#realizing suddenly i don't think i have a tag for ash

[searchingforplanes]

All that I do is wait for you.

Notes: I’m a feminist but not when it comes to Matty Healy, clearly. On a more serious note, I wanted to participate in the tag cleanse so, here it is! 

P.s. It’s very loosely inspired by 'Batphone' by Arctic Monkeys and 'Wives and lovers' by Jack Jones bc they’ve been on repeat lately

TW: MDNI!, typos (english is not my first language), traditional gender roles/stay at home girlfriend brain rot, religious themes (I don't even know how that happened), smut 

WC: 1.9k 

You wait in silence on the rug of the living room, your back to the couch, your knees drawn up against your chest. Everything about this moment feels appropriate, normal, even comfortable, from the stiffness of your now cold limbs to the slight smell of smoke and ashes coming from the wood stove in the corner, the only light source that you allowed yourself to keep on.

It suits you, an almost hermit-like situation, silence as your only companion in a never ending wait for salvation. 

He had called you several hours prior from an airport located in a warmer country, telling you he was on his way. You knew it. Of course you knew it. You didn't talk much during touring days but you religiously kept track of his schedule, every stop carefully listed by him on a piece of paper now attached with an apple-shaped magnet on the refrigerator door. Little boxes accompanied each one of them for you to cross; today, the last little square was ticked off.

You recall the first time you had to welcome him home after such a long time. You had felt lost. Did he need anything? A ride from the airport, a warm meal, a new set of lingerie to rip off of you? You had pondered his return so much that your mind had started to suggest you had chosen a life that couldn't belong to you. Sooner or later, you had thought, he would have realized your inadequacy to fill the spot beside him at dinners or at the pub, to fill his house, to fill the rest of his life with, maybe even his grave in the family chapel up north. Concerns, heavy like lead, had crowded your head to the point you felt the ground underneath you flex under the weight. 

First times are often embarrassing, sweet or clumsy, but the first time he had returned home to you it just felt… wrong, like you couldn’t provide him with an appropriate welcome. The echo of his footsteps around the house had felt chastising and more similar to the sound of whip to the one of your lover's return. 

You had spoken to him about it some time later, explaining the lack of purpose you felt laying there, waiting for him to rescue you instead of welcoming him, and he, of course, had told you not to worry, and that 'he wasn't a soldier, he was just doing his job like a normal human being'.

While you trusted him, you realized that the former suggestion resonated with you in a way that you couldn't quite comprehend at first. Maybe it was distasteful to think about his absence that way, considering that greed and gluttony would be the only real threats to his well being while on tour, but the lack of him made you feel like a military widow nonetheless. In a way, you were sharing him with an entire nation, multiple ones even, all waiting for him to offer guidance to his community. The parallel probably didn't make any sense, but it gave you a purpose.

That's why a cherry tart was in the fridge, Nick Drake was softly singing from the record player and you were now sitting facing the windows with wet hair and red lipstick on, waiting for him to turn up. A silly little routine maybe, but comforting, something that generations of awaiting women before you probably had done, the anxiety of being nice and put together for the man you love.

Suddenly your train of thought is cut off at the shower of light that fills the room. It's a sudden flash, the rays filtering through the blinds and painting your face striped before the glow of his low beams curves slightly and then dies on the driveway, replaced by a quick splash of orange. 

You could recognize it anywhere.

It's like experiencing the beginning of the universe, like discovering that life exists outside these four walls, a big bang happening just outside the windows, giving you a world to finally live in. You slowly get up, counting down the twenty seconds it will take for your Adam to reach his garden of Eden. 

His silhouette finally fills the glass door frame, standing straight to watch yours behind the frosted barrier. He pushes the handle and finally he’s in front of you, the first man to ever exist. It’s routine now, his hand coming behind your back to push you towards him and then coming to your waist, grabbing at the fabric of your white nightgown and crinkling it with his tan fingers, the other hand still on the handle, his lips coming down to leave a butterfly-weighted kiss at the corner of your upper lip, the gesture so delicate it could have been the night breeze. 

Soon you’re in bed, the white cotton covering you giving the appearance of innocence, contrasting widely with the man kneeled at the foot of the mattress. He looks like sex personified. He has discarded his shirt on his way to the bedroom, following the flowy nightgown up the stairs, and he is now unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other keeping your foot in place, caressing the ankle with his middle finger. Without the support of the leather strip his dress pants fall just a little lower on his hips, gracing you with the spectacle of his ‘v’ shaped abdomen and his rose tattoo. You don’t dare move just yet, enjoying the way he naturally takes the lead. He unbuttons his slacks, standing up to undress himself completely, half-lidded eyes never leaving your figure. He then crawls over, lifting the nightgown just above your belly button, littering your stomach with small, wet kisses, lingering on your pelvis before crashing his tongue flat against your cunt. He caresses your thighs while he eats you out, slowly lifting your legs to circle his head with, clamping around his ears, the tips of his fingers barely grazing upon the skin, agonizingly ticklish. He slowly trails two of his fingers down and into you, curling into your sweet spot with surgical precision while his lips suck on your clit with unrelenting eagerness. You are panting furiously, swears cascading off your lips with ease and mixing with pleads of his name but he suddenly stops, raising his head just enough so that his breath is still teasing your core.

‘You need you to be a little bit louder princess, I can’t hear your sweet moans with the way you’re crushing my skull’ 

You desperately nod, anything to have him back there and, just as a little aid, you slide your legs down to his throat, choking him slightly and eliciting a deep groan out of him. He instantly resumes with flickers of his tongue, making sure to maintain eye contact with you while you reach your high again. You cross your ankles on his back,tightening the grip around him and cutting his blood flow just a tad more; he takes the hint, increasing the rhythm of his fingers until you’re cumming on his face, completely enveloping him for good with your limbs, his name reverberating in the air like a sinful litany. 

He climbs your body in a couple of swift moves and now you’re face to face, his wet, swollen lips brushing yours, his breath hot against your cheeks. He looks quite a state. Unruly curls, sunken cheekbones, a rosy flush across his neck.

‘Welcome back, baby’

He chuckles darkly, his erection twitching against your thigh, pressing into your flesh through his boxer in search of relief. You slide your hand across his chest, almost feeling his ribs. You’d love to tear him apart just to count them, just to make sure that you haven’t dreamt it: there’s a missing one. God, if he exists, made you out of it, out of him. Maybe that’s why you’re always trying to be as close as possible to one another.

He does just so, after peeling the last piece of clothing off himself, sliding inside of you like he hadn’t left in the first place. He starts moving slowly, standing a little straighter to watch you squirm and whine.

‘What’s wrong baby? Do you want me to stop?’ He coos. He knows exactly what you want, the condescending tone not helping your situation. 

‘Need- need to feel you better’

‘Is that so, princess? Did I make you too wet? Let you make it up to you, yeah?’

He finally undresses you completely, crumpling the nightgown in his hands, bottoming out completely and wiping your cunt, the friction causing a small moan out of you. 

When he finally thrusts into you again, the burn is so delicious you can feel your eyes roll into your skull.

‘Is that better baby? You’re such a dirty fuck doll, so eager for this dick that you want it to feel it split you open’

You choke out a broken moan, fire licking up your limbs and feeding the warm feeling in your lower stomach.

‘Answer me princess, don’t be shy’

‘Y-Yeah I am Matty, fuck’

His thrusts get faster as a way to reward you, the effort making his smirk fade in favour of a much more fucked out expression. He’s on the edge as much as you. You can feel the pleasure reaching an impossible level of tightness in your stomach and you grab his forearm with your hand  in anticipation, fingernails planting into his tattoos. 

‘Keep looking at me when you cum on my cock kitten’ 

Matty’s request sounds more like an order you can barely follow when your orgasm actually hits you, eyelids fluttering and hands scratching his tense back, your legs twitching like a shock wave had just hit you. Matty does his best to ground you, his hands keeping your hips glued to the mattress while he keeps fucking into you. 

‘Matty you can’t anymore, ‘m too overstimulated’

He coos at you, sweetly condescending, your whispered pleas almost amusing him.

‘Yes you can, baby. Just a bit more, okay? I’ll cum with you, promise’

You nod your head the best you can, feeling the tension starting to rise again when he starts to gently rub at your clit with his thumb, leaning to cover your cheeks with small kisses that contrast with his frantic thrusts.

‘Where do you want me, princess?’

It’s a rhetorical question, you both know it, but you don’t seem to be able to answer him. Even with your mouth agape, air isn’t filling your lungs, and you can only trust him to understand you when you trail a hand down to your lower stomach, resting it on the spot where you can feel the head of his cock hitting. 

He smirks down at you, his expression scrunching up a second later when he feels you clenching around him. 

‘I’ll fill you up good, kitten, don’t worry about it, you just have to let go. Wanna feel you milking my cock for what it’s worth’ 

His words finally make you crumble a second time, tears brimming your eyes while he fucks you through your orgasm until he is on the brink too, admiring your fucked out expression before releasing inside of you. 

He rolls off of you, his arms coming to cradle your head while you try to regain your breathing rhythm. 

‘I’m never gonna leave again’

You chuckle and slap his heaving chest.

‘You will, but I’ll wait for you. All that I do is wait for you.’

[aziraphales-library]

Hello amazing mod team! I was wondering if you know of any fics involving Crowley taking care of an injured/sick/Fallen Aziraphale, or vice versa? The fluffier the better. I also typically don't read AUs. Thank you all so much for what you do here. Much love!

Hi! You can check our #sick fic, #hurt aziraphale, #hurt crowley, and #fallen angel aziraphale tags for more fics like this. Here are more fluffy hurt and sick Aziraphale fics to add...

Unsteady Breaths by Elijahsworld (NR)

Happily unboxing his new collection of books, the thought that anything he would receive could be harmful to his angelic being never crossed his mind. Or Aziraphale falls ill but Crowley's there to comfort him through these rough times.

Made it out of our cages, never made it back home by ethewinter (NR)

"We were a team," said Crowley. "And a damn good one at that. I never... Out of all of the people who could've betrayed me, angel, I never would have thought it would be you. Not in a thousand lifetimes. You want to know why I'm still hurt?" Crowley straightened and looked directly into Aziraphale's eyes. His yellow eyes were filled with tears. "I never would've done this to you. Never. I don't fucking care what you think, we're an us. We've always been an us. You running off to play archangel doesn't make that different." - Aziraphale's promotion to supreme archangel doesn't work out. Crowley's left to pick up the pieces.

so I’ll take care of you (and honey, you’ll take care of me too) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“Angels don’t sneeze,” Crowley began, letting a few seconds of silence fill the atmosphere. “Wait, do they?” “I don’t know, dear. But, not to worry, I’ll be all tickety-boo in no time. It’s just the weather, you see, icy all around,” Aziraphale remarked, his tone a smidge too polite and formal for the situation. “My corporation’s merely responding to the changes-“ He had begun, before another sneeze so rudely punctuated his sentence. The muffled mucus-filled sniffles were loud enough to be transmitted to the other end of the phone, the worry in the demon’s chest rising, pounding on his ribs. “‘m coming over,” Crowley said matter-of-factly, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t somehow sense that both his legs are anxiously bouncing at breakneck speed.

Unwilling to waste miracles on himself, Aziraphale can’t miracle himself better after catching a cold. Luckily, a certain lovesick demon is there to take care of him. A sickening amount of fluff ensues (and many feelings are realised).

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

Eye for an Eye by Greenathena (T)

A year before the Apocalypse, Aziraphale is suddenly struck blind, losing both his corporeal and ethereal vision. To make matters worse, he's just discovered that Heaven may have some new technology to hasten the end of the world.

so grey the face of every mortal by philadelea (T)

"Now, some 6,000 years, several historical rescues, and one half-Apocalypse later, that promise tasted like ash in Crowley’s mouth. " It's been six months since Armaggeddidn't. Aziraphale has been in Hell for the last three weeks. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

- Mod D

[seoafin]

dog days are over | chapter two

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): none except typical gojo behavior word count: ~4.1k

fic masterlist read on ao3

You are in a store, looking at an intricately carved wooden grandfather clock, when you suddenly stand upright and look around. Satoru and Megumi are nowhere in sight, or even in the antique store for that matter. The last thing you remember was following Satoru and Megumi in the crowd. Satoru had been on the phone receiving unpleasant news, from the look on his face. But then you caught a glimpse of the clock you had spent the last ten minutes marveling over in the storefront window, and your legs had done the rest. 

It’s a fine grandfather clock, undoubtedly out of your budget, but beautiful nonetheless. It's large, about the length of Satoru actually, the fine wood nearly red and carved into delicate spirals on the side, with gold touches overlaying the clock window, the second hand slowly ticking away.

You catch your face in the reflection of the glass panel, and you ponder it. One day you were a child, peering into your mother's vanity mirror, inspecting your features with the indifference of a toddler. Then you were a motherless girl, in near tears at how your father would cringe away from the familiar set of your nose and lips. You don't think your face has changed much from high school. Unless it has?

You wonder how you appear to others, what they see when they look at you.

You step away, searching for your phone in your bag. It’s not until you blindly reach for the familiar shape of your phone that you realize you don’t have it. You must have left it at home.

Satoru would find you…probably. 

The man at the counter dips his head in a farewell and you smile back as you step back outside. The gravity of the situation hits you. This is troubling. Satoru and Megumi…the park is a possibility. They could’ve also gone to the department store too. Your best bet is to….stay put. If nobody comes in the next ten minutes, you’d head to the department store. 

You stand outside the store, watching passersby. All types of people. Schoolgirls, couples, businessmen, older women and men. All people with lives, oblivious to cursed energy and jujustu sorcery and all the dangers that lurk in the dark. In another life, you would be someone. Maybe you’d be walking home from work. Maybe you’d be walking to see your parents, to a house that doesn’t exist anymore, not in this life. You’d be a working adult, or maybe you’d still be in school, just like you are now.

A woman walks right by you, laughing while on the phone. There is a brightly cut diamond on her ring finger. She doesn’t look much older than you. In fact, she might even be your age. You wonder about the circumstances of her marriage. She might not be married yet. She could’ve just been recently proposed to. 

In another life, you could’ve been just another girl on the street, happily engaged and chatting eagerly to a friend on the phone about wedding plans.

Your world tilts a little to the left at the revelation.

“Heya missy,” a man says, walking up to you. You note the open collar of his cheetah print shirt, the sagging waistband of his pants. There’s a lit cigarette stuck between his teeth. He’s so close to your face that the ashes of his cigarette fall onto your shoes. 

“You waitin’ on someone?”

“I am,” you say patiently. “He should be here soon.”

You hope anyway. Maybe you’d just make your way to the department store regardless.

“Leaving a beautiful woman like you waiting?” He laughs, blowing a fresh face of smoke in your face. “This fella doesn’t know how to treat a woman like you.”

Perturbed, you take a step backwards into the wall, but the man steps forward, closing the distance once more.

“C’mon,” he says. “Me and you. There’s a karaoke bar near here…”

“I’m good.” You turn to start walking to the department store.

The man’s tone turns ugly. “Now wait a min—” You feel fingers brush your wrist. Satoru is not there and then he is, and when you register the blur of his presence and distinctive cursed energy, he is pulling the man up by his wrist. The man struggles with Satoru’s height, toes raised in an attempt to stabilize his footing.

“Leave before I break your hand,” Satoru says tonelessly, tipping his face down to meet the man’s eyes past his sunglasses. “Out of my sight.”

Satoru lets go of the man’s wrist, and he falls, stumbling to the ground. You see a flash of his bruised wrist. He doesn’t even spare you a glance as he runs away.

“Thank you,” you say. He shouldn’t have gone that far though. You don’t think it’s right to be harming civilians like that. Especially to help you, of all things. You’re about to speak up again, when he turns to you.

“You.”

His eyebrow twitches once, temporarily marring the cool expression on his face, and you think that maybe you should’ve just gone to the department store after all because there’s a very real chance he is annoyed at you.

You suddenly find the ground very interesting. Satoru’s shoes enter your vision. And when you finally look up at him, his fingers are flattening the collar of your button up shirt, fingers grazing your bare neck where his gaze rests.

“Maybe I should get you a collar and leash,” he says casually, easily, as his fingers begin to button your shirt, out of the top three you neglected when you initially put the shirt on. The first, then the second. “Since you keep forgetting yourself.” The third. Your shirt is buttoned to the collar. He clears the hair from your face to behind your shoulders, fingers brushing your neck. 

You stare at him. He meets your gaze unabashedly. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that Satoru just called you a dog. A lost, blind dog. Sometimes, you know him as well as you know the back of your hand, and sometimes, you think he’s completely incomprehensible, speaking in a language only Suguru can understand. 

You blink. A sudden thought strikes you, and your eyes go wide, sweeping all around you. “Where’s Megumi!?”

Before a passerby can bump into you, Satoru tugs at your arm, bringing you into his chest. He takes your hand, fingers entwined around your own, and leads you. “I left him in the park.”

You’re horrified. How can he be so nonchalant about leaving a child in the park? “Satoru—”

He exhales, shoulders temporarily sagging in a contained effort. “Megumi’s a big boy now!” He exclaims, grinning. “If he can’t survive 20 minutes by himself, he’ll never survive the life of a jujutsu sorcerer.” He frowns. “At least Megumi remembers his phone.” And that's more than we can say about you, isn't it?

That brings you to silence. You…You knew Megumi would likely never experience a normal life but you still wanted to grant him whatever semblance of normality you could. You’d make it up to him somehow, feeling guilty that you had yet again, thoughtlessly wandered off. A habit Satoru remarked about over and over as headache inducing. It wasn’t as nearly inconvenient when you were alone, with nobody to answer to.

The two of you find Megumi on a stone ledge, drinking from a water bottle while clutching three pink shopping bags in his arm. And Satoru left him with Mimiko and Nanako’s Christmas presents. You shake your head, unable to even find the words. 

“I’m sorry.” You say apologetically. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not really,” he replies. You wince. He’s lying in consideration for your feelings. You take a seat next to him.

“Tell me everything you want for Christmas.” You are serious. You have a few things in mind for Megumi’s Christmas presents, but if he had his own thoughts and ideas, then even better. “Satoru will buy you whatever you want.”

Satoru snorts. “That’s some nerve you got there.”

You ignore him. Megumi peers up at you, and you resist the urge to take him into your arms and squeeze, unsure if he’d take it well.

“What was it?” He asks. What caught your attention?

You are embarrassed all over again, especially since you can feel Satoru’s own interest. “There was a…clock.” You clear your throat. “Should we get dessert?” You lift your head, and see a crepe truck parked at the far corner of the park. “How about some crepes?”

You watch with Satoru as Megumi walks towards the crepe truck, money gingerly tucked in his hand, a smile on your face. It feels like just yesterday he was seven and barely up to your waist, expression oscillating between blank indifference and a scowl. He had been at the age where you could wrap your arms around him and feel his small body cling to you back. Children grow up quickly. Megumi, Tsumiki, Nanako and Mimiko. It makes you both incredibly sad and proud. Now Megumi is at an age he can buy crepes all by himself because you expressed interest in eating dessert.

…Or maybe he just wanted to get away from Satoru. The smile on your face grows wider. Some things just didn’t change. Satoru could get married. Suguru and Shoko too. The three of them would eventually leave you. But your relationship with Megumi would never change. At least, you hoped. 

Satoru clears his throat. You blink, taken from thoughts, and turn to him. You see that he’s taken off his sunglasses, head angled forward to allow his eyes to take center, flashing in a calculated, pointed look, and you are already bracing yourself for some kind of inane request. Or so you assume. You resist the urge to turn back forward and ignore him.

“...?”

His voice is light. Almost pleasant. “Don’t you think you’ve been spending a little too much time with Megumi recently?”

You are wholly unsympathetic as you stare at him, tilting your head to the side. “...That’s a little pathetic of you, don’t you think?”

His bottom lip juts out in a displeased expression, bordering on a pout. Though you aren’t sure if it’s because of the blunt manner in which you replied or your actual response.

“...”

You feel…a little bad. Especially because he won’t stop looking at you. The days where you could comfortably ignore him have seemed to pass. The two of you aren’t in high school anymore. And you’re not the same person you were in those days you could indifferently brush off Satoru’s crude comments and easily irritable attitude.

“I like spending time with Megumi,” you say lightly. Suguru’s so good with the girls that sometimes you worried Megumi felt left out. Not because Suguru didn’t make an effort to include him, but because there was only so much a ten year old boy had in common with his similarly aged sisters. So the two of you went off together in search of bookstores and record stores in Jimbocho, tried your hand at arcade games (and spectacularly lost in a fashion that Satoru would undoubtedly make fun of you for), tried different types of matcha at the department stores, and more.

You’ve never considered it a chore or babysitting. Megumi’s silence was different from Satoru’s constant activity, his overwhelming presence you’ve watched others get easily drawn into. Or even Suguru’s dominating calm and peace. On some level, the two of you understood each other. You think if anything, it was nice to be understood without any words needed.

Satoru does not look appeased. “More than you like spending time with me? ” With Suguru?  

You wonder what has him so agitated lately, if the incident earlier could be indicative of something more, something that’s been troubling him. You don’t know who had called him earlier, or the contents of the call, but you think it has everything to do with Satoru’s recent moods. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him so antagonistic. 

“Of course not,” you say evenly, carefully, but his mouth drops in a greatly aggrieved gesture, as if you’ve just told him you killed his dog.

“Liar!” He exclaims, purposefully raising his voice and inviting several curious glances from onlookers and several women who seem both invested in the potential drama and Satoru’s good looks. “Just who do you think you’re fooling!?”

You sweat. “Satoru…” You see a man turn to the woman next to him and mouth couple fight . You’re inwardly mortified. Satoru straightens. “I really can’t speak to you while you’re like this.”

“He gets you more than I do,” he huffs, crossing his arms.

You blink, before staring down at your lap, feeling warm enough that the chill outside doesn’t feel as cold. You meet his gaze. “You…miss me?”

“No needa sound so surprised,” he says unhappily, eyeing you as if you’ve said something wrong. You seem to be making a habit of saying all the wrong things. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

It hadn’t occurred to you that Satoru and maybe Suguru and Shoko too, missed you as much as you missed them. You didn’t expect Satoru of all people to tell you as such. Your smile grows wider. He misses you. It’s an oddly vulnerable declaration, especially from Satoru. 

He impatiently taps his foot. “...Don’t you have anything to say to me?” 

You laugh. “I love you too Satoru.”

A strange look crosses his face. You aren’t sure if he’s pleased or displeased at your words, but you’ve never been one to shy away with your own declarations of love. You love him, you love Suguru, you love Shoko. You love the kids. You hope they all know how much you love them, so much that you’d do anything for them. You think your love, in all its meager, useless glory, for all its joys and sorrows, is the only thing you have to offer.

Satoru only looks at you, and takes a seat next to you. His fingers brush yours. “I’ll make you take responsibility for those words, you know," he muses. "One day."

The two of you watch Megumi wait in line for crepes. You rest your head on his shoulder. “You don’t need to get married if you don’t want to.”

He exhales roughly, confirming your suspicions. He doesn't need to ask you how you know, or anything else. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t think it matters what I think,” you close your eyes to the heat of Satoru’s body. “What do you want?”

There’s a silence. When you open your eyes and raise your gaze, Satoru is looking at you. 

“Everything.” 

It’s an answer very characteristic of him. A smile nudges at your lips as you straighten yourself. “As long as you’re happy.” Then nothing else really mattered, did it? Maybe you were selfish for wishing it. Everyone’s happiness at the expense of everything else, but you found that you didn’t really care. If Satoru decided to quit the life jujustu sorcery tomorrow, you’d support him. Just as you’d support Suguru and Shoko and whatever Megumi and the girls wanted for himself in life.

“I do feel a little bad though,” you admit truthfully to him, sheepish. “I wish you’d still at least drop by those matchmaking ceremonies.” It makes you sad to think of all those women, working themselves up to look their absolute best, ignored and disappointed because Satoru couldn’t be bothered. You know it was expected that Satoru would do whatever he wanted, just as he always has, but it wouldn’t kill him to say a nice word or two before politely excusing himself. Though, if anything, it seemed Suguru was undertaking that duty for him.

Satoru makes a face that confirms your thoughts. As if even the mere thought of it all is a much too bothersome task.

“Suguru says they’re all very nice girls.” Great conversationalists. Mostly disappointed at Satoru’s lack of interest, some relieved. They had interesting thoughts and opinions, but very rarely an outlet for them, which made Suguru’s kindness even more meaningful.

“Does he,” Satoru comments dryly. His voice drops into a mutter. “If he likes them so much he should just marry one.”

You look at him sympathetically. Satoru probably isn’t used to feeling jealousy. You’re not sure of what to say to him, so you settle on covering his larger hand with your own, and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Nobody could ever replace what the two of you are to each other.” You pause, deciding there’s really no way to approach this topic lightly. So you bluntly say, “Is everything alright between the two of you?”

He flips his hand over, tightly interlacing your fingers as he looks straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. “Just don’t understand him sometimes.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. Satoru raises an eyebrow, but you’re too busy laughing to respond right away. It’s been a while since you’ve been so thoroughly amused.

“I’m,” you let out the remnants of your laughter, shoulders trembling, “sorry.” You shake your head, straightening. “Instead of not understanding him, are you sure you’re not frustrated because you know him too well?”

You think in Satoru’s case, his frustration is born from an overt understanding of all things Suguru more than a lack of understanding. It’s because he knows Suguru so well he also has to recognize that, like himself, Suguru can be more than implacable. Stubborn to the point of nonsense. Stubborn, just to make a point. Satoru knows Suguru as well as he knows himself, from the inside out. But Suguru isn’t Satoru, and sometimes their conflicting opinions cause more strife than necessary, especially considering their competitive streaks and antagonistic natures.

Satoru opens his mouth to rebuke you. Then he shuts it, resigned. You’ve won.

“Suguru’s just being being polite and kind,” you point out. You don’t point out that you’re sure Suguru would never entertain the affections of a woman he knows Satoru wouldn’t like. That there are many things the two of them have agreed on, and this would just be another. “You never know when you might need a friendly face in the crowd. I’m sure Suguru’s thinking about the future.”

Satoru’s existence was regarded as much as it was scorned, feared. The strongest jujustu sorcerer who would only grow more into himself, into all the abilities of limitless that the six eyes afforded him. The strongest. A once lonely title now shared. You don’t want Satoru to be feared or reviled, despite Satoru’s own indifference towards it. And you’re sure Suguru shares that sentiment. If Satoru has spurned jujustu society, then Suguru has embraced it. This is Suguru’s way of navigating jujustu higher society and politics, subtly crafting and pulling strings and favors, maintaining illusions of hierarchy and power, dangling promises of power and advantageous relationships. All in Satoru’s absence.

Or, more rightly, you suppose it’s Satoru letting Suguru take the reins. 

For all its many flaws and hardships, this is a world Megumi and Mimiko and Nanako will inherit. All of them have been hurt very much. There’s so much work to do to make it hospitable, inhabitable. To grow a garden where there was once a barren wasteland.

Satoru is looking at you oddly. Like he’s trying to convey to you something you don’t understand, all through the intensity of his gaze.

“?”

He quickly masks it with a conspicuously suspicious look. “You’re taking his side, aren’t you?”

You smile, shaking your head when Satoru’s thumb starts massaging circles into your hand. “I know better than to get in between the two of you.” Your smile turns a hint sheepish. “But…Suguru says that they’re all very nice girls. You never know…” you trail off suggestively, thinking of Suguru and his charmed white lotus girl. “There could be a girl—”

“Absolutely not.” There’s a finality in his voice that gives you pause.

“That’s okay too,” you say slowly, shrugging. Satoru has always known what he wants. Maybe in the end, all Satoru wanted was Suguru, and what could you say about that? You only wanted Satoru to know that love came in all shapes and sizes. If you could love him and Suguru and Shoko, then it was only reasonable to think another potential lover between the two was possible. Besides, the future was unpredictable. You knew that better than most. Maybe not now but… 

You squeeze his hand tightly enough that it should be uncomfortable, but Satoru doesn’t even flinch. He returns the squeeze, his hand so large they nearly engulf your own. You don’t remember his hands being so big. And then the two of you are squeezing each other’s hands, trying hard not to laugh. You’re glad the tension has somewhat left Satoru’s shoulders. There’s a lopsided grin on his face as you meet his twinkling gaze, and you are struck by the thought that he looks like a delighted child on Christmas, and you think everything is right again. If you could help him (and even Suguru to an extent), you’d be happy. Everything will be the same when you see the two of them again. It makes you think of living another life, and everything you’d be missing if the misfortunate events of your life hadn’t happened.

You watch as Megumi is handed two crepes. He begins to walk back, carefully balancing them in his grip.

“Earlier,” you say. “I was thinking about what life would’ve been like if I had never become a jujutsu sorcerer.” You think about the woman who rushed past you earlier, and the glinting band on her finger. Her palpable happiness. “I don’t know who or what I would’ve been in another life, but the fact that I’m here says something I guess. Right now, right here, I’m content.”

You have more than enough. You could never ask for more. You’d upset the precarious balance of the universe somehow. The same forgiving universe that had somehow deemed your unworthy existence deserving of happiness. As fleeting as you knew it to be. You were content. It was more than you knew you’d ever get.

Satoru goes silent, face discerningly blank. “Is it enough?”

“It is.” You’ve never needed much. You had grown up without much love at all, and to still somehow find so much of it was something of a miracle you were thankful for everyday. “It is, for me.”

The two of you sit in silence. A girl falls down in the sandbox, scraping her knees. Sitting upright, her lips wobble, fingers curling into her thighs as she tries not to cry. Seconds later, her father scoops her into his arms and they walk away. You become aware of your heart dully beating in your chest. 

“I would find you,” Satoru says calmly, gaze burning. “In another life, I would still find you. The three of us would be together.”

The words fill something cavernous and aching in your chest. A wound that never healed right. A wound that grew as you did. Something that makes you selfish and sad and always leaves you wanting. It’s a dangerous thing.

You don’t know if you love or hate it. The inevitability of it all. The promise of happiness in his words. Satoru doesn’t break his promises, but you do. It’s why the both of you try not to make many in the first place.

You find yourself smiling. “You’ll get my hopes up,” you joke, resolving to take his words as just that, a joke. You’ll get what you deserve, one day. In this life or the next. Expecting any different would be…

Satoru opens his mouth to respond but Megumi returns, sticking Satoru’s crepe in his free hand. When Megumi takes your free hand with his own, he hands you the crepe the two of you decided to share. You stand, moving to be released from Satoru’s hand but his grip on you tightens. 

You shoot him a look. “Satoru, let go.”

“I won’t,” he says with a scowl that says that the two of you have unfinished business. You would prefer he wouldn't. To Megumi: “How much to take a walk around the park by yourself?”

You are appalled. You hope your gaze conveys how pathetic he is being. “Satoru…”

Megumi takes a bite of the strawberry crepe. “No.”

Satoru sends the boy a flat stare that Megumi meets with his own. You finally yank your hand away from Satoru’s with an exasperated huff, and an overdramatic betrayed look crosses his face as he gapes at you. You smile at Megumi as he offers the crepe, which you take a bite of.

“Let’s forget about him,” you say pleasantly, swallowing a mouthful of sweet cream. The two of you start walking towards the street.“Should we stop by the record store on the way back?” You’d buy him any record he wanted. It was so hard to spoil Megumi. You liked to do it at every opportunity. It was your guilty pleasure despite all you had read about moderation for children. 

“Yeah,” he quietly agrees. “I’d like that.”

The two of you leave Satoru behind in that park, a double chocolate nutella banana crepe in his hand.

[alexisomnias]

— HOW I LOSE YOU. . .

Riddle is forced to watch you die over and over to an overblot

tags - potential spoilers , inspired off of game functions , reader is gender-neutral , angst with no comfort

"please finish this for me." you choke out, voice low and silent. With that moment, he swears everything stops. Everything no matter the shape or color blurred as his eyes burned. "don't let this be a waste."

        You don't realize, every single thing goes to waste the second you leave his life, the development he went through, you helping him work through his trauma and getting him in a better shape then before, all of it goes to waste. Suddenly he can't stop his tears.

He wants to beg, cry, yell, scream. Do it all enough that the world would want to give you back, pity him because surely if enough tears are shed he'll have nothing left to give.

He realizes a difference after a blink, his tears are suddenly dried, his throat no longer clogged uncomfortably. His head no longer pounding with salty tears. He felt as if it never happened, despite the regrowing ache in his chest and stomach.

That is when he realizes, Leona is still there as Leona. Not as the blot monster that Riddle himself became not too long ago, barely over a month. The Kingscholar is dripping newfound ink, and Riddle comes to the conclusion that he's back at the beginning of the fight, back before he lost you.

        Everyone else looked, reacted, and moved the exact same way as before. No changes made at all, he was the odd one out from the rest. The only one out of everyone there who's eyes frantically searched, and who's heart rapidly beat. Its all for different reasons though, this time his panic wasn't from his unique magic proving to be useless, or the familiarity of the black substance dripping down Leona.

Riddle no longer could hear anything, all words meshing in together as if he was the one in the planet with his own language, once his eyes landed on you his breath hitched.

You're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive..!

        Riddle is unable to cross over to you, no longer able to reach you and touch your skin with his hands. Unable to ensure your skin is warm and alive, unlike the one he just held which was cold and dead. His brain didn't rack for answers like it usually did, in fact it was extremely the opposite. Riddle Rosehearts, became purely just a riddle he's unable to solve in seconds. And he gave up before even learning what it said because he saw you. You were alive and that's all that matters to him. Not the answer, or the way to find it.

        Then once again in a matter of minutes (—or was it an hour..?), he wasn't careful enough. He knew everything that was going to happen, in fact Riddle himself literally lived it, and helped finish the fight. Finding the weakpoints and everything. Yet he just fell short, as if he was levelled severely under everyone else in the fight, like the most useless card in a game. He suddenly was no queen, no tyrant or anything. Because without a head, you can't see, speak, or do anything that is worth fear, other then that. A simple appearance affected the horror.

And for a second dreaded time, he called out for his loved one. "this a dream?! right [name]!?" he asked urgently, holding you close to him as the sounds of paramedics arrived. Your body, covered in sand he would mistake for your own ashes as he sobbed. One may think a sand castle for you both could be built as the sand became stuck to your skin, alongside your cracked bones and dried and dead skin.

"Riddle... please win..." you said, sounding tired. He didn't understand, they did win. "I’m so tired." you croaked alongside him as you leaned into his stomach. Rosehearts thought he was the victim to King's Roar in this current moment. The king knocking the Queen off the chessboard and down to the ground. Falling far, and far below until the players cannot find the game piece. Dried up like a forever desert.

He's so lost without you.

He's back. Back again from an hour or so ago. Same reactions, same people, same stupid ink that dripped down the Kingscholar's crown into his eyes.

        Riddle didn't want to be back here of all places, he wanted you to live. He wanted to hold you before everything happened. He can't keep watching you die, he can't. He can't do this, he needs this to end. Before the fight even begins he's ready to sob, an imaginary knife stabbing into his chest and up into his throat. His heart aching, ignorant to all around. His honor and the gravity of the situation that his heart and emotions betray. It wasn't about him, he's not in danger. He knew, at this point he felt like the most useless person here, his studies about everything all for naught, you’re slipping from his grasp once again. He knows its coming and he can't handle it again.

Riddle doesn't realize the fight already started, his body on autopilot as his mind wholes himself up in his room. He gets memories from his study time with his mother. Stuck in his room, blinds shut from the outside world. The subject of his study was you this time. Leona's going to kill you again, and he, the useless boy who does nothing but get angry and throw tantrums that trouble others, will have to watch because he can never do anything right.

[mynotsohealthyobsession]

Hello @mynotsohealthyobsession , I hope you're doing well. I really enjoy your fanfics and have a fic request for you (since I have no idea how to write it myself but I believe you can do it!):

A fic similar to the Choices Book "The Princess Swap" where your Bloodbound MC, Amy (business woman and/or vampire) swaps roles (or the other way around) with Nightbound MC (hunting partner and/or future fae duchess).

Pairings: Amy(F!MC)×Adrian & Alex(F!MC)×Nik

ONLY IF YOU WANT: EXTRA: If possible, you could add pets too just like the characters in Barbie movies had when they swapped roles. I know your BB MC loves dogs and I don't know about your NB MC, but she has a perrikin. Maybe she is a cat person and have a cat. Also very interesting, dog person vs. cat person?! Or Adrian Raines vs. Nik Ryder.

I mean, in my opinion, both MCs do have a few similarities like discovering Supernatural World, having family secrets, four LIs and they both have died once. You know.

Hi darling! Thanks for the request! This isn't exactly what you ask for, but I hope you enjoy it!

Disembodied - Part 1 / 8

Warning: Mention of death // Angst // Fluff

Pairings: Adrian Raines X MC // Nik Ryder X MC

Words: 1.515

As always, tags in the reblog!

•••

Amy felt her body was heavy and different. Funny. She always thought that it was the opposite when you die. Slowly, her senses started to wake up. She heard people shouting around her and the clear sounds of a fight. Was Gaius still alive? She forced her eyes open and the light dazed her. After a few seconds, she realized it was the sun. She looked around, panicked. "Adrian?" Amy asked, scared to find ashes but instead noticing a city that clearly wasn't New York. "Guys?"

With wobbling legs she stood, frozen when she was her reflection in the shop window in front of her.

This obviously was a nightmare. She clearly has died and, for some reason, she was in hell. These weren't her hands. Nor her face. And she definitely didn't have gray hair. These leather clothes, with the front soaked in blood, weren't her clothes. She turned to see a blonde guy fighting with a creature she had never seen in her life.

"Nik! Watch it!" Amy turned to a familiar figure running to the stranger. She had only seen him once in Vegas but that was definitely Cal, the werewolf. The fight kept going but the pale creature seemed too strong. Suddenly, it turned its ugly face to her.

"Shit!" Before she could react, it rapidly ran to her.

"Alex! No!" The blonde guy, both shocked and what seemed scared, shot arrow after arrow, following it. "Run!" But it was impossible, the creature was too fast. Amy covered her face with her arms and, to her shock, she heard a pained scream from the other side. The creature was whining with a huge wound on its side.

"That power…" Said a tall girl with smoking hands.

"Alex! Do it again!" Amy nodded at Cal's words unsure, sending her hands forward, praying for a miracle. Her palms expelled a bright strong magic that sent the creature flying up, tearing it apart, until it fell, dead. Amy fell to her knees, exhausted.

"Alex!" Nik, as Cal had called him, ran to her, dropping his weapon and kneeling to observe her. "Are you okay, Rook? What happened to your wound?"

"I think I'm fine." Her voice sounded so strange to her.

"You think you are fine?!" He seemed irritated.

"She might be still in a daze, Ryder. Let her be." A second girl said.

"I just want to know if she is okay, Katy." He looked intensely into her eyes and Amy missed Adrian's stare. She hoped that he and the rest of the gang were okay. "For god's sake, Alex! He stabbed you in the chest with his hand! You fucking died!" She felt her throat dry. She had been stabbed, yes, but with a sword. By Gaius.

***

"Amy! Stop!" Alex heard a male voice screaming but she couldn't focus on the words. She was so hungry, and that woman's blood smelled so delicious. "Amy!" A strong hand seized her wrist, stopping her. A pair of blue eyes that weren't Nik's observed her face with awe. "You are alive." The tall man smiled. "Amy, you are alive."

"I'm not–" But before she couldn't finish, the world turned black.

"So you found her in Central Park, Raines?"

"Yes. She was about to attack a wounded woman. When I stopped her, she didn't seem to recognize me."

"She's probably still adjusting. It's been four days after all."

The voices sounded around her but she didn't recognize any of them. Alex felt strange… different. The last thing she remembered was Thomas' hand piercing open her chest, killing her. Alex opened her eyes and four unknown faces looked at her with concern.

"Oh my god!" The girl with glasses ran to her, tightly hugging her. She pushed the woman away, standing up.

"Lily, give her space." A woman with a stern gesture said.

"Amy, are you alright?" The tall man wearing a suit asked, looking concerned. She didn't answer, her eyes studied the space she was in. It was an elegant office, with a huge closed window. She rushed to it, opening the curtains.

"Oh my god…" She didn't know how but she wasn't in New Orleans anymore. Instead, a smoking New York was in front of her. "This can't be happening." She said, furrowing at the different voice that came from her mouth.

"Amy?"

"This is a nightmare," Alex whispered.

"I know how much you love New York, Amy. I wish you hadn't seen it like this." Alex didn't turn, now looking at her reflection in the window. A long-haired woman looked back at her. She moved like her but her features were unknown. Alex extended her hand towards the glass and so did the other woman. A hand on her shoulder, even gentle as his, made her flinch. "My apologies."

"It's fine."

"I'm sorry to ask this, but could you give us a moment of privacy?"

"Of course. Jax, Lily, come on." The other two headed to the door. "Don't forget about the meeting, Adrian."

"I know." She felt nervous, even though the man was watching her with concern and fondness. "Amy, are you aware of what is happening?"

"Not completely." He leaned against the desk.

"That night, in the Met… You were dying. And, as I held you, I made a decision." Adrian sighed guiltily. "I turned you."

"Yo-You turn me?"

"You are a vampire, Amy. Just like Lily, Jax, Kamilah, and me."

***

"Come on, come on. Please work." Amy pressed and held the power button on the phone again, expected but the screen remained black and broken. "Damn it!" She threw it against the wall, frustrated. Amy sat on the edge of the sofa in, from what she understood, was Nik's apartment, where this Alex girl was staying. Amy had found the phone in her jacket. She intended to call her own cell and see what happened. It was a long shot but, If she was in Alex's body, could Alex be in hers? Unfortunately, she couldn't confirm or deny that theory at the moment.

She didn't want to ask for a cell phone and respond to questions she might not have an answer for.

For the moment she had decided to play along. It was better that they thought she was Alex instead of saying that someone else was in Alex's body and everybody thought she had lost her mind. Even though she already was thinking that.

She closed her eyes and her mind returned to Adrian and the Met. She could see his face, contracted with sorrow, as he held her. 'And I lo–' Was he saying that he loves her? She missed him and was scared of what was happening. Her eyes burned with tears that slowly rolled down her cheeks and she allowed herself to sink into the moment for a little.

"Alex?" Nik's voice cut the silence as he walked through the front door. He had left her to change her clothes.

"Yeah?" Amy quickly dried the tears away, composing herself.

"The gang is waiting for you to start the celebration." Nik walked to her, sitting beside her. She unintentionally tensed. "Before we head downstairs, I…" He scratched the back of his neck. "You know I'm not good at this."

"This?" Amy asked, confused.

"This. Talking and… Feelings." He cleared his throat. "About what happened before Thomas' attack, I–"

"Nik." Amy cut him off, "It's been a long and... Extremely weird day. Can we talk another time? Please?"

"Sure, Rook. C'mon, let's get you a drink." He stood and went to the door with Amy following him. Whatever he was about to say, she wasn't the person it was meant for. And, honestly, there was only one man she had feelings for… and she was determined to return to him.

***

"Amy, please say something."

"I…" Alex returned her gaze at the window, looking at her reflection again. It seemed so unreal. "I understand." She honestly did. If someone dear to her were dying, she would definitely do whatever it is in her power to save them. Even turn them into a vampire.

"I know we haven't talked about your turning before but the mere thought of losing you was unbearable for me." Adrian said, deeply looking into her eyes. Alex turned away, scared that, somehow, he noticed it wasn't Amy's soul inside her body. "I'm truly sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Adrian." She forced a smile. "You have a meeting now?" Adrian nodded, still attentively observing her.

"Yes, indeed we do."

"With the rest of the vampires?"

"Not exactly. With Moira Pembrooke, about New York's situation."

"The Secretary of Defense?" Her jaw dropped and Adrian gently smiled.

"Are you interested in participating?"

"Yes!" Adrian chuckled.

"Let's go then." He made a gesture as he wanted to take her hand but, after observing her with a slight furrow between his eyebrows, he just fixed his sleeves in place, walking out of the office with Alex following him. She needed to be cautious. She not only was surrounded by four vampires but powerful people too with connections in the government.

✨

[rvchelking]

It's been a while since I've done these, thank you dearest @stacispratt for thinking of me! I was tagged to take a few quizzes (what is your true role in the story and i'll tell you when you get your soft, italicized, "Oh.")

I've done both for my (not so recently) new OCs - the Hill siblings from Dark Pictures Anthology: House of Ashes.

Now, Samantha is a very talented archaelogist and Christopher's younger sister. She's strong and mighty, but she's extremly bad at emotions and everything that goes with them. Her undefined relationship with Jason Kolchek is a true battlefield: they are both stubborn, impulsive and frankly, toxic - but they do make an amazing couple if I say so. Both of them cgange drastically, and when the time comes - they finally talk and discuss everything. The only survivors finally find their peace despite the hell they went through.

the one at the crossroads.

questioning yourself again? well it's a hard choice is it not. you always decide you've made your mind but you seem to nevertheless return to this state of uncertainty. are you good or evil? dark or light alas? alas, I am not fit for such details in morality. In my slightly skewed sight of it, neither truly exist. they are but a mindset, but mindset or not, they still give you quite the anxieties hm? you are one who has lived in fear, your heart is hidden, and you don't know who to trust. you doubt you can even trust yourself. the caustic words of poisonous people have corroded into your skull. "you are evil. you are a monster. you are bad." well that is indeed a bunch of poppycock, mind my language, for the only one who may decide that is you. my dear, you are torn between never allowing others to hurt the ways you hurt, and from running away from all who might harm you again, with gnashing teeth. you are a cornered animal who has been kicked by the ones it trusted. you do not know whether to trust again, for your mind is screaming, don't. but if I may, you can be both. it is not the question of whether you are good or evil, it is the question, what do I deserve and how might I reach that? you do not deserve pain, correct? so never chase that, instead kindly decline and flee from those like your past assailants, but trust the ones who you know are good. sometimes you will find people to be a messy combination of both pain and love, but so are you and I. my advice is to simply be kind, but be willing to question. always question, always wonder. do not give away your heart on a silver platter my dear, it is worth far more than the sun himself, but don't fail to allow healing. you deserve good things in life. so as you stand between two roads, walk between the third you just now have noticed. life seems to be made of entirely preposterous choices, but if you look close enough, you'll reveal the right ones that are normally hidden from sight. breathe my dear, things will be well. trust yourself, and carve your own path.

the unrelated moment

you tend to be more preoccupied with practical things, to the point where you've been blinded to matters of the heart. sure, you're close with this person. you like to be close with people. it is rewarding to know and be known in return. you leave realization no choice but to sneak up on you. they're not even in the room when it happens. someone or something else spells it out for you, an observant friend's passing comment or a particular sentence you were reading in a book, and suddenly it hits you, what it all means. the person your feelings have been building themselves around. Oh. it's them. it's time. it's them and you, here and now, and you have to decide what to do at this crossroads. luckily, you're practically-minded.

Christopher is a leader, he's been in air force for as long as he remembers and when he becomes a colonel, he knows he has to fight for his only sister, for their dead parents, for Samantha's future and for his team. He sacrifices everything he has so Samantha could live and escape the hell they've discovered - just like any leader would do. The choice is hard to make, but he knows Jason Kolchek would take care of Samantha and he trusts him the most important person in his life. He dies as a hero everyone will remember.

the "chosen one"

back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I. but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you. but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. if wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no…

the late-night talk

Oh. you figure it out when you realize just how vulnerable they are willing to be with you. it isn't everybody who could or would stay up talking into the night with you, not with such affection or easy familiarity. it isn't everybody who is so understanding of you. it isn't everybody who could bare their soul to you in return. that kind of intimacy… it means deep foundations. it means comfort. it means trust. maybe it's a secret, maybe it's a story, maybe it's something you just never thought of before -- but they say something, late at night, and you realize all at once how remarkable they are, and how special it is to exist in the same time and space as them. "oh" indeed.

[multi-lefaiye]

*in the voice of a dramatic announcer*

And here comes Spencer Middleton for the blorbingo!

@yewphoric: SPENCA MIDDOLTON

i am doing both of these in one <3 thanks gamers! i love and hate this bitch so much <3

[animereaderinsertwriter]

tags/warnings: sexual themes, coercion but not in the direction you might think, fem!reader, restraints, consideration of non-con impregnation but ending left ambiguous , incubus!Dabi, witch!reader

Dabi lunges against ever-tightening chains, teeth bared and snapping as he strains uselessly towards his target. 

He’s bound on a soft queen-sized mattress, his ankles and wrists manacles to the head and footboard, awkwardly forcing out his chest. Enchained also is his neck, the end of it held like a leash by his would-be victim.

She is beautiful— too beautiful, he realizes belatedly, to be mere mortal. Her smile is sharp like thorns on a rose, and her eyes are bright with triumphant wickedness; with a delicate hand, she yanks the chain circling his neck even tighter, and he bares his fangs in protest. 

"Gotcha," she says with a sultry little wink, and he hisses in pain as metal glowing crimson with holy heat presses against his decidedly unholy flesh. 

"Release me."

He means it as a bitter, furious command— but it comes out more like a plea, breathy and nearly fearful, betraying the panic he feels clawing within his breast. 

His words only earn him tighter bonds, and he howls against the pain of them. 

"Did you really think I would let you go so easily?" she asks with a hint of a giggle, as though something about this were entertaining. "How long have you been lurking, creature? How long have you watched, waited by my window for this very night?"

So long, he thinks. So very, very long. 

He thinks it started when he watched her as she tended her garden in the springtime. He watched as her hands sifted through rich earth, planting wolfsbane, mandrake root, pretty little posies, and all manner of herbs and spices; at the time, all he could think was what this human might grow for him, and what he could plant in her garden, as it were. 

Now, in autumn's dying breath, he wonders if she will bother to bury the ashes of his corporeal form in her flowerbed, or if she'll scatter him to the wind without a care in the world for his resting place. By the way she's looking at him now, Dabi doesn't think he wants to know. 

"You know what? I don't want to know," she says casually, twisting the chain over her hand, drawing it taut as she closes the distance between them. "After all, it doesn't matter. I know all I need to know about you."

Fiercely, she jerks the chain again, and suddenly she's close enough for him to kiss or to kill. 

"I know you want me," she says, "and if you behave, I'm willing to let you have me."

Everything stops. 

Dabi's heart hammers in his chest— did he hear her right? —and then she's touching him, her soft hand coming to press against his exposed, ever-persistent bulge, his insatiable need. She grips him tightly— too tight, but desperately pleasing— and he whines against the motion, utterly unused to being actively touched by an intended victim. 

"I don't want a baby," she tells him gently, her nose nearly touching his. "You can fuck me, take your pleasure from my body— you can even be rough, violent without fear of waking a sleeping victim— but I won't procreate. That's my one condition."

Dabi blinks at her, puzzled— then melts once he realizes the implications of what she's just said. 

"But— but I want one," he whines. "The procreating— that's the fun of it, I want a— nngh!"

The fiendish, evil woman jerks the chain so that he literally chokes on his final words.

"No baby," she says, and her tone is final. "You'll make that deal with me— a binding deal— and that's the only way you get to fuck me."

She strokes him as she says it, dry and painful, and Dabi knows he's been had.

"Y-yes," he pleads, his hips rising to meet her strokes, precum leaking from his head. "Please— please—"

Her hand is gone, traveling farther upwards. With one sharp nail, she slices a shallow wound on his chest— over his heart— and she speaks words that shock him to his core.

"I bind you, Todoroki Touya—" she knows his name, how the hell can she know his true name?— "I bind you this night to my will. An even trade we make, an even trade then done, and you will quit this place or else be cursed forever mine. Mine ever to own, mine ever to keep, mine ever to bind. Finite."

She releases his chains, and he pounces. 

A flimsy, snow-white chemise is all that stands between her naked body and his— Dabi rips it off and immediately presses into her flesh, rutting senselessly against her just to gain some relief. As his body takes over, kissing her, caressing her as he grinds against her, his mind wanders to what might happen if he should break the binding between them. He wants a baby, he wants to see this woman swell and grow with little demon spawn; he wants to watch as it toddles and grows fur on its legs, and he wants to keep it for himself, leaving her with another one to grow in her belly, over and over again until—

A high-pitched whine escapes him, and Dabi realizes he's come already just from rutting against her. 

"Good boy," she murmurs, reaching between them to stroke him, his cock never softening— his blessing, his curse— and he throws his head back as she kisses him gently, too gently.

If he were to do what he was thinking, it would mean being bound to such a wicked creature for eternity— or, at least until she died, and with it her magic… but witches can live a very long time. Can he really take the risk?

As he watches the woman climb up onto the bed, her ass up and her legs spread for him, he thinks maybe he can— maybe he should. 

After all, how bad could it be to be bound to someone clever enough to trap him and cold enough to use him? She seemed so much like himself, and if their tastes aligned, well— such a binding might be more advantageous than it had first appeared.

[kazewhara]

Reader dying in Kazuha's arms because they saved them from attack or something like that.I wanna feel pain😥👍(If it's not to much to ask :D)

rest well.

# — pairing: kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, kazuha, gorou, kokomi, tomo

# — summary: it's time for you to take a long, long break.

# — warnings: blood mention, major character death (reader)

# — tags: drabble format, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, mcd, a touch of fluff

# — notes: WOW, anon, you just.. wow. making me hurt MYSELF with this one. ow. sometimes i get too involved in the emotions and struggle with writing it, so i really do hope this has the effect i was going for.. anyways, as always, reblogs are always appreciated, and i hope you enjoy this!

✧ — 🍁 — ✧

when you come to, you're greeted by a clear sky.

you prop yourself on your elbows. your head is spinning and your stomach hurts like hell, but other than that, you feel completely fine. maybe you ate something bad earlier. you survey your surroundings carefully.

you're laying in an open field that seems to stretch on forever, with trees scattered here and there and snow-capped mountains in the distance. you dimly recognize the mountains as dragonspine and nod to yourself. you must be on the outskirts of liyue, then.

you pause. how did you even get here in the first place? weren't you on watatsumi island..?

a sudden, piercing pain strikes your temple and you hiss. whatever the case may be, you know you're still incredibly disoriented somehow. maybe you'll think about it later. you sit up fully and turn left and right, trying to get a better feel for where you are when you spot a man sitting on a tree stump a little ways away from you.

his ash blonde hair is tied into a high ponytail and a familiar set of violet eyes are locked on your face. his presence startles you, but you're not upset with him. an odd sense of comfort makes you sigh. the man grins at you. "you're finally awake." he says. "how do you feel?"

you frown slightly, suddenly aware of the dryness of your throat. "kinda feel weird," you reply. you squint at him. he really seems familiar. "hey, do i know you from somewhere?"

the man with the violet eyes pouts at you. gears start to turn at the back of your head. "you don't recognize me?" he asks. he blows his bangs out of his face. "and here i thought we'd be able to finally catch up."

"catch up?" you parrot. your frown deepens as you wrack your brain for information on this guy. he's so familiar that it almost hurts -- it does hurt, you realize as the sharp pain in your temple returns. you can feel the world spinning much too fast beneath you, and you grow nauseous. "s-seriously," you swallow back the bile that rises to your throat. "do i know you? maybe we were friends at some point, or..?"

the man doesn't give you a straight answer. he just offers an empathetic smile. "man, i remember when i was in your place." he muses. "you're luckier than i was though; i didn't have anyone to help me get used to this place."

"what are you talking about?" you're starting to grow frustrated. you feel like you're so close to an answer, but it just won't come to you, and this guy isn't helping. if anything, he's providing you with more things to question. "what is this place? who are you?"

the violet-eyed man crosses his legs and leans his chin in his palm. "you'll remember when you calm down." when you glare at him, he only smirks at you. "fine, i'll give you a hint." he taps his chin in thought for a moment before you see his eyes gleam. "oh, i know! what do you think about the musou no hitotachi?"

the musou no hitotachi? why would he bring that up now, of all times? and how on teyvat was that supposed to be a hint? it didn't even look like you two were in inazuma in the first place, so why..?

a memory flashes before your eyes so fast it nearly blinds you.

"there has to be someone who can withstand it," tomo said as he stroked the head of the white kitten in his arms. "the raiden shogun can't be that perfect, can she?"

you felt someone drop their chin on your shoulder. the person -- a man -- hummed quietly. "she is the electro archon for a reason, tomo." he argued. you nodded in agreement and the man continued. "witnessing her ultimate move would be an honor to see, but not to experience."

"maybe the geo archon in liyue could probably withstand it." you spoke next. "what did the people over there call him? rex lapis?"

tomo cringed at you and the man beside you. "must you two gang up on me like that? i can never win with you guys."

the man on your shoulder chuckled and you shivered at the sound. he was so close to you, and you could practically feel his laughter. his body was warm against yours and he smelled sweet -- sort of like cinnamon. he bickered playfully with tomo back and forth while you basked in his closeness.

then, the man addressed you. "are you paying attention?"

"what?" you blinked your eyes open, unaware that you had even closed them. you'd been enjoying the man's warmth so much that you started to let your mind wander off without you. it wasn't an uncommon occurrence with you -- especially not when this man was involved. "did you guys say something?"

tomo scoffed. "ugh. go be gross somewhere else."

"oh please, this is nothing, you prude." you rolled your eyes. tomo always said this whenever you and this man got close to each other. it was normal since you were lovers -- you had been for quite some time -- but tomo would always find time to bother you two about it.

before you could say anything, the man beside you turned your head in his direction to kiss the corner of your lips. you flustered and turned your head away immediately, your ears beginning to burn. "why would you do that?!" you cried as you covered your face.

tomo made retching noises from where he sat. "kazuha, you're gonna make me sick!"

the man -- kazuha -- laughed and snaked his arms around your waist. "it's not wrong of me to show off a little, is it?"

tomo threw his hands in the air, ignoring kazuha's laughter. "that's it, i'm through with you for the day." he said.

"tomo..." you whisper his name. your vision clears as the memory fades from view. it was brief and a little unclear, but you heard the names -- you felt those emotions. that was real. so then the man in front of you must be tomo.

tomo answering smile is fond. "it's nice to see you again."

your eyes well up with tears. it feels like it's been ages since you've seen him. you push yourself off the ground and stagger over to him, trying to ignore the vertigo. tomo rises to meet you, catching you when you nearly fall over. "easy there," he says, patting your back lightly. he chuckles when you hug him as tight as your wobbly limbs can manage. "yeah, yeah. i missed you, too."

you bury your face in his shoulder, your heart breaking. "do you have any idea how long its been?" you ask when you push away. "what happened, tomo? where did you go? kazuha and i miss you so much."

tomo goes rigid at your words. he pushes you away slightly and you watch as his expression crumples into something you can't recognize. "do you... not remember what happened to me?" when you shake your head, he reaches down and takes your hands. "i'm not here anymore."

"yeah, obviously." you say. "we need to go find kazuha and tell him you're okay--"

"you don't understand." tomo cuts you off. "i'm dead."

you feel as though someone's drenched you with ice water. the sharp pain in your abdomen flares up again. your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to search for the words to say, but none come out. your mind is moving too fast.

the memories fly past you so quickly that they threaten to knock you off your feet.

in one flash, you see tomo bidding you and kazuha goodbye.

in the next, you hear a passerby mention something about someone challenging kujou sara to a duel before the throne.

and in the last, you see kazuha snatching tomo's empty vision shell while you grabbed his broken blade, the handle still warm from where he'd held it just moments prior.

once the memories are gone, you feel horror begin to cut off your air flow. it coats your lungs in a viscous substance, forcing you to take shorter breaths. you feel lightheaded and you double over, unable to take the pain in your stomach anymore. tomo guides you to a sitting position, but you shove his hands off of you.

"this isn't right," you whisper. "this can't be happening. b-because if you're here, then--"

tomo watches as the truth rests its full weight on your shoulders. tears pool in his eyes, and he has to bite his lip to keep from crying out loud. "i was really hoping to see you again once you've grown old and grey," he chuckles wetly. "but you haven't aged a day since i left."

no. no, no, no, no, no, this isn't right. this can't be right.

you take a fistful of the grass you're seated on. "what about kazuha," you rasp. you feel bile start to sour your tongue, and you don't know if you have the strength to hold it back anymore. "kazuha, he..!"

because if you're here, and tomo is here, then kazuha must be--

a broken and distant cry of your name makes you go still. you snap your head up and look for the source, but you find that it's still no one here but you and tomo. "did you hear that?" you ask. "d-did someone call me?"

tomo nods stiffly. "it's him. you can see him again, but..." he sighs. "if you do, it'll be the last time. all you have to do is lay down and close your eyes."

you almost say no. almost. why would you want to see kazuha again like this, knowing that it'll be the last time you ever see him -- the last time he'll ever see you?

you remember how distraught he was after tomo's sudden death; kazuha was unresponsive for nearly a month. he became similar to the vision shell he carried by his side at all times -- hollow and dull. you stuck with him regardless, promising him every single day that you would be by his side until the day he recovered. you feel like throwing up when you remember that you swore to him that you would be with him forever.

you lied to him.

there's so much you wish you could say to kazuha now, and so much you wish you could take back. if you did as tomo said, you'd probably be able to say it all, but...

"how long will i have?" you ask hoarsely. "how long can i be with him before... before i come back?"

tomo shrugs one shoulder. "i'm not sure. however long you can withstand the pain, i guess."

pain be damned, you think. any amount of pain would be worth it if it meant you could see kazuha again; if it meant you could touch his face just one more time. you do as tomo suggested earlier and lay on your back. the stabbing sensation in your abdomen intensifies as you cloee your eyes and focus on the new noises.

you hear... a lot of things. so much that you can't make it all out.

you think you hear kokomi on your left. she sounds like she's been shouting for hours, her normally calm voice sounding as thin as a sheet. also on your left is a frantic-sounding gorou. he barks orders to some people -- you don't know who they are. whoever they are though, they're making so much noise that it makes you want to keep your eyes shut.

it's the voice on your right that makes you open your eyes.

kazuha looks as broken as he sounds. he, like kokomi, sounds as though he's been screaming for ages, his smooth tone replaced by something shattered and hoarse. his hair is free of its usual ponytail and is a mess around his face, like he's been running his hands through it.

and his eyes... oh, his eyes.

if you weren't incapacitated, you'd sit up and kiss him; you'd reassure him that you're here, you're alive, and you're going to be okay, but you'd be lying not only to him, but to yourself.

you can't feel most of your body -- really, the only functional parts of you are your arms and head. it's a miracle your heart is beating at all. your fingers twitch slightly, and you put all your energy into turning your head to get a better look at kazuha, who's cradling your hand. you squint at him when you see him turn to kokomi. he shouts something, but it's mostly muffled. your hearing was fine just a second ago...

"hey." kazuha's voice suddenly comes in clear. he's leaned in close, pressing the back of your hand to his lips. you can feel him shaking so violently, you're amazed he's even got a grip on you at all. "hey, my starlight. how... h-how are you?"

it's a stupid question. you both know that. you try to smile, but you're sure it looks more like a grimace. "feelin' great." you choke out the words. you think you taste blood in your mouth. it wouldn't be surprising. "how're you?"

kazuha gives you a teary chuckle. "i'm... not important right now. you, uh... i lost you for a moment," he pauses and shuts his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. "you scared me."

you cough and splutter for a moment. the pain in your stomach is excruciating, and you now understand why you were able to see tomo in the first place. you can't see your wound, but it doesn't take a genius to know that it was fatal.

and you were fading. fast.

"m'always full of surprises." you finally reply. kazuha's figure comes in and out of focus, but you can hear the way he's trying to restrain his sobs. you take a deep, shuddering breath and feel kazuha squeeze your hand tightly.

"no, no, don't," he panics, "don't leave me just yet. please, i don't--"

"m'not going anywhere just yet, kazu'." you slur your words. you can feel your eyelids growing heavier by the minute. you remember why you followed tomo's instructions and blink slowly. it's now or never.

"hey, kazu'."

kazuha sniffs. "i'm here, darling. always. what... what is it?"

"tomo's still... a huge dork." you try to laugh at yourself, but you choke on your next inhale. "h-he asked me about the shogun."

kazuha blinks at you, stray tears slipping down his cheeks at the mention of his friend's name. it must dawn on him that you're really on your way out since you're bringing up tomo. whether he believes you or not, you don't think you'll ever know. at least, not for a long time.

"he's always been... eccentric, that guy." kazuha agrees quietly. "was... w-was he happy to see you?"

you try to shake your head no, but it looks more like a spasm than anything else. "told me i didn't age. can you believe that?"

kazuha actually chuckles this time. you smile upon hearing it. he's not happy -- he's probably hysterical, if anything -- but the sound is enough to put you at ease. at least you were going to die hearing him laugh one last time. the silence that follows makes your ears ring.

you take another deep breath. your eyes are half-lidded now. it's almost time to go.

"kazuha."

"yes?"

"i'm sorry."

kazuha inhales sharply. "don't... don't say that." the grip he has on your hand is enough to bruise, but you're starting to lose feeling in your arms anyways. "you have nothing to apologize for."

you can't agree with that. when tomo died, you promised him that you would be there for eternity; that you would never abandon him, be it through a break-up or otherwise. and yet here you lay, your soul barely clinging to your lips as he sat beside you. kazuha was the man you were prepared to give your life for -- hell, that's probably how you ended up here.

"i don't wanna... leave you behind." you rasp. "love you too much."

kazuha kisses your hands. at least you still have enough sensation in your hands to feel it. "i love you so much more. i have always and will always love you more, my star." he sighs shakily and goes quiet for a moment before offering you the most fragile smile you have ever seen. "i can tell, however, that the sky is calling for you."

ah, the poetics. he must be trying to make himself feel better. you wish you could feel your heart race, but it only slows.

you're nearly there.

"you've always been the brightest in my sky," he continues, "but perhaps... it's time you go home. rest for a while, my love; you've worked so, so hard. you can rest now."

you can't bring yourself to feel much of anything anymore. "s'dark, kazuha. m'not gonna see you again."

kazuha's just a blur now. he shushes you gently. "y-you will, starlight. someday. until then..." you feel lips press against your forehead and linger there for a minute or two. kazuha pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. "until then, get some sleep. for me."

some sleep, huh? you can't even see kazuha anymore. you wish you knew what expression he was wearing. you dimly, very dimly, remember why you returned to begin with.

"g'night," you whisper.

your hand is the final thing to lose its strength. you sigh one final time, your chest falling with your exhale, never to rise again.

kazuha sits in the thick silence left by you, his entire body shaking as he cradles your limp hand. he was so sure he'd cried himself out, but a fresh wave of tears surges forward. he does best to blink them back as he chokes back the lump in his throat.

"good night, my star." kazuha rasps. "rest... rest well for me."

✧ gonna have to read and write copious amounts of kazuha fluff to make up for this.

[elit-angel]

RANDOM HCS

Tag(s): @peppermint2d @krisquote @unfortu-nate-ly

I hit 500 followers recently, and I'm honestly so fucking grateful!! The fact that I've been able to reach and make half a thousand people happy with my writing makes me wanna cry 🥺 I love you all!!

I also couldn't think of anything for my boy Russel 😔✊🏼 I'm sorry fellow Russ lovers, I need to delve more into his lore

↳ CHARACTER(S): 2-D, Murdoc Niccals, Noodle (Gorillaz)

↳ WARNING(S):Mentions of AFAB Reader, Mentions of Cigarettes, Cheating, Slight NSFW, A Bit of Angst (mostly on 2-D's)

↳ TYPE: Headcanons

2-D

- 2-D once shoved a cigarette up his nose in an attempt to do a ‘reverse smoke’. It.. it didn't go well.

- You ended up having to find a way to forcibly make him sneeze so he could get the ashes out of his nostrils, his snot was spotty for weeks.

- This, surprisingly, was the event that made him stray from cigs for a few months.

--

- He really likes it when you play with his hair, most and if any contact on his head would be physical abuse coming from Murdoc, and the gentle movements of your fingers rubbing his scalp are enough to make him forget any of that.

- His hair is pretty long too, and he allows you to experiment with it as long as you'd like. Anything to just lay his head on your chest and feel your delicate hands massage his head.

--

- “Whaddya mean my normal voice isn't the same as my singin' voice? They sound the same to me!”

- Acts like he can't tell the difference between his speaking and singing voice. He can. Don't fucking believe him. He's spent years with Murdoc Faust Niccals, he knows how to be a snarky little shit.

- It's the perfect way to annoy you. You ask him to sing for you, and suddenly you're met with the most horrendous version of Souk Eye that you've ever had the displeasure to hear.

- “What? Yew asked me ta' sing didn't yew?”

- Bastard.

--

- 2-D may not be the most confident, but he knows he’s a handsome guy, and honestly? He likes it when you get jealous over him. Gives him a sense of acknowledgement, and also your cute angry little pout makes him melt.

- “Aw luv, is someone a lil' jealous?”

- No, 2-D, no one's jealous over the lady stripper fawning over you, fuck right off.

- Seriously though, he loves you- poor guy still hasn't recovered from the Paula Cracker Incident, and he treats you like gold. 'D knows what it feels like to be cheated on and..it's not good.

--

- Hates it when you call him by his real name, hates it. He won't stop you from saying it, he realizes it's kind of weird to call your significant other by their stage name, but he's gotten so used to 2-D that hearing the words “Stuart Pot” makes him cringe.

- It reminds him of his days before Gorillaz, when he didn't have to worry about his position in bed because of how much blood will flow to his eyes, or when he didn't have to wake up shaking and looking out his window to make sure the god damned whale wasn't out there.

- There are only a few special occasions where he'll happily respond to you saying his real name, and most of those are in bed when he's bent between your legs. (;

MURDOC NICCALS

- You're the only one he allows to touch El Diablo, after the deal with good ol' Satan, he's pretty paranoid about it.

- He's almost broken 2-D's wrist because of it, so consider yourself pretty lucky that he loves you. It's the reason why both of your hands are intact.

- “No, luv that's not- you don't hold it like that- okay give it- give it to me.”

--

- Now, Murdoc trusts you, and he truly loves you, but if you ever, ever tell anyone that every Saturday the two of you have a movie night with Hot Cocoa and snuggles, he will fucking obliterate you.

- His favorite movie is Bride Wars

- He's not seen as a touchy guy, and Satan forbid that anyone in the band finds that out. He kidnapped people for fuck's sake, his reputation would be ruined if people found out he likes sprinkles in his whipped cream!

--

- Much like 2-D, you can't tell me that Murdoc doesn't like making you jealous. He likes aggressiveness in his partners, and the way you forcefully pull him away whenever he flirts with someone makes him want to pound you into the mattress.

- He thinks it's all fun and games, you should know he'd never leave you! At the end of the night, you're the one he's making scream.

- “Oh c'mon dearest! You can't seriously think I'd ever leave you for that.”

- Doesn't understand how insecurity works, but give him a break. Anytime you call him out on it he just blames fucking Sebastian. Or Jacob. At this point he can't even remember.

--

- Although he may try to act like he's only in it for the fame, Mudz truly does love the band. Once you finally got to meet them he tried his best to stray you away from them, but after a while he got used to you and their shenanigans.

- Watching you build relationships with each of them honestly makes his non-existent heart swell, you somehow have enough charisma and charm to match their extremely different characters, and anytime he sees it he falls in love just a bit more.

- He doesn't like how you and Noodle have “Men Ain't Shit” nights though, it pisses him off.

NOODLE

- Noodle absolutely despises the DARE music video, so fucking much. She's embarrassed by any content from her teen years, and she finds the dancing in that video horrendous.

- Not only that, since she provided the vocals in that song -plus some backups from 2-D- she feels absolutely petrified anytime she hears her own voice.

- The fact that the video has 206 million views kills her.

- “Y/N, don't you even try.” “.....” “Y/N.” “....You've got, to press it on you-” “くそったれ!”

--

- If you can play any instruments, please play them for her. It seems pretty stupid considering she can play a bunch of instruments, but hearing your own talent applied gives her butterflies.

- She makes you play for hours.

- When she was a kid she'd quite literally force 2-D to play her favorite songs on the keyboard until his hands hurt, you think she's gonna let you up because you're tired? Hah!

- No.

--

- Noodz has organized a weekly Spa Day between the two of you, Russel, and 2-D. Don't ask why Murdoc isn't invited, just don't.. don't ask.

- She has access to some really good Japanese self care products, plus those really stupid and unnecessary products that only exist for shits and giggles.

- “Noodle- the avocado face mask isn't edible-” “But it's made of Avocado!” “Noodle, no-”

--

- Boobs. Boobies. Tibbies. Big ol' tits.

- You cannot tell me that this girl does not love tiddies. After a long day in the studio, she just dives head first into those soft pillows.

- Spending so long with three men kind of..does things to a woman. Years of watching Mudz or 2-D bring big chested ladies into their rooms sparked something inside tiny Noodle.

- And if you just happen to have big boobies? Man, just brace yourself for some old fashioned loving. And lingerie. So much lingerie.

[friend-of-giants]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by both @lucien-lachance and @cwahsont thank you both! I struggled to find a snippet I was willing to share, but found one suitable enough. Tagging @miraakulous-cloud-district @thelavenderelf @reachfolk @sheirukitriesfandom @choilacanth and @duo-kun i know you dont Go Here but i know you write :P

A snip from an upcoming chapter of Ascent from the Ashes.

As she pushed herself up to go wake him, the softest crunch of a twig immediately caught her ears and sent a powerful rush of adrenaline through her veins. Bristling with sudden shock, Wren bolted to her feet and pulled her axe free.

“Laas!"

A faint red light shone a short distance away, toward the road, too small to be a bear, too large for a fox or rabbit. Humanoid, almost. Whoever it was had hidden themselves behind a bush. She gripped her weapon tightly and poised herself to strike if need be.

Had Teldryn followed? She hoped for his sake that he hadn't.

“Show yourself," Wren commanded, suddenly quite aware of the fact that she was unarmored, clad only in a long tunic and soft wool leggings. “Don't think I can't see you!"

“You can see through bushes?"

The voice that responded was not Teldryn’s, but was familiar, though she could not place where she knew it from. She lowered her axe and squinted at the flicker of light, curious.

“Step forward, no weapons. Make any sudden moves and you're dead, you hear me?"

The bush trembled as someone rose from behind it, his empty hands raised in surrender. Piercing golden eyes locked onto her, and he flashed a set of sharp fangs in a cheeky grin. It was then that she pieced together the voice and who it belonged to—it was the Khajiit from prison.

“You are a free woman," he said, slowly and hesitantly stepping closer, keeping his arms raised and his eyes fixed on her blade. “I was wondering what happened to you."

“What are you doing out here? Spying on me?" She stomped toward him, fighting back the urge inside that was screaming for her to kill him. The heat that had burst within her chest was verging on painful and was a test of will for her to resist. “Who sent you?! Tell me!"

The Khajiit stepped backward, his eyes widening in fear and his ears flattening back. “Do not kill me, I was only curious! Nobody sent me, I-I heard a voice from the road and came to investigate, I did not mean any harm!"

“So you followed the voice, realized it was someone praying, then decided to hide in a fucking bush and listen?!" A scorching breath hissed from between her teeth. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't chop you in half!"

“I do not have one. I should not have kept listening once I found you, but… you spoke of slaying Alduin. You are the Dragonborn, yes?"

She eyed him warily. The boiling heat within her calmed down, yet still simmered uneasily. “Aye, that's me."

The Khajiit extended a wiry hand toward her and wore a massive, toothy smile. “Inigo the Brave. I am honored to meet you!"

[anywherebuthere]

we were both young when I first saw you || f.w.

Fred Weasley x fem slytherin!reader

"you burn me away until there is nothing left for you to hold."

Wordcount: 986

A/N: Shakespeare wishes he was me 😩🙏 this is a joke I'm very sorry. But uhhh, I wrote this cause I was feeling sad and it's not great but whatever 🤸‍♀️ title has no real correlation to the fic, it's just there because of Taylor's new album hehe.

Warnings: mediocre writing, angst but really bad, self destructive fred (only shown in relationship context), maybe a wee bit toxic </3 no happy ending

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it is by my doing.

wanna be tagged? join my taglist!

It wasn't that Fred had never noticed her.

On the contrary, it was rather hard not to.

She was always there, at the center of every class discussion, the embodiment of angelic grace in the eyes of their peers. Gazes followed her wherever she went and he would be lying if he said he was an exception.

The difference was that she noticed him back.

Moments in which they lingered on the outskirts of their circles, though far and few in between, existed. Quick darting glances and the brush of fingers as they passed in the halls were the extents of their interactions, neither daring to cross the perpetual divide between them.

In his eyes, the chasm of difference was unbridgeable. They were separated by opposing forces and as time passed, the abyss became endless in their polarity.

While she wore green, he wore red, the colours contrasting against each other in the segregated rows of classrooms.

While her robes were brand new and tailored, his had already been worn by all three of his older brothers.

While she sat serenely, he fidgeted, never feeling content in the stilted quiet.

She was creation, a paragon of life, flouncing from experience to experience, friendship to friendship.

He was ruination, determined to live a life of destruction, leaving chaos in his wake so long as it brought him laughter.

Cautious, calculating.

Callous, carefree.

But what was more temptatious than the impossible?

So the flitting gazes persisted. Brushing hands became the briefest linking of pinkies, palms meeting in the smooth press of a palmer's kiss as they passed. In their prolonged touches, their world of difference closed, the rift seemingly gapped.

Secret passageways became the center stage for whatever it was they shared; the scraps of feeling and sweet nothings exchanged under dim candlelight and damp corridors.

It wasn't much but it was enough.

And to her, it was everything.

How cruel of the universe to so fervently push two souls together only to rip them apart as fast as they came.

-

A life of hardship and struggle had not allowed him to grow accustomed to nice things. Fred resented things he didn't have and when he did have them, he did not understand how to look after them.

Some things were meant to be handled with care, and in the aftermath of their heated touch, a purgatory free of sin, he would forget that she was not another thing for him to break.

"You didn't think I was taking you to the Yule Ball did you?" he snorted, aiming his gaze to the low stone ceiling of their passageway, perhaps subconsciously avoiding the look of hope that had adorned her face. One of which had crumpled at his harsh tone just now.

His palms grew clammy and he sensed her shifting away from him. He snuck a glance down at her and felt a pang deep within his chest at the sight of her slowly folding into herself.

"Yeah no, it was uhm- just an idea," she responded, lip pursed, her voice whittling down to a trace of a whisper.

"I was actually thinking of asking Angelina. Johnson? You know her right?" he continued. He wasn't sure what compelled him to say this. He hadn't been thinking of asking Johnson.

In fact, for the last week, he had thought of nothing but what it would be like to dance with her under the night sky. Of how the moonlight would reflect off her silky skin. So why was he twisting the knife in her heart further?

She had been the one that had taken the first jump across their chasmic divide. Despite the lion crest adorning his jumper and the snake on hers, he had been the coward. His bravery was nowhere to be found when it came to the unknown.

She knew that she wanted him.

All he knew was fire and his innate ability in burning away the beauty around him, bit by bit until nothing remained but ash.

She didn't return the next night.

Or the next after that.

-

"Look I said I was sorry, I don't know what more you want me to say" Fred exclaimed, exasperated.

She refused to meet his gaze, her face flushed in frustration and he swore he caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes. He faltered.

She had returned to the drafty hall after a week. A week in which he continued to show up, waiting in hopes that she would come back and they could resume whatever semblance of a relationship they had shared.

Pride and dignity be damned, he was ready to grovel at her feet. When the time came, however, he was left stuttering, unsure. The unknown loomed over him, awash with uncertainty and insecurity.

He had made her cry.

In the midst of this realization, she mumbled something, though it was lost to the buzz in his ear as he witnessed himself destroyed yet another perfectly good thing.

"W-what?" he mumbled, dazed.

"I asked why you're ashamed of me," she said, louder this time.

For the first time tonight, under the heavy cloak of shadow in their corridor, she looked him in the eye. Her lip was quivering, eyes shining with unshed tears, though her voice remained clear.

Creation, clarity, control. She was the very essence of everything he was not and would never be.

He will never be enough for her.

Taking his silence as an answer, she turned away from him for the last time.

He will never be able to stop hurting her.

Suddenly the bridge across their divide crumpled and he watched her crumble with it, the ashes of their time together blowing away in the wind as she stepped forward.

He will never be able to cross the rift between them again.

His answer to her question died away on his tongue.

"It's me that you should be ashamed of."

taglist: @mollysolo @gxtitobxby @anchoeritic @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[swanimagines]

oh oh and if you can, what about an imagine where pin is practicing how to confess his feelings but the reader walks in? 🥳

FREDDY EVENT, send in requests for any of Freddy Carter's characters (NOT the man himself (= no Freddy Carter (the real person) x readers), only his characters)!! The event will be on for an indefinite time, if you're unsure, see if the event post is pinned to see if it's still on. (Other requests are open too, but they go to my normal to-do list which I'm not able to start doing til March at earliest)

Hehe aww, this is an awesome idea 😍 Tagging this as gif imagine even though this isn't a "real" one because I don't know how else would I categorize this. As a blurb?? But I think blurbs either mean stuff that's exactly 100 words or otherwise really short pieces?

But here you go Ash 💓 (Hah found a perfect gif for this scenario, I feel like that could be Pin's face if this scenario happened)

Also forgive me for any mistakes, I haven't slept properly for 4 nights because of the full moon.

Word count: 535

Pin had asked you for a ride to the beach that day, saying it could be good to let the horses to cool down after so many hot summer days. But it was partly an excuse - the girls at the stables had told him to confess his feelings for you for weeks already, and now he had finally gathered enough courage to actually do it, or at least try to do it.

"Y/N, I, um... like you- no," Pin frowned, trying to think how to word it more romantically, but trying to tell himself that he didn't need to be a Shakespeare to make you (hopefully) swoon. "Y/N, I've known you for years and since the girls-" No, don't make them think that you're only saying it because the girls wanted you to. "Y/N, I've known you for years and during the recent times, I've noticed that I've grown to like you as more than just a friend, and... uh..." You can't end it that abruptly, it needs something more.

"Pin?" a voice suddenly said from the stairway and Pin froze, slowly turning to look at the speaker. You stood there, frowning and Pin felt blood rushing up to his cheeks, tinting them red.

"Y/N? What... what are you doing here?" he sputtered out and immediately wanted to slap himself. Of course they're here, you idiot, you asked them for a ride. "I- I mean that, I thought you would wait downstairs."

You nodded, clearly flustered too. "Well, your dad said that you should be about ready so..."

Pin swallowed as you looked down. "How... how long have you stood there?"

"Not long," you quietly said, but then smiled shyly, and added, "But I heard what you said."

Pin blinked at your smile, and then visibly relaxed when he realized it's a good sign. But he still sighed, he had imagined his confession to be more romantic, maybe holding your hands at the beach while at it and not you looking at his back as he muttered it to the empty space in his room. "Uh... I didn't want it to come to you like this."

You allowed yourself to smile a bit wider, and bit your lip. "I like you too. I've... I've crushed on you for a few months now, I just haven't had the courage to say it. The girls know though, of course they do."

His eyes widened at your words, somehow not expecting to hear that, even after seeing you smile like that after his confession. But then he allowed himself to smile too, making his way to you and hugging you tight, and you immediately wrapped your own arms around him, burying your face into his neck. You had hugged a lot of times before, but this hug felt different. It felt like it was full of love.

"Well, I guess the riding trip will be our first date, then?" you murmured against his neck and he chuckled, releasing you from the hug and running his hands up and down your sides, still smiling that beautiful smile at you which felt like it could light up your whole world.

"Yeah, I guess it will be."

---

Freddy event's tags for Pin: @scandalous-chaos @brekkers-desigirl

[youbloodymadgenius]

Too Late (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @fuchsiagrasshopper's 200 Followers Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, love 💝

This is a variation on Ivar's death. Consider yourself warned. And... sorry 😔

The prompt, from the song Too Late, by Ashes Divides, is in bold and italics.

@zuxiezendler - Thank you for reassuring me (I needed it) and for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Ivar is about to go to war against Alfred. His eyes are very blue, though.

Warnings: major character death; mention of blood and fatal wound (nothing graphic).

Words: 1815

When a hand lingers on his forehead, Ivar slowly opens his eyes before shifting in the makeshift bed and eventually sitting upright, allowing you to take a seat next to him. Looking at him with concern, you tilt your head to the side, one of your hands resting lightly on his chest while the other grazes his thigh.

Studying him, you bite your lower lip. "Your eyes have turned deep blue, Ivar. You know what that means, remember?" Ivar snorts and then rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed. You don't stop, though. "Hvitserk told me. Your brothers used to watch over you. They knew that when your eyes turned blue that you were in great danger of breaking your bones. And they would say 'Not today, Ivar. Not today.'"

Knitting his brow, your lover wearily rubs a filthy hand over his face, his eyes never leaving yours. "I remember." He finally nods, a half-smile curling his lips. "I know."

"You could let Hvitserk take command, Ivar. You'd stay behind, for once. I could even stay with you." You know you're walking on eggshells, but when Ivar answers, there's surprisingly no anger in his voice. Though the calm determination in his gaze tells you that arguing is pointless.

"No, Y/N." He shakes his head and grabs your hand, playing absently with your fingers. "No," he repeats, "Hvitserk must lead the back-up troops, it has to be someone I trust. As for you, I need you on the battlefield. You're our best shieldmaiden, and you know that. And...", he tilts his head, lightly shrugging, "I don't think we can defeat Alfred if I'm not there too... You know..." He taps his forehead with his pointer finger and you know exactly what he means. He's right. His men are fearsome warriors, but they sometimes – most of the time – need guidance when fighting, and who else could do that better than Ivar, with his cunning and extraordinary strategic mind?

No. He won't change his mind.

For the briefest moment, you think you should tell him. But no. It wouldn't change anything. You're not deluding yourself, he'd still go. And he'd demand that you stay behind. And that's not happening. It's an option you refuse to even consider. If he goes, you go. That's who you are. Both of you. A king – a warrior – and a shieldmaiden.

You'll tell him afterwards. Once it's all over. Once Alfred is defeated.

"Okay, then." Leaning in, you give him a peck on the lips before standing up. "Promise you'll be careful."

Flashing you a reassuring yet tired smile, he nods. "I always am."

The battle rages for hours now and you know you should feel it in your bones. The pain. The exhaustion. But you don't. Unharmed and powerful, a shield in your left hand, it's like you're flying, dodging blow after blow, slicing throat after throat, driving your trustworthy sword into chests or guts, as you slash your way through the enemies. Exhilarated, you shout war cries and you know that if they are cathartic to you, they scare the Saxon soldiers. The thought makes you laugh – and indeed a crazy laugh escapes your throat as you run forward, swinging your blade from side to side, momentarily crouching down as an axe flies over your head.

Attacking a Saxon with your shield, you beat him savagely with repeated blows to his skull before skewering him with your sword. As he falls to the ground, already dead, you look up to the sky for a second, and silently thank the gods, a beaming smile adorning your face. You love that. You're never more alive than on the battlefield. As you lower your gaze, eager to slaughter more and more Christians, your eyes catch something on the left.

And it's like the world stops spinning.

Like your heart stops beating.

And you stop breathing.

Petrified, you can't comprehend what you're seeing. It doesn't make sense. It can't make sense. Why is this Saxon stabbing Ivar? How can it be? Why isn't your lover fighting back? Why is he bleeding? Your shield and sword slipping out of your hands, the ringing in your ears is suddenly deafening, and for a fleeting second, you think you might throw up. But you won't. Because that can't be real. You're hallucinating, for sure. It can't be happening. It doesn't make sense. It can't. It simply can't.

A sudden cry of pain and the distinctive and all too familiar sound of a broken bone snap you out of your stupor and you rush over to your lover – 'Not today, Ivar, not today, no' – dropping to the ground next to him, your hand grazing his cheek. As you see the state he's in – his left leg unnaturally bent at the knee with exposed bone; his stomach covered with blood – a shiver runs down your spine and you gasp, filled with horror. You want to cry, and scream, and shout but instead you inhale deeply, blinking several times before locking eyes with his bloodied ones. Your man needs you.

"I'm here, Ivar, I'm here." As you carefully place his head on your lap, his hand grabs your arm, squeezing it. His eyelids flutter as he tries to focus his gaze on you. Weakly raising his free hand, he fails to touch your face and something between a sob and a whine escapes his lips. Gently intertwining his fingers with yours, you can't help but repeat yourself. "I'm here, my love, I'm here."

A faint shake of his head and then he speaks, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper. "You... You should leave... Leave, Y/N.." He swallows painfully, and a sob chokes in your throat as you see blood running out of his mouth. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, but Ivar, your stubborn lover, keeps speaking, mustering all his strength. "Leave, my love, you're... not safe... here..." He then lets out a shuddering breath, loosening his grip on your arm.

Raising your head and looking around, you see that your fellow warriors are gone. Someone, Haakon probably – you always saw Ivar's second in command as a coward – must have sounded the retreat, now that their king is down. You don't have time to dwell on it though as you realize that the two of you are now surrounded by Saxon soldiers, their swords pointed at you. You coldly glare at them for a few brief seconds before meeting King Alfred's gaze. The Saxon commander seems shocked as he looks with wide open eyes at the man lying in front of you.

"Lower your weapons!" You barely hear Alfred's order, your mind taken with other thoughts, and you don't bother to see if his soldiers obey. The truth is, Alfred and his men are the least of your concerns right now. No matter what happens, no matter what they do, you're not going anywhere.

Once more, giving your undivided attention to your lover, you shake your head, speaking with conviction and determination. "I'm not leaving your side, my love."

Ivar frowns and winces. "I want you to... be safe..." He mutters with great effort, clearly in terrible pain. "It makes... no difference if... if you stay. I'm..." He squeezes his eyes shut, and you're suddenly aware of how pale he is, his hand on your arm now ice cold. He eventually speaks again, his breathing ragged and shallow. "I'm going to... die anyway. Y/N," his voice is choked, and your eyes are full of tears, "I'm...dying."

He's right. He's dying. There's no denying it. As heartbreaking as this thought may be, it is no less true. You've been in enough battles, seen enough fatal injuries to not delude yourself. With a wound that bad, there's no chance of survival. Absolutely none. You know it won't take long.

But it doesn't change a single thing. How could you leave him here, in this foreign land, surrounded by strangers – by enemies? How could you? You don't want to be safe, you want to be with him, as long as you can.

You may not be able to save him, but you can be there. You want to be there.

I will not lose you to a world that doesn't care

To the monsters that would have you.

Your hand cups his face as you swallow thickly, blinking back tears. "And I want to be here. I won't leave you alone." The pain in your heart is such that you can hardly speak. Taking the deepest breath you can, you then bite your inner cheek so hard that you can taste the blood in your mouth. "You're not alone, my love. You don't have to face this alone."

Ivar's eyes are closed, and for a moment, you're not sure he heard you. If you're being honest, you're not sure he's still there with you, even if he's still breathing.

But then, his eyelids flutter open, revealing glassy eyes. There's no more light in them; no more fight. "Not today..." He mumbles, despair clear in his voice. And suddenly his face crumples and his eyes are full of tears and you can almost physically feel the panic coursing through his battered body. When he speaks, sobbing very hard, it's to say what you never thought you'd hear him say, his voice as shaky as your hand on his face.

"I'm afraid."

It rips your heart out.

"I'm afraid."

It tears you to pieces.

"I'm afraid."

It destroys you.

You hiccup, a hand moving to cover your mouth. You want to take his pain away, you want to die and let him live. Your head is spinning, you're dying from the inside, you're not sure you can do it, but you have to. You know you have to.

So, gathering the courage you thought you didn't have, you nod. With tears rolling down your face, you swallow hard and say, "I won't tell anyone." Shaking with long, racking sobs, you try to smile. "No one will ever forget Ivar the Boneless. And I will never forget you, my love."

The fear in his haunted eyes almost unbearable, you can just soothe him, a reassuring hand on his cheek. Your tears join his, splashing on his face as you whisper again and again. "You're not alone, my love... I'm right here, next to you... You're not alone..." Sliding your arm under his head, you clumsily lie down next to him, curling your limbs around his body, cradling him.

Never surrender you, I always be there

I will be there to wrap myself around you.

And then, with a last gasp, your lover stops breathing.

And your whole world just shatters around you over and over and over...

Time loses all meaning.

You can't move.

Can't think.

Can't cry.

Can't feel.

He's gone.

And you realize you never had a chance to tell him...

He's gone.

Tagging: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @fuchsiagrasshopper

[catzula]

A kiss to warm your heart

A/N: Ahh I missed writing for Bakugou and its been a while since I had this much fun writing anything, I hope you guys enjoy it too >:(

And uh lets not make this one flop pls 😦

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Warning: cursing

Genre: fluff! Mutual pining, some jealousy but not very prominent

Synopsis: going to a skiing trip for the weekend with you friends sounds like a good idea (not as much when you realize your crush, Bakugou Katsuki is coming, too!), but it's a bit hard to actually get to skiing when you can't ride the chair lift.

"Dips on the bed next to the window!" Mina rushed into the room, throwing herself on the said bed. You sent her a fake pout as you settled on the other bed, not really caring about it's location, but it was fun to guilt-trip Mina. She gave you a crooked grin as she laid her luggage on the ground, already unpacking.  

"Change into your skiing clothes, Kiri told me we're going to go skiing in about half an hour."

"What? No! We just came, I'm tired." You protested, throwing yourself on the fluffy hotel bed, groaning and hoping you looked as yitrd as you felt so she would leave you alone.

"Y/N, stand up and wear your ski clothes? Please?" Mina held you by the arm, lulling you off the bed and thinking you were a little too strong for your own good.

"Oh, come on," she groaned when you sent her a 'leave me alone, I'm tired' look, "We're only here for two days, and we should use every chance we have! Also, it's tea time, and they are serving those little free cookies, so I'm sure you'll feel better if you just ate one."

"Yeah, all I need is cookies." You scoffed, making her grin. "Nope, all you need is Bakugou." Mina turned to the mirror and fluffed her hair, trying to look as indifferent as she could, failing at hiding her sly grin as she gave you a few seconds of silence to reconsider. 

You sighed as you rushed down the stairs, evening your pace with Mina's. You always hated walking in ski clothing since it made you feel like a burrito: overheated, wrapped with layers and layers of clothing which rustled each time you moved, and very uncomfortable.

"Free cookies, you say? Are there brownies, too?"

~~~

You knew she wanted to talk about something by the way she kept turning at you and fidgeting her hands. "What is it?" You asked when Mina glanced at you for the fortieth time the last few minutes. "If it's about you-know-who, I don't wanna hear it, though." 

"Mina-" you started to talk, but she stopped you before you could argue, although you were itching to go downstairs already because you felt like you were going to have a stroke if you stood indoors with these clothes. "Don't Mina me, and you know this is your best chance to confess to him! What are you even waiting for, for him to confess first?"

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Oh, come on!" She groaned, emphasizing the last word. "If you want to tell him, this is your chance!" 

"Well, you're out of luck, then." Mina booped your nose. "We are talking about the worlds biggest tsundere after all. I doubt he'd say anything before you do."

She was right, and you knew it. "I know," you admitted, rolling your eyes at the way she grinned proudly. "But I'm not- I don't want to damage our friendship, you know? And I'm not ready for a rejection." You laughed wryly to ease the tension you were feeling. 

"Rejection? Are you serious? You guys are so obvious that even Denki asked me if you were secretly dating. You are almost already dating, just neither of you accepted the feelings towards the other." 

Well, it was true. You and Bakugou were a little closer than friends, maybe, but him every so often flirting with you or you meeting his gaze whenever you looked at him (which happened quite often, you had to admit) didn't necessarily mean he liked you back, did it? 

"I'll- I'll do my best." You smiled at her, trying to change the subject since you were in the entrance of the sitting area. "Let's go eat something already. Do you see them?" 

"Oh, I see Kiri." She spotted, grinning when she saw Bakugou frowning right next to him. "Look, Bakugou's there, too. Hey guys!" She waved at them, running towards the duo and pulling you along. You could see how his gaze snapped up at hearing Mina's voice, the red eyes finding yours immediately and a smirk replacing the frown on his lips. 

He had no right to look this good even with snowboard clothes. His spiky hair messy because of the big ski glasses that rested on top of his head, the black, skin-tight thermals enhanced his well-built body, and his orange-striped ski pants looked like they fit him perfectly. You had to admit you were maybe a bit excited to see him snowboarding down the mountain.

"What, see something you like?" He grinned, whispering so only you could hear, frowning almost immediately after that when he turned to Mina. "Took you guys long enough."

"Yeah, don't tell me that, it was her who needed 30 minutes of convincing, although it was pretty easy to convince her after I said- well, never mind what." She grinned villainously when you sent her an 'I'll push you of a cliff if you say one more word' look.

Bakugou quirked a brow at the pink-skinned girl's sudden change of behavior but decided not to think about it much. "Oh my God, I'll pass out let's go ski already!" Kirishima chimed in, pulling on the thermals he was wearing that clung to him like a second skin, and you could feel the eyes that were looking his way as you walked through the lobby. "These clothes are waaay too warm to be wearing inside." He added, fanning himself with his hands.

He was right, and you felt suffocated, too, the clothes too warm, too tight, too much and too heavy, there were too many things to carry with you, all your hands occupied with another ski gear, and you were itching to throw them and run outside to the snow screaming.

You were glad when your friends complied, all making their way to the ski room. You spotted Mina running towards you, and her ski pants pouches were suspiciously full with something that resembled cookies. You quirked a brow at her, pointing at her bulky pockets, only to earn a grin from her. "You know, its a little snack for us to eat when we get hungry or bored on the longass chair lift ride."

"Hey Mina, send me a cookie!" Denki waved to you, making Mina grin knowingly. "See? There's demand."

You chuckled as you entered the ski room. Bakugou was already sitting on the bench, a jet black snowboard right beside him, the crimson of his eyes contrasting with the black of his board and clothes beautifully. His eyes raised to you when you entered the room, a smirk finding its place on his soft lips when your eyes wandered over the pretty snowboard. 

You couldn't look away as he leaned forward to tie his shoes, arms flexing as he tightened them to fit his legs better, and your need to go running to the snow and maybe scream a few minutes had suddenly increased.

You were approaching him when you felt someone lightly touch your arm. It was a guy around your age, you noticed, smiling widely at you, and you could tell he worked there by the tag on his chest. Shindou Yo, it read. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, thank you." You muttered, feeling somewhat shy after taking a glance at his smiling face and noticing just how handsome he was. You followed him to the counter when he told you to come with you, making you forget the existence of the crimson gaze that was following you wherever you went. 

You didn't feel it, but Bakugou watched you as you gave your name and room number to the charming boy, unaware (or maybe aware?) to his flirty remarks as he pulled out the skiing gear you rented, smiling and giggling as he said something Bakugou couldn't quite hear. You finally realized the dirty looks the blonde was sending you as Shindou kneeled before you to help you wear the ski shoes and gears, but even then, you only smiled and waved at Bakugou, not noticing how he gritted his teeth. 

"Oh, fuck this." Bakugou muttered and raised to his legs, grabbing his snowboard and storming out of the room when Shindou laid his hand on your thigh to 'support' himself to stand up. "Bakugou?" You furrowed your brows and tilted your head when you noticed him sprinting outside. You quickly realized the rest of your friends had left, too. 

Thanking Shnidou, you stood up, running out of the room, only to sigh in relief when you noticed your friends had gathered right outside of the hotel, Sero trying to help Denki wear his ski gears, but both failing miserably. 

"Y/N, right here!" Mina called and waved at you, and it was hard not to see her in her shiny silver puffer jacket. "Oh, I thought you guys left without waiting for me." You spoke, breathless when you finally arrived next to them. 

"Aw, we would never!" Mina chuckled. "Bakugou would, though. Did, also." 

"What, he left?"

"Yep, said he was going to leave ahead since quote unquote, he couldn't wait for slow extras like us."

You frowned, you thought you would be together the whole day! So he wasn't going to stay with you guys for not even five minutes? "I'm going after him." You informed Mina, skiing as quickly as you could down the small slope, in which's end stood the beginning of the chair lift. 

You quickly spotted the spiky ash blond head, holding the giant indigo snowboard in his hands with a very grumpy look on his face. You sighed, and he looked pissed. "Bakugou!" You called out, trying to get to him before his turn in the line came, not so nicely pushing people in front of you to draw near him. 

"Bakugou!" You called once again, and this time you were sure he had heard but ignored you. "Hey, asshole!" You spoke, this time in a normal voice since you had finally drawn close to him, touching his arm to get his attention. 

"What're you doing here?" Bakugou asked without taking as much as a glance at you and making you narrow your eyes. "What do you mean, what are you doing here?" You snapped.

"I said, what are you doing here? What, did your new boyfriend leave you already?"

"New boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about?" But instead of getting a rational answer, instead of getting any response, you watched as he gave you a soft 'hmph!' and turn back in front of him. You would've pushed the subject if it wasn't your turn in the line, and you were already regretting this as you entered the chair lift right after him. 

~~~

"What the hell is your problem?" You muttered after sitting in silence for a good 15 minutes, you still had about 5 minutes till you landed, but it was enough for you to have and end this conversation, you thought.

"What is my problem? What the fuck is your problem? You were the one who chased me till here, after all." Bakugou growled in response, pulling the black ski mask down to his chin as he spoke. "I chased you because you left us and went ahead! We came here as a group, so why would you go off alone?"

"And what the fuck is this new boyfriend shit you're talking about?" 

"Oh, you just had to bring him up." Bakugou muttered under his breath. "Shut up, idiot. We're going to land in a minute, so raise your legs." He instructed, pulling the safety bar over your head when you complied. 

"You ready?" He asked when the chair came to the smooth surface, knowing very well how you struggled each time you landed from these things. "Okay," he answered when you nodded, instinctively taking your hand in his gloved ones, "one, two, jump!" 

He jumped with you, holding and pulling you to himself when you lost your balance despite his instructions, and you could feel the breath he exhaled as he chuckled on your hair. "Don't laugh!" You frowned, only making him laugh harder. "Whatever, come here so the next ones to jump won't run into you." Bakugou pulled you to the side. 

"Oh, look, Sero and Mina are in the ones right after this one!" You told and pointed to your friends, Mina waving in her hands in her seat like mad and shaking the chair in mid-air.

"I'm never riding this thing with Mina again." Sero took a breath of relief as they jumped down from the chair, too. "Don't worry the next ones are the single chair ones." Mina assured him with a cheeky grin, her response making both you and Bakugou gulp audibly. 

"Oh, fuck."

"Oh, no!" You cried out.

"What's happening?"

"Oh, that's okay, Y/N, even I fall sometimes!" Mina assured you, not aware of how your situation was. "No, you don't understand." You told her. "I suck at them! I have the 1 out of 20 chance of arriving at the end of them without falling!"

"Oh my god." You rubbed your temples.

"She can't ride those single seat ones for her life." Bakugou answered instead of you. 

"Yep, she's not even exaggerating." Bakugou assured her. 

"Are you sure, you know we can help-"

"Shut up, raccoon eyes." Bakugou growled at her, making her shrug and wait in the line. "Okay, now." Bakugou turned to you. "Stop being so stiff. It's fucking easy if you just relax."

Mina quickly became aware of how sincere you were with your 18th failed attempt at the single-seat chair lifts. "You guys go ahead," Bakugou finally told them. "I'll help this idiot and come right after."

"I'm sorry for not wanting to fall on my butt again!" You gritted through your teeth as you nervously eyed the lift. "You won't fall on your ass if you just do as I say!" Bakugou snapped back. "Look at me, dumbass. It's alright."

He frowned when you stood still. "Look, I'll sit at the one right after you, okay? I'll catch you if you fall."

"Promise?" You asked, smiling when he nodded. "Well then, let's do this."

You watched as Kirishima went first, Denki going second, Mina following him, and Sero going right after. "Your turn, dumbass." Bakugou nudged you. "Look, we can try it a few minutes later if you don't feel ready-"

"No, no, it's okay." You smiled. "I can do it if I know you're there to catch me."

And you did. 

For the first time that day, you managed to go more than a meter, still as stiff as ever, but a feeling of relief bubbling inside of you as you knew Bakugou was right behind you. "Whoo!" Mina cheered when she noticed you were riding it without falling the past minute.

"Did she do it?" Denki shouted from in front of you, and you giggled when you heard Kirishima whistling from the beginning of the line. "Did she do it, did she do- fuck!" You heard Denki's muffled curse, eyes widening in horror when you realized he fell as he tried to look back at you. 

The idiot he is, Denki didn't even think of skidding to the side so he wouldn't cause Mina to fall, too, but he did. Mina accidentally kicked the blond, who sat dumbly on the floor, with her ski gears when she tried to raise her legs so she wouldn't tangle with him, but she did anyway. 

"Oh, fuck, stand aside, stand aside!" Sero cried out, but the two on the ground were panicking and weren't thinking as they kept sitting in the middle of the path. Luckily, Mina managed to throw herself into the soft pile of snow the last second before Sero crushed into her, but Denki wasn't as quick. 

"Denki, don't you fucking dare!" You shouted.

"You fucking idiot! Stop it, you're going to make me fall, too!" Sero shouted when he noticed Denki was sitting there intentionally, reaching and grabbing Sero's seat, making the gear pull the both of them.

You would've laughed at the sight if you weren't so scared of falling, since watching Denki hang from a seat by hands and the rest of his body get dragged on the snow, his face and body buried in the snow and screams muffled by all the snow he was eating as Sero slapped his fingers and tried to kick him off, was a sight to behold. But you let out a silent scream when Denki let go of Sero's seat, eyes finding you, his next prey. 

"Kick him in the fucking face!" Bakugou shouted from right behind you, but you had lost your balance before you could even comply. Letting go of the rope you were holding on to, you let yourself fall on the snow and immediately retracting to the soft snow pile off the road. 

"Bakugou?" You turned around, and Bakugou couldn't help but think how cute you looked, face red from lying in the snow, hair tangled. "Did Denki make you fall, too?" You chuckled, not even trying to stand up, snow was pretty comfortable, you realized.

"You could say that." He shrugged.

You were laying face down on the snow, chest heaving as you waited for your heart to slow down. "What the fuck are you doing there, or are you dead?" You heard a familiar voice call from behind you. 

"What does that even mean?" You smiled knowingly. "Or did you jump after me?" 

"Hm, and what if I did?" He kneeled on the snow, leaning in, his face so close that his warm breath and caramel scent the only two things you could register for a few seconds. "I promised I'd catch you if you fell."

Bakugou hadn't expected to hear you chuckle when he said that, and he wasn't sure if he was happy or angry about it. "Well, you didn't do a good job, did you? I am lying in the snow, after all."

You had a point, and knowing that caused Bakugou to frown. "I'm leaving you here." He sighed, standing up and cruelly kicking some snow on your face, too.

"Hey, no, wait! Come back, Bakugou!" You cried out. "I can't stand up, my legs stuck!" It was true since your ski had sunk in the snow at a very odd angle when you threw yourself over it, making your ankle hurt when you moved it even an inch. "Bakugou! Please!" You called out one more time, not expecting him to sigh and turn back to help you. 

"How did you even do this?" Bakugou asked as he examined your leg, touching and pulling it slightly, rolling his eyes when you whined to tell him it hurt. "Stop being a baby."

"It hurts!" You answered at the accusation, feeling somewhat awkward as he inspected your legs closely, as you lay there watching the sky or playing with the snow, making snow castles, groaning every so often when he pulled at your leg. "Okay, I'll take off your ski now- Y/N, what the fuck? Stop playing with the snow and help me!" 

"What am I supposed to do- ow!" 

"I don't know... talk about your new boyfriend or something." He spoke, narrowing his eyes at the thought and pulling your leg a bit too harshly. "I untied the ski, but you have to pull your leg." He instructed. 

"I'm bored of this new boyfriend issue, I don't even understand what the hell you're talking about!" You whined as you did as he said and pulled your leg despite the sharp pain. You actually did have an idea of what he was angry at, but it was so dumb, you didn't even want to think he was jealous of a guy you talked to for 5 minutes tops.

"Ah, fuck." You moved your now fee leg, brows furrowing when you felt a sharp stab of pain. "I think I injured it."

"I'll take you back to the hotel." Bakugou sighed, sitting on the floor to untie his snowboard as well. "Can you walk?"

"I'm not sure." You answered honestly. It hurt a lot to walk in unpressed snow since it was already hard to walk in it without being injured. "Okay, wait a second." He stood up, leaning towards you. "Bakugou what are- oh." You stood still as he snaked his arms beneath your leg and back, pulling you to himself and lifting you to his chest. 

"I'm willing to bet you won't be able to walk." He huffed, his warm breath touching your neck. "Yeah, but are you sure you'll be able to carry me all the way to the hotel?"

You smiled when he quirked a brow at you as if to ask, are you challenging me?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" He smirked proudly. "Are you okay? Comfortable? Is your leg okay?" 

"I'm fine, don't worry." You chuckled, leaning back into him and relaxing between his arms. It felt nice to be in his hold. "Let's go, quick, since I'm sure my new boyfriend's very worried too." You teased, your words bringing his movements to a halt. 

"I won't have mercy and drop you face into the snow." He growled, but you grinned cheekily. "No, you won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Hm," you nuzzled to him, you could hear his quickening heartbeats. "I think you like me a bit too much for that." You muttered, feeling braver than you probably should, trying to hide your nervousness with a smile. 

"Well, maybe I do." He whispered, his eyes locked on your lips. "But I have another way to get back at him."

"And what's that?"

"I can kiss you, you know. Make him as jealous as I've been feeling this whole day."

You leaned towards him as well. "I'm not complaining." You smiled, closing the gap between your lips and smiling into the kiss. Bakugou could feel the warmth of the kiss spreading to his chest. 

[spynorth]

👫

four headcanons for our muses

so in your reply to the thread you said in the tags that you were gonna twist the knife and make it so that lucas was the one who taught jack what he needed to know in order to work for beckett and I've been mulling that over a lot because, you know, i like to hurt myself emotionally but I'm starting to get this idea in my head that while he started off as sort of this just another job attitude, he saw a lot in jack that he recognized in himself. Jack was a quick learner and good at what he did but there was always this disquiet in the back of Lucas's mind because while he did indeed remind him of himself, Jack seemed to have an edge of steel inside that refused to bend and that disquiet was just understood once Jack went against Beckett. So all of this to say, suddenly the affection turns into a frustrated angry disappointment. Jack defecting makes him look bad, but it also sort of turns the mirror that he attempts to pointedly ignore back on his own reflection and Lucas hates what he sees and hates that Jack had more character when it came to standing up for the right thing.

that being said, he gave the order (on beckett's orders of course) for the fire that chased Jack out of London and while he watched from some secluded corner down the street, his throat tightened with what he told himself was smoke, but was actually regret. He was attempting to rid his boss of a rogue so to speak but he was also turning that .. what is the damn word .. self dislike???... that the situation with jack opened him up to, to ash as well. He eventually realizes that things don't work that way, and he's relieved when Jack survives.

Lucas did subtle things while Jack was hospitalized to ensure his employer's attention was elsewhere by the time he was released, which he likes to think helped the younger man escape. He didn't think much about him afterwards, Jack had moved on with his life away from Beckett and Lucas was able to move on with his by falling into that same old role.. but the entire situation served to make lucas aware that he could twist the narrative in small ways. not always, maybe, but enough to sate that bit of his conscience that hadn't completely snuffed out.

He is angry when Jack comes back. He sees it as Jack wasting a chance at a different life and honestly I think it bugs him too that with the other man back in danger, everything Lucas was using to tell himself about redemption, was in danger as well. He's not dumb enough to go against beckett openly, but he does use his cover as an mi5 agent to try and keep both sides as separate as possible, trying to make sure that nothing Jack does goes far enough to catch beckett's attention ... and when that no longer works, he reaches out trying to change the other man's mind. and we all know how that goes for him.