#so sorry for the accusation! i was just a little skeptical;(

[boonjur]

Thank you for drawing that Jott piece!!! Dw, it's not a fetish.

I have another request! (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) I feel like Scott and Jean would perfectly suit the Angry Gohan and Videl meme! Jean is his ray of sunshine, after all.

Aaah sorry this took so long! I am very busy at the moment...hope this is fine! :)

[wikiangela]

through the good, the bad, and the gross

rating: G words: 1.8k summary: Tommy assures his boyfriend that he doesn't look gross, even with the boils on his face.

[read on Ao3]

“You really don’t think I’m totally gross and disgusting?” Evan asks skeptically, a pout on his pretty lips, as soon as the door closes behind Eddie.  “No, honey, I don’t.” Tommy answers, somewhat genuinely, the boils on Evan’s pretty face trying really hard to get his attention – but his focus is his pretty blue, sad eyes. He still thinks Evan is the most adorable person on the planet, and mostly he’s just concerned about whatever’s happening to his boyfriend. Who is very much not cursed. “You’re still as pretty as always, I promise.” “Really?” Evan levels him with a look, still doubtful. “You heard me.” Tommy shrugs, watches as Evan gets up from his seat, then rounds the table to stand in front of Tommy. “I’d never lie to you.”  “Okay. Then kiss me,” he says, tone challenging, like he’s trying to prove a point. “What?”  “If you really don’t think I’m gross.” Evan shrugs, then pouts, giving Tommy his best pleading face. “I want a kiss from my boyfriend in my time of distress.” He sighs dramatically, and Tommy can’t help the laugh that escapes him. Adorable. “You’re impossible,” he says, aware that he can’t hide a huge, fond smile. “I have no problem kissing you, babe.” He stands up from his seat at the table. “Even when I look like this?”

“Come here.” Tommy rolls his eyes, steps into Evan’s space, grabs his chin, and plants a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips. He feels Evan smile, his hands settling on Tommy’s hips. Just as Tommy is about to pull away, Evan’s grip tightens, and his tongue slips into Tommy’s lips. He can’t help a fond chuckle, his boyfriend always so eager and hungry with his kisses. As always, he reciprocates just as intensely, pulling at Evan’s lip with his teeth, before licking into his lips, Evan tilting his head for a better angle- and then Tommy feels something weird touch the side of his face – it feels warm and hard and lump-like, and he recoils and jumps back on instinct, without even thinking about it. He’s met with Evan’s confused expression.

“I think it touched me.” Tommy mutters, not able to hide a shudder, and Evan scoffs, then pouts again, crossing his arms. In Tommy’s defense – it’s an infection, and felt kind of disgusting on his skin, sue him.

“So you do think I’m gross,” he accuses, going as far as to point a finger at Tommy. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not gross. These-” he vaguely gestures at Evan’s face, “these are a little gross, I’m sorry.” He says apologetically, and Evan’s pout deepens, his bottom lip pushed out to the max, his sad eyes make Tommy want to go back in time a minute and force himself to not jump away. It wasn’t that bad anyway, just… surprising, mostly. Though he should’ve expected that, kissing his boyfriend when he looks like this. “And what if it’s contagious?” He adds, having wondered about this before. He forgot to ask Eddie about it, damn.

“I can’t infect you with a curse.” Evan rolls his eyes, now looking mildly annoyed.

“Evan.” Tommy sighs, giving Evan a look that hopefully conveys equally the fondness and slight exasperation he feels.

“Actually,” Evan adds, suddenly dead serious, “if the curse is contagious, better not risk you and your gorgeous face, either.” He takes a step back, creating distance between them.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Tommy shakes his head, chuckling lightly. “You’re lucky I love you.” He sighs, feeling the softest, most loving smile stretch his lips, and doesn’t register his words until a few seconds later, Evan’s eyes, as well as his smile, widening. The thing is, he didn’t mean to tell his boyfriend he loves him for the first time while Evan’s face is covered in nasty boils and he’s being dramatic about it and convinced he’s cursed. But, well, Tommy does love him. With all the intensity, hyperfixations and late-night research binges, ridiculousness and beliefs in curses and such, and even all the boils included. He loves Evan, so much it makes him dizzy sometimes. And saying it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You do?” Evan breathes out, blue eyes sparkling happily, an awed expression on his face. Tommy suddenly wonders how in the world he managed to not say it much sooner, if this is the expression he gets. Even if it’s accompanied by boils.

“Yeah. Of course I do.” Tommy takes a step towards Evan, reaches out to grab his hand and intertwine their fingers. “I love you, honey. Boils and all.” He adds with an amused smile, and Evan snorts.

“Really?” He asks, still a little skeptically, but Tommy knows it’s about the boils comment, not about whether Tommy loves him. He’d hope by now his boyfriend trusts him enough to know he’s one hundred percent truthful.

“Evan, how many times do I have to-” Tommy starts, rolling his eyes fondly, but gets interrupted mid-word.

“I love you, too.” Evan blurts out quickly, squeezing his hand, as if suddenly realizing he didn’t say it back. “I really, really do.”

“Good.” Tommy leans in for another kiss, but this time it’s Evan who leans away.

“I really want to kiss you, but I’m so gross.”

“I don’t care.” Tommy shrugs.

“Oh, so you’re not even denying it anymore?” Evan tries to pout again, but he can’t hide the happy smile on his face.

“You won’t believe me anyway. Those do not look good.” Tommy scrunches his nose as he looks over the bumps all over his man. It’s not that bad, truly. Tommy is mostly concerned. But he’d be lying if he said those don’t look nasty. Also, he never passes up an opportunity to tease his man. “But I love you anyway,” he whispers, and Evan’s expression melts into the softest, most adoring expression.

“You know, I kinda wanted to say it first.”

“Well, you should’ve hurried up.” Tommy shrugs, tone deadpan, but Evan laughs anyway.

“That’s okay. There’s more firsts I can beat you to,” he teases.

“You know it’s not a competition, right?” Tommy chuckles when his boyfriend shrugs, a playful smirk on his face. “Come here,” he repeats, leaning in again to capture Evan’s lips, and this time when he feels the boil touch him he tries really hard not to react. But he must react somehow, because Evan pulls away with a groan. He then buries his face in Tommy’s neck, and Tommy tries really hard to stay still feeling the bumps through his t-shirt and on his bare skin.

“I hate this, I feel disgusting.” Evan says, voice muffled.

“You’re still the most handsome, hot, beautiful, adorable man ever to me.” Tommy assures, his hand softly caressing over Evan’s back. And he’s a thousand percent sincere.

“You’re just saying that.” He grumbles, but Tommy can feel his lips curve into a smile against Tommy’s neck. A chuckle rumbles through Tommy’s chest. His boyfriend never passes an opportunity to fish for compliments and reassurances – and Tommy always happily indulges him.

“No, I swear, I really think so.” Tommy gently pushes Evan away just enough to look at his face, and can’t resist pressing a chaste kiss to his adorable pout. “You need me to say it again?” He teases, his fingers lightly grabbing Evan’s chin.

“Yes, please.” Evan pushes his lower lip even more forward, and Tommy laughs, and has to kiss him again, mostly successfully ignoring the growths on his man’s face. It truly doesn’t matter what he looks like. He’ll always be the most beautiful person in the world in Tommy’s eyes. “Don’t laugh, I’m suffering here.” Evan narrows his eyebrows, clearly trying to appear mock-angry and failing.

“Sorry.” Tommy shakes his head. “Listen to me.” His voice drops a little, he licks his lips and watches Evan’s eyes follow the movement. “I think, always and yes, even now, that you are,” he presses a kiss to Evan’s lips, his hands settling on Evan’s hips, “the most gorgeous,” he whispers into the kiss, before pressing another one to a spot on Evan’s jaw, “the cutest,” he traces his lips lower, venturing to the neck, grateful that the boils have only taken residence on his face, “hottest,” he sinks his teeth into the skin lightly, before soothing it with another kiss, accompanied by Evan’s sharp inhale followed by a pleased sigh, his breathing quickening a bit, one hand finding its way to Tommy’s hair, “sexiest,” he purrs with another kiss, “most beautiful man in the world,” he leans away again to look into Evan’s eyes. He finds him staring back, pupils blown wide, those pretty pink lips slightly open, and Tommy knows that expression so well, and he smirks, once again amazed that he can get him like this in just a few kisses. “And I’m as insanely attracted to you as always.” He finishes, watches as Evan’s eyes roam over his body.

“Yeah?” Evan swallows audibly, licks his lips. “How insanely?”

“Oh, you want a demonstration?” Tommy raises his eyebrow, as if it’s unexpected – like he hasn’t been intending to get this result from the moment he started speaking, which he very much was. He’s pretty sure they both were.

“Mhm, yes, please.” Evan nods, a smug but amused smile spreading on his face. “Just wanna make sure.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” Tommy presses one more short but lingering kiss to Evan’s lips, crowding him against the table and making him lean against it. “I can assure you. All day and night long if I have to.” He adds, smirking, as he drops down to his knees, his hands immediately on Evan’s belt. Evan chuckles breathlessly. 

“Works for me.” 

And if the next morning, when the boils get worse, and Evan needs a little more reassurance, Tommy is definitely not complaining – though they both agree to limit kissing, not wanting to risk it, but Evan pouts about it only a little bit, because, well, there are other parts of Evan Tommy can get his hands and lips on. He’s praying to Billy Boils to lift the curse as soon as possible, though, because he does miss kissing his man’s pretty face.

[also on Ao3]

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario : 'did you cheat on me?' ༉‧₊˚.

req: hi, can i request riize accusing their partner of cheating only to realize that they were innocent and now need to make it up to them?

note: angst is back!

pairing: bf!riize x reader — masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

While Shotaro was waiting in your room for you to get ready for dinner, he wandered around aimlessly, clearly a little bored. From the bathroom, you called out, asking if he could grab the clothes hanging in your wardrobe. When he opened it, he found a men’s hoodie tucked away at the back.

He stood there for a few seconds, processing the discovery, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities as to why you had a man’s hoodie hidden in your closet. The only explanation that kept surfacing was that it belonged to another guy.

Grabbing the hoodie, he walked toward the bathroom. You froze when you saw him standing there, holding it in his hand. Before you could say anything, he asked, “Whose is this? Who is he?”

You had never seen Shotaro so serious, and it made you nervous. It took you a few seconds to respond. Approaching him, you took the hoodie in your hands, looking him in the eye.

“It’s not what you think, Shotaro. It’s just that—”

“Oh, really? Then why would you have a man’s hoodie hidden in your closet, huh?” he interrupted, his voice growing louder with each word. Before you could explain, he turned on his heel and made for the front door. Wrapped in just your towel, you ran after him and grabbed his arm tightly to stop him.

“It’s a gift for you, Shotaro,” you said firmly. Hearing that, he turned to look at you, skepticism etched on his face. “Look, it’s that hoodie you said you liked so much a few weeks ago...”

Shotaro stared at the hoodie for a few moments, piecing it all together. He finally remembered seeing it in a store while you were out shopping together. He had liked it a lot, and now realized you must have bought it for him. But you couldn’t believe he had even entertained the idea that you could betray him. Frustrated, you tossed the hoodie at him and stormed back inside.

Realizing the mess he’d caused, Shotaro quickly followed you, apologizing profusely. He finally caught up to you and gently took your hand, trying to get you to look at him. Instead, you turned toward him but kept your gaze fixed on the floor.

“Hun… I’m... I’m really sorry. It’s not that I actually thought you… you’d do something like that. It’s just… I jumped to the worst conclusion because I’m scared of losing you. Let me make it up to you tonight, dinner’s on me, okay?”

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You had arranged to meet Eunseok in the city center to visit a store that had caught both of your attention. Since you lived far from each other, you agreed to meet directly there. However, Eunseok was running late because he had missed the bus.

As he arrived, he wasn’t expecting to see you from afar, hugging a man he didn’t recognize. He froze in his tracks, staring at the scene. He stood there, rooted in place, as he watched you tightly embrace the man, and even saw the stranger kiss your cheek.

Eunseok couldn’t believe it. The only thought racing through his mind was that you were cheating on him with this guy. That you had forgotten your date with him and decided to meet someone else instead. And this was how he found out?

A couple of minutes passed before the man walked away. Letting out a deep sigh, Eunseok gathered the courage to approach you and confront you about what he had just witnessed.

When you saw him, you smiled warmly and greeted him, even pulling him into a hug. But Eunseok didn’t reciprocate. His face was unusually serious, and it caught you off guard.

“Is something wrong, babe—?” “I just saw you, Y/N.” “Huh? What do you mean?” “I just saw you kissing another man.” “No, Eunseok, that was—” “Do you think I’m stupid?” he shouted.

You knew Eunseok could be quite jealous at times, but he had never raised his voice at you before, especially not in public. The people around you turned to stare, and you couldn’t feel more embarrassed or angry. After a few seconds of tense silence, you murmured, “Eunseok... that was my fucking cousin.”

The situation overwhelmed you, and you decided to walk away, leaving Eunseok standing there. He froze for a moment, regretting the way he had spoken to you. By the time he tried to follow you, you had already disappeared into the crowd.

Later that evening, overcome with guilt, Eunseok showed up at your house with a box of your favorite sweets as a peace offering. When you opened the door, he hesitated before speaking.

“I really am an idiot, aren’t I?” he said softly, stepping forward and carefully pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry... Please forgive me.”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

You and Sungchan had talked about jealousy many times before. He could get quite jealous of any guy you spoke to, but he also knew perfectly well how much you loved him. Neither of you had ever snooped through each other's phones because you both considered it a toxic behavior. However, that night, Sungchan was tempted after seeing a notification pop up on your screen.

The two of you were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, your phone resting beside him. Suddenly, a message lit up your screen from someone saved as “My bin ♥.” He managed to catch a glimpse of the message: “Goodnight Y/N, see u tomorrow! ♥.”

Who was texting you with hearts at nearly 2 a.m.? From the profile picture, he could tell it was a guy, further fueling his suspicion that this was someone you were cheating on him with.

Even though you were dozing off on his shoulder, Sungchan quickly grabbed your phone and held it up to you, his face serious. “What is this supposed to be?”

Confused, you looked up and saw your phone in Sungchan’s hands. From his expression, it was clear he was upset. His behavior annoyed you too, you snatched the phone from his hands, frowning. “Are you serious, Sungchan? Did you really just snoop on my notifications?”

“So it’s true then. He’s your lover… Or wait, maybe I’m the side piece, huh?”

You could hardly process what was happening so quickly. Standing up from the couch, you crossed your arms, putting some distance between the two of you. “Are you serious right now? Do you really think I’m cheating on you?”

“Who else could ‘My bin ♥’ be? And why would you be meeting him tomorrow?”

“It’s Hanbin, Sungchan. You know him perfectly well.”

Sungchan, who had been so agitated, suddenly froze, going silent. You didn’t stop there. “And you also know that tomorrow I’m meeting him to help him shop for a gift for his BOYFRIEND. Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually thought I’d cheat on you…”

“No, babe, I—” Sungchan stammered, completely mortified. He got up from the couch and cautiously approached you. Unsure whether he should touch you or not, he hesitated, as your frustration was still evident. “Babe, I’m so sorry… I... What can I do to make it up to you? Want a massage? Should I buy you something? Just tell me what you need.”

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

Wonbin wasn’t the kind of person who usually got jealous when you talked to other people. But for some reason, when he saw a comment from a guy on your latest post, he couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled. It was just a heart emoji, but when he clicked on the guy’s profile, he noticed that you commented on his posts frequently and even had several stories together.

The more Wonbin scrolled through the photos, the more confused he became. He didn’t recognize the guy at all and didn’t recall you ever mentioning him, so the first thing that came to his mind was that you were secretly seeing this guy behind his back.

Wonbin tried to keep calm and wait until the next time you met up to ask you about it, but his anxiety got the better of him. Just as you were about to go to bed, your phone buzzed with a call from him. Confused, you picked up.

“Wonbin? What’s wrong?” “Hey, um… Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about something I saw on your latest post…” “Oh, what is it?” “Who’s that guy… what’s his name… Sungho? He’s been commenting on your stuff a lot, and I noticed you comment on his too… Is there something you need to tell me, y/n?”

Though you couldn’t see Wonbin’s expression, you could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Something I need to tell you? What are you implying, Wonbin? That I’m cheating on you?” you said jokingly. But when the silence stretched on, you realized he wasn’t laughing. “Oh my god, Wonbin. I just… I can’t believe this,” you said, hanging up the call.

You couldn’t believe Wonbin thought so little of you. You were sure you had mentioned Sungho to him before. Exhausted and not wanting to argue, you decided to just go to bed.

The next morning, you woke up to someone knocking on your door. It was Wonbin. His hair was slightly messy, as if he had rushed over. Before you could ask him anything, he spoke.

“He is… He is your stepbrother, right?” “What...? Who...?” “Sungho. Sungho is your stepbrother… Oh my god, I just remembered…” Wonbin stepped closer, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry for thinking you were cheating on me. I… I’m not usually like this, you know that. I’m so sorry.”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

You and Seunghan were already in bed after a romantic dinner date. The two of you were feeling particularly affectionate, sharing gentle touches and kisses all over his face.

Just as you were kissing, your phone buzzed, pulling you away from his lips. Seeing the caller ID, you quickly got up from his lap, grabbed the phone, and left the room without explanation. Seunghan was left confused. He glanced at his watch—2 a.m. Who could be calling you at this hour?

You returned shortly, and Seunghan decided not to dwell on it. You resumed your kisses, but soon enough, the phone rang again. Apologizing, you left the room once more. By the third call, Seunghan caught a glimpse of the caller ID: “Sion.”

When you came back, Seunghan was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking unusually serious. “Seunghan, I’m sorry, it’s just—” “Why is someone named Sion calling you at 2 a.m.? Why is another guy calling my girlfriend at this hour?” “No, it’s not like that, it’s just—” “Are you cheating on me, y/n?”

His accusation froze you. Of all things, you didn’t expect Seunghan to question your loyalty. “No, Seunghan. I would never cheat on you, and you know that.”“Then why won’t you explain who Sion is?”“I’m trying to, but you’re not letting me. Sion is my sister’s boyfriend. He came to visit her as a surprise and got lost trying to find her place. But if you don’t want to believe me, I don’t know what else to say.”

Seunghan went silent. He realized he had made a mistake. He knew how much you hated when he jumped to conclusions without knowing the full story. Feeling guilty, he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. “I’m such an idiot, aren’t I?” he murmured. You looked at him, still upset. “I don’t know what came over me. The calls just drove me crazy. You know I’m not usually like this… Please forgive me. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

You and Sohee had been dating for a few months and attended the same university. He wasn’t a jealous type, so your relationship had been drama-free—until now.

Recently, rumors had spread that you were spending a lot of time with one of your classmates, leading people to believe you were cheating on Sohee. At first, Sohee dismissed the gossip as nonsense, knowing you’d never do that to him. However, your busy schedule and frequent mentions of this classmate began to gnaw at him.

One evening, while you were discussing plans for a dinner date, you casually mentioned you’d be working on a project with the same classmate again. Sohee’s patience finally broke. “Are you serious, Y/N? With him again?”“Yes, honey, you know this term’s project—”“I’m starting to believe what people are saying…” he muttered, cutting you off.

His words left you speechless. You couldn’t believe Sohee was entertaining such baseless rumors. Grabbing your bag, you stood up. “I didn’t think you’d believe such nonsense, Sohee. And I don’t have time for this right now,” you said, walking away.

The following days were silent between you two. Sohee couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. Deep down, he knew the rumors weren’t true and that you were just trying to do well in your studies. Feeling terrible, he showed up at your place with your favorite dinner in hand.

When you opened the door, Sohee immediately started apologizing. “I’ve been such an idiot. I don’t know why I believed those stupid rumors. I know he’s just your classmate, but seeing you spend more time with him than with me… I guess I got a little jealous. I’m so sorry.”

Hearing him admit his jealousy was oddly endearing. You couldn’t help but smile and let him in.

⭑.ᐟ anton

You and Anton had fallen asleep in his bed after lunch, enjoying a lazy afternoon together. When your phone buzzed, you gently slipped out of his arms to take the call, walking a little distance away to keep your voice low and avoid waking him.

Unbeknownst to you, Anton had woken up and overheard snippets of your conversation: “Anton? No, he’s sleeping… Yes, I’m sure he can’t hear me. I’m not dumb, silly… Okay, 7 o’clock it is. See you later.”

Anton closed his eyes, pretending to sleep when you returned to bed. But confusion and suspicion began to cloud his thoughts. Who were you talking to so secretly? After a few restless minutes, he sat up. “Oh, babe, you’re awake?” you said, startled. “I heard you, y/n. Who was he?”“Huh? Who are you talking about?” you asked, feigning innocence. “Are you seeing someone else?”

You were taken aback by his accusation. He crossed his arms, his expression serious—a side of him you hadn’t seen before. “Anton, I was talking to your brother. We’re planning a surprise party for you. Are you happy now?”

The room fell silent as Anton processed your words. Slowly, he got up and approached you, his face filled with regret. “Oh… so that’s what it was…” Your icy stare made him flinch. “Oh god, babe, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that… Please forgive me.”

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

Totally Trippn'

peter maximoff x reader

song i recommend listening to: strange by galaxies 500

warnings: fluff fluff fluff! acid, got super sappy corny at the end.... and not proof read ya girl is way too tired for that

word count: 1.7k

notes: im sorry if this is not completely accurate to an acid trip, im just speaking from the little experience i have with psychedelics😞 im really not sure if i like this one. i might delete it

You and the famous speedster, Peter Maximoff, sit cross legged facing each other on the worn, threadbare rug in his dimly lit basement. The room is cluttered but uniquely his, with a mix of stolen street signs propped against the walls and posters of rock legends layered into collages. The faint glow from a neon sign stolen from a roadside diner casts shadows that gaze along the cracked walls.

“Alright, babe, three…” Peter’s voice, usually so quick and teasing, carries a slight tremor of anticipation. His silver hair gleams dully in the low light, catching the glint of an old string of fairy lights that dangle from the ceiling. He licks his lips, hesitating slightly, eyes darting to meet yours with a knowing smile before he continues. “Two…”

A hush falls over the room, a heartbeat of suspense that seems to echo in the narrow space between you.

“One.”

On one, you both squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your hands tremble slightly as you bring the small, bitter squared tab to your tongue, feeling the smooth surface dissolve almost immediately.

You open your eyes hesitantly, blinking as the dim light of the basement seems sharper, almost electric. The scattered glow from the neon sign throws soft, jagged reflections across Peter’s face, highlighting the nervous curve of his lips. The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

“Do you feel anything?” you ask, the skepticism in your voice cutting through the silence. Your pulse quickens as you glance around, waiting for something, anything, to change.

Peter shifts, running a hand through his silver hair, which falls messily over his forehead. His eyes dart from the stolen street signs to the peeling posters, as if searching for a sign of the drug’s effect. A muscle in his jaw tightens, and he chuckles dryly.

“No, Babe. Psshhhh image if we got scammed.” His voice carries a playful edge, but you can sense the underlying disappointment in his tone. He leans back, one hand drumming an impatient beat on the floor, while the other toys with a loose thread on his dark jeans.

“Hey, listen, in my defense, I told you not to buy it from that sketchy guy. I mean, who knows where he even got it? For all we know, it could be paper,” you say, half joking and raising your eyebrows for emphasis. The words hang in the musty air, mingling with the faint buzz of "wave of mutilation" by The Pixies coming from the radio crackling in the corner from the local station.

Peter’s head snaps up from where he’s been staring at his lap. His eyes, sharp and narrow with playful accusation. “Oh, and whose bright idea was it in the first place to try it?” He grins, that crooked, mischievous smile that always means trouble.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin of your own. “Everyone’s doing acid, Peter! It’s like… totes all the rage,” you say, emphasizing your words with an exaggerated wave of your hands. The neon sign behind Peter flickers, casting a glow once again on his silver hair and making the room feel like a scene straight out of an underground music video you would see on MTV.

He scoffs, shifting his weight as he leans back onto his hands. “Yeah, well, next time we’re buying from someone who doesn’t look like they crawled out of a dumpster behind the arcade,” he mutters, a laugh bubbling up between the two of you.

It’s been about 20 minutes, the room now filled with a palpable energy as the two of you drifted into your own rhythms. The time had been filled with you spinning around in worn socks on soft carpet, dancing to some retro tune blasting from Peter’s most likely stolen record player. The vinyl spun smoothly. The needle crackling every so often with the imperfections that made it sound warmer, more alive.

Meanwhile, Peter stood hunched over his.....also stolen....... arcade machine, fingers flying over the joystick and buttons with practiced ease. The glow from the Pac-Man screen bathed his face in blues and yellows, making his silver hair shimmer like quicksilver. The chiming 8-bit sound effects mixed with the thumping beat of the record, creating an oddly perfect symphony of chaos.

Peter let out a triumphant whoop as the little pixelated Pac-Man devoured another ghost, his laughter adding to the cacophony of the room.

You come up behind him, your arms sliding around his waist as you press your cheek against the back of his t shirt, the fabric rough but comforting. “Winning, Mr. Maximoff?” you ask, your voice slurring slightly as a lazy smile spreads across your face. The room pulses to the beat of the song still blaring from the record player rattles the dusty trinkets on the shelves.

“As always, babe,” he replies, the cocky lilt in his voice unmistakable. With a quick, fluid movement, he spins around to face you, his hands finding their place on your hips, fingers gripping just enough to steady you. His grin is wide and playful, eyes glinting with that signature spark that made him seem larger than life.

The neon light in the corner casts a pinkish glow over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. But as you stare into those eyes, eyes that seem to dance with adrenaline you realize the world behind him is beginning to tilt and swirl, the edges of your vision rippling like water.

“Peter… I don’t think we got scammed,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with awe and the first shiver of realization. The room shimmers around you, the posters on the wall seeming to shift and breathe, their colors deepening to a surreal vibrancy.

Peter’s grin widens as he registers your words, a flash of excitement lighting up his face. The world around you is no longer static the posters and neon signs seem to pulse in time with the music, their colours bleeding and shifting in a mesmerizing display.

“Then let’s make it count,” he says, eyes gleaming as he pulls you closer. Without waiting for a response, he spins you into the open space of his basement. Your heart races, the beat syncing with the song as you twirl. The colors in the room seem to merge into streaks of electric blue, hot pink, and bright yellow, trailing behind you both..

Peter’s silver hair glows like liquid metal under the shifting light, and his laughter echoes, rich and contagious. He moves with an easy, confident rhythm, stepping side to side and dipping you back with dramatic flair, only to pull you upright again. You can’t help but laugh, a sound that bubbles up and escapes your lips like it’s been caught in a loop.

The walls appear to ripple, the posters of rock legends winking at you as if they, too, are in on the joke. The stolen street signs seem to sway, letters twisting into words that make no sense but make you giggle nonetheless. Peter’s hands grip yours as he spins you out, and when he pulls you back, your eyes meet his. The room seems to blur at the edges, but his eyes are sharp and focused, grounding you even as everything else drifts away.

“You’re totally trippin’ now, aren’t ya?” Peter teases, his voice a blend of cockiness and joy, eyes bright and wild.

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless and beaming. The room feels endless, like you’re spinning in a neon-lit galaxy, and Peter’s laughter is the only sound that keeps you tethered to this moment. The song builds, crescendoing in a flurry of synthesized chords, and you both move in a synchronized, reckless dance, your bodies swaying and weaving through the rainbow blur that’s become the room.

Each step feels weightless and each spin eternal. The world outside fades to nothing, leaving only you, Peter, and the music.

You and Peter tumble over to his bed, laughter bursting from you both as you land in a playful heap. The mattress dips under your weight, enveloping you in its warmth as you lie back, arms stretched out in a starfish position, fingers intertwined. As you look up at the ceiling, you’re surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colours. Posters of bands, movie icons, and neon signs all looking for your attention, illuminated by twinkling fairy lights that dance like stars.

At the peak of your trip, the room feels alive, everything around you swirling in a vibrant, twirly motion. “Whoa, this is, like, totally rad!” you exclaim, your voice laced with exhilaration. “It’s like we’re floating through space or something!”

Peter turns his head, his silver hair catching the light in a halo. “For real, babe! It’s like we’re in a dream, and all this is just for us,” he replies, his grin infectious, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re like my ultimate cosmic companion!”

You chuckle, your heart swelling with affection. “And you’re the best thing since cassette tapes, Peter! I can’t even fathom how lucky I am to be here with you. You make everything feel, like, way more alive!” The warmth of his hand in yours anchors you, grounding you in this moment.

Peter’s playful demeanor shifts, his gaze softening as he leans a little closer. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. You’re my ride-or-die, my partner in this life,” he says, his voice earnest. “With you, I feel like I can take on the whole world, like I’m unstoppable.”

You gaze into his eyes, feeling the sincerity behind his words wash over you like a wave. “Promise me we’ll always stick together, no matter what craziness life throws at us,” you say, vulnerability creeping into your tone. “You’re my heart, Peter.”

“Always, babe,” he replies, his voice steady, the connection between you palpable. “We’re a team, like the best duo ever. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

As he inches closer, the vibrant colors of the room seem to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment. Your heart races as the air between you thickens with anticipation. In a heartbeat, you lean in, and your lips meet in a soft kiss.

The kiss deepens, igniting a spark that flows throughout your entire being. Time stands still, and the world around you disappears, leaving only the warmth of his lips and the bond of love that binds you together.

[bubblybloob]

I dare you to draw smitten with either cold or the beast, you pick.

This is because I said I hadn’t gotten many asks for the Smitten, huh?

This might actually be a bit more Cold focused, long thing I wrote below.

There were fights, a lot of fights, actually. How could there not be? Eleven voices given form, only to be cramped back into one space. At least this time it was a house, not a body.

It wasn’t a bad thing, far from it; Hero wagers most were thankful for the permanent, familiar company, while the rest indifferent. Hero himself quite enjoys chatting or playing games with the others, it isn’t uncommon for him to seek out one of the voices simply so his stirring thoughts can have an outlet.

However, sometimes the others don’t click. Usually it was fine- Broken, Hunted and Contrarian seldom got physical. Opportunist and Paranoid might if they felt strongly enough about something to throw away their pretenses or fear, but they weren’t often the issue.

The rest tended to jump to bold accusations and wild conclusions, looked forward to it even. Skeptic occasionally found himself going from relatively mundane quarrels to all out brawls from causing accidental offense. Stubborn and Cheated had a tendency to get too excited about coming out on top in one way or another, and the other two…

Sometimes it felt like they only ever fought each other.

Okay, that was lie, Cold purposely ruffled the other’s feathers out of pure boredom. Hero wondered if he had made up some sort of challenge to see if he could get the non confrontational voices riled up for a fight, given how often he pushed their buttons. Once he flat out punched Contrarian in the face just to see if he’d retaliate.

If Cold couldn’t get them to crack he’d sigh with something akin to dejection and approach someone like Cheated, maybe Stubborn if he was feeling risky- pretty much anyone with a shorter fuse so he could get some form of thrill.

But they weren’t his go to, that would be- of course- Smitten.

“You vile, wretched thing! I won’t hear another word of nonsense out of you. Begone! Foul creature!”

“Call me all the names you like, you won’t get the response you’re looking for.”

It happened just about every other day: Cold would say something off putting, Smitten would respond with something that would offend anybody else, a bit of snarky back and forth later, and suddenly hands were being thrown.

“What are they arguing about this time?” Cheated grumbled, coming up to stand beside Hero, whose eyes were encircled by dark shadows.

“I ‘dunno, woke up to them yapping at each other, or at least Smitten’s yapping, I don’t think Cold has ever raised his voice.” Hero yawned out, scratching at his horn tuft.

“With how often those two are at each others throats, I think we should count ourselves lucky one is so soft spoken.” Cheated stretched his arms and body upwards, his wings instinctively snapping outwards and flapping as he tried to relieve his muscles. The large wings smacked Hero’s side as he did, which had the heroic voice stumbling backwards as Cheated mumbled a small “sorry” out.

“It’s fine. I think it’s less that he’s soft spoken and more that he’s sharp spoken. He talks like he knows where all your vitals are.” Hero responds, shivering at his own words.

Cheated shrugs. “Probably does, he’s our resident freak after all.”

“How is it then that you feel nothing? Without feeling one will rot away, yet you’re still here.” Seems Hero had missed part of drama during his and Cheated’s little chat. Smitten had now grabbed Cold by the chest feathers and was looking ready to tear into him.

“Who knows, really? Maybe I’m like a ghost, haunting the remains that our godly self expelled. Or maybe we simply can’t die, I haven’t eaten in a while.” Cold replies with a sharp whistle.

“Ooo, he shouldn’t be so candid about saying that out loud, never know when Hunted’s listening.” Cheated says behind a wicked smile. No doubt the avian had tucked the information away for blackmail, or to get a favor from Opportunist, who also found a new joy in digging up dirt on the others for his own benefit.

Hero was about to step in at this point. Smitten looked ready to let loose, and Cold seemed to be passively soaking in the drama of it all. But before Hero could open his mouth, Smitten’s hold relaxed, and his head hung low.

“No, I see through your tricks, scum. I will not loose myself to anger over frivolous things such as this. Leave, now, I must prepare myself for the morning time.” Smitten let’s go of Cold’s feathers, which were not bunched together and frayed. Cold hums something tired.

“Weak willed of you, can’t approach her killer?” Cold tilts his head.

A flinch. “I know what you’re doing, I won’t fall for it this time, villain!” Smitten whips around, and goes to walk from the conflict.

Cold’s wry smile falls flat on his face, he turns his head toward Cheated.

“Not today pal, Paranoid seemed extra twitchy though, probably didn’t get much sleep. It’s still early and he isn’t fully alert in his head, might be able to start something up with him if you push hard enough.” Cheated suggests. Hero punches him in the arm, just when he thought there would be no morning fight to put down.

Cold’s brow raises, evidently interested in a fight with someone who rarely raised his hands. He moves past the two, already on the prowl for their jumpiest member.

“Troop on, you emotionless fuck- ow, stop that!” Cheated yelps when Hero punches him again, this time a little harder.

Cheated’s words seemed to have stopped Smitten in his tracks however, he mutters something to himself, and whips back around. “You can’t be as dispassionate as you claim! You’re merely afraid of your own feelings!”

The accusation makes the Cold stop dead. His expression is hidden, but Hero swears he sees his feathers puff out. He expects them to quickly flatten back down.

But they don’t.

Cold slowly turns the upper half of his body, his face looks… almost strained. His composure had finally cracked.

“Hmm?” He darkly hums. It’s an oddly moderate response, given how Cold takes any and all opportunities to tease whomever he talks to, especially for outlandish claims such as this.

They were outlandish… weren’t they?

Hero had a bad feeling in his gut, one he couldn’t explain.

“I’m right.” Smitten looks a little surprised, before a damn near elated expression creeps onto his face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Cold doesn’t respond, still half turned to leave. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t swayed in the past ten seconds. Hero wonders if he was still breathing.

“You aren’t unfeeling at all, are you? You’re full of emotion! What’s is it then that makes you push them under the deep, dark waves of the heart? Fear? Want? …Guilt? I can guess what it’s for.” Smitten continues with his theory, the Cold still hasn’t retaliated.

“Ooo, might be onto something there, Smitty.” Chester looks almost excited as he says this. His words seem to encourage Smitten further, who puffs up under the praise.

Cold stands there.

“Go on then, tell us the harsh truth, fiend. You’re no emotionless husk.” Smitten moves closer and closer to Cold’s position. Hero wonders if he should put himself between the two, but he can’t say he isn’t interested to where this is going.

Smitten stands face to face with his Cold counterpart. Hero swears Cold shrinks back under the close attention.

“You’re afraid.”

For a moment, they stand there, a stare down. Hero briefly hears the faint phantom sounds of glass breaking under the weight of godhood.

In a blink Cold draws his arm back, and his fist connects to Smitten cheek.

—

WoooOooO cliffhanger that might never keep going.

I’m unsure if this is common theory or whatnot, but I’ve not for a moment believed Cold was emotionless. I think he’s hurt by what’s happened to him, so much so that he thinks being emotionless, acting only to entertain will bring him some form of twisted comfort.

I think he’s too afraid to let himself feel, so he pushes his feelings far, far down, and pretends he feels nothing. He’s so good at it that he believes it to be true.

He’s so good at ignoring both physical and mental feeling that he himself believes he is nothing but a thrill seeker. In reality, his emotions, his physical needs, it all hurt him, so he squashes both.

Think about it, you usually get him by killing the princess in cold blood, and then subsequently stabbing yourself. Both hurt him. He only knows hurt from both, so he throws them aside.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Siblings | Hwang Hyunjin

-> Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Sister!Reader

-> Request: from @kayleefriedchicken. Sorry this took so long.

-> Summary: Hyunjin becomes a little jealous of the attention his sister is giving the other.

-> Warnings: pouty Hyunjin. Brother/sister dynamics.

-> Word Count: 507

-> Requests: Open until 31st June.

Hyunjin Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N asks her younger brother, who's staring at her with the same pout he always given her from the time he was born. She knows that pout means she's done something he doesn't like. "Stop pouting." 

"Stop flirting with my friends," Hyunjin counters, his pout turning into a glare. 

"I'm not flirting with anyone," she frowns back at him. "I'm just being friendly," She defends herself, crossing her arms across her chest. "I thought it would be unfair if I only brought you food and not the others. You know we're all like family." 

He rolls his eyes, his glare intensifying. "That's not the point. You came to spend time with me, not them. Is it because you like them better? I'm just your annoying little brother." 

Her frown deepens, hurt by her brother's accusation. "Yes, you're my annoying little brother but that doesn't mean I like them better than you. I like them but I love you, babo." 

He looks at her offended that she called him babo but ultimately chooses to ignore it. 

"I didn't mean to make you feel left out or unimportant. I just wanted to show my appreciation for your friends too. I know how important they are to you. It doesn't mean I don't value our time together," she continues, reassuring him that he does come before his friends and will always come before them. 

Hyunjin's glare softens slightly, but he remains skeptical. "But you always seem to have more fun with them. Sometimes I feel like I'm just in the background." 

Her heart aches at his words. She pulls him in for a hug, which he surprisingly allows, "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. You're my brother, and spending time with you is always special to me. I'll make sure to prioritize our time together from now on." 

He looks at her, his expression still guarded but lifts up his pinky, "Promise?" 

She nods, her eyes filled with sincerity as she links her pinky with his, "I promise, Hyunnie." 

"Okay, I believe you,” he says, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he finally let's go of his pout. "You know you don't have to try so hard with my friends, right? They already like you. Especially Felix. I don't know why. I think it’s because he just genuinely likes everyone." 

She chuckles, relieved to see him starting to lighten up. "Well, that's good to know. Felix is such a sweetheart, it's hard not to like him.” 

“That’s true,” he agrees. 

“Did you want to come for dinner tonight, my partner is working so I’ll be home all by myself.”  

“Let’s make it a movie night,” he says taking her up on her invitation. 

“Only if you bring the snacks,” she smiles. “Now, go and enjoy the food before they eat it all. Tell them I’ll see them later.” 

“I will,” he says bringing her in for another hug before going back inside the practice room. 

TAG LIST: @staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea

@rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie - @laylasbunbunny - @oddracha

@skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @kayleefriedchicken - @everythingboutkpop - @kpopsstuffs

@instabull

[taetaespeaches]

“When the hell did I do this?”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.3K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s just a dumb little thing about Jungkook discovering he left a few ‘marks’ on Holly’s neck. He helps to cover them but not without being flirty and annoying. Also this features references to “I don’t actually dream of sexy vampires” which is shockingly still stupider than this current fic lmao. It’s not necessary to read that other fic to read this one but I hope for those of you who have read it, it’s a fun little callback. Anyways! Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy :))

p.s. Happy birthday, @holdinbacksecrets​! Here’s some dream boy for you. I love you so much, pal. I hope you enjoy! 🧡

The moment Jungkook walked into the bathroom and appeared in the mirror behind you, you sighed harshly and shot his reflection a glare. “What?” He asked, his eyes wide in confusion.

“You’re a menace,” you accused, ignoring how cute he looked with those damn doe eyes.

“What did I do?”

Pulling aside the neck of your t-shirt, you waited for him to see the red mark seared onto the skin of your collarbone. You watched as he pulled his eyebrows together, scrutinizing the small blemish in the mirror, having to walk closer to you to figure out what it was that you were showing him. His eyes finally popped open even bigger, a true deer in the headlights, as he bit back a smile while his gaze bounced between yours and the hickey.

“Menace,” you again scolded, grabbing the liquid foundation as a giggle escaped his lips. Guiltily, Jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, nudging the side of your jaw with his nose.

��I’m sorry,” he smiled, peering up at you through the mirror. “In my defense-”

“Don’t.”

“You did enjoy it!”

“I can’t go out like this!”

“But you did,” he defended himself further.

“That’s besides the point,” you whined, glaring at him in the mirror. “Dude, look,” you extended your neck and pointed to the side of it.

“Holy shit,” he giggled, his eyes popping wide open as he ran his thumb over a second red mark. In protest of his amusement, you nudged him in the abdomen with your elbow as you bit back a grin of your own. “You know, I have a solution for this.”

“Don’t tell me to not go-”

“You could just not go out,” he spoke over you with a bratty smile planted on his pretty face. You had planned a night out with friends, and knowing those girls they would never let you live down having not one but two hickeys on your goddamn neck. You could practically hear their vampire comments now, especially after Jimin and his girlfriend caught you and Jungkook all sparkly following your post-photobook Twilight joke. The girl had of course told Yoongi and Taehyung’s girlfriend, and you refused to give those two more ammo.

“Jungkook,” you whined, trying to push him away from you, only for the man to tighten his arms around you.

“Wait, wait, ok, let me help. Ok? I can fix this,” he informed you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Look at me, baby. I’m the golden maknae,” he boasted proudly. “I can do anything, I got you.”

Turning around and shooting him a skeptical glance, you stared into his bambi eyes that would have looked innocent enough if you had been naive to his innate mischievous nature. Sighing, you handed over the makeup. “I don’t trust you,” you remarked, earning a wide victorious smile from Jungkook.

“Yeah, yeah, sit here and let me get to work,” he directed you, helping to lift yourself onto the counter. Planting himself between the v of your legs, he shook the foundation bottle. “I got you, baby.”

It had been several minutes since the man got to work, and you were honestly having too much fun watching his round eyes focus on the job as he repeated the dabbing motion of the makeup blender against your neck. Lost in the task, he mindlessly hummed the post-chorus of Beyonce’s Cuff It, repeatedly.

Holding back a smile, you ran a hand through his fringe, breaking his focus on your neck so his gaze met yours. “Cause I feel like falling in love,” you quietly sang, grinning when a smile cracked his stern expression, followed by a deep sigh. “How’s it going?”

When he huffed in frustration, you giggled at his expense, and well, your own expense. “Why is makeup so hard?” He groaned. Golden maknae, my ass, you thought as Jungkook stepped back and looked at his work with a frown line etched between his eyebrows. “I think this one is done though.”

“This would not be an issue,” you started, Jungkook already trying to shush you by pushing a finger against your lips. Dodging his hand, you continued, “if you could control your-”

“You liked it,” he said again, cutting you off as he enunciated the words deliberately.

“I have that song stuck in my head now,” you whined teasingly, changing the subject and making Jungkook smile cutely at you. “We gon’ fuck up the night,” you sang, Jungkook doing a little shoulder dance in response to you. “Bet you you’ll see far, bet you you’ll see stars, bet you you’ll ele-” you continued until Jungkook cut you off by kissing you suddenly, his lips gentle but needy. When he opened his mouth against yours, a soft moan escaped from your throat, making a smile curve on Jungkook’s lips.

You threaded your fingers through the strands of hair at the back of his head and tugged in a teasing manner, triggering Jungkook to trail his lips down to your jaw. His touches went lower down your neck where he nipped at the skin lightly. It was then that you realized what he was doing, gasping and shoving him off of you, only for him to look up at you with a bratty grin.

“You’re an absolute pest,” you complained through a giggle, smiling at his teasing. “Knock it off,” you whined, Jungkook laughing in amusement at his own action.  

“I’m practically a pro at this,” he stared at your collarbone.

“That does not mean you should leave more,” you giggled, shoving at his shoulder as he smiled.

“Now granted, it’s not totally invisible but…” he trailed off, cocking his head to the side as he inspected his work. “If the room is dark.”

Rolling your eyes, you hopped off the counter and turned to look at the mark in the mirror. Surprisingly, it did seem to be mostly covered, only visible if someone was really gawking at you. Jungkook stepped behind you once again, his hands dragging down your forearms that hung by your sides. His fingers traced the bones of your wrists before they slid over your palms and interlaced with your own fingers, holding your hands by your hips. He slotted his chin over your shoulder, his doe eyes staring at your reflections.

“I did good, right?” He asked, seeking praise for a job well done.

“Shockingly,” you joked with a small smile. “Just one more to go.”

Groaning, he spun you around so you faced him yet again, abandoning your reflection so you could appreciate each other’s images in the flesh. He dropped your hands, allowing you to settle them on his shoulders as he placed his palms to the sides of your waist.

Dipping his head, he planted kisses down your throat once again, making you smile as you pretended to protest his affection. “Jungkook,” you warned while he chuckled into his soft pecks, the vibrations from your voice and his laughter meeting on his lips in gleeful love-filled buzz. “I swear to god if you leave a single mark.”

“I won’t,” he whispered against your skin, his teeth barely nudging against you as he smiled. Lifting one hand between you, he dragged down the neck of the baggy shirt you wore with one finger, revealing more and more of your chest. His lips trailed after the digit, leaving soft sweet kisses to your warm skin. Pulling away from you for a moment, he gazed at the newly exposed flesh until his eyes popped wide open, his jaw dropping slightly.

“What the-” he started, dropping off as he stared at you. Pulling your chin towards your chest, you peered down at yourself just as Jungkook let out a breathy chuckle mixed with a scoff. “When the hell did I do this?” He asked, a hint of a smile appearing on his mouth as he gawked at the red mark on the top of your breast, just to the left of your sternum.

Gasping in realization, you turned toward the mirror yet again and examined the mark in disbelief. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, my dress has a scoop neck.” Watching you cluelessly in the mirror, he waited for you to elaborate on what exactly that meant. “This is gonna show,” you bit back a smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of amusing you. “This affects you too, those girls are relentless.”

Sighing, he ducked his head toward the floor for a moment before grabbing the makeup off the counter. “Alright,” he exhaled, spinning you toward him once more. “Let’s get it.”

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 25)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap

You read the article over and over again while Cillian spoke to his publicist on the phone but, even despite his publicist's best efforts, over the next ten days, the news spread like wildfire, and you quickly became the target of hate comments everywhere.

People insulted you relentlessly, calling you names and accusing you of ruining Cillian's marriage to Danielle. The pressure mounted on you, making you feel trapped and overwhelmed as even your own mother didn't shy away from sending hurtful messages after the article surfaced amongst her group of friends and colleagues. 

"Thanks for ruining not only your life, but also mine," she texted you before sending you yet another message, telling you how everyone at her work was now asking her about the affair.

"I raised you better than this and I hope that this shameful kind of behavior won't rub off on your own child someday," she wrote, making you cry uncontrollably as you recalled all those beautiful memories you shared with your mother in the past.

Cillian watched helplessly as the storm raged around you, the intensity of the situation palpable. He wished he could shield you from the harsh words and judgmental glares, but he also knew that it was impossible.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "This is my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn't acted like such an idiot," he added, his gaze flickering between the magazine and the floor.

"No, Cillian," you protested softly, your voice trembling slightly. "I might be much younger than you are, but I am an adult nonetheless. We both made mistakes, and we must deal with the consequences," you added, squeezing his hand comfortingly as another message from your mother popped up, telling you that you were going to be incapable of raising a child of your own.

Telling Cillian about her messages, he decided that enough was enough and grabbed your phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked Cillian apprehensively, your voice trembling slightly. "Put my phone down, please," you pleaded, your gaze flickering between the device and Cillian's determined expression.

Ignoring your pleas, Cillian hit the 'call' button. "I am going to talk to your mother," he declared assertively, his voice steady yet angry. "Enough is enough," he added, his gaze flickering between the screen and the living room.

"No, Cillian," you protested vehemently, your voice trembling slightly. "She is still my mother. She is hurt and I don't...," you began, your gaze flickering between the phone and Cillian's determined expression as Cillian interrupted you. 

"Look, Y/N," Cillian argued passionately, his voice firm yet compassionate. "I understand where you're coming from, but I can't stand by and watch her treat you like this," he explained, his gaze unwavering.

"She has no right to send you such hateful messages, especially now considering the state you're in," he added, his tone stern yet caring.

"Now, let me handle this," he assured you, his gaze flickering between the screen and the living room.

Your mother picked up the phone, seemingly surprised by what appeared to be a call from you. 

"Y/N?" she uttered tentatively, her voice strained with hesitation. "What do you want?" she asked warily, her query laced with skepticism.

"Actually, it's Cillian," Cillian replied calmly, his voice authoritative and slightly annoyed. "And what I want is for you to stop sending your daughter those awful messages," he insisted, his gaze unwavering.

"I beg your pardon?" your mother gasped, her voice quivering with confusion. "What makes you think that you have the right to meddle in our affairs?" she demanded, her tone laced with indignation. "Just because you knocked her up doesn't mean that you can tell me what I can and cannot send my daughter," she retorted, her voice brimming with hostility.

"Actually, Sarah, yes I can," Cillian retorted. "Y/N is pregnant with my child, and I refuse to stand idly by while you subject her to emotional distress," Cillian retorted, his voice unwavering. "She is your daughter for fuck's sake, so why wouldn't you show her support during this difficult time instead of adding fuel to the fire?" he asked her, his voice growing louder and angrier.

His outburst caught your mother off guard, and she remained silent for a few seconds, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"Because she doesn't deserve it," your mother eventually responded, her voice trembling slightly. "The way she went after you, knowing full well that you were married, is disgusting," she continued, her voice rising with anger. "And now, she is paying the price for her selfishness," she concluded, her voice quivering with frustration.

"Sarah," Cillian replied calmly, his voice firm yet compassionate. "You need to let it go and, if you can't do that, then at the very least stop insulting her," he implored, his gaze unwavering. "Just back off, please," he finally demanded, his voice rising with impatience.

"Fine, fine," your mother relented, her voice wavering slightly. "I will leave her alone," she promised, her tone resigned yet stubborn. "But know that I will never forgive her for what she did to this family. It's her fault that my friends look sideways at me these days and this circus she has caused is now ruining my career," she added, her voice crackling with resentment, but causing Cillian to chuckle.

"Well, none of this would have happened if your own husband hadn't gone to the press for a quick paycheque," Cillian pointed out, his voice cynical. "So don't blame Y/N for that," he admonished her.

"What are you talking about?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with disbelief. "Why would Frank do something like that?" she wondered aloud, her tone laced with confusion.

"Because he needed the money," Cillian told her. "Frank made some bad investment choices in the past and I bailed him out a few times because he is my brother," Cillian explained, his voice calm but matter-of-fact. "I stopped making the repayments on his loans a few months ago after a fight we had a few months ago, and I think that his financial situation is quite dire now. So, to make ends meet, he sold the story to the highest bidder," Cillian informed her, his voice heavy with sadness knowing that his very own brother had sold him out to the press and, as soon as your mother heard this, she hung up abruptly. Cillian stared at the phone in his hand, sighing deeply before returning his attention to you.

"What the fuck," you uttered under your breath, pressing your hands against your eyes as tears welled up in your eyes. "Frank did this?" you whimpered, shaking your head incredulously. "I just can't believe it. I thought it would have been your crazy ex who went to the press," you moaned, your voice choked with sobs.

"I am sorry, Y/N. I should have told you first, but I only found out about it this morning and I am still trying to come to terms with it," Cillian murmured, his eyes downcast with remorse. "I promise I will sort this shit out with my brother," he vowed, reaching out to cup your cheeks gently.

"It's okay, Cillian," you murmured weakly, your voice quivering with emotion. "There is nothing you can do except focus on getting us through this nightmare that seems to get worse every day," you added, averting your gaze as fresh tears spilled over your cheeks. "How did you even find out?" you asked, your voice still choked with sobs.

Cillian sighed deeply, his gaze locked onto yours. "My agent told me. He called in a favor with his source at OK! and was told that Frank was paid 15,000 pounds for the story," Cillian said, shaking his head. "It's not much," he added bitterly, "but it's enough to keep him going for a little while longer."

"Unbelievable," you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief just as another bound of contractions rocked your body.

"Ahh...," you groaned, doubling over in pain as the pain radiated through your abdomen and back as, this time around, these contractions felt different. They came faster and closer together, leaving you feeling overwhelmed and panicked.

"I think they are real this time, Cillian," you managed to utter between agonizing contractions. "I need to go to the hospital," you cried, clutching your stomach tightly as a fresh wave of pain coursed through your body and, as soon as you stood up, a gush of fluids soaked through your pants and onto the hardwood floor beneath you.

"Oh my God," you groaned, pressing your hands against your stomach as you felt the baby dropping lower into your pelvis. "I think my waters has broken," you whimpered, stumbling backward as another contraction took hold, leaving you gasping for air.

"Shit," Cillian cursed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he rushed to help you towards the door. 

To be continued...

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[x-reader-things]

Omg hi!

I saw that you wrote for star wars rebels and thought that this was my shot!

Could i get an imagine of where Ezra has a partner(non binary reader) and they get captured after a big fight, and when they come to save them they are EXTREMELY hurt, like, burn scars, black eyes, cuts littered everywhere on their body, and how he would react along with the other ghost crew and a week or so after ish?

The ghost crew is platonic btw, but i don't know if i want Ezra romantic? Just fluff and cuddles and a really worried Ezra :)

Feel free to ignore this and remember to take care of yourself!

This one got carried away from me ty for requesting this, oml-

It was really fun to write it- I literally stayed up until 4 : 30 something or 4 : 40 something writing most of it, got 3 hours of sleep, and began to write it again I love this piece sm-

Sorry for the long wait too, and I hope you remember to take care of yourself as well!! And if this isn’t exactly how you imagined it I apologize as well, but still, I hope you enjoy!!

“—Builds character, apparently.”

The Ghost Crew x Reader [Platonic], Ezra Bridger x Reader [Romantic, mostly - recently established relationship]

Summary ; In which you get captured and tortured after a… lovely argument with your partner. Only to be found and brought back home a week later. Fun times.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; reader get’s tortured, descriptions of violence [not too graphic], injuries, anxiety - typical canon violence for Star Wars Rebels and Star Wars in general. Also not much of a warning but touch starved Ezra!! I love him sm- also hurt comfort things too-

Word Count ; 6.6 k [my longest one so far- :00]

——————————————————————

Thinking back on it now, the argument was so small. So trivial.

So… Minimal.

Compared to now, that is. It was just a stupid thing blown out of proportions. A stupid little spat that you got in with your partner, Ezra.

Well, it’s not that stupid.

It was about him using the damn Sith holocron to get stronger. You didn’t mind that he was using it at first, sure. It helped him. Especially after what happened to Kanan. Kept him calm. Kept him strong. Kept him believing in the Force.

After all, in your minds eye, Sith and Jedi were really just two sides of the same coin.

It didn’t make too much of a difference to you, besides in methods of how each group manipulated their abilities they got from the Force, respectively.

But now, a couple years since then - and about a few months into… whatever your relationship turned out to be - he was depending on it too much. He was taking it’s teachings to the next level, which in turn made him more powerful. Which was a good thing, in some cases. It saved your asses more times than you could count, recently.

But Ezra was… much, much angrier than before.

Power hungry, almost.

And after Kanan found out he was using it - all because Ezra was dumb enough not to hide it quickly or put it away, and too oblivious at that point to even sense that Kanan was literally at his cabin door - Ezra rounded at you.

Blamed you for Kanan figuring it out. Blamed you for spilling his secrets. Blamed you for Kanan getting angry at him for his decision.

And you knew he wouldn’t actually say those things if he was really himself. You knew that he was beginning to get corrupted by that red pyramid of a holocron. You knew he was literally losing nights sleep due to nightmares, which made him more paranoid and skeptical about everything.

But damn, if it didn’t hurt like hell and make you even angrier than he was at that point.

You snapped at him. Told him you kept his secret from everyone. Told him you’d never, ever, spill any secrets of his or anyone else’s, even if you were being tortured for the truth. And you told him that you couldn’t believe he’d even accuse you for such a thing as that. You blamed the holocron, even took Kanan’s side for it - something you rarely ever did when it came down to Ezra unless of it was something serious - saying that Ezra’s gotten angry.

Too angry.

And you honestly didn’t really think you could handle it anymore. Or him in general, for that moment. So you left. Before he had anything else to say, and before he snapped out of that stunned daze that stared right into your eyes, almost completely disbelieving into the very depths of your soul. It was a heat of the moment kind of anger that made you do such a thing.

You offhandedly mumbled something about a mission you had to get to anyways, just as you quickly walked away from him, glare set on your face, hardening any kind of other emotion that threatened to come pouring out of your eyes (stars, you hated angry tears).

All of which happened about a week prior to where you were now.

Starving in a jail cell.

An imperial jail cell, locked away from everyone and everything.

—————————————

Another cough racked out of you, a wheeze accompanying it. You must have a cracked rib or something. Karabast, everything burned.

The mission you went on was supposed to take a couple days. And Hera gave it to you as a solo-operation. You needed it anyways, to cool off from the heated and stinging argument you had with Ezra before leaving.

It was simply get a few supply crates for medical purposes for the fleet. With how big the supply crates were, it should last the fleet about half a year at most - a few months at the very least. And honestly, the fleet could take anything it can get, at this point.

The crates were located in between the planets of Batonn and Denash, two planets in the Batonn sector.

You were warned to be careful. Earlier that year all three planets in that sector were taken back over by Grand Admiral Thrawn - some guy you’ve only recently heard of through transmissions from Fulcrum in the past few months - during the Batonn sector insurgency. You would be able to cloak one of the Phoenix squadron ships (since the Phantom would be in use for another mission at the time) so you wouldn’t be able to be detected by any of the imperials, or any of the imperial fleet, there.

Once cloaked, a secret message would be transmitted to you via a comm channel that only you and the disguised transporter would know about, in order to make the exchange for the medical crates. All hidden behind a few of the moons that orbited between both Batonn and Denash.

And you were careful.

At least, you were.

Clearly, the other disguised transporter wasn’t, and the plan was found out a little too late for you to realize that - especially a good few minutes after being bombarded by heavy blaster fire from the imperial fleet’s artillery. You’d think you’d realize that the moment you didn’t see the medical crates outside and connected to the transporter for an easy attachment pick-up, but no. You just had to give them the benefit of the doubt, didn’t you?

And now, here you were.

A week later.

Severely burned, bruised, and dehydrated.

And yet still somehow keeping a level head.

At least. You think.

“I told you, I have nothing to tell you.”, you spat between ragged breaths, another stick of something electric being shoved into your side again. You grit yourself teeth and strained, keeping your groaning and screaming to a minimum. You learned pretty quickly that running your vocal cords raw weren’t going to do you any good like that. Despite having to repeat yourself over and over to the imperial scum in front of you that you literally didn’t know a damn thing about what they wanted to hear from you.

Something something, plans for Lothal and it’s liberation (terrorist attack, which is what the Empire called it), and other boring stuff like where was the other rebels.

Now obviously, you weren’t going to just hand over the second part of their questions on a silver platter that easily. You never would. Not even if someone tried using the Force to get you to spit it out. You wouldn’t reveal that integral part of information, no. That’s where your friends were, that’s where your family lived, that’s where Ezra was.

You sure as hell weren’t going to give them that information for their satisfaction.

As for the first part of their questions, however, you legitimately didn’t know anything about it.

Sure, you’ve heard talks of it. Plans of getting together to actually plan it out, once the fleet was big enough. But you didn’t know specifics. After those couple of things, your knowledge of the subject was dwindled down to just some things you heard in passing conversations back at Chopper base. That was it.

And clearly, for the past longest week ever, the imperials didn’t believe you when you told them that truth.

That it wasn’t even fully planned. That they had nothing to worry about (yet). That you didn’t know anything.

A gloved hand lurched up and roughly grabbed your jaw, digging into the ever worsening bruises that littered your jaw and cheeks, forcing you to look at whoever it was. Through the swelling of your black eye that’s been getting worse for the past couple of days, all you could see was the blurry outline of the same soldier that always questioned you, looked at you and hurt you like you were the scum of the galaxy.

“The more you lie, the worse this gets”, he sneered, another jabs of burning and electricity stinging through you at his words. He shoved your face to the side as he let go of you, your head smacking into the metal slab that held you up and kept you captive in this horrific torture machine.

Another strained noise tickled the back of your throat. Another whimper of pain that you stifled to keep your sanity. At the very least, you could do whatever Ezra taught you to do best.

Annoy the hell out of these bucket heads.

“What’s that saying about insanity? Oh right”, you coughed before wheezing out a bit of forced laughter, a smirk forming over your mouth, irritating the cut lower lip that was beginning to scab over. “If - if you do something over and over again, and continuously get the same results, that makes you insane. And uh - buddy it’s been about a week, hasn’t it? You haven’t gotten anywhere—“

The restraints were unclipped from your wrists and ankles. Confusion wracked your mind before a hand grabbed at your neck and forced you back harshly on the metal slab. That time, you couldn’t stop the loud shout that sprang out from you at the sudden movements.

“Wha—“, you grunted before you can even squeeze out a sentence, a strong fist connected with your abdomen, making all the airbrush out of you at the action. You couldn’t even begin to process the pain you were in besides the electrical burns. The adrenaline and the numbness to it at that point was still ringing true in every nerve in your body.

Before the imperial soldier could even land another hit on you, or another burn, the hilt of a Lasan Bo-rifle hit the back of them at a pressure point, instantly knocking them out.

Wait.

Bo-rifle from Lasan?

You coughed and wheezed for more air the moment the soldier let go of your reddening neck and smacked onto the ground, and you were even firmly planted on the ground yet, or strapped down onto anything. So you were about to smack onto the ground yourself when you found no energy within you to keep yourself there. Gravity acted too fast on you.

“Woah, easy there kid—“, a rough voice sounded, almost distant in your ears, until a couple of purple furred hands caught you before you fell, steadying you on your shaky feet. “You alright there?”

“Zeb?”, you croaked out, looking up and squinting at who caught you. Purple fur, blurry yellow eyes, some semblance of a scowl - yep that was Zeb.

Once Zeb got a proper look at you, he grimaced with a flinch. “Oh - Karabast, kid, what did they do to you?!”

Burn marks everywhere, bruises everywhere, scratches everywhere, rips in clothing, tattered, messy hair, more sunken eyes than usual, looking dryer and skinnier. Karabast, you look worse for wear.

“Oh, yknow”, you chucked wryly, still keeping up the act of being as calm as you could. “A bit of torture, a bit of starvation and dehydration - builds character, apparently.” Zeb rolled his eyes, brow furrowed in something a lot less like annoyance and much more like worry.

Odd, you think. It’s only been a week since you were kidnapped. How worried could they have gotten?

“Spectre-4 to Spectre-2, come in.”, Zeb said immediately into the comm.

“Specter-2 to Spectre-4, Whaddya got for me, Zeb?”, answered the crackling voice of Hera on the other end, a faint sound of blaster fire behind her somewhere.

“I found them, I found Spectre-7”, Zeb said immediately into the comm.

“YOU FOUND THEM?” , came a chorus of four other voices loudly into the comms, along with the surprisingly relieved beeps of Chopper. You and Zeb flinched at the sound. Your ears weren’t as sensitive as the Lasat’s were, but damn if that sudden noise didn’t make you flinch.

Your’s and Zeb’s shared reaction caused him to look back at you as opposed to the comm in his other hand. One arm was held onto one of your biceps, which was one of the only thing keeping you from falling next to the puffer-pig dung heap on the floor. You were so much lighter than before. That was not a good sign.

“They’re not lookin’ so good.”, he said honestly, swiveling his head around just in case of any stray stormtrooper coming your guys’ way. No one answered back right away. At least, that’s why you and Zeb thought.

Comms shorted for a second.

Imperials know they’re there, trying to get you back, trying to cut off communications with one another.

“Zeb”, came another voice. Younger than Hera’s, definitely not either of the other guys. Sabine, you guessed, mind still swirling from the burning feeling of the metal, electrifying rods being stabbed into your sides, just enough to cause burns rather than cuts in the skin. “ZEB!”

Zeb exclaimed in irritation at the loud and sudden noise of the comms crackling back, deciding best that it probably wasn’t a good idea to just sit and wait for the others to find you two while under blaster fire. “WHAT!? What is it—!?”

“Talk to me, Orrelios, how bad are they??”, urged Sabine, seemingly referring to your injuries.

You grunted at the sudden lurch of being pulled into the hallway by Zeb, stumbling over your shaking feet as he didn’t stop for a second, even at the sounds of your own discomfort, the ones you wanted to keep at bay for a while now.

The lasat pulled you aside into an empty corridor once the blaster fire began to reach you guys. With a sigh of irritation, he picked you up from your knees and held you up - almost like a kid, which you still kind of were to some degree to him - and spoke into the comms once again. You laid your head on his shoulder with a groan and a wheeze, earning another concerned side-eyed glance from Zeb.

“Look, you’ll see them when we get back to the rendezvous point, just get there, got it!?” He said sharply into the comm, shoving it back into its place on his belt.

After that, conversations on the comms were just crackles and buzzes of the other members quickly trying to communicate with one another, blaster fire covering the most of it up, along with your hands at your ears. It was all just a blur at that point, really.

—————————————

Just before reaching the rendezvous point that was agreed upon, Zeb let you down to your feet again, still keeping a stabilized hand on your shoulder as you walked - hobbled, really - over to where the rendezvous was. He figured you didn’t want anyone to see that he carried you here like a child all the way there from that corridor. Karabast, you even vocalized that.

“Tell anyone you carried me like a kid and I will steal all of your snack rations from the extra food we found, got it?”, you slurred out, arm loosely wrapped around your middle as you heave a coarse cough afterwards, still trying to recover from being tortured just before Zeb found you.

“Got it.”, Zeb said to you with a small, relived chuckle. Although, that relief was short. How the hell are you still acting normal after all of that? Your normal, sarcastic-like-you-spend-way-too-much-time-with-Ezra self? Although, the sarcasm seems to be the only remaining constant with how you were from a week before, at that moment, so the Lasat can take what he can get. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

You arrived at the rendezvous point not a minute later, being met with a very worried sick Sabine and Hera. Hera immediately took you from Zeb’s side, an arm wrapping under one of yours as she led you back onto the Ghost. Sabine held onto your bicep of the other arm wrapped around your abdomen and stomach, keeping close by, and Zeb hovered close behind as the four of you quickly boarded the ghost.

Ezra, Kanan and Chopper were the ones in charge of the escape.

Once you were confirmed to be MIA, with chatter around the imperial gossip chain leading to fulcrum about six days into your stay at that imperial facility before it got to Chopper base, the plan was made almost in record time.

It was agreed upon that the two Jedi’s were to help escape, not fight. Not after the whole debacle with the old Clone Wars Y-Wings mission days prior to that, when Ezra’s use of the dark side got into his confidence and a little out of control during that mission - which lead to the unfortunate destruction of the Phantom.

Ezra was wholeheartedly against it, and so was Kanan.

But to Hera and the other two, it was their best bet. The moment Kanan and Ezra would’ve been found in that imperial facility would’ve made things a whole lot harder to get you out of there.

The Jedi staying behind on the Ghost was their best bet to get you out of there with as minimal attention as possible.

Well, as much as they could despite being rebels, of course.

No sooner than the doors to the Ghost closed once you were all loaded onto the ship, the freighter was immediately put into hyperdrive. Not directly to Atollan, of course - just somewhere away from that cursed place around Batonn and Denash.

The four of you all breathed a sigh of relief, you still wheezing and coughing from everything and trying to catch your breath. At this point, though, you’re pretty sure you have a cracked rib somewhere. Breathing hurt. Not just around your neck, but your sides too.

“Well, that was something”, you strained out with a forced chuckle, earning some pained looks from Sabine and Hera once they looked at the state of you.

Stars, you looked like hell.

Beeping and warbling from Chopper joined you soon afterwards, the Astro-mech flying towards you, around the loading dock that everyone who wasn’t a Jedi was in. Chopper nudged onto your leg, moving its head from side to side, almost like a nuzzling manner that your would see from a loth-cat. Zeb chuckled at the sight a bit, earning a quick zap from Chopper, and what could’ve been a curious catering of curse words and what you picked up to be “don’t tell anyone about this”, in droid language. You moved your arm from around your waist, giving Chopper a quick pat on the head, taking your hand back as he rolled away, the sounds of two sets of footsteps bounding closer on the metal of the ground scaring him off to the side.

You looked up slowly, eyes barely meeting Kanan’s, nor Ezra’s.

Well, it’s not like Kanan could actually see you. But he could hear and sense you. And the pain you’re in, despite you not being able to feel it all just yet. And he could tell you were fighting the whole time. Not giving up even the slightest bit of actual information that could help the empire. He was both equal parts relieved and absolutely horrified at that.

Force knows what kind of injuries littered the skin of your body.

Ezra, on the other hand, could see you. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what he saw.

A gulp and a shaky, quiet breath followed after he finally got to see you. A week after that stupid, stupid argument. His eyes were wide, cerulean blues scanning over each and every injury and bruise that came with your battered appearance.

You were his partner.

What did those damned imperial asshats do to his partner!?

“Hey, there’s my favorite Jedi’s!”, you forced out, your voice cutting through Ezra’s thoughts, another smile cutting through the scab on your lip even more.

Kanan gave Ezra a small pat on the back in encouragement, and Ezra wasted no time on jumping over the railing of the top deck, feet firmly planting on the lower deck of the loading dock before he enraptured you into a tight hug that almost knocked you back down onto the ground.

Hera, Sabine, and Zeb were smart enough to back away once Ezra had landed on the lower deck.

You grunted from the force, a pained wheeze accompanying it. ”Easy, Ez, pretty sure you cracked my ribs even more”, you say, sarcasm and a joking lilt covering whatever kind of fears you were feeling right then. Ezra just barely loosened his grip on you, a hand coming up to gently hold onto the back of your head as the other clutched you close around your shoulders.

His eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowed downwards as his chin pressed onto your shoulder, for another reminder that you were there. You were with him. You were in the Ghost.

You were safe.

He was still reeling at hearing the sound of your voice after not hearing it for about a week. Perhaps the longest week ever.

To say that he freaked out the moment he realized you missed your check-in time with Hera was an absolute understatement. He was already antsy during the first two days of your mission. Especially since you guys both said nothing to each other after the argument, you having left not too long afterwards. He already got a bad feeling that wouldn’t stop coursing through him - no matter how hard he tried to will it away - the moment you left him alone after you offhandedly mentioned your task once the argument ended.

And when you missed the check-in time? And the days after that?

He couldn’t sleep at all.

Went through one too many scenarios through his head that made him anxious to no end in sight. Not even Hera or Kanan could help him through that one.

He grew irritable when he was told to wait for further instructions on the matter of your disappearance. He wanted to go out and find you - maybe pay a visit to whoever the hell kept you away from the base for so long. Man, even Sabine and Zeb were willing to join him on that endeavor before the transmission from Fulcrum came through. Once Fulcrum said your name and stated the now-debunked-as-true rumors of you being captured in an imperial facility for questioning, all thoughts of his previous idea flew out the window.

He remembers how the air left his lungs when Zeb’s voice crackled through the comms to speak to Hera about finding you, Kanan and him being tapped into the frequency just incase anything else happened while they were on the Ghost, waiting for the rest of the Spectres to come home with you in tow with them for the escape. It was difficult to breathe for a few seconds.

Zeb found you.

And then, of course, he remembers the fear and anger that rushed in at what Zeb said about your state of being. What he wouldn’t give to have beat up whoever thought was a good idea to torture people for information - especially whoever thought it was a good idea to do that to you. Everyone knew immediately what Zeb was referring to when he said you didn’t look too good. You were injured. And from Zeb’s tone of voice, the injuries were bad.

And now, here you were. Held in his arms, safe back on the home you called the Ghost, with him being absolutely unable to bring himself out of the hug. He can breath easier now, now that you’re at home.

“Ez, ‘m fine”, you said with a laugh. Still trying to remain calm. “You can let go of me, y’know?”

Ezra shook his head no stubbornly, eyebrows furrowing inwards a bit more for just a second at the idea, knowing damn well he got a roll from the eyes from you. That wasn’t going to change his mind about holding you at all.

“Ezra seriously my ribs are starting to hurt—“

He loosened his grip enough to pull away from you, not before pulling a surprising move and lifting you up into his arms. One arm still clung around your shoulders, and the other hooked underneath your knees. You gasped in surprise at the action, but the gasp was a little to sharp for your body’s reaction, so immediately afterwards you coughed away from him and into your elbow, trying to catch your breath, your other arm slung around Ezra’s neck instinctively.

After a bit more of you catching your breath after a few seconds, Ezra sighs shortly in relief, and makes his way towards the ladders with you, still in his arms. The adrenaline was still there for you, just slowly waning, enough for you to get tired enough not to protest Ezra’s actions.

“What are you doing?”, Hera asked him once he started climbing out the ladder to the deck above the loading dock. The arm around your shoulders was helping him climb, your arm strong enough to hold yourself up, while his other arm stayed hooked underneath your legs.

“Gonna help with their injuries.”, he told Hera curtly.

“We have a team of medics at the base to—“

“I know.”

Ezra’s voice was sharp at that answer, even just the slightest bit of annoyed, stunning a bit of silence out of Hera at his reaction. The rest of the crew watched as he disappeared back into the Ghost with you wrapped up in his arms.

For a second, Hera took a step towards the ladders, having half a mind to follow the two of you, before Kanan’s voice called out to her from the balcony.

“Let him help. They’ll be fine with him. Think they both need some time together after the past week we just had.” He explained to her calmly. Hera only stared at him for a long minute, before looking at a random part of the Ghost below them both, sighing at his words.

He was right.

You both needed this.

—————————————

“You really said that to the guy?”, Ezra asked incredulously, voice the softest it’s ever been around you. He was busy cleaning off the dried blood from your visible cuts, having already just cleaned, bandaged, and put burn salve on the electrical burns all over your middle and sides. The burn salve was long over due for them, and you visibly relaxed when the burns were finally covered in the soothing, cooling substance. That should take away the sting that ebbed away at your nerves.

“Hey, it really was the definition of insanity in there!”, you said with a chuckle as you defended your word choices. Which, granted, prompted you to get choked by the guy before Zeb stepped in, so it probably wasn’t the best word choice, but still. It was better than nothing. “Couldn’t help it, Ezra. I spend too much time with you to not say something, yknow.”

That comment coaxed a small smile out of Ezra, a gentle hum of a chuckle already being pushed through him. But it still wasn’t enough to make him laugh all the way. At least it got him to smile, though, even for a little bit.

He was cleaning off a couple of the cuts on one of your hands, attention staying on that hand as he let the small smile turn the corners of his mouth upwards.

“There’s the smile I missed for the past week”, you said, your other hand coming up to cup the left side of his cheek. Your thumb lightly grazed over the two shallow indents of scars left by the inquisitors a couple years prior, and he leaned into the feeling of your hand on his cheek, stopping his small mission of getting you patched up himself, and relishing in your touch. Even if it’s for a few seconds before he got back to work.

One week without any knowledge of how you were doing was enough to make him realize how much he really, really missed you during the longer missions. He missed your hugs, your talks, the banter. He’d give anything to prevent another week like this one from happening again.

One week without him around was enough to make you worry. What kind of lengths he’d go through to get anyone back. To get you back. That is, if he fully turned to the darkside of the Force. Sure, two sides of the same coin with the light side of the Force and everything, but it still harbored some level of fear in you. Luckily, though, it seemed like Kanan knocked some sense in him. That or your disappearance and subsequent torturing - but honestly you’re hoping it’s not the latter. You’re just glad he’s ok. That he isn’t hurt. That he’s here and he’s safe, and that you protected the secrets of the Ghost and Chopper Base without breaking to anything the imperial facility threw at you. That was an accomplishment in its own right. And you were glad that you were able to keep those secrets safe.

And that you were able to keep Ezra safe.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a thumb swiped over the split cut that was on your lower lip. Ezra just barely grazed it, but it still hurt, and made you wince a little bit at the touch. Only by a smidge.

To cover that up, however, you decided to joke around a bit.

“If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just asked”, you said, snickering a little at Ezra’s eye roll, and the red that began to tinge his ears. He closed his eyes and shook his head with a chuckle, and your smile grew. That got him to laugh.

His hand moved to hold the side of your neck, just below your jawline. Part of his hand still rested on it, more so at the corner, and just underneath the skin of your ear. The touch was careful, and his thumb lightly brushed against the bruising on your jaw. He gently pulled your head closer, and his forehead lightly bumped against yours, his nose lightly nudging against the side of your own, all in an attempt to get more calm and comfortable.

And it worked.

He took in a breath, and let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving after a couple seconds of the breath.

“Sorry about the argument”, he mumbled the apology, eyes tilted downwards, focus on the ground. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Hey”, you cut him off, knuckle from your free hand coming up, gently nudging his chin up so he could look at you, eyes that swirled with the power of the Force onto yours, that only caught the reflection of the light in the room, and the reflection of Ezra in front of you. “That was just a stupid argument. That doesn’t matter now.”

“But it does!”, he exclaimed in a whisper, irises boring into yours. You swear, you could see your own soul reflected through them. ”I went out of line and blamed you for being careless and—“

“You really think that argument has any affect on me right now?”, you ask, raising a brow. “Karabast, I was literally tortured, I would love to go back to when that argument was the most of my worries.”

That was only last week that that argument happened. So trivial, compared to the events that unfurled.

So trivial compared to the burns on your sides, the ache in your ribs, the twinges of pain from your bruises and the black eye that plagued your left eye.

It hurt emotionally, sure.

But what you wouldn’t give to go back to that being the only kind of pain that swirled in your mind.

Before even you realized what was happening, through the haze of the loud thoughts that made up your mind at the moment, Ezra’s other hand disconnected from the rag that cleaned up your dried blood, and reconnected with your other cheek on the other side of your face, away from the black eye. He nudged away a stray tear with one of his knuckles, and brushed his thumb over the swell of your cheek once more began to slowly tumble out. Mainly from the one eye you could actually see out of properly, the one eye that went wide after you mentioned the torture you endured, the one eye that let that tear go loose, providing other tears with enough confidence to start falling as well.

“I was tortured, Ezra.” Your voice went quiet, strained.

It was only then that you realized just how horrified you were.

Strange, how some feelings of anxiety didn’t pop up until way later, once you were actually processing whatever kind of traumatic event you just went through. Other times the anxiety bubbles up pretty quickly, during whatever you were going through - even if it was just a normal, calm situation that somehow made your anxiety act up. But this time, it took you a week to actually feel the damned fear that wouldn’t actually allow you to sleep very much throughout the time you were being held at the facility.

Then again, you were also doing your best to keep a level head the whole time. To keep yourself from spilling anything. To keep yourself sane.

Maybe it was the fact that you were finally in the comfort of your own home, in front of your partner no less, that made you feel comfortable enough to grab onto the bad feelings again, rather than to just force them down until they were too much for you.

Your eyes blurred Ezra out of focus due to the burning tears that bubbled up behind your eyelids. You screwed them both shut, and gulp with a shaky breath. Ezra furrowed his brow again - this time, however, they were pointed more upwards than downwards.

Still keeping his hands in the same places on your neck and cheek, he lifted his head from resting against yours and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, staying there for a couple seconds, just to linger. Mainly for his own comfort, to remind himself you were physically there with him, and also to remind you of that as well.

After that he wrapped you up in another hug, gentler this time. One you leaned into, your forehead coming to rest on his shoulder, near the crook of his neck. The hand on your cheek moved to the back of your head, lightly pressed into your hair, and his other hand on the side of your neck, just under your jawline and ear, moved to your back, pulling you forward for the hug that you graciously accepted.

He nudged his nose onto the crown of your head, placing another soft and comforting kiss there. “Took you that long to figure it out, huh?”, he murmured, voice soft with an air of humor. Just the slightest lilt to make things much less strenuous than they seemed.

“Shut up, Bridger”, you sniffed, lightly punching his arm, a chuckle spilling out between the both of you. The hug tightened just a little bit, the hand you punched Ezra’s arm with holding onto the sleeve of his orange jacket he always wore.

“Sorry, sorry”, he apologized, laying his cheek down on the top of your head. “Had to joke about this somehow, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh, followed by a sigh, quiet and exhausted. “Right…”

A silence fell over the two of you. Ezra let out a sigh through his nose a couple minutes into it. “You’re safe now, ok? You know that, right?”

The message was quiet, a soft mumble only meant for your ears. The tension in your own shoulders began to ease a little, much like his minutes beforehand.

Your arm moved from his jacket to around his neck again, pulling the hug even closer, just to be nearer to him. Just for more comfort. For your peace of mind to remind yourself that you’re home.

You’re safe.

You’re with Ezra.

Things are fine for now.

Everything will be alright for now.

Just for right now. Which is all you could ask for at that moment.

“I know.”, you mumbled back. You sigh out of relief, of being there with Ezra, in the comforting arms of home, in the surprisingly comforting metal rooms of home, deciding against breaking the hug for the time being.

Until Ezra broke it himself.

“Oh c’mon, Ez!”, you complained. “I was just getting comfortable, dude!”

“You were falling asleep on me”, he responded back, grabbing the rag he was using to clean off the dried blood from your injuries strewn about your skin. He stood up to get more water for it, along with a cooler ice-pack for the nasty bruise on your eye.

“Like I said, I was just getting comfortable!”

“You can get comfortable and sleep on my shoulder after I’m done taking care of your injuries - and after we’re sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m not convinced.”

You groan, leaning back on your arms as Ezra gathers the supplies you need from one of the medical kits that came from the medical crates you were supposed to get from your mission beforehand. “Stars, you’re just as stubborn as Chopper - like friend like droid, y’know?”, you say with a playful scoff.

Ezra laughed. It was less of a chuckle now, more genuine. Good. You liked it when he laughed. “I could say the same thing about you, y’know—“ you interrupted him with a indignant noise, absolutely appalled that he would ever compare your stubbornness to the astro-mech. You were the only one allowed to do that, how dare he?

“I’m not that stubborn—“

Another laugh bubbled out from Ezra, and you couldn’t help but smile at it. It was a noise that never failed to brighten your day, even in the darkest of hours.

A chuckle made it’s way out of your throat again as a smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and you shook your head a little, the banter between you both continuing. Just like normal.

Just like home.

Maybe some things were definitely worth getting tortured over.

If you could keep the base safe, the Ghost safe, and Ezra safe, you’d do it all over again, no matter what.

You’d always protect your home from the Empire.

Even if your home wasn’t always protecting you.

[thebellekeys]

The black jewel similarities are so crazy to me. I remember hearing about the similarities for the first time and being skeptical because people accuse copying for unfounded reasons a lot in fantasy especially towards women(and I do think some are ridiculous). Then reading the posts and being like??? She couldn’t have been a LITTLE more creative? I also wonder how much this affected her rewriting of books 2&3 and adding to book 1, which she did less than a year before they came out. Like rhys thing with amarantha and acomaf is obvious but what about other parts of book one? Like did she add high lords and the name prythian along with rhys or was that always there? Sorry I’m rambling I just find this so interesting. I’d love to know what the original storyline was. Do you think sjm is aware of the similarities and doesn’t think it matters or doesn’t care or is she somehow oblivious?

See: the post in question!

Love this ask! Firstly, I think Sarah J. Maas that is an uncreative and unoriginal writer and, hence, that she always intended (perhaps passively) to make ACOTAR virtually identical to The Black Jewels. This is, in part, because the same situation exists when it comes to Throne of Glass, ASOIAF, and LOTR. Sarah J. Maas would have been a teenager when TBJ first came out and I think it left such a mark on her that she couldn't help but reproduce it in her own writing. TBJ is fairly popular among millennial fantasy-reading demographics but most people born after 2000 (more than half her fanbase) don't know that much about Anne Bishop nor care for writing as dark as Bishop's, period.

I also think she doesn't care about the similarities between ACOTAR and TBJ because she knows neither her hardcore stans nor casual fantasy readers will be able to immediately identify Bishop's work in her own and cramp her sales. This is the woman who name-dropped Breonna Taylor's murder while promoting her book and simultaneously relegating every major Black character in her works to the developmental back-burner if she doesn't kill them outright. She doesn't care. And there is no way she obvious to these glaring similarities.

[mistxmood]

this wasnt supposed to have so much thought but i got sucked into it. like YEAH a self-insert is always fun and i couldve just made them our blogsona but also this is way more interesting to me.

does this still count as a self-insert or is this just a gf x utmv au crossover. who cares!

image description under read ill explain more in a rb because i feel silly

[ID: Bill Cipher floats with his hand outstretched. It's aflame. He says, "Think of it like a partnership! I help keep that flame stroked, and you tell me the secrets of the multiverse." It cuts to a Ink Sans, his hand in the middle of taking Bill's hand. His eyes are white and hollow, and he looks expressionless. "So how's about it?" Bill continues.]

[ID: Bill and Ink are now shaking hands. Bill thinks to himself gleefully, "Screw overthrowing one universe I'm about to bag the whole multiverse." Ink however is now looking at the viewer and he is smirking as he thinks, "bro doesn't know." An arrow points to this thought bubble, connected to text that explains, "Without paint, Ink normally goes back to being a corpse, aka stops responding, thinking, etc." another arrow points to this text, leading to text that has been cut out of the frame.]

[ID: Ink is now strolling away, eyes closed and smiling as he says, "Welp time to go catch up on Twin Runes!" Floating behind him, Bill, now bodyless and only visible in a ghost-like form similar to Dipper when Bill was possessing his body, is staring at his hands in bewilderment, sweating, not quite sure what exactly the deal accomplished or what happened to him.]

[ID: It slowly hits Bill, now off-screen, yet he still feels as if he has to ask Ink, "What did you do." Ink, now sweating a little bit, is thinking to himself, "Here it comes."]

[ID: "Yep." Ink thinks to himself as he turns around. His face is obscured by this, body still turned away as he looks at Bill, who has now grown in size and is in a state of extreme frenzy. A mixture of fear, fury- it's unknown what he's feeling as he exclaims in unstable text, "What did you do to me!"]

[ID: Bill gets up to Ink's face, hands clawing into his shoulders despite being intangible as he screeches, eye wide, "Whatever you did, it does not."

He slowly shrinks, letting go of Ink. "It does not matter. it doesn't. It doesn't." He's growing a little fainter in visibility, and while his rage is still present it feels like he's becoming distant.

"The deal's…" But Bill doesn't finish his sentence. His accusing, pointing finger slowly droops. He lingers in the air yet his conviction drains off him like paint in a running sink. He looks at Ink still, but he also doesn't know what he's feeling anymore.]

[ID: As Bill becomes faint in the background, losing his sense and losing his self before he could comprehend what he's missing, Ink speaks up. "It kinda sucks yeah."]

[ID: The drawing is not looking at Ink from around Bill's perspective, as he turns to face him. He's got a hand rubbing his cheek and he sighs as he tries to explain himself with a waving hand. "Okay listen. I'm sorry but not really. We both know you're a danger to everyone around you but! This is temporary."

"I think."

"I don't know it depends on if you want it to be or not."]

[ID: "And that depends on if you wanna change. Which. I'm skeptical on. But that's fine. You and I got all the time in the world. In the end, you're stuck here and that's fine with me."

He's got his hands on his hips now as he looks at Bill properly now. His pupils have changed to a pair of yellow triangles, except his right pupil is hollow still. Bill is still floating in front of him in a state akin to dissassociation. "… You're not listening to yeah you're ignoring me." Ink sighs.]

[ID: But because I'm so nicey I'm still going to hold my word." Ink turns away now, grinning as he pulls his giant paintbrush, Broomie, off from where its been shealthed on his back. He's grinning wide now, still looking at Bill as he continues, "You probably already saw most of the popular AUs, but we're going anyways. I'm giving you a first-class tour of the multiverse!"]

[hello-universe-lovers]

SHENANIGANS: Where Mai gives headcanons to the Voices in your Head ™️ based purely off vibes.

(Fun fact: I typed this so many times autocorrect fills in the sentence now)

This episode: The Voices in game night!!

(Note: sad to say as it is, I am NOT a gamer, so I won't go into what video games they'd like. It's exclusively tabletop games. Someone who actually plays games regularly can do that one)

Voice of the HERO: expert at board games, decent poker face, and a lil competitive, Hero is the picturesque partner to play with. She won't be too difficult to play against...HOWEVER, she fumbles hard at games where it's about wordplay, for lack of better words (Scrabbles is an example). She takes way too long to think!!

Voice of the SMITTEN: He'd rather play something more classical like chess, but km group game night, he'd go with whatever they decide. Games where it's about skill are what he loves!! Jenga? That Tower will not fall! Scrabble? Sorry Hero :). Charade? Hohoho, you're making this too easy!! He lowkey likes to flex, but that's for another time.

Voice of the SKEPTIC: DO NOT PLAY MAFIA WITH SKEPTIC!! MOTHERFUCKER SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE! (OPPORTUNIST included) seriously, it's like once the threat of reality breaking is lifted and the games are tied to logic, it's like he's a noir detective reading every player and predicting what they do. Deduction games are obviously his favorite, with chess and other such board games a close second.

Voice of the PARANOID: the funny thing about her is that they are anxious like...ALL THE TIME. and he knows how to use it to her advantage. No one knows if she is suspicious or innocent. Skeptic and Paranoid are always tied when playing chess, because both are always watching and adapting. The fact that these are social games not tied to life or death also helps.

Voice of the COLD: he's not playing the same game twice. Unless you get him REALLY high, he won't sit at a game with the same rules. However, he LOVES giving commentary, nudging specific players, not picking favorites and intentionally resulting in either clutch plays or very "WTF?!" Moments

Voice of the CHEATED: She'd flip the board, but never the table. Mainly because her back would protest if she tried. The frequent loser of the group. Sure, there's a win now and then, but unless the game is about making a combination of words sound ridiculous (Cards against humanity, Joking Hazard, etc...), she loses 99% of the time. Luckily, Broken is thereto comfort her. But still, cold comfort for her.

Voice of the BROKEN: She tries to put in effort to play, and while surprisingly good, she doesn't join often due to low energy. She'd sit in her wheelchair, sipping a drink and making commentary like a sports commentator (not as loud, though). She and Cold have a weird sorta respect going on so he plays along. Always the one to stop Cheated from sulking.

Voice of the STUBBORN: He's not good at a lot of traditional board games like Monopoly, Snakes and Ladders, and etc...but he LOVES card games. Mainly bc Oppy teaches him how to play those, he's a riot at those. He won't flip the table if he loses...oh, who am I kidding, of course he does!! But more often than not, he wins the night, and everyone is still surprised!!

Voice of the OPPORTUNIST: after one too many accusations of cheating (Cheated...), he'd make himself as small a role as possible. His room is where they play the games, and he watches over them to make sure no foul play is happening. Card games are his speciality, obviously, and his poker face is as immaculate as his acting. Though good luck getting him to play, since he'd rather enjoy his little "referee" role. When he does, though, it always comes down to Stubborn, himself and Skeptic. You might as well go to bed, because they won't be finish until morning.

Voice of the HUNTED: like Cold, he just doesn't like games. He'd sit through and play games in you need a specific number of players, but he'd decline. And he won't pay attention unless shit gets loud. He's the designated "jailer" for any temperamental players, and his corner is the time-out corner.

Voice of the CONTRARIAN: I know I said the "no video game" rule, but look at Connie. Do you think this woman would settle for basic ahh games? She is busting out the Wii or a DDR mat and everyone is dancing or doing doing silly poses Or if she's banned from that, she'd join Cold in disrupting the game or suggest "interesting" new rules. She's frequently in the time-out corner after the "Uno" incident.

BONUS: the Princesses.

As Belle, Spectre and Thorn are frequent visitors to the Voice house, they often bring back games to play. If you'd think they have quiet and peaceful game nights...have you met them?!

They'd always bring back the game, the next morning, probably with a bruise or 2 (expect for Spectre).

[doueverwonder]

little thing bc like I said Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois are siblings to me.

Ohio's nickname is spelled 'Hio but is said I-O (like the letters individually).

Illinois is 57,914 sq miles, Ohio is 44,826 sq miles, and Indiana is 36,420 sq miles and I do subscribe to the states land mass contributing to their height so this knowledge is important to the ficlet.

They're sillies your honor

~~~~~

Ohio loved his younger siblings unconditionally. Even if he was bad at showing it he would do anything for Indiana and Illinois, Hell, he would help hide a body and take the blame at a moments notice if that's what they needed. There was almost nothing either of them could do to make him love and care for them any less... well, there was one thing.

"Is Illinois taller than you?" Ohio had been hanging out in his room enjoying the peace, but as younger siblings do Indiana and Illinois had barged in to bother him. Illinois had been snooping through his desk drawers while Indiana had taken to sitting way too close so she could read his phone screen too. She had looked up just in time to see Illinois sit down in Ohio's desk chair, and more importantly pull the little level to raise the seat because it was too short.

Ohio looked up from his phone, "Nope."

Illinois turned in the chair, raising an eyebrow skeptically. He knew he was taller than Ohio, he had just decided to not say anything to spare his older brothers dignity. But if Indiana wanted to bring it up... "I am taller then you"

"No you're not" Ohio got more defensive at the accusation over his height. "I'm older, and therefor automatically taller"

He snorted, "Maybe when we were kids" Illinois got up, purposefully standing up straighter then he usually did. "C'mon 'Hio, back to back we'll see who's taller"

Ohio rolled his eyes but tossed his phone down getting up to prove he was taller than his little brother. Unfortunately as soon as he stood up he realized he definitely wasn't; damnit when had Illinois gotten so tall? He could've sworn last week he was barely at his eye level.

Indiana laughed, "stop trying to stand on your toes."

Ohio huffed but put his heels back on the ground, this was humiliating. Younger siblings were not supposed to be taller than their elders, and Illinois was significantly taller than him.

"Mmm" Indiana nodded, "Sorry 'Hio, but Illi is definitely taller then you"

Ohio huffed, flopping back on his bed being over dramatic. "you come into my house--"

"This isn't your house" Illinois also sat back down, watching Ohio amused.

He just glared and stuck his tongue out, earning the same in response; "You come into my room, and insult me this way." Ohio put his hand on his chest, "I raised you two--"

"Virginia raised all three of us?" Indiana cut him off this time, confusion evident in the pitch of her voice.

"Shhh" Ohio put his hand over her mouth, but it only stayed for a moment before he yanked his hand back suddenly "ew!"

Illinois almost fell out of the chair he laughed so hard, barely getting out between; "Did you lick him?"

Indiana shrugged, "He put his hand on my face he was asking for it"

Ohio continued being over disgusted by it as he rushed to the bathroom to wash his hand, "you're disgusting!"

"And you're dramatic!" Illinois shouted back, "It's fine we're family so we have the same germs or something"

He came out flicking some of the water at Indiana, who flinched at the cold droplets hitting her: "That is not how that works" Ohio sat back down, picking his phone back up pointing it accusingly at Illinois "Just like how younger siblings aren't supposed to be taller"

[codenamesazanka]

Happy Valentine's Day! An idea for a drabble... how about Spinner trying (and failing) to make a romantic dinner for Shigaraki?

Thank you so very much! Sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy!

Set in some magical AU where Shigaraki delayed the surgery and is still at Gunga Villa during Valentine's Day. 500 words!

.♡.

"What did Dabi do this time?" Tomura asked. The majority of the fire had been put out, leaving only straggler flames for water-quirked army grunts to smother. "And why target my suite?"

The accused scoffed, very offended. "So just cuz it's fire, it's me? It wasn't. I'm hurt by your lack of trust, Leader."

Tomura ignored the sarcasm. "Then what happened?" He asked, to anyone who wanted to answer. His League, his lieutenants, the gathering crowd. 

"It was Spinner!" Twice exclaimed, pointing aggressively with both hands. "I would never snitch!" 

ReDestro appeared by Tomura's side, looking apologetic. "It was Spinner. He told us. An accident..." 

A few meters away, Spinner was slumped on the ground, a shameful little ball, head in his arms. Compress seemed to be offering support as Trumpet and Skeptic loomed, the latter shrieking. Skeptic was rarely not shrieking at the League, finding fault in everything they did, so it wasn't something Spinner couldn't handle, but Tomura still walked over. 

ReDestro hurried after him, filling in the details. Very useful guy. "He said he was trying to make dinner."

Tomura nudged Spinner with his foot. "You were trying to cook?" 

"He was trying to light candles." Compress said. 

"Candles." Trumpet repeated the word without a single inflection in tone. 

"I can light candles just fine!" Spinner snapped, lifting his head. "...It got tipped over when I wasn't paying attention." 

None of it was connecting in Tomura's mind. "You were trying to cook using candles?"

"It was a surprise dinner!" Spinner burst out. "I was—trying to do something… real. Real food. Wine. And… candlelight." 

Toga gasped, hands flying to her cheeks. ReDestro did the same, without the gasp and with only one hand. Everyone else stared.

Spinner glared daggers at Tomura's shoes. "It's Valentine's day," he said, voice tight. He looked up slightly, speaking to Tomura's knees. "You don't like sweets, so..."

Dabi said, "You're the one giving him the gift?" 

"That's so cute!!" Toga jumped in place. "Traditional, too, like in America!" 

"It was I who suggested it," Compress said.

"If you had asked, we would've been happy to help," ReDestro said gently. Then coughed in warning when Trumpet muttered, "We could've done it properly and successfully." 

"We should get courtesy dinners!" Twice gestured at himself and everyone. "Store-brought is okay." 

Tomura reached down to tug at Spinner's scarf. Spinner had gone back to hiding his face. "It's fine. Just stop moping." 

"It's not fine!" Skeptic bellowed. "We lose money everyday—"

"Forgive it this once, Skeptic," ReDestro said. "It is Valentine's day." 

"Once, ReDestro? It’s again and again—"

As Spinner got to his feet, Tomura told him, "I'm not hungry anyways. Let's skip dinner and go." 

Spinner finally looked at him, an exhausted, sheepish glance. "Shigaraki. I'm..." 

"Your room." Tomura took off The Hand. It was hard to resist a grin, but he did. He had to make Spinner take responsibility, after all. "You destroyed my room, so I guess I'll have to stay with you tonight..." 

.♡.

Notes below the cut:

Valentine's Day Background: In Japan, Valentine's Day is seen as a romantic holiday, but it's mostly women giving chocolates to men (Men return the favor on White Day, March 14). Women gives different types of chocolate depending on the kind of relationship they have with the recipient; two types in particular are honmei-choco ('true feelings chocolate'), given to their significant other, and giri-choco ('obligation/courtesy chocolate'), given to friends and acquaintances. So, here, Spinner was trying to give his version of honmei-choco to Shigaraki - homemade too! Twice's "courtesy dinners" is a joke he's making. Dabi's just being a bit of an ass/teasing Spinner about the role he's taken. Toga thinks Spinner going back-to-its-roots traditional is very romantic - though it was Compress who first explained this to Spinner, probably because he felt sorry for Spinner, who was being a mess about the upcoming holiday.

By 'real food', Spinner means something that isn't cup ramen. He was actually making Japanese curry, which is absolutely not romantic, but was something he thought he could make without messing up. Yeah, he was trying to pair that with wine and candlelight. Yeah.

Shigaraki not liking sweets: Something I'm deciding for the purpose of this fic! No idea if it's canon or not. Most of Shigaraki's food tastes come from the Smash! comics, where he drinks barley tea and ginger ale. He liked Kurogiri's beef stew in the mobile game. In manga canon, he eats CalorieMate and maybe drinks alcohol. As a child, though, his favorite food was Ohagi - a traditional red-bean paste sweet. But I don't think Ohaji is sweet-sweet like candy? Drawing mostly from my experience as a kid, when I much preferred a chocolate bar to sweet red bean traditional fare. So I thought maybe, yeah, I can say Shigaraki has grown up and doesn't like sweets. Liking sweets is something associated with kids. That's true anywhere, but it's reoccurring in manga/anime as a shorthand for 'this guy hasn't grown up'. I thought it would be fun to have Shigaraki, a 'manchild', actually not liking sweets.

Later, even after the PLF got a new room prepared for Shigaraki, he barely sets a foot in it, preferring to continue spending his nights with Spinner instead.

[queen-of-hellfire666]

Times change {Eddie Munson X Female Reader}

Warnings: heartbreak (not from Eddie) fluff, mentions of sex, friends to lovers, FLUFFF

Billy had just broken your heart

Left you to cry alone in your room until your brother and his friend walked in. Eddie was your friend too but he was one of Dustin’s best friends. “Woah Y/n?” Dustin grabbed your arm. “Are you okay?” He asked gently. “I’m fine.” You sniffled, he noticed that lie, he knew something was wrong.

“Hey Dustin man, go get us some waters k? Make her a root beer float and bring the ice cream with you in a bowl.” Eddie ordered as he sat you down, putting a throw blanket around you. “What happened?” He brushed your hair wet from tears away from your face. “He broke up with me..” you sobbed as soon as your mouth opened.

“Shh.. Shh.” He hugged your, holding you close. The smell of cigarettes, cologne and a faint smell weed hitting your nose. “It’s alright.. Shh. Your alright now, I’m here, we are here.” He reassured you. “Here.” Dustin sat down the ice cream and the root beer before handing Eddie a water. Eddie signaled Dustin to leave the living room.

“Am I that bad?” You sobbed more. “No no. He’s a dick.. okay that’s what dicks do sugar.” He rubbed your hair while holding you. After awhile your tears eased and you peered up at Eddie through your wet hair.

“Hey.. there she is..” he rubbed your cheek. “Where’s that pretty smile? Ms. Henderson always smiles!” He teases but you didn’t smile. “Oh come on princess give me a small smile. Please? Your breaking my heart.” He slumped over the couch, holding his chest dramatically.

It gave pulled a laugh & smile from you. “There it is!” He held your face. “Now.. what happened?” He held the bowl of icecream up for you. You took it, eating small bites.

“We had car sex.. but-but he said another girls name so I freaked out.” Eddie’s eyebrows crinkled, his eyes started up to you and his mouth was parted. “Are you serious?” (like gif)

You nodded. “Tiffany.. so when I accused him of cheating he freaked out on me and called me every name before saying ‘I can’t take this’ and broke up with me..” your eyes watered again. “Hey- hey.” Eddie grabbed your face. “That’s not your fault..”

His eyes still concerned. “That had nothing to do with you! He was a total dick for doing you that way..” he looked distraught and upset. Why would someone wanna hurt someone as pretty and funny and smart as you?

“Here..” he picked you up. “Where are we going..?” You questioned softly. “Can I make you a bubble bath?” He asked, trudging upstairs with you in arms. Your small nod was enough for him. Eddie started you a warm bath with soap and a bath bomb. “You get in there okay? I’ll get your clean clothes.” He grabbed a towel for you.

Your eyes closed as you hit the warm water. “Eddie?” You called. “Please.. I don’t wanna be alone.” You practically begged. He sat down next to the tub, holding your hand.

It didn’t even register you were naked, he didn’t care. He gave you a sad smile and helped you bathe. He washed your hair and talked to you. He kept you calm and safe. After your bath Eddie wrapped you in a towel. You had never felt safer than in his arms. He brushed your hair, being gentle. “Do you use products or-“ your shake of head was enough for him.

“Thank you..” you whispered. You had been in bed with him for a little now, watching a movie now with Eddie. “Of course.. you didn’t deserve that..” your lips were so close it panicked him. He finally gave a long sigh, kissing your lips. It caught you by surprise.

“I’m sorry-“ he started but you cut him off with another kiss. “Don’t be..” your voice was barely auditable. “Eddie.. I love you.” You confessed. His breath caught in his throat.

“You do?” He asked, skeptical. “Yes.. yes Eddie I love you!” He smiled wider. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.” He teases and kissed you on the lips again, softly.

“Ass.” You mumbled before nuzzling into his side. “Night Eds.” Your voice was soft again, eyes shut. “Night Princess.” He smiled in his own thoughts. ‘Eds..’ he thought back to the nickname before turning off the lights.

He finally found someone worth living for.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #16 / #wolkrileweek Prompt #3 (Echo)

Title: Third-Rate Azem

Wordcount: 1288

Spoilers through: Shadowbringers (5.3), Eureka

Alternate Universe: WoL!Fordola

Relationships & Characters: Fordola, Krile (Azem), little bit of implied Krile/Tataru

Summary: After defeating Elidibus and returning from the First, Fordola has some pointed questions for Krile about their shared abilities.

(A follow-up to my previous entry! As with that one, this is a blend of both challenge prompts. Apologies for the sheer lack of context with this AU… I did my best to make it comprehensible, but I’m not sure how well I succeeded. Mostly, I just wanted a chance to write Krile and Fordola bantering again. They’re surprisingly fun together!)

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When Fordola dumped handfuls of multicolored, constellation-etched crystals onto a table in the Rising Stones, Krile knew her time was up. Until now, she'd managed to keep her ancient memories secret, keep up the facade that nothing about herself had changed. But no longer.

Krile looked down at the mess and took a deep breath. “Tataru, would you be so kind and put tea on for two? I suspect this may be a lengthy conversation.”

“Tea for two, coming right up!" Tataru affirmed cheerfully. "Still, if it's Scion business, I don't suppose I could listen in, could I?"

Krile paused. If she was going to tell Fordola, Tataru deserved an explanation just as much, if not more.

And yet… she’d grown so close to the faithful secretary these past few moons of caring for the Scions. The long hours spent gossiping together in the quiet of the Rising Stones, the delicious meals the other woman always brought her whenever Krile had been at her wits’ end… they had been a lifeline back to normalcy while the rest of Krile’s life had been turned back to front and upside down. 

She would tell Tataru eventually. She would tell all their friends. But she wasn’t ready yet.

“I’m sorry. I would prefer this conversation remain private. It will be somewhat… personal.”

“Oho?” Tataru hummed, clearly intrigued, but then she shrugged. The Scions did much business she could not be privy to, for all sorts of reasons. “Well, suit yourselves!”

Fordola didn’t take her eyes off Krile as the tea arrived, watching her like a hawk even as Tataru bustled between them with the cups and pot. 

The moment the door closed, she launched into her accusation. “These belonged to Elidibus. They’re memory crystals, used to raise up new Ascians. And the crystal you left for me - the one that allowed Ardbert to lend me his strength - it’s no different.” As always, Fordola was exceedingly blunt. "You're an Ascian wearing that girl's skin."

Krile’s eyes widened, but Fordola left her no opening to speak. 

"I don’t want your excuses. I just want to know: was it always you? And if so, then what am I?”

Having said her piece, Fordola sat back to judge Krile’s reaction.

The Lalafell let out a small snort. Then a giggle. Then, unable to stop herself, she devolved into full-on laughter. “By the Twelve, is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?”

Fordola sulkily looked away and crossed her arms. “It’s a reasonable conclusion given the evidence.”

“Then let me set your concerns to rest: I am no Ascian.” Krile patted her chest. “‘Tis true that my soul was once part of a whole borne by a citizen of Amaurot. But that is naught worthy of special note. Arenvald, Mikoto… Minfilia and Ryne… save the Resonant, all those who walk in memories are the same. As are many even without the Echo.”

Fordola’s expression remained skeptical. “I don't see Arenvald carrying around magicked rocks. Least none he's ever shown me.”

“I suppose that detail does merit an explanation.” Krile nodded. “Do you recall our investigation of the Isle of Val?”

“Aye. Could hardly forget all the run around just to get in the bloody Arsenal.” But Fordola tilted her head. Curious despite herself.

“I discovered the crystal amongst my grandfather’s papers. A final gambit by Emmeroloth - though how it came to be in her possession, I cannot say. In any case, the magick achieved its purpose.”

Unimaginable suffering. Unending tragedy. The Echo was but a faded remnant. The reality Krile could now remember was so much more visceral. A beloved city, in flames. Friends and family, slaughtered before her eyes or stepping forward to sacrifice their own lives. Their absence scarring wounds deep in the heart that none now had the understanding to heal.

Wounds that were hers, and yet, were not.

“So that’s how it is.” Fordola winced. Their training sessions had done much to improve her control, but the stronger the emotion, the more difficult the Echo was to deny. “You’re like that girl what used to be Loghrif.”

“Gaia?” The name sprung unbidden from the vaults of Krile’s memories, though Fordola had not spoken of her before. “Mitron’s lover?”

Fordola shrugged. “Ryne’s lover, now. Didn’t want her memories, nor Mitron neither. ”

“I see.” Krile blinked. The fragments swimming at the surface of Fordola’s thoughts painted a familiar picture indeed. One of a painful dilemma, a soul torn between its old life and its new. “Indeed, I’ll not deny it. Like her, I was of the Convocation. Mine was the seat of Azem, my duty to travel the star, to come to understand the joys and sorrows of all peoples in all places. Thus was I selected due to the nature of my gift.”

She lifted her head to meet Fordola’s eyes. “Our gift.” 

Then her gaze fell back to the gently steaming cup Tataru had so eagerly prepared for her. “But that duty belongs to an age long since ended. I can no more wield creation magicks nor galavant around the star than you can. Should I attempt to invoke the crystal’s powers myself, I would gamble all of the person I am now for a fraction of the person I had once been. And for every obstacle, every crisis we face, the temptation to use it would only grow stronger.”

“Do not ask me to make that choice,” she pleaded to her reflection in the amber liquid.

Fordola was silent for a good while. Then: “...hypocrite.” she eventually muttered. "So you’re ducking responsibility, meaning it’ll be my soul what gets buggered instead."

Krile raised an eyebrow as she sipped at her tea. "Oh, please. As if you don't enjoy running about and playing a hero in my place.”

“I’m no hero, and we both know it.” The ex-prisoner ran a finger along her collar for emphasis.

“Ah, my mistake.” Krile set her cup down and smiled, the picture of innocence. “I merely address the much-celebrated Warrior of Darkness, I presume?”

"Hmph! A third-rate hero, at best.” But Fordola was flustered at being caught out. From even the faintest brush with her mind, it was obvious how much her experience in the other world had meant to her. “The real Warrior of Light would never have been corrupted by the light. I'm just the unlucky sod the Exarch got when he tried to summon you."

She pushed the pile of crystals across the table, Azem’s included. “And these - I’ve no claim to them.” Then she frowned, her head bowed as she spoke half to herself. “Nor to Ardbert, whatever’s left of the poor bastard.”

Krile laid a gentle hand on Fordola’s arm, but not even a tingle greeted her touch. It appeared her counterpart’s soul was quite content to remain fused.  “You want the chance to make a difference. I want the chance to remain myself.” She picked up the orange crystal, and decisively placed it in front of the Highlander again. “Even should such a thing be possible, I see no reason to attempt to un-spill milk that no one’s crying to see on the floor.”

Fordola slowly closed her fingers over the stone, her mind still a storm of uncertainty.

"Besides..." Krile winked. "Finders keepers. It's well past time the Convocation ceded its seats to a new generation."

The knowledge that Hades would most certainly be furious when at last she joined him in the Aetherial Sea just made the decision all the easier. Perhaps some things about Krile had not changed after all.

And Fordola must have sympathized, because there was the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips as she put the crystal back in her pocket.