#no matter what one of them will die due to the other. its the only constant. it's the only way it can ever be. they are the others downfall

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[pupuyvs]

Race of Your Life

pairing: sophia laforteza x fem!reader

wc: 5k+

warnings: car accident???? its in f1 though so..

a/n this is a req which can be seen here and here, sorry anon for how long this took 😅 anyways i may further this universe we’ll see though 🫣 ps. this is inspired by romain grosjean crash at 2020 bahrain grand prix (dw no one died he actually got away with burns on his hands and sprained ankle) so if ur curious as to what everyone wouldve seen u can search it up (its not graphic so again dw)

Formula 1. A sport known for its riches, flashiness, and speed; all aspects that pulled you in.

You were ten when you went to your first grand prix, the seats terrible due to them being a bonus given to your dad by his company, but you didn’t let that hinder you. Hearing the sounds of the cars as they raced by, the crowd cheering, feeling adrenaline as the cars came close to each other — you were hooked.

Your parents were hesitant when you showed interest, karting was expensive, and well, you were a girl. But you were determined, telling them you would die if you couldn’t do it, you regard this memory as being very dramatic, but it worked. Your father, clearly exasperated by said dramatics, made a deal with you, he’d help you in karting, but you couldn’t quit, no matter what. And being the stubborn ten year old you were, you agreed.

And thus you started.

The first year was the hardest, girls weren’t the most common in karting, add on to the fact you weren’t rich it was like you practically had a sign on your back saying, “pick on me!” But you didn’t care, you were there for one thing and one thing only, racing. While your parents fought for you verbally, you fought on the track.

You found yourself more often than not on the podium, losing was not something you could afford.

As the trophies racked up so did the respect, arguments were hard to have when you couldn’t back it up when it came down to it. And it continued this way as the years went by, karting turned into Formula 4, then 3, then 2, and it stayed that way for a while.

Women hadn’t made their break into Formula 1 yet, you were good, but it seemed not good enough for them. You watched as your friends began to make their transition into the top of the league, and you were happy for them, but it was also bitter to watch them get chances that you couldn’t afford yet.

Until 2021.

Mclaren had just released their driver line up for a younger, newer lineup for the 2022 season. Your longtime friend Oscar got called up first, you were happy for him, he was one of the few people in karting who was kind to you, so to see him awarded for his talent you couldn’t be happier. But you didn’t know that Mclaren didn’t just want Oscar, no, they wanted to be first in everything, not only racing.

Your signing made headlines everywhere making Mclaren happy, especially with the word “history” attached to their name. But with this came pressure, a huge amount of it too.

Your first season was much like your first year in karting — rough. The drivers are kinder this time around, well most of them, it’s the garage this time. You were iced out from most of your team, aside from the team managers and Oscar most of the team didn’t want you there.

That wasn’t the top of your worries though, sure it sucked, but you had bigger issues.

A drivers car is essentially a part of them, an extension of them if you will, they can only drive as well as their car runs, and your car did not want to work with you.

You knew it wasn’t because of the team, they would never purposely sabotage you, winning was more important to them than anything else.

It was hard on you going from top of the grid, podiums a normalcy, to being in the back of the pack. What used to be single digit placements became double digits with a swiftness, with each result you could feel your seat being taken from you, you needed a win.

The Italian Grand Prix was famous for its long straights, practically begging for speed. It was one of the later races in the season, a race meant for grabbing points to cement your position in the driver’s cup or the team cup. But it wasn’t just that for you, there was talks about replacing you if you didn’t give results soon, and you couldn’t allow that.

You were starting in fifteenth place, not an uncommon place for you, and you had to get at least in the top ten if you wanted even a chance of being considered to stay. Adrenaline coursed through you as the lights turned off and the race began. It was a battle for places in the first turn as always, and you luckily succeeded in snatching two leaving you now in thirteenth place, a good spot but you needed more. And it seemed your car understood that too.

For the first time that season you felt like you were back to your old self. The joy you felt as you passed car after car was euphoric after months of not having it.

The race ended with you seventh place, but it might as well have been first to you. An eight position climb was uncommon and hard to accomplish, but you somehow had done it and your team was ecstatic. Your career only went up from here, no longer were you in the bottom, you had found yourself back in the top, not quite podium but it didn’t matter you were still scoring points for your team.

At the end of the season you and Oscar ended up in the top ten for the drivers cup, and were re-signed immediately.

But as the new year rolled around you felt something was missing.

The 2023 race season started off strong, the team had worked vigorously on the car and your team was faster than ever. Now instead of finishing in just the top ten you often found yourself in the top five, which should’ve made you happy, but something was off and you wouldn’t know what it was until Miami.

Celebrities weren’t an uncommon sight in Formula 1. The glitz and glam of it practically called to them like a siren song. Hence why when Katseye's schedule had coincided with the Miami grand prix Hybe had immediately sent them.

The company had gone all out getting them all access passes, anything for promotion they had stated.

The tour around the paddocks was fun, even with the cameras in their face due to content being filmed. But of course something had to go wrong.

Sophia wouldn’t say she had a terrible sense of direction, just not the most perfect. And truly it wasn’t her fault!

She had stepped away to get a closer look at one of the cars, and when she turned around her group was missing.

The leader part of her would’ve asked for help, after all it’s the responsible and smart thing to do, but the new idol side of her didn’t want to be a burden so she decided she’d find her members herself.

It wasn’t the smartest idea, and she’ll admit it each time she looks back on it. This sport comes down to milliseconds at times, each team making changes to beat the others, so none of them will take kindly to a random person walking around.

As one of the employees of the team yelled accusations at her, Sophia only had one thought she was getting fired. That is until you showed up.

Sophia will always say she found you charming when she first laid eyes on you. Your voice, your calming smile and the way you lightly grabbed onto her wrist to guide her away, everything about you was just charming.

When you finally reached a seemingly neutral spot you let go of her wrist and turned to her, a soft smile on your lips.

“I’m assuming you’re part of that girl group touring today?” The question shocked Sophia, she hadn’t expected any of the racers to know about them.

“Yes, and I swear I wasn’t trying to steal anything or spy or whatever else that man said. I truly got lost. I didn't mean any harm or anything like that, me and my group are good peopl-” You cut her off with a laugh and a shake of your head.

“Calm down, I know,” you told her, “I doubt other teams are using singers to spy.” You hold your hand out for her to shake.

“I’m Y-” It’s her turn to cut you off.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I think I’d be crazy not to know who you are.”

And it was true, you were a sought after prospect due to just how much of a commercial success you were. After the Italian race the endorsements practically came running in which Mclaren praised, their name attached to such big names did nothing but raise their stocks and publicity, it also helped their sales skyrocket since more and more women were buying their cars. With all these positives teams were practically foaming at the mouth to sign you and your publicity.

You laughed shyly at her response, “Right.” You said as you rubbed the back of your neck. You cleared your throat once the red in your ears disappeared.

“What’s you and your group's name?” Sophia gasped at the question, feigning offense. She laughed as you panicked rushing to apologize. Sophia stopped you before you could ramble.

“I’m just joking with you,” she started, “I wouldn’t expect you to know us just yet, we’re pretty much in that stage before debuting.” You sighed out in relief at her words, nodding in understanding.

Sophia realized she still hadn’t said her name, “I’m Sophia, the leader of Katseye.”

She cringed slightly at the clear training that was drilled into her. And you noticed it too as you struggled to not laugh.

“Well Sophia, leader of Katseye,” the playfulness is clear in your voice, “Where is the group you are currently leading?”

She rolled her eyes at the clear teasing, before she realized she had no idea where her members nor staff were.

“I…actually don’t know.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Well, did they mention where they were going next?”

She stops to think about the schedule the guide had told them, furrowing her brows, “Mercedes?” You groaned at her words, which had worried her.

“Did I say something wrong,” she asked.

You quickly shook your head, “No, it’s just it will be a bit difficult to bring you given..” you trailed off as you raised your hand to point to your team logo on your shirt.

She nodded in understanding however before she could offer to leave you alone and somehow find her own way, you spoke once more.

“I’ll just have to bring you just outside their garage, so I don’t get encaptured in rumors of cheating and conspiracy and all that.” You stopped with a laugh at just how ridiculous it was.

“Okay, but are you sure?”

You nodded, “I am. Come on.”

As you two walked, you found yourselves falling into a natural conversation. She told you about the show her group formed from, which you promise to watch later, and you told her about the first race you won.

It was the happiest you had felt in awhile, it’s there you realized what was missing.

So when you had reached your stop you found yourself struggling to say goodbye. What you hadn’t known was Sophia was struggling too.

“Thanks for walking me,” she finally said, breaking the silence you both created to avoid it ending.

“Yeah of course, it was fun.”

“Really,” she asked while raising an eyebrow. You nodded, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

“Well,” she trailed, clearly trying to buy time, “I should go in and find my members.”

She waited for you to say something, and when you didn’t she frowned believing she had read the whole situation wrong. When she turned to walk away though, you called for her.

“Can I have your number?”

Sophia stopped, silent as she felt relieved by not being wrong. However, her silence gets read wrong by you and you beat yourself up for possibly having overstepped.

“I don’t have my phone on me right now, you know filming and stuff, but if you give me your phone I can put my number in and you text me, when I get my phone back I can text you back.” You nodded and handed your phone to her, quite desperately too. As she entered her number her members walked out of the Mercedes area, and practically screamed when they saw you and her.

You jumped as they barrelled towards the two of you.

“Hi, you’re Y/N, right?” Lara asked you. You nodded with a small smile.

“You must be the Katseye members.” The girls all started to freak out as they realized you knew them. You laughed as you accepted your phone back from Sophia, which garnered the attention of Daniela, but she stayed silent as she remembered that there were cameras around.

And she wasn’t the only one that remembered the cameras as the girls’ managers came forward, “Would it be okay if we took a picture and you guys filmed a quick video together?”

You hesitated, “My manager isn’t around,” you watched as Sophia pouted slightly and immediately changed your mind, “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

And based on the girls’ reactions you know you had said the right thing. After taking a picture with them and recording a video saying people should check them out, you said goodbye to them, sending Sophia one last smile.

You and Sophia started talking frequently after this day, messaging each other whenever you could. You asked her out on race day, seeing it as the best time since her and her group would be leaving the next day.

She had said yes immediately, and so after the race instead of attending the usual party you had raced over to your hotel to get ready.

When you had arrived at her hotel she hesitated when she saw your car, her friends had warned her to be careful with you, racers didn’t have the best reputation for dating. It hadn’t helped your case when you showed up in a clearly expensive and flashy car.

She pushed the warnings to the side when she saw you leaned against your car, a gift bag in hand and a shy smile.

Her members, who had followed her under the guise of safety, though she knew it was out of pure nosiness, all rushed to get a closer look at the car. The rushing clearly shocked you as you jumped, she laughed when you looked at her for help.

When she hadn’t moved you instead moved away from your car, which was now being opened by Megan and Yoonchae, who screamed when the door went up instead of out. You stopped just in front of her and took in her beauty, a smile had automatically found its way on your face.

“You look stunning,” you had breathed out. You blushed when you noticed she had heard you. You cleared your throat to fight the blush that fought its way to your face.

Sophia jumped when you held up a small gift bag in her face. Shock had crossed her face when she opened a jewelry box and found a diamond bracelet in it.

“I hope that’s okay,” you said. “My manager and the lady at the store said it was a perfect gift for the first date.”

Sophia could only scoff in disbelief, “They said diamonds are great for a first date?”

You nodded, but quickly shook your head when you had seen the look on her first. “I knew it was stupid, I should’ve got the necklace, if you want I can take it back and get it traded.”

However when you tried to grab the bag Sophia had immediately pulled it back, “I never said it was bad, just surprised. Thank you.”

You nodded once more before you gestured towards your car, which her members had been taking pictures in, “Ready to go?”

She simply nodded and you both entered the car, after saying goodbye to her members and promising Daniela that she could drive it one time.

You had taken her to an expensive steakhouse that resided along South Beach. It was awkward at first, you being nervous and her trying to figure out if this was all a ploy to feed your ego.

It wasn’t until she spilled her wine on your shirt trying to hand the menu to the waiter did the awkwardness finally stop. You laughed as she tried to wipe your shirt with a napkin, a dried one at that, and reassured her that it was fine, because truly you liked her so much it didn’t bother you even a bit.

You had stopped laughing when you noticed she was truly panicked, you lifted your hand and lightly grabbed hers and reassured her once again that it was okay.

When she noticed you were serious she calmed, and your dinner finished without a hitch. After dropping off the five extra meals you had bought for her members at your car you both walked along the beachfront and enjoyed the business of the nightlife.

You two talked about nothing and everything until her manager texted her telling it was time to come back.

This date marked the beginning of what would be your two’s relationship. It was rough at first, with you traveling so often due to races, facetime had been essentially a third in your relationship.

However, you didn’t let the distance hinder you guys, as you had bought a house close to the group’s apartment and had visited her every break they had given you.

Which led you guys to where you are now.

“God I don’t know how you guys don’t get lost here, this place is huge,” Manon says as she places the snacks she bought on the table. She doesn’t receive a response as all the other members rush to get their favorite snacks first, the slight chaos makes your parents laugh.

It’s an action that would’ve gotten them scolded by Sophia but she was too busy eyeing the door to the room.

It wasn’t often Sophia could come to your races, being an idol in her first year meant she was busier than ever, but any time she did get to go she was always a nervous wreck, only being calmed when she would see you before you went down to the grid.

When she saw the door knob move she immediately stood, running when she realized it was you. She jumped on you leaving you to drop your bottle of water to catch her.

“Happy to see you too baby,” you whisper in her ear. She responds by tightening her hold on you.

You laugh as you move to put her down, though she latches onto you still. She had an extremely bad feeling since this morning and it made her not want to let go of you.

You moved her to your side and wrapped one of your hands around her waist, while she kept both of her arms circled around yours.

You both walked over to where the rest were standing, Sophia moving so you can greet your parents and her members, and when you finished she went back to her previous spot by your side.

“You excited? Only two more races after this then you’re off,” your father asks.

You shake your head, “I’m more so nervous.” Sophia perks when she hears that.

“Why?” She feels you jump slightly at her intrusion, not expecting a voice to come from her direction.

“Just not used to the track and its turns yet.” Your dad comes beside you and pats the shoulder Sophia is not currently resting her head on.

“You did great during practice and quali, I mean you’re starting fifth.”

You nod your head at your dad’s words, “Yeah, it’s probably just preracing jitters.”

The room door opens again and in steps one of your team members. “Hey, Y/N, it’s time to get ready.”

“Alright.” You turn to your parents first, Sophia stepping away momentarily, but she stays near watching you. You hugged your dad first and then your mother, who pressed a quick kiss to your head. Each member wishes you luck, Yoonchae even showing you the sign she made you with Megan and Manon, which made you laugh and thank them.

Everyone in the room moves back to let you and Sophia say your goodbyes.

“Hey,” you say as you lift her head, “You okay? You’ve been very quiet.”

She tightens her grip slightly. “Just…anxious.”

You smiled at her to reassure her, when you still see the fear in her eyes you lean down and give her a peck. You feel her ease slightly, “Everything will be okay. I’m gonna win and then come back up here with the trophy and you and the girls can sign it.”

She nods, but you can still see the hesitation, “Baby-”

You're cut off by the staff coming back again, motioning that it’s seriously time to go. You sigh before looking back at Sophia.

“I have to go now, It’ll be over before you know it.” You kiss her once more and she tries to pull you closer, but you pull away much to her dismay.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She makes sure to say back, the bad feeling in her is overwhelming at this point. And when you walk out with one final wave, she finds herself struggling not to cry.

“Hey, you good?” Manon asks her, concern clear in her voice. She nods and when she turns back she sees everyone else also looking at her with worry. A blush raises on her face due to embarrassment.

“Just nervous, that’s all.” Manon nods, she clearly doesn’t believe her but drops it for her sake.

Down in the garage you fasten your helmet, assuring that it's tight on your head before lowering yourself into your car. One of the engineers taps the top of the helmet and holds his thumb up and you respond by putting yours up too.

You feel them lift the car and begin to bring it to the grid.

You hear your team manager’s voice come alive on the radio in your helmet, “Y/N do you copy?”

“Yup, all clear.”

You and him check through everything ensuring the car is ready as your crew take care of the outside.

“Alright, the grid is clearing for formation lap, try to warm the tires as much as possible, they’re a little cold today.”

“Alright.” The grid clears and the formation lap starts, you feel the car stall at certain points, but your team manager assures you it’s nothing too serious, and it’ll go away during the race.

The lap ends and everyone takes their spots. The silence that falls over the grid before the start of a race is peaceful. You breathe in before bringing your hand to where your lips would be and press it against the number printed on your helmet, 31, representative of Sophia’s birthday.

As the lights lit up you held your breath, your heart pounding against your chest loudly, the hum of your car coursing through your body. And then the lights shut off.

Accidents weren’t an uncommon occurrence in Formula One, drivers crashed regularly. But none to this level.

It started off fine, you made the first turn perfectly fine, but when you went into the second your car stalled and you went straight into the wall. It would’ve been fine, if it wasn’t for the fire.

Sophia swears she’ll never get your mother’s screams out of her head. She feels the air get sucked out of her body as she falls to her knees, someone comes to her side almost immediately, and by the coldness of their hands she can tell it's Daniela.

She hears her saying something, but she can’t process them, all she can think about is the fact you’re still in that car. She watches as medical people try to get close, but the fire is even too hot for them, and Sophia doesn’t want to think about what that could mean for you.

Time seems to go slowly, though it’s probably only been fifteen seconds it feels like years as red flags go out on the track, an ambulance now racing onto the track.

Sobs fill the room as each second goes by, and Sophia thinks she’s going to throw up.

Until Lara yells.

It almost seems fake at first, a hand bursting out from flames, but then another follows. And suddenly you’re out of it, two medical personnels grabbing onto you as you shake your hands, others spraying you and the fire with some sort of chemical. You limp your way to the ambulance as cheers erupt from the circuit, but Sophia doesn’t pay them attention as she’s already running out of the room to somehow find you.

She hears Daniela call for her, but she doesn’t listen, her entire being is out of place and it’ll only be fixed if she sees you. But before she can run onto the track cold hands grab her, and she curses Daniela’s unbelievable stamina.

“Sophia-” Daniela cuts herself off when she sees the look on Sophia’s face. It’s clear to her instantly that Sophia isn’t mentally there with them anymore, she won’t stop repeating the same phrase between quick breaths, borderline hyperventilating.

“I need to see her.” She repeats for what must’ve been the hundredth time and Daniela knows she’ll probably repeat it until she sees you. She knew before she did anything else she needed to calm Sophia down, so she brought her into a hug.

Sophia tenses at first, and Daniela can’t help but compare her to a feral animal as she herself tenses for any reaction may come. But to her relief, Sophia sobs, the sounds of them breaking her heart.

“It’s okay, she’s okay.” Daniela repeats this phrase like a prayer as she rubs Sophia’s back. After a while Sophia finally calms enough to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Daniela immediately shakes her head, “Don’t be. You alright?”

Sophia shakes her head, “No, but I will be when I see her.”

Daniela nods and pulls away from Sophia, her shirt now with a clear wet spot on it, but she doesn’t mention it as she grabs Sophia’s hand.

“Let’s go find out what hospital she’s in and go.” Sophia simply nods as they go back to the room. When they enter the members all rush to them, but when Manon sees how distraught Sophia is she pulls the others back, which Daniela thanks with a nod.

“Where are her parents,” Sophia asks once she finally gathers the courage to look up.

“They went to the hospital, they wanted to wait for you, but…” Lara naturally trails off and Sophia nods.

“Did they say which hospital?”

“Yeah,” Lara starts, “Mercy.”

Daniela pulls out her keys and lifts them up, “Let’s get going.”

They all go to Daniela’s car, Sophia sits in the front as the others squish in the back, none of them bothering to complain. Daniela puts the address on her phone and immediately takes off, her speed possibly comparable to one of a racer.

When they make it to the hospital Daniela barely gets to stop when Sophia jumps out, refusing to waste any more time away from you. Your dad seemed to have been waiting for her arrival as she barely even gets to the front desk when he calls for her.

“Where’s your members?” He asks. And on cue the other five come rushing in, racing to them immediately.

“Perfect, come on she’s on the fifth floor, they got her a room already.” The elevator ride is quiet aside from the dreadfully happy music and Sophia’s constant shuffling. When the door opens she has to remind herself she just can’t rush past your dad and she has to be patient, you having a room meant a good thing.

And it was as they got closer she could hear you and your mom arguing.

“I don’t want this cast!”

“You broke your ankle, it doesn’t matter what you want!”

And Sophia would have laughed if she wasn’t so tense, when they make their way inside your mother and you turn towards them, your eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

It quiets as everyone takes you in, no one moving. That is until Yoonchae runs and practically jumps on you.

“Yoonchae!” Manon yells going to pull her off of you, but you hold your non wrapped hand up. When Manon stops in her tracks you hug Yoonchae back and Sophia realizes that Yoonchae is crying.

You were close with all the members of Katseye, but it wasn’t a secret that outside of Sophia, Yoonchae was the one you were the closest with. Growing up as an only child you always wanted a sibling so when you met Yoonchae she naturally took that position.

She pulls away sniffling, “You scared me!”

You pout at her, as you use your hand to wipe away a tear. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head before hugging you once more, this one more careful.

“Are you okay,” Megan asks, speaking for the first, and based on the fear lacing her voice Sophia can tell she wasn’t silent by choice.

“Yup, just some minor burns on my fingers, sprained wrist, a broken ankle and probably a ton of bruises.” You finish your list off with a laugh, but quickly silence yourself when no one else does.

“Geez, it’s like someone died.” You thought you had muttered it low enough that no one could hear you, but the slap on your thigh from your mother tells you otherwise.

“Don’t joke like that.”

You raise both hands in surrender before turning your stare to your girlfriend who looks like she’s about to break down.

“Hey guys can you give me and Sophia a couple minutes?” The question causes everyone to stare at the girl and at the way she looks they all agree. When the door closes you try to sit up, wincing slightly from a not yet formed bruise.

At the sight of you in pain Sophia immediately rushes to your side, “Are you okay?”

You nod before pulling her to you. The slight force of being pulled causes her to sit on the edge of your bed as you hug her.

You can feel her trying to pull away and tighten your hold. After a couple more failed attempts she gives up and lets you hold her. She closes her eyes as she listens to your heartbeat, her body calming more and more with each beat.

Tears begin to well up in her eyes as the thought of almost never experiencing your warmth again crosses her mind.

When the first drop hits your hospital gown you look down at her.

“Baby…”

And the dam breaks.

Her sobs break your heart, pain coursing through you as she pulls on your shirt when she clenches it in her hands, but you don’t mind. You place kisses on her head until she calms down and then tell her to look at you.

When she does, you offer her a smile, “Hi beautiful.” You laugh at the blush that rushes to her cheeks, placing a small kiss on one of them.

You let her calm down before speaking once more, “Feeling better?”

She nods slightly, because truthfully she does feel better, but fear still courses through her veins. “I almost lost you today.”

You hum as you rake your fingers through her hair, the feeling of it light due to the numbness of your fingers. You inhale the scent of lavender as you close your eyes, a bright orange slowly fills in the blackness and your eyes shoot open once more. The quickening of your heart causes Sophia to pull away to look away.

“I’m okay,” you quickly say. Before she can question the hospital door opens.

“Sorry, just the doctor here.” You nod at Lara and Sophia stands. The rest of them walk in with the doctor following right behind.

The doctor goes through her regular checkup, when she finishes she turns and jumps when she is met with everyone staring at her expectantly.

She clears her throat. “Right, Y/N seems to be well given everything. We are going to keep her overnight for observation, but other than the obvious, she will be perfectly good to go home tomorrow.”

The doctor jumps once more as the group, sans Sophia, exclaims. When she leaves the girls all take turns writing on your cast with a couple of pens your mother found in her purse. The hospital room becomes even more livelier when your teammate Oscar shows up. Though loud it puts your mind to ease.

They all stay until visitor hours end, the nurse revealing only one person was allowed to stay with you. Your mother and Sophia argued about who should stay, both believing the other should.

Your mother ultimately wins by stating she has to use the hotel room she paid for. You both know it’s a lie, you have never made your parents pay for a hotel for any of the races they have attended, but before either of you can tell her that she pulls your father out the room and leaves.

Sophia stands to the side as a nurse readies the cot for her and does a final check on you. When she walks out you call Sophia’s name, when she’s close enough you pull her into the space you made when she wasn’t looking.

She freezes at first, but before she can move you speak. “Don’t move, just let me hold you.” You can tell she’s hesitant, but after a few moments she laxes in your hold.

A silence falls between you two, her listening to your breathing and you enjoying the heat from her skin.

“You know,” you start, “There was a moment in there I thought I wouldn’t make it.” You pause for a second to take a breath and her grip on you tightens.

“I felt the heat, and saw how it was all around me and I just accepted it. I closed my eyes and thought ‘Well, at least I had a good life.’ But then I heard the noise of Mario Kart.”

You both laugh at the absurdity of it, and you close your eyes to take in the sound of hers, you always loved how it sounded. When she calms you continue.

“As crazy as it sounds, it was that sound that brought me back to being with you, and of course your members. But the thought of leaving you, of possibly not being by your side anymore immediately made me want to fight to live.”

You look down to find her looking at you which causes you to smile, though you’re not sure she sees it due to the darkness, but you don’t mind as you bring your hand up to her face and caress it.

“I tell you this because I want you to know how much I love you. You are my world, Soph. As long as you’ll have me I’ll never leave your side.” She doesn’t respond as she pulls you into a kiss, it’s a bit of a mess due to both of your limited views, but it doesn’t bother either of you.

She pulls away, but you peck her lips once more and lean your forehead on hers.

“I love you,” she whispers, “Don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

And you meant it, you would always be by her side.

[luvrodite]

ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE

GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S) [3.8k]

in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, prevention of pulling out.

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

<< kinktober masterlist | week 2 >>

It goes like this:

On a monday evening, Pamela fucking Isley decides to take her quarrel with Gotham's newest weapons company – God, could they fucking give it a break? B had only busted the last one a few weeks ago before they'd brought the city down on everyone – to new heights.

Jason's sitting in traffic with a bag of groceries slung around the handle of his bike when he gets the call. He's eager to beat you home, ready to make you dinner and heavily intent on wining and dining you after a long weekend of missing each other.

His fingers tap against his thighs impatiently, impatience sitting beneath his skin like an itch. Spikes of activity during the week had meant his plans for Friday night – dinner and a deserved night off – had been pushed to the backburner. He'd returned home in the early stillness of dawn, unable to get more than a couple of hours with you before your phone had rung, a friend's emergency pulling you out of bed with an apologetic grimace and a promise to reschedule your date night.

The headset in his ear notifies him of an incoming call, the syllables of your name dulled by the clinical, robotic voice of his phone's intelligence system. His mouth curves up into a smile beneath his helmet.

"Hi, baby," he answers immediately. "I'm on my way home, you need anything? I just left the store but I can go back–"

You cut him off in a tight voice. Later, he'll be ashamed that the first thing that comes to mind is, not another fucking postponement. Now, his brows furrow at your tone, stomach dipping uncertainly when it becomes clear that this is something more serious.

Your voice wobbles, high-pitched and tearful. At the same time, the dash on his bike begins to flash in rapid succession, the paging system he'd installed for the bats to communicate with him glaring back at him, blood red.

ORACLE: CHEMICAL LEAK DOWNTOWN. BATS + R.ROBIN EN ROUTE. ALL UNITS STANDBY.

His dread plummets and for a moment his throat closes over. You're speaking to him but he struggles to make it out through the ringing in his ears.

"Jason, I'm – I'm home but I don't – I don't know what to do."

He bites back a curse and tries to swallow the lump in his throat, grappling for words of comfort.

"It's okay," he soothes, straining to keep his voice level. "Listen, sweetheart, can you go lock the door for me? I'm – shit – I'll be home soon, alright? It'll be okay. We'll fix it."

He doesn't give himself time to linger on the call after you confirm you've locked it, barking out a command to dial Oracle that his system fails to pick up twice, only registering after he steadies himself.

She picks up on the third ring. It irritates him how unfazed she sounds when he explains the situation to her. He hears the click of her keyboard in the background, the hum of her monitors. Each passing second as she patches through to Nightwing is agony and the slow crawl of traffic does little to help.

His leg has begun to jostle the bike with the weight of its shaking when she returns to their call.

"You're not going to like this," she says and he feels the bile rising in his throat.

"What." He grits it out through his teeth, unable to manage much more than that. He hears Oracle sigh.

"Looks like an aphrodisiac," she says clinically. "Her plan was to get them caught compromised enough to lose credit publicly."

"Oracle." She hears his growl for what it is – Tell me whether or not it's over.

"It's non-lethal," she affirms and he sighs harshly. The tightness in his chest loosens ever so slightly as she talks. "Ivy let it off near city hall because most of the shareholders were scheduled to hold a meeting – that's where your girl works, right? Alf's working on an antidote but she should be relatively fine until it's ready. Just – keep an eye on her."

Tim joins the line then and Jason startles at the sound of his voice in his ear.

"I don't know what the fuck she wanted to achieve," the boy grumbles. He's a little out of breath and in any other situation, Jason would have something to say about that. Tonight, he's not in the mood for jokes.

"Red," he barks out. The kid makes a distracted noise, and he can hear the sounds of a scuffle on the other end. "You tell Ivy if anything happens to my girl, I'll make sure she's next."

He doesn't wait to hear what's sure to be a non-committal answer at best, kicking off and veering between the lined up vehicles. There's an outroar from the drivers around him, laying on their car horns. Someone pokes their head out of their window to scream at him.

He hears none of it, the blood rushing in his ears keeping him single-minded.

This string that twines him to you isn't new. It wears signs of age, shows the years in the way his fingers reach for yours in the early moments of his day, the turn of your eyes to his in any room. He's seen a few summers with you at his side but the fear –

Blood, coagulating, the cold brush of death, splintered wood beneath nails and a haunting smile

– the fear never stagnates.

A bitter, resigned shard of him breathes out as he speeds through the streets. A veritable sword over his crown, this almost seems expected. Loathing colours the skyline and he, the fool, to think he could hold this one, precious, beloved thing unscathed.

He forgoes the groceries in his haste, leaving the bags in his haste to throw himself up the stairs and out of the parking garage. Pulse thundering in his ears, sweat coating his palms, he scrabbles with the key to your shared apartment.

The door flies open and a hand is grabbing him by the front of his shirt before he can slot it through the lock.

You, wild-eyed and frantic, pull him inside with a bitten off sob.

"Shh, shh, I'm here, come here."

He kicks the door shut, reaching behind him to flip the locks with one hand. The other curls you protectively to his chest, fingers splaying over your back. The sight of you calms him considerably and he chokes out a stuttered breath, the lump in his throat dissolving to give way for a flood of relief.

You're burning in his arms, the thin undershirt you've got on soaked through with sweat, face glowing with perspiration. Eyebrows knitted, you cling to him tighter and he finds himself making noises of comfort.

"Jason, I –"

"Shh. I know, honey, I know," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are tearful, salt spilling over lashes and rolling down your cheeks. "Come on, let's get you to lie down."

"No," you whine, pitching miserably as he shuffles the both of you towards your bedroom, face creasing with every movement. "Hurts."

"I know," he whispers, hating the way his voice cracks. His eyes burn painfully. "'ll get you a towel, alright?"

You're deposited on the bed and he makes a turn for the bathroom, wetting a cloth. When he enters the bedroom again you've pushed yourself up, kneeling on the bed. You've shed the pants you'd worn earlier, left now in only and undershirt and your underwear. His name falls from your lips pitifully and he steps forward, lips turning down into a commiserating frown.

You shy away from the cloth when he presses it against your forehead, letting out a hiss as it makes contact with your burning skin. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck and you seem to like that much better, sighing under his touch. Jason takes advantage of this to keep you in place, mopping the sweat off your face and neck, trying his best not to give into your dissatisfied squirming.

"I know, I'm an asshole," he mutters, when you cry out his name, displeasure making itself clear on your face. "Get better so you can yell at me for it, alright?"

"Don't wanna – yell at you," you mumble, wetting your lips as they part.

He clocks the dilation of your pupils a little too late and shakes his head adamantly, trying to draw back but you've got a hold of his shirt, pulling him forward. He catches himself with a hand agains the headboard, a knee pressing into the mattress beneath him.

You stare up at him, mouth turning down into a pained grimace.

"C'mon honey," he mutters, pleading, feeling his face flood with warmth. "Don't do this to me. Be good, you'll be alright, okay? Any minute they're gonna call and tell me Alf's got an antidote ready – shit, maybe we should just drive you there now -"

"No," you sob, face crumpling under the weight of your tears again, pushing up on your knees to fling your arms around his shoulders. The effort of the movement makes you stutter out a gasp and he's forced to band an arm around your waist to steady the both of you.

Your tears wet the skin of his neck, your body pressed flush against his. He becomes aware, regrettably, of the skin beneath his fingers, your undershirt having ridden up to expose the softness of your lower back.

"Please," you hiccup into his shoulder. "Please, Jason – Please."

He'll have to ask Oracle later if second-hand exposure to the toxin is supposed to have an effect on him. At the touch of your chest to his, he feels himself warm all over, mouth drying when you begin to keen, arching up into his touch in an effort to get him to do something.

"Fuck," he curses. "Fuck. Alright, just – come here."

He kicks his shoes off, the sneakers clattering against the floor, and crawls onto the bed properly. Sat up against the headboard, he meets your baleful gaze with a raised brow and reaches for you.

Jason shakes his head when you go to straddle his lap, maneuvering you against his chest until your back rests against it. You let out a whimper, displeased, but he shakes his head.

"This is all you're getting, alright? Just – it'll tide you over until they call."

He spreads your legs until they hang over his own, your thighs bracketing his and leaving you open. His blood thunders in his ears, hand trembling as he reaches it up to your mouth, fingers prodding at the soft plush of your lips.

Your tongue laves at his digits, a muffled moan trapped in the recesses of your throat. One of your hands curls around his wrist, the other perching against his thigh, nails curling against the fabric of his jeans. He can feel you shift against him, hips canting ever so slightly over his own.

Awful, wretched, lecherous, he stiffens under the movement, jeans tightening. His free hand wraps around you hip with the intent of pinning you in place and stopping you. Somehow, he finds himself guiding you back and forth instead.

You tip your head back against his shoulder, baring the soft line of your throat as you drool around his fingers. He can feel the wetness pooling around his knuckles, the softness of your ass against him, separated only by a few layers. If he cranes his neck, he'll probably find your panties sticky with your need. The thought alone makes his eyes flutter.

The room is blanketed in muffled whimpers, the whispers of rustling sheets and his shaky breaths. You've quietened down some since he'd gotten his fingers in your mouth, but the heat seems to have returned with a vengeance when you begin to fuss in his lap again. Your fingers dig into his thigh and you whine, tugging at his wrist in an effort to push his hand where you need it most.

He hushes you with a squeeze to your hip and tips your face to meet his. Bleary eyed, silvery tracks smattered across your cheeks, you're struggling to hold on. He lowers his mouth to yours, a chaste kiss that deepens when you part your lips to lick into his mouth.

"Jason, come on."

"No, don't take it off," he whispers when your hands make to tug your underwear off. You whine and he hushes you again, "Shh, I'm going to take care of you, be patient for me, alright?"

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and watches you shudder at the first swipe. Similarly affected, he feels himself twitch when his fingers make contact with the soft slickness of your flesh, gliding against silken folds.

"Oh," you sigh, sagging slightly into him.

"There you go." He presses a kiss to your sweaty temple, trying to pretend this is just another night together and he's being a loving boyfriend, that you're not delirious with want just because of the toxin running through your bloodstream. "That's my girl."

He presses gentle circles against you, closing his eyes and ghosting his mouth over the curve of your shoulder. The smell of sex is thick in the air, that heady musk and sweat that he could drown in. Your breaths come in pants now as he works you open gently, thumb rolling over your centre.

"Just like that," he rumbles, straining to keep his head on straight. It's difficult, when you arch against him, his name spilling from your lips in adoration coloured mewls. Your arm raises, curling behind you to embrace his neck.

It doesn't take you very long to come, pent up and sensitive – he discovers this when his hand grazes over your chest to stroke your face and you keen so loud he fears he'll come in his pants at the sound, your mouth, bitten raw, dropping open as you moan. A few strokes against your centre and you come apart in his arms, hard. The tremors wrack your body long after the fact, your core pulsing around his fingers.

He, ever the fool, expects this to sate your hunger.

Whatever Ivy's put in her newest concoction is potent. You gather your breath quick enough and it becomes apparent that just the one isn't nearly enough. He's pushed back against the headboard, stunned into silence as you clamber onto his thigh, pawing at him like you can't get close enough.

You struggle with the fabric of his shirt before giving up and any questions he has sputter off into silence when you begin to rock back and forth on him. The denim of his jeans is unforgiving against the thin, sodden material of your underwear, providing a harsh friction that you lose yourself to. He watches, his heart racing, you taking your pleasure for yourself.

It isn't as though you've never done this in front of him – he remembers, blurry, the aftermath of a dinner date that had seen you riding his thigh on the couch, still in your dress.

But this… This feels different.

There's an urgency to this, a franticness running beneath your skin that pushes your hips down harder, more unforgiving. Your face screws up, salt misting your cheeks and neck.

For a moment, Jason almost feels as though he's the one that's been hit. You take on a blurry quality, smudged around the edges like wet paint, wanton, hazy. A gauzy film over his eyes, he blinks, and blinks.

When you come once more, it shatters and he's aware of the stain that's bled into the dark denim on his thigh, a stickiness that's smeared between your thighs. Your panties are ruined and he gulps when he drags his gaze up from between your legs to your face.

Quiet, hungry, you're already staring at him. Your chest heaves with exertion but you remain still otherwise, lips parting in invitation, eyes half-lidded.

"Baby–"

"You said you'd take care of me," you intone beseeching, voice affecting a trembling, delicate quality.

Fuck.

He's never been good at denying you much. Already, he feels the urge to take you into his arms and promise to make it better, but he forces his hand to stay, curling his fingers in the bedsheets.

You crawl forward, until your lips are ghosting over his, eyes swallowing his field of vision until all he can see are the stars in your irises. He feels the

"Jason, please, it still hurts," you whimper quietly, a wounded noise that carves him from the inside out, guilt and shame poisoning his every nerve. He's at war with himself, wanting to ease your pain – he feels responsible for it, in a way – and hesitating similarly. Is this right? Is it okay?

Before he can come up with an answer, you press your mouth to his.

The last of his inhibitions crumbles completely under the plush of your mouth.

He rolls the both of you over, relishing in the gasp you let out, the sight of you splayed against the mattress. He's quick to divest himself of his clothes, tugging his shirt off recklessly, not minding the sound of ripping fabric he vaguely registers hearing. The jeans go next, and his underwear in one, flung to some corner of the bedroom.

Your spit slick mouth curves up into a delighted, drunken smile when he crawls over you, body eclipsing yours with every intent of ravishing you.

Jason holds himself up with one hand, the other reaching to the bedside table and rummaging in the drawer for the box he keeps there. Only, he comes up short and dread dawns over him in a cold wave when he remembers –

He'd used the last of the condoms a few nights ago. It hadn't mattered in the last couple of days, the weekend too busy for the both of you to do much else but curl up next to each other, too exhausted to consider working up a sweat.

"Fuck," he whispers, shaking. "Fuck, baby, there aren't, um…"

Your eyes fill with tears at the unfinished sentence, a hiccuped sob stuttering out of your chest.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he tries to soothe you, a hand smoothing down your face. "I'll just – I'll run to the store, I'll be back before you know it."

"No, please, just–" Watery eyed and upset, you tug him closer as though fearing he'll take off. "I don't care, I don't, I just – I need you, Jason. Please."

He stares at you, heart thundering in his ears. "Fuck you without –"

"Need you now," you whimper, lips tugging down pitifully into a pout that cuts through his chest.

It isn't as though this is his first time fucking you raw –

Tipsy laughter, hushed whispers of it's fine, just once, we'll get the morning after pill.

– but still. This is different, another ballpark entirely.

You stare up at him, desperation in every crease and curve of your face, pleading with him. Too far gone to care, you beg him.

"I'll, um," he rasps out, throat dry, "I'll pull out."

You make some sort of noise that sounds like a vague affirmation, tugging him closer hastily. Poor, pretty girl. His chest aches at the sight of you, needy, looking to him to fix it.

"I'll fix it," he finds himself muttering, lining himself up with your entrance. You've similarly taken to murmuring under your breath, hands carding through his hair, devotion in your every touch.

"Need you so bad, please, please, baby."

The slick that smears against his head, the soft warmth of you, nearly makes his eyes roll back into his head. A drawn out whimper spills from your lips at the press of his hips, the first inches of him pushing into your tight heat.

You sink into the mattress as he notches himself further inside, mouth opening. You paint an obscene picture, your lips bitten raw, naked chest arched. He lowers his head to mouth at your nipples, teeth teasing at the sensitive points. You're warm, so warm beneath him – around him.

He's given only a moment to breathe before you push your hips up, impatient. Fucking yourself against him, your fingers dig into the muscle of his back for leverage, tucking him close enough to you that he brushes against your neck and tastes the salt on your skin.

Jason sets a harried pace, bucking forward against you. You begin to cry out again, every resounding slap of his skin against yours drawing out a moan that curls tight around him and presses down on his stomach. You exchange panted breaths between open mouthed kisses, tongues and teeth clashing messily, muffled pleas that beg for more, more, more.

Filthy, debauched, it doesn't take very long for you to approach your peak. Jason, lost in the wetness of your cunt, feels his own building and knows this is a dangerous game he's playing, toeing the line of recklessness.

"Close," he pants, feeling the tell-tale fluttering of you around him, your orgasm imminent. If he can just hold out until he's gotten you there –

Your legs wrap around him, hold so tight he's not able to do much more than rock against you in desperate, quick rolls of his hips.

"Inside," you warble. Your hands come to cradle his head, coaxing him down to kiss you, licking up into his mouth sweetly, teeth catching on his bottom lip. "Mmh, please, baby? Please? I – Jason – want it so bad, need you inside."

"Oh fuck," he gasps, voice hitching, breath stuttering. His face creases, overcome, and you grin, dazed, drunken, pulling him into another sloppy kiss. What's he to do?

You scream into his mouth at the same time that Jason comes. His vision whitens at the sensation of your pulsing heat, the unforgiving tightening that demands his orgasm. His fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips, burying himself to the hilt and surrendering to your claim.

Warm and wet around him, the evidence of his debauchery coats the inside of your thighs and clings to the base of him. He's light-headed, a little winded, and it takes him a moment to gather his sensibilities. When he looks down, he finds you a boneless puddle beneath him, eyelids fluttering tiredly.

He should pull out. He knows he ought to – but he's broken so many rules, what's another? Jason gathers you in his arms and rolls over gently, tucking you against his chest, a hand skimming up and down the length of your spine comfortingly.

"Fuck," he whispers out into the air, and you murmur atop him. He glances down, meeting your bleary eyes. "Y'just had to go and get caught in that crossfire, huh?"

"N'my fault," you grumble, pressing your face back into his chest.

"Gonna give me a heart attack," he grumbles, dropping a kiss to your crown. Then, with a look over at the bedside table, he jostles you a bit. "Hey. Don't fall asleep. We still have to get you the antidote."

"Wake me when 's ready," is your answer, tone somehow managing a prissiness unexpected of someone who'd just been fucked to within an inch of their life, and he drops his head back into the pillows, incredulous.

This girl would be the death of him.

first kinktober 2024 fic let's go!! i genuinely didn't think i was going to be able to commit to kinktober this year (i'm still nervous about whether i'll be able to) because finals are literally just around the corner and i'm stressing. but hopefully you enjoyed the first installment to this year's kinktober and the coming ones don't disappoint, either!

[astrobydalia]

🪐 Astro Observations!!!✨

Happy 2024 babes! Here’s to another year sharing astrology stuff with all of you 🤩

work by astrobydalia

Yes water moons have great intuition and could be psychic but I very often notice they tend to allow their personal feelings interfere with their decisions and could tend to not follow their intuition as much. The ones that have a more reliable or unbiased intuition imo are Earth moons and Aquarius moon.

Scorpio Venus really do gravitate to unhealthy relationships… All their connections tend to have unfair or imbalanced dynamics to them where there’s no equal give and take. They believe love means throwing yourself and your life away for another person (or they expect someone to give everything away for them) with little to nothing in return. They may not understand the difference between deep intimacy and unhealthy attachment

Libra placements and their ability to appear likable even when they have the shittiest personality deep down

In my opinion Moon is the most important planet if you really wanna begin to know someone at their core. Ultimately no planet can give you full info without the context of the whole chart tho (#AllPlanetsMatter), but you can really uncarcarve sm about someone just by moon placement/aspects/degree, etc. Moon rules your needs and so it really cements your personality and its an energy that you'll project in so many areas of your life (relationships, career, etc)

Fixed Mars are ARGUMENTATIVE fr fr. They need to have the last word and will die on that hill if they have to💀Honorable mention: Virgo/Gemini Mars due to Mercury influence but they’re more about friendly banter and aren’t as stubborn

80% of Aries Moons I've met were very philosophical/spiritual/religious. They can develop a self-awareness that gives them a lot of wisdom. The other 20% were just adult toddlers and very egotistic...

Capricorn placements and their internalized elitism. They really do believe some people are better than others which is the shadow of Capricorn unfortunately

Aquarius Moons are some of the most traumatized people I know fr fr. Whenever I get to know their life and backstory Im always like bro….😶😶 It makes me so sad cause they always bring such good vibes everywhere (they have a playful aura) when in reality there’s a depth of pain underneath you wouldn’t even fathom through that unbothered persona. The OG misunderstood.

We all know Scorpio is all about depth, intensity and looking beyond the surface but I’ve very often observed the exact opposite in scorpio placements. They could tend to be very superficial, greedy and materialistic, more obsessed with wealth and status than any earth placement (it all comes down to power). In such cases their interest in occult or deep topics could also be superficial or opportunistic, like they only see it as something that could give them a leg up in life or help them avoid unseen threats but that's about it.

Cancer Risings do not come across as sensitive at all. They tend to have a rather sassy personality and are pretty defensive 90% of the time tbh. Think about it, are crabs 🦀 cute and cuddly? No, you actually actually have to be very careful around one cause they sting lol. They do wear their heart on their sleeves and are very sensitive and perceptive but because of this they constantly feel like their vulnerability is out for everyone to see hence the guarded attitude.

^I've also noticed they are VERY opinionated and will hold on very tightly to how they think/feel about something. This results in having a reputation for being kinda bold and sharp (Aries 10th). Pro tip: do NOT question these native's morals or integrity unless you wanna see a very snappy side to them, they respond very very very badly if you even insinuate that they might be hypocritical in their values/what matters to them

The interpretation that Aquarius in the 4th house means you’re an outcasted black sheep in the family low-key doesn’t make sense to me tbh. Aquarius is the sign of camaraderie, friendship, inclusivity and community. All the people that I’ve seen with this placement were actually very bonded to their roots and considered their family (and the people they bonded with during childhood) to be "their people" (they also keep their friends close to heart). These natives do tend to distinct themselves as they grow up but this is due to Leo 10th house. I've noticed their family is in general very supportive of them or at the very least they received some input in their upbringing that made them feel special and/or like their uniqueness was celebrated. Feel free to share your opinion/experience tho

I've noticed Virgo Mars people have a perfect balance between being confident in themselves and fulling trusting their abilities while also staying humble and acknowledge room for improvement. Very mature and self-accountable and they're also great people to work with cause they are highly appreciative of good contribution

Sagittarius placements and their ability to be casually rude in a charming way??? 😭

Moon in the 10th house do not have a reputation for being emotional at all, it's quite the opposite they dislike exposing their feelings like that. A lot of their energy is spent trying to appear put-together and emotionally stable. The ones I've noticed have a reputation for being moody or sensitive are Mars in the 10th house

Venus-Moon aspects probably grew up in an environment that fed up this idea they had to be beautiful and conventionally likable in order to be worthy of love. These natives tend to base their self-worth on the amount of emotional validation they get from others and struggle telling the difference between kindness and love

A couple notes on everyone’s fave topic: 8th house synastry

We all know this overlay deals with power dynamics. On a general basis I’ve noticed it’s the planet person who tends to have the upper hand. Exeption: Moon. When your moon falls in someone’s 8th house you tend to be vulnerable one due to the soft nature of this planet, but the house person secretly feels more intimidated

You will NAWT be able to keep secrets from someone you have 8th house synastry with specially if you’re the house person. Sooner or later they’ll see through you, circumstances might force you to expose yourself or you’ll simply feel drawn to revealing the truth to them. With water synastry in general you will feel drawn to share more deep or hidden parts of yourself/your life but with the 8th house you can’t help it, like there’s almost an accusatory tension between the two that grows the more you try to hide something from them

Something I see no one mentioning about 8th house synastry is the planet person always feels intimidated by the house person's success. The planet person will try to take part in the house person's success by taking some credit and have a sense of control over what belongs to the house person, it's giving Kanye's "I made that bitch famous". At best the planet person would want to help boost the house person's endeavors. Either way, when someone's planets land on your 8th house, you will never feel like something is completely yours anymore, somehow the planet person will "take" something away from you that you can't get back making you feel like you owe them or they owe you something big (8th house=debt), which is why this overlay very often goes south and tends to be very depleting.

If we're talking business (which 8th house deals with that) the house person is likely to take a risk on the planet person, invest on them (can be money, time, resources, trust, etc) in hopes that it'll pay off. The house person is most likely to loose something from their involvement with the planet person, but they can also gain a lot from the planet person if the investment pays off. In either case, one could tend to exploit the other if there’s any ill intent from the individual

Water mars people are very smothering in their affection tbh. Once you’ve been chosen, get ready to be bombarded by their attention a bit more each time. Secret stalker vibes.This doesn’t always mean they love you tho, if underdeveloped they may want to “bond” in order to have emotional control over you and use you. For them it’s easy to get what they want through manipulation so leading people on or fooling around is something they tend to do a lot

Going back to the affection topic, water venus are smothering too but they go about their obsession devotion in a much more soft and non-domineering way where they give a lot of power away to their partner

People with Gemini+Scorpio placements in their chart embody the mischievous trickster archetype fr fr. They’re funny but also a menace. Have an ease to become that type of deceitful manipulator who thrives in chaos

I have a theory that your Moon represents the kind of bond or relationship you have with your mother but Ceres represents how your mother actually is

Capricorn and Scorpio placements are huge tsunderes imo 😭

Chiron in Sagittarius/9th house have become disappointed with religious and/or academic institutions. For them both systems are essentially flawed and don't work or don't make sense

+When it comes to religion I've seen a lot of them being atheist and skeptics. Some others still believed in god/universe/etc. but they did not want to support any stablished religious institution and instead have preferred to craft their own belief system. In both cases, they saw the institutionalization of believe systems as something that hindered their freedom of thought and expansion

+When it comes to academics a very similar thing happens. They felt like collage and the educational system restricted their mind instead of expanding it so they just preferred to walk their own path and find growth elsewhere. A friend of mine with this placement quit collage and the other people I've seen who did finish it all said they had a kinda dreadful and/or unfulfilling collage experience which they low-key regret

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the house where you have your pluto, that’s because you gave your power away to the opposite house. For example, if you have Pluto in the 5th house and you felt powerless when it comes to expression, your creativity, etc that’s because you gave too much power to the public opinion/peer pressure (11th house) and what they may say about you if you express yourself genuinely

Scorpio Moons always battle with that "am I a good person?", "am I a monster deep down?" inner conflict. They are more in touch with darker emotions and experiences than the average person so for them it's particularly easy to channel their shadow. This can often make them doubt their own integrity or think they are doomed to never feel happiness and inner peace. This is moon's debilitation for a reason, their inner emotional world is ruled by chaos and turmoil and they tend to be a bit too comfortable (moon) in toxicity and drama, nothing is ever light-hearted for them. If developed this ability of staying in touch with the shadow side of things can actually give them lots of awareness and resilience for the darker sides of the world as well as a very solid moral compass and compassion

Leo Moons likely had grandiose standards forced on them that inflated their self-importance. It's giving "mommy told me I am the best and most special of all" which is great but now they be carrying that mindset for the rest of their lives and this is where lot of their infamous sensitivity and fragile ego comes from cause not fulfilling these standards deeply hurts their heart. In consequence they tend to be more unprepared to accept humbling experiences that'll make them mature

virgo risings are funny!!!! I haven't seen anyone mention this, but every virgo rising I've met cracked me UP, they are so witty and never misse a chance to throw in a cheeky joke every 2 minutes. I think this is overlooked because they keep a rather awkward demeanor to them which often makes for a rather dry delivery. Best examples of this are Ryan Raynolds, Keanue Reeves, Emma Watson, Cole Sprouse...

Also, all Virgo risings I've met tend to come across as huge snobs so it's very common that people don't take their humor or friendliness seriously

Honestly I've noticed this theme with Virgo/6th house inner placements in general where their judgemental nature always makes them unfriendly or snarky to some degree. They can be the kind of people who are never happy with anything and always have a bone to pick.

My main theory as to why Leo risings are the most shy out of all Leo placements is because a lot of them grew up in very problematic and dysfunctional families (Scorpio 4th house) where they were shamed for showing vulnerability or being genuine (Cancer 12th house)

I’ve noticed Aries Suns and Capricorn Suns tend to relate a lot to their fathers, they tend to have very similar character traits as their fathers. For good or for bad their relationship with their father is always very important in their personality.

I find that LEO Suns and Sagittarius Suns always be having daddy issues tho like 😭😭😭😭

One thing about Capricorn is they can be literal billionaires and yet will still refuse to spend a dime on something they think is not worth it

Mutable Moons don’t commit 10000% to things, they’re the type to always have a foot out just in case. They're most likely to commit to things if they don't feel forced or expected to stay permanently

Cardinal energy is very consistent and responsable. People with prominent cardinal placements have a really developed sense of agency, focus and direction (imo this will be more obvious with moon, mars and asc). There's something about them that always gives me this put together "I've got this" kinda vibe, they always seem like they've got it together and always know what to do even when they're lost.

Fixed mercuries and their inability to understand or accept that two different points can be true

Sun/Leo in the 3rd house could want to have a nice car, an expensive or luxurious car from a well-known brand

I’ve seen people saying Venus-Mars conjunction gives it girl vibes. This is also HIGHLY true for Mars-ruled Venus (Aries/Scorpio Venus) or Venus-ruled Mars (Libra/Taurus Mars)

work by astrobydalia

[hotheadedhero]

Think You're Cute

'Like 'em Big Series'

AN: I have so many stories to write but I had to do this. Blaming being sick, m'kay? Fever has got me bad and these meds got me loopy. Thinking we need some good, silly fun in our lives, right? Plus, now that I've watched Rise, I'm hungry for some big Raph appreciation. I know I ain't the only one

Part 2

All characters are aged up

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: near peril, easily smitten, possible errors due to fever (what kind of fever is up for deliberation🥴)

Cutting right to the chase. You like big dudes. That doesn't necessarily mean muscles, either. You just love you a big man - someone with a bit of something-something to them. More to love, you know? Given your track record with the greater world, it shouldn't be all that much of a mystery. Cats? Get yourself a tiger that you can cuddle into. Jumpers? Comfort central, baby. Beds? If you can't spread eagle then you see no point. The old-age saying does declare that the bigger the better, so who are you to disagree? How true that is may be up for debate but it’s merely as simple as understanding what your preferences are.

However, this makes dating a difficult ballpark to play in. No matter how tall, jacked, or voluptuous someone is, it never feels like enough. Human biology and genetics can only go so far in the conceivably possible sense. You just want to be absolutely engulfed when you get a hug. Is that such a crime? Apparently, it is. Unfortunately, you also seem to come across the worst jerks when you attempt to date within this set of criteria. One might argue it's your karmic justice for being so superficial and picky but a woman has needs. Not those kinds of needs, either. Get your head out of the gutter.

All hope seems lost and after yet again, another failed date, you decide to call it in for the evening and make your way home. A fresh failure and another wonderful outfit gone to waste. By no means is it anything flashy but you put a lot of work into it: pencil skirt, turtle neck sweater, and a nice pair of boots to compliment the look. The whole shebang! All of that effort for nothing. This is the last time you spend three hours doing your hair and makeup. Block after block, your feet grow heavier with every step. What you would give to come across a mountain-like man you can climb who is also a kindred spirit. Perhaps this dream guy will forever be that - a dream. Men like that don't just fall out of the sky.

"Look out!!"

The sudden shout almost scares you into tripping over and you look behind yourself, wishing you hadn’t. Two very large, very dangerous-looking figures entangled in battle, those of which are approaching your helpless little self. You quickly duck as the giants hurdle over you. One falls on its side whilst the other claws and skids against the ground, regaining its balance. It shakes its head and locks onto you, a guttural snarl rumbling past its jowls. Such a creature is surely from the stuff of nightmares. An indescribable nightmare whose sights are set on you. The smart option would be running away but it's as though your shoes have melted into the pavement. Pawing into the tarmac, the beastly thing growls and lunges for you. Great. This is how you die: torn limb from limb by a demon dog. Well, assuming your clothes join you, at least you’ll look like a total babe in the afterlife.

"Oh no ya’ don't," the other one yells from behind the predator, grabbing it by its tail. “Pretty ladies are not food!”

With a mighty tug, he pulls it back and swings it as far away from you as possible. You release a shaky breath, legs trembling beneath you. That was far too close for comfort. The fight isn’t quite over, however. Just as it approaches him, the green goliath swivels on his feet, full 180, and whacks the creature's jaw with a closed fist. His speed alone has you in awe but the force is astounding, practically earth-shattering. It completely knocks the air around you and pushes you onto your backside.

When the dust clears, the first thing you see is your saviour panting, his spiky shell(?) pointed towards you. Just past him in the distance, you notice three more figures in blue, purple, and orange taking a closer look at the unconscious tyrant. You swear one of them pokes at it with a stick. Witnessing strange beings such as this isn't entirely new. Anyone who's watched Chateau Pretenche knows about the celebrity chef turning into a grotesque pigman. To describe it in one word? Horrifying. It's just whether people choose to believe it genuinely happened or if these bizarre entities exist. Being up close and personally observing it now puts your scepticism in check.

As the humanoid turtle calms, he turns to face you, recapturing your attention. A red mask sits over his eyes and there’s a noticeable snaggle tooth poking past his upper lip. Typically, the prerogative is keeping out of sight but it’s much too late for that. He gradually advances towards you. You watch him warily and he keeps his movements slow for that very reason. It wouldn’t be a shock if you were to try and make an escape. He wouldn’t blame you. Currently, all he wants to do is make sure you weren’t hurt during that fiasco provided you don’t suddenly come out of your bewilderment and run off. You have good reason to but he just saved you. Either that or he’s as ravenous as that beast and wants you all to himself. The irrational conclusion remains as such - irrational - when he descends to one knee and outstretches a hand. There’s an irrefutable kindness in his eyes; a caring nature that can’t be replicated in the face of savage brutes.

"You okay?" he asks.

You continue to gawk without a word but, bit by bit, you reach out for his offer. Your fingers lightly trace the centre of his palm before comfortably trusting the proposal. His hand engulfs yours completely and Raph hopes to mercy that you don’t realise how sweaty he’s getting. He can feel his heart beating like crazy. He wonders how much of that is the adrenaline from the fight and how much of it is being in the presence of such a beautiful gal. As he helps you to your feet, he rises to his own. Someone of his stature shouldn’t be capable of being this delicate but he is. It has you running through a loop and you unintentionally stare at the remarkable behemoth.

Quite pathetically, you nod, unable to verbally respond to his question. How can you? You are effectively starstruck. Once you gloss over the turtle-y features, all you see is the sheer size of him as he towers over you. Height, width, the magnitude of those arms! All of it is glorious. You can hear the universe asking, “You want a big man, huh? How about one who isn’t human?” to which you answer, “Who gives a damn?”. If the only way a man can be this big is not to be human, so be it.

Amidst a whisper, your mouth moves on its own, "You're beautiful."

"What?"

"Huh?" Blinking out of your trance, you realise what you’ve said and giggle sheepishly, "I mean, you're be... ba... booming! Totally awesome with the whole- uh... saving thing." Nailed it. 

He blinks right back down at you. This is certainly a first. He can feel his face heating up and he withdraws his hand lest you endure the wrath of his bashfulness, opting to hold the back of his head. At this moment, he seems to look anywhere but you.

"Heh. Gee, thanks." His humility is adorable and you’re glad he doesn’t question your initial statement. He turns to you once more, regaining some composure. "You sure you're okay, though? That thing was pretty scary looking."

It’s clear that you haven’t sustained any physical injuries but even bearing witness to something so unsightly can have lasting effects on one's mind. His brows furrow gently in concern down at you and it occurs to you that there’s a soft heart under all of that shell and muscle. Bonus points. This makes you smile for the first time in front of him and Raphael is sure that the streetlights got brighter.

You laugh fondly, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Twiddling your fingers, your lips purse up in his direction.  “Is there any way I can repay you?”

He places his hands on his hips and chuckles cutely, “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

He may be indulging in his alter ego - the Red Angel of Preventing Harm - but it’s not every day he gets paid thanks when he saves someone. It’s also not every day he gets to save such a pretty woman, either. You, however, can’t just leave it at that. There must be some way in which you can properly thank him. Ulterior motives include getting to know this already loveable lug better but shh. It feels like the odds are finally turning in your favour and you won’t let this slip away from your grasp. That’s when it hits you.

Muttering under your breath, you erratically search through the confines of your little handbag. You are certain that you had one in here somewhere. In the spare pocket maybe? Ah! Found it. Fumbling to take the lid off of your pen, you hold out your hand, gesturing for his. He slowly complies, to which you jot down a series of digits on his palm accompanied by your name and a tiny 'x'. 

"Gimme a text sometime," is the last thing he hears before you disappear around a corner.

Oh? Oh. Ohhh. Wow. Getting your number is the last thing he expected. Did he get hit on the head during that scuffle or something? Was everything from the last few minutes a dream? He bores holes into the writing on his skin, scanning it over and over, scared that it’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. A dumb, wobbly smile not so gracefully decorates his lips as he trudges back to the turtle tank. He takes his seat but it’s obvious that he isn’t all there. Being so caught up in his rose-tinted bubble, he doesn’t register his brothers' voices. In an effort to gain his attention, Michelangelo jumps onto his shoulder, partly intrigued by what their leader is so absorbed by.

"Oh me gosh!” the young brother screams in shrill excitement, “Raph's in love!"

Careful not to smudge the neat ink, he’s quick to hide his hand against his chest. "That's crazy talk!”

Donatello sniffs the air and mockingly covers his nose. "The overwhelming manifestation of your nervous stink indicates otherwise, dear brother."

"I got a girl’s number!” he continues to defend, feeling his face go all kinds of red. “'Course, I'm nervous but that don’t mean I’m in love."

Lies and slander. It was practically love at first sight. He just doesn’t like the idea of his brothers knowing that. It’s easy pickings to be made fun of.

"Don't worry, Big Red. Lucky for you, you got a guy who knows all about the charm." Leonardo points both thumbs at himself as he falls back into his seat and props his legs up on the dashboard. "First, you just need to..."

The "helpful" advice drowns out as the large snapper opens and gazes at his palm again. He just can't comprehend how a gorgeous individual such as yourself could take one look at him and give him your number. It's puzzling but he supposes there’s a first for everything? That also doesn't mean he won't text you. The only thing getting in the way of that is fear. Raphael thinks he’d rather go toe-to-toe with that mutant dog again than have to face the risk of embarrassing himself. To anyone who knows him, it’s no surprise that he caves under pressure. No. He will do it! A chance like this is one in a million.

Oh boy. What could possibly go wrong?

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #26

(I'm feeling angsty today.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Going Supernova

The GIW have discovered his identity, and they don't waste time on using this knowledge to their advantage. They spent the last six months creating a weapon that not only hurts ghosts but absolutely obliterates them down to their very cores. After testing it for so long on minor ghosts and then discovering the local ghostly menace's secret, they have the bright idea to make an example out of Danny.

They ambush him as he's fighting the invading ghost of the day. Their first shot misses and hits the ghost they're fighting. As soon as the shot lands, the ghost freezes in place with a look of dread and horror.

They look up at Danny with tears in their eyes and has only a few precious seconds to say, "Run," before their skin cracks and they shatter, the miniscule shards evaporating into nothingness.

Danny is petrified and grief-stricken over what he just witnessed that he doesn't have the time to even twitch before the GIW lock their sights back onto him and shoot him in the back.

Agony consumes him. His chest burns, and his ribs rattle with the effort it takes for him to breathe through the pain. The civilians who were still on the scene gasped in horror as they watched their local hero's chest start to crack and glow from within.

What the GIW didn't know was that Danny had just recently elevated to Ancient status due to helping Clockwork with the timestream. That and with his status as a halfa, what they did will end in nothing but disaster. (1)

Danny spots his parents, sister, and friends in the crowd. His parents watched in awe and excitement while his Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked at him with horror-stricken disbelief. Knowing what's to come and not having enough time to explain, he gives them a wobbly smile.

"I'm so sorry."

He whips around and rockets straight up into the sky. He breaks through the atmosphere in a matter of seconds and continues to fly at breakneck speed away from the little green-blue planet he calls home. He has to get away. He can't destabilize so close to them. He has to go even further.

His form is steadily breaking off into pieces as his human and ghost half fight and fail to keep him together. He can feel his human half dying and his ghost half barely holding on by a thread. He can't stop, though. If he stops here, the Earth will be destroyed from the backlash.

He had no worry for himself. After all, stars die all the time. That doesn't mean that's the end for them. They just take on a new form or even help breathe new planets and galaxies into life.

'A star's death is not the end!' He comforts himself.

He only makes it a few light-years further before his energy fades out to nothing, and he slows to a halt. It's only then that Danny starts to panic alone in the vacuum of space. The furthest he's even been from home and the comfort of his friends and family.

"No. No, no, no, no." He repeats over and over. "Not far enough. Not far enough! I'm still too close!!" (2)

His stuttering heart rabbits inside his chest along with his crumbling core. He hugs himself tight with the false hope that maybe that would stop himself from falling apart. He cries for his family, his friends, his planet. His life and lives he's about to take through no fault of his own.

Because for a star to give life, they must first destroy. (3)

"I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry! Please!"

He sobs into his hands as the light of his core pulses one final time.

"Please." He whispers brokenly.

His core shatters, and he screams for the entire cosmos to hear. His form expands with immeasurable force and shakes the very foundations of creation. His desperate attempt to spare the Earth from his self-destruction was in vain as the waves of his shattered core ravaged the solar system and destroyed everything within its path.

The countless people and other creatures on Earth didn't even have time to blink before they were completely eradicated. Quick and painless but nonetheless gone.

It took centuries for everything to settle again.

It wasn't until countless millennium passed that the solar system began to take shape again. However, everything was reshaped and put back together as though with a child's memory of what it used to be from so long ago. Some things were bound to be different, like how Mars gained its own population of intelligent humanoid creatures. How Earth's own population started to develop extraordinary abilities and magic was able to be used more freely outside of supernatural species.

Soon, there were heroes popping up all over the universe of all shapes, sizes, and species. Some people were even reborn. They started remembering a life that, as far as they knew, never actually existed. How could it? None of the people they were before showed up in any records. There were records, of course. They just, unfortunately, no longer existed.

No one knew why, either. At least not until a magic user stumbled upon a tome belonging to what they knew as the Underworld. It told the story of a young boy who died too young and was destroyed from what he became afterward. How his destruction also destroyed the world despite the boy's efforts to save it.

This story was shared with the masses of people experiencing these memories of other lives, including the heroes who took up the mantle of keeping the Earth and other corners of the galaxy safe. They mourned the loss of a life so young, so bright and full of potential. They hoped that wherever the child ended up, that they were at peace.

Little did they know, the child was part of the universe itself, his very being woven into the fabric that makes up the night sky and everything that lays beyond. They can't see or hear him, but that precious child--the Ancient of Space--laid curled around the Milky Way itself with Earth cradled gently in his trembling hands.

✦

(1) Because of his status as the new Ancient of Space and the fact that he is half human/alive is the reason his destabilization took longer than the ghost he was previously fighting. An Ancient has immense power of the aspect of reality they control, and his human half was desperately trying to keep him alive. He can't live without his ghost half, though. It was also the power of his Ancient status that made his destabilization so explosive and damaging. However, him being a halfa is also what saved his existence in the end and allows him to still continue to be the Ancient of Space, as Space itself is always in a state of dying and rebirth. It just took several thousands of years to pull himself back into a semblance of what he previously was, but obviously irrevocably changed.

(2) According to scientists a supernova would have to be within 30-50 light-years to trigger a mass extinction on Earth. To be actually completely safe from one, however, it'd have to be 160 or more light-years away. Danny didn't even make it to 20 light-years before his core self-destructed, which is why he was panicking.

(3) As I'm sure most of you know, supernovae are essential to creating life, but that life is preceded by the death of said star.

(*) I haven't really thought of who would be reborn into which character. I originally thought of Jack Fenton being reborn as Bruce Wayne, but Bruce only disguises himself as a himbo while Jack actually is one. The only reason I thought it would work out it because 1) Jack's paranoia about ghosts and translating into Bruce's own paranoia 2) him regaining his past memories would explain his propensity to collect black-haired, blue eyed children because of his loss of Danny and 3) him and his relationship with Jason after he came back as Red Hood.

Other than that, I can't think of who any of the other characters might be. You can decide!

[irisintheafterglow]

hii i would like to request the premise of a feral gojo over reader getting hurt or in danger 🤤 please don't feel obligated to write tho only if u feel like it :3

cross them, cross me (gojo x you)

wc: 1.29k

cw/tags: brief but explicit violence including descriptions of blood (satoru beats the shit out of a curse lmao), swearing, angst/fluff with a happy ending, established-ish relationship with pet names baby and sweetheart

note: ah feral gojo my beloved. i think i got a little carried away with writing the violence aspect but what can i say! he really did go feral when you got hurt! anyways, hope you like this anon and thank you for the sweet ask <3

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :))

The sound of bones crunching between his fingers is euphoric.

One by one, he takes the Curse’s limbs in his free hand, the other effortlessly holding it by the neck against a wall. Its desperate wriggles and squirms are futile and pathetic. With a tightened grip, the wretched body parts in Satoru’s palm wither and become a limp slug of skin. He’d tuned out the Curse’s howls of agony minutes ago, the world around him falling silent as he focused all of his energy into making the Curse beg for death. The phrase “seeing red” was familiar to him, sure, but the hue tinting his vision now was a deep shade of crimson. Whether that was from the blood or his own concentration, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

“What, did you give up?” His taunting smile turns into a snarl when the Curse fails to answer him the first time. It slumped itself against the wall, but he woke it up with a firm slap across its face. It wasn’t allowed to die, not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of its cries. “Learn your lesson yet?” It coughs out a plea for mercy, but he isn’t satisfied. Times like these were the only time his power truly went directly to his head. 

“Gojo.” Nanami’s voice temporarily breaks him from his trance, but Satoru doesn’t bother glancing his colleague’s way. His hand still remains around the neck of the Curse, scathing blue eyes burning holes into its face. “It’s time to depart.”

“I’m not done yet,” he hisses, embedding the Curse’s face further into the wall. The suit of his coworker is pristine and unscathed; his own uniform, on the other hand, was soaked in blood that wasn’t his own. No, he wasn’t done yet. Not until every Curse within a ten mile vicinity knew exactly what would happen to them if they attempted to harm you again.

“They’re asking about you,” Nanami states impatiently with a quick look at his watch. “And I’m working overtime.”

“Five more minutes,” Satoru commands and Nanami has no choice but to obey, releasing an exhausted sigh and leaving his superior to his crusade. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, realizing that the Curse must have died while he wasn’t looking. He examines the lifeless creature with pure disgust, flinging it so intensely at the wall behind him that its innards splatter like wet paint. “You are below me,” he says to no one in particular, but he can sense the frightened energy of the weaker Curses inhabiting the building. “Touch them and you will meet the same fate.” 

Once he’s exited the abandoned hospital, taken down the Curtain, and found the alley corner where he’d instructed Nanami to watch you, all remaining malicious intent in his body disappears. You’re scowling at him, your default expression when in his presence, and it reassures him that you’ll be okay. 

“What took you so long?” You wince and try to adjust yourself against the wall, swatting his hand away when he crouches and tries to help you. “I thought Nanami said there was only one Curse in the building.” He shrugs and you give him a skeptical look, slightly less potent than usual due to your injured state. “Toying with a Curse while I’m bleeding out? That’s a new low, even for you.” He knows you mean it in a joking matter, but the darkness that passes over his face after he laughs doesn’t escape you. It unnerves you, a little bit, trying to imagine what he was doing to the Curses when you weren’t there.

“What can I say? I was just trying to make you miss me,” he replies with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. He’s put his blindfold back on, you notice, but the subtle dip in his eyebrows tells you that he’s not revealing the whole truth. “I’m gonna lift you now–”

“I can walk on my own,” you protest, rooting a hand on the concrete and trying to push yourself up to no avail. You fall back against the wall and glare at his silently patronizing expression. “I just need a second.” 

“We don’t have a second. We need to clear out before the police get here,” he reminds you and you wave him off. “C’mon, just let me help you.”

“I can do this on my own,” you reiterate while simultaneously failing to stand. “It’s because you’re watching me. Just turn around.”

“If you wanna see my butt, just say so,” he grins and you roll your eyes. “But, really. I’m gonna lift you now, so try not to wiggle.” His arms extend to cradle beneath your legs and lower back and you’re surprised to feel the fabric of his uniform, not Infinity, when your hands try to push him away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you stammer in panic. He pulls away immediately and his teasing expression softens. You let him brush the dirt from your cheeks with one of his hands, the other coming to cover yours on his chest. His heartbeat is unwaveringly steady, his body warm beneath your fingers. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re okay,” he reassures you. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you now.”

“It’s gonna hurt when I get up,” you whisper back. “A lot.” 

“I know it will, but it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.” Your exhales are too uneven. He had to get you back to the school if he didn’t want you to continue losing blood. 

“Seconds? What about the car ride back?”

“Oh no, baby. We’re not taking the car.” He shakes his head and gently laces his fingers with yours. “I’m warping us back so we can get that wound taken care of faster.” His grip on your fingers tightens, a crack in his composure revealing a glimpse of his own anxiety. “I just need you to let me help you.” After a few more moments, you nod and he doesn’t hesitate, scooping you into his arms before you can even register the searing pain in your side. The world goes white for a few seconds, just as he said, but then your head finds his shoulder and the pulse in your ears quiets. 

You wake later in the day to the sun casting an orange glow through your bedroom window. As you sit up, the pain in your side is still present but significantly dulled. When your eyes adjust to the light, you finally notice the figure slumped in your desk chair, a respectful distance away from your bed. 

“Satoru.” His eyes fly open and he’s in front of you within seconds, searching your face with concern and running his thumb over your knuckles. You give him the smallest smile you can muster and he reciprocates with a blinding grin. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, adjusting his position so that your legs can swing off the side of your bed. He rests on one knee in front of you, holding one hand in his, the other continuing to caress your face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little shitty,” you admit. “But, not nearly as shitty as earlier.”

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Need me to get you anything? A snack? Two snacks?” Your laugh feels warmer than the setting sun and you shake your head, lightly tugging him to stand up and crawl under the covers with you. “I guess this works too,” he mumbles against the top of your head, pulling you close until you’re snug against his body. 

“What were you doing in the time you were killing that last remaining Curse?” He hums thoughtfully and you swear his muscles flex protectively around your body. 

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. For now, we both need rest.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[eldritch-spouse]

Sometimes greedy gambits do work out.

Your typical greedy fiend may wax about their insatiable desire for the material, how satisfaction is the death of their nature and never shall they cease stretching their fingers towards the next shining trophy-

But they know limits.

They have that little bit of normalcy that tells them when it's time to drop something, even if it leaves a taste like curdled milk in their mouths.

Not Xiko.

Xiko grabbed onto something and he did not let go.

Not even when death came knocking at his door.

This celebrity of the Greed Ring was known for being the biggest, most successful human/monster trafficker of Hell itself. Xiko, a mere mid-ranker, yet clever and crafty enough to dethrone nearly everyone in his field of vile work.

Wanted humans and monsters worth owning? In mint condition? With some really rare traits? Leave it to him and his boys, you won't be disappointed.

With great skill and talent comes great danger, but Xiko didn't cower when he started to gain many an enemy, when he could no longer count them, when he spent most of his time hunting them down rather than hunting the poor souls he's supposed to sell. With each visit, he'd return home with a few trophies to remember his victory.

Things were going well.

His empire of fifth kept growing, enough so that it garnered the attention of the very Lord Rinx, a client Xiko both reveres and dreads, due to his extravagant tastes. Why, he ever earned himself a juicy deal with this strange, extremely popular establishment on the surface that constantly bulk-orders humans. The Clergy's Eye or something of the sort, he knows the Icons had been there before.

How impressive is that? Enough for prideful folk to eye him wantonly.

Xiko had the opportunity to grow in rank, to sit at Rinx's table and negotiate starting a little jewelry store in the heart of Greed to keep up appearances and branch out. What luxuries.

Unfortunately, all highs lead to lows.

His health starts deteriorating inexplicably. Xiko begins being unable to move properly without chronic bursts of pain debilitating him from doing much of anything other than lie and wait for the wave of torment to pass. He has no idea where it's coming from. The pain is so great he gets blinded and passes out in some episodes.

The best doctors he can find tell Xiko he developed something terminal. Not quite a cancer, similar, something only demonoids can exhibit.

But what did the name of it matter? His own monumental riches wouldn't save him from certain doom.

One might think Xiko would do some soul searching with the time he had left, as laughable as that sounds for a being as rotten as him.

Not even close.

You don't get this far without being stubborn.

Things can't end as they are. Xiko can't die, he has so much to do and so much to oversee, it's simply not an option. He can't.

In the midst of despair and hopeless solution-seeking, Xiko finds a possible answer to his impossible conundrum inscripted in his most favored trophy, a timeless chalice.

Between its jewels and lovely finishes, the instructions for a ritual sat written in one of the oldest tongues in Hell. Having a historian for a friend sure comes in handy, doesn't it?

Said acquaintance is there to witness it when Xiko grows mad enough to try it, at the hands of demons who perpetuate these ancient practices.

A mummification-like ritual.

Except, to avoid death, Xiko must remove the two organs which the soul is most connected to, the brain and heart.

He knew what he was getting into when he laid on that altar.

He knew that he would suffer physical trauma beyond anything he could ever have experienced in life. He knew he would come out of it looking like a completely different being. That he would no longer be a demon.

And he was ready.

He was ready when they started chanting.

He was ready when his jaw was stretched to absurd proportions.

He was ready when his chest was torn open.

When he danced in that barrier between life and death, looking down at himself while his figure withered and contorted.

Those memories are... Scratchy, to say the least.

Xiko recalls screaming at the top of his exposed lungs and feeling his skin rip from several sides all at once, as if rejecting him. He remembers when his skull was crushed and how he could hear it for a moment. He knows he twisted and shriveled like a bug on that marble.

And that he woke up.

Wrapped like a present.

Dead yet amongst the living.

To continue his work. To remain forever at the top.

So what if he was emaciated now? If he'd never get rid of the massive scar where his figure was torn open, if his eyes now reside inside his bizarre gaping maw and his arms are elongated? Xiko had made it.

And while death was unavoidable, it was not the end.

In fact, it was the beginning of something a lot more amusing for Xiko.

He found his new appearance frightened his competition. Rumors of him being an undead diety spread. No longer featuring a core name or even something as simple as a sigil, Xiko was freed of even more weaknesses.

He made no effort to hide what he had become the next time he was present at Greed's Conqueror's Spoils festival. His mangled, infernal undead form on the spotlight.

Some of them were smart enough to understand what he had turned into, knew to stop pursuing him. For when you take something from a mummy, it cannot rest until it retrieves its possession.

Others came to find that out eventually.

Perhaps the person Xiko feels most sorry for is, not one of his enemies, but you.

You poor thing, still trying to escape him, still trying to lockpick your cages and manipulate his men, trying to make it out at all costs.

You never think twice when you set foot outside his territory.

Unaware that he'll always instinctively know where to find his "stolen" possession.

[anjelicawrites]

“Don’t go beyond, no matter how much you feel you need to, Doctor. The barrier was not made to be broken. Remember this: there is more power here than you know. It is old and always restless. Remember.”

― Stephen King, Pet Sematary 

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x dead wife!reader Synopsis: expanding this short fic based on Stephen King’ Pet Sematary. Aemond is the sole victor of the Dance, only to discover that his beloved wife has been killed. Desperate, and in spite of Alys Rivers’s warnings, he decides to fly to a place where it’s said the dead can be resurrected. There’s always a price to pay, and no one comes back the way they were. Warnings: angst, murder, gore, semi graphic description of a corpse, semi graphic description of injuries, quick reference to Luke’s death, Jahaerys’s death and Rook’s Rest, madness, Aemond survive the God’s Eye, self inflict wounds. A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used when needed.

Rain slaps his face, relentless it pours from the sky, chilling him to the bone, wetting the layers of leather, and his thick cloak.

Under him Vhagar flies, restless. For the first time in all these years together, Aemond feels the unwillingness of the ancient beast to follow her rider’s orders; he knows it’s not the storm, nor the exploding boom of the not so distant thunders. 

Or your dead body wrapped in your shroud, that unnerves the Queen of all Dragons, the winner of thousands battles. 

It’s where he’s forcing her to fly.

NSFW (due to the themes) and 18+ only please!

Through the bond he feels Vhagar’s unwillingness, all her instincts screaming that there’s danger ahead, that she shouldn’t go; Aemond feels it in his bones, in every cell of his body that Vhagar is trying to subtly gain control and turn back to King’s Landing. His muscles spasm and flex when the old she-dragon tries to push, against his unbreakable will, his hands tighten painfully around the reins when she tries to sneakly change the course of their trip.

“Daor bisa jēda, Vhagar!” He screams over the howling of the wind. “Not this time, Vhagar!”

In his arms your body slumps and he almost loses his hold on you: it would be the Gods’ cruelest of tricks to take you away from him, again. Permanently, this time.

They had tried, when he was in Harrenhal and you, supposedly, safe in King’s Landing, with his mother and his sister.

Supposedly.

Alicent never wrote him who had smashed your head with a morning star, the blow so violent it had caved your skull in, killing you on the spot. Not that it mattered. Had it been Rhaenyra herself, or one of her men, it wouldn’t have changed a single thing: you were dead. He had survived Daemon, killing him above the God’s Eye, the thought of crawling back in your arms the reason he hadn’t succumbed to the wounds the other man had inflicted.

And the cruel Gods had taken his safe haven away from him.

Aemond has no recollection of what had happened after he had read the letter, there was a black abyss where his memories should have been, and pain, enormous, all encompassing, deafening in its power, it had bent and twisted his reason, smothering him under a layers of guilt: if he had taken you to Harrenhal, you’d be alive and well.

When his reason had resurfaced, forcing him back to the world of the living, he had entertained the fleeting thought of following you into the great unknown; perhaps, he had mused, he was supposed to die in the treacherous waters of the God’s Eye, if not on Daemon’s sword, then by his own hand.

What was left for him? The conqueror’s crown, now that his brother was dead? The richest hidden in the bowels of the Red Keep? Punishing all of the Houses who had sided with Rhaenyra? Everything paled if you weren’t by his side, all the gold turning into dust, if he couldn’t share it with you.

You were the light, where he was darkness, the gentleness to his steel: no one else would ever survive the comparison to you. Nobody would laugh softly the way you did, or feel when he needed your gentle hand in his. Why would he bother with talking to all those people who weren’t you? No one had something to say that truly interested him, nor could they understand him the way you did.

Without you the air he breathed was poisonous, the food ash in his mouth: why did the Gods punish him the way they did, when his only fault had been protecting his family and avenge his honor?

When he had resurfaced back from the pit abyss grief had carved for him, his chambers were destroyed: the bed, the drapes, the heavy trunks containing his belongings. All his clothes torn to shreds. 

The exquisitely made letter writing set you had gifted him for his nameday laid into broken fragments where his desk stood. The elegant clothes you had ordered for him, where you had sewn his initials during interminable winters, before your wedding, torn apart as if a mindless beast had gone through them. Even all the letters you wrote him, now shreds, your beloved handwriting lost forever.

When he had realized what he had done in his rage and grief, he had felt his mind slipping again, the tenuous grip he had on reality splintering as he desperately tried to hold on his sanity: you were dead, and all the markings of your earthly passing destroyed: what was left for him to hold on?

He had fallen on his knees, the boulder sitting on his chest depriving him of his breath, his vision a dark tunnel; even the physical pain of his wounds couldn’t tether him back to reality.

There’s a dark place, his broken mind had supplied, the nameless islands the maids talk about, where miracles happen.

He had forced his jumbled thoughts to focus, gritting his teeth and curling his hands into fists, the pain a flash that sharpened his mind, finally, into focus and away from madness.

He had heard the servants scurry and whisper around him, ghost tales, mad tales that had no grounds in philosophy, or reality, those ignorant people who would pale at gusts of wind they believed to be the shadows of the dead or fear the depths of the woods around the cursed place that was Harrenhal.

Could they be right?

The sharp turn Vhagar tries to make jumbles Aemond back into the present, where wind and hail slap his face and he is so cold he can barely force his muscles to work.

With a pained wince he grabs the brindles with stiff fingers, the muscles of his shoulders screaming when he rears back to force Vhagar to go straight.

“Gaomagon hae nyke vestragon! Do as I say!” He shouts; through the bond, Vhagar growls, but submits.

Only another time Vhagar had gone against his will: the faithful night when he had killed Lucerys.

He had laid in your embrace, still wet from the storm, shivering, his teeth chattering with how cold he was feeling. He had poured his heart open to you, confiding to you the truth he couldn’t reveal to the rest of his family: that he didn’t mean to kill the young man, that Vhagar had a mind of her own.

He had curled in your arms when he had told you he couldn’t feel any remorse for what he had done that, perhaps, Vhagar had acted following the deepest wishes of his soul.

“Maybe there was a part of me that wanted him dead, and Vhagar just followed suit.”

You had hugged him closer, wetting your night garb in the desperate hope to keep him warm, as the servants prepared him a bath.

“We will face what is to come together. We are but instruments for the Gods, their path for us is known only to them.” You had answered.

Only you had been steadfast by his side, even after Jahaerys’ killing, even after Rook’s Rest, when the whole Keep thought he had tried to murder Aegon, you had taken his hand showed him your faith in him.

You did all of that for him, he must do the same for you, against reason, against all that’s known about life and death.

He had stormed the crumbling corridors of the castle, scaring the servants away with the mad look on his face, and the blood still dripping from his hands, outside, Vhagar moved and groaned, his turmoil hers to bear.

He had opened the doors of the witch’s workroom with such a strength, that they had slammed with a bang against the moldy walls, scaring her servants into scuttling into the direction of the enormous hearth.

Once again he had looked at the Strong woman, the only one who showed him no fear, only bland curiosity; he knew of her friendship with Daemon and only now wondered why she hadn’t killed him when he was defenseless in the mouth of madness. Perhaps she hoped to obtain from him what she had wanted from her late friend, as if Aemond would have given her half a glance, whatever the reason of her well masked interested had been in him.

A mystery he would have explored, if you weren’t in his life.

She had tried to say something, but he had cut her off immediately, asking where was the place of miracles, and she had paled: for the first time since he had set foot in Harrenhal, she had showed him true emotions, the fear she lacked when he had decimated House Strong.

“Such place does not exists.” She had lied to him. “It’s an old wives tale.”

Without even thinking, Aemond had grabbed both the knife she was using, and her hand, pulling at her until he could slap it on the table, her long fingers spread on the dark wood.

“Either you start talking, or I start cutting off your phalanxes. I will not stop until only bloody pieces of you remain.”

Did she talk because she was afraid of him, or because she knew she had no sway over him? Could she see the madness in his eye, or was she sending him to his death, to avenge Daemon? Aemond didn’t know, or cared; with the sharp blade resting on the tip of her little finger, he had listened to her, absorbed the coordinates that would guide him towards your salvation.

She had waited until he was at the doors.

“It is said that nobody comes back the way they were, that there is a price to pay to subvert the order of all things.”

He had stopped, but he had not looked at her.

“Then why such a place should exist?”

She had no answer.

“You wouldn’t like what you’ll see there.” She had stopped for a moment. “Sometimes, dead is better.”

He wasn’t listening anymore, his footsteps booming against the cursed walls of Harrenhal, his voice authoritative as he ordered his servants to prepare his things, and Vhagar: he was in a hurry to go back to King’s Landing, to you, before it was too late.

A flash of lightning illuminates the barren, nameless island and Aemond has to grind his teeth when, under him, Vhagar grunts and jostles her whole body, as if trying to stop him one last time, before it’s too late.

“Ȳdra daor keligon! īlon issi bē konīr! Don't stop! We are almost there!” He shouts: he’s not going to fail now that his prize is so near!

Vhagar lands gracelessly, like she has never done before, and doesn’t lay on the sand to recuperate after such a long flight, instead she sits, and keeps looking around, moving her humongous head nervously.

Cradling your body against his, Aemond feels all his hairs stand up, as soon as his feet touch the ground. If he hadn’t such an important task to carry out, he would follow the voice in his head that’s screaming at him to run away, before it’s too late.

With a grunt he tries to ignore the panic he feels surging from the depths of his being, the fist that’s curling around his stomach, making it hard to take the first step towards the inland, where the ancient burial ground lays: his body seems to revolt against his brain’s orders, his legs almost hammered on the wet sand, his muscles turned into stone.

Behind him, Vhagar roars.

He had arrived in King’s Landing wearing the same bloodied clothes he had worn during the battle against Daemon. He had ignored his mother’s fearful stare, and her pitiful attempt at stopping him, when she had realized he was heading for your burial.

“No Aemond!” She had grabbed his arm. “You don’t want to see them like this, you don’t want to destroy your last memory!”

He hadn’t stop to shake Alicent’s hand off his arm, electing to carry her until she had lost her hold on him.

You were already in your tomb, the soil flattened and only needing a headstone, as per your House ancient traditions.

With his bare hands he had dug through the layers, the already butchered skin opening to bleed, his fingernails almost torn with the haste that fueled his desperate work.

Until the linen of your shroud appeared. Only then he worked carefully, making sure the soil wouldn’t rain on you, moving your heavy body gently, with the same care and love he had always used with you, his delicate love.

His hands had trembled when he had open the shroud to see your beloved face again hoping, against all hopes, that you would open your eyes, and smile at him, the same way you did every morning, when he was getting ready for the day.

The Maesters had done a good job at trying to put together the broken pieces of your skull and of your eye socket; there was still a dip in your skull, probably where the morning star had hit you; he could touch the stitching keeping your skin together and the bald patch, where your hair used to be. The eye on the damaged side slightly bulged out, as if it didn’t perfectly sit in the socket; it didn't matter, none of it truly did, he’d love you in any shape and form. 

The rest of your face was you, though, even in the endless slumber of death, he could recognize the peaceful expression he used to wake up to every morning, the elegant curve of the lips he loved to kiss, the light laugh lines that showed the world how much you loved life.

He couldn’t fool himself, you weren’t truly asleep, you were dead, too cold and still for this to be anything else but the end of your life.

“We had to bury them.” Alicent had said. “We couldn’t wait any longer.”

Aemond wasn’t truly listening, he didn’t care that they thought you were gone forever, because he had the chance to bring you back.

With infinite care he had wrapped you back in the shroud, hesitating for a second when he had to cover your face again.

“Only a little while longer, issa jorrāelagon, my love.” He murmured against your lips, leaving a fleeting kiss that chilled him to the bone. “You have to be patient for a little longer.”

He had paid no mind to his mother’s voice, at her words when she had seen him carry your body bridal style away from your tomb.

She had tried to scurry behind him, to keep his pace, but he was already sitting on the saddle of his horse, with you safely in his arms, when she had managed to reach him.

“We shall be back.” He had told her, not seeing the pure horror on her face. “And everything shall go back to normal. Prepare for our coronation. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

Around him the servants and soldiers, the stable hands and maids tried not to look at him, fearing his reaction and made way when he had headed for Vhagar again.

Aemond has to walk half blinded by his hood and the fury of the elements around him, on his back he had strapped the shovel he had ordered the servants to ready for him, in his arms your shroud is wet and heavy with all the hail and rain pelting both your bodies.

For a fleeting moment he wishes he could protect you more from the storm, that the clothes you will wake up wearing wouldn’t be soaked; he should have bought something else for you to wear, than the wedding dress you were buried in. You can’t feel the cold that’s seeped in his bones, you will be shivering during the ride back though; he hopes his mother will have the fire ready in your shared rooms, it would be useless to bring you back, only to lose you to a stupid illness.

Under his boots the terrain starts to rise in a slope that becomes steeper and steeper as he trudges along; around him the wind howls and a part of him fancies he could hear the screams of ghosts trying to stop him from doing what’s right, what he couldn’t do when you were defenseless in King’s Landing.

“Nyke jāhor daor qringaomagon arlī! I will not fail again!”

He howls, and the dead steal his words, shred them into pieces carried by the wind. On the inside he shivers, and it’s not the cold, it’s not Vhagar’s uneasiness he can still feel in his mind; it’s the animal living inside of him, the instinct that had told him not to strap himself to Vhagar, in preparation to his fight against Daemon.

There’s a knot where his stomach is, all of the fine hairs on his body stand to attention as he almost loses his hold on you; there’s a part of his mind whispering old, dark tales his nanny used to tell him to scare him, that sees monster in every shadow painting this derelict place.

Is someone walking behind him?

He whips around and all he can see are the black clouds shielding the sky: there’s no one else but him here, and the little light the moon can bestow to show him the way.

By the time he arrives on the top of the hill, he can’t feel his feet anymore, nor his hands, his teeth are chattering violently, all his muscles are trembling, and it’s not the cold, or the strain of the walk against a wind that’s still trying to topple him backwards.

It doesn’t matter: if the witch’s words are true, he’s arrived where he’s supposed to be, the land that will, miraculously, bring you back.

He loathes that he has to lay you on the sparse, wet grass, but he has to dig now.

“Nyke jāhor daor qringaomagon ao arlī. I will not fail you again.”

He murmurs against your lips, the shroud is so wet not that it sticks against your face, revealing the vague shape of your lips and closed eyes.

“Sepār syt mirrī while, pār īlon jāhor sagon biare arlī. Just for a little while, then we will be happy again.”

His whole body screams in pain when he starts digging the hard terrain. No amount of training has prepared him to the physical exertion that is driving the shovel against what feels like rocks, their weight as he throws the soil away in a haphazard pile away from where you lay; his arms are as stiff as stone, his hands can barely grasp the handle, slippery in his dead fingers. It’s only his obstinacy that keeps him going, even when he falls on his knees, the pain of his back taking the breathe away from him for a handful of seconds.

Tears mixed with rain wet his face as he keeps working with his hands now, desperate he keeps digging. If he’s bleeding, he doesn’t feel it.

On his hands and knees he crawls to you, the pain in his lower back and arms almost unbearable when he has to lift you; it doesn’t matter, he will not drag you around like a dead animal.

He staggers to the hole blindly, all of his muscles screams at him, the hail is pelting his uncovered head. He trips against a rock and falls in the temporary burial with you, your corpse deadening the fall; amidst the pain and the stench, he wails how sorry he is, that he didn’t mean it, the same way he didn’t think that leaving you behind would kill you.

On his hands and knees again he fills the hole. He’s burning through whatever sliver of strength he has left, he uses it to cover your body, until the soil is compact again, and he can crawl back to the beach: the witch had be adamant that the miracle should work in solitude, that you should raise from your tomb alone.

He doesn’t care that he mostly rolls and crawls down the slope, he’s too tired to notice how the rocks and sparse bushes tear at his face and clothes, he just wants to go home, with you.

Vhagar is still sitting on her haunches, her massive tail whips the sand nervously, yet she simply lifts one of her wings to protect him from the rain, and lets him abandon his tired body against hers, guarding his uneasy sleep.

In his dreams he keeps chasing you. He doesn’t know where you two are, you’re running through a dead forest, the skeletal branches of the trees grab at his clothes and hair, making it hard for him to catch you, no matter how hard he tries; sometimes he loses the sight of you in the mist, sometimes you’re so close to him, yet your slip through his fingers like air. He knows there’s danger ahead, but you wouldn’t listen to him, you keep running and laughing, egging him on, until he sees the glint of the morningstar: it’s too late.

He wakes up with a scream, confused by his surroundings and by the nightmare, then he remembers everything with a pang of pain in his chest: how long was his uneasy slumber? Above him Vhagar is still nervous, her own alertness seeps into his conscience and makes all the hairs on his body stand.

Still on his hands and knees he crawls out in the open, in his bones he feels Vhagar’s unhappy growl, and her mad desire to take to the skies. Not yet: he’s here for a reason, now his only fear is that the witch might have lied to him, and that you’d be gone for good.

He doesn’t know how he looks now, probably as bad as he feels, his body stabbed by pain with every small movement he makes. Even climbing back to his feet is a feat he can only manage by using Vhagar’s massive body for support and still he can’t extend his back in his usual ramrod stance, the lower portion of it hurting so badly he has to hunch a little.

Over him the sky is still a blanket of dark clouds that let slivers of moonlight through: he shouldn't have slept for too long, then.

The Gods must have blessed him because the storm has calmed and now there’s only an ice cold wind whipping his broken body; anxiously his eye starts scanning the beach, looking for you. How long does it take for a miracle to happen?

“Aemond.”

Fear bolts down his back as he turns around, facing the path he had taken to the slope.

“Aemond.”

It’s your voice calling him, yet all his instincts are screaming that he needs to run away.

Aemond forces himself to stay where he is, his eye trained on your approaching figure.

You’re walking with a slower gait than the one he’s used to, your wedding dress is in tatters and the wind slaps the flying scraps of fabrics against your body. Your, once, beautiful hair is now a ruined mess of blood and soil, the tresses hung down your back like dead things.

And your face.

He’s forcing himself not to look at you, to keep his eye trained away from what he had loved to look at the most. He can’t. He knows he’ll be turned into stone if he dared.

“Did you miss me, Aemond? I did. You were gone for so long.”

Unconsciously he takes a step back, trying to retreat back into Vhagar’s safe embrace: your voice is so wrong. It’s not the tone, not the lilt of your accent, but there’s something… off.

“I waited for you. Prayed the Gods that you’d be back. Did you to the same for me?”

He did. Every night spent away from you had been a torture he survived thanks to the hope to get back to you. He even came here because the idea of living without you was too repulsive to even form in his mind.

I don’t want to that thing to touch me. He thinks, with horror. I would die if that happens. Then why can’t he scramble on Vhagar’s back and fly away? Why are his feet planted on the barren shores of this nameless, cursed place?

“Don’t you want to hold me close, Aemond? I was so cold without you where I was.”

No! No! No! No! His mind screams. Behind him, Vhagar is growling, her fear, new and petrifying mixes with his own. Yet you’re approaching, unstoppable like a bad omen, your feet carry your undead corpse closer and closer.

There was a price to pay, the witch had said. No one comes back the way they were.

He had been a fool in bringing you here in the hope to restore his life the way it had been. A cursed fool, now he understands! That thing uneasily walking towards him is simply wearing your body, is using your voice, it’s not you, it’s a puppeteer, ancient, more than Old Valyria ever been. Perhaps the thing had been cursed to live here, and he has freed it, perhaps it’s Death itself that’s finally come to collect his cursed soul. Perhaps it’s the witch’s revenge.

Oh Gods please no! His mind begs, but you’re not stopping, you’re so close he can smell the stench of death coming from you: why hadn’t he before?

He can’t help but look into your eyes, dead and so, so cold, like they’ve never been before, they put him under a cursed spell that cancels everything around him: the wind, Vhagar’s fear, his own. There is a hell staring back at him, inescapable and that he has bought upon himself with his own desperation.

A pained whine escapes his lips when your ice fingers brush his cold cheeks, and then there’s the abyss of madness overtaking him, once again, and forever.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose @thought--bubble

[infiniteimaginings]

hi! Can you write a Marcus Davenport x reader? Maybe where she finds his body and rebuilds him or just pure fluff?

I Can't Fix You (Marcus Davenport x Fem!Reader)

Summary: After the fight Marcus had with Adam, Bree, Chase and the others, after you all left before the whole place collapsed, you watched as debris crushed Marcus. You went back, you found Marcus's body and you tried to put him back together. Will his memory regain or do you just have to stay known as the person who found him? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: Kind of angsty because he's assumed to be dead before getting rebuilt lol! Word Count: 3.3k A/N: (Fic can be seen as platonic or as romantic). I know what the title says, it's not full angst. Also yes, I'm just showing off my scientific vocabulary, what of it?

Marcus Davenport wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t a ‘person’ at all, he was an android and now everyone knew that was because of Douglas, his creator, his father.

Douglas knew that Marcus wouldn’t have even made it to sixteen since androids burn out far quicker than humans with bionics, but it didn’t matter. Even though he was ordered to kill Adam, Bree, Chase, Leo and you, none of you wanted him to die. You all tried to warn him, Chase told him to run but he was set on his orders. Due to that, he was crushed by the ceiling of the crumbling garage as the group all ran to save themselves.

Your eyes filled with tears as you yelled his name, your body a;most moving on its own to grab him, but someone else grabbed you first, you could only hear ringing, you barely registered that you were being dragged out of the area. You only realized when someone was holding you to their chest, their hand covering your head, they were shielding you from the debris as you screamed, as you sobbed. 

Once the damage had been done, you noticed Adam had protected you from the blast. You couldn’t say anything, tears were streaming down your face. You looked around at everyone, but they were already looking at you with deep regret in their eyes.

They knew how much Marcus meant to you.

You made eye contact with Douglas and before you could even stop yourself you stomped towards him, “How dare you!” You yelled, someone grabbing you by your waist to stop you from getting closer. You kicked and flailed as Leo stepped to your side, holding your arm, Bree holding your other. 

Douglas rolled his eyes, “What’s her problem?” He asked, no sort of sympathy in his voice.

Chase stepped in front of you, telling Douglas to just remove himself from in front of you. You couldn’t hear him, you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the ceiling caving in and crushing Marcus to the point you couldn’t see him anymore.

He must’ve been in so much pain. You knew he was an android, but he still must be so hurt and he was all alone, under so much rubble that no one can get him from under. 

You continued to cry, your body relaxing as you sobbed. Adam, the person holding you from practically jumping Douglas, placed you down to your feet, but they gave in. You fell to your knees, chest heaving from your gasping breaths, you were clawing at your throat because you couldn’t breathe. 

Bree sat next to you, rubbing consoling circles into your back gently, her head on your shoulder, “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, repeating it a few times. 

Leo sat on your other side, gently pulling your hands from your throat so you would stop clawing at yourself. He didn’t say anything, no one else said anything.

The teens all sat around you, comforting you, holding you as you cried, no longer having the voice to scream.

About a week later, the group were all at the Davenport residence, where they lived, and they hadn’t seen you for a while. They knew that they were a little out of it, they had seen someone die, it took a toll on them. Nothing they were feeling was comparable to how you were feeling in that moment. You didn’t text, you didn’t call, you didn’t send any reports which was understandable. 

No one expected anything from you because you were genuinely grieving, and they would give you as much space as possible.

You were in your own lab, a lab that was paid for by Donald Davenport himself after your help with his children, their missions, and all of their tests. Your own personal lab where you could do anything you wanted, he never had much concern because he knew you would never do anything to hurt anyone.

You walked around your lab, turning on a tablet as you reached a long table with a cloth over it. You gently peeled it off to expose a metal like body, parts separate from itself. A few pieces of rubber like skin were connected to the parts which caused you to frown. 

You inhaled a deep breath before releasing it slowly, blinking back tears. “I’m going to fix you, Marcus. Just, give me time.” You whispered to him, sitting in a chair with wheels so you could move more efficiently as you reached for a table with a few tools.

This process would obviously take more than a few days, or a few weeks, you knew this. That still doesn’t stop your disappointment when you try to activate the android, and nothing happens.

“Day 49,” You spoke into a small mic you decided to use for research. You were recording the process in case you did something different that worked better than other tests. “Skull reassembled, initiating power test.” 

You took a step back and rubbed at your eyes, you had barely been getting sleep in the weeks of trying to fix Marcus, but it would all work out in the end. At least you hoped it would. 

With a turn, you input a few codes into your system to initiate the test. You turned back to the android, pressing the start up key. A light entered the android's eyes which made your face light up before it completely put out again. 

Your body slumped as you sat on the floor, “What am I doing wrong?” You groaned, pulling your knees up, placing your head in between them. 

You almost fell asleep in that position until you were shuffling and high pitched whirring sounds. You slowly looked up, eyes wide with shock as you saw the android staring down at you. He didn't really have an expression since half of his synthetic face had been lost in the damage. 

You quickly stood up, grabbing your tablet and speaking quietly, “Power test completed successfully.” 

After a moment you walked up to him, slowly and gently so as to not set off some sort of memory with your facial expression. He didn’t react, his facial muscles didn’t move, so you were unsure if he was trying to or if he didn’t recognize you. 

“Please perform a comprehension test. Repeat the following sentence after me: Testing, one, two, three.” 

You noticed he opened his mouth, but no sound came out so he simply closed it again. “Okay, can you understand me?” You asked and he nodded, you typed it out into a document on your tablet before noting that he can’t speak.

“It seems there's an issue with the voicing function of the android. The comprehension test didn't yield the expected results. I'll need to investigate further to address this issue."

After the initial test, you couldn't run diagnostics since he couldn't speak. You powered him down and thanked the stars that it finally worked.

A few days later, you believed that you figured out the voicing issue and powered him on once again. After running the test, it gave you the proper results and he was able to repeat a few of the phrases for you. Hearing his voice again almost made you tear up, but you kept it down or the sake of putting him back together.

You weren’t worried about any sort of memory or cognitive functions at the moment, you wanted to make sure his body could move, he could feel things, and that his processors were working well.

You tested him everyday until each section was working as needed and began working on the synthetic flesh and facial details so you wouldn’t have to be staring at pure metal with a few pieces of Marcus on it. You’d be able to just look at Marcus.

You let Marcus stay powered on as you worked so he could walk around, do a few tests, live a little bit how he did before just from the comfort of your lab. He would occasionally just watch you intensely as you added details to the silicone rubber for his skin, never really asking questions. 

The time it took to complete the flesh with the silicone and thermoplastic elastomers with your determination was about two and a half months. You already knew Marcus’s design, and from the androids you helped Mr. Davenport with you knew what you were doing. 

Marcus didn’t speak to you at all really, the only time he did was when he asked to stay powered on when you applied the external details. You agreed, not minding it as you applied the  foam first to go under the silicone flesh. After the silicone, everything was easier, and was quicker to get done.

You had a ton of clothes from when Adam, Chase, and Leo stayed over so you put Marcus in a grouping of those and got started on his nails. They were resin and plastic, so they were easy to get done.

Next was his dental, the teeth weren’t as difficult as you expected so you moved on to his eyes, connecting them so he could move them on his own. 

The final thing you had to do was add his hair, his eyebrows, and his eyelashes. That took about a week as a whole, but when you were done, god you were so happy.

After months of work you finally got to see Marcus again, your Marcus. 

One of these days, weeks later, you were just testing his internal systems  so you could do more work on it. You could barely hide how giddy you were to be able to be with Marcus again, but you had to in order to finish the tests.

You sat in a chair at your desk, the reflection of the computer screen in your eyes. “Okay Marcus, it’s time for checks.” You told him, typing a few things into the document you had written up.

The boy looked over to you and nodded, waiting for your first check order.

“Initiate movement status check.”

Marcus rolled his neck around a bit, rotating his shoulders, and kicking his legs from the table before fully standing and stretching his back. “Movement systems online. Limb articulation within standard operating range. Motor functions at full capacity.” He told you, deciding to walk around for a bit.

You were used to this in the routine, so you didn’t blink an eye to it, simply moving on to the next one as you documented the report. “Sensory status check.”

He blinked his eyes and picked up one of the books you had in your lab, among the other things to keep him entertained. “Sensory receptors functioning optimally. Visual, auditory, and tactile sensors are all operational.”

“Emotional status check.” You spoke blankly, tiredly, before yawning and shaking your head, continuing to document. 

Marcus continued to walk around, humming as he ran the system, “Emotional simulation systems activated. Mood regulation protocols operational,” He had a small pause as he ran into an issue, “but experiencing minor glitches. Emotional responses calibrated to mimic human behavior, though intermittently disrupted.” He spoke, his response the same as prior testing.

You grunted a bit, “Explain the glitches.”

“Minor malfunctions detected in emotional simulation systems.” He mumbled a bit, looking at the pictures on your other desk. It was of you and the Davenports. “Glitches attributed to data inconsistencies and software irregularities. Efforts underway to rectify deviations from optimal functioning.” He spoke plainly, picking up one of the pictures, a bit distracted.

“Okay. What are your efforts?”

Marcus cleared his throat, placing the picture down, “I am currently undergoing a diagnostic analysis to pinpoint the sources of emotional simulation systems. Efforts are also being made to recalibrate my data processing algorithms and conduct hardware checks.”

You typed it out into the document, turning to your touchpad desk, “How are those going?” You asked him, pulling up his system on it.

Marcus paused once again, putting his hand through his hair before sighing. “I am unable to proceed with the diagnostic analysis, software updates, or recalibration of my emotional simulation systems.” He admitted, the comment causing you to look up immediately. “External interference or system limitations prevent me from executing these corrective measures at this time.” He finished, looking away.

“I’ll figure it out. Cognitive status check.” You waved it off, placing x’s around what he was talking about. 

“Cognitive processes functioning within expected parameters.” He answered, sitting back on the table that he was on originally, “Memory storage and retrieval systems are partially functional, with limited capacity for retention. Decision-making algorithms operating optimally.”

“What percentage of memory retention capacity are you exhibiting?”

“Memory retention capacity is currently at minimal levels.” He told you, a small flash of an expression on his face but he didn’t keep it on for long. “Able to recall initial construction, select testing procedures, and limited facial recognition. Dialogue recall is limited to brief fragments.” He told you, swallowing harshly.

You nodded and hummed a bit, “Okay, I’ll…” You huffed out a breath. “I’ll have to figure it out another day, I’m sorry, I’m tired.” You told him with an airy chuckle, rubbing your eyes again.

Marcus nodded in understanding, he wasn’t worried about you shutting him off again, you tend to let him run and he just has to sleep in a generated area to keep his system in check. His expression wasn’t because he was worried about you leaving, he was worried and he didn’t know why.

He looked down a bit, “Um…” He began as you packed up your computer and tablet. You looked up at the sound with a raised brow. Marcus clasped his hands together, “How long do you think it’ll be until I have my memories back?” He asked you, his eyes soft, confusion sparking in them.

You thought about it before ultimately looking down, “I don’t know, but I’m trying to get them back to you. Why?”

“I just feel these weird glitches, as if I should know what they are but it’s not connecting.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting your eyes. 

You smiled at him gently, “I won’t stop until you get your memories back. I promise.” You told him before leaving the lab to get some rest.

More weeks passed and Marcus could see your growing frustration because you didn’t have the original system Marcus had been connected to prior. You didn’t know how to regain his memories without overwriting the memory completely. 

One particularly late night, Marcus was in his generated when you had just shut yourself down. You picked up the mic and gently began to cry because you felt like you’ve tried everything. “I can’t fix you.” You mumbled into the mic, recording your voice for the documents, “I can’t fix you completely and I’m so sorry Marcus.” You whispered, keeping your sobs as quiet as possible, “I’m so so sorry.” You sobbed, tears pouring and dripping to the floor as you kept your head down.

What you didn't notice was that Marcus had opened his eyes and watched you sadly as you cried. He didn’t know how he could help you. There was something inside him that wanted to go to you, that hated seeing you cry, but he didn’t know which part that was. He didn’t know why he wanted you to be happy. He didn’t know why he wanted to be so close to you. He didn’t know why he felt so far.

One of the days in passing your hands were implanted onto your face, trying not to cry out of irritation. Marcus walked beside you, squatting down a bit, “What’s wrong?” He asked you suddenly, causing you to flinch a bit. 

He’s known you for months, you’ve built memories with him. He knows your name, but he only knows you because you rebuilt him. He knows your quirks because he’s had no choice but to watch you do them. 

You shook your head, “Nothing, nothing I’m just trying to figure this out.” You mumbled to him, clutching your chest since your heart was racing a bit.

Unfortunately for you, Marcus had bionic hearing, why did you add that feature? You were unsure, perhaps you missed your bionic friends after the months of locking yourself away, only hearing them through phone calls, seeing them through pictures.

The android boy could hear your heart racing and led you to the table he typically laid on, placing a pillow on it, “Just, take a break.” He told you before walking off to another section of the lab.

You couldn't deny Marcus, whether he remembered you or not so you closed your eyes for a moment, only a moment.

While you eventually dozed off to sleep, Marcus opened your laptop and looked through the documents concerning his memory and everything you tried. He went to your touchpad desk and began building something to hopefully help in the long run. Whilst he did that, he couldn’t help his gaze locking to you, softening at your sleeping figure, almost not wanting to pull away. 

After a few long hours, you blinked your eyes open, wiping the watery tears from your eyes when you finally looked through them. You looked around and didn’t see Marcus in any of his usual spots which concerned you.

You jumped up, looking a little closer around the room until you saw him sitting in a chair, holding a framed picture.

“Marcus?” You spoke out quietly so as to not scare him, walking forward. When you looked at the picture it was one of you and him, one you could’ve sworn you locked away in your drawer with a code he couldn’t have known because of his memory loss. 

He didn’t look up, he wiped his eyes with his arm. You nodded as his tear ducts seemed to be working, your mind not stopping from test runs as they’ve been on since the beginning.

You tried again, “Marcus?”

When he finally looked up at you, you saw something in his eyes click. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted, it’s as if you could see the status check already…’Facial Recognition’.

“You put me back together again…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, still staring at you in what seemed like awe.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. Your breaths quickened as you stared at him, “You know who I am?” You asked him, brows furrowing. 

A choked sob left his lips as he looked away from you, not really answering your question, “You did that alone, and I didn’t remember you the whole time.” He spoke breathily, putting the picture down and turning back to you.

You couldn’t speak as he wrapped his arms around you, holding your head gently, his other arm around your waist as he gently kissed your head. “I’m so sorry, thank you.” He whispered out to you, “Thank you, thank you for not giving up on me.” He softly cried, holding you tightly.

After a moment you slowly wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly, hearing the heartbeat you added which you were so glad you added now. “You remember who I am?” You began to cry, your shoulders shaking harshly as you gasped out your cries.

Marcus cradled your head gently and nodded against you, “I remember you, I promise I do. I’m so sorry for forgetting in the first place.” He continued to cry, holding onto you as if you were the one who disappeared.

The two of you stayed holding each other in the lab, shedding tears, not letting go. You guys may have spent months together, but it felt like you guys had been apart for the entire time and even longer.

You finally got him back, you finally had your Marcus back.

[xxventiswindblumexx]

Hi there love! If you have time, could you write a Scaramouche x fem reader, where they hate each other so much, and then he fucks her till she can't speak anymore. W Dom Scara. Have a good day!

Of course! Trying to get back into writing after a long hiatus due to family and home issues!

Here's a hate fucking scara x fem reader NSFW!

Can't forget to tag my local scara simp @hitomisuzuya ❤

⚠WARNING:Hate fucking, harsh/rough love, scara being scara, breeding kink, pet kink⚠

It was late at night as the storm in Inazuma rolls, thunder strikes as the wrath of the Electro Archon could be felt in the air, even more so in the delusion factory where a certain harbinger resided. Scaramouche was appointed to watch over the factory, one of the very last things he wanted to be stuck with, maybe he should've been more.. friendly during the harbinger banquet, maybe then he couldn't gotten out of it, regardless he had a duty to uphold and another idea on his mind.

As the puppet thought he could hear the distant sound of fighting, great, the traveller Y/N arrived, how annoying. just what he needed, another annoyance, already had enough he had to work with the Doctor and Childe, now he must be rid of the traveller.

He waited for her to arrive to his domain, it was only a matter of time before she arrived and of course he would relish seeing her fall, but that's not what fate had in store for the two.

Y/N entered the room alone, she decided this was a fight even Paimon couldn't go with, a fight between her.. and the Balladeer.

"How dare you use people's lives for your profit!" she started, hand gripping her sword with nothing but vengeance for her dear friend. Scaramouche couldn't help but eat up the look, the anger, he loved it. wait.. loved it? no he can't get distracted.

"oh? did your pathetic friend die from it? must've been to weak.. like you" he laughed, only antagonizing the hero more, what he didn't expect was for her to attack already, coming at him with her sword he was able to grab her arm and deflect it, shoving her to the floor, he's much faster then her, with the power of electro he can move faster then she can blink. Once on the ground he stomped on her wrist making her drop the sword, hissing she clawed at his ankle but it was no use, he had her pinned.

His electric gaze sent shivers and strangely arousal through her as she gave him a scowl

"give up yet pest?" he hissed, arousal and anger was filling the air, "I can see you're ready to fight back and prove your worth" He continued his actions of stomping on her wrist again, "that means you have some backbone" he growled as Y/N struggled to get back into her feet

"What I have is not something I care to brag about" she said in return angerly, however when the two got close, scaramouche slamming her into the floor once more but this time holding her down with his hands, her legs on either side putting them in a situation, she could feel his hard on, something he tried to ignore, pathetic human emotions, he would say, but now its gotten him in a bind. "I wouldn't have guessed the Balladeer would get hard from this" she scowls causing his face to flush with both embarrassment and anger, but he couldn't deny the feeling, "or maybe I do know who you are, your true form" She snarls in disgust at him.

"And what might that be" he says with venom. Y/N smirks and sits herself straight up, she's getting more cocky now, and honestly it wasn't helping his already poor self control

"you're just a touch starved, horny angry man aren't you?" she remarks, snapping the last bit of restraint he had, growling he was determined to put this scum in her place

"I'll teach you to respect me, even if I have to break you over and over" he hissed beside her ear, biting harshly on her neck, his hips pushed forward causing her to gasp, a sharp moan leaving her throat as she squirmed in pleasure, she hated him and he hated her yet.. for that reason, they made each other stronger, the balladeers strength, their passion, they complemented and created each other.

Once started they knew they couldn't stop, his hands selfishly grabbing and pulling at her clothing, growls and groans filled the air as they moved around each other's bodies in a way they never thought possible. Her body was soft beneath his rough touches and gentle kisses, her breath coming in gasps and his lips on hers felt like heaven yet hell at the same time.

Once he pulled her clothing off he shoved her onto her stomach, taking control as the god he is, his cock throbbing against her wet pussy as he laughs at her submission, even if she was still struggling, he was the dominate one here, his tip flushed and leaking with precum as he pushed it against her entrance "fucking beg for me like the whore you are" he hissed, she resisted but she couldn't deny the throbbing need, weakly begging "please.. f-fuck! please just fuck me!" shamelessly begging before his thick cock slammed into her pussy, growling as his hands gripped her hips hard enough to cause his nails to scratch the skin, he thrusted hard and fast hitting her sweet spot, moaning loudly as her walls clenched around him, the feeling driving him insane. He pulled himself off from her slowly and threw away his discarded clothes, now fully naked he held her wrists above her head, assuming a new position before pressing his body onto hers, he thrusting hard and deep causing her to whimper, her pussy clenching around him as he mercilessly fucked into her, claiming her as his own.

"F-fuck! you're so damn tight, i-its like you want me to breed you don't you? " he hissed in a teasing tone, she groans as his hand tighten it's grip on her already sore wrists, his cock throbbed with need to release as she felt a knot began to tighten, causing her to cry out his name. He thrust harder until she cries with her orgasm, causing him to release his cum deep inside of her, she writhed under him, crying out in pain and pleasure as his cum filled her womb, his dick still buried within her pussy and balls.

"You're mine now little one, you belong to me and only me, " he murmured softly as she felt weak, he had almost forgotten his plan, nevertheless he had to make changes anyways, he can't just let her get in his way again.. maybe he can keep her as his pet.

[disruptivevoib]

Long Ramble about CCCC and my overall feelings on what the album means and such

Something I find important about CCCC is like.

The fact that all three of them are, in some way, trying.

Heart is emotion, he is prone to himself and being reactionary, in the moment. Prone to the past of learned behavior and trauma. Reactive and rapidly changing. He isn't going to make pure sense because he isn't based in logic or in societal ideals or views. He is an instinctual response to the environment and circumstances. His manipulation is not intentional. He has very little control of himself in the end. Its why Mind talks about claiming to relish entropy yet clearly needing help. But, Heart in earnest wants them to be okay and safe. He believes that Mind's control will drain the life from them. It will make things monotonous and the same. Too much order.

Mind in turn, believes Heart is manipulative with intention. He wants to control Soul or wants to just drag them all down with him into this depressive state. Mind is logic, he is the reasoning out of your emotional instinct. Your inner critique, and when unchecked, that inner critique goes from a guiding hand for your emotion to one that debates and bullies it. Invalidating its responses. Ultimately, though. Mind just believes he is helping. He is doing what must be done and telling the "hard truths" to Heart. And that Heart is being the petty child. Which- I mean. Sort of sure. But Mind is definitely fucking petty and childish. He's stubborn! Prideful! So ofc he is. Admitting you're wrong? No.. why would he EVER do that.. nuh uh.

Which is what makes Light so crucial. Mind asking Heart for help- but also. There is Soul.

Who while ambiguous in purpose, is mostly that background voice. Your inner narration. If Mind is Logic and Reason then Heart is Emotion and Instinct,, Soul is all that lives between it. And he is constantly silenced or spoken over or around. He does not get a word in edgewise until TSE. He may show up in the background occasionally but as much as Heart and Mind claim to want to keep him alive and help him, they also fail to actually acknowledge what he says.

Which is that they both are right and wrong. That this fighting is doing directly what they both feared it would. Soul is desperate by the end. He is angry and resentful because.. well. Self hatred due to intense self awareness and reflection is rather ig. Common. Im not a professional here but from personal experience, you get so tired of rehashing the same shit with yourself over and over. It all feels pointless.

The only out, by the end of it all to Soul is that if they cannot be Whole, whats the point? He is desperate. He does not want to die but he feels theres no other solution.

And. About Whole, Soul throughout the album seems to want that. At the beginning, to be Whole or Harmonious is to be mentally healthy, maybe even "normal" by society's standards. To be able to put a mask over your problems and be, again, "normal". It takes the entire album for Soul to realize that this:

1. isnt possible

And

2. There isn't anything evil or wrong with him for that.

Mental health is a struggle. But you are not evil and should not be othered because you struggle. You also do not need to be fixed for being a little different and people's opinion of you is not what matters most so long as you are happy (and not hurting others. Lol).

Thats what Two Wuv is entirely about as a song. Its a "fuck you. Fuck this! I thought I needed to be this! But I DON'T. Stop telling me who I am! How to be! I'm gonna be me!"

His entire arc is parallel to Heart and Mind's and is crucial in the culmination of becoming yourself again and accepting yourself.

But, as mental health will always be, this period of respite and self acceptance is not always forever. And as life continues or as you lapse back into a depressive episode.. you cannot help but forget what it is like when you're not this way- and hell! Vice versa too! Some people have this disconnect between the periods. Where the things from the depressive state seem dramatic or obtuse to you while you are doing better. And from the other end, you just want to be happy again.. but you get so lost in it all you can struggle to feel like you've ever been happy.

The album is about the human experience. It is about self-sabotage, mental illness, self-hatred and reflection and it is, maybe more importantly about self-acceptance and healing. Having a bit of mercy on yourself. Accepting that you are imperfect and that this is okay. And whatever flaws you may have that need to be mended or worked on, can be. And that who you are, for example, if you are queer, is okay. And no one has the right to take that identity from you! That the internalized ideas of how someone should be are not always correct or right. Not for you, at least. Stuff like that.

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

----------

a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

[aliaology]

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY

summary: you used to date quinn, the relationship starting not long after him and his other ex broke up. she got mad, made drama about you, and in the end, it flared up by the time your relationship was long gone.

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: death threats

thin mints. god you loved thin mints, and currently you craved them. actually, you craved the nice memories they brought. the memories where your ex told you he would have some guy get some for you. he ended up being that guy.

quinn hughes. your favorite past lover who will continue to outshine the rest. he treated you well, made you happy. he was perfect.

bonding over the black eyed peas and the smiths was something you found to be hard when it came to other people. but with quinn, it was easy. he made love seem easy and effortless.

but the downside, was his ex. she was pretty, but they had broken up about three months prior to you and him hooking up and then ultimately getting together. no one necessarily knew of their breakup. they didn’t post pictures often of each other due to quinn living in vancouver and his ex living in michigan.

so everyone assumed they were fine, until quinn decided to hard launch your relationship. you were fine with it at first. it was innocent, like the cuddling on trampolines you guys loved to do.

but now you were being called a slut. at this very moment, you were being called a slut and getting death threats. at the time, you were getting the same treatment.

it seemed his ex put the idea that he cheated on her with you, into everyones head. and they believed it. they believed it because of the stereotype against hockey players. the stereotype against girl best friends.

but that didn’t stop your relationship. you were so into it. you were there for everything, even his brothers… until you weren’t. it wasn’t like you both ended on bad terms. in fact, you both ended things, stating it was better to stay friends.

then she released a song. a song where she practically tore you apart, tore you down. you were the hot topic on her tongue.

she painted you out to be the bad guy. the manipulator. the one who made him take you to bed. you were just trying to hold him close and love him.

the only win from the whole situation was the fact he called you his favorite love. that you would always be the favorite.

but to everyone, you were the slut. you didn’t have a choice in that matter. you were the homewrecker. all because you liked a boy.

ynusername

liked by jackhughes, _quinnhughes and 625,737 others.

ynusername all because i liked a boy. coming out oct 14 (with permission). thinking of dating a boy with an ex? i wouldnt recommend it. especially if stuff happens after you had already broken up!

comments.

user and shes gonna eat 😜

user she alr did with ‘skin’ 🤭🤭

user DIE WHORE

_quinnhughes insanely proud of u y/n/n

ynusername thank u quinner 😪

jackhughes AND ALL OF THIS FOR WHAT⁉️⁉️⁉️

lhughes_06 WHEN EVERYTHING WENT DOWN WE’D ALREADY BROKEN UP 😱😱😱

user all hughes brothers being her no.1 supporters is so cute

jackhughes can i get you thin mints this time

jackhughes im exless!

jackhughes no im not but my ex forgot i exist!

jackhughes choose me instead!

_quinnhughes jack please this is embarrassing for u

jackhughes SHUT UP QUINN

user i cant tell if quinn is okay with this or not

ynusername he is 😭 me and him are best friends now and have no hard feelings or any romantic feelings towards one another anymore. plus jack will never have a chance 🤷‍♀️

user ITS GONNA BE A BOP LMFAO

user slut! homewrecker! cunt!

user banned!

user i love i live i laugh

user i alr know this will slap

trevorzegras @/jackhughes shes mine

user STOP.

user puckbunny ass bitch

user i know what im streaming when it comes out!

user i still prefer quinns ex over y/n

user then use her name instead of y/ns xx 😻

erm..! this lowkey sucks LMFAO

taglist (perm!) @hockeyboysarehot (just ask to be added for perm tags! <3)

[aneveningsword]

𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader x Marie Moreau warnings: not proofread words: 1324 summary: rude words about your relationship result in a fight

masterlist

Having two partners was not common, many people believed it to be weird and unnatural. Which is rather rich coming from people who have powers because their parents wanted them to be experimental rats. Dating both Jordan and Marie has its ups and downs like all relationships, but it is mainly the external comments that put a strain on the relationship.

While most people either didn't care or were receptive to the news, a select few just found it too damning to move on from. When it came out it was known that some people would not take the news kindly, that snide remarks and looks would be thrown at you. But it didn't matter, because you were all together and happy.

You had been having a shit day from the jump, forgetting to hand in an assignment, dropping your lunch on the floor, and being late to most of your classes to name a few. You had not seen your partners all day and all you wished to do was curl up in one of their dorms and watch cheesy movies. But you all had obligations and unfortunately, you were all too dedicated to your work to just bail.

Walking to your final class of the day felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, one more class and this was over, you could go home and rot under the covers of your bed. Yet, a shrill voice has you stopping in your tracks, overhearing a conversation you were sure wasn't meant for your ears.

"Look, I just don't get it. I mean two girlfriends, or is it a girlfriend and a boyfriend? Y'know I just can't keep up. But isn't it enough? How much of a whore do you have to be? Everyone knows it's just to get ahead."

You didn't have to be a genius to know who the girl was talking about. It was not the first time you have had venomous words thrown at you for your relationship, it seemed to come with the territory. Most of the time you find it best to turn the other cheek, try and ignore them and not give them the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. But added with you're shitty day it was just all too much to ignore any longer.

Marie calling out your name was met with deaf ears as all you could think about was putting this bitch in your place. Within a swift moment, you were stopping up to her hand out to grab her shoulder. The sudden touch startled her for a moment, and she turned to see it with a disinterested look on her face. Only to be met with the harsh bone of your knuckles.

The initial contact was to her cheek, the force splitting the skin slightly. You didn't say anything as your arms wrapped around her and threw her to the ground with your body weight. You knew opening your mouth to say something was useless for you were too mad to form any words. You straddled the girl's waist as another hand came down on her face, blood sprouting from her nose coating your fist and the front of her shirt.

Before you have to chance to hit her again a burning sensation spreads along your arm, the girl's feeble attempt to get you off of her. The skin burned under her hand, her free hand shooting out to rip her hand off your arm. Before you could begin your assault once more this time for the wound she had given you and her nasty words, you were pulled off of her.

You stubble for a moment as you are pulled to stand up, the girl on the floor withering in pain from your hits. Breathing heavily you look down at the girl, glaring harshly at her. "Keep your mouth shut about my fucking relationship." Your words are filled with venom and basically spat at the girl on the floor. The burn on your arm is a dull pain due to the adrenaline, but the pain slowly intensifies.

"(Y/N), what the fuck." Marie's shocked fill voice reaches your ears as she stands behind you, concern etched into her features at what you have done. Whipping around to face her your words die in your throat, and the disappointment in her ears has a terrible feeling curl around in your stomach. "I-I...-" "Holy shit, your arm." Marie's touch is soft as she moves forward gently taking your arm into her hands, eyes scanning over the handprint burned into your arm.

The pain from the burn rushes to you as your eyes land on the injury, the charred skin and the ugly red colour. You feel yourself getting tugged along, the fight forgotten until the aftermath comes to bite you in the ass later. Neither Marie nor you say anything until you arrive at her dorm, the door clicking shut behind you as Marie sits you on the couch.

There is not a word is say as she begins to tend to your burn, applying burn cream to the injury and wrapping it gently. Though she attempted not to cause you any more pain it was inevitable, hisses and whinces pushing past your lips. Shame feels your body as you rationally begin to think about what happened. You shouldn't have blown up like that. Maybe the girl's words warranted a reaction but not a physical one. Your mind raced with what Marie could possibly be thinking as she carefully cleaned up the blood from your knuckles.

A knock at the door pulls Marie from your side, getting up to open it and let the person in. Jordan enters the room quickly, bag slung over their shoulder, it was clear they had left class for this. At the realisation, you could not help the guilt that wrapped around your heart. Looking at the pair standing in front of you, you opt to speak, to try and quell the emotions brewing.

"I don't know what came over me. I couldn't stand there and listen to her talk about us like that, I moved before I thought." Your explanation was weak, a feeble attempt to get the pair in front of you to say something so you could gauge their reactions. Instead of words of disappointment and disgust being thrown at you like you felt you deserved. Jordan wordlessly came to sit by your side.

"Does it hurt?" Jordan's words brought a small frown of confusion to your face, unsure what they were talking about as you did not expect them to say that. "Your arm," They say, glancing down at the bandages that hide the nasty mark, it would no doubt leave a scar. "Y-yeah, quite a bit actually." Your response is soft as you watch Jordan's finger ghost over the white bandages. The couch dips on your other side alerting you to Marie sitting down.

"What you did was so fucking stupid. What if you got more injuries? If I wasn't there to pull you away?" Marie's voice draws your attention, eyes moving from Jordan to her. You could see the concern for you in her eyes as her hand reached to grab yours pulling it onto her lap. Her thumb soothingly passed over your knuckles as you spoke. "You didn't hear what she said. I'm so fucking sick of people just saying shit about us. I just... I just wanted her to shut up."

A small hum is pulled from Marie as she brings your hand up to her lips to place a small kiss on it. "I don't care what people say about me, because I have you two. You care about everyone else." You knew she was right, the love you all hold for each other should be the only thing that matters but sometimes words can cut deep.

There was a small pause before Jordan spoke up, hands snaking into yours as they wrapped their other arm around your shoulders. "Did you at least win?" It pulls a small laugh from you and Marie before you answer. "Oh yeah, I kicked her ass."

[0asisbliss]

In that case could I please please please request the rest of the vampire phantom troupe biting the reader for the first time? When you have time of course!! I know you said you don’t really write for Hisoka so I don’t mind if he’s not included!! Also since I’ve been the one sending all the vampire asks could I be the 🦇 anon if possible!

A/N: Hii thank you for those req vampire troupe is one of my fav series I love talking abt them. Thank you 🦇 anon!💕

A/N: Reader is kind of willing.

Characters included: Uvogin, Franklin, Shizuku, Nobunaga, and Phinks.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, and blood.

Pt. 1

Franklin:

Very gentle when it comes to handling you just in general, so when he finally bites you it's very planned out.

He'll take you out to dinner. You know how Machi did it?

He'll ease you into trying his best not to startle you or anything.

Once her get up close to a personal he'll take the smallest chomp out of your neck.

It hurts regardless of him trying to bite gently or not sorry.

After he'll totally shower you in gifts, and luxury items.

No matter how many times you reassure that your okay and even though it did hurt a little your not mad at him. (He's such a gentle giant istg)

Uvogin:

He's a big meanie. Kinda like Shalnark he'll bite you when you two are fucking.

He laughs after he does it.

The bite is big as fuck, and hurts afterwards. The aftermath more painful than when he first does it.

Yeah he doesn’t realize how much it hurts before you tell him.

He not ashamed of how what he’s done. Though he does feel a bit bad once it’s over with

He runs you a bath, and cleans it.

He’s the only one that leave a scar.

When your sleeping he leaves the biggest kisses around the mark.

Even when its healed he'll leave small little kisses once and while.

After a while of you two being together he'll turn you. Even if you want to stay human his excuse would be, "You'd be a hot ass vamp."

Shizuku:

This poor girl will bite you multiple times and forget she's done it.

Though when she bites you the first time it's more of a playful bite it wasn't supposed to be as intended.

She panics because she's never done that before.

She would rush to get towels, and cloths to clean up the blood.

She'll also eventually turn you down due to her multiple bites.

Once she finally realizes what she has done, she over enthusiastic. You just look so cute to her.

"Omg you look so cute baby!"

Illumi:

When he develops feelings for you which will take a lot I'll mention he's going to automatically turn you.

It really won't change anything. I mean when he bites you for the first time he'll have everything planned out.

Of course you won't know.

It'll be a little creepy of course because he's going to corner you.

You two would be on a mission, and once everything has been dealt with, and he finally gets you where he wants to you he'll confess his feelings to you.

You might think this is romantic, but the way he tells you how much he loves you in such a cold way will leave your bone feeling cold and gritty. You might have the certain urge to run, but you won't because there's nowhere to go.

"Oh, how pretty you look like this."

Phinks:

Phinks are gentle and I will die on this hill.

He'll let you get comfortable with him.

Basically the dire opposite of Illumi.

You two would probably be cuddling up on the couch snuggled up under each other, and you notice he'll get closer and closer to your neck.

Then you'll feel a tight sensation on your neck.

He'll be looking up at you with the most desperate eyes.

You can't help but let him have his way.

I think he's the only one in the troupe that's not in a rush to turn you.

Nobunaga:

Here we are he has the second sharpest fangs in the troupe.

They'll easily pierce through your skin so it's quick.

He'll look you deep in the eyes once he does it.

He's so cutely pathetic, staring at you with puppy eyes.

He'll be trying to guess your next move.

Would you hit him?

Would you scream?

No instead you start to run your hands through his long hair, and look him in his eye with nothing but love.

This does leave him shocked.

He'll turn you in that same night, but you be a little too tired afterwards to even notice. ;)

"I love you sweetheart.."