#i have a very strong mental image of his face so i had to give it a few tries to really nail down

[tinta--branca--art]

I took my sweet time playing through @diasporatheblog these past few months and finally brought myself to finish it yesterday (so sad it's over sobs)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

29 / 2.1k / soap soulmate au, part 6

...

Ghost looks up as Soap storms out of the weapons closet.

"Still herself, I take it?" Ghost asks.

"She's a stubborn pain in the ass is what she is."

As expected. Soap misses the dry amusement that crinkles the corners of Ghost's eyes very slightly. "Didn't talk, then," Ghost says.

Soap scowls. "Not a goddamn word we can use. She won't listen to reason. Thinks she can face down an army. Dense, irritating--"

"Strong-willed," Ghost says.

"To a damn fault. Canny see what I'm trying to do for her. I'm-- she's--" Soap can hardly articulate his frustration. He's got this sick feeling in his stomach like he's been kicked in the gut hard enough to make him hurl.

It's not just you being too stubborn to give up the intel. What happens when you’re freed? You’re not going to stick around. What if Graves snaps his fingers and you go right on back to him?

Soap lets out a rough sigh. "There's more than Graves keeping her from talking. I don't like it."

"You've got a plan?" Ghost guesses.

Soap nods. "Aye. I need to talk to Laswell--"

"Done." Ghost produces a beige folder and drops it into Soap's hands. "Had her look into it for you."

"I'll be damned." Soap flips through the pages in the folder. "Christ. Bloody thin file." He fans the pages inside like a flipbook as if checking for extra pages. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Not much there to dig up."

"Then she's gotta be missin' some--" Something catches Soap's eye as he skims through, and he pauses, lingering on a photo.

Hell's fuckin' bells.

"Think that'll help?" Ghost asks.

"I'd wager so."

"Good. You goin' back in?"

"Aye.” Soap folds the file into his jacket and gives Ghost a good-natured fist bump to the arm. Then he brushes past him, knocking into his shoulder.

Ghost grabs Soap’s arm again before he slips past. "We don't have much time. Price wants to move on Alejandro. Says if you can't get the intel, we go in blind. Rodolfo leads."

Soap sets his jaw. "How long?"

"Three hours. Tops." He claps a firm hand on Soap's shoulder and turns to leave. "Get some sleep."

…

A moment later, the metal grate door slides open. You straighten back up and steel yourself again.

There's something different about the way Soap carries himself this time. He's not wound as tightly. But the way his eyes settle on you is... odd. The shift in his expression puts you on edge.

He sits down across from you. "We've not got much time. If talking gets us nowhere, we'll try something else."

You lean back, mirroring his posture. "You gonna torture me?”

“That what you’re expecting?”

“Maybe. You ever tortured someone before?"

"Aye. Can't say I care for it, but I know how if that's what this takes." He examines you again with that sharp gaze. You don't feel like he's undressing you with his eyes anymore. It's more like he's searching for something. "Why ask? You want me to put my hands on ya?"

You ignore the mental image that imprints. "I want you to waste your time."

Soap smirks. "What I wouldn't give to let you waste my time. You, me, all this animosity between us... I've got a few negotiation techniques I'd very much like to try." He leans back into the chair, his hands folded in his lap with an easy grin. "But you're no' the type to break under pressure."

"Better men than you have tried."

"Tried torturing you?" His grin tightens just slightly. "Anyone I know? Names, locations?"

Your cheeks heat up again. At that, for some reason. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

He produces the thin file and tosses it onto the table between you.

You look down at the papers that slide out. They're grainy and covered in redactions as if printed and bound, pulled from the deep end of some filing cabinet, scanned, rescanned, and printed again. But you glimpse your name. Your real name--the one printed on Johnny's skin, too. Your chest twists and your stomach sinks.

Soap sees the change in you and leans forward, elbows wide. He opens the file and pushes it across the table. "I'll do anything to protect you, darlin'," he says. "But I need information."

The file is everything you don't want anyone to know. But what catches your eye is that photograph. "Who else has seen this?"

"Me and Laswell. Maybe Ghost if he was feelin' nosy. Does Graves know?"

You pull on your cuffs, wanting to reach for the pages and push them away. "Captain Graves said he'd make this disappear."

Soap leans back, broad palm sliding out to touch the edge of the pages, and his expression softens for a moment. "Some things you can’t make disappear."

You look at him, twisted up with pain and anger. "So, what, if I don't talk, you're threatening to expose all this? Is that it? It won't work," you add with false confidence. "Captain Graves knows everything."

"What I want to know," Soap says, voice quiet, "is what he did with it."

"What?"

Soap leans forward again. "Did he threaten you? Did he say he’d make this go away if you worked for him, hold it over your head?"

"No!” you snap. “After this happened, I couldn't-- I was discharged from the military. I couldn't find work. He reached out to me. Said he didn’t mind if I had… history. Then he offered to have it scrubbed if I wanted.” You stare down at the papers. “He never threatened me. He helped me."

Soap lets out a breath. He was prepared to deal with something a lot worse than that. Maybe he hoped for something worse. If Graves were blackmailing you, the solution would be easy. He'd give you protection, offer to have Laswell erase that file from existence instead, CIA-style. After all, if Graves got his claws into you and onto his payroll that way, why couldn't he? Probably got you dirt fucking cheap, too. Bastard.

Part of Soap wants to press that angle. He could tell you Graves never intended to deliver on his side of the deal. But the truth is that Graves would've had little control over this. Seeing the state of the file, Graves likely did what he could to have it redacted, sealed, destroyed--but someone over his head intervened. Shepherd, maybe. There'd be nothing Graves could do.

Soap wants you more than anything, but the pain in your eyes when you look at these documents tears him up inside. He can’t manipulate you that way. Even if he got you to himself in the end, he'd never forgive himself.

"That's... that's good. He protected you." Soap crosses his arms, squeezing his fist hard around the object inside, the one he pickpocketed off Ghost a few minutes ago. Much as he hates Graves, the man kept you safe. But that's his job now.

"I don't care who you tell," you snap, suddenly full of anger and spitting fire. The sight of those pages puts you on edge. You feel like a cornered animal. "I'm not telling you a goddamn thing. Do whatever you want to me. You're no better than--"

"Am no' blackmailin' ya." Soap's expression sours. So much venom in that mouth of yours. He runs his thumb over his tightened knuckles to suppress his own temper. He's amazed at how easy it is for you to get under his skin, how you push all these buttons when he's the one who's supposed to be pulling the strings.

But he realizes how this must seem. You act tough, but you're vulnerable, exposed, and he has every reason right now to drive the knife in and twist it hard. Maybe he should. Going into the Las Almas base blind means danger for his squadmates.

Christ, he’s tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Darlin’, I... I know now you've done things you're not proud of. But that doesn't change anything. Not to me, not to Ghost-- hell, none of us would bat an eye. You don’t need to protect yourself anymore. I need you to talk to me. We're out of time."

He thinks this is about you protecting yourself? You shake your head. "If you’re storming the Las Almas base, you're going up against Shadows. You're asking me to help you kill my own."

"If that matters to you, then tell me how to get to Alejandro without alerting the guards. Nobody has to get hurt."

You scoff, looking away. "There's no way to do that and you know it."

"We don't have to shoot them if they stand down first."

"That's not going to happen. They'll shoot you on sight. It'll be a bloodbath."

"Not for us."

You close your eyes. "I know. That's what I'm worried about."

Soap lets out a frustrated breath. "We're going in whether you talk or not. The blood's on our hands. Not yours."

You keep your gaze angled away, clearly not believing that. "I don't see why you care about security. I don't see why you need intel at all. This is what you're good at, right? This is what 141 does. You break in doors, you kill people."

Soap grips the edge of the table. "The only thing gettin' you out of here is information. I don't care what it is or if it's useful. Price wants intel."

"I don't have it." Your voice is flat and cold. Whatever you can do to make him understand you're not worth the effort.

He leans in and grabs your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. "Then lie to me."

"What?" You stare at him, feeling pinned under that intense gaze. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Might be," A small, sly, half-smile curves his lips. "I'm also desperate, runnin' out of time, and at the end of my rope after starin' at you this long, knowin' I can't have you." He runs his thumb along your cheek. "Maybe I'm bankin' on you losin' your mind before I do."

You swallow. "You'll be waiting awhile."

He smirks. His thumb moves from your cheek to your chin, fingers trailing down the side of your neck. "Do you think you're a good liar?"

Before you can answer, someone bangs on the metal door, rattling it. Price's voice echoes in from outside.

"Get some sleep, Soap," he calls. "We're briefing soon. Give it a rest. We’ll press her for more intel after we’ve got Alejandro back.”

Soap tenses at the sound of Price's voice. "Wasn't planning on sleepin'," he calls back.

"Wasn't a question," Price calls back. You hear him walk away.

Soap withdraws his hand, letting out a soft curse.

"Why would you give your own Captain false information?" you hiss. "You could lose your job. You could get court-martialed. Even if it worked, what if Shepherd finds out? He's still in your chain of command."

"Guess that's a risk I gotta take."

"Then what if I tell you something that gets your teammates hurt, huh?"

"Won't happen. I'll be in the front when things get risky."

"Then how do you expect me to-- if it means you're the one who's--" You huff, words failing you. "You're so goddamn thick."

"Am I? Because here I am, tryin' to make plans and get a read on you, and all you wanna do is piss me off and run your mouth. I'm learnin' a lot." He tilts his head. "In fact, it's startin' to sound like you're worried about me."

"Absolutely not."

"Could always tell me the truth. Extra insurance if you do. Maybe it’ll keep me alive."

"You don't need it," you snap.

"I think I do." He leans in, crossing his legs and folding his arms. "Got a bad feeling about this one. No Shadow worth their salt wouldn’t send us straight to hell if it meant finishing the job. Especially Graves."

You feel another pang of dread in your gut. He's right.

He watches you for another long moment. Neither of you speak.

Finally, he stands, sighing deeply as he goes to the door. "Alright."

"Are you coming back?" The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He pauses in the doorway. Then he turns back, staring at you like there's something he wants to say. He looks down at the stolen object still clutched in his hand--the key to your cuffs.

He opens the door, slipping through without another word.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / [part 6] / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[woundedoves]

Male School President Bully!Yandere x GN!Reader (NSFW)

a/n: i wrote this in a very horny whim omfg

CW: Bullying, thoughts of cutting the reader, a single sentence of a thought about fucking the readers guts, sadistic thoughts, jerks off with his hands stained with your blood, not proofread. you have been warned!

School president who is the sweetest, the most understanding, the most perfect and helpful guy you’ll ever meet in your life! Everyone loves him, from the students to the faculty, he’s always been diligent, hardworking and impossibly handsome. Always so good willed, never goes out of line, always attends church on time, helps clean after school hours; always with a kind smile on his lips and a comforting gaze in his eyes. Yet, when he’s with you, it’s like he turns into a different person.

You’d never crossed paths before when you accidentally bumped into him as you were hurrying through the halls to get to your waiting friend so you could walk home with him as you always do, you apologise profusely and then you feel him tugging on your wrist; slamming your face into the classroom door made of wood.

You groan in pain as you feel a burning pain blossom from your nose, coughing as he presses your face further into the door. He slams his knee between your legs, making you wince as you feel him speak impossibly close to your ear, “are you that much of a fucking dumbass that you can’t even see someone in front of you?” you try to wriggle your body out of his grip to no avail, you scream as he kicks your knees; curling up on the ground in pain as you feel tears streaming down your face. You hear him chuckle, so sadistically, “look at you, you’ve always come across as pathetic to me, seriously look at your face!” you wince and groan in pain as he takes your chin with his hand, his grip unrelentingly strong as he makes you look at him.

You finally manage to open your eyes, your sight is blurry through your tears but you swear you saw his eyes half lidded, his hands unusually hot as he shoots a final disgusted glance at your wounded face, shoving you into the ground once more before you faintly heard the click of a phone camera as he walked away.

Thankfully not long after your friend found you half conscious, hurriedly taking you to the school nurse as he asks you who would’ve done such a thing, you two are like ghosts in this school who would even take an issue with you? You felt your consciousness slip from exhaustion and the harsh beating you got before you could give him an answer.

Back at his house, he could barely greet his mother before he rushed to his room, he’s never been so fucking horny like this before. He did a lot to keep his persona, his grades and his social life, and yet one drop of water in his already full glass tipped him over the edge. You looked so fucking ethereal though, fuck. The blood, the way you screamed and groaned in pain, he never felt his dick throb so much in his life; the sight of you in pain was so fucking orgasmic.

He has always had a more morbid side to him, he used to cut up bugs and roadkills just to see what’s inside, he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to slice open your stomach and fuck his dick into your guts as the blood gushed out of you; the mental image now cemented in his mind, never to leave.

He didn’t even wash his hands, he fucking hates filth, he’s always clean and put together but… he really wanted to jerk his cock off with your blood still on his hands. He has urges, disgusting ones, ones he can never act on unless he wants his life he worked so hard for to be ruined. Though, you were different. Practically a ghost, no one knows who you are, no one would believe you whatever you told them, you wouldn’t dare to; he has too many admirers that would make your life hell for even touching him.

That was it, he could finally make someone bleed, make them scream and cry as he cut them open so beautifully.

His hand went to his phone and opened the picture of you, his other hand undoing the zipper as his hard on sprung out, throbbing and already dripping with pre-cum. What if he actually cut your legs and thighs with his favourite knife? Would you cry? Would you scream? Would you like it? He hissed as he took his cock in his hand, stroking himself in a harsh pace that’s way too painful to be pleasurable for a normal person, but it’s the only way he can feel anything. He moans as his dick twitches in his palm at the memory of you crying and groaning in pain on the floor below him, you looked so fucking good it was pornographic, he wouldn’t let anyone else see it.

He always did have his eyes on you, you were pretty attractive to him, yet you were just an unfortunate victim that was the last straw to his sanity that day. What if he didn’t leave? What if he just shoved you into that class, cut your school uniform open, mouthed your sex through your underwear as he dug his nails up from your thighs to your knees as he left bloody nail marks all along them? He buckled into his hand as he felt himself getting closer, biting his lip as his hand sped up.

He couldn’t help it, he never acted on these sadistic urges like this before, fuck you looked so so good, he can never forget that, he’s going to have you screaming on his bed with pain just to shove his cock raw into your hole. Doesn’t really matter how much you cry, how much it hurts, the more you scream, the more you wail, the faster he’ll cum anyways. He thrusts into his fist a few more times until he stills and cums all over his screen, to the photo of you, with a hiss, his cock raw and already overstimulated.

His sheets are dirty with his cum, his cock stained with your blood… He wondered how your hole would look, covered in blood and his cum gushing out of it.

[isawritesshit]

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

___________________________________________________________

"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

[hwallazia]

SOOTHE ME, SUGAR – 최산

synopsis . in which san pampers his girlfriend when it’s that time of the month for her.

pairing . choi san & fem! reader

genre . fluff, fluff, and fluff (you’ve been warned), comfort, slice of life, established relationship, non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 1,5k

DISCLAIMER! blood (ofc since we’re talking abt menstruation), nicknames (princess, love, sannie & more), very relatable (ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

NIC’S NOTES lowercase is intentional! (wrote it at 1:00am, half asleep (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)) also! i recommend listening to ocean eyes by billie eilish and love songs by kaash paige while reading this. yk, for the vibe ;)

“sannieee”

you moaned from your bed, wrapped in the sheets like a burrito, your knees knocking against your chest in search of some kind of relief. your belly generated pressure throughout your lower area that became more unbearable as the minutes passed, which seemed to be hours. fortunately, san knows how to act in the most docile way in these cases.

as soon as you finished college, you and san decided to live together without having the slightest idea of how challenging, exciting, and companionable that process would be. both of you, although you were in a relationship before living together, had to know, respect, and get used to each other’s home habits, since it would be something you would live with for a long time.

it was somewhat difficult to understand san’s attitudes, which varied depending on his momentary needs, how tired he was, and other factors that affected his behavior in the apartment. but with a lot of patience and love, you managed to understand at least the basics of what you should know about the topic: “choi san and home.” the path you had to take to know the person “choi san” in its entirety was a long one and one that you were willing to walk until the end of your days if necessary.

there was no shortage of discussions; there were many that were needed to be able to understand aspects of both him and you. when faced with an argument, san, first of all, would dedicate himself to listening to what you have to say, he would pay all of his attention to listening to your sentimental and very expressive arguments. once you’re done, he’d continue saying his and finally give a solution to the problem that divides you and wait for your excellent approval.

despite being very understanding and collected in discussions, san hates them with all his being; although he’s a tall man with a strong body, his heart is still soft and as delicate as glass. he hates that a simple disagreement of opinions causes a division with you, the person he loves the most, respects, and for whom he would give his life.

but he knows how to suppress his discontent very well in the face of absurd discussions for which you don’t speak to each other for hours, and even absurder when it’s that time of the month for you. he knows how much your feelings are weakened, how sore you feel throughout that week, in which your need for attention and affection doubles up.

san remembers with affection and laughs that month in which he found you crying in your bed, wrapped in his blankets scented with his essence, because the stuffed animal that you had given him, shiber, had fallen off the bed and, he quotes, “he looked at me very sadly from the ground” and he felt his heart skip a few beats inside his ribcage when a pout formed on your lips at how funny he found the situation. you never seemed so cute to him as you did at that moment.

and the moment san hears your voice whine his name from his room, the mental image was projected in his head without him asking for it or thinking deeply: “you, covered in dark blankets up to your nose with an exaggerated amount of pillows giving you comfort staring at him with pleading eyes as soon as he entered the room.” he couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“coming, love” he says, a few steps away from the room. thanks to his long legs, with four steps he gets there immediately, gently and respectfully hitting his knuckles against the dark oak door. the muffled ‘come innn’ you say with little strength was the permission he needed to turn the handle.

a sweet hum coming from san echoes through the room as he finds you under the exact same conditions that his mind, infected with you, had outlined. he doesn’t wait for you to say another word and he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with so much love that he could never express verbally.

“how are you feeling?” he simply asks, without being so insistent or trying to bombard you with questions, thus avoiding causing you any annoyance. you have enough of what you were dealing with now.

“awful. the pressure down there has become unbearable, and now i don’t feel my legs.” you stopped for a moment to analyze your reality and the poor physical condition you were in. “i feel dizzy, kind of hungry and numb. but not like emotionally numb, because i wanna cry so badly but i can’t get anything out of my eyes.”

your hands go up to your eyes, under the sheets, covering them in frustration. “fuck, i hate this so much.”

san finally starts talking, soothing you with his honey-dripping voice. “shh, princess. one breath at a time. come on” he brings his palms, which were facing the ceiling, and rests them on your stomach, implicitly indicating that you hold his hands.

breath in and out, in and out. you stay like that for about thirty seconds, maintaining eye contact, his eyes conveying nothing but love and comfort to you. “thaat’s it. perfect.” he praises you, giving you the purest smile known to men, which does nothing but wrinkle your heart a little with tenderness.

“do you still have enough sanitary napkins and tampons?”

you appreciate and appreciated, from the first beginning, in which san became excellently familiar with all the technical vocabulary characteristic of this week that was so painful for both you and san. “no, but-”

he interrupts you and asks again “you want me to go get you some more in the supermarket? maybe some chocolate as well?” it seemed so sweet to you how generous and helpful he was to you when this time of the month came around.

“not really.” you pause briefly, squinting your eyes in search of the perfect plan that would calm, at least for a few hours, your impressive menstrual pain. until the right idea hits your head. “honestly, i just wanna cuddle here, with you.”

another sugary hum is audible. “if that’s what my princess wants, then that’s what she gets.” he sentences as if he was a soldier of a castle in which you are the queen of the “choi san’s heart” kingdom and san is nothing more than your faithful and most beloved servant. he leans towards you to place a fond kiss on your warm forehead, saturated with pain.

you shift in place, moving to the right so that san joins you from the left. ss soon as both of you are already warmly covered by the sheets, smeared with the smell of floral essences, your hand is quick to locate the remote control, pointing it in front of you to turn on the television and immediately go to the netflix app.

while your fingers insistently press the control buttons in search of a movie that meets the common cinematographic interests of both of you, san’s hand is agile in sneaking into your shirt —well, san’s— and cupping your waist in his palm, his fingers tracing scribbles on your skin, calming the pain, the tension and your mind. the magic that san has between his fingers and how they affect you is a divine mystery that would require his own science and study method.

“sannie” you pronounce his name in a faint whisper, disconnecting your eyes from the big screen to focus on the perfect face of your perfect boyfriend, totally forgeting the movie and focusing in his ethereal details.

“yes, darling?” he drones, looking at you adoringly. he truly couldn’t believe how you, an angel fallen from heaven, could be his and only his. and that you decide to stay by his side until the end of your days was the most genuine and beautiful demonstration that any lover has ever given him. definitely, you are different and san would risk it all for you. of course he would.

“thanks for everything. for understanding me and being able to be that mountain on which i can rest when i’m exhausted.” you say, truly meaning every single one of your words. “thank you for being you and for choosing me.”

san’s heart is reciting all the existing love songs to yours. his heart is yours and yours alone, giving itself fully to your love, and yours is the sun that warms his soul, casting golden rays of affection that dance across the canvas of his heart, painting it in hues of devotion.

“no, princess, you have nothing to thank me for.” he stops for a moment. “i’m the one who should thank you; for allowing me to be your boyfriend and please you, for being so patient with me. i know that i’m not an easy person to understand, and the fact that you voluntarily decide to stay here with me only makes me fall in love with you even more; even when i think i can’t love you more than i already do.” san confesses and, in just a matter of seconds, he manages to observe in close-up how in your precious irises tears start to well up in your eyes, causing him to let out a soft giggle, finding it cute. “why are you crying, sweetheart?”

you sniffed. “because you’re just too sweet to me and it makes me emotional. you really are the best boyfriend in the world, choi san.”

“oh baby.” he hugged your anatomy between his strong arms as he laughed softly, giving you a warmth and security unique in the world. “i love you, yn. “so much.”

| masterlist

[altocat]

If Lucrecia had stuck around, what do you think her relationship with Seph would have been like? Because on the one hand she definitely loved him and was deeply distraught that her son was taken away from her, but on the other hand, she experimented on her own child in the womb without really knowing what would happen to him as a result.

I have this mental image of her staying to help with Project S, and while she still helps experiment on him, she’s also always praising him for doing well on missions and training and speaking gently to him while administering mako shots or whatever. And yeah, she’s still doing all these terrible experiments, but she’s kind to Sephiroth and gentle to him, and he just absorbs that like a sponge. He overlooks all the pain she inflicts, because even if her hands were helping peel him apart hours ago, those same hands are holding his face gently and she’s telling him that she’s proud of him for being so brave and strong and I made myself sad

I honestly don't think Lucrecia ever intended on her son becoming a weapon for Shinra. I think her intention was to birth a living Cetra and any subsequent experiments on him would mostly just involve keeping him alive and thriving. Her hysteria at Sephiroth being taken away from her suggests to me that she never had any malicious intentions towards her son.

So in this sort of AU, I could imagine her not being too happy at what Shinra has planned for her son, feeling honestly kind of helpless in wanting to give him the best life possible but growing increasingly emotionally unstable as reality catches up to her. The guilt is eating her alive. And while she does her best to shove as much love and compassion into Sephiroth as possible, she knows she's just as culpable as the rest of them. She's not off the hook. And it's going to kill her in the end.

She shows him as much love as she can. She fights back against Hojo to the very best of her ability. And she's somewhat able to cobble together a healthier version of Sephiroth as he gets older, though his relationship with his mother is always somewhat distant and bittersweet. She dies when Sephiroth is a teenager, too consumed by guilt to the point where her heart one day gives out completely. It's an anguished moment for Seph. But thankfully her presence did SOME good, allowing for some more positive ripple effects in his life. Sephiroth will likely not go crazy in the future when he finds out the truth. His mommy issues have been slightly softened since they were not separated. He will wallow in bitterness after finding out about the Jenova Project, but there IS hope for him. A small chance. Maybe he can find it in himself to forgive his mother for her involvement.

And maybe, just maybe, he can find it in himself to forgive the world entire.

[ladycrocy]

My very first fanfic!!!

AO3

Hey everyone! I have finally pieced togeth a small fanfic of just a scene I recently had in my head of Crocodile and Doflamingo.

Please go a little easy on me for this one as I am just starting out. I hope that you find it at least as entertaining as I did.

Word count: 1446

Warnings: Use of foul language, unsolicited graphic images, Verbal humiliation/abuse. (Please let me know if I need to add more ;-;)

Crocodile x Doflamingo

Crocodile caught in a birdcage

The king of the desert sat atop his throne amongst a pile of paperwork. This had become the norm now that all his pieces were falling into place in Alabasta. With Baroque Works finally taking off on its own, he could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. Crocodile took a long puff of his expensive cigar and released a large cloud of smoke with a content exhale. Today would have to be another late night. The lack of trust in anyone else was his own demise and often left him with more paperwork than necessary.

A familiar bleating of a transponder snail snapped him out of his trance. He hadn't realized just how much of a headache he was suffering. "Click." The snail responded to him when he picked up the receiver. "Mr.0,"was his answer to the call connecting.

On the other end of the transmition was a soft, feminine voice. "Sir, you have a guest here to see you."

This irritated Crocodile to no end. Who could be bothering him at this time of day? Most likely one of his own to give him disappointing news. Baroque Works was a huge organization, but he was sacrificing quality on all that quantity. At least they were expendable. "Send them in." His deep voice could hardly care to hide his disapproval. Mentally preparing himself, he hangs up the receiver.

This was a good time as any for a drink. He poured himself a glass and leaned back in his big leather chair in order to relax before a vein popped out of his already furrowed brow. Nothing had even happened, and he was already preparing for the worst. At this time, he had made a mental note to weed out some of his more useless subordinates.

The doors burst open with no sign of anyone behind them. The smell of expensive cologne wafted in before Crocodile could make out the outline of a ten foot blond. The guttural sound that left his lips could never even remotely express his absolute disdain for the man entering. Donquiote Doflamingo. However, Crocodile is nothing if not a business man first. Doflamingo had proven his worth of this trait in his own right. If only he didn't have to be so.. him.

Doflamingo chuckled his way into the large accommodating off. That signature grin plastured on his face as he slipped through the large oak doors and slammed them shut just by holding out his hand. "Crocodile, you are a very hard man to get ahold of." Doflamingo's voice was loud and filled the entire room with his noise. Crocodile's headache only grew stronger.

"To what do I owe the displeasure of this little visit, Doflamingo? I already told you I am not interested in 'teaming up with you.' You are too reckless, and I can't find a good reason why I should." Crocodile's voice carried the heavy weight of his day as his deep rasp conveyed. He took another long puff of his cigar as he awaited what possible reason the pink menace could be here for. "If that was what you came here for, it could have waited for the next warlord meeting, or did you just want a change of scenery where I tell you to 'go to hell'?" A small chuckle released with the puff of smoke that was being used to cover up the strong scent of Doflamingo's expensive cologne.

Doflamingo's sadistic grin only widened. Within mere moments, he had made his way to behind Crocodile. His chuckle echoed off the wani tanks and flooded the room quickly. "Crocy-baby, you wound me. You know I can take more than that half assed insult. It's like you don't care anymore.~"

And just like that, Doflamingo's grin faded to a frown, and he stood up straight. It was as if a switch was flipped in this wild card of a man. He was every bit of his ten feet as he stepped to the side of Crocodile's chair. Doflamingo crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk so he could face Crocodile. His voice no longer holding his joyful cadence. "Alabasta will fall, Crocodile. You have too many cards stacked against you, and you can no longer see the top."

The pink warlord leans down to invade Crocodile's space and was now face to face with him. With his grin forming again, his long obscene tongue licked his lips like a hungry cannibal. "Don't worry though.. Because when that happens and you fall.. I will catch you.~" Despite his eyes being hidden behind opaque shades, the sexual desire was palpable enough to sense.

Crocodile didn't think it would be possible to portray the disgust and irritation he was feeling. Instead, he settled for puffing his cigar like he was a locomotive. Any bit of nicotine to take this edge off would have been welcomed. The only thing keeping him from having an all-out brawl with this pink idiot was the fact that he didn't want to cause anything to jeopardize his hard work and planning. Though the fantasy of reading in the paper that Doflamingo was found dead did cause an involuntary smile to creep across his face.

"Sand cannot be caught nor contained. It slips through the cracks just as I will forever slip through your fingers. You will never be able to keep me. I would rather drown in the deepest darkest ocean then ever team up with you. Being in the same room with you for this long should be its own level of hell." Crocodile ashed his cigar. He stared at the whiskey glass on the table that was accruing condensation. He felt so thirsty at that moment.

That roaring laughter began to build slowly until Doflamingo had to throw his head back to let it out. As he let it all out in one breath, his head jerked back towards Crocodile as it silenced immediately. "Fuck, if you only knew what you fucking do to me!" He cocked his head to the side, popping his neck and held up his hand. The unseen strings clung to Crocodiles chair and pulled him quickly in front of Doflamingo. With how tall Doffy was, his crotch was not too far off from where he thought it needed to be. "Wani~ Drowning you would be a waste. I have other ways of making you a leaking mess.~"

With a flick of his wrist, he pushed the chair back with his strings with an almost disgusted look on his face. That faded quickly before he spoke again. "Keep trying my patience, little slut, but I always get what I want. Even if I have to attach a string to every goddamn grain of sand and lock you away in a sea prism tower..." He paused as his venom filled words drew from his lips.

Doflamingo's tone changed once again to one that was almost jovial. "Oh, I almost forgot, it's your country's anniversary, so I decided to get you a little something. You know me.. always the romantic.~"

Sexual... to upset.. to kind... impossible to read what this pink feathered man is thinking. Crocodile stays silent as he ponders how this could have come to be that this other warlord is so obsessed with him. To his memory, he had barely introduced himself.

Doflamingo reached into his poofy pink coat and pulled out a small box. He tossed it onto Crocodile's desk as he began to walk out of his office. He lifted his hand in the air to wave him off as he exited. "Teaming up with me is more than what you could ever imagine. Let me know when you are ready to be a God.~"

Crocodile eyed the box and didn't even consider opening it until he knew for a fact that annoying bird was gone. His hook scooped the box closer and he opened it. A thin powder that resembled the dance powder. Along with it was a formula that looked to be modifying it in a way. "Impressive." The warlord was pleased to see such higher quality and nearly began to think of a way to thank Doflamingo until he flipped the formula over.

His blood boiled as the scar on his face tinted crimson. He was disgusted, repulsed, and.. is it that big?! The stupid pink menace had put the formula on the back of an image of him in nothing but his pink feather coat and holding his cock. Crocodile stabbed his hook right through that image. Grabbing his whiskey glass and downing it before shattering it in bare hand. "What a freak!"

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

[cupids-archives]

Can i ask valentine prompt "Cupid" with Lmk yandere Macaque with a darling that is in the main hero team??

˚ જ⁀➴ (1) cupid, : “everybody knew cupid had a sick sense of humor” . ｡･:*:･ﾟᰔ:

ᝰ.ᐟcontains, yandere and dark content. ೀ

ʚ♡ɞ˚: you’ve always had a strong sense of justice.

maybe getting it from your family, or from the people you surround yourself with. even when things go wrong and make you question yourself and others, you always will do what’s right.

that’s what led you to monkie kid, meeting him on one your adventures and immediately attaching yourself with him. you’ve always had good friends but he was different-brighter, you suppose, and his light attracted you. making you follow him around like a guard dog, though you knew he could protect himself, and throwing yourself in anything he got involved in. he didn’t seem to mind, and you liked having someone to attach too.

you were friends with the other people as well, definitely not attached as you were with mk, but still overwhelmingly friendly. willingly sticking your neck out for anyone who needed it.

“I really think you shouldn’t use so much power,” you worriedly said. noticing how tired he was becoming, the mental strain that he was having, and just knowing how he felt about becoming stronger wasn’t just affecting him, but you. and though that could be counted as selfish, you couldn’t lose your friend.

you noticed that he started to train with a strange figure, you considered asking the monkey about it but mk begged you not too, stating that he needed to get stronger to help everyone. you wanted to tell him that wasn’t his job but you couldn’t get to him in time. you found yourself waiting to talk to him after one of these sessions, and you finally met the guy who was hiding your best friend.

he resembled the monkey king but with darker features, you could taste the tension in the air as you face him. he just smiled at you, and something inside you grew a thousand times bigger. and if it wasn’t anger-it was rage.

you knew that this wasn’t going to go well. something told you that this was wrong.

especially when macaque started to take an interest in you.

you started to follow them around when you could, just to make sure. and of course he noticed even when mk didn’t.

“so, how’s the girl doing?” he would ask mk during training, and for some reason every time he saw him even after the smoke demon fight he would ask about you.

and unfortunately mk kept this from you. and then you started to get followed. you obviously didn’t think it was from macaque. after all you didn’t know his powers and this was way too obvious to be someone with powers like him.

but you were wrong, so very wrong.

like a sick joke, he wanted you to know he was following you. he wanted to be seen. to be acknowledged by you. he liked knowing he made you paranoid that he was around. that’s your nightmares were plagued by the image of him, the person who ruined your friend, someone who went against everything you stood for. that he was corrupting you without you even realizing. the fear of his shadows watching you while you were sleeping kept you at night. and he was happy.

he knew his feelings for you weren’t right, but neither was he so who cared, and after all he liked playing with you. his little hero corrupted by the poison she didn’t even know infected her.

he loved terrorizing the group, being able to see your scared and worried face, knowing that this is because of you, that he was hurting your friends because of you. you were becoming a shell of your former shelf. trying to do anything to save your friends. one of the only last things you can do to win this battle with your morals is give yourself to the sole thing that ruined them.

requests are encouraged !! valentine event.

[meanbossart]

Massive ask compilation time OH LORD

YES, her journals are a fun read. I somewhat wish there was more to her and The Dark Urge's interactions, too - she's wonderfully evil and clearly very attached to you if you're playing as that character, but I had hoped there was more of a reason for her obsession besides just "you were fun to cut up", haha. I remember reading her journal over a couple of times looking for something I might have missed.

His reaction was pretty in line with the Narrator's cues, just immediate rage over what she had done to him - DU Drow may be a masochist but that's reserved for people he cares about! So, her and her posse met a swift end. Also, despite the fact that the whole tadpole thing turned out being for the best, I think he's easily overtaken by resentment over his lost glory-days whenever faced with it so directly (he misses living in obliviousness) - not to mention his profound fear of vulnerability, and of feeling... Small. The way Kressa spoke to and of him would have absolutely shook him to his core, especially by doing so in front of the others.

[MORE UNDER CUT]

THANK YOU so much for your kind words first of all! As for the question, it depends a bit on the timeline; his dislike of female drow, especially at the start of his tadpole'd journey is pretty irrational and faith status wouldn't be of too much relevance, he just thinks It's in their nature to want to put him down and be conniving, and wants nothing to do with them.

Later, and especially post-game, he might at least give them a chance to prove they aren't "like other drow", though it would take him a lot to ever let his guard down entirely - UNLESS you seem like a complete fool LOL he's actually easy to trick into dismissing you as long as you don't mind playing the role of a dumb idiot.

But if not, he'd have an extremely short patience for any attempts to exert authority over him or his actions - or jokes at his expense, or any level of smugness or secrecy. Nymea would definitely feel kept at arms length because of the gender+race combo alone and have to put up with a lot of snideness. Basically, she'd have to treat this 6'4" feet tall freak with kids gloves to ever develop a rapport LOL

But also... The vampirism may "help"? He'd consider her a "lesser drow" for it. In that regard her attitudes toward Astarion would probably come to be relevant. I'm not sure about that aspect of it to be honest!

First of all, this is a hysterical scenario because he Would just fucking put the ring on without thinking about it LOL so thank you for the laugh that mental image just provided me with.

Oh he wouldn't care though. I mean, he dislikes drow in general, but he is a drow (up for debate, but you know, generally speaking) and he thinks he's pretty great. As long as he's still huge and strong he could wake up a woman tomorrow and not give a damn. And, frankly, his dick could turn into a pussy at any point in time and it wouldn't change anything about his character save for having to add a recurring UTI problem to his character sheet - he'd probably have fun with it.

TOTALLY FAIR, I'm very sorry it went past the point of enjoyment for you, but I'm glad you knew when to put it down!!! We're in our hand-holding and elf-smooching era now with the occasional visceral description of violence LOL SO YOU'RE WELCOME IN IF YOU'D LIKE. Thank you for dropping by!

Just putting this here because - I actually haven't decided yet, so that's pretty funny you asked LOL I'm leaning eyes closed though, nothing like a smooch to calm the big weirdo down.

HAHAHAH WELCOME BACK, I've been around this whole time! But I was hanging out on twitter for the most part. HOPE YOU'RE INTO THE DND STUFF LOL

DROW DURGES RISE UP I'll be honest with you friend, DU drow's lore has been as accidental as something like that can be, so much of it has felt completely organic in the way it came up - I guess that's what good RPG does to your brain. The rest of it has just been a wonderful opportunity to develop my writing that I decided to take full advantage of this year. Thank you so much for the lovely message!

---

Aaaaand I can barely muster something to say that feels like an appropriate response, but again I wanted to acknowledge all the sweet compliments people take the time to leave in my inbox. Some of you guys' comments about the things I create blow me away, I think I'm pretty confident in my art but... Damn, makes me so happy to know the stuff I create can hold a little special place to some folks. Thank you all so, so much for taking time out of your day to spread a little kindness around, and make mine a little better.

Again, thank you all for humoring me, have a lovely day folks!

[captainremmington-13]

Cold

A Bellova x Coriolanus One-Shot

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova, Drusilla, and Oliveria. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

Summary: Gym class gets heated in a multitude of ways. 

⚠️Warnings⚠️: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, allusions to sex, slut shaming, bullying(?)

A/n: This takes place one school years before TBOSAS occurs, (the equivalent of their junior year of high school). Also, I HIGHLY recommend you catch up on my series, A Lady Made of Snow, before reading this.

“Damn, Plinth, how are you so good at this?”

Sejanus laughed, releasing his hands from the metal bar and landing solidly on his feet. “I train at home when I have free time. Pa always said that a man’s strength is split between physicality and mentality.” 

Bellova rolled her eyes playfully. “I wouldn’t know, my father always said that brains are far more valuable than brawn.”

Sejanus walked over to the bench where she was sitting and picked up his gym towel, dabbing it across his forehead to rid it of sweat. “Your turn, Bellova.”

She sighed, tightening the neat ponytail that kept her long black hair out of her face. She would much rather be working on that history essay that was assigned this morning. But for now, she had to do as many pull-ups as she could in one minute while Sejanus held a timer.

At least she excelled in gym class. Professor Aggrippina Sickle consistently praised her for her skills. She was flexible, strong, and nimble, all the traits needed to make a quality athlete. Though she didn’t hate the physical education period, it wasn’t exactly her favorite. Sickle worked every student hard, pushing them to their limits. 

About ten pull-ups in, Bellova saw Coriolanus walk up to Sejanus, taking a seat next to him. This was quite unusual, it was usually Sejanus who initiated conversations, not the other way around.

Clearly, Coriolanus was up to no good.

As soon as the timer in Sejanus’s hand went off, Bellova let go of the bar and strode towards the two boys. Their gym clothes consisted of a loose tank top and shorts, which were mainly academy red with a hint of gold near the edges of the fabric. They weren’t very flattering, but Sejanus and Coriolanus still managed to look good.  If their lives had played out differently, she would’ve been quite flustered being so physically close to them.

The girl’s clothes were slightly better in Bellova’s opinion. The tank tops were similar to the boys’, but instead of shorts, they had skirts with built-in shorts underneath. 

The only thing Bellova didn’t like about them was the stares she got as soon as she walked out of the girl’s locker room. 

Bellova only stopped walking when she was inches from Coriolanus’s legs. “Get up, I was sitting here earlier.”

The blond rolled his eyes. “I’m not an Avox, you can’t just order me around.”

Instead of continuing to bicker, Bellova simply turned around and placed herself in between her two classmates.

Sejanus and Coriolanus exchanged glances, but didn’t attempt to shoo her away. They knew that if they did, they’d each walk away with painful bruises.

“I’m so fucking bored,” Bellova complained, inspecting her nails for any signs of damage. “I wish that Professor Sickle didn’t make us stay here until everyone is done with her drills. I could have gotten started on the history project, or that essay that was assigned this morning.”

“The essay should be easy,” Sejanus said. “Professor Click said it only needed to be two pages long.”

 Bellova shrugged. “True, but you know I love to go above and beyond.”

Sejanus looked up at the clock that hung just above the gymnasium doors. “Well, the period ends in two minutes, you won’t have to wait much longer.”

“Good,” Bellova said, turning to Coriolanus to give him a snide look. “Both of you desperately need showers.” 

Coriolanus scowled back. “You have no concept of manners.”

“And you think you do?”

“Watch it,” Coriolanus spat. “Or I’ll-“

His threat was promptly cut off when he noticed a girl storming up to them. 

“Oliviera,” Bellova said, giving her a sickly sweet smile. “How can I help you?”

The girl in question glanced at Coriolanus, then Sejanus, and finally locked gazes with Bellova again.

“Whoring yourself out again, I see.”

Bellova looked shocked, which was a rare sight to behold. “Excuse me?” 

“First you fucked Felix, and now these two?” 

Coriolanus watched, speechless, as Bellova’s face turned pink. “What the hell are you talking about? I went to the gala with him at the end of the last school year, and that was it. We never even dated.”

“Oh, please,” Oliviera said smugly. “You obviously slept with him. I saw you get in his father’s limousine and head towards the Presidential Palace. Tell me, why did you do it?”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Bellova hissed. “I slept in my own bed that night, thank you very much. Coriolanus can vouch for me, he was there when my car arrived.”

Bellova shot Coriolanus a look, as if to say ‘back me up.’

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah I was.”

Bellova bit back a grin, trying to conceal her relief that he had actually helped her out. 

“Now that that’s settled,” she began, giving Oliviera a sharp glare. “Don’t ever ask about my personal life again. In fact, don’t even fucking speak to me, or I’ll ruin you and your family.” 

Oliviera’s pale, pointed face contorted into an expression of rage. She raised her right hand, ready to strike Bellova across the face.  

“Woah,” Sejanus said, instinctively placing an arm in front of Bellova. “Leave her alone, Oliviera. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Sejanus, I can handle this,” Bellova snapped, standing up abruptly. 

“Bellova,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t. You’ll get in trouble with Professor Sickle.”

Bellova pulled out of his grip, giving him a warning look. “Don’t get in my way, Coryo. Trust me, you’ll wanna stay out of th-“

Oliviera suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her forward, promptly cutting her off. 

Bellova screamed, causing every head in the room to turn to her. Oliviera harshly tugged on her ebony locks once more, and delivered a mediocre but effective punch to her cheek. 

“Get off of me!” Bellova cried, trying to push her assailant away. 

Sejanus was the first one to come to Bellova’s aid, freeing her from Oliviera’s iron grip. Coriolanus found himself standing up as well, grabbing Bellova by the shoulders gently and moving her several feet away from the other girl. 

She was deadly silent, which frightened Coriolanus slightly. He was worried that her rage was building up, and that he’d be the target when it finally boiled over. 

Professor Sickle was now rushing over to where Sejanus and Oliviera stood. She demanded an explanation from Oliviera, but she refused to speak. Instead, Sejanus told the professor what had happened, but left out all of the sensitive information. 

Bellova could hear Professor Sickle scolding Oliviera, and didn’t even try to bite back her grin. The bitch was going to get what she deserved.

Oliviera ordered to go to the dean’s office, so she headed out of the gymnasium, dragging her feet. Then, the professor approached Coriolanus and Bellova.

“Are you alright, Miss Reginelle?” she asked, gently moving Bellova’s hair out of the way to reveal the bruise forming on her cheek. “Oh dear, we need to get some ice on that. Mister Snow, can you take her to the nurse’s office while I dismiss the rest of the class?”

Coriolanus nodded, and beckoned for Bellova to follow him. She did so reluctantly, avoiding his gaze.

The walk to the school infirmary was…tense, to say the least. Bellova held a hand up to her cheek, covering the purple and blue mark on her face. As they passed by, several Academy students gave them strange looks. 

They weren’t used to seeing them within a foot of each other and not arguing.

Coriolanus pretended to ignore it, but it bothered him. He didn’t like feeling judged. He also hated rumors, as they were beyond his control. 

But he kept walking, keeping his gaze straightforward as he and Bellova approached their destination. He refused to let her or anyone else know he was perturbed by the attention they were receiving. 

Finally, Coriolanus spotted the infirmary doors. Politely opening them for Bellova, he followed behind her once she’d entered the room. 

“Miss Drusilla,” Coriolanus began, approaching the middle-aged woman dressed in white who was sitting behind a desk. “Bellova was attacked during gym class. She needs a cold press for her face, and perhaps some ointment to help with the swelling.” 

Bellova was quickly ushered into a plus chair by Miss Drusilla, and instructed to stay put until she returned with the ice. Coriolanus stood next to her, feeling quite awkward. What was there to say?

He cleared his throat. “I’m surprised that you didn’t really fight back.” 

Bellova sighed. “I wanted to pin the attack solely on Oliviera. I don’t want any blemishes on my academic record.” She gave him a wry smile. “That would give you a leg up, and I can’t have that, can I?”

He laughed. “Of course. You’d never give me the upper hand willingly.”

She gave him a cheeky grin that very nearly made him blush. “You know me so well.”

Coriolanus expression then turned more serious, his pink lips curling downwards slightly. “But seriously, that girl was out of her mind.”

“She’s a jealous bitch, always has been,” Bellova said. “She desperately wants to get laid, and thinks that I’m stealing boys away from her or something ridiculous like that.”

“Ah.” Coriolanus never quite understood the reasoning behind girls’ rampant jealousy. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just focus on themselves? He supposed he’d never really know.

Bellova sighed, turning her head away from Coriolanus. She thought back to what Oliviera had said right after claiming she’d had sex with Felix Ravinstill. 

She accused Bellova of sleeping with Coriolanus and Sejanus. And, even worse, she implied she’d fucked them both at the same time.

It was an absurd assumption, really. Everyone knew that Bellova had a less-than-healthy relationship with the Snow heir. They exchanged horrible insults, and went out of their way to provoke each other. There were some times, like now, where there was peace between them. But those moments were becoming rarer as time passed on.

It was obvious that she wasn’t extremely fond of Sejanus Plinth either. He was a nice boy, but he was district. If he hasn’t been born in District Two, she would have considered him a close friend. Bellova couldn’t be too closely associated with him, or people would talk.

Miss Drusilla returned with a small bag full of ice and a small jar. She placed the bag in Bellova’s hands. “Keep that on your face for about ten minutes, and then apply the ointment after.”

Bellova nodded, doing as she was told. “Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Of course, dear.” The nurse then turned to Coriolanus. “You can head to your next class, Mister Snow.”

He nodded, and looked at the injured girl before him. “See you tomorrow.”

She didn’t reply, simply giving him a small nod, half of her face hidden by the ice. 

The bruise was painful, but the cold demeanor that Coriolanus gave her somehow hurt even more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the phone in Bellova’s room rang, she immediately picked it up. She assumed either Persephone or Lysistrata wanted to check in her. After all, they were there when the incident took place, but were on the opposite side do the gym when it occurred.

“Hey,” she said into the speaker, her tone casual and relaxed.

“Hello, this is Bellova, right?”

Her body tensed immediately. It was Coryo.

“How did you get my number?”

Bellova winced. She hasn’t meant to come off so aggrssively, but when she was caught off-guard, it happened naturally.

“Sejanus,” he answered simply. 

“Ah.”

Fuck, this was awkward. Bellova took a deep breath, and then spoke again. 

“Why exactly are you calling me?”

“I just…wanted to check in with you. I assume the bruise will heal up soon?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “As long as I keep icing it and applying that ointment Drusilla gave me, it will be gone in a week or so.”

“Good,” Coriolanus said stiffly. “I also wanted to inform you that after you left the campus, I found out that Oliviera was suspended for two weeks as a consequence for her actions. When she returns, she’ll be closely supervised.”

Bellova rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t seem harsh enough. But if she fucks with me again, she’ll really get what was coming to her.”

Coriolanus’s laugh rang in her ear, and she found herself grinning like an idiot. Quickly forcing the smile to fade, she added, “I appreciate you backing me up earlier.” 

“Of course,” he replied. “It was the right thing to do.”

“Careful, Coryo,” she said teasingly. “It’s starting to sound like you care about me.” 

She could practically see him rolling his eyes. “Trust me, that’s not what I was trying to convey.” 

Bellova felt her fondness for him fade immediately. “Whatever. I need to go, I have homework to do and so do you.”

Coriolanus hummed. “Alright. I’ll leave you too it.”

“Bye.”

Bellova set the phone back on the receiver a bit too harshly, and collapsed backwards onto her mattress dramatically.

Just when she thought he was trying to be being nice to her, he metaphorically slammed the door in her face. 

But that was just how Coriolanus was. He’d show hints of affection and care, and then turned cold. She wasn’t sure why, but she suspected that he was afraid to be vulnerable. She sympathized with that, but the constant game of hot-and-cold was irritating.

Why couldn’t he at least try to be more consistently considerate?

‘Stop it,’ she chided herself. ‘It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s always been like this and that’ll never change. Now, we have homework to finish.’

With that, she pushed herself off of her bed and headed to her desk. She sat down on her plush chair and opened the drawer designated for writing materials. Retrieving several sheets of paper and a fountain pen, she took a deep breath and began to write, ignoring the throbbing on her cheek from the escapades that had occurred earlier. 

Strangely, the bruise didn’t feel like something to be ashamed of. It felt like a battle wound, something that showed she could handle herself. 

It further proved that she was strong, resilient, a true Reginelle through and through.

And nothing could take that away from her.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! I’m so sorry this took FOREVER to write, my life has been rly busy this week :(( I apologize if the quality of this fic isn’t great, I kinda rushed the ending a little…

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! (I had to add some of y’all to a comment instead becuz tumblr won’t let me tag more people for some reason☹️)

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Round 3, Poll 3

One Last Adventure v. Ghost of a Chance v. Guardian of Kings v. From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK "KEEP READING". (This is going to be a long one. 😅)

One Last Adventure: (Post-Canon AU)

Bilbo blinked, trying to get his bearings. Where was Ered Mithrim? And why do dwarves have so many lost kingdoms they are trying to get back into? And how was he the most qualified individual to do so? Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I think we’re going to have to start at the beginning here.” He determined.

The dwarves made a place for Bilbo to sit, offering him bits of their lunch that Bilbo felt would be rude to turn down even if his stomach was rolling. He learned their names: Brombrar, Gulrik, and Gimli. Bilbo blinked in surprise at the last one, staring at the red haired lad until finally he could place him with the image inside Gloin’s locket. It was clear that portrait had been made long ago as Gimli had a very fine beard, thicker than Fili or Kili’s but not quite long enough to hang off his chin. 

“And Gloin knows you’re out here recruiting me for some adventure?”

Gimli’s face turned bright red as he tried to mumble out some excuse. Bilbo felt his face drain of color. Did anyone know that these children were this far from Erebor? Was Bilbo going to be accused of kidnapping?

“Are any of you actually of age?” Bilbo asked, aghast.

“Gulrik and I both are.” The big one, Brombrar puffed up.

“So what are you doing here?” Bilbo accused Gimli.

“I’m the one His Majesty, Thorin Oakenshield approached!” Gimli defended. “Besides, I’m handy with an axe and it’s not like I’m a wee pebble.”

“So let’s get into that.” Bilbo sidestepped thinking about the angry calvary that was sure to come any second. “Tell me about Thorin.”

Gimli settled down enough to begin the story. He had been wandering the corridors of Erebor (where he wasn’t supposed to) when Thorin approached him. Gimli had been ‘struck by stone’ which Bilbo took to mean shocked. He immediately bowed and asked if it was really the fallen King, Thorin Oakenshield.

“And what did he say?” Bilbo pressed.

“He said, ‘Yes, Gimli, son of Gloin, it is I. Mahal has approached me with a great task that I now pass on to you. Inside Ered Mithrim is an object of great importance that needs to be reclaimed.’” Gimli paused at this point shifting in his seat. “And of course, I questioned it, Master Baggins. Whether or not this was really King Thorin, but he told me of a memory that we shared when it was just the two of us and I knew at that point it had to be him!”

Bilbo felt his heart speed up as his breath caught. It sounded so impossible. It was too good to be true. Bilbo had been there after all. He watched him die. How could he be back now? What kind of magic could do something like that? 

Bilbo indicated for Gimli to continue. So he spoke of this object. Some sort of smooth ball of crystal that allowed one to speak to another with the same crystal ball.

Ghost of a Chance: (Haunted Wedding AU)

Bilbo could have kissed Thorin for getting him out of there so effortlessly. It wasn’t until they were out in the hallway that Tauriel spoke up. 

“This is such a disaster! Bilbo, I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo mentally did not have the energy to comfort the girl no matter how bad he wanted to. Thankful, Thorin took care of that for him as well.

“Tauriel, this isn’t your fault. Why don’t you guys all go out and do something. I’m going to take Bilbo up to his suite for a bit just to give him a chance to process. We’ll call you the moment he makes a decision.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes as Kili rubbed her back in comfort. They all wished Bilbo well in some form or fashion until it was just him and Thorin. It was funny. At the beginning of this week that was something Bilbo would have absolutely dreaded, but now he couldn’t stop himself from leaning a little further into the strong arms guiding him. That did remind him that they needed to talk and soon, but perhaps it could wait until after the shaking had subsided.

They made it to the floor of Bilbo’s room and he struggled to pull out his cardkey and insert it into the slot, but the moment the door closed behind him, it was like he could finally breathe again. A shaky sob came out instead.

“Oh, Bilbo. Come here.” Thorin purred, pulling Bilbo in close.

Bilbo didn’t actually cry, but he held on tight to Thorin as he fought through the hiccuping sounds his throat continued to produce. 

“What the fuck is happening?” Bilbo complained.

“I would say a string of bad luck but this seems even beyond that.” Thorin attempted to joke. 

“Thorin, that cabinet could of crushed me. How did it not crush me?” Bilbo asked in bewilderment.

“Your barstool.” Thorin explained. “You must have knocked it over when you jumped up. It wedged itself under the cabinet and kept it from falling all the way.”

Bilbo shook his head as he pulled away from Thorin to lay down on his bed, the heels of his hands pressing down on his eye sockets. 

“Thorin, what am I going to do? Apparently, there are ghosts out to get me.”

He let out a bitter huff at that which turned into a chuckle before escalating into full blown hysterical laughter. Thorin must think he was absolutely insane as he laughed so much his sides began to act and tears streamed lightly down his cheeks. However, Thorin didn’t say a word. He just sat down next to Bilbo, petting his hair back from his head. It was actually a lovely sensation now that he was paying attention to the rhythm of it, and slowly it was enough to calm Bilbo back down.

“How about room service?” Thorin offered when Bilbo was calm enough again.

“Sweet Yavanna, I should kiss you.” Bilbo groaned in appreciation.

Thorin froze which in turn made Bilbo freeze as his words dawned on him.

Guardian of Kings (sequel): (BAMF Bilbo Baggins)

“You can eat him or stuff him full of eggs for the losses you’ve suffered. It matters not to me, but our debt is paid with his blood.”

Bilbo tried to breathe through the roaring in his head. He needed to think. Neither one of those options sounded appealing in the slightest. A shiver rolled down his back. Yep, definitely needed to stop thinking about it. So what could he do to stall the orcs?

“So that’s it. You’re taking your orders from the spiders now.” He attempted to laugh.

“Shut it runt!” The orc pinning him down shouted as he kicked him in the side.

Bilbo winced, curling in on himself as he panted through the pain. His eyes were squeezed shut, but that didn’t stop him from speaking up still.

“I mean, Azog and Bolg are both dead. Who else could you have to look up to?”

“What did you say, you little rat?” The leader orc growled, picking Bilbo up by his hair.

Bilbo cried out, especially as it unfurrowed him around his hurt ribs. He peeked an eye open to see the orc holding Bilbo’s own blade against his chin. Bilbo could see in his eyes though that he was listening at least.

“The spiders aren’t as smart as you. They aren’t as strategic.” Bilbo grit through his teeth. “They can’t think past their stomachs. What right do they have to demand payment? They should be following your orders. Not the other way around.”

“He’s right!” One of the other orcs shouted.

“He’s just trying to get us all riled up.” The lead orc snapped back.

“We’re only in this mess with the spiders because of you!” Another orc growled.

“You’re alive and not at the end of a filthy elf’s arrow because of me!” The leader screamed, dropping Bilbo to the ground. “We escaped Azog’s war with Oakenshield by the skin of our teeth and the blood the spiders gave us. All it would cost us is this runt’s blood and we’re done with them.”

“Blood that could go to us! You think this thin elf would be enough to feed us!”

Bilbo had done what he set out to do. Now he had to get out of the way before this turned any uglier. He started wiggling like a worm until he got himself up on his knees. He started trying to crawl away when he heard the clicks and clatters of the spiders. He looked back over his shoulder to see them paused just in front of the orcs, their mandibles snapping in impatience. There were only about eight but that was more than Bilbo wanted to deal with at the moment. 

Suddenly, there was a jerk on the back of his jacket before he was dragged backwards and thrown back in front of the spiders. Bilbo could feel his face drain of color as his sword was thrown next to him.

“There! That’s the one, right? The one who slayed so many of you and mocked you as he did it!”

From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories: (Amnesia Modern AU)

“I’m on holiday.” Bilbo explained. “But you owe me the favor after you called to have me change the lightbulbs for you and I promised not to report the incident.”

Odo’s face turned a spectacular shade of purple as he spluttered.

“That-! I-! Fine! What do you want?”

“I just need the keys to your car. I’ll bring it right back.” Bilbo added, hurrying to cut off his cousin’s protest.

“Bring it right-! Now see here, Bilbo Baggins! I am certainly not your taxi service!”

“Which is why I didn’t ask you to chauffeur.” Bilbo smirked. “Come on, Odo. You won’t even have time to miss it. I just need it for a quick trip to the burbs and I’ll bring it right back.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Bilbo frowned. He knew he shouldn’t have expected a mere favor to be returned. His cousin was far too stingy for that. 

“What do you want?”

“Run the Mathom House for me on Saturday.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not spending my whole day up here in this dusty mansion.”

“Fine, just close for me that night. Four hours max. I want to watch the king’s speech live. Our Erebor exhibit is our most popular after all!”

Bilbo would have pointed out it was because of the mystery surrounding the shiny mathoms, but didn’t want to have to get into it with Odo. A few hours weren’t the worst thing. He could bring up his novel considering he would expect just a ton of traffic during that time anyways.

“Fine. You have a deal.”

Odo merely smirked before backtracking on his perfectly functioning ankle to retrieve the keys. 

***

Roughly thirty minutes later, Bilbo was pulling up in front of a modest brick home with brightly colored flowers in the planter boxes in front of the porch. Oakenshield got out of the car first, taking in the house before looking down at his blood stained jacket with a grimace. Bilbo winced wishing he had thought of that earlier. He quickly shrugged his way out of the paramedic jacket he was still wearing.

“Here.” He offered.

Oakenshield looked at the jacket, but still refrained from taking it.

“You’re practically two sizes smaller than me.” He pointed out.

“A size at the most! And it’s not really my jacket. Just take it! It will at least cover up the more…concerning aspects.”

Oakenshield grumbled but agreed as he gingerly took over his old jacket to put the new one on. It was the arm length that really accented how ill fitting the jacket was. So he rolled the sleeves up his forearm in the hopes to disguise it. Bilbo nodded at the look admiring it a bit too much as he headed up the porch to ring Prim’s bell. 

His nerves started to act up as they waited for her footsteps to head their way. His cousin could sniff a story out faster than she could serve tea. Bilbo just knew showing up out of the blue, carting Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, she was going to give him that look. 

[dagdasgoddess]

Happy 10 years together Augustine~

Before we begin it is PARAMOUNT to state that I am not a "fangirl/simp/whatever y'all are calling it these days" of dear Augustine Sycamore.

He is my FO (Forever One/ husband in laymans terms) and I consider him to be a real person just like the words I'm typing on this keyboard.

Any comments that are irrelevant to this post will be deleted and the user blocked.

I take my relationship with him very seriously, if this is "odd" or "weird" to you then kindly walk on by.

10 years ago I was welcomed back into the world of Pokemon after a few years break due to personal things I had going on, and video games were the last thing on my mind.

But as they say fate and destiny always have other plans.

Pokemon XY was the last golden age of Pokemon, it was a different world, it felt like I was welcome there. I still maintain onto my hope and innocence because of this beautiful world known as Kalos, a world that greeted me with open arms and a warm hug that enveloped my soul like Xerneas's Fairy Aura.

It was the beginning of something entirely new for me... and I didn't even know it.

2013 wasn't a good year for me, so I was pretty happy when my dad surprised me with a 3Ds and asked me what game I wanted: I was an edgy little shit back then so I asked for Pokemon Y... even though I really wanted X. Deer were always beautiful to me.

I had broken off with an FO that I just felt I wasn't good enough for and became rather desolate, I was lost and alone. And I had to drop out of college for mental health reasons.

Sure enough, my solace came to me in the 2D world yet again.

One cozy October evening my copy of Pokemon Y came through, I was excited and fired the game up right away, back then you could play games right away without downloads or waiting for patches and mutliple DLCs! XY had one patch but it was just to fix that Lumioise City bug. Thankfully my copy was safe.

As you can see, my copy of Pokemon XY is infact a physical copy, I've taken very good care of it. (Ft. my cute Sylveon plushie, Fionn)

Not having anyone to trade with didn't matter, because the Wonder Trade function was a bloody miracle. I got so many Pokemon. I couldn't transfer my older Pokemon as I had no access to Bank or any of that stuff, my other games I had to leave at home.

It was time when Gamefreak actually thought about their fans who didn't have access to Gamestop, Toys R Us or couldn't afford constant trips to New York, Japan, Mars, Etc for one tiny ass pixel.

So I was sorely missing my old Pokemon, I wish I could bring them into this 3D world and pet them and shower them with affection like they deserved to be. But I realized I could make new memories with new friends in this new world, and who knows? Maybe we would reunite again.

Kalos took me on a journey, a journey of love, self discovery and gave me a home. I was whisked away to Fairy land and fairy types became my new favorite, I liked that they were strong against Dragon - types, the bane of my existence at how powerful they always were!

But.. the one who grabbed me by the hand was none other than Professor Augustine Sycamore. I had seen his image before on a leak, and couldn't help but think he was kind of handsome, a friend who had already played through Pokemon X told me:

"Hey you might like Professor Sycamore, he's this dreamboat that shows you the world and stuff and I KEEP SWOONING whenever he shows up on screen"

Sure enough when I opened up Pokemon X for the first time, I was greeted by his handsome face, I thought nothing of it of course since I was more interested in the Pokemon.

I was especially looking forward to Trainer customization and giving myself green eyes and brown hair. I will never forget the time I chose my Fennekin and started to pet him, my heart melted.

I could finally show my Pokemon love and affection, for all their hard work in battles and feed them cupcakes and play with them! I was also intrigued by this thing called "Mega Evolution".

As I continued throughout the game, I explored every nook and cranny, I felt like a kid again. I was truly lost to the world for HOURS after I got it. It was a beautiful game. The 3D over-world was amazing.

The "friends" you had were annoying but I like to pretend they don't exist. When I finally reached Lumoise City I already had a big party of Pokemon, and the event Torchic.

I loved how friendly the Pokemon in Kalos were, I caught many eevees and evolved one into a Sylveon, she became a massive Team Player. I even managed to find some familar faces along the way: A Raichu named Napalm, and an Espeon named Solar who remains as an MVP in my teams to this day.

I was having so much fun just running around, getting haircuts, dressing up, looking pretty for Professor Sycamore AND catching Pokemon, I would completely be lost in this beautiful new world, that felt so much like home to me and still is.

Professor Sycamore was the beginning of my healing. As I continued to learn about him, there was more to him than just the eye candy, he had a past. I loved it whenever he showed up to offer me an encouraging word or two in the game, saying how this was my journey to explore, that being the best trainer was defined by what I thought. He never imposed anything on me, I was starting to feel the flutters and shit in my heart and liver again.. And my god it felt good.

I desperately needed to feel something like this.. something like true, unconditional love.

Around this time I was heavily suffering from perfectionism, it was killing me on the inside, I was 19 when this game came out and already people had high expectations of me.

I was determined to graduate, get a job and have my own house- all before I reached 21. But life seldom goes your way, I was suffering from many un-diagnosed mental disorders that had been neglected my entire life.

I am ashamed to say I spent almost all of 2013 being obsessively deep in competitive and breeding the perfect Pokémon. Perfectionism had leaked into my past - time and hobbies, I realized that if I couldn't be perfect I could at least have this outlet in games, little did I know it was sucking the soul out of me.

I was often punished as a child for being less than perfect, I took it out on my poor Pokemon. Things like this don't magically go away, not everyone has a backbone, sometimes backbones take time to build.

It wasn't until yet again - I got help from a rather unexpected source: Professor Sycamore himself, another testament to have wonderful 2D beings are.

As I progressed through the game and reached the Tower of Mastery.

I was surprised to learn that Professor Sycamore was there to study Mega Evolution but left because he didn't have what it takes, essentially dropping out- kind of a parallel to my own life, except real life seldom has happy endings.

But it gave me hope, because even if Sycamore didn't master Mega Evolution he still became the professor of Kalos and if you look into professorship- it's.. actually not easy to get. If Sycamore could fail and succeed in the future, maybe I could too.

One night..

I had a dream of Sycamore. He held me close and said that he could tell something was bothering me, I was hurting deep down. We in the fairy forest together, just relaxing in a field of flowers as the Flabebe floated around us in the gentle spring breeze..I told him everything, I spilled my heart and soul to him.

I told him that life wasn't worth it to live.

He was heart-wrenched that I felt like that, he embraced me tightly in his arms and told me

"Your life is your own, no one gets to decide it's worth except you. Even if you're behind, you don't have to go at everyone else's pace, if life was easy then no one would feel sadness. I love you no matter what or who you choose to be, always remember that," Those words I still carry in my heart.

The biggest surprise I got had to be in Couriway Town. I found Professor Sycamore's "treasure" from the past Sycamore to the future Sycamore. I actually began to cry, it felt like it was addressing me, that even if I don't know what I want to be yet, I'm not a failure. I still have time.

In another dream I confessed that I loved him, he embraced and kissed me fully on the mouth. I felt like I was on cloud nine.

Diverging from the narrative a bit, I want to talk about Lysandre, I felt his anger sometimes, the frustration of helping your friends and them not wanting to do any better no matter how much time you invested in them. Of course Lysandre ,uh took a different path. But Sycamore still cared about him.

And I realized.. even if I'm a horrible person apparently according to some people over shit I can't control, Sycamore can still love me too.

Professor Sycamore is a relic of a bygone era when 2D beings set out to inspire others, and to most importantly - love you and you alone.

Augustine gave me not just love-- but a home to come back to, a safe haven that will always be mine, no matter what. I will always love him, when I look into his beautiful gray - blue eyes, I see love.

He gave me hope that life can get better, and most importantly I deserve happiness, not just other people.

And.. today I'm marrying this wonderful man after 10 years. He met me when I was freshly 18 and saw me grow into who I am today, and he's proud of me. I'm happy I lived to see 10 more years.

Thank you for everything, Augustine. Thank you for teaching me to love again.

[crying-fantasies]

Rodimus wasn't ready to be a creator (2)

Masterlist

Part 1 | part 2: Mental image | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

"When I tell you about a good dinner, a peaceful evening and a pleasant night, what do you think about it?" His hand trails behind your ear, soft whispers leaving his lips while he has you seated in his lap, his tone, as sultry as it can be, is tender as far as it can be, the soft static that his supposed sun kissed skin transmitted was giving you goosebumps in a very good way.

Your mind goes wild, Rodimus can't eat even if he uses his holomatter, a peaceful night just goes along your own preference but when his voice hits full force when he says a pleasant night, normally the idea of sleeping next to him, holomatter or gigantic robot, is always welcomed, but you can feel him in many more ways than before, feeling his desire for you in this physical form and also in his tone, he isn't the best to flirt but even his clumsiness brings you such joy that pools in your lower belly, blood rushing where it's needed to show him your eagerness and your bashful expression that he takes with delight.

Gosh, it isn't the first time you have him like this, but he just goes the extra mile.

"What would you think if I tell you about the new tattoo that I designed by myself just for you?" Rodimus takes your hand in his, holomatter feels strange, the usual static is less compared to other times after some improvement in the programming and his face can show more expressions, his light brown eyes still kind of lack most of the life that is always show in his big, bright blue optics.

His words makes you almost spin around and faint, but your hand reaches for a gap in all his shirts to touch directly to his holomatter skin, he seems flustered and even surprised, but it has been years since you two started dating, it was only natural that you tried something by yourself for once, he looks pleased but also embarrassed.

"I'll say, that I really want to see it... and touch it" that's all it's need to have him moving his strong arms to get all the shirts off him before Rodimus returns to his assaulting eagerness, kissing you with utmost necessity while positioning himself over your body without breaking such intimate contact, pressing his hips to yours, strong hands and calloused fingers gripping the blankets under you to press himself harder to your soft body, almost every corner fitting together in a natural way, as natural as it can really be, a pleasant sensation that he can only achieve with the human mode, he still needs to show you his new tattoo but the one on his right arm is getting all your attention with the firm muscles under the artificial ink when he manages to get his hand under your coverings, your body vibrating with "is this love" in the background that is getting louder by the second, his body protecting you from the outside world while his long legs had the job of keeping yours open, making the contact even better, hotter, more everything.

"Guess that I can only obey your orders" and so he compelled, pushing as far as he could even with clothes on but not for long when your hands left his long brown hair to start getting your own clothes off, feeling your warm skin on his temporary form, feeling how the engines in his original body revving with abandon, realizing once again how good it was to change things a bit and explore new possibilities with you.

All new experiences that started and ended long ago, and even when it was like that, all new possibilities and results that came from it are still present.

As a result, maybe not by normal human standards or biology, your son.

"Uncle Domey"

"Oh, Blacksun, what are you doing-"

"Erase my memory"

"What?-"

"Erase it. Just. Do. It"

Your pretty much exasperated and awkward son.

Many in the ship have know the young bot since his protoform days, most of those days were mostly centered in not squishing the mother and sparkling duo that were as tiny as, well, organics.

Blacksun was white and gray then, fresh from the hot spot, optics and face plate recently molded, emitting beeping sounds now and then to get attention from any bot around, he was such a cute little thing.

Now that little thing was trying with all his might to get Chromedome's mnemosurgery needles out of his digits and put it in his helm.

"Wait a second! Blacksun stop right this minute!" Rewind arrived minutes later, also trying to stop the young bot that was so desperate to have his memory data erased that even tears were dropping from his optics, even Rodimus appearing in the scene.

"I beg you, please erase my memory!"

"Sunny, wait a second I just said-!"

"Stay away from me you old bot!"

Funny how a few words could be the detonator to such a response, to give it more sense the ship was now in Earth, after the discovery of a new orb, just to get some samples back to Cybertron and see if a new commerce product could be available since they were already near, it was the very first time since he was a sparkling that he put his pedes in the planet's surface, feeling how it resisted his weight, it was kind of strange as what was called grass also got under him, maybe he would need to clean it later.

Then, they were there, humans, a lot of them, many other mechs were almost running to meet certain humans that they already knew, everyone was chatting or interacting in some way, even Megatron was there talking to humans, it was endearing in some way.

"Glad to see that things are more natural between us" he already heard the sound of his creator approaching, placing a servo over his shoulder pad, yes, it was good, he wasn't online during the great war or many of the other incidents, he was merely a protoform for most of the late conflicts.

Humans were looking at them, curious little creatures but still keeping boundaries, they knew what he was, and even when another techno-organic was already roaming around here on earth seeing one close up was already a big thing.

Rodimus noticed his sparkling looking at the humans around and smiled, it has been a while, and exactly because of that he wanted to talk to his kid now.

"I guess that is really time to talk to you about engines and flowers"

...

"... Excuse me?"

"Well, now that you've seen an actual human after so long, you may have a few questions of how you were conceived"

How was Rodimus supposed to know that his dear sparkling already learned about human "culture and costumes" in order to prevent any misunderstanding in this journey? Funny that now Blacksun had quite the expression on his face plate, both servos near his neck as he was just so close to strangle him, because when he heard the word "conceived" the mental image was instantaneous.

"It's a joke, It's only a joke I swear! You know very well that you came from the hot spot in Automica!"

Too late, Blacksun was already on the run and he heard shouting from Chromedome and Rewind's hab suit.

Yeah, Rodimus just wanted to play a little with Blacksun and the, supposedly, little information that he had about organics, it never passed his processor that, just like his other creator, he could've quite the imagination especially if there was already some know data about it.

Ratchet called it "volatile imagination", apparently it was common among humans.

Blacksun didn't get his memory data erased, so the mental image was still in his archives since it would be even more horrible to have someone that he knew to see such an embarrassing thing, so he only could thing of many other ideas.

Meteor surfing.

Movie nights.

Yes, um, a fresh hamburger, with fries or some bacon-

"Hey Sunny, you okay now?"

"Stay away from me, I'm warning you"

Okay, this was going to take a while before he experienced something worst that could out win such mental image of his creators all "passionate" like the human media that he saw before that involved reproduction.

[zarvasace]

Silva

HLT character masterpost

Link to the Past and Link's Awakening Link! Inspired by medieval Spain. Pink hair. A gifted psychic. Zelda's twin because I really enjoy that trope.

He's shy but confident, and growing nicely into his newly discovered role as a prince. He takes the occasional foray into the Dark World to kill monsters and for fun. Zelda represents light, and Silva represents shadow in their dynamic, and they have a strong telepathic connection.

Silva does still have the ability to turn into a bunny, though he hasn't managed any other transformations yet, not for lack of trying. He's mastered a few psychic powers, including dreamwalking—Link's Awakening was a stress response, and he was shaken up by it but often just pretends it didn't happen. On occasion, his pretending becomes too strong and he can begin to manifest things he does or very much does not want to see.

--- (579 words and bigger art under cut)

Thank the Light for Moon Pearls, Link thought as he dodged another monster-shot arrow. He tapped his heel on the soft, strange grass, activating their magic and speeding him safely to a copse of nonsentient trees. Well, he assumed none of them were sentient. None of them talked to him, and he couldn't feel any minds nearby for at least another dozen meters. 

Are you in the Dark World again? came a reply, right into Link's head. Zelda often tuned into him when she was bored. He could stop it if he minded, but he didn't today. 

Link paused to catch his breath as he mentally replied to her. I can get bombs for cheap here. 

Do you need more bombs? Zelda sounded amused, and Link got the distinct impression that she was procrastinating something. 

Sure. I always need more bombs. To be fair, he was procrastinating too. 

You need to get back for the ball tonight. 

No, I don't. 

Please?

You need to get ready, too, Link pointed out. Still, he glanced around the Dark World one last time, uncomfortably noticing the face in the tree off in the distance giving him a hard look. He started off the way he came, zooming past the group of moblins standing around waiting to kill him. 

Zelda sent him a very intentional image of two dresses, one blue, and one lavender. What do you think? 

Zel, I am not a fashion expert. Link leaped over a low hedge, under a branch, and made for the shimmer of sparkles in the air hovering over a small hill. The empty yellow pyramid stood imposingly above him. The purple one? You like purple. 

You know what? Yes. I do. Thanks, Link.

Yeah, sure. Anytime. Link skidded to a stop just at the top of the hill and glanced at the group of moblins trundling after him with spears bristling. He really needed to take care of a couple of the monsters here… 

With a sharp smile, Link pulled out one of his new bombs, aimed carefully, and threw it into the group. They really shouldn't have clustered up so closely. 

Before the bomb hit, Link slid into the patch of sparkles, his eyes shut tightly. The transition disoriented him, as usual, but he'd learned to shield the worst of the effects. 

Ugh, warn me next time, Zelda said as Link opened his eyes to sunset-orange skies, green grass, and a white castle. 

He smiled. You should practice more. 

Idiot. Get back here. 

Coming, coming. Link pulled his green hood up—his hair had darkened from pale pink when he'd been a kid, but the magenta color still turned heads, even if people were familiar with him. He joined the slow trickle of people headed to the castle on foot and in carriages, but split off to one of the side entrances. 

Before walking through the narrow wooden door, Link paused. Something felt… not quite off. But different. Zel? 

Hm? She sounded distracted. 

Something is… weird. 

What? 

I think someone needs help. 

Zelda's sigh came through loud and clear, and Link almost heard her speak out loud to someone. She'd worn the purple, then. This isn't just something to get out of the ball? 

I mean… it'd be nice. 

Fine. Go ahead. Keep in contact. 

Always. Link reached out, turned the handle, and entered the void. He felt tingly all over, like the transition to the Dark World, but… well, less. 

Zelda? he asked. 

Silence. 

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Multi-May: Movie Night/Lucky Man

Written for @bisexual-horror-fan 's Multi-May 2024.

Featuring our beloved third anti-Pope, two of his ghouls, and his Prime Mover (my oc). Very fluffy.

(also readable on AO3)

Movie night was Terzo's favourite night. His responsibilities as Papa put aside for the day, his robes and mitre put back into the closet, his paints washed off, comfortable pajamas on, and a fun film to watch in his quarters as he relaxed.

Plus, snuggling up on the plush purple couch with his three beloveds—his newly pregnant wife Cassie, their boyfriend Omega, and their girlfriend Mist. What a wonderful way to spend a night.

"This is so fucked up," Cassie muttered, as she tossed another handful of popcorn into her mouth, watching the screen intently, the visceral images of Phantasm II apparently doing nothing to quell her appetite. (Pregnancy, he supposed, had that effect on people, even in its early stages. Growing babies inside of oneself requires a lot of fuel, after all.)

"Isn't it?" he agreed. "I thought the first one was bad, but this one gave me nightmares back in the day."

"I can see why, tesoro."

"Eh," Mist shrugged a lovely grey shoulder, the other one still pressed snugly against Cassie's side, under her arm. "Meg and I have seen worse."

Terzo huffed and rolled his eyes in fake annoyance. "Well, of course you have, Misty," he said, voice mirthful and affectionate, "You're both creatures from Hell. Cassie and I, however, are just simple humans."

Omega, previously quiet up to this point, snorted loudly. "'Simple'? There is nothing simple about you, babe."

Terzo faked a shocked expression, laughing inwardly at his boyfriend's remark, and lightly slapped the ghoul's big shoulder in mock offense. "Megaman, my beloved! What are you implying?"

Cassie piped up. "That it takes you forever to get ready in the morning, or to plan movie night, or to choose a movie for movie night, or—" She was cut off by her husband lightly placing his hand over her mouth, stopping her from continuing her roast of him, but doing nothing to hide her giggles. (Lord below, he loved her giggles, even when they were at his own expense.)

He sighed, ready to admit defeat. "Yes, yes, alright. I get the idea. I am—"

"High maintenance," Mist interjected, smirking at him.

"...I was going to say 'complex', but alright. Make fun of me. Make fun of your Papa and your boyfriend." He crossed his arms and pouted, putting on an air of being absolutely wounded, though secretly enjoying the affectionate roasting they were giving him. (And, perhaps, secretly agreeing with their assessment of him).

"Don't worry," Mist smiled sweetly at him, flashing her beautiful, sharp teeth (teeth which she had gleefully sank into his flesh, many, many times). "I will."

"So will we!" Omega and Cassie chimed in, simultaneously and in a bit too chipper of a tone.

Terzo 'harumphed' slightly, then snickered, very much amused by their loving ribbing of him, and snuggled back into Omega's strong, comfortable arms, his hand still resting on Cassie's soft thigh. "Oh shit," he said, turning his face back to the television and wincing, "Here comes the—"

"What the FUCK just popped out of her back?!" Cassie yelped, abruptly setting down the bowl of popcorn and covering her eyes with both hands.

"That," Terzo replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upward mischievously, "Was the miracle of childbirth."

Cassie stared at him silently for a moment, beautiful blue-green eyes meeting his (ah, how he loved to stare into them...), clearly not quite as amused by that joke as he was, then, "...thank you for making me re-think this pregnancy, tesoro."

Omega and Mist burst out into laughter, and Terzo couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"Sorry, dolcezza," he said, sincere tone betraying the look of amusement on his face. He brushed a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair from Cassie's face and gently stroked her cheek, mentally revelling in how soft her skin felt against his hand. "Let's keep watching, huh? And I stop making bad jokes."

Cassie stared at him again for a moment, clearly skeptical of his ability to hold back from making another terrible joke (and rightly so, he loved doing that, ask any fan who had seen him and the ghouls live), then relented, kissing him and picking up the bowl of popcorn again.

"Alright."

They all turned their attention back to the movie, wincing and grimacing and softly whispering words of anxiousness and encouragement as Reggie, Mike, and Liz valiantly attempted to escape the Tall Man and his fucked up extra-dimensional minions.

Then it was over, and time to switch to the third movie, though by now all four of them were tired.

Tired enough to fall asleep about a third of the way through it. It'd been a long day for all of them.

Before joining the others in the land of Nod, Terzo took a moment to look at them—Omega's arms still wrapped securely around him and large hands resting on his belly, Cassie's head resting comfortably on his lap, Mist languidly draped over her—and smiled to himself.

He loved them all so much. Even when they were (perhaps, rightfully) making fun of him, he still loved them. His big, strong, gentle giant of a ghoul Omega. His sassy, surprisingly powerful, and witty ghoulette Mist. And his Cassie, his sweet, kind, caring, Prime Mover Cassie, who was carrying his heirs in her soon-to-be-swollen belly. All snuggled up with him on the big, plush couch. All his, to love and enjoy and cherish.

I am a lucky man, he thought to himself, as he finally let himself drift off to sleep. Such a lucky man.

[jokerislandgirl32]

Flower delivery from your f/o

🌺🌸🌼🌹🌷💐🌻

Awww, thank you so much Zach, the fact that your mother’s a florist (in my AU at least) makes this a common occurrence, but it’s always a welcomed treat! I love them so much, and I love you so much…you are my world, thank you for making each of my days brighter 🥹.

To the anon who sent this on behalf of Zach, thank you. I know it came in last year….like April of last year 😅. I purposely waited until now to post it because as soon as it came in I had a scene entire my mind that I just couldn’t shake…I had to write it. And I did, on paper, but I couldn’t find the courage to post it until now.

I’m very vague in what the scene is about, but it’s super emotional for me and Zach. If you figure out the context, well you figure it out! I won’t be upset if you ask about it or anything, I just feel like it needs to be vague, at least for now.

You can find the drabble below, please note TWs for hospital/medical settings, unintentional violence (hitting and screaming), and angst (crying, depressive thoughts).

Image Credit

Special Flower Delivery

I awoke early the next morning, blinking my eyes against the sun pouring through the blinds of the stark white hospital room. I rolled over in the bed to escape the blinding light. I felt sick and sore and miserable, and that was just physically. Mentally it was worse, so much worse.

I started crying again, it had not happened, it couldn’t have happened. Within a second he was scrunching himself into the narrow hospital bed beside me, his arms encircling me from behind as he told me everything was going to be okay. 

“Shhh, I’m here, I’m not leaving, I’m here, I’m here; it’s gonna be okay,” Zach whispered against the nape of my neck. 

“How is it going to be okay? IT’S OVER!” I sobbed louder, turning to him and seeking refuge in his arms. Without thinking I balled my hands into fits and hit them against his chest while screaming at the top of my lungs. It was a miracle the nurses didn’t come running to shut me up with another sedative. 

Zach did not complain from my violent outburst, but a small sound of distress escaped his lips after my assault against his chest had continued for a few minutes. 

I quickly stopped and took a few deep breaths to calm myself, “I’m so sorry, Zach. I didn’t mean to hit you…”

Zach gently stroked my cheek, “I don’t care about that, I only care about you and how you’re feeling…and I know you’re hurting, so the screaming and crying and whatever doesn’t bother me.”

He kissed my forehead and pulled me close to him. The soothing sound of his breathing and heartbeat soon lulled me back to sleep. 

When I awoke again and started to stir, I heard Zach mumble something to the Zachbot that had remained in the corner of the room ever since…it happened. The Zachbot quickly exited the room, having followed Zach’s command. 

“Zach? What’s going on?” I mumbled. 

“I have a surprise for my little flower,” he replied in a sing-a-song voice. 

I shook my head and gave a small snort before the Zachbot reentered the room. I turned my head to see the Zachbot holding a bouquet of beautifully arranged white and lilac flowers of all varieties. 

Zach helped me sit up in bed, and the Zachbot deposited the fabulous flowers into Zach’s awaiting grasp, which he in turn handed to me with a bow. I gave him a weak smile and thanked him as I fingered the petals, tears leaking from my eyes yet again. 

Zach hovered over me, giving me a weak smile that surely matched my own, tears flowing down his own face as well, “special flower delivery to my beautiful, amazing, strong, confident, and perfect wife. I love you, Vi, and I promise you we’re gonna get through this…together.”

I hope you all enjoyed it. Again if you have questions it’s okay to ask. I’m slowly getting back into writing, so hopefully there’s more to come very soon!

Since this is a selfship fic, I decided to add the tag list, please let me know if you want to be added/removed:

@snailchans-imaginarium @crunch-crunch-eat-a-bunch @changingcore @bitchywitchheart @stoatsapphic @3qu1us-main @kittycatkissez @benreillyswife @creativegenius22 @genderqueer-bithing @serenitytodd1234 @mailiow @celestetheseaunicorn @barnesncavill @mayixxxmoon @gui-mauves @evander2511 @bat-anon