#rest in pieces you hag

[wilburgersoot]

I miss my wife dear patrons

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Best friend

Tw: female reader, emotional manipulation, jealousy, toxicity, crude language, implied parental abuse/neglect, implied drugs, non - consensual touching, i love manipulative men too much for my own good :((

Summary: Toxic, codependent friendship turns sour. But that's really no surprise.

You love Lauren's flat. You know he's renting it for cheap because his dad is friends with the landlord - and he doesn't give a fuck about the place. You know by the wrappers on the ground and the cigarettes stacked burnt inside the drawers, the stench of weed stuck to the ceiling for what feels like forever - and it's no surprise. Lauren doesn't care about all the good things in his life. And you know by the broken mirror pieces never to be swept away and the pills hidden behind the sink.

Still, you like his flat. The kitchen alone is bigger than your mom's entire house. The fridge is never empty - full from top to bottom, to the very brim, bursting with everything from your favourite chocolate candy to cheap vodka, from top shelf whiskey to pickled onions and fancy imported foreign items you have never seen before with your own two eyes. All colorful, all set in alphabetical order - he's a neat freak like that, and it's no surprise. The central heating never stops, and it's never cold. It's a land of dreams, and some days you wish you could stay forever.

***

"Haha, aw." You whisper to yourself, shoulders moving slowly up and down in sync. You try to stop the slight blush from reaching your face, but it's inevitable, truly. You barely notice when your best friend sneaks behind you, quiet as a snake ready to bite into your open vein.

"You look awfully happy." He observes with certain distaste, almost grimacing - you don't have to look up from your phone, you know him too well, he must be grimacing, and clicking his tongue. "Did the old hag kick the bucket or somethin'?" His lips twist in a cruel little smile as he wraps his arms around your frame - which never ceases to make you feel as if you have a tiny mischievous demon on your shoulder. "No, wait, don't tell me you're getting fired from the burger place. That's even better!" His eyes glow with childish joy as he teases you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

"N-no, it's nothing like that. It's really stupid..." You try to look anywhere but at him, fiddling with your phone nervously. "Just go back to reading your book and leave me alone, jerk." You attempt to joke back, but your anxiety gives you away. It's foolish to lie to him to begin with - he's known you for years. He's known you since your father died, since your mother stopped caring whether you're alive or not. He's known you since you broke down in his arms for the first time. He's known you in nothing but smeared mascara and torn bottomless pockets, though empty wallets; he's known you, body and soul (and lips too, all those years ago). So of course he knows that you're lying.

"What is it?" He humms playfully leaning over your shoulder, chin resting on top of your breast. You feel the sweat sticking to his neck (was he in a fight again?), the heavy colognue coming off his black shirt as he tries to read the words on your screen. You quickly turn off your phone, and Lauren pouts, pretending to be upset. "What's so damn important that you can't even tell your best friend?" His voice is light and airy, privy, overwhelmingly sweet and sticky like burnt caramel.

You open your mouth, but no speech comes out. You feel embarrassed. You don't even know where to start. Then the man raises an eyebrow expectantly, eyes prompting Well?, growls in irritation quickly after, and reaches for a new thin cigarette, all in the same breath. He's always been like this - quick to set aflame. Impossible to predict. Hard to resist. Soft, sometimes. In your arms, mostly.

"Fine." He snaps at last, brows furrowed like an angered father as he stands up to get his keys from the table, heading towards the door. "Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I'm the only person in this ugly, shitty world who, like, dunno, gives a fuck about yo-"

"You'll just mock me!" You squeak out, crossing your arms together - regretting even laughing in the first place. Then, even more quietly. "If I tell you."

Lauren stills completely, slowly turning back towards you. Your heartbeat speeds up even more, if possible.

"What the fuck happened?" He remains serious, although slightly less aggravated now. "You know I hate this cryptic bullshit you do. Just speak up, you're not a child anymore." He gets closer to you, pointing at your chest. "M not your mommy, ain't gonna hit ya if you say the wrong thing."

You take a deep breath, eyes focused on the cigar hanging off his mouth - together with the sport hoodie and the cheap black beanie he looks like a small fish delinquent, and you have to stop yourself from laughing. But then you remember why you even fought in the first place, and you feel flustered all over again.

"I met someone." You blurt out in a rush to get it over with, averting your eyes to the TV still playing somewhere in the background. The sound has been turned to low - he says the commercials make him want to scratch his head from the inside.

"Huh?" His cigarette falls off. Ash all over the dirty wooden tiles.

"I met someon-

"Yes, I heard you the first time." Lauren pronounces slowly, lips stretching into his oh - so characteristic smile again. "I just couldn't believe it." He stomps over the half lit cigar, burning a hole into the floor. It doesn't look out of order with all the filth. "Who would have known. Heh." He stares at you for entirely too long - until you squirm with discomfort. "Who's the lucky guy?"

You want to ask him why it's so unbelievable for you to meet someone - but it's hard to find the words to. At the same time you know he's just joking, he'd never do anything to hurt you. He's just... rough around the edges.

"You don't know him." Warm heat travels through your body as you think about your secret admirer. "We met online."

"Of course you did." Your friend scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. Then he claps sardonically, lighting up another cigarette. He must have hundreds, if not thousands lying around. "Well, congratulations, princess. You may finally get pounded like a real bitch in heat. Isn't that nice?" The more you look at him, the more crooked his smirk seems to get.

"You're fucking disgusting." You hiss, standing up - ready to collect your things and leave.

You hate when he gets like this.

"Oh, not so fast. We're still talking, baby. Tell me everything." Lauren grabs your elbow, pulling you in with ease, and if he wasn't your best friend, you'd be terrified by how strong he is despite his seemingly slim build. "Does he tell you that you're beautiful? That you're just the most precious thing in the entire world?" His voice lowers down to a whisper in your ear. "Or is he even less creative with his lies?"

You pull away, eyes widening with disbelief.

"He's not like this! How can you even say all th-" You blurt out incoherently, but he stops you in the tracks with a single sharp glare. "He's not like that?" The man snorts in a rather nasty way, pulling you back in while you're too shocked to resist. "You're even dumber that I thought." His eyes narrow to two slits bleeding bile. "Did he fuck you already? Is that why you're acting so naive? You get some mediocre dick and now you're all star - eyed." He laughs with unhinged madness, orbs mudded with pure craze.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes. You both stare at it for what feels like eternity - but he's faster, always. Ever since you were children. And as you're jumping away, fighting with teeth and nail to get your phone back, he's reading away at your most intimate thoughts and feelings.

"I feel like I've known you for ages." He reads out loud, trying to imitate the voice of the sender. "You must be my other half. I'd love to hold you and cherish you forever." The mocking nasal tone sinks with each word, and once he reaches "forever", it's almost silent. His hands are shaking, eyes blurry. The ink drowns the screen as if trying to get under his own fingernails.

And when he smashes the phone in the ground, it's really no surprise.

"Lauren!" You gasp, falling down to collect the pieces, grabbing at the broken plastic with feral grip. But there's just too many of them, and not enough glue in the whole wide world.

"I should have known you were up to no good in that miserable house. That crack-whore mother of yours is putting these... ideas in your head." He chuckles coldly, staring at you from aboving with unreadable expression - and from so low on the ground he looks like the sun. "She made you believe someone could actually love... you."

He suddenly squats down to your level.

"News-fucking-flash, sweetheart." His fist wraps around your hair, pulling at will. It burns your scalp, but you can't look away, hypnotized by the motion of his lips, the silky cruelty of his voice teasing your ears. "Nobody loves you. Nobody will ever love you - not your poor dead bum of a father, not that bitch you call mother and certainly not this fool you think you love. How could they love you? You're a fucking mess!"

He's laughing at the tears slowly pouring down your cheeks. You're so beautiful when you cry.

"How could they love you?" He repeats softly, stroking your cold wet cheek with two slender fingers - the same fingers that always dry your tears. Then his lips touch your eyelids, slowly, torturously - the same lips that always bring you to tears. "They wouldn't know what to do with you. Such a fragile girl." His nose rubs against your collarbone and suddenly you're drowning in your sadness like a sailor lost at sea. "Such a fragile, broken little girl."

And yet you still love Lauren's apartment, it's never cold, and it's always silent. So silent you can hear your own heartbeat - and so lonely you can taste your tears on his lips.

[gatheringbones]

[“Coming out was very lonely. I had very few friends. Most of the adult lesbians I knew were alcoholics, chronically unemployed, prone to violence, self-hating, apolitical, closeted, cliquish. Lesbians hated each other. If you found a lover you stopped going to the bar because you could not trust other lesbians; they would try to break up your relationship. My first woman lover went into the military, where she turned in other lesbians so she would not be exposed. One of my dyke friends got a job as a supervisor in a cabinet-making company and refused to hire lesbians because, she said, they were unreliable employees who were disliked by the other workers. The only thing that seemed worse to me than the apolitical lesbian community I came out in was the strangulation of pretending to be straight. I came out only because I could not go back; there was no place for me to stand in the het world. I was driven out.

Moving to San Francisco improved things somewhat. There was more public lesbian space there—six bars instead of one. But it did not alleviate the loathing with which my family viewed me. Nor was San Francisco in the early seventies any sort of gay utopia. We had no gay-rights law, queer bashing was a frequent event, and everyone had lost at least one job or been denied a place to live. It was a relief to be surrounded by other lesbian feminists, but only to a point. Bar dykes and feminists still had contempt for one another. Feminism rapidly became a way to reconstitute sexual prudery, to the point that it seemed to me that bar dykes were actually more accepting of and knowledgeable about the range of behavior that constituted lesbianism. In the bars or in the women’s movement, separatism was pretty much mandatory, if you didn’t want to get your ass kicked or be shunned. Separatism deteriorated into a rationalization for witch hunts in the lesbian community rather than a way for women to bond with one another and become more powerful activists. The lesbian community of that decade did terrible things to bi women, transgender people, butch/femme lesbians, bar dykes, dykes who were not antiporn, bisexual and lesbian sex workers, fag hags, and dykes who were perceived as being perverts rather than über-feminists. We were so guilty about being queer that only a rigid adherence to a puritanical party line could redeem us from the hateful stereotypes of mental illness and sexual debauchery.

What did I gain? I came a little closer to making my insides match my outsides, and that was no small blessing. The first time I met other dykes I recognized a part of myself in them, and knew I would have to let it out so I could see who I was. For a time, being a lesbian quieted my gender dysphoria because it made it possible for me to be a different kind of woman. That was an enormous relief.

For a long time, I hoped that by being strong, sexually adventurous, and sharpening my feminist consciousness, I could achieve a better fit between my body and the rest of me. Lesbianism was a platform from which I could develop a different sort of feminism, one that included a demand for sexual freedom and had room for women of all different erotic proclivities. I had a little good sex and discovered that I was not a cold person, I could love other people. It was as a lesbian that I began to find my voice as a writer, because in the early days of the women’s movement, we valued every woman’s experience. There was a powerful ethic around making it possible for every woman to speak out, to testify, to have her say. But there were always these other big pieces of my internal reality that lesbianism left no room for.

The first big piece of cognitive dissonance I had to deal with, in my second coming out, was S/M. I date my coming out as a leather dyke from two different decisions. One was a decision to write down one of my sexual fantasies, the short story that eventually became “Jessie.” At the time I wrote the rough draft of that story, I had never tied anybody up or done anything else kinky. I was terribly blocked as a writer. I kept beginning stories and poems that I would destroy. I have no idea if they were any good or not. My self-loathing was so intense, my inner critic so strong, that I could not evaluate my own work.

So I decided to write this one piece, under the condition that I never had to publish it or show it to another person. I just wanted to tell the truth about one thing. And I was badly in need of connecting with my own sexuality since I was in the middle of what would be a five-year relationship with a woman who insisted we be monogamous, but refused to have sex with me. So I wrote about dominance and submission, the things I fantasized about when I masturbated that upset me so much I became nauseated. Lightning did not strike. As I read and reread my own words, I thought some of them were beautiful. I dared show this story to a few other people. Some of them hated it. Some of them were titillated. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before. The story began to circulate in Xerox form, lesbian samizdat. I found the strength to defend my story when I was told it was unspeakable or wildly improbable.

In October of 1976, I attended a lesbian health conference in Los Angeles and went to a workshop there about S/M. In order to go to a workshop, you had to sign a registration sheet. I was harassed by dykes who were monitoring this space to see who dared sign up for that filthy workshop. On my way, I had to walk through a gauntlet of women who were booing and hissing, calling names, demanding that the workshop be canceled, threatening to storm the room and kick us all out of the conference. The body language and self-calming techniques I had learned when I had to deal with antigay harassment on the street came in very handy, but how odd it was to be using those defenses against the antagonism of other dykes. Their hatred felt like my mother’s hatred. I am so glad I did not let it stop me.

When I got home from that workshop, I knew that I was not the only one. Not only were there other lesbians who fantasized about sadomasochism, there were women who had done these things with each other. I decided to come out again. If there were other leather dykes in San Francisco, they had to be able to find me, so I had to make myself visible. This meant that I often did not get service at lesbian bars, or I was asked to leave women-only clubs and restaurants. I was called names, threatened, spit at. I got hate mail and crank calls. But I also found my tribe. And because I had already experienced my first coming out, I knew we were not going to be an ideal, happy family. I could be more patient with our dysfunctions, and see them as the result of being scared, marginalized, kicked around. Being a leather dyke took me another step closer to dealing with my gender issues. I could experiment with extreme femme and extreme butch drag; take on a male persona during sex play. I gave up separatism because I needed to take support from any place where it was available. Gay men already had a thriving leather culture, and I wanted to learn from them. I also wanted to have sex with them. It still wasn’t okay as far as lesbian feminism was concerned to be bisexual, to be transgendered, but I could bring those folks into my life and make alliances with them. I could defend them in print. There was even more good sex, and people who loved me and received my love despite the fact that it was dangerous for us to show ourselves to one another. I faced my sexual shadow, and she bowed to me and then danced beautifully in profile against the white walls of my consciousness. My writer’s voice was unlocked.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[elfieafterdark]

Me, lurking in the very back of the chapel at Cytherea's funeral: "BOOOOO! HISSSSSS. REST IN PIECES BOZO! L WOMAN! L! NO F! ROT YOU HAG!

LMAO GET REKT! FUUUUCK YOOOOOOU CHILD MURDERER!!"

I am promptly beaten to death by Mercymorn, I enjoy every second of it.

[princesssmars]

thinking about being a princess all alone in a tower with only dragon!karlach…nsfw.

karlach’s life was pretty simple at this point and time : wake up, eat breakfast, guard some wicked witch’s treasure, then fill her day with any other activity she could come up with in this place. no matter that some days she felt she’d die of boredom, or that her wings were growing stiff from lack of flying, this was way better than the alternative options that happened to people like her.

especially when the witch comes back with her newest possession - you, dressed in a big frilly dress with tears streaming down your distractingly beautiful face. so distracting that she nearly misses the hag spit out a “don’t let her leave, no matter what.” before cackling and vanishing through a window.

she tries her best of course. there’s not much she can do at first when you spend your day kicking and screaming at her, desperately crying for anyone outside the tiny bars to come save you, clawing at the doors until you tucker yourself out.

she can’t help but feel bad - her heart may be on fire but she still has one, picking you up once you’ve stopped your tears and resting you in the soft dusty bed in the tower. you drowsily whine about your dress getting dirty and she can’t help but laugh to herself. she offers to get you something of hers, partly out of the kindness of her heart and partly because your deep breathing is bringing her attention to the neckline of your dress, the cut and your corset highlighting your bosom in a way she can’t believe is considered tasteful at court these days.

slowly you seem to warm up to her, although it’s not like you have many other options to fill your day with. it’s cute how you start to follow her around, asking her question after question about who she is, what she does here, what it’s like being being a dragon hybrid. she lets you touch her scales and horns, admiring the cute look on her face as you feel the rough textures under your hands.

and gods, it’s not making her dilemma any easier. she’s supposed to be protecting you in favor of the woman who’s kidnapped you from your home, but she can’t help be drawn to you: your kindness to her and how you don’t judge what she is at any second of the day, how you observe everything around you and seem to take everything in like a true diplomat would, how when she sends you off to your room at night your eyes get all big and pleading when you ask to stay by her side just a little bit longer…

it’s the same look you have now as she presses you into the rough golden pieces of the witches hoard, sharp teeth biting marks into your neck as you cry and mewl for more. she really just can’t help herself when she trails a large hand between your thighs, pressing harsh kisses to your lips when she thrusts her fingers inside you again and again and again, yellow eyes transfixed on how your cum makes the treasures under you glisten and gleam, still incomparable to the gorgeous hazy smile you wear on your face.

i’m nearly done with the fic of this concept but it’s a lot fluffier than envisioned so have some filth c:

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction ❃ spiraling ❃ chapter 14

bakugou katsuki x reader / coffee shop! au + fashion? au

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~1.9k

The back room of Kindeki was a mess of fabric bolts, sketches, and half-finished pieces. You were pacing, arms crossed, eyes flicking back and forth between the array of designs laid out in front of you. Every piece and every detail felt like it could unravel at any second, all because of that looming deadline—the show that was your first real step into the fashion world.

On top of that, you had three essays due tomorrow, and the weight of everything was pressing in on you. The air buzzed with tension as the deadline loomed over both of you, especially you. 

Designs pinned on the walls were marked with last-minute notes and adjustments. Racks of clothes crowded the space, barely leaving room to walk, and scraps of material littered the floor. Your eyes swept over the sea of unfinished work, heart racing. The runway show was just around the corner, and it felt like there was still so much left to do. You couldn't help the anxious tightness building in your chest, your hand shaking slightly as you traced the embroidered details on the final dress—one you'd spent the past couple months perfecting.

"Maybe we should have made these shoulders sharper," you muttered, chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers brushed over the piece of fabric

Bakugou's sharp voice broke through the whirlwind of your thoughts. "You've changed it three times. It’s fine the way it is."

You glanced at him, your mind still racing. "But what if—"

"It's good. You’re overthinking it," Bakugou said, crossing his arms. His red eyes lingered on you, not in a way that made you feel self-conscious but more in a way that showed he was analyzing you, reading every ounce of stress and tension radiating off of you.

You sighed, rubbing at your temples. The anxiety over the show and those essays you’d pushed off felt like a ticking bomb inside your chest. Bakugou must’ve noticed the way your fingers clenched into fists, the way your eyes darted over the designs like you were looking for problems where there weren’t any.

"Listen," he said, voice steady but softer than before. "Go work on your essays. I’ll handle the rest here."

You blinked up at him. "But—"

"No ‘buts.’ You’re not helping right now by freaking out. I’ve got this." His gaze softened for a moment, though he quickly turned away before you could catch it. "Just… go calm down. Trust me."

Your hesitation hung in the air for a beat before you finally gave in, sighing. You knew he was right—your mind was spiraling, and you weren’t doing either of you any favors by staying here and overanalyzing everything.

"Alright… fine." You gave him a small nod, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit as you gathered your things and headed toward the front of the store. You trusted him with this; you had to. And if anyone could handle the finishing touches, it was Bakugou.

As you disappeared into the store, Bakugou stood there for a moment, watching you go, letting out a breath. The way you’d been working yourself into a frenzy worried him, but he knew you’d get it done—you always did.

With a low grunt, he turned back to the designs, running a hand through his hair. Just as he reached for another spool of thread, his phone buzzed on the workbench. He glanced at the screen and groaned when he saw the caller ID: Old Hag. 

He hit Answer and pressed the phone to his ear. As he stood up to take a few stretches while answering the call. “Yeah, what?”

“Katsuki!” his mom’s voice rang out, loud and clear as usual. “Don’t start with that ‘yeah, what’ crap. How’s it going with the line? Almost done?”

“Yeah, we’re wrapping up. Almost ready for the show,” he replied, keeping his voice low, glancing toward the front where you were. He didn’t want you overhearing his mom’s inevitable barrage of questions. He heard his mom humph. “Really, it’s going fine.” 

"Fine, huh?" Mitsuki's tone was dripping with skepticism. "And how’s your partner? She still puttin’ up with your crap?"

“Oi,” He clenched his jaw, irritated, eyes narrowing at the sewing machine in front of him as he leaned on the doorframe. "She’s stressed. Got a lot on her plate."

"Mm-hmm. And what are you doing about it?"

"I'm handling it. Like always." His voice gruff as he flipped through the last few designs, making small adjustments as he went, his mind half on the conversation and half on finishing the work.

There was a pause before Mitsuki's voice came through again, this time a little too teasing for his liking. "So… when are you finally going to ask her out?"

Bakugou froze, his pencil slipping in his grip. His whole body went rigid, heat flooding his face. “Wha— What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, pushing himself off the doorframe and pacing slightly. He risked a glance back at you to make sure you hadn’t overheard somehow, but you were still focused on the task at hand, oblivious to the embarrassment that was crawling up his neck.

“Oh, don’t act like I’m wrong, Katsuki,” his mom continued, completely ignoring his tone. “You think I don’t know you’ve been pining after that girl for months? Hell, it’s been over a year. You’ve got no poker face, and it’s pathetic.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a growl rumbling in his throat. His ears were still red. “We’re working. It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh, sure it isn’t.” She cackled on the other end of the line. “Look, just don’t blow it. You’re not getting any younger, and she’s clearly good for you. I’ve never seen you put this much effort into something other than coffee.”

Bakugou groaned in frustration, his grip on the phone tightening. “I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you think about what I said!” She snickered. “Don’t be a coward, Katsuki. You’ve got a good thing right in front of you.”

He could feel his face heating up. "Shut up, old hag," he snapped, and before she could say anything else, he hung up, throwing his phone onto the table with a frustrated grunt. He ran his hand over his face, trying to push the embarrassment out of his head. He stood there for a moment, collecting himself, the words ask her out echoing in his head. He glanced back at you, still blissfully unaware of the internal war he was fighting, and the urge to both scream and walk over to you gnawed at him. 

Running a hand down his face, he swallowed hard and walked back toward the workbench, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You’ve both got a damn show to finish. He turned back to the designs, forcing himself to focus. He still had work to do—and the last thing he needed was to let thoughts of you distract him any more than they already did.

But the words wouldn’t leave him. Not this time.

You sat at the front of the Kindeki store, laptop open in front of you as you typed out another sentence for an essay you’d been putting off. Your fingers moved over the keys, but your focus wasn’t really on the words. The soft running of the sewing machine coming from the back reminded you that Bakugou was still working on the final pieces of your joint collection, his steady presence always lingering at the edge of your mind. You glanced at the clock; the afternoon had settled in, and the shop was quiet. Customers were sparse today, and that should’ve made it easier to concentrate. But your mind was miles away from the essay in front of you.

A huff escaped your lips as you leaned back in your chair, absently rubbing at the corner of your eyes. The faint scent of fabric and thread filled the store, mingling with the lingering smell of coffee from earlier. Your gaze drifted to the windows, sunlight spilling in as your thoughts began to wander… to Bakugou.

You couldn't help it. Lately, he had been taking up more and more space in your head. The way he’d been looking at you—those lingering glances you pretended not to notice. The way his hands were so careful and precise with every stitch. And then there were the small things, the ones that left you replaying moments in your mind when you least expected it.

Like that time he made you udon. The memory of the savory broth and the delicate steam rising from the bowl made you smile, but it was more than the food that warmed you. It was the way he watched you as you ate, pretending like he wasn’t looking at you, but you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. That soft, hesitant look of his—so uncharacteristic of Bakugou, the brash and fiery man everyone else saw. 

The times he’d bring your croissants from a coffee competitor even when he brought nothing for any other employees of his. 

The guy who scolded you for getting too stressed over the designs but stayed up with you anyway, hours later than he’d normally sleep, just to make sure you were okay. The way he always had a coffee ready for you, the affogato he’d made without asking, because he somehow knew exactly what you needed before you even realized it.

You shifted in your chair, biting your lip, trying to focus on your work. But that was the problem—how were you supposed to focus when Bakugou was doing things that sent your brain spiraling?

You sighed and closed your laptop, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. Why did he have to be so… so him? It wasn’t just the way his eyes narrowed in concentration or how his muscles flexed when he worked, though that certainly didn’t help. It was everything else—how he seemed to know exactly when you needed comfort, when to give you space, and when to push you to be better.

And yet, here you were, completely doomed. Because there was no way, no possible way, that someone like him could actually be interested in someone like you. He was too handsome, too good, and too… Bakugou. He could have anyone, and it wasn’t like he went out of his way to flirt with you, right? That was just how he was—rough around the edges, teasing, and maybe a little protective.

But that lingering thought gnawed at you, the one you couldn’t shake. What if? What if those looks meant more? What if the way he treated you wasn’t just teasing banter?

You shook your head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they clung to you, just like the way his hands would brush against yours when you worked side by side. The knot in your chest tightened. No. You couldn’t let yourself fall for him, not like this. There was no way it could end well.

A soft chime rang from the door, and you snapped your head up, watching as a customer walked in, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You straightened up, brushing away the haze of your wandering mind. Time to get back to work—though, if you were being honest, it wasn’t the customers or your essays that had been keeping you busy lately. It was the frustrating realization that Bakugou Katsuki had found his way into your heart, and there was no denying it any longer.

a/n: we're nearing the end! taglist is still open for this series buuut i think we're only gonna have like. one or two chapters left. we'll see :> thanks for reading & stay hydrated!

directory/m.list

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taglist: @itztaki

[strawberrygyuuuu]

𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 —> 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 '96 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 —> 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 —> 𝐎𝐓5!𝐭𝐱𝐭 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

—> 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚 '96 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫.

ྀི︶˚̣̣̣ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞˚̣̣̣ ྀི︶⸸︶˚̣̣̣ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞˚̣̣̣ ྀི︶ ྀི

YEONJUN

I think he knew already that you were more around his age considering in Korean asking for someone's age and mbti is the first thing people ask, but I feel like he probably forgot or didn't think too much about being an '96 lol. But, one day when maybe your friends are mentioning your age he looks at you a little shocked or confused. "You're 26/27??? Why didn't you tell me!?" Like bae,,,, you did!?!?😭 Had to show him the birth certificate and everythinggggg bro was baffled. Obviously don't think he cares that you're older he still loves you but you looked so young he kind of just assumed you were younger by him in some way. Still babies and takes care of you but calls you noona more often lolol. Definitely loves to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on top of yours because you may be older but you're still a little short to him🥲

SOOBIN

It didn't fully process but after a few minutes he actually consciously processed it and turned to you, "HUH!? you're older than me?? Wahhh....really?" Like yes bae really 😭💀 after a few days you forgot about the conversation while he didn't. He brought it back up again and asked to see your birth certificate lolol he needed proof in order to calm his mind. "Waahhhh...so you really are older?? I've been thinking you were younger than me." He then laughed and gave you back your certificate. "You're still cute though!!" While squishing your cheeks...yeah not much changed you're still a cutie to him n he still teased you lol.

BEOMGYU

Bro is BAFFLED and a little dramatic 😭like he's so reactive it's kind of humorous. He prob overheard a conversation with your friend or sum telling her your age and once you were done he HAD to ask because WDYM you're older than him??? "Baby, are you actually that old!?", "yah! Don't say it like that I sound like a hag!!" And then he gives you a look and goes silent THIS BRAT!!😭😭😭when you show him a birth certificate his jaw drops and reads every on that piece of paper before giving it back,,,bro prob put it up in a frame LMAO hes so annoying😩 but he makes sure you know it's all jokes and he doesn't actually think you're a hag or anything. Calls you noona more and still tells you you're short and adorable you actually cannot escape him !!💀😊

TAEHYUN

I'm not too sure but I don't 🤔 no he'd be toooooo shocked. Like he'll prob question because how did he not remember or know from the start?? Cause he's very observant and remembers details so yeah he's a little shocked he didn't remember you telling him you're an '96 liner. "Oh, okay...so where's the birth certificate?" LMAO 😭 after a few days you finally got it and showed it to him, "wow...so you're older? Hmm, you're a good noona and I'm hungry, you should buy me food, noona!" And he dimple smiles at you with boba eyes GRRR he's lucky he's the sweetest and deserves everything in the world...you bought him that food !!! I don't think he cares too much. Calls you noona now, still calls you cute and adorable and short as usual..but will use the younger card to his advantage lolol.

HUENINGKAI

Erm jaw DROPPED bc wtf do you mean he's been dating / liking someone multiple years older than him?? And he didn't know??? Had to ask you some questions to confirm you are infact older lol. "You're...so old compared to me, noona!!" Giggles n giggles he's just fuckin w you😭😞 but no seriously though he wants that birth certificate and jaw drops AGAIN cause hold shit you weren't lyinggggg what!?!? "But, you're so cuutee how can you be older!!:((" like it's okay babe you'll still let him take care of you just like before!! But now that he knows you're older he won't be too hesitant to let you take care of him as well and buy him stuff. "Noona, you may be older but you're still short and cute!! I love you!!!" Dude is too precious please take care of him 😭💗

ྀི︶˚̣̣̣ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞˚̣̣̣ ྀི︶⸸︶˚̣̣̣ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞˚̣̣̣ ྀི︶ ྀི

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙄𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙏𝙤 𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙚? | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙉𝙞𝙣𝙚

WICKED EYES

🦋 — Read all the previous parts!

🩸— This is a dark romance with descriptions of violence, gore, racism, sexism, and NSFW themes. The reader is black in this AU but this story can be enjoyed by all walks of life. This chapter contains manipulation. (no smut, no gore)

Art Link Dividers 3.3k words

“(y/n), tell me, what does it mean to live?” 

You froze in the middle of your actions. “Dio, what are you talking about?” You furrowed your eyes with concern. He didn’t exactly adorn his typical cunning look, but instead, more sullen. His thumb rubbed your inner waist tenderly as he held you.

It had been an indeterminate amount of time since your lustful night with Dio. Being held captive here with a stand user warping the mansion to prevent your escape made you lose track of time. You had gotten Dio to soften up by offering your body to him from time to time. But sometimes, your body isn't enough. To him, you weren’t just a body; a means to an end for his sexual gratification. You were a person, with a mind, and he wanted to know your thoughts. Your personality and intelligence are why he’s chased after you for so long. After all, his goal was to make you more like him. Today, he humbly requested that you sit on his lap and feed him desserts in an attempt to bond with you. It was him trying to follow Pucci’s advice for being a good husband but failing to make any sacrifices on his own part.

“You’ve walked free for 100 years. I want you to tell me what it means to live.” He reiterated. “I asked Enyaba but her answer was worthless to me.” You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. “Worthless?” You stuck the fork you had been using to feed Dio into the slice of cake you were sharing. A sigh left your lips. “Why didn’t you like her answer?” You tilted your head. Dio rested his head in his other palm. “Because, how would an old hag like her know what it means to live? I could just ask the undying beauty in front of me.” You expected his mouth to curl into a sly grin as usual. You expected his eyes to narrow at you like you were a piece of meat but—he didn’t.

Dio’s face was somewhat neutral as if he were trying to think. It was almost—cute. Perhaps, you should try to humor him…for once.

“To live is to be happy. To be free.” You told him, somewhat thinking of yourself. You were trapped and hopefully, he’d get the message.

His nose crinkled up upon hearing your words. You feared he didn’t like your answer either. What was he expecting? You gave context, hoping that it would make him feel a bit better since he wasn’t exactly getting what you meant.

“While I was by myself, I did things that made me happy. New things that I didn’t even know I could be good at. Like singing.” You smiled softly, thinking back to your days when you’d go by many different identities to keep making new music.

“Singing? How boring.” Your husband rolled his eyes and shifted his weight in his chair so that he was now looking away from you. Your smile faded and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What’s boring is being trapped in a coffin for 100 years at the bottom of the sea!”

“Well, Darling, I didn’t have a choice. You did and you chose to entertain others. I want to hear more about your gluttonous adventures.” Dio began to smirk. He seemed to only be interested in what he liked and not what you liked. It sort of made you sad causing your neutral mouth into a frown. Your relationship was always just you trying to appease him and then he helps himself to whatever he wants, whether it be other women when you deny him, your attention, or your body when you’d finally give in.

“They weren’t ‘gluttonous adventures’ okay? I just can’t control myself sometimes—it seems.” Your gaze shifted to the ground. You were somewhat ashamed of your behavior. The more you tried to stop yourself from being a monster, the stronger that monster became. You heard Dio ‘hmph!’ next to you. “Well, for starters, you can stop starving yourself and feed freely.” His eyes returned to you before he instinctively got angry. 

“And if you didn’t know, you can always feed like this…” He raised his hand to your neck. His large hand wrapped around your dainty throat. His claws entered your skin but it didn’t hurt. “…so when it comes to feasting on those beneath me, use your hands and reserve your lips for me.”

“You’re certainly one to demand exclusivity while you go around and impregnate other women.” You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the newfound anger any time you thought of his unfaithfulness. Dio’s smirk returned to his handsome face. “Should I have punished you some other way? I would’ve taken your womb by force but…I already have it.” He chuckled darkly. He waited with anticipation of his first child with you. It would be just one of many and they would grow up to rule the world, just like him. He just hoped that they wouldn’t take after their stubborn mother. The last thing he needed were lions that had soft hearts like sheep. 

“And you’re oddly proud of taking away my autonomy.” Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. You still didn’t like the language he used when talking to you…but that wasn’t a "you" problem. It was a Dio problem.

You had begun to lift yourself off of him only to be pulled back down. He secured his hand around your waist even further. “Oh, don’t you even think of leaving me yet.”

Dio leaned close. So close that his nose brushed yours. A smirk was plastered on his face and, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss you…and you could tell he wanted to. His eyes were set on your plush lips that were already chapped from his excessive urge to press his lips to yours.

For a moment, it did seem like he’d kiss you until he pulled away. His eyes grew cold and he seemed annoyed that he needed to rip them away from your beauty. He looked around the room as if he heard something.

Enyaba suddenly entered the room. She mentioned something cryptic to Dio. Something about training the power of his stand. What power? The only thing you could call back to was your repeating actions the day you tried to leave him again.

His anger melted away before he released you. “I’ll come find you again.” He said as you got up from his lap. You wanted to ask what exactly he’d be gone for but you knew he wouldn’t answer you. The only way to find out would be to pry the information out of a servant..or use your stand on them.

You flashed him a charming smile. A smile that caused him to blush.

“Okay. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Oh. So that’s what it meant to live.

Your smile. Your approval. Your happiness.

Your attention. Your body. Your mind. Your soul.

Your…everything.

Your motherly instincts made you check on Petshop. The sweet bird was just as loving as ever. Although you loved him, you couldn’t help but wonder why Dio chose a bird and not something like a cat or…dog. It felt as though he was mocking you—almost. You felt like a small bird in a cage of bones. A trap with no return. But Dio’s gift to you was a large bird. One that was free and could fly wherever it wanted. It would go out every day but return back to you with free will. Just thinking about it made your eyes fill with tears.

But before you could cry…you noticed something particular about Petshop. On his talons were…ice shards? At first, it didn’t mean anything but then you remember that you were in the middle of Egypt. It was much too hot for ice to last, let alone form at all. The bird allowed you to remove them but you’d surely bring this up to Dio later. You couldn’t help but feel like he was keeping things from you. Pet shop was beautiful but you couldn’t help but wonder where he came from. It was also clear that Petshop wasn’t an ordinary bird. He was somewhat larger than any bird you’d ever seen and despite being gentle with you, it looked ferocious. It had to be a while animal…

It was enough faking your happiness. What you really wanted was to find out how Joseph and his grandson were doing. Judging by the obvious, the boys must be successfully defeating Dio’s minions. The only other people who were close to you and Dio in the mansion were Enyaba and Pucci. In reality, he was more of a “friend” to Dio than to you but he often extended his kindness to you as well. You didn’t have any friends here. Dio’s minions “worshipped” you but the person who ultimately listened to was Dio. Any one of them would turn on you at the drop of a hat.

Some time had passed when you were with Petshop. You were mesmerized by your stand. She was so beautiful and although she looked like a humanoid creature, it felt the same as looking in a mirror when you saw her. You wished that you could fully understand her power. Enyaba refused to help you by orders of Dio and he had isolated you so much that you didn’t get to exercise your power at all. 

That was until…

“Lady (y/n)…?”

An unknown person has entered Dio’s private study. Petshop’s relaxed body was not at attention, ready to attack anyone who dared come to hurt his owner.

“Yes?”

You were lying down in Dio’s oversized armchair by yourself when they had come in. You sat up, unable to make out the figure in the darkness. The voice and build let you know that it was a man but it wasn’t anyone you had recognized. As the man got closer, he gasped upon seeing you.

“You’re just as beautiful as Lord Dio described.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Who are you?” You questioned, seeing the person who came from the dark. It was a tall man with white skin. He was paler than Dio and he had brown hair. His outfit consisted of a purple jacket and leotard decorated with a similar heart motif that your husband’s new yellow clothes adorned. The ones that Enyaba had just begun tailoring for him.

“Please, my lady, call me Vanilla Ice.” The odd man got on his knees, clasping his hands together as if he were begging for mercy. “Lord Dio has assigned me to be your personal servant from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised. “My personal servant?”

Petshop observed your body language before going back to rest. It seems Vanilla Ice wasn’t a threat.

“Why would Dio send you now? I don’t need to be served.” You crossed your arms. Somehow, you felt less sympathy the more often you saw Dio’s minions. Perhaps, you were jaded from knowing Dio all your life because you couldn’t understand how he was able to charm so many when he was barely charming in your opinion.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Lord Dio insisted. I am not allowed to let you out of my sight.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Out of your sight? For what purpose?” You crossed your arms. “Explain yourself.”

Vanilla Ice began to sweat. You could see the droplets forming on his forehead. “M-My Lord has told me that I shouldn’t burden you with such details…”

“What? I just spoke to him. Take me to where he is right now.” You commanded, making the servant’s expression worsen. “But—” The man took a step closer to you.

“Now.” 

“Lord Dio doesn’t believe you should leave this room anymore. He’s told me that you may be jeopardizing his future plans.”

He was trying to lock you away again, huh? Well, you wouldn’t allow that. Especially not in this hot Egyptian Heat. 

“I don’t care! Take me to him right now or I’ll find him myself.” Just as you finished speaking, you felt a sense of regret. You didn’t know this man. Perhaps, you shouldn’t have yelled at him…but what is done is done.

Unbeknownst to you, Dio was only just training to harness the power of his stand, but he was taking time to create insurance for you and himself, solidifying the chances of his return. He knew you didn’t approve of his relationship with Pucci. You’d never stop pestering him about it and he didn’t want to risk your stand undoing any progress he’s made in grooming the boy into doing exactly what he wants.

Vanilla Ice couldn’t help but get antsy. He felt as though failing Dio’s orders would get him on his bad side.

Upon taking you to Dio, you saw that this room was much darker than most. Enyaba was there as well. If you were being honest, you began to dislike her. She filled Dio’s head with disgusting thoughts of plot and murder. You felt as though any progress you made in your relationship with him was undone by her. It made you want to kill her. That feeble old woman. 

“Oh? And what is this?” Dio’s voice held an innocuous tone. He didn’t see upset that Vanilla Ice couldn’t so easily contain you. Around his hands were purple vines with thorns. They looked slightly out of place as if they weren’t real. At least, you hoped that your husband wasn’t actually sprouting vines from his forearms. “I am NOT letting you lock me up again.” You hissed as you pushed your way into the room, disregarding anyone who may be watching. No matter how angry you’d get, Dio hardly saw you as a threat. He could even admit that he enjoyed it when you clashed with him. The thought of a pretty rose poking him with thorns kept him on his toes. No matter what, you fueled his love for you and his ego.

Perhaps, Ice was the wrong person for the job. 

“That’s fine. I won’t lock you away.” Dio manipulated his voice to sound inviting. Maybe he made a mistake. The two of you were doing so well together. The vibes that surrounded his hands and forearms grew and they subtly made their way over to you. Instinctively, you took a step back, not yet familiar with the variety of stand powers due to Dio’s constant sheltering of you and withholding secrets.

You backed into the chest of a large man. He held you by your shoulders, not allowing you to escape. The vines wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to Dio.

You weren’t able to resist the sensation filling your body right now. It was from the vines. You reached down to try to remove them but that only made them hug your waist tighter. A smug look covered Dio’s visage. He waited until your bodies were only inches away before he spoke.

“What is your stand power? As my wife, you must answer and you must do it truthfully.” His hands settled on either side of your waist as the ethereal plants layered themselves around you. 

You had no idea what Dio was referring to…

You didn’t know what your stand did. You just talked to people and things happened.

Dio’s eyebrows knitted together slightly at your hesitation. He opened his mouth to speak but you finally spoke first.

“Mother’s Mercy can cause its targets to make better decisions.”

The man raised an eyebrow. His fingers squeezed slightly before pulling you a bit more forward. “What else? Is that it?” He asked you. Well, more so, he asked Hermit Purple. The stand was forcing you to give information. “Better decisions?” He repeated. In a fit of frustration, he let you go. He stepped away from you and his face became one of disgust. “How worthless.” 

A stand is a manifestation of the soul. You were his Queen, his Goddess who would rule alongside him. So, why has the universe granted you such a gentle stand?

“Enyaba, can I shoot her again? Would that give her a more ruthless power?” 

The old woman shook her head. “Shooting the arrow again would not have any chance of improving her granted abilities and it could disrupt the pregnancy.” She grumbled, pointing her walking stick at your belly. It was protruding a little bit. Weeks have passed since you got pregnant and now you are beginning to show.

“No, Dio, please. Not again.” Your voice was quiet as a mouse and you shook your head, recalling the pain you were in when you were first shot with the stand arrow. It felt like you had been boiled alive. The sensations were unnatural. Even with your vampire augmentation, you were unable to resist its torture.

“What good is a stand that makes my associates join my enemy? I should just lock you up and be done with it.” He began to pace around the room. “Show her out.” 

You felt Vanilla Ice tug on you but you didn’t budge. Snatching your shoulder away from him, you stepped towards your husband. “I am not going back to that room. I’m not staying locked up. I want you to stop this and call off your henchman from attacking Joseph and his grandson.”

Dio didn’t turn to address you. “And why would I do that?”

“Because, they didn’t do anything to you, Dio.” Your furrowed your eyebrows. A “tsk” sound left his mouth once you said that. 

“Do you know what Jonathan did to me…?” His tone shifted. He sounded hurt but angered as well. Dio strode over to you and grabbed your delicate hand with force. He raised it to his neck and your fingertips tips grazed the scarred issue that kept his severed head on that stolen body. “He did this. On the night of our wedding.”

“What was supposed to be the most special night of my life that I waited years for…” He let go of your hand and you let it fall to your side. You couldn’t tell if he was being vulnerable or arrogant but it seemed personal. 

While Dio might've felt like you were the only woman to ever understand him, the reality was that you didn’t. You were just able to adapt well to his unstable personality. Perhaps, that’s why he clung to you like this. Maybe, he knew and simply didn’t care if the two of you understood each other. Maybe…all that matters to him is that he could be himself and you couldn’t run away.

“So, you’re going to kill a random child because you feuded with Jonathan?” Your thumb ran over the tip of your index and ring finger.

Already, you memorized the feeling of his scars. You barely touched them. You never wanted to even though it was clear Dio yearned for it. He was too prideful to beg for it too. You didn’t want to acknowledge the confusing reality that you could be having the child of Jonathan. It made your heart want to burst. It made you want to disappear.

“Jotaro Kujo isn’t a random child. I want to destroy what’s left of the Joestars…” He made Hermit Purple appear again. “And if my minions can’t dispose of him then what better way than to do it with Jonathan’s body?”

The stand snaked up your arm and you could feel its imaginary thorns sinking into your skin. “And if you love me, you’d understand. Do you love your God?”

The same sensation from before took control of your body. So many things ran through your head but you couldn’t form any speech. “E-Erm…” you purse your lips but soon find yourself unable to make eye contact with Dio. His face became increasingly more alert. His pupils retracted as his eyes widened.

Hermit Purple vanished. You couldn’t answer even while being forced to talk.

“Get her out of my sight and take her back to her room. If she resists, use force.”

hey. thx for the wait.

@z3r0art

i cant remember if someone else was supposed to be tagged so pls let me know if you're missed.

[fipindustries]

I think I might have asked before, but what exactly are One Piece's problems? I know about the wonky anatomy of the female characters and the time Oda defended a pedo, but what are the other issues?

ok, first of all i dont want us to brush over the atrocious female anatomy in display because it is really that fucking egregious and almost dealbreaking on its own. this is the one true proof we need that just "practisce" is worthless as an artist, the guy has been drawing women every day for 20 years and he has just gotten worse at it. there are also some more subtle forms of sexism in the story like how many women are captains in the story (i think like.... uhhhh.... two??? and one of them is this big fat giant ugly hag villain, the other is a child who for plot reasons has the body of a super sexy 20 something year old and the sexy clothes to match but she is a child) and other details here and there that are a bit too subtle for me to really want to go into.

so that aside, is just kind of a death of a thousand cuts. the cast is too bloated and after a while they just become irrelevant, the time decompression is brutal and things that should be resolved in one issue will take ten, after a while the fights just become boring and uninspired, the way luffy defeats every villain is just that he punches them like really really hard.

i want to harken back to the characters because honestly the interactions between the main characters are basically non existant. how does franky feel about tony, for example? how about the dynamic between usopp and, say, brook? tony has basically not been a character since before the time skip. everyone has become a very simplified version of themselves until an arc shows up where we now can explore another interesting facet of this character but that happening is so far inbetween that it becomes incredibly tedious to read.

is just tedious in general, is so big and bloated and over the top and slooooow that its just hard to care anymore. there are a hundred things happening in the background but nothing is really happening on a chapter to chapter basis. and the characters have stopped being really characters a long while ago.

luffy is kind of a thoughtless brute that does what he wants without asking permission or saying sorry and conquers everything by sheer bravado and punching really hard and he always has that dumb cocky smile with him, there is this general glorification of brute strength and being the biggest most awesome badass who rolls over everything by sheer confidence and force of will, (but you cant be mean about it because that is bad) there is this idea that you can just "project force" (or haki*) and the rest of the world just kind of bows to that. its very shonen, is my point, in the teenage sort of immature awesome cool anime way that gets hard to stomach after a while, it starts feeling really dumb. its a thousand chapters of that.

*also haki is just really stupid in general. the gum gum fruits provided a lot of cool interesting power dynamics and problem solving to fights but now you can just use haki which is this vague idea of how confident/determined/sheer presence you have and the characters can just arbitrarily have however much they need in order to win a fight and it always trumps fruit devil powers and is just like who fucking cares except children who are so excited that luffy reached super sayin level over 9000 or whatever

[megu-meow]

crushing hugs - gojo satoru

gojo x fem. reader

Summary: This is something my brother did to my mom ACCIDENTALLY when he came back home after spending 7 months in college abroad without seeing her.

Gojo is way too excited when he finds out you're alive and well after he is freed from the prison realm.

TW: broken bones, injuries, Gojo

MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Suguru's body has been possessed. Yaga and Nanami are dead. Nobara is nowhere to be seen. Tsumiki is awake, but she's not herself anymore. Yuji is alive, but he's injured badly and Megumi is now the vessel of Sukuna. These are the first pieces of information that reach Gojo's mind as he floats above the city, finally freed from the agonizing nothingness of the prison realm, his blindfold discarded somewhere as his six eyes scan the scenery under him, looking for the last ounce of sanity he has. That being you. He swears if it turns out that you're gone as well, he's going to go berserk. The thought of getting out so that he could reunite with you again was the only one that kept him sane inside the terrible cube he got himself locked into, he wouldn't be able to keep doing life without having you in it.

He remembers the time he thought he could never fall in love or be in a relationship ever. He thought a partner could not fit into his crazy lifestyle and he never wanted to drop the burden of dating someone like him on anyone. He never looked for love, despite being very popular among the ladies.

At least that's what he thought until he met you. A badass first-grade sorcerer he never met before, a knowledgeable woman with a strong aura and a fun personality. He liked how you never took anything too seriously, you were against the hierarchy of the jujutsu world like he was and you were an intriguingly talented sorcerer. The strongest became obsessed with you easily, he loved hanging out with you and annoying the hell out of everyone around the two of you with your crazy shenanigans. He adored your personality, but Gojo could not deny how stunning he thought you were either. He was always nonchalant about having a crush on you, he never tried to keep it a secret. He asked you out on a date after barely a month of meeting you and you agreed without hesitation as you found him attractive as well.

After that first date, the two of you kept going out together and you got to know each other on a deeper level. You quickly found out that there was a lot more to Gojo Satoru than being the strongest. Sometimes he buried the goofy facade and got serious with you, talking about very personal things like what happened to Geto and the pressure he had to grow up with that his clan put on him. He was also incredibly understanding. He would listen to you ramble about your feelings or what you've been through and you knew he always listened attentively. Sometimes the attention he gave you felt intimidating, knowing that he could see and comprehend things even you couldn't figure out about yourself was scary, but he never tried to take advantage of that.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend you agreed without a second thought and you never regretted your decision. He was a perfect boyfriend, he was naturally good at everything, of course he was going to be the best significant other anyone could ask for. He knew everything about you, he was very attentive to details like how you liked your coffee, what kind of music you liked, and what you liked to put in your ramen. It was very easy to fall in love with him and you were doing everything in your power to be the girlfriend he deserved, you always made sure he had enough rest and he took time off to relax from time to time.

The first time he said he loved you was nearly a year into dating him, the day Yuji's fate was decided by the higher-ups. You were unexplainably furious at those old hags deciding to end a kid's life just because they were afraid of his potential. You told them off and at that moment Gojo realised he was destined to be with you forever.

He can't lose you too. You're his other half, he's not fully himself without you. So he keeps looking. His eyes scan the area around him with utmost attention, but they never find you.

"Oh my god, it's true!" he suddenly hears you shout from below him and he turns towards you instantly. You're masking your cursed energy, your presence completely invisible, something you mastered after the love of your life was locked away for good. With a snap of his finger, he appears in front of you. He takes you in, you look tired and beat up, but you're still alive and yourself. He quickly eliminates the distance between the two of you and pulls you into his arms. He knows you're crying, they are happy tears and he holds you to his chest even tighter.

"Thank god, you're okay pretty girl!" he says, his voice raspy and broken. He wants to cry too, but there's no place for that in this moment.

"I missed you, Satoru! I thought you were gone forever." you say and the tears keep streaming down your face.

"I know, baby, I missed you too! I'm back and I'm not leaving again, I promise." he says truthfully, leaving a caring kiss on top of your head "I love you." he whispers and you say it back happily. Upon hearing your confession, he tightens his embrace and suddenly he can hear a snapping sound followed by a painful scream for you.

"I think you broke one of my ribs, Gojo!" you screech and he can't stop apologizing. He never wanted to hurt you, but his superhuman physical strength and the happiness he felt from seeing you again after being locked away made him forget how he was supposed to hold back when it came to physical affection.

"I'm so sorry, baby, I was just very excited to have you in my arms again. I'll take you to Shoko to get you all healed up."

"There's no need for that." you say smugly and he watches intensely as your cursed energy triples and you slowly start healing yourself. He observes with utmost adoration as you finish up quickly and pull him into a warm embrace.

"I didn't think I could adore you more, pretty girl, but you amaze me every day. " he says lovingly, kissing you with intense passion.

[callm3-q]

This whole situation with bad is all so bittersweet... Like, on one hand we get really cool lore and we get to see more of Bad hanging out with more of the eggs. But on the other hand, it's like, at what cost. We could have all those things with out the reset, and all the angst that's coming with it. All the eggs that know Bad so well, and Bad putting all the time and devotion into building that trust and getting to know them better just thrown out the window. It's sad to think about.

And another thing, people are just barely thinking about ways to help Bad, like moving closer to help out more, or trying to find a cure, and shit like that. But still, too little too late. He's been like this for a LONG time, at some point things are just unfixable. And I know people were trying to help Bad earlier on, but it wasn't, and still isn't, really far up on the to-do list for anyone.

I can already see people logging on after the reset and running into Bad and having to have the conversation, and basically having to re-introduce themselves to him.

But one thing I have questions about is how far back will it send him? Will he be sent back to the first thing that could be called the first mistake, or when his life first started falling apart. Or will it send him back further. Will he remember Foolish, or Phill, or any of the others from the dsmp. Or will he forget everyone entirely.

Also just gonna put general ideas of how people might react to Bad's reset depending on how far back he gets sent, cause I need a break from writing about this angsty lore :)

could imagine Foolish running into Bad, or meeting up with him and it gong something like this. (This is if his memory got ripped back to when his life started falling to pieces, so he still remember most of the islanders and eggs) I could imagine Foolish noticing something off about Bad and going like 'what the fuck happened to you' and Bad would just be like 'what do you mean, I'm completely normal' and the Foolish would just hag him, and ask questions about what happened.

I could see Pierre saying 'Bebou nooooo D: what happened to you' (maybe a bad time but I absolutely love Pierres accent TmT) Then Bad would say "What do you mean' because why wouldn't he, I mean c'mon... He's BadboyHalo, infamous for being oblivious and shit like that

Anyways, I'll probably continue this post and talk about how I think/ thought others would react. (depending on if Bad dies tomorrow or not ofc, I'll say if I was close or not). But Bad was a little rapscallion as he would say, and streamed for 9 hours and it's already 1:20 AM and I'm tired af TvT. So see you tomorrow with the rest of this post, if I decide to finish it.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

For the Greater Good

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Pairing: Tom Marvolo Riddle x Slytherin!OC

Summary: Growing up with the dream of joining the Alliance, Ophelia's only wish has been to take her place by Grindelwald's side. As Grindelwald starts losing power during her last year at Hogwarts, Ophelia desperately searches for a way to turn the tide one last time. Eventually, she gets caught up in Tom Riddle's radar, who starts delving into her past.

Warnings: Strong language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Well, this is a short story I have been working on from time to time since last December. I don't know if I will ever get to complete it; however, I didn't want the piece I have written so far to rot on my computer... If this finds anyone at all, I hope you enjoy the first chapter and please let me know what you think! I could as well start a taglist if anyone is interested.

It was rather ironic that the first time her mother accompanied her to platform 9 ¾ was her last time taking the Hogwarts Express from King’s Cross Station.

Looking at her, Ophelia was once again absolutely mesmerised by her mother’s beauty -her flawless, porcelain face was adorned with her naturally turned-up nose and plump lips. Sometimes, with forty-four, she managed to look just a few years older than Ophelia, who was about to turn eighteen in a few months.

Such perfection cannot be achieved with magic, otherwise all the old hags wouldn’t be around, Ophelia thought. She must be bathing in the blood of Muggles.

Her mother turned her blue eyes at Ophelia almost immediately. “I won’t even let one of those vermin touch me -and you think I would defile my skin with their blood?” She clicked her tongue. “You disappoint me, daughter.”

“Stop lingering in my head!” Ophelia hissed between her gritted teeth as she quickly built up a mental wall using Occlumency. Of course, she knew she had to keep the wall up at all times -her mother was trying to make her get used to it -but still, she sometimes let it slip.

Her mother raised an eyebrow at Ophelia’s direction. “Then you have to be more vigilante, Ophelia.” She tried to enter Ophelia’s mind once again, only to hit the mental wall. The edge of her crimson lip curled upwards. “Impressive.”

“Father taught me well.”

“Speaking of which,” her mother said with a silk like voice. “He did want to come here to see you before you head off for the last time; however, considering how it would complicate the things, he wanted me to instead give you this.”

Ophelia snickered as her mother searched for something in her handbag. “I find it hard to imagine him standing here,” she told honestly. “But I would sure love to see the terrified looks on everyone’s faces.”

“Why terrified? He does have quite the supporters around here, dear, all the Purebloods would stand in a line to simply shake his hand.” Upon finding what she was looking for, her mother handed Ophelia a silver necklace. “For the greater good.”

Ophelia didn’t really need to look down in her palm to see what was on the necklace -it was the sign of the Deathly Hollows. As she put on the necklace and let it rest cold against her chest, her green eyes met her mother’s blue ones. “For the greater good.”

Vinda Rosier put on a questioning expression on her face when she saw her daughter placing the necklace under her white shirt. “Why are you hiding it right away?” She asked with a confused tone. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do like it, mother,” Ophelia said and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “But I don’t want to wave it in front of Dumbledore’s face.”

A grimace appeared on her mother’s face almost immediately. “Oh, right, he still hasn’t given up on watching everything you do, has he?”

Ophelia shook her head, placing her hands into the pockets of her beige, pinafore trousers. “Nope,” she muttered. “Still like a hawk.”

From the moment Ophelia set a foot into the castle, Albus Dumbledore had been keeping a strict eye on her, observing each of her social interactions, watching every little action from her side. This still hadn’t been enough to keep Ophelia away from causing trouble or breaking the rules; however, she had to admit that it could have been easier.

In order to avoid being seen, one of the very first things she had mastered was the Invisibility Potion -which was not as effective as a real Invisibility Cloak but still allowed her to move around without being noticed.

Also, Dumbledore was the reason why Ophelia wasn’t made Prefect or Head Girl even though she was by far the brightest witch in her year. Dumbledore had quite the influence on all the other professors, hence he had successfully managed to keep them from giving Ophelia more power and influence over other students.

As if it was a better idea to give him all the power by making him Head Boy, Ophelia thought as her green eyes found a tall, pale-faced young man walking towards her, his Head Boy badge shining on his chest. Being the Golden Boy has its perks.

“Rosier,” Tom Riddle greeted Ophelia with a simple nod as he slowed down his steps. Then, he turned his dark eyes to her mother. “Vinda Rosier, I suppose?” Her mother nodded. Tom extended his hand. “Tom Riddle.”

Vinda Rosier shook his hand. “If my memory doesn’t deceive me, Ophelia has mentioned your success and extraordinary talent for magic.” She spoke with a voice as smooth as velvet, which she only used when talking with Grindelwald’s other followers. “It would be a shame to waste such a gift.”

Anyone that knew who Vinda Rosier was, could easily understand the hidden meaning of her words and judging by the look in his eyes, Tom was very well aware of what her mother was trying to imply.

“I do not intend to waste anything, Miss Rosier,” Tom responded with his Golden Boy attitude surrounding him. “However, my views on the matter are rather more radical than that of yours and his.”

Ophelia intervened quickly. “Mum, I hope you aren’t trying to recruit my classmate into the Alliance.” Her tone was mocking but still, she had lowered her voice.

A mischievous smile appeared on Vinda Rosier’s crimson lips. “Of course not, darling. However, I’d very much like to hear about his views on the matter sometime in the future.” She squinted, looking over Ophelia’s shoulder, trying to see more clearly. “Is that Francis over there?”

Looking at the same direction as her mother, Ophelia nodded upon seeing Francis Rosier -Vinda’s cousin -accompanying his daughter Aurora Rosier to the Hogwarts Express. “Yes, that’s him.”

“I shall have a word or two with him.” Vinda muttered, then she gave her daughter a warm hug. “Take care, darling and keep up the good work.”

“Thanks, Mum. Please tell Dad that I loved the present.” Ophelia spoke quietly before breaking off the hug. Vinda walked into the opposite direction, whereas Ophelia and Tom Riddle headed towards the train. “He is her cousin,” Ophelia said, causing Tom to look at her. “Francis Rosier.”

Tom nodded in an understanding manner. “I see,” he spoke with his usual, calm voice. “I figured you were related to Aurora and Augustus someway, of course, but I never knew you were distant cousins.”

Ophelia shrugged in a careless manner. “Well, Aurora herself figured that out in our fifth year, so yours is still acceptable.”

An uncomfortable silence ruled between the two as they got onboard the train and walked past numerous compartments filled with younger students on their way to the carriage inhabited by the Slytherins. Tom, however, decided to break it.

“You don’t carry the same, strong French accent as your mother.”

Ophelia chuckled lightly, she found it amusing that he chose this very detail to observe. “She was born and raised in France, also she spent most of her life there.” Ophelia responded as she pushed a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear. “I have lived in Austria till I was 10. Then, we moved to Britain.”

Tom raised a questioning eyebrow as Ophelia stopped in front of an empty compartment. “So that you could attend Hogwarts?” He asked, only to attain a simple nod from Ophelia. “Why? You could have gone to Durmstrang.”

The young woman shrugged. “It was decided that I must attend Hogwarts.”

The edge of his lip turned upwards as Tom watched Ophelia take a seat by the window. “It has been seven years, and you still won’t let anyone get the slightest glimpse of what lies behind those icy walls of yours, will you, Rosier?”

Ophelia mirrored Tom his smile back while crossing one leg over the other. “You are a fine one to talk, Riddle.” Her voice had the hints of playfulness. “Don’t you have Head Boy duties to attend to?”

Tom shook his head in an unapproving manner and turned back to leave. “It is a shame you weren’t made Head Girl,” he said with a smooth voice as he let the compartment door close. “You’d be a better fit than Veronica Larch.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened with shock as she watched Tom Riddle walk away. They chose Veronica fucking Larch as the Head Girl and not me? For fuck’s sake, I cannot remember the last time she had better grades than I did!

Maybe she is better at sucking up to Dippet.

[Time Skip]

During the first half of the journey, Ophelia could swear she hadn’t experienced a more pleasant train ride before. She was completely alone in her compartment, there was no one bothering her with unnecessary small talk -she had absolute peace for the first time in a long while.

She had spent the summer holiday in Austria -in Nurmengard Castle to be more precise -along with her mother and Grindelwald’s other Acolytes. It was better than having to stay with her grandparents in Britain, of course -but still, it had been quite stressful at times.

When things were not going the way he planned them to, Grindelwald was not fun to be around.

However, she needed to get used to his bad side as well since she wanted to take her place among his Acolytes as soon as she was done with Hogwarts. This had been her biggest dream ever since she was a little girl -to help Grindelwald establish a wizard-led system the world desperately needed.

The greater good had been the only thing she had seen around her while growing up, her mother used to tell her bed-time stories about the new world they were trying to build -Grindelwald and his Acolytes.

That was why she had spent the summer in Nurmengard, training with her mother and the other Acolytes in their spare time. Hogwarts had been successful in teaching her most of the vital things she needed; however, it lacked the training in Dark Arts -which was by far the most important branch Ophelia had to master.

While Ophelia was lost in her own world, the door to the compartment was opened, causing the young woman to leap up in her place. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you.” Abraxas Malfoy was standing at the door with Aurora Rosier and Emrys Lestrange behind him. Upon seeing the disturbed look in Ophelia’s green eyes, Abraxas spoke hesitantly. “If you want to be left alone, we could just leave.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes at him as she shrugged in a careless manner and took off the navy-blue scarf wrapped around her shoulders -it was getting warmer.

Emrys snickered at Ophelia’s reaction as he sat down next to her, Abraxas and Aurora took the seat across. “At the beginning of every year, we somehow hope for Ophelia to come back a little less distant, but it always ends in a huge disappointment.” His voice carried the hints of mocking.

“Just admit that you are in love with me, Emrys.” Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at Emrys’ direction. From the corner of her eye, she could see Aurora and Abraxas holding hands. So, they finally got together, she thought to herself. Not that it interests me, but it took them long enough.

Emrys let out a laughter this time. “For that to happen, one needs to get to know you first.” He shrugged. “I don’t see it happening even in our last year at Hogwarts, sunshine.”

The edge of Ophelia’s lip curled upwards, even though she wasn’t fond of small talk, sometimes she found it entertaining to bicker with Emrys. “Fair enough.”

“Are you two done?” Aurora asked with a somewhat annoyed tone. After taking a deep breath, the strawberry blonde turned her gaze at Ophelia. “How was your summer?”

Ophelia pushed her waves out of her sight as she responded. “It was nice, I got to spend more time with my parents this time and learned some interesting stuff. What about you?”

Aurora’s light blue eyes found that of Abraxas’ as a small smile formed on her lips. “I spent the last three weeks with Abraxas in France.”

“So this,” Ophelia pointed at their hands, “happened right after we returned home?” The couple nodded simultaneously. Ophelia sent them a fake smile. “Good for you.”

“But not so good for us,” Emrys muttered, “they will be making out all the time in the common room.”

Ophelia heaved a sigh. “Then simply look away.”

Abraxas chuckled upon hearing Ophelia’s remark. “I knew my second favourite Rosier would support us.” He said, causing Emrys to roll his eyes in an exaggerated way. “I have never seen you wearing a necklace.”

It took a few seconds for Ophelia to realise that Abraxas was talking to her. “Yeah, it is a gift from my… parents.”

Aurora seemed interested, too. “Can I see it?” She asked, only to correct herself. “I mean we, sorry, I forget how much of a little girl Abraxas becomes when it is about jewellery.”

The blonde-haired young man was about to come up with something clever to say to his girlfriend; however, the whole compartment went completely silent for a few moments as Ophelia showed them the rest of the necklace.

Everyone was familiar with the association between the Deathly Hollows and Grindelwald.

“Well,” Abraxas began to speak, “it is quite courageous to carry that around your neck at this time, don’t you think so?”

Before Ophelia could snap at him, Aurora took the word. “It has been common knowledge for a long time that Ophelia supports Grindelwald and his case -at least she has the guts to stand behind her words and her beliefs.” It was seldom that Aurora Rosier became that serious. “Unlike us all, who dare speak about our support only behind closed doors.”

Abraxas couldn’t come up with a response, Emrys turned his gaze to the ground.   

A warm smile formed on Aurora’s lips as she looked at Ophelia. “I think it is beautiful.” She said, pointing at the necklace. However, Ophelia wasn’t really there at that moment, instead her mind was drifting to a memory from her fifth year at Hogwarts.

Ophelia freed her arm from Aurora’s firm hold, who had been dragging her to the bathroom at their dormitory. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Aurora?!” Ophelia hissed between her gritted teeth.

“I should ask you the same question, Ophelia.” Aurora responded, her voice was becoming louder by the second. “How can you not tell me that you are Gellert Grindelwald’s one and only heir?!”

[xshiny]

Angst! Ghost x gn!reader

TW ⚠️ Some talk about past, blood, fighting, yelling, maybe racism?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Everyone was back at base after a long, intense mission. Here you and him where, arguing once more. You and him have been rivals sense you arrived. Everyone was exhausted, mentally and physically. No one wanted to try n break you up, and just let y’all argue it out. It was a normal everyday argument, till he brought up a sensitive topic.

“AT LEAST I WASN’T THE CAUSE OF MY BROTHERS DEATH, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF CRAP!!“ His thunderous voice boomed, vibrating the very ground below you.His words hit you like a bullet to the heart, and made you stop your breath. A second later, you were able to breath again. Your eyes widen, and your heart beats faster as you try to remain calm. The topic of your brother dying because of yourself hits you hard, especially if Ghost brought it up.

"You...you dare talk about my brother!" You shouted, and turned away fuming, holding in the tears you had. You had enough of him for one day, and he went too far.

“No one asked for the truth huh? Too afraid of a little honesty?” Ghost spat back, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “Your so caught up in the past, it seems you forgot the present.” He then leaned back, resting his back against the wall of the tent, his knees raised, and his hands folded. His gaze was sharp, and his cold, dead eyes were focused on you.Everyone was around the pair of you, looking away and trying to not get tangled in the commotion.The anger could not be held back. You came back storming at him, punching his face hard.

"You you sly hag! You have no idea what its like to lose someone on the battlefield because of yourself!" You spat, huffing as you watch Ghost fall to the ground.Ghost stumbled back and fell, not anticipating your hit. The shock of the physical attack took over, and the rest of the unit jumped to pull us apart. It took three men to hold your fury, two to hold him. He laughed as they did so, and yelled out the following.

“Oh my gosh- look at you, acting like a child and throwing a tantrum. I guess I hit a nerve.” A cold grin spread across his face, as he looked back at you. He was enjoying this all.

"You did it bad, and you know you went too far, Simon" you hiss out his name with venom in your tone, going against the soldier's restraints. His eyes narrowed, and he chuckled as he spat back.

“Oh please, you know nothing about going too far. What’s it been now, two years, and you’re still crying over the death of one person.”

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LOSE SOMEONE CLOSE TO YOU" you shouted, ripping free of the soldiers as you leaped apon Ghost, tackling him down with punches to the face.The two of you hit the floor hard, and your attack continued without mercy nor stopping. The other soldiers quickly got up to try and pull you off, but you were too furious for you to really care.

Every punch you land, every time you strike at him, it let out all the pent-up rage you have in you. It felt cathartic, almost...You continue to punch him, even as he tried to push you off. He went too far, and now he has to pay for it.Finally, the other soldiers were able to pull you off of Ghost. They held you back against them, trying to prevent you from going back to him.

Your breathing was heavy, and you were still too pissed for words. For what seemed like forever, you glared at him with pure hatred. The rest of the soldiers looked at you in shock, not knowing what to do. Ghost sat back up, wiped the blood from his mouth, and chuckled.You glared back at him, his blood on your knuckles. You breathed heavy as the soldiers held you in restraints, and snarled at him, too angry for words.

Ghost stood up straight and dusted himself off, still grinning. “Oh wow, you’re really angry.” He laughed and shook his head, before spitting out a tooth. He glanced down at it and chuckled. “My, I haven’t seen that kind of anger before- even from the other men. What was it now? That I hit a nerve?”You growled at him, pulling at your restraints.

"You fucking knew what you were doing!" You hiss, baring your teeth at him as you give him a hardcore glare.

“Oh I knew alright, I always know what buttons will piss you off. Guess you have a short fuse. Don’t worry, I love pushing all your buttons, just for some fun.” He smirked and raised his arms and shrugged, brushing off his words as if it was no big deal.

"You have no heart" You grumbled, as you were beginning to be dragged away. You huff, reluctantly going along with the soldiers who held you, and give one last glare at Ghost.

“At least I have a brain.” Ghost barked back, holding his bruised face. “Oh, and by the way, you’re ugly.” He then smirked and laughed again, and turned his back to you. The others watched this entire argument, some giggling, some holding back laughs, you could tell they enjoyed this fight between you two.You rolled your eyes.

"Why, is it because I'm Asian?" You scoff, shaking your head as you continue to walk away with the supporting soldiers.A sharp inhale and a snarl left Ghost’s lips at your words. He quickly spun around and rushed towards you, only to be held back by not one, but three other soldiers.

“SHUT UP. YOU JUST HAD TO BRING UP RACE DIDN’T YOU?” Ghost was pissed beyond belief. All his words were not filtered now, anger filling every bit of his being.You snickered, walking away into the base as Ghost yells in fury. He had it coming, just like how you had it coming when he brought up your dead brother.Ghost tried to yell back more, but he was cut off as a superior soldier barked an order out.

"Alright you two, that’s enough.” He then glanced at Ghost in annoyance. “Ghost, get your sh*t together and stop being an arrogant prick. That goes for you too. If you can’t get along with one another you both are suspended. Am I clear?”

"Yes sir" you reply with a straight face, but on the inside, you were laughing away.Ghost just shook his head in disappointment, and looked at the ground. It seems he was embarrassed a bit. The soldier glanced over at him, and glanced at everyone else. He then frowned.

"Get over here, Simon. I need a word with you.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/n: I don't know if I'm missed any TW's...

Anyway, yeah I dunno how I feel about this story

[theplaid-wearingmoose]

El Tango De Geralt ~Geralt x Reader angst~

Another song fic for Geralt? Yes of course. "But Mimi nobody asked for this" you say. Doesn't matter, it's giving me brain rot until I produce it. Yes I am into musicals and that's how i keep coming up with these. You're welcome. If you know Moulin Rouge, I would imagine those settings and characters for this one.

That damn woman. Every time she shows up, she ruins everything.That absolute hag. You hated that damn witch. Yennefer of Vengerberg. You didn't see her often but when she did happen to be in the same town as you, it was like you no longer existed to Geralt. You didn't know what hold she had over him but it really pissed you off. Geralt was finally back in town to see you but when she showed up, it was like you were invisible.

You knew something was up when Jaskier came to see you, looking for his witcher companion. You were finishing up the rehearsals on a sensual piece for your cabaret group. You were one of the lead performers at the large burlesque establishment and were well known throughout the country.

You hadn't seen Geralt all morning. You figured he'd wanted to rest after riding all afternoon the day before and then spending that night with you, showing you just how much he had missed you. Setting off in search for him, Jaskier not far behind, you paused when you noticed a familiar black horse tied up at the stables across the road. "Jaskier...that's not her horse, is it?" Jaskier followed your gaze and sighed heavily. "Unfortunately yes..she arrived this morning I believe. That's why I've been trying to find Geralt. I want to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." Jaskier admitted.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you took off running towards your quarters, praying Geralt was still there. Dread filled you when you found your room empty. You took off again, Jaskier calling out for you when he couldn't keep up. You ignored him and headed back in the direction of your cabaret. Suddenly a familiar smell reached your nose. Lilac and gooseberries...her fucking perfume. You followed the smell until you came to the local baths. You prayed even harder as you searched the building for Geralt. Surely, if he was in here, she would be also.

You rounded a corner and came to a full stop. Your eyes widened in horror as you took in the sight in front of you. Geralt was in one of the large pools...but so was she. Her naked chest was pressed to his, her face inches from his. He made no moves to push her away as her hands ran down his chest. Her lips brushed against his, causing you to let out a choked cry of anger. "Geralt?!" You exclaimed, fury filling you. Geralt seemed to snap out of his trace at the sound of your voice. Surprise made its way onto his face and he moved Yennefer away from him. "Y/N-" he started. But you refused to let him finish. You whirled around just as Jaskier caught up to you. "Ah, finally caught you. Did you find-oh..." He stopped as he took in your anger-filled face and Geralt naked with Yennefer in the background. You pushed past Jaskier, tears stinging your eyes as you ran back to your cabaret.

You made your way inside and immediately were comforted by your dancers. They knew as soon as they saw you what was wrong. "It's okay, honey. He doesn't deserve your tears." One of them, Isa, called over to the men who guarded the doors. "Don't let no Witcher in until Y/N says it's okay." She rubbed your shoulders as you cried. Another one of your girls spoke up. "Listen sweetie, you deserve better. You show that bastard what he's missing and then drop him. He wants some other skank, she can have him. You don't need this."

Wiping your eyes, you realized they were right. Besides, you had a performance tonight and couldn't let this ruin the show. You took a few minutes to calm down and relax and then had everyone prepare for the performance.

As you and the girls were getting ready you heard commotion at the front. As you went out to see what was wrong, Frenchie, one of your male leads, stopped you. "It's him sweetie, he's causin' trouble cause they won't let him in to see you. I don't think you should go out there alone." You smiled softly at him and patted his arm. "Thank you, Frenchie. I'll be alright. I can handle him." You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek and continued out. You saw one of your guards wiping his bloody lip, three more struggling to hold Geralt. "It's alright, boys. You can let him go." You said, staring coldly at him. He ripped his arms free from their grip and made his way over to you. "Y/N, please let me explain." You held up your hand to stop him. "You have nothing to say to me, Geralt. Clearly you've made your choice. Now, I have a performance to get ready for. I'm sure you and your witch have other things to do." You snapped. Your heart ached to be this cruel to him but you wanted to get over him. You turned back to your guards. "If the Witcher would like to see the performance tonight, he is allowed to enter." "Yes ma'am." They answered.

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

Looking out of the curtains you saw Geralt in the audience. You sighed, knowing this performance was as good as a goodbye to him. You wanted him to know how much he hurt you and this was going to do just that. The soft guitar played as the dancers moved to their places. As the violins chimed in and the tango began, you made your way onto the stage. Frenchie was singing his part in his signature growl. You met Geralt's golden eyes briefly before taking a breath and beginning your part.

Her eyes upon your face

Her hand upon your hand

Her lips caress your skin

It's more than I can stand

The dancers moved and swayed around you. The audience was staring at you intently, deeply invested in the story you were telling.

Why does my heart cry?

Feelings I can't fight

Geralt watched you, realization and guilt forming on his face as it dawned on him that this performance was about him. You stared hard into his eyes as you sang out your words.

You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me

And please, believe me when I say I love you

The dancers whirled around you as the music sped up. You held Geralt's gaze the entire time. The fire from the lamps lighting the stage danced in your eyes. You felt the heat from your anger rise in you. Tears fell down your face, your teeth clenched tight. Your hands balled into fists as you belted out.

Why does my heart cry?

Feelings I can't fight

You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me

And please, believe me when I say I love you

Your choir sang out their anguished cries of your chorus, cementing the anger and hurt of both you and your character. Geralt's eyes never left your face as the music intensified and the chorus cried out the ending of the song.

The audience stood as they erupted into applause. The only one who didn't move was Geralt. You glared coldly at him, tears falling steadily now, before whirling around and disappearing from the stage. You knew he would try to follow you, but you just couldn't....

You never wanted to see him or that damn witch again.

[sunnyie-eve]

4 | Flickering

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

~

"I think it's that way." Nick points as Sam and Colby forgot how to get to Samantha's painting.

"I think it's that way." Chris point in a different direction.

"Where is Samantha?" Colby thinks.

"Definitely that way." Dani agrees with Nick.

"You agree?" Chris asks here.

"It's that way." Matt agrees too holding all the balls for Samantha.

"I would actually bet $100, it's that way." Nick tells Chris as Colby jokes about an alone invitation to which Nick says no to.

"He's not that confident." Dani laughs at him.

"I'm very confident right there to the left." Matt says pointing into the direction.

Sam ends up asking who was the smartest out of the tree and Chris says Matt wasn't then says he's dumbest so the other two agree with him, "I wasn't gonna say it but if you're gonna say it." Nick nods his head.

"Okay, three of us know where to go, so Matt, please." Dani tells him and he leads the way.

"Cause we came out that elevator and went all the way around through here." Matt recalls to the group, mostly Sam and Colby.

"Just trust us Colby." Dani rubs his back as they walk side by side.

"I think Samantha would've liked Rupaul's Drag Race if she got old enough." Nick says stopping by the painting.

"If not she'd miss out on some iconic queens."

"See, one of the reasons we're best friends." Nick says so Dani wraps her arms around him smiling as Colby pulls candy out of Sam's backpack.

"We want Samantha to follow us for the rest of the night." Colby tells them, "She's a nice ghost." He adds, "I'm gonna lur-," Colby and Chris start to laugh realizing how it sounds. "This was a better idea on paper."

"Guys, don't cancel us please." Sam turns the camera to himself, "She's a ghost that's 120 years old. It's not creepy."

"She's technically 124, not four." Matt adds.

"Little kids literally see ghost, I'm convinced." Chris speaks up, "Little kids and dogs."

Dani sees the look on Matt's face making her laugh a bit, "Dude, Matt you okay?" She snaps him back.

"I guess," He puts on a smile.

Colby talks out the rumor that Samantha might also be Ruth so Chris makes joke about Ruth being Samantha's green counterpart before they all take a piece of candy to put at the painting for her to follow them.

Going back down to where Samantha passed, Matt and Dani both see the light flickering. Colby says that's what Samantha is known for and they point out it's only the one by the stairs.

"So what happened when she died is she was chasing after a ball and that made her tumble and break her neck." Sam tells the brothers, "So,"

"Yeah, and you are fuckin makin fun of her." Colby tells them as Chris's jaw hags open hearing what happened to her.

"I feel bad now. Sorry Samantha." Chris apologizes.

''Samantha, if you can hear us there's two flashlights here at the top of the staircase." Sam lets her know.

"You can go up to either one of them it doesn't matter." Dani adds so a flashlight comes on.

"The ghosts like Matt and Dani the most." Chris says as the flashlights go off while they talk and ask questions.

"If it's multiple do you wanna shut the red flashlight off?" Nick asks the ghosts and the red one turns off for them, "Oh my god. That was crazy."

"Wow." Matt stares at the flashlight.

"Samantha, did you come down here with us?" Dani asks so the blue flashlight turns on.

"I can't believe how lucky you guys are tonight." Chris looks at Matt and Dani.

"Samantha are you happy we brought you some balls?" Sam asks her making Colby chuckle which makes Matt and Chris laugh too.

The flashlight turns on, "She likes balls." Colby stats making Matt keep laughing as he looked at him.

"If we were to toss these down the stairs. Will you show yourself?" Sam asks making Dani look at him.

"Sam, you wanna add another to your list?"

"I-, Dani, I can't relive my bad past with little girl spirits." He shakes his head at the thought.

"He had a little girl stuck in his ass one time." Colby sums it up for the three making them laugh at Sam.

They break out the SLS camera to see if they could capture Samantha on camera but she never shows up for them.

Matt asks her a few questions and both flashlights turn on at the same time since she didn't know which one she wanted to pick.

They leave the stairs and head to Carlota's room next, "Does it have a different scent in here?" Colby asks as they enter the mezzanine, "Smells like grandma."

"It does give off that scent." Dani agrees.

"We have to rizz Carlota." Colby tells the boys while Dani just stands around looking at all the mirrors in the dark, "She's in here with all her vortex mirrors. That are nine million dollars."

"You should steal at least one." Chris tells him.

"Hey there Carlota, there's five single men here. Expect one is off limits." Matt tells her

"Yes." Nick nods his head, "Yeah." Everyone laughs at him, "I got nothin for ya." He adds.

"But he makes a great friend. Especially to rant to." Dani rests her head on his shoulder.

"And we have Dani here as well if you need a girl friend as well." Nick puts an arm around her giving her a side hug.

"Saw a picture of you, you're pretty hot." Colby tells her.

"Oh, straight to it." Chris laughs.

"I feel like that won't work on her. She's way too classy for that. She's an Empress." Dani tells her brother.

The boys try to think of back then rizz so they just say she's really pretty because they couldn't think of anything.

"I hate that I can see my own reflection like forty times." Chris stands in front of his mirror and the others agree with him that it's scary.

"Empress Car-lota,"

Dani laughs at Colby, "You fucked her named up dude." Nick then says it correctly for Colby.

"I'm sorry," Colby apologizes, "Empress Carlota," He says right this time making Nick and Dani quietly laugh so hard they hold on to each other, "My beautiful maiden. Please come into this room and talk to us. We would love to get to know you.

"Alright, I'm up guys." Chris says, "Empress Carlota, we'd love to have some conversation with you tonight. We got some fine handsome, handsome, gentleman. We're ready to rizz you up."

Dani places her hand over her mouth to stop her from laughing at him, "That was terrible." She giggles to herself while Nick tells him to be serious.

"Hey Empress Carlota. If you wanna talk to us tonight we're ready to communicate." Nick says on his turn.

"Hey Empress Carlota, if you wanna come out here and talk to us. Feel free to do it. And if you're not even Empress Carlota, and you're in this room, come on in."  Matt speaks up.

After Sam goes they get the EMF rope out that basically does the same thing as a regular EMF but covers a longer area.

"Why are these on Sam, over here?" Colby asks as some of the lights were already lit up.

"Ugh, that shouldn't be." He goes to move the string but it stays lit up.

"So they're all supposed to be pink right now?" Nick asks them.

"They're supposed to be this color, yeah." Colby tells him.

Sam goes on about how there might just be some electrical wiring under the floor right there so the pick up the rope to move it to the side.

[dent-de-leon]

Lucien being so wary and scared of magic because of the hag that desecrated his brother's corpse, because of the blood hunter scars on his own skin that scared his sister away--because of the way his soul shattered at the height of his ritual, torn asunder and scattered amidst the Astral Sea. Because of the nine Eyes that still brand his skin, still bind him to wizards who have always tortured and enslaved fate touched souls like him.

Lucien is taught first and foremost that magic is pain, that it is fueled by unfortunate victims and those with nowhere else to go, that it is always a powerful mage preying on someone vulnerable. Of course he distrusts Caleb from the very first moment, of course he'd see another mage--employed by the Cerberus Assembly archmage who killed him--and loathe all that he is.

"I'm careful," he tells Caleb and Beau. "Especially around practitioners of magic. Have a bit of a history--especially with those that walked alongside such individuals. Pardon me if I mistrust certain aspects of the arcane that might, I don't know, be hanging out in the unspoken wings of our arrangement. So I'm careful..."

When Veth casts Phantasmal Force on Lucien, conjures that image of Caleb in his mind, it really gets under his skin. "Claim the rest. The wizard's mine." It feels very vindictive and personal. And I think a big part of that is just how much of an effect Caleb has on Molly--a perceived "weakness" Lucien hates himself for.

When Lucien tries to tear into Caleb, he experience this very real, visceral pain, feels how much it physically hurts Mollymauk to hurt Caleb. It's only when Molly's soul sees Caleb is unharmed that that pain eases."His forehead tightened, burning with pain, as if something in there was scratching to get out. It calmed as soon as Caleb turned out to be little more than a clever mirage."

When Caleb called Lucien Circus Man, it truly broke all of Lucien's control for the very first time, shook something deep inside. In the novel, it's enough for Mollymauk to manifest before him visibly, and he's terrified. Lucien despising how much sway this lonely little wizard holds over a shattered shard of his heart, how a few kind words are enough to twist him from his life's purpose, threaten the grand vision he sacrificed everything for.

In that final fight in Cognouza, Lucien makes a point of killing Jester and Caleb first. And as Laura points out, Lucien kept targeting them because they were the ones who kept succeeding on their Persuasion checks with Molly. He punishes the Nein every time they dare to reach out to Mollymauk and really break through, every time Lucien can feel his own resolve slipping away.

So he's especially cruel to Caleb, lashes out at him and tries to tear apart this remnant of another life. He hates that a piece of his own heart and soul still feels for this man, that an Empire wizard of all people is still clinging to some broken fragment that "shouldn't exist." "It wasn't me. He's gone, and you will all die and join me." "He's gone. Let him go. Let it all go." None of it ever dissuades Caleb though. He still fights to bring Molly back until the very end; unwavering loyalty, unconditional love. Caleb refusing to ever let go of Mollymauk, even when it kills him. And Lucien...Lucien is still all alone--

Thinking of all the scars Lucien still bears from magic, how the Somnovem admitted being the Nonagon meant he would suffer terribly. "What will it cost?" "Pain and pain and pain. A dear price for a man, a pittance to a king. And nothing to a god, cosmically ordained."

But then there's Caleb Widogast, Molly's, "softness and light." Caleb's gentle touch as all his magic flows through him--stitching his wounds shut and wiping away the blood, anchoring his lost, wayward soul. He is warmth and healing, the catalyst for Tealeaf's first breath--

Caleb using magic to heal both his own broken heart and his Circus Man's wounded soul. "Caleb is going to set his hands on the Transmuter Stone...and think of all the time and energy that went into making him able to destroy and tear down, and how good it feels to subvert that and turn it, and use it to build. And restore. And heal. And I begun to summon up every ounce of learning, and ability, and skill, and inspiration and imagination I have--and channel it into the soul. And fill it with the shared connection that everyone here has, and try to summon our friend back from the beyond."