#this is just a fun and silly drabble

[lineffability]

Could you do 19 for ineffable husbands for the one bed prompts?🥺

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Angel, we could easily miracle another bed. Might be a bit tight, tiny room and all, but we're--" Something Crowley discovered at the very back of Aziraphale's eyes made him stop. It looked a little like disappointment.

"Yes. We could. But... do you want me to stay?"

"Oh." Crowley turned towards him, and he didn't even need to take a step. The room really was tiny. "Angel," he drawled, leaning in a little closer. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Aziraphale lifted his nose. "Well, I could also go back down and ask the receptionist to clear up the mistake, maybe another room will miracuously have become vac--"

"No, no." Crowley lifted his hands. "You can stay."

Aziraphale waited.

"Okay. I want you to stay."

"Well - okay." Aziraphale smiled a happy little smile, accompanied by an even happier wiggle of limbs. "Great!"

Looking at the angel like that, Crowley wanted to wiggle right out of his own skin, but stayed perfectly still. One of them had to keep their composure. That's how they worked: like a seesaw, one stoic and repressed, one forward and daring and carefully enthusiastic. They took turns.

Except lately they didn't really have to. Only, old habits were hard to kick - although Aziraphale currently was trying very valiantly.

Crowley almost suspected he had booked the tiny room with one bed on purpose. Well - he knew. But admitting that...

He'd rather play along. It was fun, in a way.

"So, which one of us gets the bed then?"

He watched Aziraphale's face fall in real time.

"Oh. I... I hadn't thought of that." He straightened, visibly trying to recompose himself and the situation. Then he caught the twinkle in Crowley's eyes, and relaxed back into his comfortable body. Crowley watched him thinking, envisioning the gears turning in his cloudy head. "Well... lately, you know, my back has been acting up, the corporation might be wearing out, haha, funny thing, did you think it possible? So. I would, if I were honest, rather prefer the bed. However, I would simply hate for you to sleep on this horrible carpet floor." Aziraphale made a face, trying to downplay his obvious, nervous scheme. "Imagine how many people... no, out of the question."

Crowley shrugged, trying to keep the demonic grin off his face. "Fine. I'll take the walls. Or ceiling. I'm not picky."

Aziraphale almost groaned: he could see it in the way the corners of his mouth pulled his lips into a thin line. "Crowley, I'm trying--" He gnashed his teeth.

Crowley was feeling bold. The angel might as well have started begging at this point. "Trying what, angel?"

"I. Just." Aziraphale's shoulders slumped. Success. Surrender. Aziraphale fixed him with his eyes, blue and intense and suddenly so enlightened. There was intent in them. And Crowley thought maybe his cheeky demeanor might come back to bite him, as it usually did. He'd pushed, and Aziraphale had caved. Now he was looking at him openly, without their easy pretense. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

"S-sleep with you?" Crowley echoed dumbly. The images that slipped unbidden into his mind made him blush, and the angel promptly followed suit.

"Lie with me," he tried to correct, only that didn't help at all. "I mean! I mean... not biblically? No... intercourse."

"Intercourse?!"

"No intercourse!" Aziraphale actually clutched at his face and hid behind his hands. He actually groaned, this time. His face stood in ever starker contrast to his white hair.

"Aw," Crowley croaked. It was an attempt to defuse the situation, only he hadn't really delivered. It sounded suffocated, like a dying tealight.

"I mean, I'm not saying I don't want-- I would very much enjoy-- I'm just saying we, you don't have to-- Oh, bother. Oh, I'll go down and ask for another room."

Aziraphale started for the door, but Crowley stopped his embarassed flight out of the room with one hand to his chest, looking anywhere but his face.

"Wait. I want to."

"You want to?"

Crowley thought he could actually feel the angel tremble beneath his hand, but maybe it was only the air drawing into his ribcage. The tone of his voice held too many emotions at once for Crowley to disentangle them all.

"You want to... uh, sleep with me?" Aziraphale asked faintly.

A hundred meanings for this single word, and yet the answer was so all-encompassingly simple. "Yes."

"Yes..." Aziraphale slowly looked at his face. Hopeful, careful, maybe a little hungry.

Crowley tried a grin, and felt relieved when it stuck to his face and took hold. "Intercourse or no."

Carefully, Aziraphale began to return the grin, but stopped halfway and settled on a wide smile instead.

"Great."

"Great?" Crowley slid his hand down Aziraphale's chest until it dropped, and took a step back. Aziraphale wanted to sleep with him - wanted Crowley to sleep with him, too. And they both thought that was great.

Life on earth really was great, these days.

"Yes."

"So you want to start right now?"

"Excuse me?"

"We could go to sleep right now. Together."

"Crowley, it's 11am."

"So?" Crowley walked him up against the door, and thought that if they were sleeping with each other, sooner or later but today, no matter what kind of sleeping, they might as well try their hands and lips again at the kissing thing they had recently discovered for themselves.

Aziraphale let him proceed, and their lips touched with soft enthusiasm. Perhaps they even tasted a little anticipation on each other's mouths.

Then Aziraphale's stomach rumbled. He pulled back with a sheepish smile.

"It's 11am," he repeated, "So I'm hungry."

"Then we better get you fed." Crowley smiled lavishly, though he had been perfectly content to make a meal of the angel's lips. "Don't want you fed up."

"You certainly don't," Aziraphale agreed. They shifted against each other in what little space they had, until they both faced the door. "I feel like a big, hearty breakfast. And then, perhaps, to digest... a little nap?"

"Mh. Nap. Nappy nap. Sounds heav- sounds ni- yeah. Let's do that."

"Care to join me?"

Crowley already held open the door.

"Always, angel."

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ bark like you want it !!

ᝰ.ᐟ in the world of sports, there's only one thing people care more about than getting hot 'n sweaty with the athletes: the girlies who are the ones these men are running home to. alternatively: a headcanon post about the hyper-specific wag!reader the bllk boys would end up with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring yoichi isagi, reo mikage, seishiro nagi, rensuke kunigami, rin itoshi author's notes since wives and girlfriends is wag + the song has been stuck in my head, i thought 'bark like you want it' was a silly, cute name for the post lol. warning that isagi's section mentions having kids!!!!

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — the girl next door !! your dynamic is: the two of you have known each other since childhood, and throughout every stage of his life and career, you've been right by his side. when isagi confesses to you shortly after scoring the winning goal of the u-20 match, he's a blushing, awkward, stuttering mess. despite his newfound fame and notoriety (which will only continue to grow), yoichi isagi is still the same boy you've spent living next door to since your elementary days. when he goes pro and becomes a world famous athlete, surrounded by models and actresses, the only girl to still give him butterflies is you. you love him for him. in every speech he has to give, he's always singing praises about you and your unconditional support and love. the wedding you two have is intimate and fairly private, although isagi can't help but post a picture of the two of you outside the obgyn clinic with the cheesy caption of "my baby is having a baby!!!! 😍😁"

the girlies love you because: you're what people think of when someone describes someone as being down to earth. your social media presence is nonexistent, save for a private instagram with less than 200 followers. you live your life in peace with a man who doesn't stress you out in the slightest — in fact, your relationship with isagi is aspirational to a lot of people. one of the number one athletes in the world and super hot 'n rich, and the only thought that rivals soccer on his one-track mind is you, his wife that he's hopelessly devoted to. you're always seen at every single one of his games, sporting his jersey, and always cheering happily when he scores. once the two of you have kids, you'll be carrying your baby (who's also sporting isagi's jersey🥹) every one of his fans that happens to run into you in public can see why isagi is so in love with you; there are only stories about how kind and sweet you are. it's why you're known as the sweetheart of the soccer wags <3

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — the ceo !! your dynamic is: an arranged marriage... gone right? you belong to a conglomerate family that runs in the same circle as the mikages. you're in the middle of starting up your own beauty brand, and you're trying to make a name for yourself. reo is occupied with his professional soccer career. neither of you want to go through with this marriage interview, but to appease your families, you two agree, not expecting that you two would match each other's freak for real. he's competitive and likes what he can't have; you're little miss independent and equally competitive. he tells you he doesn't mind the engagement, and you get your lawyers to draft a pretty prenup that'll milk him for all he's worth while keeping your assets safe. he buys you a massive engagement ring, and you ask him, "that's the best you can do?" the minute he's in control of mikage corp, he knows he'll gladly let you take the reins.

the girlies love you because: you are the corporate it girl. everyone is obsessed with your paparazzi photos that exude office siren but make it actually work appropriate. there are how-to videos on copying your style. not to mention, you're a businesswoman. every time you attend one of reo's games, you strategically reapply your beauty brand's lipgloss, or tease new products by applying said unreleased products while on camera. someone once asked you in a comment how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? to which you replied @.reomikage how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? just because your man spoils you doesn't mean you put him on a pedestal. princess treatment is the bare minimum for you.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — the twitch streamer !! your dynamic is: so silly. you're the type of girl who looks good even with pimple patches on your face and your oversized glasses that you only wear because it has blue light blocking lenses on them. you're a well known streamer and got your start during the peak of fortnite (you started off being comically bad at the game, but again: you're a pretty girl. you being good would've just exploded every guys' brains), but once you got your bag secured, you started posting the content you preferred (dress to impress on roblox). everyone loves you because you're hilarious on camera, but you don't really keep up with sports, so when nagi joins your stream, everyone is going insane but you have no clue as to who he is. when they start spamming the chat about him, you ask your viewers "is he hot? no, scratch that. is he rich?" you've always been nagi's online crush & you basically made his whole entire month when you asked him to join you on your instagram live one day. the whole entire time, he's looking at you on the screen with literal hearts in his eyes, and he struggles to fight back his smile. it's so difficult for him to maintain a neutral expression, and this is the most any of his fans have ever heard him speak, and the comments can't stop talking about "how geeked bro is rn"

the girlies love you because: just like isagi's wag, you are a genuine sweetheart. you never hard launch nagi, but you do tease confirmation on your relationship. you'll wear one of his hoodies that people know is his, or sometimes you'll stream when nagi is over and people can see his shoulder in the frame or they'll hear him say something to you to make you laugh. you post pictures of your view of the field, usually captioning it with something like "damn. i could be going crazy on sims 4 rn" you're just such a fun person to watch, and people consider you + nagi to be their comfort couple (although most of the comforting energy comes from you and your antics).

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — the pilates instructor !! your dynamic is: fun and flirty, and straight out of a romcom. you're a well-known pilates instructor and in an attempt to get more girls to garner an interest in the sports channel, the network reaches out to you to see if you want to be in a humorous segment where you try to host a pilates class with some of the pro sports team. these guys are all about bulking and lifting and stamina training, and they don't really hold pilates in a high regard, so the comedy could be there. you obviously agree, and you end up teaching kunigami's team first. he can barely concentrate on the class and fumbles a few times because he's too focused on how good you look in your lululemon hot pink set. he's trying so hard to be respectful, and when you talk to him after the class, thanking him for being one of the only guys to not look down on pilates before they had to endure a session, he's trying so hard to avert his gaze because the sight of you slightly sweaty and in your workout clothes is doing something to him. you love teasing him, and the fact that he's a gentleman and still believes in chivalry makes it all the more fun.

the girlies love you because: besides making working out fun, you feature kunigami in some videos and always tease him by making up and demonstrating some freaky positions that always have him turning red in the face. you're always so considerate and supportive of your followers, and in return, they're always supportive of your own endeavors. when you come out with your own workout line, you put your boyfriend's famous name and hot body to use. he's in your marketing campaign, but honestly, the videos of him looking at you when you're wearing your own workout set is advertisement enough.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — the unbothered model !! your dynamic is: centered on the concept of private not secret. neither of you get too personal on social media; you just post aesthetic photos and sponsored content for revolve & rin's socials are managed by a team. like everyone else in the world with decent eyesight, rin's struck by your beauty. unlike most of the guys who are attracted to you, though, rin stands out. for starters, he actually has the confidence to approach you. even better: he's actually polite when he does. normally, the ones bold enough to approach you are bold and loud and kinda sleazy. rin is nothing like that. underneath both yours and his cold exterior, the two of you actually share some of the same niche interests. rin's a pretty intense person on the field and to the public, and there's not a single photo on the internet where you can be seen smiling. the aura the two of you have when paired together is insane... insanely intimidating. he's also the person you're most comfortable with and vice versa. the two of you can be messy and unfiltered and annoying with each other, and no one else.

the girlies love you because: you serve effortless cool girl. at every game you attend to watch rin, not once do the cameras catch you off guard. side profile? stunning. catching your usual neutral expression morph into concern and shock as rin gets shoved by an opponent? you still look insanely good. your hair is always done, nails are always done, your outfits are always fitted and put the other wags to shame. when girls think of iconic partners of athletes, you're always the first on their mind. there are tiktok tutorials that are trying to teach people how to emulate your energy, "[name] outfit inspo", or makeup videos trying to recreate your look. photos of you at rin's game is on every girl's "wag dream life" pinterest board, but the most popular photo is a grainy image someone managed to capture. it's taken after rin's game, and the two of you snuck off to the back of the stadium to be alone. he has his arms wrapped around your waist, and your arms are around his shoulders, and his forehead is pressed against yours and... it's the only photo where people have seen either of you smiling.

[wiklm]

if terusai has no fans i’m DEAD 🙅🙅

[itsjaywalkers]

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.

[emile-tb]

Meet the artist! :D

Since I've been here long enough I thought I should do one of these lol

For reiteration - !!BOUNDARIES!!

Bigots DNI.

Pedos/MAPS, Proshippers, and anything of the like DNI.

Do not DM, comment, or ask/submit NSFW things to me.

Do not sexualize any of my own characters or characters I draw.

More will be added if needed.

also my asks are still open, feel free to drop anything in my askbox (within reason ofc) :)

edit: I'm 19 now lol

[miscellaneoussmp]

I need to start writing more fluff/comfort stuff. Here's Pac and Tubbo needing sleep and Fit gets them to go to bed:

It had been twenty-six, no twenty-seven hours, since Tubbo or Pac had even attempted resting. Hyped up on overly sweet swiftness potions, which sent jolts of energy up their spins meant to be used for running instead of being used to prolong wakefulness. An extra hour to finish up one thing turned to the sun rising and now sitting below where it had sat the day before when the project started.

Conversation was easy. Being filled with possible reasons why Tubbo's current project was being very difficult, how the swiftness potion almost acts like caffeine, and ways to describe the buzzing underneath their skin. Electrical heat, Tubbo described. Pure adrenaline, Pac replied. Memories attached to those descriptions remained unspoken or forgotten.

Tubbo lays under his machine, with a wrench in his hand. They had taken to calling the machine Tubbo's new baby, dubbing it Tub Jr. Both ignored the ache in their chests as they personified the machine. Pac's potion-making setup was makeshift for now. Swiftness and the occasional night vision brew in the stand. He knows that these potions would be more effective if he had a proper setup. Pac didn't bother to cork the bottles over half the time. Instead, he immediately downs them or slides them under the gap in the machine where Tubbo lays.

Pac sat leaning over a potion stand, and Tubbo under a machine is the scene Fit walks in on. When Pac stands up to greet him, he stumbles just a tiny bit. Tubbo almost hits his head while squirming out from under his project. Fit is a bit surprised to see them back in their exact positions from yesterday. After all, he assumed they went to bed after he left for the night. He was incorrect, very obviously incorrect. The dark circles under Pac's eyes–moreso eye, the one that isn't covered by his dark hair–are more noticeable than before. Once Tubbo removes his goggles, his dark circles become obvious as well. The youngest of the three grabbed one of light blue potions, uncorking it with his teeth and drinks. He shakes his head slightly as he feels the buzz strengthen itself underneath his skin.

When Fit asks how long they've been awake. Tubbo and Pac give different answers, both unsure on the exact timing. Tubbo explained that he needed to fix this one thing, and he just couldn't figure it out. This is when Fit, half jokingly suggests sleep. Pac explains they don't need sleep since as long as you stayed pretty still a swiftness potion could act like caffeine.

It actually didn't make much convincing after he suggested a sleepover in the room so they could get back to work after waking up. Pillows and blankets found their way to the floor, far enough from any mechanical parts as not to get caught on anything.

Of course, Tubbo would be the type to spread out fully as he sleeps. It fits his personality. A pillow lays on one his arms and another under his head. He looks comfortable.

Pac is the type to sleep on his side, curled up with one hand grabbing onto the pillow under him and the other covering his face. It definitely fits his personality. A blanket sits on top of him. He looks comfortable.

Fit is the type to watch over his friends as they get well-deserved sleep.

[sakamoto-gays]

Talked about how much we miss Natsuki's earrings in the server, and natsushin inspiration suddenly hit me- i don't like publishing short things on ao3, so this one is for you tumblr (:

------

It’s while staring at Natsuki as he attently works on his weapons -a thing he’s been doing more and more these days, he has to regretfully admit- that Shin notices it.

“Didn’t you have earrings when we first met?”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can really think about them and he can’t help but feeling a bit embarrassed about it, but honestly he’s been wondering about it for a while.

Sure, it’s not like he had much time to look at the invisible guy while he was beating him up, during their first meeting at the lab, but Shin is pretty sure at the time he’d been wearing some sort of earrings - and he hadn’t seen them on since he’d met him again at JCC.

Natsuki hums in reply, eyes down to check the weapon he’s making.

“Mhm, yeah,” he mumbles, “i think i took them off for some reason and then forgot to put them on again.”

Typical of him, Shin muses with an annoyance that feels a lot more like fondness.

“Don’t you risk the holes closing up, or something?”

He isn’t an expert on the topic, but Hana wanted to get her ears pierced recently, so he feels like now he knows a thing or two about earrings too.

“Probably,” Natsuki shrugs like it’s not his business and he doesn’t really care at the moment, and Shin understands that he put an end to the conversation with that.

And he thought that would be the end of the topic, until a while later (after declaring defeat for the day in the always ongoing battle against his creations) Natsuki gets up from his seat and looks at him, his eyes gleaming with particular a light that makes Shin fear for his life.

“Should i go put my earrings on?”

Shin doesn’t understand why he asked it like that, like Natsuki’s playing a game he didn’t bother telling him about and he’s thrilled of being the only one that knows the rules, yet still he tries to reply.

“Uh, sure.” 

He hopes the words leaving his mouth don’t sound as stupid as they feel to his ears, and then Natsuki is gone - towards wherever he keeps his jewelry, Shin guesses.

So he is left to wonder, alone in the workshop, until a few minutes later the weaponsmith comes back.

On his lobes, where before there was nothing, now shine two small, black and round earrings.

“Well?” Natsuki asks, with a flat tone that sounds incredibly fake even without reading his mind.

“ ‘Well’ what?” Shin teases him with a grin, “You searching for flattery now?”

At those words Natsuki walks towards him, and suddenly he’s leaning down and his face is far too close to his own.

“You’re the one who brought the earrings up, so you should give an opinion now,” Natsuki hums low, in the most innocent tone a sly man like him can master.

And Shin really would like to reply with something witty and keep their playful exchange up for a bit more, but then he makes the mistake of actually looking at Natsuki for a second, and- oh.

Could a single, small detail like an earring change an entire face? 

Because as he suddenly catches his breath, Shin swears that Natsuki didn’t look so good before.

As he looks at him again, with those black curls falling on his slightly tired eyes and those lips barely parted and those ears pierced, apparently unable to look away, Shin can feel his face becoming hotter.

He gently pushes the other away, regaining some centimeters of distance between the two of them to actually let Shin breathe without the risk of exploding or something similar.

“They don’t look bad on you, i guess,” he huffs and then turns away, with the weird feeling of having just lost at some sort of secret game.

He doesn’t give Natsuki the satisfaction of turning back to see his subtle grin of victory, either.

'I should wear them more often, then,' Natsuki thinks knowing he will hear, because he always knows how to best get on his nerves.

“Just do what you want,” Shin groans.

But between himself, he can’t help but cheer a bit about that statement.

He could get used to seeing more of this version of him, afterall.

[h-didanart]

The Bloodmoon sniffed at the air. Wet dirt, moss, rabbit blood, rotten bark and a myriad other smells surrounded them. They tried to look for other creatures to hunt, previous meal’s satisfaction slowly fading away, as always.

They didn’t know the how to their current location, nor of the sudden changes to their body of residence, but they appreciated the situation nevertheless. It wasn’t very familiar, but it felt good to be in this place. It felt good to feel like themselves.

They advanced through the grassy terrain, close to the ground to avoid getting hit in the face by tree branches, attention put in finding a next meal to hunt. Forests were known for their wide range in fauna, they would certainly find a new prey in due time. Hopefully soon. Bloodmoon sniffed at the ground, even more determined to find a meal.

And then they smelled it. A divine smell, sweet as blood, some sort of meat, an undertone they could not distinguish, similar to the smells of the PizzaPlex kitchen but lighter. It was faint but overpowering. It alone made their mouth water.

With their claws settled on the ground, the twins ran to give chase, the oldest controlling the movements as to not slam into a tree or bush. Such a heavenly smell, and it wasn’t even running away! Oh how lucky they were, Bloodmoon cackled to themselves as they got closer and closer.

They slowed down significantly as they heard mechanical sounds, now laying low on the ground. Of course there had to be more to the hunt, they mustn’t have assumed it to be so easy.

Risking a glance, they looked from under their hood, seeing a large metal nest standing in a place devoid of trees. They hissed at the sight, foliage already irritating them enough without the damned thing being so bright.

The older twin growled, scratching at the ground in frustration. The youngest found herself shaking their head, trying to come up with something to do. It would do no use despairing, perhaps if they saw things from a different angle?

The oldest grumbled, not appreciating twin’s wordplay at the moment. The younger sighed within their shared mind, taking the reins and leading them closer to the nest.

Their prey was so close by now, they could hear their it chirping and squealing, such an odd array of sounds those were. They felt their claws twitch at the urge to feed, yet they remained unmoving, they had to check for dangers before indulging.

Opening their eyes once more they looked at the hideously freeing greenery around them and at the metal nest, splotches of colors littering its bright walls. There didn’t appear to be any immediate danger and they couldn’t smell any other creatures over their current prey’s scent. Thus, it would be safe for them to attack.

They uncurled from their crouch, taking ahold of the odd ledge they were under, and lifted themselves up. And as fast as they could, they grabbed their meal and dropped down to the ground to eat. Their prey fought back in an unusual way, burning their claw with some sort of acidic blood, feature which did not go away even after they tore into the thing. They flexed their claw, hissing at the pain, but ultimately happy with their hunt. They scarfed down the remains, wincing a bit as the acid got into their mouth.

They were curious as to how the creature had survived with all its blood on the outside, even more so when its blood was acidic, though they supposed that was a question for another time.

It didn’t take them long to realize that there were more of that same creature around, all their noises and smells coming from the same place as before.

Against their better judgment, Bloodmoon went back for seconds, reaching out to grab another meal when a hand clasped around their wrist.

They yelped, instantly kicking at the nest and trying to wriggle away from the hand’s hold. It was of no use, thing that surprised them as they glared at the one who had captured them while on their hunt. Bright yellow casing, and a noticeable lack of reds but the general figure and color had remained.

The Sun Man.

[sidekick-hero]

A car horn sounds in the distance and Eddie is reminded of all the thirsty texts he and Chrissy have exchanged about the man currently three fingers deep inside him, and he can't help the almost manic cackle that escapes his panting mouth.

He wishes he could shove the laugh back into his traitorous mouth, because the fingers stop their maddening assault, and incredulous hazel eyes look up at him from between his legs.

"Something funny?" It's so deliciously bitchy that Eddie can't help undulating his hips to get those fingers moving again. Their whole foreplay had been them bickering in the laundry room of their dorm, and Eddie can't take much more.

"No," he gasps, "I mean, yeah, just my head being funny. It does that. Very funny head. Please, carry on." He makes a sweeping gesture like he's offering the guy a great gift.

The guy (Steve, his mind supplies, his name is Steve) doesn't look very impressed. More the opposite, judging by the way he sits back on his haunches and takes his wonderful, talented fingers with him. Eddie whines at the loss and curses his poor impulse control.

"I have no idea what could be amusing about my fingers up your ass." There's a pinch to his mouth that makes it look like Eddie really hurt his feelings with his laughter. He can't very well tell the guy that he wasn't laughing at him, but about the many times he censored all the filthy things he thought about doing to the guy with [CAR HORN BLARES].

He sits up and hooks one hand around Steve's neck, his foot pressing into the small of his back and his other hand gripping his hard and dripping dick. Eddie groans at the thought that fingering him affected Steve so much.

"Aww, I'm sorry, big boy. Let me stroke your ego to make it up to you, yeah?"

With that, he begins stroking Steve's dick with firm, sure strokes as he pulls him down for a filthy kiss. Steve comes willingly, panting and letting Eddie plunge his tongue deep into his mouth, giving him an idea of what Eddie wants him to do with the ego he's stroking right now.

Steve moans loudly as Eddie thumbs the head of his dick, and Eddie, his mouth newly freed, can't help but say, "I knew you had a big ego, but I didn't expect it to grow any bigger."

Steve snorts at that, even as his hips push him forward into Eddie's fist. "You're ridiculous, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only all the time. I don't have a brain-to-mouth filter, I guess? In my defense, I was dropped on my head as a kid, so..."

His statement is followed by a deep groan, unfortunately not entirely a happy one. "Please stop talking."

And okay, fine. He can do that.

He thinks.

Maybe he needs some help.

"How about you make me shut up with your mouth while you fuck me? Just to be sure."

The smile he gets in return is devilish, but Eddie thinks he sees fondness in those expressive hazel eyes, too. "I think I can do that."

And Steve does, expertly.

That doesn't mean that Eddie won't put his foot in his mouth afterwards, but at least he can hope that the orgasm will make it more endearing to Steve.

Because he'd really like to keep doing this.

As usually, thank you to the best discrod crew, my Schwester @yournowheregirl and my platonic writing soulmate @legitcookie for going feral with me and blaring that goddamn car horn so many times.

[hoshiina]

pairing: kuroda yukinari x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he was always just watching from afar

warnings: none :)

He was always watching from afar. He would watch the way you would always say you were tired, but you'd be paying full attention every class. He noticed how you would genuinely be interested in class when you enjoyed the subject, but when you didn’t you’d subconsciously frown at the work given. 

When he was practicing afterschool, sometimes he’d see you walk out of school a little too late and he’d realize you were studying in the library again. He would usually just watch, but today he just really wanted to talk to you. Maybe he was feeling particularly lonely that day after you had a seating change and you sat even further away from him than before. Whatever it was, he was feeling rather impulsive today.

“Sorry, I’m going to go ride outside for a bit,” he told his teammates and rolled his road racer outside. Little did he know, most members of the team knew about his little crush, especially the third years. It was a little too obvious to not notice, because every time you were in his line of vision, he was looking at you. They had hardly ever seen the two of you talk, but all they could hope for was all the best for their vice-captain— he was always looking at you with the sweetest gaze ever.

And for the first time ever, he was stepping forward

“Okay, take your time,” Izumida said.

“Hm? Oh, thanks,” Kuroda said, unaware of what Izumida had meant.

Oh, would he just end up just walking past you again? He wanted to talk to you, but what would he say? Immediately, he knew he would probably end up just watching you from afar, unable to say anything. He sighed at the thought of that.

But to his surprise, you turned to look at him. Okay, now what does he do? What does he say?

“Oh, Kuroda!” you said, taking your earbuds out. Gosh, he loved that about you. You were probably only going to talk for a bit, there was no reason for you to put them away. Yet, at the same time, he was somewhat surprised you knew his name— you were in the same class, of course you did. Maybe he was surprised to hear you say it, rather. “Are you off to practice now?”

“Oh, yes. I’m in the road racing club... which is probably obvious now,” he said, frantically. Gosh, he was making a fool of himself, you didn’t even ask! He was just so flustered, the words weren’t coming out right.

“Of course, I know!” you said. “How would I not know Mr. Vice-Captain of our school’s pride and joy road race team! Do you have a race soon?”

“I do. Quite soon actually... on Saturday,” he said, mind blank. He was just going to answer your questions now he wasn’t capable of much more, he realized.

“Saturday! I really shouldn’t hold you up then,” you said and he scolded himself for saying that. He would’ve rather talked to you for a little longer and practiced all through the night if he had to. “Where and when is it?”

“Just up the Hakone mountain,” he said, surprised. It’s one thing to ask where, but to ask when? He was going to start having some false hope. “In the morning, at around 9.”

“Would it be weird if I show up?” you asked, a little less energetic than before, almost as though you were afraid he’d tell you not to come.

“No, not at all,” he said, a little too quickly. “...Please do.”

Immediately, your face glowed up the way he loved to see it. He could not believe you were talking to him right now.

“Then, I will definitely be there,” you said. “I’ll let you go for real now, I want to see you win that race.”

“Oh, crap, I forgot my water I’ll need to go back to get it. I’ll see you,” he said. “Thank you.”

“See you!” you said and walked off, putting your earbuds back in.

He didn’t lie, he only had one bottle when he usually carried two, but usually he’d just go on and buy something at a vending machine. However, he knew his ears were red and the last thing he wanted was for you to see. He walked back in and no one questioned how quickly he was back, (because they were all watching) which he found weird, but that was the least of his worries.

“How did it go?” Izumida asked. 

“Oh, I haven’t gone yet,” Kuroda said. “I realized I forgot a water bottle.”

“No, not that,” Izumida said, finally tired of playing dumb.

“What?” he asked, then looked around and saw that quite a few more people were looking at him, eagerly waiting for him to go on. “Were you all watching??” He felt even more embarrassed than before if that was possible. 

“(L/n)’s coming... on Saturday,” he said quietly, covering his face with his hand, hoping they wouldn’t see how red it was. 

“Oh, you really have to win now~” Manami said, and that made Kuroda smile.

“Yeah, I really do.”

[good-beanswrites]

haii bean !!! I wanted to bully kotoko request some funnies and sillies :) could you please write a drabble with amane and yuno (and anyone else) annoying kotoko . i feel like amane and yuno would go :3 and kotoko would go >:T… ofc feel free to ignore/dlt this :3

LOL of course! I'm sad I've become the Milgram Bully but I'm glad to give the boys a little break 😂 Thank you so much for the request, it was really fun getting back into the swing of writing with this! (also wooooo it's getting me so hyped for Deep Cover!!) Out of everyone, those two could definitely get away with :3-ing Kotoko to no end...

“Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-sev--”

“Hey, Kotoko?”

“Thirty-se, er, thirty-eight...”

“Kotoko?”

“Thirty- uh…”

“Hey, hey, Kotoko?”

She rolled onto her back, having lost count of her pushups. “Yuno.” Her voice was even between heavy breaths. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Actually, I can see you need a break, and I’m happy to provide one!”

With a grunt, Kotoko sat up to face her. Yuno smiled down, her eyes sparkling with... something. Amane stood nearby, looking just as suspiciously sweet.

“What do you two need…?”

“We’re here to join you,” Amane said. “We wish to work out.”

“Oh? You’ve never been interested in exercise before.”

“Well, you yourself have motivated us to get stronger.”

“I’m pretty sure you just got bored…”

“Of course not! We’re committed!”

Kotoko studied them with a harsh look. They smiled innocently back. She narrowed her eyes. They widened theirs in anticipation. She leaned back. They leaned forward.

Yuno clasped her hands together. “Come ooon~ It’ll be fun having workout buddies! I’m a very hard worker, and you’ve seen how well-behaved Amane is. How bad could it be?”

Very, apparently.

She started with some stretches to get them warmed up. It was impossible to get them to focus, or hit the right positions, or stop giggling. Kotoko tried to tell them about breath control, but they seemed more excited to chatter on about everything under the sun. 

“I’ve always thought of stretching like this and being a famous dancer,” Yuno said. “Like a ballerina…” She did a little set of twirls. Kotoko tried to tell her not to do anything to crazy before they’d warmed up, but she just kept on spinning.

Amane’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to be in a marching band. They’re like dancers, a little bit!”

“Ooh, you’re right! I could never be so uniform, though, I want to do my own thing… like an idol or something!” Yuno did another set of moves. No one was following Kotoko’s perfectly timed toe touches anymore. 

“I guess we can get started…”

There was just as much dancing when they began jumping jacks, despite the fact that there were only two very clear positions to hit. Yuno wanted to do sets that traveled around the room, then ones that turned rapidly around in a circle, then ones that turned really rapidly in a circle. She and Amane made themselves dizzy with it. 

Kotoko decided a good, grounded activity would serve them better. They took turns holding each others’ feet and counting situps. Yuno got distracted easily, delving into nonstop conversation whether she should have been counting, watching, or doing the situps herself. She’d use her hands to talk, letting go of whoever she was meant to stabilize. Amane, on the other hand was practically a drill sergeant the way she tried to keep the others on pace. 

“Eight! Nine! Ten!”

“Amane, I think you’re supposed to count when I sit up, not force me to keep up with you…”

“Well don’t be so slow about it, and you’ll stay in time. Let’s go! Eleven! Twelve!”

“Ack!”

Kotoko rubbed her temples. Maybe adding some equipment could keep them busy? 

Jumping rope brought new struggles. Yuno spend ten minutes trying to recall a schoolyard rhyme to jump rope to, and teach it to Amane. They both encouraged Kotoko to join in, but she was jumping at a faster rhythm. That became impossible as their chanting filled the room. Moreover, none of them could stay in their own space. There were about five rope tangles before Kotoko decided to call a break.

(She didn’t exactly know what they needed a break from, they’d hardly done anything.) The girls seemed happy to sit down and chat, though. Kotoko reluctantly passed her protein shake over as they asked to try it. “One sip…”

She covered her mouth, deep in contemplation. Maybe these exercises were too easy. It was too easy to get distracted out here in the common area. They’d be forced to buckle down and focus on something more taxing, right?

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “After this we’ll head over to my cell, okay? I have a bar installed for pull-ups. It’s tricky, but you have to start somewhere.”

“Hmmmm…” Yuno tapped a finger to her chin. “I’m not sure about that. You know… I think you were right. I think we were just bored. Well!” She clapped her hands together. “I guess we’ll stop bothering you now. Bye!” 

Amane joined her for a curt bow. “Thank you for your time.” 

Kotoko blinked after them. “Er, but…!”

Just like that, they were gone.

She released a long breath. She picked up her shake. It was empty.

[eebie]

meteor shenanigans are the most fun to write

[mikussabbath]

“Sephiroth, dear, your fingers are magic,” Genesis murmured, his words slurring slightly (not that he’d admit it).

There was a sudden chorus of snickering, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was coming from.

“Just what are you buffoons on about?!” Genesis’ voice was suddenly shrill, but notably hoarse from their prior activities.

It was Zack who spoke up, of course, “That’s what she said.” He only barely got the words out around his snickering.

“The only woman here, Zackary, is about to be you, because I’m going to emasculate you,” Genesis snarled.

Zack shrieked and flailed, and ended up falling out of the bed. Suited Genesis well enough. He pointedly ignored Angeal’s disappointed stare.

“Sorry Gen,” that was Cloud now, looking up at him with those big baby blues.

Genesis could never stay mad at him (though if any of them mentioned his soft spot towards Cloud, he would set them on fire). “It’s okay precious. You are not a buffoon.”

Cloud peered up at him with a look that was a little too innocent to be truly that, but Genesis rather enjoyed mischief himself, and found himself admiring Cloud all the more for it rather than growing upset.

He pointedly ignored Zack’s continued whining from the floor as he pulled Cloud into his arms. In the same motion, he leaned further into the hold Sephiroth had him in, long limbs wrapped up all around him from behind.

And then those magic fingers were running through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and Genesis thought that they were put to good use this way, too.

If the Promised Land existed, then this was surely it.

---

(Much love to @manalovebot because this wouldn’t exist without them. They made an innocent comment about “magic fingers” and my brain ran away with the idea of these idiots and dirty jokes.)

[meercacchi]

Summary:

Kise doesn’t know when it all begins. He doesn’t know when the blinding camera flashes start to give him earthworms instead of butterflies, crawling around in his stomach. He doesn’t know when his manager berating him about his diet becomes the focus of every phone call, even when he’s trying and has nearly passed out twice in the past week. He doesn’t know when the glitz and glamour peel away like the gold sticker with his name affixed to the dressing room door, fake and gaudy and easily replaced.

-

Diamonds don't always form under pressure. Kise snaps, but Kasamatsu and the Miracles help put him back together - and with Kasamatsu, build something new.

[sisterdivinium]

"I would already be damned anyway, if I believed in the stuff — sorry, in the religion — but I wouldn't want to drag anyone along with me, especially not you. Are you certain you don't see this as sin, Suzanne?"

"Love could never be a sin, Jillian."

"You're the one who swore —"

A kiss.

"I know what I swore. It's a minor fault, if anything."

Another kiss. Deeper.

"So this isn't a sin either…?"

"… Confession will —"

A gasp, a moan.

"And this…?"

"That… That might be a sin…"

Concern.

New gasp, new moan; laughter.

"… But I'm a nun, not a saint."

[angeart]

[part 1/4]

It’s dark.

It’s dark, and it’s dusty, and it’s stale, and—

It’s so hard to breathe.

The corridors of the strip mine stretch in all directions, each of them looking the same and drenched in an equal dose of hopelessness. Each of them empty. Each of them mocking. Each of them dizzying, swaying, laughing—

Wait. No. That’s not right.

That’s not—

A figure staggers to the side, the pickaxe slipping through the suddenly weak grasp, its head hitting the deepslate ground with a loud clink. Everything tilts and sways and there almost seems to be a wind—a sharp, garbled whisper of something—except there’s no way a wind reaches this deep underground, so it must surely be all in her head.

The strip mine is a maze. It’s a labyrinth. It’s hollow, full of dead ends and empty promises and blisters ripped open and aching limbs and no end to it all, until she’s going to be completely lost to it, swallowed in her entirety.

Still, she adjusts her grip and lifts the pickaxe again, her bright, almost feverish gaze gathering the remaining shreds of focus and staring down the deepslate directly in front of her. She brings the weary weight of the pickaxe up and she swings.

Even if the sharp edge of the tool chips away at the hard, dark stone, and even if it keeps eating the rocks and opening up more and more passages (all the same, they’re all the same, nothing ever changes—), it feels powerless. Useless, almost. Pointless.

Except she knows that somewhere out there, there are diamonds.

And this world is hostile, and only diamonds and magic can put together a semblance of protection, and she needs them. Everyone else has already gotten their hands on some, and yet...

It’s coincidence, surely.

Bad luck.

It means nothing, even if it feels miserable.

... Right?

The ground shifts. Ange adjusts her stance, stumbling, until her shoulder collides with a wall. She huffs, breathing heavily, looking at the world that refuses to quite settle. The corridors stretch and yawn and sway and tug and—

She’s stumbling forward without meaning to. A small yelp escapes her throat as she loses her footing completely and comes crashing down, landing roughly on her knees. A sense of vertigo is deep and nauseating, cutting through her abdomen like a jagged, rusty knife. She braces herself against the coarse ground and feels something sting at her palms, flaring up in small, inconsequential, fiery pain.

Nothing’s going well.

Nothing’s going well, and she doesn’t know why she’s feeling this sick down here, and she’s all alone, and she can’t even tell where the exit is anymore, but it doesn’t matter, because she can’t leave without finding the diamonds anyway—

She swears the world heaves around her.

The ground shakes, gulps, swallows. She feels it against her palms, the reverbs travelling up her knees, crawling up her bones until they spread along her spine and tear a shaky breath from her lips. The torches placed around the maze flicker, dimming temporarily, as if they were breathed against. As if there was something darker and more oppressive, pushing at their light, stifling it down.

There’s a fleeting thought of messaging the others. But she knows better than to spew nonsense at them.

Because none of this makes sense.

And they’re so far.

And she doesn’t even know where she is, and how would they get here?

And if this isn’t just her imagination, why’d she willingly call them down here to get trapped in this hell as well?

Her heart races as fear turns liquid and spills into her veins.

Gods, does she want to reach out.

She wants help.

She wants someone to be there and tell her things are going to be okay.

It doesn’t feel like things are going to be okay. It feels like there are claws raking down her spine, reaching for her hair to tug at; it feels like the ground is covered in cold, chilly mist that is forming chains around her body; it feels like the torch flames aren‘t bright enough, like the darkness is laughing.

It feels like she’s falling.

It feels like someone is saying, you aren’t loved by this world.

Ange blinks, swallows down the nausea and lifts her head. The corridors are still the same. She hasn’t moved, still curled on the floor where she fell.

Still alone.

She reaches for the pickaxe and pulls herself up to her feet. There’s nothing else to do but carry on.

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]