#that this is the closest I’ve gotten to making a new connection

[mando-forgive-me]

Someone on Hinge just told me they didn’t think we’d work out. It’s probably because they asked what being demisexual means and I told them, but they only bailed after I said I’ve taken and enjoyed some foraging classes lately, so I’d like to pretend they think I’m too much of a dirty hippie 😂

[bejeweledinterludes]

still got the blues.

OR on one quiet night spent in the bunker, you discover that the notorious, god-fearing, big, bad ‘n scary, six-foot badass hunter that is dean friggin’ winchester (aka one of your closest friends) isn’t as tough as he seems.

well.

in bed, at least.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : sub ! dean x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 8.8 k. (FAITH BE NORMAL OVER DEAN WINCHESTER CHALLENGE LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS 🤺🤺🤺 GET BACK! AWAY!later seasons sub dean winchester x fem reader (yes i have a problem, no i don’t care thank you!). masterbating, handjob, unprotected sex. yeah this may be the horniest thing i’ve ever written in my life.

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

HELLOOOOO THE LONG-AWAITED SUB!DEAN SMUT IS FINALLY HERE 🙂‍↕️🙏‼️ shoutout and thank you to @supernotnatural2005’s drabble / oneshot for the inspo on this one <3 because i think we all want to catch dean like this— which is why i wrote about it!

ALSO @figthoughts’ post from the other day too… yeah idk guys we’re just horny and ovulating connected or something when it comes to mr. jensen ackles and his characters. love you figgy pudding!

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being on the road with sam and dean for god knows how long now, you’d gotten used to all the sounds each idiot knucklehead brother would make in their sleeping state as you passed their rooms— so much so that it was basically white noise at this point, and you just tune it out.

yeah, tonight was different, though. sam had left much earlier— he and elieen were finally going on a real, live, actual date, much to your joy. which meant you and dean were alone in the bunker together. that doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you usually stay up watching 80s movies and arguing over niche things like whether or not they used real flames in back to the future (they didn’t).

that was yet another reason why tonight was different: you hadn’t seen dean all day, much less tonight. he’d been out doing god knows what— and you barely even heard him come back a few hours ago.

but you didn’t push. actually, you didn’t dare to set foot past dean’s door— taking the long way down the hall to get to the kitchen or the library throughout the evening, secretly hoping he wouldn’t come out of his room or even acknowledge your existence.

because… honestly?

living with two other men?

who the hell were you kidding. you could use a night to yourself.

and not to your knowledge or anything, but so could dean.

no disrespect though, because dean really was wishing you were there— or, rather, he was imagining you with him, which was the only acceptable option at the moment.

…but this was definitely a new low. even for him.

see, while you were actually attempting to be productive with your night, dean was not.

like, at all.

while you were doing your laundry, putting clothes away in your room, watching a show on your laptop with your airpods in— thank god, otherwise this whole thing would blow up in dean’s face…

…for the most part, figuratively.

because dean— and how does one say this without sounding like a complete and total creep?

well, dean was jerkin’ it in his own room.

fappin’.

beatin’ da meat.

whatever the male version was of flickin’ the bean.

oh, and the (best) grossest part?

he was thinking about you while doing it.

yeah, yeah, it’s sick, it’s definitely wrong on so many levels— and it sure as hell feels downright illegal and a sin to be doing it while you’re in the fucking bunker.

it’s the lowest of the low. weird. pathetic.

but then again, dean’s always been a little… pathetic when it comes to you.

don’t let anyone know you know that, though.

so, back to dean being pathetic and horny. he’d been at the bar in town for hours earlier tonight, trying to find someone to satisfy the strain on his pants— and that someone needed to look a whole lot like you to get the job done.

how hard could it be?

well, apparently, in lebanon, kansas, finding a look-alike clone of your best friend so you could fuck them silly?

it’s really goddamn hard.

and so was dean.

so here he was—did i say pathetic already?— jerking off in his bedroom like some horny teenager. he’s on his fourth, maybe fifth time cumming to the thought of purely just you.

that’s right, no porn, no nudie mags, not even a goddamn picture in his free hand— because dean was wound up so freakin’ tight, he didn’t need anything. just his hand and his filthy imagination.

it’s humiliating. dean’s literally bucking his hips up into his hand as of right now, imagining it’s yours and not his— all while letting out these little noises that do not sound like they’d be coming from a six-foot, tough as nails hunter. but they are.

and they’re all for you.

dean winchester does not whimper. hell, no. but the broken sound that rips from his throat, tossing his head back on his pillow after he tugs a little too hard on himself was anything but.

and maybe dean should be making less noise— but he knew you so well, too well— you’d have your airpods on noise canceling, anyway. and he can’t even think about if you didn’t. he’s too wrapped up in a haze right now. he’s so distracted. by-god intoxicated.

because dean’s imagining you after that one hunt in virginia. yeah. the moon had been out that night, and god, the way it hit you— a combination of this deep blue and silver and it just lit up your skin, illuminating you like you were one of those ancient goddesses, like the ones he’s only read about in old myths and legends when he’d been so bored he actually did research in the library.

dean’s imagining you, just you, right there with him, and it was your hand, not his. imagining you pulling those sounds from his throat while he’s breathing so heavy, his chest heaving up and down. and the sheets covering only his bottom half were shifting with him as he was moving what seemed like his entire bed along with him as of now.

dean was trying to be quiet.

but his body was not letting him.

and poor you— oh, sweet, innocent you. because as far as dean knew, you were completely oblivious to what was currently occurring in his bedroom at the moment.

but what dean didn’t know was that your airpods had died over an hour ago.

and you’d made the mistake of not taking the long way back to your room this time, thinking that dean had gone to bed due to the late hour.

you had stopped in your tracks in the hall coming back from the kitchen— because you heard dean. heard his little broken groans, damn close to whimpers.

and you genuinely believed that dean was just having a nightmare at first— because hell, with the shit you guys encountered on the daily, it wasn’t uncommon for any of y’all to make a goddamn racket in your sleep.

drawing that conclusion— because it was the only one that was realistic, you start towards your room again, already starting to tune out dean’s weird-as-hell noises.

but before you even take two more steps past dean’s room, you hear something else— a little muffled through the door, but clear as day. because it sends a jolt straight through you.

your name.

he’s having a nightmare, you remind yourself. he could be just calling out to you in that sense, because that would be logical. but then he says your name again. and again.

and it’s just your name.

not sam’s.

not cas’.

just. yours.

and dean sounds like a man possessed at this point. his eyes are squeezed shut, as if he’s trying to banish the image of you from his mind.

but he can’t. and he never would.

he just can’t do it. can’t keep himself in check anymore.

so that’s why dean groans your name at the next motion of his hand on his dick— saying it for the fourth time since you’ve been stopped outside his door.

and it wasn’t a ‘i’m-in-so-much-pain-and-scared’ groan, the kind when someone has a nightmare— no, dean’s groan sounded like a ‘oh-that-feels-so-fuckin-good’ groan, like the kind someone makes when…

oh.

oh.

and dean knows he sounds pretty close to, if not completely pathetic. not at all like the good ol’ badass hunter of lore, not that you’d believed him to be. you’d think he’d sound more in control, or at least not whimpering.

dean’s battled both heaven and hell. purgatory. angels, demons, monsters, even sometimes, just people, you name it— he’s fought it and kicked its freakin’ ass, even god himself.

and his one fault? his only weakness?

you.

it’s always been just you. your stupid pretty face. the way you laughed at his jokes, even when they weren’t that funny. the way you stood by him and his brother’s side— and in the hunting world, associating with the winchesters meant a death sentence. you didn’t care, though. you never did. it was in the way you were always there, especially when it counted.

and here he was.

jerking off and thinking about you.

this had to be rock bottom. right? if not that, purely a whole new level of scumbag. even if you couldn’t hear him.

oh, but you could. and you’re lingering outside dean’s door— because you didn’t even have to put your ear on it to hear the noises he was making, clear as day.

dean feels like he’s drunk, delirious. this always happened whenever he fantasized about you. a pathetic, groaning and whimpering mess. hell, in this state, he’d damn well beg.

and oh, he was.

“fuckin’— please— god, i need you, please—”

damn, you could almost see it— dean’s hand, hidden by the dark of his room, but the way the sheets move makes it obvious just where his hand is. and it’s a blur.

yeah. there was no more holding out, no more being strong. not now.

because dean feels like he’s on the edge of his own personal hell.

and you? you’re stuck.

dean was… well, fucking doing that. and you’re just… stuck. you would have just kept walking past his door, putting your pillow between your ears and teasing him about it tomorrow morning.

because instead crying or groaning out the name of some random girl or even farah fawcett— dean was currently begging.

for you.

and you’re still stuck. dean feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. he’s gonna cum again, he knows it. he also knows he should be quiet, but the words and your name just keep spilling out of his mouth, and he’s too far gone to stop them.

“ah— fuck. please. please, please, goddamn it, i need you, i need you, i need you…”

yeah, dean’s brain’s not in charge anymore. honestly? it hasn’t been since he met you all those years ago— with your stupid pretty hair, and your stupid pretty mouth, and the stupid soft sounds you make in your sleep that drove him insane whenever you used to share a motel room.

dean needs you.

and you needed a fucking cold-ass shower.

because the way dean was sounding right now? he only sounded like that in your dreams. your deepest, darkest fantasies. it was making your knees buckle.

yeah. there’s absolutely no way any of this was real. this was straight out of a porno. this had to be the trickster’s doing, or something.

because the real dean didn’t act like this. and yet, here he was. and here you were, your stomach flipping each time a sound leaves dean’s mouth and bounces off the wooden door that was still splitting you two apart.

and right then and there, you wished you had the balls to just open it.

because you wanted to be right there next to dean, pulling those noises out of him yourself.

“need you—need you right there, need you, right, right, oh, god, there—”

even in dean’s own fantasies, the ones that drove him to insanity like right now, he’d always thought about this. you actually being there, him actually saying all this to you.

dean would’ve given anything, then. anything. just to have you right next to him in his bed.

yeah, well, you’re still just stuck.

because what the fuck do you do.

do you walk back to your room? pretend you didn’t notice? pretend it never happened? not listen to the sounds dean was making?

or, do you open the door? go in his room and just show dean how you’d really felt about him— for years now?

and lately, it seemed like you all you could think and dream about was being in the same bed with dean, touching every part of him.

because if you were in there right now, you’d touch dean’s skin that you yourself had deemed forbidden, because it’d be seen as crossing a line, breaking a boundary.

hello? reality check, anyone?

come on. dean was your friend.

but the noises he was making in your name— because of you? that was anything but.

yeah. if you were in there, you’d start with your hands on dean’s chest, going lower, and lower, until he started making the sounds he was making now, gasping and begging right in your ear for you, not stopping until he completely just—

yeah, that was it.

you knew your answer.

and dean needs exactly what you’re about to do. because god, he’s thought about it. in the dead of night, when he was alone, or when you’d been just out of reach sitting next to him in a dive bar, he’s wanted this. wanted you.

dean wanted to know the way your hands would feel against his skin, how your body would feel against his own. he’s thought about it. hell, he’d dreamed about it. fantasized— just like he was doing now.

and dean was still fantasizing when you throw away every single rational thought you had at the moment and manage to open his door without making a noise— thank you, hunter skills.

this was crazy. right?

eh. you’ve done crazier.

no. not like this.

and not with dean.

but still, you managed to cross the threshold of dean’s room— and you even sit down on the edge of his bed.

okay, the more you thought about it…was this awkward?

maybe.

oh, but dean doesn’t even notice you— his eyes were screwed tightly shut, mouth parted and huffing out pants and broken noises as one of his hands continues to move fervently. his hips are wild, bucking into his hand— and his body is shaking his entire bed frame.

dean’s too far gone to notice anything, lost in a fantasy that’s been haunting him for longer than he’s willing to admit out loud. the only thing that could even remotely stop him would be—

hold on.

dean’s hit by a familiar scent— the one he’d been imagining this whole time. but that really does smell like— and its now so close, so real, it practically envelopes him. and his eyes open to—

you.

right there. in his bed. within reach. looking at him like he’s always wanted you to look at him.

and there’s no disgust or anger on your face as you look down at dean, still frozen in place. no, just a hint of amusement, mixed with something else—

something dangerously close to pure want.

you don’t say anything, even though you know you should by now. because now dean knew that you knew exactly what he’d just been doing— more importantly, you were now aware of who the focus of it all was.

and goddamn if the look on your face doesn’t have dean pausing, too. he’s never seen it on your face before. and it’s too dark in his room for him to really make it out, but he thinks he sees—

you weren’t disgusted. you weren’t grossed out, or even angry.

you’re just… looking at him like the fantasy he’s been chasing isn’t a goddamn fantasy anymore— but instead something he could reach out and touch. feel.

dean has to swallow whatever excuse he could come up with to talk himself out of what you’d just walked in on. what you’d just heard. and his mouth is dry.

a part of you wants to pounce onto dean right now. to kiss him silly, touch him everywhere and make him gasp your name again— only with you being the sole instigator this time.

but the annoying other part of you halted that urge.

and why?

because of your stupid morals.

your goddamned feelings.

and you had to ask dean, had to know— even if the answer hurt you.

“how long?”

dean’s brain almost completely flatlines for a long moment. though, he knows what you’re insinuating, of course.

how long dean has been thinking about you in that way? how long and hard had he fantasized about his hands on your body, his mouth on your skin, and his dick buried so deep inside you, he gets hand cramps almost every night he’s alone?

yeah. it scares him, just how goddamn long it’s been.

“…years.”

that was all you needed. in reality, you don’t actually pounce or anything, but you do move closer to dean on his bed, tossing one leg over both of his to straddle his lap before meeting his gaze again.

“you have no idea,” your voice is barely above a whisper to dean as you keep his gaze, making yourself comfortable in his lap. “how much i wanted to hear that.”

and dean can’t help the groan he lets out, at feeling your weight, your body, straddling his lap. he’s spent too many nights dreaming of exactly this. his hands automatically go to your hips, as if they’re on autopilot.

because he’s not in charge anymore.

and honestly?

he doesn’t think he ever was when it came to you.

and a small smile tugs on your lips when you feel dean’s hands on your hips— your own fingers start to trail from his wrists and up his arms, your pace slow, but deliberate.

because you were going to memorize every inch of dean that you could.

oh, dean’s just barely managing to keep his hips still, to not buck up underneath you. he can feel you, now that you’re straddling him, the heat there, where he’d wanted to feel you for so, so long.

and when your fingers trail up his arms, dean shudders. because it’s so gentle, tender. he can’t remember the last time anyone touched him this way, if at all.

your hands eventually reach dean’s face. oh, his gorgeous face. you cup both sides, taking in everything: those green eyes of his, the freckles you could see only if you were up close dusting on his nose and cheeks—his features were illuminated only by the dim light of his desk lamp, but you could see so much because of how close you both were now.

the slight smile is still on your lips as you look at dean— because you were still a little sure you were going to wake up at some point.

but this wasn’t a dream, you had to remind myself. dean was under you. he wanted you, in the same way you’d wanted him for as long as you can remember.

and dean feels like he can’t breathe properly. he’s been slapped, punched, cut, beaten, tortured, everything violent under the sun done to his face— but no one’s had their hands on it like this.

he feels too exposed, too vulnerable, but he doesn’t move.

because it’s you. it could only ever be you.

dean keeps his gaze locked to yours, even as he has to stop himself from just completely melting into the palms of your hands on his face. he wants to look at you for forever, keep you just like this— and his expression is so open, so bare.

your thumbs gently graze across both of dean’s cheeks as you hold his face in your hands.

and you can’t look away.

so you don’t.

but you do lean a fraction closer to dean in his lap, breaking the silence in a hushed whisper— because there goes your stupid doubts and feelings, again.

“you want this?”

even though he almost wants to, dean can’t laugh. not when he knows you’re being serious. it kills him, a little— that you’re still doubting it.

because how could he not want this? you?

“god, yes.” dean’s not even sure if he says that out loud, or just thinks it— but he’s nodding regardless, and with the movement bringing his face even closer to yours.

and your gaze softens almost completely when dean says that— but there’s one doubt that sticks, even when his words wash all the others away from your mind. the one that’s been there almost the entire time you’ve known him.

“de, i…” you don’t take your hands off of dean’s face when you try to speak again— but the words die in your throat. you swallow a little, averting your gaze.

and god, when dean hears you hesitate, he’s already on edge.

dean doesn’t know what you’re about to say,— all he’s aware of is that you’re now looking away from him. and he can’t have that, so he brings his hand (non-jerking, of course) to your chin, gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him again.

he tries to keep his voice even, but he can’t.

“tell me.”

you’re forced to keep dean’s gaze when his hand touches your face— and his fingers are so warm, you almost lose your train of thought completely.

you’ve wanted dean for so long— but you had to make sure he fully felt the same way you did.

not just lust. not something to walk past awkwardly the next day.

“i— i can’t do this… just for tonight,” you swallow hard again, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flick between dean’s. “but i… i think you know that.”

even with the worry that had been coursing through his veins, dean couldn’t help but be impressed at the fact you think there’s a chance in hell he’d be able to have you once and just… let you go afterwards. his hand on your chin drops a fraction, resting on the side of your throat instead. he swallows, then finds his voice.

“i know.”

your gaze softens a little— and it’s a little embarrassing how much weight felt completely lifted off your chest when dean says that.

you had denied your feelings for dean for years now. and now knowing that he felt the same way, it was getting harder and harder to control the urge to just do what you wanted.

“well, good,” you bring your hands to tilt dean’s head up more to you as you’re in his lap, eyes flicking down to his lips— because you so needed to know what they felt like. “that’s— that’s good.”

and damn, if dean isn’t already struggling. nothing’s even happened yet, and he’s trying his best just to keep still, to resist all his natural impulses and desires to just grab you and never, ever let you go. when your eyes flick down to his lips, his follow suit almost instantly. his voice is almost a damn croak when he responds.

“yeah?”

all your senses were filled with just dean. and you needed more. you’d denied your feelings for far too long— years now, in fear of him not reciprocating. but you couldn’t deny your feelings or your urges anymore.

“yeah,” you echo back in an exhale, your thumbs grazing on dean’s cheeks. your gaze is still on his lips, but you look back up at him. “you— you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

hot damn.

dean feels like he’s going to wake up at any second at those words that just came out of your mouth. because he never dared to let himself hope that you could feel the same way he did. and it’s been so, so goddamn long of wanting you with every fiber of his being, wanting to touch you and hold you and never, ever let you go.

oh, he’s too far gone to even feel sheepish about how he’s almost shaking now, hands trembling and breath coming fast as he’s barely keeping the reins on his self-control.

dean’s trembling sends a shiver down your spine. even after you just said all that, he still wanted this.

you might die.

or you were already in some version of heaven that jack made up.

because dean wanted you.

“just lemme kiss you,” dean would be embarrassed of how desperate and out of breath he sounded if he could give two damns. he says your name again: “please—”

dean can’t even think straight anymore. yet, never could when it came to you. his hands go to your thighs, gripping tight like it’s all he can do to resist the urge to just flip you over right that moment.

you can’t hold back anymore.

neither can he.

so you don’t.

you close the final distance between you both, taking his mouth in a kiss that’s hard, desperate and full of years’ worth of emotion.

and dean’s lips felt like home. and that’s a weird thing to say, but it was true. you’d never kissed him before this, but it really was him that you’d been missing all this time.

your hands on dean’s face trail into his hair, and you could feel yourself completely melting into him when you pull myself closer to him in his lap, hips fully slotting with his own— and you both groan a little at the feeling.

dean kisses you like a goddamn starving man, his hands gripping at your thighs so hard he’s afraid he’s leaving marks. but he can’t bring himself to care, because he’s finally kissing you. finally having you in the way he’s only dreamt of.

dean hasn’t been touched— kissed like this, ever.

like he’s something precious. to be loved. it makes him feel weak. but he can’t really bring himself to care about that, either.

all you could think about was how good dean smelled. and as his lips danced with yours, he even tasted good. like whiskey and something you couldn’t place— but it sure as hell was definitely dean.

and god, it’s perfect. dean’s trying to swallow the little noises his mouth is threatening to make again as you kiss him back, kissing him like you feel the same— he thinks he’s losing his mind for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

dean’s grip on your thighs tightens even more. he couldn’t help it anymore— he rocks you against his lap, his hips bucking up against yours in an involuntary but much needed movement. and a little sound pretty close to a whimper does escape him this time, hitting your lips as you grind your own hips down onto him.

you had to break your lips from dean’s to get stupid air, but your forehead rests against his as one of your hands unlatches itself from his hair, trailing downward on the fabric of his henley as you’re in his lap.

and you’d tease him about the noises he’s making— if it wasn’t leaving your underwear a complete and sopping mess because of it.

dean’s mind is hazy, lost in the feel of you against him and in his lap, his mind trying to keep up with all the things happening.

he’s a hunter, goddamn it.

he needs to get a freakin’ grip.

but he can’t.

because of the way your kiss felt like a drug. the way you’re so close he can feel your breathing, and the way you’re grinding up against him like you mean it—

and then dean feels your hand on his shirt, sliding further down past his stomach, and he feels like he’s about to go insane. he’s hallucinating, under some sort of spell that shows you what you’ve always desired. that’s the only plausible explanation.

but this was real. oh, so real.

dean’s hands were still holding on for dear life on your thighs, but your own was still going farther and farther down the fabric of the henley he was wearing, stopping at the hem and tugging on it, talking against his lips—

“put your arms up f’me, dean.”

goddamn, if that doesn’t make him literally shiver when you say his name like that, all breathless and pretty.

and dean follows the instruction, raising his arms and letting you pull the shirt over his head, revealing his the skin underneath.

he’s not even embarrassed of his scars, the marks on his body from over the years. not with you. the uneven skin told their own tales he wouldn’t dare open his mouth about, even after three whiskeys deep.

you discard dean’s shirt somewhere in his room without another thought when he lifts his arms up.

you’ve actually only seen dean shirtless twice— once after a hunt, and if you count that one time when that motel room with shitty air conditioning that got too hot last summer. you kept your eyes glued to the lore in front of you then, not daring to look.

this time, however, you couldn’t look away.

not even if you tried.

your lips are parted in what could only be described as pure awe while your eyes and fingers rake over every inch of new skin revealed while still in dean’s lap. first trailing a path up his exposed arms as your eyes continue to drink in all the details of him you’d never thought you’d see.

dean has never, ever been looked at the way you’re looking at him right now.

your fingers continue to trail up dean’s arms, fingertips grazing on the scars you could see in the dim light of his room. you actually knew some of them— having been there when he sustained the wound that made the scar, but a lot were new to you.

and you wanted to memorize it all.

it’s almost embarrassing how he feels like something to be worshipped under your touch. like someone to be taken care of. to be cherished.

as your fingers trail up his arms, he has to bite down on a whine in the back of his throat— forcing himself to keep still under your gaze as you rake your gaze over him. his voice is rough and hoarse when he manages to speak, but all he could get out was your name.

your hands found themselves resting dean’s shoulders while you take in the breathtaking view that is him under you, meeting his gaze when he says your name, voice just as quiet as his.

“yeah, de?”

your touch feels like dean took the jumper cables he had in the back of baby and put it against his skin. but it’s so soft, so gentle. it’s also making his whole body ache, yet he just wants more. and he can’t keep his eyes off you, either. the way you’re looking at him, at his scars like they’re nothing to be ashamed about… it’s almost safe.

dean swallows, hands coming to rest on your waist now that he’s topless. his voice sounds wrecked, broken.

because he’s begging.

“touch me.”

dean’s hands on your waist were making your heart beat all out of rhythm— and you almost completely lose your train of thought looking into his green eyes, wide and blown out.

for you.

you just nod at dean’s words— and your fingers continue their journey downward from dean’s shoulders, trailing over his skin until you eventually reach the waistband of his boxers, and you keep your hands there on the fabric when you look back up at him.

because you still needed to know:

“can i take these off?”

oh, for the love of—

dean nods rapidly before you’re even done asking, because he’d do anything, anything, to have you touch him like he had been not just a few minutes earlier— in fact, he’s already lifting his hips off the bed to make it easier for you, because he’s not about to hesitate. he needs you. he’s needed you for too goddamn long.

and when you manage to pull off dean’s boxers, discarding them in one fell swoop after he confirms and lifts his hips for you, your eyes widen at the sight of him completely exposed beneath you on his bed— and a quiet ‘jesus christ’ escapes from your lips before you can stop it.

and your reaction makes dean’s breath hitch. because it’s not a disgusted one— it’s the exact opposite. he feels vulnerable like this, exposed to you in a way he’s never been to anyone else. he should feel embarrassed. but he doesn’t, oddly enough.

his voice is so goddamn quiet when he bites down on another whine.

“please.”

and you just nod again. then both your hands find dean’s chest once more— and you start trailing a path down his lower torso with your fingers.

dean can’t help the way he lets out a strangled moan at your touch against his bare skin. with no clothing in the way to block it, he’s so much more sensitive. every single touch makes his breath hitch, his head spinning with how perfect it feels.

it’s too much.

and yet, he needs more.

dean’s hands find your hips again, gripping, trying to get you even an inch closer to him.

and as your fingers get lower and lower on dean’s stomach, you hesitate your hands. not because you weren’t sure— but it felt… well, wrong not to at least ask him for permission first.

so you look back up and meet dean’s gaze, eyes searching his again as you whisper, shifting closer to him in his lap.

“can i go lower?”

and at your question, a sharp shiver wracks through dean’s whole body— he’s half convinced he’s going to to just cum right there, even if you don’t end up touching him.

dean’s practically trembling under you now, hands gripping tighter on your hips. he tries to speak again, to say something— but his voice comes out in a strangled moan.

all he can do is nod against his headboard.

a soft exhale escapes you when dean confirms. you nod— and don’t hesitate again.

not when he was like this.

you take all of him in one of your hands— but you don’t even try to look away from his face while you do so. because you had to see his face for this.

and dean feels like the air’s getting ripped from his lungs at how good your touch feels. he’s never felt anything like this before. it could be the fact that he hasn’t had actual sex in a while (apparently, he’s considered old now), or purely just because of you.

yeah, but dean’s never been touched like this before. so goddamn gentle. but it’s still perfect. his eyes are still locked to yours, and his expression looks pained. it’s all too much, after wanting this for so long.

and all he can do is whisper your name before your hand starts to move.

you start starts slow— not too slow, though, because dean had already fucked his palm tonight more times tonight than he’d like to admit.

dean’s eyes actually flutter shut for a moment when your hand starts to move, a moan catching in the back of his throat. because it’s barely even started, and it’s so good. too good.

dean’s hands on your waist are close to shaking now, but he has to speak— even as it comes out in a hoarse croak.

because he needs—

“more. jesus, i need—”

you don’t even entertain the thought to tease dean or not do as he asked— because the sounds he was desperately trying to keep in were making you want to keep going, to not stop.

so you don’t stop. your hand speeds up, going back and forth on dean’s dick— and your gaze still doesn’t leave his while in his lap, touching him in the way you’ve always wanted to for so long.

and when you pick up the pace, dean’s breath hitches even more— god, it’s so good, but he still needs more. his hands are shaking as they grip tight on your waist, and his eyes somehow keep your gaze, even as his head feels like it’s spinning right into his headboard.

dean manages to get out his next request, in a begging whisper of a breath. he’d be ashamed if he wasn’t so desperate.

“please— please, i need—”

“its alright,” you nod before he can finish this time, leaning your head and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “i gotcha, de.”

and that’s it. you say those words and dean feels like he could cum right there. he’s already so close, just from your touch, the way your hand’s moving so beautifully up and down on his dick. the way you’re looking at him. he tries to keep his eyes open, too— to keep looking at you, but everything you’re giving him is starting to overwhelm him, he can hardly even breathe anymore.

dean glances down at your hand between both of you— big mistake, because the sight of your fingers around his dick and covered in him makes him let out strangled whimper. he bites down on his lip hard, his head falling back against the headboard and his eyes screwing shut. because it’s embarrassing how close he is to cumming in your hand.

you notice, of course— your hand doesn’t let up, but your other hand on dean’s shoulder goes to the side of his face, thumb grazing on his cheek. it’s a stark contrast to what you’re doing to his dick.

“de, its okay,” you reassure dean as his breaths become more and more unsteady, eyes flicking over his face. “you can let go if you wanna.”

and that’s it. that’s all it takes.

as soon you give him permission, dean’s gone.

his body suddenly goes rigid, then he’s bucking his hips into your hand so erratically and sloppily you would’ve been knocked from your position on dean’s lap if he hadn’t buried his face in your still clothed chest, tightened his arms fully around you and pulled you closer to him. he cums loud and hard, a mixture of soft groans, whimpers, swears and pants of your name spilling into the fabric of your shirt.

you’d never heard him like this before, ever.

but dean winchester— the man, the myth, the hunter god, was whimpering as you’re in his lap.

for you.

because of you.

and because it’s all too damn much— the way your hand feels, the touch of your thumb against his face, the look in your eyes when you said that it’s okay for him to let go of the tight rein he’s been holding onto for so long.

dean can feel himself shaking and still coming apart under you as you guide him through it, his face buried in your shoulder as you pull every last bit of pleasure out of him that he has with your fingers. he’s never felt so goddamn free before. he’s never come apart, not like this— not completely exposed like this.

dean’s hands are still shaking as they rest your waist, his entire body almost trembling with it being still so overwhelming. but it was perfect. and he needs to say that, to tell you that it was everything he’d ever wanted—

“please— please, just kiss me.”

and that comes out of dean’s mouth instead. you’d barely started to wipe your hand when the words spill out in a plea— a beg into your shirt. you’re a little surprised that was the first thing he said post-orgasm.

but still, you lean back just enough after dean says that, bringing your free hand to the side of his face while still in his lap, your gaze flicking between his in the dark of his room for just a moment before you lean back in, pressing your lips onto his again.

dean doesn’t hold back now. he doesn’t care about the mess he just made, the way he sounded, or the fact that he begged you to kiss him after you just made him cum.

he kisses you like a starved man, like the air he was breathing needed to come from your mouth and not any other source. his hands move to the back of your hips, gripping your shirt tight and pulling you even closer to him on his lap, now that your hand wasn’t between you both anymore.

dean tears his lips off of yours— and he is still just barely coming back to himself. his brain still hazy from pleasure, from you, but he tries to get out words because he needs to tell you how much he still wants, needs you. his hands grip tight on your hips, like he’s afraid you’ll just get up and leave if he lets go. his voice is still wrecked when he only manages to whisper your name again.

you don’t move out from dean’s lap, though. you stay pressed against him, his skin so warm and flushed against your own. neither of you had to say anything to know how intimate this all was. dean should be attempting to at least do something besides burying his face back in your shirt.

but you don’t let dean stay like that for too long. your hands go to the sides of his face, holding his head as you tilt it back to look up at you, searching his gaze as you continue to straddle him. and your own voice is a whisper, too.

“y’okay?”

and god, dean feels like his entire body’s just come apart again at that single word, because how do you answer a question like that.

dean has to take a breath, because he still feels the aftermath of it. everywhere. he nods, once— because he’s better than even alright. then again, because he has to tell you that, too.

“yeah,” he manages to get that out, and it’s still so damn wrecked, so out of breath. “more than okay.”

“okay, good,” your gaze softens and you nod when dean confirms that he was okay— and your other now-clean hand finds the side of his face when he looks up at you. a small smile tugs on your lips as your thumbs graze on his cheek. “just checkin’.”

dean’s blown-out eyes are still locked to yours as you brush your thumb against his skin, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of feeling you touch him like this.

it’s so tender. so soft.

and dean’s just… lost. in you.

but dean does finally manage to speak again, his voice still hoarse as his hands release from your hips start to trail down, calloused fingers rubbing gently on your exposed thighs and saying your name like a prayer. “god, i need—”

you keep dean’s gaze still— but not before glancing down to see his hands on your bare thighs in his dimly-lit bedroom as you straddle him.

dean’s hands looked like they belonged on you.

felt like it, too.

one of your own hands reaches down from dean’s face to his on your thigh, grasping on his fingers with yours.

“tell me what you need,” your voice is still a hush of a whisper, but remains completely and utterly genuine as you search dean’s gaze. “de, tell me what you need me to do, and i’ll do it.”

holy goddamn.

dean’s breath actually stutters a little at that, because you sound so ready, so willing— he can’t help but let those last three years of pining, of wanting you, of hoping show as he looks up at you.

“ride me. please.”

the words come out in a half-choked plea. dean’s so damn desperate for you, he’d beg. hell, he was begging in the darkness.

and you weren’t about to say no.

your hands take themselves off of dean’s face and hand, lifting your leg to discard your sleep shorts, then your (soaked) undies— then going to the shirt that you’d still been wearing, grabbing the hem of it and tearing it off, discarding it somewhere in his room before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

and when that finally comes off, too, dean’s entire damn body tenses. because he felt like the air had just been ripped from his lungs.

again.

he’s seeing you more exposed to him, for him than he’s ever seen you before— and the sight of you like this is goddamn perfect. you’re so perfect.

dean’s hands tighten on your thighs, his eyes taking in the view of you like a man starved.

“holy—”

there’s a thousand words he has for you right now. things like beautiful, perfect, mine. but he can’t get them out yet. because his brain is still trying to catch up from the fact that you’re actually here and naked in his lap.

both of dean’s hands reach for your hips as he’s still staring up at you in awe, his fingers gently but almost greedily gripping on you— because he wants to touch you so bad that he wants to let out a goddamn sob. because no one has ever felt like this for him.

because no one has ever come close to the way he craved you.

your eyes meet back up to dean’s green ones once again. you didn’t have to tell him anything or even say something else.

so that’s why you just nod, then reach down between you both once more, starting to fully sink yourself on dean’s dick— all while still keeping his gaze while you let your hands rest on his shoulders, a exhale escaping you both.

you not even halfway on his dick, and dean thinks he might bust again right then and there. his fingers dig into your hip, all while a groan escapes his parted lips: “ah, shit—”

and oh, he’s big. it takes you a second, but you sink down completely on top of him, your pussy sucking him all up— dean feels like he can’t breathe. again. the sight of you like this is gonna fuel his jerk off sessions for the rest of his goddamn life.

dean’s not sure if it’s possible, but he uses his hands on your hips to gently just pull you even closer against him— which ended up being a mistake, because you involuntarily clench around him. his head drops in between your tits at the action.

and.

he.

whines.

“f— fuck—”

yeah. dean just whined at the feeling of being inside of you, eyes screwed shut and everything as he buries his face deeper between your breasts— you can feel the pant of air and his lips on your skin.

dean’s fingers lace together with yours fully, holding your hand tightly while his other is still gripping tight on the meat of your hip, finally taking his face off of you to look up at you above him.

and oh. you’re a goddess, at least. not something heavenly though, because angels are dicks— but you look unreal as you look back down at dean, your mouth just a little parted from feeling him.

dean twitches a little inside you as he tries to find words, just a few, to tell you how much he wants this— or at least to tell you to move.

all he can get out, though?

“p— please.”

you don’t have to ask for clarification.

you know what dean’s asking for.

so you give it to him.

you grind your hips—and dean whines a little again at that— down onto his just once, testing the waters before you find a rhythm.

and dean feels his entire brain just go on complete and total motherfucking overdrive. because this is it. he’s finally getting the most intimate part of you, the part he’s been wanting for so damn long— he literally can’t see straight anymore. that’s how good it feels. how good you feel.

dean’s head goes in between your tits again, still holding your hand as you move your hips on top on him, grinding down on his dick. his other arm goes around your waist, pressing himself against you and gripping you tight in an attempt to steady himself— but it barely helps. his eyes screw shut again, and he’s letting out another whimper before he can stop it.

“fff— oh, fuck—”

a moan drops from your mouth, too, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds dean’s making, gasping and groaning into your skin as he fucks up into you, meeting your movements. his dick is brushing on that spot that makes you groan— and kickstarts your urge to go faster.

so you do.

dean can’t control anything right now. his hips are bucking up into you erratically, the movements only being stunted a little due to how strong your thighs were around him as you straddle him.

your hand not holding dean’s goes into his hair as you’re both pressed together for a better grip— and dean almost sees stars. he groans a little again, his breaths coming in hard pants on the skin between your breasts.

and the praise falls from your lips onto dean’s ear before you can stop it—

“you’re doin’ so good, de.”

dean feels like he’s gonna cry. just from how perfectly good you feel on top of him— and he’s making the most delicious noises that sound like words but it’s just broken moans mixed with whimpers. his hand on your hip tightens to the point it’s almost painful, but you don’t mind all that much.

“ah, don’ worry, i gotcha,” you whisper against dean’s ear again, your hand tightening on his as you let out a rough exhale, chest heaving rapidly against his as your movements don’t falter once. “you’re doing so good f’me, dean.”

dean’s not in control of the sounds that come out his damn mouth anymore— the praise goes straight to his dick, straight to the familiar burning building low in his tummy. it’s just all swearing, sounds of your name and incoherent begging being said into your skin.

“ah— shit, fuckin’— please—”

dean’s not even trying to stop the words from rushing out of his mouth right now, even if he sounds pathetic. because it all feels so goddamn good, and he’s being so good— for you.

and dean can feel nothing but you right now, in every sense possible. everything else has been long gone, and he’s been so goddamn wrapped up in how good your pussy feels around his dick.

dean gasps for air, because wants to tell you that you’ve ruined every living thing for him in the entire goddamn universe forever.

he wants to tell you that he’s about to cum— again.

“jesusfuckin’christ— oh, please—” is what comes out of him instead.

the words are barely intelligible, and dean’s whole body is starting to tense underneath you as he manages to choke out a ragged cry of your name. your hand is still gripping hard onto his own, the other burying itself deeper his hair. you needed to hold onto him right now. shit, you needed a sec.

because dean winchester was begging to cum inside of you.

you almost stop grinding down on him for a second— the keyword being almost.

you just nod against dean’s head still buried in your tits, holding him against you as you talk into his ear again.

“go ahead, baby.”

dean almost sobs again when you say that. he lets go completely just as before, his hands’ grips becoming painful on you as his whole body shakes and convulses against yours, the movements of his hips becoming so erratic once more as he’s painting your walls with his… sixth? seventh? load of the night— only this time, it’s inside of you. and he’s making every sound in the book: whimpers, groans, a whine here and there, too.

you came, too— but honestly, if you didn’t, you would’ve been fine either way. seeing and hearing dean come apart like this was enough to last you a lifetime.

you don’t know how long dean and you stay like that, pressed into each other and panting, fluids mixed together, spilling out and sticking all over your thighs— but even as you pull back just enough to look down at him, dean’s still trembling under you, long after both your orgasms had surpassed their high, melting into a thick haze between you two.

dean can’t look at you— or won’t, but either way, your hand in his hair trails to the side of his face, and you gently force him to look up at you.

dean swallows hard, and his face flushes. the embarrassment was finally, finally starting to set in now that he’d fucked you and himself out. he braces himself for the teasing, the jokes— and the look on your face.

but you weren’t looking down at dean like he was pathetic, or weak. you never did— and you sure as hell weren’t about to start now, after he’d just shown you every side you’d wanted to see of him.

no, you just smile a little, eyes flicking between dean’s as your thumb grazes on his cheek. he can’t help but lean his head into your palm as you exhale your next words out in a breath—

“that was really fuckin’ hot.”

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you now have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

heyyyyyyy guys… soooo how we doin’? LMFAOOOOOOOO this has got to be the longest i’ve ever spent on a fic (only for dean wbk!)

and i know i said this last time, but on a real note: if you have stayed to the very end— first, THANK YOU FOR READING! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write (again). i would love to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina + i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[boybandbaby]

Out of My Mind (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

note: connected to this fic but you don’t need to read it to understand

word count: 1719

warnings: mentions of killers and abductions, protective!hotch, mean!hotch (not even really but it happens for like a fraction of a second), mini argument, mini angst and fluff, established relationship, age gap (not mentioned or specified in this fic)

Aaron was working on a local case. While he was technically less than an hour away from you, he felt so far away.

To your surprise, he had called before your schedule lunch time phone call.

He omits a greeting, “Are you going grocery shopping today?”

“Well, hello to you Agent. Wasn’t planning to. You need me to grab those yogurts for Jack again? He runs through them far too quickly.”

“No, no nothing like that. Just try to avoid going there today. Or anywhere if you can help it.” His voice is in unit chief mode.

“Care to tell me why?”

“It’s confidential but it would make me feel better since I can’t be with you right now.”

“Whatever you say boss.” You smile.

“Good. Thank you. Also, you’ve gotten Jack addicted to those yogurts. He’s burning a hole in my wallet buying those things. Let’s not even talk about the sugar rush he gets.”

“He already has so much energy. It’s like having two of him.” You laugh.

“Wouldn’t that be something. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later, honey. I love you, stay safe for me.”

Hotch is always worried about you but knowing there’s a killer running loose near by and the only connection is that all the victims frequent the shopping plaza. It’s the one closest to your apartment, the grocery store you shop at, that’s the reason he worries. The victims all vary in age and looks, so it’s not impossible that you could be hurt or killed by this maniac.

Hotch and the team work hard to find any leads by interviewing employees and customers, checking surveillance cameras and scoping out the area.

The team are back at the office hours later, tossing ideas and theories around when Hotch gets a call that there’s been another abduction. He knows, based on the previous victims that they don’t have much time before her body shows up.

His heart quickens as he’s told that the woman hasn’t been identified yet. That’ll only make their job harder. It’s when he hears that the woman has the same hair color and skin color as you, does he feel a dull ache is his chest and a ringing in his ears.

He hangs up the phone and places a hand on his stomach. He feels sick, almost on the verge of passing out. Rossi is the first and only one to notice his distress, the others having taking a short meal break to sharpen their minds.

Rossi pulls a chair out for Hotch and guides him to sit. “What happened?”

“Dave, there’s been another abduction.” Hotch sighs.

Rossi waits for more because he knows this reaction means there’s a personal aspect to it. Hotch relays the known information and asks Dave to break the news to the team.

Hotch takes a deep breath and quickly calls you. It rings and rings until your voice says, “Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!”

“Y/n, it’s Aaron. Please give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

He hangs up, dialing again. Ring ring. Ring ring. “Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a name and number-“

He groans and squeezes the phone in his right hand. He gets the same ring ring and “Sorry I can’t get to the phone right no-“

“Y/n, please pick up. I need you to call me right away.” He calls 4 more times, not only his frustration but his fear kicking in.

He hardly ever texts. Most of your message chain is pictures or little messages from you when he’s away. He rarely responds save for an occasional I love you or I’ll be home soon but you’re both aware of how much your texts mean to him while he’s away.

He sends a multitude of messages in the span of a minute.

Where are you?

Y/n, I’m worried.

Please call me.

Answer your phone, sweetheart.

I’m coming over.

He tells Dave he has a quick emergency and he’ll be back as soon as he can. Dave doesn’t question it, he’s the only one who knows about you at the moment so he figures it’s got something to do with you.

Hotch doesn’t bother with his jacket or briefcase. He grabs his keys and sets out to your apartment. He’s only been there twice, once to pick you up for a date and second, to watch a movie together.

He speeds like a mad man, not slowing for yellow lights or using his blinker as he weaves through cars.

It’s not much of a struggle getting into your building. He’s quick on his feet as he moves to the elevator. It’s unlike him but he pushes the elevator call button more than once. He knows however many times he presses it, it’s still going to come at the same speed.

The elevator dings and he rushes into the small box. That’s what it feels like as he loosens his tie. He’s suffocating, on the verge of a panic attack.

The doors open and he rushes out, an old woman scoffing at his lack of manners. He can’t seem to care or apologize as he knocks rapidly on your door.

The pounding is loud, loud enough to wake up in the other room. You hear your name being called out as you check your phone for the time. You see the various notifications and scramble to throw on something decent.

When you finally answer the door, groggy and ridden with sleep, he starts off with, “Where the hell have you been?” His voice is loud and you can see how mad he is with the way his brows furrow and his body is stiff.

“Excuse me?” Aaron has never been rude with you like this. It’s brought you out of your sleepy stupor.

“You don’t know how to answer your phone? I’ve been calling you and texting you.” He shakes the phone in his hand to emphasize his point.

“And I’ve been sleeping.” You cross your arms and shift to one hip. “Why are you being mean to me?” It’s meant to come out with some spunk and attitude but your voice wobbles.

Aaron’s struck with the realization that he’s hurt you. Aaron is not a mean man, stern and serious but never mean. At least never to you. He’s speechless for a moment, only a small moment as he tries to recollect his thoughts.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighs, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I’m being unjust.”

You’re taken aback by his quick apology and give a short nod. You open the door wider and allow him to step inside.

“What’s going on, Aaron?” You close the door behind him and turn to see him pacing. His hands are on his hips and he’s staring down at the floor.

“I-“ He stutters, looks up at you and opens his arms. “I’m sorry. I projected onto you. I was just worried.”

“Is this about the whole ‘don’t go to the grocery store’ thing?” You step into his arms. You’re both wrapping your arms around the others’ lower back, arms tangled, pelvis to pelvis.

“Yeah…” He never speaks about work matters to you but decides it may be the only way to get out of the dog house, though he’s not sure he deserves it. “There’s been another body. The description of her, she had similar traits to you. They haven’t been able to identify her and I immediately thought the worst.”

“Well, I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sure I didn’t help your situation by not answering. I really was just sleeping, handsome. You advised me not to go out today and I got bored so I took a nap. I hear that you’re a pretty good agent so I figured I’d listen to you and stay in.”

He laughs, it’s strange and unfamiliar the way it comes out and how it sounds. It’s a half sob and half laugh. It’s not a sound you’ve heard from him. He’s relieved that 1. you’re alive and well and 2. that you don’t seem to be as mad at him as you should be.

But you know his job and you know what he’s been through so you cut him some slack. “I know you’re worried but I promise I’m safe. I’m good, Aaron. If I felt scared or that I was in danger, I would let you know. I’m sorry my ringer was off. I promise to keep it on moving forward.”

“I would greatly appreciate it.” He leans forward to rest his forehead on yours.

“And instead of breaking down my door, I can give you my spare key. That way you can come check up on me whenever you’d like. Maybe even stop by for a visit when you’re free and missing me.” You kiss his cheekbone, just under his left eye. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds great.” He closes his eyes and leans into your lips. “God, can’t believe I was such a jerk.”

“You’re just protective. It’s sweet. Though I’ll say I’m not a huge fan of you raising your voice. It’s unlike you.” You mumble against his skin.

“I know.” He sighs, “maybe I need one of those naps you talk about.”

“A nap would be good. Maybe get rid of your grumpiness and finally get some rest.”

“I have to head back and finish the case. I’ll be late tonight but maybe we can have a late dinner. I’ll come back and use my key for the first time.” He doesn’t realize it but he’s swaying your bodies, almost like a slow dance.

“I’ll cook us up something. Just text me what you want.”

“Just make sure your ringer is on.” He kisses your jawline. “Or I might have a heart attack.”

“My apologies Mr. Hotchner. Now go, get back to work.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Oh and apologize to Mrs. Carter for me. I almost tackled her when I exited the elevator.” He sheepishly adds before running out the door.

“Aaron!” You grumble. “She already hates me!”

You hear his deep laughter down the hallway and descend into the elevator.

[shaysplanet]

Hi~!! :3 idk if you can help but figured I’d ask anyway and see. So I’ve tried awake methods and asleep methods and the closest I’ve gotten is with asleep methods. However, once I get to sleep my brain goes on autopilot and I forget I’m even trying to shift. I’ve never gotten anything from awake methods but idk how to get myself to remember my objective is to shift once I fall asleep. I tried making audio recording of myself to listen to when I sleep saying affirmations about shifting and those helped me lucid dream a bit but even with that it still hasn’t worked. I’ve never been able to get manifestation/LoA to work for me. I always forget to say affirmations and I’m not good with maintaining new routines. Idk lol I just feel super stuck and idk where to go from here. I’m tired but I really want to shift!!! I’ve been on a break for awhile but even when I’m on break I think about shifting a lot. Any tips?

i suggest trying less. you feel like you have to try which is causing a lot of mental exhaustion and resistance towards shifting. focus on allowing. once you’ve done whatever method you feel connects you to your dr, feel relaxed and let yourself drift off.

you can think about shifting as much as you want. you don’t need to saturate your brain with affirmations or audios. right now is the time to just allow. and by allow i mean relinquish that control to the outcome.

you always have a 50/50 chance of getting to your dr. it doesn’t lessen as time goes on. which means you shouldn’t think of the past as indicators for your future. the shift is coming to you. open yourself to receiving it.

[putschki1969]

Hi Sarah! I’m sure you’ve gotten lots of asks about this, but it’s shocking how much Kalafina is going through just because the girls wanted to reunite. I really can’t help but be disappointed at how they’ve turned into collateral damage for “picking sides,” it feels so immature for supposedly a bunch of adults. In other news, I almost teared up at seeing Wakana send Hikaru flowers for her live. I’ve always noticed they were never the closest back then, so this interaction makes me so touched!

Hello there!

It IS shocking and incredibly sad how the girls have always had to bear the brunt of this silly feud between Team Space Craft and Team Yuki.

I have no sympathy for the higher-ups at Space Craft because those guys are businessmen who with their eyes wide open made a bunch of stupid decisions that ultimately drove away one of their "best" managers (Mori) which subsequently led to their most prolific client leaving as well. I'm sure they could have done a lot of stuff to prevent this from ever happening.

Having said that, I am also pretty indifferent towards the supposed hardships of Team Yuki in all of this. Have they been wronged at some point by Space Craft? Most likely. Would I want them to tolerate any sort of mistreatment? No, of course not. But from what little we know based on questionable sources (i.e. tabloid articles - they usually contain at least a kernel of truth※), the main points of contention have always been rather inconsequential. Someone feeling slighted for not getting ahead career-wise or maybe not getting paid enough, someone's pride being hurt due to random actions, someone not getting the creative freedom/preferential treatment they want or they think they deserve, etc...Don't get me wrong, these are all valid reasons to get angry about, you have every right to fight for this stuff and it is your prerogative to cut ties with your existing work arrangement if you don't manage to get it but is any of this truly worth upholding a year-long feud? I don't think so!

Just look at what's happening regularly in the Japanese entertainment industry! The most recent Fuji TV scandal is a perfect example of everything that's fucked up in the industry. In comparison, the entire SC vs. YK conflict comes across as mere child's play, just some petty shit※. What have Yuki and Mori really suffered? Arguably nothing except a bruised ego. What have they lost as a result of the feud? Maybe some connections, possibly some money or licenses. But just look at everything that has happened after they left Space Craft! They've come out of this small drama so much stronger and more successful than ever before! Yuki has gone on to reach the very peak of her musical career (deserved of course!) with Mori pulling some of the strings from behind the scenes. She still has the rights to Kalafina's music (if not the band itself) and gets to perform the songs whenever she likes with any singers she chooses. From an objective point of view, it's a total win-win situation for her, especially as long as she was still having access to both Keiko and Hikaru who would willingly participate in all the live activities. Although Yuki herself has admitted many times that she doesn't really care all that much about who is singing her songs (as long as she deems the person to be suitable for the song in question). According to her own statements, all her vocalists are interchangeable so when she claims that she has tried everything within her might to get all three girls back together for a Kalafina reunion I have a hard time believing her. Yes, she respects the girls on some level but I just don't think it's really all that important to her that Kalafina's music is sung by Wakana, Keiko and Hikaru so why would she go out of her way to reconcile with Space Craft so they can find a solution for this mess...? I've said it before and I will say it again, Team Yuki has more leverage in this conflict and they pretend to have the moral high ground so if this feud is still ongoing, the logical conclusion is that they actively choose to let it continue. Not saying that Space Craft aren't doing their fair part in keeping the conflict alive but somewhere underneath all the stupidity, greed, arrogance and pride, they must know that 1) Yuki was in many ways the driving force behind their success 2) Kalafina was their most prolific project and 3) Kalafina's music without Yuki's involvement would not work well in the long run. It would obviously be in their interest to collaborate with Yuki again to get the Kalafina project properly back on its feet. I am sure they have some silly demands (just like Team Yuki will have their own) but it's just incomprehensible to me how they have not been able to find at least some common ground during all these years...

Anyway, my point is that the Kalafina members do not deserve to be caught in the middle of a feud between people who for all intents and purposes should act in a more mature manner and who could solve all the issues by making certain concessions and acting a little less petty. The girls have put so much of themselves into the Kalafina project, it means the world to them so it's a shame that it has become this controversial thing that causes so much conflict and drama. They have fun exploring new paths in their solo careers and I hope it's something they can continue to do in the future but it's obvious that there was always a strong wish to rekindle the Kalafina project. Not being able to perform together as a group has taken a huge toll on them so of course they would be passionate about a reunion. They conveyed nothing but love, happiness and gratitude when they were finally standing on stage together. To see them being punished for having those genuine feelings is truly painful...Of course they made that choice for themselves and to some extent, they must have known what awaited them for "picking a side", I just hope the concert and whatever comes next will feel rewarding enough to them so that all the drama will eventually become a price worth paying...

Re: Flower bouquet: Yes, it was so nice to see Wakana send a lovely bouquet for Hikaru's final tour concert. Hikaru made sure to mention in one of her Instagram posts that Wakana was invited just like everyone else but due to a personal commitment, she couldn't make it so instead, she sent flowers in support (which Hikaru appreciated a lot of course). It's a small gesture but it means so much to us fans who have had to survive on bread crumbs for the past 7 years. To see them openly support each other is such a treat. We might never go back to the old times where we would get an abundance of lovey-dovey content (although I would love that) but as long as there small things like this or amazing photos like the one below, I am beyond happy.

※Please note that the above views are based on the premise that none of the higher-ups at Space Craft have ever engaged in any form of sexual misconduct or other abhorrent behaviour. All "evidence" (however ill-founded it may be) points towards them being stupid at best and grossly disrespectful at worst but as far as we know, none of their actions have ever been overly reprehensible, let alone criminal in nature. If anything of this sort comes to the surface one day, rest assured that I will be the first person to do a 180 degree turn and completely condemn them but as long as their worst crime is being stubborn dickheads (not a rare trait among old businessmen - especially in Japan) and our girls feel seemingly comfortable staying with them (in Wakana's case) or working with them again (in Keiko's and Hikaru's case), why would I waste my time villainising them?

[dreamingofaizawa]

Say It

Eijiro Kirishima x AFAB! Fem! Reader

***This fic contains content not fit for all viewers. If you are not 18 years or older, make yourself scarce***

Warnings: Alcohol, coersion, degradation, choking, penetrative sex (p in v), finering, noncon/consensual noncon (cnc), Kiri being a creep on purpose, pussy slapping, fearplay/kink(?), pain kink (sorta??), humiliation (I think?), implied aftercare

Word Count: 3.1k

Author's Note: Uhm...Yeah Imma just let this one speak for itself.

Enjoy the depravity~

It’s been too damn long since you’d gotten together with your closest friends, having gotten busy for months and unable to arrange a night out or night in with all your conflicting schedules. Tonight you’d finally managed to get everyone together over at Kiri’s place, drinks flowing and stories and laughter filling the house. You’ve all had your fun, sharing the new things in your lives and reminiscing the old, throwing back shots and seeing who’d managed to get the one with Fireball instead of a sweeter apple-flavored something that Bakugo swears up and down isn’t just syrup. Kaminari got the fireball, and Jirou rubbed his back when he started coughing up a lung.

Then the night is winding down, everyone beginning to order an uber or a taxi or getting ready to walk to the train station. By the time the last one leaves it’s you and Kiri all alone, lounged side by side on the couch, still a little buzzed and giggling about one thing or another. 

“I’ve missed you, you know.” You smile, he’s always been so sweet.

“I missed you too. It’s been so nice getting to hang with everyone tonight.” Something changes in his expression, something you’re still just a little too inebriated to dissect. One large hand finds your thigh, the heat from his palm seeping through your thin leggings. The touch sends an odd heat across your skin. You blink, take him in, really look at just how big he is and how strong he must be. A spark of fear crawls up your spine when you lock eyes, his pupils dilated and something dark swirling in his eyes.

“I mean I missed you. Not just these group hangouts.” It may not be an odd thing to say, necessarily, but it still has weariness creeping into your mind. Something’s off. Just smile, maybe you’re overthinking things.

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” His grin is sharp, his flingers squeeze into the meat of your thigh. Did you even have a plan to get home tonight? You haven’t called an uber, don’t have a ride to rely on for an escape. Wait, why are you thinking about escaping? You’re not trapped here…right? Your head is a little fuzzy from the alcohol still, and you can’t pinpoint exactly what is making you so uneasy. Mentally, you slap yourself. This is Eijiro Kirishima for heaven’s sake, what could you possibly have to feel nervous about?

“It has. You look pretty, by the way. Didn’t get the chance to tell you before.” That hand crawls up your thigh, slowly, inching up until his thumb tucks into the crease of your hip. Then you’re up, leaping off the couch and side stepping toward the bathroom. He didn’t mean it, surely. It was an accident. He’s drunk.

“I’ll be right back, I gotta go piss real quick.” His head tilts as he leans into the couch, his wide grin falling into a small closed-mouth smile. It’s tense, and you don’t want to think about what that means. You can’t fight off the urge to lock the bathroom door once you’re inside, so you do, as quietly as you can. Your heart is in your throat, for reasons you don’t quite know nor understand. Kiri’s just being nice, touchy like he always is with everyone. He’s a big hugger, loves being connected to someone at all times. It’s just Ei. It’s just Eijiro. Right?

Right. It’s just Eijiro Kirishima. He’d never purposely hurt you. 

Steeling your nerves, you brush off the anxiety and actually use the toilet cause you need to, then rejoin the man on the couch. He smiles when you smile, and you take in the way his hair is nearly half black with how much he’s let it grow out. 

“Do you go to a professional for your hair, or do you still do it yourself?” He shrugs.

“I tend to just do it myself. I can never find the right time for a pro, and if I’m ever on-call then I’d have to risk leaving mid-appointment.” Yeah that makes a lot of sense. For a fleeting moment, you relax. Then his hand is reaching for yours, concern washing over his features. But it’s strange, there’s something else too.

“Do you have a way home tonight? You didn’t call a cab or anything.” Ah, he’s right. 

“Huh. I’m so sorry, you’re right! I’ll go do that now, then.” He stops you, gripping your wrist and planting the other hand on your thigh when you move to stand, having left your phone on the charger in the kitchen.

“Hey, if you need to, I’ve got a spare room. It’s late, there aren’t a whole lot of options right now.” It’s not like he hasn’t offered before. Hell he’s offered it to everyone, including you, on multiple occasions. There’s just something about right here, right now, that makes you feel incredibly unsteady. But why would you even say no?

“Oh, no Ei I can’t bother you like that!” His smile is back, the sharp, dangerous one. Heat coils in your stomach alongside the shock of distress. His hands grip you even tighter as he tugs you to stand, leading you toward what you assume is the spare room.

“It’s no trouble, pretty thing. Here, I’ll show you the room.” Not like you have much choice, being dragged around like a ragdoll through the hallway and into the open room. It’s clean, unused, so much so that there isn’t even a sheet or pillows over the mattress. He backs out with a half-hearted apology, dragging you to another room. This one is his. You can tell by how messy the bed is, unmade, red accenting everything, the entire room having little touches of him. 

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” sweetheart? What the hell? “Don’t worry, you can sleep in my bed.” What? He’s drunk, and not thinking straight.

“No, no Eijiro I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own home. Come on now, I can get a ride, it's no biggie!” That’s what he meant, right? That he’d take the couch? And surely he wouldn’t assume you’d just take his bed, since he’s offering to take the couch. Right? A dull ache forms in your wrist for a split second, then you’re tossed onto his sheets. There’s a resounding click after your yelp, and then you’re under him. He’s massive. And he’s terrifying you.

“Ei? What’s going on?” Weakly, you push at his chest when he leans down into your space, but your wrists are pinned beside your head while he buries his head in your neck. What on earth is he doing?! He takes a long, deep inhale and all thoughts drain with the blood in your face. You whimper, frightened, and you can feel the tremor in your body as his hips rut into your stomach. He’s hard in his sweatpants. He’s really beginning to scare you. Why are you turned on?

“Fuck you smell divine.” You’re powerless beneath him, but you still try to squirm out of his grip. You almost sob when you finally find your voice again.

“K-kiri wait, this isn’t right. Stop, please.” There’s a low, primal growl at your jugular, and sharp teeth graze over the sensitive flesh there. The action makes you jump, shake even harder in his grasp. You hate the way it makes lust curl between your legs.

“Kiri? What happened to Eijiro, huh?” You whine, tuck your head away from him when he pulls back to look at you. Part of you doesn’t want to believe this is really happening. Part of you is hot and wet and in desperate need of relief.

“Kiri, you're scaring me.” It’s whispered, barely even audible over the sound of your heart slamming against your ribcage. He ducks his head again, the foreign feeling of his tongue making you flinch. Hot, wet, he drags it over your pulse then bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt and you cry out. Your legs squeeze together, traitorous and needy. You shouldn’t like this. You don’t like this.

“Oh yeah? I think you’re having fun. I can feel your thighs clenching, pretty little thing.” Your hands are pulled together, wrists gathered in one of his big palms and pinned above your head to free the other one. Thick, rough fingers pry your legs apart, and though you do your best to fight him, he pushes his thumb into a tender spot and your legs jolt apart to escape the dull pain. His hips slot between yours, and you can feel his bulge through both your layers of clothing. He ruts against you and you can’t help the way your own hips jump to meet his, squeezing your eyes shut tight. Your thoughts are split, your mind in shambles, your body reacting to the lust and your head reacting to the fear. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this.

You’re not enjoying this.

Right?

His hand wraps around your throat, and your eyes snap open to meet his, the red of his irises thin little rings, darkness swallowing them up. His fingers and thumb dig gently into the sides of your throat, pinching off the blood vessels and making you feel woozy. You’re breathing still, but it feels like you can’t, and your chest heaves with every full breath you take. 

“Look at you, pretty girl. You’re all mine tonight, aren’t you?” No. You shake your head as much as you can, but he only chuckles, dark and heavy and evil.

“Oh yeah you are. You’re mine.” He squeezes harder and your thighs clamp around his hips, and your whole body is beginning to squirm and fight for a full breath you can’t seem to take no matter how much your lungs fill up. Your vision is doubling the longer he slows the blood flow to your head, and heat is spreading over your body like an inferno. Fear drags ice through your veins. The juxtaposition makes your hips thrust up into his, your body begging for any kind of friction.

“See babygirl? You’re enjoying yourself. You like this, don’t you? Pinned down, helpless, completely at my mercy. I bet you’re soaked, bet your pretty little pussy is dripping for me, isn’t it?” A tiny whimper is pushed from your chest, far too close to a moan for your liking, when he releases your throat and you shake your head again. You take gasping breaths, the rush of blood makes you light-headed and you jump when you can feel his fingers too close to your core. Then there’s an awful ripping noise, and cool air between your thighs makes your body curl in on itself. Did he just…? His groan is guttural, clawed up from deep in his throat.

“Sexy little fuck I was right.” A thick finger prods at your panties, an embarrassingly loud squelch sounding between you as he prods his finger into you through the soaked fabric. Shame floods your bloodstream, heating your face and chest and making you turn away if only to ignore the way he’s staring down at your cunt. His finger is big, even just the tip through the fabric of your underwear, and when he hooks that same finger underneath the gusset you can feel the heat pressed right up against your dripping folds. There’s a sound, an awful, grating sound, like stone on concrete, and your panties are torn using the sharpness of his quirk, his finger having been activated for a split second. A loud moan is punched from your lungs when two of his fingers are plunged into your heat, curling up immediately to batter the spongy textured spot that has your back arching off the bed. With his thumb on your clit, you’re shaking. 

“Look at you, pretty girl. I knew you were having fun.”

“N-no.” It’s a whine, nothing more, between breathless little moans that you can’t control. You aren’t having fun. You can’t be having fun. This is wrong.

“No? Tell that to your cunt. She’s practically drowning my fingers.” It’s so mean, so dark and condescending, but you can feel yourself clench around his fingers. Don’t you dare cum. He chuckles, an evil sounding thing.

“I can feel you squeezing. Don’t deny yourself, baby, you love this. Come on, I want you to come on my fingers like the good little slut you are.” He curls his fingers hard, adding a third and swirling your clit faster and it’s all over. Your body betrays you, electricity splitting your nerves and your moan tearing up your throat while your body shakes through your orgasm. Disgusting. It feels so good.

“There you go. Fuck, look at you, little whore. Getting off on being used.” No.

“I’m not–”

“Not what? Not a whore? Not enjoying this as much as your body clearly is? Fucking liar. You’re still dripping, your cunt is still pulsing around my fingers.” He pulls the digits free and you can’t help but whine at the loss, then watch and listen as he sucks them clean. He groans, pushing his clothed dick up against your sensitive folds and leaving a dark patch on his sweats.

“If I were a more patient man I might eat you out.” In some cruel, twisted chance of luck, he releases you completely to tear off his pants, discarding them to an abandoned corner. You take the opportunity to scramble backwards, reaching the headboard too quickly for your liking, but before you can get off the bed your ankle is yanked hard, dragging you back down with a yelp. You try to kick, but he’s strong, rips the rest of your ruined leggings and panties off before pinning you by the throat again. He doesn’t bother with your hands, they can’t do much of anything when they’re clawing uselessly at his slightly hardened skin.

“Quit your fuckin’ squirming. Take it like a good slut, yeah?” You want to shake your head, deny it all, deny him. All thoughts are swiftly shoved from your head when he buries his cock to the hilt in one full thrust. Eyes rolling up into your skull, breath knocked from your lungs, fingers stilling tight around his wrist at your throat, it’s all you can do to hang on while you adjust to the pleasure and overwhelming dull ache. It feels good. He pulls out and you take a deep breath, only for it to be knocked from you once again as he sets a brutal pace. The sound your bodies make as your hips collide are lewd, wet from your arousal. He actually moans the longer he’s pounding you into oblivion, his fingers tightening around your jugular in time with his thrusts.

“You’re such a fucking cockslut, creaming my cock like this. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you rough and you’d cum in your panties.” That’s not fair.

“No!” He laughs at you.

“That’s right. Only for me, yeah? I’m the only one that gets to use you like this, right? Use you like a cocksleeve, and you’ll beg me to stop even though you’re cumming on my dick.” Oh fuck. 

“Ohh you like that, little bitch. I can feel you squeezing me.” Tears prick your eyes, the pleasure and fear and shame all culminating into one clusterfuck of emotions. But it feels so good. Rough fingers pinch your clit, once, twice, and then you’re clamping down on his dick. A shout is torn from your throat, your back arching painfully off the sheets. White blanks your vision, a high-pitched ringing plays in your ears, your fingers and toes tingle with numbness. He’s not far off, and his pace picks up until your head feels like mush while he uses your spent body. You’ve never cum so hard in your life, you think, but the thought quickly vanishes when a callused palm comes down on your cunt, your poor clit being abused as he fucks your pliant body.

“Tell me how much you love this, yeah? I wanna hear you admit it, dirty whore.” Oh fuck, no. No, you can’t, the shame would eat you alive. You cry and sob when he smacks your clit again, and again, and again until you’re a crying mess beneath him, overstimulated and trembling, pleasure spiking through your whole body and you’re right on the edge. Just a little more is all you need.

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum again.” 

“I love it! I love it when you use me. I like being forced to take your dick, it gets me off when you pin me down and fuck me while I cry for you to stop! Please please I wanna cum again Eiji.” He kisses you then, folding you up and grinding his dick deep inside you, pinching your nipples hard while you cum all over his cock for the second time. He’s coming with you now, filling you with his hot cum and holding you in place until you both calm down, your breaths mingling together and heartbeats slowing. You’re still plugged up, still achy, but you feel good. Big hands wipe sweat and tears from your face, and he’s peppering kisses wherever he can reach. You thread your fingers into his hair, tug on the strands gently to let him know you’re here with him.

“Are you okay, baby? I wasn’t too rough with you?” He almost sounds like a kicked puppy. For a moment, you feel a little bad, but then remember he’d have stopped at any time if he really felt uncomfortable at all. You trust that he’d stop everything if he felt the need to. The big bad and mean Kirishima is no longer. This is your husband, Eijiro. 

“You were perfect, Ei. Thank you for indulging me and my dumb little fantasy.” He nuzzles into your throat, pressing more kisses to your skin.

“It’s not dumb, baby. As long as you’re not hurt and you feel okay, it’s never dumb.” Fuck you love this man so much it hurts. With a little bit of a smirk, you kiss his temple.

“So, did you like it? At least a little bit?” He groans, wraps his arms around you tighter and keeps his face in your neck. 

“Maybe.” 

“Uh huh. Because you’re not currently keeping me plugged full of your cum right now.” You both jolt and moan when his dick kicks to life. 

“Don’t say things like that baby. You’re gonna kill me.” You hum, kiss his head again. 

“Okay. Let’s go get cleaned up, yeah? Maybe a hot bath?” He nods, not yet ready to move but content with the idea. Decompressing from this is going to feel nice.

[jinns-arcane-feverdream]

Love Without Words

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Chapter Two

Chapter One

The sound of funeral bells rings in my head as I button up my jacket. Dark colors adorn my body as I look in the mirror. My hair doesn’t quite cooperate, but it doesn’t matter; my hood will be up, at least until I get inside. Then? Well, I’ve changed. I don’t fit that respectable image anymore - I never did. That’s part of the reason why I left, the main reason. When you live somewhere you don’t belong for too long, you get desperate and flee. You cut ties, throw away all you know, for a life you hope fits you better. And I was lucky enough that my new life did.

As I adjust my jewelry, I think back to the times where I would do this for weekly events. My mother - no, abandoner - would stand behind me as I used the mirror to perfect my look. It was never to her liking, though, and she always ended up shoving earrings into my lobes in places where there were no holes, scarring me over time. Now, I go to a piercer to get new earrings shoved through needle holes in my ears. It’s cleaner, healthier, and better. 

I find earrings that fit well enough with my dark attire and quickly slip them through my piercings. I use my finger to straighten out my septum before I turn to leave the bathroom. My apartment isn’t much, but it’s good enough for me. No one in the undercity has much, unless you’re a Chem Baron. My boots aren’t shiny or new, and there’s plenty of scuffs in them, but they’re the most comfortable shoes I have - and they go with my outfit.

“I’ll be back later, don’t get up to any trouble while I’m gone.” I lean over to look at my little betta fish swimming over to the glass to look at me. “I know, I haven’t spent enough time with you lately. But I promise that I will make it up to you,” I tell him. After reaching for his food, I drop a single pellet in for him to eat. “No more until I get back, I don’t want you to get dropsy.” Huy, my fish, stares at me with his beady black eyes. His mouth opens and a bubble comes out, signaling that he probably burped. 

A laugh slips from me before I stand and head to the front door, and my smile slips as I sigh. It’s not fun going to Piltover, but this time, it feels necessary. An old friend’s mother has died; someone who used to occasionally provide for me. The least I owe is my condolences to my friend and her father, and a brief respect given to her mother. Though, she is part of the reason I fled - I’d become a burden to her and her family. I was an orphan who took too much from her. I was needy, and she was rich. I was wild, she was proper.

The door closes firmly behind me and I quickly lock it. A few whistles ring through the air as friendly neighbors bid me goodbye. I offer a brief wave behind my back before beginning on my trek. No one knows what I’m up to, not even my closest friend - well, he’s more like a brother. My actual closest friend had been in Stillwater for the last 7 years, and as soon as she got out, Vi began running around with some random chick, trying to find her sister and save her. We only knew each other for a small amount of time before she was thrown in prison, but I managed to visit her often due to my connection with the guard - it helps to be an orphan in need of guidance, and he was kind enough, or maybe dumb enough, to take me under his wing. I have another friend as well, Ekko, who brought me into the Firelights group. We met one night while I was walking back to my apartment after visiting Vi. I’d gotten surprised by one of the firelight creatures when it landed on my arm. Ekko had been chasing it, and coincidentally ran into me. After that, he’d let me into the group and their home; a beautiful place with a real tree at the center.

Back to my ‘brother’. His name is Thieram, and he works at The Last Drop—my first stop on the way to Topside. Coincidentally, due to me visiting him often at work, I became sort-of friends with Jinx and Sevika, mainly due to the fact that Silco’s office was above the bar. I only ever saw the man in brief passing because when Thieram would see him come in, he’d make sure I looked anywhere but at his boss. He always warned me that one wrong glance would earn me Sevika’s knee in my jaw.

“Where are you off to wearing such a gloomy outfit,” Thieram asks as I walk into the building. 

I take my normal seat at the bar and take that shot he offers me. “Piltover.”

“Topside? How come?” he questions while preparing me another shot—he knows how much I hate going up there, even if it’s for business. He’s heard plenty of drunken rants to know exactly what I would say to any question he’d ask after I returned Underground.

“Friend’s mother died, felt like I should at least show up for once. Haven’t seen her in years anyway, it might surprise me to see what she’s become,” I explain before throwing back the second shot. “Thanks.”

“‘Course. You sure you wanna do this, though? No one’s forcing you to go up there.”

“I should go,” I sigh, taking the glass of water he offers. “I kinda miss my friends up there, ya know? Sure they weren’t the best and didn’t really understand me, but they did their best. I think.”

“You have friends?” he jokes, and I crack a smile. “There it is, I missed those crooked teeth.”

“My teeth are not crooked, thank you very much. Although your nose still is from the last time I broke it.” The snark comes naturally, and of course, he has a quick retort.

“I’m not gonna bother fixing it, knowing how dirty you like to spar,” he laughs, and I join in with him. 

I slip off my bar stool and stretch, a groan coming from me as I do. “I better be off now, Thier,” I say with a crack of my neck, “Sorry I can’t stay more than a minute, I don’t wanna be Topside when it gets dark. They’ll probably think I’m some filthy Zaunite robber,” I snicker.

“Wait, you aren’t?” he asks, faking exasperation.

“I mean, they don’t need to know I am,” I laugh before reaching over the bar and trying to slap him playfully.

“Hey! Knock it off! You don’t slap the guy who gives you drinks,” he says while glaring at me. “Now, go on and git.” He sticks his tongue out at me, an action that I playfully copy.

“See ya later, Thiery,” I say while waving as I walk out. He smiles and waves back, offering me the same salutations. As soon as the door closes behind me, my mood drops again. I’m not glum about her mom being dead, as bad as that sounds. I’m upset about having forced myself back up there, a place that never fails to push me back out each time I venture across the bridge.

Nobody seems to notice me as I walk through the lanes, but the second I step onto the bridge, the eyes of multiple enforcers are glued to me. I keep my head down, trying not to draw any attention, but some young, probably new, enforcer bee-lines to me and blocks me from walking any further.

“State your business,” he says while glaring at me. “And take off your jacket, you’re getting a search.”

“A search?” I ask bewildered, “What did I do to be searched?”

“You came from the Undercity. Now answer my question before I detain you for being difficult.”

I open my mouth to protest before biting my tongue. I pull my jacket off and forcefully shove it into his hands while he signals someone to come over and pat me down. “I’m going to pay respects to an old friend whose mother died recently,” I explain, “hence the dark clothes.”

“And what is the name of this friend?” he asks as the other nods to signify that I’m clear.

“Does that really matter? You won’t believe me, anyway,” I huff. He opens his mouth to object before a superior officer comes over and tells him to let me pass as I had cleared the search. He scoffs before throwing my jacket back at me, but not hard enough, causing me to have to move forward to catch it before it hits the ground. I spit next to his shoe before slipping my jacket back on and pulling the hood back up. I don’t look to see who the other enforcer is, not caring about who came to my ‘rescue’.

As I walked along the bridge, I glanced at the water to my side. I’d never been good at swimming, but there was always the urge to jump in and let the slow current carry me along. The River Zaun looks peaceful, despite being disgustingly polluted and full of who knows what kind of creatures. The rays of sun reflect off of it, catching my eye and causing me to look away. A dot is in my vision now from the brightness, but it’s a welcome change compared to the constant darkness and glow of the Undercity.

I cringe at the sound of my boots on the tiled street of Piltover. My heels seem to produce an echo that reverberates down the row of buildings, and I feel as though it’s a summoning, an alarm that a Zaunite has wandered up to Piltover. Enforcers pass by as I walk the familiar route to my friend’s house; they tend to be more prominent in the rich neighborhoods, probably due to wanting to protect the wealthy more than anyone else. How else would Piltover fund their excessive police force and academy?

I stop at the end of the street to gaze at the gates before me. The metal glints in the sun, and I feel small as I watch them rise into the sky. They don’t send an inviting message, but I force myself to walk over anyway. To my surprise, they’re open, and I walk through them and up to the door. I knock once, softly, before knocking harder, twice. I take a few steps back before putting my head down and waiting. After a few moments, Mr. Kiramman answers the door.

His eyes are wide as I look up at him. It takes only a second for him to recognize me, and once he does, he immediately moves to the side to let me in. “We’ve wondered about you,” he admits to me, shattering the awkward silence. 

“I’ve been alright,” I respond simply, “is Caitlyn here?”

“Yes, I can let her know that she has a guest. Would you like me to tell her it’s you?”

I think for a moment, considering the options. “No, I think I would like to surprise her. Maybe it could be…something to bring a bit of joy to her, in this hard time.”

Mr. Kiramman nods before leading me to a sitting area. “I’ll go let her know, then,” he says before turning and taking a few steps.

“Wait,” I say, stopping him in his tracks. He turns back and looks at me, and I give him a small smile. “I never thanked you guys before. I know it’s probably far too late, but I appreciated everything you did for me, no matter how big or small.”

He smiles briefly before looking down as the smile fades. “We could’ve done more. But Cassandra-”

“I give my condolences for your loss. She was a strong woman. May you find peace in her honor.” I cut him off, not needing to know any more of how Cassandra Kiramman had always thought of me as lesser, an orphan mooch. Mr. Kiramman nods before turning again and heading to find Caitlyn, understanding my tone as one indicating our conversation is over.

After a minute, I hear steps ringing through the house. I stand and face away from the stairs I knew she’d be coming from. I can’t bear to face her yet, not after so long, and not after her mother’s recent death.

“I was told you were here to see me?” Her voice sounds hollow, and I can sense the emotional drain she has gone through. “Well? Are you going to turn around?”

I take a deep breath before speaking as I turn. “I…should have visited sooner,” I say before looking up. Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back, resting a hand on the arm of a chair for support.

A mumble of my name leaves her lips before she lunges forward and wraps me in a hug. “I thought you were dead, or in jail!” she cried into my neck. “I…I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

I slowly pull away and glance into her eyes, seeing a mix of excitement, relief, and hurt. “I…well, it’s a long story,” I admit with a sigh. “It’s not why I’m here. I wanted to offer my condolences—”

“I don’t need any more of those,” she cuts in with a sigh. “Please, sit. Can you tell me anything about these past 6 years?”

I sit and think for a second before nodding softly. I fidget with my hands for a second, deciding how much to spill. “I fled to the Undercity. I realized that I’d fit in better down there, being a poor orphan and all. Topside…well, you know I never fit in here. You and Jayce were the only ones who gave me a chance, but even then…” My words trailed off. I didn’t want to make her feel bad about her past actions, or those of her mother. “I eventually joined a…morale raising group. We embrace the possibility of a better Zaun.” Caitlyn stiffens up in her seat as I speak, and I stop when I can tell she has something to say. 

“A morale raising group? You’re not a part of Silco’s crew, are you?”

“No,” I quickly deny, “they’re kinda our rivals down there. We fight for control, for influence. The group I’m in, we’re more about peace and bringing people together. Silco’s crew…they’re more about fear tactics, forcing people under their control.”

“I see,” Caitlyn says before relaxing again. “It was one of Silco’s people who killed my mother. I had to make sure you weren’t a part of it.”

I shake my head no before studying her outfit, realizing why it seemed familiar to me. It’s my turn to stiffen up in my seat, and I divert my eyes from her enforcer uniform.

“Is there something wrong?” Caitlyn asks, having noticed my sudden tension.

“You’re…an enforcer…” I comment, meeting her eyes again. “An enforcer.”

“Yes, it had always been my dream since I was little,” she explains. “Why? Is that a problem?”

“A problem? Do you understand what enforcers—no, nevermind. Don’t worry about it.”

“Not all enforcers are bad,” she counters me, “We have orders and directions we have to follow. Sometimes they’re more harsh than normal due to external factors.”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Cait,” I sigh, “I need to go soon anyway.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad about the Undercity. It’s just-”

“No, I get it. Your mother was killed by one of us. You’ve grown up and lived in Piltover your whole life. You don’t know what it’s like down there. You don’t know what it’s like for us to see an enforcer.”

“Us?” she questions, her brows furrowed in confusion. “You think you’re one of them now?”

“Yes, I am. I’ve been accepted into the world down there, unlike how I was tossed aside up here. It’s…refreshing, feeling like I belong somewhere. But, again, I need to leave. I don’t want to be stuck here when it’s dark.”

Caitlyn glances at the ground for a second before perking up again. “Have you visited Jayce?” she asks as we both stand. “I can give you an escort to his lab if you’d like.”

“I don’t need an escort, and I wasn’t planning on seeing him. I’m only up here to offer you my condolences,” I explain. “And…I don’t think Jayce would be happy to see me.”

“He misses you more than you know,” she counters. “Please, let me have someone take you there. Or I’ll write down the directions if you feel more comfortable. I’ll just have to give you a note with my official seal to show the guards. Please, just visit him for me.”

I roll my eyes before obliging, letting her quickly scrawl out a note for me, and directions on how to get to the lab. “Thanks,” I say while placing the note in my pocket. I’ll…see ya,” I say, a wave of sadness washing over me again. In a second, her arms are around me again, and I return the hug. “I miss you, Cait,” I whisper to her.

Her arms tighten around me before she responds. “I miss you too. Please visit.”

“Sure. I’ll try.” It’s a lie, and we both know it. She hates the Undercity, and I hate Topside. When we separate, we offer weak smiles to each other before I turn to walk out. As the door closes behind me, I let out a long breath. My heart is racing, and I feel it pick up as I see Vi walking past the gates. 

“Vi? What are you doing here?” I ask in bewilderment.

She says my name in surprise before running up the steps to be next to me. “I’m here to see Caitlyn. What are you doing up here?”

“Same thing. Caitlyn and I were friends before I fled to Zaun. How do you know her?”

“She’s the one who got me out of Stillwater and helped me look for Powder. We’re…dating, I think.”

“Dating? You’re dating an enforcer? What the hell, Vi? They’re the ones who killed your parents!”

Vi steps back, startled by my sudden anger. “Yeah, but Caitlyn wasn’t the one who did it! My sister killed her mother, how do you think that makes her feel seeing me?”

“Vi,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, “those people think we’re dirt. They don’t care about anything other than oppressing us and trying to scare us. How could you be with one?”

“You don’t understand,” she huffs, “you don’t know what she’s gone through, or what she’s like. She doesn’t just go down there to harass us. She does her job.”

“The job of enforcers is to harass us. I can’t believe you would just…switch up like that.” I throw my hands in the air in emphasis of my words. Vi holds eye contact with me for a second before scoffing.

“I don’t owe you an explanation. I gotta go, I’ll see you around.”

It’s my turn to scoff as I shake my head and begin walking away. Soon enough, I’m past the gates and back on the street. I walk quickly, wanting to get my day of reunions over with as fast as possible so I can go back to The Last Drop and have a drink with Thieram. 

The sun is just past midday when I see the building Jayce is supposed to be in. Of course, a guard of enforcers is stationed outside. I groan internally while walking up, and a young ginger girl stops me from going any further. A man that is possibly a Vastaya lingers back, watching the ginger enforcer carefully. I don’t pay attention to him, or how his frills seem to twitch up when he looks at me.

“Hello, do you have clearance to be here?” the ginger girl asks.

“Yeah, I have this note from Caitlyn Kiramman,” I say while handing it to her.

“Caitlyn? You know her?” the ginger asks excitedly. “She’s such an inspiration to me, I could listen to her for hours.”

“Uh, cool,” I say casually, not sure how else to respond. “I’m just here to see Jayce Talis.”

“Oh, I could escort you in, unless you know your way around,” she offers kindly. “Don’t need a good looking person like you getting lost in there,” she jokes casually. 

“If you just tell me the directions I’m sure I can find it.”

“Alright,” she says, a flush of slight embarrassment covering her face in her failed flirtation attempt. “I’ll write them down on the back of this note for you.”

“Thanks,” I say while shifting awkwardly. I spare another glance at the other enforcer, and catch him quickly looking away. His ears twitch but I don’t think anything of it, and turn back to take the directions from the ginger. “Thanks,” I say again before she steps aside to let me continue in.

The halls are large and empty, and I feel a chill roll through my body as my shoes once again echo as I walk. I check the note and make a turn, quickly coming up on the door I needed. I’m surprised at how easy and fast it is to get here, but I suppose it’s easier for Jayce to reach his work quickly when he makes a research breakthrough.

As I walk into the lab, it’s dark and cold. I pull my jacket tighter and cautiously step in. A tall thing catches my attention as it lights up the room. It looks like there’s a body inside it, but I can’t tell what it really is.

“I told you I need to be alone, Mel. I…I don’t want to see you right now.”

“I’m sorry then, I suppose, since I’m not this ‘Mel’ person,” I say slowly as I step into the light. 

Jayce sits up in his seat, snapping his head in my direction. He exclaims my name before standing and walking toward me. “Is…is it really you?” he asks, reaching out to touch my arm.

I resist the urge to move away from the contact and let him feel that I’m not a dream or a hallucination. “Yes, it is. Last time I checked, at least.” I crack the small joke, and his eyes fill with joy before he wraps his arms around me and lifts me up, spinning around with me in his arms. “Alright, alright, put me down!” I say firmly before he sets me back on my feet.

“I’m sorry. I just…it’s been so long! Me and Cait, we were so worried! You didn’t even leave us a note!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought it would be best to just disappear, though,” I explain. “I…I didn’t mean to hurt you guys.”

He smiles softly at me. “It’s okay. I…guess I could understand. Feeling like disappearing is the best option, I mean. My best friend…it’s my fault he’s like this,” he says while waving an arm toward the thing with the person in it. “If I would’ve done more to prevent the Undercity from getting Hextech, he wouldn’t be like this.”

I look at the floor, a wave of hurt washing over me. “It’s not the Undercity that’s the problem. It’s a certain individual. One of Silco’s people.”

Jayce glances at me for a second before nodding and looking away. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I should go,” I say, beginning to turn to leave.

“What? Already? Wait-” Jayce reaches out and grabs my arm, and I pull it out of his grip.

“I don’t want to ruin anything, since I’m from the Undercity,” I snap at him.

“I said I was sorry,” he counters, “please, let’s…let’s catch up!”

“No, Jayce. I need to get back before it’s dark. You don’t understand how dangerous it is for a Zaunite to be near enforcers at night, especially when we’re in Piltover.”

“I can escort you back. I’m a Councilor now,” he counters again. “Please, you’ve been gone for so long. I miss you.”

I shake my head without looking back at him. “I’m sorry, Jayce. It was a mistake coming here. I only came up to give Caitlyn my condolences then leave. She made me visit you. Goodbye, Jayce.”

I quickly leave the room and head for the doors, not wanting to waste another second up here with friends who don’t understand me. Guilt washes over me as I push open the front door. I ignore the sounds of Jayce calling for me as I descend the stairs, but when I step off and take a few steps down the street, Jayce catches up to me. The two enforcers from before perk up, but he signals to them that everything is okay.

“Please, just…keep in touch, or something,” he says. I look at the desperation in his eyes before shaking my head.

“I’m not the friend that you remember me as, or think that I am. I’ve changed, Jayce, and so have you and Cait. I don’t belong up here, I don’t belong around you guys. We’re from two different worlds, and I’m choosing to return to mine. I’m leaving yours behind.”

“What if we meet on the bridge, once a week? To…I don’t know, stay connected?”

I look in his eyes again, and shake my head while offering a sad smile. I grab his hands and squeeze them briefly. “Jayce, I will always have love for you and Caitlyn in my heart. But I cannot do as you wish. I have a life, responsibilities. I…I could send you mail, once a month, but that’s the extent of it.”

Jayce drops my hands and shakes his head, sadness covering each part of his expression. “Why? Why come up here just to leave us again? Why visit just to say goodbye?”

“Because, Jayce,” I explain softly, “it’s closure. For me. For you, for Cait. Our friendship can be laid to rest now, and we can save our memories for times of reflection.”

“I don’t want you to just be a memory, though,” he begs, “why does it have to be this way?”

“It’s what I need to move on in life,” I explain before taking a few steps back. “Goodbye, Jayce.”

With a final turn away, I leave behind my childhood friends, and make my way toward the bridge. As I cross over, the sun sets, causing a range of beautiful colors to dance across the sky. I take a moment to observe it, remembering how I used to come down here as a child to watch it whenever I didn’t have homework or chores. I lean over the railing to look at the water, feeling the soft breeze flowing around me. I step up onto the railing, feeling the urge to feel taller, to let the breeze carry me.

A sudden strong gust, and my heart drops as I feel myself fall forward. A quick reaction, and someone is pulling me down and to secure ground. My eyes are wide as I tremble from the jolt of fear. A hand rests on my arm, and I turn to look at who it was that helped me. The male enforcer from outside Jayce’s lab pulls his hand away, but I can see the unasked answer in his eyes. “I’m good,” I breathe out, “thanks.” He nods and gives a small smile before stepping back and giving me more room. I quickly get on my way again, making my way across the bridge before descending into the Undercity.

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@gffhjtui @toma-is-tired @dreamingbluerries

[hakunot]

hello arknights fans i have a puzzle that needs solving. so whisperain’s new skin, it’s wonderful & we all bought it, correct?

looking in the background you can clearly see who the figures in the stained glass windows are supposed to be. they’re other iberians, specifically ones who have connections with the church of the deep, but aren’t themselves seaborne, abyssal hunters, or clothed members of the church (you can make arguments about amaia but that’s for another post).

we have irene, lumen, & amaia on the left side. then thorns & elysium on the right. my question is: can anyone tell who this third figure on the right is?

they have very distinctive bangs in their face, they’re holding a book (possibly supposed to be religious text?), what looks like a curved staff, and might have long hair to the side. WHO IS THIS??? i’ve done comparisons with every potentially relevant character i can think of (quintus, aulus, cicero, dario, carmen, literally every playable iberian) & i am stumped. no one fits as neatly as any of the other stained glass figures do. the closest i’ve gotten is maybe skalter? kal'tsit?? WEEDY??? HELP

[jisungsbff01]

.2.

.like i need you.

...pairing…Chan x reader

...w.c... 1.9K

...genre…slice-of-life, college au!

...warnings...swearing,

...characters...Y/N, (OC) Lilith, (OC) June, Hyunjin, Chan, Han, Jeongin, Felix, rest of SKZ mentioned

...synopsis...No one ever really knows what they wanna do in their 20s, but Y/N has always known what she was going to do. So, she began the journey to her dream and is so close to reaching it with no distractions at all. Until she is thrown into a project with Hyunjin, a fellow senior in college, and he introduces her to a few of his friends...connecting with one in particular...

Her whole plan is soon thrown off the track she’s had it on for 21 years….

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

The next morning, after maybe two hours of sleep, I stopped at the local student coffee shop, grabbing something for me and Hyunjin before heading to the bus top for a 15 minute drive to the closest stop to the dance studio Hyunjin and I have been using for the last couple of weeks. He said that rather than having to rent a room through the school, he knew the owner of a local one that hardly anyone used anymore. I’m sure the owner was more than happy to have both our company and our generous donations, since she refused to let us pay by the hour like she required for the public.

I punched in the passcode she offered for Hyunjin and me before pushing my way through the creaking door, the bell above ringing. I heard slow beats in the studio and I made my way in, assuming it was just going to be him. Little did I know, he was going to have two friends with him. I knew both, thankfully, I wasn’t very open to dancing in front of strangers…another reason I wasn’t a choreographer. I saw Jeongin conversing with Felix, who I met a time or two when I would meet Hyunjin at his dorm. I brought Hyunjin his coffee, then properly greeted the two other men in the room. Felix, surprising me with a hug, “Y/N, I’ve missed seeing you, Jinnie’s been hogging you up in studios too much. You need to come by the dorm sometime. I know I wouldn’t be the only one who’d ap-”

A loud clap sounded from the other side of the room, “Okay! You two heathens have two choices, sit on the side quietly or leave-your choice!”

Jeongin made a face at his demanding friend and dragged Felix to the bench spanning the side of the room the the right.

Hyunjin had me set our drinks where we wouldn’t spill them and we decided to start at the hook of the song. I watched a few feet away from him, so I could gauge where he had gotten with the choreo. I put in a few suggestions that made the dance look like it would flow more with his body, surprisingly enough, he took the offer, stating that it felt more natural anyway.

One..Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight

The counting Hyunjin showed to me consistently sounded through my head and I jumped in when it felt right, following his languid movements. Once the song came to an end, our breathing slightly elevated he turned to me and smiled, “Why don’t you dance with me more? Ooh, I can ask my instructor if I can bring you on and make it a duet?”

I laugh with a hand on my chest, “Hyunjin, you’re being generous, I do NOT want this to be a duet, I will ruin your grade, I swear it. I am entry level, at this point you’re a pro, I am not willing to bring your final grade down. If you’re up for it, once you get your grade back, you can alter the dance as a duet and we can try that as a side project?”

He thought about it for a moment and his face lit up,” I love that idea! So, be prepared to be amazed and tired. But, I still would like you to practice with me, the studio feels empty dancing by myself.”

He gave me little puppy-dog eyes and I caved, “Okay, okay. Just be patient with me, I’m still new and learning.”

After a little “hehe” he started the song over and we started from the top, working on parts we each thought we could change slightly to make more impactful. Every once in a while, Felix would offer suggestions that neither of us thought of due to being to wrapped up in our own bubble of creativity. After an hour and a half, Hyunjin received a phone call and I gave him the go ahead to answer it. This giving me a break to drink water and to cool off. I pulled my arm out of the sleeve of my sweatshirt for more ventilation, leaving my sports bra slightly exposed. In the mirror in front of me I saw Jeongin turn a shade of crimson and choke on whatever he was drinking in his cup, Felix beside him starting to let out a broken chuckle. I hear my phone begin to ring and I jog to answer the call fom Lilith when I pick up I can hear the white sound from being in a vehicle,”Y/Nnie? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, love, what’s up?” I play with the end of my sleeve on my sweatshirt, a habit I’ve never been able to break.

“All the dance studios are full at the university and I remember you telling me about the one off-campus you guys used, do you mind if practice is over there today or would we be intruding?”

“Not at all, girl, come on over- you have my location, right? Just put it in and I’ll send you the code to get in, or have someone come down to meet you.”

“Sounds good, we’ve got like five minutes left, but I’ll let you go so you can continue practicing!”

With that she hung up before I could even ask who “we” were…

I feel warmth behind me, only for it to be Hyunjin towering over me, “Chris is on his way, all the studios are full at uni and they need a bigger space.”

I let out an “uh-huh” muttering that Lilith said the same thing. Felix said that he would go down to let them in once they got here and told us that we could just continue with what we were doing. With that being said, Hyunjin decided to show me one specific part I couldn’t get down because of the way he moved his hips and it just felt unnatural. He watched me attempt to do it, and waited a couple of beats.

“Is it okay if I touch you? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” He asked.

I nod, “Hyun, I don’t think there is anything you could do at this point that would make me uncomfortable…unless it was kissing, that’s a different story and we know what happened the last time you kissed a girl.”

He looked at me with a “go to hell’ look and placed his warm hands on my waist and he asked Jeongin to play the music at a specific part. Once Jeongin pressed ‘play’ Hyunjin stepped behind me, looking over my shoulder still keeping a respectful distance away from me. Once the music began to flood out of the speakers, the man behind me began to move our bodies the way we had written out. I imprinted the way my body was supposed to move in this moment into my brain, trying to remember the way my muscles pulled at my back and thighs.

I looked at my partner through the mirror and asked him if we could run it again, hoping I could finally get this one right. He agreed and I walked over to his phone, rewinding the song and pulled off the rest of my sweatshirt, discarding it in the corner. We bagan moving again, midway through I started feeling anxiety rising in me the closer we got to the part we just went over.

It didn’t take long before we were interrupted by cat-calls from none other than Lilith, with two strays in tow. Chris and Han shyly made their way to us, Han quietly introduced himself and shook my hand. Chris shook my hand and said a quick ‘hi’ before hugging Hyunjin and quickly making his way to Jeongin, greeting him like a big brother would, sitting on top of him and rubbing the top of his head.

Lilith, on the other hand, yanked me to the side, “Okay you slut, whatcha doin with the little dancey dance there? But also, not bad..”

I just shrugged, “Hyunjin and I thought it would be a great idea for me to learn the routine because he wants to make it a duet once he finishes his exam, and he was talking about putting it on his socials with the song. All about publicity, babes.”

My friend squinted her eyes at me before calling over Han, “ Han, Y/N, Y/N, Han…or Jisung, he’ll respond to either.”

“I’m not a dog, Lilith,” he turns to me, “it’s nice to finally properly meet you, we’ve heard so much about you!”

“What the hell kinda stories does she tell you guys?” I let out with a nervous chuckle.

“ Now I said nothing about- OW!” Han was interrupted by Lilith stomping her foot ontop of his.

“Shut the hell up, shortstack.” She grits out as she turns to me “but, can we see the whole thing?”

My arms cross as a shout out to Hyunjin on the other side of the studio, “Hyun, she wants to see a run through.”

Before I start the music I let out a little disclaimer, “Now, the track isn’t finished yet, we’re still touching it up, but this is the main sample of it.”

“I hope you know we wanna see you dance with him too.” Felix requests.

Suddenly I feel shy, “Felix, I don’t know…I don’t feel comf-”

“Do it! You’re too hot to not do it!” Han shouts from his little corner, “Do your little dancey dance.” He sings out.

I give in, first throwing on my sweatshirt I had discarded in the corner, finally pressing play and getting into place.

I put all my focus and energy into getting this whole thing right, wanting to prove to myself that I can do anything I put my mind to. The last note rings out and I feel like I am dying for air…real air. I need to work on my stamina for sure. Hollers echo around us and Hyunjin embraces me in a hug, his arm lazily slung around my shoulders, “Y/Nnie, you did so good for a producer!”

“THAT’S where I know you from! Y/N, do you take Professor Kim’s Producing class block?” Han asks, running up to us.

“Yeah, have him every Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays.” I inform him. From there, he gets so excited and begins asking questions.

“What row do you sit it? How come you don’t talk a lot in class? You should’ve introduced yourself to us!” This little man doesn’t stop rambling, and I already adore him for it.

Through a few chuckles I explain that I sit directly behind him and Chris, and that I actually record the class to I can take proper notes later and didn’t feel the need to talk. We all get acquainted more while Hyunjin and I take a break, laughs sounding through the room frequently- the company feels nice…feels warm. After being a part of a few side conversations, I watch how well Lilith gets along with the other four. I notice how quiet Chan was and I accidentally make eye contact with him, my face heating up slightly and I send him a reassuring wink. He blushed and a smile grows on his face, he pulls his ball cap down and looks into his lap.

“So when are we all free so that way we can have a hangout night, I’m sure since I like you two, the rest of us will get along well.” Hyunjin asks loudly, pulling my attention away from the blushing man.

Suddenly I find six pairs of eyes are on me, questioning me in silence.

———————————

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought!!

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

without you (pt. 6)

pairing: lee felix x female reader

summary: you have been best friends with the 00 liners+chan for a while now. now everyone is in college and when you begin to develop feelings, its getting hard to choose...l

tags/warnings: college skz, liking multiple people at a time, fluff, angst, reader struggles with anxiety and depression, cussing, partially proofread

a/n: yesterday i had been listening to no doubt by enhypen for hours while working... but GIANT CAME OUTTTT OH MY LORDD... *saves to yt music library* anyways this one is going to be on hyunjin 😚 love yall

The air outside had cooled by the time you made your way to the campus courtyard, but the warm golden light of the late afternoon still clung to the edges of the horizon. You were meeting Hyunjin today—another one of your closest friends—but unlike Chan, your time together had become a rarity. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind, and you'd found yourself bouncing between study sessions, gym dates, and nights out with a growing group of new friends. Somewhere along the way, you'd unintentionally let Hyunjin slip through the cracks.

Hyunjin was already sitting at one of the tables, his phone in hand as he scrolled through something on the screen. When you approached, his gaze flickered up to meet yours, and a smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey," you greeted, settling across from him. "Sorry I'm late. Was just finishing up a study session."

He nodded absently, not looking up from his phone. "It’s fine."

You felt the weight of his response, the slight tension in his posture, and it made the smile on your own face falter. Something was off. It wasn’t like Hyunjin to be so distant—not to you. He’d always been playful, easygoing, and full of life when the two of you hung out. But today, there was something muted about him.

"Everything okay?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said, though his eyes didn't meet yours. His voice was flat. "Just tired, I guess."

You weren’t buying it. You'd known Hyunjin long enough to know when something was bothering him, and it was obvious there was more on his mind than fatigue.

"Hyunjin, come on. You can tell me what's up." You leaned forward slightly, giving him your best serious look.

He hesitated for a beat, then let out a deep sigh. He finally put his phone down, folding his arms on the table and leaning back in his chair, eyes on the sky. "I just… I don’t get it," he muttered.

You blinked, taken aback by his tone. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like…" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. "You’re always with everyone else now. Chan, Felix, your new friends, all the time. You barely have time for me anymore."

Your heart skipped at the bluntness of his words. You’d been so caught up in the hustle of school and new connections that you hadn't noticed how much distance had started to grow between you and Hyunjin. Guilt immediately crept up on you, but you tried to keep your voice calm.

"I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It’s just—everything’s been so busy lately. I didn’t realize I was pulling away." You hesitated, feeling a lump form in your throat. "You know you mean a lot to me, right? You’re my friend, too."

He finally turned to look at you, his dark eyes softer now, though there was still a faint edge of hurt beneath them. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "But it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I don’t know. I guess I just… miss hanging out with you like we used to."

You let his words settle between you, a heavy silence hanging in the air. You missed it too—the easy way you could talk with him, the days you spent together doing nothing but laughing and playing around. You wanted that again. You wanted to be there for him, to make sure he knew that even though things had gotten complicated, your friendship hadn't changed.

"I get it," you said softly. "And I’m sorry for letting things slip. You’re right, I’ve been kind of all over the place. But I’m here now. And I really want to spend more time with you. How about we go grab some dinner after this? Just the two of us. No distractions."

Hyunjin’s expression softened, though he still seemed a little guarded. He gave a small nod, his lips curving upward slightly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes the way it normally did.

"I’d like that," he said quietly, his gaze flickering down at his hands. "I just don’t want to feel like I’m… second place, you know?"

You felt a pang in your chest at that. You’d never meant to make him feel like he wasn’t important. "You’re never second place, Hyunjin. You’re one of my closest friends. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that." You reached across the table and placed a hand over his, offering him a reassuring squeeze. "I’m really glad you said something. I don’t want to lose touch with you."

His gaze met yours again, and this time, his smile was a little more genuine. "Thanks. I just needed to know that you still care."

"Of course I care," you said with a light chuckle, though your voice was filled with sincerity. "You’re stuck with me, okay?"

He laughed softly, the tension between you easing just a little. "Yeah, yeah. But you’d better make sure you keep your word." He leaned back in his chair, looking a bit more relaxed now. "And just so you know, I’m expecting you to beat me at Mario Kart tonight. You’re not getting off that easy."

You smiled, feeling the weight of the conversation lift. "I’ll take that challenge. But if I win, you’re buying me dessert."

"Deal," Hyunjin said, his eyes brightening. "And if I win, you’re giving me an hour of uninterrupted karaoke."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

The rest of your time together was spent in easy conversation, the air between you lighter than it had been when you first sat down. You promised to make more time for each other, to reconnect and rebuild the bond you both shared. As you walked away, heading to the arcade for your Mario Kart and karaoke session, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

Hyunjin’s jealousy wasn’t born from a place of malice, but of longing. He had simply missed his friend—and now that you were both aware of the distance that had crept between you, you were determined to close that gap.

And, as the night stretched on, with the sound of laughter and playful arguments filling the air, you couldn’t help but feel grateful that your friendships, though sometimes strained, were strong enough to withstand anything.

please don't reblog without permission!

[lampyoil]

Your mlp infection au animatic looked so neat...found it while surching that tag and that music is so pretty and I'm still trying to figure out the implications lmao...are you planning on expanding upon this or no? Part of me hopes you do because I totally wanna see more story...and I got so many questions. Was cadence patient zero or the creator of the virus. I am so curious how this happened and what drove the begining of this virus...also poor Shining and flurry...wonder how their story will go.

I’m definitely planning to expand much more!! I’ve been sick lately so I’ve mostly just gotten writing done, but I’ll explain some lore here! (Also also, I’m planning to mostly update on TikTok so if you wanna see it sooner it’s most likely there!)

This is mainly just explaining how the infection/mist came to be!!

Being the Crystal Empire, it’s very common for newer crystals or gems to grow either in or around the area. Usually they spread positive emotions, which can be especially effective to crystal ponies! However, a new kind of crystal had been growing from the outer side of the empire and was able to spread into the surrounding town. It was somewhat small and very beautiful, having colors more similar to sunsets (very uncommon for the empire, as it’s usually very pale or blue colors) and was collected to make jewelry. The jewelry was sold very quickly due to the uniqueness of the color, and soon just about every crystal pony citizen had one. But the crystals were not only different from the rest in color, but spread active negativity. Like said before, crystal ponies are extremely sensitive to the power of a crystals properties, and with so much negativity throughout the empire, many become not only angry, but violent.

The only ponies to have not gotten the jewelry were the royal family and Sunburst. Cadance didn’t want her subjects to be in such a horrible state, especially not with so many fights breaking out. She tried to spread her love the best she could, but being unaware of the negativity the crystals provided and the fact that her empire had so many ponies, she was unable to cast a spell big enough on her own. She and Sunburst both tried and looked everywhere for a stronger spell, until finally finding one. Cadance stood at her castle balcony, and preformed a spell that could spread the feeling of whatever emotion the spellcaster was feeling across large areas, enough to cover the entire kingdom! But something went wrong.

Even for a powerful alicorn like herself, the spell was too much, too strong. Her horn felt like it would break apart, but at the same time it kept her in place. The mix of trying desperately to show love and being terrified mutated her emotions and spread what was more of manic obsessiveness rather than pure love. Not only did it spread to her citizens, but being the caster and therefore closest, it infected her right to her core practically the second she tried to cast the spell. She couldn’t move until the spell was over, and even then she was just.. staring down at her subjects and they yelled and cried for her “love”.

Shining armor, Flurry heart and Sunburst were still inside of Sunbursts home when Cadance casted her spell, as she said she needed to fix things herself. They were all safe due to crystal homes being very thick and solid, and the mist wasn’t able to slip through. However, the constant yelling from outside is distressing.

Cadance didn’t mean for this to happen.

Annyyway.. that’s basically the origin!! I might brush it up a bit, but I also have a lot of other things planned for this au (Flurry and Shining especially)!! It’s all going to be more connected with the art rather than me talking though ^_^

Also sorry if this is poorly worded, very tired and sick and such

[storeecbrcod]

MWIII: Soap’s Nautilus Skin

Hear me out!

I’ve been told that Warzone is technically connected to the canon campaign, loosely, hence why everyone was really confused when Soap got his new Nautilus skin. He’s supposed to be dead, he shouldn’t be getting new legit-looking skins, at least not so soon after the campaign.

But, for the sake of my brainworm (that I know I share with others, shh), let’s assume Soap’s nautilus skin means he’s alive somehow. Let’s do some study (courtesy @ave661, doing god’s work for us ty):

Look at my pretty boy! Mask, gas tanks, and cool ass details, yeah? Just an awesome skin.

Let me put way too much detail and thought into this in the form of a ‘quick’ ficlet.

TW: canon-typical violence, medical settings, mentions of terrorism, mentions of torture/brainwashing. TLDR at the end :)

The 141 had been distracted as of late, chasing around a group of slippery but deadly terrorists that had made it their fucking mission to make the task force trip over them. Nobody was sure if they were intentional red herrings from Makarov, or just another rising force amongst disgruntled people that turned to violence to be heard. Either way, it was starting to really grate on everyone’s nerves, having to put the hunt for Makarov aside to deal with a new threat every other week, one too big and too elaborate for local defence departments to handle alone without the 141’s experience.

Because it was always the same elusive cunts fucking something up. Killing someone they shouldn’t have, intercepting deals and creating unrest amongst major crime rings around the world and sparking unrest through their deep, wide-spread roots. The team knew well how a small conflict could snowball into a wide-scale war, and it felt like they were preventing one every time there was a report of soldiers in black, glowing green tech with a hazy green tint to their eyes.

Price could see the way his team (3’s still a crowd, right?) was starting to grow restless with the near constant pull from their goal of finding Makarov, especially Ghost. He grew more distant by the day, getting more and more ruthless out field, reminding Price of his early days on the Task Force. Whether they liked it or not, Makarov had diminished forces right now, and he was not as much threat as—

“Fuck, Gaz, watch out!”

Another explosion went off, knocking Price and Gaz to the ground, their breath stolen as they tried to clamber back up to move out of range of fire. It felt like it was coming from everywhere, relentless, chaotic. The thudding of Price’s heart was the only thing that gave him rhythm, guidance on how to react and when and why. He pulled his sergeant to cover behind some stacked crates and dropping, continuing to heave through his strict chest.

This was the closest they’d gotten to the fuckers, never managing to see more than a glimpse of these skilled soldiers before. They gave them a run for their money, Price had admitted sourly many a time. They were legends on each base they travelled to now, infamous for how hard they were to catch, even for the equally infamous 141.

But now, they were close. It was eerie watching these people, almost robotic in their execution, unwavering, unafraid. They’d run into active fire if it meant they had a decent chance to advance and catch someone off guard. And somehow, they managed to get away, every damn time. They seemed to not register pain, either, if the way the one woman soldier continued to walk around despite her obviously broken leg was anything to go by.

They were like zombies, and it was deeply unsettling.

As far as Price could tell, there were two hostiles running around above them through the catwalks of the hangar they were currently pinned in. They were trying to pick shots, but they’d shoot their direction randomly as well, making it that much harder to predict when it was safe to poke their heads out to see if they even had a chance of running out.

“Ghost, where the fuck are you?” Price growled into his comms. The other man had been radio silent for almost half an hour now, ever since this stupid cat and mouse game started. They’d come in here to chase the bastards down, yet somehow his team were the ones being chased. It was beyond irritating, and it was also putting them in unreasonable danger.

“Cap!”

Gaz’s sudden yell had Price’s head on a swivel, following the man’s gaze to above them. Somehow, the third soldier of the little trio had managed to flank them, looking down at them from another isolated catwalk.

How Price neglected to watch their six, he didn’t know.

All he knew was there was a barrel of a rifle pointed straight at them from 10 metres up.

Within milliseconds, he knew three things; one, he wouldn’t be able to move Gaz and himself out of the firing line without making themselves vulnerable to the other hostiles. Two, any move they made now had them killed. And three…

Makarov was behind these soldiers.

Because who else would make their most deadly soldier, the most aggressive of the trio, the one that risked his life even more than his teammates, the one who seemed to hold easy leadership over the others—

Who else would shave their best soldier’s head into a mohawk, if not to taunt them?

Before he could even think to shield Gaz, pull him to his chest in a last-ditch effort to protect him in the hope that someone would get back home to tell their story, a dark blur slammed into the back of the soldier above, sending his rifle clattering to the floor. It was almost surreal, watching the mohawk’d soldier struggle against darkness, the occasional flash of stark white dancing around him.

Fists were exchanged. Bullets were sprayed towards them sporadically, but too out of range to hit accurately. The short barrier of the catwalk bit into the soldier’s lower back, starting to dangerously teeter further and further over it.

The rifle’s impact to the concrete hadn’t even finished echoing around the hangar when Price watched two figures tumble from the catwalk, grappling in the air. A sickening thud followed, the two bodies rolling with each other, parting and leaving one still on the ground while the other heaved on his hands and knees.

The moment of stunned silence seemed to hang forever, though it was only a second in reality. The gunfire had stopped, two sets of footsteps echoing down the corridors away from them. It left Price’s team, Gaz frozen and Ghost shaking with adrenaline, with an unconscious soldier.

Ghost crawled over to the body first, followed by Price standing over him. His veins were molten in rage, scorned again by the sight of his closest soldier posed over an unmoving soldier with a mohawk.

Fuck, they even got his eyebrow scar. I wonder what they did to create that?

Unlike last time, though, a muffled groan left the man on the ground, the body shifting slightly uncomfortably. His eyes (blue… what the fuck?) fluttered open, blinking away the confusion that likely fogged his mind. He breathed in, deep and full—

Even Price flinched at how fast the soldier’s hands came up to grasp at his mask, gasping, choking behind it, clawing desperately at a crack that spanned the left side of it. Blue eyes lit up with desperation, legs coming up to kick uselessly at the ground, back contracting as if in pain.

Reacting as a unit, Gaz moved forward to hold the soldier’s legs down, Price grabbing the man’s vest and forcing him down with all his might, Ghost grabbing his arms, forcing one to his side for Price to pin under his knees and holding the other one down. Even with three people on him, the soldier put up a good fight, even though it seemed like it was out of panic more than resistance.

Ghost grabbed the mask, struggling with the release catches that seemed to be stitched into the side of the man’s head, unable to get them loose. With a growl, he shuffled to force the soldier’s other arm down with his own leg, grabbing his throwing knife and carefully shucking it into the stuck lip of the release. He hit the butt of his knife, hearing the catch pop open before forcing the soldier’s head to the side and repeating the action.

The soldier only seemed to fight harder, turning his head away frantically as Ghost tried to yank the mask off. Despite having three people on him, he still managed to jostle them, pulling his hand out from under Ghost and earning himself a painful twist of the wrist.

“Ghost…”

“Stay still, fucker—”

With a final tug, the cracked mask is thrown from the soldier’s face, and it only makes the man thrash harder. His gasps for air are no longer muffled, the painful choking and heaves bouncing off the tall walls around them, surrounding them as they tried to hold him down.

It isn’t until his body tenses up completely, lips going blue that Price is finally able to get a proper look at the soldier’s face, and once again time stands still.

Those damn blue eyes stared up at Ghost, not breaking eye contact, and Price could swear he feels each of Ghost’s muscles tense up individually, his breathing stop alongside the body beneath them. The crude scar that dissected through the man’s chin was on full display, and he thinks he hears Gaz gasp beside him, his eyes glancing between the man’s face and Price’s own.

The soldier’s head was turned towards Ghost just enough to reveal the edge of the left side of his hairline, where a fading but ugly scar puckered right along his temple.

Price doesn’t stop Ghost from getting up and walking away once the man on the ground falls unconscious, his heart rate slow and his breaths returning even slower, but returning nonetheless.

Price doesn’t stop Gaz moving to take Ghost’s place, grabbing the body’s face so firmly yet so delicately, moving it back and forth as if to check he was real.

Price doesn’t react with anger when Laswell is silent on the other side of the radio, nor does he answer any questions except to insist on an emergency evac for their ‘prisoner’.

Price doesn’t do anything, except recite the paperwork they’d filed just two years ago, fixing it in his head over and over to come to terms.

John “Soap” MacTavish: KIA ALIVE

——————————————————————————

“This is fucking insane, even for Makarov.”

Nobody discounted Gaz’s observation, all just staring through the glass into the guarded hospital room holding John fucking MacTavish, lying still while tubes breathed for his sedated body. Well, all except Ghost.

They hadn’t seen Ghost in days.

Funnily enough, Nikolai had gone radio silent around the same time, too.

Hm.

Even Laswell had made her way over from her most recent post, vowing to lead the investigative efforts into Soap’s condition. The good thing was, he was relatively unscathed. Littered with new scars, sure. Aggressive and unforthcoming with even attempting to remember any of them, that too. Oh, yeah, and his body tries to shut down every time they take him off of the highest dose of anaesthetics, and nobody knows why, and he can’t tell them why.

Price has a headache.

“John.”

Price, Gaz, and the few medics with them all turned as Laswell approached, and their reaction was immediate. They all seemed to see the gravity in her features, sense the density of what she had to say on her tongue. Her frustration and worry was palpable, in her own stone-cold way.

Price hasn’t seen her like this since… well, ever. It didn’t invoke him with much confidence.

“We finally got the toxicology results back for the gas in the tanks,” she stated, though she didn’t offer the paperwork in her hands. Actually, she gripped the package with white knuckles. Another action that made Price even less confident this news was going to be anywhere near pleasant.

“And?”

“He’s developed a non-lethal strain of Nova gas.”

Silence. Pure silence. Disbelief? Bewilderment? Surprise? Who fucking knows. But they were silent.

“Nobody’s sure how it works just yet,” Laswell continues curtly, looking to Soap’s body through the window. “But it’s a pretty strong theory as to why Sergeant MacTavish was acting so…”

“Zombie-like?” Gaz offers, an interruption met with Laswell pursing her lips for a moment.

“I’d prefer another word, but if it fits.”

Quiet befalls them all again, Price scratching at his beard in an attempt to dispel the twisting mess of anger, worry and confusion. It’s been hard, trying to continue applying pressure to Makarov while they’re a Lieutenant down and distracted by an old teammate basically raised from the dead.

“We managed to extract some files from a hard drive found in one of Makarov’s bogus operation suites,” Laswell continued, looking back to John with more concern than before, really not helping on the confidence front. “I have people combing through them, though a lot of them are encrypted so thoroughly they’ll take days to decode. However, there are a few bits and pieces of jumbled reports, seemingly test experiments involving the new strain. The only new information we have at this point is how they acclimatise their patients to the gas.”

“Acclimatise?” John repeated, gruff with restrained emotion. Leadership and professionalism was always important, but right now, he couldn’t care less about seeming totally calm.

“Yes, acclimatise,” it sounded barbaric with the way she said it, like it was glimpse into what it meant. “They’d place the test subjects into gas chambers, restrained, and flood the chamber with the gas. Somehow the body adapts to rely on the gas as air after rigorous training.”

“Torture through suffocation more like,” Gaz grumbled, glancing between Price and Laswell, whose jaw ticked.

“Apparently, the gas is most effective when the patient is fully reliant,” she added, then shrugged. “Effective in what way, the team has no clue. Though they’re pretty confident it’s the efficacy to reduce cognition enough to lose the ability to do anything without outside influence.”

“Like a damn personal attack dog,” Price growled.

A beat of silence lingered, everyone in the room trying to comprehend how this would affect Soap’s recovery. If he could recover at all.

“So that’s why he acts like he’s suffocating when he’s conscious?” Gaz inquired. “Because he is?”

“We can only assume so.”

“This is so fucked up,” Gaz whispered, linking his hands behind his head and looking to Soap again. It was like some movie bullshit, the impossible becoming possible but without the safety of being in your living room. Watching a tornado head your way when you’re in the middle of a damn field. Absolutely impossible to comprehend, yet happening anyway, beyond your control.

“We’re going to see if keeping him sedated and letting his body recover from what could be years of exposure will reverse the effects of the chemical,” Laswell said slowly, but interrupted herself with a sigh, looking to Price earnestly.

Price thinks he sees his last sliver of confidence drift off in the breeze of the ventilation.

“We also have to consider his supposedly lethal GSW,” she slowly continues, shuffling where she stood. “We can only assume the parts of his brain responsible for memory, speech, thought processing was impaired with the injury.”

“There’s a chance nothing will change because his injury could have destroyed his ability to reason and remember before the gas,” a medic speaks up, putting the dots together quickly in her head and turning to Price, brow etched with concern. “There’s a very small possibility he will recover completely, or even to the point of independence.”

Price shared a look with Gaz, then the medics, and finally Laswell again. The words stuck in his chest, resistant to the idea of speaking something into being.

“We might not get Johnny back at all.”

——————————————————————————

…soooo :3

TLDR: Makarov has developed a new strain of gas, which he uses to suppress the cognitive reasoning in those that breathe it in, and allows him to train them into his cute lil super soldiers. The reason for the gas masks and everything? The soldier becomes reliant on it, their body adapting to rely on it fully like oxygen, otherwise they feel like they’re suffocating, hence needing to have it everywhere they go.

I know it’s very winter soldier, but to be honest it would make the most sense to me if Soap’s survival becomes canon. It rolls a few pre-MWIII theories into one; Soap ‘dies’ (canon), Soap is the traitor, and Soap is brainwashed by Makarov. It would be so interesting imo, and if they don’t take it I WILL RIOT—

Anywayyyy… I have vague explanations for things, i.e spreading his ashes that could totally work (with a little bit of narrative bending ✨) but I ain’t gonna go into it here and now. I could though…

Also, I know Nova gas isn’t what the gas is called, that it’s a similar thing from a grenade in the game. But fucking sue me, I’m not gonna make Laswell say “he’s developed a new strain of Unspecified Chemical Gas” like it’s some 13 year old’s Garage Band song they forgot about. Chill. It even says on the (totally very reliable) wiki that the closest thing is Nova gas, seeing as it’s the EXACT SAME except players who inhale it don’t cough. Stay back, Call Of Duty purists!! 🤺💨

[imagineanime2022]

S/O With Ghost Rider Powers

Shota Aizawa/Eraserhead X Reader, Keigo Takami/Hawks X Reader, Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader, Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner X Reader

Requested: @supernatural-hunter1

Request: Even better idea? What if Aizawa, Hawks, Shigaraki and Dabi had a S/O who’s quirk is ‘Ghost Rider’ like from the movie ghost Rider that would be epic?😅

Warning: - Injuries to Reader

Shota Aizawa/Eraserhead

🐛 The first time that Aizawa met you, you were in school, he’d gotten to know you as a person before seeing you with your quirk was active. 🐛 You quickly moved to the top of the class and became someone that everyone was watching, that being said you were still scary to a lot of the kids and took to working the night shift where your skills were more useful. 🐛 Villains learned to fear the skill that came with your flashy display and Aizawa became the only hero that seemed to be able to keep up with you whether you travelled by your chain or your motorcycle. 🐛 You and Aizawa grew closer to each other and you finally got to know the man that hid behind the stoic face.

Aizawa had asked you to help him with a practical lesson that he had gotten together for the new first years, he wanted to see where they all were and having you as a constant bar seemed like a good idea, he had a plan to split them into group putting them in terrain that best suited them and see how far they could get in a fight with you however you didn’t even get 1 fight in before everything went sideways.

The villains had broken into the USJ where the exercise was supposed to take place, you were already in the leather get up that you usually wore when you were out for work “normal plan?” You asked. “You think you can handle that many of them?” He asked. “You can’t?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, the kids watched as you ran down the stairs leading to the field that the villains occupied. Your hand hovered over the chain that linked round your neck as it expanded turning into what was your normal weapon immediately taking out the few villains closest to you when you realised that Aizawa had cancelled their quirks, this continued for a few minutes with you taking out people’s legs or using the chain to pull them close enough for you to knock them out, however it seems that the leader of the group was sick of watching everyone, he was faster than you expected and made his way to you within seconds. “You and Eraser are pretty cool but you're getting in the way.” He reached out grabbing your arm at the wrist, you let out a scream at the pain that travelled through it but when you looked down you could see that the part of the coat that had rested there was missing but your healing meant that whatever he had done was no longer visible on your wrist. “That hurt like a bitch.” You glared at him as you kicked him away, however the hit that connected with your side next was more powerful than anything else you had been in contact with, the wind was knocked out of you as you hit the floor but your eyes connected with the monster that had been standing next to the leader. “Ghost!” Aizawa called. “I’m fine, focus!” You ordered, lucky for both of you it wasn’t much longer before All Might showed up to help with the fight, that made things easier and they were finally forced out when the rest of the faculty came to help.

“You okay?” Aizawa asked as he walked over to you once he made sure that all the kids were okay. “Me? Yeah I’m fine.” You answered, he lifted the wrist that the leader now knew by the name of Shigaraki had grabbed. “He touched your wrist, were you able to heal it?” He asked. “Yeah, his quirk causes things to decay. It seems that my quirk worked against his, I still felt the pain but the wound is gone.” You explained. “I’ve never been happier for your healing.” He breathed out and you smiled. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You winked before Hizashi came over as loud as ever to make sure that you were both okay.

Keigo Takami/Hawks

🪶 When Hawks first met you, you were in your hero gear, so he didn’t think much of you really, you were another hero with a fire quirk, that is until you were called to a meeting with him over a joint project. 🪶 Hawks worried about working with you at first because of his weakness to fire but quickly learned that your control over your flames meant that he was in no danger at all. 🪶 He was absolutely fascinated by the chain you used as a weapon, he could get over the fact that he doubled as a belt when it wasn’t in use and always begged you to teach him how to use it. 🪶 His favourite thing about your quirk was your bike though, he didn’t realise that you were able to extend your quirk to other objects that you owned and the first time that you showed him near lost his mind and now he’s always racing you.

You stretched your arms over your head after finishing the 3rd catch of your shift, you leaned forward on the handle bars “you think you can take a break?” Keigo’s voice sounded as he landed in front of you. “Break?” You asked “I don’t know about you but I started about an hour ago, there’s no need for a break.” “3 guys in 1 hour?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and you shrugged. “Some of us take our patrolling seriously.” You teased and he looked at you and twisted his head in challenge. “Is that so?” He asked. “How about a little competition then?” “Competition, that doesn’t seem very serious.” You said sitting up. “No this is super serious, if you win you’ll be No. 2 hero.” He informed you. “I’m not sure that’s how this works, Hawks.” You reminded him and he shrugged. “You’ll be No.2 hero to me, Ghost.” He teased as he stepped closer. “You're not going to leave until we get this started are you?” You asked. “You know me so well.” His eyes were playful behind the visor and you rolled your eyes. “Name your terms.” You ordered.

You dragged yet another petty criminal into the agreed precinct, you pushed him towards the officer at the desk “what’s this one in for?” She asked. “Attempted robbery.” You answered and she nodded. “He’s on 15, you know.” She informed you and you looked at her. “I’ve still got time to catch up to him, I’m on 14 right? I’ve got an hour before the end of my shift.” You asked. “Do it for the girls,” She winked, at this point she had been dragged into a few of your bets that she had become subject to ust as much teasing from your boyfriend as you had and therefore wanted you to win with all of her heart. “Is our referee being biassed?” Keigo’s voice sounded from behind you as he dragged in three new guys. “You did that to show off, didn't you.” You narrowed your eyes. “What? They were just together… That's all.” He winked as he leaned against the desk. “I hate you.” You mumbled, flaming hair flaring slightly as you realised that you weren’t going to win. “No you don’t.” He denied his wings broadening to cover the both of you as he leaned in “you wouldn’t be dating me if you did.” “You're getting very close to your one weakness.” You smirked. “Are you talking about you or the fire?” He asked softly. “You don’t seem to be worried about either of them.” You grumbled stepping away from him. “Trust you.” He shrugged and for a second you were ready to retract the sentence, “Now you’ve got 30 minutes to make up 4 people, good luck.” “You were stalling me.” You narrowed your eyes at the realisation and he winked before disappearing out the door and that was when you decided that your previous statement was true you hated your boyfriend.

Tomura Shigaraki

✋ Shigaraki met you when you kicked your target straight through the door of the bar walking in yourself, placing the money on the bar to pay for the damages before picking up the target and pulling him out. ✋ One For All ended up hiring you as the personal assassin for Shigaraki and later the League Of Villains. ✋ Shigaraki considered you a close and trusted friend since you never left him and you didn’t even flinch when he threatened you, an argument led to you both finding out the healing that your quirk provided made you immune to his quirk. ✋ You and Shigaraki became a feared couple after your first attack at the USJ, your appearance made you scary enough but dedication with which you protected Shigaraki and he, you became something that people strived for and feared all at the same time.

Shigaraki was easily the hardest person to get to know, people who met him were scared of or disgusted by him, that is until he met you, you didn’t flinch away from him or pretend that you liked him in fear of your life, you argued when you thought that he was wrong, you fought him when he challenged you and you encouraged him when you knew that he needed it.

Shigaraki valued the times that you spent alone because that was how you started, it was just the two of you, it seemed that everything had gotten so crowded now that it was rare that you managed to get any time together without someone interrupting. You were both sitting at the bar, you were leaning against Shigaraki’s shoulder as you watched him play the newest game as he mumbled about whatever he was trying to do. “Hey lovebirds, it’s time for us to go,” Dabi said as he looked down his nose at the two of you. “She’ll be there in a minute.” Shigaraki muttered his hand gripping your thigh where it rested. “She better be.” Dabi grumbled as he walked back over to Toga who seemed to be waiting for you all, you leaned over pressing a kiss to his cheek as you attempted to stand but Shigaraki wrapped his hand around your wrist. “You leave them to come back.” He said as he looked at you. “I promise that a bunch of teenagers are not going to stop me from coming back here alright.” You winked. “If all else fails I have a motorcycle to get back here.” “Use it.” He ordered and you nodded. “Of course.” You promised and he finally let you go.

Most of you managed to get back unharmed and with the kid that you were told to collect, you were in charge of chaining up the prisoner for whatever reason and of course he had no intention of making it easy, his hand came up an explosion going off in your face and honestly if you had been anyone else you would likely be dead but despite the fact that the force of the explosion had removed muscle and skin from the side of the your skull you were still reaching for the syringe in your pocket “your lucky that the boss man wants you alive, or I’d be testing how fire resistant your quirk actually makes you Bomber boy.” You said as he succumbed to the drug that you had injected. “(Y/N) come here.” Shigaraki gestured for you to come over. “What’s up?” You asked, your face finishing its healing process. “Stay away from him from now on.” He ordered and you looked at him and shrugged. “If that’s what you want.” You sighed leaning back against the bar, his fingers reached out taking your chin in his hand and twisting your face to look at your newly healed skin before nodding to himself, you just smiled and settled on the stool behind you as he ordered Twice to finish the job that he had given you.

Dabi

🔥 It was obvious the type of relationship that Dabi had with fire, you met him when he was a teenager, you were both alone on the street and decided to make a name for yourselves together, you were lucky because had Dabi been any older he wouldn’t have accepted the order. 🔥 You were the only person that he let get even a little close to him, he never seemed to be afraid of your flames, so when you were fighting together, he’d often grab that chain that you used to move you out of the way of something. 🔥 Dabi was never far from you and he never liked being split from you on missions, you didn’t really like being too far away from him either, he could be reckless at times. 🔥 You could often be found sitting close to him as you talked about things in the presence of others, he could be the voice for the both of you if you needed, he noticed that you had a habit of letting the flames dance around your fingers when you were nervous.

You were sitting in the bar, in one of the booths, your flames dancing through your fingers as you, you looked up as a shadow cast over you before a drink was pushed towards you, you wrap your hand around the cup pulling it closer as Dabi slid in next to you looping his arm around the back of the chair and behind you. “What are you doing over here?” He asked as he leaned back. “Just watching.” You answered as you looked over the group that you had just joined. “Try not to worry so much, you could wipe the floor with most of these idiots.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You really think that he’s doing this because of Stain?” You asked “that he even followed him?” “No, not really.” Dabi answered. “But we’re not here for that anyway, if he’s going to get me closer to No.2 then we’ll stay here as long as we need.” “I guess that’s true.” You nodded, letting the small flame move through your fingers of its own accord. “You need to stop worrying.” He pulled you closer as he looked around catching the eyes of Shigaraki across the bar and Toga who started skipping towards you, Dabi reached out linking your hands together and moving them under the table, silently thankful that you didn’t pull away from him and his scars. “I’m not worried, I trust you.” You explained. “What are you two whispering about?” Toga asked as she leaned over the back of the chair on the other side to you. Dabi rolled his eyes as he looked away from her while you smiled. “Nothing.” You answered. “Just wondered how many of these guys are going to come back after this mission.” “You think some won’t?” She asked. “Will you go away?” Dabi glared at her as he pulled your attention back to him “we need to make a plan for how we’re going to keep the teachers busy.” “Your chains would be perfect for keeping Eraserhead occupied.” Shigaraki said. He was the only one that had fought the night shift hero before so you trusted what he was saying. “No.” Dabi muttered, “I’ll keep him busy.” “I mean you can both do it.” Twice said as you looked at him and twisted your head to the side. “Huh?” You asked. “I just need you measurements and I can make a copy of you that can keep the teachers busy while we look for the kid.” Twice explained “not that it’s any of your business.” “How does that sound?” You asked. “Fine.” Dabi nodded “don’t get too touchy.” He helped you climb over him to get to Twice and he watched the whole time until you were back with him.

Spinner 

🦎 You and Spinner connected because you were both told that you were too scary to be heroes, you had each other's backs from the day that you met and that continued for the rest of your life.

🦎 Spinner was unbelievably protective of you, he watched people around you and because your quirk was one that you could hide you ran into less trouble than he did but he was always there much like you were for him.

🦎 Loves that you run warmer than most because he’s cold blooded, he uses you like a space heater and you love it.

🦎 You were the one that saved him or caused a distraction so that he could get away, you were the one with the bike after all, you met up with him once you shook off the heroes every time and he never doubted you.

You had all headed into Deika City after deciding to kill two birds with one stone, you needed to make sure that the fight lasted long enough for Gigantomachia to get there twisting your neck to the side you activated your quirk the chain that had been wrapped around your arm under your leather jacket falling to the floor the end staying wrapped around your wrist as you looked at the man in front of you before using your finger to signal for him to come at you. “Are you going to fight me or just keep looking at me like that?” You asked.

“I’ll kill you.” He growled out and you smirked as you twisted your head.

“We’ll see about that.” You smirked as you dove forward ducking under his attack wrapping the chain around his leg pulling him down pressing your foot to his chest keeping him there, “you really should have be a little more cautious.” 

“So should you.” He smirked but as his partner came out of hiding to hit you, you easily stopped the blow only second later did Shuichi come out of nowhere to slash him straight across the back, he fell to the ground.

“Thank you Shu.” You smiled “would you mind?” Your eyes travelled to the man you were holding down.

“Gladly.” He stabbed straight through his neck and you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his cheek taking one of the dagger out of his many holsters, coating it in fire before throwing it at the man that was getting ready to attack you both.

“Make sure that you come back to me.” You ordered as he jumped up onto the building in search of Shigaraki.

“Always.” He promised and you nodded as he disappeared and you continued fighting.

After the fighting was finally done and that announcement was made that Shigaraki would be the leader of the new group The Paranormal Liberation Front you finally had some down time, you and Spinner and been separated during the time that you were supposed to be helping keep Machia busy, you were on opposite teams. So now as you all sat in the new room everyone healed back almost back to normal, you were lounging across the sofa with Shuichi curled up with you, your body slightly heated for him. “We’ve never really been apart that long before have we?” You asked running your hands through his purple hair and he grunted.

“A month is a long time.” Shuichi mumbled and you hummed.

“You guys haven’t been apart for a month..?” Compress asked and you looked at him and shook your head.

“We stuck together from the day that we met.” You explained.

“Well that explains a lot.” He shrugged.

“What does that mean?” You asked.

“Well you work so well together and I know you are both in a relationship but sometimes you almost seem like the same person.” He explained. Spinner turned his face to look at Compress for a second but in the end he didn’t actually say anything and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s good at reading me, always has been.” You shrugged with one shoulder, careful not to jostle Shuichi too much. “Don’t know what I would have done without him.” 

“Aww that’s so cute!” Twice said and you smiled rolling your eyes.

“Enough of that, mind your own business.” You mumbled turning yourself away from them and shielding the both of you for a moment away from all of them.

Request Here!!

[captainsophiestark]

Daniel Sousa Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

Main Masterlist

X - x reader F - Female Reader (otherwise it’s gender neutral) ☀️ - Fluff ✨ - Humor ☁️ - Angst ⭐️ - Author Faves

Newest fics will be at the bottom

Plan B - F!X ☀️✨ Reader is a friend of Peggy’s who’s been on the team at the SSR for a few months. She hasn’t really bonded with any of the men at the agency, except Thompson, who’s her stupid hotshot mission plan buddy. She also spends a fair amount of time with Daniel, but reader hasn’t gotten to bond with Agent Sousa as much. That might change drastically when the four go out on a mission to try and recover some more of Howard’s stolen tech.

Black Coffee - X ☀️ Reader’s working at a coffee house, and they see plenty of people come in looking exhausted and searching for some caffeine to help. When a new face comes into the coffee shop, he manages to break the all-time record for the person closest to being an absolute zombie. Daniel Sousa’s been working day and night on a case for the SSR, and he’s in danger of falling asleep if he so much as stops moving. But, if he can make it through to the end of the case, it might just turn out to be worth it in more ways than one.

Assistant - F!X ☀️ Y/N is Howard Stark’s assistant, which is never a boring job. They’re in the middle of tearing their hair out trying to manage his crazy schedule when a surprise visit from a certain SSR agent shakes up their day.

New Office - X ☀️ Y/N’s been in love with their best friend Daniel Sousa since they both started working at the SSR, but he’s been hung up on Peggy since the first time he saw her. Now, however, Peggy’s turned him down for a date and he’s gone all the way across the country with a promotion to get some distance from her. Y/N went with him, but will it mean a change in anything more than location for the two of them?

West vs. East - X ☀️✨ Y/N is the LA SSR’s new nurse, a position they finally realized was incredibly important to have around after a few near-misses during the Whitney Frost case. They’ve only been there a week, but an all-SSR picnic and “friendly” East Coast/West Coast competition will give them plenty of chances to make new friends and more.

Sandy and Charlie - F!X ☀️✨ Y/N is starring in her first big picture, a Western produced by Howard Stark. When the actor playing her love interest no-shows, however, they’re going to have to get creative in finding a person to fill the role so the movie can be finished. Fortunately for them, the SSR needs Howard’s help on a case, and are willing to make some deals to get it.

The Unholy Alliance - X ☀️✨ Daniel and Y/N have been staring at each other longingly for months, and Jack and Peggy are tired of it. So, in a moment of history in the making, the two *team up* to find a way to get their coworkers to finally realize their feelings for each other.

No Way To Know For Sure - Part 1 Part 2 - F!X ☁️☀️✨ After a few months of friendship and a few more months of dating, Y/N and Daniel Sousa decided to call it quits when he moved out to LA to open the West Coast SSR. She was focused on her career with no desire to leave New York, her home, the place she had connections and established respect as a female SSR agent, the greatest city in the world. Daniel couldn’t turn down the promotion, and she didn’t want him to. So they parted ways, Y/N telling herself it didn’t hurt. But when Jack sends her out to LA to work with Daniel on a case, she realizes she is definitely not over him.

Date Night - F!X ☀️✨ Y/N and Daniel are ready to relax and listen to their favorite radio program together after a long week at the SSR. Unfortunately for both of them, Y/N’s older brother Jack Thompson has the spare key to the apartment, and he has a history of picking terrible times to drop in on his little sister.

Office Most-Eligible - F!X ☀️✨ When Jack ropes Daniel into eavesdropping on the telephone ladies’ breakroom, they both might hear a lot more than they’d bargained for.

The Ugliest Tie I’ve Ever Seen - X ☀️✨ Y/N has finally been transferred to LA, joining their boyfriend Daniel Sousa to help with a case. Unfortunately, he's picked up some new fashion in LA.

Drinks With Peggy - X ☁️☀️ Daniel's S/O came out of a program like Dottie's, so they're still learning how to be in a relationship and communicate with the people who matter.

The Gunmen Were A Relief - X ☀️✨ Daniel's planned out the perfect night to tell his SO about his real job as Chief of the LA SSR. Unfortunately for him, things don't quite go according to plan.

[tomfoolies]

the tomja timeline: director's cut, extended edition, way too long of an overview of our relationship development

gonna make a preface here before we begin: suspend your disbelief, 100%. is this actually viable? only at certain times, mostly no. it's unrealistic, out of character for multiple characters, and makes plot holes the sizes of entire continents. i'm not saying that in a self-depricating way, it is literally impossible to add another character that is kinda integral into the plot without rewriting a lot or just destroying the masterfully crafted story…. and like, lets be real. we all know that as soon as people found out about us we would've gotten fired ASAP lmao. but we stick it out until the end <3 because it's more fun that way and i don't care about realism that much, i'm just here to have a good time. so it's very much canon and real to me.

i’ll be recapping stuff i’ve already talked about on this blog so some of it will be a repeat but it’s fiiiine. also. this is over three thousand words. i can't be concise.

sighs. let’s go.

PRE-SHOW

> waystar career started off as the brightstar parks department HR manager some years before the show begins. first meeting with tom is around 2-ish years before ep1. we meet during a HR dispute i’ve been put to solve and he is one of the people involved in it… not the best first impression of each other since he thinks i’m cold and intimidating and i think he’s kind of an idiot and weird. but over time we get to know each other a bit more, especially once he rises up in the ranks as well. a few months before the show starts i start in my new position as one of the HR executives for the whole corporation.

SEASON 1

> at the start of the show we're quite familiar with each other, have friendly relations and definitely count each other as some of the closest coworkers. have briefings, having worked together on occasion (idk and idc if this is viable i'm never gonna work in corporate ok), exchange a lot of emails and gossip and have each other's personal phone numbers (for work-related emergencies...?).

> the proposal doesn’t happen because around the time he considers going for it i actually blow up his phone with questions about the old man’s health. not because i wish him a speedy recovery but because i hate him and would love to see him dead (tom doesn’t know the extent of my hatred at that point yet, though). and something stops him, he’s been hesitant about it for a while now and it feels like too much at that point, everything is too chaotic and he doesn’t want to make it worse.

> in ep4 as he’s given the cruise papers, he misses a (very unofficial) meeting with me and i come to his office to interrogate him about it before he has a chance to share the papers with greg. i immediately go for it and start reading the papers in horror because i love to know what is going on. BIG MISTAKE. he doesn't dare to stop me partly because he has his first of many realizations. aaand he knows i’m competent, so instead of trying to protect me he gives in because he does also like that someone else has to deal with it now too. BONDING through the horrors (crime) LOL. WE BOTH IN THE DEATH PIT NOW!!!! but also i threaten him that if he throws me under the bus i will drag him along and figure out all and any excuses. we go down together. i’m also the one who suggests that we shouldn’t go public with it. which also leads to him keeping it more of a secret, not telling shiv about it. sooo literally nobody else knows (until i let gerri know the basics so plot continuity will work out. but at first….)

> so, it becomes my duty to figure out someone to dispose the papers. i still manage to make greg do it. he’d probably be more inclined to help me when he 1) does not know what the papers entail 2) i’ve been only nice and kind to him unlike someone else. so he would help me, not knowing it’s connected to tom as well…. oops. and he wouldn’t get any copies because i’d be keeping watch (and already took some myself for safekeeping).

> in ep6 tom comes to my desk and takes me to an empty meeting room to tell me the situation has been cleared. i get excited because i too have been very stressed out about it, so i go for a bit too friendly hug that he was NOT expecting and so when i pull back he's all flustered and just blurts out "let's go celebrate let me buy you dinner". sooo we do and have fun shittalking and in general just being a bit more personal than usual (he tries to convince me that being rich is fun and i go "yeah i'm sure it is..." seeing right through him). ending the night with wandering the streets just enjoying each other's company, and he has his little realization "aw shit i don't only find her insanely attractive but also would like to engage in romantic relations with her and kinda wish i could do something about it" moment i wrote that one selfshiptober prompt about <3 he still finds out about the vote somehow though...

> his realizations contribute to both distancing from shiv and the roys as a whole emotionally and physically. he feels out of place everywhere, but also he tries to keep telling himself he should just commit, propose to shiv and handle it. set his feelings aside. but every time something happens he’s really put off and like ”i wouldn’t have to deal with this if i wasn’t involved with these people (the family therapy incident for example)…” he starts thinking about what his life would be like. with me. love when i can make a man self-aware and more introspective.

>  roman still gets the guys to go to the (no longer a bachelor) party and i’m there as well, through a friend of a friend. neither of us knew the other was gonna be there… so imagine the surprise once we cross paths!!!! and throughout the night we'd be seen together, having a good time even if everyone else isn't because we're with each other!! but also tom’s feeling ROUGH because of the realizations he’s been having. you all know this you’ve read the fic.

> the season ends in the same place as it does canonically, but we’re all there for some other fancy event instead of the wedding. the details aren't important ok. when greg breaches the topic of shiv cheating on him, instead of refusing to accept it tom feels... relief? anger, yes, but a bit absolved of his sins of pining after me. but it’s also the last straw and in a bold move he decides to go for it and suggest that he wants to break up. it gets a bit messy for SURE. afterwards he comes to find me, surprises me and himself with what’s happened and we kiss and… later that night as we’re hanging outside by the manor’s courtyard, too excited to sleep and too enamored with the other to be with everyone else, kendall comes back from his little field trip and stumbles upon us. 

SEASON 2

> we try to distance ourselves until he’s in the clear, keeping it strictly professional (like watch kendall’s announcement at work together and conspire over what THE HELL HAPPENED) but text a LOT after work, tease and flirt extensively. a few weeks later we finally begin dating for reals once he’s gotten his own place. he invites me over and we drink and he tells me about his new job and it’s a bit awkward (NOT living up to our promises we made over text lmao) but also genuine and intimate. 

> poor guy gets his mancold and YOU KNOW i actually make him take the day off and nurse him back to health <3 and after the hunting trip i comfort him and threaten to fire everyone (i WISH i could but the thought is there. he appreciates it) even though he doesn’t dare tell me the whole extent of it because it’s just way too humiliating :(

> safe room drama includes me checking out COMPLETELY at some other random locked office while he blows up my phone (he calls me like I THINK THEY'RE OUT TO GET ME and i'm like "i'm sure they are honey…", only slightly mad at him because i found out about the human footstool incident LMAO but hey if the guy doesn't report it to the HR… my morals are. very loose in this regard.)

> i doubt my influence would help greg THIS much but it would be fun for him to do his department exploration instead of having to stick with tom so that's what's gonna go down. it'd help build his trust and respect towards me, because i'd convince tom it's better for everyone involved... greg wouldn't have the papers to blackmail with but. he would still know that we're both involved in something we don't want to become public and he could probably use that to his advantage. i think.

> once we hear about the cruise article we get Stressed. because we kept it just between us it'd throw a lot more people off guard. but we'd try to stay calm and let the roys take the blame for a hot second… the anxiety runs high and it does lead to us being a bit distant, but also we try our best to not think about it. we both get questioned, i manage to keep my cool and i actually stored the documents in a smart place (soz greg) so they can be a surprise tool to be used for later :) and of course we would witness the beautiful performance that is l to the og... (< very important for me to be there also)

> my love confession just before his hearing my beloved <3 and… i think that this all would lead to me having to go to court as well instead of greg. since there's literally nobody else to throw blame onto. and everyone else would LOVE to get back at me like that. so it'd happen and while not as bad as tom's i would still not perform very well. a lot of questioning about my suspicious HR violations by getting it on with the boss from an adjacent company LOL. they're like "hmm did you help him get that position" guys no that's just good old nepotism-adjacent activities. but they'd definitely expose our. interesting. email threads…

> but. we survive. i also get invited to the yacht. probably as a terrible ploy to get me killed, but at least before my inevitable death i can have a relatively… good time? then it's up to ME to defend tom to everyone, especially to logan. it gets a little bit uncomfortable and i may fear for my life a little bit. but i'd know i did the right thing when he confesses his love for me <33 and i secretly promise to myself i will stick with him no matter what; i'm in too deep to give up on him.

(ALSO. JUST REALISED. CHICKEN SCENE NOT REAL IN THE TOMJA TIMELINE MOST LIKELY. BIGGEST LOSS OF THE CENTURY……..)

> and when kendall gets revealed to be the sacrifice… me and tom's suspicions rise even more. full circle moment? he gives us a look and we can't help but think that something’s going on. but also i really wanted to help him out earlier, so i talked with him, we connected a little bit and the papers i saved end up being of great use >:)

SEASON 3

> relatively smooth sailing until ep3, he gets drunk and self sacrificing, you know what goes down… but i don't know if i'd manage to prevent him from executing his idea or not. on the other hand more plot continuity on the other hand i want to avoid the tailgate party argument… luckily i don't have to know. nevertheless i comfort him even though it does really sting when he confesses to me that occasionally he wonders if breaking up with shiv was the right thing. but then again, he also regrets getting into waystar in the first place. and he's much happier with me than he ever was with her. he's just feeling very scared and disposable and i can't help him. i just don't have the power. but what i do have is instinctual knowledge (mary sue energy) that things will work out and i try my best to relay that to him.

> but then because I'M the one that gave kendall the papers, he would notify me that i might be on the line of fire as well. so… both tom and i would be unbearably anxious about our respective prison sentences. constantly whining about it together, staying up all night bouncing scenarios off of each other and catastrophizing, brought closer by our mutual loss of hope. nobody would like to be around us during this time period (as if that's any different from the norm lol).

> here i can't decide if i'd tell tom i helped kendall or not. i would probably need to divulge that i'm more involved in this than what i originally planned. but not tell him the whole extent of it. BECAUSE i want that kendall's talk with tom in ep6 be more interesting (i've talked abt this before but YOU'RE GETTING IT AGAIN). he would tell tom what i did, and try to persuade him to switch sides because he knows i would respect him for it. i have 0 loyalty to anyone (but tom…), i genuinely don't give a shit about waystar and would just abandon the ship if things got too much, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch. and he'd feel more inclined to do it for sure, since his loyalties have also begun to shift. but he won't do it, even if it's just because he knows that kendall will get fucked eventually.

> of course once he finds out nobody’s going to prison, he comes over to my work station and we slip into the first available meeting room, very discreetly and very casually. intense making out ensues as celebration. and later at ken’s birthday party we get wasted and make everyone else jealous with how stoked we are. actually feeling really great and happy and not caring one bit!! we'd also obviously get invited to the mama roy's wedding <3

> things get convoluted here. shiv would not tell tom about the siblings' planned coup so he wouldn't be able to rat them out to logan. but. everything would go badly for them nevertheless... how? i don't know. but it's succession we're talking about the narrative has doomed them already. again i don't care about realism THAT much.

SEASON 4

> i get suspicious at connor's wedding when i realize the siblings have mysteriously disappeared. and tom calls me immediately afterwards. i'd try my best to comfort him but i'd be lying if i said i was sad. and he knows that too. anyways, greg and i manage to escape the boat before it embarks and gossip all the way to the office to get rid of the documents as per his request. wondering what really went down. sonjagreg bonding moment <3

> and as i've said before tom would definitely be uneasy about it for a while, partly because it made him realize what he has to do next, that he no longer wants to go down the path he's been walking for such a long time now. he'd have a crisis about it for sure, and it'd lead to him having some nightmares about the whole thing. his resolve to leave waystar behind is growing stronger, and when he's hit with the harsh truth of "nobody likes you here plus the old man kinda of wanted you gone for a good while now since you abandoned his family for some upper middle class bitch (me) so don’t even think about the CEO spot" he might not show it but man does he agree with it.

> hmmm. maybe no tailgate party at our place? BECAUSE. for no other reason than why not, i'd say we move in together around this time. partly because it feels like the only thing we can control in that moment, partly because i pretty much live at his place with juno already so not a lot really changes... so. there's no sleepless nights (i let that man sleep we're not animals) and NO DRAMA NO ARGUMENTS!!! boring and leaves many things open but it's fine we can still be invited, it can be at someone else's place <3 because i love nothing more than being a side character/witness to the main plot drama.

> america decides what america decides and i go welp fuck wanna start life over in finland? is it sheep farmer time? and i manage to drag tom out of his office and make it in time to witness logan's funeral. one last hurrah with the roys, his moment of closure for that particular era in his life.

> by the time the finale rolls around, instead of feeling like he’s willing to do anything and everything to stay in mattson’s good graces he is growing disinterested. kind of ready to walk out already. we strategize it, i resign from my job and he's just waiting to get fired as soon as the merge happens. so... when he gets offered the CEO spot he is VERY surprised. but he doesn’t want it, not anymore. so he tells mattson just that, hands in his notice and comes home to me.

> post-canon includes us getting new jobs after an unemployment vacation, moving to a nice little house with a garden and a backyard for our dogs <3 travelling a bunch, and getting engaged soon after that. engagement lasts for multiple years, like i previously said, with a destination wedding (very much leaning towards lake como teehee). aand then we just chill out our fun mundane domestic DINK life until the end of time <3

[mimicteruyo]

Hello, this is very random ask about your KomaEiki fanfics!

I’ve been reading your KomaEiki fanfic for about 3-4 years and I love every single one of them! I think my favorites out of all of them include Sleeping Beauty, Reflections of Higanbana, Glass Mirror and Nothing Says Romance Like Holding Back a Scolding.

I do have one question though, is Reflections of Higanbana sort of a “happy ending fix it fanfic” to Glass Mirror? I’m not sure if this was your intention when it came to writing Reflections of Higanbana but when I first read the fanfic I couldn’t help but think this due to the fact Eiki and Komachi were able to figure how they would handle their romantic relationship while also their work relationship at the same time while in Glass Mirror this wasn’t the case and Eiki basically couldn’t even tell Komachi she loved her due to work rules. I don’t know, I always felt like the two fanfics were connected somehow and that somehow the events of Reflections of Higanbana were the key to fixing the unrequited love story shown in Glass Mirror. The names for both of the fanfics also seem connected since mirrors reflect what is shown within them. I might be looking into things a bit too much but I wanted to see your perspective of things as the author of those fanfics.

Also very unrelated but thanks to those specific fanfics I couldn’t stop listening to the song Romeo and Cinderella by Doriko (this is a Vocaloid song) and it’s one of my favorite Vocaloid songs now. I would totally recommend listening to it if you are interested. Maybe the whole tragedy and happy ending thing got to my head a bit when reading those two fanfics…..

Back on topic though, do you have any plans to write a hurt/comfort KomaEiki fanfic by any chance? I’ve notice there really isn’t any out there and it would be really interesting to see your spin on things with this specific fanfiction trope.

Anyways keep up the good work!! 🐾🐾

Hi! This was a really fun ask to receive! Sorry it took me a while to reply: I wanted to think my answer through since your question was so thoughtful.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so glad you like the fics! KomaEiki feels like a pretty niche ship these days, so I'm always super delighted to find other people who enjoy it.

The short answer is yes, Reflections of Higanbana is a fix-it for Glass Mirror (and the names are indeed intentionally connected). I didn't deliberately reference anything from the older fic besides the title in the newer one, but the intention was definitely there.

The long answer is a bit more complicated. Before Glass Mirror, I wrote a LOT of KomaEiki that I never finished and which thus never saw the light of day, trying really hard to make fetch the ship happen. I was still new to writing as well as lacking in life experience, and combined with my then present neuroses about adhering to canon I just couldn't get it to work in a way that satisfied me. Ultimately I wrote Glass Mirror as the closest thing to KomaEiki I could at the time and basically gave up on writing romance fics altogether for years afterwards.

The basic structure of Reflections of Higanbana actually comes from one of those unfinished fics: it was a short fic dominated by dialogue, similarly taking place over the centuries but with an ending very similar to Glass Mirror. Weirdly enough I couldn't actually find it when I went looking for it in preparation for writing Reflections, but I swear it existed. 😂

Before Reflections, I'd finally gotten back to writing pure shipfic and realising how much I loved it. At the beginning I deliberately only wrote fluffy established relationship KomaEiki to avoid the issues that stymied baby!Mimic's KomaEiki attempts, but then I decided it was time to give a more serious fic another try and write what I'd so desperately tried to write back in the day. At that point, I'd grown up enough to realise that, you know, the characters could in fact have an adult conversation about their relationship and thus sort things out (and also by then canon had revealed that the administration of Hell is messy lmao), and so I finally managed to write the fic little me wanted to read.

Thank you for the song rec! I'll check it out! 😊

I'm certainly open to the idea of h/c KomaEiki, but unfortunately I can't promise anything: I've been in a pretty serious creative lurch for a long while now and haven't really had any new fic ideas all year. The most I can say is that one of the fics I'm currently horribly stalled on might have some KomaEiki in it. Anyway, I'll do my best to get out of this mire and start writing again.

Thank you for your continued support! 🌼