth, “So you like me then, right?”

You turn to face him not expecting his face to be so close to yours. A little shift and you two would fall into a kiss. You weren’t able to read his face well. He had a blank expression. You stare at him, face red.

“It’s okay, fucker. You know how it is,” He elbows you, laughing a bit before grabbing your hand to drag you out of the club. “I’m the bartender that knows everything about everybody.”

He rarely used his wings, unwilling to accept his demon form. But tonight, he stretched his wings out. “What’re you-”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He looks at you over his shoulder, holding your hand a little tighter. You nod in response.

Without a second thought, he pulled you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You blinked and you were off the ground, soaring through the air. He held you close, careful to not let you fall.

“I want you to see something. Something I doubt anyone’s ever shown you.” He keeps his head up, unaware of how starstruck you’re looking at him. You were also too scared to look anywhere else.

He flies as high as he can, stopping at a certain point before holding you in his arms in a bridal style way. “Look around, Y/N. Take it all in.” He speaks softly. You look around and from where you guys are, you can see the entire Pentagram City. Your eyes are filled with a breathtaking view of the city you grew up in. He smiles at the sight of your interest, “As much as I fucking hate this place. It’s not bad when you can’t hear the chaos going on down there from up here.”

“It’s beautiful. I…I have to paint this.” You state, wishing you had your book with you. You rest your head on his chest. After a while you feel him fly towards a high point at the edge of the city, landing on a mountain. He doesn’t let you down as soon he lands though, he didn’t want to ruin your adoring looks at the view.

Your face is lit up with admiration, you feel at peace. It was quiet but a soothing kind of quiet. Your ears caught onto a different sound while you rested on his chest. Is he purring?

You look up at him, “Thanks for the ride, Husk.” Smiling warmly, you cupped his face in your hand. You swear you felt him lean into it. He puts you down gently before putting his hand over yours, returning your warm smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

He purrs softly, the vibrations reverberating on your hand. He nods. “Is it okay I…pet you a bit. You’re just so fluffy.” He went from looking at you with his eyes half shut to wide open, in disbelief. “I-It’s for my art! My drawings.” You laugh nervously, “You know…reference…” It was half a lie, which he is aware of, you actually do want to capture his soft looking fur in your drawings but wanted to know exactly how dense or fluffy it is.

He laughs, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground with you following after him, “You’re lucky I like you, Y/N. Go for it.”

He hated when people treated him like a cat but for you, he’d make an exception. He’d make multiple exceptions for you. You begin to stroke the top of his head, making sure you remember how it feels in your palms in case you never get the chance to do this again. His purring grew louder as he leaned into your touch.

You began to pet his cheeks, getting a closer look at his face, taking in every detail. From his heart shaped nose, to the way his eyebrows fluffed out of his face. He slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you. You were too mesmerized by how unbearably handsome he is to see him inching closer.

He grabs your hand on his cheek, “I could kiss you right now.” He could what? Before you got a chance to react he pulled you into him, his lips crashing on yours. You yelp before giving in and melting into him. The kiss didn’t last too long but it felt like hours.

You stared at him as longingly as you did dumbfounded. “Look, babe, I notice everything about you. Everything you do.” He holds your head in his hands. “I see the way you light up when Charlie brings you paintings. How you paint with that focused look. You’re one of, if not, the only demon with sense in that hotel and respect my boundaries. You’ve never pushed my buttons once. And I truly, truly appreciate it.”

You lean into his hold, holding his face in return, “I understand you a lot more than you think, Husk. I know it’s silly but I find comfort in you. I love the way your voice sounds. I love watching your magic tricks. I love the way you effortlessly make a drink without even looking. And I love the way you fight. You fill me with so much artistic desire and you get me out of the toughest art blocks out there.”

“And you help me stay calm when everybody gets on my nerves. I’ll take a fight on for you any day, babe.” He rests his forehead on yours, “Who would’ve thought my cold little heart could be warmed up in hell of all places, huh?”

He shifts and rests his head on your lap as you continue to pet him, humming softly as you did.

"And who would've thought I'd be able to get the grumpy bartender to purr in my lap?"

You two enjoyed the rest of your night together. He actually stole a bottle for you two and you both drank the night away.

.

.

.

“You think Y/N’s ruffling his feathers? If you know what I mean.” Angel laughs followed by a quick slap on the back by Vaggie. “Ow! It was just a joke. God, tits.”

“Oh I believe Husk is having a wonderful night.” Alastor grins, aware of what the soul he owns has done, “And might I say, he is quite the charmer. Truly a hidden gem. Under all that gruff he is but a little kitten.” He hummed, teleporting away into his tower.

Charlie was so excited and had set up a congratulations sign on the wall for when you two return. She was happy her dear friend finally found comfort in somebody.

[just-null]

YO, SUPER LATE SUPER LONG SUPER MESSY OCTOBER POST THAT I JUST SHOVED EVERYTHING INTO BC I DIDN'T WANT TO DO MULTIPLE. FUCK IT.

I forgot halfway that these were supposed to be costumes and not mini aus... SO REMEMBER IN MY PLACE, EVERYTHING IS HYPOTHETICAL. also. some have a bit of yandere elements to them bc its SO FITTING FOR NORITOSHI.

Happy late October, everyone. it's winter now. Let's get it, baby.

[Long rambles and doodles under the cut!]

Vampire!

I kept asking myself, "How sexy is too sexy.." and "How the fuck does a sexy vampire even look like without it being a shirtless guy w fangs or Edward Cullen....." I think I figured it out

Sure, sure, vampires are superhumans with sun allergies that can drink blood really hotly. They can also easily overpower you to feast and blah blah blah, but what if said vampire (Noritoshi) was too weak to do any of that? Not literally, but he craves your say. He wants not only your blood but your affection. He wants to get praised as he drinks you in. Are you comfortable? How much will you allow him to take? Do you want to get him back in return? Guidance with this makes him feel more at ease. It's still Noritoshi at the end of the day. He's going to find a way to be a little awkward about you because of his crush. He refuses to drink from anyone other than you, even if it causes his death. Therefore, he has to keep you healthy! For the rest of your lives..! Besides, he can't really go outside or else he'd.. y'know. So if you think about it, this is a very beneficial relationship for both of you!!

The only downside is that you're losing blood on the regular, and for some reason, more people are moving away... Probably nothing, right? Noritoshi is always there to keep you company and help you recover anyways.

Witch!

my attempts also bled into the witch design.... you got greedy with requesting two in one ask, but I'll spoil you this time bc I also wanted to see Noritoshi as a (sexy) vampire and witch. heh. AND I DIDNT REALIZE HED BE SO CUTE AS A WITCH..... WHAT THE FUCK?? rip momo, fight for your title of cute witch...

Noritoshi strikes me as one of those witches who'd rather be left to their own devices because they're running some important magic whatever in the background. though, he'll take some breaks and indulge you if you insist on having him around. Insist meaning you pass by and strike conversation, leaving him to neglect anything and everything to prioritize his time with you. He doesn't want to use magic on you unless it's beneficial for either you or both. Noritoshi likes a natural progression with you that he knows for a fact is true and not some product of some spell. Though it doesn't mean he wouldn't use charms and such to get you to interact with him more often to speed up the process!

Can't sleep? He has a remedy perfect for that! Bad luck? Oh no, take a charm. Nerves? A potion he perfected will help you ease your jitters. Annoying peers? With a snap of Noritoshi's fingers, they're gone! Just don't ask what happened. Enjoy yourself instead and come to him with any new issue. He's quick to resolve it.

Definitely has some sort of doll that looks suspiciously like you.. Noritoshi would probably talk to it and practice one liners that give you the strongest sense of nostalgia once he uses them. He's simultaneously giddy that the charm he put in the doll works but also a little annoyed that his hard work isn't surprising you, but leaving you with deja vu.

Idol!

i was crying the entire time bc what does an idol look like.... noritoshi is handsome enough to be an idol without actually being an idol... now i can confirm that idols are very well dressed though. thumbs up 100% but i had some thoughts...

[Idol]

Noritoshi would be the type to cherish his fans, but hold clear favoritism over you. he'd be those idols that look cold, but they talk, and they sound smug in a charming way. i don't know much about idols, but i know he'd be so fucking good.... he'd be the type of guy to sing to you amongst the hundreds in the crowd.... ahhh the interviews w these famous aus. they're just talking and acting like themselves. can you imagine Noritoshi getting asked the question if he has a lover or not? he can lie, im sure you're alright with that, but he doesn't want to!! he does have someone!!! someone he loves more than all his fans love for him combined!!! he just can't say it for the sake of your privacy and his career. so Noritoshi does what any charming guy who's good with their words does. he deflects the question. answering the question, but not really, that'd be something he's known for. fans online are split on why Noritoshi does this. some think he's trying to keep that side of his life private, others think he's trying to mess around, and others think he's hiding a secret lover!!! though the last one is usually seen as the outlandish one, sometimes it makes Noritoshi's heart drop bc they get some things right. "Having a lover is a complicated question hidden behind a simple disguise. If I had to answer, I'd say my lovers are my audience. they make sure i'm well cared for, some more than others." AND HIS FUCKING LITTLE SMIRK I CANT COUGHS UP BLOOD. IM A THEORIST TOO. SECRET LOVER. 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

ON THE FLIP SIDE....

[Not an Idol]

An amusing thought where Noritoshi goes out in his casual clothes, and he's mistaken for an idol. No one knows who he is, but he just looks like he'd be one. bro's just trying to buy groceries, and now he has a fan group asking him to take pictures with them.. He'd tell them that he's just a guy, not an idol, but the group would still want a picture with him. it'd be a waste to pass by someone who's so naturally gorgeous, so with a sigh of defeat, he relents. It's just a photo, right? No harm done. Noritoshi'd go home and feel overwhelmed/embarrassed by the whole ordeal. later, he gets a call from someone in the kyoto group or you to inform him how he's all over social media, known as that handsome guy in the supermarket. HED BE COMPLETELY UNREACHABLE TO MEDIA OUTLETS BC NORITOSHI IS THAT GUY WHO DOESNT HAVE SOCIAL MEDIA.... he'd have to make one to make sure no one pretends to be him online. "Hello, I don't use social media, but I've been informed I've been getting attention online. To prevent anyone from being fooled by an impersonator, this is my official and only account. thank you." P.R. STATEMENT WRITING ASS.. his single post gets flooded with likes, comments, and DMs. it almost blows up his phone..... he was just buying bread, dude...... people try to dig up and find him through the other Kyoto group's social media.

[bonus] my second in command requested to put him in a fem idol outfit bc he thought it was funny. after frothing at the mouth and coughing out blood, I complied.

Doctor!

THIS IS SUCH A STRAIGHT FORWARD ASK BUT IT HAS SO MANY IMPLICATIONS. MY BELOVED CULT MEMBER.. THOSE EMOJIS GIVE ME A DIFFERENT IMPRESSION BUT IM NOT SURE.

Noritoshi as a doctor...... apple sales would plummet. his little clinic's business would skyrocket. sick cases would peak in his area. getting your heart checked by his stethoscope would be so fucking embarrassing bc all he'd hear is THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

LIKE IMAGINE IF THAT WAS YOUR DOCTOR? BRO.

COUGH COUGH HACK WHEEZE COUGH COUGH.

Noritoshi would probably own a small clinic that he wants to expand. That or he opened one after working for a hospital for a while. He's a great doctor who's most likely respected but a pain in the ass to work with. Among patients, he's gotten the hot doctor reputation. Most want to be treated by him, but he's so professional, any chance of trying to flirt goes down the drain. Yeah, he puts his hair up to avoid it in his face even though his eyes are closed classic lab safety procedures. He seems like the type to have a soothing but authoritative voice during examination, so he gets his message across. it's a bit difficult when dealing with patients for Noritoshi. If he sees them too often, he firstly scolds you for not taking care of yourself, then feels guilty for not giving you the proper care. Keep yourself safe and healthy, or else Noritoshi will clearly :( Putting him in a yandere setting would be dangerous. He'd have a lot of control over you, considering he can prescribe medication, shots, visits, and other things.... he'd have a ball.... nothing that would cause you any harm, of course. he's only looking out for you and doing what's best for you..!

Pirate!

my second in command wanted a pirate. pirates are so fucking cool and i know damn well if this guy were a pirate he'd have a bunch of battle scars under that fancy coat.

Noritoshi as a pirate would be more than a little odd, but also fitting. He looks like the type of guy who'd be well put together, yet he's willing to get his hands dirty. Like the guy who got into the pirate life because of some personal issue that couldn't be solved fast enough through conventional means. Even as a pirate, i imagine he holds everyone to high standards. They're still pirates though.. so his expected standards aren't even that high. He has more freedom here, so even he himself lets loose once or twice. Especially with you. He's even able to get away with more violent actions for you, the seas are unpredictable, after all. While taking some treasure, Noritoshi'd toss you a gem or golden coin, just so you can say you were the first to claim it. Just so he can see that happy glint in your eyes when getting your hands on treasure. God forbid anyone try to get their hands on your hard earned goods. They'd be met with a bullet to the foot or a sword at their neck. Everyone and their mother knows how you're his favorite, but Noritoshi downplays it. Its not a crime to help out someone from his crew is it? Not in the seven seas. He leans more into his cold ruthless killer side here. He has goals and people to help keep in line whether hes captain or not. Yet when around you, he's almost adorable in how he shows you a pearl so entrancing that it reminded him of you.

Corpse Bride!

my submission to my Noritoshi Halloween costume closet.. CORPSE BRIDE, THIS MOVIE FUCKS. esp w the yandere elements.

Noritoshi 100% made you recite the wedding vows to him before accepting the ring. If you fumbled up, he'd correct you with SO much attitude and expect you to start from the top until you got it perfectly.

Hypothetically, in the chalice scene towards the end..

Noritoshi is the type to never be fully relaxed unless he knows for sure you'll be eternally his. In this scenario, YOU proposed to HIM but have to die to continue being together. Not only that, but someone in the living world is also after your heart. Someone who bleeds. Someone who's the obvious choice. Someone who can give you the life that you deserve. Someone who will succeed in their pursuits if you. remain. alive. Noritoshi's life was cut short, yet he still managed to lose so much and be abandoned a considerable amount of times. When he meets you and finds out about the possibility of having to go through that again even in death, it finally clicks in his rotting mind. He realizes he's been doing something wrong to keep constantly failing. Noritoshi revises his methods to a more.. selfish course. Why should he care about anyone else's wants or how his actions hurt them? You were the only one who made him truly fulfilled, to make him feel alive. The only one who deserves anything and everything good that comes from this world. Destiny is never done toying with him when he realizes your marriage is invalid because of your pulse and his lack thereof no matter how hard he'd try, but the opportunity arises. of course, he's ecstatic to give you an afterlife worth much more than what a silly beating heart can achieve. "All people die eventually. If you miss your living family or friends, all it takes is patience, darling. I'll wait by your side in the meantime." He weighs the pros and cons of everything, but when it comes to swaying manipulating your thoughts he only highlights the ones that'll get you on his side. in this case, the pros of dying to be with him! Honestly, the answer was so obvious that Noritoshi didn't know why he was stressing about it before. It hurts him to see you in any type of pain, but he reassures both himself and you that it'll only be for a moment. Afterward, he'll have the rest of your afterlives to make it up to you!! What happened to Till Death Do Us Part? Noritoshi thinks it's insulting that something as shallow as that could be so widely accepted. If your love were true, it wouldn't stop just because the world decided to take them away. "Till death do us part? Darling, don't be silly. 'Not even death will do us part' feels much better, doesn't it?" 

[justcallmesakira]

BESTIE IF U DONT DO THIS REQ N I WILL FACKING EAT UR MUTUALS

DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER!!

she has black cat energy and err makes suicidal jokes here and then but never does t and chuuyas always the one who pulls her away from dazais tendencies because he DOES NOT want reader to follow dazais steps and err dazai and reader have a 2 year gap and err basically dazai took her away with him when he left and thats were she sort of stopped talking BECAUSE BOOM CHIKA BOOM ODAS DEATH LEFT HER MORE TRAUAMATIZED THAN THE KIDS ASAGIRI BLEW UP!!! so errr crack and chuuya and reader is ummmm AHEM AHEM AHEM (cough coug)

AND BASICALLY MORI HAS THIS like obsession of bringing reader back to the mafia like he constantly says stuff like "Dazai, my offer still stands but please remember that i would really really love to see your dear sister back first" LIKE YKNOW WHAT I AM SAYING???????????

DAZAI AND HIS YOUNGER SISTER!

Sypnosis: you are the younger sister of Da-dazai! Is he a great brother or not? UPPP TO YOU! >< oh and maybe hide your secret vists with chuuya please!!

Genre: crack and heavy angst! (dont question it)

Warnings: suicidal themes! cans of gasoline, glitter bombs, reader is very quiet type, manipulation (for good use!)

A/N: yummy yummy

uh oh! this is gonna be so damn messy

so um first of all! i really think reader would be very intelligent like dazai like oh fuck! i just got under a whole rubble of rocks by some guy who btw is the enemy of my brother quick! think of something

and then theres this bsd aesthetic plan you make and just survive! to the shock of your horror... :D

okay but in all seriousness! he defiently jokingly gave you his suicide guide to if u ever felt inspired by him

VERY VERY NORMAL BROTHER ACTIVITY!!1

dazai stop influencing people around you to plug off them self challenge impossible: GO!!

if you do however join his meticulous activites kunikidas actually going to blow up

😇

but imagine how cute it would be a black cat energy young sis and a golden retriver brother like bish forget romantic relationships like dazai who sometimes forget he left his sister at work!

but ynkow mf dazai always wants to keep close to you because he was never really there (like my fake as friends🙄) back in the mafia! woohoo

so now you can asks him for whatever you want but now he actually feels guilty because you have now become the silent type and dont really talk that much

Great job dazai! best brother everr!❤️

Imagine running away from the mafia with ur lil sister then realising she doesnt even want to talk anymore and that you might actually failed as a big brother even after buying her a whole lotta stuff

COULDNT BE OSAMU DAZAI GUYS!!!

tell him to take you to an amusement park and he will! but dont be surprised if you see him trying to run to jump off a bridge because he does not have for the sake of god any money!

AYY dazai cosplaying toji to get milk? real or fake??? find out here!

dont click on the link :3

ANYWAYS he definetly tries his best to get you back to talking sure the only thing he could do is talk to himself with you beside him doodling some stuff but yknow...it genuinely makes him form a sad smile when he gets reminded that maybe if he were a better brother and actually comforted you it would have ended better

"I saw a cat today yknow! it had a black eye and orange patterns. Somehow it looked wise" dazai said relazing on the chair, his hands behind his head, the whole night of yokohama was quiet only the flicker of the dim light placed underneath the balcony ceiling could be heard.

The night was calm too, it had a soft storm-like feel to it. Dazai knew you were listening thats probably why he would talk to you all these months, no one else was there for him anyway. So its better than nothing.

All of a sudden amdist the silence several pokes tapped on his shoulder which made his eyes widen slightly. You held up your sktechbook infront of his face, a bunch of doodles of him and a full sketch of his side profile

"(Name)... This is amazing! Wow you could be a talented artist yknow!!" he said you didnt know whether he was just flattering you or not because of the emptiness in his eyes. Depression changes a person. But the slight flicker of light in his made it visible to your loud mind. Dazai was glad you made some progress.

Okay now hb your interactions with da agency??

I am pretty sure both you and him joined da agency together (gotta make sure his sister ACTUALLY doesn`t follow his steps!😋😋😋😋)

kunikida may act all cold around you and view u as some kid especially when you randomly make the most random ass suicidal jokes in the middle of a meeting but...

Lets say he sort of checks up on both of you every morning! cant let the dogs out now kunikida! you never know what they do....

iykwimyk

now yosano girlypop is the only person who shows genuine concern for you when you get hurt why? because she was bamboozled when she found out you are dazais sibling like

"huh- are you actually capable of being a brother? more so having family"

dazai be at the corner weeping because of the amount of slander

DESERVEDDDD😍😍😍

I can totally see fukuzawa patting both of you and dazais head after you two collaborated on a mission

IDWGDHYWDFYUDFILOVEFATHERRELATIONSHIPS

he prob randomly call you for tea i mean not too randomly but he likes your black cat energy

speaking of which ranpo and you bully da heck out of criminals before they ultimately mistake you for some god!! /nj

kenji and kyouka just chills around you and tries debating what you and dazai have in common.

belonging in the mental asylum. thats whats common between you two/nj again😁😁

With chuuya

NAWWWWH BRO NAWW☠️

Chuuyas gonna end upl like this emoji☠️☠️☠️

Okay maybe i am over exaggerating this but yknow dazai is like really smart

UNFORTUNATELY!!!

So he will definitely know when ever you two act a little🤭😝😘🤗😍🥰👍

Hes going to get tjat expression from chapter 114 and chew chuuyas expensive tuxedo!!

I bet after he finds out hes straight up going to give chuuya a flashback of stormbringer era!! 😍😁

#verynormalbrother

"W-w-w-what da SKIBIDI [name]??? YOU WILL NOT AND NEVER MEET CHUUYA AGAIN" "wow... and i thought you were trying to become a better brother :(" "YOUNG LA- i-" ":("

He was about to say lad

like manipulative ass brother like sister ig! :33333333

He prob had suspicions back in the mafia especially because of how you mostly stuck around chuuya when he wasnt there

YOUR FAULT BRO!!!

And then u rizzed chuuya up with double black eyes (get it?)

"You know [name] it still hurt me, though i promised i would never say it infront of your face but.." Chuuya said seriousness in his tone looking at you eyes "But please stop looking at me with those cat like eyes they deeply remind of someone and I DO NOT like it"

He ended this funny note with a genuine fear and irritation in his eyes. you only nodded and continued to stare at him, your eyes rivaling a black hole not that hole by the way.

A tingling feeling gathered in himself as chuuya looks at your blank stare "Dont look at me like that!" he raised his flustered voice, a small hue of pink appearing on his cheek which only grew as you held on to his sleeve, snuggling against it like a cat.

But before he could be more flushed a really dark aura crept up behind you and then, right then you knew you fucked up bad.

"i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-cant believe this!" your brothers voice perked up behind you genuine horror on his face as if he just saw his bestfriend die infront of him twice.

"Oh my fucki-" chuuya sighed, both of you are caught. "[name] ICANTBELIEVETHISOMGIAMGOINGTOENDMYSELFLIKEMYOTHERVERSIONFROMANOTHERUNIVERSEWHOLOWEREDYOURSTANDERDSICANTBELIEVETHISHIT" dazai rapped at super speed, an anger and shock unwordable enough for you to be confused at whatever hes yapping about. "DAZAI what the fuck??" now chuuya was confused too.

"ANDYOU, HERMANADAPUTA (sisterfucker in english) YOUUGLYSHORTMFWITHNOFLAGSNONOTHING,YOUTRUSTISSUED?IWILLGIVEYOUPRISONFORLIFEISSUES" "WHAT IS YOU BROTHER YAPPING ABOUT?"

And all you could do was watch in horror as the scene unfolds infront of you. But safe to say you got in big trouble when you went back home!

anyways dazais going to go full on 8 cans of gasoline on the portmafia if more is obsessed with you like him

and then you realised..

"fOr tHe fIrSt TiMe iN fOrEVer" he actually did/nj

Okay okay but in all seriousness (litearlly @justcallmesakira catchphrase guys!!) Dazai would genuinely become more protective of you if mori was targeting towards you.

i would run away to antarctica too if mori even tried interacting with me

SHES A RUNNER SHES A TRACKSTAR!!!!!🏃💨

But if you are intelligent then i guess you met fyodor too? And maybe some sort of rivalry goes on between you two like "oh its my brothers enemy, gotta help my bro blow him up!"

I have nothing much to say because dazai would make secret plans (which you alrdy know) to make sure mori doesnt get too close with you

Like oh he was planning to approach you that day? BOOM dazai is already there. Yeah like that

If mori says that however... Dazai will reply with a dark eyed gloom,tilting his head back creepily "You will have to need more then the whole of port mafia to interact with my sister"

Dazai hates mori alot and though he knows that you are old enough to handle situations that doesnt mean he wont care for his only sister. You are the only thing left that he can protect without feeling inhumanity or faraway.

A/N: HATE THISSSS NOOOUUU

Tags: @inojuuy @biscuits-spooky-corner @terururuko @little-miss-chaoss @saelique @silverbladexyz @typcallysid14 @nezuko-kamado-cute-demon

[elliereject]

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

[une-femme-de-lettres]

Imagine

Sewing and mending your clothes after a mission

This is highly specific and detailed but I love the idea. Also domestic 141 is the best thing!!

Laying low after a mission is definitely not the best part of your job. You often times find yourself stuck in an old safe house with your teammates, sharing a small space with them, while not knowing when you’ll be able to go back on the field.

But there surely is one thing that these days can offer you, is some time to think, process the things you’ve seen and get some rest. And as you are forced to figuratively mend and repair your mind, you often take advantage of the peace and quiet to literally mend and repair your equipment; clothes, gear, tools or weapons… anything that could’ve been damaged during your latest intervention.

The whole habitation is quiet as you make your way to the living area. Your teammates are there. Price is watching some obscure documentary about the fishing industry in South America on the telly, the sound brought to a minimum. Soap is mindlessly doodling in his journal, not looking particularly satisfied with his work. Gaz is taking a nap slouched on the couch beside Price, he’s probably tried watching the documentary, didn’t work out too well…

And Ghost is quietly cleaning his pistol, methodically clearing every little piece of any gunk, grime and leftover powder. The clicking of the metal pieces give a rhythm to the silence. You hate to interrupt such a peaceful picture so you speak quietly.

“Hey,” you start, a few eyes moving over to look at you, “I’m gonna take some time to sew up a few things. Got anything that needs mending?” you ask them.

“I’m good, thanks for the thought, though,” Price responds with a gentle smile that warms your heart a little. You nod and turn to Soap.

“I don’t think so, Lass, but thanks.” He can’t think of anything off the top of his head for now, so you finally look at Ghost. His back is slightly turned to you, you can see him looking back slightly and responding with a shrug.

He’s been way quieter around you lately, you noticed. But Ghost is Ghost, right? So you don’t really pay him any mind and give one last nod before going back into your room. On your way there, you don’t notice Price’s slight head movement directed towards Ghost. And behind the door of your room, you don’t hear the husky sigh Ghost let out as he stands up from his seat.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed as you silently pass your needle through the fabric of your torn tank top. It’s not major tear, nothing a quick stitching can’t fix. You’re focused in your task when a light knock on your door makes you look up.

Ghost is slowly entering your room, his gaze fleeing yours. As it often does lately. He speaks quietly, his voice still very composed, just like every time you’re working out there on the field, precise and efficient.

“Do you have a spare needle?” he asks. You notice the balaclava in his hand before he holds it out slightly in front of you. “I need to repair this,” he finishes. You look at him for a moment, trying to keep your thoughts at bay. He requesting your help with anything outside the field was not unheard of, but it was still pretty new… Why does he look so cute?

“Sure, there you go,” you respond, picking a small needle and some black thread in your tiny sewing kit. You hand the objects to him and he takes them with a grateful nod. He looks about to leave when he stops in his tracks, not sure if he should ask you.

“This is a knit fabric, I’m not sure how to…” he starts hesitantly, showing you the piece of clothing again, “go about it,” he concludes. You fight the small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and pat the empty space on the bed covers beside you.

“I’ll show you, if you want,” you say and he complies surprisingly quickly.

In your line of work, whether it be on skin or cloth, a man needs to learn out to sew. It’s a primordial skill when you’re in a survival situation, to keep your clothes functional. Ghost in an intelligent man, you realize he probably knows how to take care of his stuff beyond just keeping his guns working.

But even you find knit fabrics tricky to work with. One wrong stitch and the next time you use your item, it might very well run enough to render it unusable. And your heart flutters at the idea of him asking you for help, even for such a tiny little thing.

Ghost sits beside you, the mattress dipping ever so slightly, making you lean towards him just a little. He prepares his needle and thread while you put your own work aside. Once this is done, you locate the small hole in the balaclava he’s laid on his thigh to free his hands. You hand it back to him, pointing towards the repair area.

“First, you need to thread all the loops left open to stop it from running,” you indicate. The loops you’re mentioning are tiny, but precision is your job, so they’re all threaded very soon and you can begin the real work.

“Then you can thread through that and darn it just like a woven fabric,” you say, mimicking the technique moving your finger back and forth. He starts mending the piece, using your advice.

The needle looks comically small in his massive hand. The size of things makes his movements quite awkward. And it doesn’t help that he’s holding the needle with the very tip of his fingers, barely touching it, as if he were afraid to do something wrong.

You smile gently at the sight and decide to help him further. Your fingers brush against his as you move his hand so he can work pushing the needle towards himself instead of away. A technique you’d found way more efficient over the years.

“It’ll be easier if you hold it from this side,” you say, your voice quiet and thoughtful. The voice he loves to hear rolling off your tongue and lips when you are close to him. “Guide the needle with your index and thumb and push it with your middle finger,” you explain as he watches your hands working his fingers into position with a curious eye. “Like this.”

He starts using your latest advice, religiously following your movements as you mimic the gesture in the air. He manages to work faster, his hand steadier. You smile. His needle work starts taking shape. “Nice work,” you say, turning your head to look at his face. His eyes are looking straight back at you. For once in quite some time now, his gaze doesn’t dart away from yours. It just gently moves to your slightly parted lips and stays there for a moment. A moment that doesn’t last nearly long enough for him.

[carriedawatermelon]

Ronancetober, day four. In which Robin is herself, Nancy is, too, and they are very much not sisters. Feat. Boston marriages, Robin karaoke, queer community, and dildos as doorstops.

(T/soft M for discussions and implications here but nothing actually explicit.)

prompt: historical or mythical

Nancy sneaks in toward the end of Robin’s lecture, finding a spot in the back row of the auditorium when someone steps out to use the restroom. Robin’s beside the lectern, gesturing emphatically at the image on the screen, the light of the slide projector catching briefly on her fingers when she steps toward the front of the stage. 

It’s one of Nancy’s favorite things, to see her like this, confident and excited and moving, always, legs taking her across the space available to her and body leaning while her hands work. She’d been told to rein it in for her dissertation defense, and she had, but now, tenure track and published in multiple prestigious journals and popular with the students, she does as she pleases, mostly. 

She wears what she pleases, too. Today it’s an oversized tweed jacket and navy pants, a white button-down underneath. It’s been almost fifteen years since Nancy met her in Starcourt, throwing fireworks and telling wildly inappropriate stories in her Scoops Ahoy uniform, and a lot has changed, but her fondness for jewelry hasn’t, a silver chain on her neck and several silver rings on her fingers, flashing as she dips in and out of the lights. Her oxfords have seen better days, scuffed and creased, but Robin’s always been hard on her shoes, tripping and stomping and once upon a time, doodling. 

As Nancy leans forward in her chair, Robin clicks to a new slide and says, like the audience is in on the joke, “Now I know this looks exactly the same…” A triumphant grin flits across her face at the laugh she gets, and Nancy grins with her, proud. 

Nancy waits after the lecture, a small line of people forming to speak to Robin. She watches from a distance as they interact, grateful that the lighting in the room lets her stare without Robin catching on. She’s easy, confident, hands just as busy, occasionally running through the mop of hair on her head or shifting to rest in her pockets where Nancy knows she keeps a few coins to flip between her fingers. The people talking to her are, for the most part, women—students who nod and nod as Robin talks, a few colleagues Nancy recognizes who must say nice things, based on the way Robin’s hands go to her pockets. Her special interest is the translation of women from the Greek classics, the subject of the lecture, and she’s so passionate about it, so thoughtful and creative and invested. 

She looks like she’s exactly where she belongs. 

As the last person shakes Robin’s hand, she walks down the aisle.

“Have time for one more question, Professor?”

“Nance!” Robin drops the bag she’d been packing and moves forward to hug her, pressing warm lips to her cheek. Nancy sneaks her arms under her blazer and holds her close for a second. “What’re you doing here?”

“Interview canceled and I thought I’d come see my very favorite Classics Professor give a talk.”

“I’m sorry Professor Dennis isn’t on the schedule for the day. I’ll tell him you missed him.”

“Ha, ha,” she says with a kiss to Robin’s cheek. “Well I made reservations at that Italian place if you want to tell Professor Dennis to meet me there.”

“Nope!” She grins and grabs her bag. “I don’t, actually, thanks for asking. But I do want tiramisu.” 

-

Rosa’s fortieth is a blowout, a bar full of queers taking shots and whistling at drag queens, filling their tip buckets. The music is loud and the people are, too, in each other’s space laughing and drinking and dancing. It’s like they’re in college again, except a version that many of them never really got to experience, queer and unashamed. 

Robin and Nancy are in it like everyone, Nancy laughing as she licks salt from Robin’s neck and steals a lime from her mouth, blushing at the applause they get when she goes back for a kiss. They never stop touching, hands on waists or fingers linked, Robin holding Nancy from behind as they watch the show, kisses that are as close to thoughtless as they’ll ever be. 

When the stage clears and the bar shifts to karaoke, they settle at a high top in the back, Nancy’s hand wandering up Robin’s thigh and her lips wandering her neck. It’s rare enough, the freedom to do this without risking themselves, that Nancy wants to take full advantage, and she’s had enough tequila that she can without caring too much. These are their friends. This is their family. The most they get are teasing words and smirks, all undercut with obvious joy, with obvious solidarity—Look at you. I see you. I know who you are. I know who you are to each other.

After a few rounds, someone calls out Robin’s name, and then a chorus starts, and Robin goes, smiling, to the stage. She’s in black jeans and a black leather jacket open over a black t-shirt, her Docs beaten to hell. There’s lipstick on her cheek and down one side of her neck, and her hair’s even messier than usual from where Nancy’s run her hands through it. 

When she stands in front of the mic stand, drunk enough for her lips to pull into her cockiest smile, Nancy wants to get on her knees. 

She doesn’t, but she does bite her bottom lip so hard it hurts, and Robin’s smirk only grows. 

She sings Johnny Cash, I Walk the Line, catcalled the entire time by their rowdy friends. Nancy doesn’t mind, staying close enough that Robin can see her, winking occasionally in a way that makes Nancy weak, but far enough away that a line of people fills the space in front of her. It’s the attention she deserves, and it makes her heart settle, to see her getting it. 

Nancy worries every single time Robin travels alone, thinking about every gas station restroom and every sneering idiot at every roadside diner. She saw what it did to Robin, to have to choose between being comfortable in herself and being accepted by so many of her professors and peers and, later, colleagues. She’s chosen herself since she understood what that meant, brave and brilliant, and it has cost her but she hasn’t wavered. 

Now, the things that have put her at risk in the world in so many ways get her half-joking swoons and compliments low enough not to interrupt her but loud enough that Robin’s cheeks go a little pink and yep, someone’s bra, which makes Robin’s eyebrows climb to her forehead, lips twitching as she drawls the lyrics without pause. 

When she finishes, taking a bow and stepping into the crowd, her eyes are on Nancy, who pulls her into an absolutely filthy kiss. 

“Alright, Wheeler, we got it! She’s taken!”

“Damn right,” Nancy calls back, pulling away and letting her own cocky smile spread at the way Robin’s eyes flutter open slowly, her hands reaching for Nancy’s waist on instinct. 

“Yep,” Robin agrees, too soft for anyone but Nancy to hear, the next song already playing. Nancy turns them both to face the mic and leans back into Robin, who wraps her arms around her and whispers alternatingly vulgar and adoring things to her until Nancy drags her to the back hallway. 

-

“One of my students told me today that her great-grandmother’s sister was in a Boston marriage.”

Nancy’s fingers are drawing patterns on Robin’s bare stomach, her head resting on her chest. They’re naked and sated and too lazy to get up and turn the light off. 

“One of your queer kids?” She says, listening to Robin’s heart.

“Yeah.” 

This happens a lot, Robin being who she is, visible the way she is. Students find her and talk to her, and she listens, has pamphlets and referrals to a counselor in the student center she trusts for when she needs them. She supervises the gay and lesbian group on campus, brings Nancy to the holiday party. 

“She says she found letters, when she was in high school. Her grandmother had this whole trunk of stuff in her attic that nobody had ever bothered to go through, I guess, or they sure as shit would’ve burned these.”

“That bad?” By bad she means, of course, gay. 

“Apparently. To my student anyway. Her grandmother and mom talk about her Aunt Elizabeth and her best friend. They hadn’t seen the letters and Mia didn’t show them, but when she asked, they had these stories, talked all about how close they were.”

“Were they like sisters?” Nancy asks, in her best oblivious heterosexual voice. 

“They were,” Robin snorts. 

“How sweet.”

There have been many times when they’ve been mistaken for relatives or close friends, almost never able to correct any of those mistakes safely. It makes Nancy want to set fire to something every single time. 

“I hope I would’ve been lucky enough to be in a Boston marriage with you. The very un-sisterly kind.”

“Our queer great-great niece would find our love letters in a trunk. Maybe a picture. Holly’s kids and grandkids could hang it on the wall and talk about our close friendship.”

“I think I’d look good as a dandy.”

“Oh, you absolutely would.”

“‘Robin was very practical. She wore pants!’”

“What were Victorian strap-ons like, do you think?”

Robin groans. “Oh god, I don’t want someone finding our strap in a trunk.”

Laughing, Nancy turns up to kiss her chin. “No, no, we’d obviously make a plan. The other best friends would take care of it. But if someone did find it, they’d explain it away. A cleaning accessory.”

“A hat display.”

“A door stop.”

“A badly made rolling pin,” Robin stutters, laughing at herself. 

“Oh my god,” but she’s giggling, not trying to hide it. “A dildo, but one they used exclusively to prepare themselves for the husbands they were looking for. Together, of course. Like best friends. For practice.”

“For practice,” Robin wheezes, shaking Nancy’s body with her laughter. “Of course. They fucked platonically. Like,” she can barely get it out. “Like sisters.”

They’re still giggling a minute later, Robin pressing her lips to the top of Nancy’s head. 

“I don’t want anyone to assume us away,” she says, voice softer. Her fingers link with Nancy’s and she brings them to her lips. “I don’t want anyone to erase this.”

There are pictures—Nancy laughing in Robin’s lap, Robin’s arms tight around her waist and her eyes full of love; Robin kissing her cheek at a birthday party, bodies pressed close; a particularly beautiful shot of them dancing at Max’s wedding. There are letters—pages and pages from the months they spent apart when Robin was researching abroad in grad school and when Nancy’s been on assignment, nothing remotely platonic about any of them. And there are their friends, a whole community of people who know them, who’ve spoken about them and taken other pictures, the same way Nancy and Robin have for them. 

“Even if they wanted to,” she whispers into Robin’s skin as she presses herself up, moving until she’s looking down at pools of blue, “there will always be a Mia. There will always be people who know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She tastes like Nancy, still, and Nancy licks at her bottom lip before settling back on her sternum, Robin’s fingers moving across her back. 

[where-ismydonkey]

DCA PROMPTOBER - DAY 5

ARTISTIC LICENSE

"Looks like you've earned your artistic license, Lorelai!" Sun brought the little girl's artwork up to inspect it and declared, "I believe this shall be hung up on the wall!"

A delighted squeal brought a smile to your face as you sat between two other kids, Danny and Portia. It was the middle of the day and after some much needed nap time, you were now doing arts and crafts. So while the bot praised the children's artwork, you worked on a masterpiece of your own.

You snickered over at the animatronic, "You're so corny, you know."

"Well, now I'm offended!" he put another pom pom and glitter glue creation down into his pile to hang up later, "Very good, Leilani! We’ll put this on the wall for everybody to see!”

"Glad it came off as intended." you smiled, finishing your own glitter glue macaroni picture. Humming thoughtfully, you brought it up to inspect it flipping it around and teasing, "Oh please judge this, great one!—”

"The line art is messy, the color of glitter glue you chose clashes with the background, and your pasta is falling off! Needless to say, your application for an artistic license has been rejected, friend!" Sun put a hand on his hip, "Or should I continue?"

Damn was he a hater. Your mouth hung open, more than slightly offended. But you just tried to ignore it, huffing as you pointed behind him, "You know, some of the kids are shoving crayons up their noses."

He gasped, whipping around to shrilly scold the kids, "June, get that out of your nose! Finn, you too!"

And as he tried to wrangle the crayons from them, you smirked. Ignoring the glare he shot you, all you could was wink back at him.

You tried not to notice how suddenly flustered he was afterward.

Later in the day, after the children had been picked up, was when you could really sit back and relax. And by that you meant sit behind the security desk, surrounded by a mountain of the arts and crafts supplies as you got creative. It was a good stress reliever, to make arts to your hearts content, even though you were in the company of stress personified.

So you sat in your chair, doodling on a new sheet of paper, nothing but the small hums from the back of the room to be heard. Sun was in the process of hanging up the art he'd collected today from the children.

Wait a minute, where had you left yours from earlier?

Like magic, it had vanished when you’d went to prepare for pick ups. You just assumed one of the kids had taken it, but maybe it was just in the wrong pile?

Tilting your head, you asked, "Hey Sun, have you seen my work from arts and crafts?"

"Yes, unfortunately I did have to look at that thing.”

“Not what I meant,” you rolled your eyes, "And considering you kidnapped all the artwork from today, I just wanted to know if you had taken it."

"Well, the answer is no." he said, sticking a colorful macaroni landscape to the board.

But unable to believe him, you got up from your chair. And quickly approaching him, as he paused what he was doing to glance at you questioningly, you took the stack of work into your hands. Beginning to flip through all the art, you tried to look for yours.

Sun made a noise like he was clicking his tongue, "I already told you, it’s not in there!"

"Yeah, but I won't believe it until I see it with my two eyes," you went through a few self portraits, "So sue me."

Beside you, the bot sighed, seemingly tense as you continued to look through the pile. And you didn't understand why, until you were near the end of it.

And automatically, a coo slipped out of your mouth before you meant to, "Aw, you wanted to keep my work? And here I thought I hadn't earned my artistic license!"

Sun crossed his arms, looking away like a child being accused, "Someone must've placed it there by mistake!"

You grinned up at him and put the stack down, "Lies, you totally wanted to keep my work!"

"Not a chance, friend!”

“Okay,” you chuckled disbelievingly, beginning to walk away. And waving your artwork in the air, you were unaware of how he watched you, “Whatever you say!”

But without even noticing he’d taken it again, it was hung up on the wall the next day without a word.

—

Hiii!! wrote this before work again, and theres some formatting errors but those shall be fixed later. WAHOOO EXCITED TO CONTINUE THESE PROMPTS

[starssunsoftheinfinite]

so. I have been plagued. By thoughts.

Mainly of Loki. Loki being soft. Like,, male! Reader being so exhausted and unable to do much so. He takes care of them?? If that makes sense?

(Feel free to ignore!)

-💚

Sorry for the long wait! Stuff got pretty busy lol. This was a really fun thing to get me in the writing mood again though! There's another ask in my inbox so I'll get to that after! I just chose this one first since I knew it would be more low key (pun intended) and shorter.

I also wrote this on my phone so apologies if its a little odd looking I'm not sure if it'll translate well on laptops.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Fluff/comfort

Male reader x loki

Pet names used (sweet boy, pet, love, my darling, dear (for loki))

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your day had been overwhelmingly hard and incredibly overbearing. So much had happened at work, the job Loki insists you need not do on Midguard but you insist you do your part despite your lovers royal status securing more than enough money for the both of you. It was a retail job and while that may sound simple any mortal such as your self would know otherwise. Heimdall brings you back to Asgard and can already tell your warn out, satchel bairly handing onto your shoulder. "ah, y/n. You look well." he said in a genuine tone but it was clear by the smug look he was giving he meant to tease. You roll your eyes playfully "ha ha" you said, tilting your head to emphasise each exaggerated laugh. "Loki is waiting for you in your chambers." Heimdall says helpfully, smiling softly and giving a nod to urge you down the rainbow bridge. The walk was long and tireing, your thighs and calves hurt already, the hours of standing causing them strain, so a long walk was not ideal. Finally you pressed your palm against the cool gold doors of your shared bedroom and you throw your bag onto the armchair in the corner. "be careful you may break something" Loki teased and you roll your eyes, you've done that a lot today. You sit at your desk, planning to doodle. Nothing serious just mindless scribbles until your mind feels less like bile. You pull out the drawer and take out a pencil then go to sharpen it. Snap. The led breaks. Snap. It breaks again. Snap- "ugh!" you yell. Loki had already been keeping an eye on you, easily able to tell something was testing your patience. His eyes widen and he stands from where he lay on the bed, shutting his book. "Love? Are you quite alright?" he whispers softly, standing beside you but not too close, wanting to give you your space. "Im- mm" you barely begin the second word before your face is scrunching up and you whimper. Today had been so difficult but now you'd been pushed over the edge by something so small. Hands reach out to cup your face, crouching down a little to your sitting level "oh my sweet boy, no, don't cry. It's alright. I'm here my Darling." he cooes and you sink into his touch, whimpering and quivering. "today has been difficult hasn't it pet?" all you could do was nod. There was a comfortable silence between you two as he held you close. "up to your feet sweet boy, come to bed with me." he offers, gently helping you out of your seat and leading you to the soft sheets and comfort of bed. Loki crawls in and opens his arms, motioning you to lay against his chest and you happily do so. He runs his fingers through your hair" everything will be all right my love, everything will be alright. "he soothes and it's like his words are law. Your muscles loosen and your head grows empty, far too focused on the calming sound of his voice the gentle touch of his hands." there you are. No need to worry or fret. I am here. You are safe here. " he hummed. As the world melted away and all you could hear was Lokis voice and the comforting continuous sound of his heart beat, all you could feel was his hands on your skin and in your hair, and all you could smell was the warm scent of his lavender shampoo and black cherry soap, you felt your eyes grow heavier and heavier. "that's it sweet boy, you deserve rest. Take as much as you need. I will be right here when you wake. I promise." he hooked a finger under your jaw and tilted your head up ever so slightly. He craned his neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead, "I love you, my sweet Prince." he whispers and a small smile graces your lips "I love you too Dear.." your sentence trailed off into silence and soft breaths.

[bambifornia]

more swindle headcanons because he won't leave my brain and i'm tired of him

crazy good at math. he's able to calculate the price/cost of something within seconds. the only reason he's not a mathematician/accountant or anything like that is because swindle wouldn't do well with those jobs. swindle likes moving on his pedes, not sitting behind a desk

extremely well-versed in politics. but not because he's very political or anything; swindle just likes knowing where and when the next intergalactic war is raging so he can profit off it. it helps to keep up with the news

workaholic. though this trait is less notable to see in him than say, someone like optimus (mostly because swindle takes great care not to let his exhaustion be shown. his image MUST be perserved, after all)

used to keep a diary in which he noted anything interesting he found on the planets he traded with. he was actually semi-organized with it, and even included some crude doodles of the organics he ran into. he stopped journaling once the war broke out, though, and hasn't journaled since due to fear of his diary being used as blackmail

answers questions like a politician. if u want a straight answer from swindle then good fucking luck LMAO. he doesn't like to go into detail about his past. it's all old news, anyway

he's a Beyonce fan. i feel it in my bones

puts effort into his image. granted his image got fucked over ever since he defected to the decepticons LMAO but the point is that swindle tries to make himself look better than he actually is.

surprisingly open-minded. he has to be. if he were to be openly xenophobic to the multitude of alien races he trades with, then his business would tank. besides, he's actually pretty curious about other worlds besides his own (ex; how he mentioned he spied on the human villains in the SUV episode, and thought their whole get-up was "exciting")

he hates hates HATES the cold. if he HAS to do business in a cold planet, he will bitch and complain about it the entire time except when he's in the negotiating room

when he was a young bot, swindle was pretty open book. that's not to say he didn't LIE back then, it just so happened that swindle was created with a super expressive faceplate, and you could always tell what swindle thought based on whatever look he was giving you. this got him into some...issues (dw he learned how to keep a poker face later on)

not the jealous type (how can he be jealous when he's the most wanted bachelor on cybertron?) but on the rare occasion that he IS, he gets real quiet. probably sulks to himself in a corner while sipping on some energon. if confronted, he'll brush it off but don't you doubt it for one second; he is PISSED

says he doesn't have any regrets or moral dilemmas about his job, but that's only half of the truth. swindle takes care not to give himself enough time to think about the past. it makes living easier that way. and swindle is a creature who seeks comfort, even if it inconveniences everybody else around him. don't try to call him out on this bad habit of his; he will huff and excuse himself by claiming you'd do the same thing too if you were in his shoes (or pedes?)

he does not like keeping living things in his subspace. he's made the mistake of storing a organic he thought was cute when he was younger, and it ended up with a trip to med-bay (surprisingly, organics don't like being in strange voids filled with nothing but weapons)

fantastic at detecting scams. he doesn't have a mod for it or anything, he just KNOWS

has a """"healthy"""" amount of paranoia. he claims he's just looking out for himself, given the kind of business he's in, but there's times where the paranoia really fucks with his health

really likes sprinkling those "infomercial phrases" into his daily speech. he thinks it makes him sound suave. thought he sometimes fucks up with the delivery and he just gives up mid-way lmao ("guard the prisoners...orrr loot the ship? it's a no process-...or? er? err..." - a direct quote from decepticon air)

he's mostly self-aware. the only thing he isn't honest about to himself is his own emotions

whenever he feels stupid stuff like "fear" or "stress" or (shudder) "remorse" he takes a look at his bank account. it helps him, in a weird way. because yes, he's an outlaw, and yes, he's technically gambling his and everyone else's life, and YES, there's days where he winds up battered and broken, barely an inch away from death, but...at least his efforts aren't for nought. they're adding up to something; with every corpse, swindle's wallet gets fatter. and with all that money in his servos, swindle might be able to buy himself the one thing cybertron can't offer him: peace

^ swindle thinks he deserves this. he delusionally believes he deserves peace and riches more than anybot

[osleeplessflowero]

Late Night Walk

Oneshot Masterpost (for more Neighborhood AU!)

The sound of the air conditioner in your room seems to be all you can focus on, brows furrowed in frustration as you glare at the ceiling like it insulted your favorite guardian figure. You'd tried everything to prevent this, yet here you are..having another sleepless night, your thoughts racing around your head like cars on a track. Eventually your anger gets the better of you and you sit up, tossing your covers aside and grabbing a thin jacket from your closet on your way outside. You'll just wear yourself out, that'll do it.

The differently colored houses of your neighborhood greet you once you open the door, each one fitting a different duo of skeletal brothers from vastly different universes. Yours, Fell, Swap, Swapfell, Horror..the list goes on. Naturally, all the lights are off apart from the streetlights since it's insanely late. Nothing out of the ordinary there. However, there is still something, or rather someone standing on his front porch, who perks up when he sees you walk out and lock your door behind you.

You shoot him a wave and a smile as he stands, grabbing his skateboard from off the side of the porch and skating right across the street to reach you. Once he gets in your yard he stops, holding it under one of his arms as he finally manages to stand in front of you.

"hey, you. what'cha doin' up this late? that's my job, i'm the tired one." His voice is low and raspy as he jokes, earning a nudge from you as you check the time on your phone.

"I couldn't sleep. My brain's doing the thing again." You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes as he lets out a hum of understanding. "So, I figured I'd go out for a walk..didn't expect to see you out here. You wanna go with?"

You offer, silently hoping he'll say yes. The city can be dangerous at this hour if you run into the wrong crowds, and you didn't really want to test your encounter luck tonight.

"yeah, sure, why not? i've been up a while, stayed late at stretch's place to hang out. he fell asleep first, so he's gonna wake up with a face covered in marker doodles." You both start walking as he begins to talk, Rus putting his skateboard down to slowly roll beside you, making sure not to go too fast for you to keep up with.

You let out a laugh at the idea. "Dude, he's gonna kill you."

"he can try all he wants, but it didn't work the last five times." He grins smugly, earning an eye roll from you as you shake your head. These two have always been such troublemakers..they fit together like puzzle pieces despite how they look from an outsider's perspective.

"You're a mess."

"i know." He smiles, keeping his hands in his pockets as you both walk along the sidewalk. "but that's what makes me so great, right?"

"Something like that." You smile, looking up at the still-moonlit sky. He grins at the fact you didn't deny it, letting out a chuckle in reply.

"Well, I guess one good thing came out of my brain refusing to shut up." You look over at him, watching with an amused smile as he tilts his head in curiosity.

"yeah? what's that?"

"I get to hang out with one of my favorite guys." You smile fondly, catching him off guard. His cheekbones flush for a brief second before he shakes it off, nudging your shoulder.

"aww, i'm your favorite? how sweet." He drawls, earning a playful (and partially flushed) shove from you, almost knocking him off balance.

"I said "one of", chill."

"still a high honor." He holds up his phone, pausing a second to take a picture of the starry sky. You stop with him, watching him as he does so. He sticks his tongue out a little, the piercing there shining when the light hits it and his eyelights narrowing while he focuses, a small thing about him you hadn't really noticed before.

"gotta catch these views and keep 'em forever. plus it wouldn't hurt to post 'em on my main." He puts his phone down, skating again.

"How's commissions on your alt?"

"eh, it's alright. haven't got a ton yet but i'm sure someone'll want some art from me someday soon. i've been working on some stuff for the comic project, at least."

You perk up at that. "The one you and Stretch were talking about?"

"yeah, that's the one. we're pretty much just in the drawing board phase right now but you'll be the first to know when it's out. that's what you wanted, right?"

"Duh! Of course I do." You smile, already excited to see what the two boneheads come up with.

"well, i'll make sure to pester him about it so he remembers." He smiles, messing up your hair with a hand despite your protests and skating away when you reach over to grab him.

"Asshole."

"you love me." He grins.

"Debatable."

He gasps, putting a hand over his chest dramatically as he moves back over to you. "oh, how you wound me..i could just die right now, my heart could just explode!" He shuts his eyes, before cracking one open to see your face.

"You'll live, I promise." You smile, walking a little closer to him and shivering when you feel the nightly cold air. You wonder what it must be like as a skeleton, not being able to feel the weather out.. sure, the guys can feel hot and cold things when they touch them, but as for the wind? Nada. Must be a weird sensation.

He comes to a stop when you both reach the entrance to the city, holding out a hand for you to either take or refuse. You appreciate his silent offer, holding his hand to stay close as you both head further in. The city lights shine over the streets, neon signs advertising this and that anywhere you look. Colors bathe the normally gray atmosphere, filling it with life.

Your eyes drift over to the tall skeleton beside you, watching as he glances over every little thing and finding it hard to focus. He looks really nice under different kinds of lighting.. A lot of colors suit him in a weird way. His eyelights drift over to you when he notices you're staring, and you freeze. He looks briefly over your face, before giving you a smirk with lazy eyes.

Flushing, you quickly look away, feeling yourself die a little inside as he chuckles. A little tug on your hand brings you back to reality, and you look at him again. He points up ahead, and your gaze follows his finger to a corner store.

"it's still open, must be one of those twenty four hour ones. wanna go take a look?"

"I'm honestly surprised.. sure, why not? Maybe I can find some gifts."

He gasps.

"I'm not getting you one while you're with me. It ruins the fun."

"aww! c'mooon, just this once?" He blinks his eyes, acting almost like a puppy that wants a treat you just so happen to have in your hand.

"Nope, furget it."

"hah! nice." He chuckles, letting you lead him into the store. You both say a quick hello to the cashier, who simply nods in reply. You assume they don't really wanna be here right now, which would make sense. You know you wouldn't want to be stuck working here super late.

Dragging Rus' hand, you make your way over to the first aisle you see, looking for random things your neighbors might like. Naturally you'd want to go based off of their favorite colors.. Rus finds himself getting a bit distracted, looking above you at the taller rows. When he spots something silly looking, he reaches up an arm and pulls it down to show you, earning a laugh from both of you.

You can always find yourself having fun with Rus, no matter where you are. He's always messing around somehow. Upon first meeting him, Rus is a pretty quiet guy. He wouldn't speak unless spoken to, and when he and his brother had first moved in he stuck to his side like glue. But once he got to know you, it was like he became a whole other person.

You both perk up when you hear the Cashier shouting, turning to see what's going on. Leaning past the end of the aisle, you spot someone holding them at gunpoint with their face covered. Well, that's not good. Seems someone decided to rob the store super late for..whatever reason. Rus pulls you against his side in a protective manner as one of his eyelights flashes, indicating he's Checked the suspect. Furrowing his browbones, he turns your face so you look at him, whispering to you.

"wait here, i'm gonna handle this." He sounds serious, but..

"Dude, there is no way you're gonna confront some guy with a gun on your own. That's insane. Just wait for the police to show up-"

"the police aren't gonna get here in time, by then they'll be gone. i'll handle it. you can call 'em if you want, though. might help once i'm done."

"Done with what?" You look at him worriedly, and he gives you a reassuring smile before messing up your hair and walking past you. You reach out your hand to stop him but miss before you can grab his arm, watching as he steps forwards. You decide to call the police after all, speaking quietly.

"what's all this about?" He watches as the robber points his gun between him and the Cashier, who's currently shaking in their boots.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll shatter your souls!" He warns, hands slightly trembling as he aims his weapon at your friend.

"hey now, there's no need for that. just put the gun down and let's..talk for a bit, okay?" He holds up his hands dismissively, glancing over at the Cashier.

"I need this, so just stay out of it!" He fires the gun. You gasp as the operator on the phone is asking you for the location, looking over. Rus thankfully had managed to shortcut out of the way. Letting out a sigh of relief, you explain the situation to someone and wait.

"well, that was rude."

He holds up his hand, surrounding his opponent's soul with blue magic and slamming him down onto the ground. Once he's done that, he walks over and pulls off his mask, forming a cage of blue bones around him so he doesn't try anything funny.

"i wouldn't move, if i were you..it's dangerous."

He grins down at the now shaking man, before forcefully pulling the gun from his hands and sitting it on the other side of the cage where he can't reach it. You stand against the side of the aisle, mouth gaping as he walks back over.

"we're good now. just gotta wait for the police."

"Rus, respectfully, I think that was the hottest thing I've ever seen you do."

"what?-" He laughs in surprise, feeling his cheekbones flush with a pretty shade of purple. You smile at him, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as well.

After a few minutes of witty banter between the two of you, the police restrain the suspect. Since Rus managed to deal with him, you got to get a bunch of free stuff! So that was pretty sick. Despite how scary that was, at least you could get something out of it in the end.

Walking back towards your neighborhood, you find yourself holding Rus' hand the entire way there. He doesn't seem to mind it at all, skating at a pace you can keep up with.

"You're really cool, Rus. I can't believe you handled that so well." You turn to him, adjusting the bags in your opposite hand. He smiles at you, fangs shining a bit when the moonlight hits them.

"you pick up a thing or two when you live in an underground like mine. it was full of situations like that. i'm just glad nobody got hurt. ..well, he did, but for a good reason."

You let out a little laugh, continuing to move along the sidewalk.

"soooo.." He leans over a bit, smiling smugly. "did you grab a gift for me as well?"

You roll your eyes, stopping in place. He stops skating, holding the board in place.

"You know what? I did, actually."

"wait, seriously? i was just kidding, you didn't have to-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss to the cheek. He stares in stunned silence for a moment, as his face burns a bright shade of purple. So much so he's practically glowing in the dark.

"My hero." You grin, tugging him along again. He chuckles nervously as you both reach your respective homes, before bidding each other farewell.

Rus leans against the door, holding his hand over where you'd kissed him before burying his face into the neck of his sweater.

[crazychaoticizzy]

Pretty Portraits

What happens when you, Kugisaki and Itadori find that Fushiguro left his journal behind?

WARNINGS: none. just pure fluff. maybe a tiny bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist

You were just about to leave the booth, only to pause at the sight of a black notebook waiting on the seat. You recognized it at Fushiguro's journal, and when you flipped the cover to see the name written on the inside your suspicions were proved to be correct.

"Hey, Fushiguro forgot his notebook," you said to Itadori and Kugisaki. They both looked away from whatever they were doing, eyeing the notebook in your hands. "Do you guys remember where he said he was going?"

"Uhh, I don't think he actually said where he was going," Itadori said. "If we don't run into him in the school hallways, then we can just leave it in his room."

"Or." Kugisaki drew out the word, sidling up next to you. "We could take a little look inside. See what kind of a person Fushiguro really is."

"Isn't that an invasion of privacy?" Itadori asked.

"Not if he doesn't know."

"I don't think that's how that works," you pointed out.

"Come on, it'd just be a little peek. Besides, he's most likely a really boring person. He probably takes notes on techniques and how he can improve himself. If anything, this will be a learning experience for us if we decide to look through it.”

Kugisaki was right, there was nothing embarrassing in there. You know because you asked one day when he seemed especially invested in his journal. He showed you pages full of notes for different classes and a couple small doodles in the corner. Despite knowing this, you still didn’t want to look through it because you didn’t want to invade his personal belongings.

You shook your head, holding it out to Itadori. “No, I still don’t want to look through it.”

Kugisaki shrugged, taking it from Itadori’s hand and sitting back down in the booth the three of you had just left. She opened it, flipping past the first page, the one with Fushiguro’s name on it. “Okay. Then I’ll look through it and you two can just so happen to look through my shoulder.”

Damn loopholes, you thought. In all honesty, you were curious about what Fushiguro had added since you last saw the contents of the journal.

Despite your better judgement, you sat down beside Kugisaki.

It was just as you had expected, notes about Fushiguro’s classes for a good chunk of the journal. When Kugisaki got tired of staring at Fushiguro’s neat handwriting, she let out a breath and closed it, opening it again to a random page.

More writing, but this page was accompanied by a portrait that looked eerily familiar. The name of the person drawn was on the top of your tongue when Itadori suddenly said something.

”Hey, that kinda looks like Y/n, don’t you think?”

You were way off. You were going to say it looked like a fictional character you had told Fushiguro about a while ago.

”Oh my gosh, this is a letter!” Kugisaki exclaimed. “Hold on it starts in the middle of it on this page.”

Kugisaki flipped back a couple pages, finding that the letter was longer than anticipated. She found the beginning, a grand three pages front and back away from the drawing, and started quietly reading.

”’Y/n, I doubt I’ll ever give this to you or say anything about this, but just know that this is for you.’ Holy shit is this a love letter?”

”Wow.” Itadori stared at the page in awe. “I didn’t think he’d actually write it.” He took the book from Kugisaki’s grasp, flipping through a couple pages.

”You knew about this and didn’t think to tell me?” Kugisaki yelled. She was shushed by a nearby waiter, and she quieted down.

”Fushiguro asked me not to tell anyone, so I didn’t.” Itadori shrugged. “He told me forever ago about this, said he wanted to give it to you when he finished it, but I guess he never did because look at the date.”

He pointed to the corner of the page, where the written date was almost exactly four months ago.

”Damn,” Kugisaki said. “He must have been super inspired about something to write this. Listen, he quoted a couple books. ‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.’ God damn, he really used that Pride and Prejudice quote.”

Itadori continued flipping through the pages, now laying the notebook flat on the table for the three of them to see it.

there were multiple pages filled with drawings of you. The pages filled with notes from class were almost completely gone, being replaced by your portraits and short writings accompanied by this reminded me of them to the side.

You stared as they continued flipping through the pages, watching as the drawings improved. The last one was of your side profile, laughing as you held a straw to your lips, about to drink from it. You realized it was from today, and softly ran your fingers over the drawing.

So that’s what he was doing this whole time.

Since that was the last page with anything on it, Itadori closed it and slid it across the table back to you. You didn’t move to touch it, only continued to stare at it.

”Y/n? You okay there?”

You nodded in the general direction of Itadori, moving your hand to grab the black journal. “Yeah. Uh, I’ll take this back to Fushiguro, if you don’t mind. I know you two are busy later anyways.”

Neither of them objected. You assumed this was a situation where they both knew something you didn’t and were most likely over the moon that Fushiguro was finally going somewhere.

You may not be the smartest, but you could definitely piece things together when you’re given enough. You were still unsure, though, so you didn’t want to confront him about it right away.

—

Your knuckles rapped against the wood of Fushiguro’s door, and you gently tapped your fingers against the surface of the black notebook in your hands as you waited for him to answer.

The noise of the door unlocking and opening threw you off guard. It was such a stark contrast to the quiet hallway, and your thoughts had drifted elsewhere completely.

You noticed that Fushiguro stood a little bit straighter when he saw it was you. You briefly wondered if he always did that, or if he only did it for you.

You pushed the thought from your mind not wanting to think about it now.

You took in what he was wearing—gray sweatpants and a black sweater. He looked like he was about to go to bed. It was still early, but you couldn’t blame him. Despite them being your best friends, hanging out with Kugisaki and Itadori could get tiring.

”Uhm, you left this at the booth earlier,” you awkwardly said, holding out the journal to him. “I wanted to bring it back.”

He gently took it from your grasp. “Thanks.”

He didn’t close the door. Instead, he tossed the book to his bed and stepped further outside his room, leaning against the doorframe.

”Where else did you guys go? After I left, I mean,” he said.

”Oh, we just kind of walked around Tokyo for a bit,” you replied. You hid your hands behind your back, playing with your fingers. “We went into a bookstore but didn’t buy anything. We kind of lost Kugisaki and Itadori was summoned by Gojo.”

Fushiguro nodded thoughtfully, putting his hands in his pockets.

You wanted to ask about the drawings in the journal before he continued talking, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up without making it blatantly obvious that you had gone through it. You decided to take a shot, letting your inner self decide what you said.

”Uhm, it fell and I saw some of your drawings,” you said. “Your notebook, I mean. They were really good. I didn’t know you liked doing that.”

Fushiguro’s eyes widened for a brief moment before he returned to his usual stoic expression. His face changed so fast you almost didn’t notice it, but the way he brought his hand up to scratch the side of his neck—one of his nervous ticks you had noticed—told you everything.

”Yeah, I picked it up a few months ago,” he replied. “I do it sometimes at the end of the day to wind down. It helps me relax.”

You nodded. You weren’t sure how to continue the conversation, but you still wanted to know if your suspicion about why he drew you so much was correct.

”Oh, that’s cool. Itadori saw the drawing and said it looked like me,” you decided to say.

”Did he now?” You had caught him with his pants down. He reached up to gently scratch his neck again. “Well, it might have been you. I draw you sometimes for practice. You have a pretty face for that.”

He paused at his own words, crossing his legs at the ankles. He hoped you didn’t notice his wording.

You did. And this time you were the one caught off guard.

”Thank you,” you said. “If that was a compliment. Thanks for saying I have a pretty face.”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

Awkward silence ensued again. You weren’t sure how much longer you could beat around the bush for. This same routine had randomly started one day and continued almost daily for months. It was annoying, and you wanted it to end.

So you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Uhm, I actually brought that up because I think I know something, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

An indirect leap of faith, but a leap of faith nonetheless.

Fushiguro was listening to you, you could tell because he was looking directly at you, into your eyes. It made you nervous, and you almost brushed off what you were about to say and walked away.

“So, I wanted to tell you my feelings first. And then you could decide how you feel about them. If you want to, that is.”

“Yeah, of course. Do you wanna come inside?” He motioned towards his room. “To get more comfortable, if you want.”

You nodded, following him in. “Sure.”

He gently closed the door behind you, leaving it open a crack before sitting on the bed with you. It was silent for a few moments before he motioned for you to speak.

You took a breath. “So, I’ve been debating telling you this for a while, I just haven’t. But with Kugisaki and Itadori earlier I decided that I should.” You paused for a moment, putting together the next sentence in your head before you said it. “I kind of like you. Like a lot.” You paused again, deciding that was all you needed to say and shrugging with your hands.

You seemed a lot cooler with this confession that you though you would be. You thought you would be a stuttering mess, trying to beat around the bush so much you wouldn’t even know what you were saying. But you didn’t, instead you feigned outward calmness, but you could feel your heart pounding violently against your chest.

Fushiguro’s eyebrows raised as he took in the information.

The action worried you, because he didn’t move for a few moments after that. You sat, waiting for his response. You almost apologized and excused yourself from his room, meaning to hide in your dorm for a couple days until you would be able to face him again, before he gave you a small smile. He stood up, sauntering over to his dresser and opening the top drawer.

When he closed it and turned around, he revealed a square of white paper and held it out to you. You took it, realizing it was an envelope.

“Open it.”

You did as Fushiguro said while he moved across the room, this time opening the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out a stack of papers along with a small notebook.

You took the paper out of the envelope as he continued what he was doing, opening the folded sheet.

It was a letter. Addressed to you.

You started reading. It had a similar structure as the one you read from his journal earlier, using some of the same wordings and comparisons.

Fushiguro assumed his previous spot on the bed next to you, setting the papers and notebook down beside him. He watched intently as you read the letter, not saying a word as he took in your reaction to his written words.

You were speechless reading it. You didn’t know he could be so wordy and poetic. He never said much. You assumed that he was just a quiet person that didn’t have much to say. Someone that liked observing more than contributing to conversations.

Your assumptions were mostly correct. Except you didn’t realize he noticed or had this much to say. It shocked you, and you weren’t sure what kind of response would match his words.

You were genuinely shocked that he shared the same feelings. You assumed that the dry conversations between the two of you had started because he found out about you liking him. You thought he found that awkward.

But this letter, an explanation for all those awkward moments between the two of you.

Apparently he thought the same thing you did.

Your eyes quickly drifted over the words when you finished. You truly didn’t know what to say, and figured at least trying to form a response in your head would be best.

Your mind drew a blank on what to say. But you had to say something. You would see Fushiguro getting anxious for your response.

When you looked up to meet Fushiguro’s gaze, he was staring at you. You smiled at him, deciding to speak truthfully about what was going through your head.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered. “This is the most beautiful writing I’ve ever read. Do you really mean everything?”

“Every single word,” he responded. He handed you a piece of notebook paper from the top of the pile he had brought over. “This was my first drawing of you. I just did it without thought one day and continued. You’re really the only thing I draw.”

You gently took the paper from his grasp, looking it over, admiring the graphite lines, imagining the way his eyes might have followed his pencil, focused.

“Are all of these . . .” You motioned towards the stack of papers beside you, and Fushiguro nodded before you finished your question. “Wow . . .”

You were in awe, returning your gaze to the piece of notebook paper before looking at a couple more.

Fushiguro gently took the paper you held from your hand, putting it aside and taking both of your hands in his. He reached for your jaw, softly redirecting the way your head was turned so you looked directly into his eyes.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n. I want to be more than friends.” There was a small amount of fear in his eyes. He was terrified you would reject him, despite already knowing how you felt.

Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly agape. He hadn’t even said anything monumentally heart-wrenching, but just the sound of his voice could leave you speechless.

“Do you really want that?” You quietly asked.

He nodded with complete confidence in his answer. “I do.”

You couldn’t help the smile that overcame your features as you gently squeezed his hand. “Okay. I want that too.”

He didn’t kiss you, and you didn’t kiss him. Not yet. It wasn’t the right moment, and he wanted it to be perfect. So he didn’t kiss you, even though he desperately wanted to. Wanted nothing more than to feel your lips against his, to run his hands through your hair.

Not yet, he told himself. He could wait just a little bit longer.

—

You and Fushiguro (you’re proud to call him Megumi now, even though you still get flustered when you say his name) had been dating for weeks. By now, the news of your relationship had spread to the other first years, who spent a short amount of time exchanging money before congratulating and bombarding the two of you with questions.

Tonight was the first night the two of you had alone since you had gotten together. Itadori and Kugisaki were out, and Gojo was currently over seas for a mission. You and your boyfriend spent the night in the middle of the training field on a couple blankets, snuggling as you stargazed. Though, you weren’t doing much stargazing, instead talking while he showed you his most recent portrait of you.

You were asleep in the drawing, your arm resting under your head as you gripped the blanket in your hands. You were embarrassed he had caught such a moment. He interlocked his pinky with yours, moving your hands from your face as he told you it was cute.

He left a soft kiss on your knuckle, pulling you to sit up with him as he grabbed his journal.

“Can you look at the sky for me?” he asked.

You obliged with a smile on your face, looking at the sky as you began counting stars.

Fushiguro had recently become more open when drawing you. He had asked you to pose for him more, occasionally gently nudging you into the exact position he wanted. He even sometimes did so in front of Itadori and Kugisaki without shame.

You listened as his pencil rubbed against the paper, enjoying the sound. You snuck a glance at him, turning your head to watch as his eyes followed his pencil along the page. Eventually he looked up at you, smiling before he put his hand under your chin, redirecting your gaze.

You apologized with a light chuckle. He continued his drawing, the sounds of his pencil returning. “You’re just so pretty when you draw,” you said.

You heard his pencil suddenly stop. You turned to look at him to find that he was already staring intently at you.

You peeked at the drawing in his notebook, noticing the vague background. “Oh, are you adding a background to this one?”

He moved his gaze to his lap. “Yeah, I like drawing you at night. The sky reminds me of you.”

“How so?”

He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. “Well, I realized that you weren’t the sun in my sky.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “I say that because I’ve only ever squinted angrily at the sun. I don’t do that with you. No, I stare at you in wonder and look away when you meet my eyes. I smile when I see you and watch your every action in awe of what you do. I want you to always be present. To be there to help me calm down because just seeing you lifts weight off my shoulders when I’m stressed. Before I met you it was the night sky that did that. It was the night sky that I wished would stay, that I wanted to see to help calm me down.”

Megumi Fushiguro was the only person in the world that could make you speechless, not knowing how to react. And he didn’t even know he was the only person that held this power.

You could feel your eyes burning with tears. He’s constantly moving the bar higher, constantly speaking his mind around you in the most beautiful, poetic way imaginable, constantly taking you by surprise with his words.

You feel bad for never having anything to say in response to him, but he understands how you feel. You usually find yourself replying to him with a tight hug, squeezing him as though if you let go he would disappear.

But tonight, you truly didn’t know what to do.

Watching as your hand moves to cover your mouth, your hand lightly squeezing his own, something in his brain decides that now is the right time. Now is the best time.

He takes a leap, moving his hand to cup your jaw as he gazes into your eyes. His eyes briefly flicker to your lips before he’s slowly leaning in, giving you a chance to reject him if you want.

You don’t reject him. You let him kiss you, freezing as his soft lips met yours. Your eyes were closed, but you didn’t know what to do.

He pulled away, a faint smile painting his lips. “You have to kiss me back, dummy.”

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

He hummed, leaning forward ever so slightly, his lips ghosting yours. “It’s okay.” He kisses you again. This time you kiss back, moving your hand to grip his bicep as if to pull him closer to you.

When you momentarily break the kiss he chases your lips, making you chuckle into the kiss.

“Megumi,” you whispered. He hummed, trying to reach your lips again, making you smile brightly. “Gumi, give me a second.”

He stopped, still holding your hand. “What happened?” Worry was laced in his voice, scared he had done something wrong.

“Nothing, just give me a second.”

You grabbed the notebook from his lap, moving the ribbon to mark the page he was drawing on, closing it and moving it to the side as you shifted closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. He tentatively placed his hands on your waist as you kissed him again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to try and bring him even closer.

When the kiss broke, this time neither of you moving to kiss the other again, your foreheads rested together as you simply basked in each other’s presence.

He felt the overwhelming urge to say it, something he had been thinking about for a long time. He’s not sure what took possession of him, but the words, “I love you,” were slipping out of his mouth before he could even process it.

Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled away from him just a little bit. He did as well, bringing a hand to cover his face as he began apologizing profusely, saying that he didn’t mean to say that.

The smile that was slowly growing on your face fell. You knew that sometimes his thoughts got jumbled together, making it somewhat difficult to voice them. This had to be one of those situations, but hearing him say he didn’t mean it made your heart crack.

He seemed to realize his words, because he cut himself off, going into another tangent.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I do mean that, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he admitted. “I don’t want to force you to jump into things too early. If you don’t feel the same way then don’t say it back. Tell me and I won’t say it again until you want me to, I promise.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings. All he wanted was to make sure you were comfortable with the relationship, but in the process he disregards his own feelings. It hurt you. You wanted him to be open, to allow himself to be vulnerable around you, even if it was just for a few minutes.

“Megumi, I want you to share your thoughts with me. It doesn’t matter what it is, if you want to tell me something then tell me. You won’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.” You leaned forward again, capturing him between your arms and squeezing him. “Because I love you, too. I have for a while. I want you to be comfortable with me. I want to be someone you can talk to, your rock. Please share things with me.”

You felt him wrap his arms around you, squeezing you with just as much force as you were. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath. He loved the way you smelled—lavender, curtesy of the products Kugisaki had bought you for your birthday.

“I know your trying,” you said into his shoulder, “and I love that you’re letting your walls down for me. I’ll wait for you to open up for me, I don’t care how long it takes. I want to know everything about you, I want to love everything about you. Take as long as you need, I’ll still be here. I promise.”

The two of you stayed in your embrace. You felt your heart pounding in your ears as you awaited his reply, hoping you didn’t take it too far.

He gently kissed your collarbone, knocking both of you over so you laid on the blanket. You quietly yelped upon impact, not expecting the action.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You smiled, readjusting your position so you faced him. You wrapped your arms around him, running your hands through his black hair.

“You smell so good,” he said suddenly, making you laugh. “I love the way you smell.”

You thanked him, feeling your eyes droop. You snapped them open, hoping to stay awake just a little longer, hoping you would be able to spend just a few more seconds with Fushiguro in this moment.

Alas, you fell asleep, but not before you quietly said, “I love you, Megumi,” into his hair.

He smiled at your words, repeating them before he realized you were already fast asleep. He grabbed a blanket from nearby, throwing it over the two of you as he admired your sleeping face before he dozed off as well.

—

You awoke the next morning to a blinding light being shone in your face, followed by the shutter of a camera. You groaned, opening your eyes and yawning before seeing what was happening.

It was no surprise when you saw Gojo, accompanied by Kugisaki and Itadori, standing above you and your still sleeping boyfriend.

“Oops, I forgot to turn off flash,” Gojo said.

You rolled your eyes before closing them again, resuming your previous sleeping position and closing your eyes. “Leave us alone,” you muttered.

You felt Fushiguro stir next to you, assuming he was awake when he let out an exasperated breath.

“See, we would leave you alone. However the second years need to train and you two love bugs are lying in the middle of the field.”

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up along with Fushiguro. You shooed the other three away as you started picking up your things with your boyfriend, stacking the blankets and taking them from Fushiguro’s grasp as you stood. He followed suit, and the two of you ignored your classmates and teacher as you walked towards the dorms.

“We don’t have anything to do today, right?” you asked.

Fushiguro nodded. “It’s just a day off.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “I think I’m just gonna go back to sleep, then.”

Fushiguro took hold of one of your hands, the one that wasn’t carrying the blankets. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You let out a fake, exaggerated gasp. “A boy in my dorm? How scandalous, don’t you think?” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Of course you can. I’d love it if you did.”

He smiled at you, continuing the walk to your dorm. Upon entering, you plopped the blankets down in a random area o the floor, continuing to drag Fushiguro onto the bed and under your covers.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” you said as the two of you readjusted yourselves. “I’m normally the only one that comes in here.”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head. “Just go to sleep.”

You nodded against his shoulder. “I love you.”

He smiled into your hair. “I love you, too.”

And the two of you would continue saying that. At every chance you got. You would never allow the other to forget that fact for as long as you lived.

This was a late birthday present for one of my friends. Anyways as i was writing I was seriously debating turning the fic in a different direction and going down an angst route. I don’t know I might add a part two to this or something because I do have ideas.

Idk what do y’all think?

Also this was copy and pasted from my notes app so I apologize if it doesn’t look right 💀

[niallsgoldhoop]

Chapter Seven

Wren

“I saw the changes you made to the list.”

Using the spoon in my hand, I scoop up a piece of chocolate cake from the plate that sits between us before eating the bite of decadent dessert.

Niall watches me, his deep blue eyes dropping down to my lips for just a moment. “You’ve got— Right there.”

Heat floods my cheeks as I wipe at the corner of my mouth hoping to get the remnant of chocolate off my face. Only when I look back across the table, he only shakes his head with his perfect lips drawn in a soft smile.

“Here.” Leaning over, my breath catches in my throat when Niall drags his thumb just under my bottom lip, the moment so small yet leaving a trail of fire across my skin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

As he sits back in his chair, my eyes follow his movement as he lifts his finger to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the sweet treat. A low, satisfied hum falls from the back of his throat for only a moment before reaching for his own spoon from our shared dessert.

“Tastes divine, don’t you think?” Those eyes sparkle under the lights.

Clearing my throat and shaking my head, anything to get myself out of the spell I’ve been put under, I nod. “Yeah, it’s great.”

Niall’s focus goes to the plate in front of us which gives me the chance to take him in. Wearing the short sleeve pink shirt, the gold of the thin chain around his neck glitters against the low lights— just like the two gold hoops through his ears.

When he cuts a piece of the cake off, even the simple movement showcases the ripple of the vein in his forearm under his skin.

Niall Horan really is… Yeah.

I almost didn’t even show up tonight.

The note left in my desk had his messy scrawl on it telling me when and where to meet him. It was right on top of my desk along with the list of rules that I’d printed off for him.

Only now there were doodles and that same messy scrawl scratched along the edges along with a handwritten list of his own rules along the bottom.

As ridiculous as they seemed, not to mention his changes, there was no way I was going to argue with them.

Niall didn’t have to be tied to me for the next few months to trick my family into thinking I was in a happy relationship. We barely even knew each other other than what google told me about him and what he could probably find out from my social media if he even cared to look at it.

My sister had already planned for me to have a plus one in a million different circumstances so the thought of having to tell her that my plans changed made me nauseous.

If anything it would send Jenna into a tailspin.

Then everything would be my fault, just like it always is.

“I figured those changes wouldn’t be so bad.” Raising his eyebrow at me, Niall drags his spoon through the chocolate on the plate. “Besides if we are going to make this believable— we’re going to have to put in actual effort.”

My entire life I’ve hated being wrong and right now is no exception.

“Fine.” Crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair, I level my gaze with his. “We can abide by the amended rules but no other changes.”

“So, girlfriend—“ His smile makes me want to punch him. “Tell me every detail I need to know about you.”

Blue eyes pour into mine as I squirm in my seat, hating the attention. “There’s nothing to know really.”

“I think you’re wrong.” He smiles. “I think there are endless things you could tell me about yourself and I wouldn’t get tired of learning.”

Rolling my eyes, I look down at my glass of water. “You’re just saying that because you have to say that.”

“Wren, look at me.”

The low timbre of his voice draws my eyes back to his, a softness I’ve never seen there, just for me.

“I promise you when I say that just because we decided to do this as a team— It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know you.” Niall runs his hand through his dark hair. “You haven’t told me the whole story of your life and your family, and that’s okay. But I want to be here for you, I want to know you.”

Sincerity drips off his words like a sweet honey in the summer, something that feels so foreign to me.

It feels like a lifetime I’ve spent as the black sheep and the loner, the person who doesn’t mind being on the sidelines.

Watching people step around me like I was invisible felt fine until it had me crying in the closet at work.

I was still fine.

I was still strong.

But as I open up a little bit and start talking to Niall, the way he looks at me like his favorite book of poetry stirs up an emotion I can’t nail down, one I’ve never felt before.

So for what feels like the first time in a long time, I decided that letting someone in might not be all bad.

It might just be my favorite thing yet.

_________

“You did so good!”

Wiping the sweat from across my forehead, I look at Marcy like she has two extra heads and at least twelve arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” My breath is still ragged from the kickboxing class she managed to talk me into. “I need a breathing treatment and a dozen margaritas.”

Stretching her arms above her head, she looks perfectly poised. “I can get down with the margaritas for sure.”

Marcy was my best friend.

Really, my only friend.

My circle was small and I was okay with that.

We met in college and have been nearly inseparable ever since.

While I got my degree in marketing, she got hers in teaching. The two of us couldn’t be any more different but at the same time that’s why our friendship works the way it does.

We just click.

“Or ice cream. I could go for some ice cream.” With my hands on my hips, I take a deep breath.

Macy points at me. “Sold to the brunette.”

Reaching out, I laugh as I push her hand away before we make our way to the locker room of the gym to grab my stuff.

Bernie’s is only a block away and with the warmer weather hanging one for just a little while longer, we decide to walk and enjoy the breeze over our skin. Once I’ve got my waffle cone stuffed with ice cream and we sit at a bistro table outside, only then does everything seem right in the world.

With everything going on with Jenna and the wedding we haven’t been able to see each other very much.

If at all.

“So how is everything going with the evil sister?” Taking a bite out of her chocolate ice cream, her eyes meet mine. “Have you told her to go tuck herself yet?”

I can’t help the laugh that falls from my lips as I shake my head. “No, but I wish.”

“Seriously like, not only are you dealing with her but Lucas too? He’s even worse if that was possible.” She mutters.

“I don’t know.” Pushing a chunk of cookie dough around on the end of my spoon, I blow out a breath. “Now that I see him for what he’s worth, it feels like him and Jenna make the perfect couple.”

“You should take me as a date to the wedding.” Pointing her spoon towards herself, Macy smiles. “I’ll get wasted and throw up in her dress for you.”

Looking down into my bowl, I can’t help but bite in the inside of my lip. “Actually, I kind of have a date.”

“What?” Sitting up and putting her ice cream down, Macy stares at me. “Wren… What are you not telling me?”

“So maybe my boss found me crying in a closet and somehow saved me from utter humiliation and we are sort of fake dating until everything is over.” Putting my cup next to hers, I bury my face in my hands. “It’s literally a whole fucking thing. With rules, Mace! Rules!”

“Oh my god.” Peeking through my fingers, her face is one of total shock. “Are you talking about like, Rory? The guy who runs everything?”

“No.” I groan. “It’s not.”

“If it’s not him then— Holy fucking shit, Wren.” Realization dawns on her. “Niall Horan? The Niall Horan?! You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“That’s the one.” I squeak.

She squeals as she reaches across the table and playfully shoves my shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on me with this?! Wren, he’s like— Have you seen him?”

“I have, a few times.” Laughing, I finish off my ice cream. “It’s not a big deal. Everything is strictly for the wedding stuff and I have to go to a few work events with him. No feelings, no attachments.”

“Oh this is going to be so good.” Crossing her arms a sly smile pulls at the corner of her lips.

A crease cuts between my brows as I stack our trash together. “What?”

“Nothing.” Macy stands up with me as we walk to the trash and then start our trek back to our cars. “I’m just writing my speech in my head for when I have to speak at your wedding.”

“Stop!” I laugh. “It’s not like that. Yeah, Niall is— He’s— Okay, he’s attractive and incredibly nice… But it’s not going to go anywhere. It can’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she bumps my shoulder. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t know— It just can’t. He’s just helping me out and trust me, he wouldn’t ever actually be into me.” I kick a pebble along the sidewalk. “Niall is a whole famous golfer who owns the place where I work— Not just like he’s another coworker. Besides, who would actually want to try and date the same girl who spilled an entire jar of pickles on them?”

Reaching into her bag and unlocking her car, Macy stands behind the open driver's side as she looks at me. “Wren, literally anyone would be crazy to not fall for you. I know that you feel like it’s not possible that someone would find you perfect— But you are wrong and I’ll be here to tell you ‘I told you so’ as many times as you want when you realize that.”

“Stop being nice.” I say, opening my own door. “I’m leaving before you get too nice. Text me when you get home?”

Climbing into her car, she calls out an ‘I love you’. “Yes, mother.”

Driving home, her words bounce around in my head and even after I’ve taken a shower and packed my lunch for work, they are still playing on repeat.

So much so that I pull out my phone and open the text thread with Niall’s name at the top, his last text sitting at the bottom without an answer from me.

Away on a business trip, it took me by surprise when the picture came in yesterday, the pinks and oranges of a sunset along with a sandwich sat on the table in front of him.

A reminder of how he found me not that long ago when I needed an escape.

I focus on the words under the picture, the ones that I’ve tried to figure out a response to at least a million times.

Niall

The sandwich just doesn’t taste the same without someone else here.

Just like every other time I’ve tried, I type out a response only to delete it and back out of the messages.

I couldn’t let myself get invested.

I wouldn’t let myself get invested.

—————

eeeeeep !!!!!

-a 🍀