#i think they have tendrils but i'm not sure yet

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 16: ~

Tell Us About Tommy:

Who's ready for the London/Hospital Arc next week? Yes, I'm determined to post these last few chapters weekly.

WHAT IS IT? WALKING BLOB SPOTTED

Said the Daily Mail.

MESH OF FLESH

Said the Sun.

MONSTER IN THE HIGHLANDS

Said the Gazette.

It didn't take long, and it wasn't surprising to see a picture of Addair walking through Braemar. Of course, someone took a picture from their window and sent it to the papers. Caz was just thankful it was taken before he got there, and his name wasn't mentioned in the article.

Usually, Caz ignores the paper. He didn't care about what was happening in the world, and he didn't like to read. But he couldn't ignore it today. A sign outside the local corner shop, with their piles of newspapers outside in their containers, caught his attention. Without thinking, Caz purchased the Mail, shuddering at the fact he actually put his money into this rubbish.

By the time he got back to the others, everyone was ready to go. As if he was holding the World Cup, Caz raised the paper for anyone to see and climbed into the truck, now the only passenger on the bench seat.

'Good news, Addair,' he called through the small window. 'You're famous.'

'Alright. Go on,' Addair hummed. He had to be honest. He found it amusing that he was on the front cover of the news. His mum always said he'd make it one day.

Caz turned to the full article on page 3. The trucks began the second half of the journey. Another 5 hours to go.

'The sleepy village of Brearmer, located on the border to the Highlands, has encountered a strange creature on their streets.

Residents said they have woken to what they thought was an earthquake.'

Caz stopped to hold in a laugh. Rennick didn't. '

But was instead greeted by an unknown thing they described as 'a ball of flesh.' Local police explained how they followed and watched the creature leave on its own and into the Highlands, where no sightings have currently been seen since.'

Nice to know they lied for them. Caz scanned a few lines ahead, relieved to not seem him or Roy being mentioned before continuing. '

Others in the community have commented.

'At first, I didn't know what to think. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me,' local shopkeeper Oliver Ferguson told our editor. 'Or it was a smudge on my glasses.' When asked if he was scared, he had this to say.

'I was surprised, of course I was, but when I saw it was just walking, I didn't give it much thought after that.'

The creature might have gone, but it's presense has sparked interest for both locals and holiday makers.'

Caz rolled up the paper and offered it to Addair and Rennick in the back. 'Well, it was only a matter of time before someone saw you lot. You'll be next, Rennick. I can see it now. Giant Head? Giant Brain? Written by Arthur Brittenden.'

'Maybe they'll put me on the next 5 pound coin?' Rennick mused, as he and Addair began to read on the sport.

'Well, keep your head up, aye? Maybe the Queen would like to speak to yous when we reach London.'

'She wouldn't understand a word we were saying.' Caz chuckled and turned his head back to the window until he felt one of Addair's tendrils on his shoulder.

'Was Suze happy to see you?' He asked.

'Very much so,' Caz said.

'Then why didn't you stay?'

'Because someone has to make sure you keep your chainsaw bum in line.'

'What?'

'I heard Cait call you it yesterday.'

'She has a way with words, doesn't she?'

'A little writer in the making.' Then it slowly dawned on the leccy that he knew nothing about Addair's son. He was going all this way to see him, yet apart from a name and a dream, he couldn't pick him out of a crowd. Addair hadn't talked about his boy once. Not even back on Beria. But it was clear he loved him. 'What's Tommy like?'

Addair paused, not knowing if he should answer. He felt his heart skip a beat and then sink at the mention of his son, but it was nice. 'Come on. Give us something,' Caz continued, bringing Addair back to reality.

'I- Tommy's a good boy. Good in school. Likes football. He loves the bike I gave him last year.' Rennick slowly stopped reading and turned his attention to Addair. 'Wants to go into army, or become a rockstar - the next Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath - he hasn't decided yet.' Addair chuckled to himself. 'Reds his favourite colour, but he never wears it. Prefers black. Says it matches his hair more.'

'Should have gotten him an orange uniform,' Caz said.

'Oh, I did.'

'What?'

'What?' Rennick chimed in with a look of shock.

'Yeah, after my first time on Beria, I took an orange uniform to show off. Tommy found it hilarious. I had to wear it all day. Said it didn't match me at all.'

'He'd be correct.'

'Fuck you, McLeary.' But, the tone didn't match his words. Addair even managed a small chuckle, before he fell back into pity. He took the paper looked at his picture.

'Is that really what I look like?'

'Will he recognise me?'

'Course he will. You're his dad.'

'What do I tell him?'

'Tell him you love him.'

'And about what happened?'

'Tommy's old enough to understand, Addair. Just focus on him when we wakes up. He'll be happy to see you. I just want to know how you'll get into the hospital.'

'I think I know how.'

'Well, until then...' Caz opened the glove compartment and pulled out several tapes. 'Pink Floyd or Fleetwood Mac?'

'Neither,' Rennick muttered.

'Okay, how about Sex Pistols?'

'Who?'

'Is there a Who tape?'

'ABBA?'

'NO!' Everyone yelled in protest.

In the end, they listened to T. Rex.

[moonshine-nightlight]

*bursting out of the water with a reinvigorated will to live* I ALSO LOVE ALIENS

!!! perfect! lol

i have plenty of alien story ideas as well. in fact, a muse randomly grabbed hold of me and i'm working on one right now. i rly hope with the time off i have this week (in between family stuff, friend stuff, work stuff i still have to do, and chores/errands) that i can get back into doing some writing before Busy Season at work knocks me on my ass until the end of April.

still developing the alien in this story so i u have any gender/coloring preferences, let me know

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[cryobabiess]

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x concubine!reader

Summary: After a public tantrum at a senator's gathering, Geta sends Caracalla's most beloved concubine to comfort his mad brother. Tags: hurt/comfort, slightly NSFW, implied/mentioned sex, Caracalla has serious mommy issues, nipple play, breastfeeding :/ (sorry), short fic, Caracalla is obsessed with your big naturals I guess idk AN: I'm not sure if there's any Otessa Moshfegh enjoyers out there, but this lil mini fic is inspired by Lapvona. Caracalla's man-child vibe reminded me of Merek, so naturally I had to write the most strange and off-putting fic to satisfy my weird-girl impulses. Enjoy, freaks!

Hurt by his brother’s callous words, the divine emperor Caracalla had fled the senator’s banquet in a fit of rage. It only takes a single tense glance from Emperor Geta for you to receive his silent command to follow after his mad brother. It does not take long to find him.

Like always, he hides away under a golden table tucked in the far corner of the throne room. His sniveling echoes off the tall marble walls. You slowly approach his curled up form, as if not to startle a wild hare.

“Caracalla. You must come out now.” You call his name softly.

“I will not.” He croaks through his tears, turning his back towards you. With a sigh, you sink to your knees, extending your open arms towards him.

You wait for Caracalla to find his sense. After a few moments, He finally turns to you to reveal his face—pale, rosy, and wet.

“Has brother sent you to scold me? I am no child!” Spite coats his words. You smile at the absurdity. He could order your head on a pike if he so pleased, but prefers for you to indulge his brooding. A god-king with the whims of a spurned child.

“No, I do not seek to scold, little prince. Come now, so that I may hold you.”

And with that, the emperor crawls to you.

He settles into your arms and you cradle his torso, the luxurious fabric of his ornate robes pooling at your lap. His cheek rests atop your bosom like a newborn babe—he weeps like one too.

“It is unjust! Brother always has the last word, yet I am eldest!” Caracalla laments, his tears wet the bodice of your stola.

You use your free hand to smooth tendrils of copper hair away from his damp face. A tantrum of this magnitude was not uncommon for the young emperor, though you often wondered how a man could display such behaviors at the age of twenty and one. Caracalla was distinctly tender, despite his blood lust. His ego was delicate, easily wounded by Geta’s pragmatism and rigid sensibility.

“He wishes to be rid of me, I know it.” He sniffles, his hand reaching to fiddle with the pendant resting at the base of your neck. You smile softly despite growing weary of this routine.

“Don’t be without reason, mea dulcis. You are invaluable to Rome and all her subjects. Geta speaks without tact when he is cross. You must know this too, hmm?”

Caracalla thinks for a moment, brows knitting together in contemplation.

“He is unkind. It should have been him to suffer in the womb, not I.”

You can’t help but laugh at his juvenile description of his brother's malicious cruelty. Frustration flashes across Caracalla’s face as water threatens to brim his eyes again.

“Peace, my lamb. No more tears.” You coo, using a thumb to swipe away at the wetness—but it is too late. Your laughter invited a new wave of angry tears. He buries his face in your breasts, jeweled fingers dragging down the fabric of your stola. His mouth quickly finds your nipple. You hiss, resisting the urge to pull him away from your flesh.

It brings the emperor great comfort to suckle you. Geta had explained Caracalla’s affliction once before.

“Our own mother denied him her breast; she believed him to be cursed. Perhaps he held on to that trangression. He called for a wet nurse until the age of ten and two. My brother has always suffered from madness, you see.”

You had taken prior notice of this habit. After he fucks you like an animal in heat, he often drifts back to your tit, lazily sucking and nibbling until sleep takes him. You thought nothing of it until emperor Geta revealed it’s cause to you.

And though you had no milk to bear, tranquility came over the man as if he had been fed. Eyes closed and breath even, he plays with a tendril of your hair as he rolls your swollen nipple in his hot mouth—lost in bliss. It is odd, but you pity him. With his lips so flush against you and his expression finally at peace, one could forget the madness, the carnage, the rage.

Sometime later, Caracalla regains his composure, standing straight with his shoulders back, returning to a proud and stately posture. He crudely wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“You will attend to me in my chambers tonight.” He commands before returning to the festivities.

[amourane]

why can't we love freely?

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: angsttttt, secret relationship

w/c: 2k

summary: you're tired of being a secret and it was time to let theo know.

warnings: HEARTBREAK

a/n: this was initially meant to be for a request and i started writing it and i got on a roll only to finish the piece and go back to check the request to realise i did it all wrong lmao, so i decided to just post this instead <3 enjoy!

The busy chatter that filled the Great Hall was one that you were familiar with, afterall it had been the same for the past few years that you had been a part of Hogwarts. There was a hint of the sunlight peeking through the windows as the early morning bustle reached its peak. Everyone was rushing to pile breakfast onto the porcelain plates but you couldn’t help but linger at the entrance, looking back ever so often to check if a certain someone had arrived yet. 

“Y/n hurry! Bloody Ernie is going to have devoured all the croissants before I even have a bite.” Hannah whined as she pulled you along towards the Hufflepuff table.

Her incessant nagging eventually made you move and you dragged yourself towards your fellow house members albeit a little sad you hadn’t seen the person that had been on your mind. You dig into your own meal, stabbing the fruits with your fork and shoving them into your mouth. There was the normal hubbub that surrounded you and you felt yourself melt into conversation with your friends once again.

A voice caught your attention and you immediately perked up at the deep chuckle that had your heart skipping a beat. There he was: Theodore Nott. Quite arguably the most handsome person in all of Hogwarts and, of course, your boyfriend. His tousled hair framed his angled face perfectly with single strands that fall into his eyes. You watched as a smirk danced on his lips as he sauntered over to his side of the hall. Theodore Nott had always possessed an aura that drew you into him. Even when you both weren’t dating you often found yourself staring at the handsome boy from your table, wondering what he was really like.

As Theodore's gaze met yours in that fleeting moment, a silent exchange passed between you, laden with unspoken emotions. In the depths of his eyes, you saw the words he couldn't voice.

“I love you.”

It’s silent but it’s there.

The both of you had agreed to keep the relationship under the wraps, not wanting anyone to know about the two of you. It would cause an uproar and neither of you were sure if you wanted to handle the aftermath of the situation. So this was what it came to. Secret glances and whispered love confessions. You couldn’t walk up to him, you couldn’t kiss him in front of everyone, you couldn’t even talk to your friends about him.

Although you had said it would be fine for it to be a secret you didn’t think that he would still want to keep it a secret after so long. You didn’t want to hide your affection for Theo. You truly loved him more than anything and it had already been a year since you officially started dating. Surely it didn’t matter that much that it was a secret.

"Hello? Y/n? You there?" Hannah's voice pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, and you blinked, feeling as though you were emerging from a distant haze. Her concerned expression hovered before you as she waved a hand in front of your face, urging you back to the present moment.

You glanced down to find a forgotten cup of pumpkin juice in your hand, its contents untouched. How long had you been lost in your own thoughts?

"I'm... I'm sorry, Hannah." You murmured, offering her a weak smile as you tried to shake off the lingering tendrils of distraction. "I guess I just...drifted off for a moment there."

“You alright? You don’t look well.” She reached her hand to bring it to your forehead, trying to feel if you had a fever. “You were properly zoned out there.”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine.” You tried to brush off her concern and you offered her a meek smile. “Just didn’t have a good night’s sleep, that's all.”

Your friend looked at you, her lips pursed, a sign she didn’t actually believe what you said. You forced another smile in Hannah's direction, you silently hoped that she wouldn't press any further

Truth be told, you weren’t fine. The past couple of weeks had consisted of your thoughts rampaging in your mind. The continuous stream of worries that clouded your view as you tried desperately to reason with yourself. It wasn’t a huge issue that your relationship with the Slytherin was a secret but gradually what were stupid thoughts now turned into ones that plagued you everywhere you went. You’d be lying if you said you were okay with not even being acknowledged as his girlfriend as he ignored you in class and everywhere public.

Your eyes locked with Theo’s once again and you saw the way there was concern etched into his face. Your boyfriend knew when you were upset and he definitely knew that you were far from okay right now. He mumbled something to Blaise who was beside him before getting up to leave - a signal for you to do the same.

“I think I’m going to go take a nap before class starts, can you come wake me up later?” 

Hannah nodded and you thank her quickly before whisking yourself away in the direction the Slytherin had set off to. The chatter faded as you walked down the hallway and you were now left alone with your thoughts once again. It was bad you knew but you couldn’t help but feel as though you were something to be ashamed of. Was that why Theo was so desperate to cling on to the secrecy?

“Principessa?” Your boyfriend gently grabbed your wrist, twirling you around to face him and you realised you had been too caught up in your mind to even notice he was there. “You okay? You seem a bit off my love.”

His eyes twinkled with concern and you saw the love and affection you were familiar with and it warmed your heart. You loved Theodore Nott more than anything but the questions had plagued your mind for too long now and you needed to voice your thoughts. Otherwise, you thought you would go insane.

“Why are we a secret?”

It was barely above a whisper but Theo heard it. He knew that you weren’t one for loud environments, preferring the quiet of the library and the solitude of your dorm. You were always shy and introverted, rarely speaking to others. You liked to keep to yourself. Even with Theo you were shy and meek but that didn’t mean you weren’t happy. There was always a smile on your face, a loving beam that would make his own heart stutter. Yet your lips weren’t drawn into the bright grin he knew, instead they were in a frown and he recognised your nervousness as you wringed your hands.

Theo would have never considered himself to notice little details. He had always ignored everyone else around him and he never paid enough attention nor did he care enough about others to recognise the little tell-tale signs that everyone did. Until he met you. Then he noticed every little detail, from the way your nose would scrunch when you tried to bite back a laugh to the way you would tangle your fingers in your hair when you were trying to solve a problem.

So it was only natural he realised that you weren’t okay.

“Y/n we talked about this-”

“Yes I know it’s just that.” You paused. The words were bubbling up your throat, you felt them rising and rising and rising and you were unable to stop. You took a sharp inhale. “I don’t understand why, not anymore.”

“Y/n, mia cara, we’ve been through this. No one will accept us. People won’t understand the love between us and they’ll try to tear us apart. My friends, they won’t understand.”

“Then make them understand.”

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t get it. Was he ashamed? Was he embarrassed? Why couldn’t he fight for you, for both of you? 

You felt the tears welling in your eyes, threatening to roll down your face. It was all too much, the constant doubt, the dread, the shame. You had thought you would have been free of these thoughts for a day but who knew that today was when you would finally break. 

Your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He felt warm and your arms loop around his body. You cling onto him, unwilling to let go. It was too late to stop the tears now and you felt them fall as you sniffled in his arms.

“Theo, Merlin knows we've been together for more than a year now, and it's been like living in a shadow. I've kept us a secret from everyone - my friends, my family - and I don’t even know anymore. I want to be able to love you openly, without fear or hesitation. I want to hold your hand, kiss your cheek, wake up beside you without worrying about who might see. And I know that there’s issues but we can work through them together can’t we? I want to love you freely…don’t you?”

You pulled away from his chest as you searched his eyes, pleading with him to agree with you. Theo stared at your figure. He watched as the tears he promised not to make fell from your eyes. He felt his heart twist at your words, unable to find the words he wanted to say. Silence. You waited. And then you saw it. The sliver of doubt. That was all you needed before you were recoiling from his touch, pushing his hands off you.

Theo was quick, he tried to pull you back, tried to keep you near him but it didn't stop you from trying to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Y/n, please, stay please.” 

His voice was a desperate plea, each syllable heavy with the weight of his love. But as you backed away, tears streaming down your cheeks, Theodore's heart shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. He watched helplessly as you retreated from him, the distance between you growing with each shaky step you took.

You shook your head as you backed away from the boy you loved. You tried to steady your breathing but all you could manage were shaky breaths as the tears kept falling. It was all too much. It was overwhelming, the feeling that engulfed you whole when you first met Theodore Nott had spit you back out and now you were left not knowing what to do.

“I-I…I can’t.” You stuttered, refusing to look him in the eye. “I can’t do this, not when you don’t feel the same. I can’t, not anymore.”

“No.” Theo reached forward but it only made you step further away as if his touch would burn you like acid. His outstretched hand fell limply to his side, his heart breaking with each word you uttered. “No, don't do this. Y/n please don’t do this. Mia cara, I love you so much you know that. I love you to the moon and back and I will never stop loving you so please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

“Not enough.” Your voice wavered as the words left your mouth. “You don’t love me enough and you’ve made that clear Theo. I can’t do this, I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the depths of the corridor, leaving Theodore standing alone. Each word you said replayed in his mind. His emotions toss and turn in the turmoil he had been thrust into. You were gone. You left. He felt his heart burn and ache, pounding at his ribcage. There was a numbing pain that overtook his senses as a wave of anguish washed over him. He reached a trembling hand to his cheek, only to find it damp with tears

It was then that Theodore Nott realised it was the first time he had cried since his mother’s death.

[hoe4hotchner]

I know you are probably so tired of this but I NEED more smoker Hotch, I do know why but the pure thought of Aaron Hotchner smoking just does something to me, I also wanted to say thank you so much for all that you do for the Aaron hotchner fan base and even the criminal minds fandom ❤️

Bad habits | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Smoking cigarettes

A/N: I'm never tired of getting requests (cause let's be honest smoker!hotch is too hot for his own good) Thank you so much for the kind words. It means a lot to hear. 💕💕💕

The first time you caught Aaron smoking, it was in his garage, out of all places. He leaned against the back wall, one foot propped up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow from the overhead bulb cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension etched into his features.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in the doorway, watching. This was Aaron Hotchner, your steadfast, composed partner. The man who was usually all discipline, who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever letting it show. And yet, here he was, indulging in what could only be described as a private ritual.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe, breaking the silence. “I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Aaron turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. His expression didn’t shift much, but you could tell you’d caught him off guard. The hand holding the cigarette hovered near his side like he wasn’t sure whether to hide it or finish it.

“It’s... occasional,” he said after a pause, his voice gravelly, almost sheepish. “Stress, mostly.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the garage. “Stress? Really? You expect me to believe this is a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You think I have a habit?”

“Oh, I know you do,” you shot back, your tone teasing. “You’ve clearly done this before. What, do you sneak out here after bad cases? After long nights at work?” You'd meant it as a joke, but deep down, you knew that some of it probably held truth to it.

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, the tendrils curling lazily. “Something like that.”

You moved closer, the faint scent of smoke mixed with the familiar aroma of the garage. It should’ve been off-putting, but there was something about the way the cigarette looked in his hand that made your pulse quicken.

“You know, it’s terrible for you,” you said, tilting your head as you studied him.

His lips quirked into a smile, closing his eyes for a split second, more amusement than apology. “So I’ve heard.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence. You couldn’t stop watching him — the way his fingers held the cigarette, the way his jaw tightened as he brought it to his lips, and the way the soft glow of the embers lit his face up with each inhale.

It shouldn’t have been attractive. But it was.

“You’re staring,” Aaron said, breaking the spell.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Am not.”

“You are,” he replied. He held the cigarette out to you, his eyes studying your reaction. “Want to try?”

You frowned, narrowing your eyes. “Is this how you justify it? Getting me to join in so you feel less guilty?”

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “Maybe.”

Your lips twitched as you took the cigarette from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. The contact was brief but electric, and you had to steel yourself against the flutter it sent through your chest.

The cigarette felt foreign between your fingers, and you glanced at Aaron for guidance. He stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding.

“Breathe in slowly,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Not too deep. It’ll burn if you’re not used to it.”

You followed his instructions, the taste sharp and smoky as it filled your lungs. It wasn’t pleasant — not really — but the way Aaron watched you, his gaze steady and just a little amused, made the moment strangely intimate.

When you exhaled, you handed the cigarette back to him, coughing slightly. “That’s disgusting.”

Aaron chuckled softly. “I didn’t say it was enjoyable.”

“Then why do it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He took one last drag, his eyes distant for a moment before killing the cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to him. “Because sometimes,” he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s the only thing that helps.”

Your heart twisted at the admission. He didn’t have to say what it was — you knew fully well what he meant, and you admired him for taking on that burden.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. “You know you don’t have to carry everything alone, right?”

“I know.”

And maybe he did. But as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple, you made a silent vow to remind him as often as he needed.

[chocopokkie]

Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

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

"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter twenty — get the fuck out (🎂)

The wind was carrying a chill on his skin like it lived on his being, a cold damp fog.

The sun was sinking beneath the homes, and the evening seemed to hold his break with him. He, Ei, and Yae were standing there in front of the familiar door they've all frequented. One leading the way, calm and resolute, the other begrudgingly trailing behind her while his mind gloomed. The third? Amused, eyes glimmering with merriment at the mother-son relationship.

"I reckon you tell them that you'll leave them alone," Yae suggested. "All of it is quite petty, I'm sure they'll understand why we're here to have you two make amends anyway."

"I have no doubt that's what you think, especially since you both love to be resolute bitches about it—"

"Oh? No, continue, I'd love for you to finish that thought." Ei replied, standing tall and unmoving, face of quiet authority. After a brief interlude of his quietude, she ground her teeth. "Do not cross me, you are already in hot water."

Ei's gaze burned into him in front of that door, she knocked, the sound echoing with enough command. Kuni's throat tightened in disgust, mind racing for an immediate escape, any way out of this predicament, but Ei was always one to play her cards well. He was trapped here whether he liked it or not.

The door opened slowly upon looking through the peep hole, revealing you, who looked at all three of them with weariness. "Hello..." You said awkwardly, but there wasn't much of a smile on your face than usual. Kuni's heart skipped a beat, and there was a heavier feeling to the air that he couldn't shake from you. It was easy talking shit to them on the phone, but when he knew something was wrong here, it was strange.

"We won't take up much of your time, I apologize if we burdened you right now!" Yae chirped. "I'm so glad to see you yet again. You get cuter and cuter each time I see you, (Y/N). Like a little button."

You didn't know how to respond to that, frankly, except with a half-hearted smile. Your eyes moved back to the other two, your heart dropping at the situation. Ei's grip on Kuni's hair was sudden and firm, her thin fingers weaving through his mauve filaments with a controlled ease. She forced his head down, tugging him into a bow.

"No more. No more fighting, no more altercations. Apologize, Kunikuzushi," She said, her tone ironclad. "For all of it."

He bit the inside of his cheek, losing the hope he had for this going how he wanted it. He refused to let his own pride be threatened as it roared in seething rebellion. Up his neck creeped humiliation, but his mother's grip tightened. She refused to let go. His head still bowed, he forced the words out, all of the syllables dripping from his lips were involuntary.

"You've been through a lot because of me. I shouldn't have done what I have, and maybe I should have also realized that when I was doing it. I'm still learning how to regulate, it doesn't come to me naturally." Kuni said, hollow, half-hearted. He couldn't help it. Every tendril of his being wanted to rip away from how pathetic this display looked.

He felt their gazes on him, like a lion in a circus, studying his every move and reaction, waiting for him to crack under his own ego. "Oh, you think that's enough?" Yae said, tilting her head. "You're still acting as if this is a game, but there's no place for them anymore. How unfortunate."

"...We will move on from this. Please consider forgiving me in the future, when your heart allows it." Kuni hissed through clenched teeth, fist trembling at his sides. Fury boiled under his skin, but he kept his eyes locked on the ground like he was commanded, avoiding eye contact, wincing at his mother's nails digging into him. "Let me go. You're fucking hurting me."

"Words. All words, but I haven't heard an actual apology yet." Ei replied calmly.

You didn't know how to react still, all of this rushed in your face like it was a surge of energy. You seemed calm and measured, but looking at how your ex-boyfriend was being handled by his mother yet again, watching him struggle with the prospect of even apologizing to you, knowing that you hardly deserved one yourself...it was hard. Too much to deal with right now.

Your heart tightened, eyebrows furrowing as you avoided eye contact with Kuni as well. "...This seems like a waste of time. Get home safely." You said, the emotional storm raging moments before in your mind was rid of promptly, more stoic and irritable with your speech. You turned around, shutting the door quickly behind you, cutting through that moment with air taut like a wire.

To what you thought was normal, infuriated him. Kuni's teeth grinded together, his eyes darkening in annoyance. The way you said that so casually, like you just washed your hands for ten seconds of the entire ordeal and left it. Like you were already miles away from him, digging under his skin tauntingly. You got the last word in, watching him be humiliated under the guise that you deserved that forgiveness.

He couldn't stand it. Being dragged here, forced to grovel, after he had swallowed his own dignity while it tasted raw and bitter in his throat. Spitting out an apology to you...one you hardly had any business responding to. You dismissed him, as if none of what he did matter. As if he didn't matter. It was gnawing at his core, left sweltering in his mess.

His movements were stiff and jerky as he followed the two women to the car, silently fuming. You were not going to take control of what he thought he was warranted.

It was surreal to think that the remains of your brother were in your hands rather than his own arms encompassing you. In those warm, now unfamiliar feeling hugs he gave you.

The day had been spent finalizing the plans for Kazuha's funeral. The weight of your heartache overwhelmed you a lot, especially when Kuni and his family stopped by. The bakery had closed for the day, and your employees, more like family than staff, had insisted on joining you as moral support. You didn't feel comfortable with their continuous acts of kindness towards you, but you accepted anyway. Who were you to deny any more help, anyway?

It was a private funeral, bringing you strange comfort barely anyone except other family members and distant friends knew about it. Their faces softening the edges of your overall sorrow.

You sat in front of the altar with tired eyes, rubbing them to rid of your tears and to ebb the exhaustion. Your hands shook as they rested on the smooth, cold surface of the urn that held his ashes. It wasn't real to you, the only one after your mother's death who was always able to help you live in quiet grace, had been reduced to this. You lived yet again in your sorrow, except extra this time.

With no energy left to think about anything else, the details crafted with care in Kazuha's funeral spoke wonders. The cherry blossoms arranged, incense burning softly, candles delicately flaring. There was nothing left to distract you from the possibility that he was gone.

The filling air of sandalwood neighboring the air while the incense curled smoke into the room. White lilies around a large photograph of Kazuha that you had to retrieve from your mothers room. No longer dusty, but the sanctity of the promise that you kept to Kazuha disappearing as well. You didn't even want to look at it, feeling the sense of betrayal rotten your heart with guilt. He was in the peak of his youth, eyes bright with the amicable, ethereal tranquility of his beaming face. A smile so gentle and sincere, haunting you forever. You never saw the photo before this, and now that you have, it'll follow you like a ghost.

Your flood gates cracked and spurted out, until your tears began to pour out uncontrollably again. Sobs raw and aching as your entire body wracked, echoing through the mildly quiet room. Your body was heavy to you, every bone in your body converting to stone, with a misery so sagacious that you weren't sure if you were stuck there for the next few minutes or hours.

Weeping like a baby, allowing your tears to drip onto your clothes, the memories you could never share with him again, for the future planned that would never come to pass. He died in the past, the reassurance he left you with when you were just breaking up with your ex-boyfriend and you were shattered once again. But not like this, not like how you wept for the moments you had taken for granted with your family. For the times you assumed you would have more time.

Xingqiu, Chongyun, Bennett, Beidou, and Gaming stayed there beside you, presence warm but quiet as they ruminated in the sorrow themself. One by one, they knelt beside you and bowed their heads in respect to the memory of Kazuha, a quiet prayer escaping their lips every now and then that you could hear.

"It's okay," Beidou softly whispered, rubbing your back. "It's okay to take your time. There's nothing wrong with taking a break, kid. Feel out your emotions."

"To you." You choked out, tone exerting a little snappy.

As Beidou's eyebrows raised, your gaze sharpened as you stared at the photo again. This time, a glint of hopelessness and null in your expression.

"I genuinely hope that none of you ever have to feel what it's like to come home, and be crushed by your own dejection. To feel like there's a giant anchor pressing down on your chest, every single second. Pummeling you from the inside out, stripping you down until you're weaker and weaker." Your voice trembled, leaving the rest of them quiet again. "I don't have the luxury to feel out my emotions, or I crumble again. I'm so tired of crumbling."

The following days, the bakery remained open after the funeral. You didn't give yourself time to exactly take a long break. It should have been expected of you, or forced, but the rest of the employees figured it would a better idea to let you do what you need to do to cope with it.

The bakery was dimly lit, with the television in the corner of the room playing Balladeer and the Cult's new music video for the fourth time today. The entire staff were quiet other than the frequent chatter, and the soft clinking of dishes as the workers cleaned up for the night. It was the kind of silence that would tell tales of wonders involving your situation. You were in the back, wrapping everything up and making sure you wrote what needed to be stocked for the morning.

"I like when they do that fun lyrical thing that starts with 'I had my pants on my head like a hat', and ends with...'the police department's refusal to comply in a timely manner with open records request is a middle finger to the marginalized'. You know what I'm saying?" Gaming rambled.

"No clue." Xingqiu said dully.

"They have to make the feds give up early on the song, so they turn it off before they get to the part that calls it out." Chongyun grinned.

"It's like when you steal sandwich bags from the burger shop across the street, and you think the sandwich bags have shit in it, right? No. The entire layout to a compartment of different type of bombs located in Natlan."

"Why are you stealing sandwich bags from them? I'm telling." Xingqiu's eyes narrowed. "Snitching to the court."

"You do that, and I'm not letting you use my Dreamcast anymore. I'm tired of you ratting me out." Gaming scrunched his face up before walking to the back to clean the kitchen with Beidou.

The atmosphere was considerably lax, but there was always a shade of apprehension all of them shared with your newfound attitude. You forced yourself to focus on closing, the others trying to keep a bright side about them. You could only target yourself to think about Kazuha, the pain of absence. Knowing that when you go home, he'll be there, but not as a physical body.

The sound of the front slamming open jarred everybody who heard it, the small bell above the door rattling aggressively against its frame. Chongyun stiffened at the abrupt sound, it being cut short as they all turned toward the person who walked in. The boy's jaw dropped, blinking twice to make sure if who he's seeing wasn't the guy who was just on TV.

"Uh—" He wanted to keep his wits about him and start spilling fan-made excitement, but he was too floored to even do that. "We're...about to close, sir!"

"Not here for bread, or whatever the fuck you guys have. Fetch (Y/N)."

Xingqiu's eyebrows furrowed. "They're...not here right now. If you want to talk to them, come back tomorrow, we'll be open for a while."

"Oh, are they not? Crazy, considering I see their car behind the lot. I checked, don't think I'm one of your little customers." Kuni cut him off, voice dripping with venom as he sized the workers up. "I'm not in the mood. Either go get them now, or I'll run through all of you."

Chongyun hesitated, awkwardly turning his body towards Xingqiu who shrugged in response. He headed towards the back to relay the information, while you were still working. When he reached you, his voice went quiet while he told you what was going on, almost apologetic. Your blood ran cold.

There was an anger that swelled in your chest, hands squeezing into fists. Without a word, you stormed out quickly, expression set with burning fury. The sight of him again, this time in casual clothing and a neutral demeanor, your vision blurred with rage and small guilt. "Why are you here?!" Your voice shook with rage, your voice could barely raise at him. "Haven't you done enough?"

"Have I done enough? Understand this, you bitch," He immediately started coming closer to you. "You're not off the hook for what you did. You may be used to people forgiving you instantly after batting your eyelashes and giggling like fucking Minnie Mouse, but I'm not the one.

"Okay? Then, what do you want from me?!" You grit your teeth. "You say all this, and then have a hard time not being vague. What is it?! Tell me!"

"Coddled your entire life, skipping out on your responsibilities because things got a little hard," He took a step closer, which lead for you to open the distance again. Except this time, his hand swiped the entire row of glasses that were on display down on the wooden floor with a loud crash. Your eyes widened. "Now you get to stay here, complacent in my misery, just because you think you deserve it? I'll take all this shit away from you."

His anger marinated long enough, it bubbled to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. His chest was tight looking at you, suffocating in his grip of emotions he buried deep for too long. Enough was enough, he felt sick with the flour and sugar clinging to every surrounding. Everything was quiet to him here, too perfect. And for him, wrong.

A sneer warped his lips, and there were more crashes. The noise cut through the bakery, the workers flinching, but you couldn't even move. Beidou immediately ran to the front, her face twisted into rage. "Get the fuck out, now! You have no business being in here."

She was about to rush over to kick him out, but you shook your head, subduing her form from going closer. "You're not mad because of me, get your facts straight before you start talking to me like that."

His chest heaved at that, and he could only laugh. The sound of his ragged breaths became aggressive, grabbing at dishes and sending them all careening across the floor with a brutal snap of his wrist. "All of this shit," Another one, the sound harsh against the floor. "ALL OF IT, I want all the good things to fucking rot for the part you played in ruining the good things we had."

Your heart pounded in your ears in moderate fear, louder than the crashes and the gasps coming from the rest of your workers. You felt yourself become suffocated, like there was thick smoke restricting you. Everything felt too tight, your skin and the walls of the bakery itself. He kept shattering your things, breaking every single item that came across his path. There were crimson cuts on his hand, the bleeding on his hands and the glass embedded on his skin making you flinch. He welcomed it.

"Deluding yourself with all of this! You're fucking delusional!" He screamed in your face, "Why can't you wake up and take fucking charge of your own destiny, rather than following a dream you made up because you don't want to be reminded that HE'S FUCKING DEAD. WHERE ARE YOU?"

You could only laugh at him, feeling your cheeks burn from how flustered you were. "Get out." Your voice was dangerously low, trembling as you barely controlled your fury. Those words poisoned you, and tears immediately started rolling down your face, lip quivering.

Kuni just stood there, taking in your words as his breath labored, chest heaving up and down, eyes scanning you in disbelief. But you couldn't stand to see him anymore, because you knew what he was saying about you was true. You grabbed your own glass from the counter and hurled it at him, "Get out," smash, "GET out," smash, "GET THE FUCK OUT."

You grabbed another, and another, before entirely ridding of the glass pieces and started throwing chairs at him for him to swiftly dodge. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably, feeling humiliated that you were losing your mind in front of your employees, but you could not do this anymore. "You didn't want to see me anymore, right?! You've got it. Get out! I don't EVER want to see you again."

"So he is dead?" He taunted, voice lower as he started laughing too, his throat hardly making out the sound while it only came out choked as well, too stunned to care. "How's that fantasy working out for you now? At least persistence is a great substitute for actual talent."

Your knuckled connected with his jaw as soon as he leaned in closer, and you fucked him up hard. Sound coming off as a dull thud, followed by a grunt coming from Kuni's throat. You got him in between his lips and the center of his nostrils, causing the crimson blood to sputter immediately once he stepped back. He held onto his nose, instinctively going for his face while his liquid red stained exterior dripped.

The bruise was already beginning to form where your punch had landed. He hadn't expected you to fight back, but something flickered in his eyes. Something that wasn't rage this time, but delightfulness? You stood there, panting, your own hand now pained from how hard the clash was. "Leave," Your voice cracked. "Leave...before I do something worse."

It was obviously a serious reaction, he realized it by the time you were screaming at him. So as the adrenaline dissipated, the power of everything hit him all at once, and he narrowed in on your tear-filled gaze with incredulous relief.

"Welcome back." His pride fought him again to say anything else, so he wiped the blood on his lip, and turned on his heel to leave.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @heusalettle @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @peachystea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy

@feikyuu @tamikahoshiko @kissingkzuha @bbysatoruuu @rvoulte

@kinvasions @kukikoooo @adriannauodi @pumpkincitrus @usagiarchive

@eunseok-s @state-of-grac3 @ariesloves @trulyylee @lyzeivr

@suniika @animeobsessed56 @kamisstufff @samyayaya @scarawiki

@mywillt0live @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @imnotyizhuo

[aayakashii]

Haiii i hope you are doing well !! ^^ can you make a fanfic about possessive and jealous taiga? if youve written it before can you make a part 2? Thank you in advance ^^

I don't know if this is exaaaactly what you wanted but I got possessed by the yandere ghost and wrote this so I hope you like it ( ˊᵕˋ ;)

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! Extreme yandere behavior, possessiveness, obsession, blood, injuries, all that insane thing that comes with yanderes and Taiga too tbh.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT CONDONE YANDERE BEHAVIOR IRL, this is all fictional please!!!!!!

The switchblade passes swiftly through Taiga's fingers as he toys with it, mind and face blank while his unfocused gaze is locked in your direction.

He isn't properly looking, but you're there, subconsciously in the forefront of his mind, while he swims in the muddied waters of his memory.

Most days, Taiga doesn't give a shit about his memory. His life is eat, kill, gamble, sleep and repeat repeat repeat repeat. Why should he care? Does anything even matter? His life goes on, aimlessly, static noise ringing in his ears as he drags himself to the inevitable end.

Right now, however, his memory is being a royal pain in the ass.

He aggressively rubs his face with his hands, groaning impatiently, trying to get the information in the depths of his mind.

And you whine, helplessly, afraid of every sudden movement he makes.

Taiga's head snaps at your direction, gaze finally focused.

Ah, yes. Yes.

He had already forgotten why he was even searching for a specific memory, but noticing you, trembling on his torture chair, he remembered.

Taiga gets up from his seat on the foot of his bed and grabs a chair, wood loudly rattling against the marble of his floor before he places it right in front of you.

You weren't even bound, yet you trembled like a little mouse. His chest frustratingly tightens and aches at the sight. He sits in front of you, mouth agape as he looks at your sweaty face from under his eyelashes.

The switchblade is still on his fidgety hands. He opens and closes it, opens and closes.

You flinch at every little sound it makes. It could make him laugh, if he wasn't so concentrated.

Right now, Taiga thinks of love.

Or rather, he searches his poor memory for any instance of love he might have felt in his life before.

He comes up with faint whispers of something that resembles it – something old and long gone, something pure and pretty, something that felt like large soft hands raking through his hair as he slept peacefully.

But it's wrong. That is not what goes on inside his chest right now. What swirls in his heart is tumultuous. It's loud and destructive like thunder and lightning. It feels like possessive hands, viper-like tendrils wrangling his heart, egging him to do the same with yours.

His base instincts tell him to call it love, but he isn't able to compare it to anything else he has ever felt in his young life. He doesn't know whether or not this crippling obsession could ever be called love.

Taiga stares at you, silently. Sharp eyes that could cut into your skin and leave you bare open for him to devour like the anomalies he covets.

When he doesn't speak, you swallow hard and loudly, gathering all the courage you have left inside of your body.

"I don't know why you're keeping me here, Taiga... B-but if I did anything that upset you, I apologize." you whisper. You feel like you're trying to bargain for your life with your very own executioner as he holds the axe over your head.

Taiga leans back on the chair, closing the switchblade for a final time.

"Or... Or if you need my help with something, I can help you. Just please... don't threaten me like this."

"Threaten?" He tilts his head to the side before barking out a loud laughter. "I'm not threatening you."

You furrow your eyebrows in disbelief.

"I didn't even bind you to the chair. Come on. You're all free to move." he says with a smirk.

You make no movement. You're pretty sure he would shoot something (probably you) if you tried to leave, just like he has done plenty of times before when something doesn't go his way.

"I'm trying to understand" he says, opening the palms of his hands before crossing his arms.

"Understand... what?" you ask.

"You. Me. This." he motions to the both of you.

You keep your lips sealed, waiting for him to continue, completely lost on whatever could he mean.

"Say." he leans towards you and licks his lips with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "I think I'm in love with you."

Taiga laughs loudly once again.

You deadpan. You feel your heart dropping down to the confines of your intestines and your skin gets unbearably cold out of nowhere, with goosebumps painfully pricking your arms. You fidget uncomfortably in your seat; instincts telling you to run run run – but you don't follow them. You know his golden gun is always right there, ready to shoot between your eyes.

"Look at your face! You should have seen your face! You look so fucking scared!" he says between giggles and, if he wasn't so dangerous, you could close your eyes and imagine him being a normal man who laughs in a boyish way for normal reasons.

"I'm not joking though." he adds with a grin before you could even think of relaxing.

"I think I want to keep ya." he murmurs, scratching his chin. "Wanna make sure no one else is gonna try to put their hand on ya, y'know?"

"Taiga-" you begin to plead, but he shushes you.

"Nah, don't even start. Too many assholes 'round here tryna hog your attention. Y'think I didn't notice?" his eyes harden and you purse your lips, preventing any reply from inadvertently leaving your mouth.

He gets up from his chair with a sigh and stretches nonchalantly.

"I was tryna figure things out just now, y'know. Like, 'do I really like you?' and all, but aaahhh..." he scratches his head aggressively, pulling a few strands of his red hair loose. "It makes my head hurt. I don't remember if I ever felt like this before. I don't care though."

He turns on his heel and leans forward, placing his hands on the chair's arms, successfully caging you under his body.

"I like you and I'm gonna keep what I like only for myself, eh? I think that's a good strategy." he murmurs, toxic green eyes scanning every inch of your face with careful attention.

Your bottom lip quivers at his words and he presses his index finger over it.

"Lulu won't care, as long as we don't make much of a mess" he grins maniacally "And I get to play with you alllll by myself. Alllll mine. Only mine. Sounds great to me, hm?"

You blink and tears roll down your cheeks despite how you tried so hard not to shed them. Too afraid to ask him to let you go, and too afraid to stay.

Taiga had just locked you inside an invisible cage and you're pretty much sure there is no key that could ever set you free.

"Oh, of course." he perks up, as if he remembered something important. "I have to make very clear that you belong to me, don't I? Let me fix that."

Taiga swiftly grabs your left hand and puts your ring finger inside his mouth. And before you can even register whatever he planned to do, he bites down with a force that you were sure could rip your finger off. You scream in agony as his sharp teeth pierce you to the bone and your blood flow into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, humming loudly, eyes rolling at the coppery taste.

Taiga opens his mouth and eyes his work, satisfied, despite the tears that run freely down your face.

The injury was going to leave a scar that would never fade away.

"My turn" he murmurs, unceremoniously pushing his own ring finger inside your mouth. Left hand, just like yours.

You stare at him wide-eyed, the pain on your own finger blaring inside your veins. It left your thoughts scrambled and confused, but Taiga isn't patient.

"Bite me." he pushes his finger further inside your mouth and against your teeth.

"Wai–" you try to protest.

"Bite me." he repeats louder, his voice and stare truly threatening. Now you understand why he said he wasn't threatening you before. Because you are pretty sure he is properly threatening you now.

You hesitantly close your lips around his finger and bite him softly. He grunts, still unsatisfied.

"Harder." he demands.

You force yourself to bite down, cringing at the feeling of his skin almost breaking against your teeth.

"Harder." he repeats, now breathlessly. "You have- have to draw blood."

You shut your eyes tightly and bite down with all the strenght you can muster, pushing down the nausea that comes with the warmth of his blood coating your tongue.

Taiga unabashedly moans at the feeling of your teeth breaking his skin and the sight of his very own blood seeping out of your mouth.

He takes out his finger from your lips and admires your work with explicit pleasure.

You weren't going to leave a scar, but he could very well tattoo your little bite marks onto his skin before they faded away.

"Did you swallow the blood?" he asks, sighing as he sees you trembling and wiping your mouth.

You nod weakly, feeling the corners of your vision darken as the pain on your hand finally takes over your whole body.

Before you pass out, you feel Taiga place his forehead against yours.

"Now we're together." he whispers as you go limp against his body.

Taiga observes you as you're unconscious. A sick satisfaction blooms inside his chest as he watches you, now splayed on his bed, the red and inflamed injury on your finger being the proof that you're entirely his from then on.

It doesn't matter if what he feels is love or if it's just sick obsession. You are now tied to him and his boring, samey, depressing days.

As he trudges slowly to his inevitable end, you now walk right beside him.

He silently promises that you won't ever need to die alone. Don't you worry because he will make sure you can only die with him.

And if that isn't love, then what is?

[8em-em-em8]

After that last chapter I've got an idea where Izuku and Katsuki ends up as acquaintance more that real friends over the years because post canon Katsuki tries to put distance in between them to try to move on. Izuku often thinks about him and what they had but thinks the fact that they fell apart is more because they are both busy with their jobs than anything else. Doesn't realise he broke Katsuki's heart and no one tells him (they know, they just don't want to get murdered by Bakugo/make it worse since Midorya apparently chose Ochaco).

Bakugo gets married 2 years later, his partner is a fellow hero, a man, and he becomes a bit of a queer icon because of course Bakugo takes no bullshit. But yeah, most informations Izuku gets about Bakugo are either on the news or second hand from their mutual friends (Dynamight's affiliated to high risks fights missions and Deku more of a rescue guy now, helping when he can, so they don't meet often on the field).

Until one day several years later, Izuku has been living alone for a year, since he broke up with Ochaco, and someone is at the door at 9pm.

Opening the door is like a punch in the face : Katsuki looks tired, and his eyes are red rimmed, and even if Izuku hasn't seen him do so often in his life, it's obvious he cried. He has a big bag thrown over one of his shoulder, and on the other is resting the head of a sleeping toddler.

Izuku's only seen the baby in pictures before but she has the same face as her father even though her hair are a strong black rather than an untameable blond mop.

''Kacchan?''

''Hey nerd.'' Katsuki sounds embarrassed, but maybe too tired to be angry about it. ''I know we- I know we're not really friends anymore but... Can we crash here tonight?''

You don't have to ask Izuku twice, and maybe he doesn't understand yet, but he doesn't hesitate one second before taking Katsuki to his room.

''You sure?'' Katsuki hesitates on the threshold. ''Were are you going to sleep?''

''I'm sure. There is not enough space on the futon for two person and I'm pretty sure you'll want to stay with her. Haru, right?''

For a second, Katsuki looks at him and it's maybe the first time Izuku gets to see such a heartbreaking emotion on his face. He looks thankful, maybe even fond, but also profoundly sad.

''... Yeah, her name is Haru.'' he confirms, kissing her little forehead- and isn't that a sight. ''Forgot you never seen her before.'' Katsuki adds before putting a knee to the bed and carefully bending down to put his daughter on the wall side of the bed. The little girl doesn't stir, and after making sure she's well tucked, Katsuki follows Izuku out.

He let the door half open, probably to be sure to hear if Haru wakes up before he goes to bed.

They end up on the couch, Katsuki with his head in his hand. And Izuku is struck by how much he doesn't know his childhood friend anymore when he goes to rub his back but holds back, not sure how it will be received.

''Do you want to talk about it?'' he asks.

For a second silence rings in the appartement, only broken by the sound of the fridge, but then Katsuki's shoulder start to tremble and just like that he is crying again.

''I made a mistake.'' He says, voice rough while he rubs furiously at his eyes. ''I made a huge fucking mistake. I should have known, we should have talked about it, I should have seen the signs-''

When Izuku sees Katsuki's fists starting to fizzle, little tendrils of smoke escaping from between his clenched fingers, it's like all caution flies out the window : he immediately grads them, trying to soothe his friend.

''Kacchan.''

''I'm divorcing my husband.'' Katsuki spits, and here is the anger. The hate is so clear in his tear soaked eyes that even tho Izuku himself never men him, he despites the man instantly.

''Did he... Did he cheat on you?'' Izuku tries, wanting to understand.

Katsuki's laugh is bitter and cold.

''If only.'' he rubs at his eyes again, but then he puts his hand back in Izuku's and Izuku is embarrassed to feel warmth at that gesture, to see that even after all these years, he can still be a source of comfort for Kacchan. ''This afternoon we... We learned that Haru is quirkless.''

Oh.

Oh.

Izuku feels like he was doused with an ice water bucket. Involuntarily his fingers clench on Katsuki's hand.

''What happened?'' he asks, not even sure he's ready for the answer.

''Ueda he- it's like I didn't know him anymore. He started to shout at everyone, he insulted the doctor, called our surrogate mother all the names he could think of, as if it was her fault. As there was any fault to have.'' Izuku can feel his eyes fill with tears, his eyes bored into Katsuki's panicked ones. ''I swear 'Zuku, I tried to talk to him about it, I fucking swear. But he didn't want to hear anything, he- he called Haru useless. I thought she was in her room, I didn't want her to hear all that shit but she came out to ask for a drink and he just pointed at her and said he wouldn't have an useless kid.'' another sob breaks Katsuki's voice and now they are both gripping at each other. Their clenched hands are uncomfortable with sweat but it's the last of Izuku's problems, because right now Katsuki needs him. ''I swear she's the only reason I didn't kill him on the spot. I just took her overnight bag and we left. You were the only person I could think of.''

Izuku nods, and hesitantly he lifts a hand, just a suggestion, but Katsuki doesn't seems to think about it long before Izuku is engulfed in a desperate hug. He can feel that Katsuki is still crying, he knows it's better not to say anything about it. Instead Izuku rocks his friend, just a little.

''You did good. The both of you can stay as long as you want.''

[itadores]

summary: sakura likes the way you smell. he thinks it makes him a freak.

note: i like him terribly so. this may be so incredibly niche but it’s for me :p

pairing: sakura haruka x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, minor angst but it gets resolved, sakura-centric

sakura hasn't put much thought into the products he buys for himself for much of his life. unlike like some of his friends, he doesn’t have an elaborate multi-step self-care routine. he’s content with his generic shampoo and conditioner and his cheap laundry detergent that he buys from the corner store on his block. he’s satisfied until he’s not, until he's dating you and subconsciously begins to seek out your scent. sakura is blissfully unaware of this fact until one day it hits him like a punch in the gut. the realization that he likes the way you smell. a lot.

a sense of shame takes root in his chest. he feels like some sort of creep, feeling this way. it’s weird. he’s weird, he’s convinced. and yet, sakura can’t help but start to take note of the products you use when he’s over at your place. it’s not snooping if it’s on display right? sakura knows it’s just a flimsy argument that he's using to reassure himself, but he has to know what sort of products you’re using. he makes a mental list of the brands and scents of your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and laundry detergent amongst other things. and when he’s at the store, he’s skittish as ever, feeling as if he’s doing something intimately wrong as he buys the same products you use for himself.

sakura thinks you won’t ever discover his shameful secret. if only.

you're at his place instead of yours for a change of pace. sakura's lounging on his dingy couch that he bought second-hand when he first moved into his apartment. he's waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom, so he can hit play on the movie you've been meaning to watch together. his head’s resting on the back of the sofa and he turns his cheek towards the hallway when he hears the bathroom door unlock, expecting you to enter his view soon enough.

you do, and sakura's stomach drops when he sees what's in your hand. it's a shampoo bottle. identical to the one you own.

"what's this?"

sakura's at a loss for words, unable to come up with a good excuse on the fly.

“it’s the same one i have.”

he feels himself teetering on that tightrope, at the verge of falling down into the abyss of loneliness once more. are you mad? are you going to leave him?

“how come you bought it?”

sakura takes a deep breath, trying to pull himself out of his spiraling thoughts. no, he shouldn’t assume the worst. all you did was ask him a question. your tone isn’t accusatory, merely inquisitive.

“i-i like the way you smell.” he says small and quiet, entirely unlike how he usually is. he chooses to let his head hang low, staring at the couch cushions rather than you. he’s afraid of what he may see if he looks your way. even if he doesn’t want to think the worst, he’s sure you’re put off by what he’s said. who wouldn’t be?

“haruka, can you look at me?” sakura stubbornly keeps his head down. tendrils of fear have taken ahold of his heart, paralyzing him. he stiffens when you gently sigh. “please?”

slowly, sakura lifts his head, bracing himself for your reaction. sakura expects disgust or distaste to be plastered across your face, but he's shocked when he's greeted with a smile, bleeding with a fondness that's so familiar to sakura it makes him ache a little.

"i'm not mad," you say as if you can read sakura's thoughts. or maybe you can just read his expression. "i'm flattered that you think i smell nice, and i honestly think it's really cute that you want to smell like me."

"really?" sakura's brows furrow, disbelieving. "you don't think it's weird? or gross?" sakura doesn't know why he's saying these things, things that could push you further from him, but he doesn't get why you don't think what he's done is strange or unusual.

sakura startles when you take a seat beside him on the couch. he didn't even notice you moving across the room.

“why would i think that?” a confused lilt to your voice. you reach out towards sakura, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before caressing his cheek. the tips of your fingers rub against the ends of his hair. “i think it’s sweet. honestly, i really like the idea of us using the same products." your expression goes thoughtful. "it's like even when i'm not around, a part of me is still with you." a rosy hue colors sakura's cheeks. he didn't expect you to say something so embarrassing. you continue on, a growing grin on your lips. "and now whenever i sleep over, i don't have to worry about packing toiletries, i can just use what you have here!”

your laughter fills the air when sakura pulls back from you, rolling his eyes at your attempt of lightening the mood. it works though. sakura is admittedly feeling considerably better than he did just moments ago. he doesn't know how you do it. you somehow always know what to say, what he needs to hear. sakura no longer finds himself performing a balancing act on that tightrope as often as he once did in his adolescence, but from time to time, he's there again, teetering from side to side, afraid of falling. but now he realizes that fear is unfounded.

you're a safe place for him to land.

[sulkingheichou012]

Into the Dungeon with You

Pairing: Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: RomCom, Action, Future Smut

Warning: Description of violence and profanity.

Summary: Jinwoo frowned as a new system notification appeared before him.

[Special Reward Successfully Claimed.]

Author's note: I'm happy that some of you are enjoying my silly work! Yes, if you're asking to be tagged—sure! 😊

Chapter 14

The Gate of Origin loomed like an ancient wound in reality, a scar left from a time before names and monarchs. Jinwoo stood before it, his shadow legion silent behind him. Bellion shifted uneasily, his golden eyes wary.

“Bellion,” Jinwoo said quietly. “This was where Ashborn once came to seek answers.”

Bellion stood tall, his massive blade resting on his shoulder.

“My King… are you sure?” Bellion’s voice was low.

Jinwoo’s gaze didn’t waver. “She’s waiting.” Then he pushed forward, the black mist swirling as the gate opened with a sound like cracking bone.

He stepped into silence. A place where stars flickered like dying embers and gravity held no dominion. And there, seated atop a massive throne of fractured light and darkness intertwined, was Raizel—the Monarch of Origin.

His silver hair floated weightlessly, and his eyes, golden and deep as the void, tracked Jinwoo’s approach with slow, deliberate calculation.

“You have grown, Ashborn’s heir,” Raizel murmured. His voice was smooth, but something ancient and dangerous coiled beneath it. “Yet, you come here… crawling.”

Jinwoo’s jaw tensed. “I didn’t come to kneel.”

Raizel’s thin lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “No. You never did, did you?” He rose from his throne with languid grace, as if gravity was beneath him. “You never surrendered her to me. Not when I first asked. Not when I warned you.” His gaze gleamed. “And now you beg for what I could have prevented.”

Jinwoo’s fingers curled into fists, shadows writhing around his arms. “You mean what you wanted to claim.” He took a step forward, dark tendrils rising behind him. “She’s not a possession.”

Raizel’s laughter was cold. “Everything is a possession. Even you. Ashborn knew that in the end.” He studied Jinwoo like a disappointed teacher. “She was always more than you understood. The Balance Keeper… the one who holds the line between life and death, creation and destruction.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you call her.” He met Raizel’s gaze without flinching. “She’s Y/N.”

Raizel’s smile finally cracked wider, sharp and mocking. “And you love her.” He walked in a slow circle around Jinwoo, as if measuring him for something. “You think that matters? That love will anchor her back to you? Foolish boy.” His voice dropped, smooth and cruel. “Love is why she chose to disappear.”

Jinwoo’s breath hitched, but he refused to look away. “She chose to save us.”

Raizel nodded slowly. “And you let her.”

The words cut deeper than Jinwoo expected.

Raizel came to stand in front of Jinwoo again, his presence suffocating, heavy with ageless power. “She belongs in my realm. With me.” His golden gaze softened with something almost resembling regret—or longing. “I offered her eternity, once. She refused. Because of you.” His tone sharpened. “And now, she’s trapped in oblivion. Untethered. You, Shadow Monarch, have no right to demand her return.”

Jinwoo’s shadow flared. “I’m not demanding,” he said quietly. “I’m taking her back.”

For a long moment, Raizel said nothing. Then, with a lazy flick of his fingers, the space around them twisted—revealing visions: Y/N closing the portals, standing on her shadow dragon, smiling faintly as her body turned into radiant dust.

“She was… radiant,” Raizel murmured. “Even at the end.”

Jinwoo’s throat worked. He forced himself to speak. “Show me the way to The Well of Beginnings”

Raizel’s golden eyes gleamed brighter. He extended his hand, fingers tipped in faint light. “The place where no Shadow Monarch dares. To The Well of Beginnings?”

His tone darkened.

"Well then…. But there is a price... When you find her… you’ll have to choose: restore her… or restore the world.”

Jinwoo clenched his jaw. “I’ll save her.”

Raizel smiled faintly, like a man watching a beautiful tragedy unfold. “If you fail… I’ll claim what’s left of her. And next time… I won’t ask.”

Jinwoo’s shadows coiled tighter, his teeth grit. “You’ll never touch her.”

Raizel’s crimson gaze glowed. “We’ll see.”

Raizel had shown him the way. Silent as ever, his gaze heavy with knowledge Jinwoo barely understood. The key shimmered faintly in his hand, ancient power humming beneath his fingers.

Jinwoo stood at the threshold of a forgotten ruin, half-buried beneath time and dust. This was the place—the door to the Abyss of the Well of Beginnings. A place no Monarch or Ruler had ever dared enter. A place only he could open.

“This is it,” he murmured. His voice was low, but steady. No more hesitation. No more waiting.

“I’ll bring her home.”

[System Alert]

Entering Quest: “The Well of Beginnings”

Difficulty: [Unknown]

Success Rate: [???]

Proceed? [YES] | [NO]

Jinwoo didn’t hesitate. [YES]

The portal swallowed them in silence.

Raizel did not follow them into the Well. He remained behind, his golden eyes gleaming as he watched the scar in reality slowly mend itself.

“She was never yours, Ashborn’s heir,” he murmured. His fingers traced the faint scar over his heart—an old wound, from a time when he first laid eyes on the Balance Keeper. “Y/N belongs to the one who endures.” A faint smile curved his lips. “And I will endure long after you’ve fallen.”

He turned away, his mind already savoring the thought of her return. But not to Jinwoo.

The Abyss yawned open before him—an endless darkness at the bottom of the Well of Beginnings. Jinwoo stood at the edge, the obsidian key that had given him pulsing with a steady, ancient heartbeat in his palm. Every instinct screamed at him to be cautious. But he had already made his choice.

He stepped forward.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, gravity itself seemed to vanish. Jinwoo was falling, yet not falling—drifting through an expanse of infinite night. Then came the pulse. A deep, resonating beat that echoed through his very soul.

[You have entered: The Abyss of the Well of Beginnings.]

[Commencing Memory Restoration.]

A flood of memories surged, but they weren’t his alone. He saw her. Y/N. But not as she was now. No… this was different.

The first life. Raizel stood alone at the peak of his kingdom. The last of the Noblesse. Yet, there was someone beside him in those quiet moments. A woman whose silver hair glowed under the moonlight, her eyes filled with endless loyalty and sorrow. She called him My King, but her smile… it was soft, familiar. Like the one Y/N gave him now when she thought he wasn’t looking.

[Synchronization Rate: 33%…]

The second life. Ashborn. The Monarch of Shadow. The last of the rulers to hold the line against oblivion.

He stood atop a battlefield drenched in the blood of Monarchs and Rulers alike. His wings, darker than night, spread wide as the world crumbled around him. Yet even in his absolute power, he couldn’t save her.

Her body was breaking apart—turning to dust—her essence sacrificed to destroy an enemy they could not defeat otherwise.

“Why…?” Ashborn’s voice was not a growl, nor a roar—it was the low, broken whisper of a god losing the last piece of his humanity. He dropped to his knees as her ashes slipped between his fingers. His clawed hands, stained with ancient blood, trembling.

“I told you… I would stay by your side,” she whispered, her soul flickering like a dying flame in his grasp. “And you did,” he murmured. And then she was gone.

Ashborn raised his head, his hollow gaze turning toward the skies that wept fire. His fury and grief became a storm that tore through creation. That was the day the Shadow Monarch renounced the war. That was the day he became death itself.

[Synchronization Rate: 67%…]

The third life. Jinwoo. Himself.

He felt it as if it were happening now. His heart pounding, his lungs crushed under the weight of invisible hands.

Her form dissolved against his chest, leaving faint warmth and motes of light behind.

“No. No, no, no… Please... not like this…” Jinwoo’s hands scrambled to hold her together, but his fingers passed through smoke and fading light.

And she was gone.

And for the first time, Jinwoo understood why Ashborn had fallen to his knees. Because he did too.

[Synchronization Complete.]

His hands clenched at his sides as the memories settled into him like old armor finally reforged.

[New Title Acquired: The Trinity of Existence.]

[Hidden Trait Unlocked: Soulbound Fate.]

[Description: Your soul and hers have been entwined through three lives. This bond transcends life and death. Fate itself has tied your existences together.]

[Hidden Passive Skill Unlocked: Absolute Dominion.]

[Description: You have ascended beyond the concept of Monarch and King. Absolute Dominion grants you the power to exert complete control over your domain, shadows, and the battlefield itself.]

Jinwoo opened his eyes. They glowed faintly violet, layered over the abyssal black of his shadows. And yet, the first thing he looked for wasn’t power.

The pain was unbearable.

Jinwoo’s breath came in shallow bursts as he dropped to his knees, one hand bracing himself against the cold obsidian ground of the Abyss. His other hand clutched at his temple, trying to hold his mind together as memories—no, lifetimes—flooded in all at once. Raizel. Ashborn. Himself.

Their grief. Their rage. Their love.

And then, amidst the chaos, a hand. Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Slender fingers combed gently through his hair, gliding down to cradle his cheek. He flinched at first, but the touch was grounding. Calming. It pulled him out of the storm in his mind and into something quieter. Safer.

“Rest, Jinwoo,” came the gentle whisper, so close it ghosted over his ear. “You’ve carried enough… let me hold you now.”

His throat tightened as he turned his head. It was her. Y/N.

Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid starlight, her violet eyes soft, full of understanding and something deeper. She knelt before him, straddling his lap now, as if she’d always belonged there, her body so close. Her fingers trailed from his cheek down to his throat, then lower, her hand resting lightly on his chest—right over his heart.

He didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

His hand reached for her almost desperately, fingers brushing along the curve of her waist, up her side, feeling the familiar dip where her ribs were. His palm slid over the small of her back as he drew her closer. He needed to feel her—confirm that she was there, real, warm. And she was. Warm. Soft. Alive beneath his touch.

“Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, nearly breaking.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the edge of his jaw, her breath feather-light on his skin. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Just for a while. You’ve done enough.”

His hands roamed without thinking—up her back, over her shoulder, down the slope of her thigh. She felt right under his hands, like she belonged there. He let his forehead rest against hers, closing his eyes as his hands gripped her hips, needing to anchor himself to something that wasn’t pain, wasn’t war.

God, he missed her.

For a heartbeat, he was tempted. To stay. To let go.

But something was wrong.

His brow furrowed as his thumb idly traced the curve of her hip, then slid to her hand where it rested on his chest. He took it gently in his, feeling the smoothness of her fingers. Too smooth. No calluses from gripping her scythe. No faint scars from battle.

His heartbeat slowed. His eyes opened.

This wasn’t Y/N.

Jinwoo’s grip shifted, tightening on her wrist. He pulled her hand up between them, staring at it. Perfect. Flawless. Wrong.

“The real Y/N would never ask me to stop,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the illusion like a blade. “She’d tell me to get up. To keep fighting. To stand with her.” He looked up, meeting her gaze—but now it was different. The softness faded, replaced by something hollow, predatory.

“You almost had me,” Jinwoo said, his tone cold now, even as his heart ached.

The illusion’s lips curled back in a mocking smile. “You wanted to stay.” “I wanted her,” he corrected. “You’re not her.”

His shadow erupted, tendrils lashing out to wrap around the false Y/N, lifting her into the air as her form distorted, flickering with static before revealing something monstrous beneath.

“You’ll never be her,” Jinwoo finished.

With a pulse of Absolute Dominion, the shadow constricted. The illusion shattered into ash and smoke, swept away by the currents of his domain.

Jinwoo stood slowly, his breathing steady now. He flexed his hand, still remembering the phantom warmth of her body against his. But now that warmth became something else—a promise. A reason to keep moving forward.

“No more games,” he muttered, his gaze burning as he stepped deeper into the abyss.

<< Chapter 13 | Chapter 15 >>

Tag requests: @kisssleeping; @catsf0rlife707; @aorifukuzawa; @joannthebish; @ojog404; @tanspostsblog; @snowy-violet; @o-qi-shisme; @sleepyamaya; @harrystylesfan2686; @night-shadowblood-writes2; @weaponxgames; @bubera974; @moonlightsof;

[azrielmasterlist]

His Shadows & Their Starlight

Storyline:-(Ver.2.0) Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You've been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You're a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Word count:- 1.15k

Warnings:- Insecurity, Lonliness, Jealousy, Angst.

Series:- Chapter 1

Chapter 2: The Haunting Past

Isla's POV

I was still learning how to navigate the quiet corners of Velaris. They felt both beautiful and unnerving, like living inside a painting that could come alive at any moment. The Night Court was steeped in an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, yet its people were undeniably vibrant, alive with a spirit I found both comforting and overwhelming.

I didn't know how to place myself in this world of power and magic. I felt more like an intruder than a guest. A mortal—a temporary flicker of existence—among beings who had centuries carved into their souls.

Azriel, however, was a puzzle all his own.

He was distant, a ghost that hovered at the edges of every room, every conversation. And yet, when his shadows moved, it was like they betrayed the parts of him he tried so hard to keep hidden. Those shadows weren't silent. They whispered, they reached, and sometimes... they found me.

I caught glimpses of him in those quiet moments when his focus faltered, and something more human slipped through his carefully crafted mask. That morning, as I stood on the balcony overlooking Velaris's sprawling, shimmering streets, I thought about those moments. About him.

The door creaked softly behind me, and I turned, expecting to see Feyre or perhaps one of the others. But it was Azriel.

His presence felt heavier than the others. He didn't speak right away, and the silence stretched between us like a thin thread, taut and fragile.

"Good morning," I said cautiously, unsure of how to fill the space.

He gave a small nod, his wings rustling faintly as he stepped closer to the edge of the balcony. His gaze flicked over the city below, but his attention wasn't on the view. He seemed... preoccupied, his brows furrowed as if lost in a memory.

I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but I didn't dare. Instead, I waited, letting the silence settle again.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Do you ever think about what you've left behind?"

The question caught me off guard. I turned to face him, unsure of what to say. "All the time," I admitted. "I don't think it ever leaves me. My life before this—before here—it feels like another world entirely. Like I'm not the same person I was."

Azriel's gaze shifted to me, his hazel eyes sharp and searching. "And does it make you want to go back?"

It was a complicated question, one I hadn't fully allowed myself to answer. "Sometimes," I said honestly. "But... even if I did, I'm not sure I'd fit there anymore. Not after this."

He nodded slowly as if he understood. His wings stretched slightly before settling again, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more.

"Do you?" I asked carefully, my voice barely above a whisper. "Think about what you've left behind?"

A shadow passed over his face, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then, quietly, he said, "It's not what I've left behind that haunts me. It's what I've lost."

There was a weight to his words that made my chest ache. I didn't know the details of Azriel's past, but I knew enough to understand that it was filled with pain, with scars that ran deeper than anything I could comprehend.

I wanted to reach out to him, to say something that might ease the burden he carried, but I wasn't sure if he'd let me. Instead, I stayed quiet, hoping my presence would be enough.

His shadows moved then, curling around his feet like restless tendrils of smoke. They shifted subtly, almost imperceptibly, and I felt that strange pull again—the way they seemed to acknowledge me, to reach for me.

"Your shadows," I murmured before I could stop myself. "They're always... moving. Always watching."

Azriel's gaze snapped to mine, sharp and wary. "They have a will of their own," he said simply, but there was something in his tone that made me think he didn't entirely believe his own words.

"They comfort me," I admitted, my cheeks flushing slightly as I spoke. "When I feel... out of place. Like I don't belong here."

For a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. His shadows stilled as if they were listening to me, and I wondered if he felt what I did—the warmth they carried, the strange sense of solace they offered.

"I didn't realise they could do that," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

"Maybe it's not them," I said quietly, my gaze dropping to the floor. "Maybe it's you."

The words hung in the air between us, and I instantly regretted saying them. But when I glanced up, I saw something shift in his expression.

"It's not me," he said, but his voice lacked its usual certainty. "I've never... I'm not the kind of person who offers comfort, Isla."

I didn't know what to say to that. He seemed so sure, so convinced that he was nothing more than the sum of his shadows and his pain. But I wasn't convinced. There was more to him than that—there had to be.

Before I could respond, his gaze drifted away, his features hardening slightly. I followed his line of sight and saw Elain standing at the far end of the balcony, her delicate features framed by the soft light of the morning sun.

The tension in Azriel's posture was immediate, his shadows shifting restlessly around him. I felt like I was intruding on something deeply personal, something I couldn't possibly understand.

Elain's gaze flicked to me briefly before settling on Azriel, and for a moment, it felt like the world held its breath.

"Azriel," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of something I couldn't quite place.

He nodded to her, his expression unreadable, and then, without another word, he turned and walked away. His shadows lingered for a moment, hovering around me like a fleeting whisper before following him into the shadows.

I watched him go, my chest tight with an ache I didn't fully understand.

Elain didn't say anything to me, but she didn't need to. Her presence alone was enough to remind me of the gulf between us—the mortal girl with no place in this world and the woman who seemed to hold a piece of Azriel's heart, even if it was fractured and complicated.

As the day wore on, I couldn't stop thinking about the way Azriel had looked at me, the way his shadows had reached for me. There was something there, something unspoken, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it mattered.

But it wasn't just about me. It was about him—about the pain he carried, the battles he fought within himself. And as much as I wanted to reach out to him, to offer him some semblance of comfort, I wasn't sure if he'd let me.

All I knew was that his shadows had chosen me, and maybe, just maybe, that meant something. Something neither of us fully understood yet.

Put some suggestions for the story scenes in comment section If you'd like. I am open to any new ideas or recommendations.😊😜.

Taglist:-

@donnadiddadog

[kirain]

Part seven of my appreciation project.

@yappacadaver A fic based on their wonderful art piece here and here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

The world stood still.

The battle was over, the blight vanquished, and Elgar'nan was dead. What remained of his influence was nothing more than hardened tendrils of corruption, now inert, forming a crude staircase down from the empty battlefield. One by one, the wearied heroes descended, each step agonising, their bodies battered but unbroken.

As Mara's boots met solid ground, the air shifted. Silence shattered into a wave of sound—a roar of celebration, clapping hands, shouts of triumph.

Applause.

Mara barely processed it. The cheers, the grateful weeping of the saved, the elation in the voices around her—it all seemed distant, as though she were submerged beneath dark waters. She saw it, knew what it meant, but she didn't feel it.

Her eyes swept over the crowd, their faces blurred and unimportant. She only wanted to see one man, and she found him.

Emmrich.

He stood nearby, his golden bracelets dulled by grime but still gleaming in the sun's rising light. His vest was torn, his shirt sticky with sweat and streaked with blood, his silver hair damp and unruly against his forehead. He was bruised and exhausted, yet he'd never looked more enticing.

As if sensing Mara's gaze, he turned towards her, his large hazel eyes brimming with need. A smile tugged at his lips, weak but fervent, ignoring the soreness in his joints. Before she could think, before she could breathe, he hobbled over to her and cupped her face with calloused, trembling hands.

And then he kissed her.

Mara inhaled greedily as his lips met hers, neither of them caring that hundreds were bearing witness. The way his mouth parted against hers, the heat of him, the way he tasted of steel and the residual drags of mana—it wasn't a dream nor an illusion. It was real.

They were alive.

They won.

As her hand caressed his cheek, her body balancing on her toes to reach him, his fingers curled at the nape of her neck, his other arm wrapping around her waist. Tilting her back, he deepened the kiss—a confession of every unspoken fear, every desperate prayer, every moment spent wondering if they'd survive.

"Darling..." he wheezed, his eyes flitting shut as he enjoyed her.

Simply enjoyed her. He hadn't had many opportunities, even after she escaped from the Fade. The best night of his life—their stolen hours in the Necropolis, the way they talked, touched, and made love—had also been the shortest. Made bittersweet knowing it could have been their last.

But now, it was over. The danger passed.

When they finally parted, their breaths mingled in the space between them, heavy and lustful. Mara wanted more, but as she moved to kiss him again, Emmrich suddenly stumbled back, the colour draining from his face.

"Emmrich?" she asked, following him.

His nose wrinkled, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. "I reek," he gagged. "Like blood and sweat." His eyes drifted to her swollen lips, mortified; surely she had noticed. "Forgive me. I don't know what came over me."

Mara laughed, catching him by the wrist. "You think that bothers me? Did you forget I'm a Crow?"

"It bothers me," he croaked. "Darkspawn, Venatori—who knows what pernicious pathogens they carried? I don't want to get you sick, my love."

Mara grinned, trailing a finger down the front of his tattered vest, her voice dropping to a sinful murmur.

"Then let's go take a bath."

Emmrich flinched, then returned her seductive expression.

The applause raged on, but for Mara, the only thing that mattered was the way the older man laced his fingers with hers, unwilling to let her go.

-----

The spring bath. A marvel to behold, where the heroes of Thedas were welcomed to bask in its luxury. The water lapped at Emmrich's chest, mending aches he'd neglected for days. The fragrant blend of elfroot oil, lavender, and daylilies clung to the steam rising around him, mixing with the fainter scent of the potted plants that lined the walls.

Everything about this place—calm, indulgent, long overdue—was a reward he never even dared to fantasise about.

As he raked wet fingers through his hair, he sighed, letting his head sink into the soft towel behind him. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to relax. He would never claim he'd earned it, but his companions had insisted. None would disturb him—save for one.

Soft footsteps echoed across the jade flooring, and Emmrich lifted his head to greet her.

Mara.

She stood at the edge of the bath, bare and radiant in the sunlight streaming through the high glass windows. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in luscious waves, and her sharp eyes—usually so alert and calculating—now shined with a sense of freedom and serenity.

Emmrich held his breath, drinking her in. "You're so beautiful," he uttered.

"Even with my scar?" she asked, running her finger along the indentation from her left shoulder to her right breast.

"Darling," he said, a bright blush flaring across his cheeks, "every inch of you is perfect."

Mara smiled, then stepped into the tub, sinking gracefully into the water, the ripples distorting her reflection like a splash of paint on a canvas.

"You're perfect," she stressed, aware that he still harboured insecurities about his age.

Emmrich huffed, but before he could argue, she slid onto his lap, straddling him, her thighs caging his hips. Her arms wove around his neck, her skin like silk against his own.

For a long while, neither of them spoke, each one staring at the other with an aura of desire.

Then, their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss—one that spoke of solace and devotion. Emmrich's hands traced up her back, his fingers ghosting over her spine, muscle, and hints of grit left over from battle. He wanted her, needed her, and he refused to wait a second longer, lest some other threat tear her from his grasp. Gods, cultists—all of them be damned. With a hungry moan, he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to the delicate line of her jaw, then lower, to the pulse of her throat.

"Yes..." Mara gasped, tightening her embrace, burying her face into his neck.

"Are you ready, darling?"

He shifted beneath her, his hands finding her waist, preparing to move her into a more comfortable position—but then he froze.

She was shaking.

A light tremor at first, barely noticeable through the heat of the water. Then more pronounced.

Emmrich let out a low chuckle, trying to ease the tension he suddenly felt. "You must be very excited," he teased.

She didn't respond.

His stomach twisted.

"Mara?"

Still, nothing. Just the tightness of her arms around his shoulders, the slight shudder in her breath.

Then, he heard it—a partially suppressed sob. His heart clenched. Immediately, he wrapped her up, one hand sliding to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair.

"Darling, what's wrong?"

Another shaky breath. Another barely-there sob.

He rubbed her back, panic creeping into his tone. "Darling, please. Talk to me."

Mara inhaled loudly, as if forcing down another cry, then finally—finally—she spoke.

"I'm sorry..." she choked. "I ruined the moment."

"No, no. You didn't, my darling. You didn't." He tried to lean back, to see her face, but she was curled so tightly against him, as if hiding herself out of shame. "Mara, please... tell me what's wrong. You know you can tell me anything, yes? Please, darling, maybe I can help. What is it?"

She sniffed, shaking her head. "Nothing's wrong, Emmrich. For the first time in ages, nothing's wrong." She squeezed tighter, her legs hugging his hips, yet careful not to hurt him. "I just..."

Emmrich closed his eyes and rocked her through the water, willing the gentle motion to soothe her. "Go on, darling. I'm listening."

Mara sighed, his support a balm to her weary soul. "I've just been... holding everything in since Varric put me in charge." Her voice was raw, quiet. "I've been so—"

She swallowed her words, unable to say it.

"Scared?" Emmrich offered.

She nodded.

"Oh, Mara..." He held her tighter, giving her a moment to unwind. "Look at me."

Gently, he eased her back, his chest aching at the sight of the tears rolling down her cheeks. He'd never seen her like this—relief, sorrow, ecstasy, and fear overwhelming her all at once. Without hesitation, he cupped her face, brushing his thumbs beneath her lashes.

"I saw how hard this was on you every day, yet I can't even begin to imagine what you were going through," he said, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. "But I need you to hear this: we never would have made it without you."

She whimpered at his praise, her lips trembling. "I was so worried I'd fail everyone."

"You didn't," he said, his voice firm. "You were incredible. I was terrified of losing you, but if anyone could lead us to victory, I knew it was you."

"Emmrich, I didn't—"

"I knew it was you," he averred. "From the moment I met you, you were indomitable. You kept everyone's spirits up. You made the difficult decisions. You suffered a living nightmare in the Fade, but came through it stronger than before." He leaned in, pecking her lips before returning to her gaze. "Darling, it's over, but not despite your efforts—because of them. You're a natural-born leader." He grinned, playfully pinching her chin. "And so damn irresistible."

Mara let out a breath—half a laugh, half a sob. Then she smiled, resting her forehead against his.

"I'm sorry for... the hysterics."

"Hysterics?" He frowned. "How many times have I unloaded my problems onto you?"

"That was different," Mara chuckled. "And I was happy to help."

"It wasn't different," Emmrich tittered. "My love, you have nothing to apologise for, and I'm glad you shared that with me."

"...I'm just so tired."

Emmrich kissed her temple, cradling her close. "Then sleep. I've got you."

She was silent for a moment, soaking him in. Then, with a sudden scoff, she pulled back, mischief flickering through her exhaustion.

"I'm not that tired," she smirked.

Emmrich arched a brow, caught between amusement and adoration. "No?"

Mara shook her head, then kissed him again, her tongue pushing past his lips as the warmth of the bath enveloped them.

"Mmm..." Emmrich melted beneath her, his hands wandering lower as the heat between them intensified. "Not too tired for some 'rigorous activities'?"

"Never," she purred.

The steam thickened, swirling around them in a fog, until their world shrank to nothing but their sensual touch and the heady pounding of their hearts.

[cloudedmoonofficial]

Grey was ready.

He stood by while Rainfall finished her other announcements… he saw right through her and he couldn't wait to get big and become a Ranger. She would never choose him as an Envoy, he knew that. No, Grey would have to take a different path to remove the cruel Captain, be it Herbalism or just all out rebellion! But he had to learn first, he needed to complete field training. His conviction set fire to his heart, but he kept it well hidden from anyone who looked too close. He wasn't sure who he could trust yet.

It was a miracle any of them had finished base training! His friend, Tiger, had paid the ultimate price at less than three months of age, swept away by the river, at Rainfall's order. It wasn't fair! Grey could see the sorrow on Lily's face as she sat next to him, waiting to be assigned to a teacher, same as Grey. Tiger was Lily's sibling and all the young cats in the colony still missed him… They missed a lot of cats, so many had disappeared lately…

Many cats in River Colony whispered behind Grey's back that he was the son of a renegade, but he knew better. It was so long ago, but his mother would never have left him on purpose, that had to be Rainfall's doing, and Iceclaw… he held back a snarl, realizing that Rainfall had already assigned Lily and Ivy was next.

“--teach her loyalty and obedience!” Rainfall sneered before her gaze landed on Ivy, “Silverblaze, you will train Ivy. Make sure to train her to follow orders well, those long legs will make her a good scout.” 

“Yes, Captain!” Silverblaze nodded before turning around to greet Piketail, Ivy's aunt, as she ruffled Ivy's fur and congratulated her on reaching the next step of training. Piketail was one that Grey might be able to talk to… maybe…

“Grey.” Rainfall's ice cold gaze fell on him finally, “I can only think of one cat to match your weak will.” she seemed to goad him, but he didn't falter, not even as he heard some snickers behind him. ‘Don't let ‘em get to ya’ Rockyshore had told him, ‘Let it all roll off you like water.’ “Wolfthorn, how would you like to actually pull your weight in this Colony, hm? I'm sick of you freeloading, so you will train Grey. That is all. Dismissed!” she finished, her eyes still trained on Wolfthorn.

“Sure, Rainfall,” Wolfthorn's smooth voice answered, “I'm sure that decision won't come back to bite you.” He shrugged with a smirk. Several cats gasped, no one dared talk back to their Captain, but Grey had witnessed Wolfthorn do it on more than one occasion since he had entered the colony. Apparently he was born here too, but he left on a long journey before returning. Rainfall had just… let him come back. 

“It had better not.” Iceclaw growled a threat. It made Grey's neck fur stand on end, but Wolfthorn didn't seem put off by Iceclaw at all. Why? Grey knew there was more to that story, there had to be, and he was going to uncover it! He could barely hide how excited he was to be assigned to Wolfthorn, of all cats! The Spirits might have been on his side after all!

Grey looked back at the silver striped tomcat with an eager smile, ignoring the flashes of pity in many cats’ eyes. They certainly didn't think his assignment was a good thing, and he would pretend to be unaware of why; he would continue his act of naivety until he had Wolfthorn alone. He had to be careful about it if he was to succeed. 

There would be no harder working new-claw than Grey, Wolfthorn wouldn't even need to try very hard to train him. He would practice his stances, his tactics and his strikes until they were flawless. And one day he would be good enough to beat Iceclaw. Hopefully he could get Lily on his side too, and Talon, Ivy and Falcon! 

Wolfthorn blinked at him and then turned away, walking toward the west shore of their island base. Grey hurried after him, following across the stepping stones and through the mangrove tendrils. They didn't stop until they had reached the Rainbow Trees, the huge eucalyptus trunks towered above them, reaching for the sky. Grey bounced into a trot as he realized they were the only cats here. What should he ask first?

Wolfthorn stopped abruptly, turned and sat down, his striped tail flicking from side to side and his eyes narrowing, “What’s your story?” Wolfthorn asked before Grey could speak, “You're not as naive as you let them believe.”

“...No.” Grey's heart jumped into his throat, should he really trust Wolfthorn? His idealistic plan started to sound stupid suddenly, he didn't know what to say, “I--well, I just…” he cleared his throat and trailed off, shuffling his paws nervously. 

“Relax.” Wolfthorn smirked and rolled his eyes, “I'm not going to bite you. Obviously, you are aware that Rainfall isn't my biggest fan, so I'm sorry she made me your teacher, I don't know why, and I'm not exactly a good one.” 

“That’s okay!” Grey blurted out, “I can already do a lot! I've been practicing!” he launched into his best leap and roll technique before bouncing over Wolfthorn’s back, swatting him gently and then leaping back in front of him, a huge smile on Grey's face as he finished.

Wolfthorn chuckled, “Look, kid, you don't have to impress me. Mine is an opinion no one cares about.”

“I do! I think you might be what I need to save the colony!” Grey almost looked like a kitten again, huge yellow moon-eyes gleaming.

“You're really into this, aren't you?” Wolfthorn raised an eyebrow. He seemed caught off guard, but also a bit amused. “Save them from what? ‘River Colony is the best colony in the Alliance’ after all.” he echoed Rainfall, fishing for an answer that suited him. 

The last thing Wolfthorn expected was to hear Grey out himself for treason, but that is what happened: Grey's face turned serious as he prepared to speak. This was it, if he couldn't trust Wolfthorn, all hope was lost anyway, “Save them from Rainfall! She got Tiger killed. My mother is missing… several cats are. Piketail tells us about them, she says not to talk about it though… you never know who's watching…” 

“So, you're a little traitor huh?” Wolfthorn laughed in Grey's face, after a moment, Wolfthorn tilted his head to the side, “I suppose I underestimated you. Kittens don't normally have such resolute opinions.”

“I'm not a kitten anymore, I'm six months.” Grey stood tall and Wolfthorn realized how large he was, almost as large as any adult really, “And yeah, I am a traitor! Are you going to report me?” Grey's demeanor was more challenging than anything, “Someone has to do something or more cats are going to get hurt.”

It almost gave Wolfthorn hope… hope for the colony he knew as a kitten: safety and pride in their work. He sighed, “I suppose kittens are forced to grow fast in River Colony now… No, I'm not going to report you, but keep all that to yourself.” Both toms relaxed a bit, “I suppose you've noticed that my relationship with our Captain is a bit different, hm? Well, don't test it for yourself, alright? Your job is to become a Ranger right now, you'll be playing the long game.”

“So, you do have a plan? I knew it!” Grey's ears stood on end as he prepared to listen

“Not really…” Wolfthorn answered and Grey's excitement melted, “I don't really do… hard things anymore.” He yawned.

Grey's brow furrowed, “But, all we need is a few more cats on our side! You could lead–”

“I'm no leader.” Wolfthorn interrupted his new ward, who drooped a bit in disappointment. It hurt Wolfthorn's heart to see Grey's conviction shatter… Who was he to tell this new-claw that his idea of justice wasn't tenable? Not wanting to completely break this young cat's confidence, Wolfthorn caught Grey's gaze and said, “But I know who could be.” He supposed he was about to do a ‘hard thing’ after all.

The new-claw smiled with determination, but kept his mouth shut, waiting to be let down again perhaps? Or maybe just waiting for instruction.

“You are just a naive little kitten, yeah?” Wolfthorn raised an eyebrow. Grey smiled eagerly and nodded enthusiastically, “You would never dream of betraying Rainfall and I'm quite annoyed that she has you following me around.” Wolfthorn smirked as he got their story straight, “You're too dumb to see me do anything treasonous though.” Grey nodded again, laughing at the continued charade.

“I'm ready.” Grey said.

“I guess I am too.” Wolfthorn shrugged. He wasn't sure why he came back to River Colony, but he never expected to meet a cat like Grey. He supposed his shadow must have guided him home for this. Was he really the only cat for the job? He hoped not. Time to find out.

-Art by Snap

[gingerteawrites]

Autumn in love - Nanami Kento

A/N: Another comforting and self-indulgent fic but what is new? I wish it could be cold already. Can't believe that its still 80 degrees F in November😭.

Content: tooth-rotting fluff, husband! Nanami, female reader, barely proofread.

Fall was Kento's favorite season. Call it basic or boring, but to him, there was nothing better than the crunch of the reddened leaves when stepped on. The crisp aroma of fragrant air. The beauty of the world as it burst into shades of deep auburns and ambers. The mellowness of it all felt so enticing, much akin your husband's nature.

Taking the time to breath in the world on his way to and from work and sketching delicate figures during the evenings were among his favorite ways of enjoying this wonderful season. However, he was also much receptive to the ways you preferred to experience the autumnal weather. Your world was by extension, his own.

And with time, a beautiful fresco of collected memories painted your shared home. Trinkets that bore testament to your little adventures.

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The beautiful branch mounted on your wall

"Oooooo, look at this one!" You crouched to pick up yet another branch from the orchard's soft soil. Nanami turns away from the apple tree, a pristine pink lady in hand.

He chuckles when you run to him with a small branch whose tendrils curled in the shape of outstretched fingers.

"That sure is something, love." a smile pulled at his soft lips. "Though I am not sure if branches are included in the apple-picking fee."

You clung to his arm, nuzzling close with a simper that matched his own. "Well, good thing I'm not asking them."

Ever your accomplice, Kento helps you 'sneak' the branch out of the farm and insists on coating it to preserve it for you.

"You don't have to indulge my stupid fixations, Kento. Really." You watch him carefully handle the piece of wood in your garage, feeling bad about how much effort he's putting into this.

"Stupid?" He asks, deep voice tinged with a hint of surprise. The thought had never even occurred to him. He walks to you, and rests a tender hand against your cheek. Eyes holding your entire world as they looked at you with so much tenderness. "There is absolutely nothing that you, my dear wife, could enjoy that I would think is stupid."

You melt against his touch, and even more at his words. "Plus, that is an outstanding stick. Think we can record a video and send it to that one stick nation page?" He asks, pulling a honest laughter out of you.

"Great minds think alike, I see."

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The hand-made mug sat atop your night stand.

While on the way back from a quiet afternoon walk, you and Kento had stumbled upon a yard sale. The owner of the house, a little old lady beckoned you over the second she noticed how you had not so discreetly eyed her book collection.

Having spent what felt like a wonderful eternity browsing through the collection you believed to be way too big for one person to own in a lifetime, you realized you had lost sight of your husband. You hoisted your picks close to your chest and turned in search for Kento.

But as if sensing your quest for him, he practically materialized beside you.

"Let me help with that, darling." He coaxed most of the books from you before you could even think to refuse, holding them gently under one arm.

"Thank you, Ken" You smile, linking fingers with his other outstretched hand. "Did you find anything you liked?" You were hoping he was not bored.

"Uh-huh." He nods. "The owner's husband had an interesting tie collection. I left everything I liked at the entrance with her. Just wanted to come see how you were doing." His thumb rubbed gentle circles against your skin.

You reach the lady, with multiple items laid out on the big table that served as check-out station on top of which sat an old-fashioned cash register. She helps pack your purchases in a paper bag, while you absently look around the yard and admire the beautiful house behind you.

Unloading the purchases from the brown bag in your home, your eyes go round with curiosity when your fingers touch a delicate porcelain frame. You pull out a mug from the bag, its wide cream base decorated with small mushrooms and flowers. The handle curled like a vine, and you spent more than a few minutes admiring the glaze.

That means you did not notice Kento, who came leaning against the door frame, looking at you with a fond smile.

"Do you like it, love?" He asked, pulling your attention towards him.

"Do I like it??" You took a deep breath. "God, it's gorgeous. How did I not notice it?" You ask to yourself.

He pushes himself off the wall and walks to you, wrapping strong arms around your waist, your back pressed to his chest.

"It was in a pile of miscellaneous items. I knew you would enjoy it the second I saw it." He explained, his warmth seeping into you.

"You know me too well." You set the mug down and spin around in his arms so you're facing him. Eyes meet and before you know it, your lips follow in a tender embrace. "I need to get you something too." You whisper against his cheek.

"Having you here is more than enough." Kento replied earnestly.

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Just the sight of these small things warmed you through and through, reminders of Kento's love. Of his tender care, that made you want to open your heart even more than you already did. Hold him close for the colder months, and never let go even when the heat comes.

Hope you enjoyed it! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)