#life has changed drastically for me this past year and it keeps changing and i keep getting busier

[iamhereinthebg]

Heya Anon!

Tbh I don't really know, Akane is a character who has been dealing with a thousand death flags leading to nothing since his most serious appareance in the manga. And this new timeline is not an exception.

Especially since we know that Kako and Mirai gave him 'You have to try to stay alive' rule as one of his duties

Implying that it is dangerous to altern the past and be the Clock Keeper of the Present, that they have to stay alive to make sure everything goes according to plan.

It also ties to my theory that Akane is the first human clock keeper of the present; Because after all if Kako and Mirai have been asleep since they changed the past in this new timeline, they couldn't have chosen anyone during 1968 and the current events in the manga (2015).

Akane is the only person who is directly coming from a different timeline even compared to Nene and Teru who just remember the stuff from the previous one, being on a time limit before their memories are erased. Akane brought along with him the fact that he is a clock keepers and mystery n°1, something he couldn't be in this new timeline in the first place since both of them don't exist.

But I digress.

Akane has been a little bit different since they came back from the boundary closest to the far shore. It's not that surprising with how much the previous arc must have taken a toll on him. Understanding that Aoi wanted to die, losing her, being impaled, having Teru confirming that he will lose years of his lifespan by turning back human too soon, being beaten up twice by number 6, etc...

Akane is like Kou and Nene on this point, a character who wants to do a lot, but is always a step behind when it comes to supernaturals. And like the other two, it is starting to show in his attitude.

Akane has been shown more unsure of his choices and of his opinions when it's something that never posed him a problem before. He is more scared of Teru (when he knows the exorcist by now) and of being hurt in general,. Something he hasn't showed as much before, liking and enjoying life of course, but never being afraid to be in the first line even if it meant being hurt; Now he acts like he is truly scared of dying.

And he lets things involving Aoi not being his first priority. Refusing to listen to Natsuhiko plan to even try to heal her. Akane has always been showed to be really proactive anyways, that's one of his main character trait. So seeing that he is putting something for a later date and it involves Aoi can be seen as a little bit strange. Akane still loves her deeply and all but he seems to have other plans now, which we learn later in the clock keeper arc. He is not even looking at her directly, having an air of melancholy when he announces he will heal her but not now

That's more of a stretch now, but I think it's pretty safe to assume that Akane has known since a long time what it meant to be the clock keeper of the present, that they had the power to change the timeline. But nothing special has been happening to make the clock keepers take this drastic decision, especially since we know that nothing has been ever changed since the Yugi Twins 4th birthday at least. Which is why he probably never thought about it before. But now that he knows the school mysteries are more important, not just dangerous supernaturals but are protecting the land, and that Hanako has been destroying the yorishiros (which to me, seem to be the seals to keep away the God from the pit/the God Sumire was supposed to marry) he seems to be more aware of this duty in general.

Or if he was made aware of it recently anyways, it's something that the clock keepers must have brought up before the fall festival, being something that even someone as 'Carpe Diem, it is what it is' Aoi Akane may not be able to entirely ignore.

He has been forced A LOT in his role lately too and he clearly doesn't really like it, even if he is good at it.

He finally say 'we' when talking about the clock keepers, and consider even himself as the biggest threat of the school. He doesn't know what to think directly of the supernaturals or seven mysteries now. Knowing that they have an important role to fulfill but still not trusting them at all, knowing of their dangerous tendencies to hurt humans. He can't even look Teru in the eyes when he asks him if the clock keepers are planning to change the timeline over and over again. His feelings for the clock keepers being clearly a difficult case for him to tackle down even if he pretends it's not.

I always said this kinda as a joke, that Akane had the role of a Chosen One but went 'fck no' with it. But I think that it really is this kind of stuff now. Like for Nene who is 'the Kannagi' of the current time and get to make choices and stuff she doesn't want to do. Akane is the same with his role as the clock keeper of the present. Because no matter what he says, he kinda has accepted this fate now, preferring to know what is happening (since he realizes how ignorant he was in the "to the far shore" arc), and having a way to be able to change things. Sacrifying his chance to be 'a normal student'.

But he is not happy with any of it, being the one on the front row to endure all of the supernaturals choices, even knowing that if they don't change back the timeline, he will be the last one to remember. And as said previously, he is now a part of it! He is of course still more human than supernatural but he still acknowledges his role way more than before. Akane hates the way supernaturals work and now what he is doing? Being one of the reason the world is in this state. Of course it's taking a toll on him.

Of course, he doesn't accept everything right away, like Aoi's engagement, it's at first played for jokes but even then, it's understandable with how far their relationship evolved in the previous timeline. He is now thrown into the role of 'the childhood friend who never stood a chance in the first place'. I do think he has a right to be a little bit upset

But after understanding that technically, it's not that much of a big deals in the current events of everything else, since at first most people seems okay, he goes right away to do what the clock keepers asked him to do. Even going to go ask for Teru's help when he knows how much he destroyed his trust.

To finish this long stuff, I think the real big ''death flags' for what is happening right now is of course the fact that he got cursed by the red house (which is a supernatural who has already tried to fool him in the og timeline btw) .

And that there is a chance, like said earlier, that there is only one Akane like him for now, and that he could get stuck here or at least not coming back entirely as the Aoi Akane we knew in the manga (a chance for him to become a full supernatural for example, to be forever now the clock keeper of the present) But for this tbh we don't know a lot it's really more speculation because we know nothing of what could happen to him particulary.

My fav 'suspicious af thing he said' for now in the new timeline is this.

The official translation goes " .. And will love my whole life to the day I die and even beyond that."

When he starts the manga with this.

With the same belief than Hanako that 'death is the end' and now he is considering the After Death, with everything he saw of course, but specifically for him in this case.

Bonus: a thing that is apparently confirmed to be a lie, or he can bend the rules, but he didn't say this in front of Teru and Nene the first time.

And something that I truly think he doesn't know anything about too (my brain truly think Kako and Mirai choose him, and I have some delulu proofs but I digress) Akane do not know sht about the clock keepers and especially doesn't see when people show clear interest in him

[no-one-hears-me]

I've spent too much time on the verge of suicide to be here today

[supercimi]

i really want to believe these words

[mangostarjam]

you've been touching him a lot since he got back.

itoshi sae doesn't do anything about it — doesn't dissuade you from tugging at his sleeve or sliding his jacket zipper back and forth while you talk. doesn't comment or bring your attention to it.

but he watches.

you've been around him a lot since his plane landed, making up for all the time he's spent abroad, as if your daily chat threads haven't been enough. most of the time it's just the two of you, the way it used to be. sometimes his brother is around, though thankfully it doesn't seem like you've gotten any closer to rin since sae left.

other times there's a group, mostly your friends, a mix of guys and girls who don't seem to know what to do with themselves around him. sae is used to this — fame brings strange things to light — but you treat him as you always have, except for the touching.

you don't touch anyone else.

it makes him think.

sae has his reasons. he's never let your relationship get past that line, drawn in the sand. he's a professional football player on the other side of the world, and you have a life here. you have friends (even though you still call him your best friend), you have a job (that you complain about all the time), you have family (that can't be bothered to ever congratulate you on anything).

it wouldn't be right — to make you leave. to take you away. not when he needs to focus on being the best in the world.

(he is the best in the world. all those years ago he showed the U-20 team in japan the difference between them, the way the most they could hope for was dating a gravure model. sae never cared about that aspect. he already had you.)

he lets you touch him, but he doesn't touch you back. he keeps you at arm's length — where you're safe.

and then you ask him to be your wingman.

someone else — touching you? kissing you? having you? unthinkable. sae steps out of the shower and barely dries off before pulling on his briefs and pants. steps into his room and there you are, sitting on his bed, looking good, if a little sad.

he considers telling you to get your passport updated and catches the way your eyes trail down his form. maybe this conversation would be easier if he's wearing a shirt — your gaze is too heated, too distracting. you probably think you're being sneaky, hiding your feelings as best as you can, but sae knows you.

and your casual touches are ocean waves washing that line in the sand away.

sae walks towards his closet when it happens again. your finger in his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks. "what?"

"you were ignoring me," you say. "i asked if my outfit is okay."

your outfit is more than okay. "i would have told you to change if it wasn't."

"if you're going to be my wingman, shouldn't you hype me up?" you huff.

sae feels his jaw clench at the reminder. "no," he says, and his tone comes out cold. you don't seem to notice, falling back on his bed and testing every bit of self control in his grasp. "this is a waste of time."

he goes to pull on a shirt before he does something drastic. you're saying something, but it hardly matters when his flight leaves if you'll be on the plane with him. you've covered your eyes with your forearm, so you miss the way he pauses at the foot of the bed, teal eyes drinking in your form splayed out so defenselessly.

sae climbs over you silently, knees nudging yours apart, hands planted on either side of your body. "this is a waste of time," he repeats, watching with amusement as you take in his position. a blush sweeps across your face, but you don't push him off. that's a good sign, at least.

"what, you think i'm not worth being a wingman for?" you ask. silly. you have no idea.

and then you reach for his belt loops again, as if that's a totally normal thing to do and not something that drives him a little nuts every time. sae prides himself on his control, though, so he doesn't lean down to kiss you just yet.

"tell me," sae says, "have you become this touchy with all your friends since i've been gone?"

"n-no?"

it's cute, how wide your eyes get. sae leans down a little closer. feels your breaths on his lips. still doesn't kiss you — yet. "then i won't be your wingman. you don't need one."

"why not?"

do you know how breathless you sound? sae considers his apartment in spain, how he'll need to make sure the bedroom doesn't share any walls with the neighbors. the way you sound is all for him and him alone.

"because you have a boyfriend, now."

(companion piece to this)

[hitoshiyoshi]

how to keep a wife | takami keigo

synopsis ↬ hawks teaches endeavor how to keep a wife

warnings ↬ exh-bitionism (?), the actual exh-bitionism part is a bit short sorry, infedility/cheating, endeavor is a shitty husband, endeavor remarries to the reader after he leaves rei, unprotected s-x, or-l (receiving), mentions of abusive relationships, keigo is the other man, mentions of domestic violence, f-ngering, v-yeurism, endeavor has NOT atoned for his sins, hawks is a little shit, cre-mpie, let me know if i missed anything

pairings ↬ takami keigo x fem!reader

word count ↬ 3.8k

There have been moments over the past year where you wondered whether there was a need to keep trying? Holding dearly onto something that had been sinking for a while. The absence of your friends and family at the wedding should have been the first sign of bad luck. Yet, you blindly kept moving forward. Was there really anything left to lose at this point? Had you grown bored of your normal life that you needed such a drastic change?

All these thoughts flood to your mind as you watch him. It’s beyond the usual time you were meant to rest. Enji came to you last minute and announced that one of his friends would be coming over for dinner. There was no point in arguing. No matter how many times you tried to encourage him to communicate with you, he refused.

Enji’s face contorts in disgust, you could hear the faint sounds of his throat hitching. Rushing to grab a tissue, he spits out the food into it. He looks up at you, eyes burning into your skin with disdain.

“You put too much seasoning, again! Are you trying to raise my blood pressure!?” He whined, slamming the tissue on the dining table as if to threaten you. His anger was something you had grown accustomed to at this point, you’ve seen worse.

“It tastes fine to me,” Enji’s ‘friend’, Keigo, chirps up to your defense. “Relax, Enji.”

Keigo’s words don’t do much, only making Enji grimace and stare off into the void next to him. He never cared about others witnessing his horrible attitude, you sighed. The house was empty tonight: Shoto was busy with his buddies from school, Fuyumi was off traveling, and Natsuo was sleeping over at his girlfriend’s house.

Thankfully, they weren’t here. Fuyumi empathized with you during these times. She mentioned that the fights between you and Enji brought back uncomfortable memories for her and the brothers. Having Shoto defend you during Enji’s spells of anger was humiliating enough. Always stepping in before things escalated terribly; it must’ve been a response to protect you in ways he couldn’t do for his mother.

“Sorry,” You stand and gather Enji’s plates, still full of unfinished food. He wouldn’t touch it anymore. “I was trying to hurry but it was hard with you rushing me.”

Keigo watches over you like a hawk; he was always the worst at hiding his emotions well. You tried to avoid him, but he always found a way. When Enji’s eyes shut tight in annoyance, he becomes bold. Ghosting his fingertips over your legs as you bend over to reach for another plate. You shoot him a glare, nonverbally demanding that he stop. Keigo just laughed off your concerns in a small chuckle under his breath, only you could hear.

Begrudgingly, you trotted off to the kitchen to clean up. Enji looked too enamored with his 'friend' to hound you to cook something else. He usually did that when he wasn’t satisfied with your dishes. You prayed, for this one time, that he would leave you alone. His eyes burn into you again as you leave, you can feel them. Although, you’ve only been married to him for a short time — the feeling is something you are already aware of.

When you finally leave the room, Keigo decides he can safely speak his mind. “Getting mad all the time isn’t good for you, Enji.”

“What the hell would you know?” The last thing Enji wanted to hear was advice from a man who changed girlfriends as often as underwear.

“Not much,” Keigo shrugged, playfully raising his shoulders as if he was taunting the older gentleman. “Be nice. It must be hard to get used to her new life. Step-kids and all.”

"Hmph..."

Enji considers Keigo’s words, but only for a brief moment. The stress of hero work must have been catching up to him. He sincerely doesn't mean to raise his voice at you, it's just that you are the closest victim around. Even if guilt creeped up on him slowly, his pride stopped him from apologizing. Enji planned on buying you those bouquet of tulips you mentioned liking a few months back as an apology — the thought barely lingers in his mind.

Although Keigo would love to catch up with his favorite hero, he had other plans in mind.

"Gotta use the bathroom." Keigo stands from his seat, leaving Enji to wither in his own flames. "Might go check up on her too," He says, too fast and quiet for Enji to process his words before he leaves.

The path to the kitchen is familiar to him; Keigo has been in this house more times than Enji knows. Really, he should be counting his blessings with how lucky he has been. The traditional Japanese-style of the home was an eyesore to him. Keigo has been trying to convince you to spend the night at his, only once, but you couldn't. What sort of excuse could you possibly tell Enji for him to allow that? “It's simpler this way”, you tell him.

As he turns the corner, you're the first thing he sees. How could he ignore you? You hurry around the kitchen, clearing all the contents of this evening's dinner in the garbage. Running scalding hot water over the dirty dishes, you don't notice until a burning sensation touches your skin. Hissing out a swear through your teeth afterwards. Each plate needed to be scrubbed clean — white and shiny without a spec of food — before Enji raised his hand at you again, with those demonic eyes of his.

"He pissed you off a little, huh?" Keigo startles you with his presence at the door. You glance at him, only for a second as you didn't want to lose your focus.

Keigo's leaning against the door frame; his hands are in the depths of his denim pockets. The silver and gold watch you gifted him for his birthday last year sparkles in your eyes. He bought you a matching one shortly after that, but you refused to wear it — it would be too obvious! His tone doesn't sound empathetic. In the brief moment you see him, Keigo gives you his signature cheesy smirk.

"Yeah," You say and return to cleaning. The last thing you needed was to be disturbed — but he was perfect at accomplishing that.

Low vibrations and slow steps soon follow until he's right behind you. Keigo can sense you tensing; something’s not right. Instinctively, his muscular arms snake around your waist as he presses your back into his toned chest. Keigo rests his head into a free space on your shoulder. With every breath, his stubble tickles your skin gently.

“You know he can’t keep a wife happy,” He laughs softly into your ear, obviously poking fun at Enji's failed marriage with Rei.

“It really isn’t funny, Keigo…” Unamused, you catch a cup that slips out of your hands.

“Yeah, yeah… Don’t bark at me,” Keigo eases up off your shoulder, he straightens his back but the tight grip on your waist remains. “Jus’ hate when you’re sad, you know…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

One of his hands pinch your sides, while the other traces shapes into your clothes skin. “Can’t you smile for me, dove?”

“I’m not in the mood."

“Hm…?" He cocked his head to the side. "Fine.”

His hands glide down your arms, stopping at your wet hands. Although his own become wet and covered in suds, he doesn’t mind. Keigo holds up your ring finger, narrowing his eyes as he stares at the silver band. He usually loves shiny jewelry, especially the ones that glisten perfectly under the sun. They always caught his eye first, twinkling in a way that made it hard for him to resist. He always gifted you the finest jewelry that you kept tucked away in a small box, away from Enji.

Keigo hates your wedding ring.

“What- What are you—,” Keigo slips the wet ring off your finger and sets it on the counter.

He never understood why you chose Enji over anyone else. How could Enji be picked over him? Each time he asks, you mutter the same response. “You’re too busy all the time, Keigo. You’re never here when I need you.” It was the truth; he couldn’t deny it, but only make up excuses. Keigo tries to explain that his line of work doesn’t allow for him to have these freedoms, but it’s not enough to persuade you.

Drunk off the feeling of your love, he fills the emptiness in his heart with meaningless flings and relationships that won’t make it past three months. Somehow, Keigo tries to keep them hidden from you. There’s no point in making an announcement to his friends, anyways. Yet, you were aware of them. If you listened closely, you could hear their voices in the background of your calls with him. All of his past lovers gave the same excuse as you did. How funny was it all? They could tell his heart was elsewhere and their body was unable to fix that void.

“I know you hate doing it with your ring on…” Keigo's free hand slips under your skirt, trailing his fingertips on the skin of your inner thighs.

He plays with the waistband of your panties, just enough to not agitate you. Keigo waits for you to stop him, each time. For you to be reminded of your sacred union, but it never happens. You haven’t felt the sense to stop in quite some time. By now your movements are instinctive, your legs spread to allow him more space to continue as he pleases. Running his middle finger along your clothed heat, he leaves soft kisses along the nape of your neck.

"There's not enough time," Whispering this to him in a hushed tone, your pleas are ignored.

"You hate thinking of him, right?" With no time to react, his fingers dive past the silk fabric.

"Kei..." Your head tilts back next to his own, until your cheeks are touching each other.

Whimpering his name gave him enough motivation to act. All those years spent with the Commission didn't go to waste; with the memory skills he's been taught, he knows each of your favorite spots.

Keigo's middle finger find the hood of your clit, rubbing in circular motions as you unwind to his touch. His movements are aided by the slick dripping from your cunt and coating his fingers. By now, you've forgotten about the running tap water — grasping onto his brawny arms to urge him deeper. Keigo sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, trying to muffle his moans. He doesn't want to worry about Enji finding out.

It's the first time he's made a move with Enji in the house. What better time than now? The pads of his finger push deeper into your bud, quickening his movements as his heart races. "You should get back to him now, baby bird..."

"Mmm~, not yet..." You can only pray that he can't hear your voices from. You can feel him smirk into your skin, giving a rest from marking you. Keigo had no other choice but to oblige. What kind of partner would he be to neglect you? No better than Enji.

Keigo's fingers dip lower, teasing you with the way he runs along your heat. You felt him pressing you further against the counter, trying to free himself from his skinny jeans. He always preferred to begin slow, not wanting to rush the quality time you two spent together — even if it was short. Focusing all your effort on staying quiet, you gasp as you feel him burying inside slowly and with ease. His thumb never leaves from your clit, keeping the same rhythm as before.

Reaching his free hand up to your shirt, he raises it by the hem and tugs it upwards enough for your bra to show. Keigo claws at the fabric, it doesn't take much effort to completely reveal your breasts to the cool air. The lace material peels off your skin easily; he doesn't enjoy the speed of things, for once in his life, but he gives in... for you. As his hand caresses your tits, his thumb dances over your hardened bud.

Keigo can feel it; as soon as another one of his thick fingers enters your walls, he can feel you quivering under him. Fluttering around his fingers with every pass he makes over your weakest spot. "s-shit, yeah, keigo... keep going...!" you cry in response to his words. Hips rocking into his hand, matching the rhythm of the deep yet slow thrusts of his fingers. By now, your essence has sullied your perfectly clean underwear and leaked onto every inch of his fingers.

Just as you feel yourself unwinding at his movements, he pulls away. Unwrapping his arms away from you and carefully slipping out of your sodden cunt.

"God," You scowl at him, embarrassingly loud. Keigo tries to make up for it with a quick peck on the cheek. You hated when he pulled little tricks like that.

"He should be here to see," Keigo helps you slip out of your lace panties. He takes the risk and stuffs them deep inside his pockets, hopefully you won't ask about them later. "Maybe he'll learn how to make you cum." Grasping tightly on your hips, he forces you around.

Keigo leans forward and takes his place back on your neck. Sucking and nibbling at your skin until purple bruises arise once again. You run your fingers through his honey blonde locks, urging him. His kisses continue to the valley of your breasts. Each of his hands grasp onto your mounds of flesh. Keigo suckles on your peaks, tongue dragging light flicks along your sensitive skin.

He continues his kisses, trailing them downward from your breasts to your bellybutton. Finally, Keigo kneels beneath you. Spreading your legs like butter with his hands, he says, “You jus' can't wait for me, huh?"

Keigo ghosts his fingers over your inner thighs. He bites his lips and gulps shallowly at the sight, cunt glistening under him. His amber orbs dilate as he takes in the sight, so shiny and perfect just for him. A nice long lick up your slick is enough to continue your trance. Keigo is too eager; he laps up all of your spilling nectar until it fully completely coats his tongue and dribbles along his pink tongue.

As he peers up, you can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks underneath you. Strands of his honey blonde hair fall perfectly on his sweaty forehead. Keigo fits on you like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Circling and flicking his tongue around your clit, your hands claw through his hair and force him deeper. Never minding his stubble rubbing against your sensitive skin.

Bucking your hips into him once again, Keigo loves the way you surrender completely to his touch. “ah~ fuck- fuck… i can’t… please, faster!” He’s happy to follow your commands. The rapid beating of your heart and quickening breath gives him enough of a signal, again. Through your quivering thighs and slurred speech, you manage to speak, “kei! i’m go- gonna cum…!”

This time, your hands hold his head in place — you won’t let him toy with you again, now. Spewing swears through gritted teeth, you tense up over him feeling the wave of ecstasy consume your body. Keigo stares up at you briefly, your expression is enough for him to threaten to spill in his boxers. Your head is thrown back with one very loud moan escaping your lips. He eagerly laps up everything as if it’s his last supper, refusing to stop until on his saliva remains on your skin.

Panting, he brings himself up to his feet. Keigo hisses softly feeling you palm him under his jeans. He pushes your hand away, with a newfound sense of vigor, he can’t wait. The jingling of his belt resounded in the room as he unbuckled his jeans. You could feel him rutting against you while his fingers were still deep inside you. Bulge protruding through his skinny jeans, begging to be released.

He frees his cock from its hold, just before you notice a damp spot of his precum. Always neat and well-kept for you, he’s groomed himself well just for tonight. Blood rushes to his rosy tip, the veins pulsate with every second that passes.

Stroking his cock for a few seconds, you help guide him to your core. Just like his fingers, he nestles inside you with ease. You wrap so tight around him, nearly swallowing him whole. So perfect, he can’t help but say, “always squeezin’ around me just right, dove…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, mesmerized by his blushing and sweaty face. A bead of sweat trickles down from his forehead to his collarbone as you shift some hair from his face.

Keigo gently rolls his hips, massaging your velvety walls with his shaft; so tender and affectionate, you easily got addicted to the feeling. He releases soft gasps with each movement of his hips, not wanting to break eye contact with you. He wanted to watch everything, every facial expression and cry that left your mouth.

“Waited so long for this,” Keigo presses his forehead against yours. “Hate havin’ to watch you two together…”

Softly planting a kiss on his cherry red lips, you reciprocate his feelings, “God, I missed you.” Nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him deeper, “it’s been too long.”

One of your legs wraps around his waist and lower back, pulling him deeper with his sudden sporadic thrusts. Keigo tries to keep his feelings together. That was a necessity in forbidden relationships like this. Yet, he doesn’t know how long he can do it. Smile in Enji’s face like a dear friend only to betray him when he was alone with you. It was a sickening feeling; he couldn’t keep it hidden any longer.

What should he do? Keigo’s too deep into everything now. The possibility of rejecting his feelings is something he couldn’t do. Especially now, as he hears your chants of his name spew from your lips once you two break away from your kiss. The glimmer of your wedding ring catches his eye when you cling to him. His hips slapped against your skin with sounds of sex echoing through the room. Oh, how badly did he want to be Enji.

The anger nearly consumes him, just for a second. He couldn’t accept the announcement of your marriage to him that day… How could you? How could you pick Enji!?

Keigo desperately wants to find his release, spill his scalding cum deep inside your cavern and smirk to himself as you limp back to your husband. But he couldn’t be satisfied only with that… Instead, he slows, just enough to keep him chasing his high.

He leans down to your ear, and whispers, “I’ve always wanted you… haven’t you realized?”

"F-Fuck, Kei... I know," You run your fingers through his messy hair, coaxing him even closer to your body. "I'm sorry..."

"Ho-How do you th-think I sleep at nights knowing you give yourself to h-him..?" Keigo tries to keep himself together, once again. It took everything in his spirit to not spill his potent seed. Not now, not yet.

"Mmmh~... 'm sorry, Kei...

With those feathers of his, Keigo could sense the trembling ground with his heavy footsteps only a few feet away from the door. It was all sort of funny to him, it must’ve been a joke. “I better start calling this pussy mine from now on. Shouldn’t I, Enji?”

“Nnggh… Wha- What…?” Of course, you decide to groan a bit too loud just as he was at the door. “Enji…!”

Poor Enji. He thought you had hurt yourself when he heard your noises only a few minutes before. He really didn’t mean to raise his voice at you. Lately, Enji has been trying to be a better person. You know, work through his anger issues for the betterment of his growing family. He slipped up tonight, yes, but he was trying. Keigo wants to feel bad, but he couldn’t spare any sympathy for a serial abuser.

Enji is frozen just outside the door. Blue eyes pierce at your bodies intertwined together. The messy clothing still that you still have on, his markings all over your neck, and of course, the expressions of pure ecstasy written over Keigo’s face.

As if the image wasn’t enough for the older man, Keigo reaches for your neck and forces you to stare at Enji. The only thing in common between the two of you is the horrified expression you make at each other as your eyes meet.

His pace of his movements began to pick up, becoming frenzied now that his favorite hero is here to watch. All the older man could do was gawk. You wanted to keep your composure, maybe even push Keigo off your body and run to Enji. It was just a little mistake! A mistake that has lasted since the day you two were married.

"Took you long enough..." Keigo knew Enji was getting on with age, surely his hearing wasn't affected as well. "Pu- Put on a show for him, pretty bird... Let him hear..."

"Oh~... God, I- I..." You somehow manage to croak out as Keigo moves his hand from you neck to your jaw, parting your lips.

"There we go. That's it, babygirl..." His hips drill into your core with an unwavering speed, plates scattered around the counter swayed with each thrust; finally, chasing his high. "Louder..."

Like an obedient dove, you obeyed. The harmony of your moans combined with his own bounced off each wall and into Enji's ears. Keigo's eyes refuse to leave yours. Instead, he positions your head until he was the only being in your view. Keigo's hips faltered with every one of his grunts, seizing up along with the rest of his body. He dipped his head down lower; his hot breath tickles the hairs on your neck. You knew what would happen next.

With a loud hiss, Keigo's eyes shut tight as he sinks his teeth into your skin. You could feel his body tense on top of you, feverishly grasping onto your flesh to draw you closer. A warm sensation pools through your cavern, you moan along with him as if Enji's presence is nonexistent. Speaking of the devil, he remained frozen throughout the entire ordeal. He blinks at the sight a few times, trying to process if he was dreaming.

But, of course, it was all reality. Enji finally accepts it, trailing his eyes to the floor beneath him.

“Come on, don’t look away now, Enji…” His seed drips down your inner thigh, joining your juices that have trickled onto the kitchen floor. “Pay attention, you might learn a thing or two about how to keep a wife…"

『 a very VERY late submission to kinktober from a while back… check it out if your bored ! 』 — kai

STUDENTS & HEROES MASTERLIST

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[ma1dita]

truth be told

can be read as a standalone, but part one can be found here: liar, liar

this was a request! here

words: 3k

summary: After everything, only the truth remains. A continuation of your life with Sirius. Loosely follows the events of the books. Sirius Black x fem!reader

warnings: one use of y/n, ANGST guys if i cried writing this you will too, non-descript smut for the plot, ending open to interpretation, Sirius deserved a better life. star-crossed lovers strike again!

a/n: it has been months but i wanted to get this right. Saddest shit I’ve written in a while, hope you enjoy! Let’s rant about how the Blacks have the saddest character arcs…. And this has an open ending, tell me what you think happened!! Tunes attached at the end for your reading pleasure.

(posted: 12/18/23)

—

There’s always a proper explanation for drastic life changes. Surely, there’s a reason this keeps happening to you.

At the very least, this time around you feel as if you owe it to your dead friends. You’d never thought you’d be the one to outlive all of them, with how much the world has gone to spite you, but then, you heard about Harry Potter. It was never fair, the way he lost loved ones that you loved too. Perhaps it was sympathy or your ongoing savior complex, but 12 years gives you a lot of time to ponder past transgressions.

So when Remus sent you an urgent letter about Peter being found alive, arranging your international portkey to meet them at Hogwarts immediately was a no-brainer.

Professor Remus, who is so eloquent with words, just casually had to omit the fact that your ex was also back in the picture. And that he was the most wanted wizard in Britain. Truthfully, your life has been much quieter since him. There’s truth in these details…

Now, as you follow Severus Snape to the Shrieking Shack under the guise of catching your ex red-handed, something about this scene feels familiar.

The seed of doubt that was planted back then still lingers as a big and scary thing, all twisted and it rips open old scars for those involved. It makes you stop in your tracks at the entrance of the base of the Whomping Willow and you can't help but be struck by the thought of how much things have changed since that fateful night all those years ago. And yet, somehow, it is all the same.

A pang of guilt stabs at you. The night was supposed to be about catching the big bad Sirius Black, but you couldn't help but be reminded of how important he had been to you back then, and how you loved him. Love him. It was almost as if you were playing the part of the traitor rather than looking for one...

You’re 33 now, after all. What else could go wrong?

—

You hesitate outside the entryway, listening to voices from your past and present intermingle, and the thundering in your heart drowns out the sound of your heavy breathing. Godric, and they said Harry has his life threatened every year? Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place on Earth?

As Severus raises his wand to attack Sirius, you step into the light and wordlessly stupefy your colleague, his body dropping to the floor like a bag of rocks. Multiple pairs of eyes meet, some in fear and confusion, but you are immediately drawn to him, his presence calling something within your soul as it did 12 years prior. Sirius Black, your lost love, all covered in grime and more suffering than man. He has that look on his face, the one he’d get when he was about to make a point— and it irritates you so quickly that it’s almost debilitating.

The rush of emotions as you see him again floods you with a memory of a time like this long ago. It hits you like a tide that washes over your senses, the way one breathes in saltwater, all nostalgia and raging hurt, and as you gulp in oxygen, breathing heavily. For a second, the shadows in this dark room look like the friends you lost on a night this, one you no longer talk about.

Guilt, anger, and love all vie for your attention but your mind goes numb as Sirius steps closer, his face twisted in a wry smile as he meets your gaze.

"Hello, wife." He whispers, his voice tinged with affection and regret. He’s different now, older… starved. Sirius steps closer to you blinking slowly, hand grazing your wrist like he’s afraid you’re a figment of his imagination again. He’s spent a lot of time over the years imagining you. But then the anger comes back to the forefront of your brain before he can do anything about it.

You sock him hard in the jaw, and he crumples to the ground like paper. What a scene— Severus lying unconscious behind you, Sirius keeled over holding his jaw, and the Golden Trio stares at you with open mouths.

“Who even are you?” A ginger boy holding a ball of fur almost howls in disbelief. Is that…

“Good to have you back, love,” Remus says with a knowing grin, and then all you can hear is Sirius’s laughter. Despite the blood dripping from his lips he laughs, so filled with enjoyment that he hasn't felt in years.

“Someone’s gotta keep you two in line,” you huff, looking around quickly as you point your wand at the damn rat of a man hiding in the grasp of these children.

“Put him down so I can hurt him,” You spit, and Peter Pettigrew, ever the petty little man launches himself at you going down in a flurry of multicolored sparks and misfired spells.

“Kill him, baby, kill him! You knew it wasn’t me, didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for this… 12 years of it! In Azkaban!” Sirius chortles, almost rocking on the floor in glee, finding this hilarious.

“Quiet you git, or I’ll make sure you’re next!”

A low growl comes out of Remus, and you realize revenge will have to wait once more, pushing the Trio out of the shack. One thing is clear in your mind as you run for your life.

You have got to stop testing fate.

—

Tomorrow, you turn 34. What better way to celebrate than to pay a visit to your ex-boyfriend after he escaped from Azkaban? Clearly, Remus Lupin thinks it’s his best idea yet.

“He’s not doing so well, (Y/N). Can’t seem to adjust at Grimmauld Place and find a new normal…” Remus mutters over the floo network late at night.

“I don’t think normal and that place could ever belong in the same sentence,” you say with a furrowed brow. From one prison to another, you think.

“I just… I thought I’d floo you because I’m running out of ideas. You know… you knew him best.” The fireplace illuminates your face in the small apartment you’ve been residing in for the past month since your return.

“Does it matter? We’re strangers again, just bound together by hazy memories. I wouldn’t know what to do…”

“But I think you do, and he wants you there. Just doesn’t know how to say it. For some of us, memories are all we have.” The image of Remus’s head was getting licked at by the hot flames, and the idea of being in front of Sirius again, not for Order business, but to be even a friend, after everything…

You felt like you were on fire too.

“Isn’t it ironic that the happy memories hurt more than the sad ones, Rem?” Silence greets you from the other end of the fire, both of you knowing that it’s the truth

Sirius sees you approaching the house in the early morning as he watches out the window after another sleepless night. His body jerks up from his hunched position at the bay window, wiping at the corners of his eyes. You came. You’re here. For him.

He meets you downstairs, daybreak peeking in rays of blue and purple behind you, the frame of the doorway separating the two of you along with the realization that you’ve missed each other for longer than you’ve known one another.

You step back into his space, and he takes your coat quietly, scared to make another mistake, scared to push you away like he has many times before.

Something akin to grief holds you there in the foyer, staring at each other in a new light, faces changed by the life you should have lived together. For right now, there’s nothing more to hide, nothing less than the simple truth that you are two different bodies with the same souls. There is no struggle in the way your hand reaches out for his chest, to feel the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a while, you both feel alive.

“Sirius…” you whisper. No nicknames, because what do you call him after all that? The man who left that night with hushed promises and left you to handle the wreckage.

The world keeps moving and he’s still stuck there in that cell. In this house. Sirius can’t seem to walk away from what haunts him, but at the sound of your voice saying his name he smiles.

No one’s said his name that kindly to him in years. Not in the way that you do.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

—

You’re 35 now, and you’ve realized that it takes time. Time is all you have when your love is in hiding. You’re caught again between the blurry lines of friends and something more, but the work that has to be done comes first before anything.

And it is driving Remus mad.

You moved into one of the many spare rooms at Grimmauld Place when Remus did, to keep Sirius company and organize affairs for the Order. But to watch you two dance around each other awkwardly makes him want to claw at his skin more than he already has.

“Friends stick together. We help each other out,” you say nonchalantly and Sirius’ head bobs as he helps you put the groceries away one day. Remus is not as amused.

There are a lot of things to fix here, with the house swarming with dark magic and cursed artifacts. You all spent weeks researching the combination of anti-sticking charms to tear down the family tapestry.

Wretched Walburga’s painting was almost one with the foundation of the building, so you found a way to magic it shut forever. To take down the bad memories brick by brick, hurt and shame—if that’s what he wanted, you and Remus made sure it was what he would get. It’s what he deserved. When you finally showed Sirius the closed-off wall, without the invidious glare of his birthgiver, he thought he could kiss you with the happiness it brought him. You have a way of doing that, so intentional with your words, and how you’ve been caring for him, giving him the room he’s learning to occupy again…

So he did.

Hesitantly, then desperately drinking you in like a man left starved, and he had years of a fill to catch up on. He could drown in you if you’d let him.

And you did.

You kissed in the middle of the living room he was once damned in, legs hoisted over his hips as you fall onto the sofa. Frantic movements, kisses conveying words left unsaid, and at one point you both cry in pleasure and relief at being in each other’s arms again. If everything’s gone wrong in life, dear Circe, was this finally right.

His thrusts are slow as he gazes at you from above, hair moved out of your face to properly see you. Calloused hands roam your body that he wishes to reacquaint himself with from the inside out, from your skin to your bones.

“It’s okay,” you sigh as you touch his jaw, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared to ruin this. To ruin you.”

Your hips slow as you reach around to hug him. Sirius had long come to terms with the fact that he ruins everything he touches, and you’re not an exception in a long line of proof. You gently pull his body down before rolling over him, placing kisses everywhere you could reach. The crease in his forehead, his sunken in collarbones, the lean of his chest until your eyes and lips fall upon the dark etch of your name on his ribcage, under his heart. It joins the many other tattoos that grace his slender body, but it’s the only one in bright, devastating red. Your eyes meet again.

“I…they kept trying to take the necklace away. I had to remember you somehow. I’m sorry,” he says bashfully, eyes flickering to the ceiling in timidity, and the apology slips out from his lips. It makes you smile at how far he is from the arrogant man you once knew.

“Then ruin me then. Again. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your approval stokes the fire in him, hands grabbing for dear life to feel you more underneath his fingertips and with the movements he makes from under you, striking hard like he has something he needs to prove. As you sigh into his neck and hold tightly onto his hand, you think of how loving him has always been red. Necklace or not, that has always been the truth.

Naked underneath a throw blanket that might scar Remus’ senses when he gets back from his mission and surrounded by the construction job of a house he once hated, Sirius breathes easily with you resting upon his chest. He hasn’t dreamed in a long while, but here, he can conjure images of finally marrying you and making this house a home.

“What are you thinking about? Tell me the truth,” you whisper, and he stops breathing, thinking you’re already asleep. Your fingers rub a mark on his neck lovingly.

“I want you to call me anything else. Baby, sweetness, darling…” he muses with a crackly voice.

“I don’t like my name. You’ve always known that. I don’t think it’s ever been mine. But I have always been yours, even when I didn’t know it. Even if you don’t want me.”

You press yourself closer to him, if that’s even humanly possible, gripping onto his soul.

“Husband it is then.”

—

At 36, you didn’t think you’d be having this fight with him again.

It wouldn’t be Sirius if he didn’t put up a fight. The man who’s spent his entire life fighting to get everything he wants or even a fraction of what he felt he needed. So why would loving him be any more simple?

He won’t easily admit that he’s never experienced life the way he wanted to unless he was with you, the only constant, his only calm. But there’s no way in hell you’re letting him rush out into the night again to never be seen.

“Harry needs me, my love. I need to protect him! You need to stay here,” Sirius bites back at the desperation writhing through his being, needing for you to understand that he wants you safe too.

“I’m tired of fighting you, babe, I can’t…” Your hands slam onto the dining table as he paces around it, running away from you again as he grabs things he needs. The lack of air in your lungs is making everything rush to your head, anxiety making you spiral as you chase him again, reaching out for him like trying to grapple with smoke.

“I can’t do this. I’m not letting you leave without me again,” you wail, and he’s not listening, hyperfocused on saving one of the few people he has left to live for. He laces his boots haphazardly, keys being thrown into his jacket pocket, and it all boils over.

“SIRIUS!” you scream. He stops in his tracks and looks at you in the moonlight, face illuminated by the kitchen window. You’re crying, shaking, with your hand still outstretched for him to hold. He pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead with all the love he can muster.

“I...can’t lose you again. Could it be easy this once? I’m not the enemy here. Please don’t fight me on this,” you heave between soft sobs, hands crinkling his shirt to keep you grounded.

“You’re coming.” he surrenders, and you nod, both of you knowing it’s the truth. The blue light of a refashioned heart necklace lights the space between you. Fear fills the air again, and he silently grabs your jacket, zipping it up and tucking the pendant underneath your shirt. His thumb brushes over your jaw in an unhurried moment as he looks at you long enough that you wish to stay here forever.

“I love you.”

“I know, husband. I love you.”

Your hand grips onto his and you apparate to the Department of Mysteries.

—

The quiet tragedy of your love will never truly leave your ribcage, and Sirius’s quite literally etched in the skin and bones of him, under his heart.

One moment, he’s fighting for his life with you beside him, and the next, he’s falling. The love never disappeared, though it appeared differently the second time around. You couldn’t love each other the same way twice, with everything that’s changed since the beginning of it, but the love was there. It evolved with you. It endures.

You’re the only family he needs, and this point is further solidified when his cousin sends a killing curse his way, and his saving grace is you letting go of his hand to to blast her into oblivion. He trips backward to the Veil all the same.

“Wife…” he breathes out, being pulled in by nothingness. Your body turns slowly and your eyes meet, his hand out his hand stretches to reach yours. His eyes reflect the red glow of the pendant on your chest, and then you know what to do.

“Husband!” The sound of your voice brings a smile to his face and he shuts his eyes not needing to know how this will end because you’re here, and barely a breath away.

There wasn’t even a second thought to grab his hand, and the both of you are falling, falling again. Hands intertwined, both ringless, yet all the more secure and true. This is how it was meant to be.

—

“I can’t decide if time

Is my enemy

Or my friend

Time takes the pain away

But time takes you away too.”

-Whitney Hanson

taglist (OPEN): @jsjcue

love me some tunes! I listened to these three songs while I wrote: cedar by gracie abrams, adam's ribs by jensen mcrae, the alcott by the national (ft. taylor swift)

[alphajocklover]

What about a G2S story about greasers? There's so few of those.

Imagine: A very lonely gay guy meets a rockabilly, greaser gang. They take him under their wing, which gay guy appreciates because of his loneliness. But slowly they start changing him, making him just like them.

In the end the lonely gay guy becomes a James Dean, Danny Zuco-wannabe with the gang becoming his new found family.

A lot of people think that Alphas and Betas are a relatively new thing. It makes sense to assume so in a way. Alphas as we know them are pretty new, but that’s only because Alpha culture has changed over time, just like ours. There were Alphas in the old west, in the ancient world, and even going back to the beginning of civilization as we know it. Recently I discovered an old book where someone had written down a number of stories about Alphas from the past. I guess I’m not the first person to document their behavior. One story in particular stuck with me though, so I’ve transcribed it here. Hope you enjoy.

Caleb Sparrow was a complete and utter nerd. An unhip clyde with a reputation for being a bit of a spaz. The kind of goof all the cool cats completely ignored. He was only really good at one thing: not standing out. A part of him hated that he was the way he was, that he was a loser with no friends. But a part of him was grateful. For a secretly queer man living in 1955, he was actually pretty lucky. No one bullied him (mainly because no one noticed him), his secret desires hadn’t been found out, and he had a good future ahead of him. He knew that eventually he’d land a steady job, find a swell gal who he could get along with well enough to marry, and live the traditional life his parents had always wanted of him. A part of him was grateful. But a part of him still hated it all. Hated how lonely he was, how he’d never find someone he’d really love, how his entire life was always going to be a lie. But he was resigned to it. Until… he met an Alpha named Biff.

Biff was everything Caleb wasn’t. He was the hippest greaser in town, with a handsome face, manly muscles, a souped up rag top and a gang of fellow greasers to hang with. Biff had it all. Sure all the squares all said he was bad news, but he didn’t care. He had it made in the shade. He had a different betty with him every night. That’s what made it so weird to everyone when Biff suddenly started being so friendly with Caleb. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it at first, and was pretty sure he was going to end up getting beat, but Biff was… well he was dreamy, so Caleb let himself believe that he really wanted to be his friend. He had no idea that Biff was just looking for a new Beta. Turning Caleb into the perfect Beta took less time than you’d expect. Caleb integrated into the gang with surprising ease, all of the other members treating him like they had been friends for life, and as he began to grow closer to the group and Biff, he began to change.

At first it was a slight change in style and lingo, trying to keep up with his new crew. Then he shot up several inches and began to pack on muscle, which the 19 year old brushed off as an overdue growth spurt. But over time the style changes became more and more drastic and his body grew at an even faster rate. Soon he wasn’t just the new kid, he was the second in command, right after Biff. That’s why everyone started calling him Deuce. Just like everyone else in the gang Deuce was muscular, cool, loved cars and was obsessed with Biff. Deuce eventually even came out to Biff and confessed his love, but Biff didn’t wanna deal with all the issues that came with having a queer beta, so he ‘suggested’ that Deuce was actually a pussy hound like him. Considering how many gals Deuce has played backseat bingo with I think Biff might have overdone it, but just like always he got what he wanted. Another manly, muscular, straight greaser for his gang.

**hey there guys! Never done anything with Greasers before, so it’s probably not as good as my usual stuff, but I had fun with it. Hope you all enjoy. Might revisit the idea of Alphas throughout history sometime**

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

Dracontine - Chapter two

[^ the gif above i found on Pinterest so rights go to rightful owner ^]

❝ She is very rare. She is what you call a Dracontine. Meaning she belongs to a dragon. But in her case, she does not belong to one but three. ❞

Summary - In which a young female hides who she truly is from everyone and stays to herself. Keeping to her chores as a servant. Staying hidden was her main task while taking care of her three dragon eggs that were bound to her. But many things change when she has to stay Under the Mountain with many others. What she didn't expect was that she would meet her mate. Who happened to be the powerful High Lord of Night Court. Then soon later on she would find she has another powerful mate. The Spymaster of Night Court who was a Shadowsinger. She soon finds herself having to break out of her shell with the help of her mates and their family. Along with finding out how to navigate two bonds with two powerful mates. Also, while taking the title as Dracontine. Being she is the one who belongs to not one but three dragons. All while trying to survive a war.

Pairing - Rhysand x Female!Oc/Mc/Reader x Azriel

Universe - pre acotar - acowar [it may go into an au after acowar not sure yet though]

Series Warnings - DRAGONS (yes that is a warning lol), Gore, Death, Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, War, Things Will Be Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Poly. Relationship MxFxM (Side Note - Rhysand & Azriel are in a relationship or are mates to my Mc they will not be together), More Will Be Added If Needed. (Please do not read if these are triggers)

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Authors Note - hi hi! so what are your thoughts so far with the characters and what not i am curious lol. let me know what you think. oh and remember for the taglist i am only taking ten people so there is now only five spots left. I'd thought i'd let you know here. so yeah lol have a good day or night peeps lol bybbyye!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Many years have passed, and Anna was still the servant to the Lady of Autumn Court. But things have changed. Many years later there was a feast or celebration of sorts. A Masquerade party that all the Courts and their High Lords were invited to. It was taking place Under the Mountain. When Anna heard of it she had a bad feeling about it. But knew she had to go. She had to go to the one place that her grandfather told her about all these years. Telling her that she had to go. The one place that will change her and then things will start to fall into place for her.

Anna didn't know what to do. But she was quick to tell her family about her worries and fears. The ones to sit her down and really talk it out with her were her grandmother, mother, and older brothers. All three were quick to help her through her feelings and reassure her. All knowing about her dreams of Cade and Crimson. They also knew about her being the next Dracontine. They were all shocked, ecstatic, and proud of her when she told them. But they were quick to tell everyone in their family. But kept it a close family secret. After that the family made sure to keep in contact with Anna. They also gave Anna lessons on dragons and told her many stories. Anna would listen to all that was said, committing the facts and stories to memory. As much as she could. She was very close to her family. So that was another reason why she was hesitant to go to the celebration Under the Mountain. She didn't want to leave her family behind. Knowing that things will drastically change in her life when she goes Under the Mountain.

But after some time debating if she should go, and with encouragement from her family. Anna soon went for her Lady, for her grandfather, for her family, and for the Mother. But the bad feeling never left her. It was as if there was something lurking over her shoulder warning her. There was an uneasy feeling in her chest. Like her instincts and something within her were telling her things were going to change. Which Anna didn't like. She knew that she was warned many times before by her great grandfather Cade that things will change when she arrives at Under the Mountain. But that didn't mean she liked change. Also she knew it wasn't a small change it was a tremendous change. Which didn't help Anna with her fears and worries.

When Anna saw the host of the celebration she nearly ran. The female Amarantha made her feel like she was standing near death. The aura that flowed around her made Anna fearful and made her want to flee. But Anna knew she couldn't. So she stayed at her Lady's side. She soon realized she was right to have a bad feeling about Amarantha. Because soon she had deceived all the High Lords and took all of their powers. Forcing them all into submission.

Soon after Amarantha ordered all the inhabitants to live Under the Mountain. Which meant Anna was stuck Under the Mountain with many others. Not having contact with her family. Which made Anna grow with sadness in her heart. The only things she had now were her three dragon eggs, and also her Lady. Who was the only one she talked to freely in privacy. Her Lady was the only one she was comfortable talking to.

But over the years Anna found herself becoming more quiet and more kept to herself. Which many didn't notice or just didn't care. Anna never was good at making friends or good at talking to others. Many saw her as weird because she carried her bag around with her. Also because she didn't initiate any conversation. And when someone would try to talk to her Anna would give one worded answers or stutter out a response.

Rumors later on started to go around about Anna. Which she tried to stop with the help of her Lady. But it was no use the rumors just kept circling around the servants of Autumn Court. Some nights it would bring her to tears and other times she would just try to ignore them. But it was hard on Anna. One thing she found out was the thing that many were wanting to know was what she had in her bag. This led her to do the only thing she could do. Which was to keep to herself and keep her head down. And though it pained her she started to leave her bag with her three dragon eggs in her room. Trying not to bring attention to it anymore. But it seemed to do the opposite of what she wanted. It made others more interested than ever.

What Anna didn't know was while this was happening over time it seemed she had caught someone's attention. Someone who would see her around on more than one occasion. With her head down and always quiet. But the first time that this someone saw her they knew then and there that they were connected. There was a tug in their chest and a longing for her. There was the want to be around Anna, and their instincts were screaming at them to protect her. They knew instantly what this meant and tried to stay away from Anna. But they couldn't find it in them to do such a thing. So they would keep to the darkness and watch over her from afar. Hoping that Anna would never notice the connection they had. Hoping she would stay oblivious to the connection or more specifically the mate bond they had linking them together.

The one who was keeping watch over Anna. The one who noticed the mate bond between them. The one who was Anna's mate was none other than Rhysand the High Lord of Night Court. He was doing all he could to keep Anna unaware of the bond. Trying to keep a tight rein on his emotions, making sure she never saw him, and making sure that his end of the bond was blocked with many walls. So nothing could escape, and so nothing could leak through the golden bond that tethered them together. But it seemed soon it was all going to change, and it was going to change tonight as he walked down the halls stuck in his head.

Anna though at the moment was walking down the hall to her room. After doing all her tasks for her Lady for the day. She was almost to her room which was in a secluded area away from everyone. Anna had gotten it because of her Lady. Who knew Anna liked her privacy, but also wanted to keep Anna away from all the rumors. Which Anna was grateful for. But looking around making sure no one was there Anna giggled and started to skip her way to her room with a smile. She was happy to be going back to her room. To get away from everyone. Also so she can examine her dragon eggs and warm them with her magic.

Anna was almost to her door when she stopped abruptly. She was then looking at the lock to her door, it was damaged and the door was cracked open. Looking she saw a light stream through the crack of her door. Then there were whispers that she could hear mumbling about a bag. This caused Anna to gasp knowing what was happening. She was quick to slam the door open, scaring the three fae in her room.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room? And what the fuck are you doing with my bag?!" Anna questioned as she exclaimed at the three fae in her room. Two male and one female who were from the Autumn Court. They seemed to have gone through all her things. All her things being disarray. Her clothes everywhere, her books thrown all over, along with her many drawings.

Just to find her bag that held her three dragon eggs was now in the female's hands. The bag she kept under her bed behind some of her other belongings. The female and one of the male's seemed to be trying to tear open the bag. They were both holding the bag and pulling . But it wouldn't budge being it was spelled the only Anna could only open it. As she came into her room they stopped. The one male who was standing off to the side was quick to run to Anna grabbing her and getting a hold of her. Knowing there would be bruises at how hard he was holding her. But Anna was quick to act, stomping on his foot hard. She then tried to run to get her bag. As a yelp was heard from him letting his grip loose. Which led the other male to step forward and slap Anna hard across the face. This led Anna to yelp in pain and fall to the floor.

When suddenly she was being pulled up harshly from the ground and held by both males. Anna tried her hardest to get out of their grasp but it was no use. She would have used her magic but knew she couldn't. She had to keep them hidden. She had to seem weak. She couldn't let know of her power. No one could know she was a Dracontine and no one could know of her three dragon eggs.. But as she was struggling her hair fell revealing her longer pointed ears. Which both males noticed. Which led one to ask about them.

"What is wrong with your ears? You freak," one of the males questioned. Hearing such a thing stung her heart. But she stayed strong as she tried to get out of their grasp. Wanting to get to her bag. She wanted it so bad. She wanted her dragon eggs right now. So she could keep them safe.

"I want to know what is in this bag. Just like others do. We're just the only ones brave enough to do this. I'm going to say this once if you don't stop you'll regret it. You're going to open this bag or I'm going to - ," the female began to threaten Anna. As she held the bag over her shoulder seeming about to throw it on the ground. A sob escaped Anna's lips at the motion. But before the female could say anything else a deep smooth velvety voice filled the room.

The owner of such a voice was Rhysand. Who was now leaning against the doorframe with his hands deep in his pockets. With a scowl upon his face. As he looked at the two males holding Anna. It took everything in himself not to hurt them for touching his mate in such a way, and by the looks of it they had hurt her.

He was already in a foul mood after being forced to spend time with Amarantha. Which was very unpleasant for him. He was walking when he felt an intense fear that wasn't his own. It was so intense that he instantly knew who it was from. It seemed that she was feeling such intense fear that it had leaked over through the bond. He then was quickly making his way to Anna following their bond to her. That was how he found the scene in front of him. Her being held by two males and a female holding what looked like a bag that belonged to Anna.

"What is going on here?" Rhysand questioned making the four jump in a fright. All four were soon looking at him instantly. All with fear. Which made Rhysand's heartbreak seeing his mate look at him in such a way. But that look of fear soon shifted to something else. Anna was filled with fear when she saw the High Lord of Night Court in her room at first. She knew it was him from his looks and from his aura. Having heard some things about him from overhearing other servants gossiping. But as she looked into his unique violet eyes that were looking at her.

Her dark brown eyes clashed with his violet eyes.

She felt it then and there. She felt the snap in her chest. The golden tether that began to form between them sparking to life. It took everything in her not to gasp. But she looked at him with wide eyes. Which led Rhysand to sigh knowing she knew. He was quick to softly run his talon softly against her mind, and Anna let him in. She then heard him tell her not to make it known they were mates. Which led Anna to nod discreetly as she tried to keep away the tears. Because it seemed that she found her mate. But he didn't want it to be known, and it seemed that he wanted nothing to do with her. But her mind soon shifted when she heard the female stutter.

"High Lord w - we," the female stuttered out having trouble getting out her words. She was fearful of the High Lord of Night Court. Having heard many rumors about him along with the others. Hearing her caused Rhysand to roll his eyes in frustration.

"We what? Spit it out. What are you doing?" Rhysand asked, as he looked at the three males and females. With his dark ebony brows raised in question. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. He wanted to know why and what they were trying to achieve in doing to his mate. He was soon crossing his strong arms over his chest.

"W - we j - just want to k - know what is in the bag," one of the males answered Rhysand stumbling over his words, as he shook with fear. Hearing him caused Rhysand's jaw to clench. As he looked over to the males who still had their hands on Anna. But hearing what this was all about caused him to sigh. As he reached up and ran his hand over his face.

"Really? I believe this is all uncalled for. Over. A. Bag. Give it to me now. The bag is now mine. Over a fucking bag, " Rhysand growled with anger. But soon stopped when he heard his mate. Who had tears running down her chubby cheeks. As she kept looking from him to the bag. She didn't know what to do at the moment. She was lost. She needed her dragon eggs. But she also just found her mate. Who seemed to not want anything to do with her. But she couldn't help the words that escaped her lips. Which led Rhysand to understand whatever was in the bag was very important to her.

"P - please -," Anna whispered softly. As she looked from her bag to Rhysand. Not knowing where to keep her eyes. All she knew was that she needed her bag. But she soon stopped when she was cut off by Rhysand raising his hand for her to stop speaking. Making a soft sob escaped her lips when she saw the female hand her bag to the High Lord. Who happened to be her mate. All she could do was cry and let her head fall in defeat.

"You two unhand her now. You three fix this door. Then clean this room completely and leave. You come with me now," Rhysand ordered the three fae, As he gestured around the room then to the door. He then gestured to Anna to follow him as he walked out of the room. Her bag in hand. Anna kept her head down following him. But kept her eyes on him and her bag. Her eyes shifted from his strong back. Then to her bag that was hanging at his side in his hand.

Anna didn't know what was going to happen, and she didn't know how to feel about the new discovery. The finding of her mate. When suddenly a thought came to her mind. He knew. He had to have known about the bond. How else would he have found her? He must have felt her feelings and followed the bond. This led more tears to fall from her eyes. Knowing that he must have really not want her to be his mate. Maybe he didn't want a servant for a mate. Or maybe he had someone else or maybe many others. He was very handsome and he could get anyone he wanted. So why would he want her. Yes, she was the next Dracontine but other than that she was nothing special. It took all of her might not to let out a sob right then and there. But she wanted to stay strong and she would until she was alone. Then she would allow herself to cry over the rejection that seemed to be coming.

As she shuffled on her feet quickly following after him with his long strides. She just couldn't believe that her mate was Rhysand the High Lord of Night Court. Who now had her three dragon eggs in his hand. He then stopped and stood. Which led Anna to stop in her steps. Not looking up, she stood there. Rhysand looked down at her and sighed. Before gently placing a hand on her shoulder and winnowing them away. She didn't know where they were going but all she could do was sigh in defeat. Knowing that Rhysand her mate was most likely going to reject her as his mate.

───── Dracontine tag-list ─────

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[luxaofhesperides]

ghostlights prompt with "it's okay, you're safe now" hurt/comfort?

It takes over a month to find Danny. 

Thirty seven days of panic and ever growing dread, searching for him every single day. Duke hasn’t felt this way since he was in foster care, running away from whatever home he got placed in to search for his parents. 

The first week was spent trying to find any trace of Danny, working on nothing but his last few messages and a voicemail he left Duke, where all he said was a whispered, Call me back when you can. I might just be paranoid, but I think someone’s following me. I’m walking home right now. I… I don’t know, I feel a little sick, Duke, I— And then static before the voicemail ends. 

There hadn’t been any sign that Danny made it home. No cameras caught sight of him after he walked past a bus stop. No one around on the streets to tell him what happened. 

One moment, Danny was there. The next, he was gone.

He had to recruit the rest of the Bats into searching for Danny, and his guilt of outing Danny as a meta (half ghost, as Danny called himself) was easily buried under his desperation. Duke knows the statistics. The chances of finding someone after three days drop drastically, and after enough time, it’s safe to assume they’re dead even if people keep searching. 

Jason promised to interrogate some traffickers moving outside of Crime Alley, updating Duke weekly on any other kidnappings that might be related to Danny’s case. Tim had been checking around Danny’s neighborhood, slipping in and out of spaces to gather information, leaving behind cameras and bugs on the off chance the kidnappers came back to the area. Barbara hacked her way into the messages of traffickers, trying to find any mention of Danny. Even Bruce had gotten involved, looking into Danny’s background to see if there was anyone that might be connected to his disappearance.

Vlad Masters wasn’t a lead. He had no idea Danny was missing when they called, and he ended the call immediately to begin his own search.

Thirty seven days.

Duke didn’t want to lose hope, but all he could think about were the empty spaces in his life where Danny once was. 

And now, on the thirty eighth day, Duke jerks awake as his cell phone rings at max volume and he scrambles to get it. He’s not risking another missed call, not after Danny disappeared. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything once he accepts the call before Jason is saying, “We found him Duke. Babs is sending the location to the GPS of your motorcycle. Suit up and meet us here.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s…” Jason hesitates. “He’ll live. But these fuckers did a number on him, from what we've read in their files. We’re waiting for you and the others to get here, and then we’ll take them out while you get your boy to safety.”

“I’m on my way,” Duke says, already pulling his suit out to get changed. He hasn’t bothered to bring it to the Batcave for weeks, spending most of his time out on the streets as the Signal. It’s just easier to have it on hand than to go to the Batcave to suit up, or to leave it in the Hatch. He chucks his phone back onto his bed and is jumping out the window of his apartment just a minute later, dropping down to street level just as his motorcycle pulls up on the street.

He’ll have to remember to get Babs a gift basket or something when this is all over. It’s the least he can do after she’s helped him so much over the past month. 

“Thanks, Babs,” Duke says into his comm, switching it to a private line with Oracle. She hums an acknowledgement, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Not that Duke has much in him for conversation; all his focus is on Danny, Danny, Danny.

The GPS on the motorcycle leads him to the outskirts of GCU campus, in one of the buildings that had been closed off after a fire earlier in the year that they still haven’t fixed due to the amount of mobsters who liked to pass through it, using it as a drop sight for arms deals. Red Hood leans on the chain link fence surrounding it, watching as he approaches.

Duke all but jumps off the motorcycle to reach Red Hood, barely remembering to turn on the cloaking to hide it from sight.

“Where is he?”

“Basement,” Red Hood answers, and even through the helmet, Duke can hear the tightness in his voice that means he’s doing his best to hold back his rage. “Red Robin and the Batgirls are in there, getting Oracle access to their computers. They’re going to make sure no one slips by us. I’m going to make them wish I had been kind enough to kill them, and you’re going to take your boy straight to the Batcave where the Doc is waiting with Alfred.”

It’s not much of a plan, but Duke trusts the others to do what they need to do. All he cares about is getting Danny out of there. 

“Lead the way.”

They scale the fence easily, and there’s no one on the upper levels when they walk in. Not even a single camera to alert anyone to their entrance. Red Hood leads him down a stairwell, ignoring the way the shadows around them move on their own, Duke’s agitation making them twist into some dark nightmare. 

He sees the flicker of light as soon as they step out into the basement hallway. All the light bulbs above their head are broken, covering the floor in sharp glass, and doors going down the hall are all left open, some barely hanging onto their hinges. The building is a wreck, graffiti decorating portions of the wall, and it looks abandoned. He would bet even mobsters avoid coming down here; it’s all sorts of health hazards.

Normally, he’d be cautious. He would sneak through the wall, sticking to the shadows and staying hidden as he went deeper in, ready for anything. 

Duke hasn’t been thinking clearly in weeks. He sees the light, the soft white glow he associates with Danny, and tears after it like a man possessed. 

Distantly, he hears Red Hood curse behind him, and then he’s turning the corner, feeling the familiar burn in his eyes as his powers kick in and let him see the small ball of light flickering weakly as it guides him through the basement level. 

Red Robin and Batgirl’s voices fill his helmet and Duke doesn’t waste a second in muting his comm; if there’s a problem, they can work it out with Red Hood. Now that he’s so close to Danny, he’s not letting anything get in his way. 

The first guy he runs into is a surprise. Clearly a scientist, judging by the lab coat and the notebook in his hands, paired with the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He barely has time to open his mouth, looking alarmed, before Duke slams into him, tackling him to the floor and knocking him out with a quick hit to the temple. 

A vent in the ceiling falls down, and Red Robin pops out.

“They’re keeping him in the back, locked in. I’m warning you now, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I don’t care,” Duke snaps, “I’m getting him back.”

“We’ll clear the way and keep them from stopping you,” Red Robin says.

He whips out his bo staff and sprints away, kicking in a door. Duke follows after him, ignoring the yells from the other scientists gathered in there, leaving them to Red Robin’s tender mercies. 

The light leads him to a room hidden away in the lab, a small window in the door that is too dirty to see through. The door is locked, so Duke feels out the shadows around him and uses one to slip into the room.

And Danny’s there.

Danny, never without a smile, glowing and funny and so, so sweet, is lying curled up on the floor. There are shackles around his ankles, keeping him trapped in the room with the chain nailed into the wall. His wrists are bound in meta suppressant cuffs, leaving him weak and vulnerable. That’s not the worst thing.

The worst thing is the visible wounds Duke can see on him, sluggishly bleeding. There are blood stains all over the floor, cuts along his arms and thighs, clothes torn into nothing but dirty rags. There’s a large incision on his chest, going down from his collarbone to his navel, hastily stitched together in a way that only keeps it slightly closed, the stitches loose enough to be pulled out with a single pull. 

As if sensing his gaze, Danny blinks his eyes open, staring at the space next to Duke. Slowly, his gaze slides over, eyes hazy with pain and exhaustion. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Duke kneels next to him, pulling off his gloves to cup Danny’s cheek as gently as he can.

“Hey,” he whispers, overcome with both grief at the pain Danny had to go through, and relief at finally finding him. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Danny doesn’t try to speak again. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans into Duke’s touch, relaxing. 

“I got you honey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of here and take you to some people who can patch you up.”

He slides his arms beneath Danny’s body, lifting him into his arms. 

He doesn’t remember much of what happens next; it’s all a blur of movement and feeling blood slide over his hands. Later, he’ll hear the others give their report, telling of how they found Danny following the trail of a university professor bragging about a paper that would make him famous for a deeper understanding of meta biology. They’ll recount their scouting, the information they stole, how many people they fought and captured. They’ll talk about how the shadows completely overwhelmed the basement when Duke left with Danny, traveling through shadows at a speed he had never achieved before, going farther than he’s ever been able to. 

Leslie and Alfred input their own medical reports of the torture done to Danny and how long he’ll need to be in recovery, checking for infection and possible side effects to his powers. 

All of that will be important later. 

Duke doesn’t care about anything at all when he’s finally able to return to Danny’s side once Alfred and Leslie are done patching him up. The weight that’s been on his shoulders for the past thirty seven days is gone. The sight of Danny’s blue eyes fluttering open is the most beautiful he’ll ever see.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, holding Danny’s hand as he wakes.

Danny smiles at him. “Duke,” he whispers, “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always, honey. Always.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[tsutsumi-kurose]

Someone had this theory that Amane was the one hurting Tsukasa and that Amane was wounded cause Tsukasa fought back. Like throughout all the flashbacks we see, Tsukasa and Amane have a nice relationship and Tsukasa has never tried or wanted to hurt Amane at all but we don’t know that about Amane

hiiii sorry i took so long with this response!! things have been super busy for me this past week or so, so thank you for the ask and for your patience!!

that is an interesting theory!! I hadn’t thought of that possibility. I’ve been reading it as… amane is a pretty passive guy who, in killing tsukasa and himself, becomes hanako, our morally complicated hero who saves our heroine no matter the cost and finds a way to puppeteer all the situations he finds himself in. amane just feels so different from hanako in many ways, and I think there’s no way the murder wasn’t a huge turning point character-wise. but I do like the idea of glimmers of hanako shining through in amane—we certainly have seen many examples of how hanako is very much still amane!! so to see it go the other way would be really interesting!! could be interesting to see if hanako’s traits were actually in amane the whole time

personally though, I do think the murder was probably a drastic change in behavior for amane. the amane we’ve seen was pretty quiet and passive and clearly going through a lot internally that he wasn’t expressing outwardly (at least not directly). and i read this line from ch20 as an implication that amane was "holding back" for a long time before killing tsukasa:

so those lines make me think amane was probably not too aggressive with tsukasa during life, since he was supposedly "holding back," at least to tsukasa's perception.

regarding how healthy their relationship seems, it definitely seems like there was a gradual deterioration. 9-year-old amane and tsukasa at the festival seem to have a pretty normal sibling relationship, but things definitely seem off by middle school. that could potentially be amane’s doing! but I wouldn’t necessarily rule out tsukasa wanting to hurt amane… considering this is how he looks at a crying hanako:

and this is how he looks at a downtrodden, conflicted, tired amane:

and this is how he looks when he’s picturing blasting the clock amane is trying to fix to smithereens!!:

tsukasa is often a hard to read character, so I think it’s hard to say he definitely wasn’t thinking about hurting amane in these flashbacks. it''s still very up in the air to me!

it is true though that we don’t know what caused the shift to these thoughts he’s having in these middle school flashbacks, so it could have been pushed by amane’s hand! whatever it was that caused the rift between the twins during the time between tsukasa coming back from the red house and their deaths, i'm sure it was very complicated!!

amane clearly had a lot he was weighing and thinking about when it comes to tsukasa!

but personally, i think the damage amane/hanako does to tsukasa is more emotional than physical

i think ch91 is a good example of this:

i think hanako pointedly misses tsukasa physically here--i believe it's hanako's words and choices that have tears welling in tsukasa's eyes in this moment! and the blowing the clock to smithereens bit i referenced earlier in this post also seems like it was probably in response to whatever amane was doing with the clock--another potential instance of amane emotionally rather than physically wounding tsukasa, whether he means to or not.

also, while hanako is more active than amane, he's more tricky and controlling than physically aggressive. he doesn't seem to delight in violence and destruction or pain the way characters like tsukasa and teru do. all of his kills are relatively one-hit? he seems to like to keep things clean, so i don't really see an inclination toward violence in him, but hey, it could be a surprising twist!!

I still think the murder was amane’s breaking point, and probably his first big decisive action, one tsukasa pushed him to in one way or another for one reason or another—maybe he could sense amane’s suspicion and was hurt by it? maybe the god started taking over? who knows at this point! so many different possibilities. but this is definitely an interesting theory!! and i would be interested to see/hear what possibilities could lead to this

[lovejosephquinn]

1️⃣

Plot: You become a little irritated arriving to your appointment to find out that your long term therapist has had to go on emergency maternity leave and somebody else has had to step in. When that certain somebody calls your name from the waiting room, your whole demeanour and mood changes drastically. It certainly was the pleasant surprise you were not expecting. Will professionalism hinder the inevitable, or will your feelings get the better of you?

a shout out and massive thank you @joejoequinnquinn for pitching this idea and helping me bring it to life 😘

Tag list: @eddiemunson-mylove @choke-me-eddie @whoscamila @almightywdm @shawnamae87 @josephquinnsgoddess @lovelyblueness @aol19 @babybatlover @tlclick73 @aysheashea @killing-my-soul @emilyslutface @avobabe87 @eddies-acousticguitar @queengirl56 @eddie-joe-munson @hollster88 @lunakitty2608 @figmentofquinn @live-love-be-unique @joeqnz @witchwolflea @mmunson86 @dreamliners @purplerain85 @kingdomkitten32 @harley1608 @demonsanddemogorgons @chickennug90

Word Count: 3.4k

Part One ✨ Part Two ✨ Part Three ✨ Part Four

This was a hefty part of your life, attending to the therapy appointments every fortnight to keep your mental health spiralling out of control. Yourself and your therapist Kate had maintained quite a healthy, professional friendship throughout the three years you had been seeing her, your paperwork now stacked full of the hours of conversations you had undertaken together.

At first, you had been quite susceptible to the idea of therapy, but your walls were broken fast by the female that helped bring out your demons, closing doors from dark paths and opening new ones which began to seem that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. You had made wonderful progress, but you had gotten quite used to the fact that she was around so it was never a question for you to be discharged from her, because you had found faith and trust in somebody that you hadn't felt for a long time.

Some sessions were not so deep, you would spend your time laughing with one another, making sarcastic digs towards your past and in turn, Kate would respond with a cleverly competent yet congenial reply. Your therapist was not just your therapist in a way, she had been your confidant, conscience and shadow in all things you.

Your appointment had ran over a week late on this particular month, to which you rushed out of the house very much behind schedule yourself, your hair still wet, comfortable clothing which was left to the naked eye assuming you had not had time to prepare yourself the night before or this very morning. You rammed a piece of fruit down your throat followed by downing half a bottle of water you found sat in the cup holder of your car that you hadn't bothered to dispose of. A sigh of relief to you more than anything because from all the rushing around, you were feeling overly dehydrated.

Arriving no more than 10 minutes late, you pushed open the automatic door before it could even attempt to automatically do it itself, you rushed over to the reception to sign yourself in for your appointment, eager to see her and discuss what had been going on over the last few weeks. The receptionist, Agnes was a quiet elderly lady who you had shared a few awkward conversations and cumbersome greetings with through the prosthetic glass.

"Morning Y/N." She didn't even have to look up before her eyes peaked up over her reading glasses, a half assed grin on her face, as enthusiastic as ever.

"Morning Agnes, I hope Kate will forgive me for running behind this morning, you know what it's like." You smiled sweetly, leaning your elbows against the countertop.

"Indeed." She removed her spectacles, letting them dangle from the tarnished chain which fell at her chest. "Did you not get the message?" Agnes cocked her head slightly to the side, an instant drop of your lips turned into a thin line as you furrowed your brow at her.

"What message?" You questioned quietly.

"Unfortunately, Kate's had to be put on an early maternity leave due to complications, so we have got a new therapist from another office to step in until she's back."

Your mouth dropped open, a mild stutter following your exhale. "I-I- who- when- what?"

"As I said, Kate has had to be-" Agnes threw her head back in surprise when you interrupted her repetitive response.

"I heard what you said. So does she know who I am, does she- will she be able to understand me as Kate does?" You were a jabbering mess of questions with no likely answers from the all knowing all telling Agnes, her disgustingly high pitched chuckle straight from the pit of her throat spoke a thousand truths.

"I assure you that you will be just fine Y/N. And he has all of your paperwork. Take a seat, he'll be calling you through shortly." Of course she had no more to say on the matter and had no more time to waste on you, the glasses had returned back to the edge of her nose and her gaze was positioned back to the old, broken down looking computer. You took a dramatic huff of breath through your nose, dragging your bag along the floor as you slumped yourself down into the first seat you came to in the waiting room.

The sluggishness of whispered conversations of parties here to see their original therapist was getting your back up, staring around at everyone a little in awe that they would be going about their day as normal, but oh no. Not you. Not for the next year. Part of you felt like getting up and walking out, missing your appointment and just finding an excuse as to why you had to leave later on. A kind of you'll cross that bridge when you come to it scenario.

You folded your arms, your foot tapping anxiously against the floor, the door to your usual office you would normally skip into creaked open, you analysed from the feet up, brown leather shoes, one dipping to one side, smart trousers, a slim build quite tall, crisp white shirt, two buttons open with the gleam of a silver chain hanging in the midst of his bare skin, your eyes grew bigger when you fell upon his features. Big brown eyes staring across the room, looking around aimlessly, you noticed his mouth moving but no sound was coming from it, you could hear the sound of your heart thumping in your ear drums which had seemed to completely deafen you. You were mesmerised by your new therapist, extremely your type, hands were shoved in his pockets so you couldn't quite tell if he was married or not.

"Miss Y/L/N?" You finally heard him. A deep gravelly, London accent which sounded very pleasing to the ear, maybe you should become his therapist; you would certainly be happy to get paid by the hour to listen to him all day.

You shot up from your seat, his head tossing back in a nod as a mental success to himself for someone finally owning up to the name call. You shakily threw your bag over your shoulder, eyes averting to the ground whilst his bore onto you, quite intimidating yet miraculously exciting to say the least.

"Take a seat, my name's Joseph, but you can call me Joe. I'll be filling in for Kate whilst she's away, I hope you don't mind."

You shook your head sheepishly, too embarrassed to make eye contact with the gorgeous human sitting by you in the big, brown leather chair where you would usually be witnessing Kate's form, it very much matched his aesthetic from your first impression. You kept your eyes down to the ground, gulping your saliva that filled up your mouth quickly, shy and feeling safer in your own little bubble in your head right now, you nodded slight.

"You can talk to me you know." Joe shot a small laugh at you, your face coming up to meet his from a far, your breathing becoming uneven from the sweet melody that was his forced laughter. "I don't bite." He pressed his lips together, examining your closed off body language. You posed a smile toward him. Joe got up and picked your paperwork up that Kate had gotten ready for him, as he sat back down, crossing a leg over his thigh, he flicked through the pages at the endless pages of notes that had been filled in.

"Well from this, it looks like you were extremely audible. Where's that woman at today?" You blushed a little, his words were so patronising yet slightly alluring, quite clearly you were looking to much into this, especially when you swore you saw his big doe eyes travelling to get a better view of your figure. Joe caught you in the same glance, but of course you were one hundred percent checking him out. Just has you got back to that damn chain which rested perfectly in a considerably beautiful amount of chest hair, you were almost thrown into a jump scare of his eyes burrowing from just under your chin. "If she's there, I'd like to at least say hello before our two hours are up."

"Hello." You managed, taking a sharp breath in and sitting up to make your posture seem more relaxed.

"There she is." Joe shot a wink at you before putting his head down back into your notes to view your last session. You looked back down to the ground, rolling your eyes to yourself at your own stupidity, now you had gotten the uncomforting pleasantries out of the way the least you could do was not make your own therapist feel uneasy on your first meet.

"I'm sorry." You blinked back up to meet his stare, it was like the sparkle in his eyes were a laser beam that was planting themselves straight through to look into your soul. Patronising. "I'm not very good with new people that's why I-"

"Never apologise love, it happens to the best of us. I have no choice but to try because I'm the one in the therapist chair." You both chuckled in unison at his pathetic attempt at lightening the mood.

Although you had only been sat in the chair for the last ten minutes, it felt like you had been placed in a paralysed position for a lifetime. Joe had his arm leaned against the table toward the side of him, his finger tips tapping loudly against the wood, his eyes remained in line with yours, he kept talking and you had to keep asking him to repeat himself, not that you hadn't heard him the first time, but you just couldn't control the raging nervousness ploughing through your stomach at the bare sight and evidently sexy tone of his voice.

"Just when I thought I had you down here on planet earth." Joe smirked, placing your paperwork to where his arm previously occupied. Standing up from his seat, taking a sigh he moved across the room to his worn leather satchel, bending over in the most inhumane of ways so that you could, without his knowledge of course, get a better look at the back of him. He pulled out his glasses before standing back to normal height and returning to his former place, putting the end of the arm of his spectacles to his lips, making little chomping noises as the plastic smacked against the plumpness of them. "I'm going to start off easy."

You nodded, quitting your mini fantasies that played in your head when you saw the outline of his boxers after he had bent over right in your view. "Sure." You squeaked.

"How are you?" A subtle question. You're in therapy, how does he really think this obvious debrief is going to pan out.

"I'm doing okay." You managed, pressing the palm of your hands into your sweatpants, rubbing the moisture away in attempt to feel calmer. The more you spoke, the closer Joe's body leaned forward toward you. "How are you?" You regretted your choice of response, asking your therapist how they are? What a fucking idiot.

Joe shot a deep and slightly confused chuckle at you, your cheeks flushing a much fiery red than they already were.

"Oh darling, I'm doing just fine." You made an awkward attempt to laugh it off, making yourself insanely shy towards this stranger was one thing, but to make yourself look physically stupid in front of a disgustingly beautiful stranger who you now had to remain professional with was the worst part about the situation.

"Well..." You sighed, rolling your eyes toward the floor. "You never know." You both burst into a fit of giggles, you had to hold your stomach and appreciate that he saw the light of the situation, that he wanted to make you feel good in doing his job as well as making you feel at ease, to feel like a human being should. But there was still something eating away at you, his patronising manner in the way he looked at you, the brown eyes that pierced your soul over and over again. You made light conversation for the next hour, not even returning to the reasons you were here to talk about today, not the way you would sit and run through your problems with Kate on the usual appointments you had attended.

You had made a joke about your life being one big circus act, one big soap opera that tended to make you stress out a lot. Of course, on this initial meeting you wouldn't delve into any detail, although he would have already known the majority of it anyway from having all of the notes from previous sessions. Joe had made the chaise decision to agree with you and reassure you about his life, sweetly making remarks that you don't know what happens behind closed doors, that surprises are always around the corner and that life can be beautiful should you choose to make the correct decisions and let the right people in. Then came the moment that his hand reached over to place onto your knee, a bold move indeed.

Your leg jumped at least a quarter of a foot into the air, but his hand remained right where he had placed it. You stared down to take a look, the whole palm of his hand covered your knee, the tips of his fingers softly clutching around the material of your clothing.

"Oh I- umm." You panicked. Physical touch was not something you were expecting, it was a comforting mechanism to him clearly, but you had read the sign wrong.

"I'm sorry." He rushed his hand away from your knee, folding his arms securely and leaning back into his chair.

"No it's- it's fine." You stood up, grabbing a hold of your bag as quick as you could. "I should be going."

"But your times not-"

"I've taken up enough of your time today Joseph." You rushed past him to the door and stopped yourself when you placed your hand over the handle. Biting down onto your lip heavily at your regret of moving away so quickly, Joe called out your name so quietly, almost in a whisper, nearly not even able to make the syllables plausible for you to hear. But you did, you turned slight to face him, his features looking apologetic in your peripheral vision.

"Please. I said call me Joe." You huffed a breath in a scarce laugh, trying to take back your shit attempt at an escape from the deep pit of emotion that was overwhelming you. The emotion being Joe.

"Okay. Joe." You shot your pupils down to stare at the carpet, watching your feet feeling like you were glued stiff in the position you were in.

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." Joe stood from his seat and slowly stepped toward you, you twizzled around to push your back against the door, hand still firmly planted against the handle.

"You didn't. I just-"

Joe came face to face with you once more, his body inches away from yours, you could feel his breath hunching toward your forehead, his mouth ajar as he tried to find the right words to not make the obvious problem even more problematic.

"You're not going to use that against me are you?" Joe was clearly worried he had overstepped the mark, the truth was, he really hadn't, you welcomed the touch. Especially from such an attractive individual, but he was just trying to be his obvious loving self and you panicked and showed it all too quickly. You changed your demeanour as solemnly as you could, mentally preparing yourself to bite back.

"Everyday." You smiled, making his lips turn upward in return.

"I hoped so." You both felt more at ease when you offered him the sarcastic reply. Joe pushed his hand through his tamed and well waxed hair, the curls bouncing back from his touch.

"For your information..." You stopped in a quiet pause, wondering briefly whether to suggest what you wanted to say was the correct thing to actually speak out loud. Joe tilted his head, his eyes turned into slits as he attempted to read your mind. "I think you're going to be a wonderful therapist, I think I'm going to enjoy seeing you."

It was strange to believe that a professional in his line of work was being so flirtatious with you, but maybe that was just in his nature and how he did his job, but the way he looked at you was beyond something you had ever experienced, not just with therapists (although the only one that you had ever had was a heterosexual female) but the male species in general. You could suggest that he was doing it to get more out of you, you could also argue that it was all in your head.

"Okay, well I think you're going to be a spectacularly intriguing woman to-" Joe's eyes shot wide, tracing his words back in his head he looked up into the air with remorse for himself. "I meant patient to work with."

You eyeballed him, allowing your eyes to sparkle sweetly, screaming inside that his first sentence was the more meaningful one. These appointments would bring out more than meets the eye it seemed, in fact when you left the room that morning, you sauntered over straight to Agnes to book your next session a week early, dead set in seeing Joe sooner rather than later, but not in a way that would keep you away for too long.

"More problems than normal Y/N?" She chuntered.

"Lots to talk about with my new therapist." You smiled weakly, pretending to put the false helpless look.

She leaned forward to the prosthetic screen so that you could really see the bits of lipstick that hadn't been rubbed in properly, you had to stop yourself from making a grimaced look back at her.

"I know a hunk when I see one and apparently you do to lovey." She winked, passing your appointment card through the gap.

When you got home that day, you took your normal daily routine under your wing, moping around doing your chores. The day flew and night fell, you had just finished washing the dishes from your evening meal whilst humming along to music, except when the blare of it was paused suddenly by the text tone of your phone which connected to your speaker, you moved over in a flash to check who would be messaging you at this time, it was certainly unusual for you.

An unknown number, you furrowed your brow as you unlocked your phone, your hand rapidly slapping over your mouth when you realised who it was; your heart was inevitably heaving through your chest.

'I hope I haven't crossed the line by messaging you outside of office hours, just wondering when you had planned your next session.'

Joe.

You replied with such keyboard warrior status, it even profoundly impressed you how provocative you were becoming.

You - 'Soon. Why do you miss talking to me already?'

Joe - 'Talking to myself you mean. I'm hoping miss communicative may make an appearance sometime soon.'

You - 'If you promise to admit you're eager to therapize me again.'

Joe - 'You talk, I'll admit it. Deal?'

You fell onto the sofa, kicking your legs up into the air like a teenager with a silly little crush.

You - 'You're my therapist, you have to get it out of me. That's your job isn't it?'

Joe - 'You're my patient, you have to talk to me. That's your reason for coming... isn't it?'

Touché Joseph. You took an excitable sigh, closing your eyes to take a moment, placing your phone to your chest not realising that when you opened them you would find the sun blaring through the window directly, your phone face down on the floor beside you. Scrambling to collect it, another unread text from Mr Therapist himself.

Joe - 'Silence is golden. See you "soon" mystery woman.'

[transparencyboo]

A Ghost. Forever.

I've been thinking recently about that strange disconnect to my past I have earned as a trans person. When I was 16 years old I graduated from my old school (as per the Swedish education system), leaving behind over a decade together with classmates I had known for practically my entire life at that point. I bumped into one or two in public during the following year or so, but it's been 15 years since I heard anything from any of them. Contact networks change, people go their separate ways, time moves on, etc. That's a regular part of life.

Still, those connections are formative ones. These were people I used to call friends, although in hindsight I think of them more as mutuals – acquaintances. We didn't share more than broad interests, every now and then we got into fights, some hurt me quite a lot, but in an awkward sense I know a part of my soul is connected to these people through a substantially shared past.

Sometimes I remember them with fondness, other times with anger. And then I realize all I have left of them are frozen snapshots that have remained unchanged since June 2008. I moved on, went out into the world, visited new places, met new people, I never ever returned. Some part of me imagines that I could walk back to our old school, step into one of the classrooms and see their ghosts waiting for me.

"You are late." "Where have you been all this time?" "Now, where were we?"

But I understand that's not true, they too have lived full rich lives ever since our last shared moment. I remember a lot of names, I can search them online and find the traces. Privated Facebook accounts, superficial Linked In pages, the odd Instagram profile. Everyone looks frighteningly adult, like they somehow lived at least ten more years than me. They got old, but I believe they're doing well.

I'm sure one or two of them have shared this curiosity and occasionally peeked at the glimpses of each others lives. Except mine.

All ties to the past have been severed. Many years ago I came out as trans, changed all of my personal info and got a new ID. My old name, my old identity, has been wiped off the face of the Earth. If someone where to look for that person they would find less than nothing. A ghastly absence. Of course, everyone of any importance to me knows about this change. I never disappeared, I am still here. But to the outsiders with nothing more than a faded memory and an outdated name, I must simply have vanished into thin air.

In the beginning, I took relief in this. "Now, no one will ever find me again. I won't have to deal with some awkward school reunion. They can't touch me anymore." But now I'm not so sure. I've changed so much, and discovered so much about myself. The idea that two dozen people are still walking around out there with vividly detailed conceptions of me based on nothing but a long forgotten and rejected past feels wrong. It feels perverted. But that's the price you pay. In exchange for becoming my real self, I allowed those strangers to keep me as a frozen snapshot.

June 2008. 16 years old. Forever.

But does it have to be that way? Can I not mend this? Suddenly I want nothing more in the world. I want to show these people what became of me. How much I grew. Maybe I want to prove myself? I had the grandest adventure, I learned the most about myself, I completed my metamorphosis, no change was as drastic as mine, I won. They become involuntary ambassadors for everything I resent about my old self. I reduce these regular people to demons of all my buried insecurities and bottled up doubt. Little perpetual 16 year old brats. As dehumanized by our separation as I fear myself to be. How I hate them. How I hate that I hate them.

Of course I could solve this. It's laughably simple. I can reach out, try to reestablish contact. I certainly have the means.

"Hello, you might not remember me. We went to school together. I changed my name since then, though. Yes, I'm trans. Yes, I was in the closet even back then. I just wanted someone, anyone, to know. How have you been?"

I seriously thought about this. It's a scary move, I know nothing about how these people are now. Maybe they remember me with contempt as a collage of only their absolute worst memories? Maybe they've grown to be bigots eager to harass the unwitting victim landing in their lap? Maybe they don't remember me at all? Maybe they don't care?

Maybe I don't want to talk to any of these people?

In my mind I quickly narrowed it down to one person who I would feel the most safe and willing to reach out to. The last feasible bridge to my past. The one person I could still imagine being my friend after all these years. I'd known her since preschool. She was always really smart, we were always on good terms, but never really hung out together. We were merely in the same friend group. She was one of the few people I'd stumbled into past graduation. We had sporadically discussed music over MSN. When I was 17 years old she relayed an invitation for me to go to a punk show with her. She had said I was so kind. I neglected the offer. I deeply regret this. Not because I'd expect anything for showing up; anything but, I was already taken. It just felt rude of me. Maybe who I was back then wanted to sever my last connection to the past? Maybe who I am now wants to apologize more than anything? I realize of all the people from my old life, she would have the most unique last impression. As this distant, faceless loner holed up in a dark bedroom. Hopelessly unwilling to do anything at all. To be anything at all.

17 years old. Forever.

I decide it's no good. I don't actually feel strongly about this and I can't imagine she would either. It's been 15 years, any semblance of remorse is long gone. That version of me doesn't exist anymore, that version of her doesn't exist anymore. There is nothing to salvage, nothing to mend. I left all of that behind half my life ago. The past is gone.

I have nothing to say to whoever this person is now.

So I will remain as I was for all of those people. A skewed shadow of the truth. They will never know the real me. It is not my responsibility to reconnect and inform them about what I've been up to. I don't owe them anything. I can't get hung up on my imagination of what imagined specters would imagine me to be. This reflects more about me than anyone else. I am mourning my unfulfilled potential. Projecting it upon the memories that will never go away.

I just fear that one day my old classmates will arrange a school reunion. They'll all find each other with ease, but be stumped by my absence. They'll believe I'm dead. Died young as nothing but their incomplete picture of who I was. Perhaps at least one of them would have the detective knowhow to contact my parents and ask about me, so they could find me, discover my miraculous change and invite me to show who I finally became. I could complete the fragmented part of my childhood and finally illuminate my shadow. I could stop this looming feeling from growing ever larger with each year. But I'm not holding out hope. For all I know this reunion has already taken place. They held a silent moment for my unknown demise and promptly forgot all about me. Without ever knowing who I could've been, who I became.

A ghost. Forever.

/Kiki

[chunkypossum]

@azrisweek || DAY 6: Changes || 11k words

CW: These first two chapters aren't so bad but consider not picking this one up if you have problems with blood, gore and heavy shit like that.... I am rewatching Hannibal and it is quickly taking this fic in a direction I wasn't sure I was going to go in.... not saying I will, but it might become more of a horror than it was originally intended to be The long list of things Eris had found to be grateful for over the years, not so surprisingly, didn't exactly feature a quiet, unassuming existence. The thrill in what he was demanded pride and exhibition, and gods was he good at playing that game. Well, he had been good at it. Now, as much as he loathed to admit it, there was an odd satisfaction to be found in the simplicity he had agreed to. Unfortunately, as Eris quickly finds out you can't always have the brutes you want... and eat them too.

Azriel doesn't want a lot out of life. His abusive father sold him to the underground as a teen to pay off debt and that's all he has known ever since. Night after night, fight after fight. When he witnessed something he was definitely not supposed to, a part of him was changed forever. Azriel chases dreams he never thought he would have and finds himself facing choices that might force him to change more drastically than he ever thought possible.

F I C

P L A Y L I S T

SPECIAL shoutout to @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee and @born-to-riot for their eyes and thoughts and MAJOR help with this fic. It struggled coming out of me and thanks to them I have such a better vision for it.

READ CHAPTER 1 AND 2 ON AO3

The ceiling was arched in carved gray stone. Archaic scenes lining the walls and ceiling depicted men being torn apart by beasts, babies thrown into fires and women dancing naked in great forests. Some of the women were smiling, and some of them were screaming. It was another round room bookend by hallways. Both the hallways and the round center were lined on all sides with Iron doors. Stamped designs in the metal directly contradicted the harshness of the stone reliefs with innocent-looking animals, fields of flowers, and night skies. Designed to put people at ease, the peaceful art stood out in the otherworldly glow of the greenish light emanating from the wall scones, hiding the horror of the stone from all those but with the sharpest eyes.  Where the party went to die. Once-upon-a-time it had been a favorite of Eris’, mostly because the party wasn’t dying for him, nothing ever did. The Abyss was a depraved seduction all its own. Many doors were shut, but some more remained open, either vacant or because the occupants enjoyed putting on a show.   Taking his time, Eris let his senses open up, relishing in the past for a lingering moment or two. He marked the closed doors where faint screaming could be heard from the other side of the near soundproof material, both in ecstasy and … something else. His hands rested easily in the pockets of his jeans keeping him from reaching out and peeking behind half-open doors to the treats waiting within. 

If anyone wants on or off the taglist please let me know!

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @ninthcircleofprythian @matrixsss @going-through-shit @c-starstuff-man0 @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @krowiathemythologynerd @cauldronblssd @hieragalbatorixdottir @yourlazykitkat @hellolordling @climbthemountain2020 @christeak @lilah-asteria  

[bruh-anator3000]

CAT-astrophic

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A/n: *pushes rock I live under over and peeks out of the black abyss* Hey, have you guys seen a Car Wash Miguel fic anywhere? I don't know what happened to it but it's no longer here. Might've escaped... anyways, watch this cat for me while I look? Thanks. And don't mind the hot homeless dude who talks to him, they're bonding. *returns into the depths of the void*

Summary: A hot dude won't stop talking to your cat, it's kind of freaking you out.

WC: 1.7k, edited by google docs...

Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack fic, Spider-cat's real name is Sir Jeffords bc i said so, clueless reader, pro outdoor cat (i'm not actually, keep ur cats safe pls), future-ish?, accidentally snuck in some world building, in Lyla we trust 🙏, Miguel in tight clothing bc I also said so, and wait wtf are you doing with a dead rat miguel, AND WTF IS THIS WHITE STUFF DUDE?!

Also no Spanish bc I've done some research and those who do speak it have asked non-native speaker to avoid it, to prevent bad google translations and maintain respect!

Okay, enjoy~

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You were about to head in for the night when you were not tripped by your cat for his dinner. After a quick search around your apartment, you sighed upon realizing he was still outside. Shrugging on a coat, mismatched slippers, and grabbing a flashlight, you went out to look for him.

Plenty of people told you to keep your cat inside. That it was vital to their health to keep them safe indoors. There were plenty of articles stating the cons of letting a domesticated cat roam freely outside with no supervision. They were also written 80 years ago. The world has changed since then, drastically.

Sure, it would still be smart to keep Sir Jeffords inside. Less late night searches for him, no more worrying if that scratch on his right paw was from running too fast along pavement or something worse. But he came from the life of an alley cat, and no matter what you tried, he had to be out there for a few hours a day. Last time you tried to stop him, he went under your radar for three days. You had a panic attack, worried he didn't love you anymore, but he did eventually come back. Chipper and eager, and he made sure you left his cat door unlocked.

The streets were cleaner than 80 years ago. The people were kinder. The city more accommodating to everyone, even stray animals. Sir Jeffords was mirco chipped, and even if it didn't work for tracking half the time, the shelter folks could scan his neck and drop him back home.

There were no pounds or pest controls anymore, just volunteers who helped poor animals stay warm. And find whoever left them in the streets. It was a crime to leave them now, resulting in 6 months of detention if caught dumping your animal friend into the alleys.

Jeffords was a smart cat. He knew what he was doing. You trusted him. In the event of something bad happening, you made him swore he would come find you right away. Though he couldn't speak, his tail wrapping around your pinky seemed solid enough.

You called out his name, followed by a few 'pspspsps's to really seal the deal. Your flashlight shining in the darker corners of the streets he may be hiding in. Cats and their dark, unreachable corners, Sir Jeffords fell victim to any cozy spot he could barely tuck himself into.

It wasn't until a few blocks away, a little past the bank, when you heard a meow. Very similar to his, you quietly sped your pace, wanting to grab your kitty and go home. The closer you got, it seemed more like he was responding to someone else more than you.

"-and your service is always appreciated." You heard a deep voice whisper. Their voice a grumble echoing through the alley they hid in. "You're one of our best." Your brows pinching together, you turned the corner of the bank, flashlight illuminating your fluffy orange cat. Who was rubbing up against the shin of a random man.

He looked up at you, eyes darkened as he blocked your flashlight with his large hand. They almost seemed red as he stayed squatted, Sir Jeffords head butting his knee. His face pure sharp angles, with a scowl permanently in place. His black shirt a tight, compressing fit. Clinging to each muscle and vein in his arm, stopping halfway down his bicep. His calves just as impressive. His shorts doing nothing but making him look even hotter.

Wait, no. This was a random man, he wasn't hot.

You lowered the light and gave an awkward smile. Seemingly unimpressed, his hardened gaze turned back to your cat. "He's yours?" He asked, voice rumbling low in his chest. With a nod, he added, "He's... cute."

Okay, maybe he was a little hot.

"Right?" Your smile smoothed into something more natural. "He's the cutest cat to ever exist." You lowered yourself down onto your knees with a soft baby call. Sir Jeffords trotting into your lap happily, orange fur swaying with his steps.

Your hand ran through his silky fur. Tension easing from you as you held him close again. Though his three day disappearance had yet to happen again, you still worried. He was your precious baby, after all. The one you shared everything with, and he never once judged.

Your fingers caught on something sticky, stopping short of his lower back. Pulling your hand away, strings of white followed, sticking to your fingertips. The feeling moist and far too clingy for comfort. A disgusted shiver ran up your spine at the horrible sensory.

The man stood then, tossing a tissue at you as he did. His gaze stayed on your cat, never faltering. He pushed his dark hair away from his face, still scowling.

Glancing between your hand and the man that now towered over you, you almost gagged. This wasn't... his, right?

"It was the rat." Like he read your mind, the mysterious stranger held out his other hand. A dead rat laid in his palm.

"That... doesn't make me feel much better." You suppressed another full body shake, quickly wiping your hand off. This guy may be extremely attractive to look at but the longer you stayed there, the more uncomfortable you got. "How would a mouse... And what is this?" You felt yourself getting sick as you held the tissue out, the white stuff now sticking to the paper instead

"Webs. And, it's a rat." He stated with a straight face. More angry at your confusion than anything. "Chased him through some spider webs."

You let out a soft 'oh.' But that didn't explain why he was holding onto the dead rat.

And he let it stay that way. Instead of reading your mind like he had been this entire time, he just... walked off. With a dead animal in his grasp. Without a word.

Your confused gaze turned to your cat, knees beginning to ache from the pressure of concrete beneath. Sir Jeffords purred into your stomach loudly.

"You're not allowed to hang out with that guy, ever again."

...

"Christ!" Miguel tossed the rat at the wall, hearing him curse. The small animal glitched into a grown adult, body morphing sickly. "That..." The villain panted, rubbing at his neck. Bruises from how tightly he was held already forming there. "... was not what I was expecting."

Miguel squatted back down, balancing on his toes as the hologram of regular clothes shifted back into his suit. "You chose to become a rat, in a world whose Spider-Man is a cat." He slammed down a disk, red netting encasing the fool. "That was your own fault."

"It was the only way I could get into the bank!" The villain squeaked. Miguel tuned out almost immediately, eyes turning to his watch. Setting the portal to his universe, and making sure he wasn't needed elsewhere. He entertained the villain in a tacky grey suit with distant hums and 'oh, yeah, uh-huh's. It was best to just let them get it out of their system then try to shut them up.

"And I would've gotten away with it, too! If it weren't for you and your cat!" The shape shifter writhed in the nets.

"Sound like a damn Scooby-Doo villain." Miguel stood up with a huff. He would never admit it, but Hobie used the term so often, he had to look up what he was referencing. Only to end up watching the first few seasons. He had to stop around the third season, a sick sense of deja vu hitting him with a bat. The cartoons reminded him too much of the daughter he never really had.

With a sigh, "Lyla," He called.

The AI appeared before him, wearing a shit eating smirk. He opened his mouth to command something else when she beat him to it. "You should've asked for their number."

"What?" Miguel's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"They were cute, should've asked them on a date." She glitched to his side with a teasing laugh.

"Lyla, I... no." He grumbled, flicking at his watch.

"Oh, you know?" Miguel tried to smack her away, only for her to reappear on his left shoulder. "You should go back, then."

Miguel glared at her, ignoring how the tips of his ears began to burn. "I can't, its-"

"Not a canon event." They said at the same time. Lyla rolling her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses, Miguel focusing on creating a portal. "You're such a loser, you know that?" She huffed and puffed, spawning with her back turned to him.

He tried to reach out with a heavy breath, but she moved further away. This time sitting with her arms crossed and pouting.

"They were cute." The villain nodded from his fetal position on the ground. Earning a glare from the two. Shrinking further into himself, the shape-shifter apologized.

Miguel thrust his forearms forward, his mantis blades catching on the fabric of time. Ripping them apart with a grunt. Orange and purple twisted in front of him, and he grabbed a hold of the red netting the anomaly was in.

"Meet me back at HQ," He spoke to his AI with a nod. Foot already in the portal, he turned to cast a menacing glance at Lyla. "And do not try anything."

She held up her hands in defense, watching the portal close behind him. It wasn't like she even had to do anything - not anymore. She already slipped his multiversal number into the collar of Spider-Cat. All that needed to happen was you either found it, or it fell out. Lyla just had to wait to see which option would be canon.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

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[rohan-will-answer]

Life update! This is going to be a looooong post! Lots of things have changed!

So about a year ago, ***** and I broke up (I'm keeping his name out of this). It was a long time coming but ultimately it was what we both needed. Everything fell apart. We were polyamorous for the majority of our relationship - but we were bad at it. I hated it for a long time before I finally became more comfortable. When I did feel more comfortable, ***** felt more insecure and closed us off again, with the intention of opening things back up later. But basically, I fucked up and caused the breakup.

I met someone, Marek, and developed feelings quickly. I fell for them hard and told ***** how I felt. ***** forbade me from talking to Marek, but I continued to indirectly talk to them through posts I made about them on the app we met on. I would post about them, they would post about me, and eventually, ***** found the posts and ended the relationship.

I was devastated at first and was overwhelmed by the guilt. Losing the person I was with for over 8 years was awful. But then I started to process the things that happened over the course of that relationship and realized it was beyond unhealthy for both of us. Neither of us were fully to blame for that toxicity. We fed off each other. The relationship was deeply codependent and had so many issues that honestly, it should have ended years before it did. But the codependency kept us together. It was bad.

BUT!!!!

Now life is amazing! Marek and I started actually dating and they are beyond a doubt the best thing that's ever happened to me. The relationship is healthy. Everything feels good and I am deeply in love. We communicate well, our interests and desires in life align, I feel safe with them and never doubt their love for me. They are perfection in human form. I've never met anyone I vibe with so well, genuinely. We will have been together for a year on September 1st! (｡💚▽🩷｡)

Since the breakup, my mental health has improved significantly! I feel joy these days! I am far more stable, my confidence has improved drastically, I have finally met myself, I'm healing my inner child, and I'm far more independent than I ever have been. Marek supports me and makes me feel like I can do anything. I fully believe I was being held back by my last relationship because of the previously mentioned codependency. I wish ***** the best, but I'm happy we aren't together anymore. We both deserve better than what we got from each other.

Some smaller things than a massive relationship change:

I now live in a geodesic dome

I have become completely and utterly OBSESSED with Kirby

My hair is green

My sense of fashion has become super maximalist and colorful

I have control over my eating disorder and I'm finally at a healthy weight

I went to Scotland

I have made friends in the Portland area

I was officially diagnosed with borderline personality disorder which has made therapy far more effective for me

I have fallen deeper into my hobbies

I have a massive plant collection now. 57 plants to be precise.

SO MANY GOOD THINGS.

Overall, life has been really, really good in the past year. I'm truly happy now. I never thought I'd get to this point, but here I am! I'm thriving!

(ﾉ⊙ヮ⊙)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

My happiness shines through and I am so grateful. (~￣▽￣)~

Also here are some (not all) of my plants!!