#old thing but I never put it here and thought it was kinda beautiful

[egg-emperor]

Soft beams of light shine on Ivo's face from the setting sun as he looks down and smiles at me as we walk along the shore of his private sandy island, hand in hand. My heart races at his smile, his big warm hand in my own, his infectious giddiness and laughter. We reach our spot and watch the beautiful skies of hues of purple, orange, and red while sharing kisses under palm trees while the sun goes down. I make a promise that I'll always be here, we're in this together and we'll keep trying and fighting, we'll reach his goals together and all his dreams will come true someday. I vow that I'll do anything to make it happen for him

Cut to years in the future, a dark world with smog filled skies and dead land. Where the sun doesn't shine a day and everything is cold, dead, and mechanical but illuminated by the neon lights of dangerous theme park attractions and technology. Things have changed immensely, this world isn't the same colorful sunny one we met in and it's long gone now, I had to say goodbye to it and all its natural beauty and it was destroyed, polluted, and burned to nothing but ashes. But it's not the end because from those ashes rises a whole new world under the glorious Eggman Empire that grants whole new opportunities

Sacrifices had to be made, a lot was lost along the way. But that was the promise I made to do anything for him to make his dreams come true, so I accept and embrace it and let go of everything I once knew. I show him the deepest devotion by crawling through hell with him, willingly following him down the darkest paths, as long as it means getting to be by his side, I'll do it for him. I see all the darkest, scariest, most vulnerable parts of him and love him all the same, maybe only even more as I get to know him so intimately inside and out. It only makes the bond grow stronger

They say the sun will never be seen again as the thick dark clouds and smog block out all rays but I still see the bright sunlight every time he smiles. At night all the stars have faded away from pollution but the biggest, most beautiful, and special of them all still remains; Ivo. I've given him the sun, moon, and pulled all the stars from the sky to make his dreams come true. But I don't need to miss them because I still see them all in him. It's not all dark and grim as others see it to me, he brings a brightness and excitement even greater than the pretty lights and thrills of his crazy theme park attractions, as fun and beautiful as they are too

Nothing of the old world is the same except for us. I was hurt, broken down, and struggled along the way but stayed as determined as my master and kept fighting. We're in this together, we said to each other, and I held on to him through it all. Even after everything, he holds out his hand to me and I take it. We stand high above at the tallest tower of the city, he looks down at it all with his theme park, bases, factories, and all kinds of other Eggman-made creations with great pride swelling in his chest. He turns to me, gives me the widest brightest smile I've ever seen from him and says "It's finally all mine. Isn't it so beautiful?"

It was worth it all for that smile.

"It is so beautiful, but you're even more beautiful," I say as I admire the beauty of the new powerful handsome emperor, feeling so lucky to be at his side, though never worthy. That makes him chuckle as he ruffles my hair and says "I know I am!" Despite the darkest times, the challenges, and all the sacrifices I made to get here, Ivo finally claiming his sweet victory and making all his dreams come true in conquering the world, and my dream of seeing his eternal happiness, excitement, and pride made it all worthwhile. This is just the beginning of the rise of the glorious Eggman Empire and I'm so happy to spend this life with him 💜

[sexlapis]

# SALT AND PEPPER (but mostly salt)

ᝰ.ᐟ nanami x gn!reader

mini fic, fluff, suggestive, aging, reader and nanami are married, reader is a silver fox!

⤷ nanami was prepared for a lot of things when it came to getting older. what he wasn’t prepared for, was how hot his spouse would get…

a/n: thinking about how much i love grey/white/silver hair on a woman or man……..sorry….

masterlists

*

with growing up, getting old and becoming more seasoned, there came many life changes.

health scares, career adjustments, new found gratitude for the most simplest of things and for some reason, a sudden influx of more bills when you get a raise…and you are always due for an eye appointment.

but one thing that has changed is…you.

more specifically, how sexier you’ve become.

now, don’t nanami wrong, he has always found you sexy, beautiful, cute, attractive, pretty, all of the words underneath the sun.

a few years earlier is when he realised it.

the new, grey hairs peaking at your temples.

they were thin and hardly noticeable to an outsider. but nanami noticed everything about you.

he mentioned it one morning.

“do you know your greys are coming in?”

“ugh, i know.” you touch you temples, feeling where they are, like grey hairs felt different somehow. “you can’t really see them now, but i’ll have to dye them in, like, four years or something.”

“…or you could just…let them grow out…?”

you snort. “yeah, right. why don’t i bleach my eyebrows next?”

you leave it at that, and so does nanami and the discussion of your hair is put to an end.

until a few years later.

as of now, the hair of your head is a light grey colour, with slivers of silver and white that beamed, especially highlighted when you are underneath the sun.

your face has changed too.

crows feet now wrinkled the corners of your eyes, smile lines framed your lips, the dips of your jowls now replaced your streamlined jaw and darker, freckled spots were sprinkled over your cheeks and nose.

and, my gosh, did it drive nanami crazy.

the way the experience of life now appeared on your face, you body, your hands and your hair made him more attracted to you. more than he even thought he could be.

and that says a lot.

“your hair.” he starts. you both sit at the breakfast table, a newspaper in nanami’s hand and a cup in yours. “your hair is nice.”

“really?” you ask, surprised and slightly incredulous. you reach your hand up and ruffle your hair. “you know, i was thinking of dyeing it back-“”

“don’t dye it…please. never dye it.”

“oh? nanami…” you smirk at him. “do you think i’m a … fox?”

“you’re the sexiest fox i’ve ever seen, sweetheart.”

“it sounds kinda weird when you say it like that, but i’ll take it!”

nanami chuckles and shakes his head. he stares at you for a moment before speaking. “come here.” he pats his lap.

you place your cup down, strolling to where he sits and plopping yourself onto his lap.

his hands wrap around your hips and yours his neck.

“you’re growing up so wonderfully, baby.” he kisses your jaw. “being old suits you.”

you giggle. “you too, kenny.”

you don’t think he believes you based on the shake of his head, but you know that you’re correct and that’s all that matters.

after a few minutes of peaceful silence, you decide to break it.

“…so,” you sigh, resting you cheek on nanami’s shoulder, “you know how you like my new sexy silver fox hair?”

“yes?” nanami responds, grinning.

“how about we grow you a beard, nanami kento?”

“…”

a/n: short n sweet <3

[junkpuppet225]

note: Well well well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions. This one’s not smutty and it’s kinda messed up really. Super short and quick and barely proof read. Enjoy.

Consequences

Daryl looks up at you from his motorcycle slowly, a sly grin spreading across his handsome face as he tosses his rag to the work bench and stands to his full height as you make your way across the narrow room. He has that look on his face - the one you’ve seen a hundred times a hundred different ways over the past few months as you watch his eyes fall to the bench.

He’s not thinking about the tools in his line of sight or the man that gifted them to him along with the bike but the night you showed up out here wearing that pale blue sun dress Rosita found in the back of her closet. He had stalked you like a predator, pulling you into his arms and kissing you until you didn’t give a fuck who or what stumbled into the garage.

Tonight you stop a foot away from him trying to collect the right words but his gaze is far away, remembering the sound of tools clattering to the ground as he laid you back on that work bench and buried his face between your legs.

“Daryl?”

He doesn’t notice how bad you’re shaking until you’re almost in front of him with tears in your eyes, one hand closed in an impossible grip - the other placed against your chest trying to steady your racing heart. It felt like you were cracked open, the ache inside of you so strong you’re not even sure how you willed your feet to get this far.

The air rushes from Daryl’s throat as he finally sees you. You look like you’re dying inside. “What’s wrong?” He looks behind you to the silent and empty street before rounding the bench and placing his hands on your trembling arms. “Are you okay?”

You want to remember him like this, in his dark t-shirt - his hair falling into his ocean eyes. He really is beautiful, even when he narrows those eyes and tells you to fuck off every time you mention it to him. He’s going to leave because he doesn’t want this - how could he possibly want this when he can barely stand to be behind these walls as it is?

I ain’t no family man. The fuck kind of dad could I ever be? All mine taught me was how to take an ass beatin’.

“Hey? Talk to me girl, yer scarin’ me.” His hands are in your hair now, eyes desperate and searching as you take in a shaky breath. The muscles in your clenched hand ache all the way to your elbow as you hold onto the pregnancy test in your grip, knuckles white as Daryl lets his gaze fall between you - his back going rigid.

“What the fuck is that?”

He knew what it was - he wasn’t stupid but all rational thought was slipping away as he gaped at the device in your hand. This couldn’t be fucking happening. Not that he’d done anything to prevent it - not like he had one ounce of will power when it came to you and you’re perfect fucking pussy that gripped him like a goddamn vice. A groan rushed from his throat as he took a step back and put the work bench between the two of you.

“Daryl, I’m…”

“You have to get rid of it.”

He couldn’t look at you. His heart couldn’t take the pain that washed over you from his words but you couldn’t have his baby. The last thing this fucked up world needed was another Dixon in it or another dad like he had.

“Please don’t say that.” He’d never heard your voice so small before, forcing himself to look at you as he stood with his arms on the bench gripping the splintering wood with his shoulders bent in defeat. “Ya can’t bring a baby into this world, Y/N.” Not his baby. White hot fear was licking at his insides - bringing bile to his throat at the thought of having a son or daughter and being just like his old man. Daryl’s eyes closed tight as memories of his childhood played back like a horror movie in his head.

“Lori did.”

“Yeah? Look where the fuck that got her!”

The next thing you know a wrench is flying across the garage then his bike is on its side as he kicks it to the ground, raking his hands into his hair. “Fucking get rid of it Y/N.” Daryl demands - voice cracking with the hollow words as you stand before him in shock - silent tears rolling down your cheeks as he returns to his position at the work bench, head hanging as his own grief consumes him.

He loves you - with every fucking part of himself but this is one thing he won’t allow. If what happened to Lori would happen to you his life would be over and he’s too selfish to risk that. To fucked up to risk becoming his father.

It feels like years have passed as you both stand in silence, one a complete stone void of any emotion and the other a trembling mess of despair. When Daryl finally looks up at you, silently pleading you let the pregnancy test fall to the ground and turn on your heels - leaving as quickly as you came without another word. He stands at that bench, the one that gave him such fond memories until everything aches inside of him then he goes to the small white device on the ground and kneels, picking it up to inspect the two pink lines staring back at him.

[arminsumi]

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[pinkydoggy83]

SPOILERS FOR THE DOGMAN BOOKS! HIGHLY ENCOURAGE READING THEM! THEY ARE SO CHARMING!

With that out of the way, I just wanna rant because I picked up the series again. I wanted to read it before watching the upcoming movie. Think of this as a Dog Man appreciation post <3

I stopped reading the series at "Lord of the Fleas" in elementary, so I started my binge read there.

I honestly wish I had never stopped reading so soon because this book is already a banger. I just love the way Petey is slowly accepting Li'l Petey as his son. Even without realizing it, he has grown so attached to his son and cares so much about him. Like, come on, that's hecken sweet.

Not only that, but I wanna mention George and Harold (I also used to read Captain Underpants back in the day). Back then I thought it was cool that it established that they were now fifth graders and were creating Dog Man as their next story after Captain Underpants. Now that I'm older, I feel this fuzzy feeling watching these goofy fifth graders try to be "mature" and in turn try to add some mature themes into Dog Man.

I find that really sweet and amazing! You really don't often see fictional authors of a story grow up like this. The authors themselves are characters. It's one of the most special things about this franchise. I really do appreciate this detail a lot more now. You get to grow up with them…or, I suppose, see them grow up. And in turn you see how the series changes!

The next book has a lot about Petey and Li'l Petey, but I want to cover this Dog Man part before talking about the cats.

Yeah, it's pretty strange to rationally realize that Dog Man is just a normal dude's body with a dog head. So in that way, Dog Man is a bit of an outcast (I can definitely use this for my own character exploration of Dog Man in a hypothetical fanfic). But the words used against Dog Man is"misfit," which I found interesting. Obviously, they are not outcasting him for his looks (that's not the main focus) but how he can't behave like he's expected to.

Dog Man isn't the most perfect hero. He can be clumsy, and his canine instincts can get in the way. It wouldn't be such a problem for him as a dog; however, he's not just a dog. He's a dog with human responsibilities. He's been given expectation ever since becoming Dog Man.

Don't get me started with the whole angst of his owner dying because that's already so much...but you have to realize that he's taking over Knight's job. Which the idea is hecken mind-boggling!

The thing that makes Dog Man overcome these problems is his golden heart. In the end, Dog Man wants to do the right thing and save the day. That's just Dog Man for ya. That's what makes him so much like a dog and a man.

I'm really overreading this all, but I love this idea for Dog Man. It's kinda hard to put it into words, but I hope this all makes sense.

OOOH BOY! This scene actually made me stop and put my phone down.

The sweet, sincere words of Li'l Petey as it sinks into Petey while Grandpa is just breaking stuff in the background. Guys. I wasn't expecting this from Dog Man. I was so shocked reading this part. Like you can see how much Petey loves Li'l Petey but has such a hard time seeing the world like his son does. Which, by the way, is literally his clone, so it's like him arguing with his inner child. That single hug speaks so many words. Petey just wants to protect him.

I love their dynamic so much. You got this old, disheveled cat who became realistic about the world in a sad way, and this young, wide-eyed, optimistic cat who has so much to learn about... but at the same time can teach so much. That's beautiful, man. That's beautiful.

Anyways, there's so much to talk about Dog Man (that's just how fantastic the books are), but I think I'll just end the post here for now. I'm still busy catching up, so maybe I'll share again. I'm just so glad I came back to this series again <3

[spideyson-stuff]

Hey, a small addition to "those scenes where a character almost dies and the other one goes to him and starts crying and hitting him lightly saying that he thought he had died" shit

Tony doesn't think Peter would care if he died because it happens all the time, but Peter is worried simply because he KNOWS there's nothing he can do to save Tony from death

Not because he knows it's necessary, but because he knows Tony has this stupid habit of putting himself in danger without having a plan, Tony for some reason thinks this is super different from the concern he has for Peter until one day he comes home with several scratches and battle marks, only to find Peter yelling at him about how he was reckless and a damn hypocrite for it

Tony is so confused because, "I'm the adult in the situation, why is HE worried?" until he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he means as much to Peter as Peter means to him, then suddenly the weight of all the suicide missions he has ever done falls on his shoulders and he remembers that, possibly all the fears and concerns he has about Peter during the missions, Peter has also felt for him too

Maybe even worse because with all his heightened senses and weird hormones from his spider mutation, everything is always working at 100%, and for the first time in years, Tony knows he was a hypocritical to a person he swore he would never make that mistake with, maybe it's time for them to have a LONG and HONEST conversation about this before one of them dies without properly apologizing

Okay, that was a la kinda of a lot-

A little dialogue just so you all don't kill me-

Peter, punching Tony in the chest and burying his head in his chest: Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!

Tony: Oh oh buddy, take a look at that tongue, if Cap hears you he'll think I'm influencing you badly

Peter, still punching Tony in the chest: I was so worried! Listen here old man, if you even dare to die I am learning black magic just to bring you back and kill you again!

Tony, a little worried because he knows how easy it is for Perer to learn things: owww, how beautiful, my pupil finally learned how to threaten people! haha..

Tony:...You wouldn't do that anyway, would you?...

Peter, stopping punching Tony and starting to hug him tightly: Don't test me...

Tony: Puff, you're really a box of mysteries kid

*Tony kisses Peter on the forehead*

Peter: UH!? you almost give me a heart attack and this is the apology!?

Tony: Hey hey hey, heart problems are MY THING Pete, don't steal that from me!

Peter, rolling his eyes: Why do I even care?

Peter lets go of Tony and starts walking away.

Tony: Uh, w-wait- PETER COME BACK HERE-

[luvyuuma]

first of all welcome !! I love to see new writers on here (esp for &team!! and who are fellow 05s yesyes)

So about the prompts... 🤭🤭 K with "my family was never the touchy-feely type" 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ cause my family was, in deed, never the touchy-feely type saur...

either way lots of love and can't wait to read what you put out have a lovely day 💗

AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank u smm love FELLOW 05 CAUGHTTT! but GIRL i totally relate with what u been thruuu, so i put my whole badussy into it. hope it's up to your standard!! have an amazing day tew <3

SYNOPSIS / kei is a loving boyfriend who knows all the ways to make his partner feel cherished—except one. What happens when he confronts you as to why you're physically distant and you have to open up old wounds in order to heal?

TW / kinda angsty youch, cute ending, talks about family being physically distant and it following reader into future

WC / 1.5k words

PAIRING / k x gn!reader

touch-starved &team prompt list

K + “my family was never the touchy-feely type”

Love languages are Kei’s favourite part of being in a relationship. It’s a roadmap to making you feel seen, understood, and cared for. 

When he hears his mutuals complain about their fights with their girlfriends, he confidently advices them. For example, he once told a friend, “Well, maybe you’re not giving her enough words of affirmations. I’d be pretty angry too if you didn’t tell me I looked good when I went out with my friends.” 

Or he’ll drop a, “Ooh, can’t relate, bud. My girl and I are not like that.”

The things he does for you—well, it’s safe to say that if you ever broke up with Koga Yudai, you don’t think you can find something better than this. Does it get better than this?

It’s even better because he enjoys doing these things and is willing to do these things just to see a smile on your face. It makes his entire day.

Kei has it all thought out.

Words of affirmation: I love you, you look beautiful, I like the way you handled that, you’re so cute when you get excited

Acts of service: Cooking you food, driving you to and from work, forcing you into a jacket when he knows it’s too cold outside and you don’t know any better

Gift-giving: This is easy. Anything you lay your eyes on, it’s yours.

Quality time: Date nights, chill at one of your houses, anywhere you can fit in time to be together—but the quality matters more than the quantity. Every relationship must have distance for it to operate smoothly.

Physical touch: . . .

Well, he hugs you when he sees you, but that’s only for a second.

You kissed, well, a week ago, it must be. It was brief though and you pulled out right after to go do something else

Hand-holding? Your hands are always in your pocket.

An arm around the shoulder? He doesn’t bother.

You are the person of his dreams, the ideation of everything he’s ever wanted. So, why were you so withdrawn from him physically? He’s doing these other parts but it seems like he’s lacking here. In a way, it feels like you’re isolating him, rejecting him.

I mean, don’t get Kei wrong. 

Kei loves you and he knows you love him, but he wonders why you never initiate anything with him. 

Back when you were friends, Kei noticed that you were also reserved physically. He didn’t think of it much. You were just friends. But now, you’ve been dating for a few months and the distance has only closed by a little.

The last thing he wants to do is assume anything.

There must be a reason as to why you’re like this.

He needs to know if you’re okay.

So, when you’re watching a movie with him at his place, sitting on different couches, he watches you silently instead of the movie. 

You’re beautiful. Naturally kind, introspective and there are so many thoughts flying in different colours in that brain of yours. He wants to submerge himself deep into it.

Kei doesn’t know how to.

It’s a wall too high to climb. 

Instead, he watches you.

You notice quickly, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Nothing. You just look so pretty,” Kei replies, eyes darting down to your lips and then, your eyes.

You shyly smile, rolling your eyes to the movie, “Shut it. Watch the movie.”

“No, I can’t. Unless you give me a hug first,” Kei chuckles.

He reaches his long arms out. 

You stare at them, confused for a second. Then, you realise what he wanted you to do. You scoot into his arms and let him hug you. You just stayed still and let him do what he needs to, unsure of where to put your hands and all. 

It did feel nice though. A warmth you weren’t used to.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

You give an affirming nod.

“I notice we don’t do this very often,” Kei begins slowly, running a hand up and down your back. “Is there a reason?”

The question wakes you up and you pull back immediately. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “What do you mean?”

He looks at the TV for a second, clearly pondering something. He reaches for the remote and switches the TV off. 

This was going in a direction you didn’t want it to. Although, you’d admit that you were waiting for this to happen for quite a while now. You weren’t pushing Kei away for no reason.

You just didn’t know how to tell him.

The natural defensive mechanism also swooped in to make things harder.

Kei smiles at you, despite that, “We don’t really act like a normal couple when it comes to physical touch. I just wondered if I did anything wrong or if there’s something you’re not happy with in the relationship.”

The guilt eats you alive.

You look to the side.

Honestly, you didn’t think this problem would follow you into your adult life. It was normal in your childhood, not to be kissed or hugged by your parents. There was no one to hold your hand and speak to you softly. Throw you into the sky and catch you in their big arms.

When you started dating Kei, he was the complete opposite. He wanted to touch you, give you kisses and hugs and do so much for you that you could barely process it. 

Inside, you’d built a cage around your heart that no one could break into. 

Looking at Kei now, that cage was slowly breaking away.

You didn’t want him to think it was his fault you were the way you were.

“It’s not you,” you say, shaking your head vigorously.

He popped his head to the side, confused.

Every lingering look, every wonder, every rejected look he gives when you pulled away—you knew what it was, but too express it was another thing. To be asked about it now meant that the cat was out of the bag.  

You might as well tell him.

“Here’s the thing,” you begin, pulling your sleeves down to cover your hands. You felt too seen right now, “When I was younger, my parents or any adult hadn’t really given me physical affection. My family was never the touchy-feely type, you know? I’m just not used to it. I’m sorry, I really didn’t want it to get in between us but it already has.”

Whatever Kei was expecting, it wasn’t that.

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I want to. I really do. But I don’t know how to act when you…” you look up at him, the vision in front of you blurring from the water building up in your eyes, “touch me.”

Kei purses his lips. 

You know he’s thinking a billion different things.

Handling something like this must’ve been hard from a young age. For it to follow you and haunt you in your adulthood. 

Kei doesn’t want you to handle it alone though. He wants to be there with you, every step of the way.

The only way to do that was, well, touch.

“Come here, baby,” he says, reaching out to you. 

The tears come out in tenfold as you fall into his arms. He pulls you close to the warmth of his body, putting you in a place where only the two of you exist. He surrounds you with the scent of him.

God, he feels like a fool for not knowing any better.

You had never talked about your childhood in great depths. 

“I’m sorry, I’m such a mess,” you say, placing your chin on his shoulder.

“No, no. Not at all,” he says, rubbing your back. “We’re gonna get through this together, alright?”

“Yes, we are,” you reply. You pull back slightly from the hug and hesitantly, swipe the hair from his face to see his eyes entirely. He stills at the touch, “I’ve wanted to see your eyes close up for the longest time.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“Very,” you nod and laugh at him.

He laughs too, caressing the small of your back, “You can do it anytime. I’ll let you.”

“What would I do without you?” you ask, with a deep sigh. “I really do love you.”

“I love you more.”

You didn’t have the best home life. But nothing felt more like home than Kei’s arms.

[admiringlove]

promise. woah. i never thought i'd be putting out works so quickly again, but here we are. back to back, for @angstober. anyway. here is the third angsty fic in this little thing i'm doing. hope you all like it! event masterlist can be found here.

“what do you want to wish for?”

oikawa tōru asked, his voice a soft whisper against the night sky as the two of you sprawled out on the rooftop of your home. it felt like a scene pulled from a dream, the kind of adventure only found in childhood fantasies. giggles bubbled from your lips as you had climbed out of your window, heart racing with the thrill of rebellion, helping him scale the side of your house like an agile cat burglar.

the world below was muted, but up here, the stars seemed to dance, twinkling brightly as if they were in on your secret. you both lay there, side by side, under the vast expanse of night, the air filled with the sweet scent of freedom. though the sky was an infinite canvas of beauty, your gaze was drawn to oikawa’s moonlit features—his hair shimmering like stardust, his smile a beacon of warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

“i don’t know. maybe… being friends with you forever?” you replied, the words tumbling out in a rush, your voice bubbling with innocent delight. “this is kinda fun! i want to do things like this all the time for my whole life.”

you giggled, feeling like a child again, wide-eyed and wonderstruck at twelve years old. oikawa grinned at you, that infectious smile that had the power to light up the darkest of nights. he had promised you then, with all the certainty of youth, that he would always be by your side. that nothing would ever change between the two of you, that your bond would remain untouched by the swirling chaos of the world.

in that moment, nestled under the cosmos, everything felt perfect. like the stars had conspired to grant your wish, sealing it in the universe's embrace as you both lay there, suspended in time.

but as the seasons turned, so did everything else. you grew older, and with that maturity came the inevitability of change. oikawa tōru, your childhood companion, blossomed under the weight of ambition, his dreams stretching far beyond the horizons you once shared. alongside his aspirations, his ego swelled, filling every space between you with a shadow of what once was.

he broke his promise a total of five times—each one a quiet dagger to your heart. five moments that etched themselves into your memory, forever lingering like echoes of laughter on a summer breeze.

the first promise shattered like glass was the one where he vowed to always stick by your side. you never imagined that the flickering flame of fame would ignite a fire so fierce it would consume him whole. oikawa was yours; he was your tōru, the boy who knew his limits and cherished the bond you shared. but the allure of the spotlight was intoxicating, and soon it became clear that he loved the limelight more than he loved the friendship you had built.

you had always envisioned him as a star, but this was a different kind of brightness—a dazzling glow that captivated all, leaving you standing in the shadows. the ooh's and aah's of admirers surrounded him like a halo, and while it stung at first, you learned to tolerate it, just as iwaizumi had. after all, the two of you loved oikawa in your own ways, even if those affections took different forms.

you loved him with a quiet intensity, a flame that flickered softly in the background, while iwaizumi’s was a roaring fire of loyalty and friendship. yet, it still hurt to watch the setter receive countless confessions, to see him chase fleeting romances with girls whose names you struggled to remember. each time he embraced someone new, you felt a pang of loss, but you buried that pain deep within, telling yourself that his life was his own. you had no rights over him, no claim on the heart that seemed to drift further away with each passing day.

in those moments, you stood on the sidelines, a spectator to a performance that was supposed to include you but had become a solo act. it was a bittersweet reality, one that twisted your insides with every laugh he shared with someone else, every moment that felt just out of reach.

“you know he’s a little slow on the uptake, right? he’s not the brightest when it comes to feelings. you’ll be fine, don’t worry,” iwaizumi often reassured you, trying to soften the blow. but deep down, both of you knew the truth: the great oikawa tōru would never see you the way you saw him.

the second promise he broke was to always remember you. once high school began, oikawa seemed to forget you, as if you had become invisible. even though you’d carved out a place in his life, it felt like you were no longer a priority. being the manager of his volleyball club wasn’t enough; you needed him to be as present in your life as he was in your thoughts.

he forgot you time and again. plans to meet at the local diner vanished as he canceled for a date with someone else. those fleeting encounters always ended in disappointment for him, as the demands of volleyball crushed any chance of a real relationship. even simple invitations to hang out with friends were brushed aside in favor of practice.

it was like this with him. distance that you loathed and his presence that you loved. someone who had become unreachable so slowly, it felt like poison flooding your veins and oxygen healing your mind at the same time.

"you love oikawa, don’t you?" mattsun’s voice broke through the chatter one day as the three of you walked behind the rest of the group. your heart raced, eyes widening as you grabbed his tricep tightly, whispering urgently, “don’t say it out loud! what if someone hears?”

“dude, everybody knows,” hanamaki chimed in with a laugh, “it’s just oikawa who’s clueless.”

the revelation lingered in your mind for days. was your affection for tōru really that transparent, so obvious that the whole world could see it—except him? the thought weighed heavily on you. did he purposely ignore the signs, or was he genuinely too dense to notice? it was a confusing puzzle you couldn’t seem to solve, even after turning it over in your mind countless times.

the third promise he broke to you was the one that stung the most: that he would always make time for you. as the weeks turned into months, you noticed how his busy schedule seemed to consume him, leaving little room for your friendship. he used to carve out moments for you, laughing and sharing secrets, but those moments had dwindled to almost nothing. still, you clung to the hope that he would realize how much you meant to him and return to your side.

the relentless teasing from makki and mattsun didn’t help either. their playful jabs seemed to dig deeper, amplifying the distance between you and oikawa. it was clear that their antics only annoyed him more, and each laugh felt like a fresh reminder of how things used to be.

you found yourself questioning where everything had gone wrong. you replayed every interaction in your mind, convinced that you had done everything right. you had been the dutiful friend, standing by him during his insecurities, especially when he struggled with that junior a few years back. you had supported him through thick and thin, cheering him on during his victories and comforting him during his defeats. so why was this bitterness directed solely at you? the confusion and hurt gnawed at you, leaving you feeling like a ghost in a friendship that once felt so vibrant and alive.

the fourth was that you would be important to him, always.

you felt as if you had faded into the background, no longer even a side character in the unfolding story of his life. gone were the moments when he would light up at the sight of you; now, he barely spared you a glance. sometimes, during practice, he might meet your eyes for a fleeting second when you called out corrections or offered advice to the team. other times, when you passed out water bottles, his hand would brush against yours for a split second before he flinched away, as if your touch were something toxic.

the realization hit hard: you must have done something wrong, but the weight of that unknown burden only deepened your confusion. what had changed? what had driven a wedge between you?

when you confided in mattsun about oikawa's reaction, he refused to believe you. makki simply laughed, teasing you for being "delusional," as if your feelings were unfounded. but you knew what you saw—how oikawa's face had briefly twisted in disgust before he pulled his hand away. it felt like a betrayal, like a silent confirmation of everything you feared.

that’s when makki devised a plan to lock you in the broom closet with oikawa, insisting it would clear the air between you two. you warned them against it, certain that oikawa would be furious, but their laughter drowned out your concerns.

the next day, as you were putting away cleaning supplies, tōru's voice suddenly broke through the mundane silence behind you. “makki said you wanted to speak to me about something- hey! open the goddamn door!” his voice boomed, frustration evident in every syllable as he pounded his fist against the wood.

your heart raced as you stood there, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing in a mix of panic and disbelief. finally, you managed to reply, “they did this on purpose. just let it be. mattsun will open the door in a bit.” your voice was barely a whisper, uncertainty coursing through you as the reality of the situation settled in.

“but why? this is just stupid and annoying, and i really don’t want to be here. i have to be somewhere right now,” he complained, groaning as he slid down the wall and settled onto the floor. the weight of his irritation hung heavily in the air, making it hard to breathe.

you stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. biting your lip, you mustered the courage to ask, “do you hate me?”

“what?” oikawa blinked in surprise, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “the heck does that mean?”

“it’s a simple question,” you pressed, determination lacing your words. “do you hate me?”

“no?” he replied, shrugging as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “i don’t think of you enough to feel anything.”

the bluntness of his words hit you like a physical blow. it stung more than you’d anticipated, a sharp pang of hurt that settled deep in your chest. in that moment, you realized the days when he would boast about being your best friend—someone who understood every nook and cranny of your life—were truly over.

here you were, still gazing at him with the belief that he held the strings that commanded the universe, while he seemed to regard you as an afterthought. you felt invisible, like a ghost haunting the periphery of his life, and the realization that he didn’t spare you a single thought throughout his day crushed your spirit.

“right,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips. “sorry I asked.”

he shrugged, nonchalant, and you called out, “mattsun? open the door, please?”

the door swung open immediately, and you heard the thudding footsteps of your friends dashing away, eager to avoid oikawa’s wrath. stepping out of the broom closet, you felt a heavy weight settle on your chest, and you walked away before he could say anything, needing space to breathe.

maybe makki was right. maybe you were delusional.

the fifth and final promise—or perhaps lie—was that he would always be by your side and never hurt you, no matter what.

now, here you were, standing behind him in the gym after they had lost to karasuno. oikawa kept serving the ball over and over, pretending to receive it again and again until he could finally get it right. he couldn’t understand what he did wrong, and the tension hung thick in the air. iwaizumi was there with you, attempting to coax the setter into stopping, but nothing worked. all you could do was watch as he spiraled into frustration, destroying himself with each failed attempt, wracked with the belief that he wasn’t trying hard enough—that he wasn’t good enough.

“oikawa, that’s enough!” you called, stepping toward him and grabbing his arm gently. “come on, let’s go home. it’s dark out-”

“let go of me!” he shouted, jerking his arm away. in his sudden movement, he lost his balance and fell hard onto the gym floor. a yelp escaped his lips, and without a second thought, you crouched down to his level, instinctively reaching out to help him.

“are you okay? come on, let’s get to the nurse’s office. they probably still have some medicine or sprays-”

“i don’t need you parading over me like a fucking basket case!” he yelled, the frustration spilling over in his voice. “i’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. i’m not a loser!”

“oi, watch it,” iwaizumi’s voice cut through the tension, firm yet concerned. “be glad someone’s still trying to help you.”

“well, i hate them! i hate them for pitying me, and i hate them for sticking around in my life like a fucking housefly!” he snapped, gritting his teeth as he struggled to stand. you knew he had likely sprained his knee in the fall, and you reached out, grabbing his shoulder to steady him as he wobbled. your lips pressed into a thin line, resolute but unreadable.

“let’s go to the nurse’s office,” you said, your voice devoid of any emotion. iwaizumi stepped closer, ready to take your place, but you shook your head.

“i got this. don’t worry. you pack up; I’ll get his knee wrapped and go home.”

the resolve in your voice echoed in the gym, a quiet determination amid the chaos surrounding you. oikawa stared at you, uncertainty flickering across his features, but you knew you couldn’t let him fall apart. not now.

you walked alongside him, your grip tightening around his arm whenever he faltered, fighting to maintain his balance. as you reached the nurse's office, you pushed the door open, the quiet space greeting you with a sense of foreboding. you knew the room would be empty at this hour, so you guided oikawa to sit on one of the beds, his weight leaning heavily against you.

you stepped toward the cabinet, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached up to retrieve the relief sprays and bandages. when you turned back, you found oikawa staring at you, disbelief etched across his features as you approached. slowly, you knelt before him, examining his knee, which was already starting to bruise ominously.

“why are you doing this? i just said i hate you,” he muttered, his voice wavering. you didn’t reply, keeping your lips pressed together in a straight line as you focused on the ugly discoloration forming on his skin. gently, you sprayed the cooling relief over the bruise, and he flinched at the sensation, a wince crossing his face.

the silence in the room felt unbearable, an agonizing pause hanging between you like a chasm. finally, you whispered, “i’ll bandage you up, and then iwa-san will take you home.”

“say something!” he snapped, his voice piercing through the stillness and making you clench your jaw. you finally met his gaze, frustration bubbling to the surface. “what the hell do you even want me to say? you don’t have enough time in your day to think of me while i was in love with you all along! and now i’ve just found out you hate me when i don’t even know what the fuck i’ve done. so pray tell, what exactly do you want me to say to you? what do you think is left?”

he blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, before mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. irritation flared within you, and you raised an eyebrow. “hello? i don’t have superhuman hearing. you’re going to have to speak up if you want me to hear what you have to say.”

“i thought you were different!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the small room. the force of his words caught you off guard, and you blinked in surprise. before you could respond, he continued. “i thought our relationship would stay the same, but you started liking me like everyone else. i thought you weren’t any different.”

“you’re a dumb fucking idiot,” you retorted, stepping back from him, your heart racing. incredulous laughter bubbled up from your chest, a mix of disbelief and anger. “are you serious? you made me think you hated me just because i fell in love with you? oikawa, what is wrong with you?”

“i don’t know, i just—”

“did you ever stop and think about the fact that i never did anything about my feelings because i respected your goals in life?” you challenged, your eyes narrowing. your frustration turned into sharp words. “did you ever use your brain? or do you only pretend to have one in front of other people?”

he blinked at you, the realization dawning on his face as he struggled to formulate an apology. but you shook your head, cutting him off. “save it. i’m done with you. and i’m done with this stupid club. i quit.”

you walk toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last, as if the weight of your emotions is anchoring you down. for a fleeting moment, a part of you wishes he would call out to you, that the twelve-year-old boy who once convinced you to climb onto your roof to stargaze would surface again, pleading for you to stay. but that part of him is gone, replaced by the distance that has grown between you.

you pause briefly at the entrance, your hand lingering on the doorknob. a sigh escapes your lips, a mix of relief and sorrow, before you finally push the door open and step into the hallway. the quiet thud of the door closing behind you resonates in the stillness, a finality that feels like an unspoken farewell.

as you walk away, the realization sinks in: oikawa tōru was never yours to begin with. he was a comet streaking across the sky, brilliant and untouchable, while you were left on the ground, staring up at him in awe, wishing for a connection that was never meant to be.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[mirixmoya]

my initial first-read thoughts for SOTR PART II: THE RASCAL there will be MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut but pls enjoy :)

chapter 10;

fake louella is so interesting, i'm excited to see where this plot point goes

"and someone's definitely rapping at my chamber door." we are 2 for 2 on The Raven references that's wild

"what breaks a machine?" "time." and the machine in question is the Capitol itself suzanne u kinda ate w that.

chapter 11;

whatever u do don't think about haymitch and burdock sneaking into victors' village to admire the luxury of the houses only for haymitch (and burdock's daughter) to spend great portions of their lives trapped in those houses drowning in their luxury

beetee entrusting this complicated ass plan to a 16 year old is crazy work bro

maysilee trying not to giggle at haymitch's singing... her and effie would be best friends i fear

haymitch picking up the word aphorism from snow immediately and using it himself ohhhh my sweet clever boy :(

chapter 12;

ceasar flickerman mention thank u jesus

guys... guys i'm not even joking i read the words "big, big, big day" and i burst into tears #normal

chapter 13;

ITS REAL ITS REALLY HER HOLY FUC K

OLDER SISTER EFFIE CANON

ngl i did not think we would get an effie cameo. not even a little bit. i didn't even let myself hope for it in any small way. life is so fucking good rn

okay so effie is obviously a Little Older than we've all be writing her huh

"well, she's swallowed the capitol propaganda hook and took the line and sinker with it, but at least she's brought us some decent footwear." TEARS. TEARS IN MY EYES.

i cannot believe i have lived to see the day where we actually get canon haymitch pov perceiving effie this is crazy

The Trinkets being slightly socially disgraced... interesting.

"For a moment, they're just two girls on a mission to beautiful the world." WHAT DID I SAY. I KNEW THEY WOULD BE BESTIES.

HAYFFIE CRUMBS HAYFFIE CRUMBS

not him jumping to pick up her shit for her... in a world of boys he's a gentlemen

EFFIE THINKS HE'S BEAUTIFUL :((((

"the capitol citizens lose it and so do i, until i remember the joke's not just on panache. it's on all of us stupid, clawed district piglets. animals for their entertainment." haymitch gaining class consciousness in real time

"and you, darling?" okayyy abernathy charm

effie just hanging around in the background in making me inexplicably happy. i am smiling and giggling

not her tryna shoot her shot by putting the flower on his label okayyy miss Effie Subtlety Trinket

chapter 14;

"sometimes she cries because things are so beautiful and we keep messing them up. because the world doesn't have to be so terrifying. that's on people, not the world." felt that one in my chest my god...

"i love you like all-fire. that's for always." this food is so fucking good suzanne

effie and plutarch going this far back is... interesting. then why didn't u save her ass from prison during the 75th SIR?

"i hate needles" PLASTIC SURGERY PHOBIC EFFIE CANON!!!!

another The Raven reference... what is going on

chapter 15;

mags mother of millions

MORE HAYFFIE CRUMBS SUZANNE I OWE U MY LIFE

haymitch asking her to make sure the token gets back to lenore dove... effie laying a hand on his chest and promising to do her best... the interconnected web that is haydove / hayffie has never been more alive

effie being the last person he sees before going into the arena is kinda insanely romantic??? "locking my eyes on hers until things go black" ??? hello??

chapter 16;

"the games must end. here. now." and then he's gonna spend so many years watching them happen over and over and over again suzanne how dare u

"i don't want one of my last acts to be taking out an ally, especially a dove-coloured one." he loves lenore dove sm im crying fr

"fire is catching, she'd say" ... suzanne is doing comedy now

chapter 17;

"i can't keep one of them safe. why do they flock to me?" just thought about him having this mindset for the next 40 years and cried :(((

chapter 18;

"in a way, it's a comfort that a bunch of people i know have gone before me." my baby :( spoken too soon girl :(

haymitch trying to blow this shit up katniss&haymitch fatherdaughterism has never been more alive and well

ampert :( haymitch's closeness with a lot of the victors makes so much more sense now. like it's not JUST that they hang out during the in-between years but their lives are tied so closely together from the moment haymitch enters the games.

is the goose and the common song silly? yes. is it important to remember that the enclosure of common land is historically and inextricably linked to (1) the rise of private property, (2) increasingly powerful centralized states, (3) the economic dependence of the labouring poor on their lords of the land. suzanne u big history nerd

he's so hopeful :( he believes so hard :( it's sad to know that that's all slowly washed out of him :(

more slightly intelligent thoughts! even more rambly nothing thoughts! either way i hope u enjoyed :)

[jadeoru]

SMUDGED LIPSTICK

07: silent treatment -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: tightrope - movements 🎶

Awkward. Everything about this was awkward. You were sitting on the floor beside the bed, your back pressed against the bed frame. You haven’t looked at him once. He sat on the bed beside you, sitting cross-legged on the edge of it.  He was shamelessly staring at you; yet you refused to even acknowledge his existence. He silently admired your features, watching as you typed away on your phone. After taking a quick peek at your screen, he deducted that you were writing song lyrics. His eyebrows raised up briefly, face filled with amusement. Selfishly, he was glad to be here during your writing process. He thought to himself that maybe if this song gets finished, you might decide to release it to the world. And maybe, if that were to happen, you might add this song to future setlists; perform it for thousands to see. Then, maybe, just maybe, as the words you typed out right here beside him left your lips, maybe you would think of him; you would remember this moment. He shoved his ‘maybe’s’ aside, and watched your face scrunch up in concentration. As he watched you structure each verse carefully, only one thought crossed his mind:

Holy shit, you’re beautiful.

He’s glad you haven’t told him off for staring yet because god, he missed your face. He missed hearing your voice, even if your words were fueled by hatred; disgust. You made even the most incoherent of ramblings sound like poetry. His eyes scanned your face, putting every inch of your skin to memory, almost in fear that he would never get the chance to see it again. His heart panged at the thought of never seeing these expressions of yours again - how your tongue darted across your bottom lip. You shifted around on the floor. He knew you were incredibly uncomfortable down there, but your spite and pettiness outweighed any discomfort you felt. He fidgeted with his phone, trying to look like he was doing something, anything. He tried to act as if he wasn’t as desperate as he really was.

He failed.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “So are y-” “no.” ouch. You shut him down immediately, not even bothering to hear him out. He deserved it, he thought to himself. He would try again regardless. He would keep trying to get a word that wasn’t ‘no’ or ‘shut up’ out of you, no matter how annoying he got. But after the sixth time, it was evident to him that this would be a lot harder than it seemed. He was ashamed of how pathetic he was towards you, but the thought of giving up hasn’t crossed his mind once. If you didn’t want to speak physically, maybe there were other ways to get a conversation out of you.

He turned his phone on, and quickly added you to his contacts, before beginning to type.

extra:

BOKUAKA IS REAL!!!

sakusa feels SO pathetic but he always feels that way when it comes to you

you somehow always leave him speechless

but that doesn't mean anything!!!! he just misses your friendship!! thats all!!! totally!!

i wonder what the song yn was writing is about 🤔🤔

noya and hinata are having the equivalent of a 6 year old girls sleepover

like theyre giggling and talking about boys n shit

7 chapters in and they still hate each other.... oops...

its okay guys we're getting to the good part i promise

good things are coming!!!

kinda!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @anianurst @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69

reply to this or send me an ask to be added to the taglist ! ^__^

[achillesuwu]

Au where merthur have soulmate identifying mark but merlin is the only one who know they are because if Arthur knew he would find out about his magic 👀 (arthur's mark being a beautiful dragon mainly on on his back but its tall is draped on his torso, a wing stretch on his right shoulder, another end on his hip and its head rest upon his stomach. As if it were jealousy protecting him. its scale are of a blue so dark it nearly look black. It has golden eye and tread of gold on is horn, gold shimmer on its body highlighting its scale at some place.

It screams powerful sorcerer.)

And thus it doesn't change anything from the show. Merlin doesn't tell him not even at the very end (Merlin's mark is a smaller red dragon with its head on his shoulder and who is is holding itself on his shoulder)

It would be very angsty but also SO FUNNY if in a post return futur where arthur (Gwen, the knights) are very confuse and lost but luckily for them there exist multiple center for "People who got Teleported at the wrong place/Bought back from the dead? We are here to help!/ your five yo drank a weird potion? No problem! Etc" basically Magic help center.

Just imagine basic social worker sorcerers who tries to do their job at 3 am and see THE Emrys mark ™ on a random dude and they are like *gasp*.

Them : what the fuck

Arthur :???

Them :WHAT THE FUCK

the others :????

Them : we are calling your soulmate RIGHT NOW. WHAT THE FUCK should I call the government too???? I'M NOT PAY ENOUGH FOR THIS.

Arthur : my???

Them : YOU. DO NOT MOVE IF I LOSE YOU I'M DEAD. DEAD.

You can imagine arthur pendragon pacing like a 13 years old stressed before an oral presentation because even if he was afraid then thought he globally didn't really care about his soulmate. He realised that it wasn't so much that he didn't care but he thought it would simply never be so he just... Kinda forgot about it. Now he just can not put it away because is soulmate IS coming and WHERE IS MERLIN WHEN HE NEEDS HIM (he is blocking any thoughts about Merlin potential dead thank you very much)

(Gwen is currently finding the situation extremely funny because she figured out in 5x13 and she is 80 yo (in a younger body but still) . And she is waaaayyyyyy to old to see her former husband stay in his denial.

Leon is 78 years old and he is slowly recognising the dragon in question that look very much like Merlin's family crest. He is looking at his wife in a very conspiracy way.

Gwaine is currently not really giving a damn about the whole soulmate thing. What do you MEAN you can send messages to people in less that a second?!?!?

Elyan would usually not give a damn but he is very much not happy ™ to find out that his sister (first) husband had a soulmate mark who isn't dead and he is glaring at Arthur but he is also getting a hug from gwen so it doesn't look menacing at all.

Perceval (57) is right behind Gwaine but he is currently watching himself in the mirror because seeing his younger self again is weird asf

Meanwhile Lancelot is talking with the assistant (on the verge of a break down because they are going to see the GOD OF MAGIC OH MY GOD) about magical history

[homestylehughes]

don't you ever grow up

pairing(s) beckett sennecke x fem!reader

summary: beckett and yn throughout the years falling in love with each other.

warning(s): none. just some pure teeth rotting fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

an: hi loves!! new fic about a new pookie!! Beckett!! ughhhh I love this fic so much. I was inspired by a Taylor swift song..no surprise here!! i loved writing this so much, its so sweet and cute. I wasn't too sure how to write Beckett, so I just kinda went with it LOL. also I love the header I made, its just so?? cute LOL! anyways! I hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do! more coming very soon! let me know if you have ideas for me! much love as always.

happy reading <3

12 years old 

“Yn!! Put your bike up, it's time for dinner!” I hear my mom shouting from the front yard of our house. Letting out a deep sigh, I sadly slowly turned myself around. I was just getting to a good part of my ride mom, I thought to myself as I made my way back to our house. 

Pink and purple clouds litter the sky, summer nights in Canada were always so beautiful, the clouds kinda look like cotton candy? I wonder what flavors they taste like, I think to myself as I continue to ride down the street. My mind is so captured by the cotton candy colored clouds and the way the ground feels beneath my bike, that I forget that I'm riding a bike, before I feel myself crashing into something. 

As soon as I know it, I'm laying straight on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. I turn my head to the side to see my pink sparkly bike turned upside down on its side. I lean myself up slightly to see something I ran into, happens to be a boy? 

“Oh my gosh” the boy says, scrabbling to his feet, his helmet on his head crooked from the crash.

“Are you hurt, do you need 911?” he asks me, dropping his knees beside me.

“Im okay, i don't need 911” i giggle

“Good, i thought i killed you” he says, offering me a hand pulling me to my feet

“Thank you '' I say, dusting myself off from the crash, fully taking in the boy in front of me, his short brown hair sticking out from his helmet, his blue eyes softly shining in the evening sun.

“Do you have a concussion? You're looking at me kinda weird” he asks, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Im okay, im okay” i say quickly, embarrassed that he caught me looking at him

“Okay, I'm very sorry for running into you, I was looking at the clouds..” he trails off, as he pushes my bike towards me from the grass. 

“Do you think they look like cotton candy?” i ask smiling 

“I WAS THINKING THAT” he laughs 

“ME TOO” I say laughing back at him, as I get on my bike, the nameless boy doing the same. 

“So what's your name” i ask as we start to slowly pettle our way down the sidewalk

“Beckett” he says,

 “you?” he asks turning to me 

“Yn”

“So yn” he says looking forward, “What do you think the cotton candy clouds taste like?”

14 years old. 

“FIRST DAY OF HIGHSCHOOL HOW ARE WE FEELING?” Beckett yells beside me from the backseat of his moms car.

“I'd feel much better if you were not yelling in my ear at 8 in the morning” sending him a tight lipped smile.

“Sorry sorry… im just excited and nervous” he says 

“Why are you nervous?” i ask confused by his statement

“What if no one likes me? Or or i hate the classes i have” he rambles 

“Beckett, you're probably already the most popular boy in our grade and you haven't even stepped foot into the school, you're going to be just fine '' I say, resting my hand on his leg in an attempt to calm him down.

“You always know how to make everything better. What would I do without you?” he says, smiling at me. 

“You'd go crazy probably” i laugh, “don't ever think about replacing me” i say teasingly 

“I could never, no one could replace my best girl” 

Best girl?? Oh gosh, is this car getting hot or is it me? 

“Come one, thing one and thing two” Beckett's mom says from the front seat, before she opens her door. We quickly grab our bags, getting out of the car. 

“Okay come on you two! Picture time!” she says smiling, holding her phone out in front of her, ready for the picture 

“Mom. Are you serious?” Beckett whines from beside me, a quick elbow jab to his side quickly shuts him up. 

“Ow!” he yelps 

“Shut up and take the picture you big baby” 

“Yes ma’am” he says rubbing his side dramatically 

“Okay get closer! Act like you two love each other” she says 

Beckett and I huddle in closer together upon his moms request, feeling his arm wrap around my waist, my heart rate picking up at the feeling. Snap out of it yn get it together. It's just your 14 year old hormones. 

“OKAY 1 2 3!” his moms shouts from us, snapping out of my daydream, i cast a big smile on my lips for the picture. 

“Awwwww!! You two look so cute. Ugh please don't ever grow up you guys!!” she says before pulling us into a hug with each of her arms. 

“Okay” she says pulling back, “have the best first day ever! I love you both, beckett please watch out for yn” 

“Always mom, always gotta look after my best girl” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulder, as we walk up the stairs of the school, with a smile on my face that can be seen across the world. 

Not knowing how the first day of highschool would go for the next four years, but what I did know was that I was in love with my best friend. 

16 years old.

Today is the day of the sophomore formal. My hands couldn't help but shake as I touched and fixed my hair for the 300th time in the last 5 minutes. Staring at myself in the mirror as I run my hands along my dress, in an attempt to smooth out the non existent wrinkles. 

“Yn honey how's it going in there?” i hear my mom call out from the other side of the door

“Good..just looking over everything!” I say, taking a deep breath and one last look at myself before I open the door.

Slowly walking out, seeing my mom standing in the doorway, her hand moving to cover her mouth as she stares at me. 

“How do I look?” I nervously ask my hands running to lay with the fabric of my dress.

“Oh baby, you look stunning. Beckett won't be able to keep his eyes off of you the whole night.” she says to me, her voicing cracking with emotion 

“Really?” 

“Yes really, you look beautiful” running a hand across my cheek, as she looks at me

“Gosh i didnt think id get this emotional” she rasps out

“Okay let's go downstairs, and get some pictures! Beckett should be here any-” the noise of the doorbell cuts her off

“Speak of the devil, there he is!” she turns to me with a smile, “okay you wait up here and then i'll tell you when to come down, okay?”

Nodding my head in agreement, as she begins to make sure way downstairs. My voice feels like it's caught in my throat as I stand there. My nerves start to rise again at the thought of Beckett seeing me all dressed up. Oh gosh what if he thinks i look bad, and doesn't want to go with me anymore?? 

“Yn, honey are you ready?” my mom calls from the bottom of the stairs

“Yeah, coming!”I shout, now or never I think to myself, taking one last deep breath before heading down the stairs. 

My slow steps only add to the building nerves that I already have in my body. My head remains low as I walk down the stairs, scared to look up and see everyones eyes on me. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, slowly bringing my head up, locking eyes with a suited up, wide eyed beckett. 

“Hi” i whisper softly

“You look so beautiful” he says instantly 

“Thank you, you look handsome” I say, a nervous smile spreading across my face. 

“Here these flowers are for you '' Beckett says, holding out the most beautiful bouquet of flowers i've ever seen in front of me. 

“These are so beautiful, thank you” 

“You're welcome, always gotta do the best for my best girl” he says with a smile

Best girl. Best girl. Best girl. 

“Okay, come on love birds, picture time!” my mom says from beside us, beckett quickly moving to grab my hand and part of my dress as i walk out the door. Flashing him a smile as we head outside

“Okay, act like you two love each other!” becketts mom says from beside mine, standing in front of us, as they hold their phones out.

Becketts arm finds my waist, as mine finds his, looking at each other with soft smiles before turning back towards the camera. 

“1 2 3!” my mom says

“Oh! They look so darling!! How cute!” our moms say, as they look at the pictures

“Okay another one!”

Quickly moving back into picture formation, putting a smile on my face ready for the picture, just as my mom is counting down I feel becketts lips pressing against the side of my head, right as the picture is taken. 

Heat flows through my body once he pulls away, a smile dancing across his lips as he looks down at me. 

“You look beautiful” he says once again to me

“When you look at me like that, i feel like i am” i say 

“Good, my best girl should always feel like that” 

Not knowing what his best girl means as he pulls me towards his car, but I do know that I'm falling more and more in love with him each day. 

18 years old. 

It's the day of becketts draft. My hands are shaking as I sit next to his mom. I couldn't be more proud of him, all of the hard work and dedication he's put in to get to this point, I could be more proud. As much as I am proud of him, I can't help but feel waves of nervousness and selfishness flow through my body.

 Where will Beckett be drafted at, how far will he be from his friends, family and me? What team will he go to, what number will he pick? All those thoughts are flowing through my head as I sit silently next to his mom, who's talking to his father. 

I see Beckett lean forward to get my attention, matching his movements I lean forward looking at him. 

“Are you okay?” he mouths to me

I send him a quick smile and thumbs up before settling back into my seat, just as I do the lights start to dim, signaling that the draft is starting. Taking a deep breath before directing my attention to the stage, it's now or nothing. 

Beckett was projected to be the 10th or 12th draft pick, so hearing his name being called as the 3rd overall draft pick from the Anaheim Ducks sounded like a fever dream to everyone in the crowd, especially beckett. Who rises from his seat, with a shocked look on his face. His jaw dropped as he turned to his dad, who pulled him into a hug. Making his way down the aisle to his mom, doing the same with her. 

My hands are shaking as I stand up, I can't help but start to cry, as Beckett wraps his arms around me, pulling me into the tightest hug ever. pulling back quickly before I even have a chance to speak, he's making his way down the aisle towards the stage. His mom brings me into her arms as we lean into each other crying at the sight of our boy walking across the stage. 

I didn't see Beckett for the rest of the draft, he seemed to be whisked away by reporters and the media for pictures or questions. At the end of the draft, his family and I are led into the back of the arena into a room, with ducks reporters, and right in the middle of the crowd stands beckett. Dressed in a ducks jersey and hat, stands the smiling boy. 

As soon as he sees his parents, he makes a beeline straight towards them, pulling them back into tight hugs as they whisper sweet things to him. I stand back witnessing the sweet moment between him and his family, with a smile on my face. Pulling away from his mom, his eyes catch mine, making his way towards me, pulling me off my feet into a hug. 

“ im so proud of you” i say to him as he settles me back on my feet

“I can't believe this, this is so crazy” he says 

“I know, i'm so so proud of you my little duck” i say tugging on his new found jersey 

“I couldn't have done it without my best girl” he says looking down at me, our eyes locked together with so much force and love? 

Before I even know what's happening, becketts face is moving closer and closer to mine, and before I know it his lips are meeting mine in a sweet kiss. My hands grab his face, pulling myself into his lips. A smile spreads across his face when he pulls away, my hands still resting on his face, as I look at him in shock.

“I've wanted to do that since I was 12 years old, I don't know what took me so long,” he says to me.

“But what I do know” he continues “is that i never want to go another year or day or week without it” before connecting our lips back together once again. 

[sulphuricgrin]

WIP Whensday

Last week I was tagged by: @hircines-hunter @skyrim-forever @dirty-bosmer @theoneandonlysemla and @saltymaplesyrup thank you c: AND I'M TAGGING YOU BACK🫵

no pressure tagging: @pocket-vvardvark @firefly-factory @madam-whim @moriche @dirty-bosmer @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @changelingsandothernonsense

@scholarlyhermit @illumiera @yansurnummu @thescrolls-haveforetold @truth-01001001-liar @silly-little-diary @captain-of-silvenar

Almost Wednesday, but whatever. Sorry i've been kinda MIA. Emotional burnout is tiring, i'm trying to take care of myself first and foremost right now. I skipped last week in favor of putting out a new chapter. So this week, (because Kuri told me to) I'm gonna share 2 WIPS. I'm sorry if it's a lot to read. Each are 1k.

Before we start, as always, if you see a mistake, no, you didn't. It's WIPs after all ;-;

First WIP: I've started writing Miraak's first chapter in Fate-Touched, which I'm weirdly anxious about sharing, but fuck it. (I say while crying lol) I have thoughts to possibly rewrite this later, but that's future-me's problem.

-

Time did not pass in Apocrypha. It layered, like dust on untouched tomes, like mold beneath cracked parchment.

Miraak has learned long ago not to measure it.

There were no seasons here, no stars, no calendar to mark the creeping ruin of days. Light filtered in through nowhere. The sky, if it could be called that, rolls in shades of green. Books fell from nothing and towers breathed like great slumbering beasts. One could not measure time in a place that had no heartbeat. You could only endure it. 

And endure it he had. 

He no longer remembered the warmth of the sun, not truly. The idea of it remained, abstract and academic: golden heat on skin, the smell of pine-sap and stone after rain, a horizon that stretched beyond sight. He could recite the sensations. He could even summon phantom echoes of them in dreams. But when he reached for them in his waking mind, they fell apart like old scrolls in damp hands. 

But Miraak had learned patience. 

The patience of seeds buried in ash, waiting for the forest to burn itself away. The patience of a prisoner scraping at the same patch of wall for centuries, knowing that one day, even stone will remember the shape of his hand. The patience of the tapestry weaver who vanished into her threads, knowing that beauty takes time and vengeance even more. 

Hermaeus Mora had taught him many things. How to consume knowledge without choking on it. How to see with more than just his eyes. How to bend words into weapons. But perhaps the most cruel lesson the Daedric Prince has offered was the nature of obedience ― how a man could serve and resist at the same time. 

He played the servant now. Worked with ciphers when it suited him. Spoke in half-truths, in carefully shaped lies. He walks the stacks of Apocrypha like a ghost, silent and watching, rarely interfering unless it was necessary ― and when it was necessary, it was final. 

To the Ciphers of Apocrypha, he was legend and warning in one. 

Some revered him: the First Servant, the first mortal deemed fit to help their Lord, forever here and powerful. Others feared him: the drowned man who whispered secrets into their ears and left them mad with knowing. The wisest among them understood the truth: Miraak could be helpful in this exchange of knowledge, but never fully trusted. He would manipulate them, use them, discard them without remorse if they prove no longer useful. He was not cruel for cruelty’s sake. He was methodical. 

He has patience. Not mercy. 

And in that patience, he schemed. 

Every so often, a new plan took shape. A path to escape. A possible weakness in Mora’s design taken advantage of. Yet each time, it unraveled ― whether by fate, or sabotage, or the Prince’s quiet disapproval. Once he had nearly breached the walls of the realm, a gate had opened. He had tasted the air beyond― and then, suddenly, it had collapsed, melted to ink. A book he’d written himself lay where the gate had been, rewritten in a tongue only he could read. 

A message. His leash tugged on. 

A warning. 

But he did not rage. Not anymore. Not after all these innumerable, never-ending years. He watched. He waited. Patience was a power in slow form, the kind of power Mora underestimated in mortals. (Though he could hardly be considered one, both with his dragon soul and seemingly immortal body.) 

Miraak had all the time in the world, with a body lost out of time. And when his patience bore fruit, when, not if, his prison cracked and the stars remembered his name―

Many would quickly understand what it meant to cage a mind that never stopped planning. 

For now, he watches the dullness of the Cipher’s Midden. He barely remembers a time when there was no such thing within Apocrypha, no mortals settling within this plane of Oblivion. But over the― over the centuries it slowly grew. Buildings slowly built in the area. Slowly one grew to three, to six, to ten, to more and more. It acted as a pseudo-capital for the ciphers and visiting cultists, and a hub for brave and greedy merchants willing to step into Oblivion to sell to disadvantaged ciphers. This was Oblivion, there was nothing friendly to mortal lives here ― no flora or fauna that was proper to sustain life. So they had to depend on visiting merchants or return to Nirn to restock. 

He stalks the upper levels of the Midden, his face covered by his mask. He preferred it that way when here or when interacting with the Ciphers and cultists in general. It left them in the dark how he really looked, making it easier to disarm them if he approaches one of them without it. Even in their little myths about him, the damn mask was how new generations learn to recognize him, and fear him. It was the simplest of intimidation tactics to use. Even now as he walks, the inhabitants of the Midden warily part a path for him.

Walking along one of the wooden bridges in the Midden, he stops to the side and looks down below briefly, where it was busy with several merchants pawning goods to needy ciphers. Eyes glance around not out of need, but boredom. He turns and walks off. There were two he’s seen before and one new one ― some blonde elf from what he could see, but thought little of it. 

The further he walks away though, his mind refuses to shed the idea of the new one. The more he runs the scene in his head. Tall, taller than everyone around them. In a sea of greens and blacks, merchants were often the biggest source of colour, but they were in deep, rich blues and golds. Something― something is telling him to go back and so he does, turning on his heels. 

But when he returns, he cannot find them. 

He shakes his head at such impulsivity, and decides to forget about them. 

----

Onto the second WIP: Uhhh, I wrote this in a parking lot on the laptop I carry around, because I knew I'd lose it/the vibe before getting home. I might not even use it honestly?? But- but I wrote it and it's a WIP. So have a kinda soft Dragonsong scene. :>

Also yeah, song is In A Week by Hozier

-

She finds him in her study, listening to one of the imprinted stones she had stashed. 

It was one of those rare moments where he felt exhaustion, and found respite here, listening to records of her voice. He sits back in her desk chair, body and mind feeling weary. Legs are outstretched, crossed at the ankles and his body slumped in the chair with arms crossed. His head leans back, eyes closed as he listens to the slow song and― he sighs when he hears a soft chuckle. 

Lifting his head, he sees her watching him, almost bemused by the sight of him. “You know this is my study?” Her eyes glance at the recorded image of her and a man singing and dancing. He hadn’t cared much about the image, not liking the scene of her in another’s arms, but he certainly doesn’t voice this. Both the image and the audio are slightly worn, the image slightly foggy and the audio quiet. Neither mention this happens from repeated watching, the magic wearing out. She looks over him again, and continues when he doesn’t reply to her question. “You seem tired.” 

He’s surprised a comment on his age doesn’t immediately follow that. He replies with nothing, instead unfolding his arms. His right stays in his lap as the left reaches for the imprint stone, turning the magic off, knowing the end will begin to stutter. 

She turns and he hopes she plans to leave him be. But, per usual, she defies expectations, instead pulling an additional chair up to the desk. She positions it in front of him, and sits so that they face each other. Without explanation, he feels that light bit of magicka from her and she begins to sing the song he had been listening to. 

“I have never known peace

Like the damp grass that yields to me

I have never known hunger

Like these insects that feast on me”

Her voice is a far better substitute to that fiance of hers she had been with in the recording, even as she sings in her more masculine voice. As she sings, it is all her, with no other, shifting between voices. 

“A thousand teeth

And yours among them, I know

Our hungers appeased

Our heartbeats becoming slow”

He stays relaxed in the chair, but oddly cannot watch her. In such close quarters and this song, it feels too― He leans his head back again, and allows himself to enjoy it, but swallow the feelings that threaten to bubble. Her feet bump into his, proving how close they are, yet does not move away. He unconsciously separates his feet and hers is quick to come between, their ankles against the other. 

“We lay here for years or for hours

Thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw

So long, we'd become the flowers

Two corpses we were, two corpses I saw.”

She sings of death, yet of soft romance; her voice layering in a duet. It fits her too well, it fits them. His left hand fidgets with the imprint stone still in his hand on the desk. He hates how his mind, twisted as it was, thinks of their own bodies, perhaps somewhere on Nirn, composing into the dirt side by side one day. A sort of peace, when time finally gets him. Or perhaps they’ll kill each other.

“And they'd find us in a week

When the weather gets hot

After the insects have made their claim

I'd be home with you, I'd be home with you”

Her right hand gently pulls the stone from his hand, and then her fingers come back to touch his. This was something he’s grown accustomed to, her almost experimental touches. But now? He starves for them. For her to never stop. Damn him for this want. 

“I have never known sleep

Like this slumber that creeps to me

I have never known colour

Like this morning reveals to me”

He moves to look at her again. She does not have her gaze on him, but on their hands. His mind tells him to pull away and yet, his body defies him. Instead, for the first time, his fingers moves to grasp her calloused hand. He curses her difficult to read expression. 

This is foolish behavior. And feelings. 

“And you haven't moved an inch

Such that I would not know

If you sleep always like this

The flesh calmly going cold”

But her hand doesn’t leave his. 

Long, slender fingers simply shift in his grasp and lace their hands together. Her hands, slightly longer than his, but they fit just right. She looks almost curious at them and stops singing to give a short, low hum as she stares. 

This intimacy feels almost wrong ― far too gentle for either of them, but― but here they are, doing so. It makes his skin itch and his chest too heavy for this. This is foolish. His fingers twitch, a half-thought to pull away, but she gives the faintest of squeezes in response, as if to stop him, and her head just so barely tilts to the side. 

It’s in these moments of her rare silence that he even more rarely wishes to hear her babble her string of consciousness, listen to her unbidden thoughts. 

He hates that he― 

That―

Inwardly he groans over all of this. Of all people, after such a terribly long time stuck here, she is the one he pines over. What a terribly weak, pathetic word for it. 

He starves for her, yet drowns in her presence. It’s now been two years since he realised and he hates every bit of it. And by the gods, was she a tease; he cannot tell her wants, yet she does things like this. Would it just be easier to simply force her to stay in Apocrypha?

He does not know. 

Her thumb softly caresses the side of his forefinger and he’s ready to retreat, accept a loss in this odd battle. 

[en-hazed]

collect my pages

PAIRING: slenderman!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE / CW: this is kinda like scary? reader is alone in the woods so you can def guess what’s going on

WARNING: sunghoon doesn’t have some kind of age, so let’s say he’s like 100 years olds lmao, reader is 19, psychological horror (?) kinda, smut, dub-con, sunghoon is fucking big like in all meanings, tentacles, creampie, kissing, angst (?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), petnames, praising, begging, dacriphilia, size kink, if i missed something i’ll edit this later. MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is purely based on the game and theories about slenderman (not on the movie), so i’m really sorry if there’s something that doesn’t really match the storyline :( also im not rlly good at writing smut

There was something that you found interesting and endearing about walking alone in the woods as a relief. You weren’t the kind of girl to spend much time with friends since you enjoyed more your alone time, even though you’ve heard some rumors about you in college that you were weird for such thing, but it’s not like you really cared, at all.

You never feared the dark as a little child, your mom did think there was something wrong with it since all of the kids usually are scared of it, but for you, it was different. You find comfort in it –somehow– but it wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

Today was one of those days where school ended a little late, and you decided to take a late walk to the woods that was near to where you lived. The feeling of the cold breeze hitting you felt like a kiss, even wearing your big puffy coat, you still could feel it.

Being by yourself had some advantages, such as spending as much time as you want to exploring the deep parts of the woods, looking at little details and also observing the pretty dark blue color in the sky. You always thought that there was something so beautiful about the woods, you didn’t know if it was the pretty trees, the fallen leaves on the ground or everything about it.

Roaming around, you found some weird looking note that was glued to the tree, as you were getting closer, you got goosebumps. You usually didn’t find things in the woods since no one really came here because it’s been kinda abandoned, so it made you feel really curious if somebody came before you and put things just for fun to scare people off.

But the note was really weird looking. Why did the note say “HELP ME” in such a creepy writing? Was there someone here following you all along pranking you?

You definitely felt followed, but that didn’t change the growing curiosity that you had wondering if there were more notes. Walking faster and careful looking through all the trees weren’t sufficient, you definitely needed some kind of flashlight, and lucky for you, you always carry one in your backpack.

Getting the flashlight, turning it on, you started looking for more information. You definitely thought that you looked kinda crazy running around the woods if somebody came by, but there was something so interesting about this that you just couldn’t let it go.

In the distance, you could see a new note attached to another tree, you rapidly went and took it, this one saying “CAN’T RUN”. Adrenaline was hell, you felt like you could explode, were all these notes some kind of puzzle that you needed to complete? How many of them are? Such thoughts were in your mind as you were trying to calm yourself while looking at the piece of paper with the word that has been written.

Taking both notes, you did not wanna lose them, so you put them both in your pocket, and resumed roaming around. You noticed there was some kind of strange road that led you to an ever bigger part of the woods, and also, to some new pages.

This time, there was some kind of tall, really tall man drawn on with some words, such as saying “NO” and “FOLLOWS”. Is this some kind of prank? You just couldn’t step out, you were kinda lost, you’ve never been this deep inside and now, it was kinda scaring you. Your phone didn’t have any kind of connection or signal around, so you were definitely fucked.

Taking this situation lightly wasn’t a great idea at all, you knew your mom was worried since you don’t last that much time outside that much. Anxiety was killing you at this point, what the hell was going on? Also, it was also getting really late, you took a little peak of you clock, and it was almost past midnight.

Running around was simply not helping, you felt like you were stuck in some fucked up maze that didn’t have any kind of exit. You wanted to scream, you really did, but you didn’t want people thinking that you were getting murdered or something. Starting to feel dizzy, everything was looping, feeling like you couldn’t get out was one of, if not, your biggest fear. Without noticing, you fell to the ground, your strength was gone, and your head was pounding.

More than 10 minutes passed since you were still in the ground, until you felt some kind of presence, the goosebumps coming back again. You were too far gone to even try to open your eyes, so if someone tried to kill right there, you didn’t care at that point.

The breeze was getting colder, creaking was louder, and there was something there with you, but you didn’t dare to look. Some steps were getting closer to you, and you almost started praying to God to help you out if he was even hearing your pleads.

Now you were crying, you were the one that started following all of those stupid notes going nowhere, and now you were stuck in the deep zone of the woods. After some minutes of thinking, you had the guts to speak up.

— Is somebody here? Anyone? Please, I swear I’m a good person, I won’t do anything to you, but please, I need a reply. — You stated, trying to look around in the dark, since you forgot where you put your flashlight and also, you lost your glasses.

Nothing, you did not receive some kind of reply, so now you were thinking if everything that’s happening is some kind of hallucination from your mind.

From the distance, you swear you saw something, like some big thing standing there, but you couldn’t even seem to confirm that since your poor eyesight wasn’t helping you at all. But that weird creature looking thing was getting closer this time, and you didn’t have that much space to move, so you had to act fast and start walking from there.

Looking back wasn’t something that you wanted to do, if you did that it was gonna be really scary knowing something was chasing you in the dark. But what you didn’t know, that tall white man could teleport if he wanted to, and now, he was right in front of you.

You froze, what was that? You starting looking up and down trying to figure out if it was human or not. He was wearing some kind of suit, his hands were so pale and white, his fingers were so long and his face, you couldn’t really recognize it. He did have some prominent facial features, such as his nose and eyebrows, and also his hair.

— Are you lost, little thing? Have you collected my pages? — He finally spoke, his voice was… something. Not really deep nor sharp, it was just unexplainable.

— I’m sorry, what? — You asked, pages? Why is that his first thought?

— My pages. They’re all attached to different trees. Have you collected them? — He added, getting a little more closer to you.

Oh, so the notes you were looking for, that now you know they aren’t pages, he was the one who attached them to the trees? Is he crazy or something?

— I lost them. I got lost here and when I ran, they kinda flew away from my pockets. I’m sorry, if you’re gonna kill me, go ahead. — You hung down your head, you were definitely cooked and also getting killed in the woods. How nice!

— Game over then. — He spoke lastly, you looked at him with now, more tears in your eyes. He gave you a smile, his fangs were now shown.

His cold hand went to your chin, making you look up to where his eyes were supposed to be, but you were looking at some faceless man. You got caught in his tentacles, putting you in the air and almost choking you by how tight he was taking you.

— Pl.. please don’t do a-anything.. I swear, I’ll do whatever you w..want! — You tried speaking, but your chest felt so heavy that it was almost impossible to.

— Well, actually I do want something from you, if you don’t wanna get killed. — He spoke, his voice was now kinda deeper than before and it was scarier. You could feel his gaze up and down around your body, as if it was scanning you.

— W-what is it? Please! Tell me! — You replied rapidly, gulping. You were in a situation that defined between you being alive or dead, so you were willing to do anything at this point.

You were feeling already anxious until you felt his could touch in your body, closing hard your eyes, you were psyching yourself up that everything that was happening it was all in your imagination. Tears were staining your face, your cheeks turning red and your makeup all messed up.

His cold tentacles were groping you, touching you everywhere while you were just crying. You couldn’t get out of his grip since he was way too strong and taller than you. He started undressing you, retiring your skirt and leaving your tights on. Was this some kind of kink he had?

— I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, looking like a scaredy cat, crying and without any kind of escape from me. — He said, smiling proudly, giggling. His big hands were taking your head, making you look at him. Somehow, he changed your position, using his tentacles to tie your feet, and also your hands together, that were now resting behind your back.

You felt how something cold was poking your now dampened panties, you were definitely scared but your body wasn’t feeling like that. You closed your eyes harshly, not wanting to see what was about to happen. The cold breeze was now feeling like if death was coming near you, not feeling like something safe.

With no further preparation, he pushed himself inside of you, feeling like your guts and tight cunt were being rearranged by his big member. You couldn’t stop yourself from whining and screaming out loud, you weren’t a virgin sure, but his cock felt like dying.

— Don’t be t-too harsh! P-please! — Trying to speak while he was pounding deeper and deeper inside you was tough and more like a challenge.

He tsked his long tongue in response, not really caring about you and going harder on you. One of his tentacles groping your boobs mercilessly, while the other ones were simply roaming around your body.

Changing your position, now in doggy style, he was going harshly and harder, your body was hurting and your were being treated like nothing but a sex doll. You felt your vision going blurry, your hearing going off and feeling extremely numb. You closed your eyes and that’s where you forgot about everything.

Waking up felt like a nightmare, your whole body felt sore, you were covered in cum and definitely felt how the hot liquid was slipping from your thighs. Trying to look for your glasses or any kind of clothing (since you were naked) looking around. That’s when you saw some random guy, weirdly dressed with a suit and also using some glasses, he was tall and pale.

— Are you okay? Do you need help? — That anonymous guy spoke, looking at you and then your whole body, smirking.

You couldn’t even speak at all, so you just nodded. He helped you get up, he somehow carried things in his pockets such as tissues, that he used on you, trying to get you clean.

Finishing by putting on your clothes, you patted all of your body, as if there were some kind of dirt (there was, everything was all covered in it). You looked again at that weird guy that happened to find you in such condition, what was he doing here?

— I’m Sunghoon, and I definitely can read your mind, I just happened to be here when I found you here all alone, covered in… Whatever that was, no need to thank me. — He finished saying, still smirking and looking at you as if he was scanning your whole body.

As a blink, he disappeared, nowhere to be found. There was some weird vibe coming from that guy that you couldn’t explain, but you felt like you already knew him.

What the fuck just happened to you? You for sure were having some kind of fucking overdose of some fucked up vivid dream, you will never be the same after this.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-five: biting kink

>>> oh yeah i got a new laptop! went back in and reformatted the other days so hopefully they aren't an eyesore but we back on track with choso here :)) he's so.....yum...he's so....biting coded idk

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sorta dark content just to be safe, biting, a little blood, one spank, spitting, oral (f!receiving), doggy, uh kinda yandere coded i suppose, one kinda baby-trapping comment >>> wc: 3.3k >>> event masterlist:

choso is a family oriented man. it’s at the core of who he is, and everyone knows how important his family is to him—no matter how small said family was. his brother yuji meant a lot to him as his only “blood” relation and closest friend. he loves the guy more than anything. or, he thought he did. that was easy to say until he met you of course. choso was new to life despite his soul being over a hundred years old, and he had never experienced the emotions you bring him. the joy, the excitement, the true love. it amazes him and he’s still not quite used to all of it just yet, despite the several years that you’ve been together. 

you met through yuji during the height of his woes of war and the inner battles he fought against his own cursed brain—toeing the line between human and monster. at some point, he made peace with not belonging. he knew that yuji loves him and that was really all he needed. he didn’t have to relate to yuji’s struggles. his perfectly human issues, like running behind on laundry now that fushiguro is on a mission and isn’t hounding him to do it. he didn’t have to relate to the emotions of love and worry and anxiety or jealousy, not until yuji introduced him to a fellow sorcerer—a kyoto school alumni. you were radiant. like a captive ray of sunshine. he hadn’t experienced such warmth in his chest, blossoming across his face. what was this? he missed your name. he was too busy panicking over introducing himself and how he would do so that he’s already made a complete fool of himself by the time he bows at the shoulders and gives you a gentle whisper of his name. 

you miss his name too, he was much too quiet. you look to yuji, and he clarifies. “my brother, choso. the one i was telling you about!” he pats your back, and you do remember him telling you about his older sibling. by the time choso’s lifted back to his regular posture, he’s convinced yuji’s probably only revealed the most embarrassing things about him and that you would be put off just by the knowledge of what he is. but when he looks at you again, you’re smiling. you give him your hand instead of bowing, repeating your name and cheerfully offering to show him around kyoto city. 

he was so glad he accepted. that warmth in his chest never went away. you were so addictive. you didn’t bat an eye at his awkwardness and you seemingly took pleasure in teaching him any gaps he had yet to experience. that day, when you showed him around the city–he had no clue what it was that he felt for you. he followed you around your town, touring shops and exploring scenery with you, with no trace of embarrassment. you were easy to get along with, naturally talkative and entertaining—he learned a lot about you that night. you were captivating. you were standing at a natural pond, pointing out some cranes and spouting off facts about their mating cycles. he had no clue what half of it really meant, but he liked the sound of your voice and the excitement shimmering in your eyes. he knew he wanted to feel this warmth again. he never wanted it to go away—his body was buzzing with the feeling of being alive. he’d never had that before. it was you, it had to be you, maybe that was your cursed technique. but either way, choso was hooked. 

“you’re beautiful.” he blurted out in the middle of your educational rant, and he’s not sure what made him say so. clearly you were gorgeous—but the confidence to confess it was something he was sure he would lack forever. maybe his brother had rubbed off on him, after all yuji was very outward with his affection for his boyfriend. but you weren’t choso’s anything. he just met you. and if he hadn’t left an awful first impression, he was sure he had made things way to awkward for a first interaction now. 

but you giggle. he likes the sound. it was warm like that feeling in his chest. you turn to give him your attention then, and he really gets to see the gentleness in your eyes. so free of judgment, so soft as they look over him. he’s sure he’s blushing again. 

“so are you.” you grin, one side of your mouth higher than the other. he’s entranced by it. but he’s not the only one affected by this first time encounter. you were amazed by his kindness. he was easy and gentle, not to mention ethereally gorgeous.he was tall and broad, and even though he was covered head to toe, you could tell by the veins in his hands that nothing but strength and muscle lurked beneath his oversized sweater. 

that really sent him reeling. what does he say to that? he’s never been in this position before and yuji certainly didn’t give him any pointers. he could only follow his overly-forward example in his established relationship. “i like you. i want to see you again.” he tucks his hands in his pockets and scuffs his boots over some dirt. 

“like a date?” you ask, brow raised and hopeful. it had only been a few hours of wandering together but you liked the calm tranquility he brought—along with that strikingly handsome face. 

date. date? he knows what that is, he remembers something about these. it’s where couples spend time together! but you weren’t a couple yet, so… was that different? he could ask later, right now you stare up at him expectantly—and he can’t say no to that look on your face. “yes. romance.” he nods, and you smile softly at the attempt.

though romance you he did. he must have learned a lot in the weeks leading up to your official first date, because from that point on choso never ceased to amaze you. he surely didn’t know everything about being a boyfriend, but you made things pretty easy on him. he mostly acted off of instinct, and where that failed him–you made sure to keep him informed on how to love, console, talk through his feelings, and navigate any other bump in the road along the way of your beautiful three years together. 

you taught him how to embrace his intimacy, too. and boy, is that his favorite way of loving you. he is clingy and possessive–you’re the only person alive who could evoke such neediness from him, of course he wants to stay near you always and make his claim on you as visible as possible. hasn’t he already established how beautiful you are? i mean your nature and beauty alone was enough to bring someone like him out of his shell. he can only imagine what effect you must have on lesser men. 

he never imagined that lesser men would include your male coworker— partner. even worse. he may be unfamiliar with several things that this life has to offer, but the concept of a work husband was not lost on him. especially when it comes time to pick you up that day. choso always liked to pick you up. he liked to see you as soon as possible number one, and number two he liked to make sure his presence was still well noted around your infested office. he picked a good day to stop by, apparently. your partner had you trapped in your chair—his body wedged between your desk and any escape. choso could tell by the look in his eye that his intentions were anything but pure–and clearly the healing bruises peeking up over your collar weren’t enough to let the pervert know that you were more than spoken for. 

you could feel his energy as soon as he rounded the corner, and your relief was clear. you slump into your seat, ready for your loving boyfriend’s rescue from this horribly awkward conversation. your relief doesn’t last long. the look on your boyfriend’s face was that of pure rage, his eyes a dark purple flame. your pesky coworker seems to feel the perilous stare. he wheels around to be met with the boyfriend you warned him about, and he opens his mouth to make excuses. 

“leave. don’t talk to her again.” he utters from your doorway, making sure the man had to walk past him to obey his requests. “want kids one day?” he threatens, raising his brow, his face a nasty scowl. the guy backs aways from you immediately, tucking his head to slide past choso and pray that his sliminess doesn’t get on his clothes. choso growls a little upon his exit, slamming your door shut behind him. your kind and gentle boyfriend was in the backseat of his own mind, and you knew it. he was blinded with jealousy—though he trusts you with his life. it just disgusts him that anyone can picture you in the way that’s only meant for him. if he could, he’d make sure no one could even look at you, though that’s far from an achievable reality. he stares at you, the fire dimming in his eyes only slightly since you were not the source of his rage—but you would surely be the resolve of it. 

you could tell what he was ordering you to do without him having to say a word, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve let choso fuck you in your office. it excites you to see him so controlling. you unbutton your blouse, moving from your office chair to the desk to present yourself for him. he growls approvingly, thumbing over his bottom lip as he admires you. you’re already a patchwork of bruises in various stages of healing—and thanks to your overzealous partner, he’d have to add more to the collection. 

“just panties.” he orders in that low silken tone of his. you can see the imprint of his cock steadily hardening against the casual black jeans he chose to wear today. your mouth nearly salivates at the thought of how rough he was about to be with you as you grip at the sides of your pencil skirt, yanking it down your legs and into the floor before you move for your bra—sighing at the relief of your free chest meeting the cool air. he nods, tugging at the neck of his shirt to remove it. 

your body just puts everything in overdrive. every need to take you and mark you up intensifying tenfold. you are perfect, sultry little lips, a perfect rack and curves for days. he knew he was hardly the first guy to fantasize about you—but he had to make sure he was the only one taking up your thoughts. you shudder at the reveal of his chiseled top half. he was so bulky despite first impressions, huge biceps and thick, veiny forearms. his chest was wide and pecs defined, he was a god. your legs shift wider in subconscious accommodation for him and he’s pushing his jeans down and giving you a half-lidded smirk—enough to make your panties stick to your cunt in anticipation of him. he grabs your chin, giving you a harsh kiss. he was so dual, so easy with you one moment and brutal with you the next, it was everything. he gnaws at your lip, shoving his thick tongue into your mouth, licking over the walls over your cheeks and tasting the bitter energy drink you’ve been sipping on your tongue. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lip puffy in the spot his teeth met. 

“so pretty even your coworkers want you. what am i gonna do with you, sweetheart?” he sighs, sinking to his knees. he rubs you over your panties, enjoying the squishy mush he feels waiting for him beneath the fabric. you kick your legs on either side of him, leaning back on the desk to get more of that feeling, his fingers temporarily hooking on your clit with each pathetic little roll of your hips. “only this wet for me though, right?”

you nod vigorously, parting those swollen lips to plead your case. he swipes your panties to the side and loudly spits against your clit. his other thumb comes in to spread the nasty lube. you clamp your mouth shut again at the feeling of his digits stroking over you, your studious boyfriend having learned exactly where to touch you through your times together. you shudder instantly, body responding through jerks of your legs and trying to shut them around his head. that only makes him move his fingers all together, leaning in to suckle your clit in between his teeth, biting at the sensitive nub. you can feel his hair rub against your inner thighs, the warmth and wetness of his mouth making you look around for a way to ground yourself against the rapid stretching elastic feeling in your core. his hands find the dimples of your thighs, kneading at them and groaning as he flicks his tongue against the nerves now—memorizing the patterns and speed you liked best like this quick figure eight he was doing now. 

one hand grips the desk, your other coming up to grip at his black pigtail, whisper-chanting his name as helplessly grind on his face. he knows you won’t last much longer, and he knows exactly how to push you over the edge—letting his fingers take the place of his mouth so he could occupy his teeth with the plush skin of your inner thighs. luckily you love it, his sick need to brand you in the most dangerous way possible—loving the message it sends. you squeal as he sinks into your flesh, seeing stars from the combining sensations. 

“choso!! cumming, oh shh—” your mouth drops open, the shocks coming over you in waves. if he was in a kinder mood, he’d work you through the onslaught and let you sit on his length, working you both out in such a delicious fashion. but he’s insatiable, and one of those sweet squeals from you is not anywhere near enough. he stands back to full height, pulling off those soaked panties and letting them lie forgotten along with the rest of your clothes. you’re so gone already—so beautiful and blissed out in the way that you have taught him exactly how to do this to you and no one could be as attentive and cater to you like he does. you look up at him so sweetly, you’ve given over your entire body for him to decorate as he sees fit—and your neck doesn’t have his teeth marks in the delicate skin where everyone can see. no, he had been a gentleman so far, keeping everything coverable–tasteful peeks available depending on the work shirts you chose. he thumbs over your lip, scraping his teeth over your jaw and nipping at different places just enough to bruise, loving the blues and reds left in his wake. he knows to be careful, to avoid your carotid–no one’s more in tune with blood flow than he is. so he picks his spot, laving his tongue over it as his fingers play in the mess between your legs, making you gasp and hump into his hand again like the eager little girl you are. you scream out his name when he bites, the iron tang of blood dripping on his tongue and down that pretty neck of yours. you kick your feet, the pain so deep but so good—connected directly to the panging need in your cunt, you can’t deny that his kink is one you share. 

you can see the red staining his teeth when he pulls away to look at the little streaks running down your skin–just enough. he would never seriously hurt you, and he knows that you love to be bitten and branded as much as he loves to do it. you grin at the sight of him, blood on his lip and desire burning in the place of his earlier rage. he turns you, helping you lean over your desk so he could see what marks needed to be replaced on your ass. he licks his teeth, several had healed up and disappeared to his distaste. he slaps the supple skin, making you jump a bit with giddiness—some dizziness even. you push against your wooden desk to feel his warmth, his large hand enough to sting your whole cheek as his teeth sink into the other. your eyes roll back a little, knowing this one had drawn blood based on the way he soothes over the indents with his tongue. it’ll be hard to sit on it tomorrow, but he compliments the brand with a few hickies surrounding the main piece, palming at your skin to soothe. he loves hearing you mewl and moan when he claims you, he loves seeing that glistening layer of your want for him on your thighs when he spreads your ass cheeks, grunting out just how happy it makes him as he guides his fat leaking cockhead to the eager entrance. 

he hisses and you moan when he bottoms out in you, giving you inch by inch without mercy. you press your cheek to the cool wood of the desk, only able to feel the heat of your body and his hot cock sliding in and out of you. you can’t speak, he fills you too well. he’s angled too perfect, hitting every spot over and over to make you stupid—unable to even hold yourself up any longer. he loves using such a brutal pace on you, thrusting powerfully enough that his balls slap against your bruised ass. you clench down around him so tight he’s worried his cock might snap in two—but it’s so worth it for the animalistic moans spilling from your throat every time he nudges against your cervix. you look so cute beneath him, clawing at the desk and screaming his name in those silent yells. 

“is this my pussy? tell me who’s pussy this belongs to.” he grunts, pulling your arms behind your back. you arch to fight against the depth he’s getting, only to give him more with your squirming. he tightens his hold to keep you still, using his other hand to pull your hair up for a clear answer. you inhale sharply at the pain, the feeling so blissful you can feel another elastic band stretching thin inside you. “asked you a question, sweetheart. speak up.” 

“yes–” you choke out, trying to collect your thoughts in between the loud beats of your heart and throbs of your pussy. “all yours, ‘s your pussy chos–choso!” you cry out, the rubber band snapping as he finds the weak spot of your womb. 

“that’s my good girl, want my pussy to cum for me.” he squeezes your wrists in one big hand—freeing your hair. you gasp out, nodding eagerly as the release comes gushing, your series of babbles and squeals enough to do him in. he slams his cock as deep as it will go–hoping to one day mark you as his in the most obvious way possible as his seed spills into your insides. he rocks you both through it this time, a sign that your boyfriend was returning to normal after receiving the cure to his sour mood. his soft hands caress the curves of your waist as he stills, catching his breath. you lay beneath him in a dream state, blood on your body and traces on the table and on his own person. he chuckles a little—hopefully your partner, and any other oblivious skeez, gets the point now, if your screaming didn’t run them out of the office.

[ladyluscinia]

Sometimes you get ambushed by a thought from media you haven't engaged with in ages, and you just gotta put it out there because the best way out is through 🤷‍♀️ so anyway...

Back when I was into Bleach I was eternally frustrated trying to find people doing interesting things with Ichimaru Gin, especially since I felt I had diagnosed exactly what was missing and it really did not seem that complicated. Because like. The twist about his motivations for joining up with Aizen + betrayal? Cool. Loved that. Lots of room to play around too because Ichigo literally walked up to that scene and went "I assume I'm missing some huge context here" and never asked about it ever because he was NOT that willing to investigate coworker drama.

But if you're gonna dig into the whole tangled mess that is Gin's 100+ years of Aizen minion-hood and how it played out in his relationships with Rangiku, Izuru, or Aizen himself, well, realistically you should probably also address (or at least have in mind) how he definitely did not sign up for All That and it pretty much happened on accident. Baby!Gin was an adorable little shit with zero compunction about murdering the random adult shinigami that assaulted his bestie, but he was also, like, ten. "Identify the man, get in the man's good graces, steal his orb, and murder him" was not a century long gambit so much as a five year plan.

Gin actually makes a lot of sense as an immortal dude who's a Total Prodigy at Murder but frankly kind of stupid at planning out further than five years. He didn't even know the guy he wanted dead was a Lieutenant when he first went after him. Of course by the time Gin realized that actually robbing and murdering Aizen was going to be really fucking difficult and life threatening he found himself multiple murders into The Scheme (and knew trying to back out would get him killed by either Aizen or Soul Society).

Kinda stupid + being a 10 year old + bad at forethought + finding pocket lint when he checks for moral objections + not intending to die over this = a beautiful mess of sunk cost where he might as well stick it out until he's absolutely sure that he WILL stab that man successfully otherwise what was the point. It will come up sooner or later. Surely. How fucking long could it possibly take?

Cue Hueco Mundo Gin having a private internal breakdown about how no one could possibly be as surprised as he is how far this whole "betraying Soul Society" thing has gone and oh fuck Rangiku is gonna be SO mad if he ever gets a chance to explain himself