#this includes imagines and writing

[selfshipseaside]

Happy Black History Month Self-shippers!

To all of the black self-shippers in this community, you are wonderful, cherished, loved, and adored by your f/os! Black self-shippers will always and have always belonged in this community! Just know that your f/os will always be supportive of you, and they will always love you! To non-black self-shippers, make sure to do your own research on this month and uplift black self-shippers! Don't be invasive with questions, do amplify their voices, and don't be weird. And remember, black self-shippers exist always, and your support of them shouldn't stop after this month is over. Let's spread the word about this month of celebration everyone!

[aoioozora]

Brown Eyes

Simon had always been conscious of how boring his eyes seemed. They were just brown, plain ol' boring brown and he hated it. He didn't have Johnny's sparkling bright sky blue or Price's ocean blue. His was just plain, boring, brown, the color of dirt.

Not until you came along, you sweet little thing.

"You have pretty eyes," you told him when you first met him. He was shocked.

"Uh, thanks," he could only muster without appearing affected by the compliment.

But whenever you'd speak to him, he'd notice you peering into his eyes with no thought behind your own. You were so distracted by figuring out the shade of brown that his eyes were that you'd not hear a thing he said. Simon was glad that his blushing cheeks were masked.

You were fascinated by his eyes. In the shade they were inky black, an abyss and you found it befitting his mysterious persona. But one day when you were in his office, a ray of evening light slipped in through the cracks of his blinds, settling gently over his eyes. His melanin-rich irises didn't seem bothered by the light in the slightest, and again, you stared.

The brightened abyss was a rich, chocolatey brown, light enough to reveal his normally obscured pupils. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, the golden threads of silk delicately shimmering.

"Are you listening to me?"

You snapped out of your daze. "Sir?"

Those same gentle eyes stared back at you; his voice hinted mild annoyance but his eyes reflected an unusual softness, like he wasn't willing to reprimand you.

"Why aren't you paying attention?" he demanded anyway, crossing his burly arms over his chest as he sat back.

You pursed your lips. "I got lost in your eyes, Lieutenant," you admitted with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

He let out a grunt, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks again. He was not going to admit that he was affected by those same words you told him when you first met him and you continued to tell him by always wordlessly staring at him.

He could not lie that he liked your attention; that your relentless gazing was the key wriggling and turning in the lock that kept his heart caged away.

"Why d'you like them so much?" he leaned forward.

You could not help being honest. "They're beautiful," you answered, your voice heavy with genuineness, "They remind me of chocolate, and coffee, and unfrosted cakes." You paused, but he waited.

"Like dense forests, the color of wood," you explained, "Like soil..."

His brows furrowed. Soil that is stepped on. His insecurity filled in.

"Like soil that is the foundation of both massive trees and for the little saplings," you continued, "your eyes are the color of something so important."

The tinge of animosity in his eyes softened.

"You know, in the shade, your eyes are dark and it really suits how mysterious you can be sometimes," you said with a gentle smile, feeling a little embarrassed at this point, "but when in the light," you lifted your eyes to meet his, "I can almost see the gentleness and care that is normally hidden."

He could almost hear the click of a key turning and a lock opening. He knew that the eyes were the window to the soul, but never had he seen such an unprecedented act in action, and him being the victim of such sweet an analysis.

So this was the outcome of all your relentless gazing: to figure him out, to make sense of him, to understand him, to appreciate him.

And for that, his heart was now yours.

[masterlist]

[londonfoginacup]

Fuck. I missed my 10 year 1D anniversary by 17 days. September 29, 2014 SMG played on Radio 1 and I was changed.

Liam was my favorite. He’s always felt like home in a very specific way. Everything that I would say has been said. He deserved the chance to get better. He deserved the chance to atone. I will always be devastated that this is how it went.

To me Liam will always be that 21 year old trying his best, because I was a 21 year old trying my best. He will always be that bit of sunshine and joy who never said the right thing but his heart was in the right place. I will miss him and the grief will hit and it will hit and it will hit, because he was part of the everything that was pure magic in my bloodstream at a time when I didn’t know magic like that existed.

I saw 1D at the age of 22, exactly 31 days before I broke up with my boyfriend (who hated them). I remember literally ONE thing from that concert and it’s the moment that Liam said something so dumb that I knew, in that moment, that when I went home and booted up my laptop, people would be dunking on him for it. And they were.

He had too much on his shoulders from the very beginning and I only wish we could’ve help.

I’ve missed him for a while and I miss him now and I’ll always miss him.

But I loved him. And I love him.

And I love you all.

To every one of you who has journeyed in any form with me, I thank you. This fandom transformed me as a person, taught me what I was missing in life. I can honestly say I would likely have gotten married at 23 to a man who would turn out to be a Trump supporter, and be perfectly miserable now, if not for all of you.

This year has been one full of burnout and learning to cope with the bad sides of being an adult, and the burnout is still there and I’m still crawling my way through, but still yall have been here with me. I cannot thank you enough.

I miss Liam already. I miss him. I don’t want go to go work tomorrow and be given condolences. I don’t want to hear strangers talking about this pain that feels so private. I don’t want it to be real. I want this to be a bad dream.

But. I am so thankful to the fandom. I wish I could pay yall back properly for the wonderful experiences you’ve given me. I love you all.

[stuck-in-jelly]

Imagine they are looking everywhere for Harrow and the trio end up getting a tip of sightings of a strange Xadian bird in Del Bar

So now Soren HAS to go to Del Bar to investigate the claims and stumbles across his mom in the process

[tsunamiholmes]

The Cipher Hunt Documentary

I had the honor of participating in (and helping with) the production of Keyan Carlile's massive Cipher Hunt video. It is an incredible deep dive into the story of the Cipher Hunt, from start to finish, told by the Cipher Hunters ourselves!

We had the pleasure of interviewing Alex Hirsch himself for the video, along with some other amazing guest stars that were involved in the hunt.

Regardless of if you followed the hunt closely back in 2016 or weren't in the fandom back then to experience it, I highly recommend you watch this video. Keyan did some incredible investigating to uncover the truth behind the remaining mysteries of the hunt and it's really cool to hear from the people who participated in it 8 years ago.

Behind the scenes photos under the cut!

I helped out on a couple of the shoots (primarily the ones in LA) by camera operating, lighting, and set dressing! I also helped color grade the entire video and of course was in front of the camera for some of it as well! It was a dream come true to work on this project with these amazing people, I'll never forget this incredible experience.

Plus, a photo of Alex and I taken on my 35mm film camera. It's slightly out of focus, but that's what you get in film sometimes. Makes it more authentic!

Finally, one more bonus shot for fun...

[roronoagem]

cw // yandere themes & creepy law lol + not proofread

yandere!law stopping by your island for a supply run and when he saw you working at the pub of your small town, he couldn’t help but fall for you.

yandere!law that offered you a visit to his submarine, noticing how you looked at his ship in fascination, stating that “i’ve never seen a pirate ship like that! it looks so cool!”

yandere!law that noticed you were running a fever one day and offered to visit you, wanting to help you feel better. a side of him wants to take advantage of that and lie, lie about your health.

“i’m sorry [y/n]-ya, but it seems that you have a rare disease. i’m one of the few doctors who know how to treat it… it’s really dangerous and i don’t want to leave you in such a state,” he started explaining, you were completely unaware of what he really did while visiting you.

yandere!law that started using medicines to prevent your legs from fully functioning and you started panicking, because the disease he was talking about must be showing its symptoms and he was the only one able to help you!

you must leave with him, he said he could help you feel better. he offered you to go with him since he would go on a trip to look for a final medicine to cure your disease, but he couldn’t leave you there alone. and you accepted because what could possibly go wrong? he had really good intentions!

you were truly sick, it was dangerous not being around him at this point . . . right?

[busiest-bee]

I’m a chronic “what if they were nice and also my friends”-er 😔💔

[biscuityskies]

Last line challenge

I was tagged by @meebles and promptly had a small crisis over if I should use the most recent line I had written or the last line of the fic… and then I wrote some more and this satisfies both facets 😅

This is from my @codywanfirstkissbingo wip called pinch points!!

It’s bad enough that he almost told Cody he loves him. Despite coming up on a full year since that happened, he still thinks about it at least once a day - in no small part because it still holds true. The way Cody’s scar puckers when he smiles, the way his face lights up when he laughs, his sheer level of competence in everything he does. Obi-Wan wants to keep seeing him like that: happy, carefree, at ease.

Which is why they’ve been operating as normal for the past year.

Well, perhaps a touch friendlier than normal; Obi-Wan openly refers to Cody using his name rather than his station, now that he knows his thoughts on the matter, to which Cody replies with Obi-Wan’s name rather than the “sir” that had been ingrained into his being. They spend a touch more time together, too. Time not spent on flimsiwork or pulling reports or filing inventory requests or updating the Council is still spent in Obi-Wan’s quarters; flecks of golden paint dot the floor from where Cody has found a level of comfort there - silent as he decorates his armour while Obi-Wan reads the latest reports, but open to conversation if there’s something that particularly piques Obi-Wan’s interest.

They’ve also found that they both sleep better with someone by their side, courtesy of that night on Snokota, and have on a few different occasions found themselves in the same bed, bodies pressed tightly together to feel the other’s heartbeat, to know they’re both still alive. Cody had quietly murmured one morning that it reminded him of when he was younger and he was closer in proximity to his brothers, they would sleep in piles like they had seen the troopers do that night. It’s safety and warmth and that quiet reassurance that he’s not alone.

Obi-Wan is happy to be these things for Cody, since Cody is all of them for him.

No pressure tags to @ferretrade @c-c2224 @lttrsfrmlnrrgby @bluemaskedkarma @dontbelasagnax and anyone else who wants to join!!! <33

[homeiswheremybooksare]

I've been sitting on this idea ever since I finished DA:TV and I finally wrote it down. Surely, Inquisitor Lavellan would've written a final letter to her friends, a final farewell, a dareth shiral if you will, before rushing to the final confrontation with Solas.

I got out of Solavellan hell, only to make a roundtrip for some coffee and I'm back in the fucking building

Anyway, here's my Inquisitor's last letter:

To the members of the Inquisition

By the time this letter reaches you all, I will have either failed or succeeded in my final quest. Whatever the outcome, I want you all to know this:

Ever since the events at the Conclave, my life has not been my own, even less so after becoming the Inquisitor. Every decision I have had to make, every move I have had to make has had some external force behind it. I never wanted to get dragged into politics, let alone religious debates.

That being said, I am forever grateful for having all of you by my side during all these years. Without all of you, I surely would have perished, alongside with all of Thedas. Without your friendship, I would have lost what little of myself I had in me and succumbed under the crushing weight of responsibility.

Thank you for the nights at Herald's Rest, for the games of Wicked Grace, for the heartfelt conversations, for the shoulders to cry on. Thank you for believing in me when I could not do it myself. Thank you for putting your lives on the line when you could have just as easily turned a blind eye to Thedas' plight, to my plight.

And thank you for letting me do this. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, I am making a decision for myself, because of myself. Love is a dangerous motivation, but it is also the strongest: it is what still gives me hope that Solas can be redeemed, that he can still be persuaded to find an alternative.

I know most of you do not agree with me, I know that you think I am fighting for a lost cause, but I raise you this question: would you not do the same, were you in my place? Would you be able to cast aside that love, that connection that forms when two souls sing as one? My heart is the only thing that is left of the real me, and I must follow its call to the bitter end.

I am not seeking your approval, or even understanding. I am tired of living as a symbol, as an extension of a religion I do not follow. I am reclaiming myself, my purpose, my life. This is for me.

Your friend,

Inquisitor Lavellan

Ellana

[crystalflygeo]

The dragon and the sacrificial lamb ft. eroded!Morax + gn!reader

cw/tags: angst, no joke I cried writing this, bittersweet ending, rough sex, feral/eroded zhongli, restraints (courtesy of improper use of geo as usual ehe) fingering, dubcon at first maybe??

notes: Alright this is a special one get ready. There's two "version" of this story bc I couldn't decide which path I liked more. This one is the bittersweet ending. Both stories are exactly the same at the start, changing a few word here and there but then reach a point where they divert completely in reactions/emotions and the underlying feeling of the stories are very different. They can be read independently ofc so by all means feel free to choose which tags you vibe with more or enjoy picking up the differences between both!

Dark/Bad ending version here!!

Once upon a time…

A long, long time ago…

The people of Liyue revered their beloved Archon Rex Lapis. Just and kind, he led his nation for millennia, upholding order and contracts, defeating countless enemies,a nd defending their safe harbor.

It is said the Lord of Geo took a human as partner, and fell in love deep and pure.

And his partner loved him just as much.

Willing to do anything for his sake.

It is said the God understood that even he himself was not immune to erosion, and it would one day be his downfall. So, he made sure his people were ready to live on without him. That his adepti were strong enough to subdue him if the day ever came.

As for his lover… well…

-----

Your bare feet crunch along the soft grass as you run and run, panting, gasping for air, almost tripping and letting out a yelp but quickly regaining balance and scurrying faster, past the falling golden ginkgo leaves, past the soft sound of rushing waters.

The golden sunset is gorgeous, dying the sky pink and orange with pastel hues but you simply ignore it, having grown tired of it, sick even. It is fake, an illusion. Just as everything else in this adeptal abode.

Everything except, of course, you and the beast you are currently fleeing from.

It is useless to try to escape, this you know, and your heart clenches painfully as tears prickle at your eyes. You’ve done this before, played this game many many times. But at least for one moment… just one moment…

A roar turns your blood to ice and against all common sense you look over your shoulder to see a massive long dragon twisting in the air and diving straight towards you.

Your legs tremble and fail you as you fall down, the grass is soft but your body aches, tired, burning. You scramble around frantically to stare at the beast again and your eyes widen in panic as it lands right on top of you, majestic and terrifying, caging you with its serpentine body. The golden claws alone are as long as your forearms, digging on the ground at either side of you.

You whimper.

The dragon lowers his head, growling at you, fangs mere inches apart and you squeeze your eyes shut, tears running down your face.

“Why do you run away from me?”

“Please… I just want some time to myself.”

“Are you not happy with me? My mate?”

At the words you only sob harder.

Mate.

Oh, how much joy did that word bring you once. And now you can only feel your heart shatter.

You feel a shift in the wind, in the energy, in the light around you, and when you open your eyes, the massive dragon has faded to a more human appearance. He changes back to the form you’re most used to.

Long strands of dark hair tipped amber, striking golden eyes with stunning red lines that highlight their sharpness, a handsome face and a muscular body with arms died black, and lines of gold… lines that run along his cheek and down his neck. Cracks, like a broken glass, like scars, under his eyes and around his chest, ruining the pristine skin and unable to disappear despite his ability to change forms.

The undeniable marks of erosion.

You snap back to attention when he dips down and starts nosing at your neck, his hands pulling at the robe you’re wearing, the only article of clothing you picked up before scurrying away from the mansion. It parts open easily, revealing your naked body to his eyes, littered in past bruises, hickeys and bite marks. Claims from the dragon.

"W-wait. Stop-!" You try to push him back, desperately pressing your palms against his broad shoulders, but of course he's unmovable as stone.

You kick and trash until he gets irritated and suddenly your arms are immobilized, held above your head and pressed onto the very ground by heavy geo cuffs.

“Submit.” He growls.

You squirm a little more until your body sags into the ground, exhausted, panting. There is no use. Instead, you shudder as his hands explore your body, rough and callous but still gentle despite his displays of power.

He spreads your legs and slots between them as your breath catches. His thumb softly brushes at a spot on your navel lovingly, a glittering geo symbol engraved on your skin there, glowing subtly like his horns. You let out a moan.

Then his touch goes lower and teases at your entrance, circling the hole and dipping in just barely.

“Z-Zhongli-!”

Another growl comes out of his throat, deep and guttural. “You dare speak another man’s name in my presence? In my realm? When you belong to me?”

You gulp, knot in your throat, mind dizzy, heart and body aching.

And then you smile. Softly. Pained.

“Morax, my love… n-not so rough, please…” You whisper.

The eroded God leans down to kiss you, swallowing your moans when his fingers tease, rub and pull at your hole, spreading you a little, preparing you. His long serpentine tongue invades your mouth as his free hand teases a nipple before sliding to settle at your hip. Your body relaxes and melts down onto the grass, pliant for him.

When you break apart, you see pure love and adoration in his golden eyes, but they no longer carry that wisdom, that solemn and dignified depth. Only a primal desire to keep you, claim you, breed you.

It’s alright…

This was your choice.

Blinking back tears, you moan and struggle a little against the restraints on your wrists, two of Morax’s fingers already pressing deep and curling inside you. You see stars when he quickly finds that spot that shoots pleasure up your spine, having already memorized it. Your sex leaking fluids and spurring him on.

Then, Morax pulls out and you feel the tip of his cock press against you, you gasp, back arching as he slowly presses forward inside your warm heat with a pleased groan.

“S-so big… ah!” You whimper, bucking your hips on reflex.

“My mate. So pretty. I will fill you up.” He mumbles, eyes half-lidded as he rolls his hips, inch after inch sinking into you languidly until he sheathes to the hilt, your legs spread around him. Morax slides his large hands around your hips, lifting them to pull closer and deeper, the new angle making his cockhead press deep against your sweet spot. He wastes no time thrusting in and out, gradually picking up the pace.

It's almost tender.

Soft keening sounds escape your lips as you lock your legs around his lower back, your feet resting atop the base of his tail which whips around wildly as he starts fucking faster. You feel the world blur around you, all that exists is you two and the mounting pleasure, the wet sounds and the slapping of skin against skin.

“Morax… Morax… ah! I’m… I’m c-close…”

He grunts and redoubles his efforts, hands pressing bruising spots at your hips, your insides clenching around him. “Mine.” He growls possessively, and you nod and chant his name over and over. Everything feels hot, dizzy, so much- too much-

You come with a filthy cry tumbling out of your lips, slick juices rolling down your skin. He continues through your overstimulated state, chasing his own pleasure as his thrust become erratic until finally, he stills deep inside and moans long and low, painting your insides white.

The two of you ride out your orgasms in tandem, then he drapes over you, kissing your skin softly and making you sigh.

“My love, please, release me?” You try, struggling against the cuffs once again. “I want to touch you.”

“No.” He snarls. “You’ll only try to escape again.”

“I-I won’t… hng… I promise. I’m yours.” You reply breathless, full of emotion.

Morax eyes you with a stern expression, contemplating for a moment before letting out a soft huff. You feel the geo cuffs dissipate into golden dust, your aching limbs free, though sore, but you ignore it as your hand weakly cups his cheek, thumb rubbing at the golden scars there. Morax leans into the soft touch, nuzzling your palm.

“Love you.” The eroded dragon mutters, and you imagine it’s your lover telling you, despite his decaying fractured mind.

“I… I love you too.” You reply softly, bittersweet tears rolling down your face.

Forever and always.

-----

…It is said that his lover made the ultimate sacrifice.

Willingly locked with the eroded god in a sealed realm, to keep him ensnared, enchanted and bound to them.

Until they both turn to dust.

[bogartchive]

i'm sure all the hsr characters would love a chubby partner but i think this is especially true for luka, black swan, and gallagher 😇🙏

part of what motivates luka to train hard and get stronger is also to be able to lift his partner!!! they don't need to change anything about themselves (unless they want to, of course), luka will make sure that they get to be held safely in his arms!!!

being chubby herself, black swan just adores the curves of her partner. her touch is gentle, as if she was teasing them, but she makes up for it by leaving plenty of loving lipstick stains on her partner's soft spots...

gallagher appreciates a thicker body. his hands are so big and rough, he loves the way his partner's fat/muscle feels when he squishes them. the way they spill over his palms and jiggle a bit... this guy gets the overwhelming urge to (playfully?) bite his partner

[merakiui]

what do we think skully's parents were like.......

i think there are many different fabrications that can be envisioned based on all kinds of factors!!! with the time period, perhaps his mother died in childbirth. or maybe both parents were alive. perhaps they were pleased and very proud when he received his acceptance letter to attend nrc. i wonder if they were okay with him traveling all over the world instead of settling down like most often aspired to do in those times. was he pushed to find a significant other and start a family? or maybe they were supportive. maybe they weren't. maybe they kicked him out of the house because the life of a traveler can be unstable (for that time)??? so many thoughts......

since it's stated that he didn't like to be in direct spotlight and so for that reason there aren't many existing records of him, there's so much potential for lots of imagined lore to fill in the blanks.

also his childhood!!! i wonder what it was like! if he was fawned over and coddled by his parent(s). or if he was neglected. etc etc. maybe he was on the shy, quiet side. or perhaps he was bright and cheerful. i always like to think the characters who are happiest and very bubbly are often the saddest or have lingering melancholy,, or even have come from a background or place of misfortune. in skully's case, who is so theatrical and outwardly exuberant, there is definitely a sense of sadness and loneliness within. the shadow he casts to everyone else is happy, but the shadow looming over his heart is marked by an incredible sorrow.

aaaa and then there's also the thought of: did his parent(s) influence his thoughts and ideas on halloween and did he then project that onto jack (thinking jack would definitely agree with this kind of halloween) when he became a fan? or perhaps it was more of a mindset appropriate for the time period. or maybe skully is just built different and holds onto older ideals and traditions, thus leaving himself behind (stuck in the past) while everyone else around him moves forward (which could be a reason why he could never get along with his classmates).

he is still shrouded in mystery. there's lots to think about with mr. graves!!! i hope this wild rambling had some speck of sense. ^^;;;

[s7toru]

“so, you’re going then?”

gojo looks back at you, throwing the other end of his scarf around his neck. you’d told him christmas eve would be cold and though something like the weather would never be enough to kill him, you fear touching his body and finding it icy. 

his smile is bright, all teeth. “of course! i have to.”

you curl your fingers into the bedsheets where they still radiate his warmth and it's almost enough to convince you this was any other morning, simply watching your lover leave for work. but if this was truly any other day, you would be sure of his return. 

“you look like you have something to say.” he notices. “say it.”

“i don’t want you to go.”

your confession doesn’t shock him. “personal feelings?”

though it had taken you courage to speak your selfish request, gojo dismisses it with humour immediately. worry spins the frustration in your stomach into red hot anger, and then cools into realisation. 

he’s just deflecting. 

you push yourself up off the mattress and walk over, reaching out to fix the scarf loosely hung around his neck. this wasn't a bad omen, everything will be ok. 

“you look silly.” you tell him instead. 

“you’re the one that insisted i wear this. it’s bright red, sukuna’s gonna see me from a mile away.”

“it only looks silly because you didn’t tuck it in right.” 

you make slow work of the scarf, intentionally playing with the loose yarn on both ends between your fingers, feeling the memories woven into the material. 

when gojo was sealed, your days bled grey. there was very little you remember of that time, those droning nineteen days, barely living and barely awake. the school couldn’t contact you, the ringer on your phone not any louder than the rushing thoughts in your head. moving through each waking hour with insincere actions, dreading the return to your static apartment though it was no better than surrounding yourself with friends. how come they were here, but he wasn’t?

and when fate graced you with sleep, you could almost imagine the smell of him, the feeling of his hair between your fingertips, the soft kisses he’d leave about your sleeping face, his annoying giggle as you aroused slowly from your slumber. your eyes would open yet when you wiped the sleep from your eyes, there would be no one there.

“do you think you could tie my scarf any slower?” gojo remarks, eying your masterpiece. “i wonder if it’s possible.”

“babe.” you sigh, sliding your fingers down to the hem of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. “please, can we be serious for a second?”

his hand comes up and pauses over yours, scratching you with his calluses. “i don’t think i have time to undress right now, i’ve got to save the world and everything.” 

you pause, leveling him with a stare. “hey.”

“okay, sorry.” he gives you a lop-sided grin, observing the sight of you looking so small and unsure. you hesitate your gaze around his eyes, fearful in finding what’s there. “are you worried about me? you know you don’t have to be.”

“i wish i wasn’t, it’s clearly wasted on you.”

“don’t say that like it’s a bad thing, you can use that time to feel something else. like immense gratitude that i’m your boyfriend.” 

“i just know your arrogance will be your downfall.”

“since when were you a fortune teller?” he reaches for your hand and traces the lines on your palm.

“gojo.”

dropping it immediately, he places his hands in the air. “ok! i’m serious now, i swear. god forbid i make a joke.” 

your eyes crease as you frown. 

gathering the strength to confront him, you pull your eyes to meet his, intending to scold him for being so relaxed when your pulse was pounding in your head, but his gaze was as empty as the abyss. the corners of his mouth trembles slightly, hand seeking comfort by wrapping around your waist and the cold of his skin shocks you. before you say anything, his smile lowers into something sadder. 

the sight pushes you over the edge and whatever mental fortitude you built against the fierce currents of reality comes bursting apart, tumbling just to wash away and he catches you in his arms, holding you in an embrace that’s far too fragile to belong to the stronger sorcerer. 

gojo breathes in the scent of you cradled in his arms, eyes squeezed tight to forever engrave this very moment in his memory. if he was to die, he’d like his last thought to be you. 

your breath shakes against hurried gasps. “this isn’t fair, i can’t lose you again, you just came back to me.”

his arms hold you tighter, pressing you into his chest. “you’re not losing me again, i promise.”

“liar.” you whisper. sorrow molds into hatred, not at gojo, but at the cruelty of fate to mismatch your timelines such that they never meet for long. “liar! you’re walking to your death and you know it! you think i wasn’t there when you came back practically a walking zombie? you had half your face blown of, and to a non-sorcerer at that! this is the king of curses we’re talking about, you’re, i’m—!”

it might have been better if he argued, if he told you that you’re wrong, but his silence stops you. 

“i can’t lose you too.” you finally admit. when you close your eyes, the scene where all four of you still remain mocks you from afar. one by one, you feel their red strings cut away from your own, forever out of reach. and though you stayed working in the shell of where those memories once took place, the eerie feeling that things will never be the same again clung like a persistent ache. 

“you won’t.”

“liar.”

gojo’s breath tickles your skin as he exhales. “i’m sorry.” 

“tell me i’m wrong.”

“you won’t believe me.”

your fingers dig into his clothes, enough to leave a mark. “tell me anyway.” 

he kisses you on the top of your head. “i’ll be back.”

your reply comes through gritted teeth. “you promise?”

you feel him hum rather than hear it, ear pressed against his chest to listen to the erratic thumping of his heart. 

“i have to go.” he kisses you again as if to lessen the punch to your stomach.

slowly, surely, you loosen your hold on him and pull away. the sudden lack of warmth is your first taste of his absence, and the smile he gives you is just as bittersweet. your hands find the ends of the scarf once more, looping it once and then once again around his neck, letting it hang loosely down the sides. 

when gojo returns, his skin is just as cold, clammy even. you feel the slick of sweat as you wrap your arms around him, screaming your sorrows into the cavity in his chest. he’s still wearing that irritating smile on his face, the one you’ve woken up to so many times before, but the sound of his laughter is a memory you won’t relive again. his palms still spell out his love life, of a short passionate affection that forks suddenly, one line longer than the other and your fingers can still trace the calluses lining his hand. he’s as you remember, exactly as he was the morning he left you. 

when gojo comes back to you, he’s still wearing red around his neck. 

[a-mint-bear]

Your Secret Admirer

Female Yandere x Reader

Part 2

Late one rainy night, you help a young woman on your way home from work, but she seems strangely familiar...

[tw: knives] no blood mentioned

Part 1

===========

It was late. You should've clocked out hours ago, but your jerk boss made you stay to cover for his nephew. Who, of course, was "sick" again. Which was code for: "Too hungover to come into work, just like every other Monday."

It was pouring when you reached your stop, but luckily, you'd remembered your umbrella like a responsible adult. There was a chill in the air that made everything seem just a little bit more miserable, but you trudged on anyway. Changing out of your work clothes and into your comfy pajamas always helped you wind down after a bad day.

The streets were about as empty as you'd expect from this time of night, save for the occasional car that rushed by threatening to douse you as they hit every puddle. You were about halfway home when you noticed something... odd.

There was a woman standing on the sidewalk, facing the road. She was soaked from the downpour, her long, dark hair clinging to her face.

At first, you barely paid her any mind. But the closer you got to her, the more your mind started racing. Why was she out so late at night? Why was she letting herself get so drenched? She wasn't really dressed for the weather either. She had to be cold... Did she have nowhere to go? Was she... trying to do something? She was about halfway to the curb... was she waiting for the right moment? The thought doused you like ice water, the fear and doubt somehow colder than the rain.

You were almost face to face with her when something was eating away at you. Guilt? Sympathy? A weird sense of responsibility for this stranger?

But the strangest thing nagging at the back of your mind was...

She looked... familiar?

You couldn't stop your body from stopping in front of her, doing your best to have your umbrella cover her, despite the fact that she was already soaked.

You always had a bit of a soft spot for helping people, even if it wasn't always the smartest idea.

You ask her if she's alright. She doesn't react.

Your mind kept racing. Was she homeless? She seemed well taken care of, her clothes looked nice if soaked through. Was she running from something, or someone? She looked maybe about your age, but... If she could go home why hadn't she?

You tried again, hoping she just hadn't heard you over the rain hitting the fabric of your umbrella. When she finally lifted her gaze to yours, that same feeling of familiarity kept on poking you in the side while you were trying to focus on the scene before you.

She stared into your eyes, and her breathing seemed shaky.

She needed help, maybe, but what could you do? You told her that your phone was almost dead, but you could walk with her somewhere safer. Somewhere she could call someone? Maybe you could walk her home? You offered, hoping she had somewhere to go at all.

You could feel your back getting wet from trying to cover her more than yourself. She smiled, but it seemed off, almost... bitter. When she finally spoke, it was almost drowned out by the downpour hitting the concrete.

"You're... being so nice."

You smiled back, trying your best to comfort her, still running through possible solutions you could offer... What you could do for her...

Would it be nuts to take her back to your apartment? You wonder. To offer a warm shower and a change of clothes while you throw hers in your dryer? She was a stranger, sure, but she obviously needed help. It was only a couple blocks away... she could get dry and then you could get some real answers out of her to figure out what to do next.

You end up making the offer and wordlessly, she agreed. All with that same sad look in her eyes. She clung to you all the way home, holding onto your arm with a death grip.

You fiddle with your keys at the door, all too aware of how the welcome mat is getting soaked. Hurrying in, you go to grab her a towel.

She followed after you, trailing water all the way. She didn't make a move to take it from you, so you took a chance and carefully draped it over her shoulders, starting to work it against her hair. You watch for any sign of discomfort or sign that she'd want you to stop, but no such sign ever came.

You guide her to the bathroom, handing her more towels.

You tell her if she hands you out her clothes, you'd be happy to throw them in the dryer. After a hot shower and a set of your clothes for her to change into, you pass them through the crack in the door, telling her you're leaving to make her a warm drink.

"No!"

She'd grabbed onto your wrist so tightly. The desperation in her voice, her breath hitching as she trembled, all of it made you pause, unsure what to do.

"Sorry, I just..."

She let go with a tired sigh, her face appearing the in crack of the door. Her hair clung to her face as steam rolled out into the hall, you quickly looked away when you saw a hint of the white fluffy towel below her bare shoulders, her hand clasping it tightly to her chest.

"Stay... I mean, would you p-please... stay close? " she stuttered, her eyes cast to the floor in... shame? Embarrassment? "Just... in the hall? Outside the door?"

Was she scared you would leave? Or had you become the barrier between her and whatever she was running from? You promise her you won't go go anywhere, and she seems to relax a little. You keep your back to the wall beside the door and your eyes forward, not wanting to betray the little trust she'd decided to put in you.

You couldn't lie, she was pretty, and the sight of her in your clothes didn't hurt that AT ALL. But she was trusting you. To be thinking of her like... that? It was neither the time nor the place.

She sat on the couch beside you with a hot mug of tea, and she looked down into it with that same sad expression.

"Thank you. You've been so... nice to me. I never thought that I'd be treated like this."

By you? By anyone? You don't notice her hand reaching for yours until her fingers brush against your own. You didn't think of it as anything but her looking for safety, but the look she was giving you was telling you otherwise.

You told her she doesn't have to do that, trying to be vague enough as not to embarrass her. But she just smiled that sad, bitter smile. She set the mug down on the side table, her fingers gently caressing yours.

"... All I ever wanted was... someone to see me. Only me. What they saw or how they felt about me, it didn't really matter. But you're so... worried. So... thoughtful."

She sounded almost... upset, the last word weighed down with so much regret, it threw you.

You asked her if that was a bad thing, and she just smiled.

"When I see you... it's like everything just... makes sense. Like my whole life has just been cold and dead. No one... sees me."

Before you could ask what she meant by that, she squeezed your hand, bringing it up as she gently pressed your fingers to her lips. You couldn't help but feel a little flustered, your face getting warm.

"I knew..."

She caressed your face, and you froze, unsure where any of it was going. Or if you wanted it to.

"I knew that when you finally saw me, it would be everything I ever wanted..."

She spoke like... she knew you? But that didn’t make any sense, you'd never met her before.

Right?

Something felt...odd. Alarm bells were ringing and you couldn't tell what had set them off.

The necklace she wore sat comfortably on top of your shirt. Soft, tiny white flowers trapped in resin, encircled in gold on a delicate chain. Something about it... About her.

You'd seen those eyes before... staring at you from the edges of your day-to-day life but never really in full view. The feeling you dismissed when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the same feeling you got whenever you found those weird gifts all over.

The trinkets and treats, the love notes that ranged from awkward confessions to clumsy retellings of fantasies you starred in...

And her necklace... the same tiny flowers were dried and pressed in a bookmark you'd found in the book you'd been reading one day.

Your eyes went wide, and she let out a shaky gasp. A wide, warm smile spread on her face as she got to her knees on the couch, swinging a leg over to seat herself in your lap.

"You see me now, don't you?" She smiled sweetly, holding your face in her hands. "I'm right here..."

You couldn't look away. All you could ask was the obvious question: Was it her?

A dark blush spread across her cheeks, her hands still holding your face to look only in her direction. "I needed this... I needed you to really see me. You stopped paying attention to my gifts, my notes... Did you like them? Did it... scare you?"

Your heart was beating too fast. You tried to move, to avert your eyes and figure out what to do, but she turned your face back, pressing into you, her thighs squeezed yours almost painfully.

"Tell me. Please, tell me... " She was breathing funny again. She hadn't blinked, like she didn't want to look away for even a moment.

You felt something pressing under your jaw, and it didn't click what was happening until you felt something sharp bite into your skin.

When did she get a knife? Was this her plan from the start, or had you done something to set her off?

You couldn't stop the fear that flashed across your face. But her reaction was somehow odder.

Her gaze on you softened as she bit her lip, blushing as her eyes glazed over. She let out a sweet, content sigh as she cupped your cheek in her hand. The pressure of the knife on your skin relaxed just a bit, but not enough to try and make a move.

You try to diffuse things, being honest with her. You didn't know who any of the stuff was from. You had no way of saying yes or no to her feelings, so you were waiting for her to show up in person. It felt rude to leave her a note back with something so serious, you wanted to do things right.

"But you ignored me..." Her face was suddenly calm, the blush and soft, adoring eyes went back to the cold stare she'd had in the rain in an instant. "You looked right at me and you saw nothing... I was nothing..."

You try and reassure her, telling her that it wasn't true, if only to calm her down. Her fingers worked into your hair, the sensation giving you goosebumps you couldn't fight. Your startled gasp choked into a hiss of pain behind your teeth when she yanked you closer by your hair. Her face was so close to yours you could feel her breath on your face.

You glared at her before you could stop yourself and that look was back. It was like she was completely smitten with it, with you.

"When you see me... really see me... I can't stop myself. It's so... wonderful. I've been empty for so long, but that fear in your eyes... How much you just despise me... Your smiles and laugh, all of it's a part of you."

She leaned to whisper into your ear. It sent chills down your back.

"Little pieces of you filling up that empty space... You can't take it away from me again..."

Her long, dark hair spilled onto your shoulders, it smelled like your shampoo. You close your eyes, tucking your chin into your chest in a desperate attempt to pull away. It was all too much.

"No... no, please. Don't..." You could hear her plead, her voice wavering with fear and desperation so intense it haunts you. "Love me, hate me, anything! Just don't look away. I can't go back to how it used to be... Please..."

You open your eyes again, afraid what would happen if you didn't. She smiled, it seemed so sweet and gentle, coldly contrasted by the knife in her hand.

"There you are..." she let out a little gasp, pressing her forehead to yours. "I don't really want to hurt you, I promise. I'd be... all alone again. Everything about you... good or bad, it's all so, so precious to me..."

She kissed between your eyes, her lips lingered there too long. Your face felt warm, the fear in your gut was getting entwined with something else... Your thoughts were jumbled, all of it was too much. She sat up, looking down at you... Something about all of it, how close she was... her warmth, her words... She had a hold on you, and you didn't know what you wanted to do.

"I can be anything you need me to be."

She brought your hand to her lips, kissing the palm of your hand, all the while staring into your eyes. There was a devotion there that you'd never seen in your entire life. You couldn't breathe.

"Just..."

The knife pressed under your chin to lift it, but your gaze was already locked with hers.

"Look at me."

===========

shout out to @magical-grrl-usami who wanted to be notified when part 2 came out, hope you like it :o

[whillywisp]

moments in between. pt. 1

⚠︎ | moments of rest and unrest between lovers who are afraid, who hestitate, and who see little sense in peace. proceed with caution.

Summary: reader disappears suddenly during the funeral of her fallen District partner, who had died at her own hands, and comes back home to her lover's grief.

Category: requested.

Timeline: set post 70th Hunger Games, one month after reader won.

Tags : angst, destructive love; mild comfort towards the end,

Warnings: implied canon typical violence, toxic relationship, toxic coping mechanisms, PTSD, implied suicide attempt, implied self harm, destructive behaviour.

Pairing: Finnick Odair X Reader

“Where were you?”

She didn't look at him, too focused on dragging the bag in her hands next to him. It looked heavy, he noted mildly, and he wondered what on earth was in it, why his girl—his victor—was carrying it around.

She looked up from the floor, strands of her wet hair sticking to the sides of her face, and his heart sank at the blank, unfocused gaze that met his.

“Out.”

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check, to calm his racing heart, that was still twisted into a knot of fear in his chest that refused to loosen as he slammed the receiver back in it's place.

"Out where?" He asked, his face twisting in bewilderment as she walked past him, carrying the strange bag, into the kitchen. He watched her as placed it on the counter and took plastic containers out, blinking when he saw them full of steaming, spicy crab stew. “Doll—”

“I went to the market,” she mumbled distractedly as she looked for bowls and a ladle. “Ate dinner with a friend. Brought back some stew for you. I'll make you some ric—”

“You left a funeral, Piers' funeral, went missing for nine hours and now you want me to believe you just went to eat dinner with a friend?” He asked, staring at the girl in front of him as if she was speaking in a completely different language.

“Mhmm.”

And he immediately knew something was wrong.

Finnick knew her better than anyone, anyone, and he knew that she would never do this. Piers Morgan had died by her hands in the arena. She wouldn't abandon his funeral for nothing. She wouldn't miss a chance to apologise to his parents for his sacrifice, despite the fact that it would get her into trouble.

She wouldn't. But she had.

And now, he couldn't even think beyond the sheer amount of anger suffocating him. He couldn't think beyond the worry etched in the lines of Mags' aging features or the hysteria that suffocated Annie. He couldn't think beyond the way he could feel his heart nearly give out from fear, of the way he nearly ripped his hair out in the last nine hours calling everyone under the sun to help him find her—

“Do you think this is some kind of joke?” He asked quietly, his eyes trained on her, on the soaked fabric of her black dress, clinging to her skin, on the way her fingertips had turned blue from the rain she had been walking around in. “Do you think it's funny? Scaring the shit out of everyone like this? Do you know what you have put me through for the past nine hours—”

“I needed some time alone—”

“And you couldn't wait to have that alone time for an hour?” He asked, letting out an incredulous laugh. “You couldn't tell me before you went off to God knows where—”

“That's the fucking point isn't it?” She asked, letting out a short, sardonic laugh, making the room go still, freezing him in his place. Part of him was glad, relieved at the sight of an emotion, even if it was anger, in her eyes. He couldn't stand the lifeless grief that stained her skin like indigo on ivory.

“I needed a few hours of feeling like a normal human being. One that doesn't have blood on her hands. One that doesn't have cash deposited into a bank account from the Capitol because she killed people. I needed a few hours of feeling like myself again and I can't do that with one of you constantly breathing down my fucking neck!"

“Well, guess what? You're not normal!” Finnick shouted back, trying not to breathe too hard because God his heart, his heart hurt. He could feel the way shards of his ribs and glass of her words and his own stuck in the soft tissues and making it bleed. “You're a fucking Victor and I'm your fucking mentor and that means you don't go disappearing on me for nine hours!”

But even that did little stop the venom flowing from his lips.

“You think I enjoy babysitting you?” He asked stepping up to her, staring down at the way his own, twisted features reflected in her empty eyes. “You think I enjoy having to watch your every move and keep my eyes on you all the time? You think I like waking up every morning with a knot in my stomach wondering if you'll still be breathing by the end of the day?”

Poison. He was poison.

“I never asked you to care!” She screamed back, making him flinch back a little his chest heaving. “I didn't ask you to care! I didn't ask you to do anything for me! It's not my fault that you can't be a normal mentor who can't give up after his job is done! Your job was done when my time in the arena ended and it's not my fault that you don't recognise that!”

“Well, that's fucking unfortunate because sadly, for both of us, I do care. Beyond what my job description entails.” He snapped at her, breathless at the sight of her rage, stunned by the fact that despite her state, despite the unbound tempers, she still was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

He leaned against the kitchen island, rubbing his shaking hands across his face as he tried to breathe, tried to see beyond the red and blue of their combined rage.

“You can't keep doing this, baby,” he whispered, looking at her through the thin film of moisture in his eyes, pleading, begging her to stop hurting him. “Y-You can't keep doing this. You can't disappear for hours like this and-and come back looking like you jumped into the fucking ocean—”

“Go home, Finnick.”

“I thought I lost you. I thought you tried again—”

“Please stop it and go home.”

“And-And then you walked in through the door, looking like t-that and not saying a word and I knew, I knew you did. I knew you tried to leave again—”

“Then go home! Then go home if I scare you so much! Go home if I'm so fucking terrifying!” She screamed, slapping her hands down on his chest and he gasped, his very breath lost at the way her wet hair curled like tendrils of smoke.

“I am home!” He shouted back, grabbing her wrists before she could do it again. He tugged her as close as he could, leaning his forehead against hers, trying to ignore the way she flinched at his touch, at the way his fingertips pressed into the lines on her wrists.

“I am home,” he repeated firmly, ignoring the blood staining his fingertips, his lips trembling against the cold of her skin. “I am home. And so are you. And you need to stop this. You need to stop hurting yourself, baby— please just listen to me!”

Her blank eyes snapped up to meet his, and he pressed his lips to hers desparately, begging her to come back to him, to please come back from the world he had lost her to.

“You can't keep hurting yourself,” he whispered, gently pushing back strands of her hair, wiping away the tear teetering on her lower lashline with his thumb, leaving behind a streak of red in his wake. “You can't disappear like that again, ever. And you absolutely cannot go anywhere alone, not with the way you are acting these days. You can't—”

“I don't want to do this anymore,” she whispered, her lips trembling, breaking whatever was left of his heart. “I c-can't do this. I'm not meant to be a-a Victor. I'm not. I can't live like this anymore—”

“Yes, you can,” he whispered, shaking his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead, cheek, nose before finally on her lips, desparate for her to feel him, to know that he was here, right here and that he would never leave. “You survived the Games, you'll survive this too. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.”

“I'm so sorry,” she choked out in a breathless sob, crumbling in his arms like fine snow. “I'm s-so sorry. I'm so sorry.”

I'm so sorry that I can't stop hurting you.

“It's okay,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, tight and misplaced as if he was trying to hold too many pieces of her together at once. “You're okay, baby. I'm okay. We're okay. We're going to be okay.”

The lie burned his tongue like acid and his lungs like the cigarettes he smoked. But even if it did little to ease the fear and pain and grief and rage clawing at her skin like vultures asking for their share of her flesh, he'd do it again. He pressed a kiss into her hair and prayed to whoever would listen, to accept his lie this once to give him a truth in exchange. This once.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A/N: Written in the middle of a study break, on Tumblr before being unleashed into the world and so please be kind. English is not my first language so if it has some weird lines then that's why. Inspired by the song above but not a song fic. I have been burnt out and unable to write for a while but this has been on my mind for the last few days. Hope you enjoy.

All my love,

Moon.

[scionshtola]

i want to kiss you until i lose my breath

i cannot thank @harumeau beloved enough for this gorgeous art!! based on a scene from a fic of mine (x)