#maybe this idea would work more after a timeskip

[frostwing05]

#585 Finchlight 

"ThunderClan has always been the natural leader of all the Clans. For that reason, we have to hold ourselves to a higher standard."

Daughter of Sparkpelt and Larksong, sister of Nightheart and Flickerkit, foster daughter of Sorrelstripe, foster sister of Myrtlebloom and Bayshine. Apprentice of Cinderheart.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ call out my name | kei tsukishima

warnings: timeskip! tsukishima, fem! reader, confessions, out of character tsukki (i'm so sorry), slight choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, hickeys, making out, hair pulling, feral/possessive tsukki

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 3.4k

a/n: IM BACK BITCHES WHATS UP?? also this is not proofread in the slightest so buckle up

part two of shameless

❥ song: call out my name - the weekend

Any relationship is complicated, no matter the nature of the relationship. Humans are stupidly complex creatures, after all. First, they want one thing, then another, and another. Humans are greedy, lustful, depraved creatures with desires that are so disgusting that even God himself can’t leave heaven because he is scared of what he has created. And you were ashamed of what you so craved, what you desired. It wasn’t money or power. That’s too simple. And your grades were already so perfect, so you didn’t need that either. No…what you wanted was someone. Someone who you hated with a fiery passion that rivaled the sun. And yet, he lit a fire inside you with even the simplest disapproving glance filled with such mockery.

Kei fucking Tsukishima.

Tsukishima was the one person on Earth that you seriously considered committing a felony over. Every time he flashed that smug little smirk, it only added more gasoline to the pyre of your hatred towards him. He was the worst, and he knew that too. He made no effort to get along with anybody who wasn’t Yamaguchi, bless that sweet boy’s soul. 

And yet, you found yourself in Tsukishima’s dorm room, alone with the bastard, at least three times a week, maybe more. You weren’t proud of it, and you did everything you could to deny it openly. Those hickeys? You just happen to get drunk in a bar and make out with some stranger in their car. Your roommate kept asking where you were most nights, and you told her you went on dates in the library. She wouldn’t check, obviously, because she would never step foot in a library. 

You hated him, but you were addicted to him. Addicted to the way his lips rolled alongside yours in such a sinful dance. Addicted to his molten fingertips sliding under your tight top to grope your breasts from behind as his teeth sank into your neck. Addicted to how his tongue slid across your core, making you feel like you were floating on a cloud as you came undone before him. And especially addicted to how Tsukishima fucked you like you were his, and he was yours. The way his body moved expertly with yours, the way his hands caged your head between them as he fucked you, rolling his hips against yours as his massive cock hit all the right places that made you both see stars.

The worst part was how nice he was after he came. He would pull you into his arms, brush your hair to the side, and kiss your neck. It was such an extreme juxtaposition to how he fucked you. You weren’t entirely sure what part of his personality was just an act. Or, maybe it wasn’t an act. Maybe he genuinely cared for you…yeah, right.

You glanced at the clock on your desk. Almost midnight, great. Your ballpoint pen was clicked off, thrown into the Star Wars mug with the rest of the pens that were dangerously low on ink, accompanied by highlights that ran dry weeks ago. You glanced at yourself in the desk mirror, observing how strained your eyes looked. 

“So much for blue light glasses. These things never fucking work,” you muttered under your breath, pushing them further up against your exhausted face. Your roommate, fast asleep on your dorm's other side, looks unusually peaceful. A strong contrast to how bitchy she was with her other bottle-blonde friends. You looked away, groaning as your head started to throb. Maybe working on a paper for seven hours straight wasn’t the best idea.

Your office chair was pushed aside as you carefully stood up, examining yourself in the larger mirror on your door. Incredibly messy hair, a thin white tank top with a loose strap, and pajama bottoms that were more appropriate for Christmas morning. 

“Not like anyone will see me anyways,” you grabbed your keycard and swiftly opened and closed the door to your room, hissing as the ugly fluorescents that decorated the halls offended your eyesight. Horrible, and you pay all this tuition for shitty lighting.

The water fountain hated you, and you hated it. Although it was responsible for kickstarting your passionate encounters with Tsukishima, maybe it wasn’t so bad. You glanced at your palm, looking at the dinosaur bandaid he had so carefully applied many nights ago. It was amazing that it hadn’t fallen off. 

The water was a relief as it touched your lips—cold, crisp, and hydrating. Water was always best late at night when everyone else was asleep, and the halls were devoid of the ramblings of your dormmates. Peaceful, almost.

“I didn’t expect to see you out of your room until morning.” a familiar voice broke you out of your moment of serenity. Damn.

“Hi, Tsukki,” you sighed, wiping the stray bits of liquid from your lips. “I was working on a paper, and I lost track of time, I guess.”

Tsukishima chuckled. “I’ve been there before, but Tadashi was always there to snap me out of it. I guess your roommate doesn’t have that same level of courtesy, I suppose.” he shoved his pants in his pajama bottoms, SENDAI FROGS VOLLEYBALL TEAM embroidered on the side with green and yellow thread.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hair out of what was left of your messy bun. “Yeah, well, Tadashi is a sweetheart. My roommate is…less than desirable. I’m never doing a random roommate assignment again, that’s for sure.”

Tsukishima took a step forward. “Tadashi is asleep at the library. He’s working on some notes for the Edo period lecture,” he smacked his lips. “Wanna keep me company?”

You blinked, and he was in front of you, tracing your lips with his calloused thumb. “C’mon, you know I like it when you pretend that you hate me and everything that I do.” his hand encircled your waist.

You gasped, quickly adjusting the loose strap on your tank top. “Listen, as much as I would like to have you fucked the shit out of me, I just finished staring at a computer screen for seven hours straight,” you took his thumb away from your lips. “I’m not really in the mood.”

His gaze saddened. Was that a hint of disappointment? “Well, who said we had to fuck?” he smirked, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh, maybe the two-dozen times we’ve fucked since I cut my hand?” you pointed to the fountain.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Keep your voice down, yeah? You might wake up the R.A.” Tsukishima smiled as an angry blush bloomed on your tired face. “How about some coffee instead? My older brother got me a miniature coffee machine before he moved me in. Claims it got him through many sleepless nights.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And why are you being so nice to me?”

He leaned down, his golden eyes boring into yours. “Because sometimes, I’m not a total asshole.”

His side of the room was immaculate, with everything in place. Tadashi’s was messy, as per usual, but it was alright with you. Tsukki’s desk was also impossibly neat, boasting a stack of perfect papers and ballpoint pens that all seemed to work well enough. And the crowning jewel, the mini coffee machine with four different kinds of pods to choose from, how incredibly classy. 

“I never took you for someone who drank anything except dark roast,” you said, picking up a coffee pod with caramel decals on the label. “Did your brother get you these as well?”

Tsukishima shook his head. “No, Tadashi did. He got mad because he claimed I’m missing out on a full coffee experience, whatever that means,” he sighed, sitting in his desk chair. “Honestly, I’ll never understand him. He’s so positive all the time, it’s strange.”

You took a seat on his neatly made bed. “Well, one of you two has to be. There’s always a grumpier one in a duo, especially roommates.”

“Are you the grumpy one in your dorm?” he placed a mug under the coffee dispenser. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you smiled, admiring how Tsukishima looked in his dorm's dim, warm light. The fairy lights on Tadashi’s side of the room subtly illuminated his face, softening Tsukishima’s sharp facial features. “But, you’re even more grumpy than I am. I’ve never seen you genuinely smile.”

Tsukishima placed the coffee pod in the machine and closed it. “I can smile without being sarcastic, you know.”

The whirring of the coffee machine filled the awkward silence as he sat down on his bed next to you, his lithe fingers dancing over your knuckles. “You just don’t see me smile.”

“Well, when do you smile?”

Tsukshima licked his lower lip. “After we fuck. When you’re in my arms, and I’m brushing your hair. You can’t see because you’re facing away from me, but I smile.”

Your heart stung at those words. Why was he being vulnerable with you, and now of all times? His hand intertwined with yours, his gorgeous golden eyes not daring to make contact. “I told myself that if I ever grew feelings, I would cut this off right away,” he sighed, staring at his slippers. “But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would be torture for me, even though you hate my guts.”

Wait a damn minute. “Tsukki, is this a confession? You’re confessing to me, and I look like this? Oh, god.” you stifled a chuckle.

“Shut up and let me talk!” his cheeks boasted an angry blush. “I like spending time with you, even with your bratty attitude. When we kissed for the first time, it was like…it was like I finally reached the end of a long road. I sound so stupid, I can’t believe I’m being…soft.” he placed his hand in his palms, muttering curses into them.

You smiled and moved closer, pulling his face out of his hands. “Tsukki, do you have a crush on me?” you tilted his chin to face yours. “Because I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have a crush on you.”

He bit his lip. “Really? You aren’t being a smartass right now?”

“Really.” your face matched his red hue, offering him a genuine smile that he craved so desperately. 

“Fuck, come here,” Tsukishima pulled you flush against his chest, cupping your face as he slowly kissed your bitten lips. His hands secured themselves around your hips, massaging the exposed skin between your tank top and pajama bottoms. You sighed into the kiss, admiring how soft and gentle he was being with you. 

He slowly pushed you down so your head was almost hanging off the foot of his bed, his rough hands sliding up and down your waist. Your arms locked around his neck, tugging at the loose blonde baby hairs at the base. After what seemed like ages, Tsukishima reluctantly pulled away, resting his burning face between your neck and shoulder.

“Somebody’s embarrassed,” you teased, lightly massaging his back. Fuck, had his back muscles gotten stronger since the last time you saw each other?

“I’m not embarrassed,” he groaned into your neck, placing feather-light kisses along your jugular. “Love confessions are stupid, that’s all.”

“So why did you confess to me, hm?” you pecked his cheek.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Because I don’t think I could live with myself if you started seeing someone else. Or even worse, someone that I knew. You,” he squeezed your arm. “You belong with me, isn’t it obvious?”

So fucking adorable. “So, why won’t you look me in the eyes and say it?”

He peeled himself from your neck and pressed his forehead against yours, doing exactly as you told. He observed how beautiful your eyes were, how they reflected off of the fairy lights. Fuck, you were a goddess. 

“You’re so stupidly beautiful, fuck,” he pressed his lips against yours once again, more passionate than before. Your legs wrapped around his waist, securing his position as his teeth nipped at your lower lip, groaning as you raked your hands through his golden curls. “So pretty.”

Tsukishima’s hands grasped your wrists, pinning them above your head on the plush mattress. Breaking the kiss, his molten lips trailed down to the sensitive spot above your collarbone, suckling harshly. His hips roll into yours, his erection prominent under his sweatpants.

You groan into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to explore as your mouths sinfully dance together lazily. Tsukishima’s lithe fingers leave your wrists and grasp at your breast, silently cursing the bra you wore. 

He reluctantly breaks the kiss. “Fucking take it off. Let me see you.” he groans, flinging his shirt across the room without hesitation. 

Your hands slide under your shirt, slowly removing it as your face bores a confused expression. “You’re just gonna call me a slut for being so easy, aren’t you?” your voice is barely a whisper as your gentle hands unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spring free.

Tsukishima feels his breath hitch in his throat. He’s going to die, and it’s all your damn fault for being so fucking sexy. 

“Not tonight, love,” he whispers against your clavicle, his thumb rolling over your pert nipple. “Tonight,” his tongue dances around your areola. “I’m gonna show you how much I like you, you stupidly pretty girl.”

Your fingers dance in his hair as he shamelessly sucks on your breasts, alternating between massaging them and kissing them, leaving no breast unattended for too long. Your thighs wrap around his waist, pushing his erection closer to your clothed core.

“Tsukki-” he cuts you off with a harsh kiss.

“Kei,” his hoarse voice groans, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama bottoms. “Call me Kei. Fucking scream it, let the whole damn hall know who’s making you feel so good.” 

His finger glides across your soaked cunt, dipping inside with ease as your sweet, candied moans fill his ears like an opera. His fingers work fast, not even bothering to slide your panties to the side as your voice spikes octave by octave.

“Say my fucking name,” Tsukishima demands, his thumb rolling over your sensitive clit. “Say my fucking name like a good little girl, and then I’ll make you see stars.” his erection is painful inside his sweatpants, precum staining the boxers underneath. 

“K-Kei! Oh, fuck, I’m so fucking close!” you cry out, your hands tugging on his hair like a feral animal as his fingers continue working their way to your precious orgasm. His teeth, sharp as a vampire, nip and suck at your neck, leaving a blooming pattern of black and purple hickeys on your delicate skin, marking you as his until they eventually fade away. But he’ll just keep giving you another hickey, and then another, until everyone on the entire fucking campus knows who you belong to.

Just as you were teetering on the edge of release, he pulls his fingers out of your sobbing pussy and licks them, not breaking eye contact with you once. “So fucking good,” he groans. His hands pull down your bottoms along with your panties, leaving them dangling around your ankle as you lay beneath him, naked and unsatisfied.

“Kei, what the fuck? I was so fucking close!” you complain, lightly shoving his chest. “What’s your deal, man?”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond. Instead, he shoves apart your thighs and wraps them around his head, bending you in half. His chapped lips trail delicate kisses inside of your thighs, nipping at the apex before his tongue licks a teasingly slow stripe on your core.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh, groping your tits as his tongue begins to lap up and down, occasionally sucking on your clit.

“Can’t fucking get enough of you, oh my god,” Tsukishima groans, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. “You taste like nectar, love.”

Love. That was the first time he ever called you something affectionate. Something other than degrading you and making you feel lesser than he was.

“Kei,” you breathe, feeling the familiar sensation of your stomach coil tightening up. “I think I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” he commands. “Cum on my face like a good girl,” he whispers, mouth covered in your slick as he suckles on your throbbing clit one final time, sending you over the edge and into an ocean of euphoria.

Your back arches into the pillows behind you as you ride out your orgasm, Tsukishima licking up every last drop of your release with vigor to rival a man starved. Finally, he allows your legs to rest back on the mattress, wiping your cum off his face.

“That was amazing,” you reach your arms out to cuddle him, thinking it’s all over.

“We aren’t done yet,” Tsukishima takes off the rest of his clothes, his painfully hard erection slapping against his tone stomach, precum drooling down the tip. “What, did you think you got to cum just because I was feeling generous?” his voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Well, yeah-” he interrupts you yet again.

“You’re wrong, love,” his forehead connects with yours, golden eyes staring into your own, the plain lust and desire for you swirling within. 

His filthy mouth parts open. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that the thought of another man will make you sick.”

Tsukishima aligns his cock with your entrance, slapping his throbbing tip on your clit a few times. “Beg for me to fuck you, pretty girl,” he commands, not even bothering to reach for the box of condoms next to the bed.

You bite your lip. “Please, Kei,” your voice is shy. “Please, fuck me. I want you so badly, please,” your small hands wrap around his neck. “Show me how badly you want me, Kei.”

As his name leaves your lips like dripping honey, something inside of him snaps. Tsukishima plants his hands on either side of your face, shoving his cock inside of your soaked core without giving you time to adjust. His expert hips start to roughly piston in and out of you, shaking your body and the bed altogether. 

“Holy fuck!” you sob, your hands quickly migrating to his back, nails scratching hard against his muscles. “Kei, too much! Oh fuck, too rough!” you beg and plead, your cries falling on deaf ears as Tsukishima is lost in a frenzy of lust. Lust for you, lust for your body, lust for your brain, lust for everything that could make you you. He was secretly and disgustingly obsessed with you. The thought of another man touching what was so obviously his drove him insane. Why not just take what was his?

“Fucking take it, you’re so fucking beautiful when you take my cock,” he roars into your ear, his hand wrapping itself around your throat for a gentle squeeze. “You’re all fucking mine, aren’t you, love?” his cock is ruthlessly fucking your poor pussy, his balls slapping against your ass as he hits that one spot that makes you see stars.

“A-All yours, Kei! I’m all yours. There’s no one else!” you sob, wrapping your legs around his slender waist once more so he can fuck you impossibly deeper. 

His mouth contorts into a wicked smile, glasses falling off his sculpted features and onto the floor to be forgotten about. “That’s right. Oh, I fucking love it when you’re smart.” his hand presses against your belly. “You can feel me in here, can’t you, love?” he harshly thrusts.

“Kei!” you shriek, your nails making crescent-shaped indents in his skin. “I-I’m gonna fucking cum, Kei! Fuck, make me cum!” tears swell in the corner of your eyes as that familiar coil sensation fills your gut once more. 

“Hold it. I’m, fuck, I’m so fucking close. Cum with me, yeah, my love? Cum with me like the good girl I know you are.” his voice becomes shrill as he feels his own release approach him, slotting your lips with his as both of your climaxes approach at the same time.

“Fuck, cumming. I’m, oh yeah, cumming-” his cock twitches inside of your ruined cunt, spilling his white hot seed into your womb as you release all over his member, coating it in your slick that he loves so dearly. 

The room stays silent as Tsukishima collapses into your chest, giving each one of your tits a chaste kiss. “Fuck…I got too carried away, didn’t I?” his golden eyes land on the faintest of hand marks around your bruised neck. “I’m…I’m so sorry, love.”

Your delicate hand cups his face, kissing his nose. “It’s okay, Kei. I got what you meant.”

Tsukishima becomes shy again. “Yeah, of course you did. You’re smart like that, smart girl.” he rolls over and pulls you into his chest, pressing a lingering kiss on your sweaty forehead. “...sorry about now using a condom.”

“What was that?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, dummy.”

“Okay, cutie.”

“And don’t call me that!”

[soundlessdreamss]

Can I have a Lucifer vs Alastor fighting for the reader romantically, please if possible yanderes...

Lovely riddance

part two

pairings: y!alastor x reader & y!lucifer x reader

Note: reader will be a fallen angel for this! (Also this is prolly ooc)

You were a normal sinner (totally a sinner and not a fallen angel) living in hell you were in hell because of you questioning heaven which led to them throwing you down here… but you realized how different the other people in hell were compared to you. it just made you feel very weird, a total standout!

it made you miss heaven. A lot. Since you had made so many friends there and now you just lost it all. Well not all of it to be exact, your old friend Lucifer is the king of hell because he was the first one to rebel against heaven. You admired him for being so fearless against heaven themselves.

as you were in your own thoughts on the street of hell suddenly you passed by a poster that snapped you back to your senses. You suddenly scooted back to the poster and read it “want to be redeemed so you can live a gorgeous life in heaven? Well visit the hazbin hotel and let yourself be purified!” Oh my god. This could be your chance to meet other people like you! You decided to fly over there since the other angels didn’t rip off your wings when you fell down.

after like 69 minutes of flying (lol) you finally made it to the hotel! You couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious though, what would they think about you? Would they make fun of you? Would they humiliate you if you did one thing wrong- no you couldn’t let that stop you. This could be your chance to find your friends in heaven again. You knocked on the hotel door and waited for a response. It felt like it was taking forever until a blonde haired girl opened the door. (It only took 3 seconds for them to open the door but okay.)

she nearly screamed out of joy when she realized someone actually came to the hotel to be redeemed. She gave you a hug and welcomed you into the hotel where all the people there introduced themselves. There was Charlie, Vaggie, Angel dusk, Husk, Nifty, (nifty is a cutie) and a snake who you didn’t bother remembering his name cause it was too long. (Totally not an excuse to not have to write his name)

you almost choked though when Charlie said her last name was Morningstar, like Morningstar as in Lucifer Morningstar? She was his daughter?! You had no idea him and Lilith had a child but you felt happy for them. Not until she told you her mom left her 7 years ago. (Lol)

To your surprise (and relief) they accepted you and treated you nicely. And you recognized Vaggie but didn’t out her because you had a feeling that she didn’t want that to happen and you respected her.

All of a sudden a man just teleported out of the floor and tapped you on your back which made you scream so loud. He chuckled and said not to worry as it was him, the radio demon! And he also introduced himself as Alastor. He grabbed your hand and kissed it which made you a bit confused but you rolled with it. Over the couple of days you had spent there you bonded really well with all of them, but alastor specifically wanted to spend a lot of time with you.

he often invited you to brunch, dinner, and to help him work on the hotel. Had you caught his eye? Maybe… maybe you had caught his eye more than you thought you did. (He also may or may not be planning to make a deal for your soul.)

timeskip to when Charlie invited her dad over. ——————————————————————————————————————

you had all prepared for the place to look nice since the king of hell was coming to visit! Aka Charlie’s dad, and you wanted to make a good impression on him after you haven’t seen eachother for such a long time. He seemed happy that his daughter was inviting him over based on the tone of his voice when Charlie called.

You guys all got in position and Charlie was about to open the door until Lucifer barged in and greeted his daughter with a bear hug! He looked around the place awkwardly after and Charlie introduced him to everyone in the hotel. He stared at you for a couple of seconds not knowing if it was really you. He was about to speak to you until alastor teleported right next to you.

Alastor put his hand on your shoulder and had a death grip on it. Like he didn’t want Lucifer to even be near you. They both introduced themselves to each other and as they were talking about the hotel ideas, Alastor pointed out a thing you did for the hotel which helped them a lot. He brought your face to his as he put his hand around your neck pulling you closer. Your face was squished with his. He only did this though to simply piss Lucifer off and trick him into thinking that he had got to you first and that you guys have a deep connection.

as you pulled yourself away from him and looked at the two it suddenly felt as if there was an intense aura in the room all of a sudden. You laughed nervously and tried to excuse yourself before Lucifer grabbed your hand.

he was nervous and tried to compose himself to talk to you as it had been so long since you two had talked. Wtf was he even suppose to say? He decided to finally speak after an agonizing 5 seconds.

Lucifer: “oh [reader]… it’s been so long since we’ve last seen eachother! How have you been doll?”

[reader] : “oh I’ve been just fine. Well despite the fact that heaven kicked me out, it feels better here. Like I can actually breathe in this place.”

Lucifer: “good to hear. Would you mind visiting my palace sometime? Id like to show you some of my latest creations, especially one I made just for you!”

his smile became wider and his eyes seemed more sincere like he really wanted you to visit. I mean after all you guys haven’t seen eachother in eons!

before you could reply to his offer, Alastor grabbed your other hand and yanked you away as he chuckled.

Alastor: “I’m sure they would love to visit you sometime, but they’re busy with me today as I invited her to dinner and they accepted. Didn’t you dear?”

you suddenly remembered that you and Alastor were gonna go out for dinner tonight and you nodded your head.

[reader] : oh that’s actually right! I totally forgot about that for a minute. Well Lucifer would you like me to visit anytime I’m free if that’s okay?

Lucifer: oh, that’s just fine! Just try to make it soon cause I can not wait to spend time with you again!

his smile faded a bit and he seemed to give a glare to Alastor. In response Alastor simply had a wide smile as he continued to hold your hand after yanking away Lucifer’s.

After the argument with Lucifer and Alastor over Charlie was done.

───────────────────────

Finally everyone calmed down after they argued over who Charlie preferred as a dad. Thank god Mimzy barged through the door before another fight broke loose. After a couple minutes Alastor decided to tell everyone you and him would be leaving for dinner about now, you thought it was later but alright!

as you guys left through the door to go to your favorite restaurant, Alastor couldn’t help but giggle feeling Lucifer’s eyes burning a hole through him. He knew it pissed him off and he was glad that it did. And little did you or Lucifer know the Alastor was making more and more progress to his plan. His plan was to woo you enough so that you’d made a deal with him for your soul.

of course you’d get benefits aswell! Alastor would be at your every beck and call and you would do the same for him. It would just be a matter of time before he proposed the idea to you. He just hopes a certain someone wouldn’t mess it up.

part two coming soon…

note: hiii to everyone who read this, I’d like to thank you all for all the likes on my previous two posts! I’m going to be working on part two sooner or later. Also sorry is this is a bit ooc, I’m new to writing fanfics and tried to make alastor manipulative like he is in the show. :)

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

I've been seeing some articles online about how now would be the perfect time to revive NBC Hannibal because Bryan apparently has ideas and Mads wants to finish the story and also we're coming up on the 10th anniversary of The Wrath of the Lamb in 2025, but how, because of the time between seasons, they'd most likely have to do a time skip in the show.

And I just have to say that I love that idea and I think that's how season 4 could thrive if it happened. Because the fandom has had nearly 9 years to think about and create their own post-fall headcanons, and there are bound to be people who maybe made art and fics and are in love with their post-fall idea and the show wouldn't turn out the way they wrote it in their fic or drew in their art and they'll be upset.

But what about 5-10 years after the fall? I don't know about y'all but I don't see a lot of fan works about that. And I think it'd be interesting to see what the NBC Hannibal team would do with a Will and Hannibal who are fully realized as murder partners, if not murder husbands.

If I could throw out an idea for what I think would be a funny way to show us Hannibal and Will in a timeskip season 4:

~~~~~

We're getting a moving view through their house in Cuba. It's dark outside and dark in the house, too. We can hear the sounds of Will and Hannibal somewhere else in the house, grunting and breathing heavily.

Will pants out, "Move faster."

"Patience Will. I'm not as young as I used to be."

A laugh escapes Will and he grunts again, "You didn't seem to have much trouble thirty minutes ago."

"That was thirty minutes ago. This is now. Perhaps if you're so spry then you don't need my assistance finishing this." Hannibal remarks.

There's a loud thud. "Hannibal!" Will accuses, although he sounds more annoyed than angry.

The camera finally pans to a hallway in the house where we see Will carrying a dead man by his underarms and his lower half is dropped unceremoniously at Hannibal's feet.

Will sighs and looks at Hannibal. "Will you help me with the cuts? Please."

The corners of Hannibal's lips turn up. He's never been able to deny Will when he uses that word. He bends down with another quiet grunt and picks up the corpse by its feet, and the two of them move into a room at the end of the hallway and shut the door.

~~~~~

[silkentine]

Can you tell me a bit more about how you think the genders would change the story in the OP world

Hi! THANK YOU sooooo much for your question! When I do genderbending, I love to keep almost all things about a character the same except for what might change based on how other people would treat them regarding their gender (in both positive and negative ways). So for example, my fem!Usopp is more concerned with her physical appearance (building jewelry and wearing colorful fabrics) because she was raised mostly by herself after her Mom, Yassop, left and her Dad, Banchina, died and learned at an early age that girls get listened to when they look more pulled together, something that likely didn’t affect male Usopp since boys are allowed to be a bit more rough and tumble. Masc!Robin, on the other hand, had an easier time living on the run but he struggled to develop advanced social skills and is therefore a bit more standoffish and shy than canon!Robin (this is why he wears gloves when we first meet him in Girl Piece). I have more in-depth ideas about how fem!Zoro and fem!Sanji’s backstories/timeskip might change (because gender roles and expectations play a large part) but it’ll take me some time (and space) to fully write them down teehee. When I publish my fem!Zoro design, expect there to be basically an entire fanfic in the caption LOL

Admittedly, a lot of my design choices are aesthetic ones since I am primarily a visual artist so I have a lot to say about what the characters wear and how they perceive themselves. If you’re interested in how their behaviors and the story itself might change, I (once again and forever will continue to) recommend ~Well Hello Ladies~ by @kooabreen on AO3. Her work affects mine often and vice versa. She can take one of my half-formed ideas and run with it, turning a tiny little detail (that’s maybe 10 pixels wide in my art) into a beautiful chapter about sisterhood.

As further thanks for your question, I drew Shanks and Luffy! All Hail Girl Piece!!!

[elodieunderglass]

I am absolutely wild and feral over HDM (legit like, daemons fit SO well. I'm watching dunmeshi wondering where Laios' dog went) and super curious if you do plan a sequel or other fics following this AU??

(In reference to the His Dark Materials / Dungeon Meshi fusion fic)

thank you so much for this question I love this question god!!!! Thank you thank you thank you

God sorry about HDM being delayed, I’m going through hell over it at the moment. It’s meant to end a little after the dragon, then a timeskip epilogue, with special coding so that you can read it two different ways, depending on whether you want spoilers for the manga/season 2. (My idea is that you’ll click a button to reveal/hide it, and the spoiler-free epilogue will be like found poetry.)

Firstly, if you or anyone else would like to take the concepts/characters in His Delicious Materials forward for themselves, you must do this. You don’t need my permission (but I’d love a link! so I can read, scream, reblog, comment, link to it, etc. there is also the “inspired by” setting on ao3 so we can link works directly to HDM, forming a collection for anyone who reads one and wants more.) I don’t own any of it! We are all just having fun! YOU can be the sequel you want to see in the world! If your heart feels a way forward, then follow your heart!! A daemon AU is really about revealing character and I find them really inspiring, like adding a whole engine to a story idea.

If I were to write something to follow up, I do know what the sequel WOULD be! It would be a sort of Discworld novel about the slow social revolution occurring in the half-foots as a chain reaction to Bee settling as a weasel, all occurring behind Chilchuck’s oblivious and unhelpful back. Pushed into a sort of bottleneck of sparrow- and mouse-souls, and marginalised to the very edges of society, half-foots are precarious and endangered. Chilchuck is mostly eating a ham sandwich unhelpfully in the foreground, and at the end of the story looks back and sees to his bewilderment that his people have found a way forward (they don’t have a Shire or a Chosen One, but they do have a goddamn functional worker’s union and their own collective dignity.) kind of Discworld-commentary-comedy, kind of a loving argument with Tolkien, kind of Sharpe hostile-and-awkward-protagonist-POV-doesn’t-know-and-wouldn’t-believe-that-his-men-genuinely-love-him, kind of about the experience of parenting, and kind of gently warmly political BUT FUNNY so it would be ok. but feel it would be too much of a stretch of people’s patience and the original materials’s intentions to call it fanfic. Too many OCs needed to carry the weight, too little reference to the other Dungeon Meshi characters, almost too little “payoff” for what would be a full 70k word work. So maybe to let the story breathe, it would be better worked up as original fiction?

(Plus, that is actually an actual novel: if people write their own novels and manga about orc coffeeshops and dnd parties, I could just write my own too: wait but how do you know if you should?)

Anyway, that is an entirely separate kettle of weasels and my own cross to bear! If your heart cries out for a sequel the best way to manifest it in the world is to write it!

If you feel that A Weasel Heart In Defiance feels like it would scratch that itch, here is a bit that is mildly relevant to Dungeon Meshi, which is Chilchuck and Bee starting to work away from home while the girls were still small. You’ll probably see what I mean from it.

About seven of the village children, including his own three, had a snake in a wooden bucket. They didn't look up.

The reappearance of a random guy who functioned mostly as a postal service and occasionally shouted at them about bedtime - in a way that could be easily blanked out if something more interesting was happening - simply could not be expected to compete for attention with a snake in a bucket.

Chilchuck could recognise this on some level, but as his own children ignored him, he felt very hot and angry, in a way that he had never wanted to feel about children, especially his.

Bee, also rigidly pissed off, growled, "Easy, boss."

This was where Chilchuck did the only thing so far that he was proud of, in this day. He did not start shouting, even though his temper was going something like What the fuck, kids, but worse. He stopped, took a minute, and remembered he'd had this whole thing where he'd wanted his kids to love him. He rubbed his nose, said, "Remind me," and his daemon reminded him: "What do we want them to actually do?"

And he said, "The bare minimum fucking acknowledgement would be nice."

And Bee said, "Have we explained that to them? Do they know?"

So Chilchuck and Bee, hot and tired and cross and still on the job apparently, sat down on the ground with the kids and looked in the bucket. The snake, poor bastard, looked very limp and tired. Chilchuck could relate.

After a while, Chilchuck said, "Girls?"

Or more accurately, something like, "Girls! Girls. Meifleurpatti-I mean Puck-PUCK. Listen up. Mei! Fleur, I'm talking - thanks Fleur - Puck. (Ryeland, stop the baby.) PUCK. Mei, Fleur, Puck - PUCK, eyes on me - thanks, Ryeland - PUCK. EYES," which condensed in parent-speak to a single roar of "Girls!"

When he had them more or less listening, he remembered to set his voice to the more singsong cadence one used for children, instead off the deeper version of his natural voice that he used for shouting at the top of his abilities at tall people; making the choice to be patient and gentle, or at least pretend to be someone who was; and in this manner he said reasonably, "Now, your dad's been away for a very long time and missed you all very much. What do you say? What do you say when your dad comes home?"

Six children stared at him blankly, and the baby toppled gently into the bucket. He fished it out, stuck it sideways under his arm, allowed the snake to escape in the confusion, acknowledged someone's grievously injured finger, stopped Fleur from pinching, took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped Puck's nose in essentially one continuous motion.

To be completely fair, now that he'd let go of the initial anger, he could see that the kids had absolutely no idea what he'd wanted of them. Kids had practically no social instincts at the best of times. Chilchuck coming home was remarkable, sure, but beyond their influence; how were they supposed to react? What do you say to a comet? What do you say to a hailstorm? What do you say when daddy comes home?

He repeated the question, as the children had universally drawn blanks and devolved into staring vacantly.

"Good morning, Daddy!" A child chirped helpfully, setting off the rest in an automatic drone of "good morning, Daddy," in the strangely universal dreary tone of all children saying that.

"So close, Fernwise! Is it morning? What else do we think?"

Bee, fighting for order among the kit-daemons, was simultaneously washing Fleurtom's daemon, Pantoufle's, face; receiving a long rambling report of a grievance from three incoherent witnesses; and minding the baby's chick-daemon; up to her ears in parenting. She said, around a mouthful of Pan, "Speed it up, boss, you're losing them."

"Where are your spots, Daddy?" Pan asked him. He was in the form of a young ferret and scrabbled against his mother's grip on his scruff.

"My what?"

"Your freckles," Bee said grimly, and seeing he'd been temporarily disarmed - and being a valiant beast in her way - charged in to her human's defense, "Is that nice, Pan? We don't want to make people feel bad about their looks, do we?"

"Yes we do," said Fleur.

"Fleur! We've just - we haven't seen much of the sun, that's all," said Bee, taking charge, the best and most loyal soul a man could have. "They'll come back, and they're not spots."

"Mei has spots."

"Freckles."

"Grimbob has spots."

"Yes, and you shouldn't notice," Bee said. "Think of Grimbob's feelings."

"I do, I think he feels spotty."

"I'm thirsty," Puck said flatly.

"Stick to the point, kids," Chilchuck said, recovering from the fact that his usual face was apparently indistinguishable to children from Grimbob's, who had been taking puberty hard. This was surprisingly difficult to do.

Ryeland, a mildly bright spark who was older than the Chils girls, connected two dots and suddenly roared "WELCOME HOME DADDY," so six children all repeated that automatically, and Fleur added sunnily, "I missed you Daddy!"

And just as a very small piece of Chilchuck's heart was finally allowed to melt, she added, equally sunnily, "Mei didn't."

"I did a little," Meijack said vaguely.

"That's great kids, well done, we got there in the end," Chilchuck said. "Remember it for next time, okay? It makes Daddy feel better about his stupid life. Now, next time, let's remember that it's traditional to do a hug."

He realised his mistake instantly, as six children and their daemons all bore him - and the baby he'd forgotten he was holding - to the ground.

___________

[honeyyhivee]

be bold ⠀ྀི

⠀ྀི in which you get monkey d. luffy to answer a question that he gets a lot ⠀ྀི

cw ⠀ྀི minors dni! black!fem reader in mind but read as you please, post!timeskip luffy, explicit smut with no plot, inappropriate use of luffy’s devil fruit, tummy bulge, praise, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks!), overstimulation maybe

word count & thoughts ⠀ྀི 294, lowercase intended, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated

“bold question but… luffy, if i asked you to stretch it for me, would you do it?”

that question was how you ended up underneath your captain. monkey d. luffy.

your boldness plus his boldness was a recipe for out of pocket ideas and actually trying out those out of pocket ideas.

he held you down by your wrists with this wide grin on his face while fucking into you relentlessly. he bit his lip while watching you. he had stretched his cock so far that he was able to see an outline of it from your tummy. while it was too much for you, you didn’t regret asking him such a question.

as he plunged himself into you, his free hand began to rub against your clit causing your loud cries to become quieter the closer you got to your peak.

“oh my- fuck-” your mouth open with only small squeals and whines coming out. you were feeling an intense amount of pleasure that you hadn’t truly experienced before. “you’re so close, pretty… i feel it… you’re being so good- ah-” luffy praised with a small stutter.

after he’d said that, you felt this warmth spill into you yet he kept going, pushing his seed into you with each thrust. he let your wrists go and slowed his pace, sensually grinding his cock inside of you as he stretched it just a little bit more.

your legs went around his waist as whines left his lips. by this time, he had you seeing stars with this sensation building up. luffy found your lips, pressing his against them as you began to completely fall apart under him.

it wasn't long after he caught his breath and looked at you with a smile. "alright! again!"

© honeyyhivee (2024)

don't use or steal my work, thanks!

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter six a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, implied !NagiReo, suggestive nsfw masterlist

For weeks, there’s been nothing but radio silence. 

You lost count of how many times you’ve typed a reply to Hiori, only to delete it afterward. Again and again. 

Each time, the words feel wrong. Too stiff, too needy, too defensive. No matter how you framed it, everything sounded wrong. What could you even say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

Plus, he didn’t follow up either. 

Every day, you’d sneak a peek into your Winstagram chats, only to see the same conversation where you left off. He’d view your stories, sure. A proof that he’s still there, just… watching. But other than that, nothing. 

On weekends, you’d log onto Steam, hoping to catch him there while you convince yourself to unwind. Every time you do, a few minutes after you log in, his name would pop up on your notifications.

hiyooooooo is now online

Your cursor hovered over his profile picture more times than you cared to admit. But fear—no, humiliation—held you back. You’d tell yourself it was fear of rejection, of misstepping. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was guilt too.

So you’ll sit straighter in your chair, hands gripping tight on your mouse, waiting. Waiting for a game invite, a little message, anything.

But nothing ever came.

Gaming was supposed to be your escape, something you both shared but it seems like it can’t break the cold shoulder treatment you’re getting from him. 

Maybe I just need to see him. Or talk to him in person, you thought, clinging to the idea as though it might fix everything. Maybe it will. But still, easier said than done. 

Desperation leads you to ask your editor for a beat change. Anything but Manshine City. The name alone made your stomach churn. You just need some distance from it until you clear the air between you and Hiori. Especially since you two haven’t spoken since the Nagi incident. 

But Mercury in retrograde or whatever cruel force dictated your life these days, have other plans. Because your editor doesn’t budge. And to make matters worse, she hands you your next assignment.

“You’re covering another Manshine City game,” she said, her tone apologetic as it can be.

You want to protest. But before you can even spit out your rehearsed excuses, she cuts you off.

“They saw the numbers your Bastard München pieces pulled in,” she explained apologetically. “It’s PR gold for them.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch. All the carefully prepared justifications in your head evaporated, leaving you standing there, mute and cornered.

Turns out, your editor and the Manshine City marketing manager are college buddies. She admits that the marketing manager cashed in a favor to get you to cover the team after seeing how you somehow brought good impressions to Bastard München. 

As much as you want to get mad at your editor, you can’t. This was the woman who took a chance on you. The same woman who took you under her wing, believed in you when no one else would. How could you even say no to her?

You shake your head. It wasn’t your editor’s fault, really. That’s just how this business works.

And isn’t it good? People are asking for you, specifically. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Then why doesn’t it feel good?

You should be feeling good about it, right? Swelling with pride, even.  Finally, people were putting a name to your work, treating you as more than a faceless, invisible byline. More than just an unfamiliar face in the video content.

Yet somehow, this void inside of you swallows every shred of accomplishment. And it leaves you unsatisfied and wondering if you truly deserve it. 

And maybe—just maybe—it’s because you can’t untangle work from everything else. Because the lines are blurring, and you’ve let Hiori seep into every corner of your life. You’re not even sure you mind.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? He’s the one who made you believe in yourself, who made you feel like you could be more than just a name at the bottom of an article no one reads. He gave you the confidence to think you belonged here. And now, the thought of him lingers like a shadow, casting doubt over everything you do.

It’s not his fault. You know that. But it feels like the push and pull between your career and the “thing” you have with him is tearing you in two. That undefined, messy connection was supposed to be your escape—a rare piece of joy in the relentless grind of your career.

Instead, it feels like you’re being forced to choose.

Career or connection. Ambition or affection.

The tension in your chest is sharp and unrelenting.

No, you didn’t have time to dwell on that. At this point in your career, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Your personal life? Your preferences? None of that mattered.

You just had to suck it up. And do your job.

The stadium continues to buzz with energy as Manshine City wraps up their match with another clutch win. You just finished interviewing Nagi and Chigiri, notebook clutched in your hand.

Exhaustion pulls at you, but you linger a bit longer, tempted by the upcoming match between Bastard München and Italy Ubers. You have to get going if you want to get started with writing at home and sleep early.

Before you can give in to that temptation and the idea of seeing Hiori even from afar, Reo and the Manshine City marketing manager pull you into a conversation about potential content collaborations.

Despite their excitement showing, you’re pretty much drained. Instead, you offer your goodbyes, attempting to avoid getting roped in further to their impromptu planning.

“Stay, Miss Journalist, stay!” Reo calls out dramatically before he drapes himself over Nagi like a cat. With an apologetic smile and a small wave, you quicken your steps to get further away. 

As you turn, you freeze when you nearly collide with someone. Hands catch you by the shoulders, steadying you before quickly letting go. 

“Hiori…” you breathe as you lock gazes with him.

For a moment, you swear he looked… hurt. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual calm mask. He takes a step back, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from you. 

You’re just about to speak but Chigiri’s voice slices through the tension. 

“Hiori, hey!” Chigiri bounds over, oblivious to the atmosphere. His bright energy collides with the moment like a sledgehammer.

Hiori forces a strained, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“You’ve met Miss Journalist, right?” Chigiri gestures at you with a grin. “Sorry for stealing your fan.”

Hiori eyes the Manshine City jersey draped on your shoulders. A casual gift from the team manager, thanking you for the support and hard work. 

His jaw tightens ever so slightly, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. You feel your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Oh yeah? I’m hurt.” A laugh escapes him but his sarcasm is unmistakeable.  

“I-uh, I’m a Bastard München fan at heart, y’know that.” you stammer, gripping your notebook so tight. 

“Well, we don’t mind changing that, do we, Nagi?” Reo teases, his smirk sharp.

Nagi, ever the enigma, tilts his head lazily. “Hmm, changing someone’s mind is a hassle. But Miss Journalist seems worth it.”

That statement doesn’t help.

What the hell is going on in that guy’s head? Are they really riling up Hiori? 

“Wanna make a bet?” Reo’s voice is light, but the edge in his tone is clear.

“I don’t think she needs a bet to know who she likes better,” Hiori cuts in, his voice sharper than usual.

Usually, Hiori won’t be provoked by such trivial things. He gets enough shit like that within his team already. And it doesn’t faze him.

But this—this is different.

Because somehow, you’re involved and in the middle of it. And because it’s you.

He hates the way Reo’s arm brushes against your shoulder as he tries to invade your space. He hates the way Nagi’s detached comment earns a small laugh from Chigiri as if they’re onto something.

And most of all, he hates the image of you in that damn jersey. Or any other team’s jersey. 

Not to mention, he never saw Nagi take an interest in you before. Nor Reo. Not that you’re not attractive. Because you are. But this possessive feeling, is it even right?

It’s irrational. He knows that. He has no right to feel this way. But the jealousy festers anyway, fueled by weeks of silence between you.

“Scared she might like us like us more?” Reo continues to taunt him, his grin widening as he zeroes in on the crack in Hiori’s composure.

Hiori’s fists clench tighter. “Yer delusional,” he snaps, the words biting.

Men. Are. So. Full. Of. Themselves.

You’re not a prize. You’re not some trophy for their ego-driven competition.

Or whatever pissing content is happening between the guys.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your steps firm and purposeful. But before you round the corner, you throw a seething glare in Hiori’s direction.

He sees it.

And it hits him harder than anything Reo could have thrown.

Hiori stares at the untouched plate of food in front of him, the hum of conversation around the dinner table fading into a dull, distant noise. His teammates' laughter and energy fill the space in the way only Bastard München could.

But he can’t focus. 

The moment from earlier—Reo’s teasing smirk, Nagi’s casual remarks, and the way you looked at him with such anger—loops in his mind like a highlight reel he couldn’t escape.

He doesn’t know what to do with the emotions simmering under the surface. The possessiveness, the jealousy. 

It doesn’t make sense, not when the two of you aren’t even together. Both of you haven’t talked about feelings, about whether you even felt the same way. 

So why did it feel like something sharp had lodged in his chest every time he thought about you with someone else?

His fingers drum lightly against his thigh as he fights the urge to check his phone again. He’s already done it too many times, looking at your messages, and wondering if he should text you. The silence between you has stretched so long that Hiori isn’t sure how to bridge it.

Am I being pushy? He thought, the question hanging heavy in his mind. 

Is it selfish to want more when we haven’t defined what this is? Am I not being a creep?

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

To understand the little things that make you smile. To know you outside the boundaries of work. To know you in a deep, personal, and intimate setting.  

To be the reason for all those moments.

The weight of the thought crashes into him. His chest tightens as the room around him seems to blur—teammates laughing, cutlery clinking, voices overlapping—fading into a hollow echo. The world slows, yet his pulse quickens, each beat louder and heavier than the last.

And then, it hits him.

“I do like her.”

The words slip out of him before he even knows he’s saying them.

The jealousy, the longing, the unspoken hope he’d buried deep enough to convince himself it wasn’t there. But it was. It always had been.

The realization doesn’t just hit—it collides, with the force of a meteor smashing into the earth. It leaves him shaken, reeling, and terrified in all equal measure.

Oh god, I like her.

He’s been running from it, denying it, pretending it wasn’t there. But there’s no escaping it now. No undoing it. It’s real, undeniable, and alive inside him, threatening to consume him if he doesn’t let it out.

His gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting against his jeans. He hates the jealousy twisting in his chest. It wasn’t fair—to you, to the relationship you shared, undefined as it was.

Is my possessiveness hindering her job? She’s here to do her work, and I’m… what? A distraction? A complication?

The weight of the thought makes his stomach churn. And then there was the nagging doubt he couldn’t shake: Does she like me for me? Or is it just Hiori Yo, the athlete? The player?

His teammates’ laughter jolts him out of his thoughts. He blinks, realizing he missed half the conversation. He forces a tight-lipped smile as Isagi nudges him, but his mind wanders back to the phone in his pocket. 

He reaches for it, his heart quickening at the sight of your name on the screen. A message from you.

/yn_offthepage: what the fuck was that about earlier?

He freezes, his thumb hovering over the notification. He hasn’t heard you curse even once. Even through the text, he can hear your biting tone inside his head, ringing.

The screen dims, and Hiori lets it. The weight of his uncertainty presses heavily on him. For now, he couldn’t bring himself to open the message.

Later that night, back in his room, Hiori sits at his desk, staring blankly at his PC screen. Even the idea of gaming felt hollow. His mind was too restless.

His eyes wander to the image of you and him sitting at the pitch all sweaty. It was the candid shot someone had taken during the content shoot where he taught you how to dribble.

You were looking afar with a big smile on your face, and he was looking at you with so much yearning, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, betraying him.

The sight of it stirred something in him. A longing, sharp and bittersweet. He wanted to know if you ever looked at him the way he looked at you at that moment.

But what if opening up ruined what you already had? What if his feelings crossed a line you weren’t ready to acknowledge?

Hiori sighs, leaning back in his chair. The questions linger, unanswered. 

For now, all he can do is sit with them, hoping he’d find the courage to face you—and himself—soon.

Your schedule finally winds down when the JFA hosts a midseason party disguised as a roadshow for the upcoming months and next season.

It’s a rare opportunity to step away from the chaos of your work, and you’re willing to take it. Networking, getting insider info straight from the lion’s den—and of course, free food and drinks.

Especially the free-flowing alcohol.

Despite the “casual” label slapped on the event, it’s still as lavish as you’d expect. Thank goodness there’s no formal dress code. You settled on your favorite gray high-waisted trousers paired with a tight-fitting black sleeveless turtleneck. Professional but bold, with just enough skin to leave an impression. 

You can never go wrong with a little show of confidence, after all.

At the venue, you exchange pleasantries with Anri and Ego. The three of you make for an unusual trio, seated together like this. While you take notes as part of your routine, Anri occasionally scolds Ego for yawning or delivering sharp quips from the side. 

The roadshow presentation is a mix of team management personnel, media representatives, investors, and a few JFA partners. As usual, the rest of the crowd is either running late or loitering outside, waiting for the afterparty to begin.

At least, you’re at ease knowing that you won’t bump into any players. Not just yet.

As soon as the program ends, the three of you continue to chat at the bar counter over drinks. But before you can even swap gossip with Anri, she’s whisked away by a group of Blue Lock graduates—punctual players from Italy Ubers. That leaves you alone with Ego, who sips whiskey neat while you nurse a Long Island iced tea.

“You’re doing better than the last time we met. Not bad for an unpolished gem,” he remarks dryly, lifting his glass.

It’s a backhanded compliment, but you can’t help the small flicker of pride it sparks.

“It’s... okay, I guess. But honestly, I didn’t expect how tough it’d be. The lines between work, passion, and personal life blur so easily.”

You ramble about juggling deadlines, clashing assignments, and the weight of endless expectations. Ego listens in silence, his sharp gaze unwavering.

“Then be an egoist,” he says bluntly, cutting through your ramblings like a knife. “You think those brats are just selfish jerks? They are. But egoism is what keeps them on top.

“It’s what makes them grow, thrive, and become the best. You’re no different. You have to feed your ego too, or else you’ll be devoured and spat out until you’re an empty husk of yourself.”

His words settle heavily in your chest. Before you can respond, Ego stands up, gives a half-hearted wave, and strides toward the exit, muttering something about how his tolerance for the evening’s schmoozing has reached its limit.

Scanning the room, you notice Anri still deep in conversation with some JFA people by the dance floor, while others mingle in scattered groups. The bar counter feels empty now, save for you and the two bartenders.

It’s a good time to pause and gather your thoughts—or maybe strike up a conversation with someone if the alcohol kicks in enough courage. 

For now, you sit quietly, Ego’s words echoing in your mind.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself—to push for better assignments, to confront Hiori, to stop burying your frustrations under layers of professionalism and fear.

Liquid courage starts to course through your body, loosening your hesitation. You pull out your phone and quickly type a message to your editor.

“I want a new assignment. I think I deserve that much, don’t I?” You hit send and switch your phone to Do Not Disturb before you can even second-guess yourself.

Before your musings can go deeper, someone slides onto the stool to your right. You glance up to see Reo with his cheeks flushed pink and his smile wide with mischief. 

Behind him, Nagi trails, hands stuffed into his pockets, his disheveled hair giving him an even lazier charm. The scent of whiskey clings to them both, Reo more noticeably so.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite journalist,” Reo greets, his voice dripping with playful charm. “What are you doing here all alone? Don’t you know parties are for mingling?”

You glance up, managing to offer a small smile. “And here I thought parties were for free food and drinks.”

“Touché,” Reo laughs, leaning against the bar counter. “But c’mon, there’s more to this party than just snacks. Like us, for instance.”

“Us?” you echo, your brows raising slightly.

“Me and Nagi, of course,” he says, draping an arm over Nagi’s shoulder. “You know, we were just talking about you earlier. He thinks you’re cute.”

Nagi gives a small, noncommittal shrug, his half-lidded eyes fixed on you. “He’s not wrong.”

You blink, the casualness of his statement catches you off guard. Before you can process it, Reo leans in closer, his grin widening. “You should come dance with us. I mean, what’s the harm? A little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

Your laughter is polite but nervous as you shake your head. “I’m fine here, really.”

“Oh, come on,” Reo presses, nudging Nagi toward you. “You look real nice tonight. Don’t tell me you’re just going to sit here all night while looking like that.”

The warmth of Reo’s arm brushing against yours sends a strange buzz through you. Nagi watches quietly, an amused glint in his eyes, as though content to let Reo take the lead in whatever this is.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Nagi asks suddenly, his voice calm but cutting through the noise around you.

The question startles you, and your answer comes almost automatically. “I don’t.”

“Good,” Reo murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “Then no one’s going to mind if we take you home tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You almost choke on your drink, coughing slightly as you gape at him. “Wait, what?”

“Take you home,” Reo repeats, his smile slow and deliberate as if testing how far he can push. “You, me, and Nagi. What do you say? We’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

Nagi’s lips quirk into a faint smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Reo’s kidding… mostly.” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge of intrigue that makes it hard to tell where the joke ends.

Your pulse quickens, confusion and a strange heat mingling as you glance between them. Reo’s boldness is dizzying while Nagi’s quiet amusement only adds to your disorientation.

“I… I’m flattered,” you stammer, your voice wavering. “But I’m not interested.”

“Aww c’mon! Give us a chance?” Reo pleads, lightly touching your bare arms.

“I’m really-” 

You wonder if this is just a game to him or something more. But before you can untangle your thoughts, a firm hand lands on the counter to your left, the loud cutting through the tension like a blade.

You turn your head to see Hiori, his smile strained but unwavering. His gaze flickers between you before settling on Reo.

“Mind if I borrow Miss Journalist for a while?” he asks smoothly, though his words leave no room for argument.

Reo raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. “Alright, alright. But I’ll get my dance one day, Miss Journalist! Think about it!”

Hiori doesn’t wait for a reply, instead, he places a gentle but firm hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the bar as Reo and Nagi watch the both of you saunter away. 

"Hey," a small smile plays on Hiori’s lips as he greets you. 

"Hi."

The balcony door slides shut behind him, muting the pounding bass and chatter from the dance floor. It’s just the two of you now, isolated from the noise, the cool autumn air biting at your skin.

You take a good look at Hiori. A white t-shirt tucked into matching trousers, paired with a soft navy cardigan that clings to his frame. He looks effortlessly put together, as always.

"Ya alright?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you lie, the words feel heavier than they should.

"What was that about?" Hiori frowns, tilting his head slightly.

"I… think Reo was asking me to uh… sleep with him and Nagi? Are they like, together?" you blurt out, half-laughing, trying to lighten the tension you can already feel brewing.

"Yeah, they are. Pretty low-key 'bout it. Wild, huh?" he chuckles, and for a moment, the tension eases.

But the silence that follows grows heavy. For a minute, neither of you talk. The soft whistle of the wind and the distant hum of the city fill the void between you, but neither of you moves to break it. Finally, you speak.

"You don’t text me anymore," you say suddenly, the accusation sharp.

"Ya never replied," Hiori counters just as quickly, his tone flat but the edge unmistakable.

You bite your lip. "I didn’t know what to say. It felt like you were accusing me of something."

Now, Hiori looks guilty, his lips pressing into a thin line.  "Just… just stop tryin’ to avoid this. Shuttin’ me out isn’t going to fix the problem."

"I wasn’t shutting you out," you argue, but even you don’t believe it. "I just—didn’t know how to respond. It felt like no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough."

"And ya thought ignorin’ me was better? Just pretendin’ nothin’ happened?" His voice rises, frustration simmering to the surface.

"What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, it was just work. I’m not interested in Nagi or Manshine City.’ What am I to you to have to defend myself like that?" you snap back, your voice trembling. 

"I don’t know!" Hiori snaps back, his frustration breaking through. "I thought we were close enough to say things like that to each other!"

"And your message had no emojis!" your words overlap with Hiori. It was definitely a petty statement but at this point, your emotions are spilling over in ways even you don’t understand.

Hiori’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a dangerous softness. "Didya ever care about me?"

"Because it doesn’t feel like ya do. Ya ignored me when we won. I looked for ya. I know ya saw me. But ya wouldn’t even look my way.." His voice cracks and you see the hurt he’s been burying. 

"Do ya know what that felt like?" His voice is a whisper, pleading. 

You know the answer. That it hurt like a bitch. Because you felt the same pain when both of you went on the silent treatment for weeks. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

This could’ve been resolved easily by just talking things through. This confrontation could’ve been avoided and saved you both the time. But no. 

Instead, you let the hurt fester even further, creating this invisible barrier between the two of you. And now, the blame game is on. And it doesn’t even make sense. 

"It wasn’t about you!" Before you can even think, your words tumbling out in desperation. "It was for work. I-I didn’t want to be seen as the Bastard München… fangirl."

"Why not?" Hiori’s voice rises, taken aback by your words. "We ain’t good enough fer ya? Or is it just me? Am I not good enough fer ya?"

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily stunned. "I didn’t say that," you whisper, your voice trembling.

"And why should that matter?" Hiori snaps, his voice raw with emotion. "Why does it feel like yer always running away from me?"

Even Hiori himself can’t comprehend why he’s so frustrated. He’s felt betrayal from his parents before. For them caring more about his stature as an athlete than his well-being as their son.

But this one’s different.

He knows how petty he is being. But he can’t help himself not be vulnerable around you. All reason, all logic thrown out of the window because of you. 

All he can think at this point is how good it felt talking to you about work and games. How good it felt when you would talk about football with him with such a glimmer in your eyes that it fascinates him to see how you view the sport. 

How it felt good when you would run up to him to interview him and the team as you guys exchange knowing smiles, fingers grazing just barely. All he knows is that you are magnetic. 

Even right now, all he can think about is being close to you. 

You turn away from him. A shiver runs down your spine, regretting not wearing something more warm for this party.

I can’t do this. Not now, you thought. 

“Please leave me alone. For now. I can’t do this, Hiori.”

The autumn air nips are your arms. Instinctively, you cross your arm in hopes of warming yourself, eyes gazing away from Hiori still. A warm hand envelopes one of yours and you feel the thick cardigan drapes over you, shielding you from the cold wind. 

Hiori’s gaze softens, but his voice remains firm. "M’not leaving until ya tell me what’s going on. Why are ya pushing me away?"

Your shoulders slump as the weight of it all crashes down on you. "Because I feel guilty, okay?" you say. "I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

"People talk," you continue, your voice breaking. "All I hear is how I’m some opportunist, bandwagoning on Bastard München—on you."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. "I don’t know what this is," you finally admit, gesturing between the two of you. 

"I don’t know what we are, or what I’m even allowed to hope for. And I don’t want to push you or cross a line, but it’s—" Your voice breaks, tears threatening to spill any moment.

"It’s like I’m trying to walk on this invisible tightrope, and I’m scared of messing it all up."

Hiori’s gaze softens, but you keep going, unable to stop now. "I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to navigate this—whatever this is—without hurting you or myself or both. And why should you care, right?" you add bitterly, the words tasting like poison.

Hiori steps closer, his voice breaking. "I care. Yer the one person who made me feel like more than just a player. And it hurts like hell to feel like I don’t matter to ya."

"You do matter," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You’re the one thing I think about when I work, Hiori. You’re the reason I believe in myself. But you’re… you’re s-so out of reach, and I’m terrified of ruining what little we have."

Your voice quivers as you reply, "And I don’t know how to fix it, Hiori. I don’t even know where to begin. And it’s not fair to you. You’re you—amazing and steady and… everything I’m not."

He closes the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Dontcha get it? I don’t need us to have all the answers now. Just need ya to stop running."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in. "I’m scared," you whisper.

"And ya think I’m not?" he shoots back, his voice cracking. 

"Yer all I think about, and it terrifies me. But I don’t care. I’m here. I’m stayin’. And I’ll wait as long as it takes fer ya to figure out who ya are—because I already know who ya are to me."

For a moment, the world holds still. Then Hiori closes the distance between you, his hands cupping your face gently. He hesitates, searching your eyes for permission, and when you don’t pull away, he leans in.

"Yer amazing," he whispers, breath hot against your lips. "And ya don’t even realize it."

The kiss is soft at first, testing, but quickly deepens as the emotions between you spill over. His lips are warm, grounding you, and when his tongue brushes yours, it leaves you breathless.

You melt under his touch. The kiss itself is intoxicating, as if you’re drowning, lightheaded by the swirling emotions and the budding heat within you.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. "I like ya too, y’know" he murmurs. "M’sorry fer doubting ya. Fer making ya feel like ya had to carry this alone."

He kisses you again, slower this time as if savoring the moment. "I’m sorry for being a coward. For not talking to you."

You clutch at his shirt, your tears mingling with his kiss. "I’m sorry too," you whisper into his mouth.

He smiles faintly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "All this because my message didn’t have an emoji, huh?" he laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension between you finally giving way to something lighter. In this moment, with him, you feel the weight of your worries start to lift, even if just for now.

In this moment, with him, you wish the night would never end.

amari's notes: struggled to write this one, i wanted to really get this chapter out quickly but i wasnt satisfied with my first drafts so i had to rewrite it so many times. i really wanted this to come out well. this chapter is close to my heart, esp when hiori and miss journalist talk about their insecurities. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (2/?)

Continuing to mash up all the timelines. In my mind, this version of Starscream and Megatron are like in the immediate aftermath of TF One, where Starscream is clearly the older and more experienced one but everyone witnesses Megatron's transformation into a very warped and corrupted version of himself as he comes to terms with his newfound power, then asserting his dominance through violence. At the same time, we've somehow timeskipped to fighting the autobots on earth. These are just a bunch of very messy and self-indulgent thoughts, but I am recently exploding with this idea about Starscream and need to get all of them out bit by bit sksksk. Thank you all for reading and for the encouragement!!

@dratchetsimp this is for you!!

It's painful to watch the pressure mount on Starscream by the day as Megatron's anger grows. Once upon a time, you might have agreed with him - you, like many others, felt betrayed by Sentinel and wanted to see Cybertron rebuilt. But over time, Megatron loses himself to the insanity of plotting and revenge. You'd heard that he'd gone by D-16, once. You wonder what that bot was like, before shaking your helm to remind yourself that no matter who he was, D-16 was gone and there was no use lingering over such thoughts.

Starscream barely recharges - you used recharge stiff and upright in the barracks amongst the other low-ranking decepticons - but Starscream had somehow pulled a few strings to allow you to share his habsuite. He doesn't divulge the details, deliberately evasive - but you've managed to piece together the gist of it.

"It's admirable how loyal your pet is, Starscream," Megatron sneered. "Impressive given that I cannot expect the same from you."

Starscream had taken all of it - the insults, the humiliation, with clenched servos and wings trembling with rage. But in the end, it had been worth it, because Megatron finally dismissed him with a lazy wave of his servos with permission to do whatever he wished with you.

As bots in the barracks milled around, preparing for recharge, you hadn't realised that the chatter around you had petered off into unsettled silence until Starscream barked your designation, curt and commanding.

"With me," he commanded, and abruptly stalked out of the barracks before even waiting to see if you would follow (of course you would).

The whispers of the others fell on deaf audials as you hurried out of the barracks to chase after Starscream - you fall into step behind him as he leads you to some part of the base that you've never seen before. You pass door after door, and it soon dawns on you that these are the officers' habsuites.

"Sir...?"

Starscream doesn't deign to answer you, instead coming to an abrupt stop in front of one of the rooms. The suspicion as to where he was taking you had taken hold, but you had scarcely dared to believe it. Yet, the door to Starscream's habsuite whooshes open, leaving you with the inability to deny your suspicions any longer.

"You are to recharge here, now," Starscream says curtly. "Do not return to the barracks unless ordered. Is that clear?"

You can only nod, shocked by the turn of events. Your old sleeping arrangements hadn't been that dire. That is, if you didn't count the filth, the sounds of snoring, fighting, fragging - and bolting awake from your nightmares only to have some other bot yell at you to keep it down. Okay. Maybe it wasn't great. But did he really care that much?

As your processor works to digest your newfound situation, Starscream promptly flings himself down onto the berth. "Well?" he says, with an irritable growl. "Are your pedes rooted to the ground, or are you going to recharge?"

You're startled back into motion, tentatively approaching the berth before clumsily attempting to maneuver yourself into a position where you won't touch Starscream. It's awkward, to say the least, lying next to your commanding officer like this. To make matters worse, Starscream's habsuite runs cold - and you are becoming increasingly aware of your smaller frame's inability to conserve heat. Starscream must have picked up on the small tremors of your frame (he'd been lying awake the whole time to carefully gauge your responses), because all of a sudden, your commander's handsome faceplate is right in front of yours, and you squeal as you find yourself yanked closer to him, right up against his chassis.

"Pathetic," Starscream snarls, even as he's carefully tucking you against him. "How are you going to fend for yourself when you can't even fend against the cold?" Against your better judgement, you snuggle closer, gratefully taking in the much-needed warmth of his frame. Even if his words are harsh, the gentle way he cradles you against him betrays his true intentions.

"Recharge," he orders, and you, like the good soldier you are, promptly obey.

Which is why, after settling into a routine in his habsuite, you are very aware of just how little Starscream recharges. He's always at his desk, viciously muttering something or other over a towering stack of datapads. His frame is tense, as well - plates drawn tight around him defensively, wings constantly hitched up with the amount of stress he's under. You've tried to persuade him to recharge, but he simply snarls and waves you away. The most that he will accept is the energon you bring him. These days, it's a challenge to find any empty space on his desk to set the cubes down.

After Starscream successfully locates an energon mine, you are hopeful, perhaps naively so, that Megatron will finally give him a break. You finally understand the grim look on Starscream's faceplate right before he went to report to Megatron about his findings. The warlord is pleased, but not necessarily at the idea of your species' continued survival - rather, the discovery of abundant energon had swelled his confidence in plans to launch an offensive against the Autobots. You glance at your commanding officer, standing at attention on the bridge - his posture appears relaxed and confident, but you as a seeker know what tells to look for - his twitching wings say it all.

Starscream is exhausted, even if he stubbornly refuses to admit it. His systems are on high alert and constantly fire off at the tiniest things - he'd nearly taken your helm off with his null ray when you came to deliver him a cube of energon. His wide optics meet your terrified faceplate before he quickly disables his weapon, optics offlining as he sags back in his chair.

"Frag it," Starscream mutters, rubbing his faceplate with rough servos. "That slagging, good-for-nothing spawn of a glitch. We're in no shape to fight."

It's true - demoralization was at an all-time high. Bots were exhausted and running on fumes from the prolonged lack of energon, and would need time to recover. However, you're more worried about Starscream - inevitably, he's going to play a major role in the attack. While you don't doubt his strength, sheer willpower could only get any bot so far - and you've been worried about him keeling over on the spot for a while.

Leading up to the attack, you gaze at your commander as he stands on the precipice of a rocky cliff overlooking the Autobots' regular area of patrol. He looks so alone, and you cannot bear it as soon as you watch his servos curl into a fists, the only show of emotion he will allow himself. You know he's forcing himself to stay upright, if only to hide the defeated slump of his shoulders because as he said - the Decepticons are in no condition to fight, and you only need glance back to at the rest of the straggling troops to see that he's correct.

He glances at you as you quietly step forwards to stand beside him. His faceplate is expressionless, but his servos relax as your optics meet for a few nanokliks. "With me," he says quietly, only for your audials. Then, he's looking forwards again, resolute, as the Autobots rev into view below you and Megatron roars the command to attack.

The battle was a disaster. Under Orion Pax's - no, Optimus Prime's - leadership, the Autobots had spent time refueling and familiarizing themselves with their new surroundings, giving them the upper hand in both physical combat and strategy. It wasn't long before Megatron was bellowing at you to retreat, and Knockout soon found himself with his hands full and a line of the injured spilling out of his medbay and winding down the corridors in a cacophony of pained groans.

You'd escaped relatively unscathed, with no injuries that required immediate attention, and were thankful to see that Starscream was the same. However, he only seemed to grow more tense as you both landed back at base. "Go to my habsuite," Starscream orders. He's so tense that his frame is close to vibrating. "Do not come out until I return."

Before you can ask him what's happening, he's stalking off in the direction of the bridge, and... oh.

You're once more struck by the sheer feeling of helplessness as you watch him go. You couldn't even get him to recharge properly, take better care of himself when he took such good care of you, considering the circumstances - and now, even though the battle had left you both relatively unscathed, it seemed that you'd counted your blessings too early. You knew you had no hope of protecting Starscream against what Megatron was about to do, and you hated it.

Back in Starscream's habsuite, you'd dragged the med kit out and waited anxiously, wearing circles into the floor with your pacing. You hoped it wouldn't be too bad. After all, the failure had not been Starscream's fault and he'd just located an energon mine. Surely...?

By now, you really should have learned not to get your hopes up. It's a few cycles before a loud bang shudders unexpectedly through the room, as if something - or somebot, had fallen against the door. You shoot up, frantically slapping at the door unlock button, and Starscream all but collapses into his habsuite in a bloodied heap.

"Oh, Primus," you breathe, horrified, and launch yourself forwards to drag him into the room.

Even just by touching him, your servos are sticky with energon, and you bite back a sob as you fumble with the latches of the med kit. You have no idea where to start and are the least qualified bot here to do this, but you know that if you tried to drag Starscream to the medbay in front of lines and lines of Decepticon soldiers, he would regain consciousness just to tear you apart himself.

His optics are offlined, and the only thing keeping you from breaking down is the subtle rise and fall of his chassis. You reign yourself in best as you can, and try to remember what you've been taught in the one stellar cycle you were at the Academy. Okay. Initial assessment: jagged rips in his plating, torn wires... it looked bad, but these were all injuries you could deal with as accidents during training had been inevitable - and you thank Primus that the integrity of his wings had been spared, with rips in the plating like the rest of his frame but no torn wires there.

You snatch a cloth and the welder out of the med kit with shaky servos, swiping haphazardly at the energon on Starscream's chassis. A screeching buzz fills the air as you get to work on the biggest tear that you can see. He can get Knockout to buff them out later, because as ugly as your handiwork might be, right now you're only concerned with getting the energon to stop because there's just so much.

You're almost done with the biggest rip when Starscream's systems suddenly hiss back to life, and his optics cycle before blearily landing on you. After a moment, they slide to the screeching welder in your shaky servo, taking in his battered frame, the pool of energon below you both before offlining his optics again and lying back with a groan. You continue with your work, and Starscream doesn't interrupt you, allowing you to turn his arms this way and that as you re-join wires and solder his plates to the best of your ability. At some point, he'd regained enough strength to quietly watch you work, voicing no complaint about the quality of your rough patch job nor flinching or making any sound of pain.

Eventually, the only thing left to patch is his wings. Your vocalizer resets with a click before you can speak. "Sir," you mumble. "Your, uh, your wings need repair as well."

To seekers, wings are sacred, treated as the most intimate parts of one's frame. To be honest, you weren't sure if Starscream would let you touch his wings, and you were really going out on a limb to ask. However, you couldn't sit idly by and not even attempt to fix the jagged rips that marred his beautiful wings. To your shock, Starscream soundlessly heaves himself upright and turns around to bare his wings to you. You must have taken a few nanokliks too long, because Starscream shifts impatiently. "Turbofox got your glossa?" he rasps, and even if his voice sounds weaker than usual, you could cry with relief to hear him again.

You kneel delicately behind him, servo hovering over his left wing before you finally dare to lightly brush your fingers over the smooth plating. Starscream's wings twitch ever so slightly and he ex-vents sharply, but otherwise makes no motion to get away. Wings are especially sensitive and while he betrayed no pain when you were welding the other parts of his frame, you almost felt bad for having to touch the welder to his wings, despite the necessity. The welder screeches again, and Starscream visibly shudders when it touches the edge of the first rip. His servos are close to digging dents into the floor by the time you get to the second one, and he's ex-venting raggedly. "Last one," you murmur, wanting desperately to offer some comfort.

Starscream nods wordlessly and braces himself again, shoulders tense as the screech of the welder fills the air. The last rip has torn into his aileron and he can't hold back a ragged gasp as you work the welder over the tender area. You hate feeling him jerk and twitch beneath your servos in barely-suppressed agony. But finally, after what feels like forever, you click the welder off and plunge the room back into silence, save for Starscream's rough ex-vents. You are reluctant to move away from him so quickly, especially when he's in this condition, so you quietly stay where you are, gently brushing your servo over the broad, unmarred sections of his wings in silent comfort.

He could have easily pushed you away, but you're relieved that he doesn't, allowing you to continue touching him as he collects himself. It's a few kliks before he makes to get up, scowling in disgust as he takes in his energon caked frame and the rapidly drying puddle on the floor. You busy yourself with tidying the med kit, purposely looking away as Starscream takes a nanoklik to steady himself.

He's no doubt due for a visit to the washracks, and looking down at your own frame, you're no better. If anything, you're eager to cleanse yourself of Starscream's energon - the memory of his crumpled frame on the floor flashes through your processor, and you accept with quiet resignation that this will feature in your nightmares at some point.

"Cadet."

You look up, and Starscream is watching you with an unreadable expression on his faceplate.

"You performed well."

With wide optics, you nod jerkily at him from where you're still kneeling on the floor. You swear you caught the corner of his intake twitch upwards before he whirled round and stalked off again, clearly in dire need of a wash.

Rising to your pedes with a wince, you shake out the numbness of compressed wires in your legs. However, your spark thrums with the dizzying satisfaction of having been able to help, and the lightheaded thrill of receiving praise from Starscream.

Previous / Next

[cinnbar-bun]

One Happy Hawk (Mihawk x Reader)

Summary: After getting hit with the Happy-Happy Fruit during a fight, Mihawk returns home in a rather… peculiar fashion.

Rating: SFW /Kinda Crack

Note: Takes place during the timeskip, is crackish, and features Perona, Zoro, and a cameo from Crocodile. Reader and Mihawk are married. Reader is GN.

Word Count: ~1.7k

A/n: Hey besties, sorry, my appendix burst a few days ago and I was in the hospital! I’ll do my best to finish some requests while I recover!

Mihawk getting caught off guard was one thing but now, after Mihawk slain his attacker and was resting at home, you couldn’t tell if this new behavior of his was unnerving or welcome.

“Wow, my house is so dark! It needs some light, right?” Mihawk asked loudly, before he opened the window curtains he almost always refused to open. You, Perona, and Zoro gawked as Mihawk pranced happily around the room, opening the many windows and letting the light shine in.

He sighed happily at his work and widely smiled to all of you. “My, isn’t this lovely? The sun is so beautiful.”

You three gasped at his innocent and sweet expression that seemed to glow brighter than the sun itself.

“I-I need to take a photo-“ you quickly mumbled. Perona nodded while Zoro looked as if he’d faint.

“What? Is something wrong?” Mihawk asked, before he made his way to you and felt your forehead. “Oh, darling, are you alright? Are you sick at all?”

You shake your head and Mihawk’s face softens. “Good. Yes, very good.”

“Uh, Mihawk?!” Perona yelled. “Why are you like this?!”

Mihawk gave a confused look. “Like what?”

“Like…. Like that!!” She pointed her finger at him, unsure of where to begin. Mihawk hummed as he massaged his beard.

“Hm, I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t I always like this? You three always bring me such joy. I just wish to change things up today,” Mihawk explained.

Zoro leaned against a wall, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is going on?!” He cried, before he handed Mihawk a sword. “Come on! Fight me!”

“Fight you? Why would I do that? That could cause serious harm to us,” Mihawk gasped. If Zoro wasn’t clinging to Perona, he may have just fainted on the spot.

“I don’t want to hear anymore of this. (Y/n), he’s your husband, please do something,” Zoro mumbled despondently.

“What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!” You frantically answered.

“Ah! I got an idea! Maybe I can sicc my Hollows onto him! That should make him grumpy again!” Perona snapped her fingers.

“Great idea!” You and Zoro said at once. Perona then turned to Mihawk and summoned a Negative Hollow to pass through Mihawk. Mihawk simply watched curiously as the Hollow went through him, unfazed.

“Did it work…?” Perona whispered, before her answer came in the form of Mihawk laughing and clapping.

“Great job, Perona! Your Hollows are always such a treat to witness! It even tickled a little!” Mihawk stated proudly to Perona.

Perona screamed at Mihawk’s face and wrapped herself around you like a koala.

“Make him stop! Make it stop!” She wailed. “Go back! Go back!”

“Perona! I’m gonna fall!” You wobble, while Perona clung to you tighter.

“Waaaaaah! I thought he’d be nicer if he was happier but I hate itttttt! Turn him back, (Y/n)!” Perona ignored your comment, sobbing loudly. You sighed and placed Perona down before going to your husband.

“Darling, why don’t we go rest and-“

“Oh my!” Mihawk’s cheeks turned red as his eyes sparkled excitedly. He grabbed your hands and held them in his. “You wish to take a nap together? What an amazing idea, my love!”

The blush on his face is too cute to resist, and you can’t help but feel your face heating up at his undivided attention. Before you can say anything else, Mihawk tilts your chin up and gazes into your eyes dreamily.

“My love, have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are?”

“H-huh?” You reply, shocked at his honest compliment. Not that he never complimented you- he did- he was just usually more subtle about it.

“Yes, your eyes lead me astray every day. I wish to melt into them. I wish to look into your eyes forever and never be parted from you. I sometimes wonder if you are even real with how beautiful and ethereal you are. But when I look into your precious eyes, I know for certain that you are real, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life,” he stated earnestly, a gentle smile on his face.

You giggle at his proclamation of love and twirl your hair with your finger.

“On second thought, maybe we should keep him like this,” you grin.

“No way!!” Perona and Zoro shout in unison. You huff and pout, before Mihawk strokes your head.

“My love, please do not frown. I did promise that I would never let you be unhappy again.”

You perk back into a smile and nod. “Yes, you did!”

“Ah, there’s that smile I love so much!”

You two hold hands and smile in such a disgustingly cute way that Zoro and Perona gag.

“Great. Now (Y/n)’s fallen into his charms,” Perona groaned.

“We have to do something. I can’t become the greatest swordsman if this is how Mihawk quits,” Zoro pinched his forehead.

“New plan!” Perona pounded her hand in determination. “We make him remember how grumpy he is!”

Zoro nodded, eager to get his teacher back to normal.

“Hey, Mihawk!” Perona shouted to get his attention.

“Yes, Perona?” Mihawk replied, curious about what she wished to say.

Perona snickers and pulls out two coats, his usual black and red one, and the pink one she designed for him in an attempt to be ‘cute’. “Which one do you like more?”

Mihawk looked deep in thought. “The pink one. It’s clear that you put so much love and effort into tailoring it for me. And it even matches your outfit!”

Perona’s face shrivels up as Mihawk decides to wear the pink coat. “Yes, just splendid! You really have outdone yourself Perona! How do I look?”

You and Perona clamp a hand over your mouth as your eyes water at the adorable coat on a smiling Mihawk.

“So… cute…” you two mumble.

“Would you two knuckleheads think straight for a moment?! He’s obviously not himself! We have to fix him, not play dress up with him!”

“Now, now, Zoro,” Mihawk wags his finger. “There’s no need to yell. (Y/n) and Perona just wished to compliment me on my new outfit. I think it’s a great-“

Before Mihawk can finish, his Den Den Mushi begins to ring and he answers it quickly.

“Hello? Ah, Sir Crocodile! How wonderful it is to hear your voice!”

You and Perona snapped out of your thoughts as Zoro’s eyes widened in horror.

“Shit! They’re coming today for a meeting!” You whisper-shout as you remember the important meeting Mihawk told you about. “Quick, we can’t have them think anything is wrong!”

Zoro and Perona nod and run around the room, closing the windows again and redecorating so the place looks just as cold as before. Mihawk raises a brow as you swipe his Den Den Mushi and laugh nervously.

“Good morning, Sir Crocodile! I’m so sorry to tell you this, but it seems like my poor Mihawk has come down with a nasty cold!” You try your best to sound worried in hopes Crocodile will cancel the meeting.

“But darling, I’m perfectly-“ Mihawk tries to argue, before Zoro and Perona cover his mouth.

“He… is sick? Mihawk?” Crocodile asks, unimpressed and not believing a word you say.

“Mhm! He’s just had the nastiest cough you could ever imagine!” You glance at Zoro and he begins to cough loudly. “Can't you hear him? He’s been like that all day!”

“Right. And that is why he sounded so chipper to greet me just now?”

“Oh, the medicine the doctor’s gave him makes him rather… uh… loopy! Yes! He’s been a bit out of it!”

“Mihawk,” Crocodile sternly says, and Mihawk breaks free from Zoro and Perona’s grip.

“Yes, Crocodile?” Mihawk replies.

“Are you truly sick?”

Mihawk laughs loudly. “Oh no, my friend! I’m not sure why my love is saying such things to you! I’m excited to have you over, in fact!”

You, Perona, and Zoro are frozen in shock as it is silent on the other end of the line.

“Dear lord,” Crocodile states, stunned at what he just heard. “It’s alright. We can have the meeting another time.”

“What? But why, Crocodile? I’m completely fine!”

“No I… I think your partner is correct. You are very sick. You should lie down.”

“I don’t need to do that! I’m absolutely okay! I was even going to make you my famous cookies for the meeting!” Mihawk shouts, hoping Crocodile changes his mind.

“Goodbye, Mihawk,” Crocodile quickly says before he disconnects the call. Mihawk pouts sadly as he holds onto his Den Den Mushi.

“Aw… he’s not coming today anymore,” Mihawk sighs. You pat your husband on the shoulder to soothe him.

“It’s alright, my love. You two can have that meeting another time!”

“You’re right! And I’ll absolutely impress him with those cookies! In fact, I’ll go make some cookies right now!” Mihawk shouts as he runs to the kitchen.

“How long is this thing supposed to last?” Perona whines. Zoro waves his hand and begins to walk towards the staircase. “I saw nothing. Today was just a bad dream.”

You massage your temples as you follow your husband to the kitchen, praying for this “condition” to pass soon.

Bonus:

“Ugh, my head is killing me…” Mihawk groans. He winces as he notices the light pouring through his open windows. He registers a heavy weight around his arm as he notices you’re sleeping peacefully beside him. A warm feeling builds up in his chest before he looks down to see he’s wearing… pink pajamas with red and black ribbons on them.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes again. It is not just a dream, but in fact, reality. He is wearing those pajamas that Perona made him. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“I’ll deal with this in about an hour,” he mumbles to himself, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you in closer.

[takes1]

I'm gonna start by saying that your fics are amazing! I love the way you write and I always get immersed in them. I would like to request an Osamu x reader fic, i was thinking about a childhood friends pining for a decade!au happening while working in his Onigiri shop, you might add Suna if you want,perhaps as a love triangle and misunderstandings as in Osamu thinking that the reader like Suna. As for the smut, I'll leave that to you 👀

thank you so much for supporting!! i love getting these requests and hearing from you! it really helps. not gonna lie, this one challenged me, but i think it turned out well! hope i got this right :) thanks again for the request love

warnings. lite!nsfw. minors DNI info. hq lite!nsfw / safe consent practices / mutual pining / some angst, some hurt, but pay-off / husband material!osamu / timeskip!osamu / childhood friends to lovers / miscommunication / r.i.p suna's unrequited feelings / misunderstandings / osamu gives great hugs / osamu is a wine snob / osamu is a little shy / 2.5k words 🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open so give me some ideas pls!

Your heart gave an all-too familiar squeeze at the sight of an old friend.

There he was, clad in a black cap, apron, and a well-fitting shirt. His face was one of slight concentration, his mouth in a straight line, jaw flexed. A strong arm lifted the black bag he carried high into the trash in the alley with ease.

"'Samu!" His nickname was like a sigh of reassurance on your tongue.

He turned, a stern face letting up as soon as he recognized you coming towards him. He quickly discarded his gloves in the trash and made forward to meet you. It ended in a hug in the middle of the sidewalk.

Business was so slow today, he really wasn't expecting any surprises- especially not any pleasant ones.

"(Y/n)." Was a mumble against your hair, charged relief on his breath. He was lifting you off of your feet and melting into you at the same time.

Your eyes stung a little when you tucked your face into his comforting shoulder. It'd been so long since graduation, but everything was coming back to you, all at once, against your will.

Maybe it was because you could still taste the onigiri you just finished, but those lunches he used to prepare for you kept cropping up. You weren't sure why it kept making you want to cry, though.

"I missed you!" You whispered, swallowing a sob.

He gave you a crushing squeeze in return. He certainly hadn't stopped working out since your high school days. There was a hesitation in letting each other go.

"God," His quick blinking made you feel better for getting emotional, "What are you doin' all the way out here?"

You sniffled and turned to Suna, briefly forgotten at the table, "I told you those fillings tasted familiar!"

There was an unmistakable shock in Osamu's eyes when you turned back to him, "We were just grabbing lunch. I had no idea 'Onigiri Miya' would actually mean you!"

He missed the natural beat to respond- instead of letting your declaration die, you kept up the attempt to rekindle things.

"Did you get a new number?" You asked, quieter, trying to catch his eye, so you leaned your head further between him and Suna.

He looked down at you with a much softer expression, "Hm?"

"I- texted you a couple months ago, I just assumed you got a- new number," You trailed.

It felt a bit forced and loser-esque to ask the reason why he hadn't texted you back. Two months was a while to get 'caught up' in something, after all.

If he didn't want to talk to you, he technically didn't owe you an explanation.

He blinked. It didn't cross his mind that you would've texted him-- his fingers fumbled for his phone in his pocket to show you a new iPhone.

"Yeah," He sighed, "Shit, I didn't think to tell anyone but 'Sumu..."

This time, he felt like the loser. He didn't have many people to text, nowadays. But he certainly didn't want you and Suna to know that.

Relief flashed across your face as you admitted in a light laugh, "Oh, thank god. I really thought you were ignoring me!"

"Let's all exchange numbers," You suggested.

You looked back to Suna and thought you saw some hostility in his eyes, "So we can all meet up sometime, when you're not working."

The process of getting each other's contacts was quiet and stilted. You thought better of making plans here and now, because there was an indescribable feeling that something was wrong.

Maybe the timing.

Osamu frowned at his phone after getting it back from Suna.

Maybe the place.

Suna gave a subtle sigh when Osamu put his number in.

Your text to Osamu that night garnered a response so quick that it made up for the months of uncertainty and pseudo-grieving. Your oldest friendship was not buried as deep in the ground as you had previously thought.

It ended in a suggestion you weren't expecting.

There was nowhere you both wanted to eat at, and no activities you could think of that would allow for the long conversations you both favored.

I could cook for us.

You knew better than to deny him the chance to cook, but it was clear to both of you that it felt a little too forward. A little too intimate for just two good friends.

That wasn't enough to keep you from agreeing immediately.

Certain that he didn't feel the same, you rationalized that you had nothing to worry about.

Dark red swirled slow, unending circles in your glass. You weren't one for red, but he brought out a vintage just for you tonight.

The perfectly plated dinner in front of you didn't last long. Osamu made it so easy to like foods you swore up and down you hated; you didn't question his choices despite your usual pickiness.

There were a number of times you had to pretend not to notice him watching you eat. He was pretty obvious, because he'd raise his spoon full of food, then let it hover mid-air, and turn his whole head to watch you chew. It was as if he was waiting for you to declare it was the worst thing you'd ever tasted.

He was still working on his -most likely cold- plate minutes after you cleaned yours off. It left you to catch up to him in glasses of wine. The bottle was nearing empty and you were still on your first.

"Do you have any roommates?" You asked, glancing around a spacious apartment.

It was so still. You'd surely die of loneliness, if you were him.

He shook his head. It made sense with his preference for solitude, but it still made you sit back and sip on your wine to keep from voicing your concern.

"It's quiet," Osamu wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate forward, "I know."

Was your discomfort that obvious?

His chuckling won out over your insistence that it wasn't that bad, and you eventually were resolved back to slouching in your chair again.

"You just need some- flowers," You motioned to the center of the table, not believing in your advice in the slightest, "Or... something like that."

"To be fair, I never sit at the table."

He poured the last of the wine into his glass. You stared down at yours. He still spoke and acted stone-cold sober. You had to wonder how much he drank, with this bleak living space.

"Not a fan of Merlot?"

This was getting a little embarrassing.

This time, you gave in, "Not feeling this one as much."

His brow raised. He had a layered expression, like he was torn between two sides of himself for a split-second.

He eased up and slid his elbows on the table, wine glass looking absurdly tiny in his hand.

You admired the gentle way he held the delicate glass, how he knew just how the weight was supposed to be distributed in the webs of his fingers.

"You drink wine much?" He had that completely immersed look on his face that was always so difficult to return.

He mistook your trouble to return his gaze as discomfort, and laughed, retracting his body from the table, "I-'m sorry--,"

"No-no it's okay-!" You put your hand on his arm and scooted your chair closer to affirm that you didn't mind his proximity -that you in fact welcomed it- and rambled, "I- don't, drink wine like that. So I- wouldn't really know what's good."

His gaze sent a shiver surging through your whole body. What an intense pair of eyes. He leaned forward on his elbows, thumb rubbing his freshly shaved cheek.

"It's an expensive hobby."

You were wracking up inappropriate questions by the second. First, the lack of love in his sad apartment, then his potential alcohol issues, now his salary.

The quiet clink of his glass on the table. A heavy, warm hand stilled yours on his arm, and he caught your troubled gaze.

"But it's just a hobby," He smiled.

The apartment filled with shared laughter. You were getting read like an open book, you couldn't help but cool your face down with the back of your hand.

"I-I promise, I'm not trying to judge," You sighed and grinned at what you noticed as his slightly tipsy giggling, "I just... care about you."

Osamu took a breath to say something, but something else flickered across across his face.

His hand was starting to slip from yours.

"So, you and Suna again?"

You laughed at what you thought was a joke. He didn't return it; instead, he let go and took another big sip from his almost empty glass.

"Oh-," You realized he was mistaken, "We're not together."

"Mm!" He swallowed and laughed, "Oh- that's good."

His focus faltered with a small cough, "I mean, not good, but-,"

"That's not something I want to go back to," You saved his embarrassing admission gracefully and looked away, only thinking about that short-lived relationship in high school.

Suna was just a distraction. A temporary filler for your unbearable emptiness. You never stopped loving Osamu, even when you had everyone else fooled. In the end, Suna just made you miss your friend more, since it sparked an unspoken drift in the process. It wasn't one of your brightest moments.

The look on his face was asking for more information. A 'So... why?' was on the tip of his tongue. You saved him the breath.

"He reached out. I was free, and I wanted to make sure we were alright after things ended like that."

Osamu nodded slowly, swirling half a sip of wine in his glass with careful consideration.

"You talk about it like you never liked him," He sighed against the rim, then shot it back in a way that made you realize why he was drinking so much.

He didn't have the courage to talk to you like this without it.

Your thumb, still resting on his forearm, rubbed thoughtfully. If he was being this candid through his actions, you didn't mind coming clean about a few things.

"I didn't," You admitted in a breathy half-laugh, "It wasn't real to me."

You shut your eyes tight and seethed, "I know that sounds so cruel--,"

"Yeah," He chuckled.

"Okay- I meant it like..." Your thumb was tapping on his raised skin, "I needed a distraction. You know I was struggling. He really was sweet. I know I should've treated him better."

It was clear that there was no hero to the story. You were all flawed, to some degree. Osamu's hand returned to yours. This time, he squeezed.

"You know I don't judge you for that."

All things considered, that break-up was still fresh. It was only briefly before your graduation date.

"Hey-," He reached up to turn your head towards him. It was a bit much and left you both warm and fidgety, "You know that I know that you're a good person."

His hand fell to your forearm.

It was fleeting, but you felt an energy between you. It was different. It filled that space in your heart you'd long since carved out for him.

Fleeting must be reiterated, because it was gone in an instant as he cleared his throat and stood, collecting the dishes in one trip with skill you could only attribute to the nature of his work.

You chugged the rest of your wine with a shudder so it wouldn't go to waste and skittered after his swift movement towards the kitchen.

If there was any place in the house that didn't feel lifeless, it was the kitchen. Spacious and clean, sure, but every tool and appliance here was cared for and used often.

It distracted you to slow down.

There was a level of respect you felt was necessary for a space so important to Osamu.

He began washing the dishes.

"Please let me do something," You begged from behind him.

All you got was a stoic head shake.

You leaned on the countertop behind him, staring at his back in that clean, black shirt. Would you ever get over him?

His words and actions from tonight turned over in your head. That hug you shared yesterday afternoon made your hands slip from the counter.

It may have been the wine that inspired your resolve to actually follow through, but your motivation did have years of pent-up desire behind it.

His body stiffened at the feeling of your arms around his waist, the side of your face pressed against his warm back. He smelled like a woody, musky cologne.

"Thank you," You muttered, mostly for his kind words, but its roots extended much farther than just recent events.

The sound of the water shutting off encouraged you to loosen your grip. The doubt started settling in as he dried his hands with a hanging towel, wordless.

His hands just barely grazed yours as you retracted, heart racing at the fact that you couldn't take that back.

He turned around to face you. Your eyes were busy avoiding his, so you were taken by surprise when he leaned down to pick you up from the waist.

It was just as easy and comfortable as the first time-- his shoulders spacious enough to bury yourself in, his hold so secure you didn't have to spare any strength holding on. He could support you all day.

A breathy groan, like he was a settling house, brushed your ear and sent tingles down your spine.

He set you down, but guided your arms to stay around his neck. You looked back and forth between his eyes, no longer unsure about his feelings.

"I missed you so much."

He was a clumsy kisser, but you didn't mind.

His hands were skilled and sure. It was more than enough to make up for his hungrier, rather than soft kisses.

One kept you steady by the back of your head, the other taking up your entire shoulder to guide you backwards against the kitchen island.

He rendered you breathless quickly- you pulled away for just a moment and he took it as a good sign to lift you up onto the countertop.

No part of you questioned this intense show of affection-- it felt like a fitting release of years-long tension and unspoken feelings.

They still remained unspoken, for the most part, but it could wait.

His hips pushed hard against your own, eliciting a soft, fluttery sound against his mouth.

He ate it up, wanting another so bad that one hand grabbed at the bend in your hip and thigh to keep you against him.

Your tummy twisted in a mixture of delightful pleasure and desire, everything below your waist all giddy and jittery as his fingers squeezed your hips with a need you never knew he was harboring.

Thighs trembling with nerves, his steady grasp pushing down helped to calm and stall you. You caught your breath with your forehead pressed against his. You unhooked your legs.

"W-hat?" You swallowed, praying to God this wasn't some mistake.

His wine-flushed face answered your question with no response.

"We shouldn't...I'm not--," He bit his cheek at his own restraint, brow tight with regret at his own actions from earlier.

You nodded, a little buzzed yourself, and laughed at his concern, "I'm okay with just kissing."

my masterlist.

requests are open!

[a-confused-spoon]

Jinx's haircut: how Powder and Ekko's story comes full circle

Hi! So, it appears Jinx will be cutting her hair short in season 2 (which is cool as fuck), and I’ve been seeing a lot of discussion on it, so I wanted to share my two cents 😊

I might refer to Jinx and Powder as if they are different ideantities, but I'm aware that's not how that works; it's just an easier way to express myself. Also english isn't my first language, so apologies for any possible wiritng mistake (this is a bit of a mess 😅)

* deep breath in *

As it has already been pointed out, this choice must have a deeper reason other than esthetic (I've been seeing the phrase "hair holds memories" used a lot), and what's even more interesting is that her new look resembles a lot how she used to look like as a kid; a bit bizarre, given how the entirety of season 1 showed us how Powder and Jinx's coexistence only brings the girl pain. As a matter of fact, the finale makes it clear to us that even she sees these two sides of herself as mutually exclusive.

So why and how exactly would this happen now?

What I keep going back to is the idea that maybe, just maybe, this has to do with her possibly "taking the lead" in Zaun; whether she actively becomes a leader or if she just "leads by example" (therefore passively), it doesn't change the fact that for better or worse she will be depicted as a leading revolutionary figure.

And fair enough: she singlehandedly killed half of the Council, the people who hold decisional power and have contributed to the misery on the other side of the river. After Vender's failed attempt on the bridge and Silco's focus on his own business dealings with Piltover among everything else he did, Jinx's attack on the city - something she does to ultimately solidify her identity as Jinx - opens a door that the Undercity was waiting to be opened for decades.

Here's the thing:

Being Jinx doesn't just mean acting on unbridled rage and being a menace to society; it means being feared by most, if not all, with the only possible exceptions being those who also accepted their inner monster. To put it in Singed's words, "If you take this path, they will despise you".

Being Jinx fundamentally implies loneliness.

Silco was consistently reminding her this: "I am your family; everyone else betrays us" / "Everyone betrays us Jinx! Vander! Her! They will never understand, it's only us".

In the official clip 'Enemy of my enemy' we find out that he only saw her cry twice, the two scenes we also witness as an audience, meaning he didn't see her cry once during the timeskip, and I'm sure it's safe to say that she most definitely did cry a lot given how she goes from episode 3 Powder (scared, couldn't grasp the concept of killing someone, heartbroken by the nickname jinx) to episode 4 Powder (a beast, kills in cold blood, has taken Jinx as her actual name)... it must've been an ugly transition, and it definitely didn't happen overnight; if Silco, who was the closest person she had all that time, didn't see it, then I think it speaks a lot on how alone Jinx really was in her darkest times.

For all the love he had for her, he reinforced this idea of isolation as an unescapable consequence of the right path, and I think this is also reflected in the lair that (supposedly) he found for her, especially when you compare it to the Firelights’ one:

The Firelights (this is important for later) are all about community and sharing joy as well as struggle and pain; they live in a place of healing, filled with life, without a roof so the sunlight can reach them during the day, and at nights living bugs that shine a light of their own fill up the hideout.

Jinx's place is diametrically opposed to this: it’s dark and looks cold, it's completely made of metal, the roof’s blocking any natural light and it hangs above an abyss with no bottom to be seen; the only company she consistently has are the puppets of her dead brothers and the only living thing that knows his way in is the only one that can understand, the only one she can rely on - aka Silco himself.

However, as Jinx herself knows, this may have worked for him, but it wasn't working for her for the longest time: she never stopped yearning for affection, love, friendship- that part of her never really went away; it was only being suppressed, suffocated, maybe unintentionally, and I strongly believe that it only worsen her trauma, and it's one of the things that made her spiral so bad into her depression, to the point of hallucinating.

I think that Silco's line in the baptism scene is particularly relevant here: "You need to let Powder die, so the fear of pain will no longer control you", where the fear of pain would refer to the fear of being on her own, of always failing and disappointing others, of being weak and never satisfying the desires, expectations, hopes that Powder carried within her to be “a valuable member of the team”.

If she lets Powder die (which again, she does in the final episode of season 1), this is no longer a problem: if she doesn't do teams, because teams don't want a jinx to begin with, that fear can't get to her; if she's a solo player, a self-sufficient loose cannon, she won't need to rely on anyone but herself because she's strong on her own and does not need the support of others.

If her power lays in the monster she is, the one everyone condemns her for being, then that childhood wish of hers just isn't a realistic option.

...but then this happens.

We know from the teaser trailer that in the operation Caitlyn's leading, 'finding Jinx' and 'neutralize any agent still loyal to Silco' are separate objectives. Which makes sense, since as far as they know Silco was the leader of a group of people, and now that he's gone Jinx is an individual under her own agency and her own agency alone. If initially she fights by herself, for herself because she can and fuck Piltover, then it all falls in line with what I stated so far.

But then we hear Sevika, who has hated Jinx's guts and who Jinx has hated back since day one, telling her to get the people together, to unite the Undercity as one because she can do that. Mind you, the girl has lived in Zaun all her life, she knows damn well that the end of Piltover is something the entire Undercity has been waiting for (“Imagine what the whole of the Lances could do!” from episode 2); yet despite this she needs to be openly told what is going on, that she’s not sizing the opportunity she’s created. She isn't, cause... her? Leading? A group of people? No. Not after the last time she tried to help, and most importantly, not after everything she learned under Silco.

Jinx can't fathom the idea of herself as a part of a part of a team. How can she? She literally just came to terms with isolation as ever present- and now, for some reason, the people of the city, who always either ran away from her or wanted her gone, are dying their hair blue in her image, trusting her, following her, painting murals of her as the bringer of revolution.

She isn't taking power forcibly like Silco did; she's just doing her thing, her Jinx thing, and Zaun, on its own, is choosing her as the leading figure.

Imagine how frustrating it must be for Jinx to look back and realize that Silco, her father- who has loved her, forgiven her, raised her, called her perfect, defended her, was there for her, saved her, guided her- was wrong, and put her in a condition of never ending existential pain when she could’ve had it differently the entire time; imagine how confusing it must be for her to look back and realize that it never mattered whether or not others understood her, 'cause she wasn't as unlovable or unforgivable as she thought herself to be in the first place, that Silco and Vi were never her only options.

Imagine how painful it must be for her to look back and realize that for all this time she could’ve had friends and be accepted and be trusted and rely on others because she never HAD to be alone.

...keeping this in mind, let's talk about Ekko and the missing flashback from episode 7 for a moment.

Admittedly we don’t have a lot of information, other than it took place not too long after the events of episode 3 (then again, to be fair, we don’t know a lot about their relationship as enemies as well: it’s all between the lines; I surely have my own opinions of how they feel about each other being on the enemy side, but I don’t believe it’s super relevant here). What’s for sure about this flashback is that it was a defining moment in both Ekko and Powder’s journey, especially for the latter. Someone surely died, and it 100% was Powder’s fault. It could be both the result of her very first crisis or her first intentional murder; in both cases it results in her deciding for herself to align with Silco as opposed to her best friend.

The way I like to see it is that, since the trauma was still very fresh, she might have been too scared of the idea of fighting alongside others after what happened last time, and she pushed herself to kill someone on purpose just to push Ekko away and prove a point (Silco’s point). I love the idea of the tragic irony of Ekko being the one person Powder managed to really save, and Powder being the one person Ekko couldn’t.

Personal headcanons aside though, the last part is the most important one here: Ekko couldn’t save Powder from Silco, and by extension everything he represents.

I’d like to point out that one of the most tragic aspects of the two becoming enemies (to me) is that, throughout those years, they reciprocally were the only living person the other shared a past with (well, Vi too, but she was in prison the entire time).

Silco not only takes over by force, he also marks as his all the places of said past: the Last Drop, Vi and Powder’s house… one line that always stuck with me from episode 7 is when Ekko tells Vi “All that’s left is Jinx, and she belongs to Silco”.

Not with Silco; to Silco. As if she too a piece of the past he turned into his property.

It’s like he understands that while yes, Powder made the decision by herself, that she wants to stay with Silco, he also knows that the man is the one to blame for... well, all of it; the kid was there when Silco showed up unprovoked at Benzo’s place, he knows things went downhill from there.

Ekko knows that he is the bigger problem and the bigger enemy. Even Vi, without knowing a thing about the past few years, can tell Silco put some shit into her sister’s head; Ekko can probably guess the same, difference being that Ekko has the responsibility of keeping other people safe, and he can’t risk it all for someone that, while possibly manipulated, ultimately isn’t collaborative. Ekko can’t jeopardize all he’s built and done for his former best friend, no matter how much it hurts him to be her enemy.

Back to season 2.

Like the entire fandom has already pointed out, there’s a 99.9% chance there will be an alliance between them and Jinx, especially when looking at Ekko’s new outfit.

Of course, this will not be immediate: my guess is that while Jinx works alone at the very start Ekko will be with Heimerdinger and following the arrest of the Firelights we see in the trailer maybe there’s a split. And even after Jinx takes charge so to speak, and possibly frees them, among others, from Stillwater, it’s possible there will be (and there should be) stages in the alliance: initial distrust, potential fight within the community- like yeah, let’s not forget what Jinx did to these people.

Even if they do go ahead with it, it is probably out of necessity more than anything else, with not one but two military forces against the whole of the Underground. It’s not like they’d be the most ecstatic faction about it, and the same goes for Ekko, which is why the new look will probably come in later.

But exactly like he could see Powder for a brief second on the bridge clearly enough for him to stop himself from beating her, he will, most definitely, see her again through Jinx's inner turmoil... that, and she also can’t keep her shit together when it comes to what she's feeling, the girl really is an open book.

And yeah, the situation would be pretty emotionally disorienting: she's being as Jinx as ever, but people like her now, which is something she used to want as Powder, who is supposed to be dead, and they're willingly following her like they willingly followed Vander and there's murals of her with him, though she's pursuing what aligns more with Silco's dream, but also turns out Silco was wrong about Powder, who might still be alive deep down- the whole thing is a big big mess.

Despite everything that I said about him, it’s not like Jinx would start to resent Silco. She could never, not after his last words to her. They mean the world to her, he means too much to her, and let’s not forget she probably hear his voice now too, along Mylo’s and Claggor’s; it might even be a calming voice to her, one she’s happy to hear even if she knows he’s not real… which makes it all worse and more painful to deal with.

In this scene from the trailer, it seems like Ekko’s talking to her (some have pointed out the blue hair out of focus). Since this is still the look in season, at this point in time Ekko (and the rest of the Firelights) are not truly committed to this alliance with Jinx, and vice versa, Jinx is still figuring out how to deal with all this unexpected appreciation.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about Jinx’s way of dealing with inner conflicts, especially ones that deal with the memories of the past, is that it often leads to disaster. This is a bit of a long shot, but what if the reason Ekko’s so beat up Is because she unintentionally sabotaged one of their own attacks on Piltover? Or perhaps they were caught up in a tough situation because of something she did or didn’t do? My point is that if he really is talking with her while in this condition, she probably is in a similar one.

Regardless, they are on the same side, and they are having a conversation. This is very likely the first time they reach out for each other since the day she chose to not go with him.

And I think it’s believable that of all the people she now has beside her, she’d talk to Ekko: he has this leader stuff already figured out. He has and still is taking care of people and keeping them safe better than she ever will, and on top of that, he still is the only one in Zaun (again, aside from Vi) who has known her since before she was Jinx, and he spared her on the bridge. He’s the perfect person to open up to.

And, get this, not only Ekko understands the pressure of taking the lead: he knows what it means to look back at someone you were fond of and feeling the pain of being wronged by them. He knows what it’s like to look back at old memories of someone you trusted and wonder if all those moments together really were what you thought they were, he knows what it’s like to wish it could all go back like it was, just so that candid version of them you have in your mind can still be true, present and untainted by the ugliness that now ruins all those precious moments.

He knows, 'cause he went through it with her... and now he can finally reach her.

Ekko may have not been able to save her from Silco then, but he can save her from Silco now.

And since he has built a community that grieved together, went through pain and joy together, he simply does what he’s always done with the Firelights. Sharing.

He tells with her what has worked for him: “Sometimes, taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind”- in the Franch dub he says “leaving a part of oneself behind”- meaning it doesn’t have to be all or nothing: she has the power to choose what to kiss goodbye and what can stay…

…and then she cuts her hair.

I think it’s important to note how these two moments are very similar in setting. I kid you not, the first time I watched the trailer I was convinced this was a scene where Jinx was burning Silco’s body after she killed him- which frankly could still be the case. I’ve also seen discussions being made for the little girl we see in the trailer being burned here, or Sevika, but I don’t think it’s either. Jinx is completely desensitized to death, even when Silco died her makeup isn’t this ruined. My guess is that this is something much deeper:

Jinx never properly grieved the past. Ever. So, maybe, she’s burning the part of herself she’s leaving behind. The hair she cut.

The hair Silco used to braid for her.

These two scenes parallel each other because “nothing ever stays dead”, but Silco must stay dead, for her own sake. For her own happiness: she is leaving him behind for good.

Only after this moment we get the new look for Ekko: he can work with this new Jinx, the one that now knows she can work within a team, even to the point of committing to the outfit (lol).

If in season 1 Jinx accepted her identity as it was defined by Silco, in season 2 she's re-inventing it under her own conditions: she gets to choose what "being Jinx" may or may not include. And it will always include a little bit of Powder.

Thanks for reading! 💚💙

[mrs-kodzuken]

Can I have a timeskip!Ushijima comfort fic? Like Ushi doesn't understand the concept of skinship like holding hands and hugs so he often shrugs off reader's attempts in skinships, which of course made reader feel sad ㅠㅠ

Thank you and have a nice day! <3

Understanding you ♡

Pairing: Aged up! Wakatoshi Ushijima x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k

Genre: slight angst to comfort/fluff

CW: fem!reader, inexperienced in relationships!Wakatoshi, slight angst from ushi :( , fluff and comfort all in the end :)) , maybe some self deprecation from reader, best friends with tendou, communication is always key

note: thank you for requesting this! I hope it’s up to your expectations, sugar!! <3

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Being the girlfriend of the Wakatoshi Ushijima was something I didn’t expect would hurt this much. As his girlfriend, I understood the importance of volleyball since it quite literally is his career path. However, being in a relationship is a whole other aspect to think about.

There never really was anything that really stood out to me about his wrongdoings. He always made it to every dinner plan, he didn’t forget the classic month to month anniversaries, he seemed like he was just a gift from heaven.

I knew it was too good to be true when I realized we, or I, was severely lacking in the physical department of our relationship.

Ushijima and I never really got closer within touching or skin-ship distance. That really sucked for me and hurt my feelings since he aced every other aspect of our relationship, no pun intended.

I wasn’t sure if he was just uncomfortable with touching me or if he had some kind of weird feeling about touching me. However, with physical touch being my number one priority of love language I wasn’t sure how to go about telling him my feelings.

Giving Wakatoshi free rein to plan out his schedule, except for date nights, was a must. He is a grown man and I’m not his mother, but I always felt bad when there was something important, like this, to be talked about.

I couldn’t help but to bite my lip as I stared at our private text messages. His contact name, ‘Ushi baby’ stared right back at me whilst I tried to work up the courage to send a text.

Deciding against it, I threw my phone onto my bed and sighed loudly. He was at practice and had a game tomorrow so I didn’t want to bother him or cloud his mind with meaningless things like what I need to talk about.

I couldn’t help to wallow in my own pity. The clock on my white painted walls doing nothing but making the sound of ticking throughout my room which eventually annoyed me enough to leave.

It was around the time for Ushi’s practice to be over and I really wanted him to come over, I just didn’t know how everything would go.

Whenever we had first started dating I got introduced, and interviewed, by Wakatoshi’s best friend, Tendou. And now, Tendou was one of my closest friends so I decided to call the Chocolatier himself for support.

After the phone had rang for three seconds it picked up, “Hello! Hello!” the familiar voice sounded throughout my kitchen.

“Hey Ten! I am in need of advice and company.” I admitted due to the facetime call revealing his apron on with some stains of colors on it.

“Oh really?” He asked, drawing out the ‘really’.

“Yes, really. I need to talk to Wakatoshi, I’m just not sure how. Any ideas?”

“That depends on what you’re going to talk to him about. Saying the wrong thing could make him easily misunderstand what you mean and vice versa.” Tendou tried to poetically explain, as if I didn’t already know that.

“Yeah, thank you so much,” I rolled my eyes, “I’m feeling a bit.. lonely in our relationship lately. I need more physical affection from him and I’m not sure how to really bring it up because times that’s happened before.”

That little spill from me made memories pop up into my head of Ushijima rejecting my attempts for physical love.

I could only remember how he shrugged himself away from holding my hand or kissing me after I brought him a well-balanced lunch meal one day during practice.

I never felt more embarrassed or ashamed in my life. My own boyfriend rejected my advances to give him, and to receive love from him in front of his entire team.

It wasn’t the only time that that had happened. I tried doing it behind closed doors just in case he didn’t like publicly displaying affection. However, that didn’t work either when he moved away from me one night after being out to dinner.

From that point on it’s just been messaging, very little facetime, some phone calls, and occasionally visiting each other’s apartment. I wasn’t sure how to proceed with this, and I certainly didn’t think it was anywhere near enough to breaking up.

However, that doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt my feelings nor have been continuing to hurt them. Whether on purpose or not.

With Ushijima being a member of the Schweiden Adlers, I knew some of his teammates and occasionally talked with them about how my boyfriend was doing time to time.

However, I couldn’t help to not reach out to them within the last couple of weeks. I didn’t have the courage to confidently ask about him.

Tendou’s voice brought me back to where I needed to be, which was having this conversation to communicate my needs across to him.

“And since knowing him for a while helps my understanding, I think a simple conversation would do the trick. Honestly, I’m not sure why you called if you knew that too?” He questioned me, eyes peering dangerously close to mine through the tiny phone screen.

I bit my lip, “It’s just… he has a game tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin that by spouting dumb nonsense about how I’m not feeling this or that from him.”

Growing up, I’ve always considered other peoples thoughts, opinions, feelings before mine. It was just the kind of person I was, and now it hurts me the most when I need to express myself.

“Girl. Fuck that game.” He rolled his eyes at me.

“Yes Wakatoshi loves his career and it’ll always be there but you’re something in his life that can disappear at any moment. I think he’d want to know,” Tendou tried reasoning with my dumb logic as he pointed a wooden spoon in my direction.

I gave up. I knew in the back of my mind that Tendou was definitely right and I wasn’t but it was my own self that was keeping me from doing what I needed to do.

“Alright, I think I’ll ask him to come over tonight then.” I tried to say confidently after I made up my mind of what needed to be done.

“Great! When I’m in Tokyo next I’ll be sure to bring a little something for you and him.” Tendou winked at me before ending the facetime call.

That only left me to do one thing, text my boyfriend. I quickly sent him a text asking if it would be okay for him to come over after practice.

My nerves were all over the place as I waited for the tall, olive haired man to show up at my place.

Soon the door bell brought me out of my mind trance and when I opened the door I saw the one and only Ushijima.

“Hey Toshi, come in,” I widened the door after taking a good look at him.

It seemed like he came here right out of practice, he was still in his whole practice uniform. His usual stoic face didn’t change once I sat down on to my living room couch.

“Is something the matter, (Y/n)?” He bluntly asked, getting straight to the point with me.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself, “Yes, Toshi. There is something the matter. My feelings are hurt and have been hurt for a while due to the lack of physical touch in our relationship.” I paused for a moment to look over his face.

He seemed to be intently listening on every word I was saying which gave me the impression to keep going.

“I just want more skin ship with you like hugging, kissing, hang holding, or even just sitting beside you with arms touching. I feel deprived of that because you seem to always move away when I try to initiate it. Is there a reason or..?” I trailed off, finishing what I was saying and asking a question to see his side.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way, (Y/n). I don’t understand the idea of that. It makes you feel more loved than usual?” He asked, trying to work around in his head of what I had mentioned.

“Well, yes. Without it I feel upset or rejected by you sometimes.” I hung my head low a bit, it was embarrassing having to discuss this. However, I was always one to get embarrassed or ashamed at anything I needed.

“I will try, for you.” He promised, his large hand reaching over to me and placing it on my knee. He was very warm and it traveled through my body.

I smiled a bit, “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

I scooted closer to him on the couch and he gave me his one million dollar small smile that I love. His arms wrapped around my shoulders whilst I hugged his torso. His lean but built, very built, body touched my soft one, I loved this feeling.

We stayed like that for a minute, nothing heard but the low volume of my living room TV and our breathing.

“Thank you, Toshi. I really appreciate that you’ll try for me.” I pulled away, already missing the hug but needing to say that to his face.

“Of course, love.” His hand came up to caress my face and I leaned into his touch.

The aching in my heart and body went away after discussing that with him. It was all just a bit miscommunication which was easily fixed after I expressed what I needed to.

I couldn’t be more content.

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a/n: I hope you enjoyed anon!! I’m terrible at writing for Ushijima but thank you for helping me extend the people I can write for :))

you all know my header rules, if not see pinned post!!

[lollytea]

Today's huntlow post is Darius centered, specifically on whatever the fuck he believed was going on.

I think that post-ASIAS his relationship with Hunter was steering in a tentatively positive direction and Darius was plenty capable of giving him some praise and brisk affection. But he still didn't entirely know how to get involved with Hunter's newfound teenage problems.

Hunter started texting Willow regularly during the time when he was getting along with Darius. And Darius, who thinks of most teenagers with disdain, does NOT like where this is going. He's developing a bit of a protective streak towards the Golden Guard and doesn't like how he is clearly getting rather obsessed with some girl that Darius can barely get a read on. All he knows about her personality from his brief interaction with her is that she's impressively gutsy. But that doesn't matter much in this situation.

Darius keeps asking, casually of course, if he can read Hunter's text threads with her, only for him to get all red and defensive and stress that his messages are private. It's endlessly frustrating. Like, how else is Darius supposed to get a temperature on this girl's intentions? Hunter? Hunter is not a reliable source in the slightest. Titan bless his stupid heart, he's not the best judge of character.

Though he's noticeably cagey about the messages, Hunter still ends up yapping about Willow frequently and Darius doesn't know if he believes a word coming out of that boy's mouth.

Darius was a high schooler once. Darius knows what high schoolers are like. Darius even knew a boy who was so uniquely eccentric and socially awkward that their peers found him entertaining. They strung him along for his unintentional comedic appeal rather than valuing him as a person.

There was a time when the idea of the Golden Guard marching into Hexside and subsequently getting humbled by his ruthless peers who do not give a Titandamn fuck about his title would have been hilarious to Darius. But not anymore.

Now Darius is beginning to see that the brat he's known all these years is a lot more vulnerable than he seems. Sensitive even. And though he's beginning to get attached to his peculiar disposition, Darius can still point out every mannerism that a conventionally socialized teenager could bully him for.

He does not like the thought that Hunter is exhausting all of his clumsy affection towards some girl who, as far as Darius is aware, does not care about him NEARLY as much as he cares about her.

Darius is self aware enough to know he might have a bias. The boy he knew ALSO got himself tangled up with a girl with a big frame and an even bigger personality and the consequences of THAT whole mess were literally apocalyptic. It's probably not the same, but it makes him uneasy nonetheless.

What if she's baiting him for interaction only to screenshot his messages and mock him to her friends? What if she's working him up to execute a prank? Or maybe she simply pities him. Somehow Darius finds that just as distressing as the other possibilities because it will probably shatter Hunter just the same.

If Darius is watching a catastrophe in slow motion there is nothing he can do about it. He has his hands tied with more pressing matters, such as preventing armaggedon. And every time he TRIES to subtly discourage Hunter from putting Willow on a pedestal (*scoffs* "She's just a teenage girl, little prince. There's hundreds just like her") he gets huffy and storms away for some reason.

ANYWAY

Timeskip. A few months later. The morning after their whole realm was Collector detoxed. Some people are still complaining that they feel phantom strings but the weird sensation is beginning to fade away.

There's no solid plans for where Hunter will take up permanent residence, so Darius has offered him a temporary place in his home until they can find a more suitable guardian. (Spoiler: not as temporary as they thought)

Hunter sleeps. Hunter sleeps a LOT. He has a lot of troubling experiences to recharge from, so Darius just leaves him to it.

That's when the girl appears at his doorstep, wringing her dishevelled braids. She doesn't look like she's slept soundly. "Can I see Hunter?" She asks.

(I imagine that the kids, specifically Hunter, Willow and Gus develop a bit of fire forged seperation anxiety after the events of season 3. They want to be in each others pockets for a few weeks to months afterwards.)

"Well," Says Darius. "If you hadn't arrived unannounced and actually given us some notice, I could have told you that he's dead to the world right now."

Her eyes widen.

"Asleep." He quickly corrects himself. "You'll have to come back later."

Willow is no longer the enigmatic high school girl who may or may not pose a threat to Hunter's confidence from Darius' perspective. He knows that she's the person who rescued him during the scout attack on Hexside. He knows she kept him company during that time and the Day of Unity. He knows he spent months with her in the Human Realm. He knows their bond had become far more serious than vapid high school friendships. He saw them in the hall of the Collector's Palace, standing close together for comfort, Hunter holding her as they searched for her parents.

Darius decided that even if he had no idea how their relationship began, it hardly mattered. The last few months had aged them considerably. There was no way Willow had the capacity to be a petty mean girl after all she had been through.

And now she wanted to visit Hunter, presumably because he mattered to her. Darius still didn't know the angle of this relationship. He simply knew that it was important to both of them.

And Willow does not give up. She frowns, dejected, before her brow scrunches up in determination. She asks to visit him anyway. She would just like to look at him, just to know that he's there. It doesn't matter if he's sleeping, she just wants to see him.

There is a lengthy pause.

"Not in a weird way," Willow clarifies.

"Right," Nods Darius. "You want to watch him sleep in a normal way."

Somehow, Darius allows it and lets Willow venture up to the room. Mostly because he knows he'll get an earful from Hunter if he finds out that he turned his special girl away.

Even if he still doesn't know how to feel about her, he knows she's harmless. To Hunter anyway. Maybe not to Darius. Once she realized that the man standing in the doorway was the barrier between her and Hunter, her eyes had flashed menacingly for a second. Titan only knows what she had considered doing before she caught herself.

It's about five minutes later when Darius wanders up to the doorway of Hunter's room himself. He leans in the threshold and observes.

The girl has perched herself on the side edge of Hunter's bed, her fingers dancing across his forehead as she delicately wipes back stray strands of ashy blond hair. She's watching his sleeping face with such unreserved tenderness that Darius wonders if they've been building teenagers different these days. They weren't this kind when he was young.

Darius clears his throat, sending Willow springing to her feet. She throws up her hands, as though to prove her innocence.

"I was just..." She mumbles, rose cheeked. "Leaving."

"Mmhmm."

Well. Darius knows one thing for certain now. This relationship is clearly not as pathetically one-sided as he initially feared. But....the reality of the situation is sure to prove very annoying. He's not looking forward to this.

[yoiseul]

Drunken HQ headcanons 1pt

I don't vouch for the canonicity of the characters, this is just my vision of our boys🫂 Feel free to post ideas for other headcanons in my messages and incoming, I'll try to consider them💞 Enjoy the read! Timeskip only!!!

By the way, you can check out my c.ai profile @BONDLESS (psyche), you might like my bots 👀

₊ 𑄹𑄹 Song of the Day: Lana Del Rey - West Coast.

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𓂃 ★ atsumu miya

Totally dissolved after a couple of drinks. At the stage of the first shot, everything was still fine, tsumu only felt a slight dizziness and a desire to go dance and relax after training. but after the 3rd shot, he already fell into a slight depressive state and turned into a complete sticky aching mess. Will call you asking you to pick him up from the place where they drank together as a team MSBY, whining and mumbling indistinctly into the phone about his boundless love for you and how much Mia misses your warm arms and gentle kisses. With a 100% chance he'll fall asleep in the cab, nestled quietly on your shoulder as you both sit in the backseat of the car. His fingers will be lazily entwined with yours, and his nose, along with his quiet snoring and sniffling, will be nestled into your neck, lightly blowing warm alcoholic air against your skin. You'll most likely have to drag Atsuma to the bed, because he'll refuse to wake up and all his huge weight with a mountain of muscles will be put on your body. Well... On the bright side it shows how much he trusts you)

"Guys say I'm too clingy... But I just love you.. I missed you so much I thought my heart would burst..."

𓂃 ★ akaashi keiji

Incredibly good at tolerating alcohol. In addition, Keiji only drinks on important occasions, such as the release of their new manga or the promotion of a colleague, and not much else. He sits quietly at the table enjoying the alcohol, speaks only during toasts, and listens attentively while sarcastically poking fun at his drunken colleagues. Aka is able to call himself a cab and get home, but is sure to warn through a message that a little drunk. Very quietly enters the apartment, trying not to wake you up. Hates the smell of booze, so he tries to change clothes and take a shower as soon as possible. Tiredness after a working day obviously plays against him, and the combo of a hot bath and drunk drinks makes him sleepy, so he's already drifting like a fly towards the bed, yawning on the way. Often he forgets to take off his glasses and falls asleep just like that, which makes him irritated and grumbling in the morning about the stiff bridge of his nose. Gently squeezes your body from the back in bed, covering your shoulders more comfortably with a blanket, quietly apologizing for staying up late, falling asleep from the warmth of your body.

"Sorry, I must smell like alcohol..."

𓂃 ★ suguru daishou

A clingy drunk asshole. Period. On a joint night out at the pub with your mutual friends, he's clearly had the most to drink. Sticks to you in the cab with an annoying whine, but you can tell his true intentions by that smirk. Just longs to be snuggled up against your white one, nuzzling his face into your warm neck while you mumble about his foul smelling booze. maybe let a couple of dirty (???) jokes fly, but mostly cute teasing that shows all his affection. Surprisingly, alcohol makes him more honest, and while in normal times it's quite difficult for him to say words of love every day, mundanely he replaces them with light loving jokes, now the sleepy drunken muttering of his "I love you, snake" can't help but make me smile ear to ear. The tight protective embrace around your waist, even if you're just riding the elevator home and from his drunken look no one would definitely even think of approaching you, never drops, and Suguru only continues to gently stroke your side with the palm of his hand. The only thing his thoughts are filled with is to rather hide you in a warm bed and, tangled up in a ball like snakes, fall asleep in your arms.

"Hmm... Snakieee, I'm cold... And your neck is so warm and cute, and your ears are burning with pink light, I'm sure one bite will warm the two of us...~"

[justawrites]

(Wip/Sketch) The Resurrection of a Heretic

You can definitely tell I got really tired after the first few pages but! It's done! Kinda! Pencil and paper sketch but it's done!

It's 3:30 AM so I really need to sleep, but tomorrow I'll add a read-more page by page transcription bc I know my handwriting isn't the easiest thing to read. Heavily recommend viewing in a new tab lol.

Had the Lamb chosen ANY other godless than Wren, and done it any earlier than before Narinder married them, Narinder would have been pissed about this. And unfortunately for Wren, being resurrected while being godless leaves its marks.

Anyway, Lamb stop breaking the laws of Faith for five seconds challenge, level impossible

Transcription below the cut

PAGE 1

Lamb: WREN! Hi! Wren: Hello, Lamb. Lamb, falling back into the water: Baa! Wren: Lamb!

PAGE 2

Wren: You are really bad at getting out of that pond... Lamb: It's the fleece. It's heavy when wet. Wren: Maybe you should forego it when visiting here? Lamb: And not look cool? No way! Wren: Almost drowning in a pool in the spectral plane does not sound very "cool," but to each their own...

PAGE 3 (timeskip, after unseen conversation in which Lamb suggests resurrecting Wren)

Wren: I... am not sure that is a good idea, Lamb. I have been dead for a hundred years now. I am not sure I know how to live anymore. Lamb: It'll be okay- Narinder and I will help you.

Lamb: Since you're not one of my followers, I need your actual body. Wren, as a ghost in the living world: My children will kill you if they see you digging up my grave. Lamb: Don't worry- it's handled!

Elloi (Narinder and Wren's middle daughter, all grown up): Not that we do not appreciate the visit, but our Father is visiting with you...? Kallamar: HAHA I missed my nieces, of course! Kallamar, thinking to himself: You owe me, Lamb! (A small text points to Kallamar, reading " "handling" it")

Wren: I am not sure our brother-in-law is up to that task. My girls are sharp. Lamb, offscreen: I have faith in him. Wren: At least one of us does.

PAGE 4

Wren: Also, uh- a hundred years? My body is nothing but bones and shrouds. Oh, and my death mask... Lamb: That's fine, as long as they're your bones, it will work. Wren: Should... I be worried? Lamb: No, no! I've tested it! Wren: Okay, I'm worried. Lamb: Hey!

Wren: Did you just shove my skeleton in your Crown? Lamb: Well I'm not about to walk out with it in my arms. Your daughters would try to kill me then...

Lamb: Think they'll notice the grave is disturbed? Wren: Minuit visits every morning, so yes. Lamb: Hm. So I should finish this before morning. Wren: If I come back as a zombie, I will bite you. Lamb: Promise? Wren: Lamb! Lamb: I'm kidding!

Lamb: I will miss being able to visit you on a whim, though. Wren: ...

Wren: Well, knowing you, me being alive again will not stop you... Lamb: True. You'll never escape me. We're like- spouse-in-laws or something! Wren: ... Not how it works, but yes, I suppose.

PAGE 5

Lamb: Kallamar is distracting your daughters, but the others should give me enough devotion for this- you know, being gods and Witnesses. Wren: I do not know, no. Lamb: Should I invite Nari? Wren: He will recognize a godless shroud. He might not let you go through with it, if he knows. Not to mention my mask... Lamb: Good point... I'm sure he won't mind if we surprise him!

Lamb: Wait, can you teleport? Wren: I am attached to you right now, so I will be dragged with you. Lamb: Cool....

Wren: I will admit, I will miss floating around like this. Lamb: You'd prefer to stay as a ghost? Wren: Now I did not say that.

Wren: It would take a stronger man than I to pass up the chance to touch their husband again...

Lamb: Oh, I see where your mind is~ Wren: Hold on- get your mind out of the ditch!

Wren: Thank you for not just dropping my skeleton. Lamb: Well, that would be rude. Wren: Kind of like shoving it in a bag... Lamb: It wasn't a bag!

Lamb: I need to put a mark on your skeleton... preferably somewhere subtle. It'll still be visible when you're alive again- any preference? Wren: Not really? Just do not be... weird about it. Lamb: Your hand, then.

PAGE 6

Wren: That is a strange symbol. What is it? Lamb: A modification of an immortality symbol. For my followers, it keeps them from aging- but this version helps me reverse your death. I think it helps meld the body and soul? It's very different from resurrecting my followers...

Lamb: Took me 50 years to think of this... It would not work before that. Wren: You... have been trying to revive me for 50 years?

Lamb: Oh- should I remove your mask? Wren: I would rather not see my own skull. Lamb: You'll be smelling whatever's inside when you wake up if I don't. Wren: ... Yes, remove it please.

Small text pointing to a cloaked Heket and Leshy reads "can't see or hear Wren."

Lamb: Okay! Ready! Wren, just float above your body! Leshy, Heket, Shamura- Witnesses, around the circle.

PAGE 7

Wren: Oh this is weird. Huh...

PAGE 8

Wren, thinking: What do I... do? This feels...

Wren, thinking: strange. Narinder, thinking: Where has everyone gone-?

Narinder: What. Is that Lamb doing now.

PAGE 9

Wren, thinking: It... worked. Wait, how do I breathe-

Shamura, offscreen: Relax.

Shamura: Your body will breathe on its own. Just relax. My siblings and I have been where you are.

Wren, breathing out: Thank you...

PAGE 10

Lamb: It worked! yes! How are you feeling?

Wren: Like I need a bath. Desperately.

Leshy: And clean clothes I bet. Lamb: Yeah, death shrouds a hundred years old is probably not a great feel...

Lamb: Come on- let's get you cleaned up. Wren: Okay... thank you.

text pointing to Wren reads "first bath in 100 years"

Lamb: Quick question- were you... wanting to keep this? Wren: My death shroud?? No?? It is a hundred years old and decaying... Lamb: Just making sure before I burn it.

Wren: I do want to keep the mask, though. Lamb: Got it. text pointing to the Lamb and the shroud reads "sets on fire"

text above the tub Wren is in reads "dunks head"

PAGE 11

Narinder: Lamb, I need to spea- Lamb: NARINDER!

Narinder: Gah! Lamb: Don't come in! You'll ruin the surprise! Narinder: Why are you short-?

Narinder, offscreen: Lamb! We are married! I have seen you naked before! We have bathed together!

Lamb, offscreen: Sorry, Nari- this is a surprise for you, so- please, just wait downstairs? Narinder: Would this have something to do with that ritual from earlier? Lamb: ... Maybe. Narinder: Fine, I will be downstairs. In the library.

Lamb: Hey, got you some robes- Wren: LAMB! Privacy!! Lamb: Relax, you've got nothing I haven't seen before. Wren: I DO NOT CARE- Lamb: You're gonna ruin your hair drying it like that-

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Wren: If you put your symbol on me I will hit you. Lamb: Too late, it's already on your hand. Wren: I meant that triangle thing, actually. Lamb: Oh- don't worry, the robe is symbol-free.

Wren: So this is permanent? Lamb: yeah, sorry- in all my experiments, removing it did... weird things. Wren: How did you "experiment," anyway? Lamb: Let's not talk about that...

Lamb: I think I liked what you wore in the After better. Wren: Mm, but that was a bit... gravity-defying. Lamb: Bet I could figure it out...

Wren: Being alive feels so weird... Lamb: yeah, I get it.

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Narinder: There you are, Lamb. Now, what did you-

Wren: Hello again, love.

Narinder: Wren...? How...? Wren: The Lamb is stubborn.

Narinder: You died... You are godless... The Lamb should not have been able to... Wren: They would not take that as an answer.

Wren: Besides, you have done the impossible before, too.

PAGE 14

Lamb: Soo you're not mad that I went behind your back to revive a godless person?

Text reads "Grabs"

Narinder: Do not ever do that again. ... But no. I am not mad. This time.

Lamb: Well, if Wren died again, I make no promises... but no one else. Not many ghosts with bodies still around, anyway...

Narinder: You are the most stubborn god I know. Thank you...