#i promise the theory is coming in the next day or two

[101suouexpressions]

Umemiya fostering Sakura to be his successor

This is an open secret by now, but in this post, I will dive into the process that Umemiya went through to finally decide on Sakura.

First notice: Pre Shishitouren Arc

In the beginning, Sakura was known as the kid who came to take over the old, disordered, and violent Fuurin, which had definitely given a lot of people the wrong impression of him. However, on his first day, he had proven to have good morals instead of being an arrogant power-seeker.

This had, of course, piqued Umemiya's interest and changed his perception of Sakura.

Shishitouren Arc

However, Umemiya's evaluation of Sakura only commenced when he let the boy participate in the Shishitouren fight. This is like an entrance exam to see if Sakura has what it takes to be a leader.

Clearly, the task wasn't simply "beating the Togame's ass", but it seems like Sakura has to check some certain, hidden boxes. Sakura officially passed the test when he successfully connected to Togame through the fist-fight based on just a few words from Umemiya.

It proved that not only did Sakura have a kind heart, but he could apply newly gained knowledge (this happened again at the bridge, where they had to defend the town from Noroshi, Sakura had learnt to take his environment into account in a fight) very quickly.

The Aftermath of Shishitouren Arc

It seemed that Umemiya had officially made the decision to foster Sakura to become the next leader after that. His attitude had changed.

Moreover, later into the day, instead of hinting vaguely, he explained the concept of a conversation through fists in great details this time.

Doesn't it look like he's teaching it to Sakura? Umemiya only did this because he had officially recognize Sakura as his successor, or at least, his direct mentee.

Throughout Wind Breaker

Umemiya entrusted Sakura with the class leader position, directed him to Kaji for experience, and let him face Endou. Not only did Sakura's credibility increase, but the last point is very interesting because no matter how strong and good at fighting the boy is, Umemiya must have been aware that Sakura is NOT going to win going against a beast like Endou.

Personally, I believe this is a very good parallel to the way Suou taught Nirei how to fight. Umemiya was letting Sakura experience, and from the newest chapters we can tell that Sakura was learning a lot from this challenge.

Why didn't Umemiya choose another person?

Million-dollar question! This was my missing piece, which had been preventing me from writing this post in the first place. Umemiya was in third year, he definitely needed to find a new leader for Boufuurin before he and the four generals graduated. If Sakura didn't arrive at Makochi, then who would be the next leader?

Well folks, with the newest chapter (chapter 146), I can finally give you an answer in the form of a theory.

Umemiya was going to train Sugishita to become the next leader.

I'm making a separate post for this theory, which is coming VERY SOON (I am writing it right after this post). In the mean time, can you guess why? :3

UPDATE: THEORY IS UP!

As a thank you for reading this far, have this Sakura playlist.

[limerlove]

nsfw themes, eighteen+

gymrat!vi who frequents the gym every day except for sundays. giving into his wishes to be present for their weekly dinner. any other day? she’s getting her pump in. an absolute given in her world. pink-hued strands stick to her scalp as she pushes for a new personal record on the bench, especially when vi’s bulking. whenever she’s training, she’s so zoned in, nothing can distract — well — it used to be nothing. 

gymrat!vi who secretly enjoys nothing more than working out with jayce. accountability between two best friends turns into a friendly competition. nothing at stake except their egos. seeing who can outdo the other set after set. something to keep them both in line, fit, and violet enjoys the hit to jayce’s ego whenever she can push weight heavier than jayce.

gymrat!vi who isn’t oblivious to the attention thrown her way. with the heatwave of summertime, her muscles are on full display, defined biceps, toned thighs, and god her tattoos are basically a honey-trap. she would be a fucking liar if she acted disgusted by it, part of her likes it a little too much. but hey, everyone likes to be appreciated from time to time and vi is no exception. and she never really saw a problem with it until a one night stand who then not not so subtly stalked her every time she was in the gym, learning her schedule until she had no choice but to leave her favorite gym. silently, she made a vow to not fuck with girls she met at the gym. 

….well, until you. 

gymrat!vi who is a known regular. she knows all the girls at the front desk, flirts with many of them, but to her it’s as platonic as chatting up the barista who brews her dose of caffeine in the morning. it’s ingrained into her morning routine, simply just a part of who she is. so, when she sees you at the front desk she nearly has to do a double take. there’s not a hot chance in hell she’s seen you before — vi would have definitely remembered you.

gymrat!vi who becomes shy for the first time in her life, bringing her membership card up to the scanner and offering a small smile but when looks back you seem to take a second look, eyes locked into her powder-blue eyes. even if just for a moment, you’re veering into her thumping soul. vi can’t help but smile. she reminds herself, you’re just another pretty girl. you’re new, probably won’t even last long. yeah, that’s what vi’s going to let herself believe. it’s not like she’s thinking about your gorgeous lips when she bench presses, or thinking about your gorgeous  eyes taking her breath away — or when vi’s powerlifting she’s so not thinking about lifting you on top of her. 

“if you talk to her, she might actually know your name.”

“w-what, i-i’m not, sh—”

jayce raises his eyebrows at vi, shaking his head as his very questionable friend spots her as she moves the weight the fluidity, her movements only struggling to push through when she reaches the final set.

“she’s the gym owner’s daughter, he’s wanting her to take over the reins, old age and all.” jayce responds as violet places the bar on the rack, her set complete until she moves onto the next one. “your little theory of her not being around for long is kinda crushed. unless you want to find another gym….”

“that’s the whole point of me not talking to her, m’not finding a new gym again. that’s a promise. i can control myself.” 

jayce just laughs. fucking laughs.

“what’s so funny, bro?” vi pouts.

“that you genuinely believe you’re gonna be able to stop yourself and that you think you have a type….and she fits the bill.” 

“oh, fuck off.” vi grunts.  

dropping the fifty pound dumbbells by the bench, lifting up her shirt to wipe some of the sweat off her face only to find you on the other side of the gym, staring directly at her abs like her glistening sweaty skin like it’s a golden ticket to heaven.

“well…fuck.” 

gymrat!vi who notices your presence more and more in the coming weeks. this time not just behind the front counter. you’re with the personal trainers, helping new customers fill out paperwork, and this morning you go wherever vi goes, her eyes can’t seem to stop searching for your figure. especially with those tight leggings you always seem to wear, vi couldn’t stop looking at the fat of your ass if her life depended on it. she managed to squeak out more than a hi to you yesterday, but it’s as far as her pleasantries extend.

gymrat!vi who has her headphones placed on her head, her all black workout set; this time something more modest at her disposable. the black and cotton hoodie covers her head, flares of bright pink wisps shadow from the hood but her shorts reach mid thigh, the overworked muscles in her legs flexing as she lifts the weight. jayce isn’t with her today, which means she basically had to physically restrain herself from talking to you today. even if she can see you sneaking glances at her through her workout, eyeing her legs each time she’s on the leg press. greedy, hot, goddess — vi is so fucked. 

when she walked the following day, you said her name, violet. 

you know her name. 

it’s just the database, it’s the only reason. 

pull yourself together, idiot. 

gymrat!viwho is at the end of her workout, taking her final rest before she does her last set, but here you go again, gawking as you pretend to be readjusting the weight on the racks but you finally stop looking at her, trying to put the last weight, the one-hundred pound bell but you just can’t. even then, vi is trying not to smile with how adorable you look as you struggle. 

before making her way over to you, she slides the black pair of headphones on her tattooed neck, popping the hoodie, seeing if anyone else was going to help you — just her luck — there wasn’t a soul in her at midnight besides her….shocker. 

“stupid, piece of shit, would you just—” 

“need some help there, princess?” vi looks over at you from the workout beach she’s perched on, legs spread wide as her jaw juts out, eyes naturally gleaming with curiosity. 

“i should be able to. i can do this, right? yeah? i definitely can do this.” 

but it only sounds as if you’re trying to convince yourself. the weight of responsibility crushing your spirit by a singular dumbbell. you’re huffing and puffing. life and death here, and all because of a stupid, petty, weight. 

vi stands up, her height towering over your hunched finger. “pick it up with your legs. next time, make it’ll easier.” 

violet doesn’t really use her legs though. the beautifully strong woman kneels on the ground with you, her gloved hand picks the weight up with ease and places it back on the rack. 

“obviously, i know that.” 

violet hums before she offers a hand, helping you stand tall. “of course you do.” 

the sensation bubbling on her fingertips from touching your skin almost seems downright electric — and now vi feels like running ten miles in the other direction for the sole purpose of settling her heartbeat for just a moment. 

“anyways, yeah, sorry to disturb you.” 

“not a problem, princess. never going to say no to a pretty girl in distress.” 

the smile violet offers is adorable, the one she flashes the girls when she comes in for her late work out, from wherever she comes from. but the way she scratches the nape of her neck? that’s just for you. 

gymrat!vi who can’t stop thinking of you, despite her best efforts. constantly, she wonders if you’re seeing someone, but the way you watch her, vi suspects your single as can be. it isn’t until one friday night, just as she’s trying to leave, one of the front girls, rich and pompous, is trying to coax her into meeting her and some friends at the bar tonight. when she’s about to say no for a finale time, growing more uncomfortable by the second, you’ve come up to where she is and, well fuck, violet’s even more embarrassed that one of your employees is hitting on her right in front of you. 

“c’mon! jayce says you haven’t been out in ages. you deserve it, you’re always working out so much. if anyone deserves a treat, it’s you.” 

cursing out the little shit in her mind, she rolls her eyes, trying to contain herself from having an aneurysm. “little shit, divulging all my secrets.” 

sabrina laughs more than she should, tossing her purple hair over her shoulder. carefully, you hover, absentmindedly scrolling on your phone and violet wonders if you stay there for a reason. 

if she’s the reason you’re eavesdropping. 

“so….is that a yes?” 

violet sighs, she hates this. “maybe another time.” 

gymrat!vi who wonders what you thought of the entire time. quiet as a mouse, you hadn’t said a single word to her since you were there to witness the rejection of her employee they still couldn’t seem to just stop. this is what she wants. silence…..right? it’s what she keeps telling herself but now vi can’t stop trying to catch your attention, just an ounce of it is all she craves. today, you only spared her a glance before you talked to jayce. pathetically, she decides to do something to catch your attention, hip thrusts. 

gymrat!vi who looks up as you watch her pelvis lift the weight placed on her abdomen, pushing sturdy hips through the set as you keep sparing glances gawking at her porcelain skin exposed. she can tell you’re at least trying to pay attention to whatever jayce is saying but you’re interest loses focus when she grunts with one final thrust, the bar rolling away from her legs. 

“did you hear that?” vi rolls her eyes at the sound of his chipper voice. 

“what?” violet slips her headphones off, trying to even her labored breaths. not just jayce, but the both of you stand above vi as she tries to catch her breath. 

“i invited her to our brunch with mel on saturday.” 

“oh, is that this saturday?” 

oh, he really is playing fucking dirty. 

“is there a problem, vi?” 

little chicken shit is grinning, goddamn it. she takes another swing from her water bottle, hoping to god you’ll think it’s too forward, too weird, and you’ll just instantly decline. 

“not a problem.” vi grits her teeth as she speaks, jaw clenching as she knows this is surely to be a hole there will be no digging out from. 

or one she so desperately wants to fill.

rayray rants — UM IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS???? it's kinda different than what i normally post but i might turn it into a little hc series. anyways! hope you like and i have a very special vi post coming soon that i'm really excited about. but yeah! hopefully, i can continue this because vi working out is literally all i can think about. alright, um, see you next time ♡

[batsandbirdbrains]

Ok Dick biting Hal as a kid has got to be one of my favorite headcanons of all time. Like atp it IS canon to me. But now I’m imagining Dick biting all the members of the JL at least once because they’ve done something that’s either pissed him off, or pissed Bruce off. Hal is obviously bitten first and everyone thinks he’s exaggerating or being a big baby about how much it hurts. Then Clark gets bitten because Bruce got hurt on a JL mission where Clark was supposed to be watching his back. And to be fair, Dick growled at him before he bit, which was far more warning than Hal had received. When Dick sinks his teeth - some of which are still baby teeth - into Clark’s meaty, Kryptonian arm, it shouldn’t hurt. But somehow Clark is tearing up as he lets out a pained howl. It takes both Aquaman and the Flash to remove Dick. Clark doesn’t use that arm for two days, wincing every time he jostles it. How and why Dick bites the others is up for interpretation. Eventually, once all of them have been bitten, they call a meeting about it. Not to get him to stop or anything, just to figure out why it hurts so fucking much. They’re all throwing out various theories when someone says “No seriously, what hell does that kid put into his bites?” when Dick emerges from the shadows and says, deadpan, “Vengeance.” before cackling evilly and disappearing. They all shudder before deciding to never piss him off or talk about his biting ever again.

Also now I’m kind of imagining Dick and Slade fighting for the first time when Dick is just a little gremlin and Slade is like “pffft as if this fourth grader could beat me” only to panic when said fourth grader sinks his teeth into him so hard that he still has the scar years later.

I'm imagining Bruce seeing how Dick's go-to attack is to bite people, and he immediately makes a specialized mouth guard for him. It perfectly molds to his teeth, but it's extra sharp and leaves a different imprint than Dick's actual bite. Mostly so no one can compare dental records or anything to the scars that Dick will no doubt leave on many, many people. It has to be updated regularly when Dick is still young because of him losing his baby teeth.

The first time Dick bites Superman is because he brought Batman back to the Batcave in terrible shape. They'd been on a mission together, it was supposed to be quick, easy, no big deal. And now Dr. Leslie and Alfred are working on him in the Batcave medbay, and Dick just turns to Superman with tears and rage in his eyes. And he launches himself at him and attacks.

Clark yelps as soon as he realizes ouch, he can feel that! What the hell!

"Dick! Dick, let go!"

"You promised you'd bring him back home safe!" Dick cries, but his words are muffled, his teeth still sinking into Clark's arm. "He got hurt!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Clark says quickly. "But he's going to be fine, Dickie, it's mostly just a broken arm and a concussion!"

Dick is growling and hanging off Clark's arm, until Alfred comes out and announces that Bruce is ready to for visitors. Dick unlatches quickly, then scampers over to Alfred, still sniffling. As soon as he catches sight of Bruce, he starts whining and crying and cuddles next to him on the bed.

Clark never makes fun of Hal for the ankle guards again. Dick really does have crazy sharp teeth. Clark's arm is bruised for days around the puncture marks, and he's left with a scar on his arm in the shape of Dick's mouth.

A few months later, Dick has started hanging out with Garth a lot. They become pals. Very good friends. Best friends, almost.

And Garth hangs out with him one day and looks so glum and down in the dumps and says how Aquaman was mean to him during training, but it's okay, it was Garth's own fault. That doesn't sit well with Dick. No one makes his friends upset and gets away with it.

The next time Dick accompanies Bruce to the Watchtower, Dick locks in on Aquaman and chomps right on his arm. Like eating a fish stick. Aquaman yelps and tries to pry him off, asking him what happened and what's wrong and why the hell is Robin biting him?

"Don't be mean to my friends!" is all Dick says before he stomps off to go back to Batman's side. Before he reaches Batman fully, he turns and locks eyes with Aquaman, making that creepy I've got my eye on you gesture. It sends a shiver down Aquaman's spine.

He bites pretty much every other JL member for various reasons between the ages of 8-11. When they eventually call a meeting for it, Batman just stares at all of them with an unimpressed look.

"Perhaps you should try not upsetting him," Batman tells them, then turns on his heel and leaves. Dick, who'd been hiding under Batman's cape, grins at all of them and sends a taunting little wave before the cape covers him up again.

Dick first encounters Deathstroke at the ripe age of nine. During said encounter, Dick is terrified. Deathstroke is talking about wanting to make Dick his apprentice, how he's going to steal him from right under the Bat's nose, and Dick panics.

And he resorts to biting the exposed skin he sees when Deathstroke tries to nab him by his cape.

He damn near bites Deathstroke's hand clean off at the wrist. It startles Slade so bad that he shouts, throws Dick off to the side, and is distracted just long enough for Dick to run away and get back to the Batmobile.

Dick is panting and a little freaked out as he relays the story to Bruce from the safety of the Batmobile as Bruce drives them home. Bruce reaches over and pats Dick's head, his own heart beating so hard in his chest.

"Good job, chum," Bruce says softly. "Use every weapon you have. Always."

Dick nods his head, wrapping his cape tight around him.

[emmyrosee]

Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting something but I was wondering if you could do a Gojo x reader where you’re cuddling a plushie instead of him? :33 Perfectly okay if you don’t, love your writing btw, it always makes my day✨🩵✨

lol this took so long because I couldn’t decide between one of two scenarios so in theory there’s another option of this PFFFFF-

———-

Satoru cannot wait to get home to you.

He’s been gone far too long, been without your attention and affection for way longer than he should, his hands itch to hold yours and his arms are heavy, ready to encase you in them. He's ready to bury his nose into your scalp and relish in your familiar scent, and he's ready to accept you calling him a creep for doing so.

Satoru wastes no time in coming in through the door, abandoning his belongings haphazardly and calling your name eagerly, only to feel his entire being relax at the sight of you asleep on the couch.

Snuggling a large Keroppi plush under your head, using it as a pillow.

It's possible that a wave of jealousy swept through Satoru Gojo.

He has half a mind to whip it out from under your head and punt the thing into the stratosphere. Why in inanimate frog gets to hog your attention from him is beyond him, but he feels his annoyance grow when he notices your fingers are curled around Keroppi’s… hand? in a sweet hold.

“Oh, this is not going to work for me,” he spits.

You, of course, say nothing, merely curling into Keroppi’s stomach and letting out a small sigh of sleepiness. And yes, there is a part of Satoru Gojo that knows he should let you sleep, relax after the day you’ve had, be comfortable.

But the other part of Satoru Gojo needs to hold you. Now.

“C’mere, baby,” he says quietly, hooking his arm under your knees, the other around your back as he lifts you off of the couch, your scent already relaxing him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“‘Toru…?” You whimper, your fingers hooking in the collar of his shirt, eyes clearly too heavy to open. It makes his heart swell, and he beams down at how positively precious you look right now.

“It would be weird if it was anyone else, wouldn’t it be, my love?”

“But…” you look around a few times before fixating your tired gaze onto him. “I thought you were supposed to be home tomorrow…?”

“‘Supposed to be’ isn’t really something that fits in my vocabulary,” he chuckles, nudging the door of your shared bedroom open with his knee. “You don’t worry about anything. You wanna get in some pajamas?”

“But…” you pause to yawn and thunk your head against his shoulder. Your voice trails off, eyes drooping back heavily. He smiles and kisses your head, gently putting you on your side of the bed, clicking his tongue when you shiver from the cold.

“I know, I know,” he says softly, shushing your whines of disapproval. “It’ll warm up, I promise.” You grumble and slip under the covers clumsily, and Satoru takes off his heavy coat and tosses it lazily on the floor. He knows you’ll scold him for it later, but right now, his focus is curling up next to you and sleeping.

“Where’s Keroppi?”

He freezes. Your hand pads around for the dreaded stuffed animal, the pout on your lips growing when you can’t find him.

Satoru quickly takes off his pants- nearly tripping and cracking his skull in the process- and leaps into the bed, bundling you in his arms. “I left him on the couch, baby.”

“Why?”

He grits his teeth. Because im not sharing you, let alone with some dumb ugly frog who stole you from me. “Because he was just too big for us to cuddle with. And I wanted to cuddle with you really bad.”

“Mm,” you hum, seemingly satisfied with his answer. He smiles as you nuzzle closer to him, your fingers fisting the collar of his shirt.

"You're jealous," you tease.

"You're lucky I don't burn the thing."

[feverish-dove]

Hiihihi

I just wanted to say I really liked the way you wrote Senku!!! :3 and I was wondering if you had any more thoughts on the guy. Headcannons, or quite literally anything. Truthfully, I just wanna hear you yap about him. (Hes an Obsession 💔) Full liberty to write whatever that comes to your mind!!!

(and I completely understand if you don't. Just wanted to let you know how much I liked your thoughts on him :))

Senku Headcanons

Holy shit i'm sorry this took so long. It was not my intention to leave y'all hanging for so long. Especially for an ask when I said my inbox was open. Life's been crazy but that's no excuse. Also really weird question but I ended up making myself a Seto Kaiba (yes from Yu-gi-oh!) multipart fic as a birthday gift to me. lmk if anyone is interested in me publishing it lol. One more thing like two other people tagged me in a song trend and I swear I'll get to it too! I just don't know who to tag next haha. Senku Ishigami x Reader warnings: minor spoilers but they're not really important word count: 2,064 not cross posted on any other platform

Pre-Petrification

Y’all probably started out as classmates who argued about your specific hyperfixation interest lmao.

He noticed you because you challenged him—not emotionally, but intellectually. Most people couldn’t keep up, but you corrected him and were right. (You were NOT playing. It was more than likely something stupid like FNAF.)

He totally pretended he wasn’t interested at first. Played it cool, but Taiju saw the way Senku looked at you when you talked about your interests.

Homeboy wants to learn everything about everything. Hence his sudden bugging about your knowledge on a topic he isn’t fully educated on.

You both stayed after school often—him for his experiments, you for your own interests. Eventually, you started hanging out by accident more often than not.

He offered you coffee from a vending machine one day and casually said, “It’s statistically proven that shared caffeine intake boosts cognitive synergy.” You think that was his weird way of flirting.

The first time you called him out for overworking, he smirked and said, “Tch. Worrying about me already?” You replied, “Obviously.”

He confessed in a weirdly clinical way: “I’ve run the numbers. Being with you would significantly enhance my quality of life. Wanna test that theory together?” (Listen I know this sounds lame but go rewatch the first episode I promise you he talked like this T^T second hand embarrassment rewatch.)

You said yes in the most nonchalant way possible. By jumping up and down.

Taiju had no idea this was coming.

Yuzuriha knew this was coming.

He wasn’t very physically affectionate at first—he’d tap your hand when passing notes or adjust your collar like it was nothing, but it meant everything.

You helped him with a big experiment once, and he added your name to the credits. You argued that Taiju did way more work, so he should get the credit! Taiju just laughed you off.

Senku just wanted your name written next to his permanently. He published the document so you’ll be metaphorically stuck with him forever since nothing truly gets erased once it’s on the internet. Unless of course humanity was going to turn into stone but what's the likelihood of that?

Your first kiss wasn’t planned. You were mid-argument about the stupidest possible thing you could think of, and he just leaned in and kissed you to shut you up. “There. Now can we get back to the part where I’m right?” This just caused the fight to escalate because him, ‘right?’ Who does he think he is? You were totally winning!

He starts explaining things differently to you—not because he thinks you don’t get it, but because he enjoys seeing your reactions.

This is also how y’all became known as that couple who is always on facetime instead of just calling one another. (I get it, I too watch those gacha reaction videos at my grown age.)

When the petrification hit, he was thinking about you. Not in a romantic way like Taiju did with Yuzuriha, but instead in a, “it’s been about 1,245 years so far so they should be at ‘x’ coordinates because they were at ‘y’ when the beam hit.” “Clothing needs to take higher priority than initial calculations. They might not be comfortable being naked in the wild, extreme scenario or not.” Etc.

Stone World

Senku doesn’t realize he likes you right away. He’s hyper focused on survival, but you keep showing up to help—always curious, always sharp.

You challenge his ideas, not to be rude, but to push him further. That’s what gets his attention.

One day you show up with materials he didn’t ask for but desperately needed. He stares at you and says, “…You’re terrifyingly efficient. I like that.”

When you’re injured, he freaks out silently. He’s cold and efficient treating the wound, but he doesn’t sleep that night.

He builds you your own workstation so you can tinker with him. No one else gets one. Chrome whines because yuo don’t even use it half the time!

Gen teases him constantly. “Senku, your little lab assistant’s got you all flustered—should I schedule the wedding, or…?”

He confesses in the least romantic way possible: “I don’t believe in fate, but statistically, I’d rather build civilization with you than without you.” You had no idea it was a confession until he later refers to you as his girlfriend. It’s as much of a shock to you as it is the rest of the villagers.

You tried to kiss his cheek for sharing the cotton candy with Homura. Instead you ended up kissing his lips by accident. Your first kiss tastes like mineral water and burnt sugar from failed wire experiments.

Senku tries to pretend nothing changed after you get together, but he starts letting you touch his stuff. That’s a big deal. The village only has so much material to come by, after all.

You once called him “handsome” absentmindedly. He froze mid-step, dropped his charcoal pencil, and never brought it up again. But he remembers.

You’re the only one allowed to sit on his lap while he sketches blueprints. Sometimes he forgets you’re there until you shuffle. (Note: this does not work when he gets the invention idea at first. He gets too excited and wiggles too much. It’s only for refinement.)

Speaking of notes, congratulations, your new status as being around Senku 24/7 means you’re the official Note Taker of the new world! Title Pending.

“bUt FeVeR, dOn’T tHeY aLrEaDy HaVe A rEpOrTeR?” Shut up, I said what I said. You’re more recording data and experiments to make the first books and logs rather than make a record of history. Your beloved boyfriend is the one who gave you this task because he hates you. Jk. It’s because he doesn’t have enough hands to write everything down and conduct experiments at the same time so you have to do it for him.

Speaking of which, Senku is a certified yapper. Don’t let his nonchalant persona trick you, he’s anything but chill. If you also go off on tangents Gen is probably the one forced to break you both out of your excitement… again. (Listen they tried Chrome but he just joined in and Kohaku will not hesitate to beat both your asses so Gen it is. Poor guy lol.)

He’s not big on traditional affection, is what a liar will tell you. If anything you’re the one less prone to PDA. Now I say this but it comes with terms and conditions. Senku’s a busy guy, he likes to use his mouth–hold up–for giving instructions. So kisses are more rare. He also needs his hands for crafting, writing, just about anything really. So while he does like hand holding it’s a bit harder to get to. Which leaves y’all mostly just leaning against each other to show affection.

He does cuddle though. If it’s hot he’ll complain but that’s just because he likes to run his smart-ass mouth.

The villagers think you’re married already because you’re always beside him. And caveman laws. Senku won’t correct them.

Bonus: one day, he casually hands you something shiny and says, “This alloy’s rare. Only made it for one person.” That’s how you get your engagement ring—made from meteorite metal.

General

He’s incredibly observant, even when he seems distracted. If you so much as wince from a splinter, he’s already pulling out tweezers and homemade antiseptic.

Pet names are rare, but he sometimes calls you “Einstein,” “my lab partner,” or “miracle cure,” depending on his mood and what you’ve helped him with.

He won’t say “I love you” often, but he builds entire systems and tools just to make your life easier. That’s his way of saying it.

He builds you a custom gadget that only you can use. It’s completely unnecessary in the most loving way possible. Might even make it so on purpose just so you think of him, even if it is because of annoyance. Little shit.

Senku teaches you science constantly, even when you’re just trying to nap. He says knowledge is the ultimate gift. You say he is. He says you’re trying to distract him. You were.

When he works too hard and skips meals, you force-feed him ramen. He grumbles, but later admits you’re the only one who can make him willingly slow down.

You’re the only one allowed to mess with his hair. He pretends to complain but leans into your touch when you pull it back or wash it. Lives for your head scratches. Me too girl, me too.

He keeps small souvenirs of you in his lab coat—notes, dried flowers, a tiny bead you once gave him—and says it’s “just sentimental chemical bonding.”

Cuddles aren’t rare, but when he crashes from exhaustion, he clings like a koala and refuses to let go until morning.

He blushes like mad if you kiss him in public, but not because he’s shy—it’s because his brain short-circuits with affection.

If you get sick, he goes overboard researching herbal and chemical remedies, refuses to sleep until you’re better. Gets sick afterwards.

He gets quietly jealous when others impress you—then doubles down on his own projects to one-up them.

He lets you be the first to see every new invention, no matter how trivial. Your reaction matters more than the scientific community’s.

He absolutely remembers every important date (your birthday, anniversary, the first time you kissed). He’ll never make a big show of it, is the first lie he ever tells you.

If you’re sad, he gives you rocks that glow in the dark, handmade magnets, or funny contraptions to make you smile. Shiny rock theory anyone?

You once joked you wanted a robot. He built you one. It only says one phrase: “Senku says drink water.” Because he’s a petty asshole and you wouldn’t have passed out on the track field if you just listened to him! (Really trying to think of a Mecha Senku joke but I can’t. All I got is clang, bang, bang.)

He respects your boundaries like a contractual agreement. If you say “no,” he steps back 10 paces and documents your preferences for future reference.

You’re the only one allowed to tease him without being hit with a snarky comeback. He just smirks and says, “Tch. Fine. You win this one.”

Any inventions that might mildly convenience your life he will 100% make extra just for you. Like when he made a hair conditioner. (Shameless plug here, y’all should read my ‘Sun Kissed Science’ because it’s about him inventing sunscreen for you.)

If you cry, he freezes up, then offers you logical comfort “It’s a temporary emotional spike, we’ll regulate the cortisol levels.” Yes he does get better about this if it’s after petrification.

He teaches you math with rocks and sticks, and you somehow end up loving it because he makes it sound like magic. (That one Tumblr post that’s like “I told him to teach me about physics the same way he talks about poetry.” Or something idk I can’t remember.)

If anyone flirts with you, Senku swoops in with cold facts that thoroughly humiliate them. “You do know flirting with someone in a committed relationship is statistically foolish, right?”

When he’s working late, he lets you fall asleep in his lab, covering you with his jacket without waking you.

He grins like a devil when you match his sarcasm. He’s met his chaos equal and loves it.

He has a specific notebook labeled with your name. It contains sketches, formulas inspired by you, and a list of projects to make your life easier. It’s made of leather and crappy paper and love.

Gen called you “Senku’s moon” because he claims you’re the one constant that keeps his tides in check. He only said this to Senku but you’ll never know since he’s too embarrassed. He has absolutely threatened Genw ith manual labor if he spills.

You once called him “hot” during an argument, and he nearly walked into a tree. He denies it, but Kohaku saw.

When the two of you argue, it turns into a debate show. People bring snacks. You both win.

He secretly carved your initials into a spot behind the observatory, visible only when the sun sets just right.

He doesn’t believe in fate, but when you touch him, he swears his neurons fire in patterns he can’t explain—and that’s saying something.

@mylostleftfootsock im so sorry for the wait!

[writingroom21]

Pay Up

Pairings: Stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader x dealer!Barry

Summary: When smoking with Barry turns into trying a new drug the last thing you expected was how the night ended. Will you and Rafe ever be the same again?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), light slapping, use of drugs (weed and coke), let me know if I missed any!

Wc: 2.9K

“Man this shit’s good.” Rafe coughs out a bit of smoke as he hands the blunt over to you. You take a drag enjoying the way the weed burns your throat. “Got that shit the other day from my boy. I could hook you up.” Barry swipes the blunt from you, kissing your cheek as he leans back. A giggle climbs its way from your chest and you fall into a fit. “Sorry mama but you were hogging it.”

You weren’t supposed to be here. Ward made it clear that he didn’t want you around Barry or drugs for that matter. But no Rafe wanted to go against his dad and dragged you along with him. Originally this was supposed to be a day for the two of you to hangout. Step-sibling day as your mom and Ward like to call it. But Rafe made the detour to his dealer's house and here you are on the couch stoned.

“Stop flirting with her and pass the blunt.” The smoke swirls around the three of you. The lights from the lamps mixing in to create a gradient of colors.”Can’t help it at the country club. You’re step sister’s hot.” Barry pulls out a bag full of weed and a tray so he can roll. The three of you pass the blunt, sparking up the new one when the first dies. Your body feels like it’s floating as you relax into the couch. Rafe’s fingertips rest on your shoulder dragging along the skin as his arm rests behind you. Tingles shout down your arms as his nails graze the skin before the flesh on his skin soothes it.

“You know I got something else the other day too.” Focusing on Barry is hard. You feel so comfortable that you could just fall asleep right now. A small white baggie is placed on the table in front of the two of you. Rafe sits up taller, his eyes trained on the bag. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You try to grab it but Barry beats you to it. T​​he mischief smile he has on is kind of scary. It’s a mix of pleasure and the need to destroy something. What exactly he has in mind you don’t know. All you know is that Rafe really shouldn’t be around this anymore. “Come on, let's just go home.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand gets tight as you try to pull him up with you. Tugging again is pointless as he drags you down next to him. “Just one, promise.”​​ The voice in the back of your head is telling you no. But there’s a pleading look in his eyes. Like he really needs this and you don’t know how to say no. The pad of his thumbs rubs the back of your hand drawing you in. “Just one and then we leave.” Relief washes over him. Removing his hand from yours he kneels in front of the table and cuts a line. Him and Barry clear their lines, leaning back as the drug starts to sink in. You watch the two of them, stroking Rafe’s hair as he rests against your legs with his head hung back. 

“Want a bump?” 

Barry’s dark eyes watch you waiting for your answer. He already knows what it will be but he’s holding out hoping. Out of the years of servicing you and Rafe, you have never bought anything besides weed. Rafe has practically tried every drug he could get his hands on. But you never caved in or maybe that’s because you were never around when he did. Rafe might complain about you and hate that your parents try to force you into a sibling bound but he protects you. Like that one time the two of them beat up that guy so he would stop flirting with you. Or how this is the first time he’s ever done a hard drug around you. To Rafe you had to be sheltered. Well that’s what he says, Barry has his own theories he wants to test out.

“I’m okay.” You look off to the side trying to find some more weed only to find nothing. Good thing Barry hid it before grabbing the coke. “Come on. What are you scared of?” Rafe picks his head up, finally starting to pay attention. Instinctively he reaches for the discarded card on the table and cuts himself another line. “Leave her alone, it's not her thing.” Leaning his head down, he inhales the powder before you can protest. You knew this was going to happen. He’s been doing so good with staying clean but one wasn’t going to be enough. It never was.

“Nah I think she wants to but is scared of you.” Barry says it like it's obvious before snorting his own line. The two of them argue as you sit there debating on what to do. Your thighs split more as Rafe’s body sank in between them. The back of his head rests on your chest with his arms on your thighs. The way Barry watches the two of you makes you nervous. His eyes keep scanning every inch of your body. What is he doing? “Well how about it bunny? Hmm, do you want some?” Dilated eyes stare into yours as Rafe sizes you up. There’s no way that you would say yes.

“Yeah.” 

The two men blank for a second before Barry is by your side opening your mouth. One of his fingers comes into view and you can see some powder on it. “We’ll take it easy. Just gonna put some on your gums.” Barry goes back to his original position. A clear view of what he wanted, the two of you. Slowly you start to feel the effects of the coke. Shit is this why Rafe did it so much? This shits great. “Knew you’d like it.” You ignore Barry and reach for the card attempting to cut yourself a line. You’ve seen Rafe do it at parties so you think you can do it. His hand stops you, the Cameron ring glistening from the lamp's light.

You sit back as he gathers a bit of the edge of his hand and twists himself to ba face to face. Coming closer he grabs the back of your head, bringing your nose to the little bump he made for you. He explains how to take the bump and you follow his instructions, closing your eyes at the feeling and humming. “Good girl. How are you feeling?” His hands are rubbing your thighs only enhancing the pleasure you are feeling. Bobbing your head you smile. “Great.” Turning around he looks at Barry sending him a wink. “Think we corrupted her.”

The two men leave you be for a while. Every once and a while Rafe would give you a little bump and take one right after you.

It felt good. There was a sense of weightlessness that you floated in. Everything around you kind of just faded and all your senses were heightened. “It’s getting late, we should head out.” Rafe pats your knee as you groan in protest. “First gotta pay your bill, country club. You know the deal.” Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He sits up blocking your view from Barry so you have to scoot back on the couch to look at him. “Don't look coy. Think I was just giving this shit out for free.” This was definitely not how today was supposed to go.

Ward has maxed Rafe’s withdrawal budget once he got clean. So the only thing the two of you could afford is the weed. Maybe you could go to the bank but your mom would definitely question you. From where you are sitting you can feel how tense Rafe is. His striped shirt is stretched across his back as he leans close to the man across from him. “I never said I was buying. You took the shit out.” The slight edge to his tone makes you more aware of his guard being put up.

“Never said I was offering.”

Barry wears a shit eating grin and Rafe just stares at him. The gears must be turning in his head and he realizes the two of you are fucked. If he calls Ward for more money it’s just giving himself away. Plus it would get him in more trouble since you’re involved now. “Your payment doesn’t have to be money.” Chocolate pools that Barry calls eyes bare into your soul. He’s watching you like he can’t wait to devour you. Standing up, Rafe blocks you from his view, sticking a hand behind his back so you can grab it. “You’re not touching her.” Deadly silence fills the air while they stare at each other.

“Wasn’t talking about me.” 

Crickets could be heard from the slightly open window behind Barry. Rafe is facing him so all you can see is his back. The muscles in his back tense and relax. “You’re sick.” Neither of you move. Rafe and Barry stare at each as you don’t know what to do. “And you’re not moving.” Barry leans forward. “I think you actually want to stay. You’d finally get what you’ve been wanting.” There’s something you’re missing. 

Barry knows something that you don’t and you don’t like it. You and Rafe have always been close. Too close that people forget that you are technically siblings through marriage. Interestly instead of making a scene, Rafe drops to his knees and snorts some more powder. Gathering some of his finger he turns to you, creeping in between your thighs. “You trust me?” Vague memories come flooding back. Rafe standing exactly where he is right now, staring up at you with the same pleading eyes. Only that time the alcohol infused haze came crashing before a mistake could be made.

“Yes.”

With the confirmation he pries your mouth open spreading the coke along your gums and tongue. His chest heaves with each breath itching to finally get a taste of you. The pad of his thumb drags your bottom lip before letting it go, his eyes tracing the movement. In a blink of an eye his lips descend on yours. His tongue licks into your mouth fighting to get the last remnants of any powder. The hand that cradles your face moves to rest at the bottom of your neck. Giving it a tight squeeze as he gets carried away.

It's only when your hands shoot up to hit his shoulders that he lets you breathe. You gulp down the air while watching him with wide eyes. The expression on his face must mirror your own. This shouldn’t be happening. Deal with Ward knowing the two of you did coke would be better than what is about to come. Steeling your nerves, you dive back into him, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. Ward is going to kill the both of you when he finds out. Might as well enjoy it before you go to hell.

A hum fills the room like the energy has shifted. The only sounds are the ones of kissing, clothes ruffling against each other, and whatever can be heard from outside. It’s just you and Rafe. Expect it’s not. Your mind finally kicks in and reminds you that Barry is there. Pushing Rafe off of you, your eyes find Barry’s. The usual brown eyes look more black, it must be the light. One thing you do notice is he doesn’t look disgusted. “Don’t stop on my account princess. Go on, let your big brother show you how to feel good.”

He’s only eight months older. That’s practically nothing but the way Barry says it sends tingles down your spine. Your clit throbs just thinking about Rafe fucking you or even just eating you out. At this point you’d take anything. “Come on, bunny don’t make me wait any longer.” The blunt edges of his nails scrape your thigh making you moan. “Rafey.” The winey way you say his name broke him. He’s dragging you to him on the couch by your ankles. Your shorts find a new home somewhere in the room. Rafe’s lips kiss their way up to your hip bone leaving open mouth kisses everywhere. 

Your head is thrown back from how good it feels. Blindly reaching back, Rafe grabs the baggie full of coke and pours some right above your panties. The line is jagged but it doesn’t matter. He snorts the line then sinks his teeth on your left hip. He finds the hem of your panties, dragging them off of you. You find it hard to breathe as he stares at you when his fingers find out how wet you are. Electricity zaps through your body as he drags his middle finger up and down your slit. Pulling away from you, he tastes his finger moaning at the taste of you. “Gotta be the fucking sweetest thing ever.”

A scream barrels out of you at the feeling of his tongue and mouth eating you out. Both of his hands are holding your thighs down. One of your hands finds his hair, tugging at the strands as your eyes fall shut. He slightly pulls back, a glob of spit meeting your clit before he smacks your pussy. A pained moan comes out of you. Your clit stings but the pain is smoothed when his tongue goes back to lick you. Well more like Rafe is making out with your pussy while you try not to blackout from the pleasure. Wet noises fill your ears before they start ringing. Seconds turn into minutes and you can’t remember anything anymore. All you can focus on is the way Rafe’s lips wrap around your clit as his fingers toy with your entrance. 

He dips in for a second, then takes them away to replace with his tongue. The tension in your stomach keeps growing. Suddenly a gush of liquid comes shooting out coating Rafe’s mouth and chin. He groans as he keeps eating you out, bringing you’re on the brink of another orgasm. The same feeling builds, exploding even worse making a mess. Rafe kneels in front of you trying to process what just happened. 

His eyes are trained on the way your chest heaves from trying to calm yourself. Your thighs twitch when he places his hands there to rub small circles into your skin. Everything feels like jello as you sink into the back of the couch. Rafe's head rests on your knee. Placing light kisses and watching you. “Keep going.” The two of you pause remembering you weren’t alone. When you look over at Barry you see him already staring at you. As your eyes trail down his body you see that he has his cock out stroking it.

Beads of precum gather at the head of his cock before slowly dripping down. There’s ruffling but all you look at is Barry. He’s wearing a little smile showing off his gold tooth. Rafe blocks your view from Barry. He steals your attention in a kiss, teasing you with his tip. You moan into his mouth as he pushes in. It’s a stretch, filling you better than anyone else. Shit he’s fucking big. “Fuck bunny. Fucking suffocating me.” A hum of satisfaction comes from the guy sitting in the chair. Rafe’s thrust increases in pace making your moans grow in volume. 

Each thrust is constant stimulation to your g-spot. “Rafey.” His nails dig into your hip, dragging you closer to the edge. Shifting his feet, Rafe finds himself kneeling on the couch. Your ass is resting on his thighs while your shoulders support your weight. Rafe pinches your left nipple, slapping your breast right after. “Perfect little bunny.” He brings one of your legs to his shoulder. “What are you going to tell your mommy when you get home? Gonna let her know your big brother fucks you like a slut.” Barry’s words shoot right to your clit.

By the way Rafe’s cock twitches it seems like you aren’t the only one affected by it. Rafe turns his head, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf. A painful moan courses through you as his teeth keep sinking in. You’re both going to hell. This is so wrong but it feels great. He finally lets go and starts to rub your clit. Your walls start fluttering around him and you are getting tighter. “Gonna cum for me bunny?” Your eyes open. You didn’t realize you had closed them but they opened again. His blue eyes stare back – flickering from your eye, to your lips, and then to where the two of you meet. 

The band in your stomach snaps and you cum for the third time tonight. With steady thrusts Rafe rides you through your high. Suddenly he pulls out, finishing himself off with his hand. His moans fill the room as he paints your pussy and thighs with his cum. “Shit.” Both of you turn to look at Barry and catch as he cums. He’s covered in his own cum watching the two of you. Carefully Rafe lowers your leg back down. He uses your panties to clean you up. 

Barry gets up from his seat and goes to walk to his room. “Clean yourselves up and get out. Your debts paid.” He leaves the two of you in the living by yourselves. You pull up your shorts as Rafe does the same. Neither of you can look at the other. You both clean up whatever mess is left and leave out the front door. It’s quiet between the two of you. No words are spoken but you both come to the same conclusion.

This can never happen again…right? Taglist : @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore @10ava01 @selfcontollover07 @akobx @starkeysbebe @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafesbabygirlx @lolasangelz @emmaaas-posts @anacamofficial

let me know if you'll like to be added!

[cusimmrbrightside]

I have always liked the idea of the school for mutants being very literally a school, and I know yes it is but I mean in the sense of if you want to be an X-men, you have to be a teacher. They have exams at the end of years, they have Ofsted checks (for those who don’t know what they are, it’s essentially people coming to check that the school is good at being a school) and they have teachers for every subject, which brings me to my next point;

“I’m Right You’re Wrong, Here’s What The X-Men (‘97 specifically) Would Teach As Subjects”.

(Also this is based off of UK school system but I use American terms like “seniors” and “AP” and “Midterms”)

Maths Teacher Gambit is surprising, for a guy most assume to not being entirely smart, an idiot goof off who’s the comedic relief. But you need to know numbers to gamble, and that he does with being very well versed in mathematics way past an AP level. He’s made the promise for every senior class that he will teach them to play blackjack on the final day, and has only ever lost once. Which is when the rule of “no betting real money” came into place.

English teacher Jean reminds me of the kind of teacher who would let the social outcasts into her class for their lunch breaks. The kids more likely to be bullied and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure those kids bullies don’t come into that classroom. they’re loud and shout and shouldn’t really be in there but no one has to know and she certainly won’t be telling them to leave any time soon.

Physics teacher Magneto is very specific to my highschool experience I’ll be honest. I had a physics teacher who was an actual Dr with a PHD and he hated being there. His classroom has (well, had since the building was knocked down about 5 years ago now) this one cabinet that was never fully shut, it was always open just about an inch or two, and he’d stand with his foot hovering just above it and then slam down on it whenever we got too loud so the noise would shut us up. That’s very magneto coded. Erik Lehnsherr would purposefully make the cabinet always a little open so he can do that.

Biology teacher morph is just a funny concept, a person whose physical form and change and morph into just about anything. They are considered one of the “fun” teachers, you could easily convince them to let you watch a movie all class as long as it was biology centred, but with classics like Osmosis Jones, you’re not stuck watching a documentary about animals giving birth.

Chemistry teacher Storm does not fuck about with children’s education. She is not strict by any means whatsoever, she just will not bend to someone saying they want to watch a film or should do a practical instead of theory. She has a set curriculum. She knows what she will be doing by the first week of the summer holidays and already has the room set up all pretty and organised.

Geography teacher Scott has the unfortunate job of telling his students that, they just won’t be looking at memorising country flags and politics. But hey!! Rocks are cool!! Beach shores are cool! Lake formations are cool! He’s the vice principal and designated nerd teacher. He once beat the elite four for a student on their copy of Pokémon Red because the student promised they’d do well in their midterms. Yes, he was in his 30s when the game came out, he doesn’t care.

History teacher Logan is a walking fun facts book. He’s exhausted, goes on smoke breaks on every gap of time he has, dislikes his job and will randomly get passionate about one specific topic, and will then dedicate his next 4 classes to that topic. Having been through a lot of modern history with personal experiences, he’s able to bring a lot of souvenirs to show his classes. Bullets, helmets, clothes he once wore hundreds of years ago, his personal memories of basic inventions like the vaccine.

PE (physical education) teacher Rogue is full of fun sports games, you can join any kind of sports team you can imagine and if you ask nicely enough, she’ll put Just Dance on a projector in the sports hall so you can just play that instead of actually play an actual sport. As long as you leave her class exhausted and without time to have a shower before your next class then she’s succeeded in making whoever your next teacher is absolutely miserable (bonus points if it’s Logan with his enhanced sense of smell).

Art teacher jubilee does believe that there is a right way to critique art. And she can be a little in your face about it. She does think you can have wrong opinions especially when it comes to your own art. If she overhears you saying you didn’t something wrong, she’ll scream into a megaphone “adapt, improvise, overcome!”. There are no mistakes! She’s eccentric, bubbly, creative and brilliant, the only one suited for the job.

It wouldn’t be a school without budget cuts. That’s why Nightcrawler is both the languages and religions teacher and he’s beloved at both. He comes up with roleplay scenarios the students can play to help learn their chosen languages, he has varied religious texts in his room and when he says to the students “I’ll pray for toy during exam season” he’s not actually joking.

(I forgot about Hank I’m actually going to cry he’s one of my favourites and I forgot about him. He’ll be in pt two or smth.)

[annie-creates]

Projections

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 2900

Note: Hopefully this is the good old kind of angst I'm good at, I almost cried myself writing this. Please be aware not every detail might be completely true to the canon source material.

Bodhi Durran swiped you off your feet, you didn’t even notice how. You had been friends for almost as long as you studied at Basgiath. He naturally gravitated towards you after threshing and since then you were an unbreakable duo. It was like knowing him your whole life, the way he always knew what to say to make you laugh or how to get on your nerves regarding the simplest things. But to Bodhi you weren’t just a friend, you were everything.

His advances started sometime during the Christmas of your first year at the college. By the New Year he wasn’t hiding his attachment from anyone. You didn’t even notice at first, it was normal for best friends to spend almost all their free time together, right? But his gaze lingered longer during the late-night study sessions, boring into you like he could reach your very core. His strong fingers rested on your waist in passing a minute too long, his touch clearly possessive to anyone else.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about Bodhi in that way, but you were too scared to lose what you had if it were to not work out. Being friends was safe, familiar. Friendship you couldn’t fuck up. Relationship? Those were too damn complicated. But Bodhi saw. The way you chewed on your bottom lip when he fought without his shirt in challenges, the way you tried to avoid looking at his towel when coming fresh out of the shower.

“You’re the most ethereal person I have ever seen.” He whispered to you on the sundown of Reunification day, hidden in the tall towers of Basgiath, afraid to break the quiet spell between you.

“You’re too kind.” You rolled your eyes playfully, not leaving the grasp of his hands on your face.

“I’m only truthful.” He promised before finally kissing you.

The ground spun under you, gravity no longer tying you to earth. You hugged his waist, kissing him back with all the emotion you were too afraid to act on. Lucky for you Bodhi was courageous enough for the both of you. Before the next school year came, you two were an established thing everybody knew of. The two of you weren’t exactly capable of hiding your relationship, and you didn’t really want to either. Let the whole world know the loving Bodhi Durran was your man.

With the second year around the corner, you were faced with new challenges and classes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t equally excited. Xaden had graduated and you and Bodhi would have more time to spend together, away from his suspicious eyes. Honestly, Xaden Riorson scared you a little. You were happy to not live under his surveillance anymore. But the free time only existed in your theory.

Not only did you have new rounds of challenges, where you had to fight for your life, and the RSC training now. It seemed that any time you were able to take for yourself, Bodhi wasn’t there. You could count on one hand how many conversations you had with him in a week. For the first few times, you could understand. He surely had some leadership stuff to attend to. But weeks turned into months.

Any time he actually was there, and you dared to question what he had been doing, he only got defensive. You didn’t want to ruin your evenings, the little time you actually got with him, but the sudden change in the man who would have given anything to be glued to your side only mere weeks ago was evident and upsetting.

“What is it Bodhi? Where are you disappearing to all the time?” You practically begged him for answers.

“I’m just busy Y/n.” He retorts tiredly.

“Busy with what?” You pressed.

“None of your business!” Bodhi screamed, flooring you.

“Is there somebody else?” You whisper, almost too afraid to even ask.

“What, you think I’m a cheater? A traitor? Why do you keep questioning me!” And just like that you ruined the night once again for the both of you.

“I’m sorry…” Not even knowing what you’re really apologizing for you leave him alone.

You spent the night in your own bed, tossing and turning till dawn. You did not see Bodhi for the next three days. You tried to spend time with your other friends and your squad, but in the quiet empty evenings your mind still wondered to your boyfriend. And then he missed your birthday. You cried yourself to sleep that night, mentally drained and tired. You thought he’d remember the next time you met, but he didn’t. He talked to you like nothing was going on, and you just went with it, missing your usual enthusiasm, which he didn’t even notice.

“I feel like ho doesn’t listen to me anymore. Like he doesn’t even care.” You confess in Dain, your oldest friend in this place.

 “Did you talk to him about it?” He offers, ever so helpful.

“I tried, but any time I say anything, he just gets angry and it leads nowhere.” You sigh.

After the first-year’s threshing, you noticed another girl, Sloane, who picked Bodhi’s friends’ interest. Violet told you she’s Liam’s sister, and considering how close Liam was to their squad, you could understand. But you didn’t miss that the time Bodhi did spend around was all now devoted to her. Training her, teaching her, all the things he would have done with you were now given to her and it’s like no one even noticed.

On yet another lonely night you decided to use for training in the gym, you bump into Xaden in the rotunda, he must have been on his regular visit to Violet. You’d know his commanding voice anywhere. The hushed conversation that flows makes you still, the unmistakable voice of your boyfriend accompanying him. So he had time to sneak around with his friends, yet couldn’t spare a minute for you? You can’t stop the pang of hurt and jealousy in your heart.

“Maybe you’d like to know we’re not alone anymore.” Xaden’s cutting words flow before you’re pushed forward by his cold shadows.

“Y/n.” Garrick, the last person in their group, states matter-of-factly.

“Are you sneaking up on us?” Bodhi questions you, arms folding over his chest.

“What? Why would I be sneaking up on you..? Are you meeting up like this more often?” Your brows furrow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Xaden suspects you with a meaningful look to the other men.

“So that you can tell on us to your dear friend Dain?” Bodhi adds.

“Why would I do that?” You fold your arms over your chest, your own anger rising.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how cozy you are with Aetos now.” A flash of jealousy flares through Bodhi’s eyes.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You furiously shake your head. “Not when you’ve said more words to me tonight than you have in the past month!”

“I told you I’m busy.” He spits.

“With what!?” You finally let out your built-up irritation with him. “Or should I be asking with who? Don’t think I didn’t notice how you’re fussing over Sloane now!”

“I told you I’m no cheater!” Bodhi’s voice rises even more with frustration.

“Then who are you! Because I don’t even know you anymore!” You let the painful truth out.

“You don’t know me?” He laughs coldly. “Maybe because unlike you, I’m not a traitor who’s just been with someone to get information out of them.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your voice shakes as the first tears drop down your face.

“You’ve been with me just to use me. So you and your precious leadership can know what the dirty marked kids are up to, haven’t you.” He states much too calmly for the weight of his accusation. “The constant questioning, how persistent you were. It all makes sense now.”

“I was asking because I’m your girlfriend! Of course I’m worried where you are!” It’s getting hard to see through the tears, so you furiously wipe them off your face.

“Well you won’t have to worry now.” He grounds you.

“I can’t believe you.” You shake your head. “You have talked to me less than ten times in the last month, and now you accuse me of… I don’t even know what exactly. Yet I’m not the one who hasn’t been around, I’m not the one who’s constantly too busy for you… I’m not the one who even missed your birthday.”

You whisper the last sentence and run away, unable to listen to him breaking up with you. What did you do to deserve this outburst? You couldn’t find a moment where you pressed him too much, or when you weren’t being supportive, even over a little apprehension. And this is what you get back? A boyfriend who accuses you of using him in the first real conversation you have with him in weeks? You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole college had heard your screaming match, but you couldn’t find the will to care.

The next few weeks fly by in a blur, challenges, flight lessons and RSC now successfully kicking your ass. You didn’t have time to mourn your relationship, you were so exhausted from training that you passed out the moment you hit your mattress every night. Before you can fully heal from the last round of torture training, you wake up on the hard cold ground of the forest in October, so far from the college you don’t even recognize the place.

Your squad is accompanied by one from second wing and two sets of infantry cadets, everyone confused by the location, time of day, or the drugs they had to give you to drag you here. Your squad leader is not here, but you always worked nicely as a group, so you’re not too worried. The clouds above you do seem unsound tho, you better get back into the safety of Basgiath’s walls before they fulfill their promise of a heavy storm.

“Welcome to land navigation exercise.” Professor Grady greets you. “We expect you to use your best skills to return to the college, and remember, no use of dragons is allowed.”

With that you’re left alone again to figure out your way back yourself. Which didn’t go quite that well. You were lost in five hours, camped out by the river overnight, got soaked on the next day by heavy rain and had to go back ten kilometers just to return on the right track. The towers of Basgiath appeared on the horizon by the end of day three, all of you exhaling in relief. You were about ready to devour any food you’d be able to find, wash the disgusting dirt off and pass out in the comfort of your bed.

You’ll never complain about the comfort of your room again, anything was better than the stone floors of caves and wet grounds of the forest. The courtyard of Basgiath is strangely quiet, but it may be because curfew is already in effect. But nobody could be too mad at you for wandering around when you just showed up after technically being lost for three days, right? Yet the eerie silence doesn’t sit right with you.

A dragon lands on the stone wall, more of them following right after, yours included. You all look around in confusion, and then all hell breaks loose. Understanding fills the eyes of your companions as your loyal dragons rely on all the information of the past few days. Xaden Riorson breaking into the college, Violet Sorrengail’s torture, the cadre of Navarre’s betrayal and the departure of everyone who wanted to fight the right war to Tyrrendor. Your head swims, filled with all the new information and you’re suddenly more than awake in your mind, even though your body is slow to follow.

Your group breaks into a short discussion, opinions coming from all sides. Some thought Riorson was a filthy traitor, some believed you should follow him into the unknown because he couldn’t have deceived the dragons. After an hour of pointless arguments, you decided to split. Most of the infantry decided to stay, but your full squad wanted to desert to Aretia. You weren’t Xaden’s biggest fan, but you trusted your dragon and they wanted to go. Plus you were honestly scared what the leadership would do to you for knowing such things they tried for centuries to hide.

The sun was already setting when you finally returned to the college, but by the time you mount your dragons the light is long gone. It must be close to midnight, as you fly over Navarre, too tired to hold yourself on your dragon properly. Land navigation did nothing to help your bruises from torture training heal, and now flying on the verge of your strength didn’t make it better.

You can sleep, loyal one. I will take care of you. Your dragon promises lovingly.

I don’t want you to bother. You yawn even in your mind.

It’s no bother, I’m very proud of you. They assure you as you feel them striping you to their back with strong magic, making sure you won’t fall off.

Even though the flight takes hours, the sleep on your dragon’s back doesn’t really provide you with a lot of rest. You arrive in Aretia about an hour after the sun is already up, a few familiar dragons accompanying you to the grounds of Riorson house led by Sgayel. The moment your feet touch the ground, your body is ready to give up, but you force yourself upright. At the door you’re greeted by a Tyrrendor’s official.

“I’m lieutenant Aisereigh, welcome to Aretia.” A man not too older than you smiles down on your battered group. “You must be coming from Basgiath. Welcome to the revolution.”

He gets you settled in student dorms, briefing you in on the schedule and rules of the place. He also reiterates the whole tale of Navarre hiding the existence of venin and how the majority of Basgiath War College relocated here. You finally get a shower, breakfast and a real sleep. After a week you finally feel like a person again, not completely drained and disgusting.

The next day you join the provisional classes, meeting up with your squad discussing all the changes and heading to lunch. In the hall though you’re met with the sight of Xaden and his full squad of followers, Garrick, Imogen and least of all Bodhi. For a moment you hope they didn’t notice you, but his eyes meet with yours and their conversation dies down constantly. Before you realize he’s hugging you, whispering pleads and praises to gods into your ear.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He breaths, crushing your bones in his iron grip.

“What the hell are you talking about.” You gather all your will power to push him away.

“What..?” He reluctantly steps away, disoriented by your cold treatment.

“Where the hell did you get the audacity to talk to me like that!” You let your anger fill you. “I spent three days fighting through the forest and when I finally come home, the whole college is gone!”

“We needed to save Violet, and then we…” But you’re having none of his excuses.

“You left me! You left me there!” You blame him.

“We had to get the students to Aretia.” Bodhi opposes.

“You didn’t think of me for a minute, did you.” Your accusations aren’t exactly false. “You didn’t even remember to give a damn about me.”

“Of course I cared about you.” He argues. “I wanted to look for you if you didn’t come here…”

“Yea? Don’t even get me started on that!” You push your finger into his chest. “How long has this been going on? Why did you never tell me!?”

“We had to keep it all a secret…” Bodhi defends.

“Were you planning another revolution this whole time?” His guilty look tells you enough. “You question my loyalty, you accuse me of spying, of not loving you… and in the meantime it was you! You were just using me!”

“No, Y/n please, I love you, you have to believe me.” He pleads, eyes filled with sorrow now.

“I see now that your accusations of treason were just projections of your own doing.” You force your tone back to uninterested calmness. “Gods, I love you, but I hate you so fucking much.”

“Honey don’t say that…” He tries to catch your sight again, his hand desperately grasping yours. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll get over it.” You step away from him, your eyes watering with tears. “Maybe Sloane can help you with that, since everything seems to be so much more important to you.”

You run away to join your squad, willing your tears to dry up. He wasn’t worth the hurt, you wouldn’t miss someone who constantly put you on the bottom of his priorities now. If he doesn’t care enough about you anymore, neither will you. You’ll ignore the breaking of your heart until only dust is left of it. You weren’t going to remind him to care about you, if this is the path he has chosen, you’ll let him walk on it. Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough.

[kumkaniudaku]

Goodbye

Summary: Three weeks changes everything.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions of Death

A/N: Thank you for your patience. I needed a break for my brain, a break from work to combat burnout, and to take my own advice.

Three weeks were simultaneously a drop in the bucket of life and a stage set for entire metamorphoses to occur. Caterpillars blossomed from crawling things to beings with beautiful wings poised to fly uninhibited. Babies learned new skills, sharpening their toolbelt for life and moving from novice to intermediate. Lives entered and left this plane of existence at lightspeed. Young minds grew a little wiser. In the worst circumstance, lovers slowly slipped away from each other like dandelion spores lost to the wind, never to be caught again.

Three weeks ago, Patrice and Terry learned the beauty of intimacy and all the racing, life-consuming feelings that come with first sexual experiences. Souls merged into one, making the miles of distance between them feel constricting and unbearable. For days on end, they spent their free moments planning a grand reunion and fantasizing about the next time they could put their barely existent experience to work. Patrice sent photos and messages that were better suited as love notes written on college-ruled paper and passed between classes, just like young lovers do. Terry accepted each one with the gratitude of a man being gifted food and water on a deserted island and heaped praise onto his only love, hoping she felt the depth of his affection from a state way. The concept of forever sounded like a safe bet. The future was boundless and exciting.

Two weeks ago, a daily phone call was accidentally missed. An apology came in short order. Then they missed another. Then, one more as Patrice exercised her freedom to enjoy the fruits of college life as a freshman earning her place in the world. Terry tried his best to understand, though he couldn’t shake the disappointment when conversations were cut short, and laughter shared on the other end of the receiver interrupted the only quality time he got to spend with the one person keeping him mentally afloat. Why couldn’t he keep her attention? Private Jackson, a squirely looking kid with glasses thick as vintage Coke bottles, posited theories of more interesting boys and nights filled with secrets she wouldn’t share between jokes during evening dinners. Terry knew it was nonsense, but he couldn’t help when his mind wandered during his silent moments and watered seeds of doubt.

One week ago, Patrice could hear the distance in Terry’s voice as the slow, suffocating creep of unavoidable change turned spirited chatter into long bouts of silence. She half expected it. A week before she was due to take a bus and a train to see him was a terrible time to announce she intended to stay back for homecoming instead. Organization was no longer her strong suit. Fun was too important, and apologies for her lack of care weren’t enough for a young man hearing opinions and unsolicited advice in droves from peers growing increasingly interested in his personal life. 

“I can come next week, TJ! I promise.”

“Whatever, Patrice. Have fun. I gotta go.” 

The hurt in his voice, masked by the bite of fresh anger, stuck with Patrice into the next week, settling beside her in every long morning lecture and trip to the dining hall as her uninvited guest. Texts went half-answered. Good mornings slowly morphed into a short ‘hey’ sent by mid-afternoon. Nightly phone calls ended before either of them felt sleepy enough to hang up. They were different. Victoria called it a slump. Napheesa said they were just missing each other. Patrice kept her heartache behind a closed-mouth smile and nodded along, all the while knowing these were unprecedented times. 

By the weekend, when partying was meant to hit its peak and the greatest homecoming on earth could unleash all its glory, Patrice sat crossed-legged on her bed, listening to Terry breathe on the other end as her two friends rummaged through her closet for something to wear to their first stop of the night. 

“Um…” Patrice hesitated, looking for something to say. “How’s training? Is it still borin’, or are y’all actually doing something now?” 

Questions about all he’d learned seemed to do the trick for an otherwise despondent Terry. Patrice listened to him adjust in bed before he could answer. “Oh shit, baby, we’re free-sparring right now. I got my shit rocked the other day, but other than that, I could see myself doin’ the instructor thing. I think I’m kinda good at it.” 

“Oh yeah,” Patrice smiled. “I bet you are. You’re good at a lot. I’m proud of you.” Pausing, Patrice scanned the room to ensure Napheesa and Victoria were occupied otherwise before continuing. “I love you, Terry. I’m really sorry about this weekend. I know you had something planned, and I ruined it.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it,” Terry grumbled, his mood instantly souring at the mention of what could’ve been as he eyed the small ring box on his dresser.

Terry wouldn’t allow himself to feel that deep, aching part of him that wanted to lash out over what he’d perceived as an intentional slight. The more he stewed in his anger and listened to worst-case scenarios spewed by young men too inexperienced to share rational thought, the more he teetered on verbally unleashing anger meant to stay locked inside his mental dungeon.

Never one to be deterred, Patrice persisted. “We should, though. You’re obviously mad with me. At least–” 

“Patrice, just let it be,” Terry admonished, his voice rising to a level just below a forceful exclamation. “I said it’s fine! Just stop. Shit!” 

“Okay! Damn! I’m sorry. What’s wrong with you right now?”

The gnawing sense of turbulence bubbling beneath a barely even surface was back and fraying the threads of connection they'd built over four years. Napheesa tried to avert her gaze when she heard the commotion but couldn't help but shoot Patrice a look to question if her friend was okay. Patrice's nonchalant nod convinced Phee to let it go for the moment. Still, she kept an ear turned in Patrice’s direction. Just in case.

A deep breath and a wave of embarrassment attempted to ease Terry into regulating his rising irritation. 

"Nothing," he barked back in a lie before softening his tone. "I just…wanna talk about something else. Please? Tell me about homecoming. What's goin' on with that? Since it held you back and all." 

Patrice tried to ignore his intentional jab, choosing to take the high road until they were face-to-face for a real discussion. She sighed before answering. "It's been cool so far, I guess. There was this huge block party last night, and it was really fun. I've never seen that many people in my life," she chuckled. "We haven't done much yet, though, with classes and stuff. Hopefully, tonight will be better. Phee found this off-campus party for us. I think the Kappas are throwing it or something."

"Damn, you canceled on me just to have a bad time? That's crazy." Another jab. Terry's bitter laughter made Patrice roll her eyes while her tongue itched to respond, begging to unleash a flurry of daggers so sharp they’d leave potentially irreparable harm. Guilt immediately washed over him, but pride took her silence as a win for his bruised ego.

"Don't do that, Terry," Patrice softly requested. A deep sigh helped her focus. "Did you hear anything about Lejune yet? Is it a go?" 

Since his arrival in Quantico, the looming question of where Terry would put down roots sat heavily on their collective shoulders. Entire futures rested on the possibility of West Coast living in a foreign land filled with sunshine illuminating every corner or returning to the relative safety of the only state either of them had called home. A three-hour trip to the North Carolina coast was a task, but lightyears better than infrequent physical contact and navigating airports when time allowed for in-person connections. 

Unfortunately, their future still hung in the balance. It didn't stop Terry from dreaming, though. As long as he could close his eyes and imagine a timeline where two boys and a girl existed in a modest multi-story house with Patrice as the woman proudly sporting his last name, he was willing to sell that dream until it became a reality. 

"Not yet. But, I'm pretty sure it'll be there," Terry answered with the confidence of a tenured fortune teller. 

Patrice felt worries creep into her bones and sputter out apprehension before she could lock the words behind glossed lips. "Okay, but then what? And what if it's San Diego?" 

"We'd still get married, Treece. If it's Lejune, we'd have to figure something out. If it's in California, we'd still figure something out. Why are you acting so confused?" 

"I'm not acting confused. I'm trying to be realistic. We can't get married in a month, Terry! I just started school, and you know how much I wanna finish in four years." 

Again, Napheesa's ear caught wind of rising tensions with Victoria on her heels. They paused their exploration of Patrice's wardrobe to turn and face their friend, sharing equal looks of concern. 

"Put it on speaker," Vic mouthed to Patrice as she stepped closer. A quick tap on her cellphone's screen placed Terry's loud voice at the center of attention in the small cinderblock room, bouncing their conflict off the walls like an amphitheater amplifying classic Shakespeare. 

The girls leaned in closer to make sense of Terry's anger as he ranted without interruption. "What's so scary about getting married? One minute, you say you want to do this forever; the next minute, it's too soon. Do you want to be with me or not?" 

"You know I want to!" Patrice exclaimed. "But not now! I just got to school! This is my first time away from home. Why are you already trying to stop my life?" 

"I'm not tryin' to stop your life, Treece. I'm tryin' to start one with you! Why did we do all that talking about the future if you were gonna take it back as soon as we started getting close?" The carefully controlled embers of a rage fostered by Uncle Sam and his band of angry misfit boys became slowly doused in gasoline, spreading like wildfire in Terry's chest. 

Patrice threw her hands into the air in a desperate attempt to fling all of her confusion and anger into the ether. "You made those plans, Terry! You said we should get married! You said we should have a dog, three kids, and a yearly vacation to someplace I've never even heard of. You talked so much that you never even asked what I wanted, and maybe I should've stopped you if I would've known you were so hellbent on making the future happen tomorrow!" 

Three weeks ago, in the front seat of his dingy truck with the music low and spirits high, they'd planned every waking second of their lives. He talked non-stop as trees whizzed past on an empty highway, allowing himself to fall so deep into whimsical passion and the belief in what could be that he'd missed the signs. Patrice never agreed to a date for holy matrimony. She only partially agreed to children and turned her nose up to the thought of a week-long vacation in some mountain town devoid of all the pleasures of resort amenities and clear blue waters. But, in the dizzying whirlwind of hurt feelings overloading brainwaves not yet prepared to deal with such emotional turmoil, flashes of Patrice's lips tucked tight and a smile plastered on to play the role of good girlfriend clicked through his mind like a horror film he couldn't shake.

"First off, stop cussin' at me," Patrice reprimanded, her face screwed in righteous indignation. Victoria slowly reached out a hand to stop Patrice from bounding off the twin bed sitting high off the ground but found her fingertips swatted away in her friend's blind pursuit. Napheesa mouthed a warning to Victoria to let it go. The time for intervention was long gone. "Lie to you about what, Terrence? What could I possibly be lyin' to you about? How many times do I have to tell you that you ain't my daddy?"

Terry had a few ideas. She was exploring her options. At the time, that one sounded good enough to get his fellow Marine decked right between the eyes. Now, the thought tickled the back of his spine like an evil alien trying to overtake an unsuspecting host. 

College brought a new selection of classmates with the kind of book smarts she'd gushed to Napheesa about when she thought he wasn't listening. Smarter, more accomplished men knew things he couldn't dream of learning – complex physics, ancient texts, and how to woo his sweet girl looking to obtain information far beyond her years. 

The need to dig deeper, to hurt Patrice more than she was hurting him by picking at the fresh wound growing wider and more bloody than when it was just a scrape, turned Terry's tongue into a flame thrower, unconcerned with who it burned in its quest for destruction. "All the phone calls and shit –" 

"Strike two, Terry! Stop cursing at me or I'm hanging up!" 

"I wish you would stop lying and just say you don’t love me for real. You love when I'm with you and stuck to you like glue, doin' whatever you ask, but you don't love me. Not like I love you." Another lie an immature mind had conjured in lonely moments, drowning him with the vile, bitter taste of grief. 

Napheesa bottled up the urge to yell out and act as Patrice's attorney, but Victoria couldn't hold back her displeasure. "Oh hell no," she whispered, hoping to get Patrice's attention. "Hang up on his rude ass!"

No dice. Patrice stopped her pacing to plant her body firmly in one spot and challenge Terry's assertion. "Where is that coming from? Somebody getting in your head, or you plain ol' lost your mind out there in Virginia?" 

"Ain't nothin' wrong with me," he answered plainly as if the conclusion he'd generated of his own volition was public knowledge. 

"No, there's obviously something wrong with you. Because I told you I didn't want to get married tomorrow, and you turned that into I don't love you at all! So, now it's time for you to stop lying. I know you want to get out of the barracks, but this isn't ho–" 

Napheesa's quick applause for Patrice's response became dwarfed by Terry's interjection. "It's not about the barracks, Patrice, and you know that! I just did 13 weeks in boot camp. You think I care about staying in the barracks? Stop playin’ with me!" 

"Then what is it?!" 

The line fell silent. Pensive glances exchanged between young women encountering this sort of fallout for the first time spoke volumes. A stutter acted as the only indication that someone else was still on the other line. 

Terry felt his heart drop into his boots. He could tell the truth. Unleashing the true depths of his fear would take little more than a deep breath and a willingness to share the weight of uncertainty with his best friend. 

He could have said he was spooked by stories of deployment and friends never returning to U.S. soil. He knew about what happened to families suddenly ripped apart by the everpresent possibility of death by American enemies. And, if he were honest, he could see himself being part of a number memorialized on special holidays and forever separated from his family. Being married would ensure his name lived on in some way. Mrs. Terrence Richmond indicated the existence of another. Terry hadn't considered the need for immortality until recently. Now, it was all he could think about. That and what Private Jackson said behind those thick glasses one evening.

In a plea to tell the truth, Terry could've spilled the contents of his heart and let it flow until his vessel was empty and they'd reached common ground. 

But he chose to add more fuel to flames burning with renewed ferocity. "Because that's what comes next." A half-assed explanation for a teenage boy suddenly thrust into a man's role. "We said we love each other. I have a job, and I'm getting my duty station soon, so we don't have to wait. I don't see what else we need. My parents got married young, and they're fine."

"TJ, we're not your parents! . Life was different then. Your mama didn't go to college. She didn't get a chance to see and meet other people!" Patrice's exasperation had uncorked the lid on a conversation shared between "just girls." Victoria and Napheesa watched her try to gather sentiments whispered in secret and tuck them back into her mind, equally wide-eyed and frantic. "Pooh, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that getting married now isn't a good idea. Why can't we wait? I know that I love you, but I also want the chance to finish what I started." Silence greeted her first. "Terry?" 

A cold chuckle followed soon after. 

"I figured it was that," he spoke as darkness settled on his shoulder.

"Figure it was what?" 

Quizzical looks exchanged between young women losing daylight and time to start a night of underaged hijinks filled the gaps in conversation. Napheesa rolled her eyes. Victoria started a slow countdown with an animated folding of her fingers. Patrice sat with a breath caught in her throat. Common sense screamed for her to hang up – to wish her beau a good night amid turmoil with hopes cooler heads would prevail by morning. But her body wouldn't take the leap, and Terry had one final trick up his sleeve. 

"What's his name?" 

Shock produced a dry laugh in place of profanities once Patrice allowed her body to make a sound. "Are you being serious right now? What's his name?" The thread of composure keeping Patrice from unraveling at the seams snapped and unspooled before she could patch the issue. She expected Terry to come back to his senses and restore the hope that he was different from the others. 

Waiting turned into grief. Grief turned into disbelief. Disbelief quickly gave way to a slow resignation. They were different in ways that made three weeks ago feel like a hallucination in the summer heat. "Terry. Are you…are you accusing me of cheating on you? Are you calling me a ho?" 

"You said that, not me." A fatal dagger. Regret consumed Terry instantly, the feeling clawing its way around his brain and wrestling with a latent nastiness passed from his father's father and the one before him. 

His accusation landed like a heavy blow on the other side of the phone, effectively wiping out three victims in one. Napheesa saw tears shining in Patrice's eyes through the haziness a light misting had caused in her own. Victoria prepared to take the phone out of Patrice's tightening grip, hoping to put an end to self-imposed torture and salvage what was left of their time together. She was no match for a grip so tight it almost cracked Patrice's device in half. 

Anger curled Patrice's lips into an unrecognizable snarl as she spat, "Fuck you, Terry!" into the receiver.

"Fuck you! Fuck all this! I should've never called yo’ ass!" 

"Strike three. I'm hanging up," Patrice announced before stomping over to the open container on her floor to furiously snatch items for an outfit she'd only half-planned. "I told you I love you and I meant it! I told you I was sorry, and I meant it! So, don't call me until you're ready to apologize." 

"Patrice, if you hang up right now, you don't ever have to worry about me calling you again." 

Napheesa's eyes grew wide as she whispered, "What the fuck?" to Victoria and received a flurry of curses in response.

His challenge stopped Patrice in her tracks. "Is that a threat?" 

"I swear to you. Do it, and we're done." Terry's only experience with ultimatums came against twin girls who would rather count sand on the beach than be banished from their brother's presence and friends who had labeled his rare tantrums as not worth the trouble of a back-and-forth. 

But he'd come against an immovable force as an unstoppable object. A stalemate. An impossible meeting of wills unwilling to bend or warp to find resolution. 

Scoffing, Patrice swiped blinding tears from her eyes and sniffled. "Bye, Terry. Call me when you grow up. Not a second sooner." 

"Patrice, do no–" 

While friends no longer concerned with Kappa parties rushed in to console a heaving, sobbing Patrice, Terry sat stunned with three beeps alerting him to a fear he hadn’t expected to realize. Alone. He'd never heard a silence so finite and cold. Removing the phone from his ear would make his educated assumption a reality. Without a fight, Patrice had pushed him out of her life and locked the door. 

There were no more greetings. No more giggles at midnight, no more 'I love you", and no more chances. Only the anger of apologies he refused to concede and the painful sting of a word he never hoped to say so soon. 

A painful lump distorted the quiver in his voice as he released a deep breath. He knew there'd be no answer, but he couldn't stop himself from trying to hold on to his last lifeline. Closing his eyes, Terry prayed for the best and prepared for the worst. 

"Hello?" 

Goodbye.

----

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[kinardsevan]

i'm coming home to you (every night)

(I have a very firm theory on where 816 will go and ofc had to write it.)

Evan wakes up in the hospital, still on a ventilator. He’s already attempting to vocalize, trying to tell anyone available to listen about the god-awful nightmare he’s just woken up from. He’d thought his first coma dream had been bad after the lightning strike, but somehow, it couldn’t even compare to the version of events he’s just woken from. A world without Bobby in his first coma dream had been terrible, but somehow, the idea of a world in which he was able to have Bobby and then lost him after the cartel had set fire to his home feels even worse. 

He tries to make noise again, his brow furrowing at the vibration of the tube in his throat irritating him enough to fill him with at least half a dozen questions. 

“Fuck, you’re awake.” 

Evan’s gaze trails up as he looks next to him where the voice had come from and sees Tommy. His eyes soften at the pilot. For the two times he’s now seen Tommy look devastated, there’s something entirely different about the way he looks today. Maybe it’s the fear, but the redness around his eyes makes it clear that he hasn’t been doing well. The bags beneath them suggest he hasn’t been sleeping either, and Evan wants to ask questions about that as well, but his current predicament is preventing that. 

Tommy brushes the back of his fingers over the side of Evan’s cheek, and the younger man leans into it, lifting his hand up to Tommy’s and interlacing their fingers. 

He doesn’t remember everything from the last time he was awake, but he’s pretty clear on the last thing Tommy said to him.

“I need to get the doctor,” Tommy tells him, sniffling. More tears are coming down his face, but the small smile on his face suggests that they’re probably of relief. Evan squeezes his fingers tighter and his smile grows a bit. “I know, baby. I’ll be right back. Stay awake for me, okay?” 

Evan nods, letting go of Tommy’s hand. The pilot crosses the room and opens the door, only to return a few seconds later, tailed by a physician, Maddie, and Chimney. 

“Thank God,” Maddie states tearfully. She’s wearing a mask and gloves, which is mildly concerning to Evan, but her bump is a quick reminder to the fact that she’s pregnant and it’s not just her at risk of any room she enters. 

He points at her as he looks up at the doctor, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“We’re just taking extra precautions,” Chimney explains. 

“There’s no reason to assume that you’re still contagious,” Tommy adds. 

The physician that accompanied into them into the room does a quick check of Evan’s vitals and the various machines he’s attached to before opening his chart on the tablet in his hands. 

“You’re doing much better than you have been, Mr. Buckley,” the man explains. “Your oxygen saturation was pretty low when you came in, and we’re working on weaning you off the ventilator as your sats have continued to rise back up. We should have it out in the next day or so.” 

Evan nods at the man before his attention is back on Tommy and Maddie. When she reaches the side of his bed, he rests his hand over her stomach, feeling the firm pressure of his nephew’s kicking. His fever dream nightmare hadn’t just had Bobby dying in the housefire. It was also a version of the world where the woman who kidnapped Maddie got away with her actions due to Athena’s inability to deal with losing Bobby. 

“How’s his fever,” Maddie asks as the doctor runs the temporal thermometer across his forehead. It takes a few seconds, but the machine beeps and he lifts it. 

“Still hovering just under 102, but it’s a marked improvement even from earlier today,” the man answers. 

“But the half-life of the virus-..” 

“Was about twenty-four hours,” he answers her. “He stopped being contagious before he got here.” 

Maddie, Tommy, and Chimney all nod at the doctor’s explanation, and he turns back toward his tablet. He makes notes in it and then promises to have regular check-ins before leaving the room. Tommy settles into the chair beside him while Maddie squeezes the hand still resting over her stomach lightly. 

“We were worried about you,” she tells Evan. He looks up at her with sad eyes, wanting to tell her that she shouldn’t worry—that it’s not good for the baby—but he knows it wouldn’t do any good. 

Evan turns his head toward Tommy and then looks back at his sister, using his free hand to point at the pilot. Maddie snorts. 

“I tried. He refused to leave,” she comments. Evan looks back at the pilot, scowling at him. 

“Evan, you literally passed out in my arms,” Tommy tells him, his voice gruff. “I wasn’t-….I couldn’t.” 

There are so many responses to the end of that statement that he knows the pilot isn’t saying. Couldn’t leave you behind. Couldn’t be without you. Couldn’t let ‘I love you’ be the last thing said between us. 

He lifts his free hand to Tommy’s cheek, staring up at him as the pilot looks back at him. He brushes his thumb against Tommy’s lips, vaguely aware of the fact that their helipad kiss could’ve put the pilot at risk after he’d spent an entire day trying to survive hijackers with a live virus in his helicopter. All of Athena’s work could’ve been for nothing. 

The pilot stares back at him, his eyes shiny with tears unshed—maybe tears he’s too exhausted to give at this point—but there’s a knowing between the two of them as Evan stares at him. Tommy turns his head and kisses Evan’s palm as the younger man blinks wearily at him, clearly starting to fight keeping his eyes open. 

“Baby you’re out of the woods, but you’re still very sick,” the pilot murmurs as he leans forward toward the bed, resting his arms on the edge of it. “Please rest.” Evan’s thumb moves against his cheek as he stares back at the pilot, only having his gaze to communicate begging the other man to do the same. Tommy just smiles wearily at him. 

Eventually, Evan’s eyes slip shut, and they don’t open again. 

“Buckaroo, you need to stay calm,” Athena says from beside him as they wait by the elevator to the helipad. “Raising your heart rate is only going to make the infection spread faster.” 

He knows that. He’s well aware of the fact that whatever these people managed to smuggle out of CalTech’s labs and somehow infect him with on a timeline; that if he’s not careful, he could expire before Tommy and Bobby bring the antidote to save him. 

Still, Tommy and Bobby risked their lives to get this antidote. They’re still risking their lives by trying to stop those involved from creating a full-on outbreak of another pandemic, and he just… he needs Tommy to know. 

The helicopter grows closer—close enough that he can practically feel the whipping from the rotor blades in his bones as it lowers down, until the helicopter is finally down on the helipad, and then the machine is whirring down as Tommy turns it off. 

When he and Bobby finally emerge from the bird, all bets are off. He takes off in their direction, and by the time he and Tommy reach each other in the middle, the pilot’s arms are already ready for him, quickly wrapping around him as Evan’s go tight around his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters into Tommy’s neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I never meant it.” 

“I know,” Tommy murmurs into his ear, holding him closely. “I’m sorry, too. I should’ve stayed, both times. I should’ve-..” 

“I love you,” Evan says, leaning back enough to look at Tommy as he cradles the pilot’s head in his hands. “I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so long now, I just-..” 

“I know,” Tommy tells him, brushing a hand down his face. “I love you too, baby.” His gaze skates down Evan’s face and then back up to his eyes. “But baby, you’re so warm. We need to get you inside.” 

“I know,” Evan answers, feeling the bone-tired weariness in his bones as the words leave his mouth. “I just- I needed to tell you. I needed you to know.” 

Tommy nods quickly, still staring down at him. “I do. I do know.” Evan pulls him into a kiss, and the pilot doesn’t stop him, kissing him back, though they both keep their mouths closed. When they part, Tommy’s eyes are on him again. “I’ve loved you since that first night in your kitchen. I’ve- Evan. Evan?!” 

. . . . .

He wakes up coughing. Monitors beep out-of-sync, loud and erratically as people funnel into the room. He’s still only half-awake and his vision is blurry at best as doctors talk to him. It all happens so quickly that one minute he’s choking, and the next, the breathing tube is out as he sucks down gulps of air as an oxygen mask is fitted over his face. 

There’s more talking, and then doctors are leaving the room, and he finally becomes aware of his surroundings again as Tommy perches on the edge of the bed, looking down at him as his fingers brush across Evan’s cheek. He looks as though he’s gotten some sleep as well, if his eyes are anything to go by, although Evan doesn’t think that the chair beside his bed is the best option. 

He takes a few seconds to remember the feeling of saliva in his mouth, inhaling and exhaling in deep breaths still as he looks up at Tommy. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he rasps when he finds his words. 

“What do you mean,” Tommy asks, still staring down at him. 

“Could’ve killed you,” Evan answers, bringing his hand up against Tommy’s on his cheek. “The infection-..” 

“Had run its course by the time we saw each other again,” Tommy answers. “I was fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Evan asks. 

Tommy nods. 

“I had a nightmare fever dream,” Evan states. “Bobby died in the fire. We broke up sooner and Gerrard still ended up at the 118 again. Eddie still left. Maddie died.” 

Tommy frowns at him. “That sounds awful.” 

“It was,” Evan murmurs. “Bobby-..” 

“Bobby’s taking some vacation days right now, but he’s been up here keeping vigil,” Tommy tells him. “He worries a lot about you.” There’s a wistful smile on his face, and Evan can’t help but be reminded of their conversation a year ago when Tommy had mentioned the jealousy of their relationship. 

“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Evan tells him. Tommy’s gaze flits back up to his eyes and he shakes his head as a small laugh escapes him. 

“I wasn’t. There wasn’t a single moment I was here alone,” he states. If anything, I was reminded that it’s not just your crew.” 

The corner of Evan’s mouth pulls up at his words. 

“Our crew,” he murmurs back. 

“Always around when things go wrong,” Tommy adds. Evan nods. “Especially when things go wrong.” 

The younger man closes his eyes briefly, and Tommy’s fingers brush through his hair in a way he usually only does after sex, and it always puts Evan to sleep. He huffs after a minute and opens his eyes.

“Don’t wanna sleep right now,” he murmurs. “Wanna…wanna know what’s next.” 

Tommy inhales a breath, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Well, first you get better, and then you go home and get better some more.” 

“And then,” Evan asks. 

“And then we take it a day at a time,” Tommy replies. “We lay it all out on the table, and see where that takes us.” 

Evan nods. He closes his eyes again and focuses on breathing for another minute. When he speaks again, his eyes are still closed. 

“Said I didn’t know what I was ready for last year,” he murmurs. “But I do know now, and I still think that it could be with you, if you’re willing.” 

He opens his eyes, feels them getting heavy again, but he’s determined to see Tommy when the pilot answers. 

The older man smiles down at him, his fingers brushing through Evan’s curls again. 

“I’m more than interested,” he responds softly. “But for now I just want you to focus on getting better. Think you can do that for me?” 

Evan nods, lets his eyes slide shut again. He turns into Tommy’s hand once more, sighing softly when the pilot rests it against his cheek again. 

“I love you, Tommy,” he says, hardly above a whisper. 

Light fades around him, and then warm lips press into his temple. 

“I love you too, Evan Buckley,” Tommy whispers next to his ear. “So much more than I ever thought possible.” 

[fujoshirat]

Goodbyes ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ Child Spotlight: Hana Todoroki! ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

Goodbyes are hard for Hana.

She’s a sweet, soft-hearted little girl, attached to the ones so kind and loving towards her. A little girl so full of warmth and love that parting with someone she cared about felt like a piece of her heart was being taken away. And when it came to her papa—her strong, kind, gentle papa—goodbyes felt impossible.

The moment Shouto knelt in front of her, jacket zipped up, luggage by the door, and bag slung over his shoulder, Hana’s lips wobbled. The five-year-old knew what was happening. Sometimes, her papa had to go do something important and wouldn’t come back for what seemed like a long time (weeks felt like years to the little girl).

She tried to be brave, just like Yueru told her to be ("Papa is super strong! He'll be back before you know it!"), but when he cupped her tiny face in his warm hands, she burst into tears. Dropping Sa-kun, the jellycat stuffed animal hitting the ground softly.

“I don’t want you to go, Papa!” she hiccupped, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face against him.

Your husband held her close, stroking her back in slow, soothing motions. “I know, my princess. But I’ll be home soon, I promise.” This only made her cry even more, hot tears pouring down her mochi, cherub cheeks. Shouto’s heart clenched at his youngest’s tears, reminded of how you looked when you cried.

The red-and-white-haired sighed, kissing the top of her head. It was always too long for her, no matter how short the trip actually was. He pulled back just enough to look into her teary eyes. “I'll only be gone for two weeks, and it'll go by so fast.”

Hana sniffled, rubbing her eyes, too upset to respond. Shouto discreetly glances up at his wife, heterochromatic eyes studying your expression. It’s unreadable, a hint of sorrow—emotions mirroring your youngest.

Goodbyes were always hard for you too, even before having children. He already kissed you and the twins goodbye, Hana having stopped him from finally departing. Your eyes were glossy, and he knew tears would soon fall down your pretty face.

“Hana-chan,” Shouto whispers, stroking her (y/h/c) hair. “I need you to do something very important for me, can you do it?” The five-year-old’s doe eyes reflect curiosity as she nods, sniffling.

“While I’m gone, you need to take care of Mama for me. Can you do that, my sweet?” Wiping her snot with her sleeve, Hana shakes her head in response. “Okay… but only if Mama lets me sleep in the big bed.” A soft laugh escapes Shouto’s lips.

“I’m sure she will. Thank you, Hana.”

And just like that, for the next few days, Hana stayed glued to your side. She climbed into the master bed every night, holding her rabbit stuffy and tiny frame swallowed up by one of Shouto’s old shirts that still smelt like him. She refused to sleep without it, hiding it away in her bedroom whenever it was laundry day (you had to make her watch TV while eating dinner just so you could spend 30 minutes trying to find the shirt, and when you found it and put it in the washer, she wouldn’t stop crying until Aki and Haru dug out another of your husband’s old shirts). Even during the day, she stuck close, holding hands, following you around the house while her older siblings were at school, always seeking comfort in the absence of her papa.

Two long weeks without Shouto, and to the rest of the world, it seemed like you were managing everything perfectly.

In theory, you were. Groceries were properly restocked, no uniforms lost their buttons, no plates were dropped. The spitting image of a proper, well-rounded hero housewife. It helped a lot to have 9 years of experience. But emotionally? You felt unstable and drained.

Every night, when Hana clung to you in the master bed, her tiny fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt, you swore you could still smell Shoto’s scent lingering on the pillow beside you. It was comforting and agonizing all at once. You knew he would come back—he always did—but knowing didn’t make the waiting any easier.

Hana wasn’t the only one struggling. One could say that you struggled the most.

The night of Shouto’s flight, you woke up to the feeling of movement beside you. Groggily, your eyes flutter open as little kicks and wiggles nudge your side. The culprit? Your youngest, squirming and shifting around in bed with a small pout on her face. Even though she went to bed with her rabbit, it was no longer by her side. Instead, it was by your neck, tossed carelessly in her sleepy fit.

“Baby,” you croaked, voice heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong? Sa-kun’s right here” Hana sniffled, rubbing her tired eyes full of distress. “’Can’t sleep, mama…” You lift up the blanket, gesturing for her to cuddle up. Hana eagerly tucks herself into your arms, a wave of Shouto’s scent flooding your nose. God, you miss him.

“’Miss Papa,” she whispers, voice wobbily as she hugs her plushy. “When is he coming home?” You shift closer to her, kissing her forehead and stroking her (y/h/c) locks away from her eyes. “Soon, lovebug. His flight should be coming in.” The little girl lets out a tired, shaky breath before nodding against you. Gingerly, you cup her cheek and smile at her.

“You’re tired, Hana-chan. Can you go to sleep for me? You and Sa-kun have to sleep so you can see Papa.”

Hana blinked up at you, her tiny fingers clutching at your shirt and the rabbit. Then, with a slow nod, she nestled closer. Within moments, her breathing evened out, warm and steady against you.

You stayed awake just a little longer, watching over her, listening to the quiet of the house. Yueru and Yuuri in one bedroom and Aki and Haru in another, all four children sleeping peacefully upstairs. It was just you and Hana, in the big bed.

Just as sleep began to pull you under, the faintest sound of the front door unlocking reached your ears. Your brows furrowed, and for a second, your half-asleep brain struggled to process it. Then, the quiet creak of the door closing, the rustle of a coat being shrugged off.

Your heart lurched.

Soft, familiar footsteps padded through the house, moving with careful intent. You barely had time to sit up before the bedroom door eased open, revealing the broad-shouldered silhouette of your husband.

“Shouto?” you whispered, voice thick with exhaustion and relief.

The moment his name left your lips, he was at your side, kneeling by the bed without hesitation. He didn’t even bother putting his things away—his luggage sat forgotten by the door, his jacket abandoned somewhere in the hallway. His eyes, still drowsy from travel, softened instantly at the sight of you both.

“My loves,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his knuckles over your cheek.

Your tired eyes burned as you leaned into his touch, drinking in the familiar warmth of his palm, the faint chill of his travel-worn skin. Shouto recognized it, that tiredness that always seemed to come when he left you, a sense of guilt flooding him.

“You’re home,” you breathed.

His lips twitched into the smallest smile. “I am.”

A soft sigh left you as the tension melted from your body. Your arms fly around him, senses going overload by his presence. He was really here, your husband was home. Cool, soft lips press against yours, a feeling you missed dearly these last 14 days.

Then, as if sensing his presence even in sleep, Hana stirred, making a tiny noise before blinking up at you with bleary eyes.

“Papa?” she mumbled.

Shouto’s breath hitched, and before you could say a word, he shifted onto the bed, gathering your daughter into his arms. Hana let out a soft, sleepy sob, little fingers clutching at his shirt.

“Uwah….”

“I’m home,” he promised, pressing a kiss into her hair.

With Hana snug in his embrace, Shouto looked back at you, exhaustion and love written all over his face.

Making space, you let Shouto tuck in, and he wraps an arm around you while letting his youngest sleep tucked into his chest. It hadn’t even been five minutes, yet she was knocked out cold. Shouto gently takes his daughter’s plushy and tucks it in Hana’s arms, earning a subconscious sigh from her. You also sigh, letting your head rest against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His familiar warmth felt so nice, like a soft, weighted blanket. “I missed you,” you murmur softly. Shouto’s throat tightens at your words. "I missed you too, Y/N."

Nothing compares to actually being with you in person, and even though you both facetimed every day, talking and speaking to you on the screen wasn’t enough for the red-and-white-haired man.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, pressing soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, dove. I’m home.”

Goodbyes are hard for everyone, but with every return, love shared in the moment makes it all worthwhile.

This is a feeling that you, Shouto, and your sweet little (big) family know so well.

☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shots II

Pernille Harder x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Pernille and your shots

Magda has to take paternity leave. Well, technically she could have taken shared parental leave but it was difficult to do when both she and Pernille were athletes so paternity leave was the next best thing.

In theory, she was only entitled to two weeks but the club were generous and eager to keep her with them for many years.

They gave her six.

Six whole weeks to spend with you and Pernille in Pernille's little apartment in Germany. Six whole weeks to get used to you in her life and her new role as mother.

Six weeks, however, didn't extend to your first shots or, rather, your first group of shots after your birth.

You'd been given a round of vaccines in the hospital the day you were born along with being measured and weighed and checked for any issues.

Your next round comes at eight weeks though and Pernille is all alone.

You sit on the floor in front of her in your carrier. You're blissfully asleep, blanket wrapped around you and a little hat to keep your tiny head nice and warm.

You look peaceful and happy, smacking your lips together in your sleep like you're being fed in your dreams.

Pernille hates to ruin it but her name is called and she lifts up your carrier to head to the doctor.

"Right," The man says," Eight weeks. Is that about right?"

"Yes," Pernille says," Eight weeks."

"Well then." He wheels his chair back. "Let's get her weighed and measured and then we'll discuss shots."

Pernille gently gets you out of your carrier, carefully stripping you down to your nappy so you can be weighted accurately.

The doctor nods along with what he sees, noting it down in your baby book.

"Good weight. Good length. How is her eating?"

"Good," Pernille confirms," She's been doing really well. Sleeping good too."

The doctor continues noting things down. "And I seem to remember you saying your partner was returning home. Has that been an okay transition for you both?"

Pernille nods. "It was a little weird during the first few days but now we've adapted. It's going well."

"Good, good. Now, vaccines?"

Pernille winces inwardly. "I was told she's due a few."

"We can do all three today."

Pernille's eyes bulge. "All three? But-"

"Two are injections. One is oral," The doctor explains," It's best we get it all done today."

Pernille finds herself nodding. She knew that this would happen but she wasn't quite sure she'd prepared for it. But, still, she nods and signs the page in your baby book giving her consent.

The first one is simple and easy, liquid drops being placed into your mouth for you to swallow.

You've woken up now, pulling a face at the taste and smacking your lips together in annoyance.

Pernille can deal with that.

What she can't deal with is the way you go from annoyed to heartbroken as the doctor jabs two needles into your legs in short succession.

You're sobs are heartbreaking and you don't stop even when you're in the car.

"It's okay," Pernille coos at you, taking your hand and gently waving it around," It's okay. you're okay. It's to make sure you don't get ill later on."

But you're a baby and you don't understand why Momma has let you get hurt by the mean man with the cold hands.

So you keep sobbing.

Fat tears roll down your chubby cheeks as pain radiates from your leg where you've been jabbed.

"Shh, shh," Pernille says, her own tears pricking in her eyes," Princesse, baby, it's okay. It's over now. Momma's here."

But you don't stop and Pernille decides to just pick you straight out of your car seat, propping you up on her chest.

Tears roll down Pernille's cheeks, matching yours until you're both crying together.

"It's okay," She keeps repeating to you," It's okay. Let's get home, alright?

You sniffle, still whining.

"I know. That doctor was a meanie, sticking you with medicine that's going to save your life one day."

You whimper as Pernille clips you into your car seat again.

"Just a little longer," She promises you," And we'll be home for cuddles and nap time."

[httpsserene]

httpsserene's F1 Kinktober '23

welcome to httpsserene's f1 kinktober special!

i do not know how many posts i will be doing for this event, but, reblog and save this masterlist for any updates concerning my f1 kinktober.

posts tagged as: # httpss :// kinktober 23 | status: completed. | table of contents.

f1 kinktober 2023 charles leclerc x max verstappen | carlos sainz jr | oscar piastri | daniel ricciardo x max verstappen | lewis hamilton | george russell | pierre gasly | lando norris | charles leclerc | yuki tsunoda | x fem!black!reader

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE: CORRUPTION KINK — 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔 𝐱 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.

CHAPTER TWO: WERE-SHIFTER & PREDATOR/PREY KINKS — 𝐜𝐬𝐣. 𝟓𝟓 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

for all people believe that werewolves are dangerous creatures, your wolf is pretty tame, even with some of his...quirks. this halloween you let him be the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood, while you give out candy to trick-or-treaters. what he doesn't know, is that you have your own trick-or treat planned for him after this– you're his treat tonight, but he's going to have to chase you first.

CHAPTER THREE: CAR SEX & SQUIRTING — 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren.

CHAPTER FOUR: OVERSTIMULATION KINK — 𝐝𝐫. 𝟑 𝐱 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

CHAPTER FIVE: TENDER SEX & COCKWARMING — 𝐥𝐡. 𝟒𝟒 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

your husband comes home to his monaco apartment after achieving p2 in spain. from the texts you sent him before he boarded his flight, he expected you to be awake when he arrived. however, you’ve fallen asleep–but that’s not a problem. he’ll sneak into bed right next to you and catch a few extra hours of sleep. you’ll commemorate the podium come morning.

CHAPTER SIX: VAMPIRE & BITING/HICKEYS — 𝐠𝐫. 𝟔𝟑 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well.

CHAPTER SEVEN: WITCHCRAFT & APHRODISIAC — 𝐩𝐠. 𝟏𝟎 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

witch!reader and potions master!pierre run a shop to fulfill anyone’s magical needs. it’s nearing valentine’s day, and the shop is bombarded with desperate humans looking for love charms & potions, even though there’s no magic spell strong enough to replicate true love. oddly, news travels from a few villages over that there’s a potions master who managed to make a real love potion. pierre has to get his hands on it—for the bit, obviously. there’s no way it will work.

CHAPTER EIGHT: PUSSY WORSHIP — 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

if lando achieved a podium at silverstone, you promised you’d give him anything he wants. he thinks about it the whole race weekend, and when the two of you are celebrating his second-place finish, he tells you that he wants to take care of you. you’re disbelieving–he takes care of you every waking hour. lando, on the other hand, said that with his chest. and he’ll prove it to you.

CHAPTER NINE: ORGASM DENIAL — 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

the 2023 season has had a despicable effect on charles’ self-worth. it pains you to see how he attributes ferrari’s failure to deliver to himself. you can’t stand to see him berate himself for things that are out of his control. when the emilia-romagna grand prix is understandably canceled, you start forming a plan. if charles doesn’t believe he’s as good as you say he is, you’ll make him internalize it–using any means necessary.

CHAPTER TEN: AB-RIDING & DRY HUMPING — 𝐲𝐭. 𝟐𝟐 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre.

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Okay okay so could you do a soulmate fic with Lena x reader? Or SuperCorp any pairing you’d like where they can see their soulmate in the mirror one night every Friday? You can take it how you want! Run or walk with the request!!

Tied Fate

|| Lena Luthor x soulmate!reader

|| Warnings; brief stalker mention, nervousness from both Lena and reader, reader has self doubt, fluffy, short drabble

|| Summary; when Lena holds a note to the mirror for reader, they finally meet each other.

Requests open!

Started; February 18th

Finished; February 18th

~~~

A universe where everyone had a destined soulmate; you know who yours is. Being able to see her every Friday night in the mirror. She was stunning and you couldn't believe your destiny was tied to the Lena Luthor.

As much as you were excited, you couldn't help feeling nervous. To you she was way out of your league. Lena was absolutely beautiful, rich, powerful... everything you didn't think you were. How could the universe have paired you with someone like her when you were just- you?

This Friday night was different than the others. As you sat there, admiring Lena, she held up a note to you. One that made your eyes go wide.

Note; meet me at L-Corp, tomorrow morning, 11am.

Neither of you had even realized you could communicate with each other. Lena had been testing a theory of hers and, judging your reaction, it had worked. Previously, she had already figured out the two of you couldn't talk through the mirror. Having tried that, with you failing to understand her. So, this was her next option. Of course, Lena wasn't overly surprised that it worked. It seemed with the mirrors you could see anything the person on the other side was doing while present there. Making it reasonable to assume that holding a note would get a message across. Now all that was left was to wonder if you would show up at all. She was really, really hoping you would.

Despite whatever you may think about yourself, Lena loved you. She saw all the things about you that you couldn't and she couldn't wait to finally see you in person.

Time seemed to go by quickly. The next thing Lena knew, it was 11am the next day. With her pacing around her office, dressed in one of her nice work suits. Waiting quite impatiently for your arrival. Lena made sure to tell her assistant before hand that if you arrived, you were to be brought up to her office as soon as possible.

A few more minutes passed and, just as Lena was checking her watch with a frown, the door opened," Ms. Luthor?" Her assistant called, giving her a smile as she gestured for you to go in.

You walked through the door, dressed in one of your nicest outfits, looking rather nervous. Lena found your nervousness quite adorable," thank you, leave us." The assistant nodded and closed the door, heading back to her desk.

"That's a lovely outfit," Lena gave you a soft smile as she walked over to you. You who couldn't take your eyes off her.

"Y-you too... I'm Y/N-" you stuttered through your introduction, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Lena chuckled, a gentle hand covering her mouth as her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement.

"Yes, I'm quite aware. I've done my research," She smirked, then her eyes widened. "Oh Gosh, that sounded creepy. I promise you I didn't intend to come off as a stalker or anything-"

It was finally your turn to laugh, the tension leaving your shoulders. Giving your head a shake," you didn't, don't worry. I know what you meant. I did some research, too."

"Phew, good. That would have been a horrible first impression," Lena laughed with you.

She was glad you were understanding, a sign she respected in a partner. Lena was interested to see where this relationship would go and how tied your fate truly was.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 3 – The One About That Guy, That Girl, and the Dragon

I’m just going to jump right on my magical pixie pony for this one – because why the fuck not? But, I promise this speculation has a foundation of fact. So, there’s that.

On Sunday, November 10, 2024 – seemingly out of nowhere – Zoe McConnell posted to her IG stories a picture of Nicola from a photoshoot from November 2022.  Yes, you read that right – 2022. Zoe reposted this to her stories exactly two years from the day she first posted it to her grid.

Why?

Uh, happy anniversary to the picture? [feel free to scratch your head in confusion because I sure as shit did – but only for a second]

Who cares about a photoshoot from 2022?

And, don’t even get me started on the weird ass suggestion this was a push for Nicola to win – what bullshit award show is up next? – People’s Choice Awards. Actually, do get me started on that because that theory just makes my eyes roll.  The only connection I see here is that the dress Nicola is wearing was from her 2022 Glamour Awards appearance.  What exactly does that have to do with People’s Choice? Nothing.

Now, forget all about that shit and keep reading.

What IS interesting about this post from Zoe is that, if you’re a certain creator or anyone who has ever read this certain creator’s timeline, you’d know that this picture is referenced in said timeline (P.S. My disclaimer today is that I am not a fan of said creator but that doesn’t negate the information she has distributed to the masses).

Here’s what happened two years ago:

On November 9, 2022, Nicola posted one of Zoe’s images to her own grid, thanking Glamour for her award. Luke liked this post.

On that same day, Nicola posted a second set of pictures from that same photoshoot. Luke did not like that post.

The following day, November 10, 2022, Zoe posted one of those additional pictures to her own grid. Luke liked that post from Zoe’s grid. But, he did not go back and like Nicola’s second grid post from the day before. Why? Why go to Zoe's grid instead of Nicola's to like the pictures? I could speculate on this for the next eight minutes but I’ll let you come to your own conclusion.

So, this past Sunday, Zoe posts to her stories a link to that November 10, 2022 grid post that Luke liked. Nicola reposted Zoe’s story to her own IG stories. If you’re a Nicola fan, I can probably guess what you're going to do next. You’re going to click on Nicola’s story – which takes you to Zoe’s page – and when you click on Zoe’s stories – it takes you to the original November 10, 2022 post, which Luke liked at that time.

Odd, that.

And, by “odd,” I mean odd in the fact that no one cares about a two-year-old picture. I mean, really, who fucking cares? Except Lukolas who see Luke’s like on the original post.

Let’s keep moving.

On November 11, 2024, Zoe was right back at it. She posted to her IG stories another picture of Nicola from the same photoshoot. This time it was the one Zoe originally posted back on November 11, 2022. Yay, another anniversary. Zoe put a cutesy little caption that read: “Princess Peach.” Nicola did not reshare this story. I mean, at this point, we’re all watching Zoe, right? No need to reshare because our Lukola interest has been peaked, in my opinion.

Then, a few hours after Zoe’s post, Rachell Smith, also a photographer, posted an old picture of Luke to her grid. This picture isn’t as old as Zoe’s but it does go back to May 2024. Rachell follows it up with an IG story of the same image with the song, “Lifting You” by Jungle. Take a moment and go look up the lyrics and meaning of that song. Fine, fine, fine. I’ll just tell you. The song is about being deeply committed and doing whatever is needed to make a relationship work (this, per Mr. Google). Rachell’s caption? “[O]ur knight and shining [Luke].”

Well, fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

We have a princess and we have a knight.

Interesting.

I mean, we grew up with this idea that the knight in shining armor saved the princess, right?

To be honest, yesterday, I had no clue what that was all about (and I really didn't care -- the seas have been rough for the USS Lukola lately) so I went about my day like normal.

But, this morning, the wheels and cogs in my head started working together.

I wondered how that ever came about – the idea that a knight saved a princess.

So, I asked Mr. Google: “Where did the story about a knight rescuing a princess originate?”

Okay, yeah, I see Perseus and Andromeda…and in Western culture….Saint George and the Dragon…

Wait --

What?

Saint George and the Dragon?

Nope. Not possible.

But, I was certain it was.

I scurried over to Tiktok to find the post I’d seen a few months earlier about the medallion Luke wore for a long time – the one Nicola allegedly gave him. The TT creator believed that the necklace depicted none other than Saint George and the Dragon! Now, I must add that this has never been confirmed but the TT creator did make a fairly convincing argument for it. This is also the necklace Luke was allegedly wearing in the “Polin” picture that was released simultaneously by Nicola and Luke on October 21, 2024 (based on the chain of the necklace he was wearing).

Delulu?

Yeah, maybe.

But, we also can’t make this shit up.

Edit (11/14/2024): Today, Luke's People Magazine photoshoot came out. Guess who his photographer was? Zoe McConnell.

Again, we can't make this shit up.

[actual-changeling]

Crowley did not want the holy water as a suicide pill in 1862, but I believe he not not wanted it as one

He gets pulled down to hell in 1827 and it's not just a slap on the wrist for something minor, he did a very good deed—that didn't just cost them one soul, it has ripple effects! It cost them dozens if not more, depending on what Elspeth did with her life.

Additionally, we do not know how long he stayed in hell. "Quite some time" is not a very exact measurement, and I know there are theories that it wasn't long at all, but that's pure speculation.

Canonically, the next time we see him is in 1862, so assuming he took some time to adjust to the new period, he could have come back as late as 1861. It is entirely possible—and in my opinion very likely—that he spent over thirty years being tortured in hell.

By "torture" I do mean actual torture, btw, the same kind hell threatens him with. In the scriptbook, there's a deleted monologue Dagon has while Crowley is getting rejected (again).

They save the wonderful line "Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse. We SEE how hell tortures the damned, Furfur literally plays it to us like a corporate powerpoint, so whatever they did to him after '27 was bad.

Crowley looks tired, exhausted, almost sick. He is paranoid, in mental and/or physical pain, he looks like he has lost weight, and we barely see him move at all.

Now compare to the Crowley we saw in Edinburgh. Carefree, happy, taking Aziraphale on dates and going on fun little adventures, getting drunk on laudanum, smiling, jumping around—this is the most relaxed we have seen him since around 1601.

After this, we never see him like that again. That bouncy, curly-haired demon is gone, and hell is responsible; they broke him. I know that look on his face in '62, I saw it every day in the mirror for twenty years, which were (also honestly quite literally) torturous.

Crowley asked for the holy water as insurance, he had probably already come up with several contingency plans involving.

What would happen if they still got him though? What if he erased a demon or two and then hell dragged him back down? I am 100% certain that Dagon would have made good on the promise they give him later. If it had come down to killing himself with holy water or being tortured for all eternity, he would have chosen death without hesitation.

Better dead than in hell.