#times like this i feel its so hard to describe him. maybe i should write up a summary to refer to

[adelidae]

🖋 tell me abut darius!!!! u post of him often who is this fine fellow 👁👁

hes my oc and hes SO sucks. he doesn't really have a solid canon at the moment but he's been my favoured oc for like 5 years now and shows no signs of relenting. he's the youngest son of 4 and a member of the prestigious atani family. he's kind of known for being the more mysterious brother since he tends to keep to himself and not really engage with the public much.

he's from an old fantasy wip but odds are you'll often see me referring to him in more modern terms/settings because i put him in au situations constantly. he comes from money and he's kind of well-known because his mother is famous. his older brothers also have their own things going on as well, they're also 3-10 years older than him so he doesn't necessarily interact with them much directly either.

anyway he compels me because he's a guy who insists hes normal no matter what and succumbs to a perfectionist nature, and ends up rejecting a lot of personal connections because of it. the way his brain works fascinates me and i like putting him in situations :]

some gorgeous art by my lovely mutuals of him: runawaytaurus / plaguery

[zan0tix]

JAKE AND TRANSFEMININITY: PART 1

IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THIS im gona make a series of posts about jake because. Im crazy and i like writing (will also help me with writing my scripts bc im bad at doing that but im good at yapping on social media lol)

This first post will be about Grandpa Harley because yknow he was the foundation for Jakes text later.

(Take these with a grain of salt bc this is skaianet archive stuff) but Its stated over and over that HIC in both universes Despised Jake because he was a boy and saw him as an annoyance. (The reason he is even named Jake is because HIC just swapped a letter from Jane to make a male name) and this started a pattern of jake being waved off and disregarded.

Already day fucking one as a baby Jake isnt doing gender right😭 his name is a reminder that he isnt what people want him to be.

So he left home and sought off to find adventure at age 13. His shitty home-life already left him with a fraught relationship to his autonomy and control over his life (Again skaianet archives grab that Salt) But he gets groomed and taken advantage of by an older man. I believe this only further Jakes feelings of helplessness and desire to exert power over something.

Grandpa harley would then proceed to try so hard to embody the Old most admirable western masculine archetype to a T. The wealthy globe trotting adventurer/entrepreneur/inventor with female lovers galore and nothing tying him down! A mans man who isnt afraid to get his hands dirty, wrestle a few animals. Wield violence to exert power and control (hunting animals) I see this as his outlet to exert autonomy and establish an Identity for himself but its at the expense of innocent lives. But its how you are seen as successful and powerful living under patriarchy and imperial capitalism.

Though while being this stereotype of old timey masculinity, he has this fascination with a specific brand of femininity. A delicately composed vision, a photoshoot, a performance. Something unachievable.

Its something he brings everywhere he goes. The blue ladies photos and imagery litter both his Hauntswitch house and Jades island house juxtaposing all of his Trophies (taxidermied animals that he obtained through overtly violent masculine means) With his self titled “Beauties/Daughters of Eclectica” (IF THAT ISNT THE MOST OLD GAY MAN THING YOUVE EVER READ. BUT ANYWAY)

Hussie always describes it as “Haha old man jake is horny for blue ladies” but i think the fact he views them as aspirational figures, and holds them in such high regard, Telling Jade that She should aspire to be like them and maybe one day she could take a place amongst them in their elegance and beauty I believe was him projecting; where he believes he isnt able to emulate them because he is a man so he tells jade to instead. (then we see teen jake who is living in more progressive times with his blue lady equivalents and he Directly attempts to Emulate them)

I think theres something more happening here guys nerm..

A. Claire was a Ballerina, A performer of a very traditionally feminine art that is calculated, asking for pin point accuracy with your body as the instrument. The fact he was her “Biggest fan” I assume he went to see alot of her performances and greatly admired her for her beauty and performance skills.

Ive said it before but I dont think he was attracted to her sexually, I think he wished he could be what she was. Embody a finely tuned image of femininity he was barred from ever exploring, so he was drawn to women who could do what he couldnt. And i believe he conflated his gender envy with attraction (teen jake does this too really hard but well get there later) because they didnt have the terms for gender envy or anything back then. Jake grew up in the 1920s. I assume he believed his feelings were average hetero attraction and not something deeper.

I feel like its an elaborate gag that Jake made himself into a straight up Caricature of the burly gruff Adventurer Man. His houses are overflowing with hunting trophies and weaponry like hes over compensating Its insanely comical when you know Really on the inside hes a gay man with a great affection and identification with the effeminate and is actually really loud about it but everyone brushes it off as “Haha what a kooky old geezer!” OBVIOUSLY ALL OF THIS FUNNY. Homestuck is a tragicomedy, everything is simultaneously one huge elaborate gag but also offering commentary on what its pointing and laughing at, in this case its cisheteronormativity (thats the same for an ungodly amount of cases with this work)

I find it tragic, poetic, and endlessly hilarious that his final moments were spent Roleplaying Heterosexuality with a doll He dressed up and put makeup on; made with his image of femininity, and he dies by his own gun, the same kind of weapons that he used to exert violence upon innocent animals in attempt to posture his masculine persona. The ones he arrived to earth with, he was pushed and destined to embody this image of masculinity because of the world he was sent to and the connotations of violence instilled into those weapons by society and reality by Lord English; a being his alt universe self played a great part in shaping. Who too wields a Gun as one of his signature weapons.

Blows smoke off the red hot irony pistols! 😉

PART 2 WILL COME SOON (will add link when it does)

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

next part

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

[thus-spoke-lo]

Dear Diary || Sanji x f!reader || NSFW [minors DNI]

CW: afab!reader (no pronouns used to describe reader), reader wears a skirt, masturbation (m), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

WC: 3.6k

Read on AO3

It was an accident. 

Or at the very least, that’s the story Sanji had hastily prepared as he sat perched on the edge of your bed, your diary held tightly in his grasp. 

It was an accident, he’d say if anyone wandered in while he perused its pages—it had fallen on the floor and he was merely trying to find out who it belonged to, that’s why it was splayed open in his hand. Really, you see, it was completely innocent. 

But Sanji already knew it was yours, having seen you with it on the deck, ardently scribbling away day after day. He could never quite get close enough or squint hard enough to see exactly what you were writing, but you certainly seemed alarmed when you’d catch him meandering by, quickly shutting the little blue book and squirreling it away in your knapsack before he could ever get near. 

And now here it was in his perspiration-slick hands. He wondered what he’d find, if it was even worth it to sneak into your room, carefully closing the door behind him, just to get a glimpse at the thoughts that pirouetted through your gorgeous mind. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before cracking open the little blue book, quickly looking over the pages for any mention of him: A recipe for medical ointment and a quick story about helping Chopper with a project. A sloppily-drawn chart and notes about a conversation with Nami. Musings on something Luffy said at dinner. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he muttered as he flipped through more pages, seeing line after line of casual observations and droll anecdotes. He was, of course, deeply and truly interested in your reflections on life with the crew, and would delightedly read just about anything you had written with your precious hands, but he didn’t have the time to peruse every paragraph. He was unsure of precisely when you’d be back with the rest of the crew, and his only goal was to find even the smallest talk of him in your handwriting—it would be enough just to see his name scrawled in these pages, enough to see that you even deigned to give him any mention at all. 

He scanned page after page until finally—there it was. His name, in your writing. 

He paused before he continued, taking in a shaky breath, wondering if he should read on, fearing the worst but his heart yearning for the best. 

Sanji, you’d written, Sanji, Sanji, Sanji. Sat in the galley to watch him cook today. He didn’t seem to mind me there, and he was humming some song I didn’t know. He let me taste the soup he was making, and told me I was perfect because of my “refined palate.” What a man, haha. 

He grinned as he continued to read: 

I'm glad he doesn’t mind me hanging around him, I could watch him for hours. His hands are so elegant.

I know it’s terrible, but sometimes I wonder what those hands would feel like on me.

Sanji stopped, using his thumb to hold his place as he set the diary down in his lap, his heart thrumming in his chest. He shouldn’t keep reading, he tried to tell himself—he got what he wanted, confirmation that he at least occasionally swirled around in your mind like a ship caught in a whirlpool, and that should be the end of it.

Right?

“Okay. Just a little more,” he uttered as he opened the book again, his eyes drifting back to where he’d left off. “A little more won’t hurt.”

God I bet his hands are so soft. I bet they’d feel so nice on my skin. Running down my arms. Tickling my neck. He’d know just how to hold me, touch me carefully, so he doesn’t hurt me, just make me feel good.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he flipped the page to the next entry. More about him.

Sanji made me tea today and brought it to me in my room. Ugh, he’s so fucking handsome. Hard not to tell him to set the tea down and give me something else hot. I bet he would, too. I bet all I’d have to do is ask and he’d have me bent over my bed, moaning his name. 

He slid his hand down to the front of his pants, palming the growing hardness that strained against the fabric. God he wanted you, and there was a painful desire roiling inside him knowing you wanted him too. And you were right, he thought as he throbbed under his hand—all it would take is one look, one pout, one soft “Please, Sanji?” and he would have you undressed in a heartbeat, writhing under him as he filled you to the hilt with every throbbing inch of him.

His hands, his hands, I’m telling you. I want him to finger me so bad. Maybe under the table while we’re having dinner. Just slide his hand up my skirt, push my panties to the side, start teasing my clit. Maybe he’d whisper in my ear that I’d need to keep quiet so no one would know. I’d just have to wriggle in my seat while he uses his fingers to tease me, and grip his leg to keep myself from screaming. 

“This is wrong,” he whispered, the words hitching in his throat. “This is so wrong.”

It was as if you could read his mind, he thought as he closed his eyes for a moment, grinding into his palm. How many times had he thought about placing a hand on your leg as you sat next to him at dinner, running his fingers up and up and up your velvety skin to the apex of your thighs, placing his palm against your heated cunt. He wanted to tease you through your panties, press his fingers against your clit through the silken fabric, making soft circles over it until you started to squirm in your chair and quietly beg him to stop. But begging, no matter how sweet and polite, would do you no good; no, if you loved his hands so much, then he was going to make you come on them. You’d have to sit there and be good and still and smile and laugh like nothing was wrong while he shoved his long fingers inside of you and pumped them in and out until you clenched and fluttered around them, leaving him a drenched and slippery mess. He wondered how flustered you’d become as he dragged his soaked fingers out of you and across your bare thigh, wondered if you’d look at him with your exquisite eyes, blinking away the tears of pleasure forming at your lash line, as you tried to keep yourself from falling apart in front of everyone.

He paused for a moment, listening closely for any commotion on the ship; there was only the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his hardening cock and sighing as he felt the cool air of your room on his burning hot skin. He gripped himself gently, delicately—like he imagined you might with your soft, perfect hands—as he continued to read. 

I just need him. I need his cock in me. I’m sure he’d fuck me, but really want him to want to fuck me, you know? Not just because I’m another pretty face. I want him to want to fuck me, to need to fuck me. 

Sanji groaned as he read, his hand slowly working up and down his shaft, using his thumb to gather the sticky precum dripping from the head as he did, pretending it was your luscious slick coating the length of him. Oh and how he did want to fuck you, and he did need to fuck you. Not because you were just any lovely thing with a gorgeous face—he wanted you, every last bit of you. He wanted to taste the salt of your skin, and inhale your intoxicating scent, and feel every part of you crash into him like waves; he wanted to consume you, to have every part of you to himself, to wrap himself around you and bury himself inside of you until you were practically one.

I want him to shove his cock in me, and tell me what a perfect little slut I am for him and only him. I want him to kiss my neck while he’s thrusting into me, long and slow strokes, and tell me how beautiful I am with his cock deep inside me. I want him to lose control of himself and feel him slam into me nice and hard, and hear how he moans when he finally fills me up wi—

“Sanji!”

He quickly slammed the diary shut and threw his hands over his lap, trying to cover the glaring evidence of his arousal; he glanced up to see you standing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyebrows raised to the heavens. 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” you asked, eyes wide, your eyes drifting down to his lap. 

“Oh, I was—well you see—so here’s the thing my dear—” Sanji stammered and stuttered, his perfectly crafted excuse slowly unraveling in his mind like an old sweater as you placed your hands on your hips—your luscious, grabbable hips, perfectly draped in a black skirt—and dragged your teeth across your lower lip impatiently. How is it that you could look so deeply and fiercely irresistible even when you clearly wanted to throttle him? How is it that his cock still throbbed even when you were probably ten seconds away from killing him where he sat?

You quickly closed the gap between you and stood before him and the end of the bed. 

“Give me that,” you spat as you snatched your diary out of his hand. “What were you doing with this?”

“My darling, please, I only wanted to—well I just—”

“You just what?”

He tried to find an answer for you, one that might make him appear even the least bit less debased and depraved than he must have seemed to you just then, but he was coming up woefully short.

“I just wanted to know,” he finally sputtered after a beat. 

“And what did you want to know, Sanji?” you asked, drawing out his name teasingly. 

He shifted, trying ever more desperately to hide his unyielding hardness from your gaze. “I just wanted to know if you ever thought about me.”

“How so?” you smirked. 

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, the words sticking together in his throat as he tried to say them. “I wanted to know if you ever thought about me and you. Together.”

“Together?”

“My sweet, please don’t make me say it.”

“Aw come on,” you pouted. “Please?”

“I wanted to know if you ever thought about fucking me!” he exclaimed, his eyes clenched shut as the words burst forth from his lips. “There. Are you happy?”

“Oh Sanji,” you sighed, tilting your head to one side. You leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. He let his hands drift away from his pulsating cock, and you gasped a little at the sight of it, the head swollen and glistening with his arousal. You smiled and bit your lip as you straddled him, carefully placing your soft thighs on either side of his, too needy to bother even asking him to disrobe; Sanji felt his heart nearly crawl into his throat as he could feel the radiating warmth of your cunt, covered only in thin cotton panties, come to rest against his twitching cock. 

He choked out a gasp as you slowly started to grind against him, and he could feel the outline of your pussy lips through the soft fabric that barely covered them. You lowered your body onto him, your face hovering close to his, and moaned softly in his ear as you urgently pressed yourself into his lap; the sound you made, so melodic, so filled with yearning, made Sanji buck his hips up into you almost on instinct. He reached up and sunk his fingers into your plush hips, guiding your motions up and down his length, as he felt the precum that leaked out of his pulsing head start to coat your inner thigh. 

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji,” you murmured, your lips so close to his he could almost taste your lusciousness. “If you wanted to know all the things I think about you—all the filthy, dirty things I think about when I lay in bed at night—why didn’t you just ask?”

Before he could answer, before words could even take form inside the lust-filled fog in his mind, your lips were engulfing his in a warm, honeyed kiss. He moaned into your mouth and parted your lips with his tongue, hungry and wanting to taste every bit of your deliciousness; it was better than he’d ever imagined, better than he could have dreamed, to have your pillowy lips against his, your tongues dancing. As he fed from the sweetness of your mouth, you reached down and pulled your panties to the side. You grasped his cock and dragged the head along the slickness of your pussy lips, as he groaned your name into the stillness of the room.

“Do you want me, Sanji?” you asked as you slid him past your lips, letting him feel your entrance pulse against his agonizingly sensitive tip, keeping the warmth of your wet walls just out of reach until he told you what you so badly need to hear.

“Yes, god yes, my sweet,” he answered frantically, his fingers grasping at your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, as he buried his face on your neck, his tongue tracing lines up and down your skin, his lips trying to kiss every inch of you that he could reach.

“How bad?” you continued, as you squeezed his cock, feeling it swell in your palm.

“I want you so much,” he whimpered, as his hips thrusted weakly upwards into your hand, so agonizingly close to being inside of you that he could practically feel your warmth surrounding his aching cock.  “I want all of you, every last beautiful bit of you. Now won’t you let me feel you, please?”

“Lay back,” you whispered, a drowsy smile on your lips, as you ran your fingertips down the sharp lines of his jaw. He reclined back onto the bed, and watched your eyes flutter shut and your mouth go slack as you lowered yourself onto him, and took his length into your waiting cunt.

Sanji gasped deliriously at the feeling, and the sounds of his bliss echoed in the room. You were better than he ever could have thought you’d be, better than he’d ever fantasized at night when he’d fuck his fist and wish so desperately it was you. Your velvet-soft pussy gripped him as you gyrated in soft, slow circles, and he slowly thrust up into you, matching your motions. He felt a deliriousness wash over him as he listened to you sigh his name over and over again, like a song he wanted to listen to forever, and he relished the weight of your body pressing into him as you placed your hands on his chest and took your pleasure from him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he marveled, as his hands drifted upwards from your hips, exploring the expanse of your form.

“What, with your cock inside me?” you smiled.

“Exactly,” he grinned, his fingers tracing over every dip and curve of your body.

He reached under your shirt and caressed the contours of your breasts, gently kneading them in his palms. He brushed a thumb over your hardened nipple, and felt your pussy flutter around him as you whimpered in the most delectable way.

“Sanji,” you whispered as you rode him, your voice soft and wanting, “will you touch me? Make me come?”

“Yes, my darling,” he panted, running a hand down your body and slowly sliding it down your thigh. “Anything you want, anything you need.”

He pulled the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, spreading your puffy lips apart with his fingers, and found your swollen, tender clit with little effort. He tentatively pressed against it with the pad of his thumb and a needy moan escaped you; he made gentle circles over it, trying to match the speed of your gyrations.

“Like this, my dear?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, watching every glorious expression you made as he set your core ablaze with his touch.

“Yes,” you answered through ragged gasps, “just like that. Just like that.”

“Good,” he panted as your breaths quickened and your motions began to slow as you focused on his ministrations. “That’s it, sweetheart, take what you need from me.”

He felt himself harder than he’d ever been, aching so much inside of you, as he started to feel you flutter around him.

“Sanji, I’m so close,” you keened. “Just don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Never, my dearest,” he said, desperate. “Not until you come for me.”

“Oh Sanji,” you cried, your eyes clenching shut, “Sanji I’m gonna—”

Your words were cut short by a sharp cry as you clenched tightly around him, your walls spasming as you cried out for him, your shaking thighs pressed tightly to his and your hands gripping frantically at his shirt. He was stricken wordless by the splendor of seeing you abandon yourself to pleasure, watching you convulse unabashedly and utter some of the most exquisite moans he had ever heard.

“Why don’t you let me do the rest of the work, gorgeous?” he uttered softly, as you doubled over and rested your head on his chest, your breaths emerging in stutters and gasps.

You nodded, only able to muster a weak “Mm-hmm,” and he gathered you up and helped you lay back onto the bed. He stood up, quickly undressing, overcome with an insatiable need to bury himself inside you again as quickly as possible. As he lowered his trousers, he noticed the fly and waistband of them were drenched, your juices coating the stiff fabric; he felt his heart skip a beat at knowing he made you do that, that he made you come apart for him and soak his clothes in your wetness.

He stood at the end of the bed as he stripped his shirt off, and took in the sight before him: your body splayed across the bed, panties discarded to the side. Your shirt pulled up over your breasts and your skirt still clinging to your figure, pushed up over your hips. Your legs spread apart and your pussy exposed with your swollen, sensitive lips coated in your glistening slick.

“Are you read for more, my darling?” he asked, barely waiting for your whispered answer before plunging himself inside you, feeling your copious slick coating his length as your walls quivered around him, aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through you.

Sanji had wanted to take his time—wanted to make passionate love to you like someone as magnificent as you deserved, not just fuck you—but the way you clenched around him, the way you sighed so dreamily and so beautifully for him and only him—it was all but impossible to hold back.

He felt your legs wrapping around his muscled back, pulling him into you, as he thrust, driving him deeper into you.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips against your ear, “so beautiful. This is heaven.”

You moved together simultaneously, your hips lifting upward to his thrusting body, and you whimpered as his cock pulsed inside your needy cunt. You rocked against each other, bodies arching and colliding in perfect rhythm, his lithe frame almost elegantly hypnotic in his motions. He gazed down at you with adoration, watching your lips part to gasp with every stroke, and he found himself edging ever closer to his own release.

“Sanji,” you asked, your eyes glazed over and half-lidded, lips barely parted. “Will you cum in me?”

“Yeah? Want me to fill up that pretty pussy, baby?”

“Please, Sanji?”

“Anything for you,” he sighed. The sweetness of your voice, the way you said his name, was like a drug; it was all he needed, all he ever wanted to hear.

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic and frenzied, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him becoming more and more euphoric with every stroke. At last, he groaned your name in blissful agony as his hips stuttered and he spilled himself into you, your greedy cunt pulling spasm after spasm from him, until he collapsed on top of you in exhausted bliss, your mingled juices slowly dripping out of you.

“Oh my darling, that was amazing,” he said through staccato breaths, his face buried in your neck, as he tried to regain his composure. “I don’t know how you’re even more perfect than in my dreams, but you are.”

“Was it everything you hoped for?” you asked, smiling as you ran your fingers through his damp mess of blonde hair.

“My sweet, you were spectacular,” he sighed, as he stroked your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb and planted a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Oh Sanji, you were incredible,” you grinned, tracing your fingers along the sinewy contours of his upper arms, before adding in a teasing whisper: “Can’t wait to tell my diary all about it.”

[technicallyfriendly]

I promised a while ago I would make a fanfiction rec list for lucemond, so here we go:

Star-crossed by DominaReginald

I have to say this is my all-time favourite lucemond fic. If you like the Lucerys-gets-kidnapped-instead-of-eaten-at-Storm's-End-trope, then this one is already worth a read, but what I love about this story is that it shows how the conflict really impacts lucemond's relationship, which is the focus of the plot. Much happens, of course, but the story focuses on how the war and Aemond's subsequent participation in it impacts his relationship with Lucerys. It's also very interesting how this story handles the marriage pact with the Baratheons. But really, a short summary will not do this master piece justice, so I urge you to go and read it yourself! For anyone who is hesitant due to the major character death warning: It's not the main couple, though the deaths occurring are tragic and happen to beloved characters.

the beast you've made of me by MotherMaidenCrone

I don't think anyone has walked past this amazing and beautiful fic in this fandom, but it still deserves its mention on this list as well. No other story has ever done a Team Neutral approach this well and nuanced. If you wanna see Lucerys girilboss his way through King's Landing politics and beat everyone at the Game of Thrones in a desperate bid to save his family from self-destruction, this is for you!

the tragic evolution of desire by toraophim

So I debated long and hard before I added this on because, boy, does this one make you feel stuff, and a lot of it is not great. It's an amazingly written story, and since I enjoy dark themes, I did like it a lot. Though, and this is important, the warnings are there for a reason, this dove is deader than dead. Also, none of the characters are having a good time here aside from Aegon for a time, which is why you should not read this if you are an Aegon stan. The author really turned him into a monster. If you are like me and enjoy an emotional rollercoaster with a somewhat happy ending, I say proceed with caution ;).

Set fire to the rain by baby345

This is a collection of a few short stories about lucemond. I really enjoy the writing and its variety!

Blood for Blood by GoddessofRoyalty

The way the author puts it in the summary is actually the best way to describe this fic: Aemond is not cruel, but he is also not kind (and Lucerys has both none of and all the power). And that is also how I like their dynamic. The story is told in snippets of their life together before and after the marriage, and the writing is really enjoyable!

all I had to give by monkkeyslut

This one starts out as one-sided love despite Aemond trying really hard, in his own way of course, but it's not just about their relationship but also about dealing with the aftermath of the war and the current unstable position of Lucerys due to the continued absence of an heir. This fanfiction is not only well written and a great ride, but the author also has an interesting take on Alys before we got even got introduced to her in HotD.

Office Lucemond by Avonne

This is a collection of ModernAU!Lucemond fanfiction about lucemond matching each other's freak told through the eyes of their stunned and slightly terrified coworkers and through the eyes of a very unimpressed Vharga.

Borros and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by lucerysinthesky

This is the funniest lucemond fanfiction I've ever read, which is why it gets a place on this list despite being tragically unfinished, but I have not given up hope quite yet! Maybe one day we'll get the last chapter. Still even unfinished, it is awesome, and it'll make you cry laughing, I promise. The title says it all already, and Borro's does suffer a lot while also having a full character arc and all while trying unsuccessfully not to die.

For now, I'll finish this rec list here, but there are still many more great stories out there that I haven't mentioned. Maybe I'll update it in the future or make another one for the once that I did not include here. For the ones reading this, I wish you a lot of fun reading the stories!

[kolyubov]

HIII!! (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)/ I so love how you write Fyodor!!! Could I request Fyodor with a wise and optimistic s/o??? (it can be oneshot, headcannons, or drabbles :3)

To add on this, s/o is able to keep up with Fyodor's daily rants about philosophy or literature that includes deep meanings. S/o is sophisticated and quite esoteric with their world views, always drowning themselves in knowledge but never really being able to just fall into pessimism from the amount of awareness.

I just love imagining Fyodor bringing up how all sinners should be exterminated while s/o just completely turns his point around by giving some optimistic thought like, "All sinners are capable of redemption. Virtue reaches its limits once it approaches the complexity of man." (whatever that means) and then Fyodor's all baffled because why is his s/o like this??? And he doesnt even mean it negatively. Hes just shocked.

I feel that Fyodor would find it so refreshing to have an s/o like that. He may be a dedicated man who wouldn't change his plans just because his s/o talked him out of it, but he would still deeply respect his s/o and their views.

I APOLOGIZE IF THIS REQUEST WOULD BE TOO HARD(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠) please take care and thank youu!! ^_^

Fyodor with an optimistic s/o!

✧ pairing. Fyodor Dostoyevsky x gn!reader

✧ word count. 996

✧ contents. fedya in love

✧ author's note. HIHIII NONNIEEE!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this request is so interesting! and thank u for liking the way I write Fedya, I try my best <3

I really like this trope. Fyodor being merciless about people and the reader being the complete opposite by being optimistic.

honestly I had to search what esoteric means,,, and I'm still not sure if I understood it correctly (╥﹏╥)

I hope you like this and I'm sorry that this took so long :((

It's impossible to change Fyodor's view of the world, the society, or its people. As much as you try to convince him of the opposite —with solid proof— of his negative beliefs in certain topics, he refuses to accept them. Of course, he utterly respects your opinion; you're very smart and he knows you have knowledge about whatever topic in hand you two might be facing, as well as many others.

You think it's maybe because of the way he lived; the things one experiences are the main reason why someone acts or thinks the way they do, most of the time. So, that means that Fyodor probably had experience meeting lots of people who were “sinful” and “foolish” as he describes them in every single deep conversation that the two of you have.

Aside from the debates, Fyodor adores being able to discuss philosophical things with you— his lovely partner turning serious as he speaks, carefully listening to everything he has to say with those big eyes just makes him fall deeper in love. He's never going to directly tell you how much he enjoys it, you just have to get the hint.

Currently, Fyodor was sitting on his desk, his ushanka resting on the table among a few documents scattered on the surface— documents with government agents' faces on them and long paragraphs, a lot of words were underlined with fluorescent highlighter.

He was completely immersed in his work until he felt a pair of soft hands massaging his tensed shoulders; which was enough for him to lose focus.

“Fedya, do you not feel tired?” Your words make him sigh. Maybe he was overworking himself again, but that doesn't matter when all of this is in order to purge the world from sin.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the gentle rub on his back that is eventually making him feel drowsy. Regardless of how dangerous of a man Fyodor is, the touch of his beloved reduces him into a soft lovesick puppy— though he tries to hide it.

A smile spreads across his face when you turn his head to the side, hooking a finger under his chin, and pressing a tender kiss on his cold lips that leaves him yearning for more when you pull away.

“Leaving so fast?” He asks when he sees that you're walking away. You might as well take responsibility for distracting him from his work. “Wouldn’t you prefer to have a small chit-chat with me?”

And since you have nothing else better to do, you decide to walk back to his desk, sitting across from him.

“You see, sweetheart, I have been reading these papers for the next meeting… All of these are government members who belong to the plague that must be eliminated from the world for the sake of it. They’re sinners.”

He leans back against his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Sinners tend to be selfish, only chasing their own tail in circles like a lost dog, doing anything for their own primal desires and then being hypocrites about it.”

A small laugh leaves his lips as he tilts his head to the side; Clearly, he knows this is the time when you're going to refute.

“People are not sinners forever...” You murmur while looking down at the papers, trying to give it a quick read, but Fyodor could perfectly hear your sweet voice in that slightly pouty tone.

Even as his partner you know you can’t change the way he thinks or stop him from reaching his vile goals, and as much as you don’t like seeing other people's lives slip away by Fyodor’s hands, you can’t do anything about it.

“Oh, love. I feel like if you were in my place, looking at all these faces and the stories behind them, you'd think otherwise.”

“No, Fedya.”

Fyodor's eyes widen at the way you said it, a stern tone that immediately gets his attention.

“Humans are fragile things, in body and mind.” You look at him straight into his eyes, not realizing how serious you sound by now, “And their mind can be corrupted by different situations they face during their short life…”

The man in front of you raises an eyebrow, carefully listening.

“That's how they turn “sinners”, by suffering through their life, but I think that they can be saved… not in the way you think, not by being exterminated… ending their lives is not the solution.”

“Then what do you think the solution is?”

Your eyes follow Fyodor as he stands up slowly, taking slow steps before standing behind you, “I'm all ears, dear.” The way he says it sounds menacing as he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Sinners are capable of redemption… There are a lot of ways one can be ‘saved’, some people might choose God, and others might choose their family or friends, but what matters is the capacity one has to be able to get out from the dark pit of suffering to stop being selfish and sinful.”

You don't dare to look at Fyodor, afraid of what he might think, afraid he thinks your optimistic way of thinking is just dumb.

But then you hear his soft laugh as he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks with his thumb and index finger, “You're so cute.” A nervous laugh escapes your lips, and before you can speak, his lips are over yours.

Truth be told, he does take you very seriously, but his heart flutters each time you show that smart side of yours. Fyodor feels proud of having you by his side.

As he pulls away, he pecks your cheek again, “You surprise me every time, dear.” He walks back to his seat, still smiling softly at you.

“I'd like to keep talking to you but at the same time, I need to work… So why don't you help me choose who deserves to be my first victim to be saved?”

© 2024 pinklacydovey

[faulty-writes]

hi! do you think you could do a iida x f!reader where they’re the daughter of sir nighteye, and when he eventually dies they go after chisaki for revenge but iida talks them out of it, and uses his experience with stain to convince them.

sorry if this is too specific, i just really like ur writing, especially the iida ones!

[ Hello dear anon. Apologies that this took longer than anticipated. I ended up having to split this into two parts. So no worries, the second part will be published as soon as I am able. But I hope you enjoy this. I like the aspect of Sir Nighteye having a daughter and her having to deal with his passing. ]

He took EVERYTHING from you and left only an empty void where your heart once resided. It felt like a violent storm drowned you in a suffocating ocean of sadness after your father, Sir Nighteye, died. But this wasn’t as bad as the suffocating worry that your friends surrounded you with.

Since Toshinori had a personal history with your father, he tried to comfort you after this unfortunate event, but you chose to isolate yourself instead. Despite your father’s passing, you knew he would be disappointed that you distanced yourself from everyone, including the man he idolized.

If you got around to cleaning the countless All Might items, he had accumulated over the years, it would be a nightmare. It was bad enough that you had to attend and deliver a eulogy at his funeral. During your speech, you choked on your words and sobbed in front of everyone until Tenya, your closest friend, politely ended it.

After that, he guided you to a private location where you cried into his chest for what seemed like hours. It’s hard to recall if you thanked him for that, but the whole event was a blur. With time, the tragic feeling of sadness gradually changed into anger as you got used to living without your father.

Wait…no that’s not quite right. Anger wasn’t the right word to describe it. The bloodthirsty need for vengeance was more accurate. Yup. You may ask, against whom? Overhaul, otherwise known as Kai Chisaki, caused your father’s demise.

And in your vengeful mindset, you laid out a plan that would, hopefully, confront him and avenge your father’s death. Once you did, you believed it would honor his memory because it would rewrite how he died in vain.

It was evident that your dark cloud of thought followed you to school the following morning, since your classmates’ raised eyebrows, and looked shocked, or just plain concerned when they saw you or passed you in the hallway.

“Ribbit, I know Y/n is still upset over what happened. But she hasn’t talked to anyone about it since,” Tsuyu said, and Eijirou nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, crossing his arms. “I’m worried about her. She’s giving off an aura scarier than Bakugou right now,” the angry blond growled.

“What the hell did you just say!?” He demanded, rising from his seat before grabbing Eijirou by the front of his uniform. Tsuyu ignored them, while Tenya tried to get their attention. “I insist you refrain from engaging in physical aggravation during class hours!” He snapped, chopping his hand through the air.

“Class hasn’t even started yet, damn four-eyes!” Katsuki snapped in response, making Tenya sigh. He believed that Katsuki was certainly rude, and it was unlikely that he’d ever gain the patience to practice proper social manners.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his frustration when Tsuyu spoke again. “Maybe you should talk to her Iida,” she suggested. “You’re her closest friend, right?” Her question was followed by a look of curiosity, and he returned that curious expression while clasping his chin, contemplating.

“I suppose that is correct,” he replied before looking your way. You were slumped over at your desk with your arms resting against its surface. “I am afraid that while I have been attempting to provide comfort for Y/n over the weeks since the death of her father, I have been rather unsuccessful.” He hated admitting that.

“I assumed that she required space and time so as to not further aggravate her emotional state,” he explained before taking a deep breath. “But perhaps a direct approach is needed,” he looked at Tsuyu and walked past Katsuki and Eijirou who paused and observed where he was heading.

“He’s going to talk to Y/n?” Eijirou asked, looking at Tsuyu and Katsuki huffed before dropping his hands to his sides. “Just what the hell does four-eyes think he’ll accomplish by doing that?” he questioned, crossing his arms as he continued to watch.

As Tenya approached, he noticed you mumbling to yourself. Your words, however, were indistinguishable. He stood there for a moment, curious if you noticed him. However, you seemed rather oblivious, so he cleared his throat, hoping to catch your attention.

This didn’t work. “Very well,” he stated, “pardon my reach.” He laid his hand on your shoulder and proceeded to shake you. “Hm?!” Your eyes widened, and your muttering stopped. You clenched your jaw, and turned your head, prepared to snap at whoever was disturbing your not murderous and vengeful thoughts about Chisaki.

However, you latched onto your lip when you saw who it was. “Oh,” a small wave of panic washed over you. Had he heard what you were muttering? If that was the case, you needed to play it cool or dumb. However, it wasn’t easy to fool Tenya, especially since his incident with Mei at the Sports Festival.

You glanced away while rubbing your neck. Here goes nothing. “Oh hey, Iida,” you replied, ignoring how your stomach churned and twisted into knots. As a hero student, you hated feeling nervous, although, given the negative emotions you had been experiencing lately, this feeling was more than welcome.

You frowned and focused on Tenya again. It was scary, in a way, to think that he probably knew more about how you felt than anyone else. Yes, you pushed everyone who attempted to comfort you away and although your actions were justified due to the recent tragedy that occurred, Tenya was persistent.

It was a wonder what he’d think if you told him that the tiny voice of reason in your head seemed to vanish whenever your thoughts switched to Chisaki, and hatred engulfed your heart. He narrowed his eyes, gazing at you with concern.

“Are you…well?” He asked. “Well?” You repeated, your eyes glossing over and your gaze turning toward the front of the classroom. “Yes…I am well,” you replied, but your voice lacked emotion, and that alarmed him even more.

He had been rather concerned about your well-being and state of mind after your father’s death. When Tensei was greatly injured, he experienced such emotional turmoil that he almost lost his sense of heroism and logic.

He would hate to see you go down the same path, even though you claimed to be fine. Yet, when you turned to look at him, he noticed something in your eyes, and it made his stomach turn. He swallowed heavily but decided to address it later.

“I see,” he took a step back and pressed a hand against his chest. “Are you…certain you are feeling well?” He questioned, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He did not want to believe that you would lie to him. However, he also knew there was a chance that you didn’t even know how you were feeling now.

Emotions were quite hard to explain at times and traumatic events tended to cause one to feel “numb” and as such, a lack of emotion followed, and made it difficult for one to truly grasp just how they felt. He supposed you were also going through the various stages of grief, which too was understandable.

Your whole life changed overnight, and yet the world continued to turn. Forcing you to abide by its rules when all you desired was a break, a mere moment to recollect yourself. Yet, this did not happen. He knew how frustrating that was.

Perhaps that is why his words were of no use to you now and he was better suited to continue to play the role of support. That was quite efficient in most cases because it allowed the individual the space they so required while at the same time, knowing that there was someone there to reach out to when needed.

“Yes,” you replied. Once again, your voice was barely audible. It was almost as though someone was pulling a string and speaking for you. A single recorded phrase that meant nothing and although he did not like it, he had to accept it. At least for the moment.

He nodded. “Very well, I am certain you already know that I will always be present if you require any assistance or perhaps…someone to lend an ear and discuss the ailments you are experiencing,” he stated, chopping his hand rhythmically through the air.

“Yes,” you replied, staring blankly at the front of the classroom again. He curled his lips and shook his head in uncertainty. Nevertheless, he turned around and walked back to Tsuyu and Eijirou, who were now joined by Shoto and Izuku.

“H-hey Iida,” Izuku greeted cheerfully. “Hello,” he replied, grasping his chin, and tapping it with his finger. Tenya ignored how they exchanged glances and the silence that filled the air was broken when Eijirou snapped, “Well!?” Izuku was startled by his outburst while Shoto raised his eyebrow.

Tenya glanced at him. “What happened with Y/n!? Is she okay?!” He urged, and Shoto turned to Izuku. “Y/n?” he questioned, and Izuku shrugged, uncertain of the conversation taking place. Tsuyu walked over and laid her hand on Eijirou’s back, making him recoil before looking at her from over his shoulder.

“Oh heh, sorry,” he replied. He got emotional and sometimes let it go to his head. “We’re all concerned about Y/n,” she explained, glancing at Izuku and Shoto. “It’s going to be a while before she’s okay again. I know she must miss Sir Nighteye.” All of them did.

“Ribbit, but I’ve noticed something off-putting about Y/n lately too,” something that wasn’t sadness nor anger, but an entirely different emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Hm,” she tapped her lips before looking at Tenya.

“Actually…” she said. Maybe she could describe the emotion she saw in you after all. “The way she’s acting reminds me of Iida,” she commented. “Pardon?” Tenya replied, perhaps the most confused among his friends. “Don’t you remember, Iida?” she asked. “After your brother was injured,” she clarified.  

Izuku frowned. “Y-yeah, I remember that T-Todoroki-kun and I w-went after you,” or rather it was a matter of lucky circumstance that they happened to be in the same area as Tenya at the time. “We…defeated The H-Hero Killer together…” he continued, “and a-after…Iida admitted that…” His hands curled into fists.

He had a hard time remembering the emotional impact of that day. Shoto, noticing his friend’s distressed state, placed a hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t much for physical affection, but since making friends at Yuuei, he learned how to provide comfort.

Izuku turned to him, but Shoto’s eyes shifted to Tenya. “Iida went after Stain like a fool,” he said, never one to sugarcoat anything. Although he seemed unaware of the awkward tension he had created. “You let your anger cloud your judgment…I let it cloud my judgment too,” he admitted.

Thinking back to how he used to be, so angry and closed off to the world. He was truly thankful to his friends for helping him escape his shell. Eijirou’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened as if he had seen the most horrific sight. “Wait…” He paused, making sure he understood everything.

“Are you suggesting that Y/n might…” he shuttered to think about it, but nobody expected someone as rational as Tenya to do what he did either. All eyes turned to him, and quite frankly, he was at a loss for words. “Well, I…��� he straightened his posture and pushed his glasses up, looking in your direction perplexed.

“I am not certain…” although given your insistence that you were fine, you may still be in denial about what happened or hiding your true emotions just as he did. “Talking to her hadn’t helped provide you with a clue?” Shoto asked, now making everyone look at him.

Eijirou chuckled and laid his hand on Shoto’s shoulder. This made him tremble in response and look at the redhead as if he insulted his ancestry. “I think you’re being too blunt,” he stated, making Shoto knit his eyebrows. “Blunt?” He repeated but Tsuyu spoke up. “Todoroki-kun makes a good point,” she said.

“Then again, nobody knew what Iida wanted to do until it was too late,” she tapped her chin a few times, letting her eyes linger on you. “Maybe we need to observe her,” she suggested, making Eijirou raise his eyebrow. “Observe her? What do you mean, like keep an eye on her?” she nodded.

“What do you think Iida?” She asked, noticing he was frowning. “I am not certain that is the best strategy as it may invade the barriers of privacy,” he stated, chopping his hand lightly through the air. “However, perhaps that is the only option we have left…” he concluded.

“S-so how can w-we do it?” Izuku peeped up. Eijirou grinned. “Yeah! We have to be stealthy, right?” He asked, turning to Shoto who wore a blank expression as he thought. “I don’t think we need to spy,” he said a minute later. “Just keep an eye on her like Tsuyu suggested,” he noted.

“It doesn’t mean we need to watch her all the time. We just need to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself or wander somewhere alone,” he clarified. “Oh, okay,” Eijirou said. “So, give her space but talk to her when we think she’s doing something suspicious?” In a way, it still seemed dishonest.

“Perhaps that is best,” Tenya said, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if, like him, there was a chance you’d wander off when you suspected no one was watching you. Regardless, it was his job along with your mutual friends to prevent you from walking down a dark path from which there was no return.

“All right, everyone in your seats,” Shota stated as he walked through the door. “Yes sir!” Tenya immediately said, scrambling to get to his seat just as his friends did. While he normally paid attention in class, he found his gaze drifting to you.

You looked intensely focused on your thoughts instead of the lesson Mr. Aizawa was currently teaching. He might be pleased to know he was right. Within your mind, you devised several plans to confront Chisaki. These were the ideas you scribbled down in your notebook.

You assumed that nobody would look at it especially given your unique situation. Yuuei insisted you have sessions with the lifestyle guidance counselor, Ryo Inui also known as the Hunting Dog Hero: Hound Dog. Usually, these sessions are one hour long on selected days of the week. Today was one of those days.

As to not disturb your afternoon hero training too much, the sessions took place during lunch. Ryo usually kept quiet, to your surprise, during the first 25 minutes of the session to give you time to eat. The remaining time was used to talk about how you were feeling, and how you were dealing with the loss of your father.

But you told him what you told everyone else: that you were fine. Of course, he didn’t buy that. “One day you’ll have to face how you feel!” He growled at you. Oh, if only he knew what you were about to do. “If you can’t handle that, come to us!” You hated it when he gave this speech, even if he had a valid point to make.

“You rely on us heroes to protect you even from yourselves!” You knew he meant well but letting someone else handle your demons just seemed wrong. Although that could be your stubborn and determined attitude speaking. Your father taught you how to be cold and calculated in a sense, and to do nothing short of your best.

Yet maybe that played into your naive plan regarding what you wished to do to Chisaki. Nevertheless, the session ended without you learning or improving. Your rushed footsteps echoed down the hallway as you exited your classroom and headed to Gym Gamma.

You had some regret not taking your hero costume with you to your session with Ryo, but it didn’t matter now. You carried it with one hand while your other was wrapped around the strap of your backpack which hung off your shoulder. As you turned the hallway corner, you stumbled back and fell to the floor with a thud.

The suitcase containing your hero costume flew and bounced on the floor a few times. It then hit the opposite wall near an empty classroom. Your backpack contents spilled out, littering the floor. You sat up, hissing softly.

“Ouch…” you muttered before someone stepped in front of you. “Apologies,” when you looked up, Tenya stared back at you. He was dressed in his hero suit, apart from the helmet that normally concealed his face.

“Hm?” When he realized he had run into you, he leaned onto one knee and glanced at you from head to toe. “Are you injured? Forgive me, I was not anticipating someone coming around the corner at the accelerated speed you were going,” he explained.

“Yeah well…” You glanced away, irritated. “I’m not injured…” you muttered. “Then may I assist you in gathering your things?” He asked, referring to the contents of your backpack. You sighed and slowly sat on your knees.

“Yeah, I guess,” you replied, picking up the first few items within reach. Tenya walked around and picked up one of the textbooks. He handed it to you before grabbing the notebook you were writing in earlier that morning.

After placing the textbook in your backpack, you grabbed said notebook. However, it slipped between your fingers when Tenya handed it to you and landed on the floor again. Your vengeful ideas were scribbled across its pages and were now laid open for the world to see.

You cursed yourself for hesitating because that allowed Tenya to pick up the notebook and curiously look at what you had written down. Your heart pounded and you could only helplessly watch his eyebrows knit together.

“Pardon but-” You jumped to your feet and snatched it from him. He looked shocked by your behavior. “W-what are you even doing here!?” You demanded, clenching the notebook to your chest, and glaring at him. He blinked a few times, and you noticed a suspicious look in his eye.

“I…was merely assisting an injured classmate to Recovery Girl,” he replied. You huffed “Good for you,” in response before frantically picking up the rest of your things. You shoved them into your backpack and grabbed the metal suitcase containing your hero suit.

“Y/n?” Tenya asked, watching the spectacle with serious concern. However, he remained silent as you raced down the hallway. This was despite his urge to exclaim that running in hallways was prohibited. Little did he know your cheeks burned red.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ Out of all the things he could have seen. Well, maybe you could just…make some excuse if he asked about them. Something along the lines of getting your emotions out on paper. Yeah, that sounded fine. Writing was a form of coping, right?

Although you weren’t certain how much of that Tenya would buy, the way he looked at you the rest of the day only indicated that his suspicions were high. You tried to ignore it to the best of your ability and avoided him when you could.

You knew that might come back to bite you, but you didn’t care because there were more important things to do. Like conducting research regarding Chisaki’s whereabouts. Luckily, it was easy to fool Principal Nezu and the rest of your teachers.

Simply, you told them that you needed time for yourself and felt overwhelmed by your emotions. You couldn’t be disturbed while doing research. Although you felt some remorse for using your father’s death as an excuse to do your vengeful research, it would be worth it.

They granted you a week off without consequence. The only condition was that you had to stay within Yuuei student housing grounds and continue your regularly scheduled sessions with Hound Dog. A small price to pay, not that you were going anywhere, not yet at least.

Although the student dorm was a bit eerie during the day because of the dead silence with the occasional creaks and cracks of the building settling, you tried not to let this disturb you as you started your week-long research. Of course, your friends were concerned when they noticed you were absent from class.

In addition, you rarely left your room during the evening. However, none were more concerned than Tenya. Frankly, he couldn’t help but think back to the strange writing you had in your notebook. It wasn’t that hard to figure out that those writings and your current behavior were connected.

“A-are you sure about this I-Iida?” Izuku asked. “Yeah, I mean she could just be trying to express herself. Nothing’s more manly than taking control of your emotions!” Eijirou declared with a smile while Tsuyu thought quietly.

“I’m most certain the writing within her notebook was not merely a method to cope with her emotions,” he replied sternly. “Are you sure?” Eijirou asked before Tsuyu spoke up. “Ribbit, well if Iida is right then Y/n needs our help,” she concluded.

“Well, if there’s something wrong and she’s going to go through with what she wrote, I agree,” Eijirou said. Izuku clenched his jaw, his features twisted with uncertainty. “B-but we…we can’t just f-force help onto h-her…” he stated before glancing away, trying to devise a reasonable solution in his head.

“W-what if they try to…l-leave? They haven’t even b-been in class lately a-and…” he frowned. He hated thinking you would do something sneaky like him, Shoto, Tenya, Eijirou, and Momo had when The League kidnapped Katsuki.

Leaving in the middle of the night without telling anyone and running around the city in disguises wasn’t the nicest or smartest thing they could have done. Not to mention how they neglected Tsuyu’s feelings on the matter. However, at least they patched things up and Eijirou and her were closer than ever.

All eyes seemed to linger on the ground. More than likely, they were all thinking the same thing Izuku was. “Maybe…we can ask Yaoyorozu for help?” Tsuyu suggested, naturally catching everyone’s attention. “May I ask you to elaborate on your suggestion?” Tenya replied, and Eijirou nodded.

“Yeah, why ask Yaoyorozu for help?” he asked. “I’m sure she can figure out a way to keep track of Y/n without us interfering,” she explained. “Huh…” Eijirou thought about her words, glancing at Izuku who seemed concerned about the idea of asking Momo for help while Tenya sighed.

“Perhaps it would be beneficial to use alternative methods to ensure we don’t worsen Y/n’s already fragile condition,” he said before looking at Tsuyu. “Do you believe Momo could provide such a solution?” Tsuyu smiled, the tip of her tongue sticking out from between her lips.

She nodded in response to Tenya’s question and with some hesitance, the four of them sought her out. “I’m honored that you’d ask for my help,” Yaoyorozu said, placing a hand on her chest. “But I don’t know what I can do,” she said, tapping her lips a few times.

“Y/n is entitled to a little privacy and time alone to sort out her feelings. I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” she said with a frown. “That’s exactly why we need your help!” Eijirou exclaimed, curling his hands into fists.

Yaoyorozu looked at him, her eyebrow raised. “Come on, there must be something you can do,” he said while Tsuyu laid a comforting hand on his back. “Iida is mostly concerned about what he found in Y/n’s notebook,” she explained. “Her notebook?” She asked, looking at Tenya perplexed.

“I’m not certain if the writings found in her notebook were a coping mechanism that assisted her in organizing her complex array of emotions or perhaps…plans she wishes to enact,” he explained. Silence lingered in the air shortly after. Eijirou looked at Izuku before walking toward Yaoyorozu.

“Whatever it is, Iida is right to be concerned. We all are!” He stated, determination shining in his eyes before grabbing Yaoyorozu’s hands. She looked shocked by this action, almost as if it were foreign. He leaned forward, locking eyes with her.

“He’s doing the right thing by bringing this to our attention. Even if Y/n doesn’t want our help, we need to prevent her from making a big mistake,” he said, tightening his grip on her hands. “So please,” he brought her hands against his chest where his heart pounded erratically.

“Will you help us?” He asked. “Mm…” she glanced away, thinking for a moment. “Alright,” she said, standing up. “I think I have a solution,” extending her arm, it glowed a faint blue hue before several oval-shaped devices fell onto the floor, each one clinking as they piled on top of one another.

“Huh?” Eijirou looked at the devices, clearly confused about what they were while Tenya picked one up, examining it closely. “These are motion devices,” Yaoyorozu explained before a larger, more rectangular device manifested from her arm. She quickly grasped it before it hit the floor.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to Tenya. He looked perplexed but took it, nonetheless. She smiled proudly and placed a hand on her hip. “That will alert you when the motion sensors are set off, but it may be impossible to tell what sets them off,” she explained.

“Still, I know it will help with your request,” Tenya enclosed his hand around the device. “Thank you very much for your assistance. I am most certain this will help indeed,” he replied, smiling at Yaoyorozu. She returned it and looked at Eijirou, Tsuyu, and Izuku.

“I believe we should find appropriate locations for these motion devices,” Tenya said, kneeling to gather them in his hand. “R-right!” Izuku replied, helping him pick them up while Eijirou laid his hand on Yaoyorozu’s shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks! We owe you one!” He grinned like a madman showing off his pointy-shark-like teeth and while that may unsettle some, she nodded. “Glad I could help,” she said, “especially if Y/n needs it.” A frown came to her face. “I hope they’re alright.” It was evident she was just as worried as everyone else.

Following this, Tenya carefully considered the proper locations for the motion devices. He believed the most beneficial locations were the front steps of the Class A dormitory, the entrance to the nearby forest, and along the road to Yuuei High. Yes, these particular spots would also be triggered throughout the day.

However, there was more likelihood that, if by chance you would leave, you’d do it at night. The days following were some of Tenya’s most emotionally heightened. He was constantly on edge, waiting for something to happen.

When night came, he always woke up to the sound of the motion devices going off. However, every time he hurried outside, he found that something else triggered it. Like an animal curiously passing by in the dead of night.

While his friends lost hope or doubted that the writings Tenya described in your notebook were malicious, something told him that was not the case. Perhaps one could call it intuition, but he could not accept that those writings were merely emotional expressions.

He believed they were motives. Plans you wished to take into action, and he would not rest until he caught you in the act or prevented you from doing it. So, he continued to wait, and the following night, he was jolted out of his sleep when the device went off as it had done many times before.

He hitched his breath, immediately grabbing his glasses. Despite being in his sleepwear, he slipped on a light jacket, put on his jogging shoes, and left his sleeping cap on his bed. The last thing he grabbed was the device that had jolted him awake and went to your room.

He noticed that your door was left ajar. “Mm…” Despite respecting the inner sanctum of another’s living space, he placed his hand on the doorframe and peered into your room. Even with the lights shut off, he noticed that your bed was undone, and you were nowhere to be found.

He also noticed that the dresser drawers were open, almost as if you rushed to gather clothing before disappearing. His grip tightened on the doorframe, his nails digging into it briefly before he ran down the hallway. He knew his frantic steps might alert his classmates and wake them from their sleep.

However, he did not care, there was a more pressing matter at hand. This was, of course, finding you and possibly stopping whatever horrific act you wished to commit. He had to find you before it was too late. He had to save you.

He pushed past the front door of the student dorm and hurried down the stairs as the cool night air evaporated his breath. He looked back and forth along the road that surrounded the student campus, and his heart sank when he realized you were nowhere in sight.

Silence fell over him, accompanied by the cries of owls and the chirping of insects in the distance. Then he extended one leg out in front of him, bending it at the knee and extending the opposite leg behind him. His calves shifted and six small engines appeared that sparked to life with a loud rumble.

A deafening silence fell over the world around him as his eyes focused forward. He was about to take off to search the surrounding areas where he had placed the motion devices as he had done countless times before. The only difference was that he was certain you had left the premises this time.

While it could have been easy enough to assume you had merely woken up in the middle of the night to have a snack or use the restroom, it appeared you had taken provisions. This was enough to convince him you were out here.

His engines backfired temporarily when a hand grabbed his shoulder, surprising him and breaking his concentration. “Wow, heh, sorry Iida,” Eijirou said, flashing him a smile. “We were wondering if you’d be out here,” Tsuyu chimed in, coming to stand next to Eijirou. Tenya knit his eyebrows.

“Well, heh,” Eijirou rubbed the back of his head, “you kind of woke everyone up with your rushed footsteps…and Izuku wanted to know what happened,” he explained, nervously. Tsuyu nodded. “When he noticed you weren’t in your room, he searched the dorm, ribbit.”

She then shrugged. “I figured you’d gone after Y/n or something else that triggered the motion sensors,” she explained, pressing one finger to her chin. “Yeah, but we didn’t want you to search alone anymore or go after Y/n by yourself, considering how determined you can get sometimes,” Eijirou said before looking around.

“I was just preparing to track her down,” Tenya explained, almost sounding irritated that he had been interrupted despite knowing his friends meant well. “We’ll help then!” He declared and ignored Tenya’s raised eyebrow.

“I am not certain that is the most beneficial-” Eijirou grabbed onto his shoulders, shaking him. “Which way do you want us to go?!” He asked frantically, and yet again Tenya looked at him with a raised eyebrow before a sigh passed his lips. He felt annoyed but knew that, perhaps, the more help he got the better.

Then again, this was a delicate situation and if more than one person approached you, there was a chance you’d become hostile. That is why he needed to ensure that he found you first. But regardless, he nodded. “Very well,” he said, clasping his chin in thought.

“Perhaps Tsuyu can provide assistance in searching behind the campus. I will search the area up ahead,” he stated, motioning with his hand. “Right, I’ll go this way!” Eijirou exclaimed before running in the opposite direction. In Tenya’s mind, he wondered if they’d get in trouble.

The teachers keep a close eye on the student housing, but surely, they’d understand this situation if Tenya explained it to them. “Good luck on your search Iida,” Tsuyu said before hopping off the ground at a great distance. He watched her soar through the air and turned to see Eijirou looking back and forth a long way down the path.

He trusted that they would do the right thing if they happened upon you but now wasn’t the time to sit and contemplate that. Once again, he got into position, and without delay he was gone in a flash, leaving nothing but lingering gray smoke behind.

The world blurred around him as he sped by, yet it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. The piercing wind against his body felt like a thousand tiny cuts across his exposed flesh, but he didn’t care. Like a true hero, the only thing he focused on in this moment was you.

Near the wooded area, opposite the student dormitory, he slowed his pace and leaned over. Placing his hands on his knees, he panted softly and wiped the sweat from his face. His chest felt heavy, and perhaps that was the weight of responsibility he felt.

He needed to find you, but how? There were endless possibilities as to which direction and path you had taken. Even with his friends searching the area, what was the likelihood that they’d find you before the sun rose? His soft panting continued, and the cool air around him made his moistened skin sting.

The feeling of doubt was beginning to linger in the back of his mind when he felt something vibrate in his pocket. “Hm,” he paused and leaned up before pulling out the device. He looked at it perplexed as it continued to vibrate in his hand.

He pondered for a moment if this was merely another false alarm and that an animal had triggered one of the many motion sensors that were scattered about the area. However, as he lifted his head and glanced into the distance, he noted the trees that made up the nearby forest.

He couldn’t recall at this moment if he had placed a motion sensor in the location he was currently in, but perhaps this was a sign. He swallowed thickly and placed the device back into his pocket before his engines reeved again and he took off for the forest.

The ground underneath him seemed to change in density, its surface turning thicker and more slippery. Perhaps that was due to the mud that accumulated in the area, and he had to slow his pace the closer he got to the entrance of the forest to not slip and fall. He would despise being covered in mud.

Taking a deep breath, he ignored the pounding of his heart in his chest as he cautiously walked up to the first set of trees and noticed a small square device resting against the base of one of the said trees. When he got closer, the device in his pocket vibrated once more.

“Hm,” he clasped his chin and looked at the ground. Although it was dark, the moon allowed him just enough light to be able to make out footprints that led into the forest. “Mm,” he frowned and slowly kneeled to examine them closer.

It was impossible to tell if these were your footprints or perhaps someone else’s, but either way time was ticking away, and seconds were precious now. It was evident that there was a chance you had deviated from the path and instead, took refuge in the forest.

If that were true, then not only were you in danger of getting lost but potential animals could cause harm to you as well. Regardless, if there was a sliver of a chance that you had attempted to hide yourself in the greenery, he needed to take it.

With that in mind, he headed to the forest. He cautiously glanced around and despite the darkened sky looming above him, the small amount of light provided by the moon helped outline the trees and the path that nestled between them.

[ Part II ]

[enbysiriusblack]

rereading snape's worst memory:

severus is writing A LOT more than the other students around him, so like. he probably does try super hard in all his exams, but defence is clearly one of his favourites i think from this. like he's writing super small and still filling out a lot of the parchment, so he's got a lot to say about the subject, plus he's writing like really fast without stopping

if james is only a short distance away from severus and sirius is in the same row as james, does this mean exam tables aren't set up in alphabetical order? people just sit where they want or something? weird

james' hair is described as messy like 5 times by harry. i don't think we focus on that enough.

girl, pay attention to your exam. we get he's hot, but damn

remus, you're good at dada, stop worrying sm about it. u got this mate

peter having exam anxiety is soooo canon i swear. also i'm giggling at him trying to cheat

doodler!james >>>> also harry not clocking his own mum's initals is kinda sad

ooh guys, should i make stebbins (he's a guy who doesn't put down his quill and continues writing after the exam finishes so flitwick calls him out) florence's boyfriend?? should i actually give 'boyfriend' a name???

honestly, other than the weird seating plan, this is so accurate to gsce exams. like turning around just to do a face or hand gesture to your friend a few seats away when the teacher's not looking? someone always writing after they tell you to stop? laughing at the teacher? waiting for your friends to discuss the paper straight away? its so real

these guys are incapable of being serious. they are all so fucking sarcastic. i love it.

why's severus still enthralled in his exam for???? it's over mate, go fucking relax

unrequited prongstail is real (also james' nicking a snitch?? he's such a weirdo)

severus!! harry literally was describing you as super pale and like you never go in the sunlight.. and then you go and sit in the shade?? it's early summer in scotland, it's not gonna be that fucking hot.

poly marauders are canon? (they were just described as being a foursome)

handsome just keeps getting added to any description of sirius. might start doing this in my fics /j

this is making me realise how canonly accurate the personalities of the marauders are in my fic (i'm only cryptic and machiavellian), and i love that for me

yeah unrequited prongstail is def canon omfg.

"sirius was the only person for whom james would stop showing off". james doesn't need to show off for sirius, because he knows sirius will always be there for him and give him attention anyway aww

remus and james both trying to think up solutions as soon as sirius says he's bored?? i'm giggling.

peter must have been sooo dissapointed that sirius and james stopped hexing people as often... his fav entertainment. gone.

okay i swear i've read this like loads of times before but i never actually realised sirius 'barking with laughter' was how he canonly laughs, i always just write that to be funny, i didn't know it was canon

james constantly looking over at the girls by the lake. like mate, she didn't notice or care about you throwing a snitch in the air but i don't think bullying her friend is any better. like yeah it gets her attention but is that really the kind of attention you want?? oh, you'll take any attention you can get from her? okay, right, fine

peter edging... IM SORRY

"i was watching him" OKAY,, snirius enjoyers are eating today

*smugly grinning* i KNEW james' hair fidgeting thing was an anxious/nervous habit I TOLD YOU ALL

lily's hair is dark red!!! just in case anyone forgot!!

i love remus. disagree with your friend's actions? don't worry! u can always just pretend you're so enthralled in your book you don't even notice what they're doing! just look the other way and you're totally absolving yourself and your friends from any guilt!

i feel like james asked lily out only once before this. like in fourth year of maybe just a couple months before this, and like in a proper fairly private, giving her flowers, asking timidly (well as timid as he can be), and she responded in a fairly similar way to here. so james asking here, is like trying to resolve his own feelings of embarassment about the rejection ig?

lily smiling!!!! oh she's such a cunt i love her (ofc james and sirius are bigger cunts ofc!!!) like girl that's your damn friend getting 'pantsed'. although ig like. it was kinda a norm thing to like do it TO your own friends soo hmm. (btw i put 'pantsed' in brackets since it's not pantsing, like. the point is that severus isn't wearing pants, he's wearing robes. it's robesing...)

sirius and james are too wuss to duel lily <333 cause she'd thrash them <333 (they totally duelled her before and got their arses kicked)

oh severus... u suck so bad... just cause she found you getting robesed funny doesn't mean u should go call her slurs wtf man

go off lily okayyy. her insults/jokes hit harder than all of sirius' ngl (ily sirius you're still funny and got good insults i swear!!)

okay personally lily, i don't think someone who shows off and hexes people who annoy him (which is. maybe just in my opinion) majoritively people who are bigoted/do dark magic, and then someone who calls their supposed best friend a slur in front of like half their peers are as bad as each other...

^also james!! omg mate she noticed you showing off with your snitch and messing your hair up!!! (also furthering my proof that he does it as a nervous act cause he's all nervous around her so does it more often and she just thinks he's showing off)

sirius, now is not the time for your brutal honestly. like that's so real of you and i suffer from the same infliction but still..

[moonlightdreamzz]

THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1

SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.

PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon

GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF

NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.

© moonlightdreamzz

Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.

The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?

Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?

Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.

He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.

“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”

Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.

You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.

“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.

You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.

Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.

You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.

“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.

Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”

“But…I love him.”

“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.

He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.

“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”

“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”

His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”

Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.

“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.

“I didn’t.”

He didn’t? Was he already—

Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.

“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.

“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.

You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.

With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.

“Woah.” He utters.

“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”

You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.

“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.

“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.

You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.

The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.

“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.

“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.

“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”

Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.

“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”

A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”

“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”

“Why didn’t eat make the list?”

“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”

“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.

“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”

“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.

Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”

“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.

“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.

“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”

“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”

Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”

You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?

“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.

“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?

The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.

You and Vernon sleep through it.

TO BE CONTINUED

© moonlightdreamzz

[raspberryberyl]

ah I love the dsmp and some people (mainly cc's) are killing me.

I had to watch the cctommy video because idk ocd or i just felt like it would kill me if i didn't watch.

Tommy was usual tommy fashion, and the video was good! Don't get me wrong. I love that he didn't say it was cringe, and was nostalgic and positive about it. That he had good things to say.

I believe and want to believe in my heart that cctommy really cares about the dsmp and ctommy. Sometimes it feels like cc!eret , cc!quackity, cc!tommy are the only ones that really care. That care about the audience that they've created, that try to cultivate it. I want to believe that others care too but its these three that i feel are the most vocal about it.

But watching the new Tommy video, i feel slightly hurt. I know Tommy is just being Tommy fashion and being silly and "annoying", and maybe he's not being completely full hearted and serious because he wants to appease fans that do think it was cringe (which seems to be quite a bit, mostly twt).

But i just feel like, is it so hard to believe that people would care about the story you created? Especially one that is so unique and tackles such raw and real emotions and experiences. for my fellow ctommy fans, its family, home, abuse, suicidality, etc.

Maybe it's because it just doesn't feel real to the cc, that they made this popular series. Maybe it's because to a lot of them it really was just a game and goofing off. But to us fans, it was so much more. We poured ourselves into it. And it hurts to be treated like a joke and "cringe".

I feel grateful to cctommy for saying the positive things he did, but should I? Should i be appreciative that he treats us with bare minimum respect... like yes I know he cares, I think he does, but his joking attitude about it all makes me feel like a joke.

I did not like the constant sexual innuendos about c!tommy. was the foreplay one a little funny? yeah maybe. but describing the classic hurt c!tommy sigh/grunt/thing like a moan? no, i did not like that.

Maybe he's coping with humor. as other people pointed out cctommy was constantly sexualized on that server. And as he said he is an adult now that can joke about it anyway he likes because it is HIM.

I also did not like him describing ctommy as "a bad guy." ctommy had flaws, he was not perfect, that's one of the reasons he is so great, but he was not a bad guy. I could see c!tommy thinking he is the bad guy, but cctommy is the writer and should know better. I don't like being told that an abuse victim who is so very human, is "the bad guy". I might only partly forgive him for this because he talked about how c!tubbo (and cc!tubbo), was often an ignored victim and character that deserved to shine.

I did not like the "making fun of " suicide. Which is a major problem the dsmp writing has.

I am forever hurt by how the cc treat us. I devoted so much of my time and energy to this just to feel like a joke, just for them to act like they don't care. Well i choose to continue to care, because i really and truly do.

I've said it before but cc!ranboo was my main main, i watched every stream, even the non dsmp ones. But with how they treated c!ranboo, i just can barely bring myself to watch them. i did not get into generation loss, it hurts too much. I respect Ranboo for going with his passions and not doing things just to appease fans, but i am forever hurt that he had so little care in the end for something that so many of us cared about.

Most cc are just silent about their dsmp days and have no comment. But then others joke about how the fans cared? cc!puffy i was devoted and excited for your lore, and you failed to deliver it and now treat us like a joke.

And other cc where it just feels like they are trying to milk it for content, don't get me started.

And I'll be honest, I am still sick of all this dancing around the subject in the room that is the problematic cc. I get the cc don't owe us their views, and probably don't want to further drama. But Tommy can you just say you don't like or support Dream! Can any cc be open about it! Tommy stop giving me heart attacks by putting dt in your thumbnails 😭

And yeah this was really long and rant/venty, I feel like i forgot some stuff that i wanted to say so i will just add it later if it comes to mind.

But my point is, people cared about the dsmp. Some people moved on, and many of us are here and still thriving. People care, so stop being surprised that we do. Stop treating us like a joke.

If you're going to mention it cc, be respectful, kind, and maybe don't say anything if you don't really care about it.

the dsmp had many issues, no one is denying, but people cared.

[killerheelsonadiscodancefloor]

hi!!! i saw u write “seth cohen x reader” on a post and if its no hassle PLEASEEE doo it i cant find any<333

this ask made my year!! so excited to be able to write for seth cohen <33 sorry for the awkward ending, hopefully i’ll get the chance to write more for him!

pest | seth cohen x reader

warnings: none really, just fluff!

     the only word i could currently use to describe seth cohen is unbelievable. well, truly i have a few more choice words, but considering i’m seated at his parents’ kitchen island it doesn’t seem like a good time to linger on them. as hard as i try to keep a smile on my face and participate in the conversation with the cohens, they both can read me better than that.

     kirsten stops mid sentence and reaches across the island to rest her hand on my arm. “i know you’re worried about seth,” she started in a gentle voice. i quickly shook my head. “no, i mean—it’s nothing. it’s fine.” i reply, plastering a smile on my face. sandy shakes his head, making an almost cartoonish ‘tsk’ noise. “i’ve been married long enough to know that ‘fine’ isn’t really fine. you can tell us what’s going on, you know.” 

     “just because he’s our son doesn’t mean we’re blind to when he’s wrong.” kirsten reassured, correctly reading my uncertain face. “if anything, we’re the best equipped to give you advice about when he’s wrong. or maybe ryan.” sandy chimed in after her.

     i sighed, unable to keep my frustration to myself anymore. “it’s just—i understand that seth is passionate about going to RISD and working on atomic county again and everything but it feels like he’s in a relationship with his work instead of me, you know? we barely see each other anymore because he’s so absorbed in it. even now, like how often are we home? and he still can’t pull himself away from his desk. i just wish he wouldn’t let himself miss life because he’s so wrapped up in his work.” i took another deep breath and let my head fall into my hands. 

     “ah, the cohen curse!” sandy exclaimed. i shot a puzzled look at kirsten, expecting one in return, and was surprised to see she had a look of fond understanding instead. “the cohen curse?” i asked after a long moment. kirsten nodded with a wry smile and gestured for sandy to explain. “us cohen men are very dedicated, particularly to the things we are passionate about. in this case, our work. i can't tell you how many late nights i pulled at berkeley—and how many more i would’ve pulled if kirsten didn’t pull me away from my textbooks.”

     i looked to kirsten, who nodded sagely in confirmation. “sometimes you just have to force them to take a break. these cohens are stubborn as mules.” she joked. “oh please, you sound just like your father.” sandy groaned dramatically. they shared a fond look as i sat there debating whether or not i should attempt to pry seth away from atomic county. 

     finally, with a deep breath, i stood up from the island and exited the kitchen. i turned once more in the doorway to share a last conspiratorial grin with the cohens before taking the stairs two at a time in my eagerness to get to seth’s childhood room. i gave a cursory knock on the cracked door before letting myself in.

     “(y/n)!” seth called in greeting as he pushed his rolling chair back from the desk. “what can i do for you, my dear?” he asks with a grin extending his hands out to me. i grin back easily. this was going much better than i thought it would. i stroll forward and perch on his lap. “i was thinking that maybe you could use a break, cohen.” i replied, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

     “ah, no can do.” he immediately clammed up with a grimace. “what?” i burst out. seth nervously pats my sides in what i assume is supposed to be a calming gesture. “i’ve just got so many ideas for the plot, you know, and i don’t wanna forget them or anything so i just gotta get ‘em all on the page before i lose them.” he hurriedly explains. i sigh deeply.

     “well bullet point them in a notebook, we’re home seth! you should be soaking up all the time you have here until we go back to school. ryan’s supposed to be coming over later, you really want to miss out on all of us back here because you’re working?” i asked with a pout. seth examines my face for a moment before tossing his head back with a groan. 

     “you know i can’t say no to that face.” he mutters with a frustrated pout of his own. i allow the corners of my mouth to curl into a small smile. “come on cohen.” i mumble, egging him on with a challenging look and a poke in the ribs. “fine.” seth draws the word out dramatically as i grin. “guess i might as well spend time with my family or whatever.”

     i hum as i get up and recline on his bed. “you’re cute when you’re all sarcastic.”

     “really,” seth counters as he gets up and flops on the bed next to me, resting his chin on my chest, “i’m cute all the time. hey!” he dodges my flick to his forehead by a second. “you’re cute most of the time.” i counter with a raised brow. “i’ll take it.” he concedes easily, burrowing his head into my shoulder. 

     i massage his neck for a minute before struggling into a sitting position. seth groans at the disruption, reaching a hand out to me with a grabbing gesture. “come on, your parents are downstairs. we should go hang out.” i say gently, prodding him in the back. “but we could have so much fun right here.” he complains. i fix him with a stern look. once he meets my eyes, he folds. “alright, alright. paying our dues to the elders it is.” i snort as his commentary, pulling on his arm to get him up. 

     as we walk towards his door, he makes sure to drag his feet. “always one for the dramatics.” i sing. seth gasps exaggeratedly, throwing his hand up to grip his shirt over his heart. “who, me?” he asks in a “shocked” voice. i grin at his theatrics before grabbing his hand to continue dragging him to the door, where i can already see his eyes beginning to stray towards his desk. 

     “don’t even think about it, cohen.” i warn good-naturedly.

     “yeah, yeah.” seth grumbles back lightheartedly. he wraps his arm around my shoulders and i finally feel fully victorious as we head down the stairs.

[not-handsome-enough]

DICK KNUBBLER MAYE STILL BE ALIVE

Kinda

Alright before I do anything take this with a grain of salt, cause it’s probably a continuity error / can be easily explained away BUT if you all would like to hold onto some hope please just hear me out. And also it offers a question for yall.

Alright! So!

On twitter someone had asked Brendon and Gene about Murmaider III and its placement on Dethalbum IV ( which btw shoutout to Gene’s wife that was brilliant ) and Brendon had mentioned that what sets 3 apart from the other two was that it was more dreamlike, and that it was made AFTER Army of the Doomstar. Now since Brendon and Gene weren’t the ones to make the order on the Album we can’t set a timeline for the songs ( though they are set in Brutal to Dreamlike order once again shoutout to Genes wife you goddess ) we can at least say that some songs were made post Army. In fact we could also make some assumptions about what songs were made DURING army. So I’ll separate that list here.

NOTE : YALL DONT NEED TO READ THIS PART THIS IS JUST ME RUNNING WITH “ some songs were made post AOTD which ones could they be teehee “ JUST KNOW MURMAIDER AND SOS WERE AFTER KUBBLER DIED OK SORRy I’m not deleting that whole thing I like it

Songs with “ * “ are canon, the rest are personal interpretation.

DURING ARMY OF THE DOOMSTAR:

* Aortic Desecration ( the first song of salvation but obviously not )

* SOS ( song of salvation )

Gardener of Vengeance ( Nathan directly references this during the scene where he confides in the band and Knubbler that he doesn’t write songs about hope and he��s just doing what he knows. I believe he wrote and recorded this but felt it wasn’t good enough to be the song of salvation and moved on. HOWEVER the language he used could place this as post AOTD because it sounds more like a thrown out there example kinda like how he figured out SOS in the cave )

Poisoned By Food ( Again I think this is a scrapped song of salvation since besides the actual poisoning of food a lot of the imagery feels like the what the metalocalypse was described like )

BLOODBATH ( guess what another scrapped song of salvation. This one feels like a ‘you don’t scare me I’m going to confidently stop you because if I go down you go down with me’ song. Also it could be Nathan trying to reach out to Magnus since he was one of the people on his list. Also quick note I’m going song by song so I don’t know if I’ll notice if any other songs would reflect the list I just got out of work so I’m not gonna catch it all rn )

Horse of Fire ( this is tricky because lyrics like star still blazing allude to this being written before aortic desecration but also Nathan didn’t have the talk with the whale until the deadline came up in which he had to go with aortic desecration <he wouldn’t have had time to write about the fist or the hand.> But the lyrics don’t have the <we should reach out to the fans> revelation that SOS has. Maybe this was a draft for SOS but I think once Nathan figured out what SOS was meant to be it just came to him naturally. I’m not sure. HOWEVER since the doomstar is referred to as a star that is still blazing and not a portal that’s been destroyed it’s safe to say this is not post AOTD. Either way this is an important song to keep in mind if you look at this speculating )

POST ARMY OF THE DOOMSTAR:

* Murmaider III ( stated by Brendon Small in the interview. He said he feels that the boys would have written this after AOTD and based off of interviews he’s had in the past about his songwriting process it’s hard to not take this as canon so. )

DEADFACE ( I think this is post because while the song plays during the movie only Skwisgaar knew about the possession so the lyrics wouldn’t quite make sense yet. It’s a tricky placement but I can see Skwisgaar playing around with it since he does play the notes during the movie )

Mutilation on a Saturday Night ( this feels so much like a we survived so now we’re gonna party song I can’t see Nathan Skwisgaar or Pickles make an argument for this being a Song of Salvation. Also all the fucked up shit they talk about references what happened during the metalocalypse but it’s spoken in past tense like a ‘hey we fucked shit up but we fixed it so now we’re just gonna keep fucking around haha’)

I am The Beast ( simply cause I don’t see this as something Nathan would write during AOTD but the ‘ I am a beast this is my domain and when I speak you scream my name ‘ could work as a salvation line but it feels too much like a Mutilation Saturday Night ‘I can write whatever I want cause I lived and I’m not gonna hold back’ vibe )

Satellite Bleeding ( this feels like the first song they would have written and recorded after the doomstar died. Kinda like watching the sky clear up after a storm. )

Now despite me rambling on about this I would like to draw attention to what’s canon. Specifically SOS and Murmaider III. These songs came out after Knubbler died. Yet Dethalbum IV credits Knubbler for production.

Drawing your attention to how crediting in the Dethalbum works, each album has a little section for Dethklok to get musical credits and thank whoever and whatever. There’s also production credit and location credit. On ALL of the Dethalbums Knubbler is credited as producer. Cause he’s the producer makes sense yeayeyaeyah. But whenever there’s a change in location or production, there’s additional credits.

ANOTHER NOTE: I DONT HAVE THE KLOK OPERA CD I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE CREDITING SYSTEM LOOKS LIKE ON THERE but if someone happens to be selling that cd outside of eBay please let me know

Let’s look at them.

Dethalbum I ^

Shit ton of credits right, and on the other page which I didn’t take a picture of and can’t because I’m not home at the moment there’s credit to Snakes N Barrels for “Kill You” with each member listed. Take note that songs that are considered exceptions are credited differently and locations not at Mordhaus are credited.

I lied I have the other page. For those without the dethalbum cds the actual credits are usually on another page and “Kill You” got mixed in with it

Anyways

Dethalbum II

Hey Knubbies gets to thank someone this time! Anyways once again Knubbler is credited for production, but also Dethklok. Keep this in mind. Also the fact that different location credited for Murmaider II but it’s recorded at Mordhaus

Dethalbum III

Knubbler credit AND Abigail credit along with Dethklok AND once again location credit is Mordhaus and another fuckass place. Only thing that’s not really credited is Magnus with The Hammer but idk if he was like Toki and William where they play the songs but don’t really write or if he actually wrote The Hammer. I’m not a HammerHead, I’ve seen people interpret him as both, but at the end of the day idrk.

So what about Dethalbum IV

Knubbler is credited. At Deus Keep. Only Knubbler. Only at Deus Keep. “But he’s not credited as a Producer” True! If the album was released in universe it would probably be a producer credit. Especially since Brendon and Ulrich have Producer credit on the page prior. Maybe it’s because Knubbler didn’t make it to the final production stage. Or maybe he’s staying hidden undercover..

Remember earlier. He canonically was not around for two of these songs on this album. He could not have recorded OR mixed SOS or Murmaider III. Even if you don’t fully think that Murmaider III was made Post AOTD, SOS was done post Knubbler death. Hell, the song was dedicated to him by William! But there’s no separate credit for SOS.

If we went on the same basis as previous albums SOS would have been credited to that part of Norway where they traveled to that I forgot the name of and I’m not gonna look up but you get the point. Or even Dethklok would have been credited as production. I could also say something about how Murmaider III wasn’t recorded in the Mariana Trench and how the whale isn’t calling to Nathan anymore but that’s for another day. Right now though, it’s just Knubbler. Just Knubbler and Deus Keep.

Which leads to 3 possibilities.

Knubbler Lives: Knubbler survived ( the flashing things on the ground were teleporters ) and Deus Keep is rebuilt. To celebrate their survival they make Dethalbum IV but don’t release it

Knubbler Died: The band recorded the last few songs on the album at the remains of Deus Keep. Knubblers presets aren’t changed so credit remains to him. Once again not releasing it.

It’s not an album: Dethalbum IV doesn’t exist in universe. That’s why there’s no producer credit. That’s why Nathan doesn’t thank the klokateers ( he thanks the army of the doomstar which is just him thanking fans ). Dethklok recording it post AOTD is more to do with how Brendon records dethalbums than in universe writing.

I like to think that this is just an unreleased album in universe since the record label is more than likely destroyed, but it has the possibility of releasing one day if society is rebuilt to what it once was. But it really depends on if you think the album is canon to the universe. Cause there’s no Mordhaus credit on Dethalbum IV and there’s no way for SOS to have been recorded at Deus Keep and blablabla

something fun to think about tho yk?

TLDR: two songs on dethalbum IV were made after Knubbler death yet the credit doesn’t change for him in the dethalbum so there’s a chance that he recorded and mixed those songs cause he is alive and well horray

[genericpuff]

I reread episode 24 of LO after having dropped off between seasons 1 and 2 and it genuinely brought me to tears. I feel like there’s no way the theory about Rachel not intending this to be a depiction of SA can be true. The way it’s written feels so powerful and intentional, and I honestly think that makes her dropping the plotline that much worse.

I mean, maybe I’m projecting because of how similar the scenario was to my own experiences, but I just don’t feel convinced that she didn’t fully intend to write this as SA.

The shots of Persephone trying to physically push him away, of her standing shell shocked in the shower, after the fact, her internal dialogue about wanting it to stop but feeling like she can’t take back the “okay” she gave. It’s gut wrenching. And Apollo commenting on her hair and saying she should leave it long is such a brilliant piece of writing that hits like a punch in the gut for us readers who know why it grows.

And honestly, I think that chapter being so well written is what hurts the most. Because it feels like myself and other survivors were lured in by the prospect of seeing our stories told, and getting catharsis through Persephone even if we would never have it. The conversation she has later with Eros, where he states plainly that what happened was rape, not dancing around the word, validating what Persephone and so many real readers have gone through… It’s so, so painful to read that back and know that this plotline was dropped. That we were led to believe we would be seen only to be completely swept under the rug with no resolution to that story.

And I know people criticize that it’s immediately followed by a phone call with Hades, but honestly? After rereading that too? I loved most of the phone call. They had real chemistry, and you could still feel the weight of what just happened in how Persephone carried herself, but as they talked and she had something to distract herself, the burden got a bit lighter, at least for the moment. It felt resonant. Emotionally intelligent.

It’s like you said. Lore Olympus wouldn’t be so easy to hate if it hadn’t been so easy to love. I think it could have been good despite its flaws and problematic elements, because no media is 100% pure— but somewhere along the way, Rachel stopped caring. And THAT is what ruined it.

No but this is so valid, everything you just described was pretty much why I loved the SA plotline in the first place.

I think the scene itself is beautifully written, but it's odd how it becomes more about Persephone simply wanting an "easy way out" of TGOEM, not just in the 'decision' to have sex (i.e. she was coerced and assaulted) but later when she tries to get out of TGOEM, like... is it because she wants to actually date guys, or is it because she doesn't feel like she "deserves" to be in TGOEM anymore due to the assault? The story tries in some places to explore this but never commits to it fully so it's really hard to know what point it's trying to make at times when you actually peel back the layers.

Really the biggest reasons I 'suspect' Rachel of not intending to write a genuine SA plot from the very beginning is because of how... 'back of mind' it is. It only seems to be brought up whenever Rachel can be bothered to remember, but then it's completely juxtaposed against scenes where it should affect her (or reasonably would) and it doesn't. Case in point, a few episodes after she tells Eros what happened and he confirms it was rape, he tries to convince her to go into Hades' office dressed in a trenchcoat and nothing else underneath and it's like bro... this girl just told you what she went through, why are you suggesting she try to seduce her boss who she doesn't even really know yet LOL

As a result , it really does just make it feel like the SA scene is just there to make Apollo an easy villain, and Hades an easy hero, with the only definitions being "well, Hades didn't assault her, so he's definitely the better choice!" (as if Apollo was ever a 'choice' to begin with, Persephone didn't like him from day 1 so there was basically no chance of there being a love triangle setup except for the audience members who quickly latched onto that "I guess he's cute if you squint a little" line). And with the way episodes are chopped up, separating points of the narrative from each other, it feels like whenever stuff does happen (esp surrounding the SA plot) it's because Rachel's finally bought herself enough time to come up with something, like the therapy episode, Eros confirming it was assault, Persephone stealing the lyre with the intent of hiding it from Apollo (only to then willingly show it to him alone in her bedroom with him a handful of episodes later), etc.

If she did intend to write an SA scene from the beginning, it doesn't feel like she thought the plotline through fully to make it actually feel genuine (and this goes for a lot of the subplots in LO, they always seem to start off as these base "get your attention" ideas but with no actual follow through). And with Apollo now being written as this "huehue you fell right into my trap!" villain (and very poorly I might add) it just feels like the SA is now taking a backseat to, "Actually, Apollo is the bad guy because he wants to overthrow his dad or some shit. Forget the SA happened, I don't wanna write about it anymore."

All those points aside, I agree with you fully, if Rachel cared about what she was trying to write back when the SA was first shown, then that level of care definitely doesn't seem to be there anymore and it's such a shame to see. It just feels like it's being used for artificial drama and nothing more and that's so frustrating and disappointing for many of the SA victims who are critical of this story (including myself) to see when that plotline originally felt like comforting visibility.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 10 - Pride

Summary: Eddie Munson should know to expect the unexpected. Especially when it comes to himself.

Word Count: 898

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Older!Eddie, Rockstar!Eddie, Asexual!Eddie/Demi!Eddie, Discussion of Sexuality, self-discovery, mention of relationships (Steddie and other), mentions of sex (non-graphic?), it vibes more than describes

Note: This truly could have gone for the Sex, Drugs, and Rock n Roll prompt--and I have another idea for that one--but I chose this one. Much like a lot of our writing, this is more of a personal thing vs a CCFest thing; mirrors a lot of my own self-discovery and identity. But you gotta roll with the punches sometimes.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

He'd always wanted the rockstar life but he’d never understood it.

On paper it all seemed perfect. A dream.

Recognition for his talent and hard work. Endless praise. To be someone and go somewhere, and not get stuck where the name Munson was worth less than the dirt.

Of course, fame had other expectations.

There were reasons dreams and realities were two separate entities.

How could expectation meet reality when reality had so many expectations of its own?

Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll. It was all in the name right?

But...straight...that was the default setting, the norm.

And Eddie Munson had never been normal.

The expectation?

You date a few girls, maybe fuck one of them. Or a few. You find your person, find your girl. Fall in love. Get married. Sometimes, love wasn't even required.

Eddie considered himself a romantic, so he always expected...always wanted someone to love.

But sex was everywhere, the talk of the town. He tried it with some varying levels of intrigue or indifference.

He liked feeling good though, and he always felt good when he touched himself. So he learned what made him feel good when someone else touched him too. He’d just…never really gotten to the point where he found anyone who he wanted to touch him more than once.

If at all.

The act...the pleasure...was always separate from the person.

The people he did find interesting? Most times they were characters from tv and movies, one-sided loves that he fantasized about and wished to have. If there was a God, He would let Eddie have his celebrity crushes…his fictional favorites.

But there wasn’t a god, and more often than not, he was left alone with his imagination.

Or his disappointment.

Then along came Steve.

That was a journey in and of itself for both of them. First there was adversity, and then a tenuous truce. Then there was something else.

The nerves felt good. The heart to hearts. They both convinced themselves “he's not a bad guy” and then “he’s kinda hot” and “he looks like a good kisser.” Until they took a chance and it turns out they were both good kissers, both good at other things, both good for each other.

Until those expectations snuck in again.

As much as they cared for one another, Eddie was ever the non-conformist and Steve? Well, he lived in the shadow of the world's expectations.

Heartbreak led to bad choices, which led to good lyrics, and better gigs until finally, finally they made it.

Eddie made it.

Self development became self discovery, and the whirlwind of a new world where he had access to literally anything and everything. It wasn't just growing up, it wasn't just a new awareness.

The fame brought endless people who tried to get close to him, tried to touch him, help themselves to his life. His rooms filled up with new and unfamiliar faces. They'd suck and fuck until they had their piece of his pie.

He took advantage of that, of course. Tried to feel good when everything made him feel horrible. Found what he liked and what he didn’t and what made him moan and what made him squirm.

And what…a lot of what…made him feel nothing at all.

Until that was the norm.

A norm outside of the norm.

An expectation for only himself because he realized...no one else mattered. Not when the equation started and ended with him.

For the first time in his life there wasn’t a question of who or what or when or where. Because the answer was sort of “none of the above” and also “all of the above, just in the right scenario and maybe with the right person.”

"You're just tired," they'd tell him. "You just need a break."

Until the break was too long.

"You just haven't found the right person."

But no one piqued his interest.

"How about we set you up with..."

And he tried.

"Try harder."

But he couldn't.

"Come on, smoke this, try this, do this. Change this. Be this."

Until he snapped.

"That isn't me!" He screamed to an empty room. Yes, full of people...but empty faces, empty eyes, empty heads. Staring through him, not seeing him for him. "I can't do it anymore!"

Alone.

Alone and alone and alone.

For the first time in a long time.

As the full rooms emptied themselves of those empty people. As they left him behind.

Silent.

Because he they didn’t know a word for what he was. Didn’t know what to say.

So they didn't say anything.

He was outside of the norm.

Freak once again.

Happy, once again.

Proud.

"But you're not alone Ed."

He stood in a corner of the otherwise empty room and in the other three?

Dave and Jeff and Gareth.

Not empty. Full. Full of love and awareness and acceptance. Full of support. Just like they'd always been for his awful plans and harebrained schemes.

This was no scheme though. It was just him.

Eddie Munson considered himself a romantic, and he always expected...always wanted someone to love.

And maybe the kind of love that he desired--that was expected by both himself and the world--would come to him again, just like it had in the past.

For now though--forever--he could be happy with a different kind.

A love from his friends.

And a love for himself.

[xhanelia]

Okay so this was the ask but when i deleted the post, it got deleted too. I tried to write the post again as much as i remember. All of my luck aside, i have my first official anon now i am so happy!! Thank you for the request, green anon! Hope you like it 💚

How would Sova react to a mute reader

I think he would ask Sage or Brim about what kind of a person you are before trying to talk to you, but lets just think that you were introduced in the middle of a mission. (absolutely not to make the fic longer and maybe interesting)

In the missions, Brim always wants an "understood" after his commands on the field. To confirim that his voice went to the person and make sure they did not get hurt. When Brim gave you information about the building and told you what you should do, you did not reply. Sova got scared that the new agent might have got caught or hurt but seeing the steril face of Brim, like this is what was supposed to be, he got a bit confused and went to his part of the mission. Trying not to think about it.

Later on, when you return with the information you have on your hands (witch is nothing but a little flash drive) he sighed in relief that you didnt got hurt. With the smile on your face, covered mostly by the mask you wore, you handled the flash drive to Chyper. He thanked you in his own language to show intimacy to the new agent. Well, to you.

Also Cypher was never leaving your side after your first mission. Being a new agent means that he will follow you everywhere like a tail stuck to your back. (This is cannon btw.)

He glared you two a bit. One side hoping you wouldnt turn out to be his friend or such, the other wants to get to know you. Either way, it was the first time the moral of HQ, Sova, didnt talked to the new agent by his choice. He was intimidated by your similarities with Chyper.

At this point, Sage needed to ask Sova if he was okay. She understood that he did not liked secretive persons but you were far off from Chyper. She convinced him to at least say hello to you while passing by. But he would still avoid any conversations with you.

You nod everytime he greeted you. Sage told you that Sova (a tall blonde man that has a prostetic eye, she said. Pretty much noticable.) would cheer you up if you feel down or lonely. But it was like the other way around. At least near you. When you look at him with other agents, he was like how Sage described him but when he notices you, his smile drops down a bit.

At some point, you decided to ask him about why he was like this to you. Gathering your courage, getting yourself a pen and a little notebook, you began to search for him.

He was in the tech room. Making adjusments to his bow and arrows. He looked up to you from where he was sitting. You waved to him as a hello, he nodded to you back. Thinking maybe you dont want to talk to him at all.

You got out your pen and notebook, wrote something to it and slowly pushed it to him. He looked at the notebook and to you, then again to the notebook. Reading what was written on it.

"I am so sorry if i did something wrong to you."

He stood still after reading the paper for a good 10 seconds then looked up to you. Such simple words but it hit Sova so hard. Now getting that you cannot talk, it feels like the guilt was building up in his chest.

"You were mute?" It sound like he was scared to even ask this question. You slowly nod with a broke smile. It was visible in your eyes.

He stood up. "No... i am sorry. I should have tried to get to know you at first but i was stuck to the thought of you did not wanted to talk to me. I... shouldnt have judged you beforehand."

Even though he kept the Chyper intimacy you have to himself, you understood his reasons and wrote again to the paper.

"Its okay. I hope we can be friends!"

He smiled at the paper. "Ofcourse." He said with relief. After everything, he is still blaming himself about his prejudices about you, but seeing you getting happy with his words is enough to convince him that it does not matter anymore.

He tries to learn sign language. Its like a form of a apologize to you. Afterall, you cannot talk to him through paper forever, can you? He will make up to you. He promises himself.

[squerlly]

just felt like doing a little something something... this post is kind of a little clarification for certain things about my new series. for those who don't know I made a series called flames of desire and it is an Alastor x (f! bunny reader) slow burn romance with eventual smut ofc. my writing style is a bit odd to say the least since I have a hard time explaining things in detail and in attempt to make mine and my readers lives easier iv color coded the dialogue for each and every character so that you know what's text vs dialogue. I also try to include individual POV to get a clear aspect of certain things *cough* *cough* lore. so here are some things you should know

-dialogue colors-

husk, angel, Alastor, Vaggie, Charlie, Niffty, reader (this font specifically, please don't get it mixed up with her thoughts) incase I run out of colors for certain characters I will substitute a color but I will always specify whos talking!

yes bunny Reader design has paws and she can't really wear shoes so I decided to make her wear socks similar to the helluva boss character Lunas, which are open-toed socks just to have something to cover her feet at least. in this story, y/n is old enough to drink but I wouldn't say she's on the older side so use your imagination or don't I don't mind if you edit the character, this is a story about you lovely people after all!. I'm also terrible at smut so don't really expect a lot.

I am Hispanic and although I am not fluent I will try my best to make the characters cannon yet not cannon, by this I mean I will make valentino speak slight Spanish as his cannon form does. I will also make Alastors cooking related to new Orleans Louisiana dishes because hes old fashioned and I doubt he will ever put in the time to learn other cooking don't come for me!!!

I will not be adding sir pentious in this series, I know I'm sorry please forgive me, maybe if I change my mind later which I always end up doing eventually I will add a part just for pentious, a little something. I already struggle trying to make sure I include every character in at least every 2 to 3 chapters because I don't really do favoritism when it comes to my writing, same goes for lucifer but once again maybe something but I also don't want to spoil the show for people who have not watched it yet.

I have a tight schedule when it comes to things I have to do at home vs my free time so I will try to get at least 2 chapters out every week maybe 3 if I feel motivated enough or unless I don't get writer block. as for request I will be re opening those this Friday and close them on Sunday so I can work, edit, and release them throughout the week if I get any.

this series is a shared project between me and my bestfriend @strippezzz please go check out there artwork its so good. he works on helping me proofread because I have ADHD and my brain works a million miles an hour and tend to miss things here and there. hes also 10x better at writing smut, not for the ideas but just describing it detail so I leave that to him and wanted to make sure that I'm not getting all the credit!

if you have any question or concerns just ping me in the comments and I will probably answer in 5 min tops because I'm always using my phone for literally everything

I hope this was helpful!!!! and have a wonderful day/night love you all stay tuned~

-squerlly

for more stories and more chapters please click this masterlist