#kira x fives

[simpalert]

my lil tfxtm couple of angel and devil

[gcslingss]

this is my first time sending a request but could you do inspection prompt from the non verbal list? maybe something to do with a stunt driver!reader and colt? like the reader gets hurt doing some kind of driving stunt?

prompt: [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got -prompt list

summary: because of reasons like a tight schedule and an asshole director, when your stunt goes slightly askew, colt's the only one who comes to your rescue.

pairing: colt seavers x fem!stuntdriver!reader

warnings/content: fluff, angst, blood mentions, hurt/comfort, kissing, barely any swearing but some is there

word count: 1.73k

notes: thank you to kira for requesting, and thank you to her and shannon @bisexualcoltseavers for beta-reading this!! had a lot of fun writing it, hope you guys enjoy <3

Being a stunt driver had its pros and cons.

Pros being you got to ride cool-ass cars, trucks, motorcycles, and motorized couches, you had an overall aura of daring and bravery, and you got to make friends with a lot of really nice people.

Cons being you could lose a limb or your life while doing the stunts, and could be pressured into doing things you didn’t want to do, but that was part of the job, and besides, it rarely ever happened.

Today’s schedule for had you involved with the filmBright Days dir. by Charles Levine.

He sounded like quite the gentleman, but dear god, his sexist ideals and extra tight schedules were hard to work with.

You were supposed to do a scene where the lead crashed into the goon’s car because of a slippery road in the middle of the night during her escape mission.

The goon was Colt Seavers, a skilled co-stuntie, and someone you’d had a crush on for over 2 years.

It was super confusing, and so was he, because you could never tell if he was just being friendly or aiming a bit higher. 

“We really need to go now,” Colt said to you, taking your half-eaten spinach corn sandwich from your hand and keeping it on its paper plate, before nudging you. “Levine’s heading for us.”

You made a sound like a deflating balloon, with Colt appropriately responding by encouragingly rubbing your back. You couldn’t help but ease into his touch, something you were certainly embarrassed by, cheeks heating up.

“You’re gonna be great, alright?” he said, and his tone made you blush and smile, which was not an appropriate reaction at all.

“And I promise not to crush you.” 

“Shut up,” you quipped at the grinning man, slapping his shoulder.

When Levine came and stood by the break table, he looked quite unhappy.

“We’re on a schedule, stunties. Get moving.”

You glanced at Colt, giving him a ‘who gave him permission to say stuntie?’ look to which Colt just responded with an exasperated nod, making you sigh.

“Coming,” you muttered, before heading to the set with Colt. He had an arm around your shoulder, a fact you actively tried to ignore.

Five minutes later, you were in the stunt car, strapped down, helmet clipped on, mouthguard on, neck restraints snug, gloved hands tight on the steering wheel.

The helmet was unusually loose, but with the way Levine was rushing the shot, you knew nothing would be done about it. Colt was on the other end of the road, speaking to you through the walkie talkie.

“Good luck,” his voice said, and you smiled to yourself. 

“You too.”

“Alright, no wasting time, c’mon, I want to see action!” Levine yelled into the talkie and to everyone else.

The cameramen and crew moved away, the stunt coordinator got in his buggy, and you double checked everything before taking a deep breath. 

This was going to be great. You were going to be great. You were a stunt driver! You’d done this millions of times.

No, the helmet wasn’t an issue. It was probably fine.

“…And action, action!”

You slammed the accelerator and the car zoomed forward, racing through the road.

Colt’s car was heading towards you, on the other lane — In another 5 seconds, you were supposed to skid and crash into him, successfully taking the brunt. 

Alright.

You swerved the car, hard, and it turned 180 degrees, when your helmet fell off your head.

What the f-

“NOW!”

Instinct took over and you sped backwards, crashing into the other car with a boom, the bonnet almost floating for a split second. The vehicle shook thunderously. Your ears began to ring. 

Glass shattered and all you could do was brace your head with your arms, helplessly watching the helmet roll around the groaning car, eyes tightly shut to protect them from the splintering metal and nails and screws and shards.

You sat there in the same position for what felt like ages, until the walkie talkie came to life with the coordinator's voice.

“Are you both alright?”

You heaved deep breaths, a tad shocked to realize that your face was bleeding into your sleeves. You shakily pulled your sleeves away and were a bit taken aback at all the blood staining it.

Your shaky hand grabbed the walkie talkie and you gasped an” alright” into it. 

After a few moments, you put the helmet on and stepped out of the car— two stuntmen helped you to your unsteady feet, and behind them was…

“Colt.”

He rushed past them, tripping on the pebbles, before scooping you up in his arms, almost lifting you off the ground.

“You okay?” he asked. You could only nod, which was already hard with the flimsy helmet, never mind with the cuts on your face. 

“You?” you returned the question.

“I’m good,” he said, grinning through his visor.

The right thing to do now was to tell someone about the accident and see the set’s medic, but last time a stuntie got hurt, Levine got extremely upset about the wasted time and resources and lectured the crew for a solid twenty minutes. Ironic.

So you decided to stay silent instead.

Colt seemed to notice your silence and stumbling steps.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, tone laced with concern this time, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He tried to take the helmet off your head but you pushed his hand away, shaking your head.

“I’m fine, I’m just-“

Colt took off your helmet before you could react, but you smacked his head, taking advantage of his shock and quickly sliding it back on.

Colt had a ghastly expression on his face at the momentary sight of your cuts, some deep, some faint, and it made you feel warm that he cared, yet upset, that you had upset him.

“You need to get that taken care of,” he whispered. “Now.”

“Levine wouldn’t like that,” you said, but he ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, taking you to one of the tents, hurriedly sitting you down and taking a first aid kit under the table.

“Take it off,” he instructed seriously, and you almost giggled. Colt caught on and gave you a serious glare that made you shut up, stifling your laughs.

You did as he said, and when his eyes landed on you once more, he seemed to be genuinely shaken. 

���I’m fine,” you said, trying to make him relax, but his expression didn’t falter.

“What happened?”

“The helmet clasp was loose - came off when I did the 180 swerve.”

“Motherfucker,” he grumbled to himself, and you knew he was talking about Levine. You nodded in agreement.

“Indeed.”

Colt knelt on the sandy floor and took your face in his hands, his hold gentle and cautious. He turned your head to see how bad the injuries were, eyebrows arched and eyes perturbed.

“This might sting a little,” he said softly.

“I’ll manage,” giving him a smile.

Colt let his gaze linger on you for a second, before reaching for the first aid and taking out bandages, tincture— everything he needed to tend to you.

There was a cut on your forehead, under your eye (Colt looked visibly distressed by this), a deeper one on your left cheekbone, a slit on your lower lip, and a few shallow scratches everywhere else.

He soaked a cotton pad in tincture and brought it to your face, first gently dabbing at the cut on your forehead. The stench of alcohol was strong, but to you, it was mellow in comparison to Colt’s cologne.

His deep concern gave you time to observe every bit of his beautiful face in much detail, and it brought you great joy.

He had a pretty nose, you observed, and pretty, pretty, deep, warm blue eyes that looked even prettier when he was worried. That word seemed to be the only one capable of perfectly describing him. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. 

“No. Not at all.”

You didn’t even feel the stinging of the disinfectant, too busy appreciating him, too giddy with the feeling of his calloused fingers on your skin. You couldn’t tell if he knew.

Your attention drifted lower to his mouth, his lips barely parted in focus, not too far from your own. 

So pretty.

The cotton pad came down, and Colt started to clean your split lip. His fingertips brushed over it as he did, causing goosebumps to rise on your arm.

Whether it was on purpose, you weren’t sure. There were so many things you could never clearly interpret when it came to this man.

“My eyes are up here, hey.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up, gaze connecting to Colt’s. He had the smallest, teasing smile.

“I’m aware of that,” you replied, blushing a little.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“If I kissed you right now, would you taste like disinfectant?”

At that precise moment, it dawned on you that this man knew what he was doing after all, and you only flushed harder, blinking rapidly, heart speeding up.

“Probably,” you managed to say. You could barely speak.

Colt picked up very quickly on how flustered you were, and it seemed to give him so much joy, much to your annoyance. 

He was definitely much less worried, now that you’d been tended to. That was good, but at the cost of your dignity? Not at all.

But then, he whispered, “I wanna find out,” with so many emotions packed in those four words, and you gave in entirely.

“Please do.”

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a second, as if he didn’t expect you to agree, but you pleaded again, and that was all he needed to bring your face close and press his lips to yours.

He kissed you like he hadn’t consumed anything for weeks. He kissed desperately, lovingly, his fingers stroking your skin and scalp, pulling you in closer so he could taste you better.

You were lost in the feeling, and you were willing to get lost in it for the rest of your life. You let your hands rest on his neck, thumbs grazing over his skin. He seemed to love it with the way he sharply inhaled.

You had to pull away to catch your breath, and when you saw Colt’s dreamy, amused gaze, you questioned, “What?”

“You do taste like disinfectant.”

You laughed, sincerely, and he did too.

“Idiot,” you mumbled, giggling. “Of course I do.”

“But it, like— it tastes pretty alright, you know?”

And you started laughing even harder.

taglist: @hollandstrophyhusband @bisexualcoltseavers @zsuo @flowersomgravee @asyrafey @officer-kd6 @chihuahuamations @superprofesh @dontglimpse

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // MASTERLIST

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

AO3 Link

Current Word Count: 31.8k

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

divider credits: @/benkeibear

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

[ai-the-broccoli]

in which Light and Misa discuss Celebrity RPF

(based on this thought)

Misa: *holding her laptop* Hey, Light. Light: What? Misa: *cheerfully* So do you think RPF is okay, or should we start killing people for writing it? Light: ... What are you talking about? Misa: RPF! Real Person Fiction. It's like fanfiction of real people. Light: Oh. Well, that isn't a criminal activity. We don't need to kill people over fanfiction right now. It's still too early for that sort of thing. Misa: Oh, okay! *glances back to her laptop* --Wait! Why are there 5 shipping fics about YOU?! Light: Me? Oh, yes. People do seem to like to write wildly implausible fanfiction of all sorts about Kira. There are thousands of them online, you know. (Last time I checked, every single one that I could find was unbelievably horrible and out of character, and one of them even depicted me committing the illegal act of cannibalism, which is a crime and masterfully confirmed to me once again that the world is rotting and only I can save it. But now that I've confirmed the state of things for the time being, raising my blood pressure repeatedly for no purpose will not aid me in becoming the god of the new world, so I set a password to restrict my own access to the three fanfiction websites.) Misa: No! I mean, yes, duh, but that's old news. Of course I know thousands of Kira ship fics on every corner of the Internet. But these five are not fics about "Kira". They're tagged with "Light Yagami"! Light: ...What? Misa: Yeah. And-- Light: *frowning* Misa, hang on. Why are there 'RPF' fics about Light Yagami? Misa: That's what I was asking! And also-- Hey! I'm not shipped with you in any of them!! Why?! GRRRR this isn't fair! Light: Wait. You haven't told anyone about my relationship with you, have you? Misa: Of course not! Misa wouldn't forget about her promise to you! Light: Then it's just natural they wouldn't write about us. Misa: But I'm literally in this fic?! Yet you're dating-- wait-- EW! Him?! ALL him?! Light: ...Who? *finally turning around to look at Misa's screen* A-

Looking for the Golden Light: A Hideki Ryuga x Light Yagami fanfiction, by xoxo3gossipgirl we never go out of style: A Light Yagami x Hideki Ryuga fanfiction (ft. Misa-Misa), by xoxo3gossipgirl And I'll Write Your Name: A Light Yagami x Hideki Ryuga fanfiction (ft. Misa-Misa), by xoxo3gossipgirl Grave Repercussions: A Yagami Light x Ryuga Hideki fanfiction, by xanaxLOVE28 lightning strikes every time she moves: A F!Hideki Ryuga x F!Light Yagami fanfiction, by xoxo3gossipgirl

Light: *inhales sharply, horrified* HIDEKI RYUGA?! [Light Yagami takes -100 damage] Misa: Yeah! God, my new manager never stops trying to pair me with him. It's getting on my nerves! Light: ...What? Misa: I don't even understand why. I mean, everyone in the industry knows Ryuga swings that way! And I told her I got a boyfriend. Light: ....... Oh. Oh, yeah, uh, right. Yeah, of course. I knew those are all about that Hideki Ryuga. The popular actor. Right? Misa: Huh? Yeah. Of course? What other........ wait................OH. Ryuzaki -- L -- also used it as an alias one time, didn't he? Light: Exactly, Misa. Obviously, these fics had nothing to do with him, but I thought we should make sure for safety's sake. Just as I thought, all this is indeed about the actor. Misa: Huh... Well, yeah. *turns back to the screen* This is definitely about the actor... and this one too.... and-- Wait a second! *gasps* Why does this fic say that I'm a- a- Light: A what? Misa: Light! *inhales sharply, horrified* What is "l-l-lesbian Misa-Misa" supposed to mean here?! [Misa Amane takes -100 damage] Light: ...Huh. Hm. Misa: W-wait... *stares at the description* Misa is here in this fic because she's in a fake PR relationship with Hideki Ryuga here... and apparently we're doing it so we can both... *squints, incredulous* "pretend to be straight"... together??? Light: Oh? That's... ridiculous. Misa: RIGHT??? I mean, who would ever DO such a thing??? That's stupid. Light: ...............Misa, you said earlier that your new manager keeps trying to pair you up with Hideki Ryuga -- that actor Hideki Ryuga. And you say Ryuga -- I mean, the actor, the real Ryuga Hideki, not L -- he's known in your industry for being gay? Misa: Yeah- ...Wait. *gasps, horrified* My manager really thinks I'm a l-les... bian?! Because--I never told her who my boyfriend is?! What! *screaming* She can't be SERIOUS! [Misa Amane takes -100 more damage]

[samdeancass]

Love at First Sight

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Scott, Stiles, Y/N

Description: Y/N and Scott are cousins and haven't seen each other for 5 years when you left Beacon Hills. When she arrives back, Scott throws a party for her and introduces her to Stiles, who seems very happy to meet her.

You smiled widely as you pulled up outside Scott's house, excitement building up inside. Scott is your favourite cousin and the one that you're most close to, so you couldn't wait to knock on his front door and surprise him. Being so close to Scott you knew all about the supernatural world and the fact that he was an alpha werewolf, so you knew that there would be no surprises coming your way, or so you thought.

You walked up the path to his house and knocked on the door, leaning on your heels as you waited. Your smile grew and grew as you heard Scott's voice and the jangle of the keys in the lock. He stood there in both shock and happiness when he swung the door open and seen you standing there.

"Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?" Scott opened his arms and engulfed you to his chest, nearly squeezing the life out of you. "Scott...can't...breathe." "Ooo sorry, I tend to forget my strength sometimes." You chuckled and took a look at Scott, closing the door behind you.

He really had changed since the last time you seen him. There was a lot more muscle on his body and he seemed to have grown quite a few inches. "I see the werewolf life is treating you well then." You gestured up and down whilst Scott chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I guess I've changed a lot since you last seen me. How long's it been?" "Five years." Scott's mouth hung open. "No, it can't have been that long. Seriously." You nodded your head and smiled. "Yep, seriously."

You both walked towards the sofa and sat down. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?" "Well, my dad has changed jobs again so we needed to move house. It turns out, he's going to be working just outside Beacon Hills! You'll be seeing a whole lot more of me because this time, we're staying!"

A beaming smile spread across Scott's features. "I've just had the perfect idea. Seems you're now back permanently, you're going to need some familiar faces so I'm going to throw you a party. A welcome back party."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I'm not too sure, Scott. What if they don't like me?" He put his hand on your shoulder and gave you a comforting smile. "Trust me, they are going to love you."

____________

Scott had given you the low down of all the people who are going to be at the party.

"So, Lydia is a banshee. What exactly is that again?" You smoothed down your dress and put on the finished touches to your make-up. "Lydia can sense when someone has died or is near death. Her scream is also very powerful and can throw people back a good few feet."

You nodded your head. "Derek, Liam and Malia are all werewolves?" He nodded. "Malia is a were-coyote. Her mom is a coyote, her dad is a werewolf. Liam is my beta, I turned him accidentally when I was trying to save him. Derek is a strong werewolf, one of the most powerful I've seen."

"Kira is a kitsune? A fire fox?" You put some hairspray in your hair and turned round to Scott. "And she is also my girlfriend." You widened your eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. "Scott McCall, why on earth did you not tell me you have a girlfriend?" His cheeks grew red with embarrassment. "I...I" You laughed and ruffled his hair. "I'm only kidding. But please tell me you know at least one human that isn't me?"

At that, Scott's smile grew wide and cunning. "My best friend, Stiles. He's the smartest person I know but he's also very sarcastic." "It sounds like I'm really going to like him." A soft smile grew on your face before you turned back towards the mirror for one last check.

"C'mon, Y/N. We can't have you being late to your own party." Scott grabbed your hand and led you out the door and down the stairs to meet everyone.

____________

Everyone you had met were extremely nice to you and welcomed you into the pack. Lydia, Kira and Malia were all very happy that they were no longer outnumbered by the boys. Derek was very welcoming to you which Scott said was a complete surprise because he usually just growls at people and walks away.

"And this is Stiles. Stiles, meet Y/N. Y/N meet Stiles." Stiles turned around to greet you when your eyes met. You were completely mesmerised by his chocolate brown eyes and the cute little freckles scattered across his face. Stiles' mouth hang agape as his eyes gazed over your features. Seeing the reaction you both had to each other, Scott smiled to himself and slowly walked away to watch his plan hatch.

"H-hi, I-i'm Stiles." He kept his gaze on you which made you blush. "I'm Y/N, Scott's cousin." You both stood there for a while just staring at each other. "I'm sorry, I don't know how someone as beautiful as you can be related to Scott. I mean, he's a dog."

"Hey! Just because I'm not standing next to you doesn't mean I can't hear what you're saying!" You laughed at the joke, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears. "You are right, though. He is a dog." "Thanks a lot, Stilinski."

"Anytime, pal." He winked at Scott before turning his attention back to you. "So, Scott's told me a little about you and I have to say, I'm very intrigued." You both began to walk together towards the back yard to try and grab some privacy.

"You're intrigued by me? A human? You literally live in a town full of supernatural creatures and you're interested in my life?" You both sat down facing each other on a bench, your arms leaning on the table. "Well, I don't have a normal human life. I'm always dragged into Scott's werewolf drama. I wanna know how the other half live."

You told Stiles all about your life and the different things you had accomplished. Throughout the conversation, Stiles didn't once take his eyes off you; always keeping his attention on you.

You both sat in a comfortable silence just staring at each other until you both slowly leaned over the table and kissed. It was new and exciting and sweet. Excitement and electricity run through your nerves as you kept the connection, Stiles' hand resting against your cheek.

Your hand rested on top of his as you leaned into his warmth, a warm blush spreading across your cheeks. Stiles smiled at you, completely content, until the moment was ruined by wolf whistles and squeals coming from the back door of the house, or more rightly Scott.

"My plan worked! I knew you two would hit it off." Scott smiled confidently at the both of you. You both shook your heads at him. "Can we not have, like, five minutes privacy please?" Lydia pulled Scott back into the house and closed the door but not before giving him a thump for good measure.

"So, where were we?" Stiles leaned over the table again and pressed his lips to yours, this time more passionately. "I think we were getting up to the part where we make out, a lot." Stiles wiggled his eyebrows and pulled you over the table and into his lap causing you to laugh and slap his chest.

From that moment, you guys were inseparable and it was all thanks to Scott who you both knew would never let you forget it.

Teen Wolf Tags:

@bxoken-heartss @hellomyweirdos @redcoatgirl

[nightfurynova1217]

Crazy revelation I just had about Soichiro's death. This occurred to me while writing a Beyond Birthday fic, and specifically having to keep in mind that death does not surprise him. Sure, he doesn't know how it'll happen, but he always knows when.

It's glossed over if not outright cut from the anime, but it's addressed in a blink-and-ya-miss-it way in the manga, that Soichiro was planning to commit suicide after the raid to Mello's base (for those who were unaware of that fact, it's because he believes his involvement in the case is putting his family in danger, as evidenced by Sayu being kidnapped). The reason he doesn't is obviously because he dies before then, because he cut his time in half after making the eye deal with Ryuk, and instead dies via gunshot wounds and the explosion. Soichiro's life was not taken by a death note, his lifespan was not completely cut short "before his time". My point is, his timer ran out.

MISA. HAS. THE. EYES.

Whether or not she would have figured out the exact formula for how long each tick is, or if she would have calculated the exact date and time, she would have at least seen that Soichiro didn't have much time left compared to everyone else. And she ABSOLUTELY would have told Light. A shinigami would never tell a human how much time they have left, or their loved ones, but there's no rule saying a human with the eyes can't. Even if she never calculates the exact time, she'd notice how much it's ticking down per day and could gauge about how much longer he'd have left. If you think she wouldn't, I'd like to point out that this is her future father-in-law. She would have made the effort. Even if for no other reason than to tell her long-term lover and boyfriend (whom she has lived with for nearly five years now, is her literal partner-in-crime, mastermind behind the schemes, and friggin Lord Kira himself), that his father is going to die in roughly X amount of time. Misa lost both her parents. She knows that pain. She would absolutely want to spare Light from it. She can't save him from it completely, she can't prevent Soichiro's death, but she can brace him for it.

All that now to say, it makes me wonder. Did Light know he was more-or-less sending his father to his death on that mission to raid Mello's base and get the death note back? What we see in both the anime and manga, it seems to suggest that he didn't know and it took him completely by surprise. But logically... he would have at least had an idea that it would be soon.

Now with that lens, while in the hospital and his dad is literally dying, it makes his internal dialogue about "how would a normal person react to this" make a lot more sense than that he has to pretend to care that his dad is dying. It's much less a matter of, "Light is a psychopath and doesn't care about anything other than his goals". It's now more like "he knew his dad's death was coming and has already come to terms with it". That's why it's not fazing him. I will concede that he didn't know that this would be how, or again, he knew it'd be soon but not today, so there's that aspect to consider (I bring that up to say that I like to think Light didn't put on a performance when he started crying, I wanna believe that was legit and he was grieving). But I'm totally open for friendly, civil discussion here.

I rewatched and reread the scene in question and, from a meta standpoint, I'm sure that Ohba just forgot and didn't consider that Misa would know he'd die. But from a character standpoint, I think it shifts the perspective on the scene and adds some interesting nuance.

Thoughts?

[heareriissmau]

❧ ❝pseudo alliance❞

mha kacchako!smau

disclaimer: if you don't like kacchako step away. this smau is only for fun. also this is gonna be filled with a lot of curses or expletives because bakugo.

genre: comedy, romance, slow burn, crack, tooth-rotting fluff summary: After the big war of today's generation, the popularity of Class 2A skyrocketed even before their debut as Pro-Heroes. Which comes with a price. The most popular students in class are getting way too much attention to the extent of being stalked. So, the students brainstormed ideas on how put a halt on these harrassments. Or; Class 2A opts for Bakugo and Uraraka to fake date to get rid of each other's strange fans. ship: Bakugo Katsuki x Uraraka Ochako (My Hero Academia)

⸻ part 18: figured it out 2

prev part ✩ main post ✩ next part

heights alliance secrets:

eijiro had to physically pull away from his phone to laugh for five minutes straight because of katsuki.

mina can finally use her stash of kirby memes against katsuki.

tooru ran up to momo's room to tell her about the news and mina happened to be there.

everyone in the class knows.

yes, katsuki still wanted to hang out with ochako even after he assumed hanging out with her was what was causing his "heartburn", until he found out the truth.

ochako made katsuki stay up until midnight and noticed he didn't give her short-sentenced responses anymore.

katsuki remains in denial.

reply if you wanna be in my taglist! ⚝

@fire-child-kira @ticnapnotnac @saikoucorps @ccariuuux @sepptember @elarakive @angeliicheartt @nailablogsstuff

[dicenote]

touta matsuda

discuss

omg YES ty! This is gonna be a long, disorganized ramble, so bear with me!

Touta Matsuda. My blorbo, skrunky scrimblo, love of my life, etc.

There are so many things about Matsuda's character that I could talk about. His impulsivity, his loyalty, his uncertainty... All of it makes a very real and very interesting character. And I think that a lot of his traits shine in one of the most horrifying scenes from his perspective: the Yellow Box Warehouse.

Like, let's take a step back and look at the numbers here. On one side of the warehouse, we've got a guy claiming to be L, and the three members of the old Kira Task Force that he brought with him. On the other side, we've got a different guy claiming to be L and three members of the SPK that he brought with him (oh. and the guy from the Task Force that got kidnapped in the mix). Outside, Kira's accomplice is lying in wait. So we've got ten people in all who are ready for the final showdown. The reveal. The evidence that will finally end this years-long nightmare and point to the true identity of Kira.

And of those 10 people, only one of them doesn't have a clue who Kira really is.

Light is Kira. Mikami is X-Kira and finds out who Kira is as soon as he looks in the room. Near and the SPK are all on the same page. Mogi and Aizawa know. Ide's a bit more on the fence but he wasn't completely in the dark. So Matsuda is the only one who goes in totally blind.

If anyone were to re-write Death Note purely from Matsuda's perspective, the Warehouse scene would go from tense to horrifying. To (nearly) everyone else there, this confrontation isn’t meant to reveal an unexpected truth, it’s to confirm something that they already know. But for Matsuda? Near's request to meet at the warehouse is, at worst, a tactic to once again frame Light. Because Light obviously can't be Kira, right? Light will show Near that he's wrong, and the investigation will continue as normal until the real Kira is caught.

But then Near presents that irrefutable evidence, and everything that Matsuda knew for over five years comes crumbling down. Light starts monologuing about how the world had to be fixed and how no one could ever make it as far as he did. Kira and Light are one and the same. Matsuda always thought that Kira was a well-intentioned person who was helping change the world. Ide and Aizawa and Mogi believed that Kira was evil, they were much stronger in their resolve than Matsuda ever could be. But Light had confessed to him once that he too questioned if what they were doing was right. If Kira was doing right.

Light has always been Kira.

And then comes the absolutely tasty part where Matsuda shoots Light. I love how chapter 106 is called "Intent to Kill", because it reminds me of how Matsuda and Light are foils to each other. Better yet, they can be compared against a man they both held such deep respect for, Soichiro Yagami.

See, Soichiro threatens to kill people a good couple times, and even holds a gun to his son's face, but he never has any intent to kill. In fact, he's never killed anyone, as (I think) Mello points out. It's almost kind of silly. Like, Soichiro draws the line at firing bullets or writing full names in the Death Note, and that's it? Everything else is fair game? Weird line to draw, but go off I guess.

Light, meanwhile, justifies killing thousands. But only with the Death Note. With the Death Note, his intent to kill becomes a righteous one, another step on the path to becoming God of a New World. The criminals deserved to die. Those who get in Kira's way deserve to die. Because Light isn't a serial killer. He's doing the right thing! Crime is going down, war has stopped, and Light is the only one who could have possibly gone this far and done this much good.

And then we're back to Matsuda. I believe the mafia raid is the first time we see Matsuda using a gun, and we see that he's damn good at it. So good, in fact, that he's able to fire only non-lethal shots to get the Death Note back. (Also, fun tidbit: I'm pretty sure he's the only one who doesn't go into the raid with a rifle, he's just got like, a standard-issue cop pistol with a light on it.) The same thing happens in the warehouse, at least initially. He fires at Light's hand to get him to stop writing. Then he and Light yell at each other for a little bit about (who else?) Soichiro. Light demands that Matsuda shoot the others, because he's the only one who understands Kira. When Matsuda hesitates, Light resumes writing Near's name. Then Matsuda fires again and again and again. Anything to make Light stop. Anything to make it all stop. But it becomes obvious that he's not just shooting Light as a deterrent. What does Matsuda say as he's doing it?

"He needs to die!"

The others literally have to drag Matsuda away before he can execute Light on the spot.

Matsuda is a character full of contradictions. He dedicates over half a decade to fighting Kira, but he doubts the whole time. He tries to follow in Soichiro's footsteps but in the end makes the same justification that Light did when he first started writing in the Death Note. This man is a criminal. He deserves to die. The Yellow Box Warehouse not only exposed Light's true colors, but Matsuda's as well.

[statticscribbles]

Stiles Stilinski x Male!Reader x Scott McCall

63 and 12

12.Roommate AU and  63.Everybody Knows/Mistaken for Couple 

“Roommates.” Stiles hisses and Kira just shakes her head.

“It’s easier to share than try to find a place of our own!” Scott tries to convince Erica when she asks why the three of you always come out together.

“Wait; you share a bed? All three of you?” Boyd and Derek spend three minutes laughing and another five trying to tetris the three of you onto the imaginary queen bed you all share.

“They can’t do it without touching; they have ot touch...”

“What’s wrong with platonic cuddling?” You snap and Stiles agrees.

“Yeah, nothing wrong with that; or platonic morning wood; or the occasional threeway as long as you don’t kiss; or the occasional kiss as long as you use protection or the-” Issac and Theo are grinning at each other.

“Will you all fuck off!!!”

“I believe you.”

“Thank you Jackson! Can’t believe I’m saying that.” Scott and Stiles slump a little relieved the teasing is over.

“I mean you really think Stiles could keep his mouth shut if he ever got a chance to score with his two top crushes?”

“His what?” Scott’s eyes widen as he turns from Jackson to Stiles and back again.

“I take that back; I hate Jackson the most.” Stiles deadpans and you can see Derek sliding Malia five bucks.

Support My Writing?

Send in a number and Ship!

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 5 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably). The reader is described as wearing a dress.

Wordcount: 3.8k

Contains: Second person POV, NSFT, BDSM, Restraints, Blindfolds, Power Imbalance, Vibrators, Overstimulation, Aftercare, The reader is a serial killer, Good Boy, Kink Not Negotiated.

L has been keeping secrets from you and he doesn’t even have the manners to hide it.

The moment you turn the door handle to the current hotel room the task force is calling headquarters you can hear him say, “Cut the audio and visuals.” And by the time you’re inside the monitors are off and the task force is avoiding eye contact.

So it’s something bad.

Matsuda in particular looks sick to his stomach and the one time you manage to catch his eye he looks close to tears and fully turns around to face away from you.

So it’s something bad involving a woman.

They haven’t mentioned Misa in the past three days.

You don’t doubt L would keep you out of the investigation if he felt the need to do something you wouldn’t approve of,  and you have even less doubt that asking him directly would prove fruitless. So rather than confront L, you stalk Watari.

Stalk may be a strong word for it actually. You spent an hour before sunrise waiting outside the hotel for the man to emerge and when he did you told him, “I’m coming with you.” And one forty-five minute drive later you were entering a high security facility, passing rows and rows of inmates and noting how the cells are less and less populated the further in you go.

So they’ve caught the second Kira, Misa, and for some reason L doesn’t want you to know that. It’s several more minutes of walking, passing through high security doors and clearance checks before Watari gestures for you to enter a cell at the very end of the hall and-

What the sweet french fried fuck.

Misa Amane is strapped to some kind of vertical gurney, arms restrained not only by leather straps that are more reminiscent of a bondage harness than any sort of medical restraint, but by some kind of straight jacket dress that’s been ripped off barely a third of the way down her thighs. There’s a metal blindfold holding her head up and a wave of nausea rolls through you at the sight of her little idol brand pigtails poking out from the top of it.

Across from her is a camera on a tripod.

You kick it over, the clatter loud in the overly large empty room with its metal walls and she flinches.

“Kill me.” Misa’s voice is small at first, then desperate as she begs, “I can’t take it anymore, please just kill me!”

“Oh someone’s gonna die for this honey, but it sure as shit isn’t you.”

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this exact feeling. This wave of heat that rushes from your ears down into your chest, only to be washed away by the cold that always follows. Your hands go from shaking with rage to perfectly still. A provoked animal becoming a predator lying in wait.

“What? Who are you? You aren’t the man from before.”

The sound of the camera being crushed underneath the sole of your shoe as you stomp out the lens is soothing to you, plastic and glass twisting and fracturing until it’s unrecognizable.

Watari watches on impassively.

You pick up the tripod and swing it like a bat, at the only other ‘furniture’ in the room, a metal cart with wheels covered in tools and ‘medication’ you have no doubt this girl was subjected too and the sound of the glass of the bottles shattering and the contents scattering on the floor soothes enough of your wrath that you can find your voice again.

“No, I’m not. You can call me M. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“M-“

“Shut up.” You bite out, cutting Watari off. “You know who I am, Watari.” You can’t find yourself giving a damn if that’s his real name or not, even in the second Kira’s presence, “You know what I do. So you know exactly the lengths I am willing to go to when I say that I am going to release Ms. Amane.”

Heading over to the discarded contents of the torture cart you pick up a scalpel before going to Misa, and starting to slice through one of the leather straps, being careful to insert the blade sideways, then twisting it to face you before drawing it down.

“He knows exactly who you are? Who are you? Why are you helping me?”

“I’m a murderer.” You wouldn’t state it so bluntly if you didn’t know she was one too. “I kill perverts and predators, anyone who preys on those they see as defenseless really.”

You cut through another of the straps.

“This is some kind of trick isn’t it, you’re just lying because you think I’ll tell you something if-“

“I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t say Amane.” Another strap is severed. “My being here is quite simple. Kira stole my kills,” Stole my denial, “So I am going to kill him.”

“No!” You have to quickly jerk the scalpel away as Misa begins to thrash her head, “I won’t let you kill Kira! Kira’s a hero! He killed the people who killed my parents!” With a sigh you work on the straps near her hips while she rants, “Over and over the court did nothing to punish the man who took my family from me! I was just a kid and he killed them in front of me! He-“ Tears escape from beneath her mask as she sobs and the sound tears into your heart, “ He killed them and then the courts- They just pushed the case back year after year and then-”

…Wait a goddamn minute.

“He was acquitted.”

“He- How did you-”

“Was the name of the man Satsujin Namae?”

“Yes! But how-“

“Motherfucker!” The rush of hot rage floods your system again and this time it doesn’t cool down as you spin and hurl the scalpel across the room, dissatisfied by the way it pings ineffectually off of the metal of the wall. A laugh tears it’s way from your chest at the sight and you double over, the sound horrific and strained even to your own ears as you all but cackle, “Of course he hasn’t just stolen my kills he’s stolen my fucking credit too!”

You laugh again, tears nearly falling from your eyes with the force of it, before you scream, “Fucker!”

“Your- Your kill?! How dare you! Kira is the one who saved me! Kira is the one who brought him to justice, he-“

“Had a heart attack because I injected him with enough liquid potassium chloride to kill a horse. An overdose causes heart spasms and in a toxicology report it just looks like the muscle tissue released potassium into the bloodstream since it does that when damaged anyway.”

You sure are cutting her off a lot. Oh well, you’ve never been accused of having good manners. Only murder.

“…You killed Namae?”

“I’ve killed a lot more people than just him.” Your words come out almost melancholic as you fetch the discarded scalpel, smiling slightly at the blunted tip, then return to slicing off her restraints.

It’s quiet for a while, Misa processing, you freeing her, and Watari likely reporting everything to L via text. You’ll either deal with or damn the consequences later.

“So, If I was the second Kira… Then Kira lied to me. About my parents, I mean.”

You shrug, unbuckling her ankles, “Maybe. He’s killed several thousand people at this point, he might’ve just assumed Namae was one of them.”

The last thing to come off is the blindfold and you smile at Misa warmly. This is the Kira that only needs a face to kill, but it’s also the Kira who devoted her life to the person who killed her parents. “I’m gonna get you out of here now, okay?”

She’s looking above your head at first, then her watery eyes drift back to your face and she lets out a sob, all but flinging herself into your arms on unsteady legs as you catch her, arms wrapped tight around her waist, “I’ve got you Amane, you’re safe now. It’s going to be alright.” One hand comes up to pet her greasy hair and you cringe slightly at the feeling but keep up the motion, “The people who hurt you will never hurt you like this again. Or anyone else for that matter.”

Another sob is choked out into your shoulder and you aren’t surprised when her legs give out from under her. Thankfully she’s tiny enough that you can lift her up, scooping her into your arms in a bridal carry as you turn to face Watari, all the while stroking a thumb soothingly across one of her shoulders, “Bring the car around so we can retrieve her things and bring them to my hotel.” You aren’t stupid enough to leave the girl unsurveilled but she doesn’t need to know that.

Watari gives a half bow of his head and the three of you leave the facility. Misa’s whispered gratitude never once stops, until she loses consciousness in your lap in the car, having sobbed herself past the point of exhaustion.

---

“Was Satsujin Namae one of yours? Truly?” L is standing behind you, looking over your shoulder at the security feed of the Yagami duo’s cells, watching Light sleep and Yagami-san stare off into space, while you lounge in L’s usual seat.

“He was. Didn’t premeditate it though, I just recognized him and happened to have one of my little backup plans in my bag.”

“… I wasn’t aware of that one.”

You let out a little huff of amusement, turning to peer over your shoulder with a cheeky smile, the look turning genuine at his expression of near befuddlement, “If you give me a list of the ones you know I can give you a number for how many you missed.”

You don’t expect what happens next, but L blushes. Very suddenly, nearly as much as the last time the two of you…

Interesting.

“Did you plan for me to find her?”

“I had accounted for the possibility.”

“But was it the plan?”

The blush reaches his ears.

---

“M!” Misa hugs your arm, “Let me paint your nails!”

She’s a sweetie, even if she does tend to cling.

---

“M!” Misa jumps up and down on her knees in your bed, “Let’s have a slumber party!”

You tense up then smile and nod, “Sure, Misa.” listening to L’s footsteps retreat behind you, your… Plans for the night are now canceled.

---

“M!” Misa’s arms wrap around your shoulders from behind, “You could totally be a model! Do you wanna come to a shoot with me?”

You choke on your toothpaste and drop your brush on the bathroom floor in your surprise, “Misa, I’m not even wearing pants!”

“You can borrow one of my skirts!”

---

L lets out an 'oof' in surprise as you unceremoniously climb into his lap, hand going to his throat as you press two fingers to his pulse point and count under your breath.

“Can I help you with something, M?”

“Just checking.”

“My pulse?”

“Yup.”

“I see.”

You let your hand wrap around to the back of his neck as you pull yourself in close for a cuddle.

“…And Miss Amane is alive?”

“Yup.”

“That’s good.”

You snort.

---

Socked feet skid on the floor as you slide your way across the room, arms windmilling as you stumble to a stop, latching onto the back of L’s chair. “Misa and Matsuda are on set today!”

“Yes, they are-“

You grab the back of L’s shirt like you’re scruffing a kitten and drag him out of the room’s lounge and into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you with a slam.

“You’re eager, it seems.”

“Something like that.” There’s an edge to your smile that you can feel, that you know L notices when he slowly starts taking steps backwards. “I’ve been waiting weeks for this. What was it you said before?”

He bumps into the edge of the bed, falling backwards but catching himself with his forearms.

“Oh yeah!” You drag the words out as you make your way over to him, shoving your knee between his to push his legs open as you crawl over him. “You’ve been bad.”

L moves to sit up but you place a hand on his collar bone, fingers at the base of his neck, and push your full weight down, flattening him to the bed and drawing out a sharp gasp from between his parted lips.

“What am I, L?”

“A killer.” No hesitation. Rude, but fair.

“And who do I kill?” He tenses at this. As if you would try to kill him in a room adjacent to a bunch of cops. The door isn’t even locked for goodness’ sake.

“Perverts.”

“I kill perverts.” You parrot back, nodding your head and smiling at him encouragingly, free hand coming up to pat his head like a well behaved dog. “But we made a promise, L. I’m not going to kill anybody so long as your heart continues to beat.” As you say this your hand drags down the front of his chest, nails digging in and scratching through his shirt, pleased by the flutter you feel beneath the tips of your fingers, “But there are other ways to punish somebody.”

The man doesn’t even wear socks so you knew better than to expect a belt.

That’s why you’ve been wearing one with every single outfit since you freed Misa.

You brush your palm over the length of him through his jeans before tracing up your own body to your waist, unbuckling the belt you’ve cinched your dress with and slowly pulling the leather free, dragging it out just to hear the soft sound of it whispering against fabric. It pleases you to see the rise and fall of L’s chest as he takes sharper breaths than before. His eyes are locked on your belt and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips when it finally falls free.

“Wrists next to your head, palms up.” The backs of L’s fingers skim against the sides of your thighs before he moves his hands up as he’s told, obeying your order and you smile at him, leaning forwards until your body is pressed against him, allowing him the privilege of feeling every curve, “Good boy.”

His hips jerk up.

You bring the belt up, drawing it down behind his head, then up and over his wrists, looping back around until the buckle and the length of it can meet at the front, restraining his wrists and covering his eyes as you pull it taut. As the leather cinches around him and tightens you enjoy the feeling of him shuddering beneath you, feeling the hard press of his interested cock against your lower belly.

“I’ve always been someone who likes the idea of karmic balance. The thought that what goes around, comes around.”

With that you climb off of him, smirking as he grunts and rolls his hips up, chasing the feeling of you.

You don’t waste time divesting him of and discarding his trousers and the boxers he wears beneath, tossing them to the side without care before climbing back on top of him and straddling his thighs. With a smile you pull the front of his shirt up over his abdomen, admiring him as he’s revealed to you.

He’s noticeably lean, not svelte like a dancer or lithe like an athlete, but gaunt, like a man intermittently starved. Bony and angular with skin so pale it looks ashen underneath the mid-morning light that filters in through sheer curtains, colorless save for soft pink nipples that harden under the attention of the AC. You can’t help but run your fingers across him, barely brushing his nipples then feeling the jut of his ribs, just nearly visible, tracing around his navel then trailing down to where a light dusting of black hair grows, getting thicker until it meets the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

You suspect others might find the sight of him sickly.

Maybe you’re the sick one.

It’s still unfair how pretty it is, you note to yourself. There’s a bead of pre-cum at the tip of his cock and you pull back at the foreskin to expose more of the pretty pink head, letting out a small giggle into the quiet of the room when his cock twitches against your fingers and the pre-cum drips down, falling until it clings to your fingers. Bringing that hand up you let your dirtied fingers dip in between L’s parted lips, cooing gently to him as he licks the taste of himself off of your fingers, “Good boy.” You watch his cock twitch again and lean to press a kiss against his cheek, to appease the fuzzy feeling the sight puts in your chest.

“To truly give you what you deserve I’d have to ask you questions and abuse your poor pretty cock when you don’t give me the answer I want… But there’s really nothing I want to ask you.”

“Pretty?” He sounds so breathy and you wonder if he’s been waiting for this too.

“The prettiest. ” Reaching into a pocket you pull out something you’ve been saving just for L, a small bullet vibrator, nearly the same pretty pink shade as his cock, and press it against him, the tip of it nestled just beneath his glans, then wrap the cord for the remote around and around until it’s held in place. “Can you guess what this is, detective?”

He swallows and darts his tongue out to wet his lips before responding, “I would assume a toy of some kind. Likely one that vibrates?” He sounds a bit nervous, or maybe excited? His body language certainly screams anticipation.

With a bright grin that L can’t see you reach out and flick the dial on it to the first setting. “Good boy.”

---

Stretching out to reach the side table you turn the bedside lamp on with a soft click, bathing the room in a soft warm light before turning back to your book, the soft light alleviating some of the eye strain you were beginning to feel as the light from outside steadily dimmed.

You’re sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed with L’s head and still restrained hands in your lap, your panties shoved in his mouth, completely soaked through with spit, as he thrashes and sobs. You turn the page of your book, as if it’s held any of your attention whatsoever, then card your fingers through L’s hair, pushing it away from his sweat soaked forehead, with a gentle hum that he responds to by curling in on himself and heaving for breath, drool spilling out past your panty gag and further soaking a wet spot on the hem of your dress.

The vibrator doesn’t match his cock anymore, it’s stayed the same of course, but what was once a pretty shade of blush pink is now somewhere between a furious red and a freshly bruised purple underneath layers and layers of cum that pool on and dribble down the sides of L’s stomach.

It really is getting late now, the sun having set about half an hour ago and when you look at the pretty picture L makes in your lap you think this is enough for now. You lean over him and brush against the toy, Pulling back when L flinches and cries out through his gag, “Shh… it’s okay sweetheart, We’re almost finished… I’m just going to turn this off now, okay?”

L’s breathing so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t lose consciousness but after a few moments as his cum drunk overstimulated mind processes what you said he nods his head in a repeated jerky motion, like he’s forgot how to move his body by his own volition. It makes you smile.

With a click you’ve got the vibrator turned off, and you slowly unwind the cord from around his cock, humming out soothing sounds and brushing sweat soaked hair away from his face once again as you ease the toy off of him, “Very good, L. You’ve been so good for me through all this.”

Tears fall from beneath the belt around his eyes and you lean in to kiss them away.

“All these tears even though I was so much nicer to you than you were to poor Misa.” Your hands go to the belt buckle, easing it open to uncover his eyes and freeing his wrists, “But I think you’ve learned to be nicer to those who can’t fight back, right sweetie?”

L shudders as you reach forwards and pinch your panties between two fingers, pulling them out from between his teeth and tossing the drenched fabric over the side of the bed, to be dealt with later. His arms are shaking as he twists to lie on his side, draped over your lap, and clings to you, pressing his face hard against your side as he struggles to catch his breath.

You go right back to petting his hair and cooing out gentle reassurances to the man using your free hand to rub against his wrist with a thumb, gentle circles to make sure the circulation is good and working. All the while his sobs die down into whimpers, then pants, then soft little huffs of breath.

You’ve never seen him do it before, knowing logically he must be capable of it, but you’re still somehow surprised when L falls asleep.

Gently, you ease him out of your lap, moving quietly so you can tiptoe to the en suite bathroom and wet a hand towel with warm water from the tap before returning quickly to his side.

Softly, with gentle movements you take great care to clean him up, starting by washing away his sweat then the layers upon layers of dried cum, before ending feather light at his abused cock. He whimpers and twitches when you touch it, still asleep, so you reach out with your free hand to run your fingers through his hair again, soothing him until he stills.

“He let me do this,” You think to yourself. “He could have raised his arms at any point and he would have been free. But then I’d still be upset with him.”

You toss the washcloth to the floor, press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and fall asleep in the wet patch, holding L in your arms.

---

When the light from the curtains pours in you quint against the evil daylight, burrowing your face further into the spot you’ve tucked yourself against L’s chest and smiling at the warm chuckle you hear a quiet, “Good morning.”

L’s voice is scratchy from overuse, and low from sleep.

Tipping your head up you press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering back, “Good morning."

[hux-and-gay]

Kylux and Adjacent Art

—————————————————————————

Yes this gets its own post. I swear if I forgot anything I’m gonna cry.

Events:

Kylux Writing and Art event (ongoing)

NSFW prompt event (Cuming soon)

Kylux Switcheroo (Coming soon)

General Hux:

Me and my IRL as Kylo and Hux

Kylo and Hux’s eyeballs 👁️👁️

0 Context doodles

Hux hates the sun

Y/N gets bitch slapped by Hux

Kylo and Hux reflecting on their actions

Hux:

Hux Skating AU

Hux skating AU colored

Hux doodles

Hux in a dress (Post 1)(Post 2)

Blood Red Paint book cover/Hux in a skirt (Kylux Event)

Draw them in what you’re wearing challenge

Sunburnt Hux (Kylux Shorts fest)

Therapy

You’re trapped in an elevator challenge

Beat up blood covered Hux

Dishevled Hux inspired by Hux comic

Hux Angst

Child Trans Hux (and Brendol)

Trans Hux

Movie accurate Hux

an OC that’s def not based on Hux 👀

Vampire Hux

Kylux:

Mermay drawing (do Not reblog I hate this one)

Kylo and Hux watching the stars (Kylux Event)

Nervous Proposal comic (Kylux Event/Kylux wedding)

Monster x Monster Hunter AU concept art (Kylux Event)

Silly Fan art for my fic

Warm embrace (my personal favorite)

Just two guys idk man

1939

Doodles from bio class

Romeo and Juliet AU

Movie night

Bead Bracelets

Modern AU Soft Kylux

Emperor Hux and his knight

post TROS recovery

Vampire Hux and his victim

Hux stops denying he’s in love

Outsiders AU

Benarmie Halloween costumes (Huxloween)

Kylo:

Sad Kylo

NSFW:

Hux in lingerie

Scrapped concept art

The infamous crotch window

Twinkerbell

Bunny Boy Thomas McGregor

Bunny Boy Thomas extra spicy

Adjacent Characters/Ships:

Bill Weasley

Techie

Techie Sticker (100 followers event)

Modern AU Techie

—————————————————————————

Writing:

(Also can be found on my writing master list)

Grocery Stote Meet Cute

Kylux Proposal Cknclusion (Kylux wedding)

Bite the hand that feeds you

Kylux Summer Vacation crack fic (Kylux Shorts fest)

Till You Return (Kylux shorts fest)

Forever Destined (Kylux shorts fest)

Blood and Bramble Part 1 (Kylux shorts fest)

Love You Never and Always (Part 1: Never Love You)(Part 2: Always Love You) (Kylux shorts fest)

Crimson Rose (NSFW)

Faire l’amore (Crack fic, in French)

—————————————————————————

@fives-ren

@not-so-allegiant-general

@jaynesilver

@thegeneralorder

@diabollicallyangelic

@existing-sadly

@tomatette

@dragonflies-draw-flame

@lessdenied

@fridayincarnate

@huxkisser

@rommonoch

@bostarsky

@transmasc-vampire-is-tired

@misbon-god-of-mischief

@kira-mortham

@piecesofeden11

@vanta-nev00

@threewinterssnow

@theosb0rnway

@sh1r3

@blackberry-command-cap

@irrationalgame

@iphridian

@vitriolicia

@eggsodaz

@sluttycaseyjones

@lavendergarnet

[gloomth-and-wanderings]

Thanks @clove-pinks for tagging me!

Rules: "Make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone’s favourite!”

Also quite tough for me to narrow down to a "top five" but I have endeavoured a selection of five I love 🫡

Notes:

I could have EASILY made this all lm characters (or really, difficultly could've-- hard to even narrow down that much) but moth boy! He's very special to me. I love how he believes in so much, especially in humanity.

Really debated whether I'd put Mulder or Scully here. They're both characters of all time and they kinda come as a set. Ended up choosing Scully because the dynamic of her skepticism AND her religion is so interesting to me.

he's so me frfr

I love how quietly heroic and brave Sam is!! Each time I reread I find myself more and more fond of him.

what can I say about her? Kira's character is so layered and soso interesting morally. Her arc is centered around violence and religion and it's always really interesting when the show touches on those points, and yet also she is allowed to have character and a personality outside of it.

Hmm 3/5 on the list... I think I like characters with interesting relationships to religion and belief hahaha

I'll go ahead and tag @lobsterground, @snek-of-eden, @enlitment, @calico-cows, and @floofyhobbit but also 1. no pressure 2. sorry if you already did this and I didn't see for whatever reason

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // FIVE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You, a new transfer to Hakuho High School, have a first day that is even worse than you had expected.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: just a reminder that this is an AU so things will in fact be different from how they are in canon (i think this is mostly evident w reo?? he’s really something in this past arc LMAOAO like i love him but he is so…interesting…) also dw guys reo is NOT a love interest he’s just bored and has nothing better to do because he hasn’t discovered the joys of soccer and babysitting nagi yet

divider credits: @/benkeibear

The first time you had a crush on a boy, you made the mistake of telling the girl who you had, at the time, considered to be your best friend. That was what people did with their best friends, so you had pointed at him and squeaked out your feelings in hushed whispers. Now, of course, you couldn’t recall anything about him, not his face nor his name, so irrelevant he had been, but you could not say the same about the girl who had been your first lesson in betrayal. Her, you remembered everything about.

Even back then, she had been tall and slender, with beetle-bright eyes and hair like an oil spill, her small mouth the color of strawberries and her round face pale like the moon. If she had stood beside anyone but you, she would have been widely considered lovely, but unfortunately, Orie Watanabe would forever have to be content with second place — because when it came to looks, there wasn’t a girl in the entire town who could claim to be your equal.

You had thought that that didn’t matter. You had thought that Orie loved you as much as you loved her, that she brushed aside what others said with the same ease that you did, that the comparisons drawn between you two were made by halfwits and easily ignored.

You had thought wrong. Orie had narrowed her eyes at the boy you had told her about, and then she had smiled at you.

“He’s cute,” she had whispered. “You really like him? A lot?”

“I think so,” you had said.

“Like, you love him?” she had said. “My parents told me that love is when you want to marry someone and be with them forever. D’you love him?”

“I dunno. Guess I do,” you had said before returning to your coloring page, shading between the black lines. Abstract concepts such as love and marriage and eternity hadn’t even made sense to you at that point in your life, so how else could you have answered the question?

Because both you and Orie lived far from your elementary school, your parents and hers used to take turns dropping you both off and picking you up again. That afternoon, your mother had been the one who came to get you, her freshly-washed car shining in the afternoon sunlight, her dark sunglasses reflecting the world around her.

“Mrs. L/N,” Orie had said as your mother pulled out of the spot she had been waiting for you in. “Did you know that there’s a boy Y/N wants to marry?”

“Of course there is,” your mother had responded coolly. “Reo Mikage. We’ve told her since she was young that she will end up as his wife one day.”

“No, it’s someone in our class,” Orie had said, despite the way you had kicked her leg and shaken your head at her, pleading with her to stop.

“Orie,” you had pleaded under your breath. She had glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, and it had been such a baleful expression, so foreign on her demure features, that you had shrank back into your seat.

“She’s in love with him,” Orie had said. “She told me in class. She wants to marry him and be with him forever.”

“I see,” your mother had said. “Thank you for telling me, Orie.”

All of you had spent the rest of the car ride in silence. Orie hadn’t felt the need to speak again, so she had only murmured a farewell to your mother and gazed at you over her shoulder before darting into her house and leaving you alone. As for you, you had been too afraid to even move, let alone say anything.

You hadn’t understood it at the time, but you had known intrinsically that you had done something wrong. Those feelings, which you had shared with Orie in the hopes that she would keep them secret, were of the sort that had hurt your mother, hurt her to the point of anger.

“Y/N,” she had said when you had entered the house. You had peered up at her then, still needing to crane your neck to meet her eyes, and at the fearsome expression on her face, you had shied back before you could stop yourself. “Who taught you about such things as love?”

You had stammered, more out of apprehension than anything, your first instinct still to protect Orie, though she had not shown you the same consideration. “No — no one, mother.”

“It wasn’t us, so it must’ve been someone,” she had said, clicking her tongue before her eyes had flicked to the television. “Ah. Have you been watching those silly American movies again? Did you really think you’d get to be Cinderella? Those stories aren’t real. Love isn’t something you can believe in. Maybe other people can chase those kinds of ideals, but we’ve raised you to be better than that.”

“I’m sorry, mother,” you had said. She had sighed then, so aggravated, obviously not believing anything you were saying — and of course she had not. You yourself hadn’t known what it was that you were apologizing for, so how could she have accepted it?

“Love is a luxury that only the most hedonistic and privileged of ignoramuses can indulge in. When things grow difficult, when your existence is no longer assured, you’ll find that love is meaningless,” she had said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Go to your room. There’s no need for you to have dinner tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.”

You had cried until you had fallen into an uneasy sleep, your stomach rumbling and sore, but neither your mother nor your father had budged. You hadn’t seen either of them again until the next day, when your mother had come up to wake you for school.

“Good morning,” she had said flatly. You had blinked at her, your head aching peculiarly, your neck cramped, and then you had scrambled to your feet, kicking the sheets aside so you could throw your arms around her legs.

“Good morning, mama,” you had said. “Can I have breakfast?”

Your mother had patted you on the head. “Do you still love that boy?”

You hadn’t even hesitated. “No.”

She had scoffed at that but motioned for you to follow after her. “There it is. See how easily love fades? In the face of hardship, it’s the first thing forsaken. If a man tells you that all he can give you is his love, then I want you to remember this day and run, Y/N. Run as fast as you can, because if he only has love to his name, then he has nothing at all.”

“Y/N L/N, your uniform is ready.”

You brushed past the amassed throng of parents, making your way to the counter where a woman with glasses was passing out the uniforms for the next school year. It was your first time at this store, but you did not dare let your face betray your nervousness, walking with your head held high and your shoulders squared, your nose lifted in the air as if you found every other person in the room to be beneath you.

“Here you go,” the woman said, sliding the clear packet over to you. “Are you new? I don’t remember ever seeing you before, but our records show you’re a third year.”

“Ah, yes, I just transferred,” you said. “I’ve been attending the girls’ academy until now, but for my final year of schooling, my parents thought it’d be prudent that I have some exposure to a blended environment.”

“Well, welcome to Hakuho High School. I’m sure you won’t regret your decision,” she said.

“I’m sure I won’t,” you said, bowing slightly at her, holding the packet with your uniform in it to your chest. “I’m very excited to be here.”

“We’re excited to have you, dear. Seishiro Nagi! Your uniform is ready,” she said. You smiled tightly and turned to leave, narrowly avoiding slamming into a comically tall, pale-haired boy as you wove through the crowd. Far too lost in your own thoughts, you waved off his mumbled apology, seeing no point in even responding in kind.

Of course, you had lied to that woman. Your parents didn’t really care whether or not you ever interacted with boys your own age. In fact, if they had their way, you would stay shut in your room for the rest of your life, a delicate flower preserved in a state of full bloom. There was only one thing that had convinced them to move you to Hakuho — the fact that Reo Mikage attended.

After all, he was their ultimate goal. If you could just marry someone like that, then you would never have to worry a day in your life. You would always be happy, always be safe, always be secure. He was the ideal of stability and success, and so, in their eyes, there was no one better for you to one day wed.

Unfortunately for your parents, you had long ago decided that Reo Mikage was a person you despised, though the two of you had never met. You had your own reasons for wanting to go to Hakuho High School, reasons which you could never tell them about for fear of losing your one chance at escaping for good.

For being as prestigious as it was, Hakuho High School was a relatively ordinary building. There was nothing special about the place — it didn’t sparkle, and no angels sang when you took your first step through the entrance, self-consciously adjusting your shirt collar and skirt, though you already knew that they were perfect.

This was your first impression on your classmates. The last thing you wanted was to come off across as some kind of an idiot or blundering dunce who could barely even put one foot in front of the other. You had experience being hated, but never had you been afforded the pity and derision of others, and you were not overly keen on earning them now.

Your first period was Physics, and according to the schedule you had on your phone, the classroom was located on the second floor of the high school. You climbed up the stairs carefully but quickly, ducking your head so that you blended in with the masses of students, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

It would be embarrassing to pull out the folded map you had tucked away in your back pocket, so you visualized it in your mind, tracing the routes you had gone over in colored markers last night and trying to apply them to the maze of hallways you were standing in. Despite your best efforts, though, you could not make sense of any of it, and as the minute hand of the clock drew closer and closer to when the bell would ring, an uneasiness brewed in your stomach. Were you seriously going to be late on the very first day of school?

Just then, a vaguely familiar looking boy ambled past. You couldn’t quite place where you recognized him from, but it was more than you could say about anyone else in the entire building, and you didn’t have many other options. Swallowing your pride, you chased after him, closing the gap between the two of you and tapping him on the shoulder.

He had a messy mop of cloud-like hair, and his large eyes were the color of turtle-doves. His soft face wore a drowsy expression, like he was not quite yet awake but was rather drifting through the school like a half-asleep ghost, and instead of the typical button-down shirt, he wore an oversized sweatshirt under his blazer. When he turned to face you, your hand still resting on his shoulder, his eyebrows drew together, and he cocked his head in a manner reminiscent of a lost puppy.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N! I just transferred here. Um, I think that I’ve seen you somewhere, so I hope you don’t mind me stopping you in particular,” you said. Wordlessly, he shook his head, though you were not sure which part he meant to refute. “Ah, or maybe not. I must’ve confused you for someone else; well, anyways, it hardly matters. I was just wondering if you knew where the room for the third year Physics class was? I have it with Mr. Tachibana, if that provides any necessary clarification.”

The boy stared at you for a moment before he slightly lifted his shoulders in what you could only assume was a shrug. You waited for him to elaborate, to say something or perhaps introduce himself, but he must’ve deemed the response satisfactory, as with that, he trudged off, rounding the corner and leaving you fuming.

What a rude, despicable person. It wasn’t like you wanted to be particularly friendly, either, but when the situation called for it, you could at least pretend like you cared about others. The bare minimum was answering someone’s questions with actual words, but this boy could not even muster up the energy to do that much.

“Psst,” a voice said. You turned to see a girl standing there, her face bright, her hair perfectly curled and held half-back with a clip, her makeup applied with an artful hand. “That’s Seishiro Nagi. Don’t bother with him. Come on, I’m going to Physics as well, so you can follow me.”

“What do you mean?” you said, grateful that not all of the Hakuho students were as standoffish as Nagi. The girl used her hand to cover her giggle.

“He’s cursed. We think he’s the child of the devil or something; only bad things happen to people who talk to him, so everyone avoids him,” she said.

“The child of the devil?” you said.

“Mhm, he’s a total weirdo. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and the only things anyone’s ever seen him do are play video games and sleep. He’s not in any clubs or activities or anything, and he has no friends, mostly because no one wants to go near him,” she said.

“Interesting,” you said. It was a shame, really, that such a slacker was taking up a space at Hakuho. He must’ve been at the bottom of the class, but then again, there had to be those people, too. Not everyone could be number one; there would always be those who came in last, whether due to a lack of aptitude or passion or both.

“I hope you’re okay, though,” the girl said. “You even touched him! That’s basically a guarantee that you’ll be jinxed.”

“He’s just another high schooler. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said. The girl shook her head rapidly.

“No, no, you don’t get it! One time, this girl I knew spoke to him, and the next day, her boyfriend dumped her! I really don’t want anything like that happening to you,” she said.

“I don’t think that Nagi had anything to do with that,” you said as you entered the classroom. “Things like curses aren’t actually real, you know. He’s just an abhorrently detached and self-involved layabout. It’s a shame to see, but there’s always going to be people like that, you know. They’re the worst sort, but the explanation isn’t supernatural.”

“Just you wait and see,” the girl said. “By the way, you’re super beautiful. What’s your name?”

“Y/N L/N,” you said. “Thank you. And what is yours?”

“Sonoko Ishioka!” she said. “You should sit with my friends and I at lunch today. I think that you’ll fit in perfectly with the rest of us.”

You didn’t have any great desire to acquaint yourself with Ishioka, but she was the first person who had offered, and after all, she had shown you the way to the classroom, so you hummed in agreement.

“Thank you,” you said, setting your things down in the seat beside her for the time being. Surely, your teacher would reassign your partners for the year once the period began, but until then, you supposed Ishioka was your best option.

“Welcome, class. I am Akihiro Tachibana, and I will be your Physics teacher. I would like to start the session with a warning to you all: this year will be of an unprecedented difficulty. You will be preparing for entrance examinations and completing applications to various universities, and at the same time, your classes will be more advanced than ever,” your teacher said as soon as the bell had finished ringing. He was a tall yet stocky man, his hair more silver than black, his eyes deep-set in his severe face. There was an aged sort of wisdom about him, as if his great knowledge was an accumulation of experiences instead of the result of extensive study.

“Mr. Tachibana is totally intense,” Ishioka whispered to you. “He’s super tough on his students. It sucks that we got stuck with him as our teacher instead of the other one. She’s apparently way nicer.”

“Hm,” you said.

“Since this is your first period of your first day, I will take the moment to remind you that this is your third year, which means that all of you are now in direct competition for the prestigious Hakuho Scholars award,” Mr. Tachibana continued. You straightened in your seat. “For those of you who forgot, the Hakuho Scholars are those two students who receive the highest and second-highest marks on their final exams. Every year, this select pair receives funding from the Hakuho Alumni Association in order to achieve their future goals, and as someone who has been teaching here for almost as long as all of you have been alive, let me be the one to tell you that the award granted is generous.”

“Sounds stressful,” Ishioka said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I bet Reo is going to get the top spot again, so there’s only one slot open. I’m not even going to try. What about you, L/N?”

“Of course, I’ll give it my best shot,” you said, the pleasantness of your voice just barely masquerading the greedy anxiousness simmering beneath the surface. You wouldn’t just give it your best shot — you had to be a Hakuho Scholar. That program was the only reason that you had even agreed to transferring in the first place.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let me read out the seating chart,” Mr. Tachibana said, his voice fading into a monotonous background noise as he listed off the partners that you would sit with for the rest of the class.

You waited for your name to be called, but it took a while. Ishioka was assigned before you, leaving you behind with a promise to meet you at lunch and an empty seat at your side, which you resolved to make your future partner occupy. You were hardly about to move, and anyways, most people were quick to oblige your demands, as you had this method of disguising them as sweet pleas instead of bratty commands.

“Y/N L/N and Reo Mikage,” Mr. Tachibana said.

Nagi had somehow jinxed you. You had thought Ishioka was full of drivel when she was going on and on about it, but she had actually been right, because now you were paired up with the one person you had wanted to avoid for the entire year. What sort of coincidence was this? How pleased would your parents be, that Reo Mikage had all but fallen into your lap before you could even do anything to get him there? And how furious were you, that you could not escape him even when you wanted to so desperately?

“Normally, people move to my table, but it’s nice to stretch my legs every once in a while. Thank you for that.” Even the way he spoke grated on your nerves. Reo Mikage. He talked like a prince, his words dripping with charm and grace, his movements elegant as he pulled out the chair Ishioka had sat in previously so that he could lower himself into it. His clear eyes were a shade of violet that shimmered like mountains in the mist, and his hair was the same color, hanging around his face in a neatly parted curtain. Unlike that accursed Nagi, who was the only other boy you had thus far encountered, Reo wore the expected shirt and tie, his blazer and pants impeccably pressed, his shoes shined to the point of reflection. “Are you Y/N L/N? I don’t recognize you, but neither do I recognize the name, so it makes sense. Are you new?”

“Just transferred,” you said shortly, taking out a notebook and busying yourself with your pencil case, though of course there was nothing in it that could really hold your interest for very long.

“I see,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh-huh,” you said. “Look, here’s how it’s going to go: we’re going to get our assignments, and you’re going to let me do them, and then we’ll sign both of our names on the top and get full marks and be quite happy with ourselves.”

“Excuse me?” he said. You unscrewed the cap of your pen, labeling the top of the fresh page with the date and the material that you would cover in that class.

“I don’t have any interest in working with you, but I don’t trust you to do anything on your own, so if it means saving my grade, then I’ll take care of it,” you said. “I won’t complain or rat you out or anything. Not that anything would happen even if I did.”

“What are you talking about? Are you quite mad? I’ve been the top of our class for the past two years,” he said.

“You’re also the son of one of the wealthiest men in the entire world,” you said. “I am certain that those two things have no correlation whatsoever, of course. It’s just an observation I’m making.”

“You’re suggesting that I pay for my grades?” he said. There was a faint color to his cheeks now, but it wasn’t the rosy hue that your mother would’ve swooned at. It was an angry flush that made you snort as you copied down Mr. Tachibana’s slides, not even bothering to look at Reo when you spoke next.

“Pay for your grades, pay for your work, pay for shitty work so you can pay even more to get good grades regardless…there’s unlimited options available for a person with as much money as you, right? I’m not suggesting anything, naturally, so there shouldn’t be a need for you to be so upset, unless what I’m saying is close to the truth,” you said. “Though either way, it doesn’t matter to me. Look, I’m sure you’re used to people asking you to do their work for them, so how about you just act happy that I’m offering? It’ll save you money. Or time. Or whatever.”

“You’re presumptuous,” he said, but inquisitively, without a hint of the rage you had anticipated. “We’ve only just met, and yet you’re speaking aloud these horrible assumptions, which you have made not just about my integrity but also about my wits. I mean, what kind of a person would pay for terrible work just to spend more money on bribing their teachers into accepting it?”

“How could I begin to understand the lifestyle of the rich and famous?” you said. “Don’t bother explaining what it’s really like. As with everything related to you, I don’t much care.”

At that, he laughed. He did not yell or argue or have any other normal reaction. He laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his side affectionately as the bell rang to signify the end of the period. Startled, you shoved him off of you, glaring at him as much because you were flustered as because you were vexed.

“Do you really hate me that much? I’ve never met a person who didn’t like me. It’s interesting. I think that I like you more for it,” he said.

“What?” you said. “No, you don’t. You are as apathetic about me as I am about you. Perhaps there is even exasperation at my impudence brewing deep within your consciousness, but certainly there are no fond feelings between the two of us.”

“Just you wait,” he said, lifting your bag before you even had the chance to reach for it, hefting it over his shoulder like some kind of gentleman. “I’ll make you change your mind. You’ll agree to be my friend one day.”

“Why would you do that? And give me my bag back!” you said.

“What’s your next class? I’ll walk you there,” he said.

“You will do no such—” you broke off in the middle of your staunch refusal. Technically, you didn’t know how to get to your next class yet, so if Reo was offering, then you’d be a fool to deny him, no matter how much you wanted to steer clear of his general presence. “—World History.”

“Aw, I have English,” Reo said. “But that’s in the same area of the school, so it’s not a problem.”

You rolled your eyes. “What a shame.”

“You’re being sarcastic, but soon enough, you’ll mean that,” Reo said.

“Honestly, I don’t get what the end goal is here,” you said. “I’d much prefer if you just left me alone, and you’d have an easier time of it, too. Don’t you already have plenty of friends? If not, then please find some that actually want to be around you. With your income level, it should be a breeze, but should you somehow be unable, then you can probably pay someone to keep you company. Someone who isn’t me, that is.”

“That’s just it,” Reo said. “At the moment, I can easily become friends with anyone in the entire school without any effort at all. The exception is you, which means that you’re the only one I want.”

No. No. No. Reo couldn’t want you, not in any way. Platonically, romantically, even as an unpaid intern…he absolutely could not want you. If your parents ever found out that he was saying such things about you, then you would never hear the end of it. And they would find out. Always, always, they found out.

“Y/N!” Ishioka squealed, bounding up to you and embracing you tightly. You weren’t sure where this sociability came from at first — the two of you were barely anything more than classmates, so she ought to refer to you as L/N. And since when had you allowed her to hug you? Was everyone at Hakuho this brand of touchy? But then you noticed that she had strategically maneuvered herself in between you and Reo, batting her eyelashes up at him, and it all made sense. “Are you still planning on coming to lunch with us?”

“No, she’s eating with me,” Reo said.

“Since when?” you hissed, though you were as much a part of the conversation as a cactus would’ve been, considering how neither of them paid any heed to you.

“You’re friends with Y/N? She and I are very close, so of course, she’ll want to spend time with me today. But you can come as well, Reo; we’d never say no to you,” she said.

“Er, it’s a lovely offer, but I think that I’ll have to pass,” Reo said. You took advantage of the moment to snatch your bag back from him, clutching it to your chest so that he could not take it again. He glanced over at you in confusion before returning his attention to figuring out a way to bow out of eating with you and Ishioka.

“Is it like that, then?” Ishioka said, her eyes darting between you and Reo. “Do the two of you want to eat alone?”

“No!” you said. “No, not in the slightest. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s the opposite of that. I don’t want to eat with him at all. I would much prefer having lunch with you and your friends.”

But Ishioka didn’t want to have lunch with you anymore. She hadn’t said it directly, but she didn’t need to; her expression was pinched and sour, a lemon-sucking sort of expression that you were all-too-familiar with.

“It’s fine,” she said. “On second thoughts, we don’t have any space left at our table.”

Your shoulders slumped. It was the same story again, and though Ishioka wasn’t anyone special nor important to you, just the reminder was enough to pinch at your heart. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” Ishioka said, though most likely, she only did so because Reo still stood there, somehow managing to maintain a dignified air about him despite how out-of-place he was. “See you around, then, Reo, L/N.”

“Thank goodness,” Reo said as soon as she had left. “I really didn’t want to spend time with her. Her and her friends are a little odd.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” you snapped. “She was the first one to be nice to me, and now that I’ve made an enemy of her, I doubt anyone else will want to show me any kindness. If this is your attempt at befriending me, then it’s terrible. I hate you even more.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that,” Reo said. The apology didn’t feel feigned, which only made it worse — he really was sorry, and he really hadn’t thought of that outcome. Why would he? It wasn’t something he would’ve ever had to worry about.

“Just show me where my class is so I’m not late,” you said. “We’re already cutting it close as it is.”

He was well-mannered enough not to point out that it had been Ishioka’s interference that had delayed you, but then again, although Ishioka had used you as a pretense, her true goal had been Reo, so you were nothing but faultless in the matter of your possible tardiness.

“I’ll wait by this door for you once the period is over, so that we can take our lunch break together,” he said once you reached the entrance to your World History class.

“Do your ears need cleaning? I said I don’t want to eat with you, didn’t I?” you said.

“Who else would you eat with?” he said.

Right. Because stupid Reo Mikage had ensured that no one else would ever want to hang out with you, not after what you had inadvertently done to Ishioka came out — what a bitch, she went for her friend’s crush? And after Ishioka was so nice, too — leaving him as your only choice.

“I’ll eat by myself,” you said. “And you’ll agree to that if you ever want to have even a chance of me liking you, because if I have to look at you for one more minute, I believe that I will scream and then attack you in a most violent and vicious way.”

He grinned at you. “I’ll get to my own class before that, then. See you tomorrow.”

You stuck your tongue out at his receding back and prayed that he grew bored of this new game of his quickly, lest you be driven to insanity before the end of the month.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mariyumemi @naatggeo @prettyarsxnist @noble-17 @rinitoshisgirl @stuckindreamland06 @little-miss-chaoss

[mylittleredgirl]

after spending 29 hours thinking about a canon-ship scale for that poll, i decided i might as well spend another few hours looking through my old livejournal icons folder to rank the collection of ships i have written/am writing (for better or worse)...

we lost so much when we stopped making those 100x100 pixel icons. where are the pretty tiny photos of artfully cropped couples with even tinier text on them. all we know now is the wasteland of youtube thumbnails on google image search. we used to be a society

decryption key:

same canon, never met on-screen: clone!sam/jack (sg-1) (i'm rounding up from 0.5 here since she's an open-source fanon OC, but you get me)

they interact on-screen: jack o'neill/elizabeth weir (sg-1/sga), b'elanna/kes (st: voy)

some charged interactions: daniel/fraiser (sg-1), troi/ro (st: tng), margaret/trapper (mash), hawkeye/trapper/margaret (mash)

important intimate relationship (not labeled romantic): sheppard/weir (sga), hawkeye/trapper (mash)

one-sided feelings in the text: janeway/chakotay (st: voy) (i will hang for this take i know), miles/keiko/kira (st: ds9), talia/garibaldi (b5) (not necessarily proud of this one but i filled sooooo many five-subject notebooks about them when i was a teenager)

they kiss but it doesn't count: hoshi/travis (st: ent), julian/jadzia (st: ds9), riker/ro (st: tng)

mutual feelings in the text (unresolved): doggett/reyes (x-files), picard/crusher (st: tng - 24th century edition only)

unresolved on-screen, word of god confirmed: sam/jack (sg-1), jake/diane (jake 2.0)

they get together on-screen: trip/t'pol (st: ent), julian/ezri (st: ds9), frank/margaret (mash)

they stay together (endgame): mulder/scully (x-files), riker/troi (st: tng), miles/keiko (st: ds9), berena (holby city - somehow??? i hear we won in the end?), chidi/eleanor (the good place), jason/janet (the good place)

[pixels-not-dreams]

cloud || dom!kiyomi takada x reader

A sequel to turndown service for @dnkinktober

Kiyomi is smoking on the balcony as you approach. Why does everyone here smoke? You can’t help but wonder if a pack of cigarettes is a requisite badge to live in Light’s Kira HQ. 

“So,” Kiyomi says plainly, blowing a plume of smoke off the balcony and away from you. She's so courteous. “Misa swindled you into eating her out?”

You freeze. Misa must have told her. Your fingers fly to your lips, as if you haven't wiped your mouth. 

“I—she didn't make me do anything,” you say, keeping your voice as steady as you can. “I just…she couldn't sleep.”

Kiyomi rolls her eyes. “She pulls that on everyone.” 

“But you do it,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Stupid. 

“Yeah, well. I get mine,” Kiyomi says. She's not going to elaborate. 

“I see,” you say. 

“What about you?” Kiyomi exhales a plume. This time, she doesn't turn away. She pulls the smoke back in, through her nose this time. You stiffen. 

“Me?"

“Do you ever get yours?”

“Well,” you say. Your voice is thin and unsupported. “Just this week, Light—”

Kiyomi holds up her hand. “Light doesn't like women,” she declares. She sounds so sure of it. You can't tell if she's sneering or laughing. “He just likes torturing you.” 

You feel heat rise in your cheeks. “That might be so, but he likes me enough to let me come on his hand,” you say. You're getting a little too bold—you don't want to antagonize her.

“Light fingers you,” she says, “because he thinks his dick will fall off if he eats you out.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette and stubs it out. She takes a step towards you and blows the smoke, thin and vaporous, into your face. Your eyes water, but you don't cough. You won't give her the satisfaction. 

“Is that why you and Misa give each other goodnight kisses , then?”

“Precisely,” Kiyomi says. She's inspecting her nails.

“What do you do with Misa-Misa, then?”

“I like to play with her.” Kiyomi pops a mint into her mouth. It’s not often that you see such a courteous smoker. 

“Play?” you ask, knowing full well what play seems to mean in this hotel. 

“I like to take her tits out,” she says, smiling. “Mark them up with my teeth. Pinch her nipples until they look like strawberries. She won't admit it but she likes when I slap her tits.” 

“That's it? You don't let her come?” You couldn’t imagine Misa, who had been so intent on her goodnight kiss, allowing that.

“Oh, she comes,” Kiyomi replies. Self satisfaction suffuses her husky voice. “Sometimes more than once.”

“Just from—well,” you say, gesturing to your own tits.

Kiyomi laughs. It sounds like a wind chime. “I get her all worked up until she can't stand it anymore. She tries to touch herself, but I don't let her. Sometimes she cries.” She looks wistful, saying this. Like she’s looking back on a fond memory from seasons ago. “I tease her hole a little with just one finger. It's kind of pathetic. She twitches all over the place trying to get me to touch her clit.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. The first time, she was so close that I licked it once and she just gushed everywhere. I'd never seen a girl come like that.” You clench your legs together. You’d never heard of such a thing.

“What was it like?” you ask, thinking that if you’d seen something of the sort, you would have fainted on the spot. 

“It was like having a drink thrown in my face,” Kiyomi replies. “She was so embarrassed, but I'd never been so turned on in my life. I didn't care that she'd just finished. I ate her pussy like it was my last meal. I think she came five or six times that night. The mattress had to be replaced.”

“And you?” you ask. “Did you come?”

“Oh, yeah. After she passed out, I got in the shower and fucked myself silly,” she says. ”I couldn't stop thinking about seeing her ankles next to her ears while I rearranged her cunt.”

“Does she ever…to you?”

“She does. She likes it a little rough. When I go down on her, she lays back against her pillows like a porcelain doll, but she makes me sit on her face until she's damn near suffocated.”

“Do you ever…do that to anyone else?” You hope you don’t sound as lamentably transparent as you feel.

Kiyomi raises an eyebrow and moves to pull out another cigarette. “What are you asking?”

You freeze. “I—I don't know, miss.” 

“Are you wondering if I'll do you, too?” 

Fuck .

“No…”

“You don't have to pretend. I'd do it if you wanted.”

“Do what?”

“Y/N-chan, you really are stupid, aren't you?” She flicks her lighter idly. It's a steel Zippo with a heart engraved on the side. 

You say nothing. Kiyomi takes a step forward. She smells like cigarettes and amber and caramel.

“I’d push you against a wall. Like this one.” She pins you with her forearm. 

“I'd touch your neck with my fingers, and then with my lips. And I’d open your shirt. I’d play with your tits, watch your nipples get hard. Pinch them and kiss them until you couldn't stand it any longer. You'd try to touch yourself, but I wouldn't let you.” She takes one deft hand and unbuttons your shirt. You move, and you think it's imperceptible—but Kiyomi sees everything. She reaches up and slaps you as hard as she can.

“I—”

“You don't get to speak.” She wedges her thigh in between your legs, pressing up against your cunt. You grind down on her without thinking, and she twists your nipple until your eyes water—but you don't speak. You can take it.

She unbuttons your shirt and ducks her head, pressing your breasts together so she can suck both at once. Her lips are soft, and every movement of her mouth leaves traces of her berry lipstick. You can feel her tongue against your nipples, warm and rough and practiced. The sounds are obscene. 

“I’d keep going until you were soaked through your skirt.” She pinches your nipple one last time and glides her hand down to your waist, slipping her fingers effortlessly into your underwear. 

“Looks like you're almost there,” she whispers into your ear. When her finger brushes your clit, you bite your cheek so hard you fear your mouth will bleed. She draws circles, slow at first, building up to a clip. Light never touches your clit. He thrusts his fingers into you and pumps them relentlessly. It's not like this. It really is different with girls. It's just like Misa said. 

“Shall I continue, Y/N?” Kiyomi asks lazily. 

You nod weakly. “Please,” you say, your voice shaking. “I—I need more. I need to come.” 

“More?” She says, sliding a finger inside you. You're so wet that it barely registers as it slips in and out.

“I need your mouth on me,” you whimper. She pulls her finger out and replaces it with her tongue. She licks gently at your hole, but true to her word, she doesn't touch your clit. Not yet. 

Kiyomi's eyebrows raise barely. “Misa said you could take direction well,” she says plainly. “It's nice to see you can give it, too.”

She drops to her knees, pushing your skirt up to your waist. You suddenly become painfully aware that you're wearing the plainest panties you own. Kiyomi is probably judging you; she's used to Misa gilding the lily with pink lace, and now she's faced with black cotton boyshorts. 

She doesn't seem to mind. She yanks them off, throws them into a potted plant, and hoists one of your knees to rest on her shoulder.

“You have a pretty pussy,” she says. Your clit is swollen from arousal; she pats her open hand on it, sending a shockwave through your gut. Per Light's request, you keep your cunt trimmed in a neat triangle. It's a relief to know Kiyomi likes it too. 

She leans forward and presses her mouth to you.

“Please,” you say. She keeps fucking you with her tongue, looking up lewdly through her thick lashes. You feel like you might cry. Against your will, you try to rub your clit. She grabs your hand and places it on her head. 

“Please,” you say again. “My—my clit. Lick my clit.”

She pulls away, her lips shiny and slick. 

“Why?” As soon as her mouth is off you, her hands are everywhere, squeezing your breasts, teasing your hole, filling your mouth. “You can't use your hand?”

“No,” you say, breathless, frustrated. “I want to come on your face.” 

[t-rina]

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite!

Thanks so much for tagging me @hollie47

Tagging @kira-nerys-rocks @biodead-on-the-biobed and @night-lynxy