#ohhhhh that damn nail

[artyasumi]

Hi everyone who was awaiting the gold version of him, i finally finished it.

[velveetacrackncheese]

I know it's been like forever, but are you still a fan of Viv and her work

Honestly when it comes to her, no. Even if there's some things I've learned to appreciate in some of her more recent stuff (Except Hazbin S1, I thought it was genuinely awful and the more I think about it the more disappointed I truly am with it.) my main gripe is that it seems that Viv still treats people like crap. My opinion of her has continuously waned over the years from someone who was obsessed and having had a parasocial relationship with her and her work, to the point where I felt obligated to defend her for the sake of the "fandom" back then. Pretty wack behavior coming from myself honestly, and like I said I was a prick! I treated naysayers and critics of ZP like garbage, and while there was venom being flung towards me and other fans as well, some of it also being cruel and uncharitable, I can't pretend I didn't contribute to the toxic culture emanating from her fanbase. It's very interesting to see that the more modern incarnation of Viv's fanbase is arguably still just as toxic, but on a bigger scale. People no matter where you go, and regardless of when in time, seems to have a strong opinion of her. Either love her to death or hate her to the point where that becomes its own obsession. Well, unless you've actually had a connection with her, it seems like you're either one of her favorites, or someone who she burnt bridges with.

There's of course the genuine non-drama stuff, like ohhhh fuck dude, she drew some weirdo shit which I could honestly care less about. There's reasons to not like her, and it isn't that. It's not even really her work period, but more so allegations regarding how she's difficult to work with, cruel to certain past associates to an almost comical degree, and is still pretty uncharitable to even her most charitable critics. The stuff with KenDraws kinda was the nail in the coffin for me, transphobia is not going to get a pass from me, sorry! I don't know how true this is in particular, but how The Hunicast was treated after the Hazbin pilot also left me with a pretty real sense of disgust. It's wild seeing a show like Hazbin Hotel flourish through A24 and Amazon, all the while trying its damn hardest to cleanse itself of its indie roots. Apparently donations to the Hunicast was used to fund the pilot, and after the pilot it kinda seemed like Viv just didn't really appreciate how much they contributed to that project. Honestly, I don't think Hazbin would be what it is today without The Hunicast.

That, and of course there being all the dollcreep stuff, the way that the fandom at the time wrongfully demonized dollcreep and took Viv for her word to the T, following what was a highly uncharitable read from fans which led to harassment despite the drama between the two being personal, and that being made into a public concern when it reallllllllllly should not have been. Transphobia also being an abundant issue in this regard. JoJo as a character was created as an extremely petty way to bash Jo and in hindsight, is incredibly revolting, and ohhhhh also transphobic. The Erin Frost situation, in which of course featured Viv devotees to also take her testimony as uncharitable and lies despite having never worked with Viv herself. Employees being paid like... what, $35.00 per second of animation which is crazy. So not only a toxic work environment, that toxicity just festering cuz Viv herself is toxic. Her tendency to seemingly just bully the people she surrounds herself with, hell even getting people blacklisted apparently? I'm sure there's a lot more I can get into in all honesty, and what's being mentioned here is barely scratching the surface! There was a point in time where I had agreements with what were, back then, blogs dedicated to critiquing Zoophobia and in hindsight, yes, there was a lot to rightfully criticize. Lot of stuff in that webcomic was genuinely not great and despite the immature attachments that I had back then, there were points I'd openly conceded to. Which led to Viv blocking me, and that led to me being pretty sad! Honestly thought I'd did something wrong or that I like... "Betrayed" her which is fucking insane. It was something I ruminated on for literal weeks. I look at my older posts on here and it's so fuckin clear that I was not mentally stable, at least to me, and that was reflected in the wild ass shit I was saying. I'm glad I've changed but dear god I was such an asshole, and it's crazy to think that I was some kind of figurehead in the fandom at that time. Nobody should've been looking up to me, cuz holy shit I was a stupid teenager.

Also, generally speaking, this doesn't have much to do with Viv as a person as much as the early fan community surrounding her work that existed from like 2015 into 2018, particularly on tumblr, but I'd developed relationships with other people in the fandom that led to some pretty traumatizing experiences for myself and for others that I knew personally. I won't get into details about that, but the culture for the fandom at the time housed some SERIOUSLY sketchy people, and there were people who were just open and active groomers. Zero accountability for any of that btw, yeah awesome fucking community, guys. "Like and Reblog if you're a true fan." jfc.

So uh, yeah. Naw I can't say I'm much of a fan, and I'm not convinced that she's actually some nice, pleasurable person, who conveniently stumbles into situations where her alleged good nature is CONSTANTLY put into question due to actions that are pretty well documented and accounted for. I've still watched Helluva Boss episodes, although at this point it feels like I'm beating myself because I've progressively grown more disenchanted with it as time has passed on. Despite that, it's still Spindlehorse's best stuff. I say Spindlehorse in particular because while I don't really respect Vivienne, I respect the crew who are the backbone of those episodes. Hazbin has some narrative themes that I'm not particularly fond of, the pacing is a mess, and the character writing is not good. Characters have entire musical numbers dedicated to them despite either serving a very minor role in the story or just being absent for the entirety of the season. I'd go on and list my gripes with ZP, but it feels weird to bash something that is nearly a decade old now. Probably doesn't represent Vivienne's current capacity for craftsmanship, visually speaking, and in regards to the writing; Were I to go back and review what those old critique blogs had to say, I'd probably add onto them instead of being as dismissive as I was.

Also, something I can attest to personally, and you'll have to take me for my word on this, but I used to be a $50 patron to her Patreon. One of the benefits was that you got to be a part of her discord server where she'd chat with fans once a month and I got to be in a few of those vc chats. I recall her being petty even then, and if my memory doesn't fail me, there was a time where she like... called someone's older brother a f*ggot because he insulted Kesha and her general preferences in music lmfao. She genuinely got upset and all teary over that confrontation and ended the call early, and the other people in the vc were tryna comfort her. Looking back that now, feels so.... weird. Shit, I mean charging people so they have the chance to just talk to you, monetizing that feels weird, and kinda gross. Wish I could have my money back for that, ngl. No Bueno.

[misseviehyde]

PANIC GIFT

Cameron had forgotten to buy his housemate Matt a Christmas present for two years on the go and was determined to make it up to him this year with something special... until he forgot again of course.

It was now Christmas Eve and he had nothing to give his housemate, which was particularly embarrassing as Matt had already placed his present under the tree.

Cursing his terrible memory, he prowled through the house looking desperately for something he could wrap up and pass off as a present. He could always try to buy something better in the January sales to make it up Matt.

Seeing an old Christmas Angel decoration on a window ledge, he grabbed it in his panic. It was of a blonde Christmas angel in a white outfit with a fluffy halo. It was cute and Cameron even wondered if Matt had originally bought it. If he was lucky perhaps it had come with the house.

"Damn it - this will have to do, but I wish I had something better to give Matt, something he really wanted."

As he spoke there was a weird tingle and the angel seemed to shimmer in his hand. He passed it off as his tired eyes playing tricks on him.

Cameron threw some wrapping paper around the angel and going downstairs placed it under their Christmas tree. As he did so he heard a mocking voice behind him.

"Wow - so you actually got me something this year! I bet it's not what I really wanted though - but I guess we'll see in the morning. Hey... have you done something weird with your hair! Why is it so long?"

Cameron reached up to his head and gasped. Matt was right - his usually short hair was now thick, long and silky soft. He tugged at his brunette locks in confusion. It almost felt like it was... growing.

He turned to look in the mirror - then all hell broke loose.

Under the tree the Christmas angel blazed and the wrapping Cameron had casually thrown on burned to ashes. In the same instant Cameron gasped. His stomach burned and his skin itched.  "Ahhhhh what is happening?" 

Cameron's bones snapped and popped as his body contorted and his hips exploded out. His usual sickly pale skin took on a healthy glow and his stubble and body hair retracted to leave his body hairless except for his crotch and his head.

He shrunk, losing height and mass as his muscles reduced to leave him toned but significantly smaller. Cameron's face was a mask of pleasure, his Adam's apple retracting as his angular male features softened and smoothed.

"Ugggghhh ohhhhh wow, I feel so amazing all of a sudden... I'm oooooh transforming and I think I like it!"

Matt watched in stunned disbelief as his best mate moaned and groaned, his body transforming into a sexy girls dressed in slutty lingerie. 

Black stockings spread up Cameron's legs and his house slippers became shiny black high heels with the toes cut out. Matt could see through the thin stockings that Cameron had a perfect girly pedicure and a matching set of nails suddenly shot out of his fingers. They looked so hot on his tiny hands, each finger now ended in a glossy expensive nail.

His red t-shirt tightened and shrunk, white piping spreading as it became a sexy santa one piece, and a Christmas garter belt cinched round his waist - black lace leaping up to attach to it.

The one piece plunged, and Matt gasped as he watched his friends chest swell and push out... hard nipples poking through the thin material of his outfit as two perfect titties took their proud place on his now womanly chest.

Matt noticed that there was no bulge at his friends crotch. His genitals were as flat and smooth as any girls now. There was something about the way those hips were cocked that suggested the new girl knew how to use her tight new pussy.

The new slut shook out her sexy brunette hair and stroked her pert perfect breasts adoringly. She was all woman now and subtle adjusments to her face and hair now took place to complete the transformation. Long black lashes fluttered in pleasure as contouring and foundation worked out any blemishes on her face. Soft red lips parted in a teasing pout as her hair took on volume and depth. A sexy santa hat now sat atop that luscious hair, she looked stunning from pedicured toes to immaculate face.

"Ooooh that's better," giggled the transformed girl as she stretched happily with a last little groan and the angels light dimmed to nothing. Matt gaped at the giggily girl now standing in their living room. He could smell her perfume and hear her soft breathing. If this was a dream it was crazily realistic.

"Hiya Matty baby, I'm Carmel... your new fuck-buddy. That idiot Cameron wished to make you happy, so the Christmas Angel has made that dumb boy into me... and if you fuck me tonight I'll become your hot horny girlfriend forever and no one will ever remember Cameron."

Matt gasped as Carmel advanced and draped herself around him. She rubbed her stockinged legs against his legs enticingly and wrapping her arms around his neck pulled his head down to stare into her sexy brown eyes.

"Bu... but what about Cameron?"

"What about that loser? He never pays the rent on time, doesn't buy you presents and totally takes you for granted. Ohhh and he doesn't suck dick like I do baby."

"But... how will I... explain this?"

"I already told you baby. One hard fuck and I get to replace Cameron. I'm Carmel now. I l have my own girly friends, my own super feminine life and even my own job working in a nail-bar. And if you make this happen we won't be housemates anymore. I'll be your slutty girlfriend and you can fuck me whenever you like. I want it so bad baby."

Slowly sliding down Matt's body, Carmel giggled as her hands started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly.

"But Cameron is my friend... I..."

"You don't owe that fucking loser anything. He's the one who made this wish. I'm your perfect girl. Naughty, flirty, sexy, fun. You've always wanted a slutty bitch like me. I mean you might have to share me with other guys from time to time, but that must be part of your wish as well baby."

Cameron was already rock hard as his cock popped out into Carmel's slutty hands. She squealed excitedly and sank her mouth round his dick. Looking up at him with excited eyes she began to glug on his dick - effortlessly taking all five inches down her throat and sucking and licking it like a pornstar.

"Holllly fuck," he groaned unable to stop himself sliding his hands into his girlfriends hair and pushing her face deeper onto his cock just as he knew she liked.

Girlfriend?

Knew she liked?

What was happening? She wasn't his girlfriend. Was she?

"Mmmmh oh yessss it's happening babe. I can feel reality starting to change. Lock this wish in forever, you just have to fuck me."

Standing up Carmel pulled down the straps of her one piece and popped her perfect tits out. The nipples were hard and she spat on her tits - her saliva mixed with his precum sliding sexily over her breasts. Rubbing it into her cleavage she got back on her knees and began to pump his tits with her chest.

"Baby, I can make you cum in so many ways if you make me your girl. I'm a fucking nympho - and I know how to make you explode. I just need that dick inside my tight pussy and we can do this everynight. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Ohhh fuck, you little slut. This feels so good."

"Yeah Daddy, that's it. I'm your slut. I'm your bitch. You wanna make me all yours."

Releasing his cock Carmel crawled backwards to the sofa. She unhooked her stockings and with a *pop* released the clasp on her one piece.

Peeling it back she presented her tight, perfect pussy. It was pink and glistening, a tiny strip of waxed hair just above it. It was like an arrow pointing down saying 'fuck me.'

"Come on honey, stick that big dick in me and make both our Christmas wishes come true," giggled the hot slut as she lay back enticingly on the sofa and spread her perfect legs wide.

Adcancing towards her hungrily, Matt stepped out of his pants and threw his trousers to one side. Pumping his cock to keep it hard, he positioned the tip outside Carmel's pussy.

"Mmmmh, being a raunchy bitch is soooooo much fun.  You're gonna love being my boyfriend... hurry up and lets get this show on the road. Put it in me Daddy," she begged.

Matt felt a little bad about making Cameron into Carmel permanently... well until he pushed his dick into her tight pussy that was.

As he slid his cock inside, her felt her perfect pussy grip his cock in a way no girl ever had before. It was like she was tailored to be his perfect fuck-toy. Being inside Carmel felt amazing and as he began to pump her with deep hot strokes she purred contentedly and nodded happily.

"Ahhhhh that's it baby. I'm all yours now Matty and believe me this will make up for those missed presents.  Fuck me good and make me cum, I'm your naughty Christmas slut now."

Matt grunted and groaned as he felt Carmel slide her sexy legs around his waist. Her heels rested on his ass, her flexible legs pulling him in deeper to her tight cunt. The pleasure was amazing.

The new couple fucked in front of the Christmas tree, wet slaps and moaning gasps of pleasure filling the air as they banged all night.

Carmel moaned and screamed as Matt pumped load after load of Christmas cream into her body - sealing the wish and making her into his girlfriend forever.

Upstairs, Cameron's room vanished and the new couples bedroom expanded to fill the space. Sexy clothes and outfits now covered one side of the room with a huge double bed in the middle.

Carmel's girly touch extended through the house changing everything to make it... better.

As Matt's hot cum leaked out of her mouth and pussy, Carmel had never been happier. She had finally made her friend happy and she was so slutty and hot it felt wonderful. She loved being his slut.

Carmel was here to stay forever now, but she would never forget her first Christmas with her boyfriend. It was the best sex of her life... but definitely not the last.  All thanks to her lovely Christmas Angel.

As she begged Matt to fuck her in the ass next, she was already multi-tasking and wondering which of her friends she should gift the angel to next...

[ronearoundblindly]

Evil chuckles *rubs palms together*

Sorry I can't help it!

Imagine his coworker, Bailiff Bucket Barnes, notices that Steve seems to (unintentionally) put a little more detail into his courtroom sketches when reader is in them.

Ohhhhh let the teasing commence 😏

- 👜

court sketch artist!Steve Rogers x lawyer!reader drabble

[super short, just trying to get back into the swing of things. No warnings.]

Steve uses his middle finger to smudge the line of your leg just as the judge adjourns the court for jury deliberations.

It's not quite perfect, so he focuses on fixing the exact angle of your bare calf in those delicate heels.

"Punk," his friend rumbles from the doorway, securing the emptied room, "kinda missed your cue to leave..."

Whoops. Steve hadn't even sketched the judge behind the bench yet.

"Right. Sorry, Buck. I'll get out of your hair."

"Don't bother," Bucky says, stopping Steve's hand as it rushes to replace the charcoal in its tin. "Not expected to take long for a verdict."

The bailiff adjusts his uniform tie and takes a seat next to Steve.

"Ohhh," he coos with a craned neck, "I see why you lingered. 'Bout time you asked her out, ya think? You've been pining over her for six months."

"Have not, jerk," Steve practically squeaks.

Bucky puts up his hands in defeat. "You're right. You're right. It was this time last year that she started with the DA's office."

"I'm not...pining," Steve muses, running a nail through some black buildup on his thumb. "She's just photogenic."

"Then take a picture. With your phone. And then put us out of our misery and use that phone to get her number."

"Us?"

"The poor stenographer lost her bet in the fall. She was so sure you'd make a move after the Kinsey case."

Steve shrugs shyly. "Nah, that was such a big win for her. I bet the office took her out right after--had a party maybe."

"So? There are seven nights a week, big guy. Court is closed two of those days, too."

"Buck, I'm not gonna--"

"Bud, I'm gonna die of old age waiting for you to get your ass off this pew. Shit, my hair will be down to here--" Bucky gestures to below his shoulders "--by the time you--"

"Language," Steve warns.

Bucky relents and settles on a judging look.

After a long pause, he shrugs.

"Fine. Maybe I'll ask her out. She's got great legs."

Steve's head whips up so fast that his blond hair falls across wide eyes. "You wouldn't dare," he bites back.

Another shrug is his only answer.

A door at the back of the court creaks open.

"Barnes, call them back in."

"Damn," Bucky cards his fingers through his dark locks and whistles, "my girl's fast."

Heat flares across Steve's disbelieving frown.

Bailiff Barnes stands up with a chuckle.

"See, when you recreate that look at home, the color you're gonna wanna pick is Fuschia."

No sooner has Bucky opened the double doors than you flit past him and down the aisle.

"Barnes," you nod politely before your eyes meet Steve's.

Your head cocks to the side in surprise. "Mister Rogers."

It's a split-second in time, but Steve loses all ability to form words. He had no idea you knew his name. The smile you flash over your shoulder after setting your briefcase down, too, isn't just a polite smile or a confident 'I've won this case' smile. No. That smile is just for him.

Steve gulps, letting that gleaming gesture sear into his brain so he can sketch it later.

He plucks out his charcoal again.

At least he has this chance to draw the judge behind the bench...and put all the others he forgot on the page, too.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh boy. Yet another mini-series taking up real estate in my mind... Hopefully, none of you guys are taking bets about how long all these things are taking me!! Luckily, this one is pretty straight-forward fluff--which is, of course, how Threadbare started and that ended up ::checks notes:: at 20,000 words... Whoops, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[ieetbeez]

[ Ed Last Name Headcannons !?]

A/N Hey guys!!! None of my real fics are ready yet but I felt like posting something! So I'm tapping into the mind of my 3rd favorite capcom blonde white boy because he also deserves some love. Again, none of these are romantic but idk if I feel like it or literally anyone asks I'll write them. This is like super unserious like the last one!

Also for my folks in America, OHHHHH WE'RE COOKED.

[CW] None, I guess general violence but wtv.

He is one huge corn ball, like he must've been injected with corn syrup in shadaloo's lab or something.

It's not that he's unfunny but he's so dry, if you do manage to get to a point with him where he isn't yelling at you all the time and he's telling jokes, they’re more often than not, technically horrible.

I mean it's not really his fault, being a test tube baby and all... though I'm probably biased cause I think he's cute but honestly, he's charming enough to make it work.

Don't call him a test tube baby though, that shit pisses him off.

Well, many things piss him off, here's a short list of that:

AJR, Dance Monkey, tangled headphones, Michael Cera, price stickers that don't rip off completely, dirty finger nails, twitter, overly cheerful people (Luke), long sleeved shirts that cut off below the wrist, waiting rooms, sherpa jackets, Mr. Beast, Love Island, Big Phrama.

WWE is his guilty pleasure, he doesn't keep up with every installment of RAW/Smackdown but when he gets the time. Watched it a lot more when travelling with Balrog.

Doesn't miss any pay-per-view events though, his favorite would either be hell in a cell or royal rumble.

His favorite wrestler is Jeff Hardy.

Not a self-conscious guy, I mean look at him he wears a big ass chain and no shirt, but easy to fluster.

Gets defensive about not wearing a shirt. Avatar could be like "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" He'll then squint at you and say "Why... Aren't you minding your damn business?"

Heard something about him liking sweets? I don't know if it's canon, but I can totally see it. I don't think this guy eats any real food.

Call him JD the way he knows his way around a 7/11. Blue raspberry guy all the way.

He's such a little brother to Falke, it makes you wonder who had that gay side part first.

Doesn't know wtf a sanrio is but if you (Avatar?) were to introduce him to it his fav would be Hangyodon.

"No, I don't have a favorite 'san-rio' character, what the fuck even is that? Why're you showing me this?" He asks clearly annoyed but pays attention to your screen regardless. "Cause they're cute! Don't you like any of them?" You say, shoving the device closer to his face. He scoffs and turns his head away, still looking at your phone though.

"They all look the same to me, just either fatter, a different hat, or a different color. I don't know why people are into this stuff... I mean look at that one! He's not even cute." He yells, pointing at Hangyodon. "Don’t say that about him! Hangyodon is like a pug, the so ugly it's cute kinda thing." You explain, clutching your phone closer, as if to protect the fish. "Look, if you had to choose one, who would it be?" You sigh, defeat present.

"Hmmmm, if I had too... Probably the stupid fish one, since he's the same color as my jacket... But that's if I had to choose." He reiterates, his point clear. "OH MY GOD finally, thank you! I gotta bounce but I'll see you soon!" You say, running for the next train.

--------

"Ed! Guess what I got for you!" You shout when you exit the train, beaming with excitement. "Knowing you it's either more problems or trading cards..." He sighs, still looking at his phone.

"Nope! Today's special, I got you something completely different! Here," You practically shove the small gift bag in his hand. He eyes it suspiciously, look at you then back at the bag. Slowly, he undoes the ribbon keeping it together, revealing a phone charm with Hangyodon holding his little hand out.

"The stupid little fish guy? Why'd you give me this?" He asks, his voice softer but still confused. You bring out your phone to reveal a matching one. "Well they were on sale and I really wanted to get some but I didn't know who you liked. Look!" You take the charm out his hand and bring the keychains close. Instantly, their hands snap together, revealing a small magnet inside.

"Isn't it so cute!?" You ask, hoping he wouldn't tell you he hated it to your face. "It is but, why me? Don't you have other friends to give this to?" He asks, still examining the little guy. You pause, wondering how much truth you wanna tell him.

"Well I'm going out of the country for a bit and just wanted to give you a thank you gift, you know, just incase by the time I get back you're not here. And well," 'Geez this is cheesey, I GOT to kill myself if he hates it.' You think to yourself. Ed stares at you with this skeptical look, he's either gonna beat you up or stop talking to you. You don't know which one is worse.

"...You're my friend..." You guys just stare at each other. 'Oh yeah I'm ending it, bless there's no railings here-' Before you could make a break for it, you watch him thread the charm through his case. This silence, gently interrupted by the bustling life of the station, is one of understanding. So lost in thought you don't notice him bring his phone close to yours, snapping the colorful metal together.

"Thank you, it's great. Don't think I'll go any easier on you when we spar because of this though." (ugh is this ooc guys?)

He's actually really good at giving advice. Not like, on purpose, but he has a few wise words in him.

While reading the lyrics to his theme, the singer says something about selling mixtapes. Now, I don't think Ed is in the studio or anything, but maybe Balrog had a rough music career as any sellout celebrity does and made Ed sell them on the street.

Or alternatively, which would be more likely, some random hired him to do that during one of his odd jobs.

Cause like, there's no way that guy has an actual job. A glorified bum for all we know.

Mobile gamer, I mean what else could he doing hanging around in the train station? Block Blast fiend, soup and cats veteran, PvZ master, and banned from roblox.

Doom scrolls because on Haggar's daughter, Mayor Cody wouldn't let TikTok get banned.

He'd be either a warrior cats or amulet kid.

I can see him liking girl groups, Twice specifically.

Only wears black underwear.

A warm vanilla guy, maybe clean linen but that's probably cause of his detergent.

Back to his jokes, he's the type where y'all could be laughing or wtv and then he just drops a massive lore bomb. Now he's sitting there, about to piss his britches, and you're just staring at him with pure horror on your face (dw it'll become funny after a few months).

"HOLY SHIT- Did you see the way that guy almost pissed himself when you used your psycho power!?" You say, breathless and wheezing in between syllables. Both of you, hysterical.

"RIGHT?? Reminds me of the time when-" Wheeze, "HOOOO when I was a kid and they said they had a treat for me and, and they pulled out a needle instead!!" Ed can barely get the last bit out as he hurls over, grasping his stomach with uncontrollable laughter.

"...."

"What?"

"Oh... my god...? Do you wanna tal-"

"Finish that and you'll actually piss yourself when you see my psycho power."

Trading card game fan, we all know that. BUT what if, he was a trading card game NERD. Idk anything about any kind of card game so this is far as it goes, but imagine him trying to teach you (avatar) how to play.

He keeps his deck in his pocket.

Probably watched pokemon or Yu-Gi-Oh! while traveling with Balrog.

"You're a 3rd rate dualist with a 4th rate deck!"

Man this one was way longer than my last one.

[writingsinashes]

Huffing out a breath, Tristan’s brows furrowed as his gaze darted around the room he was now enclosed in. Things just... never seemed to work in his favor, did they?

First, he ended up actually going on the mission that he was told he wouldn’t be needed on, not that he minded going. No, that wasn’t what he minded. He minded the fact that he was supposed to be on his vacation. 

The few weeks he had set aside to visit his two girls before their school year started, hopefully giving his twin a break... but no. He was desperately needed so he did what he had to do and, unfortunately cut his vacation short for the time being. 

Second? Well... that’s how he found himself in this predicament. The moment he realized something was amiss, he forcefully shoved his newest recruit out of the door, and just as he was about to follow suit, the damned glass doors shut him in, effectively locking him in a room made entirely of glass that nothing seemed to break. 

Thirdly? And most importantly? There seemed to be some sort of... gas being pumped into the room, causing him to inadvertently inhale each burning, nauseating, and almost blinding translucent gas with each breath. And with each breath, he found himself sinking further and further into his subconscious, something he wasn’t even aware he was doing until he was nothing but a mad dog, head jerking about at the slightest provocation, the slightest noise like nails on a chalkboard. 

Fourthly? No. 

No. 

NO. 

That was NOT who he thought it was. 

It couldn’t be. 

She had to have been dead by now, right?

But no. 

There she stood. 

Angelica Sunflower Payne. 

His mum. 

And for the first time in his life, he found himself utterly enraptured by the sight because fir the first time... she wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t high. She wasn’t going after him, yelling, screaming, hitting, blaming... she was simply seated on what looked to be...a hospital bed?

No, this had to be a hallucination. 

“You’re not real.” Tristan mumbled, already backing himself into the corner as his mum approached him with a saccharine sweet smile on her face. “Of course I am, my sunshine lad. My sweet, happy, sunshine boy-” “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Tristan roared, baring his teeth as he tried to push himself against the wall even more. 

“Now, now, is that any way to treat your loving mum, the woman who dedicated her life-” 

“Ohhhhh, what a load of bollox! You didn’t love me! You didn’t dedicate shite to me, to Remy or Brianna! You used us!” He screamed in response just as Angelica stopped short, giving him a wounded look that all lasted of a few moments before her true nature came forth. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, my sunshine boy. My world revolved around you and your siblings so very-” She tried to keep her calm even as Tristan shot to his feet, unable to stay stable as he wobbled with each step, his pupils dilated to where not even a sliver of his natural blue was seen as he pointed a finger at his mother. 

“YOU’RE WORLD REVOLVED AROUND YOUR NEXT FIX. YOU COULDN’T- you couldn’t even look at me without wanting to dig your greedy nails into my face, spitting at me, demanded where I hid your kits. Your bottles.” He spat back in her face, too far gone to realize that this was just a hallucination. 

No, to him... this was the real thing. This was his mother coming for him after finding out that he had made something of himself, and this was her wanting him to be her sweet, sunshine boy again. The foolish, naïve little boy. 

Only when he was so lost in thought did he realize that his mother had managed to one-up him and wrap her arms around him, gently rocking him back and forth, and that’s what finally broke him. 

“I was nine years old the first time I found you. NINE! What nine-year-old knows what to do when their mum is in the bathtub, a needle still stuck in her arm while dozens of bottles surrounded her?” Tristan sobbed, pulling away despite wanting nothing more than to feel his mother's arms around him, loving for once instead of her usual hatred seeping through. 

“What nine-year-old knew how to sober you up, who to call, how to administer Narcan while the paramedics were on their way? TELL ME?” He screamed as he trembled in her hold.

“I was...I was only 12 minutes older than Remy, momma. 12 minutes. Do you think those twelve minutes...they gave me some sort of insight? The ability to answer my younger brother’s question when he finally crawled into bed with me one night and tried not to cry while asking me, why did our mum not love us? Pleading with me to help him make things right, begging me to show him what to do so that you would love him? 12 minutes older... and I don’t blame him, how could I, but did he not think that I was wondering the same fucking thing? Why our mother couldn’t love us enough to stop destroying herself, to stop hurting her children...” Tristan’s voice at this point was far beyond broken as he finally collapsed, his entire frame trembling. 

“Remy and I... we knew better eventually. We stopped nicking booze from the corner stores for you in hopes that it might grant us a smile, or a deceleration of love, or even perhaps, maybe just that night, you wouldn’t try to abuse one of us...but we knew. The moment you set your eyes on Brianna? We knew.” He said, his breathing coming in faster and deeper as he clenched his eyes shut. 

“You realized what was wrong with your youngest was your own doing, right? Because no matter what you told us... you never stopped using, did you? You were too selfish. So when Brianna was born... she was never to be normal, was she?” He accused her, his glare piercing through the hallucination's gaze, the hallucination that even had the gall to look ashamed. 

“Oh, no, no, don’t act as though you were innocent in this. I can understand you weren't willing to stay sober during her pregnancy, fine. I hate it, but I can understand it. What I will NEVER understand is how you treated her after she was born. How immediately, Remy and I, two boys at age 5, almost 6, suddenly had no other choice than to become a parent to a sickly infant.” Tristan said softly, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Oh, but even at that age, we did a better job than you ever could have. Especially now that that man you insisted we call father had gone and left the moment he found out you, our lovely mother, were pregnant yet again. And in all honesty, he wasn’t a great loss. All he was to any of us was the man who would lock us in a room for days with no food, no water, and no way of knowing what time of the day it was while you and him. Got high, drunk, and had the time of your lives. So no, I was GLAD when that bastard left. Made being a father to our sister so much easier.” Holding a hand up when Angelica tried to speak, he scoffed. 

“I will let you speak when I am well and bloody done, mother.” He sneered the word, pushing himself off the wall and into the hallucination’s space, towering above her, despite her not being there. 

“I was the oldest brother, I know. So it was my responsibility, despite Remy’s insistence, that we should share the load...no. I needed to take care of my baby sister and my baby brother. So I was the first to get a job at 12 once we found out that you were stealing Brianna’s pain medication to get high off of, leaving her in a world of agony.... but that little angel... she never said a word against you. She was too enraptured with the idea that maybe if she would let her mother have this from her, then maybe, just maybe, she would earn a sliver of love. A hint of kindness.” Tristan’s voice lost its fervor at the innocence that was his sister. 

“And what did you do? You slapped her, you left bruises and claw marks, and you pulled her IV out, knowing just how painful it was for a child at her age... Because she had the audacity to actually take her pain medication when she needed it and not save it all for you. You tore her down to shreds of shreds. When I came home from work, I didn’t recognize my angel anymore, and it wasn’t until I found out what happened... I wanted to kill you,” He growled, clenching his eyes shut at the hate making its way through his body.

“That was it for me. I would NOT let you ruin Remy and I’s little angel the way you destroyed us. So we started skimming your wallet. Started skimming the till at our own jobs. I stopped going to school in hopes of finding a better job while Remy, despite his insistence on doing the same, continued onward and went to classes only to stay out until 3am because the job that he managed to get was only hiring the night shift. We were never going to leave you alone with her again, Angelica.” Tristan said as calmly as he possibly could, his fingers shaking as he finally leaned against the wall and slid down once again, curled up into a ball, his forehead resting against his knees. 

“Do you know how many times we were arrested? For nicking from stores? For simply trying to get enough food to last the week for mostly Brianna? While we never would have had to if you had just... cared for us.” He said softly, his eyes closing as he took in a shuddering breath. 

“Why didn’t you care? Why didn’t you love us? What about us did you hate so very much that you couldn’t stand to see us happy? See us content? Why did you always need to see us struggling, see us miserable? See us broken? Why didn’t you love me?” Tristan finally uttered the words that had been haunting him for decades, broken words coming out of his bleeding lips as he held back a sob. “What is it about me...that just...is so unloveable?”

It was then that Angelica made her way over to his son, her beautiful, sunshine boy, and sat down next to him, a careful arm set around his shoulders. “I did love you. You, Remy, or Brianna. I just...didn’t care about you. None of you. You were all children I never wanted. How could I want any of you when I only wanted one thing? Oblivion. You were my obstacle. Do not mistake love for care, Sunshine boy.” She said softly before smirking and shaking her hair. 

“And I know you think that you cut me out when I showed up to Brianna’s funeral high off of Ketamine, flask in hand, yelling nonsense... but that nonsense? That hate I spewed? That’s the hatred that grew in place of love once I figured out that you two, little brothers in arms, started to care more about that worthless child of mine that I should have killed the moment I found out her illness. I knew I wanted nothing to do with you two anymore and I knew the best way to go about that, and what do you know? I. Got. What. I. Wanted.” Angelica said with a proud note in her voice as she roughly placed her palm against Tristan’s face and shoved him aside.

“And you know what else? For all you know... I’m still out there. I’m still alive. Only... only this time? I’m sober. I’m happy. I have an actual family I adore.” She spat at him with a grin in her sinister tone. “You’re just going to have to face facts. You were never good enough, Tristan. You or Remy. You two were always failures. Always. Will. Be.”

At that moment in time, Tristan had covered his ears and began to rock back and forth as he tried to keep his small whimpers within his chest. “Leave me. Go away.” Was all that he could utter, eyes clenched tight. 

“I will, my sweet summer boy. Maybe I’ll even give my two grandchildren a visit. You never know.” Her smug, pointed whisper was directed at him just as she disappeared. 

What he didn’t know, however, was that despite him being the only one who was administered that dose, any agent observing would have seen the whole thing. That was the beauty of HYDRA’s psychological torture. They always aimed to torture anyone and everyone. 

Finally, after he could form two thoughts together, all he could think about was getting in touch with his brother. He had to make sure his nieces were safe.

That was when the second wave of gas started to seep into the room... and he started to see things that he hoped couldn't be true. 

He wasn't able to hold back his whimpers when, instead of his mother, Brianna appeared, only this time... it wasn't the sister he loved. This time, it was his mind creating an image of his sister and the awful things that he thought she must have thought about him never being able to actually keep her safe. 

After hours of that torture came the images that led him to actual tears, the sight of Esmerelda and Ariana both lying there, so still, so broken even as they looked right at him and said in tandem, "This is your fault Uncle Tristan. You're the reason we're dead." 

All the while, Remy lay a mere foot away, blood pooled around his body as he had tried to save his children, presumably from the monster that was his twin. 

[milla-frenchy]

Emily 🥹🥹🥹 I am in love with Birthday present. I fell in love with this fic, and with you, when I read it. The angst was amazing. The way you wrote Javi, them, sent an arrow in my heart, and it's still there.

When you said that you would write a follow-up I was soooo happy 😍😍😍 (yes, I knew it would be angsty, but it suits so well to Javi)

And damn you nailed it ❤️❤️❤️

He rounds into the room chest first, ready to barrel over whichever unfortunate intern stands, however unintentionally, between DEA Agent Javier Pena and something he needs to hopefully get ahead of Escobar, when he’s stopped dead in his tracks. It’s you.  You, with a thoughtful look on your face as you adorably chew your bottom lip while counting the sheets in your hand, surrounded by neat piles of paper covering every available flat surface in the copier room.

And you know, just reading this killed me. I could totally imagine him, "chest first", then stopping dead. Damn. I was already breathless

You wiggle your fingers playfully, beckoning Javier to give over his paper - not knowing you also call for his heart with this enticing gesture.

Aaaaah, Emily. This writing, this is so you. Delicate, beautiful, tender. I could say that you're calling for my heart too, with this 🥹😍

You laugh and the sound chimes in Javier’s ear like a chorus of cathedral bells; he never thought he’d have the honour of drawing such music from you again.

What can I say? This is so beautiful

“Javi?” He’s stopped again, this time not just by your melodic voice, but the song of his shortened name on your lips – his own heart longs to sing back a response in duet.  Turning, he finds you already looking at him, the irises of your knowing eyes swirling with tenderness,  “Thank you for my birthday present.” How did you know?  Javier had been so confident in the stealth of his actions, he’s silence by the revelation that you know he left a gift on your desk two months ago. “I wear them all the time,” you turn your elegant neck slightly to show Javi the silver hair clips, each adorned with a small, delicate bird, tucked prettily behind your ear. He manages to choke out a confession, “I know.” 

And this?!! All this. His shortened name, the confession about the present, him telling her that he knows?!!! I'm dying 😍😍😍

“You’re welcome, baby.” Baby.

jfc. I read it, and of course, of course, I know that you're gonna break my heart soon.

It’s time to put the knife back in and Javier knows it won’t just be his own heart he wounds when he does so.

Ohhhhh fuckkkkkk

“You deserve someone who can be loyal to you.” Javier can physically feel the flow of air that rushes in to fill the space created between the two of you as you shrink away from him.

Oh no... Javi...

He twists the knife, even though it kills him to do so, “I never got the chance to apologize for that. I’m sorry.” You nod, otherwise unmoving - stilled by that old pain you thought you had buried dead threating to crawl up your tightening throat. Javi’s shoulders hunch, drooping with a defeat of his own making, “Thank you for the copies.” “You’re welcome, Agent.” Agent.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That hurts. Seems like the knife hit my heart too 😭

Javiiiiiiii whyyyyyyyyy 😭😭😭

Oh Emily. I could read 10 chapters of them. I'd love to know more, always more. I don't know if you will, but if you do, I'll be there

Thank you so much for this, I'm so glad you wrote another part ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for tagging me, I'm honored ❤️🫶

Photocopies

2.2K / Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Javi off guard in the embassy photocopy room.

Warnings: Angst (sorry!), longing, some hurt (no comfort). Previous relationship, mention of past infidelity (or is it??). Mainly Javi's POV. Nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: This is a direct follow-up to Birthday Present, taking place S1/S2 Narcos, ~2 months after reader’s birthday; I don't think you need to read it but it gives some context. I'm sorry, there is no HEA for these two dummies yet, this is just another little one shot (not quite ready to commit to writing another long series!), but I hope those of you who remember them from Birthday Present will still enjoy seeing them again 🥹🥰

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Tagging @milla-frenchy who knows why 🥹😘

Mierda. 

Javier can see the consecutive flashes of the photocopier’s green scan light accompanied by the hum of the machine in repetitive use as he walks down the hall towards the U.S. Embassy’s main floor copier room.  It sounds like whoever’s occupying the photocopier is in the middle of a big job – he sighs with an air of unjustified frustration.  Such would be his luck when he’s already running late for his meeting with the CIA attaché. 

He rounds into the room chest first, ready to barrel over whichever unfortunate intern stands, however unintentionally, between DEA Agent Javier Pena and something he needs to hopefully get ahead of Escobar, when he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

It’s you.  You, with a thoughtful look on your face as you adorably chew your bottom lip while counting the sheets in your hand, surrounded by neat piles of paper covering every available flat surface in the copier room.

Mierda. 

Still preoccupied by your collating project, you haven’t looked up to notice that you’re no longer alone in the small, stifling room – out of consideration or cowardice, but most likely both, Javier loathes to disturb you.  He hasn’t spoken to you in nearly four months - he’ll be damned if the first time he does so causes you inconvenience.  He’s already done so much worse to you. 

Fuck it - those spooks can make do with one copy of his Satellite Repositioning request.  If the CIA needs a second copy so badly, let them come down and make it themselves, he convinces himself.  Javier steps back silently, slowly backing out of the room. 

“How many copies do you need?”

Stunned by the sweet lilt of your voice, Javier remains motionless.  He suspects that you don’t know it’s him, but rather you had felt another person’s presence in the room and your considerate nature simply offered what you intuitively knew was needed.  But to his surprise, your eyes meet his directly when he looks up; he searches them for any sign of distaste or distain now that you recognize him as your intruder, but sees nothing except sincerity.  Your hand is already outstretched, waiting for his form.

He should leave.  Say he changed his mind about needing copies.  Say he got lost in this building that he’s worked in for years.  Say something.

“Don’t want to interrupt you.  I’ll come back.”

You throw an easy, encouraging smile his way and wave your still reaching hand dismissively in graceful sweeps that only serve to remind Javier of how effortlessly charming you are; your voice an enchanting song with its lightness, “I’m going to be forever.  Come on, gimme.”  You wiggle your fingers playfully, beckoning Javier to give over his paper - not knowing you also call for his heart with this enticing gesture.

He can refuse you nothing, though you could never know that, and hands over his single sheet readily, “Just one please.”

You take his form and titter to yourself as you diligently set aside the stack you were organizing, careful not to lose your place before laying his paper face down on the glass to copy, “I’ll make you two, just in case.”

Though the sound of the copy machine whirling to life fills the room, the silence between the two people in it somehow rings louder.  Javier looks around awkwardly, his eyes taking in the goliath of paperwork that you were in the middle of taming – should he apologize for interrupting?  No, it would likely ring hollow to your ears; he’s committed worse transgressions for which he still owes you an apology.  But the lump in his throat compels him to engage you; he’s a man starved, ready to beg for any meager scraps of attention you’re willing to throw his way.

“I thought you had a secretary to do all this admin for you – is Renee away?”

You laugh and the sound chimes in Javier’s ear like a chorus of cathedral bells; he never thought he’d have the honour of drawing such music from you again.  “No, she’s here.  But when it’s big booklets for interdepartmental meetings, I just like to do it myself.”

Right - Javier knows this about you.  You take such prodigious care with everything, of everyone.  Any fool at the embassy, and there were many, could see you’re a powerhouse, work ethic and dedication unmatched, and completely deserving of the respect and praise you reap – he’s always been proud of you.

Handing him his two copies and original, you toss Javier another soft smile before turning back to your task.  Whatever this interlude was, whatever grace granted him a few moments of cordiality with you is gone now, and Javier takes the papers from you with a genuine, but melancholy, “Thanks.”  He heads out of the room, feeling somehow happier and yet just as lost as he has been these past few months.

“Javi?”

He’s stopped again, this time not just by your melodic voice, but the song of his shortened name on your lips – his own heart longs to sing back a response in duet.  Turning, he finds you already looking at him, the irises of your knowing eyes swirling with tenderness, 

“Thank you for my birthday present.”

How did you know?  Javier had been so confident in the stealth of his actions, he’s silence by the revelation that you know he left a gift on your desk two months ago.

“I wear them all the time,” you turn your elegant neck slightly to show Javi the silver hair clips, each adorned with a small, delicate bird, tucked prettily behind your ear.

He manages to choke out a confession, “I know.” 

He does know.  Like a lovesick magpie, Javi’s heart would leap every time he caught the flash of silver in your hair at the embassy: during the meetings you expertly lead that he had the privilege of attending, via quick glimpses of you as you hurried towards the breakroom with your colleagues for a much-needed cup of coffee, when he stole longing glances at you from the DEA’s offices down the hall from the windows that ran alongside your desk in Treasury.  Each time you wore them, it gave Javi a surge a pride (and some relief) to know that amidst all the pain he had caused, he could still bring you some joy.

You’re looking at him now, eyes shiny and full of emotion, “I love them – they’re so beautiful.  Thank you for having thought of me.”

Javi’s body carries him across the small room and into your waiting arms of its own accord. All the strength he strains to wield on a daily basis in order to stay away from you evaporating under that tender gaze he thought had been forever lost to him.

He holds you close but not too tight, unable to tear his eyes from the sweetness of your expression.  How could you still look at him with anything other than disappointment, hate?  Despite what he did, you remain good.  Kind.  Feeling.  You wash over him like an inevitable wave and Javi wants more than anything to drown in you again.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Baby.

Drinking in his soft utterance of the endearment, you earnestly study the man who was once yours.  Javi looks apprehensive and guarded, like he can’t quite settle into the tenderness of this moment – expecting at any second for you to shove him away, curse him.  Your heart aches to witness his anxiety – he’s still the man you knew, believed in: one whose bravado and tough exterior harbours a sensitive and deeply feeling heart, one who never thinks he deserves good things even when he extends himself for the sake of others.  You take Javi’s face into your hands, feeling the flex of his strong jaw beneath your palms as he inhales and swallows deeply at the loving gesture, still convinced this unexpected peace will be ripped from him.

“Do you miss me, Javi?”

How can he possibly answer but truthfully? Even if you weren’t looking at him so tenderly and with such vulnerability, Javi’s never been able to hide from you, lie to you. Insinuate falsities, yes. Mislead, perhaps. But outright lying? Never. How could the moon ever lie to the sun?

“Yes, pretty bird. Every day,” Javi closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, sealing in the truth of his words.

He’s being selfish.  It’s selfish to want to pull out the knife that’s lodged permanently in his chest; the one he placed there himself when he broke your heart, to stab and remind him with every breath he takes of what he’s lost.  What he’s broken.

If he could remove the blade for even a moment, then for that moment he can be your Javi again.  The one you trusted to take care of your heart.  The one who was ever grateful that an angel like you saw something in him, something he thought had long been snuffed out by the savagery of the Columbian sicarios and the cruelty of Escobar.  The Javi you had patiently nurtured back to life with your compassion and gentle touch.  The one whose vow of love you never questioned; he hadn't thought himself capable of such devotion, but you had easily unlocked it from within him with your own.

Selfishness wins today.  Javi removes the knife and lets himself be that man again with a tentative press of his lips to yours.  Immediately, he’s overtaken by the honey of your kiss – every brush of your pretty pout reminds him of all his favourite kisses with you: soft, secret kisses in hidden corners at the office; hard and heavy make outs outside the embassy walls away from prying eyes; tender kisses of promises intended to be kept while on dates or just laying in bed; possessive, dangerous kisses used to muffle moans of pleasure not meant for the ears of any other; hungry and urgent kisses heralding toe-curling, earthshattering orgasms; and sweet kisses of affirmation after every declaration of I love you.

Javi kisses you to make up for every single kiss he’s missed since he kissed you last.  He kisses you like he has the forever with you he threw away so cruelly all those month ago.  He tightens his arms around you as you melt into his kiss, momentarily forgetting how to let you go again.  Your soft whimper of surrender into his mouth jolts him back to reality.  He doesn’t have forever with you.  You aren’t his, and you shouldn’t be his.  He’s been warned.

It’s time to put the knife back in and Javier knows it won’t just be his own heart he wounds when he does so.

“Baby, we can’t.”

“Javi…” The way you say his name now has none of the harmony that invited him in earlier; this is a plea.

“Pretty bird, I’m no good for you.  Look at you – you’re perfect and you have everything going for you.  Everything you are is beyond my wildest dreams – you’re destined for the kind of future that has no place in it for a guy like me.  You deserve someone who can give you the best things in life.  You deserve someone better than me.”

You’re shaking your head, ready to argue and Javier thinks, no – he knows you would prevail.  He’s come over to your side of every argument the two of you ever had - won over by your intelligence, your passion, or simply for the joy it brought him to give you anything you wanted.  He has to put a stop to this before your eloquence and kindness can disarm him, so he pushes the knife in further, “You deserve someone who can be loyal to you.”

Javier can physically feel the flow of air that rushes in to fill the space created between the two of you as you shrink away from him.

It’s as if he can see the cinema in your eyes replaying that horrible scene from four months earlier when you caught him bare chested and pants unbuttoned, with a half naked Vanessa on his couch.  And just like that, the ache of his betrayal is renewed and your hurt rolls off your frame in lines so thick Javier thinks he might be able to pluck them out of the air with his fingers.

He twists the knife, even though it kills him to do so, “I never got the chance to apologize for that. I’m sorry.”

You nod, otherwise unmoving - stilled by that old pain you thought you had buried dead threating to crawl up your tightening throat.

Javi’s shoulders hunch, drooping with a defeat of his own making, “Thank you for the copies.”

“You’re welcome, Agent.”

Agent.

And just like that he’s Agent again.  Not baby, Javi, or even Javier.  Just Agent.

This third time he goes to leave the copier room you don’t stop him and Javier is thankful; unable to trust himself should he look back at you, he doesn’t – Agent Pena sets his face to a grim scowl and stalks down the hallway away from the best thing that ever happened to him.  Grateful that you had the forethought to give him an extra copy of his form, Javier discards the top sheet before going into his meeting – it’s completely unusable: the words on the page blotted and blurred from tears he didn’t have the strength to prevent from falling, the ruined, damp paper evidence of his failures.

[pidgecv]

Cleo wished that she could say that day the world was decommissioned was anything out of the ordinary. Buuut in all fairness, the world had been over for almost a year at that point. Today was day 358 of the end of the world, and Cleo started it by tripping into the curtain separating her and Jo’s bedrooms. 

“Dude what the fuck?” Jo groaned, blinking slowly and staring blankly at the lump of cloth that Cleo was currently untangling herself from. 

“We’re gonna have to get V to fix that now. You’ve ripped the bar out of the god damn ceiling.” 

“OK LOOK LEAVE ME ALONE IT HAPPENS-“ Cleo started to argue, before being cut off.

“NO IT DOESN’T?”

“YUH HUH”

“NUH UH”

“YUH H-“ 

Both parties quickly stopped their bickering as a tall figure stepped out into the hallway. Cleo stared a bit sheepishly at their third housemate while Jo just huffed, still annoyed. 

“Guys can we puh-LEASE go ONE morning without, uh, whatever this is?” V sighed, trying with little success to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Oh heyyyyy V,” Cleo said, her words completely drenched in some half-hearted attempt at ‘playin it cool’. “How's fixin that old radio goin for you?” 

“Surprisingly well, for being completely out of my skillset.” V entertained the small talk. “I think I’m pretty close to getting it up and running.” It was at this point in V’s chatting that Jo started doing the universal ‘blah blah blah’ hand signal whenever V went to say something. Cleo bit her tongue to stop herself from giggling. 

“And what was the deal with those wires you were yelling about last night?” Cleo urged, trying to keep him talking.

“Oh they were completely busted, but I couldn’t tell which were good and which weren’t based off the outside because- wait a minute.” V’s eyes narrowed. “You guys are doing that thing again, aren’t you.” V turned to Jo, who quickly put her hand down. V just stared at Jo for a second before sighing and going downstairs.

“He’s too used to our bullshit, Cleo.” Jo mused

“Looks like it.” 

“…”

“…”

“Get the hell off my floor.”

“Oh yeah.”

—————————————————————————————————

Jo and Cleo didn’t even manage to put the curtain back up before they were disrupted by an excited yell and muffled radio static coming from the lab. Cleo shot upright, hitting her head on one of the many boxes Jo was standing on while trying to nail the curtain back into place. This caused all of the boxes and also Jo to topple over with a series of thuds, as well as a single “FUCK”. Jo got up quickly, but Cleo was already halfway down the stairs.

“You got it working already?” It wasn’t that Cleo had no faith in V, but the radio had been completely totaled it had seemed. It was a miracle that they could even get static. 

“Yeah! Looks like this thing wasn’t as gone as we thought.”

“Do you think we can listen to music on it or something?” Jo asked, having followed Cleo downstairs. V and Cleo exchanged a look. “What?”

“She’ll get there.” Cleo joked. V looked unconvinced.

“Jo, buddy. Best friend. Light of my life.” V rolled his chair over to her to put his hands directly on her shoulders. “Who right now is out there running a radio station?” Jo processed for a second. 

“Uh, wait, THEN WHAT DO WE NEED THIS FOR?” Jo gestured, pulling away from V who smirked and rolled back to his desk. 

“There might be some emergency broadcast going on.” Cleo answered. “It’s good to know what’s going on out there y’know.” 

“Ohhhhh. Got it.” Jo walked up to the desk and put her face inches from the radio. Still emitting faint static. “So how do we get this thing to tell us stuff?” She immediately started fiddling with the knobs on the radio. V startled and smacked her hands away, twisting the radio’s knob as far to the left as it would go in the process.

“WELL DON’T START MESSING WITH IT.”

“HOW ELSE AM I MEANT TO-“ 

“Mom, dad. Save your marriage issues for later. Listen!” Cleo interjected. The static had given way to a faint alarm sound. The group immediately fell silent as V turned up the radio. It was an EAS alarm. After another minute of the alarm sound, it cut out, giving way to dead air. 

“What are the chances of this?” V asked. “We get a working radio right before something cool happens?” The other two nodded. 

“Creepy as hell.” Jo said. Cleo opened her mouth to agree just as the radio crackled and a voice spoke over the air. 

“Begin broadcast.” 

[fanfictionbysah]

Huffing out a breath, Tristan’s brows furrowed as his gaze darted around the room that he was now enclosed in. Things just… never seemed to work in his favor, did they?

First he ended up actually going on the mission that he was told he wouldn’t be needed on, not that he minded going, no that wasn’t what he minded. He minded the fact that he was supposed to be on his vacation.

The few weeks he had set aside to visit his two girls before their school year started, hopefully giving his twin a break… but no. He was desperately needed so he did what he had to do and unfortunately cut his vacation short for the time being.

Second? Well… that’s how he found himself in this predicament. The moment he realized something was amiss, he forcefully shoved his newest recruit, Charlotte Evergreen, out of the door and just as he was about to follow suit, the damned glass doors shut him in, effectively locking him in a room made entirely of glass that nothing seemed to be able to break.

Thirdly? And most importantly? There seemed to be some sort of… gas being pumped into the room, causing him to inadvertently inhale each burning, nauseating and almost blinding translucent gas with each breath. And with each breath, he found himself sinking further and further into his subconscious, something he wasn’t even aware he was doing until he was nothing but a mad dog, head jerking about at the slightest provocation, the slightest noise like nails on a chalkboard.

Fourthly? No.

No.

NO.

That was NOT who he thought it was.

It couldn’t be.

She had to have been dead by now, right?

But no. There she stood. Angelica Sunflower Payne.

His mum. And for the first time in his life, he found himself utterly enraptured by the sight because fir the first time… she wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t high. She wasn’t going after him, yelling, screaming, hitting, blaming… she was simply seated on what looked to be…a hospital bed?

No, this had to be a hallucination.

“You’re not real.” Tristan mumbled, already backing himself into the corner as his mum approached him with a saccharine sweet smile on her face. “Of course I am, my sunshine lad. My sweet, happy, sunshine boy-” “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Tristan roared, baring his teeth as he tried to push himself against the wall even more.

“Now, now, is that any way to treat your loving mum, the woman who dedicated her life-”

“Ohhhhh, what a load of bollox! You didn’t love me! You didn’t dedicate shite to me, to Remy or Brianna! You used us!” He screamed in response just as Angelica stopped short, giving him a wounded look that all lasted of a few moments before her true nature came forth.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, my sunshine boy. My world revolved around you and your siblings so very-” She tried to keep her calm even as Tristan shot to his feet, unable to stay stable as he wobbled with each step, his pupils dilated to the point where not even a sliver of his natural blue was seen as he pointed a finger at his mother.

“YOU’RE WORLD REVOLVED AROUND YOUR NEXT FIX. YOU COULDN’T- you couldn’t even look at me without wanting to dig your greedy nails into my face, spitting at me, demanded where I hid your kits. Your bottles.” He spat back in her face, too far gone to realize that this was just a hallucination.

No to him… this was the real thing. This was his mother coming for him after finding out that he had made something of himself and this was her wanting him to be her sweet, sunshine boy, once more. The foolish naive little boy.

It was only when he was so lost in thought did he realize that his mother had managed to one up him and wrap her arms around him, gently rocking him back and forth and that’s what finally broke him.

“I was nine years old, the first time I found you. NINE! What nine year old knows what to do when their mum is in the bath tub, a needle still stuck in her arm while dozens of bottles surrounded her?” Tristan sobbed, pulling away despite wanting nothing more than to feel his mothers arms around him, loving for once instead of her usual hatred seeping through.

“What nine year old knew how to sober you up, who to call, how to administer Narcan while the paramedics were on their way? TELL ME?” He screamed as he trembled in her hold. “I was…I was only 12 minutes older than Remy, momma. 12 minutes. Do you think those twelve minutes…they gave me some sort of insight? The ability to answer my younger brother’s question when he finally crawled into bed with me one night and tried not to cry while asking me, why did our mum not love us? Pleading with me to help him make things right, begging me to show him what to do so that you would love him? 12 minutes older… and I don’t blame him, how could I, but did he not think that I was wondering the same fucking thing? Why our mother couldn’t love us enough to stop destroying herself, to stop hurting her children…” Tristan’s voice at this point was far beyond broken as he finally collapsed, his entire frame trembling.

“Remy and I… we knew better sooner or later. We stopped nicking booze from the corner stores for you in hopes that it might grant us a smile, or a deceleration of love or even perhaps maybe just that night you wouldn’t try to abuse one of us…but we knew. The moment you set your eyes on Brianna? We knew.” He said, his breathing coming in faster and deeper as he clenched his eyes shut.

“You realized what was wrong with your youngest was of your own doing, didn’t you? Because no matter what you told us… you never stopped using, did you? You were too selfish. So when Brianna was born… she was never to be normal, was she?” He accused her, his glare piercing through the hallucinations gaze, the hallucination that even had the gall to look ashamed.

“Oh, no no no, don’t act as though you were innocent in this. I can understand you not willing to stay sober during her pregnancy, fine. I hate it, but I can understand it. What I will NEVER understand is how you treated her after she was born. How immediately, Remy and I, two boys at age 5, almost 6, suddenly had no other choice than to become a parent to a sickly infant.” Tristan said softly, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. “Oh, but even at that age, we did a better job than you ever could have. Especially now that that man you insisted we call father had gone and left the moment he found out your, our lovely mother, was pregnant yet again. And in all honesty, he wasn’t a great loss. All he was to any of us was the man who would lock us in a room for days, no food, no water, no way of knowing what time of the day it was while you and him? Got high, drunk and had the time of your lives. So no, I was GLAD when that bastard left. Made being a father to our sister so much easier.” Holding a hand up when Angelica tried to speak, he scoffed.

“I will let you speak when I am well and bloody done, mother.” He sneered the word, pushing himself off the wall and into the hallucination’s space, towering above her, despite her not being there.

“I was the oldest brother, I know. So it was my responsibility, despite Remy’s insistence, that we should share the load…no. I needed to take care of my baby sister and my baby brother. So I was the first to get a job at 12 once we found out that you were stealing Brianna’s pain medication to get high off of, leaving her in a world of agony…. but that little angel… she never said a word against you. Too enraptured with the idea that maybe if she would let her mother have this from her, then maybe, just maybe, she would earn a sliver of love. A hint of kindness.” Tristan’s voice lost its fervor at the innocence that was his sister.

“And what did you do? You slapped her, you left bruises, claw marks, you pulled her IV out knowing just how painful it was for a child at her age… Because she had the audacity to actually take her pain medication when she needed it and not save it all for you. You tore her down to shreds of shreds, until when I came home from work, I didn’t recognize my angel anymore and it wasn’t until I found out what happened… I wanted to kill you.” He growled, clenching his eyes shut at the hate making it’s way through his body.

“That was it for me. I would NOT let you ruin Remy and I’s little angel the way you destroyed us. So we started skimming your wallet. Started skimming the till at our own jobs. I stopped going to school in hopes of finding a better job while Remy, despite his insistence on doing the same, continued onward and went to classes only to stay out until 3am because the job that he managed to get was only hiring the night shift. We were never going to leave you alone with her again, Angelica.” Tristan said as calmly as he possibly could, his fingers shaking as he finally leaned against the wall and slid down once again, curled up into a ball, his forehead resting against his knees.

“Do you know how many times we were arrested? For nicking from stores? For simply trying to get enough food to last the week for mostly Brianna? While we never would have had to if you had just… cared for us.” He said softly, his eyes closing as he took in a shuddering breath.

“Why didn’t you care? Why didn’t you love us? What about us did you hate so very much that you couldn’t stand to see us happy? See us content? Why did you always need to see us struggling, see us miserable? See us broken? Why didn’t you love me?” Tristan finally uttered the words that had been haunting him for decades, broken words coming out of his bleeding lips as he held back a sob. “What is it about me…that just…is so unloveable?”

It was then that Angelica made her way over to his son, her beautiful, sunshine boy and sat down next to him, a careful arm set around his shoulders. “I did love you. You, Remy or Brianna. I just…didn’t care about you. None of you. You were all children I never wanted. How could I want any of you when I only wanted one thing? Oblivion. You were my obstacles. Do not mistake love for care, Sunshine boy.” She said softly before smirking, shaking her hair.

“And I know you think that you cut me out when I showed up to Brianna’s funeral high off of Ketamine, flask in hand, yelling nonsense… but that nonsense? That hate I spewed? That’s the hatred that grew in place of love once I figured out that you two, little brothers in arms, started to care more about that worthless child of mine that I should have killed the moment I found out her illness. I knew I wanted nothing to do with you two anymore and I knew the best way to go about that, and what do you know? I. Got. What. I. Wanted.” Angelica said with a proud note in her voice as she roughly placed her palm against Tristan’s face and shoved him aside. “And you know what else? For all you know… I’m still out there. I’m still alive. Only… only this time? I’m sober. I’m happy. I have an actual family I adore.” She spat at him with a grin in her sinister tone. “You’re just going to have to face facts. You were never good enough, Tristan. You or Remy. You two were always failures. Always. Will. Be.”

At that moment in time, Tristan had covered his ears and began to rock back and forth as he tried to keep his small whimpers within his chest. “Leave me. Go away.” Was all that he could utter, eyes clenched tight.

“I will, my sweet, summer boy. Maybe I’ll even give my two grandchildren a visit. You never know.” Her smug, pointed whisper was directed at him just as she disappeared.

What he didn’t know, however… was despite him being the only one that was administered that dose… any agent observing would have seen the whole thing. That was the beauty of HYDRA’s psychological tortures. They always aimed to torture anyone and everyone.

Finally, after he could form two thoughts together, all he could think about was getting in touch with his brother. He had to make sure his nieces were safe.

That was when the second wave of gas started to seep into the room… and he started to see things that he hoped couldn't be true.

He wasn't able to hold back his whimpers when instead of his mother, Brianna appeared, only this time… it wasn't the sister he loved. This time it was his mind creating an image of his sister and the awful things that he thought she must have thought about him never being to actually keep her safe.

After hours of that torture came the images that led him to actual tears, the sight of Esmerelda and Ariana both lying there, so still, so broken even as they looked right at him and said in tandem, "This is your fault Uncle Tristan. You're the reason we're dead."

All the while Remy lay a mere foot away, blood pooled around his body as he had tried to save his children, presumably from the monster that was his twin.

Tristan had curled up into a ball, his knees brought up as high as his chin as he rested his forehead against them. Body shaking as he rocked back and forth, mumbling under his breath, "It's not real, it's not real, it's not real." He kept repeating, the silent tears that were streaming down his face soaking the tactical pants he was wearing as he just kept taking in breath after shuddering breath, begging for it to stop .

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Hey Davion, he looks really looks like he's loving it. Do you remember a time you really gave him a good pounding?

@demon-blood-youths

He looks to hear the anon say something about his knight but his arms were crossed figuring they were trying to get him to explain a memory with him. "Ohhhh trying to be sneaky anon? Sorry, your not getting anything from me either. I've seen you trying to get something out of Rust and Miss Breezy....naughty aren't you.." he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Davion did remember one time he did give him a good pounding. It was during a night mission together since he asked Rust to assist him. He did after finishing it but that was not that other reason.

He was growling and slamming his hips forward and down, his body half changed into the red and black dragon scales. His eyes were glowing while slamming his hips against a weak whimpering knight. He was hearing the bed creak but it was already broken from the rough thrusts while he growls panting. Gripping some of the blonde's hair tightly to move his head back as he screams out crying in pleasure.

"Ahhhhh SSSSSS!!! ahhhhhhhhh!! F..Fucckkkkkk Davion t..too much!! It's t..too much!!" A weak heated Rust knight begs of him, his eyes were red while ripping the already torn sheets as he had blood running down his chin from drinking some. He was aroused after what happened but that damn ache has gotten stronger that he was a twitching moaning mess.

"It's s..sooo d...deep...hhhhaaaa my b..body is b..burning!!!" He moans but he felt Davion already swollen inside to lay on his back now. Holding his wrists to the bed, he heard a deep hungry growl aroused still snapping his hips down. The wet claps of his skin already was showing how soaked he was.

"Ah!? D..Davion!?"

"Haaaaa...haaaa ggrrrrr.." He didn't slow down but it got more stronger that Rust twitched to feeling his eyes roll in the back of his head a bit.

"T...too b...big! F..fuck your t..too big! mmmmmm It's going t..to t...tear m..me apart!" He moans weak but Davion knew it was not true even going harder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Though, knowing some of you anons are willing to try to find out anything is funny..." He looks at the now nervous anon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ahhhhhhh!!!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!"

Now Rust was screaming out, arching his back as his red eyes were wide from the quicken jackhammering powerful thrusts that wrecked his body. He claws the dragon's chest with his nails while moaning out lustfully for him. His tongue out slightly while gasping out mixed with his weak lustful moans.

"Ohhhhh f..fuck!! Fuck fuck fuck!!!" Davion was panting but his own body was coated in sweat while taking the knight as his. Rust felt his legs quivering as he was fucked by this powerful dragon while pressing his chest up against his. The blonde's head pressing back against the pillow screaming out.

"That's it..keep screaming. I'll be sure to wreck this wet hole and fill you with more and more cum..." He panted while claiming him. "You hhhaaa....feel just too good....Keep showing me more..." He orders even if Rust was crying and his eyes now hidden.

"AHHH!! N..NOT THERE!! PLEASE NOT THERE-NUGGHHA!!! PLEASE S..SO MUCH!! HHAAAA HHHAAAA YOUR GONNA B..BREAK ME!!" He begs even if he was already coated in hickies, and bite marks. This dragon was only going worse feeling Rust twitching as he was even cumming thanks to the rough treatment. That's when he falls back to grip his upper arms now slamming up into him as Rust threw his head back screaming even worse.

"Ahhhhhh!!! hhaaaa nmmmmmm mmmmmmm!!!"

"It's gotten..gggrrrr s..so fucking tight..." He growls as Rust was panting, moaning and feeling Davion pounding up. He tries to move but his hands were tight on his arms making him take his pounding.

"Ahhhhhh ahhhhhhh ple..please!! please f..fuck m..meeeeee!! please fuck me m..more!!!! It's going to b..break me s..so much....It's gonna break me!!" He moans drooling as his eyes glowed red hearing the quickening loud claps of skin as the dragon claims him.

"Don't worry, I'll break you good....all you need to do is just keep moaning!" He said as Rust moans out even worse through that room while he was leaning his body back taking it. No matter what Rust did or said, his body ached wanting it!

~~~~~~~~~

"Though, was their anything else you wished to ask me?"

[sunnnfish]

KIIIIIRRIIIIIIIIIIIIII YOU MOTHERFUCKER (AFFECTIONATE x100000) oh my god. Ohhhhh my god. I think I damn near screenshotted the whole thing. Every paragraph was one hit after the other. Some removed due to tumblr reblog image limit </3

(Colored screenshots just to differentiate them) THE SHOCK AND AWE AND AMAZEMENT WHEN I REALIZED ITS MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND TASHIRO GONZABUROU INNTHE GODDAMN FLESH. I had to put my phone down for approximately two minutes before I could continue from this point. This will be a running theme

[this screenshot removed due to beloathed reblog image limit </3]

THE OBVIOUS TEASE IN HIS VOICE. It’s so joever

Oh my GOD. I’m all alone in a big empty cave. CAN ANYONE HEAR MEme me me me… me…. me….. the playfulness the back and forth the naturalness kiri. You’re so awesome. This is everything I’ve ever wanted

HRK. had to put the phone down for approximately 3 minutes after this one. do I even have to explain why.

WHATT EH FUCKGIN IS GOING ON. HELP? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? this took at least 5 minutes to initially recover from. Full recovery will never ever happen. The deep fucking fondness hidden in his voice. Tashiro muttering back. ALL IN RELATION TO HANZAWAS MASACHIS[GETS SHOT]

Like dirtbrain said. Hanzashiro completely forgetting seigi is there and just like. FLIRTING? What else am I supposed to call this. Ha ha ha. hrk. leaning forward fluttering his eyelashes. I’m going to throw up

PREVIOUS PRESIDEEEENNNNTTTT WIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNN this also took like 5 minutes to recover from

Bhehhehhhahahahhhrgsnnniiiiiiffffffhahah ha ha. Sniffles

TAHSIROOOOOO TAHSIRO TASHIRO TASHIRO GONZABUROU GONNCHAN GONZABUROU TASHIRO GONZABUROU. Ha ha. Sorry. Who said that. That’s crazy. I’m normal about characters. [deep heavy sigh] motherfucker. Good god you get my tashiro vision kiri. Soooo analytical and he doesn’t even realize it himself. Christ. Okay

Hey watch this. [BURSTS INTO UNFATHOMABLE TEARS]

This was the goddamn nail in the coffin. Kiri. Kiri Tumblr User Aranarumei. <-(full name. Obviously) THE ICON REVEAL. SOOOO SICK AND TWISTED FOR THAT. THE SMILE THE EARRINGS ITS SOOOOO OVER. I’m sick. I feel sooo sick. Tashiro coming WITH HIM. His confidence in the earrings and a statement to himself. It’s so GOOD. Aaauuuuuuuhhhgggg….. yeah like dirtbrain said this just like. This all happened. Anomalous Agate. It’s canon. To me. Never ever going to be over the hanzashiro interactions here. Or any of it. God. Okay. Peace and love on planet hanzashiro…

the anomalous agate (part four)

hello, all. we've made it to the home stretch! this is the last main chapter of the anomalous agate—there's an epilogue after this, as well as bonus extra set more in the world of hanzawa to tashiro. I've also been playing around with the idea of doing a sort of… director's commentary? something like that. where I get to indulge and talk about some of my thoughts.

for anyone who has no idea what this is about, go here for part one

for those who do, here's the ao3 link, and if you prefer tumblr, it's just under the cut

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part 4)

Sunlight set the streets before me aglow. It was, by all accounts, the warmest day in autumn we’d had this year, and I was beginning to sweat. There was a restless kind of itch inside my skin that I couldn’t seem to quell. Part of it was the bruise—the mark had faded, but now the area of pale purple felt consistently irritated. 

The other part was the fact that it was Saturday afternoon. Richard had closed the shop to make a special house call, and it was only now that I realized I’d spent the majority of every weekend working in Ginza. Rather than feel like I was chomping at the bit, though, the sudden free time left my skin itching to head into Jewelry Étranger like always. 

After poring over my various options, I’d decided to spend my day off on various chores and errands. I was currently on my way to the supermarket, but in the absence of any attractive deals awaiting me, I was dragging my feet in the afternoon heat. While looking around for a reasonable distraction, my attention was waylaid by the sight of the café I’d entered just over a week ago, and after considering its merit as a temperature-controlled room as well as my flagging enthusiasm for shopping, I decided to enter. 

The moment I stepped inside, a cooling breeze swept over my skin, and I was immediately refreshed. Then I scanned for a free seat and caught sight of a familiar head of black hair. A chill skittered up my spine; the person in question turned around and froze the moment our eyes met. 

Hanzawa Masato’s mouth parted in an involuntary ‘O’ shape, and I knew, again, that I was bearing witness to a scene I shouldn’t have seen. I thought about tucking myself into a different corner of the café, but the person he was sitting with had already spotted me, and obliviously waved me over. 

Hanzawa’s companion was a boy with half-dyed hair, the natural dark brown color abruptly transitioning into a sharp blond-gold. In the time it had taken me to approach them, he’d moved to sit next to Hanzawa, leaving a free seat for me on the other side. I took the offered seat awkwardly, wondering if there was any normal way to introduce myself. 

Thankfully, Hanzawa took the lead in greeting me. “…It’s nice to see you, Seigi.” 

“…It’s nice to see you too, Hanzawa.” As shocked as he’d been when we’d first made eye contact, he didn’t look irritated or out of sorts. I addressed the person next to him. “And you are…?” 

“Tashiro Gonzaburou! Is it fine if I call you Seigi, too?” 

“Sure,” I said, a little stunned by his easygoing smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Tashiro.” 

Before we could get too deep into a conversation, I ordered an iced americano. Hanzawa took a careful sip of his milk tea—it wasn’t the kind that Richard liked, but I wondered if that was why Hanzawa had asked for the royal milk tea in our first meeting. 

Once I’d gotten my drink in hand, Tashiro asked, “So how’d you meet Hanzawa-senpai, anyways?” 

Before I could muster up a vague enough answer that would satisfy a guy who seemed wholly blunt and direct, Hanzawa cut in with a response. “Seigi works at a jewelry store in Ginza,” he said. He addressed me: “I was under the impression you worked weekends?” 

There wasn’t a hint of turmoil on his face. I thought I’d gotten better at reading him, but I had no idea what he was thinking at the current moment. The circumstances through which I’d met Kaede were kind of awkward, so maybe it wasn’t right to explain… but it wasn’t like these were non-awkward circumstances, either. 

“Oh—well, yeah, that’s normally the case,” I said. “But Richard’s making a house call today, so the shop’s closed… we’ll be open tomorrow, though.” That was at least double the words necessary for an explanation. It wasn’t like Hanzawa was going to show up and buy something—he didn’t need me to prattle on about the exact specifics of Jewelry Étranger’s schedule. 

“A jeweler’s store?” Tashiro mused out loud before clapping his hands in epiphany. “Hanzawa-senpai, were you buying earrings?” 

“…Perhaps?” I’d seen Hanzawa be reticent with information before, but the tone of his voice here was an obvious tease. 

With a put-upon sigh, Tashiro asked, “I guess you’re just allergic to straight answers, huh?” At Hanzawa’s answering smile, he added, “Are you finally going to tell me how many piercings you actually have?” 

Hanzawa seemed to consider it for a long time, before simply declaring, “That’s no fun—I’ll let you keep guessing.” 

For all that I’d worried about an awkward situation, Hanzawa and Tashiro were more than able to carry conversation. Rather than cultivate a sense of unease, Hanzawa’s air of mystery had turned into something almost playful, something which Tashiro’s presence seemed to actively encourage. The two people sitting across from me both carried an inherent kind of charm—from Tashiro, so natural he likely didn’t notice it himself, and a deep, practiced consideration from Hanzawa’s end. I would have been fine just watching them talk to each other, but Hanzawa took note of my sense of distance and conscientiously pulled me into a discussion about various customers that had passed through Jewelry Étranger. We began to trade stories about the interesting people we’d encountered—Hanzawa had stories about almost anything, and Tashiro helped out at a bathhouse near his home that was full of interesting characters. 

Still, I couldn’t help but feel the sense that I was a third wheel in this situation. 

During a lull in the conversation, Tashiro tilted Hanzawa’s drink towards him and took an exploratory sip. “You got a new flavor,” he observed. “Don’t you usually stick with the same one?” 

Hanzawa’s gaze lowered towards Tashiro, slumped forward on the table in the perfect picture of relaxation, Hanzawa’s drink in hand. He tilted his drink back towards him and took a sip. “It is college,” he said. “I think you’re meant to loosen up a little.”

“And have all-night karaoke sessions?” Tashiro replied with a laugh. He straightened back up in his seat, not once breaking eye contact with Hanzawa, and added, “You’ve never really been uptight, anyways.” 

Hanzawa raised an eyebrow. “I was president of the disciplinary committee, you know.” 

“Hirano-senpai was vice-president,” Tashiro replied scathingly. 

I had no idea what that name meant, but seeing as Hanzawa’s lips twitched in amusement, it was an excellent point. 

“Anyways, you weren’t uptight, you were up in everything!” Tashiro exclaimed. With his brows scrunched in concentration, he began to count a list of Hanzawa’s activities on his fingers. “President of the disciplinary committee, captain of the ping pong club, head of the dorm, all the random stuff you did for the cultural festival that you’re still doing…” He punctuated his list with a dramatic huff. “I was right—you are a masochist. I bet that hasn’t changed in college.” 

On second thought, maybe the ability to carry a conversation didn’t exactly mean one was a good conversationalist. I didn’t know how to look at the two of them without feeling embarrassment, but strangely enough, Hanzawa didn’t seem to mind the impropriety.

His lips curled into a threatening smile. “Tashiro-kun, are you sure you want to repeat that?” 

At the deep fondness hidden in his voice, I had a sudden epiphany. Blankly staring at Tashiro, I knew—this has to be what that guy meant. 

Unaffected by Hanzawa’s words, and unaware of the whirling thoughts in my head, Tashiro simply muttered, “This is exactly what I mean.” 

“How is the ping pong club, anyways?” Hanzawa asked, confirming my suspicions as he pivoted topics.

Tashiro flashed him a peace sign. “Doing great! The guys in our year keep telling stories about you—that’s how they terrify the first years!” 

“And I’m sure you’ve let them know that these are terribly unfair rumors?” Hanzawa said, leaning towards him. He fluttered his eyelashes, the action dancing on the edge of mockery and sincerity. “Disparaging a poor alumnus who can’t even defend himself, really…” 

 Before he could get too far in his speech, they both seemed to realize there was a third person at the table and jerked back into regular sitting positions. Hanzawa ineffectually cleared his throat, and said, “Ah, Seigi—you used to be in a karate club, right? Don’t you still keep in touch with the members?” 

“…Well, not any of the newer ones, really,” I said, doing my best to convey that I hadn’t seen anything incriminating. “But I help out in events every once in a while, and I’m on an email chain with a bunch of people I knew at the time. It would be hard to pick it back up all of sudden, but I’ve been considering it.”

Hanzawa’s eyes flickered over to my fading bruise. He opened his mouth as if to ask me a question, and then seemed to think better of it.

“I did karate for a year, actually!” Tashiro piped up. 

Genuine disbelief and interest bled into Hanzawa’s voice. “Really?” 

“Closer to half a year, probably,” Tashiro amended sheepishly. “But yeah, I cycled through a lot of different sports back then, so I know the basics. Maybe I would’ve picked it back up in high school, but then I got conned—” 

“You bore the consequence of terms you accepted, you mean,” Hanzawa cut in. 

“Conned,” Tashiro repeated with extra emphasis, “into joining the ping pong club. But karate requires a lot of discipline, so I probably wouldn’t have ever stuck with it for long.” He sighed. “Now that I’m the president of the ping pong club, I can’t even skip practices!” 

“Well, obviously,” Hanzawa drawled. With a lightly accusing finger pointed at Tashiro’s hair, he added, “Unfortunately, I only hear good things about you from your clubmates. They don’t even think your hair makes you look like a ruffian!” 

“I haven’t dyed my hair in two years because of that stupid rule!” Tashiro replied. “Seriously, what was that president thinking…” 

“Probably that you’d grow your hair out and then cut off all the dyed parts,” Hanzawa replied dryly.

“No way,” Tashiro said. “Besides, this is kind of my brand now, anyways.”

“Delinquency?”

Tashiro glared at him. “If only he knew your hair was dyed,” he griped, “then I bet he’d—” He paused in the middle of his complaint and peered at Hanzawa’s unchanging expression. “He knew?”

“Well, my hair doesn’t stand out like yours does.” 

“So what?” Tashiro asked. “Just because you look normal doesn’t mean you are.” 

Hanzawa ruffled his hair in retaliation. “Show some respect for your senpai,” he huffed. Ignoring Tashiro’s squawks of protest, he added, “Besides, we didn’t force you to dye your hair back to brown, right?” With his hand still near Tashiro’s hair, he curled a stray stand around his finger. “Has your hair been growing much longer recently?”

“Yeah,” Tashiro said, smoothing his hair back into submission. “I think I damaged my hair pretty badly when bleaching it, so it grew kind of slowly, but recently that hasn’t been the case. I don’t know why, but it’s useful for now, isn’t it? I might not even need a wig.” 

“…A wig?” I ventured. 

Pink dusted Hanzawa’s cheeks. “I—I forgot… that you wouldn’t know,” he finished smoothly, though I had a hunch what he meant to say was I forgot you were there. I’d feel offended if it wasn’t for the fact that this meant that Hanzawa had drastically lowered his guard around me.

“It’s alright,” I said. “Is the wig for your cultural festival?” 

“You know about that?” Tashiro asked. 

“I heard a little about your… cross-dressing competition?” 

“It’s officially termed a beauty contest,” Hanzawa said, “but unofficially… no one calls it that.” 

“That’s cool,” I said lamely, but maybe Tashiro had picked up on the sincerity in my voice because he blinked at me for a few moments before beginning to motormouth. 

“Hanzawa-senpai’s helping me out!” he exclaimed. For the first time since we’d met, he ducked his head out of shyness. “It’s—for this year, I’m participating… some guys wanted me to do it in my first year, but I refused to, and well, I’m way taller than I was back then so it’s kind of weird, but still—I think it could be kind of fun? And it turns out that a lot of making things look good is in costuming and makeup, which I don’t know anything about, but of course Hanzawa does because he creepily knows everything, right?” He paused, and added, “For that bruise on your face, he could probably help you out there, if you wanted?”

“Oh—he already did, actually,” I said. “I learned how to cover it up when it was way too obvious to go to work, but I didn’t want to bother, otherwise.”

“Of course, he’s amazing,” Tashiro said, like it was a natural law of the universe, and Hanzawa stared, spellbound. “I don’t know how anyone’s going to pull off anything good next year because he’s got things so well-handled. It should really be impossible for a human to actually do that much”—he turned to Hanzawa and glared without much heat—“so maybe actually rest some time, would you?”

Slipping back into his regular grace, Hanzawa gestured at the café. “Isn’t this resting?” 

“It’s—I don’t mind that you’re helping,” Tashiro said, a frustrated edge to his voice. “I’m happy about it; I just need you to be, too.”

Hanzawa’s gaze drifted to an aimless point in the air. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, voice a little strangled. “I’m… going to stop by the restroom before we head out.”

With that said, he glided towards a distant corner of the café. Tashiro’s eyes tracked his back as he moved, and once Hanzawa left his line of sight, he studied me with careful eyes. 

There wasn’t any pressure behind it, but I couldn’t look away. 

Tapping his empty drink against the table, Tashiro said, “Like he said, we’ll probably head out soon.” His voice had dropped in both pitch and volume. “You seem like a good guy, Seigi—it was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Since that’s the case… he jokes about it, but if you run into Hanzawa-senpai again, could you make sure he’s not actually running himself into the ground?” 

Caught by the sincerity and intensity of his request, I agreed without a second thought. “Sure.” Then I realized it wasn’t the kind of promise I could meaningfully keep, but I didn’t know how to clarify my inadequacy.

“I seriously mean it,” Tashiro whispered, “a guy like that has to be a masochist for how much work he takes on. I mean, he’s helping me even though he graduated already…” 

It wasn’t the kind of thing I could say to his face, but I had a feeling that Hanzawa didn’t consider helping Tashiro as work. Hanzawa was only a year younger than me—maybe not even that, since I didn’t actually know his birthday—and so Tashiro was two years younger than me at best, but I couldn’t help but feel a rush of odd assuredness at the fact. Looking at him, I could understand, a little, what Richard had meant by saying that non-interference was sometimes the respectable choice.

When Hanzawa returned, he raised an eyebrow at the slightly somber mood of the table—Tashiro staring at his empty drink, and I, lost in my thoughts. “I’m going to assume you started gossiping behind my back,” he said. 

Rather than lie, Tashiro dismissively waved off his statement and said, “I told him to look out for you, since you’re up to something or the other. The moment you’re out of my sight, you’re doing all of these interesting things I don’t even know about…”

Stunned by his frankness, Hanzawa’s reply was stilted. “It’s… only expected, I suppose. That I can’t be around as much anymore.” 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Tashiro clarified. “It’s just a thing. Drag me around sometime when you go on your strange adventures, would you?”

“…I’ll consider it, okay?” Hanzawa said, gentler than I’d ever heard him, and I knew, surer than anything, that those weren’t empty words.

With Tashiro appeased, Hanzawa and I locked eyes.

There were a lot of things that I wanted to say. That more than ever, I felt that lapis lazuli was a perfect stone for him. That he was absolutely capable of grandness and importance. That Hanzawa carried different aspects of himself like he was a living example of metamorphism. But seeing him like this was the exact reason I couldn’t say anything to him. Today, we hadn’t spoken a single word about his visits to Jewelry Étranger, but I’d never felt the pressure to. Each time I’d met with Hanzawa, he’d been on his back foot—navigating his interactions with Richard and I at Jewelry Étranger, worrying over Kaede, or helping me cover my bruise.

But here, without any jewel in his possession, there was someone that recognized Hanzawa as he was. Maybe, then, he didn’t need anything at all.

Tashiro had asked me to look out for Hanzawa, but really, it was the other way around—I just never had to ask. Though there was a lot I didn’t know, I had the feeling that Hanzawa and I were similar types of people. If someone saw us as special, it would be impossible to let go.

I swallowed down all those presumptuous words, and said, “Have a nice day.”

“…You too, Seigi.”

— — —

Three weeks later, I was making a cursory sweep of the Jewelry Étranger floor, watching the clock tick over to closing time, when the door swung open with a blast of frost. 

In swept Hanzawa Masato. He was wearing the same shade of pale blue he’d worn during his first visit, but he’d opted for a warm turtleneck instead of a light sweater. He’d layered it with a soft brown coat, but his face was still tinged pink from the cold.

The door clicked shut behind him. I felt as if the broom in my hands should have clattered to the floor, but it stayed in my grip.

Even though it was our duty to greet a client, it was Hanzawa that broke the silence first. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be interrupting something,” he said. Something about his demeanor was noticeably different—he didn’t look uncomfortable, but he wasn’t speaking with his usual practiced composure, either.

I glanced toward Richard—he kept a cool face, but there was a slight deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes that he hadn’t yet shaken off. 

“You’re not interrupting,” I said, leaning my broom against the nearest wall. “Feel free to take a seat.”

“Hanzawa-san…” Richard began, before he fully collected himself. “It’s nice to hear from you again. Would you like me to bring out what you’d looked at previously?”

“I’ll make tea—” I offered, but Hanzawa stopped me in my tracks.

“There’s no need,” he said. “It shouldn’t take too long.” He took a deep breath, drawing closer without taking a seat. “To answer your question, Richard-san—you mentioned you carried different kinds of agate, yes?” At Richard’s ensuing nod, he said, “Do you carry any earrings with blue lace agate, then?” 

Professionalism snapped Richard back into action. “We do have a few,” he said, rising from his seat. “I’ll be back out in a moment, then.”

Once Richard had disappeared into a back room, Hanzawa offered me an appeasing smile. “I’m sure all these repeated visits are bad for business, but I do actually plan on making a purchase.”

“Richard treats all of his clients sincerely, whether they purchase something or not,” I said in instinctive defense. Maybe my next words weren’t appropriate for an employee to a client, but I’d run into Hanzawa outside of work twice. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d be back. Even though we ran into each other again…” 

“I wasn’t planning on it, then,” Hanzawa admitted. “So I do appreciate that you didn’t pressure me.”

“What changed?” I asked. 

“I won’t ruin all my mystery,” Hanzawa replied, a little flippant, and I was reminded of the lightness with which he and Tashiro had conversed. “But the simplest explanation is that I figured out what I wanted.” At my blank stare, he laughed, and explained, “I liked the lapis lazuli. But something so ostentatious won’t ever be my style. I said I wanted a statement piece, right? This is one—but it’s a statement to me, not someone else.” He gestured towards his sweater. “And it’s this shade of blue. I do like blue.”

What I’d noticed earlier was the difference between composure and confidence—the latter of which was unmistakable in Hanzawa’s voice.

“If you’re happy with your choice, that’s great,” I said.

In lieu of a proper reply, Hanzawa said, “…If you ever feel like hanging out sometime, Seigi, you do have my number.”

I didn’t give a proper reply, either; Richard returned with his collection of blue lace agate.

There were only three pairs of earrings, so he offered to have a stone worked into jewelry if Hanzawa preferred. Despite his initial hurry, Hanzawa took the time to inspect each set of earring as carefully as he’d studied eyeshadows. Finally, he decided that Richard’s offer wasn’t necessary, and picked out a pair of teardrop-shaped earrings.

“Can I wear these out of the shop?” Hanzawa asked as Richard advised him on the best way to store jewelry. After brushing past his annoyance at the interruption, Richard gave the okay, and so Hanzawa carefully tried them on, closing the back with a soft click.

After making his goodbyes, he paused by the opened door. In the next moment, he whipped back around to face me, displaying a brilliant, evanescent smile. Against all odds, he’d found a way to glow beneath the gray winter sky.

Just outside the door, I caught a glimpse of a green hoodie, and heard a familiar voice. “Your ears!” 

Startled, Hanzawa turned and closed the door behind him, but I caught his response just before the door swung shut. “My earrings, Tashiro-kun. Really, it’s rude to point…” 

As if on cue, the clock ticked over to closing time. I wasn’t sure when I’d see Hanzawa Masato again, but I knew—whatever conversation he was about to have, it wasn’t one he’d run from.

[saintmurd0ck]

Not sure if it's 🍿 or 🍕 but Frank painting your nails 🙃

omg yes! ohhhhh i've actually thought about this one so much so thank you so much for requesting this x

let's have a sleepover at mine!

frank castle would paint your nails with military precision. man's is an expert sharp shooter, so you know his hands don't shake

he's even watched a youtube tutorial beforehand, citing the reason as "i don't wanna mess this up for my girl"

he's sat next to you on your dining table, because "havin' a flat surface is important, baby. the video said so" and he's gathered all the materials he needs

he paints your nails with laser-focused concentration, although he looks incredible cute, with his nose a little scrunched up and his tongue poking out just a little

you can't help but feel your heart leap out of your chest watching him take such good care of you and your hands. frank truly is a man of all talents; the punisher by day, dedicated boyfriend by night (hmm, or is it the other way round?)

when it's all done, and he's applied a top coat to protect your brand new manicure, he holds your hands up to the light, a little in awe of the beauty he's just managed to create

"you did an amazing job, frankie" you gush, peppering him with kisses

and he offers you a smug smile "you're damn right i did"

[darkorderaf]

Can I request "running your fingers through your lover's hair" "''we shouldn't do this'' but they do so, anyway" with they/them reader from the kisses prompt? Maybe after Wardlow's win at Revolution, and if you want to maybe let it get ✨️spicy✨️ I love your fics so much 🥺

Ohhhhh my first Wardlow!! Thank you so much for requesting. I decided to throw a little pinch of spice in there. As a treat. ;) Please enjoy and thank you so much for the kind words, I hope you love this one too!

Pairing: Wardlow x OC. Prompts: Running your fingers through your lover’s hair + “‘we shouldn’t do this” but they do so, anyway. Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Feelsy spice! Word Count: 1149.

Tag List (asked to be added/removed!): @alyhull @boutmachines @chrisdickinson @lghockey @rubyred1980 @sillynilly27 @simoneinside

(I don’t own gif; all credit to hangmangang!)

Nerves made it difficult for them to watch. They wrung their hands together, half-turned away from the monitor as they split themself between wanting to watch and wanting to run to him. But he had told them, with low-toned and full-bodied confidence, that he would return to them with their way out. Set his large hand on their face and looked at them in that quiet, gentle way that no one would have expected from a man like him.

And they believed him, full stop.

So they sat and waited and waited. Television on mute and their eyes ahead but their mind elsewhere. On him. Their attention snapped to the doorway when it started to crack open and they shifted on the couch, breath held in their throat. Chest red with a ring in his hand, the only one that mattered to them, was Wardlow. Proud and beautiful and terrifying to probably anyone that wasn’t them.

“Done.”

Then he grinned, a little breathless, and they went to him. He dropped the ring to the ground and pressed into the room. Shut the door behind him as they stood in front of him and laughed a little at the way his hair sat lopsided on the top of his head. They reached up.

“So I see.”

They didn’t miss the way Wardlow’s eyes shut when they dragged their nails along his scalp to free his hair. He stepped closer to them and wrapped an arm around their lower back to tug them against him. Every moment they had to steal, every glance to assure the other when MJF settled on degrading them or the slightest touch to his arm to stop him from absolutely decimating Spears. It led to them there, his head tilted to look down at them and he made no attempt to hide the want in his expression.

The want to be free in so many damn ways. All the ways the two had talked about when the nights were quiet and they were finally alone. Answering to no one but each other. Or the want clearly pressed against them that made their skin catch on the heat of him.

“We shouldn’t,” they murmured to him as they settled their hands on his broad chest. Their actions betrayed their words as they pressed against him. He answered with a grunt and a flex of his arm. “Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.”

“I know,” Wardlow said as he carefully walked them back to one of the chairs. “We don’t have…”

He trailed, then turned to sit back heavily on the chair behind him. Dragged them onto his lap and settled his hands on their hips. Their forearms rested on his solid shoulders. He angled his head back to look at them and they gently twisted his soft hair between their fingers. The grip he held on them only increased and he brought them down flush against him. They lingered there for a moment, looking at each other with gradually heaving chests and neither was sure who said fuck it first but it didn’t matter.

Lips met, tongues clashed, and their hands slid under the straps of his singlet to tug them down. He pulled off their shirt in one motion, the warmth of his fingertips making their back arch as he pressed into their muscle. Their blunt nails made lines down his chest, his sides, and he huffed a pleased sound as he literally popped the button of their pants off. Nearly tore the zipper off too but he thought better of it. Before they could scold him, his palm slid down their abdomen and the words died out in their throat.

His beard scratched along their chest as he nipped and sucked their heated skin. They went with his touch readily, their hands anchored in his hair as their hips chased after what he readily offered them.

“Shit. We don’t have time but later,” Wardlow said as he took in a heavy breath moments later. Lifted his head up from their chest and pulled his hand out of their underwear. He dragged his thumb along their bottom lip and lingered there before he pulled them in for another kiss. It was almost rude, the efficient way he could take them apart and put them back together again. The insistence of his erection against them all but emptied their brain of rational thought and they ground against him, just as insistent. His tone dropped to a low, devastating growl that made them shudder against him as he rutted his hips against them. “Fuck, later.”

The pace changed, slipped towards the next gear, as they rutted against each other like teenagers with so much time in the world yet none at all. He pulled them tight against him, enveloped in his large arms as he did his damnedest to get them to that finish together as the clock ticked overhead. It was their moment but it wasn’t long enough yet it had to be and then he moaned into the frantic pulse in their neck, his hips no longer steady under them as every muscle in him went taut. They cradled his head against them and moaned low and quiet in their own chest, their thighs and calves pleasantly burning.

Wardlow’s arm tightened and loosened around them as he leaned back and let out a slow, barely controlled breath. Swept his hair back as he ran his hand down his face. Hazy eyes settled on him and they smirked as they teased their fingers down his abdomen, teased along the damp velvet. He hissed and caught their hand, pulled it up to drag his lips across the pulse in their wrist before he carefully stood them up.

“I hope you have another outfit in there.”

Wardlow raised a brow and chuckled, then slid off his singlet without breaking eye contact. Completely unashamed and bare to them as he opened the closet and pulled out a dark suit, a crisp white shirt. Their skin was never going to not be flushed around him and they busied themself with getting their own outfit in order. Sans button. They frowned.

“You owe me new pants,” they said and watched as he crossed over to them. They weren’t exactly small but when he stood behind them in the mirror, his silhouette enveloped them. “Are you ready?”

One hand settled around their shoulder and the other went to his pocket. Diamonds glittered in his palm as he held it out. In the reflection, their eyes met.

“For this?” He held their eyes pointedly, plenty said in the unsaid, then closed his fist around the ring. Shoved it back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. The hand on their shoulder drifted to trace the bump of their upper spine, his thumb a welcome pressure before he pulled away from them. “I’ve been ready.”

[dasomlimie]

mayhaps could you write some sanzu and rindou bf headcanons pls ur mitsuya one was so cute

%% SANZU AS YOUR BOYFRIEND #!/

character ; aged up!Sanzu Haruchiyo

a/n ; i only write one character for bf hc sorry ! in this hc Sanzu would be a normal person who leave his delinquent era, if we're talking about bonten!sanzu as your bf man i don't think it would be a healthy relationship 💀

sanzu as your boyfriend he would be that i hate everyone except you bf (?) or that soft bf you would die to protect him no in between OHHH OR THAT BF WHO IS VERY ELEGANT AND CALM BUT ACTUALLY A DORK

from how i see him, in the manga, ofc he's very loyal *cough*

in the beginning of your relationship, he would actually treat you like sort of royalty

and is not much a talker he love to listen more than talking so most of the times he would listen to your little rant with his closed eye smile

when he loosen up he would be a noisy boyfriend but in a good way like he open up to you telling you how was his day with Toman, how he dislike someone or something its actually very cute when he talk about something he dislike with that little frown and more can you imagine it? cuz i can

anyways you know how he always wear mask right? in the beginning of your relationship he would refuse to reveal his whole face you rarely see him without mask and sometimes he overthink what if one day you saw his scars and leave him

but when then when you accidentally walk into his room while he was not wearing mask he start panicking while you just stare then walk toward him cupping his face ignore all of his empty threat toward you

"woah is this how you look like without mask?" you said stare at him while he shut his eyes then feel you place a kiss on each of his scars, then he open his eyes, he noticed no sign of disgust nor any other negative emotion other than adoration he start to relax a smile appear on his face

"you're not disgusted?" he ask you frown heart a little hurt from his words "why would i be? you look absolutely stunning and beautiful and handsome with this scars damn you're even hotter with this scars" you gushes he giggle before shutting you up with his palm

HE HAVE THE PRETTIEST GIGGLE AND LAUGH EVER so its your goal to make him laugh :( because he rarely laugh even if you joke about something ( he only give you his closed eyes smile )

he's also very insecure of his scars so when you start praising and gushing how pretty his scars is he blush or have a smile on his face then shut you up when the compliment start to overwhelm him

he also let you braid his hair yk his hair is long right? he also didnt mind walking around with whatever hairstyle you made even with little butterfly clip and shinny clip he did not care if anyone dare to say anything he would beat them up yay!

date with him would either be a regular date or home date with both of you watching movie ( dont even ask this i feel like he prefer being indoor more than outdoor )

OHHHHH he let you dress him up in any type of clothes cuz Sanzu said "its just a clothes they doesn't have gender" yes Sanzu say it louder so the one at the back can hear you

anyways~~ he would also let you paint his nail only if you wear matching colour as him ( he didnt mind you paint his nail he just want to match with you tbh )

he's also the type that get you a matching bracelet and he would never take it off ever

he'll get sad when he saw you not wearing the bracelet but will never tell you he try to ignore it but end up asking you why you didn't wear it when you were cuddling

he's also very possessive, not in unhealthy way but in unhealthy way, he would always to tell anyone you're his and he's yours, either kissing you in public or have his hands around your waist or shoulder

he's just afraid you would leave him :( please reassure him you're not

anyways he's also be that type of boyfriend who get jealous easily but will never admit it but you'll always knew from how petty he is

"Haru are you jealous?"

"pfft no why in the hell i would be jealous?"

"then will you help me with this?"

"ask (random name) to help you"

"ok"

"wait no!-"

ok lets say the division captain, vice division captain, the president and vice president of Toman was very close with each other and have a scheduled hang out twice a month and they were allowed to bring their s/o

then when one of them *cough* Mucho ideas *cough* try to make him jealous just for fun and start taking your attention from him

then him noticed what they were doing and start bring you close to him glaring at them "she's mine dumbass find you own s/o" yk like that one horimiya scene this as preference how he and maybe Mikey or Baji or even Emma 'fight' over you

he love tickle fight!!! because he love to hear your laugh no matter how ugly you think your laugh is he would still think its beautiful

when cuddling he prefer being a small spoon but he didn't mind being a big spoon if you wanted him too but most of the time he want to be a small spoon because he love the feeling of feeling safe

what else let me think

oh he would be that type of boyfriend who bluntly turn anyone down or just ignore them if they tried to flirt with him then when he saw you he would have this adorable smile and jog toward you talking about how someone was annoying him *cough* that person who flirt with him *cough*

he would also be that type of boyfriend that need to touch you all the time when he's start to getting comfortable with you

his love languages are physical touch and act of service

he would be that yk type of boyfriend who literally drag you away from anywhere when he find put you overwork yourself like training or whatever you did because he doesn't want his precious s/o to get sick

speaking of getting sick he suprisingly have a low antibody (?) and always get sick especially during winter so he love it when you come over and take care of him

when holding hands he love to intertwine your hands together or holding one of your finger—like yk how babies hold your finger yeah that one idk how to explain— or both of you would link your pinkies together <33 so cute

love to have you on his lap while his head resting on your shoulder and both of his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder he didn't mind your size

i think he's secretly a sweet tooth but will never admit it—i just got the vibe from his hair colour—he love it when you bring sweet for him

!%! © HNEULWH— i did not allow my work to be used or adapted in any form without my permission !#//

[unhealthyfanobsession]

cassian, mor and nesta 🙃

Ohhhhh hunni. H U N N I. I really was being nice with my unpopular Mor opinion yesterday because a lot of my thoughts have been said but now the gloves are coming off.

I don’t even think this is that unpopular of an opinion but the vehemence with which I feel that Mor needs to absolutely fucking get her fucking ass the fuck out of Cassian and Nesta’s relationship is beyond caring about the rules.

Point the first, Ms. “My gift is truth” (whatever the fuck that means, it sure isn’t being HONEST WITH PEOPLE), 100% clocked Nessian mate bond in ACOMAF during the whole “I’ll die protecting your people Nesta” scene and basically spent the next several books not wanting Cassian to be with his mate because she was… “mean”.

Point the second, if I have to hear from one more damn anti about that F U C K I N G dress scene in ACOWAR I am going to LOSE MY MIND!!! People be going off saying Nesta’s a slut shamer (the same people who then one book later, yknow, slut shame Nesta for sleeping around despite the fact that Feysand is fucking in the sky and Cassian apparently used to screw people in back alleys behind Rita’s) when literally all she said was that she didn’t like Mor’s dress. They were literally joking about Mor tearing Nesta’s dress off of her while Mor was just grabbing at her.

Point the third, Mor is so “defensive” of Cassian, snapping at Nesta not to talk to him after he’s injured and trying to convince him to let her rot in ACOSF but as a WOMAN who spent the first 17 years of her life UNDER THE CONTROL OF MEN she is completely incapable of maybe seeing how Cassian purposefully goading Nesta, who is a new Fae and terrified that her sister has gone insane. Mor should have told Cassian to leave Nesta alone. Point blank. Yes I love the banter. Yes we all love to read Nessian rip into each other but you CAN NOT HAVE IT BOTH WAYS. Either it is unacceptable that Nesta is “rude” to Cassian (which btw he has NEVER complained about before ACOSF) or it is unacceptable that Cassian literally seeks Nesta out to rile her up because it’s fun.

Cassian is a big boy who likes to play with silver flames and that gets him burned.

Point the fourth, there is literally nothing more fucked up in the series than Mor wanting to throw Nesta in the CON/human lands/prison. As if these people have ANY leg to stand on judging someone for *checks notes* sleeping around, drinking too much, and gambling with Rhys’ money….

Those are literally the IC’s only pastimes.

Comparing Nesta spiraling to the people who PUT NAILS IN MOR’S STOMACH BECAUSE SHE HAD SEX IS ABSOLUTE INSANITY.

Also, a while back I wrote a one shot where Nesta DOES go to the Court of Nightmares and in that I talked about how fucked it is that the IC literally only cares about Velaris and how they think the CON is so horrific but then just… let’s all of the people there suffer??? Like yeah some people are bad but we are supposed to believe that every single person in the history of the CON is evil except for Mor???

And Yknow what I’m going to leave you all with a quote from the description of that one shot because it really sums up all of my feelings:

“How easily this inner circle dismissed people. Judged amd condemned and sentenced them without a second thought. As if shining golden hair and royal blood were required to be a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares. As if every mutilated female under this cauldron forsaken mountain did not dream of a better life. It was hard to look up at the stars and wish when one had never seen the night sky.”

(The one shot is on A03 and it’s called Nightmare Dressed Like a Daydream for anyone requiring some ANGST that was really my most snapped fanfic moment after that whole *ACOSF* thing happened.)

[lostkrbkaccount]

[Boys locker room]

Denki: woooaah Bakugo~

Baku: ugh what?

Denki: nice scratch marks you got on your back there, Kiri do that?

Baku: so what if he Did?

Denki: nothing, I just always thought you were the bottom..

Kiri: he is. *turns around* these are scratches are from sex. *turns back around* and Katsuki needs to cut his nails.

Denki: then-

Kiri: those are from my unbreakable form I scratch his back when he has an itch.

Baku: he's a saint

-------

Kiri: *scratching baku*

Baku: oh yeah- get in there! Just like that ohhhhh yeaaahhh- this is way better than any sex.

--------

Denki: damn it feels that good?

Baku: Eijiro.

Kiri: turn around Denki

Denki: okay? *turns*

Kiri: *scratches*

Denki: holy shit dude- ohhh my god! Fuck! This feels fucking amazing!

Baku: okay that's enough!

Kiri: *stops*

Denki: nonononono don't stooooop!

Baku: you wish you were me