#two little drabbles? back to back?!

[fbfh]

leo valdez with a breeding kink… i’d literally give that man anything he wants 😫

OHHHHHH FUCK ME. I WANNA KISS YOU ON BOTH CHEEKS FOR THIS ONE. Leo does not realize he has a breeding kink until it hits him like a fucking semitruck. you're with some family and friends at a little get together, and you end up looking after a baby cousin to give their parents a break. you have the kiddo on your lap while you chat with your friend, and when Leo gets back with drinks he nearly drops them. Boom. Light switch on, breeding kink in full force. He doesn't even realize what's happening, not quite yet, but all he knows is that it's going to take every ounce of self control he has to wait until the party's over. after a physically painful eternity that he suspects is his eternal punishment from the gods worse than pushing a boulder or being strapped to a boulder or holding up a planet sized boulder (it's maybe an hour and a half max) you're finally on your way home. He nearly pulls an irish goodbye just to get his beautiful beautiful hands on you sooner, and Leo is NOT the type to leave without at least a dozen hugs and cheek kisses and leftovers and plans to meet up next time, so you know something must be going on with him. the only reason he doesn't fuck you in the car (and he is this fucking close) is because he knows that he wants to take his time with you. Also, he can get pretty vocal. Also so can you. (anyone would with him jfc) so he keeps his hand on your thigh while he drives. He rubs it, inches it up higher and higher, higher than he ever has outside the bedroom until he's practically fingering you in the passenger seat. Honestly you wouldn't complain if he did. The sound of your flustered, surprised giggle when he pick you up and carries you into your house over his shoulder, all unga bunga like something primal has woken up inside him. And it has. When he lays you down on your bed which is still descheveled from the fun you'd had that morning, when he kisses you like he's hungry and strips you down like he's unwrapping a christmas present, neither of you know what's gotten into him yet. But he knows one thing for damn sure.

There's no way in hell he's pulling out tonight. Or ever again, if he's being honest.

So really, you'll both find out what's gotten into him (and you) in about nine months

[waterfallofspace]

Allergic To Concepts

Is anyone else still into the M/agnus Archives? Maybe, maybe not, but I have had this fic sitting in my google docs for months, and I just finally managed to get myself to finish up the last bit, so here is part one of a possible two part fic, if I can ever manage to get myself to write the next part!

So, if anyone wants, please enjoy a little Allergic to concepts Jon. aka, Jon is so allergic to dogs that just the idea of them gets him a bit worked up~

I'll never be over this podcast, and I might start sharing small (tiny) drabbles of these guys if anyone would be interested <3 or even just to start coaxing myself back into writing~

Characters: Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha Word Count: 2.7k

“-so to conclude, we absolutely, most certainly, cannot do that,” Martin finishes, hands woven into his hair. Seems to happen more often nowadays; getting a job you’re not exactly qualified for tends to bring on a touch of added stress. What brings even more stress, however, are the faces staring back at him, twin smiles painted across worryingly calm canvases. Seems once a poet, always a poet, even in your own thoughts. 

Tim chuckles, mischief running through his eyes. “How do you even know that? You been stalking our new boss?” 

“W-well no, it’s just that…” Martin starts, beginning to study the floor as his rambling starts to take over. “Well there may have been an… incident, of- of sorts, with a uh… well it was, I was trying to open this door, but see I was holding files, and there was this dog, and they kinda just- well I was trying to stop it but it got in and- so I went to Jon’s office and he was just kinda… and then I-” 

“So what?” Tim interrupts, mercifully saving Martin from his own tongue. “Why should his issues stop us from havin’ a good time?” With a snap of his fingers, Tim casts Sasha a devious wink. The colour seems to drain from Martin’s face as he holds up a shaking finger, aiming somewhere behind Tim’s shoulders. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Sasha mutters, her smile never wavering. 

Spinning on his heel, Tim turns to greet the newest arrival to the hallway. “Fancy seeing you here, boss! Burning the midday oil?” 

Jon pauses, papers nearly spilling from his crowded arms as he fumbles with some keys. “That’s not an expression. And what are you all doing cramped in the hall? Don’t any of you have work to do?” 

Martin nearly keels over as Jon’s glare settles against him, seemingly deeming him responsible for this lapse in progress. As if! In fact, he’d been the one begging them to get back to work. Honestly, Jon should appreciate the fact that he talked them out of-

“Actually, we’re thinking of heading off for the day,” Tim cuts in, leaving Martin’s mouth nearly hanging open. Had they not just gone over why this was a horrible idea? As if to answer his unspoken question, Sasha joins in with support for Tim’s cause. Martin’s pretty sure there’s actually a gap between his lips. 

Jon, having opened the office by this point, merely stops and stares. Seconds pass, though it feels more like minutes. There appears to be some sort of staring match between the three of them. 

Finally Jon breaks the silence with a short… well, it’s hard to call it a laugh, more like a huff. His posture tightens as he attempts to pull himself to his full height, casting Tim a wary glance. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Quite serious in fact! See, me and Sasha have been thinking,” Tim pauses, gesturing to the aforementioned with a sickly sweet smile. Merely performance charm, which given the eye-roll she shoots back, Sasha’s well aware of. “All of us here need a chance to bond.” 

“Bond, you say,” Jon’s monotone voice offers no insight to how he’s taking this suggestion. As Martin’s mouth begins to dry, his hands start working their way back into his hair. 

“Indeed!” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to Martin’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “We’ve all been stuck here together, figured we should become more of a team, you know? A team-building exercise you could call it. Something to get us more on the same page.” 

“And what is this ‘team-building exercise’ you have in mind?” 

Well, his heart may have been racing before, but it’s not anymore. In fact, he’s almost entirely convinced it’s just stopped completely. Jon’s eyes meet his own, and Martin drops his gaze fast enough to leave him dizzy. 

This time Sasha speaks up, her coy tone doing nothing to alleviate the heart attack symptoms Martin’s now convinced he’s feeling. “An animal rescue cafe. They rescue dogs and cats, the ones that need rehoming, and bring them there so you can get to know them before you adopt. One opened just down the street from here, and me and Tim have been looking into going. We figured, might as well drag you and Martin along with us.” 

Jon’s glare narrows further, a single hand coming up to rest between his eyes. The movement is completed by pushing up his glasses with a sigh. “And how exactly does drinking tea in a room full of animals qualify as team building?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat animals,” Tim offers. “Not to mention the fact that there’s a whole study about how psychopaths are more likely to hate cats, which is mostly due to the fact cats have willful behaviour.” 

Martin can almost taste his heartbeat at this point, a fact he’s finding quite alarming. Still rummaging through papers, Jon steps into his office. Much to Martin’s chagrin, they all seem to be following him. 

“Are you suggesting someone working in this office is a psychopath, Tim?” Jon continues, huffing out another sigh as he notices the entourage entering his office. Jon’s glare lands on Martin once more, something he’s almost gotten used to at this point. 

Laughter begins to flow from Tim, Sasha joining in with a mild chuckle. “Of course not, but hey, this job’s all about researching things that probably aren’t true. Better safe than sorry, right?” 

Seemingly the only one noticing Jon’s growing apprehension, or maybe just the only one that cares, Martin can’t peel his eyes off their boss. Unaware of the scrutiny, though perhaps expecting it nonetheless, Jon pushes up his glasses again. Martin doesn’t miss the way he lets a single finger brush against his nose during this action. Nor do his eyes skip over the light scrunch forming at the bridge of said nose. 

Oblivious as always, Tim’s still going on about the cafe. Something about which animals are available, what tea they serve, scones, and more useless information. Sasha’s typing something in her phone, apparently fact checking his current ramblings. Still, all of that fades into the background as Martin’s attention is drawn to Jon once more. 

At first, he can’t figure out why he’s watching. Jon didn’t speak, and from his posture he hasn’t made any significant gestures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically that should have caught his eye, and yet-  

And then it happens again. Jon’s brows tighten, his eyes begin to flutter shut, and his lips part just enough for his tongue to peek out between them. There’s a beat of silence, then a single breathy inhale, barely noticeable above Tim’s monologuing. 

“ihh-” 

Just as quickly as it began, Jon crushes it back once more, a hand roughing swiping against his nose. There’s a quiet feeling of– perverse excitement as Martin watches him. Why? No earthly idea. It’s not as if there’s anything specifically… exciting about the action. There’s no physical stimulation beginning, to phrase it politely. 

Still, there’s something… almost electrifying, about bearing witness to a moment so personal and private. As if the only person in the room is Jon, and he’s opened the door for Martin to join him in his world. Which, as you think about it, just becomes more and more– creepy as hell! Damn it! 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Martin manages to peel his gaze away from Jon. Zoning back into Tim’s rambling, he just barely catches the tail end of a rant about different toppings on cinnamon buns. His silence was entirely unnoticed. Understandably, given only Tim had said anything in minutes. 

“Personally, I’m a fan of the regular cream cheese icing,” Martin offers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Tim as another soft sniffle sounds behind him. The others don’t notice it, Sasha rolling her eyes as a light begins to dawn in Tim’s. 

“Well, interesting you say that Martin, they actually have those at the cafe down the street! Isn’t that such a wonderful coincidence?” Tim swirls his body towards Martin, casting a playful glance back at Jon as he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to stop by and get yourself one of those delicious buns?” 

Martin feels his face begin to pale again, and barely manages a meek, “W-well… I don’t need to… get one right now… but if you want-” 

Thankfully he’s saved from himself as a gasp sounds out from the desk. Everyone in the room turns, Martin included, just in time to see Jon duck into his wrist with a tight, “ih’nGXt–uih!” 

“Bless you!” Sasha calls, Tim and Martin echoing the sentiment. A flush begins to spread over Jon’s cheeks, but it’s brushed off as he waves a hand, continuing to scribble on some papers. Casting a glance over to Tim, Martin sighs as the mischief floods the other man's face. He’s very clearly not letting this go. 

“Was that actually a sneeze?” Tim laughs, mimicking the sound as Sasha suppresses a giggle. 

Jon keeps his head down, pen still moving across the paper in disjointed movements. “It was in fact a sneeze, yes. Happens to everyone from time to time, no need to make a big deal out of it. Now, I believe you were going to a cat and do- hiHh! rescue cafe?” 

The hitch manages to escape from Jon’s tight grip, his posture shuddering slightly with the force of continuing the sentence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Martin that just the word dog seems to leave him breathless. 

“A dog cafe, yeah! You’re coming too, right boss? Come see all the adorable little puppies?” Tim offers, gesturing towards the door. Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed by him either. 

An audible gasp sounds out, and all eyes turn back to the rapidly hitching boss. Jon manages to stifle the first one almost silently, only a rush of breath escaping at the end. 

“Bless you, boss.” 

Jon waves a hand, wiping away the water beginning to flood his eyes. “Was just sihh… sighing, Tim.” He finishes the statement with another stifle, this time his whole body jerks along with the rough exhale.  

“Really? Because that sounded like another sneeze,” Tim taunts, poking a finger towards Jon’s face. “And given the way your nose is twitching, you seem far from done.” 

Jon seems to consider debating, but another frantic hitch decides it for him. Giving up the ruse, he ducks into his shoulder with another, “eh’tNGxt–uh! ih’NTchhuh!”  

“Bless yo-” 

“eH’DGZSHhh –uu!”  The volume makes everyone jump, seeming to surprise even Jon. 

“Oh- mby apologies, I seeb to be… hiehh–” Jon trails off, one hand frantically searching for a tissue, nose visibly trembling behind the other. In a move of uncharacteristic pity, Tim pushes the box within reach. Jon mumbles out a thank you, before swinging his chair around for a touch of privacy. 

The silence is almost deafening, cut up only by the rustling of fabric as Jon attempts to subdue the onslaught. “eh’nGNt –oo!” And fails miserably. 

“Do- maybe do you want… well possibly we should, actually I think you might- I mean he might want–” Desperately trying to find a way to fill the space, Martin rambles on, gaze bouncing between all three of his coworkers.

“Martin,” Jon cuts him off, “just say it.” 

The annoyance Martin’s come to expect seems unaffected by the breathy quality of Jon’s words. Unless you notice the flushed nature of his ears, which… is kinda hard to miss when his nose is starting to match. 

“S-sorry! I just figured you may want a touch of uh… privacy..? You seem… itchy,” Martin offers, already beginning to back out of the room. 

Jon glares, lining up a retort before pausing as the first syllable comes out muffled with congestion. A sharp sniff and quick rub later, he continues in an easier tone. “I’m quite alright. No need for such concerns.” 

“I mean- If… if you’re sure…” 

Tim interrupts this time, draping an arm across Martin’s back. “You heard the boss, he’s fine. Now, onto that cafe?” 

Before Martin can get a word out, Jon stands from his chair, dropping the tissues in the wastebasket next to his desk. Sasha chuckles out her approval, sticking her phone into a pocket and beginning to exit the office. Tim follows suit, leaving Martin standing alone with Jon. 

There’s a beat of silence, Martin watching, horrified, as his body refuses to move an inch, silently waiting for Jon’s approval. 

“Well?” 

It’s not exactly an invitation, but it’s more than enough to send Martin scrambling for the door, muttering more sheepish apologies under his breath. If Jon heard them, he gave no indication, busy rustling through a desk drawer. A few more muffled stifles make their way through the noise, no indication given they were heard either. 

As Martin makes it into the hallway, he catches Tim waving from the door. He’s propping it open with one foot as Sasha waits outside, once again on her phone. Martin waves back his acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the kitchen. Tim simply shrugs, calling something about ‘not waiting around’, before joining Sasha in the crisp autumn air. 

Making his way back to the kitchen, Martin pauses at Jon’s door. He’s not eavesdropping, just… listening in, to see if Jon’s alright. It’s his boss after all, and he’s an assistant! He’s supposed to… assist! Perfectly natural thing to do, isn’t it? 

A harsh double pulls him from his spiralling, Jon’s voice coming through audibly in the groan that follows. Alright, enough listening in, this is starting to feel more creepy than curious. 

With what little confidence he can muster, Martin works his way through his plan. The mugs are where they always are, but the water in the kettle was a bit more cold than a proper cup of tea would allow. Flipping the switch, Martin began heating it, and hurried out of the kitchen to his desk. He picks out a fairly bland tea, Jon seems the bland type… right? 

Another few sneezes sound out from the boss’s office, and Martin almost starts to feel guilty for still being in the office. It’s obvious Jon assumes he’s alone, if not from the sneezes themselves, from the groans that come after them. Ever the stickler for a Professional Appearance, he’d never allow himself to be seen or heard in such a state willingly. 

The kettle sounding pulls Martin from his thoughts once more, and he pours the water over the tea bag. Moving carefully, as not to spill, he makes his way back to Jon’s office, knocking softly on the door. 

“Yes?” The reply is sharp, a frantic sounding shuffling occurring as Martin begins to slide open the door. 

“Hey, yeah sorry I just- you sounded like… I just thought that maybe you’d want… you might need some…” 

“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon sighs, giving his nose a subtle swipe. Unfortunately for him, this seems to have been the wrong choice. His nose twitches, eyes beginning to unfocus, and Martin finds himself pausing for the interruption. At least, until Jon gestures at him to continue. 

“Well, I just ma-” 

“ih’tNGT–uu!” 

“Bless you. I just made you some tea, it seemed you cou-” 

“hHUh’dNT–uh!” There’s a pause, Jon’s breath catching dramatically, before he swivels around in the chair and aims a harsh, “eH’dZSHH– eih’DSCHhhh–oo!” at the fistful of tissues he managed to grab. 

It wasn’t exactly quiet, and Martin finds himself flinching against the noise, but holds it together as he places the mug on Jon’s desk, hurrying through the rest of his sentence. 

“Seemed you could use some tea, bless you again by the way, anyways I’m gonna head off with Sasha and Tim, I’ll see you there I guess! Or, well- not just me, we’ll all see you there, as a group, if you choose to come that is! Which of course you don’t have to, though we’d lik-” 

“Martdin,” Jon, mercifully, cuts him off, congestion seeping through his words. With a deep sigh, he finishes his sentence. “Thagnk you. You mbay go ndow.” 

Taking the out, Martin gives one last nervous smile, sliding out into the hallway. Another desperate sneeze leaves him wincing, Jon’s vocal groan sounding out yet again. The poor guy sounds miserable, and Martin almost considers going back in and telling him not to come. If he’s this bad from just the thought… well… 

But he’s embarrassed himself enough for the day, and, albeit hesitantly, Martin heads off to meet Tim and Sasha at the cafe.

[patfr8]

“Hair holds memories”

He remembers who he was. His friends, the ones he called his family. The land that adopted him when he was a cursed outsider. But every time he looked at himself in the mirror, he didn’t see that teen that loved adventuring, he didn’t see that kid with terrible luck, he didn’t see the baby that was abandoned so he could have a better chance at life. No, he only saw what everyone called him. He saw a god. Not a teen, a kid, or a baby.

Bennett had been gone for so long he didn’t remember. He had lost everything. His friends, his family. His homeland. Now, he was slave to the people of fire and war. He had to give them a better live. His mother counted on him.

He was still blonde, but his tips faded to red. He had green eyes, but every time he used his power, they turned red. He had a Pyro Vision, but it was fake. He had two Mondstadt Visions, but they were blank. He was alone.

He was no longer a child. He had died many times, and he had been reborn from the ashes the same amount. Others would compare him to a fenix, but those were powerful and perfect creatures. He was born from fire, war and death. He was far from perfect. He wasn’t a fenix, he was a Quetzalcoatl, a dragon of feathers and power. He was the last one too, which didn’t help. He was useless.

His name was Eligos, God of Death, Pyro Archon and Emperor of Natlan. But all those titles meant nothing if he was alone. What a shame.

“Just because I’m the God of Death doesn’t mean I do the killing. I just make sure the dead stay like that, dead”

They had told him hair holds memories. He never cut it. Maybe his mind was losing those moments, but at least some part of him would still have them. Death waits for no one, and its god is far too tired to care anymore. He used to be a happy boy. Now he’s just the shell of who he thinks he was.

Eligos had killed Bennett and he will never know if it was worth it.

[sisterdivinium]

All her life had she been selfish, placing her needs and whims above all else; all her life had she defied an institution whose entire foundation was built upon the branches of a tree whose fruit was forbidden for its flavour of knowledge.

Still could Jillian not force her to stay — she barely recalled how she had gotten her into her bed to begin with.

Come morning, she always relinquished Suzanne to her habit, to her prayers; she would watch her don the veil Jillian herself had pulled off and rush out for service.

And, somehow, selfless, she let her.

[starglossie]

devotion is found in the cracks of orange peels. 

word count: 1k+

“suguru.”

“yes, satoru.”

suguru responds by muscle memory rather than actual thought. the way satoru says his name (in a tenor pitched with mischief. doused in a certainty only those born of godhood could wave around without sounding pompous) speaks volumes. he wants something. suguru only needs to wait to hear what that something is. 

satoru extends his closed fist to suguru’s face. smoke lazily crawls from the withering end of suguru’s cigarette he bummed (read: stole) from shoko. “hah?” he drawls, looking at satoru’s slender fingers and immaculate nails. he lazily glances over at suguru, who looks at him with his glasses dropped down the slope of his nose and a wild, toothy grin. 

“peel this for me,” he opens his hands and out pops an orange resting in his palm.

suguru is not dumbfounded by this turn of events. satoru is a man of whimsy. what he wants, he gets. what he wishes, he doesn’t seek for. rather, he makes it happen. not by demand-but by a stitched into his flesh expectation that his desires would always manifest themselves before him.

in other words: he’s spoiled. 

satoru bats his eyelashes at him as if he hadn’t asked the most childish request known to mankind. suguru knows satoru is aware of how much he can get away with him. 

there’s a split second where suguru considers not fulfilling the request. after all, satoru has ten fingers that are all working perfectly fine as the gods intended them to do. it’s not as if satoru didn’t know to peel an orange with his fingers. he couldn’t feign ignorance with this one-not like the other week when he insisted he couldn’t take the subway because he didn’t know how to read the lines (he knew damn well how to read them, he simply refused to take the subway when ichiji was available). 

“suuuuguru.”

“saaatoru.” suguru mimics the whining pitch of satoru’s not subtle whining. satoru frowns. 

“you know i can’t peel oranges.”

“can’t? or won’t?”

“semantics, i hate that game. let’s play a new one: suguru-peels-this-orange-for me-game!” he waves his hands around like he’s announcing a new game show. suguru stares at him with his best, unimpressed gaze. satoru’s face falls flat. he huffs. “what sort of best friend are you? unwilling to help in my time of need? distress? dismay?”

suguru takes his cigarette out and grinds the butt onto the ashtray beside him. he rolls his eyes but takes the orange out of suguru’s hand. “one who likes to see his best friend learn a thing or two about taking care of himself,” he playfully nags but his fingers begin to work along the orange peel. it’s methodical work. his nails dig into the skin, just enough to make a crescent-shape dent. and then he pulls back the flesh, disrobing the orange to its barest parts. 

as he works, the cicadas hum. it’s a humid summer this time around. june’s sun is unforgiving so after their last mission, the two boys chose to rest at the inn they planned to spend a night at-paid by the school, of course. suguru’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and satoru’s pants are rolled up past his ankles. suguru kept his hair in a tight bun so his neck wouldn’t get hot.

despite the heat, and the many ways they’ve tried to keep themselves cool and out of the sun’s unforgiving scorch, satoru presses against suguru as he works and rests his head against suguru’s shoulder. 

“you’d make a great housewife one day,” satoru muses after a beat of silence. 

suguru ignores the erratic rhythm his heart takes at that sentence. “you gonna marry me?” he jokes, wishing he could bite his tongue off and never speak again. the orange is nearly finished. a gentle act that suguru probably took more time getting right than he needed to. than he should have. 

he damns himself by peering down to see satoru’s reaction. there’s a redness on satoru’s cheeks that suguru’s mind quickly associates to the summer heat. and nothing more. because more is a gateway to hell. while suguru believes he is already destined for the fire, he doesn’t want to make his inevitable descent come any faster. 

but satoru grins at him. cheeky, as if there’s a secret between his lips that he’s daring suguru to come and taste. satoru hums, closing his eyes shut. “sure. how about next summer? after we graduate? i can buy you a ring later today.”

the summer burns; but satoru incinerates suguru down to ashes. 

the orange is peeled. six slices to be eaten. suguru puts the skin of the orange beside the ash tray and hands the slices back to satoru. who takes the orange with a “thank you!” and plucks one out. he pops the rest of the slices into his mouth one by one and sucks on his finger to clean up any excess juice. suguru doesn’t watch for long. he finds a tree off in the distance and bores his holes into the bark, finding that more fascinating than satoru next to him. 

“this is the best orange i’ve ever had.”

“you’re ridiculous,” suguru snorts, still not looking at satoru. of course, their conversation about marriage and weddings and next year and promises goes off into the wind. spoken between them yet the weight never settles. never takes root. but it doesn’t have to. they’d be together next year, and the year after that, and the years to follow. there was no need to really talk about it when both of them knew their endpoint: one another. 

satoru crosses his ankles and leans back against the wooden floorboard of the porch. he closes his eyes. “i’m serious, suguru. you know they say oranges taste better when they’re peeled with care? when they’re taken apart with love?” he opens one eye. a piercing, endless blue that has suguru forgetting to breathe. “it was delicious, suguru. now? i can nap in peace.” and he shuts his eye. his chest rises and falls. and soon, satoru is asleep. just like that.

suguru stares at satoru with his mouth agape. of course he’d fall asleep after saying something so - so “unbelievable,” suguru’s ears burn and his cheeks are a wildfire. he cups his face with his hands and stares off into the distance of the garden. he smells the faint scent of orange on his fingers and scowls. “i need another cigarette.” 

he stands up to find shoko. but he’d return once he finished his cigarette. 

[llondonfog]

🦇

[flurry-of-stars]

"You had been waiting for this moment for two years. You had always respected Sigma’s want to wait until marriage to go the whole way but now that it was almost time… You felt…nervous." ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽♡☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ New fic soon ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[flfverse]

i love promising things and not following up. it’s awesome. superrrrr cool. anyway, little life/fic update for you all. it’s 4am, please bear with me.

i wanted to wait to do this until i had more work done so i could drop snippets and have an actual date for the hiatus to end, but you know.

to be honest, the brain? is not great. where’s the halloween meme. mental is hocus. health not pocus. etc etc. and the thing is i have a support system of sorts, therapy, all that good stuff. i also have, like, four or five mental illnesses. and because of the logistics of College, none of my support system is actually physically nearby most of the time. so. that kinda sucks. <3 i miss people. horrified to discover i might actually be an extrovert and just anxious.

but you know, ups and downs. this week, or at least this weekend, we’re on an up, which is good. the shitty part is, this time last year i coped by writing so, so much fanfiction. truly, look at my ao3 september-december 2022. wild.

and i just. can’t really write these days, for whatever reason. not easily. and it sucks! because i love this story! i want to tell it so bad! but the initial hyperfixation has worn off and my motivation to do anything at all is a bit….how do you say….nonexistent. so like. halfhearted cheers. sorry.

the best timeline i can give right now is this: i have a fandom trumps hate auction due december 31st. it’s about half done. that is obvs first priority (after silly things like school and work) because there are actual material consequences if i don’t finish. i am also launching something original in january, if i can get myself together enough to do so. i think i will. i’m mostly ready (and hey, my main is in my pinned if queer fantasy pirates sounds up your alley?).

and also, there’s FLFverse. i would really like to get back to posting before the year is up, but :/ not sure. definitely want to by january. i’m not sure if i’ll be able to keep up with two chapters a month or if i’ll have to drop to one or something even more sporadic than that.

hey, be honest, would you rather wait longer for me to build a backlog for regular updates, or get the ball rolling sooner but with no schedule?

we have a poll now i guess. it’s seriously 4am and i’m about to go back to making paper mache bones on the floor, mkay. don’t ask me to be normal.

so anyway. that’s the update. i wish it was more positive. if you made it all the way to the end and want to toss an ask, a little prompt, a question, whatever, that would be very cool. i think i have a chill week coming up and i miss this ‘verse a ton, wouldn’t mind some dopamine.

[devondespresso]

i finally understand the too-many-ideas syndrome

[midnightwind]

I wish I wasn't so eugh about writing characters I didn't make because oh the snippets of interactions my brain is crafting between my drow Tav and Astarion that will never see the light of day....

[two-toned-heart]

Marry You

Peter stands outside Y/N’s room as he holds his secret in his pocket, an engagement ring in a box.

He takes a breath, knocking on their bedroom door. Lucy was out for the night at Vio’s, her…. ‘friends with benefits’.

Y/N opens the door, their head tilting to the side a little bit as they spoke, “…… Hey? What’re you doing in here this late a-and why do you smell like booze?”

Peter laughs happily, having drunk a little before to give himself a bit more confidence as he gets on one knee and digs around in for the little box that means as much to him as you do.

He opens it, revealing the treasure he purchased over the internet on the low.

“…… Y/N, will you marry me? Don’t say no, no, no. Just say yeah, yeah, yeah….. It’s a beautiful night and you’re as gorgeous as it, please tell me your answer”, Peter asks as he looks at them with his big blue eyes.

They shuffled around a little bit, pulling up the sleep shirt that they were wearing. They barely know Peter but something about him makes them want to take the plunge, subtly nodding a bit nervously.

The tall man smiles wide, standing up suddenly to bring Y/N into his arms and hugs them closely. He smells their hair, almost passing out from their scent.

(-The End-)

[roguegona]

Lost.

They were lost. Absolutely, unequivocally, lost. And yet, Vi held her tongue, for reasons she still couldn’t fathom. A quick check of her cell phone told her that they still had zero service, and she sighed as she tucked it away again.

“Can I see it?” she finally asked Caitlyn, who had her head buried in her own phone as she studied the map she’d saved of this particular hike they were on.

Caitlyn flashed her a look that clearly said don’t start, and Vi held her hands up innocently in front of her. Caitlyn went back to studying her phone and Vi went back to observing their surroundings, wondering why on earth she’d agreed to do such a remote hike in the Mojave Desert. In June, no less.

Granted, it was still only mid-morning, but the temperature was rapidly rising, the higher the sun climbed in the sky. A sun which, at this time of the year, was actively trying to kill you, as far as Vi was concerned.

“I may struggle with geography, but I’m sure I’m—we’re—somewhere around here.”

Vi turned around to see Caitlyn finally offering her phone so Vi could have a look. She leaned in and peered at the screen, trying to gauge where, exactly, Caitlyn’s finger was pointing to.

“May I?” Vi asked. She tried to keep her tone amicable, but she was certain her growing irritation was leaking through. Caitlyn gave a small huff and handed the phone over, much to Vi’s relief.

Years spent in the Marine Corps (and a few at the base not too far from here) had taught her how to navigate through terrain using only a map and her eyes, and she put that knowledge to good use now. Within ten minutes, she had a pretty good idea of where they were. And it was not where Caitlyn had originally thought.

Good with geography, my ass, Vi scoffed to herself as she handed the phone back to Caitlyn. “Okay…if we walk this way—” she turned and pointed in the general direction of northwest— “we should be able to find the trail again.”

“Okay.” Caitlyn’s voice sounded resigned and Vi knew she needed to lighten up on her, if they were going to salvage the rest of the short vacation they had together.

“I’m sorry I got us lost,” Caitlyn said, once they finally found the trail again.

Vi turned and gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s not entirely your fault. I wasn’t paying attention either.” She slid her arms around Caitlyn’s waist and tried to turn on as much of that puppy dog charm that she knew Caitlyn loved so much.

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me?”

Works every time, Vi smugly thought as Caitlyn smiled and visibly relaxed. She leaned in and gave Vi a kiss.

“Deal.” Caitlyn took Vi’s hand and started leading her down the trail, but Vi pulled her to a stop.

“Uh Caitlyn?” Caitlyn turned and gave her a questioning look. “The car is that way,” Vi said, pointing in the opposite direction.

Caitlyn’s cheeks immediately flushed. “I knew that,” she said as she marched past Vi, now going in the right direction.

Vi chuckled and fell in step behind her, wondering what else the day had in store for her.

[shreksflamingknob69]

i do think he’d call him “my love” or “my dear” in very special moments.

also i’m convinced cas would google pet names once they start dating because he saw people call each other pet names in a movie, and then they’d be like:

cas: *casually calls dean babe in a conversation*

dean: wot 🤨

cas: it’s a pet name. for couples. i googled it. *takes out a handwritten list of 50 romantic nicknames* do you not like it? *frowns and tilts head*

d: no, uh, it’s fine. it’s nice, i like it… babe :)

c: okay. good *patented castiel smile that he only gives dean*

d: yeah, good. hm :)

I see a lot of people say Dean would be all "baby, honey, sweetie" with Cas if they were dating but I choose to believe he would absolutely marry that man and still call him "dude, buddy, guy"

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

[mushroompollution]

The pair are several blocks away when Leo realizes he's forgotten his phone at the orphanage with a quiet "ah."

"Goddammit, Leo!" Elliot huffs, crossing his arms. "How am I supposed to rely on you as a servant if you can't even keep track of your own shit?"

"well, you were the one rushing me to leave--"

"Yeah, 'cuz if we miss this train, I'm gonna kick your ass!! Hurry up!"

Leo takes a deep breath, turning to sprint back in the direction of Fianna's. It isn't a long jog, but he's never been a fan of running, especially not in a sweater and the midday humidity.

Some of the children cheer, rushing him as he enters, announcing his return. "yeah, no, sorry. I'm only back for a second, hello Sister Fiona, no, I just have to grab something, I'm sorry--"

He clenches and unclenches his fists at his side. He won't lose his temper here, not in front of these kids. But with the sweat, the pulse in his head, the noise, the noise, and the urgency, his patience is nearing its limit. Leo breaks away from the kids who hug his waist, playfully trying to keep him from leaving again, unable to understand his predicament.

He hurries to the piano room, snatches up his phone and charger, and turns on his heel. Alright. Now he just has to get back to Elliot--

He speed walks into the entry foyer just as the front doors open for someone else. This time, there is no excited chatter from the children, no rush to hold their big sibling hostage. The small children go quiet, stepping back to stand obediently side by side as the head nun approaches this new guest.

Leo stops in his tracks.

The stranger looks in his direction, beady, black eyes seeming to bore straight past Leo's thick lenses and into his very soul.

"A-ah. Master Yura, this is--" Sister Fiona starts, only for the stranger to cut her off with a dramatic little flap of his hand.

"Lord Nightray's valet, isn't it! Yes! How very good to see you again!" he announces with a giddy smile that makes Leo's hair stand on end.

again...?

"..."

"You don't remember me, do you? Well, I suppose you wouldn't. You always used to hide away back then, and it's been....MMMM what, six years now?" the stranger holds out a hand. "Isla Yura."

"...Leo," the valet responds, reluctantly shaking the offered hand. The cold feeling of the stranger's touch lingers on his skin.

"Hoho, I know, dear. But... Don't you have a train to catch?"

Quickly, Leo regains his composure with a start. "that's right, ah--! thank you, it was. nice. to meet you..."

"We'll catch up next time, but you shouldn't keep the young master waiting~"

Leo nods, and without wasting another second, he rushes past Isla Yura and Sister Fiona to leave. But as he pushes open the heavy double doors, the visitor's final words turn his blood to ice inside his veins.

"After all, they never did catch that Headhunter, did they?"

----

Leo chews on his lip as he walks quickly back to the spot he'd left his master, his head too full to jog this time; his heart already feels like it's trying to break out of his ribcage.

again?

how could i forget meeting someone like that?

He wracks his brain, lost in thought as he turns a corner.

no, there was something familiar about him.

six years ago. wasn't that--

"There you are!!"

The voice snaps him from his thoughts, but not quite fast enough to see Elliot step in front of him. Unable to stop in time, he walks straight into the other young man, nearly knocking them both off their feet.

"Jesus fuckin. Leo!! Watch where you're going, and--!! I told you to hurry!!"

"sorry, I--"

"No time for that!!" Elliot grabs the hand of his valet, his crushing grip a relief after the clammy touch of that visitor. "I am not spending another night in this stupid town!!" He marches quickly in the direction of the train station, giving Leo no choice but to trot to keep up to his friend... and no opportunity to explain, either.

Leo swallows down the sour taste in his throat.

[nezuscribe]

𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

full fics:

the arrangement: gojo satoru was a notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his marriage. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he’s beginning to want you. (18+)

drabbles:

gojo never wanted to marry

gojo finds out you weren't supposed to marry him

watching him train

the moments after you two got married

he sees you not wearing your ring

he interrupts you while you're baking

he leaves and you think he won't be coming back

lovey gojo

when you two first met

he's huge

what he thinks

another moment from your teens

a little inexperienced (and that's ok!)

gojo is hyper-masculine

you see him with another girl

what happens after you see him with another girl

gojo introduces you to shoko

what happens when gojo's forced to put up with your family

jealous reader (petty gojo)

your birthday

arranged marriage!gojo tag (everything to do with him)