#though i’m nearing end of the tag sad face

[notwithaste]

the way i ~needed the show to revisit and address rené. i knew they wouldn’t - it’s not that sort of show and that’s fine - but i would have loved to see it so very much, especially with jack. in one of those understated half-verbalised barely even a confession moments that are wanting to be half brushed off by her but the implications are understood and the sentiment is very much felt by jack and it’s an offering as much as any i love you, and it leads to comfort that never feels like it’s overwhelming or placating and and —

it feels more like a canon moment tbh and therefore not belonging within the timeframe of the show anyway but gosh! her dad and rené are such major influences in her life when it comes to romance and relationships - the theory and the practice; the observed and the learned - and in fact i want ~both of those explored within the context of jack so very very much actually. i think those moments could be so superbly gentle and profound and angsty and comforting in their tension and restraint and argh chomping at the bit

[noodlemoondle]

You Always Come First

(No matter how upset I am)

Zayne x Reader

summary: you and zayne have a small spat over you neglecting your health. as a result of it, you decide to sleep on the couch, not wanting to bother/upset him even further. randomly waking up in the night, you notice you’re no longer alone on the couch and do everything you can to get the doctor back in bed before he’s sore for his shift tomorrow.

tags: not proofread!, hurt/comfort? (i didn’t rlly include the hurt part of it so im not too sure), fluff, literal sleeping together, caring n sweet zayne (when is he not), self indulgent per usual

a/n: bro tumblr is REALLY testing my patience. why is it so dumb with everything i try to post. it’s literally why i haven’t posted a fic in a while. i can’t take this much longer i may crash out soon. anyway, as always hope u enjoy! (���˃ᴗ˂⁎)

side tangent: i actually have been so obsessed with caleb. it’s actually a problem. i have been loyal to zayne this entire time and i’ve been playing since release, but caleb is REALLY testing it. lord i’m a sucker for the protective n caring childhood friends to lovers trope (¯―¯٥) (id expect a caleb fic soon tbh if tumblr wants to stop hating me and making my life so difficult)

the fight was stupid. you were neglecting your health once again not taking your medicine, not resting, and ignoring doctors specific orders. zayne often could never say no to you, he always spoiled you and gave into any of your requests. the only time he was stern and stubborn was when it involved your health, that he doesn’t and will never budge on. you often lacked care for your health, pushing it to the back burners of your mind and often calling zayne dramatic saying “you knew yourself and your limits”. something zayne wasn’t particularly fond of. he confronted you about your recent negligence of your health and both of your stubbornness in your beliefs led to an argument.

it’s been an hour or 2 since it ended though. zayne left to your shared bedroom, most likely to do some work, while you stayed out in the living area, trying to distract yourself from the anger turning to sadness and guilt in your heart. you ended up deciding to just sleep on the couch tonight not wanting to bother him after an argument. you grabbed an extra pillow and thin blanket from a nearby closet and put on a random show so you wouldn’t have to fall asleep listening to your own thoughts. soon enough you were able to relax and fall into a slumber.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. you hear the tv still on as you slowly wake and become aware of your surroundings. once you can see clearly, that’s when you realize you were laying on top of zayne previously using his chest as a pillow unbeknownst to you. he has been peacefully sleeping on the couch with you for who knows how long. as you sat up in a panic you also notice a thicker, softer blanket, one you have preference for, falling off of your shoulders. instantly guilt is washed over you as you look at zayne, who is a somewhat light sleeper, somehow still deep in his sleep. you swallow quickly as you build confidence to wake him up.

you lean closer to his face which was awkwardly propped up by the couch’s arm rest, a position that you couldn’t imagine to be anywhere near comfortable. you lightly tap his shoulder and call his name trying to wake him up. soon enough he does, opening his eyes to see you staring back at him, the faintest smile appears on his face at the sight, almost forgetting of the spat you two shared earlier. before he could even say anything you scold him:

“why are you here? i was sleeping on the couch tonight. you have work early in the morning go back to bed and go to sleep.”

“couldn’t have you sore in the morning” he answers calmly releasing a small yawn in the process.

“neither can you! you have a long shift starting early tomorrow. i’ll be fine just go back to bed.” you quickly rebutted trying to push him off the couch, something that you didn’t have the strength to do, but nevertheless you persisted.

“i can get through a shift with an achy neck, however you can not.” he replies as he softly grabs your hands that are trying to shove him away back to bed.

“i know i’ll be fine. i’ll live to see another day. now go back to bed already!” you say. your voice getting louder as you’re starting to get frustrated trying to break out of his soft grasp.

“will you be joining me?” he asks softly not letting go of your wrists that keep trying to fight against him.

“no, i’m sleeping on the couch!” your voice raising above the tv still playing in the back illuminating the room.

“then it seems like i shall too” he states as he frees your wrists and pushes you back onto his chest, laying the blanket over you both.

before you can even think of a response zayne wraps his arms around your torso and closes his eyes to fall asleep once again, to which you quickly flick his chest to wake him back up. he opens his eyes again and looks down at you with an unamused expression.

“why won’t you just let me sleep here alone?” you ask in a tone he can’t quite place, nevertheless he can hear the slight amount sorrow that came along with it.

“i already told you, i can’t have you go into work tomorrow with a sore neck and back.” he says closing his eyes again despite your wishes against it.

“if you don’t wish to be with me tonight then i’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed” he continues. his arms involuntarily tighten ever so slightly around you showing how much he doesn’t want that.

“but i also told you!!! you can’t sleep on the couch, you have a few surgeries to complete, and you have to be in your best shape to do so.” you try to push up against his arms wrapped around you, another pointless action.

zayne sighs and opens his eyes again to look at you before speaking.

“well then you have two options. one, we both move over to the bed to sleep. or two, i sleep here and you sleep over in the room. my job isn’t physically taxing compared to yours, im not allowing you to go in if you don’t have a proper rest.”

he looks tired. you study his features before you respond to him. taking a moment to look at the eyebags under his eyes and a slight frustration growing in his face from this back and forth.

you sigh before answering “then to the bed we go”

a soft smile appears on zaynes face as he begins to get up. his neck slightly sore, but he wouldn’t reveal that to you. although it’s against your wishes, he lifts you up having you hold the blanket and pillow as he carries you back to bed.

he sets you down on your side of the bed, thinking you won’t necessarily want to be close with him tonight. not before tucking you in and kissing the top of your head whispering his love and goodnight wishes. as he gets into bed you turn to face him. once he fully lays down you scootch closer to him and grab onto the hem of his shirt. he instantly understands what you want and pulls you towards him, pressing you to his side as he wraps his arms around you.

he kisses your forehead once more and whispers

“we will continue our discussion after work tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

too tired to argue with him anymore you just nod your head against him replying quietly mouth squished against him making your words barely audible.

“goodnight, love you too”

[cece693]

Batman's Code of Ethics

pairing: bruce wayne x gender neutral reader tags: batman's code of ethics, sad ending for the batman, divorce, relationship conflict, vengeance

You first met Bruce Wayne at a fundraiser in downtown Gotham—one of those glamorous events where champagne sparkled and conversations danced on the knife’s edge of philanthropy and pretense. But it was the little moments that made you fall in love with him: how he paused to listen intently when you spoke, the gentle way he rested his hand against yours, the subtle but steadfast warmth in his gaze.

That warmth was what drew you in. It was what bound the two of you together in a promise—one that, in time, grew to include your son, Jason Todd. From the outside, you were Gotham’s picture-perfect family. But beneath the veneer of limousines and charity balls was the knowledge that every night Bruce put on the cowl, he wrestled with the darkness that consumed his city. It didn't bother you in the beginning—you knew Batman and Bruce were one; you couldn't ask him to leave the suit behind in favor for your family. But when that call came through—saying that Jason had gone missing, changed everything

Your heart has never felt heavier, not in the far corners of childhood loneliness nor in the quiet heartbreak of the many nights Bruce spent alone on the streets. You never knew grief could taste this bitter—tainted by the helpless anger now threading through your every breath. The walls of Wayne Manor seem to loom around you, suffocating and full of shadows. The place once felt like home; now feels like a mausoleum.

Outside, rain spatters the windows, each drop a dull percussion to the cacophony in your head. You’re standing near the fireplace, hands balled into fists, knuckles white with tension. Across the room, Bruce stares at you. His posture is rigid, arms stiff at his sides. The family painting you had commissioned is hung on the far wall, and seeing it cause fresh tears to fall. Jason, your son—dead.

“I can’t believe this, Bruce,” you say, voice shaking with rage. “He was our son. Our boy. And you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?”

He closes his eyes briefly, as though trying to steady himself. “You know I want justice,” he says, voice low and rough. “But I have—Batman has—rules.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood. That single phrase, Batman has rules, ignites something in you, the memory of your son’s laughter mixing with the image of his lifeless body. “Do you think I care about Batman’s rules right now?” The words rip from your throat. “Don’t you dare throw your precious code at me! This isn’t about your crusade—this is about avenging the murder of our child.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens. His hands clench, the only outward sign he’s losing his carefully placed composure. “Gotham can’t fall into anarchy. I made a vow never to cross that line—”

“I can’t believe you’re more concerned about crossing lines than ending the one monster who took him from us!” you shout, voice echoing in the large room. “That clown…that monster is roaming free—he’ll do it again, Bruce. He will. And you won’t do anything?”

Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the tension. The fireplace flickers, and for an instant, you see every etched line on Bruce’s face—the strain, the sorrow, and the anger. He steps closer, each footfall echoing in the hush.

“You think I’m not doing anything?” he hisses, voice tremoring with a swirl of agony and indignation. “Every night, I go out there, I chase him, I stop him from harming someone else. But I don’t kill. Because if I do it once—just once—there’s no going back. The city will have lost its symbol of hope. I will have lost myself.”

You hurl the words at him, your voice trembling, ���Symbols don’t matter more than life! More than Jason’s life! Don’t you want the Joker to suffer? Don’t you want to see him punished for what he did?”

“He’ll be punished by the law,” Bruce insists, though the confidence he’s trying to project is thin. “He’s going to Arkham—”

“Arkham?” you bark a laugh that feels like it tears you open from the inside. “He’ll escape again. He always does. You know it. I know it. And the cycle goes on, more people die, more children are orphaned, more families are broken. How many more Jasons? How many more nights do we have to grieve?”

He breathes hard through his nose, turning away as if to gather the scattered fragments of composure. “It’s not that simple—”

“Maybe it is that simple,” you say quietly, your initial anger collapsing into sorrow. “Maybe I just have to accept that what you wear at night means more to you than the life we built…than the son we raised together.”

You see the pain slice through him like a physical wound. He’s trembling, fists in tight knots at his sides, face set in grim lines. “Don’t do that,” he warns in a near whisper. “Don’t question how much I loved him. Don’t say this is about not caring. God, you know I cared. I love him. But I refuse to become the very thing I despise.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” you ask, voice breaking. “Just stand by and let the system fail us again? Let the Joker walk free in six months, only to put someone else in a grave? I…I can’t do this. I can’t keep standing by.”

He takes a step closer, the space between you so thick with tension it’s almost tangible. Then he hesitates, gaze flicking over your features, and you see it clearly—a snap of anger flaring in him.

“You don’t understand me,” he spits in frustration. “You never did. You fell in love with the man behind the mask, but you never understood why the mask exists in the first place.” His voice is a tremulous roar in the hush. “You claim to know me, to love me, but you’d see me become a murderer?”

Every word that leaves his mouth strikes with precision, forcing your eyes to sting with tears you fight to keep at bay. “I’m not asking you to become anything,” you manage, voice raw. “I’m asking you to do what any father—any husband—would do. I’m asking you to show the Joker that he can’t take everything we have without real consequences.”

Your pleas dangle in the silence. You wait, though your heart already feels like it’s shattering. Bruce’s lips part, but no words come. You see the torment running through his mind, the moral lines he’s drawn over and over again since he first became the Batman. And you see the part of him that wants to agree with you, that wants to break the Joker and end the nightmare. But that war rages behind his eyes, and you realize he will not cross that line, no matter how deep the wound.

The hush that ensues is deafening. Finally, Bruce tears his gaze from yours. In that final, wordless moment, you understand each other too well. His morality—his vow—stands as an unbreakable wall between you, between him and vengeance, between your love and the path that would bring you both finality.

You brush past him, feeling the heat radiate off his body even as the chill of his rigid stance sets in. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the patter of the rain outside.

Days turn into weeks, and you sleep in separate bedrooms. Though you both wander the Manor’s halls like ghosts, you barely speak. And when you do, conversations are clipped and tinged with bitterness. Alfred’s gentle attempts at bridging the gap only highlight the chasm.

Gotham’s nights still see Batman swooping through the city, chasing down criminals, returning them to Arkham. It’s all the same routine that took your son away, all the same cycle that left Jason’s place at the dinner table forever empty.

The day of Jason’s funeral arrives. You stand in front of his headstone—Jason Todd Wayne, beloved son. Bruce stands next to you, silent as a statue. The city’s skyline is stark behind you both. The weight of finality sinks in: he is truly gone. And the man you love, whose eyes reflect unspeakable pain, remains as resolute as ever in the vow that distances him from you.

In that moment, sorrow merges with conviction; you realize you can’t be with him like this. You can’t reconcile yourself to it. You can’t keep watching him throw criminals back into Arkham only for them to escape. You can’t watch him refuse the final step, the step you desperately believe in, to save another family from this torment.

You quietly take off the ring Bruce gave you—polished titanium, etched with your initials. You slip it into his hand, fingers closing over his palm, and brush away the tears that fall freely now.

“Bruce,” you whisper, voice thick with grief, “I can’t stand at your side after this. What you’re doing, how you’re not ending it. Maybe it’s noble. Maybe it makes you a hero. But I can’t live with it. Not after Jason.”

He looks at the ring, the bright metal in his gloved hand. He doesn’t speak, his throat too tight with emotion. You think for a moment he’ll protest—that he’ll reach for you, try to fix what’s broken—but he doesn’t. Perhaps he knows, deep inside, that his unyielding lines will never coincide with yours now.

Months later, in a quiet lawyer's office, the finalization of your divorce is as cold and pragmatic as signing any legal form. The media never gets wind of it—the Wayne name shields such intimate heartbreak behind well-guarded gates. You walk away from the building's room with finality. Nothing left to say.

You remember Bruce once whispering, We do what we must for Gotham, for justice. But for you, the definition of justice had changed irrevocably the day you lost Jason. There is no bridging the distance between your brand of justice and Batman’s unwavering line.

In the hush of your new apartment, boxes half-unpacked, you find a small photo of you, Bruce, and Jason on a rare sunny day by the Manor gardens. Jason’s grin is broad, unstoppable—the future once felt so boundless. You press the photo to your chest, letting the wave of grief pass over you like a slow tide, your tears falling onto a cardboard box top.

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[mrsjellymunson]

Something Old, Something New

Written for the @steddiemicrofic January challenge prompt ‘new’ || WC target: 517 || Rating: M || CW: very brief and vague allusion to sex, self-doubt, sentiment, fluff || Tags: nervous!Eddie Munson, background Steve Harrington, Wayne Munson, very background Al Munson

OLD

Eddie reaches into the collar of his shirt and runs his fingertips along the tarnished chain. It’s his old guitar pick necklace, the one he was wearing the day they met. He remembers how Steve asked about it, nervously. How he fiddled with it when they first spent time alone. How it swung over his face and chest when they finally—

“How are you doing? Really?”

Eddie looks away from the hotel mirror to regard his uncle. He tries to sound confident, but his voice cracks a little.

“I’m fine, honestly. You’re here, my friends are all here. It doesn’t get much better than that, right?”

NEW

“You look good, son.”

Eddie turns.

“Thanks, Wayne. But honestly, I think this suit is doing most of the work.”

He fusses in front of the mirror again, smoothing the black fabric and adjusting his tie for the dozenth time.

“Steve insisted I go to the same tailor he used, but also get something that was really me. I dunno though, I feel like a penguin.”

Wayne tries to quash Eddie’s self-doubt, which is clearly about more than the suit.

“Listen, I know you’re not used to someone taking care of you like this. But he’s good for you. He’s helping you to see your worth. And you’re good for him too. You keep him grounded, and will always remind him of how much he’s loved.”

Eddie gives him a thin-lipped smile.

BORROWED

Wayne clears his throat as he reaches inside his jacket. Pulling out a worn velvet box, he murmurs,

“I wanted you to have this, for today.”

Eddie takes it, a confused look on his face. He’s seen it at the back of Wayne’s closet, but never asked what it was.

He lifts the lid to reveal a watch, clearly antique. Gold or brass, he neither knows nor cares; it’s beautiful.

“It was your grandfathers. I managed to hide it, keep it from, well, you know…”

Eddie frowns and nods. Had his father known about this he would’ve pawned it without a moment’s thought.

Eddie places it on his wrist as his uncle fastens the clasp.

“I got the strap altered for ya. Had to measure one of those darned leather bracelets one day when you were in the shower. I felt like a goddamned secret agent’r somethin’.”

Eddie snorts as his uncle shakes his head.

He regards himself in the mirror again. The suit, the watch. He stands a little taller, a little straighter. Maybe Wayne’s right? He can do this. He deserves this.

BLUE

He glances out the window to where Steve’s baby-blue pick-up truck sits gleaming in the parking lot.

The Party’s decorated it with white satin ribbons, soda cans on string, and ‘Just Wed’ on the rear window in chalk marker. Eddie makes out geometric shapes, and wonders who suggested drawing D&D dice instead of hearts.

Wayne checks in one more time.

”You sure you’re okay, son?”

Eddie looks at his uncle and nods assertively, smiling.

“Definitely. It’s a new beginning. I’m marrying the love of my life, and I couldn’t be happier.”

A/N: You could take this literally, where the Something Old is Eddie’s necklace and/or the heirloom watch, and the Something New is his new suit and/or Steve’s pick-up. Or, you might prefer that Something Old is Eddie’s lingering self-doubt, and Something New is his burgeoning self-confidence and self-worth, or their new beginning, as they step into their new life together. Or you might pick both, or something different, it's entirely up to you.

A/N2: I initially wrote this to imply Eddie was getting ready to read the eulogy at Steve’s funeral, only to pull an abrupt switcheroo near the end. But quite frankly I couldn’t bring myself to write anything sad right now, even if it did end happily, as I think we all need cheering up given current world events.

And in case anyone’s interested, here’s the meaning behind the old rhyme:

“The Old English [Victorian era] rhyme is all about good luck charms, "Something Olde (symbolizes continuity), Something New (offers optimism for the future), Something Borrowed (represents borrowed happiness), Something Blue (purity, love and fidelity), and a Sixpence (maybe a 5 cent piece) in your Shoe (prosperity).”

Tagging my general list (open, just ask): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose

More Eddie & Steddie on my masterlist

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - Epilogue

Source for pic

The Great Pretender Epilogue

Word Count: 4679

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: This is it, everyone! The end! Oh, I'm so emotional right now. Maybe I should've hold off a bit before posting this, but I really wanted to share it with you all. Honestly, I hope you love it. Please tell me all about it in a comment, or in an ask, in a DM, whatever you feel like it, I would like to know if this made you feel happy, sad, angry, all of the above! But ultimately, I want to thank each and every one of you for taking this journey with me!

|Masterlist| | |Chapter 17|

Law’s hands slither to your waist, his touch far more rattled than his usually composed embrace. He steps impossibly closer, and your back presses flush against the door while an almost soundless whimper escapes your lips. He uses that opening to slide his tongue into your mouth, and you sigh into his kiss. 

You’ve missed this.

The easy way you two fit together, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the urgency in each touch and each kiss. 

But as your fingers entwine in his hair, they ground you in a harsh reality: Doflamingo. You need to stop this. 

Parting the kiss with a groan, you lower your gaze, breathless and dazed, trying hard to compose your thoughts so you can utter intelligible words. “Law… Law!” You urge, removing your hands from the temptation of feeling more of him against your skin and trapping them against your legs in closed fists. “We can’t.”

Yet he doesn’t heed your words. His hands go back to cupping your cheeks, lifting your face to his and claiming your lips once more, like he’s a man dying of starvation and you’re his only source of sustenance. “Hush, love. Later.” Then he feeds some more on your luscious lips, his source of life.

Your legs lose strength, and so does your determination. Surely a few more stolen kisses and touches won’t do much harm? The damage is already done, and you’re only going to do damage control.

Just a few more kisses…

No.

“Law!” You say more firmly, your hands pressing against his chest to keep him a breath away. “Please… we can’t do this.” Your plea is nothing more than a broken whine, and that seems to catch Law’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice deep with want and need, filled with longing and despair. 

Deep breaths.

“Please, Law. Pretend I wasn’t here. We can’t do this. I’m not supposed to be near you, I wasn’t even supposed to speak with you, let alone kiss you!” Your watery eyes are already producing more tears, so Law takes a step back.

“So it is my uncle, isn’t it?” You nod, too scared to say anything else. This fleeting moment felt like a dream, a small interlude in the abyss of pain that surrounds you, but you can’t let it linger. “What did he say he’d do to you? I’ll talk to him, I–...”

Shaking your head, you try to think about how much you should share with Law, but he doesn’t let you think, much less speak. 

“I can’t bear to be apart from you anymore, not when I know that nothing happened, not when I know you still love me… I can make him retract his threats, he’ll listen to me.”

Oh, how you want to hope. The words Law weaves are beautiful, like a siren song to your ears, but you know Doflamingo won't give up that easily. He decided you are not worth his nephew’s time, so he’ll never relent. You know enough about manipulative, arrogant men to understand they never give up once they set their mind to something.

You wish you didn’t know, though. 

“What did he say? What threats did he make? Was it about your father?” A low rumble rolls in waves from his chest before he speaks. “Was he threatening you directly? Your health?”

You keep shaking your head, he’ll never get there alone if you don’t say something. Even if Law doesn’t trust his uncle, those family values Doffy instilled in him are still very strong. 

He lets his thumb graze your lips again, a show of the deep devotion he feels, once more making true to his claim of not being able to part with you. “What is it, then? Tell me.”

A heavy sigh signals your resignation. Your fingers climb up his jawline in a sweet caress, but you still try. One last effort to keep him away, even though it will destroy you both. Gently twirling his earring, you soften your gaze. 

“We don’t have a future together, Law…” The words are like ash in your mouth, leaving it dry and unsavoury, crumbling into a pile of lies you never meant to build.

To his credit, though, he doesn’t even flinch. “Stop it, sweetheart. That’s not going to work.” Law presses his forehead against yours again, and his sigh breathes life into you. Obviously, it wouldn’t work. You weren’t even trying.

“He… your uncle threatened to destroy your clinic, Law… all your work, just gone!”

Law takes a step back, his eyes widening slightly for a fraction of a second, but his control quickly falls into place as he subtly nods, like he almost couldn’t believe it but ultimately expected something of the sort. 

“I could deal with whatever threat he made towards me. Thanks to you, I know just how strong I can be… but… but not a threat to everything you’ve been working for, Law! I could never jeopardise what you’ve built! And now…” You try to hold your grief back by hugging yourself.

“My clinic? He would stoop that low…?” His hand tousles his hair as the familiar crease between his brows returns. 

“He did. And that’s why I’ll leave and never come back. We can pretend nothing happened, we just can’t see each other again and–...”

“Sweetheart…”

“He won’t find out! Or even if he somehow realises I came here, once we never speak to each other again, he won’t fulfil his threat!”

“Love!”

“We just… we just…” You exhale half a sob and tighten your grip on yourself. “It’s simple, really… you carry on with your life, and I–...”

The authoritative way in which he speaks your name makes your thoughts stop spiralling and your lips stop rambling. With a firm touch, Law disentangles your arms from around your frame and wraps them around his waist, stepping closer to you, his amber gaze never leaving yours. 

“I don’t know where you got the silly notion that I care more about my work than I care for you, but it’s not true.” Law laces his fingers through your hair as he settles his hand on your nape. His other hand gently caresses your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone… a lover’s touch.

Something you can never give up, no matter how hard you try to do what’s right for him. 

“But, Law–...”

“No buts, sweetheart. What do I always tell you?” A smirk twists his lips upwards, and warmth fills your chest, already expecting the words that come next. “I got this.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, a real smile pulls at the corners of your lips as he takes them in another searing kiss. He’s got this. He’s Trafalgar Law, there’s nothing that can stop him.

-*-

You and Law lose track of time in each other’s arms. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves when you were together for twenty-four hours, let alone now that you’ve been apart for so long. 

He continuously assures you that he will speak with his uncle in person, but somehow, your fears have been assuaged. As usual Law’s cool and calm approach to things grounds you and stops you from spiralling too hard.

When he finally goes to his desk to cancel any appointments he has for tomorrow, since he plans to go to the city to talk with Doflamingo, he lets out a muffled curse followed by a chuckle. 

“It’s past closing time, love.”

What? You’ve been lost in each other for hours? How can that be? Fishing your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you confirm the time and see the messages Shanks left for you. Most of them are happy emojis and encouraging words. Then there’s one that says he’s going to take the truck home and that you should get a ride to Law’s apartment, followed by some winky emojis and a speech about safety and protection that you choose to ignore. 

But Law is probably thinking about the same thing because he’s shutting down his computer and the lights, his hand stretched out for you to grab as he navigates you both through the dark clinic, locking up behind him. 

You can still feel a little prickle of uncertainty twisting your stomach, a shiver of dread still coursing through your veins, but Law’s presence is steady and solid. 

He’s got this.

-*-

Law grits his teeth together as he crosses and uncrosses his legs for the umpteenth time in the span of ten minutes. He shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not the first time he’s faced his uncle to stand on something he believes in. 

Though he’s never really won any of those battles. Not on his own, anyway. Cora was always there to vouch for him, help him, and calm tensions when they inevitably started to climb. 

Law and Doffy can never have a serious conversation without it completely escalating. 

That’s why it’s so paramount that today he’s able to stay cool and collected. He needs to win this battle. And if he can keep his cool together for everyone else, why should his uncle be any different?

Still, he can’t help the uneasiness from making him slightly nauseous, so he cracks his neck with a slow, rotating motion to try and ease off the edge. Doflamingo is making him wait on purpose, he knows that. 

He just needs to remain calm. 

“Mr. Trafalgar, your uncle is ready to see you now.”

Law inhales sharply as he gets up and buttons his black blazer. He’s got this.

He’s been to his uncle’s office quite a few times, but the opulence of it never ceases to amaze him. It’s a penthouse office, bigger than some people’s houses. Its windows go from top to bottom and overlook the busy streets below, like a reminder that Doffy is always above everyone else. 

Doflamingo doesn’t get up from behind his desk to greet him. He peers at Law from behind his tinted glasses, an eerie smile twisting his lips upwards as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwining in his lap.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my dear nephew. What brings you to the city, Law?” Then he gasps as he moves forward, and Law takes his seat across from him. “No, that’s not the real question. What I mean is: what brings you to your family’s firm? A place you tend to avoid, even when you’re required…?”

Law knows Doflamingo is very aware of why he’s there. Actually, Law is pretty sure Doffy already knows you and Law connected, but he doesn’t plan on showing all of his cards right now.

“You know why I’m here, Doffy.”

“Yes. And alone. How surprising.” Doffy chuckles slowly. “You’re finally becoming a big man? You don’t need the support of my foolish brother to fight your own battles this time?”

He’s taunting Law, trying to distract him, to make him lose control of his emotions, as he so easily and usually does. 

“This is my own battle, and one I don’t intend to lose, Uncle.”

“How daring of you, Nephew.” Doffy relaxes back into his chair again, one hand absently caressing his jaw as he regards Law with interest. “Speak your terms, I’m all ears.”

“I know you tried to push her away from me. I know it was you who orchestrated that performance, perfectly played by Vinsmoke. I know, Uncle.”

Doflamingo smiles, and Law almost perceives a hint of pride behind the light lenses. 

“What you need to know is that I can make my own choices, even if they hurt me, even if they’re the wrong choices, I have to make them. You can’t protect me from everything, especially when the one who ends up hurting me most is you.”

Doffy’s smile falters and he swallows hard.

Law takes another deep breath. “I love her. I want to be with her. She’s not the wrong choice, she was always the right one. Uncle… let me be happy.”

For a fraction of a moment, Law sees a bit of compassion in Doffy’s eyes, but as soon as it appears, it vanishes, replaced by another wicked grin. Law should’ve known better than to expect this to be easy. 

“Love is not the key to happiness, Law. You should know that by now. Love makes you weak, it makes you lose sight of the really important things like–...”

“Power? Wealth? Influence?” Law’s hands turn to fists and he traps them against his lap, trying to control the snarl threatening to break through his clenched teeth. “I know all of that! You’ve been trying to instil those notions on me since I was a ten-year-old lost boy, filled with grief and guilt from losing my family!”

Law’s hands shake, and his chest heaves with effort. He needs to remain calm. He can’t win anything if he loses control, that’s what Doflamingo wants. 

“Yes. No matter how hard you take it, Law, those things are what make the world turn. Power, wealth, and influence are what fuel the hearts of people, and that is what’s necessary to keep you in a position of–...”

“I don’t care, Uncle! I never meant to be a figure of authority or influence! I just want to be happy and save people’s lives!” Law gets up, too fidgety to remain still, and starts to pace the big office. “All I want is for little kids not to have to lose their families to accidents or disease. I want to make a difference…” His shoulders slump as he stops behind the chair he was sitting on, his amber gaze fixed on Doflamingo’s, the cool control completely overrun by raw emotion. “I want her.”

“Are you willing to lose all you’ve worked for just for her?” Doffy’s words are calculating, and Law came prepared for this outcome. It’s not one he wanted. If he could choose, he’d walk away from this meeting with both his clinic and you. But if this is what it takes…

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. Let’s talk. I have a proposition for you.”

-*-

You can barely focus on your job the next morning, and by the time your shift ends and you get home, you’re full on spiralling. Has Law spoken with Doflamingo already? How did it go?

You don’t have any missed calls or messages on your phone, and you don’t want to call him and risk interrupting something, so you have to wait. He told you he’d call once the meeting was over. 

You just have to wait. You can do this.

“Bug? Did you hear a word I said?” Shanks looks at you with a half-smirk painting his lips while you make a mess by pouring coffee onto an upside-down mug.

“Shit!” You mumble before grabbing a rag to clean up the mess while Shanks chuckles. “No, dad, I didn’t, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Is everything alright? I thought you and Law had patched things up.”

You smile nervously at him while he helps with the mess. “We did, but… it’s complicated.” Then you explain a bit about Doflamingo and how much influence he holds over Law while you share a mug of coffee. The conversation with Shanks actually helps distract you, and time flies. Though, as soon as your phone starts to ring, you excuse yourself and run outside as Shanks yells at you not to run on the porch steps, something he said every day when you were a little girl. 

“Law?”

“I told you I had this, love.”

Your easy laugh brings tears to your eyes. Of course, he had it. Law’s finally free of his uncle’s threats, and you can stop worrying. 

You have a future. A bright, beautiful future with the man you love. 

It almost seems impossible to believe. 

-*-

Sweat still clings to your bodies as you lie in the crumpled sheets. You’re in Law’s apartment again, and you’re not sure you’ll ever want to spend another night away from him. You’re an adult, so Shanks doesn’t even pry, but you know he’s happy for both of you, since he has a soft spot for Law. 

Lying your head against Law’s chest and hearing his erratic heartbeat after he makes love to you has become something you’re quite addicted to. It’s soothing, grounding, and familiar. He’s your home.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your naked back as he lays soft kisses on your head, letting you have this moment until his heartbeat retreats to a normal pace. 

“How did you do it?” You were so happy when he returned from his meeting with Doffy that you barely had time to talk about how it went before he dragged you to his bed, chasing away all the tension you had accumulated over the past weeks, making you lose control over and over again until you could barely think.

“We agreed on some terms.” 

“How cryptic.” You tease, moving your head and leaning your chin on his chest so you can gaze into the soft amber of his eyes. “What terms?”

Law sighs, and the crease between his eyebrows forms in record time. Will he ever tell you all the details of what transpired in this meeting?

“I’m going to dedicate much more of my time to the family’s business.” A strained smile forms on his lips, and your heart sinks.

“No, Law! You hate it.”

Cupping your cheek against his palm, he strokes your skin gently. “I do. But it’s a very small price to pay. And I can attend meetings on the computer, so they won’t know if I’m listening or playing solitaire.” He jokes, but you find it hard to laugh. 

“Don’t joke, Law. How about clinic hours? Your hospital shifts?” You don’t want to voice it, but you fear this will also steal the little time you can find on his busy schedule to just be together and ‘date’!

Maybe that was Doflamingo’s plan all along when he agreed to this. 

He kisses the tip of your nose affectionately while you frown. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll still have time for everything.” Once again, he reads you like a book. He knows what you truly meant, even if you were also worried about him not having enough time to dedicate to his patients. “The important thing is that Doffy backed off. He understood I would never give you up and his threats were empty and futile. I won.”

“But so did he, Law… wasn’t that what he wanted all along? For you to dedicate yourself to his business? Hasn’t he been grooming you for that since you were young?”

“Sure. But I’ll say it again: small price to pay.�� With a swift movement, he turns you, pinning you under him and slotting himself in the middle of your parted legs, a sly grin curving his lips. “You’re the only thing I can’t afford to lose.”

A wistful sigh escapes your lips as you give up your argument. There’s no point in insisting with him. As long as he’s happy and you’re together, you’re happy too.

“I love you, Law.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Law nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as his tongue swirls sinful patterns on your skin. “Where were we?”

With a giggle you surrender yourself to him. All of yourself, without restrictions, qualms, or fears. Law’s yours, and you’re his.

Not in a possessive, toxic way, but in a way that lets you know both of you would go to the ends of the earth and back if that’s what it took to be close to one another. 

-*-

Weeks pass slowly, and as you predicted, you spend most nights at Law’s. He is busier, there’s no denying it. Even though he tried to downplay it at first, his involvement with the family’s business takes more of his time than either of you wished.

But you both manage. Law learns to stamp his feet now and then, demanding more free time, and it seems Doflamingo likes it when he’s assertive because he grants him just that. Though you suspect Cora also plays an important part in keeping Doffy in check.

You both go on a lot of dates. And if at first it seems a little silly, since you skipped a lot of steps, it soon becomes endearing. Law brings you flowers and picks you up at Shanks’ as if you’re still getting to know one another.

That makes Shanks laugh, and he fake-threatens Law to bring you back before curfew and treat you like a lady, ‘or else’, knowing well enough that you’ll be spending the night away. But Law plays into the act and promises he’ll behave.

He doesn’t.

And that’s the first time you have car sex with Law. 

He takes you to expensive places to eat and to food trucks. You watch movies at the theatre and at drive-ins. There are walks in the park and sweet weekend escapades to whimsical locations or tourist traps. 

It’s blissful. 

You love every second of it, and everything just cements what you knew almost from the beginning. Law is the one. He’s the one you want to spend your life with. 

-*- 

It’s a lazy Sunday. The clinic is closed, and Law has a day off from the hospital. You spent the day baking cookies and bingeing trashy tv shows. Now, you both lie on the rumpled sheets of his bed, the warm glow of the sunset seeping through the curtains of Law’s room, tracing new patterns on his inked chest, which you trace diligently with your fingers. 

Law is eerily quiet, so you prop yourself up on one elbow to gaze into his face. A contemplative look mars his features and he looks deep in thought. For a second, your mind wanders to his uncle, and you’re not sure if you should pry, but before you can ask, Law opens his mouth to speak.

“I never told you much about my parents, have I?” His voice is thick with emotion, and you hold in a breath as well as his gaze.

“No, but it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You realise it’s a touchy subject, something far too painful for him to speak freely about. 

“I need you to know everything about me. I don’t want anything left unsaid between us.” With a nod you wait for him to continue, giving him all the time and space he needs to share what he needs to share. “They were very caring people, full of joy and love, and though they were both doctors and had busy professional lives, they always had time to play with their children. They raised me as a happy child, my sister and me. We would butt heads, as most siblings do, but I loved her to bits and pieces. There was always laughter in our household.”

Your throat feels tight with emotion as Law’s eyes become glassy with unshed tears, the weight of a lifelong pain he can’t shake off. 

“Then it all fell apart. I lost all of them in an instant… and got left behind. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why I had survived. It was almost as if the universe had made a cruel mistake, because why had they died - when they were wonderful people - and I had been the one to survive? It didn’t make sense.”

You can’t stop the trembling of your lips, but you squeeze Law’s hand, too afraid to say something because you know you’ll just fall apart and he needs to finish sharing. A small smile pulls at his lips as he gazes back into your eyes, a hand lying in a sweet caress on your cheek. 

“One of the reasons I became a doctor was exactly that. To try and make amends, to save others from the same fate that befell me. To repent. Though I never let myself believe I was destined for true happiness.” You can’t stop the tears from falling, staining your cheeks. Law brushes a thumb over them, and his smile deepens. “Until you. You made me believe that maybe fate left me alive for a reason other than just surviving.”

A soft sob shakes your shoulders, and Law gently pulls you to him, kissing your lips softly. You pour all your love into that kiss, he needs to know how much he means to you. There are promises of love between kisses and tears, and it all feels so raw and vulnerable. It warms your heart to understand that Law trusts you enough to share his deepest fears and regrets. 

After an emotional moment, you break the closeness with a sheepish smile. “You know…” You begin in a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood. “If this were real, this would be the part where I comfort you and say something really deep, but since we’re just pretending…” You trail off, and Law chuckles, your words relieving him of the burden of the past as he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes. 

“If this were real,” he teases, entering your game with a glint in his eyes, “this would be the part where I tell you that the universe placed you in my path because we were always destined to be together.”

A real laugh leaves your lips, and you brush away the last remnant of tears from your eyes. “And if this were real, this would be the part where I’d call you a romantic sap, even though I enjoy it thoroughly.”

Law sits up, his smirk widening as he faces you with affection. “And if this were real, this would be the part where I’d make a grand, romantic gesture just to prove to you how serious I really am.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips, but your breath hitches when Law opens his nightstand drawer, taking out a small velvet box. Your heart races against your chest as you sit up, your smile turning into a surprised awe. 

“And if this were real,” Law continues, his voice deeper, moved by raw emotion as he opens the box. “I’d be holding a ring just like this one.” 

Your breaths leave you in trembling gasps as your eyes dart from the ring to his face and back to the ring again. “Law…” You whisper, throat thick with emotion. 

“And if this were real, love,” he’s also slightly breathless, “this would be where I ask you to marry me.”

Tears spill down your cheeks again, your hand covering your open mouth as you’re overwhelmed with joy and love. All you’ve been through, all the happy times, the uncertainty, the pain… you both came out of it stronger.

“If this were real,” you start, your voice coming between hitches and sobs and the occasional nervous laugh, “this would be the part where I would say yes.”

Law’s smile widens, and with slightly trembling fingers, he grasps your hand and slips the ring into place. You laugh along with a sob, barely believing what’s happening. Then he pulls you into his arms, having you sit on his lap, both with the hugest grins on your faces.

But before he leans in to kiss you, you stop him, a quizzical look on your face. “Just so we’re clear, this is real, right?”

Law’s laugh is like a balm to your soul. A deep, rich timbre that fills your heart and swells, expands, taking over your body and making you feel complete. 

“This is very real, sweetheart, and you’ve just made me the happiest man alive. I love you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, you manage to whisper a shaky ‘I love you too’ before crashing your lips against his. 

If you could’ve saved Shanks the suffering, you would, but you will never not be grateful for the fact that he needed to be operated on by Law, or you wouldn’t have met the man of your dreams. 

THE END

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

[phyrestartr]

Prisoner of the Coast | Sukuna x M!Reader (WIP)

#SFW wip, reader is a water dragon, sukuna is a ronin, lore, mythology, there's plot, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, probably sad ending?, AU note: I JUST WANTED TO POST SOMETHING IDK

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @memedealer-exe @tr4nniez @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @memedealer-exe @silvern1006

Fear was not what he felt. Ryoumen Sukuna did not fear you who he faced; he was not a weak man. He was not a faint-hearted warrior. He was not a coward. But gleaming, ghastly eyes reminded him of mortality. Of the very human blood embedded in his veins. 

And the longer those round, moonlit eyes stared, the longer they sliced through the endless, empty blankness of the forgotten seaside palace, the louder that sound of drumming shook Sukuna's skull, against his ribs. But he was not afraid; he did not fear the gods. He would not fear one of their ilk in the flesh. 

The sound of water shifting echoed in the infinite void, dancing off distant walls as shards of light managed to catch on gentle, lapping wakes. Yet your head never moved an inch. Sukuna had seen other snakes do the same in his travels, keeping their heads still while their bodies squeezed and slithered–but their eyes were bound to fall closed. Yours stayed awake. Staring like the head of a Lion Dance puppet. Abnormal. Unaware of such abnormality. 

Sukuna gripped one of his swords tightly, ready to quick-draw if you'd chosen to strike. Gods were like that–hateful, horrible, honourless–and he expected nothing less from a beast like you; however, you'd been meandering towards him his entire stay, he realized too late. Slow. Quiet. Patient. The way one might approach a scared animal. 

I'm not getting paid enough for this shit. Sukuna found a smile, though. Maybe I’m getting paid too fuckin’ much. Who the hell does this thing need protecting from, huh? 

The question gnawed on his mind as your grandeur size became near-tangible–then, your eyes closed. Right when Sukuna started to make out the glint of scales against the moonlight of your eyes, the shimmering glow vanished, leaving only dappling sunlight streaming in from time-worn holes in the towering ceiling. 

“What do you want?” A man’s voice, your voice, asked from the shadows. The source was lower than before, ringing from a height so oddly human it gave Sukuna whiplash. 

“Ho? A shapeshifter?” Sukuna wondered, grinning. “You think you can take me on like that?”

“I don’t intend to ‘take you on’ at all, samurai.” You sighed and paced. Sukuna followed the sound of bare feet stepping on stones, coupled with the stiff drag of something scratching against the floor. Perhaps a tail? Perhaps fins? He didn’t know. The sunlight protecting him proved too stark against the shadows you dwelled within. 

“Someone has sent you here,” you decided. Sukuna felt your stare on him, though he could not see the twin lights. “My parents.” 

The grip on his blade lessened. “More or less. Said there was a godling that needed babysitting.” 

“Babysitting–?! The fucking audacity. Well, I promise you, this isn’t babysitting.” You snapped, bitter. 

Sukuna smirked. Never did he imagine a god-like thing would be so rough around the edges. “Then what would you call it?”

“Imprisonment.” You stepped toward the light when you said it, coming from an angle Sukuna didn’t expect, making him whirl in place and face the shadowed silhouette standing too close yet too far away. “And you’re my own, personal jailer.” Then, after a moment, you added, “Well. I guess it is glorified babysitting afterall. Expensive babysitting, at that. Congratulations on the easy money.” 

“That mean you’re gonna make this simple for me?” Sukuna asked. He tucked his arms into his sleeves as he waited for you to say something, but you only stepped back into the empty blackness filling your glorious cage. 

“Might as well,” your voice echoed, wilting, “I don’t care to leave this place anyway.” 

“‘N why the hell not?” He asked. 

But there was no answer; there was only the quiet splash of water, and twin ghost lights disappearing into the depths.

[maddiethegoodwitch]

🎄 AN ARCANE CHRISTMAS ༄

— summary : basically just what arcane characters are like at christmas

— i missed writing so bad & my caitvi headcanons got a lot of likes and i was like yay!! and since it’s the first of december.. i feel like this was needed. so happy arcane christmas ! also this is an au where vi & caitlyn are together , everybody is alive & they’re all happy and healthy in their respective cities but are all friends due to connections 😝 never done something like this before so tell me if i should do more or quit forever

— mainly includes vi, caitlyn, jinx, ekko sevika, isha, jayce, mel & viktor

— by the way i read @rhiannonsknife ‘s rhiannon christmas headcanons earlier and i thought the layout was so beautiful so that’s what the design is inspired by !! none of the hcs tho from what i remember hahah these r all original (ur writing is so good pls never die)

— tags bc yay @thankynext @tortvredpoetsblog

secret santa!

some people (jinx) complained about getting presents for everybody, so caitlyn suggested they do a secret santa! vi wrote down everybody’s names and they all got folded into a hat, and they all picked one (except isha) bla bla bla u know how it goes . on christmas afternoon, everybody goes over to the kiramman house for christmas dinner , and before the dinner they agreed to exchange gifts. something had gone wrong as sevika ended up with two gifts and jayce with none.. “vi! you put sevika in twice?” - a very angry caitlyn. she wanted this to go perfectly:( “i’m sorry! i don’t think about jayce a lot!” - a stuttering vi trying for an excuse because she feels bad. jayce sulking because he doesn’t have a present but sevika can’t give him one of hers because one of them is arm attachments from jinx and the other is cute stickers for it from mel. isha being sad that she wasn’t included but everybody got her something little and cute so she cheers up. caitlyn pulling jinx’s name and using this to try and repair their relationship, absolutely spoiling jinx with gifts. she even earns a smile :( viktor getting ekko and worrying bc they aren’t that close but jayce helps him.. they all gave jayce their sprouts as an apology and made vi do 50 sit ups (caitlyn suggested it..)

decorating the tree!

christmas for caitlyn is her roman empire. she needs everything to be perfect and she’s not a beige christmas or a green christmas. she’s a white christmas. her tree is white and the baubles are red and silver. the first two christmases after the war, she never let anybody help, but this year she felt festive and like it was an activity they could all do together. however, as soon as isha got anywhere near the tree with her hands covered in chocolate after eating out of a melted advent calendar, caitlyn was done. she gave vi the stern look and vi had to distract isha while caitlyn “fixed” the tree , and instead they all did a silly one at jinx’s place :) nobody was mad at caitlyn because they know how much she loves christmas and she surprised them all with the house being completely lit up and decorated

sevika , jinx & isha

sevika was unsure about spending christmas with everybody , as she wasn’t close with any of them except jinx and isha . jinx was invited because of vi obviously & that included isha too . vi suggested sevika come if she wanted to, and though she’d never admit it, sevika didn’t want to spend christmas alone after the crazy year, so she agreed. isha was just excited for people to be getting her presents… and stuffing her face with caitlyns cooking. caitlyn was actually left to look after isha for a little while & she loved it, isha gets excited when she sees caitlyn now. “i wanted to be the cool aunt..” - a pouting vi watching caitlyn hold isha. jinx felt awkward because she got the “family invitation”, but after a chat with vi & everyone embracing her she was fine and actually loved feeling like part of a family again. sevika was awkward when she arrived on christmas morning but after one friendly chat with vi, she figured she could talk with anybody & she did!

christmas dinner!

the people in charge of cooking christmas dinner were jayce, caitlyn and mel. caitlyn cooked for her and vi every year, and since christmas was at their house, she was in charge by default. mel walked into the kitchen to chat with caitlyn and saw she was struggling, so she called jayce in to help because the both of them attended cooking classes together and were fairly talented at it.. it came out amazing and was gone in about ten minutes. we already know that vi is a messy eater, but after filling her plate and wolfing it down, there was gravy all round her mouth 😭 caitlyn made sure to make a special plate for isha that had things she would like (isha is a picky eater to me..) because vi told her about it. jayce almost burnt the chicken trying to impress mel with drink pouring… ekko , viktor & sevika hadn’t spent a lot of time with the rest of the group so they were cautious about showing their eating habits, but viktor ended up eating copious amounts of cauliflower, ekko eating like half of the yorkshire puddings & sevika eating about 5 whole pigs with the amount of pigs in blankets she ate

caitvi

they both agreed to not get the other anything big or special, but they both did. caitlyn helped vi get back on her feet (i hc vi works at a mechanics now :3) and vi wanted to repay her, probably getting her some jewellery with a cringey engravement on it and she goes red while cait is reading it but caitlyn loves it… 🤗 & caitlyn got vi some boots that they saw in a shop window and vi said “do you think i’d look hot in those” and caitlyn thought yes.

jinx & ekko

so they aren’t dating but they’re like. lowk flirting like hiiii.. and caitlyn picks up on it and tells vi and vi’s like. “nah there’s no way…” but then she trails off as jinx actually laughs at something ekko says.. jinx doesn’t believe she has a crush on ekko but they spend basically all night talking to eachother other than the small conversations with the others .. jinx introduces ekko to isha and isha asks if that’s jinx’s boyfriend and jinx laughs then ekko feels bad ): but jinx makes it up to him by showing him that she actually got him a present!! like some cool graffiti cans or something & ekko loves them

mistletoe

caitlyn ignored vi’s protesting to have no mistletoe and put it up ALL over the house and i mean everywhere.. she was constantly saying “ooooh is that mistletoe i see!” but vi found it cute so she dragged caitlyn under it and kissed her (jinx scoffed..). jinx and ekko ended up under there and after cait pointed it out, jinx snagged it off the roof, threw it on the floor and stepped on it. “what? i don’t want our first kiss to be infront of my sister and her stupid girlfriend.” “stupid girlfriend?” “first kiss? so there’ll be more?” “shut up.” jayce kept trying to get mel under there but she was dodging it , & jayce got frustrated .. “y’dont wanna kiss me or something?” “well..”

mall santa

jinx took isha into the christmas markets like a week before christmas and did not expect to see sevika dressed as santa. isha literally noticed it before jinx. she tugged on jinx’s arm and pointed at sevika until jinx realised and she was like holy shit.. isha still happily sat on santa’s knee, got a picture and a big hug too while jinx was stood there teasing her. “i think isha wants like.. a hextech hoverboard for christmas.. can ya do that, santa?” but after it sevika payed her a visit and threatened jinx if she told anybody.. she still ended up telling people after they ate dinner on christmas LMAO

BONUS

jinx to vi : “ so you like .. live here now? ya fuckin’ priss..”

viktor almost cried because jayce got him like a cover for his cane because viktor mentioned that it had been really hurting his hands recently but he couldn’t get a new one

whenever vi and caitlyn did anything slightly intimate jinx would say “there we go! kiss an enforcer, ruin christmas..”

for some reason vi treated christmas crackers like an olympics game and would use all her strength to pull it so she got the bigger half.. but she just wanted to tell the corny jokes

jayce was super awkward the whole night & started talking to sevika thinking she was scary but they actually had a nice conversation

mel and caitlyn christmas gossiping over champagne and then watching the christmas special of gavin and stacey because i SAID SO and they’re british

vi drinking straight vodka until caitlyn stopped her because isha made grabby hands at it thinking it was water

caitlyn and vi cringe matching pyjamas that say mrs claus and mrs claus.

[steviewashere]

#50 just make it hurt/comfort and really angsty and sad (I’m clearly in a sad mood asking this rn 😅)

First of all, I hope you're doing better! And hopefully this suffices the ask. I got a lil' crazy with it, wrote way more than a drabble (again), but who cares?

50: Writer's preference, I chose prompts 33: "Please don't do this." and 12: "I think we need to talk."

Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Steve Harrington has Nightmares, Steve Harrington has PTSD, Steve Harrington is a Mess, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, (And Gets One!), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Arguments, Making Up, Mild Vomiting (Like One and Done), Miscommunication

————— Eddie notices a lot about Steve. Which makes sense, they’re dating, that’s supposed to make sense. But sometimes he wishes that he didn’t have to notice. That he didn’t have to hide his glances because he could spot Steve’s heavy eye bags, or the way his shoulders have been slumping, or how high strung and tight and angry he’s becoming.

The first time he sees a change in Steve’s demeanor, they’re hanging out with all their other survived friends. In his backyard. By the pool. Except, that’s not quite right. Everybody except Steve and Nancy are hanging out at the pool. They’re on opposite sides of the yard, surveying, keeping close eyes on everyone as they move and speak and laugh. At some point, though, Nancy decides she’s had enough waiting. She leaves her post, hesitantly sits next to Robin on the edge of Steve’s pool, and lets her feet soak in the water. Her smile comes easy and her eyes grow soft, and that’s when Eddie knows she’ll be okay. But he keeps his eyes on Steve.

Sure, he should be enjoying himself. Which he is, slightly. Standing in the shallow end, leaned up against the pool wall, just letting the water kiss his scarred skin. He’s sipping on a chilled beer. Talking languidly with Dustin and Lucas and Jonathan about music and games and hobbies. Then, Dustin leaves him. Leaves the water. Strides over to Steve, face set with determination, and a pep in his step. Eddie goes quiet in the conversation, looking over his shoulder instead to where Steve is tucked near his back door. Where he’s not drinking his beer, still sealed and dripping condensation onto Steve’s bare thigh.

Dustin asks him something. Steve shakes his head. He tries offering something else, gesturing loosely with his hand at the pool and the small group that he just came from, but Steve is adamant on his decision. But of course, Dustin never takes no as an answer. He pushes. Which leads to Steve roaring: “Dustin, fuck off!”

Everybody falls silent at that. Eyes on him. Steve bristles, chucks his closed beer to the wooden porch, and disappears into his house with a slam of the door. The beer is fizzing, exploded. And then Dustin starts crying.

That’s the first time Eddie notices a change.

The next time, it’s somewhat subtle. Steve spacey at work, quiet as he shelves tapes, not even talking with Robin. He tries speaking with Steve, but only gets some non-committal grunts instead.

His last straw is an argument they’re having. Currently.

Steve’s tired, bitchier than usual, tense in his shoulders and wild-eyed. Eddie tries to stay soft, give himself a chance to remain calm and keep in mind that Steve’s going through something. But that doesn’t even begin to deter the argument.

“Listen, I think it would be good for…us—“ You, Eddie doesn’t say. “—if you let me help you out,” he’s trying to persuade. He’s standing in Steve’s kitchen. Gesturing at the pile of dishes in the sink and on the counter. Pointing out how the garbage has overflowed. And how he knows laundry hasn’t been done lately. He’s trying to be polite about it. “It’ll be like when I first got out of the hospital, okay? You just rest up and I clean up a little bit, make you something that you want to eat, and we can cuddle and watch a movie.”

However, he knows he’s hitting a brick wall over and over. None of his words are making their way through. The softness is leaking from his throat, drying him out, making him want to puke. Steve huffs through his nose. Face red, eyebrows furrowed so hard that his eyes are nearly closed with it, nose flared, and mouth downturned so extreme he nearly looks like Beaker from The Muppets. “I don’t want your help, Eddie!” Steve shouts from his spot at the dining table. He wouldn’t let Eddie come any closer. “I’m not some child, you know that?! I’m fine, I can do this on my own, and I certainly don’t need somebody like you telling me what needs to happen!”

All at once, the gentle care nukes in Eddie’s chest. Replaced instead by a hazardous anger, red hot and corroding. “What do you mean by that?” He asks bitterly. Voice flat, devoid. “Thought we were over biases, Steve,” he spits.

Steve blubbers like an out of water goldfish. “I—That—You know what I mean, Eddie. Not like—It’s just—“ he flounders. His eyes trail down towards the watch on his wrist. They grow wet, but not the tears that come from sadness. These are tears of agitation. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says wetly; the first thing that fell from his mouth when Eddie began to bring everything up. “Everything’s perfectly fine. Just got behind in house chores, which is whatever, you know? Like—“ He chuckles darkly, a self-deprecating thing, something painfully normal. “—Who the fuck actually cares about how messy everything is, right? Just leave it alone. Let’s…Let’s go cuddle,” Steve says hastily. He clambers up and out of his seat, around the table, and into the kitchen. Wrapping himself tightly around Eddie, cheek pressed to his chest, trying to pull them into the living room.

But Eddie doesn’t wrap back. He steps away. Putting distance between them. “I don’t want to do that with you right now, Steve,” he mutters. “That fucking hurt. What you said. I don’t really feel comfortable being here right now. Forget that I brought this up, okay?” He steps around Steve, who stands stunned and heartbroken in his own kitchen. Eddie’s in the doorway before Steve has the chance to reach out and touch him again. “I—I think we need to talk. But I can’t do it right now. I can’t…Why would you say that? Jesus, Steve.” And yeah, he had different intentions when coming over here. Wanted to soothe whatever was going on. Figure out how he could help. If he could help. In fact, he would’ve been fine with Steve pushing him off again, insisting on a topic change. He would’ve let it happen. But not now.

He makes sure the hurt is shown on his face before he leaves. Before he has a chance to rub his eyes and sniffle. And ignores how Steve calls out to him. He needs to calm down before he says something he might regret, something that would hurt worse than what Steve said to him.

They don’t cross paths often after that. Sometimes Eddie sees him at Family Video, but not for very long. In just to rent a tape and get out, hurt simmering unrestful in his ribcage. He can spot Steve out of the corner of his eye, reaching out, stepping in place, mouth opening and closing. But he ignores what he has to say.

Sees Steve when he drops off people for Dungeons & Dragons nights at the Wheeler’s house. But he scurries off before anything can happen. Other people start to take notice and Eddie has to shoot a warning glance with a gritted, “It’s private. I don’t want to tell you.”

Today, though, he notices Steve dropping something off at Max’s. She takes the offered thing from his grip, shuts the door softly at his back, and then Eddie finds Steve’s eyes. Hard not to notice him when he lives only a short distance away from Max’s place, but what greets him makes his stomach knot. Steve is unwell. Pale and jumpy, eyes bloodshot, his eye bags heavy and dark circles so purple—he almost looks bruised. His hands are shaking, clothes are rumpled, and his hair is…greasy, flat, knotted. Eddie puts out the cigarette he’d been smoking and walks calmly and quietly down his steps. Crossing to Steve’s bumper.

“Hey, baby,” he greets softly.

Steve startles anyway. Turning with his hand gripping tight to his door handle. Tugging on it, though it must be locked. His eyes are wide and devastating. Wet, exhausted, puffy and swollen. They’re red raw. Like he’s been crying. And rubbing at them, too. At a closer look, Steve’s cheeks are blank of any color at all, slightly gaunt. His lips are chewed to all hell. And his facial hair is wiry, outgrown. Unkempt.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs, stepping closer. He places a firm hand to Steve’s left bicep, squeezing ever so gently. Runs his thumb over the taut muscle. “Can we talk inside? Let me make you a cup of tea and get you something to eat?”

He doesn’t say anything, but does release his hold on the car handle. Follows slowly to the door, but doesn’t come close to the couch where Eddie gestures to.

“You can sit on the—“

“Please don’t do this,” Steve sobs.

Immediately, Eddie comes closer into his space. Hands splayed in front of him, ready to reach out and touch and hold, but isn’t sure if that’s allowed. “What? What shouldn’t I do, Steve?” He questions. His voice quivers with concern.

“Don’t leave me, Eds,” Steve cries, rattling and shaking with it. His chest stutters. Hiccups in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry—I’m so—I didn’t mean it, I was just upset and I know that’s not okay, but I—“ Steve gags harshly, doubling over with it. Eddie rushes behind him, grabs for the waste bin, and sets it out in front of him. “—I was being an asshole and I’m sorry and I’m sorry that I hurt you and that you thought I thought bad about you, but I didn’t, I didn’t, I don’t, Eds—“ Eddie can’t even understand the rest of what he’s babbling, it’s incoherent, strung tight with snot and saliva and tears, but it renders too much. Steve finally reaches out for the trash can, hurls harshly, and drops to his knees with his grip still on the can’s lip.

Eddie crouches beside him. Hand on his back, on his forehead. Holding to him firmly, ignoring how sweaty and cold he is at once. A part of him withers at how he made things worse. It wasn’t his intention, to make Steve worry this bad, but he definitely instilled that fear. And now he needs to just glue back together what he cracked.

When Steve is able to calm down, collapsing heavily against Eddie, does he speak softly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I guess we both used our words wrong. I’m just so worried about you, I swear. This isn’t—I would never lead you on about a break up. And that’s not what this conversation is, I promise, Stevie.”

Steve sniffles noisily. He koalas himself around Eddie, burrowing his face into Eddie’s chest. He’s still shivering, sweaty, and weak. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“I forgive you, Steve.” He holds to Steve tightly. Crushing him in closer, not caring how it makes his back ache or his knees scuff the floor. Doesn’t care about how Steve’s tears soak through his shirt or the sure mess of snot left behind. He squeezes Steve’s back and states softly, “I’m just so upset that you think you have to be fine. That you can’t ask for help. That you have to deal with everything on your own.”

“I—“

“Please just talk to me, Steve. What’s going on? I just don’t understand where you’ve gone, you know? You’re so tired and angry and tense all the time. You don’t want to talk to anybody. You keep pushing us away, closing yourself off. But then you don’t take care of yourself,” Eddie rambles, his voice growing weak and choked. “I’m sorry that I—I don’t know how to talk about this without sounding like an asshole. I’m just worried. Worried that…That something’s terribly wrong.”

The implication of Vecna is not lost between them, if the way Steve tenses says anything.

Carefully, Steve pulls himself away. Staring wide and timid at Eddie. Before he breaks with another cry of, “Everybody keeps dying, Eds. The nightmares. They keep—I can’t sleep. I see it everywhere.”

“What do you see?” Eddie asks, voice shaking. Please don’t say that clock. Please don’t say the clock, Steve. Please, he internally pleads.

“Death,” Steve whispers. “Everywhere. In everybody. I see…Nancy drowning and Robin beaten and Max broken. I see you covered in blood with chunks of you missing and you don’t look at me, you just look over my shoulder and you’re gone by the time I find you. I just see it. I can’t—I can’t stop seeing it, Eddie.” He curls his hands tight into Eddie’s shirt, nearly ripping it off of his back. “And I’m always alone,” he hiccups. “Alone when I wake up. And so I leave, I drive around, I wait to see if anything bad happens. But I can’t sleep.”

Eddie brings a hand and swipes back at Steve’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. He leans in and leaves a gentle, sticky kiss to the skin. Pulling back, he offers, “When you’re ready for bed, you find me. Call me so that I can come over. Or tell me to come get you.” He cups Steve’s face, holding him between his hands. His cheeks that are splotchy red, tacky with tears. Eyes hazel and shiny and slightly defeated, yet hopeful. Eddie tickles his thumb over the bridge of Steve’s nose, his cupid’s bow, between his eyebrows. “Stevie, baby, I never want you to think you’re alone again. Ever. Seeing you so distraught all the time was killing me, but I’m here to help. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

“But…I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself, Eds,” Steve argues quietly.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Eddie states. “You’re not supposed to be alone, not all the time. And if laying with you until you fall asleep safely, or showing you how fine everybody is, making you a sandwich or doing the dishes—Whatever, whatever helps you out, I’m willing.” He presses another soft kiss to Steve’s lips, the tip of his nose, on his forehead. Murmuring, “You helped me. It’s my turn, don’t you think? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Steve shrugs. “Am I supposed to just sit around?”

“You don’t have to, but you could relax. Watch a movie or do something that’s not exhausting,” Eddie explains. “Being independent, you know, doesn’t mean exerting yourself at every possible moment. Or ignoring things that bother you. Or hiding your hurt. It means seeking help, even if you do it on your own. It means sticking up for yourself, even if what’s hurting you is you.”

Against Eddie’s palms, Steve sighs through his nose. “Okay,” he mutters. “Can…Can we take a nap? I’m really tired,” Steve tentatively asks.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll find my soft pajamas for you, too.” He stands, offering out his hands for Steve. Tugs him up. And when they’re at eye level, “Steve?” Eyes on him, zeroed in and focused. “I want you to bother me. Be a nuisance. Take up space.”

“Are you sure?” Steve murmurs. “I can be a lot.”

“Loving you means loving all of you, sweetheart. Even the excess parts. Which, by the way, aren’t excess. Because I love taking care of you, despite what your brain is surely telling you,” Eddie says. “Come on, I’ll take care of that can while you lay down.”

He’s glad he noticed. But he’s happier at the sound of Steve’s soft snores, puffed over his bare neck, and the drool that will surely dry on his collarbone.

——— Drabble Prompts Ask Game

[riddlemearose]

Wanted to link my time loop fic for anyone who's interested. You can read it on AO3 here.

Tear Streaked Summary: "How many times is this?" Wild asks, giving him a small smile as a greeting. Time sighs. "The last one." "And how many times have you said that to me?" It’s said matter-of-factly, not overconfidently, and Time hates that Wild knows that it’s not his first, second or even third reset. And to think all Time's current problems would be solved if Wild just got out of his way. A.K.A. Unstoppable force meets immovable object. Or the Sans boss fight but the only stake is Time's sanity. And maybe his life. But mostly his sanity.

Relationships: Time & Wild

General Tags:

Time loop

Emotional hurt/comfort

Time whump & angst

Wild angst

As Time nears him, Wild’s eyes drop to the blue ocarina he’s tucking back into his pouch. A small smile spreads across his face, tugging slightly at the edges of his scars.

“How many times is this?” He asks, tilting his head. Of course he knows.

“The last one.” Time sighs.

“And how many times have you said that to me?”

It’s said matter-of-factly, not overconfidently, and Time hates that despite not being able to travel backwards through time, despite his only power being the ability to slow it, Wild somehow still knows that it’s not his first, second or even third reset.

“Let me passed.” He commands.

Wild’s smile turns sad. “You know I can’t, Time.”

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to do here?!” Time spits the words out, tone harsher and more desperate than he would like to admit. He just needs Wild to understand and listen for once! “I need to get into that temple!”

There’s a long moment where Wild just looks at him, bright eyes narrow and unrelenting. Then, somehow managing to sound both apologetic and unmoving at the same time, he asks, “Have I let you passed yet?”

“I know the others are in there. If they destroy that tablet—”

“There is no magic tablet, Time.” Wild cuts him off, voice turning curt. “I’m guessing I’ve told you this before, right?”

Time scoffs. “I am not cursed, Wild.”

Wild shrugs a shoulder, as casual as can be. “You already know my answer.”

“I’m trying to end this so we can all go home!” Time tries, one final pointless plea.

“Are you, though? Really?”

It’s exactly what he expected.

Fine, Time thinks, reaching for his sword. This time.

Wild watches him do it, face smoothing over and going blank. He doesn’t reach for his weapons, just stands there impassive and silent, his eyes following the way Time unsheathes the Biggoron sword from his back and holds onto it tightly.

And that right there is the issue, the reason he’s here once again.

Wild never approaches, never makes the first move, because his magic is reactionary. He will always have the upper hand if the enemy attacks first. And the worst thing is Time can’t wait for the stalemate to end, no matter how much he wants to push his impulsive descendant into action.

In this Hyrule, this in-between era, is a tablet that holds a spell powerful enough to seal the Shadow away, and everyone else has been cursed to believe it’s instead capable of destroying the world around them. Time’s the only one who escaped the Shadow’s attempt to protect itself, the only one capable of ending all this madness.

He just wishes he didn’t have to go through his boys to do so. He takes a breath, trying to think of a way to incapacitate Wild, one that wouldn’t trigger a flurry rush. Maybe…

Time lunges forward, closing the distance between them rapidly. Wild just watches, his eyes narrowed and focused. Time feints to one side then throws himself into a roll, sliding around Wild’s guard. He leaps, Biggoron sword flashing in the light and—

Wild dodges, flipping backwards over the blade, and vanishes as his feet touch the ground. Time finds himself crumpling to the ground, Wild dancing backwards with Time’s sword flung into the grass somewhere behind him.

Time pants, glaring up at the Champion, who quirks an eyebrow.

“Now what?” he asks.

Of course. Time grabs his ocarina.

Let’s try this again.

“Time, wait!”

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 2x02 Off To The Races (Part 4)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

The Danbury Soiree

Is this the only scene where Penelope and Kate are even near each other? *sigh* it is a tragedy that they haven't had any good scenes together. Tragedy!

So - Lady Danbury is throwing this soiree where the dudes are attempting to show off for Edwina, and, honestly, it's kind of hysterical. The interesting thing about this scene, though, is that Penelope sneaks in during Kate and Eloise's dialogue. Says absolutely nothing, does not react to the conversation at all, and the whole time she is looking very solemn. Why??

Was there a cut scene before this? Did something happen? I don't think this originally came after the upcoming Polin scene, but maybe it did? It's interesting though, she seems so sad here.

I also kind of wondering if she's listening in as Lady Whistledown? Is it really that she's supposed to be gathering info? Idk, idk. Hmmm.

I'm including this because Eloise's face is hilarious. Also, at the end of this scene, Eloise takes Pen away. Again, is there a cut scene? Because we don't get any dialogue between the two. There's clearly more to this story on a cutting room floor somewhere.

Penelope is at least looking in better spirits as she's hanging on the sidelines during a break. Sweet Edwina comes along and compliments her dress. (And I kind of wonder if this is a nod to a scene in Viscount Who Loved Me when Kate and Penelope have a scene together, and Kate is very sweet.)

Penelope might be in her Spongebob Squarepants era (Nicola's assessment - but I do think she looks adorably cute, even if that dress is a lot.) but Edwina is still very kind to her. Penelope states she's grown weary of the color, but Edwina insists it suits her rather well. I'm not sure I agree but it's lovely that Edwina is so kind - and shows off Edwina's good heart.

Their conversation is cut short, however, when Colin enters the room and Penelope is full on - peace out, I got places to be...

And, omg, how adorable is this girl, fixing her hair, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, readying herself to have another conversation with the boy she cares so deeply about. I'm still so amused at how confident Penelope is shown to be at times - but being around Colin puts her head in a tizzy. But girl is excited as she approaches.

Side note... Prudence is totally clocking this interaction btw. I'm on team - Prudence and Philippa totally know about Penelope's crush.

Also, Pen and Colin bow to each other as she approaches. While more historically accurate (I suppose) they do eventually phase this out entirely, it's interesting to include it here. I wonder if it's because it's a more formal event? Because none of this kind of decorum was present in the previous to meetings in this episode.

Yeah, uh, so it's almost blink and you miss it, but the way he smirks when she approaches. He walks in and is fine, and then she approaches and he just lights up. Like, oh precious Penelope has come to join me. Fantastic. :) Also, Penelope is completely giddy. These two continue to be happy just hanging out in a corner together.

So, let's take a second and talk about Colin being there. I've seen some interesting discourse about it. Was he invited? I think all the Bridgertons were -- Benedict bailed to do artsy things. Anthony has his own agenda. Eloise and Violet are definitely there. I think this is one of those family outing things that everyone went to.

Did he need to be there? No. But he came anyway. Violet, in the previous scene, seemed to indicated that this was another family thing. And, idk, idk. He has zero intentions of finding a wife/partner/whatever so he's just there. And, I've seen people discuss that he came to hang out with Penelope. Which is - lovely, I love the idea! I don't know if I can fully buy it -- since it is an outing the family was invited to. But I do think he's all about hanging out with Penelope.

Penelope, in her joking and cute way, asks if he has some hidden talent to show off. Colin is so amused by her light teasing but plainly states that he's there as a spectator. And there are two things that stand out to me here: 1. That Penelope is quite aware that Colin really isn't interested in Edwina, even if she has fears about another woman in the picture, between Anthony's plain motivations and Colin's complete lack of interest, I think she knows Edwina isn't an issue (for her). 2. This kind of banter is what they do. Yes, it can get her info, but it also shows the ease between them - as they can joke with each other.

Penelope states that it's fascinating that there's so much interest in a girl any of them hardly know. Colin notes she's not a fan of mystery, and Penelope states she's one to always jump to the back of the book.

And that's a fascinating thing - I'm mean, her being the mysterious Lady Whistledown makes the statement amusing. But more so - Penelope is a character who is rather upfront about things. The girl wears her heart on her sleeve and can't help it. And honestly, Colin is the same way. He's going to try his best to not be that way, come season 3, but it's one thing these two have in common. They just can't help but express how they feel.

Penelope takes this opportunity to ask him about a possible young woman he's met - and, my god is she bold, but also really nervous about his answer. And he is so absolutely dumbfounded by the question. He's been so busy trying to get over Marina, figuring out who the fuck he is and enjoying Penelope's company via letters that other women just haven't even crossed his mind.

(Another point for Demi!Colin? Sure why not!)

This next bit, omg. So, Penelope goes on (awkwardly) to state that him not being lonely meant female companionship. And the look on Colin's face is kind of hilarious when he starts to understand. There's amusement there - but while Penelope means a solid love affair, I almost get that the impression that he thinks Penelope is wondering if he fucked his way through Greece. Which, he did not - he was too busy being emotional, getting high, and contemplating grass. Which I love for Colin. I really do.

Penelope, realizing that what she's asking is so not appropriate, kind of chokes off and awkwardly mentions the hoop-rollers. (It's such a cute little rom-com moment here.)

Alright. And then we start with this nonsense... Colin says she's right - that he wasn't lonely on his travels, that he started a conversation with someone that he's known a very long time, but whom he didn't know at all.... And the way Penelope just holds her breath as she thinks finally, good god, he might actually have noticed me....

...and then he says 'himself'.

And the

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Let's break down that for a second - so what did Colin do? He goes off heartbroken over Marina. Decides he needs to get over. Starts writing with Penelope, who helps him see the world in ways he's never seen it before - and through that, enjoys his travels and probably does decide to start to figure things out for himself. It is, also, the first time he's on his own. No Anthony or Benedict to cast long shadows. No mother to tell him what to do. No younger siblings to contend or ridicule him. No pressure or pain from having a deceased father.

It's just him and the Mediterranean (and probably some weed). And maybe his travel journal? And Penelope's letters. It does give one the space to find oneself. That is a reason a lot of people travel. And as he's come back, he's so happy and proud and feeling good about life.

Is he over Marina? Not fully yet. Did he actually find himself? Meh, I think he still has some soul searching to do. Is he missing the bigger picture? Completely. But I don't think he's lying when he says he did connect to himself in a way he hadn't before.

This moment has always cracked me up (in a heartbreaking way). Colin says - myself, and Penelope has this total - what the fuck look on her face. She takes this gulp and she literally looks as though she's gonna deck him one. (which I get, Pen, I get)

Because yes, the writing here is intentionally double speaking. All of that does apply to her. And he did start a conversation with an old friend he realized he didn't know before and now sees in a new light. He's just too in his own headspace to even realize it. And he's too in his own headspace now to recognize how Penelope is taking all of it.

Colin, throwing salt in the wound, goes on to thank her.

My reaction ::

(I realize this is probably only funny to me, but I think it every time I see this scene.)

Anyway - so he goes on to thank her, stating that her letters are encouraging and that if Penelope can see him in such good light, then maybe he can see himself that way to.

Which. Like, my god, Colin. My god. He's basically saying that she's helped him find himself, makes him feel good about himself, and makes him feel good about the world he's in. I should also note that - by him saying this, it also means he hasn't/wasn't in a good place as he took off for Greece, and Penelope helped him through that. Maybe not entirely directly - I'm sure he didn't open up to her about his feelings for Marina or anything. But just by being her - and being this person who listens to him, who adores him, who is funny and entertaining and makes him think...

She's a goddamn light in his world. It is gonna have an effect on him when she's not there for next year's travels.

Poor Penelope - too young to really understand the deeper meaning of these words, and hearing all of this at face value just kinda reacts in the most heartbreaking of ways.

It's funny because -- he goes on to say that he's sworn off love and women and all of it. Though Colin's big, romantic heart is still full. Because Penelope has been there to guide him through. He's gonna do the whole thing over again next tour, but really follow through in a way that he didn't in his Greek travels. (but we'll get there...)

And... they are so not in sync during this whole scene but the real disconnect is right here.

Penelope, fishing a little, confirms that he's swearing off women. He says - yup, until I can figure my shit out (and because he needs to get himself over Marina completely). And Pen is like, but, uh, I am a woman...

And this is Penelope putting herself out there -- even just a little bit. It's a little of, hey, look, I is a girl seeeeee. And Colin is like yup, nope, friendzone!!!

Look - here's my thing, because Colin has gotten flack for these lines, and this is where I think there's a deeper meaning buried in here that I think is worth noting. She says, 'I am a woman' and he responds with 'You don't count, you're Pen. You're my friend'.

And the surface and literal read of this moment sucks. It hurts. Penelope thinking he doesn't see her as a woman. Marina's words are still haunting her -- she's not a viable option. She's just... a friend.

But! This is my argument -- in saying this, Colin is placing her in an another, separate category entirely. There are -- all (other) women. And then there's Penelope. I mean, he is so adoringly happy to call her his friend. She is special to him. She gets her own category that transcends everything.

And, I mean, men and women weren't just friends in this time period. So this is a big, fucking deal for him to call her that. He has her on his same level. She means something to him. He's swearing off all women, and all that other headache. But not Penelope. Because my friend Penelope is special and dear to me and isn't a headache, etc, etc, etc...

So yeah, this moment sucks. It does. It really does. But it also means something more than the surface level words. Because Colin doesn't really realize what he's saying either. He hasn't figured out that this bond of friendship is incredibly important -- and more important than the 'love' he's felt in the past. That it's steadfast and true and opens him up and helps him find himself and there is real love there. Even if it is just friendship - I never want to discount the fact that love between friends is just as special.

It's the foundation they grown their romantic love on. And it's so, so, so important to this story. But - this just isn't the right moment or them to figure it out. Penelope needs him not to be on a pedestal. And Colin still needs to see her in a romantic/sexual light for a romance to work.

They're completely out of sync - but the building blocks are there.

The end of this scene is brutal. He walks away from her feeling good about chatting with his bff Penelope. (and, I mean, if it wasn't the end of the scene - might they have chatted more? he walks away as if a man on a mission to go somewhere, but why? oh, because the scene ends.)

Penelope, though, girl.... All of the little acting choices here make it so, so heartbreaking.

First of all, look at her back up into the wall. One of the themes in Penelope's story is coming out of the shadows, and here's she's pushing herself back into a corner, against the wall, and despite the candles, into the shadows where she feels she belongs. She (thinks) she put herself out there just now, only to be devastated to learn that the boy she loves thinks of her only as a friend.

And then there's the gasp for breath, the closing of her eyes, the nervous bouncing on her feet -- she is so close to breaking down but holds it together. Oohh it's so heartbreaking but oh so good.

The angst!!

Interestingly, we don't see Penelope, Colin, or Eloise (for that matter) the rest of the soiree. I wonder what the choice was not to have them there (other than giving the actors time off a lengthy scene?). Penelope is around, though, because LW definitely is noticing all the drama between the Sharmas and Anthony.

Lady Whistledown Business

I know this post is already too long, but I'm squeezing this in here because it's just a tiny bit left in the episode...

I'm so curious as to where they are. This is clearly another day - is this at the Featherington home? Is this Jack's stuff Penelope is playing with? Or is this at the Bridgerton home? I'm so curious as to who has telescopes and kaleidoscopes in their study. Also - I have to say the childlike wonder of Penelope in this moment is a treasure. In some ways, she is still so young - and having that juxtaposed against Eloise talking about the more adult LW stuff is fascinating.

Anyway - Eloise claims she's found LW, and Penelope sits up in fear. Eloise goes on to say that she's found the printer's shop where the pamphlets have been created. Penelope, nervously, asks if she's figured out anything. And Eloise goes on to explain that the misshaped letter 'k' has led her figuring all of this out.

Seriously... whose place is this? I wanna go there!

But anyway, Penelope - now determined to keep her identity secret, claims that they should keep a look out to see if the mistake is made again in the next issue. You can already see the plan forming in Penelope's mind.

There is a darker side to Penelope Featherington -- this face shows it off...

Penelope wastes no time (and, I mean, how does she get away with sneaking off in the middle of the day like this - it's again, fascinating). Anyway, she buys a new 'k' to replace the wonky one and no doubt gets it straight to the publishing house. She is crafty and clever and the way she barters in this scene is just so good. She is not going to let anyone figure her out, and is intelligent enough to keep it up.

However, not always indiscrete enough -- as she runs into Madame Delacroix on the street. Penelope runs away before any explanation is given.

It's funny that the closing LW narration is about keeping everyone else honest, as Penelope is so secretive about herself.

As the ominous music swells, and the LW narration talks about being thrust into the light, we get the Queen and her scheming. She is on the trail of a young lady who might possibly fit the bill to be LW -- and Penelope's card is on the top of the pile... ;)

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Four)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, Hanahaki!AU, swearing, self doubt, tears, sweet older brother vibes Jeonghan, (yes that is a warning), Mingyu being a brat (yes that also is a warning)

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: I’m back with another update! This took me 3 hours in one sitting while I sit here and wait for the Ima-Even If the World Ends Tomorrow MV to come out! Let me know what you think! 🫶🏼🩷🌸

- Tae 🥰🩷✨

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It takes another hour or so for the rest of the guests to arrive, in which the entire time you’ve spent locked away in your bedroom. You’re devastated. You’re the only one down there besides Junhui and Chan who is single. Unlike them, though, you have found your soulmate. You know who he is. He just doesn’t want you back. In short, it fucking sucks. You know you’ll get over it eventually, but for this little moment in time, you want to grieve the life you won’t get. The soft smiles and longing gazes, the spontaneous dates and the sleepless nights wrapped in each other's arms. You hate that you built up such a perfect little fantasy in your head; you hate that years of preparation came crumbling down in one fifteen second interaction. You’re beginning to hate soulmates and love, and everything that comes with it as you blink away more tears that are brimming behind your eyelids.

Of course, Jihoon can feel what is happening. His Poker Face is good, none of the boys downstairs think anything is amiss as he lets himself listen to the conversation of the others, a somewhat content smile on his face. To Jihoon, it feels like he’s constantly grimacing, but no one else seems to notice or if they do, don’t care. He watches as Seungcheol and Seokmin place 5 boxes of pizza on the little coffee table near the slumber party set up alongside some homemade dishes, only for Soonyoung to excitedly grab one whole pizza box for himself, solely for the fact that ‘the birthday boy gets everything he wants on his birthday!’ The TV has been set up with a Marvel film that the birthday boy has chosen himself, smiling happily as everyone settles in with their paper plates and drinks, letting the all too familiar red logo fill the TV screen.

If he’s honest, he can’t focus on the movie. All he could think about was the look of hurt on your face and the betrayal that you felt. He knew he had no right to feel worried or concerned for you, he knows that. He was the main cause of your pain, after all. But Jihoon isn’t a monster. He has some form of compassion and sympathy within him, if he feels your sadness and pain 24/7, of course he’s going to worry about you. It’s only natural. (Or it’s the invisible soulmate bond that is forming between you both. Jihoon refuses to believe that.)

He can hear hushed voices coming from your brother and his soulmate in the dining area as the film plays in the background, and Jihoon can’t help but glance over to hear the tail end of the conversation.

“Trust me,” Jeonghan is smiling reassuringly at your brother, kissing his cheek. Jihoon blushes. No matter how many times he sees it, PDA is a bit daunting for him. “I’ll get her down here.”

“How are you so sure?” Seungcheol frowns, hand on his hip.

“I have my ways.” Jeonghan gleams, pushing him towards an empty spot on the couch. “Just go and relax, darling. I will be back with my little Lady Bug in tow.” Seungcheol concedes with a grumble and a pout before his soulmate gives him one final peck on the lips before making his way up the stairs.

Jihoon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the nickname. Isn’t it Love Bug?

You’re startled by the sound of Jeonghan opening your bedroom door and strolling inside, giving you a smile.

“Please, do come in.” You mumble dryly, leaning back against your bed frame and staring blankly back up at the ceiling.

“Lady Bug..” the unwelcome guest sighs, sitting down at the foot of your bed. “You can’t hide up here forever. It’s Hoshingie’s birthday, he wants to spend his day with the people he loves.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want to have someone who dampens the whole party down there.” Your lip quivers before you press the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears from coming.

“I love you, Bug, but frankly I think you’re wrong.” Jeonghan’s hand rests on your shin, but you don’t look at him. You know if you take one look at the worried man, you’d fall apart again. “It doesn’t matter what mood you’re in, little one, all that matters is that you, someone Soonyoung loves with his whole heart, is there to celebrate with him.”

You hiccup, and Jeonghan sighs. He scoops you up and pulls you into his lap, letting his hands comb through your hair. You let your head rest against his shoulder, but keep your hands close to your chest as you sniffle.

“Why don’t they want me, Hannie?” You whimper, and Jeonghan’s heart breaks, only pulling you closer. “What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong?”

“Sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He reassures you.

“Clearly I did, or else h-he wouldn’t have flat out rejected me.”

He. Your soulmate is a boy. Jeonghan pauses only for a moment before resuming his comfort.

“It is not your fault that you got rejected, Bug.” Jeonghan’s voice is firm. “If your soulmate can’t see you for the amazing, beautiful girl you are, then he is an idiot and it’s his loss.” He rests his cheek on top of your head delicately as you frown.

“I’m not either of those things.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” The volume of his voice startles you, and you pull back quickly. “No, Choi Y/N. Don’t you ever amount your worth to how someone else perceives you. Have I taught you nothing, silly Bug?” He pulls you up to your feet. “I thought I raised you with your brother to be confident with who you are, and not to let someone else define you. Because at the end of the day, only you can define who you are. Do you understand me, young Lady Bug?”

Your eyes are wide, the last few tears escaping your eyes as he reaches out and cups your cheeks, wiping them away.

“Sorry, Hannie…” You whisper, lowering your head as Jeonghan sighs and pulls you into his arms once again.

“You can make it up to me by coming with me. I have wanted to do something with you ever since I met you all those years ago,” you laugh to yourself - it really wasn’t that long ago. “I promised myself I would do this as soon as you could see colours, and I’m going to do it.”

“Right now?” You frown, and Jeonghan nods his head quickly.

“Yes. What do I have to do to get you out of here and downstairs?” He asks in an exasperated tone. After a brief pause and smirk from you, he balks. “Oh no.”

“Yah! Is everything okay up there?!” Seungcheol yells out at the sound of a shout from Jeonghan, looking over the back of the couch to try and peer up the staircase.

“You won’t see them from there, hyung.” Seokmin doesn’t even glance in his direction, eyes focused on the TV as he speaks.

“Oh yeah, and how would you know?” He sasses back, eyebrow raised.

“The amount of things Minnie and I have done down here without being noticed while you and Hannie-hyung have been upstairs is unspeakable.” Soonyoung smirks.

Jihoon’s eyes widen at his best friend’s revelation, a laugh escaping his body as he watches his friend’s reactions.

“BABE!” Seokmin squeals, ears turning bright red as he sinks under the blanket.

“YAH!!! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” Mingyu squeals, throwing a pillow at a now laughing Soonyoung as Wonwoo laughs loudly with him.

“My virgin ears!” Chan howls, falling dramatically against Junhui, whose mouth is hanging open in shock.

“I promise you, Sollie, they’re not always like this.” Seungkwan is whispering loudly to the newest edition of the group, who just gives an amused grin in response.

“… I don’t even want to know.” Seungcheol mutters dryly after a long bout of silence, eyes still on the staircase.

“Staring won’t make them come down any faster, you know, Hyung.” Chan speaks up again.

“I still feel bad.” Seungkwan sighs, leaning his head on Hansol’s shoulder. “If it wasn’t for me, she would have been down here having fun with the rest of us.”

“Don’t feel bad, Kwan-ah.” Soonyoung smiles, patting his shoulder. “To be honest, I think she’d be more hurt if you didn’t tell her. Trust me.”

Seungkwan is about to respond when the soft click of your bedroom door can be heard. Jihoon, along with the others, glance toward the staircase as you make your way down. You have an amused smirk on your face, and Jihoon feels uneasy. What is that look for?

His questions are soon answered when a giggle erupts from Mingyu. Jeonghan trails downstairs behind you with a grouchy look on his face, his long dark hair now pulled back into two pretty braids tied with pink elastics. Jihoon covers his mouth to hide a laugh, watching you proudly gesture towards Jeonghan.

“Wow, babe,” Seungcheol grins. “You look so pretty!”

“Shut up, you.” Jeonghan huffs, glaring at all the people who laughed. “It was the only way she would come down, so you’re welcome.” When you’re not looking, Jihoon notices Jeonghan looking at the amused look on your face, letting the playful glare fade into a fond smile, winking at Seungcheol, mouthing. “I told you I could get her down.”

“You did this all for my birthday?!” Soonyoung, always the drama queen, grins excitedly. “Oh, Y/N, you shouldn’t have!” He giggles loudly, jumping up and before you can react, he scoops you up and spins you around, making you scream.

“Yah! Put me down, you heathen!” You swat at his arms.

“NEVER!” He bellows, starting to move towards the couches before Jeonghan grabs a hold of your arm, effectively stealing you from Soonyoung’s gasp.

“Nuh-uh! She promised me she would do this with me first.” He places you at the dining table, pulling out a small box from underneath the table. “Once she’s finished here, she can join you for the movie night.”

“I’m sorry, who’s birthday is it again?” Soonyoung huffs, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms.

“I’ll be there soon, Soonie. Promise.” You call out. Soonyoung seems pleased by your response as he settles back in again, cuddling up to his soulmate’s side. Jihoon can see it in his best friend’s face, he’s just happy you’re down here at all.

He glances over to your brother, who instead of watching the movie, is watching his soulmate take out nail polishes and taking one of your hands. He has a fond smile on his face, watching the confused look on your face as you stare at Jeonghan.

“My nails? Why would you want to do my nails?” You ask quietly, and Jihoon can’t help but think you look cute as you tilt your head.

“I’ve always dreamed about doing this.” Jeonghan explains, starting to coat your thumb nail with a light red. “Teaching you all about colours and making it fun like this.” You watch with wide eyes as he begins to paint each nail a different colour delicately and with precision.

“But.. why me?” You frown, and Jihoon frowns with you. Did he really hurt you so far to think you didn’t deserve something as small as this?

“I taught my little sister Soobin about colours when she found her soulmate the same way. I don’t see her much now, since she moved to Jeju with him. When I found Cheol and met you, I knew that as soon as I saw you, you were meant to be my second little sister. My little Lady Bug.” You’re blinking away tears now, biting down on your lip. “Do you know why I call you Lady Bug?”

“No..” you mumble, eyes staying on the way Jeonghan paints your nails.

“You’ve always been called Love Bug. Everyone around us calls you that, right?” You nod quietly. “I couldn’t use the same nickname as everyone else. I needed it to be unique. Something that symbolizes us. My little young lady. My little Lady Bug.” He beams proudly. “Only I can call you that. I need you just as much as I need Cheol. You know that, right?” He asks softly, smiling gently as you weakly nod your head. “Promise?”

“Yeah.” You use your wrist to wipe at the fresh tear that slipped down your cheek, and Jeonghan grins at you.

“We have a little bond that no one can take from us. Sure, your brother is my soulmate, but you’re my bonus sister. I think that’s just as special.”

He starts on the second coat over your nails as you just stare at him in wonder, a small sparkle of hope running through your veins. At least someone loves and cares for you on this stupid planet.

Jihoon spots Seungcheol reach up and wipe a quick tear away from his eye, staring at the scene unfolding in front of him. Both your and Jeonghan’s soulmates are the only ones not watching the film in front of them. Instead, they’re watching you both together, too enamored to look away.

“There. What do you think?” Jeonghan smiles at you as you look at your hands. Your nails have been painted to make a pretty pastel rainbow on your fingers, and your cheeks start to lift as you, for most likely the first time since you met your soulmate, smile a genuine smile.

“Look.” Seokmin whispers to Soonyoung as everyone glances at you, smiling and staring at your hands. Soonyoung gasping softly as he looks excitedly at Seokmin.

“What’s happened..?” Hansol asks quietly at your closest friends all tearing up at one silly little smile.

“It’s just,” Seungkwan smiles softly. “This is the first time she has smiled since everything happened.”

Jihoon watches you, and it almost seems like the room started to glow brighter as your smile filled the room. His cheeks flush pink before he quickly turns his head back to the TV.

No, Jihoon. You need to be better. Ji-ah is your girlfriend, not Y/N. Get it together.

“I love them. Thank you, Hannie-Oppa.” You smile, giving him a quick hug.

“I’ve missed that smile.” Seungcheol grins after you, reaching down and ruffling your hair.

“Yah, leave me alone.” You huff, smacking his arm as you’re all but dragged by Soonyoung to the mattress on the floor, directly at the feet of Seokmin, and Jihoon who is seated beside him. You share the mattress with Chan and Junhui, all the others having made camp on the couches above you.

“Finally!” Soonyoung grins, leaning down and planting an annoyingly loud kiss on your cheek, laughing at how you shove him off. “Now we can start the movie night properly!”

“Thank you, babe.” Seungcheol smiles as Jeonghan settles beside him, leaning his head against his chest.

“Anything for you and my Lady Bug.” Jeonghan simply replies, a content smile on his face as he watches you pull the blanket up over your body.

Jihoon does his best to keep his eyes off you, but finds himself absentmindedly glancing at you on occasion. Each time, you’re staring at your freshly painted rainbow nails, a soft content smile on your lips. He smiles softly to himself in unison, before letting his focus go back to the movie.

As the film starts reaching its climax, Wonwoo finds himself chuckling at how invested his soulmate is in the plot, an amused smirk tracing his lips.

“You enjoying the movie, baby?” He chuckles as Mingyu nods excitedly.

“Mhm!” He chirps happily, snuggled up against his side.

“But you’ve seen it like 3 times already.”

Mingyu gasps, stopping and turning to Wonwoo. “And I’m not allowed to still love it?!”

“Well you can, but you already know what’s going to-”

“How dare you?!” He wails, pushing him playfully. “Are you… making fun of me, hyung?!” He pouts as Wonwoo only grins with amusement at his soulmate’s outburst. “You ARE!” He points his finger at him.

“Aww, baby…” Wonwoo pouts playfully, a teasing glint in his eye.

“AIGOO!” He whines. “Y/N! My soulmate is being… MEAN TO ME!” He howls and fake sobs, crawling onto the mattress, pushing his overgrown body into your lap.

Jihoon feels your heart begin to race, your body locking up as Mingyu makes himself comfortable in your lap, crying loudly and dramatically as he hugs you tight.

“Oh, Gyu,” You play along, gingerly reaching up and patting his hair almost robotically. “There, there.”

Your soulmate eyes you from the couch, observing as you look worriedly at Wonwoo, who simply gives you a wink, giving you permission. He knows you’re not going to try and take his soulmate away. He’s known you for years, and quite frankly, you’re not the type of person who would do that. Instead Wonwoo simply nods his head at you. “Give the baby his bottle.”

“A BABY?!” He cries out again, making a giggle come out of you as you relax a tiny bit, patting at Mingyu’s hair.

“You are a Baby.” You laugh as he starts grumbling, staying curled up in your lap, Jihoon feeling you crumble bit by bit as you comfort the overgrown puppy in your arms.

Jihoon keeps his eye on Mingyu unconsciously, his glare evident as he intensely watches and keeps his emotions intact to try and get a reading of what you’re feeling.

As the movie wraps up 20 minutes later, a huffy Mingyu, at your insistence, begrudgingly climbs out of your arms back to his soulmate, pout on display as Jihoon feels a little relief run through him.

“I’m sorry for being a brat.” Mingyu flutters his eyes at Wonwoo, who just grins and opens his arms for him.

“I was just teasing.” He chuckles as Mingyu settles into his arms once more with a kiss on his forehead. Wonwoo glances at you, giving you a little smile of appreciation, in which you nod in response.

“Okay, next movie!” Soonyoung cheers as he queues the next film to begin, a smirk on his face as your eyes light up.

“Howl’s!” You squeal happily as the familiar anime - Howl’s Moving Castle - begins.

“In TECHNICOLOUR!” Seokmin booms dramatically as you laugh loudly, the sound pleasing to Jihoon’s ears. You settle in comfortably, leaning back against the bottom of the couch. Your excitement stirs in Jihoon, and he finds himself thinking he could get used to that feeling. He lets a little smile form on his face as the film plays.

“Howl is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes. “But Turnip Head is just a perfect character.”

The movie had been playing for about 40 minutes now, the party growing a bit quieter as tiredness settles in on every one.

“Oh yeah, well why doesn’t Sophie pick him at the end then?” Junhui questions you. “She is his true love, she broke the spell! Why didn’t she get with him?”

Jihoon tenses at this question. He finds the character Turnip Head to be all too familiar; the way he constantly goes out of his way to follow Sophie to keep her safe, all for it to amount to nothing at the end; her choosing Howl over him. He eyes you worriedly, waiting with bated breath for your answer.

“Well it’s not Sophie’s fault, nor is it Turnip Head’s.” You hum. “I suppose, the heart wants what it wants. You can’t change that.” You’re a bit quieter now, curling up and hugging your knees to your chest. “I mean.. Calcifer did let Sophie into Howl’s heart. Figuratively and literally.”

Your words start drowning out in Jihoon’s ears as his mind begins to consume him once again. Goddamn it, you’re too good and too likable. How the fuck can you be so understanding and so… so good? You should loathe him, be kicking and screaming at him and turning the whole world against him for what he did to you. Instead you sit there, you let him walk all over you and apologize when he has to even interact with you. Jihoon feels like shit, for treating you like shit. You’re one of the most forgiving and understanding people ever, and he doesn’t know how to take it.

He doesn’t know how long he has been sitting still on the couch stewing in his thoughts before he feels something soft against his knee, snapping him back to reality. He blinks before his cheeks flush a deep pink as he realizes what has happened. You, despite trying your hardest to stay awake, unwillingly let sleep take over you, your head drooping and landing softly on Jihoon’s knee.

“Sorry, Jihoon-ah.” Seungcheol whispers to your soulmate. “I’ll move her-”

“No, hyung.” Jihoon replies quickly. “U-uh.. it’s okay, really. She must’ve been exhausted from today. It’s no harm.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and he nods quickly.

“Positive.”

Seungcheol nods and settles back down against Jeonghan, who eyes Jihoon silently from beside his soulmate, eyes narrowed slightly as he watches him glance down at you once more, peacefully asleep against his leg with a small, and what Jihoon thinks is unseen, smile on his face.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

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[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Hate | Chase Stokes x reader

Requested by @mirellef2001 / Summary: You receive hate from Chase’s fans. 

A/N: Thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! x 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You couldn’t believe the things being said on social media about you, only because you were dating Chase. The fans were upset by the fact he wasn’t dating Madelyn anymore and blamed you for their separation, even though you started dating long after they had already called it quits. 

Some comments were hateful, just pure hate for someone who had never met you. Tears stung as you continued to read through them, finally willing yourself to stop and close the app. You wiped a tear just as Chase walked into the room, towel wrapped around his hips, his hair wet from the shower. He can immediately tell something’s wrong,  “You good? You look like you’ve been crying.” 

You wave him off, forcing a laugh, “You know those sad tik Tok videos get me.” 

He chuckles, kissing your forehead, “You have such a soft heart.” 

Chase had enough on his plate with filming, interviews, etc and the last thing he needed to worry about was you being upset over strangers sending you hate. 

“So, what do you have tonight?” You ask wiping your face with your hoodie sleeve, “Interview or party?” 

“Just an interview. Nothing big tonight.” He begins to get dressed, slipping on a pair of sweat pants before crawling into bed next to you, “but for now, me and you time.” 

You softly smile and kiss him, “sounds perfect.” 

He gets comfortable against his pillow and opens his arms for you to lay against his chest. You doze off to the sound of his heart beating. 

~ 

“So Chase, we know you and y/n have been dating for a little while now, how does that seem to be going?” The interviewer asks. 

He smiles at the thought of you, “It’s going really well. She’s amazing. She’s super supportive, has the softest heart. She gets along well with the cast, and they love her.” 

“That’s great! She seems to be a great girl. I know we got to talk a little at the last interview with her. Now,” the interviewer went serious, “We know there was some drama after the Madelyn split, has that been resolved?”

Chase scratches the back of his neck, “there really wasn’t any drama. I’m not sure why that rumor was spread but we split on mutual terms. We didn’t feel the relationship was going anywhere. We still remain great friends and y/n and her are actually the closest out of the cast.”

“Fantastic to hear. We know the fans were pretty hurt about the split and aren’t sure how to feel about y/n. Some sharing some harsh words on social media.”

Chase began to grow uncomfortable, he had no idea you’d had anything harsh said about you from the fans. You’d never mentioned it to him. “well it’s my life,” he laughs, “and I uh love her a lot. And I’m happy so-”

They quickly asked a few more questions about the show and finished the interview. Chase immediately took to social media, scrolling through your posts and checking comments. His heart dropping at the negative and harsh comments. He couldn’t believe his “fans” would say things like this and to someone who didn’t deserve it. Why hadn’t you mentioned this to him?This was not ok and needed to be addressed.

~

When he arrived home he found you curled up in bed watching one of your many shows.

“Hi baby- how did the interview go? “ you ask pausing your show and sitting up against the headboard.

Chase’s brows are furrowed as he loosens his tie, “why wouldn’t you tell me about what people are saying to you?”

Your shoulders slump as he nears you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t want to worry you and I knew I could handle them.”

“But baby-” he takes your hands in his, “I need to know these things so I can address it. This isn’t ok and I don’t let stuff like this slide.”

You shrug, eyes welling up with tears as you think to some of the hateful things said, “I didn’t even do anything to them.”

“Oh baby…” he immediately scoots closer to you on the bed, and holds you against his chest, “no, you didn’t. None of what they’ve said was true. It’s easy to say mean comments from behind a screen and to someone they don’t even know. Please don’t listen to it. You know I love you.” He puts a heavy emphasis on you, cradling your head in his hands and making you look at him. “I’ll be addressing this tonight. I won’t let this slide.”

“No no- please Chase, just leave it? They’re going to immediately turn it around and place blame on me-”

He shook his head in response, “they need to know I don’t appreciate the comments.” Pulling his phone from his pocket he picks a recent photo of the two of you, immediately posting it to social media with a long status about respect, boundaries, not appreciating the harsh comments coming from “fans” etc.

There was an out pouring of sweet comments from fans telling you and chase how much they adored your relationship and how sweet of a person you were. Some even apologizing for the other “fans” comments.

Madelyn even liking and commenting how amazing you were. The rest of the cast following not long after each with their own sweet message.

“See, there are fans out there that love you.” Chase shows you his screen of the outpouring love. “Not that it matters what they think because I’m the one in love with you.”

~

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for requesting :)

[blackberrysummerblog]

So many more than six sentences and not quite Sunday

On the heels of my sad!post, here’s something hopefully more fun: a bit from my never-ending WIP, the married-bythe-crucible au I’ve had in drafts for over a year. This snippet isn’t newly written and I’m crossing my fingers that I haven’t posted it before. I’m actually just going to post a huge fat chunk so there will probably be at least something new. Aaaand if I’ve posted the whole snippet before, no I didn’t 😢 It’s under a cut for mild spice. Thanks for the Wednesday tags @youarenevertooold @aristocratic-otter @confused-bi-queer @artsyunderstudy and @valeffelees!

Snow runs into the bedroom ahead of me, turning at the last moment to hurl himself onto his back on the bed. He’s cackling wildly. “Their faces!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach and kicking his heels on the duvet. His wings stretch up and out, then curl in and fold themselves neatly.

I lock the door and cast a silencing spell around the room.

“Oh Merlin.” He pushes up on his elbows to look at me, his eyes shining with mirth. “When you came out with, “the pitter patter of little claws on the Italian marble’...” He drops back onto the bed and gasps for breath.

Smirking, I approach slowly, acutely aware that neither of us is wearing any more than short swim trunks and t-shirts, and the paltry quantity of fabric is suddenly seeming far less than adequate to keep us out of mischief. “It’s not that they believed any of it,” I tell him, reaching out to place a hand on his bare foot. He’s still cooler than usual, from the pool. I love him singularly.

Snow must have closed his eyes for a moment, because when he lifts his head again to regard me, he’s squinting at me with just one eye. “It’s that you sided with me. To make a joke at their expense. They’re gobsmacked.”

Crowley. Simon Snow is completely thick, but now this. He’s understood exactly. “It’s unforgivable,” I murmur, but I’m smiling, partly because he’s laughing again and it’s contagious, and partly because I’m stroking the top of his foot with my thumb, and it’s skin touch close Simon love and unbearable more ache die. I’m falling into myself while being inescapably yanked toward him, as surely as a Crucible joining.

I climb up onto the bed and Simon's feet slide apart readily, making room for me to crawl between his legs. I do, putting a hand on one bent knee while pressing a kiss to a mole on the other. Snow’s eyes are closed but he smiles in a way that almost seems smug; he wriggles back and forth for a moment as though preening under my attention. “You like that?” I murmur, deliberately keeping my eyes above the drawstring of his (my) exceedingly small swimming trunks. He whines when I push his shirt up as far as it will go and begin my ascent, one mole at a time: one on his hip, two like small round twins just beside his navel, and on and on. He hitches at each touch of my lips, but otherwise remains silent until I reach the one right at the edge of his left nipple.

“Baz,” he whines, reaching for me. And Crowley, I’m weak, because I lower myself onto his chest and nuzzle into his neck, kissing and mouthing at any available space I find. He’s everything. I can’t believe that this is a thing people feel, this all-consuming need for another person, and that he’s letting me be this near to him. One of my hands cups the back of his head while the other grips his waist, kneading him as he squirms beneath me. “Baz,” he says again.

I push myself up, hating myself for the wreck I must look. “What, Snow?”

His cheeks redden, and of course that only makes me want him more. Everything he does makes me want him more. “I just like saying your name,” he stammers, eyes shifting away from my face. “It makes me feel...closer to you.”

“Oh.” I hear the softening in my own voice.

“Baz?”

“Yes?”

“I like you a lot.” It’s a small statement, murmured quietly, yet it feels momentous. “Really, really a lot.” Simon reaches up, taking my face between his hands. They’re warm now, I notice dimly. “No one’s ever treated me the way you do. Like I’m...valuable. I know that sounds stupid,” he adds defensively, his fingers tensing along my cheekbones as he juts his chin up at me.

Valuable. Treasured. Cherished. Beloved. All true, and all so difficult to surmount the sincerity of; it may well kill me. But I lower my face to kiss the side of his eye; as it flutters closed I feel his lashes against my cheek. “You are valuable, Simon,” I choke out, despising every word and the vulnerability the confession inflicts upon me. “You’re the most precious thing I’ve ever known.”

His smile feels legendary, the way it lights me up from the inside. I’m so hopelessly, hopelessly lost. And then his legs wrap around the back of my knees, followed by his tail, pressing our hips close together. Oh.

Have a great week everyone! No pressure tagging: @rimeswithpurple @papierhaikuphoto @nightimedreamersworld @aristocratic-otter @valeffelees @c0nsumemy5oul @alexalexinii @prettygoododds @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @nausikaaa @thewholelemon @supercutedinosaurs @youarenevertooold @cows4247 @larkral @confused-bi-queer @asocialpessimist @aceumbrellaheroes @cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @stitchy-queerista @ic3-que3n @raenestee @bookish-bogwitch @forabeatofadrum @ivelovedhimthroughworse @orange-peony @thehoneyedhufflepuff @bazzybelle @theotherhufflepuff @iamamythologicalcreature @ionlydrinkhotwater @fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @palimpsessed @letraspal @stardustasincocaine @whogaveyoupermission @onepintobean @wellbelesbian @j-nipper-95 @ileadacharmedlife @imagineacoolusername @sailorblossoms

[vodika-vibes]

How’s about some Waxer with “Finger tracing their bottom lip, eyes never leaving their parted lips, before meeting them in the middle again, because one time isn’t enough”? Please and thank you~~ 😊

Once Isn't Enough

Summary: You have a date with Waxer

Pairing: Clone Trooper Waxer x Reader

Word Count: 1010

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I hope you like it~

You’re nervous.

But only a little. You’ve never been on a blind date before, but your friend swears, up and down, that you’ll like the man she’s setting you up with. 

You’re a little doubtful, she doesn’t exactly have a good track record with this kind of stuff, but you’re giving her the benefit of the doubt. With the knowledge that if this date goes wrong, you’ll never have to see him again.

You nervously twist this way and that, checking your outfit for anything that might make it look bad, and once you’re sure that your outfit is as perfect as you could possibly make it, you slide your shoes on and head out the door.

You agreed to meet your date near the fountain at a park nearby, and, well, you’re going to be early, but that’s okay.

It’s about fifteen minutes later when someone approaches you. He calls your name, and you look up at him curiously. He’s taller than you, with a shaved head and a goatee. “I’m Waxer.” He says as he holds his hand out for  you to shake.

You greet him with a warm smile as you take his hand, “It’s very nice to meet you,” 

“Likewise,” Waxer says cheerfully, “Honestly, I wasn’t sure you actually existed.”

You shoot him a puzzled look, “Well, it’s not exactly normal for someone to approach me and as if I would be willing to go on a blind date with her best friend.” Waxer clarifies.

And you laugh, “Yes, she’s like that. She’s been trying to set me up on dates for months now.”

“Yeah? You have another date after this one?”

You shake your head, “No. Actually this is the first time I’ve taken her up on her offer of a date.” Your smile becomes slightly shy, “I had a good feeling about this one.”

Waxer looks surprised for a moment, and then a delighted smile crosses his face. He sketches a bow, “Well then, I shall aspire to not disappoint you.”

“I’m quite sure that you won’t.” You step closer to him, “So, where are we headed?”

“Ah, well…” He pulls a pair of tickets out of his pocket, “Your friend mentioned that you’re a botanist, so I bought us tickets for the botanical gardens.”

Your face brightens, “Oh! I love the gardens. And everything will be blooming at this time of year. Have you ever been?”

“Ah, no. This would be my first visit.” He slides the tickets back into his pocket, and you hook your arm with his, hesitant at first and then a little more confident when he doesn’t pull away.

“Well, you’re in luck. I’m something of an expert.”

“Well, aren’t I a lucky man?” He murmurs with a small smile, “I’m sure you won’t lead me astray.”

Several hours later, you’re already planning a second date with Waxer. He’s been a perfect gentleman, and he actively listens to you when you talk, asking questions and making comments about whatever you’re talking about.

You can honestly say that you’ve never been on a better date. Which is kind of sad, if you think about it too much. 

He doesn’t talk much about his job, which is fair, though he did mention that he was part of the 212. Mostly, though, Waxer spent his time talking about himself and his brothers, and about weird situations that he’s been in while deployed that have nothing to do with the war itself.

And in turn, you talk about yourself and your friends, as well as your hobbies and your career. He seemed really interested in your family, when you mentioned them, and his sheepish admittance that he doesn’t know what a proper family is like, has you planning on introducing him to your parents sooner rather than later.

And before you know it the majority of the day has gone by, and you’re…not ready for the date to end yet. 

“I’ll, uh…walk you home, if you like?” Waxer offers as he smooths his hand over his head, and then rubs the back of his neck. 

“I’d like that.” You reply with an easy smile, as you fall into step next to him. It takes almost all of your courage to take his hand and thread your fingers with his, but you manage it. And you’re rewarded with a gentle smile, and a squeeze of your fingers.

And you’re halfway home, when you come to a decision.

Slowly you stop, and Waxer stops a little ahead of you, the puzzled look turning into concern, “Is something wrong?”

You rapidly shake your head, a small, nervous smile on your lips. “No. Nothing.”

“Then why did you stop?”

You take a step towards him, raise up onto your toes, and press your lips against his. You bring your free hand up to rest gently on his cheek, and his hand presses against your cheek as well.

And then you pull away. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and there’s an apology on your lips, but you stop before you can apologize.

One of Waxer’s fingers lightly traces over your lips, and his gaze is locked on your parted lips. And then he leans back in, and you meet him halfway, because you know that just one kiss won’t be enough. 

In fact, you’re pretty sure that ten kisses won’t be enough.

This time, when you separate from him, he presses his forehead against yours. His dark gaze is locked with yours, and there's a smile on his lips, “What did I do to deserve that?” He asks, his voice slightly breathless, “Because I want to make sure I do it again.”

You laugh, just as breathlessly, “I just wanted to kiss you, that’s all.”

Waxer tilts his head so that his lips are hovering just over yours, “What a coincidence. I want that too.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You ask, softly.

“Yes.” And then his lips are on yours again, as if he couldn’t help himself. And, really, the feeling is entirely mutual.

[pastel-paramour]

Beast in the Moonlight

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.6k

Tags/Content Warnings: Atsushi x F!Reader, Were-Tiger!Atsushi, BLOOD, EXTENSIVE INJURY, Biting, Scratching, Inhuman Genitalia (Atsushi), Rut (and by extension, implied breeding, though not specifically mentioned), Dubious Consent (if you squint), Fangs, Claws, Pinning, Oral (Fem!Receiving), Unprotected Sex (no pregnancy), but also fluff!

Seriously guys, he is a were-tiger, doing tiger things with tiger parts. Read at your own discretion. Just know that they love each other very much, and everyone makes it to the end!

Dried blood stuck in the crevices in your skin.

Has anyone seen Atsushi?

Deep red and purple bruises mottled your shoulders, chest and collar bones.

No, I haven’t seen him for about a week? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him or his lady…

Shining spit slicked off sharp fangs in time with ragged panting above you.

Dazai, go out and find him, he’ll need to be here for this.

Your back bowed away from the floor, mouth agape in a silent wail as another, agonizing orgasm ripped through you.

Do I have to?..

You’d lost count of the days and nights. Atsushi’s punishing thrusts into you now the only thing keeping time.

You vouched for him, he’s your responsibility to manage.

Fine…

Someone had to come looking for you soon…

***

Sunlight came streaming in through your shop windows, blanketing it in glittering gold. You straightened up the blooms in a crystal vase to put into the refrigerator at the front of the shop when you heard the bell on the door ding.

“Oh sorry!” You said, “We’re not quite open yet!” you flicked your sleeve off your wrist and checked the time. It was five minutes past 8. “Well nevermind!” You chuckled, a light, rosy blush dusting your cheeks, “I guess we are!”

You finally turned to look at the guests who’d entered your little shop, and found Dazai, tall and lean, the morning light casting a glow behind him.

“My darling belladonna!” He cheered, sweeping up your hand into a chaste kiss. Your face flushed again. You knew this man was bad news romantically, but he did always know how to make you feel special, “How are you this morning?”

“Oh, I’m-” you trailed off when you noticed that Dazai wasn’t alone. Next to him was a young man you’d never met before, not older than 20, if even that. His clothes were a bit of a patchwork version of a working uniform, and his belt was much, much too long. His hair was a peculiar shade of gray, almost white, and his eyes… Where Dazai was rimmed in the yellow light of the morning, this one’s eyes held it captive.

“W-who’s your friend, ‘Samu?”

Dazai briefly looked perplexed, like he’d forgotten anyone was with him at all until he looked over; “Oh!” He clapped as he righted himself, “How rude of me! This fine young man is the newest member to join the ADA. Say hello, Atsushi!” Dazai clapped him rather harshly on the back, to which he seemed to startle and bend sharply at the waist.

“Good morning, ma’am! My name is Atsushi Nakijima! It’s nice to meet you!”

You were briefly stunned, then your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to contain a giggle. “It’s nice to meet you, Atsushi..” You said before giving your name in turn.

It had been a while since you had a visit from the ADA. Normally it was Naomi and the other girls that stopped by, picking up fresh blooms for the office, very occasionally Kunikida would make a visit personally, picking up a polite arrangement, probably as an apology gift on Dazai’s behalf. Dazai rarely used to stop in until he met you, then it seemed like he went out of his way to visit once or twice when time allowed, always flirting and chatting you up. You didn’t mind. He was always pleasant, if a little forward, but his demeanor always seemed to have a bit of a sad cast, like paper curling at the edges, or a petal just on the right side of wilting.

Atsushi had a similar sad look, only, instead of a flower nearing the end of its life, he was more like a sprout that hadn’t had enough water or sunshine, bowing under its own weight, but given the proper attention…

You misplaced your hand reaching for something across the counter and managed to tip over another vase, spilling water and flowers everywhere. You cringed, curling into yourself, waiting for the crash, but when you un-scrunched your eyes you saw Atsushi knelt on the floor, the distinctly unbroken curves of the vase in his hands, and petals clinging to the silver strands of his hair.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” You clambored to the floor to start picking up the scattered stems when Atsushi held one out to you, a long stem tipped with the playful pink ruffles of a carnation, all his nervous energy dissipated holding that flower out to you, washed away by the rising sun. You completely missed the small smirk curling the edges of Dazai’s lips, as well as the chime of the bell as he slipped out of your store.

***

You went out with Atsushi several times since that day, to markets and coffee shops, your sundresses fluttering in the breeze, wrapping around your legs or lifting in just such a way that Atsushi tried very politely not to notice. You’d hold hands all the way back to his office, even being invited in to say hello to the other members of the ADA before excusing yourself back to your store.

The first time you made love to Atsushi, it was in your apartment. There was no glistering golden light like that first day, but the more characteristic gray skies of Yokohama weren’t quite so oppressive that day. The room was cast in the bluish hues of early morning, and you sat on the floor by your window, sipping your coffee and watching the city wake up.

Atsushi crawled across the floor, between your legs, his eyes still that same shade of molten honey as he leaned in and kissed you. This kiss wasn’t like the sweet pecks he’d leave on your lips at the end of a date, there was something lingering, searching in it, in the way his tongue dipped out to trace the pout of your bottom lip, the indulgent sound of your lips parting and your mingling breath.

Then he did it again, and again, and longer this time as he wound his hand around your waist to pull you close to him. You nimbly untucked his buttons from their buttonholes before skating your nails down his bare chest until you met the waistband of his pants and undid his fly the same way. You slipped your thumbs through his belt loops, pushing him back until he sat against the floor and you tugged the bottoms down.

You traced the outline of his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers, heart leaping into a gallop at the way his breath hitched in his throat, syrupy need dripping into the well between your thighs. You crawled over his body until you were straddled over his hips. He let his own hands wander up your oversized sweatshirt, tucking it up over your breasts so he could palm them, flicking his thumbs over the furled peaks of your nipples, his lip tucked between his teeth as you mewled into his touch.

You reached behind you, untucked him from his boxers, and easily sank yourself down onto his lap with a gasp. One hand flew to your hip with a groan, his legs already shaking with effort to restrain himself. You leaned forward, pushed your chest against him.

“It’s okay, Atsushi…” You whispered against his parted lips before you kissed him again, wanton and needy while you ground your hips down on him. You broke your kiss with a gasp when he started to rock into you, filling and hitting all the best parts of you. You threw your head back, relishing in the feeling of him. His arms wound their way around your waist again, pulling you closer, closer to him so he could breathe in the scent of your skin, taste the salt on it as he licked a stripe up the valley of your cleavage. Your nails raked through his hair, seeking their tangled purchase as you rode him, the cant of his hips rubbing taut circles over your clit.

Your name tumbled from his lips, “I’m gonna-”

“I know…” You breathed, “It’s okay, baby, I’m safe, we’re safe.”

With that, you felt him twitch inside you as he shot thick and hot inside you. The sensation of him fucking you through his release made you wind tighter around him, until the chord in you snapped, and you came down shuddering on his cock until you were both holding each other, still panting with him softening inside you.

***

The seasons came and went, and the gray sleet of the winter was slowly threatening to melt into spring. Your busy season kind of snuck up on you with all the time you were spending with Atsushi, although you noticed he hadn’t quite been himself as of late. When you had finally wrapped up your Valentine’s day in the shop, you untucked a hidden bouquet of your best and brightest blooms and made the short walk down to the ADA offices.

When you walked through the door, however, everyone seemed surprised to see you there.

“Where’s Atsushi?” you asked.

“He isn’t in today, we honestly thought he’d have plans with you?” Tanazaki said.

“I thought we did…” You looked down at the flowers in your arms and chewed the inside of your cheek, the first ache of tears already stinging your eyes, “Well, thanks anyway…” You turned and hurried back out the door, despite several of the detectives rising from their seats after you.

Night had fallen by the time you reached the dorms, stepping over the lazily rippling puddles reflecting the yellow glow of the street lamps.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door snicked open, though only part way. Even so, Atsushi couldn’t hide those liquid gold eyes from you.

“Hey you…” You greeted sadly.

“Hey…” Atsushi replied, still holding the door barely open.

“I got you something…” You held the bouquet in view of the door, trying to hide your dismay that the flowers were already starting to droop; “Can I… come in?”

Atsushi chewed his lip, torn between his own politeness and… something else. Ultimately, as it normally did, the former won out, and the door creaked open the rest of the way. You stepped in, halting just inside the door and shuffling awkwardly.

“Thank you.” Atsushi murmured, taking the flowers you brought to the kitchen and placing them into a jar of water. The flickering fluorescent somehow made the rest of the apartment seem darker, save for the light of the full moon filtering through the window. You stepped out of your shoes with an outstretched hand,

“Atsushi, are you-”

Your words died in your mouth when he flinched away from you.

“Did- did I do something wrong?” “No, it’s just… Now’s not a good time.”

Something sharp gnawed at the inside of your chest. Not a good time? You’d had these plans for weeks.

“Atsushi, can you please just tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, okay?” He snapped. If you looked closely, you could see the light sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“Are you sick? If that’s it, you can tell me!” You reached out a hand again to feel his forehead, only for him to grab your wrist.

“Yes. That’s it. If that is it, will you leave?”

“If that’s it then I want to take care of you! Why’re you being this way?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me. I need you to get out of here!” Atsushi yanked your arm, his grip tightening painfully around your wrist.

“Atsushi!” You ground out, “You’re hurting me!”

In an instant, faster than you could think, your hand snapped out and a sharp smack rang through the darkness.

You could hear a feather fall in the silence that stretched out between you two, your thudding heartbeat the only thing sounding in your ears. You weren’t sure how long the moment was before you spoke,

“Atsushi, I- I’m so sor-“ you yelped when Atsushi crowded you against the counter, face hidden in your neck and his hand smoothing softly over your wrist.

“M’sorry… M’sorry…” he murmured against your neck, setting aloft little flutters in your belly.

“Atsushi..” you breathed, “you’re not the one who-“

Your sentence again died on your lips when his clasped over the curve where your neck met your shoulder. He was so close. So close. So close you could feel him, hard and rutting against your thigh. Confused as you were, the feeling of him wanting, needing you so badly sent a shiver of warmth to the pit of your belly and between your legs. You tangled your hands through silver strands while he sucked on your neck.

“F-fuck… you smell so good…” 

Your eyes flicked open at that particularly odd statement, you opened your mouth to say something, but a pained yelp crowded out the words as Atsushi sank his teeth into you. Sharp teeth, followed immediately by a harsh, bristled tongue lapping at the warm blood that had begun to ooze from the bite.

“A-Atsushi?” You stammered. He raised his face to meet yours, and where there were once sweet, sad, golden eyes, there was now the harsh and calculating stare of a predator. His pupils narrowed to little more than slits, and his breath went ragged.

“I’m sorry…” he huffed, before he reached up between you, gripped the fabric of your shirt in his fists and rent it apart like he was tearing tissue paper.

“Atsushi!” You scolded. He was long gone, though, lost in dressing your neck and chest with rough, wet kisses. Goosebumps pricked your flesh the further down your belly he went, and you flushed when he tucked his head under your skirt. He came face to face with your clothed pussy, pressed his face to the quickly moistening fabric and breathed in deeply, exhaling in something between a moan and a growl that had your blush deepening dramatically.

As quickly as he’d done your shirt, he tucked his hands under your skirt, and again the popping sound of seams tearing filled the night air. What followed was nearly enough to make your knees buckle.

A broad, coarse tongue lapped a stripe over your cunt, finishing with a flick over your clit. Your head rolled back;

“Oh fuck, Atsushi!” You found your fingers again twisted in his hair, tighter now than you’d ever dared before, pulling him closer to you. Embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking against and riding his tongue.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop…” you panted, unsure if he even heard you, if you even cared. His arms snaked up around your thighs, his fingers pressed dimples into the pliant flesh of your ass. Just as you were about to crest the edge, long crescent claws snicked into your flesh, and Atsushi used his fortified grip on you to pull you along his tongue, back and forth, rubbing a rough circuit over your clit. The rush of pain, of Atsushi’s tongue against your cunt, of your orgasm crashing over you had your muscles seizing until you shook with a whine, “Fuck~”

Atsushi gripped your hips as your knees buckled underneath you, rising to meet your lips. His cock was rigid in his pants, and hot against your thigh as he rubbed himself against you in earnest, no doubt trying to relieve the ache while he kissed you.

“Fuck.. Fuck I’m so sorry…” He huffed against your mouth between sloppy kisses, “I can’t… I can’t…” He couldn’t seem to get the words out, instead hauling you up by your ass onto the counter, following shortly after, caging you in onto your back with trembling arms. He yanked roughly at his belt and fly until the offending articles were shifted down over his hips.

The first thing you felt was warmth, and your head fell back against the counter, eyes closed. Though your eyebrows knit together when he slid against your slick slit, and where you expected smooth skin, maybe engorged veins, instead you felt ridges, dimples and spines. Your eyes flew open, suddenly aware of just how tight your skin felt, how warm the room was, how close Atsushi was as he bowed his head, panting in the crook of your neck, his fangs grazing the tender bite from before. You shivered as something wet trickled across your neck.

You carded your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, twisting and untwisting them.

“Go ahead, baby…” you breathed, but Atsushi shook his head and said nothing, only continued threading his cock through your pussy. Your body surged, your fingers knotted harshly in his hair, “Fuck me, Atsushi.”

What fell from your lips next was something between a choked moan and a scream as he bit down on the flesh of your shoulder again, drawing fresh blood and another rush of endorphins to flood your brain while he shoved himself inside your drooling cunt. You felt every inch of texture as he fucked into you with absolute reckless abandon, every ridge and crevice and spine rubbing up against your velvety walls. The hooked end of his cock seated itself deep inside you, so deep you felt the muscles in the deepest parts of your belly cramp in protest.

Your hands fell weakly from his hair, his own quick to press your wrists into the counter while he fucked you, your pussy still wet from your previous release, and another almost embarrassingly close.

Why? Why were you reacting this way? Shouldn’t you be frightened? Running for your life?

Your mind sloshed through these questions, swiftly melting between the pain and pleasure of Atsushi’s claiming bite and his massive, inhuman cock slamming into you. When you felt his claws bite into your skin again, your cunt snapped shut around him and gushed around his cock. At your suddenly tightening pussy, he released your shoulder to heave ragged breaths against your abused skin. You felt his hips stutter, and his cock swell as he came. He came and came and came until you felt it spill out around him spattering your thighs and dribbling down the crack of your ass as he fucked it all into you.

He stilled above you, breathing still heavy and saying nothing. At length, he pushed himself off of you. The ache started to settle into your shoulder, so you rolled your head weakly to the side to look at him. His eyes were closed, probably exhausted by the way he still seemed to be catching his breath. He gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked it over his head, the sheen of sweat of catching the moonlight, highlighting the toned planes of his chest and abs, shadowing at his hip bones with his pants still slung low over them, granting a full view of his slowly softening cock. He didn’t even bother to slip out of his pants, or even acknowledge you at all before he collapsed onto his couch, unconscious.

Your own chest heaved as you turned your head toward the ceiling again. You brought shaking fingers to your neck and winced, pulling away to reveal bright red blood that dripped down your palm.

You had to take care of this. Now.

You pushed yourself up, your muscles trembled in protest, but you got yourself off the counter, the fresh blood smearing with you, dark in the blue light of the moon. Though you had to catch yourself on the edge with your good arm, you were able to limp around to the bathroom. You flinched at the light when you flicked it on, but once your vision adjusted, you surveyed the damage.

Deep purple, almost black bruises spread from your neck to your collarbone, blooming like grisly petals around the bloody red pistil across your shoulder, dripping down your chest. You swallowed though your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and brought still trembling hands up to the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. You rifled around, cursed when several bottles and containers clattered into the sink, but eventually you were able to produce some disinfectant, cotton balls, even a gauze pad, though it would be too small to cover the full extent of the damage.

Where the fuck was Dazai when you needed him?

You hissed at the burn of the disinfectant spreading through the wounds, but the blood wiped away from your chest, what had dripped down your legs you decided to leave alone, applying small plasters over each cut, gnarled and angry from being used as a handhold for you. When you were done and satisfied, you leaned against the counter and gave your reflection a weary glare. A wave of exhaustion swept through you, fair enough you supposed, and you were sure Atsushi would have a (doubtlessly tearful) explanation for you in the morning.

That’d have to be enough. You left the bathroom, not even bothering to turn off the light, and shuffled back to the living room until you found the first soft surface you could, and collapsed face down into a somehow overstuffed and deflated beanbag, slamming almost immediately into a deep sleep.

When you awoke, the moon was still high in the sky, a long way from morning. You’d moved little from where you’d fallen asleep, only your hips were hiked up, skirt falling over your back and Atsushi behind you, gripping the plush cheeks of your ass, spreading and squeezing them.

“Atsushi?” You groaned. You tried to turn over, only to be reprimanded by your aching shoulder. Then you stilled at the feeling of Atsushi’s thumb circling your clit. You moaned into the touch, pushed back against it until the now familiar warmth of his dick pressed against your ass.

“So ready for me… Just for me…” he murmured, not to you, more like at you, in your direction as he thumbed idly up and down your pussy, still dripping with his cum and your new wave of arousal.

He sucked in a sharp breath as his hand flew to your hips again, shifting the tip of his cock to slot at your entrance. He didn’t sheath his claws, just used them again to pierce your skin with new holes, pulling you onto his dick with a guttural grunt as he punched the air from your lungs. You couldn’t push yourself onto your elbows, so you rocked back on your knees to meet him as best you could, but ultimately gave up and let him fuck himself into your pussy, slamming against your g spot, and rubbing every spot in every right way.

You let your face fall into the cushion, reveling in the way he filled you. It made you feel dirty, being fucked like that, but something about it set your blood on fire. You gasped at the feel of his arm around your waist, pulling you up against his chest while he continued to rut into you, his nose nuzzled against your neck, breathing in the salty scent of your skin. He pulled away suddenly, almost like he was offended at what he found there. He removed one hand from your hip and reached for your shoulder, snatching away the bandage you’d applied there and earning a yelp from you.

His grip was iron around your waist, his free hand coming to rest on your chest. He licked a long stripe up the column of your neck, still unmarked on that side, until he kissed the crook of that shoulder, only to immediately follow with his teeth again.

You were dizzy with the feeling, a strangled gasp all that you could force out as he fucked you harder with his teeth in you.You traitorous cunt clenched, and Atsushi growled around your flesh, his claws sinking into your chest, raking long, oozing stripes down your front. You cried out, eyes burning with tears as they ran down your cheeks. But God it was so good…

Syrupy sobs bubbled from your lips, rippling into the night until they were cut off by Atsuhi’s fingers flying to your mouth. You choked on them briefly until your tongue idled over his knuckles, the coppery taste of your blood painting your tongue as you avoided cutting yourself further on his claws, their cruel points pressed threateningly into the tender flesh lying just underneath your tongue, making saliva pool at the root of your tongue until you had to flex it, push the spit out the sides of your mouth so you didn’t choke, until it dripped down your chin and across the welling blood on your chest, tracking it down your body like grisly watercolor.

Atsushi’s hips snapped into you in that same way you knew he did when he was about to cum. Even if he didn’t say anything, even if he left all this evidence of such violence on your body, you knew it was still Atsushi. Your breath came in time with his thrusts, and you could barely find the words, especially around his fingers,

“C-cum… Please…”

You weren’t sure at this point if you were pleading for you or for him, but one arm gripped your waist, the other falling across your chest as he held you to him and came inside you again, surprisingly just as much as last time. Only now, he didn’t stop, he didn’t pull out. He held you there, and slowly pumped into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Even when he let you go and you fell forward onto the beanbag chair, sweating and panting. His hand trailed up your back, between your shoulder blades to the back of your neck, pushing down the whole way until you were pressed into a pretty, perfect arch for him to trace all the way back down, leaving raised pink welts across your back where his fingers had been.

He adjusted himself, supporting his weight on the middle of your back, pressing down on your ribs as he continued to buck into you. The position made you ache, like you couldn’t get enough air, and those damned claws hooked into you at such a harsh angle, all you could do was cry pitiful tears while he huffed over you,

“One more… Please just one fucking more…”

***

Dazai hopped up the stairs two at a time, the blue-grey light of the coming dawn betraying that it was, unfortunately, a workday. Another that it seemed clear that Atsushi was planning on missing. Dazai was all for playing hooky, but this was drastically cutting into his schedule, between slacking off and dicking around, he just didn’t have time for this.

He rounded the corner and stopped at Atsushi’s door, giving the door the old rat-a-tat-tat,

“Oh Atsushi~” He singsonged, “Wakey-wakey eggs and bakey…” But no one came. His face fell, that needle in his mind dropping right back into the executive groove.

Trap. Kidnapped. Ransom. Murdered.

No. There’s no blood, or sign of struggle. No traces of explosives or poison, unfortunately…

Dazai listened carefully through the door. He didn’t hear voices, or the telltale sounds of suited men turning the place over. Instead he heard the rhythmic waves of heavy breaths, followed by a loud growl like cracking thunder.

Fucking shit…

He slammed his shoulder through the door, the doorjamb splintering and flying into the entryway. And the sight he was met with was truly something to behold.

First of all, you were naked, something Dazai had previously only dreamed of; your eyes half closed, tracking shadows over your tear-streaked cheeks. Not an inch of skin unmarred from your neck to your breasts as they rebounded with each punishing thrust. He couldn’t even say that the amount of blood seeping into your skin hadn’t entered those late night fantasies.

And then there was Atsushi… one hand around your neck, cruel talons piercing the skin and drawing new rivulets of blood to run down your collarbone; his other arm about your waist, holding you up since you couldn’t seem to do so under your own power, and rutting into you like some kind of fuck doll. Your eyes rolled over to him, hazy and struggling to focus as your mouth hung slack in a silent moan.

“Jesus!” Dazai started, bounding across the room, arm outstretched. Atsushi choked as Dazai’s palm met his throat, toppling him to the ground as you fell to the floor with a thud. His eyes were wild, then distant, until finally they closed, his claws and teeth retracting to their normal state. “Yeah, whatever that was, why don’t you sleep it off, buddy…”

“Don’t…” Dazai heard you whisper hoarsely behind him, “Don’t hurt’im…”

He turned on his heel to address the next priority. He flipped you over onto your back, and as he inspected the damage, his lips pressed into a hard line and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. Your skin was perforated with what could have been mistaken for small knicks if not for the thick tracks of dried blood trailing from them. Still, they were nothing compared to the deep gouges criss-crossing your chest and back, some of them scabbed but most of them either made or reopened recently enough to still be oozing blood. Some of them looked like they’d been at least somewhat treated, but eventually you must have given up trying.

Christ, you weren’t just fucked. You were fucking mauled…

At length, Dazai huffed a chuckle through his nose, a smirk curling his lips as he said, “You little freak… Had I known you had it in you, I’d have made you mine a long time ago…” He swept a curl away from your face, and tucked it behind your ear. You responded with your own dazed laugh before your face went ashen, and your head rolled limply to the side.

“Fucking shit.” Dazai cursed before he strode to the bathroom. Open packages of gauze and plasters littered the counter and the floor, disinfectant containers practically turned inside out in the sink, bright red streaks standing stark against the white counter and walls. He returned with a swiftness, his heart breaking into a steady trot as he knelt next to you.

“Alright pretty girl, you can’t die on me yet.” He muttered, shrugging out of his coat and untucking his shirt to reveal a wide expanse of bandages zigzagged over his torso. He untucked one end and started unwinding his body.

“Damn it Odasaku… Could have had her bleeding and broken on my dick, but ohhh nooo, ‘that’s what evil people do’...” He grumbled to himself before taking the bandage between his teeth and tearing it. He untucked his phone, and with a few swipes he cradled it against his shoulder as he applied the gauzy strip to the worst of your wounds, the clean white darkening uselessly. The phone only droned half a ring before the line clicked open.

“Yosano…” Dazai greeted cheerfully, “How do you feel about making a house call…”

***

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, nearly drowning out the late morning sunlight slanting through the windows. The tap tap tap of Yosano’s toe keeping time to the thudding of Atsushi’s heart. She was the one to break the silence first.

“Fascinating.”

Atsushi’s face crinkled in confusion, “W-what?”

“Just, I’ve never seen anything like it. Like, sure, you’re a were-tiger, but I never thought an ability would have this much of an affect on your physiology.”

“Um… thank you?”

She leaned forward suddenly, nearly toppling Atsushi out of his seat.

“Let me study you!”

“What?! No!”

“Oh come on…” Yosano whined.

Before Atsushi could reiterate his absolute refusal,

“I hate to interrupt…” Dazai droned, leaning against the door frame, “I just thought you’d like to know that she’s awake.”

Atsushi leapt up from his stool so fast, it was still spinning as he raced down the hallway. He almost skidded right past your room until he saw you, sitting up, gazing out the window. Despite the bandages wrapping you up from your neck and disappearing beneath your gown, you were still so pretty. Where the light in Yosano’s office was sterile, artificial, the sun gleaming into your room seemed to curl around you.

Even though Atsushi tried to tip toe into the room, you knew he was there, and turned to him with a wan smile plastered helplessly on your lips.

“Hey you…”

“Hey…”

Atsushi was curled into himself, looking far too much like Dazai’s withering petal, and not nearly close enough to the flourishing sprout you had seen him become. He was well and truly eaten up by what had happened, just like you knew he’d be.

You reached out and patted the empty space at the edge of your bed, a seat which he took, however hesitantly. A long silence stretched between you, until you both opened your mouths to speak only to devolve into embarrassed chuckles,

“You first…” You nodded for him to go ahead.

He chewed his words, no doubt a storm of guilt whirling and thrashing inside him.

“I… don’t even know how to tell you how sorry I am. It feels so stupid even saying it out loud, I-”

“Nothing to apologize for.” You cut in.

For the first time since he sat down, he looked at you, eyes wide and searching.

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t.” You said, “And you could die any day, being a part of the ADA. I mean, have you seen Yokohama?”

You chuckled, but trailed off when you were the only one laughing. You placed a hand on his knee and said,

“Listen… It’s something that’s never happened before. Now we know and we can be better prepared for next time.”

“Next time?” Atsushi looked up at you gain, and was equal amounts horrified and intrigued by the mischievous glint in your eye.

“When do you think we can do that again?..”