#kinda torn on if I should include this in my fic tag

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part four

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is your reminder to reblog and comment on fics you like!! it helps us writers out a TON the girlies who get it get it. thanks!!

series masterlist // playlist

"I just have to ask you a few questions... is that okay?" Coriolanus asks, sitting across from you at the small table you find yourself chained to.

"Please." You nod, grinning at him. You were so tired, the bags under your eyes were evidence enough of that. Screw getting you food- Coryo is worried if you don't sleep you'll be all but useless in the games, even if all he needs you to do is run and hide.

"It's just so people can get to know you a bit better. Okay, so..." He looks down at the sheet in front of him, tapping the pencil against the table as he tries to focus on reading. "First, nice and easy, what is your full name?"

"Y/N M/N L/N."

"Great... Okay, and where are you from?"

"District Twelve, born and raised."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next week." You smile.

"Oh, really?" He asks, pausing mid-sentence as he starts writing it down.

"Yeah." You smile. "Hopefully I'll live to see the day."

"You will." He tries to be reassuring as he scribbles the finished answer on his sheet. God, you got unlucky. Not that his eighteenth was a big celebration like some of his classmates, but Tigris made him a cake with ingredients she'd been saving up for and she refit his school uniform for him. You wouldn't even have that- you would be spending the day fighting for your life, if you even made it that long.

"And who is in your family unit?" He reads directly from the slip as he forces himself to move on.

"Well, there's me, my brother, he's fifteen, and then my ma and pa." You nod. "Well, my pa isn't home much. Lots of work in the mines; usually has sixteen-hour days. I hardly ever see him." You admit, sadness laced into your tone. "Saw him, I mean."

"My father died in Twelve." Coryo says, catching you off guard. He doesn't even fully understand why he felt the need to tell you this. "About ten years ago, it was rebels."

"I remember that." You reply quietly, recalling the lockdown placed on the District after the murder of a peacekeeper general. "He was the general. Crassus Snow, I assume?"

"Yes."

Everyone was forced into their homes at gunpoint, and in search of the responsible parties everyone you knew had their home destroyed by peacekeepers. Yourself included. Your bed was torn apart, and your mattress shredded for any hidden weapons or plans. Since then, you have shared a bed with your brother. A new mattress was hard to make, and your ma never got the free time or materials again.

Up until this week, that was the scariest day of your life. Just before the peacekeepers kicked in your door, your mother had grabbed the two of you and shoved you into an opening under the floorboards- a crawlspace made from a faulty foundation. You were in there for what felt like hours, listening to shouting and your home being ruined as you held onto each other with a hand pressed over your brother's mouth to keep him from crying too loud. Your mother's cries that day never seemed to end.

"It's a small world." You say after a solid few moments of silence, and Coryo can see it in the way you're staring at his paper that you're not reading it. You're zoned out completely. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It must have been scary."

"The war was hard on all of us." He responds. "What... what do you remember?" He had never heard anything about it besides the bare bones of what happened, he had never considered that the people of Twelve would remember it as well. And judging by the look on your face, it wasn't a good memory.

"I was about six, maybe seven, and I was playing with my brother, and I didn't hear anything but my ma must have because she grabbed us and hid us under the floorboards so fast I could have got whiplash. Peacekeepers came into our home, tore the whole thing to shreds, hurt my ma, then took off. Onto the next house. I didn't find out until a while later that rebels killed the peacekeeper general, they were looking for any evidence of conspiracy, I guess. The people who did it."

"Sounds like it was scarier for you than for me."

"But I want you to know," You speak so quickly you almost cut him off. "My parents had nothing to do with it. My pa is an honest, good man. All he ever wanted was to keep us safe. We're not rebels, I promise you that."

Coriolanus almost wishes you were, so he wouldn't be so hurt by what his people were putting you through. "I know. I wouldn't blame you for that."

"Thank you." You whisper, picking at your nails now as you look down at your shaky hands.

Coryo clears his throat, forcing himself to look away from you. "Uh..." He chuckles at the next question, making you look up at him again. "Are you married?"

"No." You reply, having almost completely forgotten about the worksheet in front of him. "I'm not."

"It's just... I just, I have to ask." He says, clearing his throat as he writes it down.

"Of course." You nod in understanding.

"Boyfriend?" He asks, and as you squint at the sheet you can see it's not there, and he quickly covers the next lines with his palm, cheeks flushing pink.

"Yes." You giggle as he snaps his head up to look at you.

"You do?" He asks, voice catching as his curls fall back onto his forehead from the sudden movement.

"Yes, what is so wrong in that?" You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh.

"No, no, I mean, of course you do, you're beautiful, I just, you never mentioned-"

"Relax, Coriolanus. I'm kidding." You smile at the panic in his tone. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, right. Thanks, it's just for, yeah..." He mumbles, pretending to write something down behind his cupped hand so you couldn't see.

You shake your head at him while he's not paying attention, smiling to yourself.

"So, uh, do you have a job?"

"Not formally, but my ma is a seamstress. I help her lots with that. Fixing people's work clothes, stuff like that." You answer, getting back on topic.

"Did you make your dress?" He asks.

"Now I know that question's not on that form of yours." You laugh. "But yes, my ma made it for me when I was five. It's been my favourite ever since."

He looked the parts of it over that he could see above the table. It was well worn down, but well cared for. Similar to a lot of his own clothing.

"It used to be this big, flowing thing. Too big for a five year old- I would step on the bottom of it, just tore it right up." You recall. "So we trimmed the bottom, and as I grew, it grew right with me. I stitched up the bottom when I was old enough to enter the reaping, so now it's got shorts instead. But I still love it, lots of good memories held in the pockets of this old thing."

Shorts instead. So it's easier to run in. The thought haunts Coryo for a moment. The idea that you, at twelve years old, decided this is what you would want to run in, to die in, and took the liberty of sewing up the crotch in it yourself. Every stitch possibly sealing your fate.

"It's nice. I like it." He responds.

"Thank you." You smile, nodding proudly to yourself as you look down at the fabric. "It's real comfy, too."

"It looks it. Not very... restricting." He chooses his words wisely. No wonder you had kept it so many years. It still fit, so why not? Especially when it looked so good on you. The typically plain, neutral tone of the fabric complimented your skin tone so well. Even in bad lighting, it seemed as though you were glowing where the cloth met your skin. Glowing everywhere, now that he thought about it. Maybe you just lit up every room you walked into. Maybe it wasn't the clothing that was made just for you and hugged your form so flawlessly, maybe it was just you.

"Yes, it is not." You agree. "Now, our time is limited. Next question." You interrupt his thoughts, gesturing to the sheet of paper in between you.

"Yes, sorry." Coryo chuckles, shaking the distraction from his head. "Any hobbies?

"Reading."

"I did know that." He smiles to himself. "Anything else?"

"Well..." You think about it for a moment, chewing your lip. "I have a cat, and I like to play with him and take care of him, does that count?"

"I'll count it." He nods, quickly jotting it down. "What's your cat's name?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

"Tybalt." You giggle.

"Tybalt?" Coryo tilts his head at you and you nod, bottom lip drawn between your teeth.

He nods slightly, prompting you to explain. "He's named after a character from Romeo and Juliet."

"That's your favourite, I remember."

"Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives." You quote. "Mercutio calls Tybalt the king of the cats, so I named him after that."

"That's clever. Very funny."

"Thank you. I thought so." You smile proudly, watching him write down your cats name in his notes. "What is this for, if I can ask?"

"Uh, there's going to be an interview you'll have to do the night before the games. It'll be aired live on Capitol television, and people will be able to send in donations so I can send you things in the arena. Just like I told you." Coryo explains.

"An interview?" You ask. "What does that entail?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet." He answers honestly. "But we'll pass this sheet onto the host, Lucky, if you remember him, and he can ask you questions about your family, your life, any of this stuff. I think really whatever we want, though, so if there's anything in particular you want to say or talk about I can write that down for you."

"Oh, I'm really not sure." You reply. "Nothing in particular, but if you need me to talk I can talk about books for hours on end." You smile.

"Could you do a monologue?" He suggests. He had discussed this with Tigris before, and he was hoping you would, but knowing you, you would be dropping quotes in your interview anyway so you might as well commit to it and display how smart you are with something well-planned.

"Maybe, if you could find me a copy of Romeo and Juliet." You smile. "I think I know it, but it would be nice to have a refresher. Just to make sure I get it right. Would be awfully embarrassing if I made a mistake."

Coryo nods, quickly writing that down in the margins of the page. Considering he had never even heard of this book, it may be hard, but he would certainly try for you. "That would be great. Your goodbye was very moving, although quite confusing for most, but it had people talking about you and that's what we want."

"Okay. I'll practice."

"Thank you." Coryo smiles. "And I just have one more question on here to fill out... Do you have any special skills that you think will be helpful in the games?"

Your smile fades slightly and you just shake your head.

"That's okay. We'll figure it out."

That night, Coryo came to see you again. You were curled up with his blanket, draped half over yourself and half over Jessup as he lay next to you. It was a small blanket, obviously meant for a child, but it helped anyway. Maybe it was just a placebo, but for you, that was more than enough.

As you got up, hearing him call your name in a familiar tone, you draped the blanket more fully over Jessup before making your way over to the bars of the enclosure. "Good evening, Coryo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I brought you some things." He whispers, digging in his bag.

"How kind." You smile, watching as he pulls things out, handing you a napkin with some bread wrapped inside and tucking whatever else he brought under his arm to give to you after you've eaten. "Can you sit for a few minutes?"

"Of course." He nods, sitting down with you as you cross your legs and unfold the fabric carefully as not to drop what's inside. "I was hoping to talk to you anyway."

"Let's talk; it is not day." You smile, leaning toward him more.

"Should I be asking what that's from?" He jokes, but is surprised when you shrug.

"You could, but I wouldn't want to bore you." You giggle, shaking your head. "Take a guess, though. I believe you'd know it."

He smiles, watching as you take a bite out of the bread. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes." You nod in confirmation, covering your mouth while you speak. "You're a real fan, now, aren't you?"

"I guess so." He chuckles. "The fact that I've never read it is unimportant."

"Completely irrelevant." You agree with a quiet laugh. His smile fades as his eyes land on something behind you, and you turn to follow his gaze over your shoulder. "What are you looking at?" You whisper, looking back at him again.

"Are you sharing everything I bring you with Jessup?" He asks, voice stern as his brow furrows at the question.

"I try to." You nod, taking another bite. "He's not well. I think something bit him the first night we were here."

"You can't." Coryo insists. Of course, he wants you to win, and you handing over every bit of sustenance or help you receive is only lessening your odds. Making Jessup stronger and you only weaker. "I know you're a good person, but once you get in that arena you won't have any friends. Not even him." Coryo explains, strategically skipping over the part where it makes him ill to see you sleeping with your head on the boy's shoulder and sharing the blanket that he gifted to you.

"Oh..." You say, so quietly he can hardly hear. "But-"

"Y/N." He cuts you off, a serious look on his face. "If you keep feeding him, keep helping him, and it comes down to you and him in the end, who do you think will win in that fight? If you had all the same nutrients and sleep, who do you think will win?"

"I- well..." You stutter, looking back at your friend. "It won't come to that. I think we both know that."

"We have to assume it will." He pleads, eyes now locked on yours. "Don't make it easier for him."

"Coryo, he's got a family, siblings, his ma to get home to. They need him." You protest, leaning closer so no one else could properly hear.

"So do you." He reminds you. The look of guilt that crosses your face indicates to him that even though you had your own family, something about Jessup makes you willing to give that up for him to get home. "What about Tybalt? He'll never know what happened to his own mother. Or your brother losing his sister. Y/N, please..."

Your eyes widen at the mention of your cat and your brother in particular. Clearly, Coryo is so desperate for you to listen that he's pulling strings he shouldn't. To make you hurt. To make you pay attention.

Tears fill your eyes as you speak. "I know." Your voice cracks, and the pit in Coryo's stomach tells him he's gone too far. "I'm sorry, I just- I don't want to be afraid anymore. It's selfish of me, I know, but I won't last long and I know that so I just want to get it over with." You cry quietly, reaching up to wipe your eyes on your wrist. You hadn't been so candid with him before, he almost doesn't recognize you without a smile on your face.

"Hey, no, don't be sorry. It's not selfish." He whispers, without hesitation reaching through the bars and resting his hand on your knee. Your skin is cold to the touch, even for him after he had just walked all the way here in the same air. "But it'll be over soon, and I'll get you home. I'll do everything I can."

You sniff and nod, hesitating before placing your hand over his. "I promise I'll do my best in the interview. I want you to win your prize."

Coryo's mouth gets dry at the insinuation. You didn't think you could win, you won't even consider it even with all the encouragement he tries to feed you every day, but you want him to win. "That's not important." He says, shocking himself with the sentiment. The Plinth Prize is his only hope at a viable future, at saving his family. But right now, he doesn't even care.

You don't respond right away, just sliding your hand under his to hold it. His skin on yours feels warm, comforting, the same way it did when he held it when you were first dumped in the zoo. You don't know if it's more comforting to you or him.

"I'm sorry to cry at you, I just sometimes realize what's going to happen to me and spiral over the possibilities and no matter how hard I try to accept it..." You shake your head, looking down at your hands. "I'm still fearful." Your voice drops below a whisper.

"Then don't accept it." Coryo grasps your hand tighter, leaning closer to you and looking at you through the bars. "Fight. Try to win."

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0, @regulusblackcore, @kbakery , @qardasngan, @omgsuperstarg, @kuroosbby001, @puredreamagination,

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

[leonidas1754]

I just read a set of tags on a post about how coming back to a work only to find it deleted can be like returning to your childhood home to see it torn down, or your favorite park bench gone, how yea it wasn't yours and you had no say in it, but it's still sad and won't be the same, and how Authors should consider that before deleting their works.

I don't think this is a bad pov, if anything it's a fantastic analogy. But counterpoint: Do not guilt yourself into keeping a fic up that you otherwise wouldn't.

Yea, there may be people who still come back and enjoy it, even if they don't say anything. But at the end of the day, that's not what's important.

I've deleted a few fics before. I can't speak for all authors, but I know in my case, it's sure as hell not an easy choice to make. Maybe it makes me sound like an asshole, especially since I'm one of those people adamant about how people need to give authors more feedback and appreciation, but that's also kinda the point. Authors deserve far more respect than they get, and that includes if and when they ultimately decide to remove a fic from the internet.

No one else gets a say in what an author does with their story. If it's something you believe you'll come back to, download it. Don't whine about how it should've been orphaned or whatever else. Yea, sometimes orphaning is enough for an author, but there's also plenty of times where orphaning won't do enough for whatever reason. It's not a perfect solution; yea, your name won't be on it anymore, but it's also completely outside of your control, with the only option remaining to you being, surprise, contacting staff to delete it, at least as far as I know.

It's sad when you try to find a fic only to discover it's been deleted. Been there, done that, it sucks, and I learned the hard way to download the fics I really adore and want to read again.

Fanfic authors don't owe anyone anything. Not an update on their story, not a justification on why they aren't continuing something, not even a story's very existence. You're allowed to be upset a story is gone, it sucks, but I'm genuinely sick of seeing these posts about how authors shouldn't delete their works because someone might enjoy them.

I'm not trying to say it's wrong for that to be the reason someone keeps a fic up. If that's a good enough reason for you, that's enough. But don't let yourself be guilted into keeping up your work, don't guilt yourself into keeping up your work. Especially in those "oh, someone might enjoy it and they just haven't said anything!" cases. It's your story and your choice.

I have a fic I kept up that's connected to a lot of horrible memories. I kept it up because some people enjoyed it and it felt like deleting it would just let the people who hurt me over it hurt me more. I deleted another story connected to those same memories because that same reasoning just wasn't enough to justify keeping it up to myself.

I guess my point is it's okay to be "selfish" with your work. You're not an asshole for deleting a story for whatever reason, even in cases where you know there are people who love it. You should do what's right for you, whatever that means. Be courteous where you can (for example like above, let people know it's going to be removed so they can save it, if you think you can be okay with that), but don't let that take priority over yourself.

You're not selfish for exercising control over your work. What's selfish is complaining that someone's free work was subsequently removed and is no longer accessible to you. That park bench may be your favorite, but it's not yours. At the end of the day, the only person who gets a say in a story's existence, who should get a say, is the author.

[thecrimeofmans-laughter]

your turn to die dashboard simulator <3

🤡 clowngirly-ai Follow

guys what do we think of our partners??? personally alice is kinda scary BUT i did listen to samurai yaiba a bit before and it was good so maybe he will drop a banger for me <3

🐑 emotional-bandages-ai Follow

i want mine to step on me

🥊 theconvertible-ai Follow

dude you could've just asked me, i would do it

🐑 emotional-bandages-ai

not what i meant

( 9 notes )

💕 pinknako Follow

everyone place your bets on who at ASUNARO is running that rpf acc about the participants

#torn bc harai is husbandless but also namida and hiyori are just weirdos

( 9,632 notes )

skullnutzofficial-deactivated-20170828 🔁 eideticnao-deactivated-20170828

painted this today!!

#RAAAAAAAAAAH I FUCKING LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND #and teacher guy. he's here too #BUT AAAAAAAAAAAA

( 3 notes )

🧣 sou-hiyori Follow

i hope sara rots in hell for what she did. kanna killers DNI

🕵️‍♂️ raweggenjoyer Follow

kanna literally asked for her to do it. she understood what she was getting into and she understood the logic of it, frankly she's more mature than you

🧣 sou-hiyori

what part of DNI do you not understand, you sicko

🎸 samuraiyaiba-official Follow

This behavior is disgusting! Would expect nothing less from the policeman.

🕵️‍♂️ raweggenjoyer

i can't believe you reactivated the samurai yaiba official tumblr account just to yell at me

🗡️ samurai0nna Follow

Ằ̶͉̙̫̘̫͇̌̾͗̆̀͜͠A̴̢̢̰̪̗̣̣̰̔A̵͈̺̭̒͗͗͜Ạ̴͍͉̊̇̓͘̕͝A̸̬͇͚̗̻̰͈̼̾̊͂̒͂̎̃́̓͑̇͐͜͝Ḁ̴̥͋͊͒͜Ā̷̧̬̜̹̣̻̞͍̱̲̬͎̦͠À̶̮̘̮̐̏̽̈̓A̶̛̦͗̍̈̈̽̄͘A̸̢͔̓̀Ȁ̴̛̰̪͇͋̌̀̔̄͆͐̑͒́̈́̋͠

( 3,027 notes )

🎨 eideticnao Follow

I THOUGHT QUICK DRAW WAS GONNA BE AN ART ATTRACTION SOMEONE HELP ME 😭😭

#please i don't know how to use a sword last time i hit someone it was with a pan and he weighed less than a watermelon

( 20 notes )

💧 fallen-tears Follow

unfollowing everyone who liked ranger's post today, he's toxic and frankly none of us should be encouraging this behavior!!

👘 greatestmasterpiece Follow

KUNG POW PENIS BASTARD

👑 smileyemi Follow

you didn't even do the kung pow penis right, idiot

👘 greatestmasterpiece

you shut the fuck up or i'm tagging dad

👑 smileyemi

gashu can suck my whole ass

🍮 prize-exchange Follow

No.

👘 greatestmasterpiece

HAHAHA!!

🍮 prize-exchange

Kung pow penis, Ranger.

( 9,743 notes )

🗡️ samurai0nna Follow

hey has anyone actually bought those vids at the prize exchange? i kinda want to but i don't want to waste tokens.

joedog-deactivated-20170828

👹 KILL YOURSELF 👹

👘 greatestmasterpiece Follow

YEAHHHHHHH

🗡️ samurai0nna

GET OFF OF MY POSTS!!!

👘 greatestmasterpiece

the videos are home movies of me btw. ✨

( 14 notes )

🍀 🔥 hiyori2 Follow ⠀⠀⠀now • sponsored with Blaze

Hello Tumblr, my account got deleted unfortunately :( but I'm back! If you need a wish granted, fill out the form and DM me ^_^

Please reblog so this reaches people who didn't know I'm on a new account!

How this works:

Keep reading

#Please don't reblog this with your filled out form! Don't dox yourself :) #asu-naro

( 44 notes )

🧣 sou-hiyori Follow

found this laptop lol im gonna see what's on it

🧣 sou-hiyori

HEY @samurai0nna IS THIS YOUR LAPTOP.

🗡️ samurai0nna Follow

why would i have information about myself on my own laptop

🗡️ samurai0nna

WAIT WHOSE LAPTOP IS THIS???

( 51 notes )

🌠 deathgame-fics Follow

sacrifice for two | a. yabusame/g.n. reader

A/N: still taking requests guys! send in an ask, i'm ok with writing anyone (including ships!) <3

GENRE: angst with a happy ending (and a sad ending? complicated), fluff

WORD COUNT: 4,140

WARNINGS: death game obviously (do i need to keep saying this lol)

enjoy ~

masterlist | alice tag

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ 🤍 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Keep reading

#deathgamefics #death game x reader #alice yabusame #alice yabusame x reader #x reader #reader insert

( 1,270 notes )

💧 fallen-tears Follow

kai satou is gorgeous i'd kill myself to be as pretty as him

💧 fallen-tears

harai stop sending me death threats some posts just aren't meant for you okay??

( 611 notes )

🐈 mewchan2005 Follow

hey don't cry 🐱 23 types of alligators in the world okay? 🐶

#if there was a puzzle about alligators i would be so good at it 🐱

( 100 notes )

🕵️‍♂️ raweggenjoyer Follow

sometimes a girl should get to shoot a man. as a treat

⚾️ cubeburger Follow

is that why you want SARA to handle the gun? that's a child right there! i'm perfectly capable

🍳 kainyoubelieveit Follow

Because you went to the US? Be serious Q-taro.

⚾️ cubeburger

i AM

🐕 joedog Follow

sara's probably more levelheaded than anyone in the us with a gun though, right??

⚾️ cubeburger

well we ain't in the states so lucky us

🗡️ samurai0nna Follow

girl help fully grown men are arguing over me about which one of us should handle a gun

#what the hell is a steelmind

( 526 notes )

🕵️‍♂️ raweggenjoyer Follow

wait mishima is only 30?

🕵️‍♂️ raweggenjoyer

he should be at the club

#and in my arms

( 404 notes )

maibreadandbutter-deactivated-20170828

( 0 notes )

🍀 hiyori Follow

You're in his DMs. I'm impaled on his fence. We are not the same.

#recruiting liveblog

( 2 notes )

[factorialsfandoms]

I am amused because I tagged you, KJ xD Though my computer was being silly so it might not have pinged proper.

Let me see what else I have... Doing not Zelda things this time as I did Zelda ones last time. Mostly so I know I don’t repeat. First four are silmarillion (or other tolkien legendarium stuff - not main LOTR but some work is say form the Fall of Gondolin drafts), then three TGCF fic, then a fire emblem: Binding Blade fic.

Celebrindal - Local Princess’ son causes an emotional response by helping her get dressed

Unbreaking the Circle - Factorial writes fix fic of someone else’s fic (with permission)

Until Thou Wake To Light - death is kinda shit, actually. Especially when you were tortured to death

Within the Ashes - big brother bails out his kid brother. It’s not one of the problem kids. (Factorial’s first fic on ao3, though not first online fanfic. Its... less embarrassing now)

And Your Soul Keeps Bleeding On - locals gay spends 800 years trying to kill his ex. Unfortunately, he still loves him.

To Never Speak Aloud - an assassin, his mark, and his dead ex-lover go house hunting

If We Ever Had A Choice - if you thought Factorial was cruel to canon characters, you should see what he does to his OCs! TGCF edition! (includes sequel,  Paper Promises, Torn Like Wings )

I Will Still Be Here - breaking news: dead crown prince not actually dead, just in hiding. Unfortunately this is also news to his father.

(Tag yourselves I won’t again as it apparently failed last time :/ )

Tag game! Summarize some of your fics, but badly. I’ll go first!

Secrets of the Shadows: Local Ordonian swordsman almost kills his son by accident.

LU in Healthcare: Nine goofballs with maybe one collective brain cell between them somehow end up working in healthcare and don’t kill anybody. Chaos ensues.

Breath of the Sky: Two time traveling teenagers crash into the future and cause absolute chaos. More at 9.

What is Lost and What is Bound: Woman trying to prevent war between nations has to contend with a war god who acts like a dork.

Paradox: Hero of Time somehow makes the flow of time even more discombobulated. Because one of his kids was involved.

No pressure tags @ajscico @silvercaptain24 @skyward-floored @telemna-hyelle @factorialsfandoms @triforce-of-mischief

[itsoperatunistic]

Harry drops his hand. Voldemort falls over with an eerily human “thud.” The protection around them breaks and suddenly there’s a swarm of people. Celebrating. Yelling. Despite the fact that so many people had died. They won.

But Harry didn’t care. He searched through the crowd for a mop of red hair. When he spotted it, he ran. Neville and Luna moved aside. Those that weren’t so close to him tried grabbing onto him but he pulled away.

He arrived in front of Ron, who looked as shocked as he was. He grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep kiss. After a second, Ron wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and receprocated.

Yes, they’d won the war. No, nothing was going to be the same. And maybe that was okay.

Based on this

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

7th Dimension (Chapter 3)

7TH DIMENSION SYNOPSIS/MASTERLIST

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 2.1

WATTPAD LINK FOR 7TH DIMENSION

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Small!Naive!Fem!Foreign!Reader | THIS IS A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC. THIS IS AN X READER FANFIC WHO HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO THE DIMENSION OF JUJUTSU KAISEN | (Trust me, you'll live. I hope?)

Summary: It has been three days that you were unconscious and on bedrest. Gojo Satoru was restless due to the fact of the relics you own---the manga panels you had on hand while surviving a car-crash in the middle of the Hanami incident. He was impatient for information and Satoru was not one to keep himself out of the subject matter especially that these artifacts you acquired had memories of the one and only bestfriend he had and also sketches of a future that left him clueless for whatever lays ahead for him.

Warnings: THE FOURTH WALL IS VERY STRONG ON THIS ONE, GUYS. Descriptive writing. Reader is a simp upon seeing Gojo Satoru. (I mean, it's in her subconsciousness despite of having an intense amount of amnesia, so that explains it) Manga panels picture included. Picture included in between the chapter are the torn Manga panels that Gojo acquired from you when you were on an accident. MANGA PANELS SPOILER. Slight soulmate AU vibes? Maybe because reader only gets to understand Satoru here and not the others. Reader does not understand Japanese. For the sake of this fanfic---if you somehow understand and know how to converse in Nihongo, let's just imagine that you don't and you have your own native language and know how to speak in English. Tiktok is mentioned. Wattpad and Tumblr too. When I said you've been teleported from earth and to Jujutsu Kaisen's world, I meant it. Megumi's already in this chapter by the way. Reader is utterly naive or in the state of being in-denial. Anxious reader is high on this one. Mention of Cyclops and Sea Urchin. Hehehe. I kind of changed the setting of their dormitory, let's imagine that Megumi and Itadori's dormitory had numbers of floors. Y/N means the insertion of your name and also Y/L/N means your last name. This will only be used in this particular chapter because everyone will have their own nickname for you in the next chapters. No worries.

Tell me if you want to be tagged whenever I publish chapters for 7th Dimension! Send an ask or message me!

A/N: Your author is one crazy bish. If I say you'll live without owning any powers or abilities from how Jujutsu Kaisen works, you'll live. (I hope) Trust me. (But, I also don't trust my own words sometimes---LMAO JKJK) Y'all know Satoru's gonna keep you because there's Suguru Geto in the torn manga panels. Hehehe. You got no escape now, people. LMAO. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE ERRORS, I ONLY HAD TO READ THIS ONE TIME AND THEN DECIDED THAT I WANTED TO UPDATE THIS RIGHT NOW.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SUPER-DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED! IT GIVES ME SUCH MOTIVATION AND INSPO!

Words: 6.9k+ (Sorry, It's kinda long. Heehee.)

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. I only own the plot of this whole fanfic. But, not Jujutsu Kaisen's storyline. Credits go entirely to Gege Akutami for JJK. I apologize for the typos or grammatical errors by the way! English isn't my first language so I'm so sorry in advance! Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the anime or manga as this is a FANFIC.

YOUR PALATES WERE REPUGNANT AND REVOLTING AS IT SHOULD BE, relishing in the piquancy of the foreshore and ichor mixed together. The idea wasn't entirely pleasant especially when your head felt heavy before your eyes, throbbing as you came to your senses. Peppery, minty scent came wafting through your nose, It smelled of Timber drifting through the air. There was also another that was worth the rivet, a masculine scent of perfume which smelled like Musk and Sandalwood. Captivating for your perspective and likes. The amount of fragrance grew closer as if it was a stone's throw away from your reach. You were shifting against the mattress, lately realizing that there was someone gently poking your cheeks, a finger that was somehow calloused on the end.

"Oi, It's been days," this man began mumbling to himself, his voice sounded clear, light and pleasant. Silvery as some can describe, but also smoky and modulated that it had your fingers twitch in a slight tremble, presumably earning an anomalous, skipping beat of your heart. It sounded familiar, yet somehow it didn't.

Thoroughly enigmatic to begin with.

Hence, it also sounded arresting but the other person didn't need to know that especially when you knew nothing of what was happening as of the moment.

"Are you seriously not waking up yet? I know Shoko advised me that you'll be taking at least an estimated number of seven days. But, I'm too impatient for that." He continued to wonder, too engrossed in his own mumbling. You shifted for the third time, the number of days that you were unconscious made your limbs shake like a leaf as you lifted to your elbows upon the mattress, drowsily blinking to stay clear of your blurry sight.

You were utterly languid as you turned your head to the other living person who was breathing in the same room with you, finally and completely setting on the sight of a blindfolded guy who was strangely sitting on a chair, backwards. His elbows flat on the head of the seat as he was evident that this guy was trying to perceive how you started to act.

Can he actually see you? was your initial thought upon seeing this bizarre guy.

Gojo Satoru took a deep breath, listlessly crossing his arms over the head of the chair where he seated which was just right in front of you, retrieving his fingers away from your face as he cocked his head to the side, the side of his lip lifted in a smile which felt smug in your point of view.

You knew you were at loss for words because this man looked above the average---scratch that, probably not if you were being doubtful because of how he tried to conceal what lies behind those eyes of his. Howbeit, you just knew that he held vitality and assertiveness from how his stance was---how he brought himself in between the conversation he was having with you.

This man was oozing with self-reliance. Ten to one, it was probably more than just confidence as haughtiness came with it, he was poising as if he knew himself that he was irresistible. Attractive. Charismatic. Those kind of adjectives that can make any woman keel over. A man that could get women nutty as a fruitcake when he has those blindfolds off in an instance.

He wasn't even showing you his whole face yet and this was how you were already describing him.

It left you wanting to know more about this man and you didn't even know him yet. What was wrong with you?

"Good Morning." Satoru dragged, smooth as butter.

Your heart was jumping hurdles. It was an imperceptible race that you didn't knew existed. Who was he? that voice inside your head thought as you took note of how his smile grew larger. His nose was cuspidated, quintessential as a painter could see fit. Lips waterlogged as if he was never dehydrated nor had the chance to do so because he held no blemishes---were there not? or were you just too preoccupied to his taintless charm that you hadn't notice his utopian flaws?

You've felt as if he was featherbedded. Jaw precise and honed downright superlative like he was brushed off an artisan's skillful hands designed with the softest, chalky white hair that was kept upward as if gravity didn't existed. It was madcap but also alluring. He probably noticed how you were keeping your mouth shut and knew that he was radiating off such influence which had you shutting your mouth in the middle of trying to reason out, leaving you in a stuttering mess.

"What---" you forcefully closed your mouth before your inner voice began to talk for you, it was better to be safe than to be filled with shame in the end, "a definitely nice morning---I mean---"  Your lips were shut tight, looking utterly obvious to the latter that you were trying not to say anything that would make you regret in the end. His presence was certainly crucial to your standards in men because he, alone was making your brain hurt and it seemed like it could also be because of the pulsating pain surrounding your head.

As you lifted your head to give a rush scan of the room and never actually noticing how it looked like at first, you foolhardy began embarrassing yourself as if you were in Big Brother's House and someone was watching you through some form of CCTV cameras, expecting that this was a prank that a friend might put you up in.

"Is this a blind date---this girl reads too many online fanfic stories---ANGIE!"

At the sudden, ear-splitting holler of your voice kept the Jujutsu Sorcerer watching you from his position. It was quite a feast to be honest, how you were actually having an attack of the wobblies before him was giving Satoru such amusement that he had to shut his mouth before asking you the real deal.

"---I DIDN'T NEED A BLIND DATE, ANGIE! ALSO, I'VE EXPECTED MORE FROM YOU THAN TO PAIR ME UP WITH A BLIND MAN! I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO TAKE IT LITERALLY!"

Gojo couldn't help but began to rubberneck, emitting an airy, astonished 'Eh?' that left his pretty mouth. You didn't actually believe the idea that he was blind, did you?

Unless, you actually don't know him at all?

However, the illustration you have of him says otherwise. He had hard attestations that you actually know him a lot.

Shoko probably hadn't mentioned that you were bound to wake up with an hysterical episode. Maybe, he should've asked her to heal that part where you had the tendency to be away with the fairies.

"I'm not blind, I can assure you that." He declared as a matter of fact, watching you like a hawk as you tried to scramble onto your feet, cocking his head to the side as he left you untouched, wanting and waiting to see how much of a fool you can make out of yourself.

"---Oi, oi, careful. You've got serious brain injury to the point that you might not remember who you are," you were having an intense experience of vertigo from the sudden rush of action, making your ass fall flat on the bed again. The Jujutsu Sorcerer carried on with his divulgence of information over what was currently happening to your sudden enfeebling---your own body telling you that something was not right from waking up to a room you barely recognize with a man you hardly knew of, giving you a meaning that everything was actually real and you're not just daydreaming.

Were you? Actually not just Reality Shifting? Was the Tiktok trend actually real?

Gojo disregarded your disorientation with a gesture of his hand, setting forth that everything was tickety-boo as he was known to his unceremonious manners in moments like this.

"But, I guess you're fully healed!" he exclaimed, tone too gaiety for your serious injuries, going on with another revelation that got your mouth entirely dry, "---Yet, with an intense amount of amnesia!"

Amnesia. Were you seriously having amnesia or were you just talking to a crazed man who was acting blind?

It was probably the second option. Yeah. The latter choice.

That other part of you, your consciousness was silently praying for your co-worker named Angie to just interrupt both of your conversation by crashing in the room. Any minute now, you mindfully prayed to the heavens as the man beside seemed to be enjoying how he was trying to propagandize your confusion into thinking that you were in an accident and that you happen to forget everything.

Yet, you seriously had no idea who he was nor did you know where you were.

"I...definitely have no idea who you are," you were honest, mumbling your next question as you avoided his covered eyes.

How'd you know? Well, you just knew his attention was on you because he seemed to be looking.

"Where am I?"

"Tokyo Jujutsu High." he immediately answered with no restrictions.

What the heck, it sounded like it's from an anime. You blinked twice and probably thrice as you made a face, staring at your fingers that rested on your lap.

Angie was probably giving you a tough prank. If so, you were trying hard to remember what wrongdoing you've done that it had to end this way.

Or was this a gift because she knew how you were keen on people who does cosplay?

"We roleplayin' or something?" you guilelessly asked another, heedless of Gojo's hesitation upon answering a question that was out of the box, "---Ah. You're a cosplayer then."

You believed he was. No, you were praying that your accusations over the whole event was just a part of Angie's game plans because she knew you needed to be dated by a man. Badly needed for her way of lifestyle, yet to you---it wasn't. You were in no need for a man who would certainly bore you in the end.

The men you met back then were in all respects, lackluster. Nobody sparked your interest for years because the opposite sex were either bland in terms of their personalities and attitudes. Or better yet, these men you meet were either a hapless choice or fate that it ended up sundering before even turning intimate.

They just didn't fascinated you to the point that they were worth the stupor.

Or maybe it was a past with men that was left you expecting for more despite of knowing how unrealistic you could get.

Dissatisfaction was certainly a complete foe in the world of people who gourmandized over  what they believed they truly deserved which kept the society heaving for a battle of sky-high specifications that created people's impractical choices and fantasies, leaving them crestfallen from expecting others to achieve their customized normalcy.

"Cosplayer?" your anomalous, abrupt inquiry caught Gojo off-guard, bewildered for the recurring questions that were off-center from what the Jujutsu Sorcerer is used to having. Gojo lifted a finger, beaming back at you as he decided to open his loquacious mouth but was immediately cut off by your unrepressed, anxious mutterings, "---I'm late for work, where's Angie? ANGIE! I SWEAR TO GOD---!" Ceaseless worries came crashing down your cognizance over the whole interrogation, refusing to believe every word that the charismatic blindfolded man was trying to elucidate.

Charismatic? You shouldn't be thinking that way when your life was at stake. However, it felt like in that part of your brain seemed like it was trying to talk you through things that everything was fine, thinking that this unidentified male was attractive as heck, utmost equitable.

Maybe, he had you drugged up into thinking about him that way. Yeah, that was probably it.

"An-gie? Eh?"  Gojo emphasized and repeated, sounding the same way as you pronounced your friend's name but adding at least a Japanese accent to it in which you've overlooked, due to your frets.

"Don't act stupid. You don't seem like a kidnapper to me or some sort. Are you one of her friends?"

How he tried his best not to breathe a word was outstanding considering his nature of personality. Satoru watched you like a hawk as you were too overwrought to listen to his dialogues. He scrutinized how you were responding, each twist and turn around the room as you were giving a run down on what Megumi's room look like.

You've noticed a painting of Hina Dolls hung upon the back of the door with a scribbling of something foreign, keeping your eyes squinted as you tried to recognize what was written on the painting.

There was no one you knew in your life who could thoroughly understand Japanese letters this deep. Unless they transitioned and actually studied Japanese. You dwelled on the thought but quickly came to a realization that you really didn't know anyone, no matter how hard you try to reminisce.

"Wait---those are Japanese letters---" Gojo immediately interrupted before you could even ask him another set of rumbled questions, deciding that you were taking too long of his time. Howbeit, deep inside---he didn't mind at all when your reactions were all amusing to him.

"Hiragana, Katakana and Kanji mixed together." he frankly admitted, "---You know how to read them?"

As a matter of fact, you didn't understand nor know how to read them.

Or was it probably just this man's supremacy which can get you barking and trapped inside a void of vacant notions?

From the moment you were popped out of your mother's womb, you knew it yourself that there was no man who could hold himself so high and poised to the point that he believed himself that he had some kind of authority over your own jurisdictions. The likelihood of your own perceptions which could actually limit your sanities. He was unfazed by the immediate pause of your breath. In all likelihood, he was aware of how you've given him a once over as he shifted to turn around his seat before coming back down.

Gojo Satoru sat on the wooden chair, prodigious as you may describe as he seated crossed leg with a slight lean of his head like he was twinkling back. Your mind gone all topsy-turvy. His impressive stature complimenting a uniform you scarcely recognize, apparent to be like an attire straight out of cosplay.

He continued to grin, patiently keeping you under his watch as you heard him chuckle beneath his breath.

Oh, this man was convinced that he knew what you were thinking which made it difficult for you to keep yourself in check.

"N-No." your voice got the best of you, earning a humiliating crack that made you curse yourself inside your mind. What the actual hell.

You could feel your entire face heating up from the shame.

"Oh?" he ignored your shame, doubtless that he was aware of it as he continued to add and be puzzled over the whole conversation, "---we've been speaking the same language since the moment you woke up,"

You avoided your eyes at that and shook your head, momentarily looking away to stare at the door.

Gojo had an eagle eye for detail---scratch that, he even had the six-eyes for goodness sake. The Jujutsu Sorcerer understood what ran inside your mind right now and for how jittery you were becoming for every second, was it from his sole, predominant presence or the apprehension that you were transported to their world without bearing snippets of the accident gave him the concept that you were planning to escape through it all.

You had no idea if it was just a hallucination of your throbbing brain, but you've certainly heard the reiteration of the door lock fastening. It only took less than a second that you knew that the man confidently seated behind you was controlling everything that surrounded you both.

The latter took heed of the unconscious twitch of your fingers that was ready to just grab onto the doorknob and jolt out of the blue, he'd taken that you were staring back at him with wide eyes open. He would've let you and make a fool out of yourself as Gojo would have found it hilarious to be honest, yet he tried to reason out everything to you first and probably let you get the gist of why you were being cross-examined by him.

"Alright, alright, Let's cut the chase," he began with a drawl, patting his pockets as he does so as if he was planning to show you something, "---care to explain these?"

Without leaving his seat, he lifted up torn pieces of paper which had a black and white illustration---like a piece of official manga that has been recklessly ripped apart, mixed with claret liquid. You assumed it was droplets of blood---was the gore from you?

You couldn't even see it from where you stood that you had to take a couple of steps closer in which Gojo didn't mind.

"Though, no doubt. I look handsome in these drawings of yours,"  He'd taken a pause, sighing with a grin as you've heard him gave a good gloat about saying that the person on the manga panel was him. He earned a tight furrow of your brow, eyeballing his incredulity because the man illustrated by the artist was definitely not him if you were one to judge. "You have it kept in your bloody hand the whole time you've been transported back in the Tree incident,"

He was probably crazy after all. This man before you locked the doors without even batting an eyelid---not that you could actually see his eyes---nor lift a finger.

Are you seriously being interrogated by a die-hard manga fan who takes his cosplay earnestly?

"It's...just sketches of a man who seems to be like he's talking to his friend. The others seem like he's caught off-guard or---remembering something? A past, I guess. I don't know, though." Moving your face closer to see what was drawn on the paper, you've given it a shrug of your shoulder, brushing it off like it was nothing serious. "----It's probably just a manga panel of attractive 2D fictional men?"

Gojo Satoru couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, he's not gonna lie that you got him on the first half of your sentence that his smile instantly fell the second he heard the word fictional. "That, I know---Wait, fictional? Eh? Excuse me?"

By all means, he certainly wasn't fictional when he was breathing all well that you had the power to touch, see and smell him all together.

(Let's imagine he's holding torn manga panels here and not DVD's)

He turned a deaf ear to your balderdash and pressed on about the main reason why he was keeping you locked inside the four corners of his student's room, "The question here is...what is this? why do you have this?" he brought the question again to the fore, moving the manga panel closer to your face which made you slightly lean back.

"I don't even know the context of this because it was ripped apart. They're all torn apart." you gave out tremulous sigh, continuously restless in his presence that you could feel your toes be on pins and needles. He might have a gun near him and you didn't know what kind of answer he wanted, "---also the text bubbles are completely blank," a breathless pause. "---It seems like it's an unfinished manga. Can't you just figure it out on Google?"

Gojo Satoru fell silent for the first time in forever. After all the times he was found annoying by everyone, this was the split second that he found at least just an ounce of vexation for a topic that was going nowhere.

It's like the both of you weren't connecting the dots. You were definitely not cooperating.

That, or you just have the best and intense amount of amnesia that needed time, trust and effort.

Could he bet the odds on that? A possibility that was rather risky for the life of a non-sorcerer to be involving you in this?

Keeping himself coolheaded and remaining unruffled by the turn of events, the smirk never left his face as he was engrossed in what you had to say, heating up your self-consciousness more to the point that it was probably boiling already, making you clear your throat to sound committed as possible, "If you're interested in the manga, I'm sorry. I don't remember the name of this. Maybe, it's in the pile of manga I have at home. I can check it out if you want to."

Another pause of your breath. Howbeit, this time felt like you were actually holding it for so long because this unknown guy was trying his hardest not to slam dunk your throbbing head on any furniture, perceiving how his smile seemed to be turning baleful---or maybe that's just what you wanted to comprehend to disregard the intense attraction you were feeling for him, "---Now, can I go home? I still have to open the cafe and it's like...10 am already. I'll try and give you a bunch of mine, if you want to borrow?"

It was definitely not a good time to experience Stockholm syndrome which only happens in those kind of stories that you read in Wattpad or Tumblr.

"Hold on, Hold on---but can't you see how handsome I am in this---this is me---" he egotistically proclaimed, uncrossing his solid, lengthy legs, stretching them out in front that it had you noticing that he was rather a tall guy.

You couldn't help but feel how heavy your head started to thump, making you scratch your forehead that you lately realized there were no bandages. It was like you were already healed in an instant, making everything feel as if there was something bizarre happening around. Was he serious when you heard him say that you were out unconscious for days? Then, why did you have no bandages nor are you in a hospital?

"You're cosplaying him then because I know for a fact that's certainly not you."

Gojo began to think of ways, proper ways to make you believe that the drawing you had was actually him. He lifted the torn down manga panels next to his face, exemplifying the exact comparison for you to give credence to, "It is! See?"

You've crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling another vertigo happening that made you slightly stumble. Though, it felt like somebody had ceased you to it and you were sure it wasn't the man before you because he was just sitting still and waiting for your judgement over his exciting cosplay of the man on the paper, "You're blindfolded. He's not." you pointed on both faces, his included as well as you emphasized with a slight tremble in your voice, presumably for the days you weren't talking or to this man's noteworthy existence, "---He wears black sun glasses and you're not. Again, SUN GLASSES."

"I have this sunglasses. I swear---I do!"

Satoru began patting himself again, searching for something he wanted you to see. He wanted to scoff from how you were difficult to persuade that he should've came prepared. The Jujutsu Sorcerer didn't expect you to wake up in about three days. Shoko advised that you'd come around with an estimated number of seven days or better yet, ten.

Gojo didn't expect you to wake up when he had begun poking your cheeks and probably talked to you while you slept.

He stood from his seat, entirely towering or lofty to the point that you could be engulfed by his mere height. You stood approximately below his chest, positively teensy-weensy compared to him but not entirely to the point of a child's height, you guessed?

Or maybe a child was taller than you, though nobody needed to know that.

"You're tall as hell, like a man straight out of a magazine," That still small voice whispered in the back of your head, mouth agape as you peered right back at him, feeling utterly undersized as if you could've been compliant if he wanted or demanded to.

This man before you was slender and also as fit as a fiddle like a model that came out of the magazines.

The latter lifted a hand on his hip, the one that held onto the paper and leaned his back a little like he was chewing over what he wanted to say and how he wanted you to take on board, raising a palm over his face as he reasoned out.

"Uh, How do I explain this..."

He began to blunder, coaxing you into believing that the man on the picture is in fact, him. Gojo was verily thinking if had brought his specs, though he was aware that it was in his room. Back at the estate. Should he warp for a second to pick it up then? No. You were giving him the impression that you were nailed on running off the hills if he does so, seeing how you knew nothing about his abilities, but knew a part of his past which left him a lot to muse on because of the peculiarity of it.

"I-It's because you're probably cosplaying him then!"

Concerned? No. Overstrung was the right term for what you were feeling in the present time. This sky-scraping man was giving you the jitters with every step he took. Being guided by your intuitions had you taking a step back whenever he took a step forward as Satoru went on with his persuasion, completely oblivious that you were actually heading for the aperture.

"Y-You know what, show me your eyes!"

Out of the blue, you demanded like it was a normal thing to ask. It was, right? Getting to know the eyes of a murderer that was about to strangle you alive because he could not get whatever answer he wanted from you? But, believe it or not, the other part of you---the one that went bonkers just wanted to see his actual appearance.

Gojo considered the idea. However, he was quick to contemplate when he felt that one of his students were about to interrupt the discussion he was having with you. Maybe, some other time. He mindlessly thought to himself and brought down his hands that were almost---close enough to lift his blindfolds off for you to see.

With your back against the door and definitely not following on this unforeseen events, you were unaware on how the hatch was pulled opened by someone you could barely recognize, bumping on another person's body from behind. You've felt your back hit against his chest accidentally, the unanticipated intrusion catching you off guard as you stumbled.

You've heard the intruder grumble an incomprehensible huff of protest.

Cyclops had rapid reflexes that he was gracefully, standing straight and never appeared like he was hovering before you, trying to torment your apprehension and quick beating of your heart prior to the intervention that you both had within around the four corners of a classic, Japanese styled room.

"Ah, Megumi!" He bubbly greeted the guy you bumped with.

"It's been three days." Fushiguro Megumi, Descendant of the Zenin family and also a first year student in Tokyo Jujutsu High, deadpanned, his expressions lackadaisical and so was his tone of voice like he was done with everything. "---When can I get my room back?"

"When she decides to cooperate." His sensei pointed to you who clearly had a mouth ajar because of being absolutely disoriented.

This Megumi guy was speaking a language you definitely did not understand.

The guy wore the same uniform just as the man you first woke up to, it wasn't exactly the same but you knew it had the same vibes like they knew each other and probably worked with each other. With spiky black hair that appeared to be tough gel or it was just that gravity did not effect his mane just as how blissful cyclops had.

Who were they?

"Don't you have your own around the school other than your estate?" Megumi implored with gritted teeth, finding the whole process of getting his own things here and there in a room that was considered his from the start entirely troublesome. "---There are lots of other rooms available. Why mine?" he passively glared, complaining for the 10th time in three days, "---I've been kicked out despite of trying to recover,"

Satoru laughed at his initial response and grumbles, treating his retorts with contempt, "Is my precious student being a big-baby now?"

Megumi couldn't help but grumble another beneath his breath, disgruntlement apparent as he didn't hide it from him, his brows tightly furrowed whenever he tried talking it out with his own teacher who was always poking fun whenever he wanted to, "Also, I'm not risking mine to a woman who probably knows the past or the future," Gojo grinned, placing a palm over his chest as he casually explained, "---Besides, yours seem more comforting."

"It really isn't. You just wanted to antagonize me." he immediately answered apathetically and with no remorse, giving him an indelible glout whilst they basically ignored your presence who stood in between them, not that you were being an utter hindrance because you weren't tall enough to do so, "---Can't you have another room customized or get all your things out of your old one and make it hers? You customize everything even our uniforms."

"I was busy?" the latter gave out a chaff, rattling his student's feather further as he was enjoying how Megumi was responding.

"You don't seem like it."

Satoru gave him an awkward tee-hee, brushing off his comment with a question and probably a sudden change of topic because the first year student was starting to sound like he was trying to murder him tons of times inside his head, "How's the others doing?"

"Kugisaki's getting impatient because you're starting to stall too long,"

He brought a hand to give Fushiguro a pat to his shoulder, noticing and knowing you were going to run off the hills in about a minute or two as you thought they were caught off-guard and focused on their conversation that was unfathomable for you, "There, there. Your 'Great-o Teacher Gojo' would take only---"

You actually just didn't rush headlong into shunning beneath Gojo's raised arm and running away with such a stagnant speed?

It was hysterically funny to be frank.

Gojo Satoru, being all smiles and beguiled by your sheer folly and Megumi being shoved away by your ignorance, not even earning a stumble from his student but only an intense amount of displeasure for your unheeding nudge when he did nothing to you.

Both men were actually feeling the opposites in the midst of your hasty retreat. Satoru was entertained and Megumi was...well.

"Move away, Sea Urchin!" You shrieked and ran through the wooden corridors, seeming like there were also other rooms as well. In detail and familiarizing your way out the door, the interior design of the place was fully built in traditional woven bamboo, assembled wooden columns on top of flat foundations made of packed earth or stones. The ambience felt entirely like you were in Japan. Getting a sniff--- besides your nose being bombarded by the blindfolded man's masculine perfume---welcomed your cognizance that you were in a province. The outskirts to be precise. You've passed by rooms per rooms, thinking that probably they were keeping other people as hostages as you panicked and tried to think straight, yet it was no use because you hardly know the way out, nor could you think straight upon where the stairs were.

"Eh," Gojo murmured to himself, raising a finger to gesture as he curiously watch you take a leaden run for it, "---Another less than 5 minutes. Or probably lesser than 3,"

Well, the figure confirms that you were a slow-runner. Impossibly laggy that you were unfit for any type of sports or they were just...built different from you.

Now was the time for Fushiguro to also be confusticated over what he heard, something foreign that he somehow learned from his previous school but actually did not master at all. It sounded Eigo or English to be more specific.

"What did she say?"

Megumi's eyebrows stayed furrowed as he kept track upon how you foolishly stopped running in the middle of the hallway to freak out as to where the stairs went around Tokyo Jujutsu High. It was just around the corner and you were too agitated to realize. How bovine. Megumi thought to himself. "She called you a Sea Urchin. Hehehe." Gojo merrily informed him with the biggest grin he can ever commit, much to his student's chagrin.

Megumi's mouth frowned even further, feeling his temples twitch.

"Really, tch."

Gojo decided it was best to just take a brisk walk as you were dwelling upon where their stairs were. He was not one to use his abilities every now and then unless needed. The man actually could, endlessly and it won't even tire him out. Yet, it felt wide of the mark with your frenzied state.

Did he need to make you go sleepy-bye-bye now just so you could calm down? Satoru reflected on the idea, taking it into consideration as he began to take several steps closer to you, his olive colored home slippers sliding through the wooden floors.

"Oi, oi, oiiii, Tiny-chan." he called out, adding a bit of razzing to it just how everyone expected of him to do, "---You take a right turn, see?"

Gojo pointed out on a short distance, showing you that there was a way down the place and also a third floor as well. The mortification of your imprudent actions got the best of you. Utterly just a spur-of-the-moment which earned a piping, hot flush to your face.

You didn't even realized he was already there behind you and it has only been a second, "Weren't you just---you're fast---"

"You were panicking and you're also just slow." he truthfully announced with a smile, pointing a finger at you in a bang.

"That...guy over there," you nodded to where the Sea Urchin stood as if he was surrounded with thunder and clouds, thoroughly unimpressed by the whole situation. The scowl never scraping off his face as he stared back like he was ready to strangle you alive.

Or maybe it was just his personality? The complete opposite of who stood in front of you.

"Ah. My student? You know Megumi?"

"Your student?"

Your eyebrows were scrunched in a tight twist, finding the concept rather unusual. Hence, you began raising another query, scratching the nape of your neck. Your mouth never ceasing to babble the theories with no pauses, "I don't understand a single thing he said---" you immediately pointed at who he claimed his student and went on relentlessly, "---when I can understand you completely. It's like...yours is translated already for me as if you're an exemption to this---to this---everything! I don't live in Japan! Why am I here? unless you're a Yakuza and I've been kidnapped by the mafia!"

His consistent merriness was beginning to give you aggravation. He was beaming---always have been like everything was delightful.

"Gojo Satoru," he lightheartedly introduced himself, his name vibrating inside your ears and seeming to pass towards your brain that turned into a mush when he decided to finally present himself, that tonality---his alluring timbre that made your heart go pit-a-pat. Latterly being aware that the way he said his name had an intonation of a Japanese name, "There's an accent to it, oh----God,"

The way your fingers trembled, palms in a cold-sweat, you refused to raise your chin and glance up at Gojo who now had his hands inside his pockets. From top to bottom, you were apprehensive of the fact that something terrible actually happened to you which made you travel from your country and to Japan. You were trying your hardest to deliberate on what happened back in Chomp for Sweets, taking a trip down the memory lane, there was nothing but the concept that you were sitting on your favorite spot in the cafe as Angie was enthusiastically serving a bunch of teenagers who happened to be customers. After that, it was all a vacuum of obliterated evocations.

What exactly happened back in your country?

"My...name's Y/N, Y/L/N." It was a mere courtesy to introduce yourself. In spite of that, you were still sounding reluctant, be of the opinion that you were just building castles in the air for an odd fantasy.

You've gotten to the point of tightly closing your eyes and holding your breath just so you could wake from your peculiar dreams. Nevertheless, Satoru's staggering response took you back, making your breath hitch from how proud he sounded like he had imaginary hands patting his back for knowing who you are beforehand.

"Ah, Yep! No need to introduce yourself. I know."

Your mouth went ajar, tongue-tied for his candor, "You even got to the point of---Alright! Alright! Time-out, time-out." you gestured with your hands, creating a letter 'T', looking right through the closed windows, they were wooden frames and covered with tough, translucent white paper. The average traditional windows you could see in Japan.

This man named Gojo Satoru retrieved his hands out of his own pockets, mimicking your gestures out of curiosity, his head cocked to the side to express his perplexes.

"Yes, time-out." you turned to see him imitating the motions of your nervous hands. He was candid as he does so, his back hunched to stoop down into your level of sight in which you found satirizing. "Time-out-o?"

Was he oblivious of how his face was nearly inches close to yours? Did he not know the word personal space especially when his perfume was bombarding your senses which was catching you in a spellbind?

You had to stumble back from the sudden lack of proximity, feeling yourself shift from one weight to another and constantly glancing at the closed windows, "Cut it out! Stop being in character for whatever anime you're trying to act in, we're not in a convention center for God's sake!" you beseeched, completely in-denial of the whole weird situation going on, "---How do I pull this---I'm already late for work!"

Gojo couldn't help but sigh, bringing himself back to his towering height as he crossed his arms. He leaned against the closed windows, scrutinizing the twitch of your fingers every now and then as you tried to pry the windows open.

You had no idea that you were incompetent to do so while you were having the collywobbles. No normal person would quickly accept the fact that you were transported from your country to another and having no memories of what happened before that, you expected to remember at least the image of travelling from an airplane to another, but waking up to a blindfolded guy who downright seemed to be like a psycho by how he was handling your agitated self as cool as a cucumber, intuitively, this man was basically screwy  when he could see everything despite of concealing his eyes.

"You're lying. You're lying. Please tell me we're not actually in Japan and that student you got there was just an actor,"

Satoru tugged the windows open with no trouble, making you stumble forward with your heart jumping out of your chest. He ceased you from undergoing another accident with a touch to your head, igniting a squeak of your voice as you felt yourself go forward, catching you off-guard with his unexpected touch. This guy had ample palms and lingering fingers that were balmy enough to be worth to habituate.

The unconsciousness versus your entire sanity. What welcomed you was an eye-opener. Your incomprehensible feelings merged together leaving you in a disturbance for what stood up front. Such capacity that made the evergreen miniature for the reason that the same building you were standing in also had replicas on the other side, leaving a wide amount of an open area. Cherry Blossoms and Maple Trees delineated the surroundings as a form to beautify the place.

You definitely weren't in your country.

What also stood on the bottom was a woman who wore the same color of uniform that Gojo and Megumi had, portraying to also be displeased by something as she had her arms crossed against her voluptuous chest and a frown to her face. It wasn't only her around as there was another man who was clothed the same as the Sea Urchin, the differences that they had was the hood of his own jacket, it was crimson colored with a personality that was amiable enough for people to instantly warm-up to him, the guy with the rose colored hair waved a big one towards Gojo, hearing a loud 'Sensei!' in which you clearly understood because you were fond of anime and manga back in the life you had in your country.

Sensei meant teacher. You knew that for sure.

Hearing a mocking chuckle came from the teacher that these people recognize and call him in, you couldn't help the bucket of ice fall on top of your head at the concerning idea that you were now transported in a place in Japan that you hardly discern nor heard of, "Welcome to Tokyo Jujutsu High, Tiny-Chan!"

It was probably the end of the world because no matter how much you were trying, you didn't seem to wake up from this dream you highly believe of.

Did I just finish another new chapter today? Yes. Was it long? Yes, again. Welcome to 7th Dimension, everyone! Buckle your seatbelts because I tend to give y'all smiles and laughter but in the end I tend to input angst from time to time. Heeheehee!

Tiny-Chan? Tiny Chan. *heart eyes*

[bard-llama]

Thronebreaker homophobia headcanon?

Me: why would I add homophobia to my fantasy when I don’t have to? Also me: wow, there would be SO much angst potential in this!

As it says in the title, this headcanon has a LOT of homophobia, so don’t engage if that’s not something you can deal with rn. Also, to be clear: most of the continent is chill with homosexuality, and Rivia’s neighbors mostly view them as backwards. But like, this is feudalism. Human rights are pretty low on the agenda for any ruler, so they don’t much care.

Anyway uh... Rivia is now very historically homophobic and when King Reginald and Queen Meve married, it became law in Lyria too. Unlike Reginald, Meve isn’t actively homophobic - hell, she even encourages Reynard to bone Gascon - but she also isn’t aware enough of the impact of those laws to repeal them.

And then she gets betrayed and Nilfgaard takes over and they change the laws, because the Empire is fucking awful, but progressive in a few surface ways (you can marry anyone! And now you and your spouse can BOTH get drafted into the army and go die in the swamps of Velen!). 

After she gets Lyria back, Meve is gonna have to deal with that, but that’s a whole other story. For now, what I’m thinking is that Reynard has known since he was young that he had interest in other knights and that that interest was unacceptable. So he always hid part of himself, especially once he entered the King’s service (and really learned to keep his mouth shut). 

Problem is, Reginald himself has a LOT of internalized homophobia going on. And... okay, we don’t get a lot about him in canon beyond him being kinda dumb, but good at seeing cleverness in others and utilizing it. And also responding with overwhelming force when a threat emerges (like the Brossard family). 

So like, Reynard is in his early 20s and is serving as aide and advisor to the King. But King Reginald notices the way he watches other men and definitely projects some shit on Reynard. But he approaches it like he’s a concerned friend. Like, “you know you can never act on such things. Someone will find out and I will be forced to punish you.”

It’s always warnings - “oh, don’t do that, what if someone sees?” and “you fool, if you do that again, I will be forced to punish you” or some such. And Reynard doesn’t really understand what he’s done wrong, because he DOES try to follow the rules, but he always works to adjust his behavior anyway, because he knows his King doesn’t WANT to punish him. But if he’s forced to...

(TW for violence and serious homophobia)

Not sure what drives things to a breaking point - maybe Reginald gets jealous at spotting Reynard “flirting” with some foreign knight or dignitary or something??? - but the lesson Reginald teaches is one Reynard will never forget. Because he doesn’t know what he did wrong, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve punishment, especially when it’s the King carrying it out, because his King is just... right? (wrong)

The official sentence for homosexuality is flogging, castration, and execution, but Reginald says something like that because it’s Reynard, he’s worked hard to lighten the sentence or some such. Like, he makes it clear that Reynard is getting off easy when Reginald simply has him whipped nearly to death. 

Reynard doesn’t die - but it’s a close call, especially when some of the wounds get infected and he doesn’t get them treated the way he should, because he deserved this punishment. His King had said so. So it’s important that he returns to work and serves his King as best as he can, even though he’s a disgusting deviant.

I think he probably collapses at some point and Reginald deigns to send him to the royal medics and they save his life, but he’s out of commission for a good while, because he got whipped extensively and then infection took hold.

But when he finally returns to work, Reginald is just kinda like, “where have you been!? Work has piled up without you, get to it!” and never talks about the punishment he metted out.

But as years go on, it becomes a warning. If Reginald’s skewed vision sees Reynard getting too close to other men, he’ll call Reynard to him and touch the small of his back as a reminder. Like ‘don’t make me do this again’.

So Reynard folds pieces of himself up tight and tucks them away where they can never emerge. And while other knights are going around wooing women and getting married, Reynard is focusing on his work. It gets him a reputation - that’s he’s too stuck up for romance, maybe that he’s deviant because he ISN’T girl crazy, etc. The rumors are too bad, but they also never die, even as decades pass.

And then King Reginald of Rivia and Queen Meve of Lyria are married and their realms are merged - which makes homophobia the law throughout Lyria (and believe you me, a LOT of people are unhappy about this. but they have enough sense not to speak out, because royals are scary and homicidal). 

When Reynard first starts developing feelings for Meve, he’s actually almost relieved. Because if he can feel this way for a woman, then maybe he isn’t broken, isn’t a complete deviant. He’d still never make a move, though, because in addition to being married, Meve is Queen. And his experience with Reginald has taught him that you should always keep your private life (what exists of it) out of view of royalty. 

But I think for a while, he has hope. And then Reginald dies and he HATES that he’s relieved, but he is. And there are people who hope that Meve will repeal Rivia’s homophobic laws, but in honesty, it’s not even on her radar as something to deal with. Meanwhile, there’s 10 billion other things to deal with - and so she never gets around to it. She probably doesn’t enforce it - but that doesn’t mean that garrison commanders under her army don’t.

So Reynard serves Meve for 8 years, always keeping part of himself hidden out of sight. And he has never trusted anyone enough to reveal this part of him, so aside from rumors, the knowledge of his deviance died with Reginald.

Except then Meve is betrayed. And she never doubts Reynard’s loyalty and she’s right not to. But now they’re traveling as fugitives to try to make it to the Aedirnian border with the assistance of the fucking Duke of Dogs and his Strays of Spalla - aka criminals. (Though, technically, Reynard has no room to talk - and maybe he knows that. Maybe that’s part of why he’s kinda chill about serving alongside “deserters and bandits and peasants” whereas Meve feels like they’ve fallen low)

At first, Reynard HATES Gascon. He’s an obnoxious little shit who openly flirts with the queen - and even with HIM! Mostly just to get a rise out of him, he’s sure, but like, the audacity!! 

Except, weirdly, whenever Gascon smiles or laughs, Reynard’s heart goes doki doki and he doesn’t understand why. In the current fic I’m writing, Meve clues him in, but also triggers a downward spiral, because if Meve KNOWS he’s a deviant, then obviously he deserves to be punished again. Plus like... Gascon is a fucking baby. Reynard (and Meve a little bit) would DEFINITELY have mixed feelings about wanting someone less than half of their age. (Meanwhile, Gascon is just like ‘oh sweet, sugar daddy. Can we go kill people now?’)

Anyway, I don’t really know where this would go in different fics. In the one I’m writing right now, Reynard is expecting them to hurt him, because that’s what Reginald would do. Meanwhile Meve and Gascon are very confused and trying to figure out wtf is going on. But there will DEFINITELY be lots of comfort for Reynard.

I also want stuff like... idk, scar worship for the whip marks on his back and Gascon and Meve trying to help him heal, but idk exactly what that will look like.

tl;dr: this is definitely the backstory for at least 1 fic. But I’m torn on if I want to make it my canon backstory for Reynard/Thronebreaker. Because I do like writing escapist fantasy without homophobia, but also, I think this offers a lot of interesting things to explore, especially on the angst side of things.

If it IS canon for my Thronebreaker fics, then I promise that it would only be such for fics where it’s relevant/explored as a concept and not like, included in a PWP or something out of nowhere. I’ll always tag appropriately so you can choose how to engage, but... idk. I’m very torn.

Thoughts?

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.6 (spicyhoney)

Summary:  After a long day, Edge can't sleep. If only there was someone around to lend a hand. (gratuitous sexytimes ahead)

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

For all Edge complaints about Stretch’s general lack of order in his room, today it was much better than normal. The various laundry was in a colorful pile rather than strewn around the room and per his scavenging earlier, it was at least clean. He was already making plans to fold it and put it away tomorrow; just because he temporarily needed charity to dress himself didn’t mean he was about to walk around wrinkled as a skeletal version of a shar-pei.

The mattress might have no bedframe, but it was still better than his own sagging old one back in Underfell—

(How long would their home remain untouched. When no one saw them again, how long would it take for greed and recklessness to shore up the courage of scavengers to face not only the possibility of his wrath, but also the traps set up around it. How much time would pass before all his and Red’s meagre possessions were stolen and sold, uncaring hands destroying what had taken them so long to build, how long)

His old mattress also didn’t include another skeleton to press up against him in the bargain, bare-boned and lovely. A terrible oversight, Edge could admit.

He sighed inwardly as behind him, Stretch stirred, shifting to cuddle up closer against Edge’s back and inching him ever closer to the side of the bed. At least without a bedframe, he didn’t have far to fall.

In the few nights Edge stayed over in the past, he’d been this way as well. Always something of bed hog, cramming up against Edge and clinging, taking far more than his fair share of the narrow mattress. He hadn’t really minded; it was a fair price for not having to dress and make the cold trek home after a little sexual indulgence despite the fact he couldn’t make his subconscious believe he was as safe here as he knew he was. He slept lightly, waking every time Stretch rolled over or squirmed against him, and he always felt the lack of decent rest the next day.

Even knowing the trajectory of night, he still couldn’t bring himself to mind and whenever they’d agreed to meet, Edge stayed over more often than not. If the lack of decent rest making him snappish the next day, his brother never commented on it past a knowing smirk and the other guards were unphased by any amount of temper. Sleeping next to Stretch was almost as much an indulgence as the sex was, it was…nice, to sleep here with him. He was very warm.

Normally, Edge would already have drowsed off, quietly basking in that lovely warmth, but not tonight. As tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep. He was too hyperaware of the child sleeping on the other side of the room, carefully tucked into a dresser drawer that was lined with blankets. Twice already he’d slipped out of the bed and away from Stretch’s clinging arms to make sure the baby was all right. Ridiculous as it was, some part of him was convinced if he didn’t check on her, she might stop breathing. As if she was kept alive by the sheer force of his will alone.

Each time she’d been sleeping peacefully, not even stirring, she had no sense of his anxious hovering and he could hardly blame her for her complete lack of survival instincts at her age. Unlike Stretch but that was another matter entirely.

It was honestly absurd for him to think she’d be anything but perfectly fine, he knew that. Her life was hardly contingent on his own and that was something to be grateful for, but as ridiculous as it was, he couldn’t shake the idea.

He was struggling with the urge to check on her again when a sleepy voice murmured close to his auditory canal, “having problems, edgelord?”

Almost, he told Stretch he was fine, nipping the idea that he was at all troubled firmly in the bud. But Stretch had warned him not to slap away any offered help and he found himself admitting, “I can’t sleep. My apologies if I’m keeping you awake.”

“mmhmm,” Stretch sighed out. His arm around Edge’s ribcage briefly tightened. A lack of pajamas meant they were both sleeping bare, normal for their past nights together and slightly more disconcerting on this one. “nah, you’re good. not surprising, really, lots going on. hard to turn off your mind when its running reruns all night long.”

“Yes,” Edge agreed softly.

“need your rest, though, the princess ain’t gonna care if you get forty winks or four. maybe i can help you out with that.”

The way his voice dropped to a deeper, velvety tone should have been a warning. The slim hand that had been resting innocently on Edge’s ribcage coming to life even more so, fingertips tripping their way downward and settling deliberately on the curve of his hip. The implication was obvious for a sedative far less subtle than a glass of warmed milk.

Edge caught his breath, torn between reluctant interest and horror as he hissed, “There is a baby in the room!”

“on the other side of the room,” Stretch corrected, already nuzzling at the back of Edge’s skull, a delicate flick of damp tongue following the sensitive notches of his coronal sutures. “baby is asleep and likely to stay that way unless you get noisy again.”

Edge bristled, “I never—" A single finger pressed to his teeth, the hand attached lingering, gliding down to curl gently around his cervical vertebra. If anyone else dared an attempt to grip his throat, Edge would have removed their arm at the elbow with great prejudice. He couldn’t say why he didn’t this time and wasn’t thinking at all about trying to stay on Stretch’s good side, only that he wanted to lean into the pressure of that hand, let it hold him tighter yet. He closed his sockets, already nearly panting as Stretch crammed up against him, the long length of his bare, lanky body gorgeously warm against Edge’s.

“shhhh.” It was more breath than sound, gusting against the back of his skull. “hang on. kinda made you a promise earlier and i’m in the mood for a midnight snack.”

“It’s barely 10.”

“just go with it, honey.”

He shouldn’t, they shouldn’t, he was an adult who shouldn’t need charmed and cozened to sleep. But Edge followed the sly hands that coaxed him to lay on his back, kept the blankets tugged primly up to his collarbone while Stretch slithered beneath them, his hot, wet mouth trailing a path downward over his ribs, his spinal column, down to his—

“oh,” Edge gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. The room was quiet, the only movement was Stretch’s clever tongue against him and his own stuttered breathing. He spread his knees wider beneath the concealing blankets to give him more room, arching up helplessly into the hands cupping around his pelvis, holding him as Stretch lapped at delicate bone and soft folds of ectoflesh.

By the time Stretch crawled back up, his pretty, used mouth hot against Edge’s own, all thoughts of the child had fled. He went willingly when Stretch urged him to roll back to his side, pressing up behind him again, the hard length of his shaft urgent against his tailbone for a brief moment before Stretch reached down to guide it.

He gasped as Stretch pressed deep inside him in one long, slow thrust, his groan muffled against Edge’s shoulder.

“fuck,” Stretch hissed through his teeth, an expletive and a truth all in one. “you always feel so good, you’re so wet, baby, you take me so good.”

He flushed at those words, turning his face into the pillow, breathing raggedly as Stretch filled him to the brim and then stilled, waiting, until Edge shifted impatiently and rocked his pelvis against him.

“Don’t stop,” Edge whispered into the clean sheets. Behind him, Stretch shifted, one hand on Edge’s hip, bracing him. The bedsprings creaked loudly at the first thrust and they both froze, their eye lights darting to the dresser drawer. They relaxed as no cry or stirring came.

“okay,” Stretch groaned. “guess we do this the slow and easy way.”

Never had sex between them been so gentle before, the achingly slow slide inside him as Edge struggled to draw in shallow breaths of sex-smogged air. They moved together in a careful rhythm, legs sliding against each other, their hands clasped over Edge’s sternum and their fingers laced together.

Beneath the blanket it was obscenely warm, sweat prickling along his bones with the slow flex of Stretch’s pelvis rocking against his own. Edge wanted to burrow into the blankets and breathe it in, bury himself in the luxury of warmth and the smell of their sex. Long, blissful moments passed and the rhythmic press of the shaft inside him began to unravel, its cadence going ragged as the approaching climax became inescapable. Coming was like a slow wave, pleasure lapping over him and Edge relaxed weakly against the mattress as Stretch quivered against him, bones rattling faintly and his low cry muffled against Edge’s scapula.

They lay together, clinging, and Edge’s mind was finally, wonderfully silent, sleep beckoning at nearly the same moment a thin cry burst into the air and the baby’s low whimper quickly began rising into a wail.

Stretch let out a weary chuckle that ended in a groan as he rolled away from Edge, kicking off the blankets to let in a chilly stream of air as he lay spreadeagle on the mattress. “welp, can’t complain, timing could’ve been worse.” He leaned in long enough to press a smacking kiss to the back of Edge’s skull. “toss on my robe and grab the kid, i’ll go warm up a bottle.”

He didn’t wait to see if Edge obeyed, crawling out of bed and skinning into a pair of shorts snatched from the floor as he headed out the door. As much as Edge didn’t want to move, much less walk, that was a challenge that couldn’t go unanswered. He rose on wobbly legs, dragging the robe over his still-sweaty bones as he staggered over to the child.

She’d kicked off her blanket, perhaps it was the cold as well as her hunger that woke her, real clothing for her was added to his mental list. Her little legs were drawn up as she waved her tiny fists in her frustration, her pale eye lights creating a haloing effect around her face. His soul lurched unexpectedly when she caught sight of him and immediately reached for him, her wails increasing as if the solution to her problems was merely an issue of volume.

“Hush, hush,” Edge soothed. He lifted her into his arms, tucking a blanket around her, and her cries died back to whimpers. Her eagerly searching mouth accepted a finger as a brief alternative to the bottle that would soon be coming, sucking vigorously. So this was what parenthood was truly about, interruptions and sleepless nights. And crying, mustn’t forget the crying.

He didn’t care. Edge settled back on the bed and pulled the blankets up around them both. He couldn’t help a little smile as he watched her frustratedly gnaw on his fingers while she whimpered and grunted.

“He’ll be back soon, little one,” Edge whispered to her. He’d be back with a bottle and likely cuddles, Edge suspected that he’d very quickly have two warm, sleeping skeletons lying against him, taking up more than their fair share of the bed and blankets both, and he was fine with that. He was almost looking forward to it despite the lack of sleep that he knew would be the end result.

He waited for Stretch, soothing the baby as best he could, and in the deepest part of his mind, he wondered when that idea had become so very appealing.

tbc

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Hey! I’m kinda new in the vds ship, do u have any fic rec. for me? 🥰

Hiii 🥺 sorry it took me so long to answer this! I could list literally the whole vds ao3 tag on here because there isn’t a single vds fic I don’t like. But I’ve tried to just pick out some of my favourites, mostly ones that are a bit longer :)

Complete:

Starstruck (The Idea of Always) by fantasiesandmemories

I needed Jens and Lucas to be canon so I took care of it myself.

(Starts at the Christmas party in s3)

(literally the best fic ever)

The Boyfriend Challenge by silver_etoile

A Q&A on the vlog might get Jens more than he expects when he mentions a fellow vlogger. Jens is pretty sure Lucas had no idea who he was before, but he definitely does now.

Coffee & Creamer by silver_etoile

This very cute guy has been coming into the cafe for months but Lucas hasn't worked up the courage to talk to him yet. Today might be the day.

Downward Facing Dog by silver_etoile

Jens thinks he got pretty lucky in the flatmate department--two cool guys from the Netherlands--but that was before he walked in on Lucas practicing yoga in the living room. There has to be a way for Jens to stop thinking about it and not ruin his friendship with Lucas, but he has no idea what that is or if he even wants to.

Beautiful stranger by Kartoffelblume

The broerrrs go on a ski trip again, this time it is Jens who meets a beautiful stranger in the ski lift.

First part isn't necessary to read this :)

alone together (we can stay young forever) by silver_etoile

“Don’t look now, but there’s a cute guy checking you out across the cafe."

Lucas caught deep brown eyes darting away, back to the two guys he was sitting with.

A chance meeting in a cafe with a cute boy from Belgium is only the first step in Lucas discovering what it is he truly wants.

Rainy Nights in Belgium by helloforelith

When Jens and Lucas run into a bad storm on the road, they have no choice but to take shelter at a bed and breakfast.

some nights (I wish that my lips could build a castle) by teen_content_queen

An AU where Robbe x Sander and Jens x Lucas VDH deal with growing up, fighting and falling in love.

*the chapter titles are inspired by Fun's Some Nights album but the actually story is only kind of inspired by the songs*

We're going to try for weekly updates. Enjoy!

Quarantine Dreams by silver_etoile

The last thing Jens wants to do while stuck at home indefinitely is do homework, but a group project with a cute new boy surprises Jens more than he realizes.

Incoming videocall by Kartoffelblume

The notification sound startles Jens in the middle of the movie he’s currently watching - he doesn’t expect any calls at the moment - at least none he remembers. Probably it’s just Robbe trying to catch up, he tells himself while getting in an upright position and accepting the call.

It’s not Robbe. Instead there is curly brown hair and really blue eyes.

- Jens and Lucas originally just wanted to talk about school stuff but they quickly end up falling for each other instead

just roommates by ravenbrenna09

Over the course of the first few months, their roommateship had simply been that. They shared a bedroom and living space together. Whenever one of them had to study for a test or complete a paper, the other one generally tried to be quiet and non-distracting or left the dorm all together to give them the peace and solitude that the other person needed. But, one day, it somehow shifted and they became almost something close to friends.

And, that’s all Jens expected them to be.

Friends.

Roommates.

Until, well, they weren’t.

The Price I Pay by silver_etoile

The worst part about Jens’ mom suddenly deciding they needed to get as far away from Jens’ dad as possible wasn’t moving to Utrecht, of all places, it was that Jens had no one to talk to about this new, unexpected crush on a boy in his class.

In progress:

i wanna feel weightless by heart_made_of_glass

An AU where Jens is Spider-Man, and he meets Lucas by accident one night when he gets hurt.

Title of the series from the song “Weightless” by All Time Low

(this is actually a series with two complete parts!)

Jens’ season by My_Evak_Heart

To most, Jens is confidence in a bottle. He has success with girls, a good family and the best of friends. But, what if Jens' life was different behind closed doors?

(THIS IS A TEMPORARY SUMMARY)

These Feelings I Got/Lucas’ Season by justpolyester

Leaving the Netherlands wasn't a thing that Lucas would have excepted to happen. His life had been going pretty well.

But then, things changed and he got torn out of his life. Moving in with his dad, someone he hasn't seen since he was four. Moving to a country so close and still so far from home. He just didn't want all of this, his plan was to hate his new life in Antwerp. But then he meets new people, friends that make him smile, that he wants to like. And there's him.

read the parts when they happen (and bonus parts) on my Tumblr->

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/matteomymood

I Don’t Want To Be Your Friend I Want To Kiss Your Neck by Peachteari

Jens rolls his eyes. “Okay, then show me more, convince me,” he says with a cocky smile.

Lucas stares out the window, staying silent for a second.

“Unless you don’t want to show me more, of course,” Jens says, realising art can be something very personal.

Lucas looks back at Jens. “Maybe another time,” he says before ducking down to grab another box and walking back to his dresser.

Jens stays silent for a second, watching Lucas walk away. The small interaction had left him stunned for some reason.

[A van Der Stoffels college roommate fic]

Spotless Mind by RoseHarker9

Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.

And surely Lucas didn't know what he was going to get at that party his friends dragged him to. And neither does a boy who is traveling in train from the opposite direction but in the same direction.

"Lucas couldn’t help but look around, not to girls, obviously.

Lately, his eyes wandered on boys without him noticing, it was like an instinct. His previous attempts with boys scared him more than attract him. Too blatant, too explicit: he had the need to take things slow. He wanted to fall in love, to feel his guts turning upside down and his cheeks flush, even though he knew that it was a ridiculous thought. No one would have wanted something like that from him.

None of the boys at the party was lighting that particular spark in him, no one awakened nothing in him that was barely meaningful until he clearly felt something twitch and twirl in his stomach.

The music seemed to stop just for him.

Dark hair, sharp face, tall and lean."

Cotton Candy Skies Always Look Better In Person by fantasiesandmemories

Not even Robbe knows. Robbe, who knows close to everything about Jens, save for a few things, including what the fuck he does on Thursdays.

It's not that he's ashamed or embarrassed, he's not.

But really, he'd rather his friends see him in a hoodie and on a skateboard than in pink tights holding on to a barre.

So yeah.....literally everything. If you want to follow them on here check out @azozzoni (silver_etoile), @kartoffelblume, @justvibin (fantasiesandmemories), @franboos1 & @livsisa (Peachteari), @ravenbrenna09, @all-things-skam (My_Evak_Heart), @teen-content-queen, @roseharker9 and @matteomymood (justpolyester)

There are also great things I don’t have listed by @pduwd, @hopetofantasy, @noorakviigmohn, @malecacidd and more on ao3 as well as more I’m sure I’m forgetting ;-; but this should get you off to a good start!

[victimhood]

I was tagged by the wonderful Maya aka @nicoloalkaysani to list thirteen songs I’ve been listening to nonstop lately. Which is a good chance to show how...obsessive my music listening habits are! Be warned, I am known for listening to the same thing endlessly.

Mahmood - Rapide. This is the song that made me fall in love with Mahmood! Alessandro Mahmoud is an Egyptian-Italian singer who was ROBBED at the 2019 Eurovision, and I think the most analogous comparison is the “Italian Sam Smith” but they’re also different y’know?

Mahmood - Soldi. This is Mahmood’s Eurovision entry I LOVE MAHMOOD

Mahmood - Barrio. You see what I mean when I say I hyperfixate on music.

Charlie Charles, Sfera Ebbasta, Mahmood, Fabri Fibra - Calipso. I was here for Mahmood no surprises.

Dame Joan Sutherland - Rigoletto “Caro nome”. This is the aria from Act 1 of Verdi’s opera Rigoletto. Oh! The incomparable Dame Joan Sutherland. Caro nome is what I wrote my entire TOG fanfic to. The coloratura!! This is Peak Opera for me. There are so few cases where it gets better than this. This song is about the experience of your first love, the infatuation of a first crush, the stirrings of new love and AKSJDJDHHSG it’s just soooooo good, especially when Dame Joan Sutherland gets to the soaring heights of the coloratura (the ah-ah-ah portion)

Maria Callas - Rigoletto “Caro nome”. The incomparable Maria Callas! My life has never been the same since I was introduced to Maria Callas’s O Mio Babbino Caro. I slightly prefer Dame Joan’s version, but in keeping with my style of listening to a whole series of “same same but different” how could I ever leave Maria Callas off?

Giuseppe Verdi - Aida Act III introduction. THE BEST STRINGS OF ANY OPERA. THE MELODIC FLUTE LINE THAT TEASES WITH TRILLS AND LEAPS LIKE A GENIE FROM A LAMP. (Ok I stole the second part from Met Opera notes) This was also on heavy rotation when I wrote my Joe/Nicky fanfic. The strings build in pianissimo layers and THE WHOLE THING SOUNDS LIKE MAGIC.

Vittorio Grigolo - La Boheme “Che gelida manina” THIS SONG IS ALSO ABOUT LOVE I had the privilege of watching Vittorio Grigolo sing this in the Met Opera staging of La Boheme, which I also inexplicably love despite the fact that I kinda hate Rent the musical, and Rent is basically a La Boheme ripoff. Go figure. Maybe one day I’ll even write a Joe/Nicky opera AU (but is it an AU when they could plausibly have been friends with Mozart/Verdi/etc)

Jordi Savall - Kouroukanfouga. Look if I can make my fics have audio, this is the song that plays when ~spoiler~ Nicky and Joe meet again at the end of my fic. This song is actually about the constitution of the Mali Empire created after the Battle of Krina in 1235, and it’s found on an album about Ibn Battuta, the Muslim Berber-Moroccan voyager who traveled extremely widely (analogous figures would be Marco Polo or Zheng He). I love the levity of the opening bars in this song, and how it evokes a sense of travel. Jordi Savall is a major figure in reproducing medieval music and you should definitely include him on any Nicky/Joe playlist imo.

Underworld - And I Will Kiss. This song changed my life. First heard at the 2012 London Olympics opening ceremony, accompanying a performance where pristine green pastures are torn up with the advent of the Industrial Revolution. One day if I still have the stamina for it I will write Industrial Revolution Joe/Nicky because I have so many Socialist™️ feels about it.

Underworld - Caliban’s Dream. Ethereal soprano singing and!! Alex Trimble of Two Door Cinema Club whom I love. This was for the lighting of the Olympic torch at the 2012 London Olympics, and the part of the song that invokes “come together” preceded the lighting of the torch, which was one of the most memorable Olympic torch lightings (the only other one I care about being Cathy Freeman in Sydney 2000)

Rahim AlHaj - NPR tiny desk concert. Sublime. I am currently on a major oud kick and Rahim AlHaj is a virtuouso oud musician and composer. The oud is the granddaddy of all stringed instruments and also I am plotting a fic where one of Joe’s ex boyfriends is an oud player now you know why I’m on this massive oud kick heh

Recomposed by Max Richter - Vivaldi Spring I. This piece is for the second most recent fic I wrote, for The Untamed. This is the wedding song for my modern AU Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. I have a lot of things to say about that fic but this song encapsulates all of it.

That’s it haha I guess I’m not gonna tag anyone but!! Please do the meme if this inspires you to say something about your playlist. I could talk a lot more about these pieces bc I basically made a “fic inspiration” playlist and skdjjdhd ok I’ll stop bc I might be the only person reading this anyways.

[lala-the-rebel]

Take Me Back

(a fic completely based on this post)

Summary: Now that Virgil's been away from the dark sides for a while, he does miss them more than he cares to admit. But he's not gonna let them know that. Not until he absolutely has to.

And, unfortunately for him, he does.

Word Count: 2,634 (if I wasn't on mobile there would be a cut)

Ship: pretty much platonic anxceit

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, (mostly) sympathetic Deceit, mentions of Remus/the Duke, mild cursing (any I missed please lemme know!)

Tags: @fandersunite @korsaromantic66 @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @fellinfire @alifeuncolored

---

It had been some time since Virgil left the dark sides. And he had grown to miss them more than he cared to admit.

He kept convincing himself that staying with them was doing more harm than good. That was the whole reason why he left in the first place, right? To make things better? For him? For everyone else?

He kept telling himself that. It worked for a while until the one time it didn't.

Sure, the light sides had treated him as if he was always a part of their family, but it didn't always feel right. Especially when they did family things without you, and you knew about it, and they knew you knew, but they didn't do anything to include you. That was when it hurt.

It reminded him that he really did miss what he used to have. They wouldn't have done that to him. He really was family to them. They would include him in everything they could, even if he did protest it a bit. It annoyed him at the time, but looking back now, he appreciated it. Not being listened to almost felt better than being listened to. Even though he complained, he still wanted to do things. He was glad that the light sides respected his boundaries, but there were times when he almost wished they didn't do it as much as they did. 

He didn't want to think about how much he missed the others, but he did. And the more he did, the more depressed he got. He couldn't go back now. They probably looked down on him for leaving without explanation. Even if he had explained it to them, would they have understood? 

The thoughts wracked his brain so much that it was hard to get to sleep. He woke up feeling really unrested, so he decided to make himself some coffee to try getting through the day. He was surprisingly the first one up, or at least the first up and out of their room. As he waited for his coffee to brew, he let his mind wander. It wouldn't have hurt to visit the dark side common room, would it? What's the worst thing he could do there? What's the worst thing they could do to him for being there?

He would just be in and out. One short look. Just to see if things had changed. Nothing wrong with that, right?

He kept mentally telling himself that as he sunk out into the other room. When he arrived, he expected the worst. He expected at least one of them to pop out and scare him. He got nothing. They were probably off in their rooms like everyone else was, he figured.

He looked around, taking in the landscape. Nothing really changed. Still trashed as hell, maybe even more than usual. He didn't doubt that it was because Deceit had given up on cleaning it again. He remembered how the same thing happened before he left. He and Remus would band together to wreak as much havoc in the room as they could, and Deceit cleaned it up every time. It became such a hassle at one point that he had given up until the clutter bugged him. That, and neither of the other two were bothered to pick it up themselves.

A bittersweet feeling rushed over him as he remembered that. He wondered if Remus actually continued doing it after he left, or if he stopped because it wasn't the same as before. Virgil wouldn't have known because he never talked to any of them besides the few times in the videos. He could very well have changed that now, but he didn't.

He was supposed to just be in and out. No visiting. Visiting would give him emotions. He didn't want those. He wanted to stop doubting if he made the right choice or not, and if that meant not visiting the other two, then that would be the end of it.

To get his mind off of things, he decided to walk around, as quietly as he could, of course. Get a full glance of everything while he could. He made a lap around the room, ending by the stairs. He saw a familiar sweater piled on the ground next to them. Upon further inspection, he realized it belonged to Deceit.

It wouldn't have hurt to take it, would it?

He snatched the sweater as quick as he could and sunk out. He then rushed to his room, totally unnoticed unlike what he feared. He inspected the sweater in detail. It was black and gray, striped, torn in a few spots, and a bit too big, but Virgil liked it nonetheless. It was definitely something he would own. He threw it in the dirty laundry, figuring it needed at least one wash cycle, and went back to go get his coffee that he unintentionally abandoned. As he drank it, the others finally made their arrivals, getting to their usual business. He watched it all from the sidelines, only interacting when one of the others addressed him. He didn't gather much besides the fact that a video was going to be filmed in the next few days. It didn't really bother him, so he went on with his day as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

That night, he somehow managed to sleep soundly; the visit from earlier cleared things up just a bit. It gave him the reassurance than at least nothing changed there physically. It was a small step of progress, but he took what he could get.

When he woke up the next day, he found the sweater he stole in his clean laundry. He almost forgotten he had taken it until then. Something told him he should have worn it that day, so he did under his usual hoodie. He was complimented on it more than anything, which to him was a sign that they definitely didn't know it wasn't his. If they did, they didn't say anything to him at least. Along with that, it kinda helped relieve some of that homesickness he felt. At least, that's what it felt like to him. He didn't know what to call it. He just knew that wearing it made him feel better than he did the day before, and that's what mattered to him more than anything.

The temptation to go back to the room after that didn't take long to return. He fought it off for as long as he could, but one sleepless night ended that streak. He figured another venture to the room wouldn't hurt. When he got there, Deceit was around, asleep on the couch. Virgil decided to sneak past him up to the rooms so that he wouldn't wake him. He was successful, but he still kept cautious in case Remus would pop out at him. Thankfully, he didn't, so Virgil did some more snooping around. He even stole a few more pieces of clothing just for the hell of it before returning to his room and knocking out.

The cycle kind of continued for a while after that. He didn't get caught, mostly because he was sneaking out at night when no one else should have been awake. And any of the clothes he gathered hardly raised suspicion; the others simply thought the outfits were his own entirely.

Then came the dreaded day of video filming. They had worked for most of the morning, so they were taking a break for at least a couple hours. And during that break was when it all went down.

They all decided to relax while they could. Roman and Patton put on a movie while Logan made himself coffee and caught up on other work. Virgil changed into a different outfit and chilled out by the stairs on his phone, barely listening to anything going on around him. It wasn't until Deceit arrived that he finally did.

"Well, don't you all look very productive," the dark side sneered.

Logan heard him and sighed. "What do you want, Deceit?" At the mention of his name, Patton and Roman jumped up from their spots on the couch while Virgil merely looked up at him with disinterest.

"What are you doing here, Jack the Fibber?" Roman retorted.

"What? Am I not allowed to just simply hang out?"

"That's not part of your usual behavior around us, so that is mostly the reason for their concerns, I'm sure," Logan explained without missing a beat. "Plus, you have your own designated space to hang out, so there is no real need to intrude into ours."

"Yeah, what he said!" Roman agreed.

Deceit glared at Logan before continuing. "Well, maybe I want to change that behavior. You know I can't not be nice to you of all people, Roman."

"Really?"

"That's the biggest batch of bullshit I've ever heard," Virgil piped up. "We all know you get your kicks on teasing Roman because half the time he can't tell if you're lying or not."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, okay. That's not what you've told me, but sure."

Deceit sighed. "Information can easily be outdated, Virgil, so don't be too sure you know everything you think you do."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure on that, considering literally everyone here knows you as a liar. There's no way you can prove what you said was true and you know it."

"I mean, his statement does have some truth to it," Logan interrupted.

"Shut up, Logan! I'm trying to prove my point here!" Virgil barked.

"How pathetic. Blocking out the truth so that you have what you think is a solid argument? Sounds like we have a hypocrite here," Deceit said with a laugh. "Getting on me for the exact same thing you do fits that definition, don't you think? Or, is it a double standard because you're a light side now?"

Virgil had enough. "Just shut your damn mouth up! No one wants to argue with you over stupid shit. If that's all you came here for, then leave. We don't want that here."

Deceit turned to him, rolling his eyes and smirking. "I rest my case- wait." He did a double take. "Is that my sweater you're wearing?" Virgil's eyes went wide as he took in what Deceit said. He felt everyone's eyes staring him down as they awaited his answer. He didn't speak, which prompted Deceit to ask another question. "Is that where they've been going? Have you been stealing them? Have you been stealing my stuff?"

"N-no." He avoided the looks he was getting. "It's...it's mine."

"Seems like someone's taken over the resident liar position," Deceit remarked. He stared Virgil down until he looked him in the eye, and when he did, he gave him a simple eyebrow raise. "But if you insist, then I'll let it go." He continued to stare at Virgil, noticing his teary eyes.

Virgil met his gaze until he couldn't bear to do it anymore. He couldn't bear to be there anymore. "I'm...gonna go to my room," he said solemnly before sinking out. He heard the others telling him to come back, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to explain this to them if they weren't going to understand. 

He didn't sink out to his room. He ended up sinking out to the dark side common room unintentionally. He didn't care as long as he could get away. He curled himself into a ball and slowly let the tears go.

It didn't take long for Deceit to pop up after him. He looked at Virgil, unsure of what to say. Virgil had known he was there, but didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he just curled even more into himself, hoping he would go away.

He didn't. "You know, last time I checked, this isn't your room." Virgil didn't answer. He sighed, then knelt down to Virgil's eye level. He stared him down, despite being ignored. Talking was worth a shot. "I...apologize if what I said has upset you." He got Virgil's attention, but the other side remained silent. Deceit continued. "I didn't mean to call you out in front of...them."

"Yeah, right," Virgil mumbled.

"I'm serious. I'm not that much of an asshole, believe it or not. If I didn't notice it then, I wouldn't have said anything until later. But I did, and I impulsively said something. And, now I know I shouldn't have. I hope you don't hate me too much more for it."

Virgil finally looked him in the eye, unsure of his sincerity. Sure, it was written pretty clearly on his face, but he was a master of deception. Virgil wanted to doubt that what he said was true, but he didn't for now. Something told him not to. "You mean it?"

A nod. "Absolutely. And I assure you, I'm not lying."

Hearing that made him tear up even more. For once, Deceit sounded serious when he said it. No sarcastic edge, no over-the-top line delivery, nothing. Just pure emotion. Something in the way he said it made Virgil believe that he had really still cared for him a bit, even though his actions said otherwise. It was more than likely just an act at that point. Just to save face for the light sides. Both of them being dark sides made them as close to family as they could get, and the bond they had couldn't be easily broken, no matter how long ago Virgil left. They both knew that on some level.

And doing that compelled Virgil to do something he hadn't done in a while. He leaned forward and latched onto Deceit, hugging him. He was surprised at first, but he knew Virgil needed it and returned it. He could feel the other's chest heaving as he sobbed into him, but he didn't care one bit. He could tell Virgil needed it. He helped calm him down before he started talking again.

"I'm not mad at you for taking my stuff, by the way. You could have just asked me for it if you wanted it so bad."

"I know, but...I…I had a reason for it," Virgil mumbled.

"Which was?"

Virgil finally pulled away and looked at him. His eyeshadow was definitely smudged now, but that was easily fixable. He wiped his nose with his hoodie sleeve and got to explaining. "I...I miss you guys."

"You...do?"

Virgil nodded with a sniff. "I miss doing stuff with you and being with you because the others don't do as much stuff with me anymore because I said one time that I didn't want to do anything and they took it literally." He swiped his nose again. "And it made me really...sad, so to feel better, I've been coming down here and sneaking around and stealing your stuff and wearing it so that I have something to remind me of you guys. Of...home, I guess." A sniff. "I left because I thought I was hurting you guys, but it looks like I'm just hurting myself, y'know, figuratively. And I don't wanna come back completely, but...I guess I just wanna visit sometimes if that's okay with you. I just want you...to take me back as family."

Deceit nodded, taking in everything he said. "You hurt us more by leaving and not saying anything. But, now that you have, I do forgive you. And I understand." He was teary-eyed now. "And you're welcome back home any time. You haven't stopped being family, trust me."

Virgil went and hugged him again, and he immediately hugged him back. "Thank you. So much."

"You're definitely welcome. Now, I do want those stolen sweaters back, if you don't mind."

[clubparker-blog1]

drama club (peter parker x reader)

request: ‘can you do a peter parker imagine where you're in drama club and into musicals and things and so peter thinks you're really outgoing so he's nervous to talk to you but you're actually super geeky and shy and :))’

summary: you run into a very nervous Peter while practising for a drama performance

word count: 1.3k

ok so before you read this: i didn’t really follow the request that well and i wanted to put all this other stuff in but I felt like it’d be too long so I’m gonna write a part two for this fic which will include a lot more of the stuff that the request asked for. idk when but it should be out soon so look out for that. okay, enjoy, ilu <3

tagged: @undoroos @barely-emily

-

"Well, i thought it was great," Peter laughed, earning a scrunched-up music sheet to the face from an unimpressed clarinet player. He exhaled another chuckle and rested his chin on his arms, sitting backwards on a too-small plastic chair. 

Michelle sat in the front row, curly hair in her eyes and she shook her head to rid of it, though it fell right back into place.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong..." she mumbled, eyebrows knitted together and her teeth grazing her lip. "It goes F sharp, then- ugh, no, what's that one again?" she pointed a fingertip to her sheet music that lied on her lap and tucked her hair behind her ear. Peter leaned forward to see and she pushed him back by his forehead, grunting. “I got it.”

There was a small group of other people in the hall, all bearing instruments and nimble fingers. With random notes and frustrated groans filling the air every so often, Peter let out a sigh.

"I'm kinda bored. This is boring." He said, dragging out his words annoyingly.

MJ didn't even look up, her knee bouncing. There were ripped fishnet stockings on her legs and a black vintage slip dress on her shoulders over a white, long sleeved top, scuffed cow-boy boots that looked straight out of her grandmother's closet on her feet. An interesting get-up, but different every day.

"I’m booored,” He repeated, a little louder this time and she looked up, irritated.

"Then go find something to do, loser. Actually, get me a music stand from 197? Thanks." she threw a lock of her hair over her shoulder for emphasis and continued with her struggle to read her music.

"Hey!”

"Just go!"

Laughing and holding his hands up in surrender, he stood up and ran his fingertips through his neat hair. "Fine. I'll be back," he told her, pulling his backpack onto one shoulder and leaving the hall.

Almost 10 minutes after going down the hallway and up the stairs, then doing three laps of the floor, Peter found room 197 tucked away in the corner by the theatre room. He didn’t have any classes down this hallway, so he rarely walked down it. He could hear the voices of the drama students laughing and practicing lines in the next room over, the door wide open. Ignoring it, he opened the door and stepped into the small storage room, switching the light on, though nothing happened. He sighed quietly, eyes not adjusted to the darkness, and he felt around the room for a music stand, feeling as if his lungs were filling with dust with each breath he took. Coughing, he saw something that resembled the outline of a music stand, grabbing it and making his way out of the room. Before he had even pulled the door shut behind him, you barrelled into him, falling on top of him and the music stand in a heap.

You gasped, the half-made costume you adorned audibly tearing as you hit into Peter mid-speech. You moved from the theatre room to the hallway to practice your lines, and you hadn’t even noticed Peter coming out the storage room as you fell backward dramatically for your scene, right into the boy.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you cried, scrambling to your feet. Peter stood up more slowly, picking up the music stand and rubbing the arm he landed on. When he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, his eyebrows shout up. His lips stretched into a nervous, half-smile, like one side of his mouth wouldn’t cooperate with him.

“N-No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he stuttered, readjusting his grip on the metal stand. He recognised you. He saw you preforming a play at the Art and Technology exhibition two weeks ago, and he was sure you sat in front of him in English. He studied your ensemble of a poorly-made costume pulled over a blue school shirt, paired with baggy grey sweatpants and worn sneakers with a taped-up hole in the toe.

“No, really,” you pressed, feeling hot with embarrassment under your skin. “Are you hurt? Do you need help with that stand? I’ll help you, where…where are you taking it?”

“Just the hall, but I can- I can take it myself, don’t worry-“ Peter started, before you cut him off.

“No, no, I’ll take it down for you! Your arm’s hurt, I hurt you- oh god, I’m so sorry,” You rambled nervously, the words spilling out before you could stop them and you grabbed hold of the music stand.  Taking it from him, you wrapped your other hand around the metal as well and walked past him, toward the stairs before he could protest. Peter blinked blankly for a moment, the whole thing playing out too fast for him to process and he turned on his heel, running after you.

“Hey, you- you don’t have to- I really can take it down myself, I-“he blurted, hurrying down the stairs beside you. You held the stand out in front of you stubbornly, out of his reach. He let out a defeated sigh, continuing alongside you and wringing his hands together. The quiet between you was far from comfortable, enough anxiety to fuel every kid during exam week radiating off the both of you. You arrived at the hall, your shoes squeaking on the polished, hard-wood flooring.

“Where did you need this?” You asked Peter, your skin still hot with left over humiliation. He beckoned you to follow him with a wave of his hand, making his way over to MJ, who held her clarinet reed in her mouth, writing on a sheet of paper in her lap with a stubby pencil. You placed the stand down in front of her and she grunted, not looking up.

“Thanks, loser.” She mumbled, scribbling something out on her page.

“She means me, I-I’m ‘loser’- well I mean, that’s not my name, obviously, I- my name’s Parker Pe- Peter Parker – god.” He brought his hands up to cover his burning face, eyes wide as he listened to himself tripping over his words.

You gave a nervous, half-smile, like one side of your mouth wouldn’t cooperate with you.

“Well, it’s been nice to meet you, Parker Peter.” You said gently, nerves making your fingertips itch. He seemed surprised with your reply, face breaking out into a relieved smile and he dropped his hands, scratching the back of his neck with one.

“Y-yeah, you too, uh…”

“Y/N.” you told him, tucking your fingertips into your palms.

“Right, Y/N.” he smiled, mouthing your name once more after saying it as if to make sure he wouldn’t forget. “Thanks for, y’know…”

“Hitting into you?” You said, regretting it as soon as it left your lips and you pushed your balled-up hands into the pockets of your torn costume. Peter chuckled, though it came out awkwardly – as if he were either clearing his throat or choking on his spit. He swallowed, muttering an inaudible apology before Michelle looked up, placing her sheets on the stand.

“You guys are lame.” She stated around the reed between her teeth, eyes travelling back to her music casually. Peter’s mouth dropped open for a moment, before curling into an amused smile.

“Thanks, MJ.”

to be continued…

[ohlawsons]

HOMESICK

SUMMARY. Neria's used to spending her birthdays at home and with family. This year, she's spending it surrounded by undead. NOTES. written for @pillarspromptsweekly prompt 0006 birthday prompt! this turned out longer than i’d figured but hey, i finished on time, which is more than i can say for last week’s prompt. i’m still slowly working on the old flame prompt. slowly. anyway fun fact -- i opened up my copy of the pillars cookbook for the first time bc of this fic LINKS. [ ao3 ] [ Neria’s tag ]

She brings it up on their first trip into Defiance Bay, as they’re passing by the market in Copperlane.

“D’you think they have ymyran pudding?” Neria asks no one in particular, falling a bit behind as the group walks through the city.

“Do they have what?” Eder slows, letting Kana and Sagani pass him up as he waits for Neria to fall back into step beside him. “Sounds like some sort of fancy Aedyran thing.”

From just behind them, Aloth scoffs. “It is.” Eder can’t see the elf rolling his eyes, but he can assume. “It’s a very sweet, very heavy cinnamon dessert. I’m not surprised you had it in Rauatai.”

Neria shrugs, the movement quick and unsettled. “I didn’t, really. Myra used to make it for my birthday every year, even after she went back to Ixamitl. I just thought, since it’s-- well, nevermind.” She takes a deep breath, face tilting upwards to give a wide grin to both Eder and Aloth. “Just let me know if you see some? Dyrwoodans can’t bake for shit and it makes me kinda homesick.”

Kana turns to face them, his booming laughter reaching them easily. “That makes two of us, then. Maybe when you’ve gotten Caed Nua back to a reasonable state, we could try our hand at making some sweets. Rauatai pies, perhaps?”

“By the Effigy,” Neria groans, “I would kill for a Rauatai sweet pie right now.”

“Anything chocolate, really,” Kana agrees.

From up ahead, Sagani shakes her head. “The two of you have a sweet tooth as bad as an Aedyran. No offense, Aloth.”

The wizard sighs. “None taken.”

Neria and Kana continue to trade sickeningly sweet treats that they miss as the group walks through the city towards whatever horrors await them in Heritage Hill. Eder chimes in every so often, sometimes to defend the relatively bland Dyrwoodan cuisine or to offer a clever remark of his own. He pays particularly close attention to Neria, tucking away whatever little bits of knowledge he can about her as she talks, including the pudding -- which he’s already forgotten the name of.

There’s one point he really wants to ask her about -- her birthday, and the odd way she hesitated when she brought it up.

He doesn't get the chance, though, because they're leaving the populated districts of Defiance Bay and Neria’s bribing the guards, and suddenly they're surrounded by undead and half-dead. They stop to catch their breath in one of the partially collapsed mausoleums -- Neria pulls out some jerky, asks if it's distasteful, and Eder and Sagani laugh alongside her -- and once his pulse has returned to normal, Eder tries for a conversation.

“You mentioned something about a birthday, earlier,” he mentions, nonchalant.

Neria looks up from where she's sitting beside him, inspecting the blade of her axe. “Yeah, it's… It's weird. Don't worry about it.”

Kana perks up at that, his eyes lighting up as he turns his attention towards Neria. “What do you mean?”

She sets the axe down on her lap and sighs. “It’s weird,” she repeats. “I don’t actually know when my birthday is. I mean, my parents tried to abandon me in the forest to avoid the ire of Berath, so it’s not like they told me. All I know is the day Myra found me, which,” she pauses and shrugs, “would be today.”

“And we’re spending it in a haunted neighborhood chasing down cultists.” Kana shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Neria. Perhaps we’ll have time to celebrate when we get back to the inn.”

She grins. “Well, I’m not gonna turn down an excuse to spend the night drinking.”

They don’t spend the night drinking.

They’re ambushed by guls in one of the abandoned, run down manors on the east side of the district. Sagani takes a hard hit and she’s still standing but barely, so they gather in one of the rooms on the top floor and Neria barricades the door while Kana sings a quiet song of rest. Itumaak curls up beside Sagani, and between Kana’s singing and the bandaging they manage to stop the blood flow.

Neria offers to take the first watch, wanting to give Kana and Aloth plenty of time to rest. She pulls the last of her jerky out from her pack and settles onto one of the dusty armchairs, the upholstery torn and stained. It’s going to be a long, quiet watch, she knows, because they’re inside and there aren’t even stars to watch.

She’s on her last strip of jerky, tearing it into increasingly tiny pieces to make it last, when she hears a sound from the floor below them. It’s nearly time to wake Eder for his watch, anyway, so she shoves the rest of the jerky into her mouth and shakes him awake.

“There’s something downstairs,” she whispers, the words garbled through her mouth full of jerky. “I’m gonna go look.”

As Neria turns to leave, Eder reaches up to grab her wrist -- he’s sitting upright, and they’re nearly eye-level now -- and shakes his head. “Just leave it. We’ll worry about it if it comes up here.” He pauses and looks her over. “Besides, you need to rest.”

She frowns and tugs her wrist free from his grasp so she can cross her arms. “Fine, take all the fun out of this trip.”

He gives her a slow smile. “You mean you haven’t been having fun?”

“Oh, loads,” she assures him, hoping to draw out another smile. “I usually spend my birthday in Ixamitl with Myra, but going up against mindless undead and fucked up animancers? Huge improvement.” She pauses, then glances back towards the door. “I’m just gonna go look.”

“Neria, wait.” His smile has disappeared, and the soft, measured way he says her name is enough to break through the last of Neria’s resolve.

“Alright, alright,” she relents, letting her war hammer drop to the dusty floor beside her with a thunk. She rests her left hand on its haft, fingers drumming against the sturdy wood as she thinks. “I can’t believe I’m stuck in a fucking haunted house.” The words are bitter and quiet, meant only for herself, but out of the corner of her eye she just catches the way that Eder’s brow knits together. Neria bites back a curse; she hadn’t meant to bother him -- or anyone else -- about her birthday, but the combination of this Watcher bullshit and the fact that it’s the first birthday she’s spent away from Myra has put her in a particularly sour mood.

“Hey.” Eder puts a hand on Neria’s shoulder -- and it’s odd, because he’s still sitting and neither of them are used to being eye-level with each other -- and offers a warm smile. “Soon as we get back to Copperlane, we’ll celebrate with drinks and some of that immer… ymyr… whatever pudding it was that you were lookin’ for.”

She isn’t certain she should find his clumsy attempts quite so endearing, but they are, so she returns the smile and gently corrects, “Ymyran pudding. And I doubt they have it anywhere in this city and if they do, it’s probably shit. I’ll settle for drinks, though.”

“Good,” he grins. “I know where to find those.”

Even once they’ve dealt with the nightmare that is Heritage Hill, Neria doesn’t get to spend the evening drinking and celebrating.

She does drink, though it’s far from celebratory; the sensation of physically breaking someone’s spirit -- even if that someone was an undead animancer trying to take advantage of a tragedy for her own good -- had left Neria more than a little uncomfortable. The soul machine is destroyed, though, and that does bring her some satisfaction.

They find an inn in Copperlane to spend the evening, and Neria quickly retires to the room she’s sharing with Kana. Most days, she would gladly deal with such a state of mind by drinking until the discomfort has been thoroughly dashed, but this soul magic and Watcher nonsense is completely over her head and she hasn’t quite figured out how to deal with it.

So instead of staying down with the others, she curls up on one of the two small beds and pulls out one of the books that Kana had recommended to her. It’s filled with myths and legends from all over the Eastern Reach, and they’re as interesting as they are implausible and the sheer ridiculousness of some of them brings her a strange comfort; it’s as if perhaps everything she’s experienced the past few days is nothing more than a story, and will all one day end up in a book filled with fantasies like the one she’s reading now.

She’s in the middle of a story about a delemgan’s curse when there’s a knock at her door. She makes a face -- she really doesn’t want to have to deal with social niceties at the moment -- but slowly closes the book and sets it aside. “Yes?”

“It’s me.” Eder’s voice is muffled through the thick door. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh.” Curiosity piqued, Neria slides off the bed and pads over to the door, opening it to find Eder holding a small platter covered with a cloth napkin.

“No luck with the pudding,” he explains without pretense, holding out the platter. “But Kana had another idea.”

“O...kay?” With a little frown of confusion, Neria reaches up to take the platter. She glances up at Eder -- who’s watching her, almost expectantly -- before slowly sliding the napkin off. Beneath is a large piece of Rauatai sweet pie, warm and rich and sending a wave of nostalgia through her. “You found Rauatai pie.” Combined with the mention of pudding, the pie is enough to remind her of their conversation earlier in the day about the ymyran pudding she'd been craving.

He shrugs, as if to downplay the way he’s beaming down at her. “Least I could do, after the birthday you had.”

Unable to hold back her excitement any longer, Neria reaches greedily for the pie. “Want some?” she asks, almost as an afterthought. “It's a pretty big piece.”

“Already tried some. It's a little too heavy for me.”

“Dyrwoodan,” she mutters, glancing up to grin at Eder before taking a bite of the pie. It’s not as good as she remembers -- although that may just be the homesickness coloring her memories -- but it’s still rich and chocolatey and sweet. “Thank you,” she offers, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand and awkwardly setting the rest of the pie on the dresser. “It’s been pretty shitty lately, but this… helps. Like a little piece of home.”

Eder’s still beaming down at her, giving her a warm smile that’s equal parts proud and apologetic. “Like I said, it’s the least I could do. Wish I could’ve done somethin’ more than just get you a pie.”

Neria plants a hand on one hip, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s more than enough, Eder. It’s a lot more than I was expecting, honestly. But,” she shrugs, “feel free to shower me with gifts when we get back to Caed Nua and I throw a huge party.”

“If I’d known you’d be throwing a party, I might not’ve wasted my evening trying to find a baker from Rauatai,” Eder teases, giving an innocent shrug of his own.

Before Neria can answer, she hears someone clearing their throat from in the hallway. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Kana apologizes, behind Eder and just outside of Neria’s view, “but I’d like to turn in for the night. Unless you want to switch rooms,” he offers, a wry edge creeping into his voice. “I have nothing against staying with Aloth.”

“I was just leaving,” Eder says, stepping back to give Kana a hearty clap on the back. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” With a wink, he begins making his way back down the hallway.

Neria watches as he goes, aware that she’s staring and aware that Kana is still watching her with amusement. “He found Rauatai sweet pie for me,” she informs the aumaua. “I think I’m in love.”

“Technically,” Kana corrects cheerfully, “I helped. The two of us went out searching for the bakery.”

“You know I love you, Kana.” Neria grins up at him, then tilts her head towards their shared room. “C’mon, I’ve got a pie to finish and I want to show you one of the stories in this book I’ve been reading.”