#well mostly it's because i got back into my bad habit of editing as I write

[clairdelunelove]

Things Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Finds Attractive About You Pt.II

simon 'ghost' riley x reader, mentions of soap, price, gaz, and alejandro 

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing 

synopsis: a couple more cute quirks that you possess that ghost can’t get enough of! headcanon edition! 

a.n. was this on your christmas list?? if it was then santa’s back in town babes :P but seriously, I hope that the holidays have been treating you well. stay warm! if you can, pls consider checking out my kofi and thank you for your continued support <3 

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when you glance at him and smile 

you were doing it again 

it was the fifth time ghost caught your bright eyes glancing in his direction 

and it wouldn’t have come to his attention, after all eye contact was given in accordance to common courtesy if you were discussing matters with someone, but you were lounging halfway across the room 

ghost sat alone at the main table 

a couple members surrounded you,, occupied in light banter and small talk 

alejandro lightly nudged your shoulder, murmuring a casual joke that has soap roaring in laughter 

their boisterous voices carry throughout the room which causes ghost to peer up at them 

he couldn’t afford to lose concentration,, needing this alone time to debrief about the previous mission (i.e. which formation was most efficient, how many soldiers he still had left, if there were enough food rations) 

but 

taking a sneak peek couldn’t hurt 

fiddling with the strap of his holster, he wordlessly tightens the garment along his waist and watches as the corners of your lips curl into a polite smile while engaging in small talk with the group 

he spots soap place a gentle hand on your shoulder, the male twisting himself closer to you, as a way to balance himself while heaving over in laughter at another quip that alejandro shares 

before he can think better of it, a ragged breath leaves ghost’s lips at soap’s blatant display of physical affection toward you 

fortunately unfortunately his balaclava doesn’t muffle the noise of disdain which causes soap’s attention to snap to him 

“somethin’ you want to add, Lt.?” soap challenges with a raised brow, “might need to come closer so we can hear ya.” 

soap graces a sly smirk, inadvertently mentioning how ghost was literally the only one that strayed away by being halfway across the room 

and soap’s attempt at pestering the other male is glaringly obvious,, especially from the way his hand still lingers around your shoulder 

there’s a soft chorus of chuckles that erupt from the rest of the members but you simply await the lieutenant's reaction to the lighthearted prod   

ghost doesn’t take the bait though 

“I’ll bear it in mind,” he bluntly acknowledges while readjusting in his seat  

he wasn’t entirely against the idea of mingling but found that restocking/readjusting his equipment was the first priority 

the lieutenant’s casual response leaves the squad speechless,, most expecting him to reprimand soap from the insinuation and their astonished gazes are fixed on him 

ghost, however, continues to nonchalantly estimate the amount of ammunition left in his weapons 

that is– until a subdued giggle fills the empty air 

and he’s aware of that specific sound, doesn’t need to glance up to affirm his belief because it always tugs at his heart in an unfamiliar way

yet, his dark gaze still deviates to find yours 

“my apologies. it was just really quiet.” 

your voice is meek in comparison to earlier now that ghost’s scrutiny is trained on you and the detail leads to him raising a light-toned brow 

the top of his balaclava crinkles due to the action,, a small humane feature that you desperately cling onto 

soap also dropped his hand in response to your small outburst and satisfaction creeps up at ghost 

he nods once, ease swelling within him at the sight of your untouched shoulder, before returning to concentrate on the equipment in front of him 

“yer aff yer heid, bonnie,” soap whispers to you once light chatter erupts again, “I’d sure fix his problem.” 

“what’s his problem?” 

“the mask,” the scottish male huffs like it was obvious, “it’s always on–” 

“I quite like it.” 

you quickly interrupt soap’s rambling and he groans upon seeing your infatuated smile and usual faraway glint in your eyes that you adorn whenever you stare at ghost 

much like you were committing now 

“it’s the mystery,” soap wildly runs his fingers through his mohawk while attempting to explain your interest in the lieutenant, “that’s why the bonnies like him.” 

“well,” ghost’s listless eyes reach yours and you finish your confession in a wishful exhale, “I don’t blame them.” 

and ghost recognizes the look you’re casting him 

that bashful yet alluring glimmer in your stare that has him placing down whatever equipment he was holding so he could rightfully return your gaze 

and of course he hears your breathy disclosure,, revealing more than he’d bargained for 

but he’s steadfast, not planning on tearing his gaze away, when you abruptly break eye contact with him 

ghost blinks– once, twice, three times– upon losing your heated scrutiny an emptiness threatens to swallow him,, his body maneuvering to repose in your direction

legs stretched in front of him, he edges closer to where you stood while crossing his hulking arms  

but you’re caught in conversing with someone and his finger taps idly on the table to patiently await the moment your gaze sweeps over to him again 

it’s almost pathetic how he waits for your eyes to fix on him 

however, when it does, he almost lets out a frazzled breath from beneath his mask 

restocking his equipment could wait for another time because you grace him with one of those beguiling smiles that beckons him over– inviting the tempting risk and enticing danger that accompanies ghost wherever he goes 

he catches you red-handed when you give him a slow once-over,, dragging your half-lidded eyes across the expanse of his massive physique but finishing your scan with an appreciative simper 

and that’s when he finally moves 

firmly pushing out the chair from beneath him, his robust legs carry him towards you in a resolute stride 

a knowing grin dances on your lips due to his advancing,, the sight as clear as day when ghost shoulders past the members surrounding you 

he doesn’t mumble any apologies 

instead, he presses himself so close to you that he can distinguish your rapid heartbeat from beneath your fitted shirt and the cadence causes his head to tilt 

his ebony eyes narrow upon seeing the growing blush, a shade of rouge, overtake your cheeks and the innocent reaction would’ve fooled him if he didn’t know what you secretly were 

a vixen 

he dips his head lower and the next words he utters drips from his tongue like smooth ambrosia 

“see somethin’ you like, doll?”

-

your voice 

ghost had a love/hate relationship with missions 

on one hand, he was going in blind about the amount of recruits he’d lose

It was a constant risk of precious lives, one’s that had family/friends/people waiting for them back at home, with every mission 

yet, leading the squad through missions kept his mind still,, rendering him too busy focusing on basic survival than fighting the incessant thoughts within his mind that strangled him during his free time 

the loneliness, mental exhaustion, and emptiness eating at him until he could no longer stand it 

but there was also you 

“bravo 0-7, how copy?” 

filtering through the radio’s static, your voice is carried through as a gentle melody in ghost’s tactical headset 

the question cuts through the debris that he crushes beneath his heavy boots 

he recognizes a heavy exhale from one of the recruits following behind him and he raises a hand to silence them 

hearing your voice directions is crucial 

but secretly, he’s glad that the higher ups invested in the latest technology so he could hear your voice clearly 

especially the soothing inflection of his alias 

“this is bravo 0-7,” he replies, never one to delay his responses to you 

“lieutenant.” 

and he’s familiar with that pleased tone that’s shared in the troop’s comms 

the teasing purr of his rank visibly causes some of the newer recruits to freeze in their movements,, mind straying to less than innocent scenarios from the way you uttered it 

before he can control himself, he casts an annoyed glare at them that (of course) goes unnoticed by you 

his haunting eyes narrow considerably to wordlessly serve as a threat for their childish behavior 

“(y/n),” he directs his attention to the seedy enclosure before him, “give me a reading.” 

there’s a minute of silence, which ghost anxiously listens for any background noise that indicates if you’re in danger, before your voice crackles, “enemy ground cluster spotted. wiped them out asap.” 

“atta girl.” 

unbeknownst to him, your finger hovers above the communication button so the shaky exhale you let out from his praise isn’t heard 

and he’s aware you had to excuse yourself due to his subtle approval 

“target destruction confirmed,” captain price’s authoritative voice reminds ghost to refocus on the task at hand, “heading to the next destination.” 

the squad synchronizes their movements to head south, in accordance to the enemies’ location 

“where are your sights at, (y/n),” ghost implores while readjusting the mic so it sits snugly over his mask 

unfortunately, his finger unknowingly bumps against his equipment and puts the two of you in a private channel 

which you decide to take full advantage of 

he casts a cautious glance in all directions before gesturing to the recruits to fall in behind him 

it’s silent besides the branches that ghost prods away while he trudges through a clearing 

steadying the throwing knife in his hand, he recognizes the cool metal while the weight of the weapon is slight in his grasp 

as light as a feather 

he’s more than accustomed to the ridges, grooves, and feel of the knife,, using it in necessary combat situations

but his dependable grip, the one that’s effortlessly shoved the weapon into countless enemies, falters when you answer his inquiry in a breathy voice 

“my sights are locked on you, lieutenant.” 

and it’s a line that could be taken two ways: you were watching ghost’s six or you were solely engaged on him for personal reasons 

the fact was– your gaze was trained on him 

it causes satisfaction,, scorching hot which spreads through him and keeps him warm in the chilly weather 

and your utterance is as sweet as sugar that ghost is certain that you spout liquid honey when you part your lips 

he reasons that’s probably why your lips are always so glossy whenever he sees you 

ghost shifts, eyes trailing to the distant watch tower that you’re situated at, and slowly shakes his head 

you were up to no good 

“you’re trouble,” he reprimands but there’s no bite in his tone, “be good, will ya?” 

“and if I’m not?” 

there it is again, the sultry tone that drips from your voice to infer that there’s a double meaning 

he halts to a stop, dragging a gloved hand over his face in an attempt to regain his self-control, and fights back a strangled groan 

“come here then, pup,” his voice is so low-pitched that it serves as an inviting taunt, “say it to my face.” 

and his self-restraint is thinning, becoming nonexistent because of the dangerous game you were playing

the desire to remind you of the high risk that accompanies cheeky comments floods within him 

turning away from the other recruits to maintain some privacy, he’s initially pleased when he doesn’t hear your immediate retort 

it seemed like you were finally learning that fueling fire wasn’t always the safest decision 

but goodness did it create an indulgent buzz 

and he curses under his breath when your brazen response crackles through the comms 

“you serve our country,” your lips curl at the ends as you breathe out, “I just want to serve you.” 

-

when you laugh at his jokes 

honestly ghost wouldn’t coin himself as being a “jokester”

prefers if the other members told jokes to keep the mood lighthearted,, which he knows is essential to keeping up morale during missions

but if the time comes then his quick thinking is perfect for him to conjure up a joke or two 

granted, it wouldn’t be the best jokes 

ghost’s humor could be described as— interesting 

very interesting 

and a consensus that the other squad members agree with is that his jokes lean more towards dark humor >.> 

like don’t get them wrong! dark humor could be used to transcend heavier emotions and share stronger emotions,, which is especially the case for ghost but they prefer to keep the jests easygoing (for the most part) 

and ghost doesn’t really mind when his humor is overlooked in most situations since he understands it’s an acquired preference 

but boy do you live to test him 

“please? can’t you tell me at least one?” 

you were at it again,, forcing your hands together while you conjured up all your effort to make your bottom lip quiver in a dramatic pout 

leave it to you to corner ghost in the hallway right when he exited the maintenance room 

caught him by surprise too! had to abruptly halt to stop the front of his tactical vest from bumping into you since he almost didn’t spot you because you were tucked so close to the doorway 

he had raised a single, sharp brow to wordlessly ask if you needed anything from him,, mostly expecting that you’d usher him somewhere else to gather next mission’s intel 

but ghost didn’t predict that you’d practically raced across the base just to ask him to tell you a joke 

“just haven’t heard you tell one to the task force,” you casually explained which only added to his confusion 

and he doesn’t know what aided in your curiosity to hear one of his jokes since you never disclosed how it had been a topic discussed among the group,, about how hearing a joke from ghost was a rarity 

a part of you wished to prove them wrong 

so you drew your lower lip between your teeth and dragged your eyes up until they were leveled with his 

“please? for me?” 

he can hear the lighter pitch of your voice when you’re pleading like this but he remains unmoving,, only crossing his arms to watch the act you put on

the corners of your mouth fall almost unceremoniously upon noticing ghost’s impassive front,, the goal of hearing one of his jokes slowly floating further and further away from your grasp  

when you press yourself close enough for him to get a whiff of your sweet perfume, however, he rasps, “don’t do that.” 

“what?” 

“you think every time you say, ‘please? for me?’ I’ll do whatever you want,” ghost chides while slowly shaking his head, “well, not this time.” 

because he knows better than to give in to your every whim– no matter how insignificant it was 

it would build a bad habit if he always agreed to taking on your work or tasks,, which would evolve into small demands that he’d be burdened to complete along with his personal work 

at least, he thinks he knows better 

but then you nibble on your bottom lip and softly ask again, “please? for me?” 

and he finds himself huffing out a heavy breath, dragging his gloved hand across his face, and uttering, “fine.” 

so he stiffly stands there, lost in thought, until a couple awkward moments of silence pass

by this time you weren’t expecting much, assuming that ghost would rely on a cliche joke to tell you since you hadn’t given him much time to prepare in advance 

but his throaty voice knocks you out of your stupor, “what do you call someone who just got run over by a tank?” 

and there you go– you had all that you desired since ghost managed to tell you a joke 

he observes how you tilt your head,, mind racing in response to his joke before you ultimately give up with a small shrug 

his eyes follow the gentle curve of shoulders before meeting your gaze again 

ghost figures that he’d answer for you 

“crunchy.” 

a beat of silence,, ghost glances away  

there’s no way he would’ve envisioned the feedback you’d give him in return to his (rather) dark humor but hearing your overjoyed giggles made him think he’d hit the ultimate jackpot 

“that’s a good one,” you manage to compliment between your fit of laughter, “I liked it.”  

your hand outstretched to gently shove at ghost’s arm,, aware of the solid mass that served as the top of his bicep and you immediately withdraw your hand at the realization  

peering back at you, he recognizes the mirth that swirls in your eyes and notes the pride that swells within him 

because you’re laughing at his joke 

the intensity grips at him,, threatening to never let him go so long as you’re next to him 

it’s addicting 

he quietly continues staring at you as your mouth curves into a delighted smile 

and he tries to memorize the action,, comparing your smile to the brilliant half-moons that he’d spot in the dark skies during nightly missions,, and the sight is almost too beautiful to avert his gaze from 

similar to how a person that enjoys art ogles at intricate and exquisite paintings 

before he rethinks his decision, he decides to speak up 

“don’t smile at me like that.” 

and although it sounds like a reprimand, the words leave his lips almost tenderly as he gazes at you 

-

saying “please”

you weren’t typically one to complain about a long, drawn-out day because learning how to cope with them was part of your job 

but today just wasn’t your day :( 

from hauling extra equipment across the base, getting a light scolding from the higher-ups, and waiting for directions while in the frigid air– it was exhausting 

not to mention that the oncoming headache, as well as chills, indicated that sickness was upon you 

and as the back of your head hit the couch’s plush pillow,, your relieved exhale was a huge indicator that relaxing was the dream for you 

yet, having time to rest was too good to be true 

as price ushered the rest of 141 to gather around, there was a debate to enforce lookout duty for the night 

just the usual scouting for any navigation marks, ships, or hazards,, which was more difficult to spot in the dark 

there were clear directions given to the members on who would be put on lookout duty 

and what do you know, it was your turn to lead 

so you’re absolutely dreading your shift, desperately attempting to shrug the burden off to someone else 

“soap,” you hesitantly call out before the task force members could waltz to their own rooms, “do me a solid and trade shifts with me, will you?” 

there’s a flicker of consideration in soap’s cerulean-colored eyes when he notices your lack of energy and enthusiasm towards lookout duty but he’s unwilling to give up his few hours of rest as well 

“am pure done in. I can’t stay awake,” soap explains with a grimace, “sorry ‘bout that, bonnie.” 

forcing the frown on your face to turn into a stiff smile, you allow him to brush past you while you reassure him, “I understand.” 

then you were onto your next victim comrade 

“how about you, gaz,” you shift closer to the sergeant just before he leaves, “mind taking lookout duty from me?” 

he pivots using the heel of his foot, not quite expecting that you’d ask because you were usually the first to volunteer for the shift, and raises his brows 

gaz tips his cap in your direction to serve as an apologetic gesture, “afraid I can’t, (y/n).” 

and just like that, the entirety of the squad leaves you standing in the main room 

defeated 

your eyes catch the burnt-orange hue casted along the horizon, signaling that dusk was upon you and your stalling would be inevitable 

with a huff, you’re about to leave the room to situate yourself at the observatory deck when you catch sight of a lingering figure 

“lieutenant?” 

upon hearing his rank, ghost glances up from his task of dusting off his handgun and crumples the dirty rag in his hand 

he’s leaning against the edge of the table, feet spread apart to stabilize himself 

his dead-set eyes wordlessly prods you to continue talking and you force down the lump in your throat, “sorry. I was just surprised to see you still here, that’s all.” 

he’s clearly exhausted 

the usual tenseness in his shoulders has slowly diminished to where he appears withdrawn 

yet he thumbs at the weapon’s magazine and your eyes watch as the design on his gloves seem to dance at the action 

ghost nods once,, not one for small talk and you internally groaned at that late realization

silence ensues  

when an idea pops into your mind– why not ask ghost to take your watch duty? 

he’d understand, right?

inklings of doubt begin to gnaw at you but you were utterly desperate for rest tonight and your headache was worsening by the second 

“sir,” you meekly initiate before you have the chance to back down, “would you be willing to take my lookout duty shift?” 

your voice wavers, it’s blatantly obvious, and the anxiousness urges you to ramble on, “sorry! I don’t usually ask others to switch with me. it’s just been a really long day and I think I could benefit with some sleep. which, now that I’m thinking about it, anyone would benefit from sleep since everyone’s exhausted from the mission but what I’m trying to say is–” 

ghost raises a gloved hand

it’s a silent command to get you to halt and he rises to his feet 

you note the way his eyes deliberately scan the room before taking a step in your direction 

his tactical gear rattles,, the clasps slightly swinging due to the movement but he crosses the space between the two of you with ease 

the close proximity is perfect to get a glimpse of his opaque eyes which are obscured from smudged eye paint 

tucking his index finger underneath your chin, he lifts your face so you’re forced to maintain his stare, and his pale lashes flutter when he narrows his eyes 

“use your words.” 

the command is throaty, gruff, and deliciously low 

it takes you a second to regain your composure, inwardly stunned at how enticing his voice sounded, and decide to take a moment to gather your thoughts 

his touch is warm 

and ghost’s gaze was specifically fixed on you 

however, his hard stare flickers when your teeth gently tug at your bottom lip while you ponder the most effective way to get your point across 

you would need to use your final resort to sway ghost into covering your shift!

“I’m just not feeling the best right now and would really appreciate it if you took lookout duty instead.” you explained in sincerity 

it’s a good tactic– great even, but it wasn’t the final trick up your sleeve 

but it didn’t matter what you were explaining to ghost (whether you were giving him a half-assed excuse or ultimately feeling unwell) because he wasn’t listening,, too focused on the glimmer that shined within your wide eyes  

and the sparkle became more apparent under the dim light

ghost’s grasp tilted your chin upwards,, he’s silent and awaiting your next ploy 

he, however, wasn’t expecting the next word to tumble from your lips in a soft, pleading whisper 

“please.” 

his restraint runs alarmingly thin,, his finger that’s tucked underneath your chin twitches and the desire to encourage you to say it again is evident

“what was that?” 

the question is uttered so dangerously low that you gulp before softly repeating, “please, lieutenant.” 

and goodness did you look alluring while voicing it 

he’s at a standstill 

not to mention that he delights in the unwarranted swipe of your tongue over your plush lips,, wetting them just enough to shine 

and as he’s staring down at you, you’re peering up at him but he’s so unbelievably tall that you crowd yourself closer 

bloody hell 

the warmth radiating off your body reminds him of your proximity and before he can fall victim to your coquetry he reels back

who was he to tell you no?

“fine.” 

it’s a simple response uttered by ghost that immensely pleases you and you can’t help but wonder how permissive he was about it 

“really?” you question, brows shooting up in surprise because it was rare for the lieutenant to willingly volunteer to cover someone else’s lookout duty 

he drops the hand holding your chin and nods once 

busying himself by rechecking his handgun for full ammunition, he chastises how easily he made his decision 

can’t blame him though

ghost would’ve been a goner if you continued pleading to him using your expressive eyes,, the ones that cause his fingers to inch closer to hold you 

the most dangerous weapon he’s faced (in all honesty) 

and he’d rather NOT be rendered speechless in front of you 

he tucks the gun into the proper spot on his holster and turns to leave in accordance to his end of the compromise 

but not before he coolly mentions, “you should do that more.” 

you’re confused but ultimately satisfied to have finally issued your shift to someone else 

head tilting due to ghost’s comment, you decide to clarify what he meant 

“do what more, lieutenant?” 

“beg.” 

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING

HELLO! The lack of Haymitch content makes me wanna cry so I decided to step in. English is not my first language so please have mercy ✌️

Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

MASTERLIST

*gif not mine*

1. Bad feeling

Life in District 12 is nowhere to be great, but there are few aspects that make life easier. You can grow plants in the garden, if you have it. People are nice, mostly they threat you with kindness, even Peacekeepers. You are always nice to everyone, and nobody has been a problem. Your adoptive mother, Holly, taught you to stay out of problems and riots and focus to become a great part of the community instead. You are so grateful towards her that you would do anything to make her happy, not to mention it isn’t hard to act kind.

You are quite happy with your life. A part from the fact that you are always hungry - quite a habit, but at the age of twenty four you are strong and ready to work a lot. 

You are a great babysitter for the children of the district, when the mothers have to work after the pregnancy you step in line and take care of their babies. You clean the houses of the Major, of the Peacekeepers and the Victors - which is one, by the way, but always pay in time. You want to become a teacher, but you have to wait a year or so to try the test again. You failed. Yes, big time, big tears, but you got back to work and have faith for the future. 

At the age of 24 you look nice, you think. Raven hair, hazel eyes, not really tall, you are content with your physical aspect. You aren't married, though. You never had any suitors, your family being miners and you being… busy. You are gentle, but never open. To boyfriends, to new possibilities. 

Oh, and you are utterly in love with the kinda-old-man you are working for. But that is just a little detail.

Life in the District is a routine, and you like it.

Yes, you are happy. The kind of happiness who leads you to sing while you are cleaning, at least until your surly boss yells at you to stop.

You were happy. Until you watched the television.

After the 74th edition of the Hunger Games everything changed in the district and, I think, in the Capitol too. For the first time in ages a girl and a boy from our home won, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. And for the first time ever, two kids. They managed to stay alive declaring their love for each other. You were really happy at first, because you have known Katniss and Peeta since they were kids. And for the food they provided with the victory too, you have to be honest. After several months, though, you can sense something is wrong. Everybody, including your boss, is nervous. Well, more nervous and skittish - and drunk -  than usual. Katniss and Peeta are always around Haymitch’s house, never together - which is weird since they are supposed to be a couple - and they talk with a low voice, usually in the garden where the geese are. You stay out of the way, not wanting any of that business. You are here to clean the mess, tidy up the rowdyness he calls home and settle a way of living that’s tolerable. One time you opened the door and Capitol men were there, looking for Haymitch (who was in bed, drunk as hell). They were terrifying, and you practically hide until they were gone. 

It happens in a brief moment. You are cleaning Haymitch’s house, the biggest house you’ve ever seen, and the television is on. It’s almost mandatory to watch the television during programs like these, because Snow wants every citizen to know the news. You expect to see the same statement, like every year. “And so it was decreed that, each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honour, courage and sacrifice.”

Not this time, tho. President Snow, seated in his white luxurious chair with his devious blue eyes and white hair, pronounces these words: “This edition of the Hunger Games is the 75th Quarter Quell, a glorified year. For the 75th Hunger Games it is therefore decreed that this year the various districts of Panem will offer up, in tribute, a man and a woman from the age of eighteen to the age of thirty to fight to the death in a pageant of honour, courage and sacrifice, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol.” 

From 18 to 30. And you are twenty-four. 

You can barely register what you’ve seen that you feel your legs abandoning you, and you faint.

You wake up in someone's arms, confused and horrified.

«Let's get you on the couch, sweetheart.»

Haymitch. You are surprised he is sober enough to acknowledge you are there, even if not enough to catch you before the fall.

You feel so stupid. You fainted. But then again, you were sure you escaped the torture of the Hunger Games the minute you turned nineteen.

He trembles to the couch and you are so grateful for him.

Haymitch Abernathy. The man who pays you to keep his house - his life - in order and clean. The old grumpy man who sometimes makes you laugh, but most of the times shut his door because he’s too drunk to be seen by anyone, let alone a young girl. He’s never violent towards you, but you can see he is very scared of the possibility. 

Six months before you were struggling with your job, wanting something more to feed your family. You were just have been rejected from the teacher test, and very sadly began to ask anyone for work. After two or three men who mentioned in hilarious tones the kind of jobs you definitely didn't want, Haymitch stepped up and just looked at you.

«How do you feel about geese?» Was the only, very odd question.

«They are fine.» You lied. You hated geese, they were filthy animals who liked to bite. But you needed a job that didn't require a lack of clothes.

And it was Haymitch, everybody knew him from the district and even if he wasn’t so beloved he was respected. A victor at fifteen, now forty one, despite his drinking problem made him look older, dark circles under his grey eyes and a weird long haircut for his dirty blonde hair. Still pretty handsome in a rough way, in a very rough way, in a “I need a shower for days and maybe a new shirt” way. 

«Here's the deal: you clean my home, I'll give you money. You stay out of my way, and never wake me when I'm drunk. Understood?And I say that for you. Deal?»

«Yes sir.»

«Deal.»

Six months later you are on his couch, as pale as a ghost.

«Your geese.» you mumble. It doesn't really make sense, but the first thought is that if you are on Capitol and Haymitch is your mentor nobody will feed the birds from hell, as you lovingly call them.

«My what? I'm the one who's drunk, right?» He seems worried, in spite of his inebriation.

«Right.» You agree. You have to adjust a little. Not to mention, he is the one who can give you money, and it’s for the best if you don’t act like you lost your mind. «I was just thinking… I better go. I’ll come back later for the bottles.»

«Darling.» He stops me, just for a brief moment, without smiling. «They won’t pick you.»

You smile right back at him, but you can’t help to have a bad feeling about that.

The day of the reaping you are standing over your bad, unable to put your dress on. You clearly remember the fear of the Games, of the names, of the voice of frickin’ Effie Trinket. You were never paralysed, tho, not like this. Maybe because you were younger and reckless, maybe because something in your head always told you the name wasn’t gonna be you.

Daisy Pinecone. It wasn’t even your real name, Holly just picked it when you were little because it reminded her of a fairytale, and adoptive parents can decide their children’s names. 

“You sound stupid, Daisy. There are a lot of young people in the district, it’s not gonna be you”. You immediately feel guilty about the thought, because even if it’s not you, it’s going to be your friend, colleague or school mate. 

These games are so fucked up. You could never say that out loud, but this is the reality everybody thinks. If only someone could gather them together, maybe… the districts are more than the Capitol City. They provide food, minerals, Panem would starve in a week. 

You shake your head, it’s nonsense. They already tried, and this is the whole point of the Hunger Games, a punishment. But it’s not unfair. 

Holly helps you with the hair, making a simple braid with daisies in it, that you think it’s nearly too in brand for someone who won’t be picked, but you can’t bet against the odds, and in the worst possibility it’s great for publicity. 

Holly is a wreck, but it’s always sad at this time of the year. She’s the midwife of District 12, she knows every child in this place, and every year she watches someone she loves who’s going to get murdered. Something like this led Haymitch to perpetual drunkenness. 

You wish you could say a word to comfort her, but nothing comes out from your mouth. You can’t make promises. You have to thank her for everything, she literally saw you being born and then, when your mother died, she decided to adopt you. 

She pats your shoulder, and you give her a brief smile. 

The street to the place is full of people with nice dresses and a scared expression of their faces. You take your seat, as you realise you have weird thoughts, like that you are grateful because you don’t have a dog that could miss you, or worse, a child. 

Effie Trinket is approaching in a bright pink dress, pink skin and a violet wig, and you almost feel bad for the names you called her during the previous nights. You begin to like Effie, she always smiles at you when she visits Haymitch, unlike the other people from Capitol. And right now you could swear that she’s shaking despite the smile she puts on her face. You saw her with Katniss and Peeta, the way she pats their head and caresses their cheek it’s not faking, she actually cares about them. She may be a brainwashed Capitol starlet, but she is a kind hearted one.

Haymitch arrives, drunker than usual - every year is worse, but this year it’s different, after the awards at Capitol everybody thought he would’ve act presentable - and so Katniss and Peeta. 

Your heart skips a beat. “Your name is there only once”, you keep repeating to yourself.

Effie stays five minutes with her hand in the bowl, reluctant to pick a string of paper. After what it feels to be an eternity, she says a name.

No - not a name. 

Your name.

[astralspen]

I have brought to you headcanons for Chuuya, Atsushi, and Dazai!

WARNING: These headcanons are about eating disorders and unhealthy relationships with food in general. I am not a professional and have not had any ED's myself, so these headcanons are based solely off of my research and conversations I've had with loved ones who have experienced them. Please seek professional help if you struggle with any eating disorders and proceed with caution.

EDIT: added all the tags I forgot

1. Atsushi has Binge Eating Disorder. Since the orphanage restricted his food so much, he eats uncontrollably a lot and tends to starve himself a bit in between binges. Kyouka knows and tries to help Atsushi, but I don't actually think a lot of the ada members know. Atsushi hides it well and Kyouka respects Atsushis wishes to keep it under wraps. Dazai probably thinks something is up but isn't sure, and Ranpo probably knows about it, but neither say anything to avoid making Atsushi uncomfortable or nervous. Atsushi doesn't really eat in front of people either. The only exception is snacking when he gets super bad hunger panes (I'm talking not going days with eating little to nothing, usually that happens because of mission). Even then he will only binge or really eat in general until he's alone.

2. Chuuya used to have ARFID (Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder). Because of him living in the slums until he was 15, he got used to ignoring hunger panes and limiting how much he was eating because of a lack of food, so when he was accepted into the Port Mafia, he brought those habits with him, and would only eat a certain amount at specific times, usually when he was alone. He probably only ate certain foods like bread, canned products, mostly things that wouldn't expire or would provide a lot of energy without eating much. Koyou, Dazai, and the Flags all helped him work through it so he doesn't have it by the time Canon rolls around and is careful about maintaining a good relationship with food for their sakes. Koyou also checks in on him whenever they meet up.

3. Not really ED related and I've seen this one a lot, but Dazai has days where he has a food aversion because of his depression. The thought of or seeing food makes him sick, or sometimes it's just days where he doesn't feel hungry at all. The days range from being able to eat if its his canned crab, to only drinking a glass or two of whiskey if anything (I imagine that whiskey is a kind of comfort drink to him because of the days where he drank at bar lupin with oda and ango), to refusing to eat and drink anything, whether it's his safe/comfort food or drink or not. Kunikida knows this and it's the main reason he checks in on Dazai to see if he's eaten. I don't think Kunikida is entirely aware of his safe food and drink, though, so if it's one of those days, Kunikida will just take a lot of time gently urging Dazai to eat something. Ranpo also probably knows about it and will sometimes throw a piece of candy Dazais way on those days. The combined efforts usually convince Dazai to eat a bit of canned crab, though it's always alone. Chuuya also knows and will get on Dazai about not eating. He'll also prep some canned crab and keeps a bottle of whiskey at his place just in case. Sure they're not healthy at all but it's better than nothing. The food aversion days were more frequent and worse back when he was still in the PM, and he's gotten better with them now. Though they do still happen every now and then of course.

[razzmothazz]

wxs physical build headcanons for me to draw later!!

before and way later on after joining wxs edition

cw: mention of a lot of different eating habits and small mentions of body image issues

TSUKASA!!

before: a bit underweight, i imagine he got a bit too into eating "healthy" at times and would refuse a lot of foods he deemed unhealthy, which caused him to not get certain nutrients at times even tho he needed them, add to that his forgetfulness especially when it comes to taking care of himself and you can see why hes skinny like that. i also imagine he would often burn more calories than he consumed in a day with all his practicing and just running around in general, which is definetly not that good when youre already underweight. he would often wonder why he seemingly just cant gain any muscle and assumed its just kinda how he naturally is, tho he didnt mind much since his build was similar to a lot of his idols

after: he gained some healthy weight!!!! yippieee!!! with wxs constantly reminding him to take care of himself + with emu bringing some food/snacks nearly everyday he gained some healthy weight, hes now pretty average with maybe a bit of chub in some places. he also finally started building some muscle thanks to all the practice and ruis "training"? if you can call it that? he does get a bit insecure about it at times, wishing he would be back to his build that was like his idols, but wxs are quick to remind him that the best star is a happy and healthy one!! his natural state definitely wasnt skinny, at least not as skinny as he was before

NENE!!!!!

before: you already know she was malnourished and looked like she barely saw the light of day... she had a very weak appetite and her horrible sleep schedule didnt help. she tried to eat well but she struggled with it a lot, tho she never exactly knew why, she would just very quickly feel full and wouldnt feel hungry untill way too many hours later. she would eat like. 2 small meals a day and maybe some snacks in between.

after: you guessed it she gained weight and is chubbier!!!!!! yayayyaa!!!! i think she would hear others motivate tsukasa to eat better and seeing him want to improve on that motivated her to do the same. because of the low appetite thing she struggled pretty hard at first but with time she managed to figure it out and now eats more and is feeling good!!! this is thanks to mostly emu who would love to bring foods and snacks nene loved so they can share it any time the 2 would hang out, but also thanks to the practices and stamina building she was able to kinda feel like she was burning the unnecessary calories? i imagine she struggled pretty hard when she realized how much weight she put on thinking its a bad thing, but with a lot of support and care from wxs she realized this is way healthier for her than wherever she had going on before!!! she doesnt gain muscle easily tho, so not much of that going on + she does focus more on stamina itself rather than gaining muscle and physical strength

EMU!!!!!

before: chubby, obviously. fat even!!!! definetly overweight and not bothered by it at all! she definetly thinks it makes her look cuter :3 my girl loves foods and snacks and nobody can ruin her mood for those. she also had a fair bit of muscle and liked that its not visible so shes strong but nobody can tell, and she can suprise them with it for funsies

after: still pretty much the same!! tho since she started training and working out even more i imagine a bit of her weight turned into more muscle, so shes even more muscle now!!!! she loves it!!! its still not visible unless she flexes, which makes the muscles pretty prominent and she LOVES jumpscaring people with that because nobody expects it for some reason, despite how athletic she is. besides her arms i imagine her legs are pretty built as well seeing how much she runs, especially from one school to another in a matter of minutes to visit her friend. what can i say my girl loves to eat and run around!!! her love language is soooo sharing a meal with her friends btw. its canon i just know it.

RUIIII!!!!!

before: barely eats doesnt sleep much, just a mess honestly. he doesnt rlly have friends atp and yet still he takes care of others more than he does himself..... needless to say hes tall, lanky, underweight as hell and palest of them all despite not staying inside all that much. lives off of whatever his parents make him if he remembers to eat it and random store bought/school cafeteria foods. malnutrition for sure too like fym u eat no vegetables and ur fine??? bro doesnt even take any vitamins atp to make up for it

after: gained a bit of weight!! hes still skinny because thats just kinda how he naturally is, but hes getting tricked into eating veggies or at least stuff that can replace veggies with the needed nutritions otherwise. he also started taking some vitamins to make up for that too, and despite being naturally pale he did tan a bit!! he still forgets to eat way too often but wxs make up for it with tsukasa always being willing to share his food with him [at times even bringing bigger portions just in case rui needs it] and emu often bringing food to share with them all!!!!

can u tell im a little bit obsessed with gaining weight as a sign of healing. because i am and i love that trope. with the power of love you will stop being underweight and malnourished god bless.

[herotome]

Devlog #124

Hi-ho, Wudge here!

Here's some peeks at the expressions I've been working on! A big thank you to the folks on KO-FI for tying my hands to the tablet your support!!!

For anyone unaware, I will draw and dedicate an expression to you for every 6$ I receive. I'm normally very averse to sitting still and drawing expressions, so it's my way of... gettin 'er done, so to speak.

As you can see, the first expression is donated to CosmicRhythm, and the other two will be in honor of ~somebody else~! I have several more expressions on the docket... Wish me luck lol.

I'm trying to go in chronological in-game order, which is why these first expressions are mostly for Warden - I have some Mia expressions stewing away as well. [edit: put up one of them!] Then it'll be Griffin and Jade's turns!

Dart... Dart, my sweet angel, already has all the expressions he needs for now. But idk maybe I'll go mad and add expressions to that lunch CG. You never know with me.

Art aside, I've been writing here and there and trying to get organized. Touched up my outline and am feeling much happier with it.

Another reason I've been happier, writing-wise.... I got a new keyboard!!! A QWERKYWRITER keyboard, highly recommended by a friend! It is INCREDIBLE, it feels so good to type.

I wanna say to any new writers: using a cheaper keyboard now will definitely improve your appreciation of a fancy keyboard later. Gosh.

I personally would not invest in a fancy keyboard unless I have developed some decently regular writing habits - which I have - and god when you know for sure you're going to use it a lot and you use it it is simply incredible. Wonderful wonderful product, thank you to my friend who recommended it.

My set-up has become much more ergonomically sound, too.

I developed rather nasty wrist pain a while back because my keyboard was frankly too high - my desk was too high to type on directly, and I couldnt adjust my chair height without banging my knees on the bottom of the desk!!! It was a bad time! I have since made adjustments. Work is more enjoyable and literally less painful. Muy bien, now.

Anyone out there who's on the computer a lot: don't you shrimp pose! Sit straight for the health of your back, okay? No shrimpy back curls! I still struggle to sit straight a lot of times but we can do it together.

Alrighty thats it for now. Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[rosewaterandivy]

I love your writing style and after stalking your blog I found out that you studied English. Got any writing advice for someone who's still trying to figure out and develop their own style? I feel like I have so many ideas but the execution is 👎

Hello sweet thing! 🥰 Thanks for reading and a quick disclaimer before I dive in here: I don’t really even understand my own process/style yet and that is perfectly fine. I think it’s important to take risks in writing to develop skills and see what vibes with you and what doesn’t. So, while I have two degrees in English, I’ve never taken a creative writing class— just wanna get that out there. Now, onto the advice!

Read. Read often and voraciously. This method is tried and true for a reason, and that’s because it works. When I’m lacking in the inspiration department, I read poetry, novels, non-fiction, works by other writers in the community, maybe do a deep-dive with some lyrical analysis— if you know, you know. Seeking out other voices to inspire and teach is paramount.

(Continued under the cut)

To grow as a writer (or, really as a person), you can’t exist in your own silo. You need to engage with other stories. On some level, you should be listening to other’s voices and studying their styles. Otherwise, you’ll stunt your development as a writer. You could also, inadvertently, reinforce bad writing habits, if you’re not expanding your horizons by consuming other author’s works.

And this conversation has been making its run in the community as well as my corner of academia, but I’d be remiss not to touch on it here: there is no such thing as originality in literature. Everything from the Carolingian Cycle to Homeric Hymns to tropes, etc. has already been said and done. But what matters here, truly, is how you can put your spin on something. Have soulmate AUs been done to death? Yes. Is that gonna stop me? Hell to the no! I love that shit, of course I want to engage with that trope and see what I can do with it.

Rhythm. Cadence, flow, whatever you call it— this is crucial to me as a writer and academic. And honestly? I’m still figuring this one out for myself. I tend to talk or ramble as I write, mostly to test out dialogue for how it sounds but also as an editing trick. I tell my students all the time, read your work out loud before assuming it’s all said and done! You’d be amazed at how many things you’ll catch by stumbling over words and phrases that the eye would skip over.

I think a lot of this comes from patterns I’ve picked up from reading. Because I read and listen to other author’s voices and styles, I’m more equipped to see mistakes in my own syntax and voice because I’ve diversified my exposure to other styles of sentence structure, etc. So, yes, this does go back to reading and finding other voices— but it truly does help!

Feel it out. First and foremost, I am a chaotic writer— my GDrive is a mess and I can’t even imagine how many WIPs I have that are just a single sentence or phrase at this point. But everyone has to start somewhere, and for most of us, that takes the form of a sentence, phrase, or occasionally, a single word.

I just kind of just go for it in the docs, to be honest. I’ll get frustrated, walk away, delete (keep a doc designated as a graveyard/junkyard for this purpose, trust me!), get distracted, etc. But that’s okay and to be expected with the creative process. Flow can’t happen without a little resistance at first.

Play with syntax. Would a longer sentence be more meaningful here? Shorter? What about repetition? Think about word choice as well— identify the tone and mood you want to project.

Word Choice. Specific words are used for a calculated focus or effect— think about it. Would you want to hear the smacking of lips from a few tables over on a first date? Or hear the sounds of your roommate going to town on an apple while you’re putting the moves on that hottie from said first date?

Readers can feel the significance and weight of a word, how much space it occupies in a sentence: they have real influence. It’s not just morphemes and phonemes and phonetics; words project experience and sensation, so it’s important to tie your words to your intent or the mood you’re attempting to create.

If I’m writing an intimate scene, I’m not going to use abrasive words that will jar the reader from the tone I’m working so hard to craft. I’ll choose soft words, immersive words — a little repetition, as a treat, so we can sink more gently into the scene. Mention light, texture, employ the softness the surrounds the characters and kinesthetic imagery (imagery describing the actions or movements of the body), but above all, keep it soft.

Synonyms are a wonderful thing! Have a word that’s too clunky for that specific phrase? Find a shorter one; too harsh, find a gentler one; so on and so forth.

This is where reading other stories will help (she says, circling back to point 1). Inevitably, it will diversify your personal vocabularly and your ability to string words together in sentences. The tricks I’ve absorbed by just reading? Innumerous, incalculable and lucky for me, they’re instinct by now.

Format. What’s the goal? If the scene is action heavy, keep the sentences short. Urgent. Focus on the senses we should be aware of in a fight scene. Looking for something more intimate? Stretch things out, suspend time and let people ease into the moment gently.

Short sentences can narrow your focus; longer sentences, the ones that ebb and flow and gather multiple senses, those are some of my favorites— so enriching and immersive.

What view is most important in a given scene? Would a character be more focused on the feel of their beloved’s skin against theirs or the how the hurt reflects in their eyes?

Synesthesia. Ah, yes, my favorite. Synesthasia is a technique adopted by writers to present ideas, characters, or places in such a manner that they appeal to more than one sense, like hearing, sight, smell, and touch at a given time. I am guilty of using this whenever I possibly can because I think being able to embody a scene is crucial to effective writing.

Sensory experience is something that helps me find my way in a narrative. It allows me to settle in. Think about the various qualities of differing sensory experiences, and their consequence. Every sense doesn’t need to be included, just because you can does not mean you should.

Plus, it’s quite convenient for implying intimacy. A character who notices that another character smells of bergamot, cinnamon, or home accomplishes a lot of things in a few words. It immerses the reader in the scene in a very real way; it’s a quick, easy avenue into establishing a history and a relationship between the two characters; and it implies something deeper than a passing acquaintance/platonic interest.

But, I’m also an olfactory snob, so what do I know!

Oof, yeesh, sorry for the ramble here! I think the truth of it is this: I don’t make a lot of these choices consciously. I get stuck somewhere and feel my way around until I can make sense of it again, laying puzzle pieces or clues that I hope others will be able to find when they read it.

I guess my main advice is to read. Read often and well, experience other voices and styles, go outside your comfort zone! If you lock yourself away in that silo or echo chamber, you’ll only reinforce one style or approach— you’ll miss out on so much beauty and creative experiences that the world has to offer!

To close, I’m going to list and tag a few works and authors I’ve found to be instrumental in my reading and writing experience.

Best of luck anon!

QuinAnderson’s The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic

@loveshotzz , @carolmunson, @jo-harrington, @wroteclassicaly , @stevenose , @bettyfrommars (and I’m sure I’m forgetting some at this moment!! I’m sorry 😩) have their own special way of weaving a story, breathing emotion and life into it.

My fic rec tag

Poetry:

Crush by Richard Siken

Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz

Night Sky With Exit Wounds & Time Is A Mother by Ocean Vuong

The works of Louise Gluck, Elizabeth Bishop, Gloria Anzaldua, Slyvia Plath, Rilke, Ilya Kaminsky, and Jeanette Winslterson

Movies:

In the Mood for Love

Y tu mamá también

Moonlight

Atonement

[drdemonprince]

oh my god can i get trans masc self infantilization for 500 alex

Quick hate read of this piece:

my relationship to gender was mediated (isn’t it always) by capitalism. I could not meet another trans man who could tell me how to behave, but I could shop for one. I could buy distilled trans expertise, and tell myself I was putting money back into “the community;” I was engaged in political action, redistributing my middle-class cash to support people I had never met, but whose welfare was, nonetheless, my business.

oh my fucking god Jude buying a huge crop of trans books at the local indie bookshop is not political action. I know booksellers who work at beloved indie-progressive bookstores quite intimately so if you haven't heard yet, I'll be the first to tell you: no matter their feminist branding, these places treat their workers like shit and pay them minimum wage. And often these stores are hell to be in for trans femme people.

edit: whoops he didnt even claim to support indie bookstores, it was a chain in a mall wtf

Also, it's baffling to me that a published author like Doyle can claim buying books is somehow redistributing wealth to poor, trans authors. First, wealthy people are widely overrepresented in publishing, and two, the vast majority of published authors never see a single cent of royalites. Over 90% of books never "earn out". You'd be kicking them about $2.50 of a $25 hardcover sale even if they did. stop making your consumption seem righteous dude.

These authors didn’t hate people like me; they didn’t disagree with me or dislike my general aesthetic. These authors literally hated me, me personally, the dude who had recently given them money. 

the ENTITLEMENT!!! How dare these trans authors post openly that they disagree with you and your tepid liberal politics, you bought one of their books and (maybe, but probably not) gave them $3 !!!!

To a shy eleven-year-old boy on his first day of school, which is what I was emotionally and even hormonally at the time, it was devastating. I cried for days. I was on vacation.

a middle aged incredibly well connected man in publishing is pulling "im a little birthday boy -- hormonally" shenanigans. I get that reading critical comments about yourself hurts. I have been there buddy. I've received repeated misgendering, misogynistic criticisms and insults while I was newly on HRT and not even out to anyone! I was also a 30 year old adult man with a career and coping tools. I was not an eleven year old boy. I was not the victim of anything, really, except for my own lack of comment moderation habits at the time.

the amount of real life transphobia i have since lived looms so much larger that little petty online slights doesnt even rank. we're not talking about threats or doxxing here. we're talking people on twitter thinking he shouldnt be the face of trans politics.

because I know who this author is and move in the same circles, I have seen the message of hate that he's talking about. People mostly talk about him sardonically and insult his worst opinions and most hastily-written pieces. That's not even hate. That's just begging him to be responsible in his work and to maybe not write apologia for trans cops (one of the bad takes he was most openly criticized for at the time).

Those guys were my heroes, was the thing. They were the ones I had wanted to teach me how to act. I used to imagine conversations with them, think about what I would ask if I got the chance.

Buddy, you said you literally just discovered these authors mere weeks or months prior, having bought up every book published by a trans guy that you could find. It's not like you had posters of them hanging up on your bedroom wall as a child. And even if you did, youre a grown man in your forties who writes very inane takes. Some critique from your contemporaries comes with the territory and is in fact a compliment. it means people recognize youre a significant cultural voice and they want you to do better!

When I get into conflict with another trans person, when I stumble on the thread where my elders are shit-talking me, I am not looking at my computer. I’m in my math class, after lunch period, hearing the squeak of metal on linoleum as someone drags their desk a few inches away.

your elders??? are you talking about people who are like, three years older than you Jude .I understand that hostile middle and high school experiences bring massive trauma, but holding adults who are intellectually critiquing you, a fellow adult, responsible for the trauma you endured as a teen is so wildly inappropriate and immature that i cant stand it.

It would be one thing if Doyle showed any self-awareness of the disjoint here, and was just talking about being triggered, but he doesnt, not anywhere in the piece. he implies throughout that it's people being mean to him on twitter who are really at fault.

oh my god he likens himself to Isabell Fall later on in this piece i cant

i just cant with this dude hes always taking so many unnecessary Ls and gets hired so fucking much to write about trans experiences when he clearly has next to zero community connections and sense of scale when it comes to the issues we face. its so annoying!!!

[darlin-collins]

Red paint

We've been talking about parents darlin anf sam and here's my take on it

Sheeesh it's been a year since I've written a redacted fic, tell you what you think (good, bad, advice, ANYTHING, i wanna learn how to write)

Notes: sam&darlin / a little girl oc/some blood and injuries are mentioned, nothing major, just what we had on the second sam audio, hiding an injury, dark past, dead parents, a lil bit traumatized child, fluffy angst if you will, slightly edited and read before being posted, soo yeah, no beta we die like the girls parents

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They opened the apartment's door as quietly as possible for someone in their state, a hand pressed to their side,having limped their way up stairs, and vision blurry from blood loss

They tip-toed to the couch and sat there, breaths leaving their lungs in quiet pants and sighs as the tension built in their legs was somewhat relived and for a moment, and they were tempted to just close their eyes... Only to open them again, wide, as the realization doomed on them, they're currently bleeding,, if they do fall asleep they might not wake up once again, and as much as the idea appealed to them they can't leave, not yet, not if Quinn is still out there, not with the the child sleeping in their room, oblivious to what's happening around her..

With a curse they sat up, reached their phone from their pocket, the screen broke, again, Lily will be mad that her little art pieces won't look good anymore, they need to fix it tomorrow if they wanted to avoid her lecture about being careful with a phone and paying attention when its in their hand

They chuckled at the thought, if only she knew why their screen is always broken like this

With blurred eyes they barely managed to hit the contacts bottom, so they just called most recent number in the list, it's not david, it's certainly not another pack member,so who can it be-Oh.. It's the cowboy from the other night

They sucked in a breath "hey cowboy" damn it hurts to talk, but they kept their voice low

They heard him chuckle on the other side "it's Sam"

"it's whatever" they joked, " ya know any private healers, ones that keep their mouth shut?" they hoped that their words weren't as slurred as they think "why? Are you alright?" he asked "yeah I'm ok, i just got in some fight,pretty banged up though " they whispered "what- well how bad is it, are you alright?? " his voiced raised a little, filled with worry "shhh keep you voice down, i said I'm fine, it just needs a patch job" they answered, covering the bottom of their phone to make less sound "why haven't you gone to a healer yet?" his voice came out muffled, well shit... "they'll ask questions! "

"They'll ask questions!?" he echoed in disbelief, huffed "when the do just tell them to shut up and heal you" his voice was only getting higher "hushhh! " they said, again "keep it low!" "Where are you?" he asked "my place? " it was an answer, but it sounded more like a question "no like- address?" he corrected "the heck you wanna know my address for?" they censored the word "hell" mostly out of habit now "because I'm not having you bleeding out on my conscious when i can do something about it", what?

"now address " "wha-" they started to ask "-address. " he ordered again, they sighed and gave him the address "I'm coming over" what!? What!!??

"wait no-" the line hang up

Well fuck

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He barely got to knock on the apartment's door when it swung open, the wolf appeared, behind it "you look rough" he commented, they leaned away from the door opening it wider so he can enter "just keep it down" they whispered, going back to the couch and sat there, head falling into it, sharp eyes still monitoring his every move, he sat besides them "can i touch? " he asked gently, voice low, they blinked, surprised, and his heart ached at the thought of them never been asked something like that, and once more his gaze trailed down the lines of scars that littered their skin, now covered in blood, and it confirmed his theory "so?" he mumbled again, they unfreezed and nodded, whispering something about him being here to heal them and still asking.

A while into the healing he noticed that the wolf is trying to keep themselves quiet, and whenever his voice would get higher, they tell him to keep it down, and he worried if they had a head injury,

"did you take any hits to the head? " he whispered, "no, why? " they asked him back "well you've been keeping yourself and me quiet, i suspected that your head hurts from noise" he reasoned "no i didn't hit my head, it's... Complicated " they said

They sat in comfortable science after he was done with healing them, that is until he heard a door open, the wolf looked at him, wide eyes, and mouthed "hide" as they stood up

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Tank stood up and went to the back of the couch, making it seem they're just leaning on it, giving speace to the vamp in their living room on the couch to lay on it and be out of sight.

"hey Lily" they smiled as the little girl appeared out of their room

"tank! You're home" she said happily "what where you doing? Why is your clothes all red"

"i was painting using red paint" they lied

"really?! Can i see it" The girl asked

"sure, little radiostar"

Lily is a 10 years old child of two, sonal energetics that died at the hands of quinn before tank met him,he lied to them and told them he saved her when he found her parents dead, she lived with him for a while, him wanting to make her like him, before he and tank fought and he fled and left her behind they had to break into his place so they could take her, but to avoid the pack knowing all of this they didn't tell the department about her, which left them no choice but to take care of her and not traumatize her, not anymore than what quinn did already, she probably woke up from a nightmare and came looking for them.

They croushed under the couch and pulled out a painting, it had red paint on it in different shades and shapes

They tried to be quiet when they strained one of the freshly healed wounds on their body, they stood up and showed it to her

"wow! it's so beautiful!" her eyes shined and sparkled and they wished they weren't laying to her again "i want to help you finish it!"

"yeah? Well i was already planning on coming over and finishing it tomorrow, so how about you go back to the room till i shower and join you? And we'll deal with it in the morning? " they sing-sang to her "ok!" she jumped, turned around and close the door behind her again

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Sam listened in shock and awe to the wolf and the a little girl talking, how they laughed, how they almost were happier because she was around, and then the girl went back to the room, and they turned to look at him over the couch.

They mumbled a thank you let him go on his way

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"So yeah that's what actually happened" tank looked a their 15 year old teen that glared at them, she's taking to call sam dad, which made them go nuts because "you know him for 5 years! You've known me for 11! Why does he get to be called dad and im just 'tank'??" as they put it

"red paint my ass" Lily rollled her eyes

"well it's your fault you thought i was capable of doing any type of art" they responded "expect martial art of course" they added

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Please if you're one of the 6 people that saw this when i saved my draft and it got posted pretend you didn't:)

[stormblessed95]

Hi, aro-ace ff writer here. First of all, thank you for your answer💜. And thank you to the people who also left supportive comments, it means a lot 💜. I had no idea Heartstopper was written by an ace writer, this made my heart swell tbh.

I stopped writing for almost 5 years after bad comments on an old fic of mine, and I've only recently started writing again. My ego isn't as fragile as it used to be, and that's the only reason I was able to start again. But I'm still very uncertain, because I lack practice (working on that), because English isn't my first language (then again, this doesn't really matter that much, it's ff, I'm not writing a published book), and because, well, I do hold the fear that I'm just not interesting as a writer, which is also something I'm working on (not to change my writing, but to accept that what I love reading is way above what I'm currently able to write.) But you and the commenters have made me realise that my fear of not writing good love stories because I am aro-ace were unfounded, and that honestly takes a weight off my shoulders. I know I should get rid of these fears, because they hold me back, but sometimes it's easier said than done 😅.

I'm currently writing a Jikook fanfic, with a side of Taegi. It's kinda sci-fi. Jimin got himself lost in space, found a strange planet where he survived mostly alone (save for the company of a strange pet), and then the BTS crew of 6 comes to save him. Things happen. It's not all that much fleshed out yet, I do have ideas and a direction which I'm aiming for. I'm mostly using this story to get back into the habit of writing on a very regular basis. I'm not even trying to be good, I'm not editing much saved for the typos, and I'm just posting because I'm using exposure therapy to heal my old wounds. I'm just trying to have fun :). In any case, I wanted to reiterate my thanks to you, for being kind and taking the time to answer an ask which has very little to do with Jikook or BTS (saved for the fact that I use them as inspiration for my writing ahah).

I'm so glad I (and everyone else here) was helpful for you!! I'm so glad you are getting back into writing again and hope you have a better experience this time around! Your story sounds super interesting! Thank you for following up 💜

I hope Jimin gets rescued from Space too 😅😂

[yifftwiceplz]

do one every ten lines :)

🤝 for a headcanon about a connection with one of the receiver's mutual

big fan of dave (yifftwiceplz) and dave (dj-shitslot) basically looking in a mirror at each other at all times, younger self in awe of "older" self (its just that dj is a guardian / has more responsibility) and older self looking back at younger self fondly. thats the good shit. they dont make shit like that anymore but we do like you pass your 13 year old self on the street and your gut reaction is to light up and say oh my god i love you and your 13 year old self is like holy shit, the parts of myself i always wanted to shine through are right there plain as day, we made it

🌇 for a headcanon about morning- or evening rituals

dave wakes up in the afternoon and mostly just lounges around for a few hours. due to his audhd and dysfunction he cant do Anything in any day unless 1. it was preplanned a week in advance 2. he has his obligatory four hour Do Fuck All time. where mainly he smokes weed and listens to music loud enough you can hear it across the house (even though he's wearing headphones). and then once he feels like a person he'll have breakfast, shower, brush his teeth etc and focus on work

😡 for a headcanon about something that makes them angry

it's so hard to make dave angry. maybe it was easier in sburb but he's genuinely a very happy guy. i specifically decided to RP him after i saw that smile on daves face on the lilypad i thought. my guy can heal now. so mostly any time he gets mad it's probably just that he's overstimulated. which is nebulous and random and hard to predict and he tries to grit his teeth and not show it until he snaps, which isn't ideal but he hates looking sensitive or asking someone to back off him in terms of actual real true anger - i dont think he feels it. maybe for a brief moment if someones attacking his friends - only a moment because immediately following that he's got his body and sword between them

🚗 for a transportation-themed headcanon

this bitch cant drive. bro never drove; they lived at the top floor apartment in a walkable neighbourhood what good would a car do yknow? bro had the hoverboard for any long distance trips actually it would be so moe of him to start skating again maybe i should do that. but anyway mostly he walks everywhere he goes. he FREQUENTLY forgets he can fly because thats like... a super power to him. to be used during a fight. but a long fly doesnt work as well as a long walk to clear your head if you have attention issues and mildly dissociate. hed end up in tennessee

hc + 🚬 for a headcanon about a bad habit

oh boy definitely the drinking is his worst habit. it's well-managed but sometimes gets out of hand which is HARD to recognize because dave does not typo when he's drunk. he says roxy is either weak or faking it. striders in general are high dexterity builds so it doesn't matter if his eyes work or if he's coherent - them fingers are gonna find the keys. but he's also a fun drunk! he and roxy share that trait where you get a little booze in them and it's a little easier for them to laugh and open up and be confident in themselves so dave is really good at playing off being totally wasted with being totally charming. and it leads to people letting him drink more than he should quite frequently. luckily karkat isn't as fond of drinking as he is and has a keen eye for when dave is too far gone

hc + 🎥 for a film/tv-themed headcanon

dave is very passionate about film/tv even with his limited "real" education on it, dude just has an eye for it. good editing / camerawork tickles him to death like in a reality show where the interviewee is oblivious to something and there's a slow camera zoom in... got him seal-clapping and kicking his legs in glee part of the reason he's always so busy and tired (which is hard to see because he's always online and blogging casually - that's just part of his process and he just responds to a couple things at a time) is he's such a perfectionist with his own videos. he will not hire an editor. no one understands his vision.

[billsfangearring]

❤️ Valentine's Day Self-Rec ❤️

I'm going to do a little Valentine's Day self-rec because I think this is a good day to show a little love to ourselves too! I wrote daily 250-word Jess/Lupe sprint ficlets last week and I'm proud of myself for a few different reasons that I'll put below the cut, but first, some little superlative awards for my Love & Baseball series!

Love, In Deed and In Truth

⚾️ ❤️ Most Poetic ❤️ ⚾️

It started that first day on the ball field, when Lupe noticed a woman sizing her up from the on-deck circle with a well-worn bat slung over her shoulders and fire in her eyes and hair.

Two Fingers Means Curveball

⚾️ ❤️ Most Nuanced ❤️ ⚾️

Beverly has some advice for her errant pitcher.

red is the fire in our veins

⚾️ ❤️ Most Thematic ❤️ ⚾️

It was inevitable, really, a foregone conclusion, that Lupe’s gaze would be drawn to the muscled thigh next to her that’s outlined in insolent red.

your love's got me trippin' on you

⚾️ ❤️ Most Lively ❤️ ⚾️

All’s fair in love and baseball.

keep you like an oath

⚾️ ❤️ Most Complete ❤️ ⚾️

By unspoken agreement, Jess and Lupe keep Vi’s a secret—even from those who would be welcome. Lupe probably has a number of complicated reasons for it, but Jess only has one: she’s selfish as hell.

Kiss Cam

⚾️ ❤️ Most Fun ❤️ ⚾️

The “Set It Up” baseball scene, Peaches style.

I've Built My Life Around You

⚾️ ❤️ Most Understated ❤️ ⚾️

“Can’t believe it’s been ten years,” Jess says into the silent stadium. It’s not hard for Lupe to believe at all, actually, now that they’re back at Beyer.

(Now for some self-indulgent rambling—don't mind me.)

Why I'm glad I did this, beyond throwing my hat into the Jess/Lupe ring for the first time:

I wrote every day and got into a rhythm! Hopefully I can carry this forward into other projects.

I aimed to and largely succeeded in writing and posting each of these in about an hour, so this series was good practice in just putting something down on the page instead of overthinking it.

I mostly didn't let myself edit other than paring them down to 250 words—I tended to write around 260 to start—so that was more practice in not overthinking things and in not editing as I write.

I stretched myself with these! I tried out some new-to-me POVs and forced myself to write dialogue, my beloathed. I even wrote something I'd classify as crack for the first time. Who am I?

The strict word count that I set forced me to be pretty economical with my language, which is something I strive for, and it was nice to keep that muscle activated while I simultaneously co-write a long-for-me fic. Don't want to develop any bad habits (for my personal writing style) ;)

Honestly, I think these ficlets turned out pretty well on the whole! There are some rough edges and pacing issues that I'd have liked to smooth under other circumstances, but all in all I stand by them, which is big for me because I don't think of myself as a good first draft writer. I'm also proud of myself for completing this challenge I set rather than wallowing in self-doubt and self-consciousness and bailing before the end.

Okay, I’m done now. Happy Valentine’s Day! <3

Okay, I’m done now, if anyone read this far.

Happy Valentine's Day, friends! <3

[ducknotinarow]

Impurtity Test:

Raphael Edition

"Uh I might need to rethink some things? I don't Think Case would be all to happy to see this result?"

Nah I would more credit this to the fact Raphael often doesn't see reason for them to get involved in human matters, or moments he feels the cops should be the ones to get involved. Raphael isn't often one to spring into action like Leo or Mikey can be. But Raphael also will when he feels he needs to or should like when he wont going on the masquerade boat party. He was pretty insistent on helping the people on the boat. As they say your first reaction doesn't define you but your actions after do.

"And Leo's always going on 'bout my honor what not, but yeah I guess my drinkin' habits can be sort a bad 'hing time ta time but eh whatever."

I have mentioned in the past that Raphael in a borderline Alcoholic. Especially when it comes to his self harm habits. It when it can be the worse if anything. Raphael is someone who been dumb enough to have a drink here or there before going top side as well meaning hes sort done it to add a thrill to his fighting. Not to mention as fun as it is for him to have his drinking binges with Casey and Von its clear he only dose so when hes upset and drowning that away isn't really a good sign.

"Don't show 'his to anyone I feel they buy the alcohol but I jus' know the sex bein' highest would get me ragged on...mostly by casey."

I keep saying it Raph is horny uwu Raph just is someone thats highly active when it comes to be horny is all. Where other may more perfer stuff done to them he wants to be the one doing more. I do feel Raph could go either role but he dose perfer topping and take charge just gets him off the thought someone wants him so bad they will take anything he allows uwu Hes pretty into a lot of kinks that follow with this along with the idea of that person belonging to him down to thier body being like his play thing uwu its an odd sense of security for him. If anything his drinking habits likely help cover buuuuut Raph would be so down to fuck drunk.

"Eh highschool what can I say."

A tad surpised hoe even some of this is but I will say taking into account Raph has a new outside factor of influence and that being high school this dose opens the doors for Raph to lean into more things out of peer pressure. Not so much forced to do it but in situation where others are he just might. Especially since I feel Raphs gonna be around a rowdy crowd after joining the wrestling team. Sort of the only other Raph I can see trying drugs the other being 12. Raph already displays a need to look cool in front of his brothers so yeeeah that gonna carry over with them making humans friend. Raph might wind up needing a saving because he drank a little too much and never had a drop before. Or feel sick from smoking a bit too much weed with the team. uwu

"hmmm nah that seems 'bout 'ight."

I know this is a small self contained game but I do truly love how Raph is in this game something about how he seems to be at a point where he has learned to control his anger it still gets the better of him but he has a handle on himself even enough to be able to talk sense into Leo on his lone wolf bull uwu. But I would still say Raph is someone who dose very much got his vices. Hes very about getting things done not really caring about it being honorable or morally right. Of course hes got some vices I have wirtten him drinking here and there I feel he cut back when Splinter was missing but once home he let himself indulge a bit. Course he also allowed his sexual exploration to awaken as well uwu sooo Casey be ready >>

[dex-starr]

So tonight I’m going to write some stuff out just because it’ll help. I doubt anyone will read this so I’m fine just putting it out here.

When I was a much more depressed and non-medicated for ADHD art major I had a lot of bad habits. Obviously most of these stemmed from my state of mind if not all of them, I never realized why I found it to work on something so hard that I said I “liked to do”. I didn’t do anything too complex, I wasn’t an illustrator or was I as talented at drawing as some of the people I know. But I knew my craft when it came to image manipulation and making something interesting. I remember in high school I took a lot of pride in editing skins for the games I was playing, editing signatures for the forums I frequented. Just you know, nerdy shit back then. I got pretty decent at it so I thought “hey why not make this a career ids basically kind of like being a graphic designer”.

So I did. It didn’t go well, I didn’t really deal with the way the academic structure was for being an art major. Every time we had a project I stressed over it and procrastinated because I just couldn’t accomplish my goals in the way I had imagined them in my mind for my work. (This was obviously a bigger issue now). A majorly bad thing I did was take up smoking, but you know I didn’t smoke that much all things considered. A pack or two would last me a fucking year, kind of half-assed that. But unfortunately what I did get a fascination for was fire. Slowly and slowly I started putting it closer and closer to my skin. Mostly on my fingertips cause those are tougher than normal since I played an instrument.

It was around this time that I started to pay more attention to people getting cigarette burns in media. So you know what my little depressed brain thought to do when college wasn’t panning out? Yeah you guessed it, I started figuring out ways to give myself cigarette burns without leaving a mark. You see I had two reasons for this. The first being in HS there were nasty rumors about me committing self-harm and wearing clothes to hide that — idk how I just dressed like a normal post-hardcore skater dude with a wallet chain. My hair was long and at some points in an “emo fringe” because I saw Leon S. Kennedy’s hair and Russell Lissack from Bloc Party rocking the fringe. So I decided I wanted one too. Being able to flip my hair was fun. But this is me sidetracking.

Back to the reality. I self-harmed. I hid it. I didn’t really tell anyone about this save for my ex (didn’t think I’d be calling her my ex but life is full of unpleasant surprises). I never really committed to doing complete contact into my skin though, I wore jeans and did it over that, did it over some ratty clothes on my body and under arms. Nothing that would really show. I was afraid of being judged for scars because I was already judged for who I am and how I look — or at least it feels that way. This brings me to two years back in November, this very month.

I was visiting the girl that had my heart at the time for the longest amount of time, things were nice because we were long distance. Yeah we obviously had our issues but being around each other was more important to me and outweighed what was wrong. It was precious time I didn’t really get because of distance. So, one afternoon while my ex was having her remote dnd session we end up getting hungry. We had just gone to the grocery store recently and had some pizza to warm up in the oven. So she asked me if I could go take care of it and I did. Mind you my dumbass did not ask very important questions about using that particular stove or where the oven mitts were you know things you should ask. Things that I already knew because shit I love frozen pizzas and make them at home all the time. So I have issues because I didn’t put it on a tray aside from what it came with — this was already step one in a step of huge fuck ups. When I get this pizza out I’m distracted as ever because you know — my brain works like that unmedicated. Focus is my big weakpoint. I’m busy thinking how I’m going to cut this pizza up and plate some pieces for my girl to enjoy and whatever stupid joke I’m going to make as I walk back upstairs into her room. See, I was doing this while opening the oven and getting ready to take it out so my focus needed to be on that. When I reach for the pizza I didn’t realize that this particular pizza’s crust was a little on the softer side so the fucker starts to slide off the tray it was on. Me being a dumbass instead of thinking about being careful thinks “fuck I don’t want to make anyone clean this up, I don’t want to look stupid in front of my gf and her folks” so I panic and save the pizza. Hardly any spillage onto the oven except one glob of cheese. Crisis averted. Nope crisis’ not averted I just burned my left forearm it’s a pretty gnarly first degree burn. I see the white skin — showing around my darker skin and I don’t necessarily yell about it I just calmly put the pizza on the counter top make sure everything isn’t a mess and turn the oven off. My mind is racing this whole time but I just quieted it down. I didn’t want to tell my gf’s folks because I felt like an idiot. I just wanted to clean my burn, find something to help it stay cool and go upstairs to get some comfort. I go upstairs and she does get worried — but she doesn’t like tell her group that she’s going to be out for a little bit because I had an accident. So I’m just sitting there letting things finally sink in, finally feeling the pain because the shock wore off. She gets her mom to come up and give me some aloe to put on it consistently. Still in session though. I just remember sitting there thinking of how dejected I felt at not being helped. I don’t expect her to not panic at a situation — especially since I think I matter a lot to this girl at the time. But still just the most intrusive and negative thoughts happened during what seemed like an eternity. I start to panic that my burn might be more serious. I start to remember the times I would give myself “kiddie” burns with those cigarettes and I just start to feel completely and utterly sad. Here I am in the room with the woman I love, but I feel alone at that very moment. The thoughts were just way too strong. In hindsight this moment should have been my wake-up call to where my mindset exactly was at that time. I wasn’t in a healthy place at all even though I was head over heels for this girl. I hadn’t taken care of my mental state in years. I should’ve realized how bad I could unravel at that point in time. I wanted to do badly talk more about what was going on with me at that time but I just grit my teeth and withstood the pain, I cried in front of her which is something I didn’t normally do. It wasn’t because of the pain I was feeling physically though.

I make a lot of mistakes and do a lot of things I know I’m gonna regret unfortunately

[thatswhatijustsaid]

I’ve been the best I can be [2]

part one ︱masterlist︱ part three 

Description: With Peter back from his disastrous holiday, relatively safe and sound, you’re free to spend all your time worrying about his safety again. But will you remember your own?

MCU!Spiderman x Avenger!Reader (platonic)

Tasm!Spiderman x Reader (not in this part, either, I suck)

Gn!reader

Disclaimer: I am trying to make my fics as all inclusive as they can be. This fic will not use gendered language in regards to the reader, and I do my utter best to avoid making any other kinds of assumptions as well. If you notice any biased language, please let me know and I’ll edit it and make sure to avoid it in the future (:

Warnings: Canon typical violence, swearing, traumatized reader, depressed reader.

Word count: 3.4K

The next weeks passed in a blur of anxiety and worry.

Peter returned, looking unscratched and unscarred, but the same was not to be said about several famous European monuments, chief among them being the Tower Bridge in London. You tracked Peter almost every second on his plane ride back home, and you were at May's apartment two hours after he landed, demanding an explanation.

He obliged, whether out of genuine will or a fear of your anxiety-fueled wrath, you didn't know, or particularly care. He told you everything, from Fury's phone calls to the holographic attacks in Europe, Mysterio's betrayal, and death on the bridge.

With significantly more enthusiasm, he told you and May about MJ.

"She figured out I'm Spider-Man, before we were even in London, and y'know, I got so worried she only liked me bec-"

"Woah, woah, back up!" You interrupted, "MJ know's your Spider-Man?"

"Yeah. She is so smart, she figured it out in like te-"

"You don't think that's dangerous at all?"

Peter blinked at you, his lips turning down into a frown, "No, not at all. Why? Do you think it's bad? It's not dangerous for you to know."

"Yeah... But I'm an Avenger."

"You knew before that though. And Ned knows. And she helped me, anyway. I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own."

You considered this. As long as Peter's identity was safe, MJ and Ned and May were all ostensibly safe. You nodded in resignation, "Yeah, yeah. You're right. You're smart, she's smart. It'll be good." You punched his shoulder lightly, but his brows were still furrowed, and he was still frowning.

You shoved your pragmatism to the side and tried to remember what being a normal teenager had been like. You grinned again, "But you've been crushing on her like... all junior year. Congrats dude."

That got him smiling again. He told you, and May, who joined in enthusiastically in your questioning. He told you about a date set up later in the week, and about the Dahlia necklace. You listened to him gush over her sharp wit and her pretty hair and shared a glance and a smile with May. Teenagers.

You left, feeling comforted by Peter's safety and happiness, and you were left only really wanting to beat up Nick Fury.

You left that alone though (mostly because you had no idea where to find him), and flagged down a taxi instead. You gave him your address, then let yourself relax back into your seat. Perhaps your overprotective nature had become a tad pathological, but you weren't a shrink, and if bad coping mechanisms kept everyone safe, then they would stay. You spent the majority of the taxi ride arguing with yourself about your daily habits, as you found yourself growing more and more restless. On some nights, particularly while Peter had been gone, you would slink out of your window, dressed in a new uniform you had designed for yourself, and did some crime-fighting of your own. You weren't as lithe as Spider-Man, but you were finding yourself more violent than you expected. Maybe it was time to get a punching bag for the apartment.

"Oh, uh, ma'am? They've set um some police barricades here, I can't get any further."

The cab driver shook you from your thoughts and you were brought back to the present world, where, indeed, your street, and the next three, were blocked off.

"I'll walk from here, thanks," You rushed out, throwing cash at the driver in your hurry to get out. It was a pretty rude thing to do, in hindsight, but you had seen it done in movies, and you had bigger concerns.

You hopped the barricades, meeting no opposition. Cop cars were stationary in the middle of the streets, as well as pedestrian cars, all empty. If this stuff was becoming commonplace again, you thought to yourself, you'd better start wearing your suit under your clothes, like Peter. A burst of wind hit you from the left, and you only just managed to stay upright. It was a cold wind, too cold for the July heat.

It was that thing again, from the other week. You sprinted towards the Avengers Tower, and, as you had expected, the green hue was there again. This time, it wasn't floating in the sky, but lying on top of the concrete in front of the entrance to the tower. Leaves and dust billowed into the air, but there was no wind to be felt. Extra barricades had been set up directly around the hue, and people were flooding them, watching with enthrallment. New Yorkers' ability to remain surprised and interested in things like this instead of running in fear would always impress and concern you in equal measure.

You struggled to make your way towards the front of the crowd, eventually managing to grab ahold of the barricade and pull yourself through the mass of bodies. There were at least a dozen policemen within it, some standing by the barricades, warding people off, a few more were standing in the entrance of the Stark Tower, next to a man who might very much have been the new owner, his suit and hair were finely taken care of, and he had a smirk that reminded you just a little bit too much of Tony Stark. Next to him, another person, dressed in all black. You could make out what looked like the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on his arm. How serious was this?

You turned to the person behind you, "You been here from the start?" You asked a woman, who was staring, like most people, at the green veil on the floor. She didn't seem to be aware of the man, or even the police.

"Yeah, she replied, without looking up, "A car and a lady fell in, and just disappeared."

You raised your eyebrows. Someone was dead, or... at least unretrievable, and all the police had done was put up a metal fence? You raised your eyes to turn to the entrance. Why would S.H.I.E.L.D. think one agent was enou–

You blinked. The agent was gone. The man, the maybe-owner guy, was now talking to the police. You stared at them intently, trying to gain insight from hand gestures or something. To your shock, the man looked right back up at you. You couldn't make out his eyes, but you could feel them, boring into you. You shot backwards, back into the crowd, self-preservation instincts kicking in. There was something wrong.

You shouldered your way out of the crowd, shooting a worried glance over your shoulder again. The crowd was blocking your view.

It wasn't until you had gotten home and planted yourself firmly on the roof with your computer and some binoculars, that you realized that at some point during your two-week stress-fest, the Q had been placed on the building.

You used a pair of binoculars that you had borrowed (read: stolen) from the compound when you left for the last time. Tony had done some tinkering, and you used the added technology to 'ultra-zoom'. The binoculars let you zoom in until the large Q seemed inches away. You looked it over, ignoring a whole bunch of unnecessary information that blinked in the peripheral of the binoculars' lenses. There wasn't a scratch on it. Was this the same Q that had hurtled towards you and then vanished into thin air? Back, without so much as a dent. You turned your sights lower. You couldn't see the bottom floors, but maybe you could catch some employees on the upper levels. You ran the binoculars over the floors, thanking Tony in the afterlife for having built the tower with so many goddamn windows. You spotted someone and zoomed in again. Information popped into existence in your peripheral once you had pinned him down.

TOWNE, HARRY.

You pulled the binoculars away from your eyes, blinking. Reading text so close was making your brain ache.

Facial recognition? On a pair of binoculars? Maybe these were Natasha's.

Maybe the guy the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had talked to was somewhere in eyesight. You scoured each floor, faces and names flashing onto the interface and disappearing as you moved on. You zoomed out a bit, trying to get an overview of how many people could be in the building. The busiest section of the building, about ten levels, seemed to be fully staffed. Maybe the green veil had blocked them from going home. Maybe the building was operational 24/7. It occurred to you that you knew absolutely nothing of Qeng enterprises' real operations.

A movement on a lower floor, one that you had thought to be closed down for the night, caught your eye. You could only just make out the top of a head, black, slicked hair. A building blocked your view of the rest of the floor. You pulled off the binoculars with a huff. You needed to figure out who that guy was and why was he talking to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents? You needed to get closer.

You glanced over at the next rooftop. The distance wasn't too far, you had jumped further. Yeah. You could do that.

After carefully tucking the binoculars back into the protective casing they had come in, and putting on the neck strap, you braced yourself. You would have to run, and leap off the edge. It wasn't something you hadn’t done before, you'd had your decent share of rooftop chases, but it had been a while now, and your reckless bravery was increasingly being forced to the sidelines, with rationality and self-preservation taking the front spot. Gods, you thought to yourself, when had you gotten so boring and responsible?

You took off, one foot and then the next, and then both of them were off the ledge, in the air, and back down on the hard concrete. Your ankles protested with waves of pain, but you shook them gently to try to ease it.

You had to get down the block, and hope the man was still on the same floor. You repeated the run and jump once more, then again, and then again. Thank fuck for tightly packed New York architecture. Now, on a rooftop with a better view, you pulled the binoculars back out and pulled them up to your face, starting up your search again. You found the floor you had spotted him on and began to search. You landed on a grim man's face, wearing dark shades and an emotionless expression. Not the one you were looking for. You blinked erratically as if it would wipe the man's name (WAID, MARK) from the interface (it didn't) and instead forced the binoculars to focus on something else, another man, looking almost identical to Mr. Mark Waid. Same glasses, same expression. His name, KUBERT, ADAM. You zoomed out slightly. The men were standing, still as statues, by some kind of conference table. Your eyes finally caught the third man, the one you had been looking for. His face was turned towards the two stone-faced men, and his lips were moving, though he somehow managed to be smirking anyway. You zoomed closer in on his face, waiting for his name to pop up. It did, reading: GRYPHON, ???

You furrowed your brows. No first name? Or just not in Stark's system? You looked at his suit, trying to spot a name tag or something. You found nothing and looked over the table instead. It was clean, besides one glass of water, and a non-descript briefcase. Desperate for some hint towards what was going on, you took a closer look at Mr. Waid and his counterpart. The former's lips were moving now, nodding as he spoke. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him, his suit was clean and totally black. There was no sign of an ID on him or the other guy. Not security guards. Must be Gryphon's bodyguards or something. You looked over the aforementioned man once more, maybe he had his badge hanging by his hip or something?

No luck. You looked back up at his face, hoping the facial recognition software had learned his full name in the minute since it had identified him. No such luck. You stared at his face, trying to memorize it. He must be in the press or something, anything. You watched him nod, say something again to the bodyguards, and then turn to stare out the window.

To stare. Directly. At. You.

You seized, pulling the binoculars away from your face. What the hell? You squinted at the building, but there was no way to spot him without the help of Stark's tech. There's no way he could have seen you. You took a look through the binoculars again, and he was still staring.

"Oh, fuck," You whispered to yourself. This could not be good.

You backed up, a sinking feeling in your chest. Who was this Gryphon guy? Was he a danger to you? More importantly, was he a danger to those you cared about?

Instead of going back the way you came, you figured it would be safer to make your route a little longer. You stepped into the stairwell of the building you were on top of and started to walk down. It would be smartest to fake a trail of some sort, just in case anyone planned to come attack you. You liked your apartment, and you wanted it to stay intact and safe, in case someone was planning on murdering you tonight.

You cursed at yourself for not having brought along a gun.

Stepping out of the building, you found yourself just across the street from the Chrysler building. You turned to your left, the tower, with its big, ugly Q seemed to be staring down at you. Cold panic gripped you, and you hailed the first taxi you saw.

"Where you headed?"

"Uhh.." You considered it quickly. You needed to get out of Manhattan, but you needed to stay on this side of the East River. If you were in trouble, and Peter somehow found out, having to cross the bridge would give you at least a few extra moments to escape or get him out of it.

You felt anxiety grip your stomach before you realized it was actually hunger. "Chinatown. Please."

The ride passed quickly, and in anxious silence, with frantic checks through the rear window. No one seemed to be following you. You paid and stepped out on a corner, then stepped into the first restaurant you saw. You sat down at a table that gave you a view of the front window and a view of the kitchen, in case someone was waiting for you. If there was a shootout (a pretty one-sided one on account of you not having a gun) or some other type of attack, you were at least going to see your attacker.

Someone, be it Steve or Natasha (most likely Natasha) had told you all kinds of things while you fought, and not just things about technique.

"If you think you will die, die fighting, but die satisfied." As an afterthought: "Do your best not to die, though, generally speaking."

When a waitress came around and asked you what you wanted, you realized that you had zoned out staring at it, trying to focus on your surroundings.

"Oh uh..." You pointed to the first thing on the menu, "This one, please. And water. Thank you." She took your menu from you and walked away. You stared after her, considering the likelihood she was involved somehow, but you found that extremely unlikely. You hadn't seen anyone following you at all.

Unless they had tracker technology.

You dug your phone out of your pocket. It was time to figure out what Qeng Enterprises are, and who this strange Mr. Gryphon was.

An uneventful meal later, wherein no one tried to kill you, the strange feeling in your stomach had settled and some of your anxiety had calmed down. After a complex rabbit hole about Qeng enterprises, you were none the wiser, and, if anything, had more questions. Qeng enterprises seemed like a non-existent company. Beyond their own website, which didn't seem to have been updated since 2001, and mentions of them purchasing the Avenger's tower, they were a mystery. Even their own website never gave a clear answer on what exactly they did beyond 'investment and other business ventures'. It seemed like a shell company: but you thought back to all of the people you had seen in the building. That was too many people for a low-effort shell.

Mr. Gryphon had his own section of the website. Under the header Qeng Enterprises' CEO was a picture of the man smirking, his hair styled the same way you had seen this morning. Underneath was written: Mr. Gryphon, the founder of Qeng Enterprises. An inexorable genius born far before his time. Destined to change the course of the New York business world.

Gods, you thought to yourself, did the guy write this himself?

After paying and getting out of the restaurant, you hung around for a couple of hours, keeping a close eye on anyone who seemed to linger too close to you, or followed you into too many shops. No one tried to kill you, though. Eventually, you got in another taxi and had them drive you to Central Harlem, and from there you flitted between subway stations for another few hours before you finally made your way back home. You got in an apartment building at the opposite end of your block, then managed to run over to your own fire escape, and sneak in through the window.

Your apartment seemed perfectly untouched. A half-full mug of something was still sitting near the edge of your coffee table. The front door was locked, the door chain was still on. No one had come after you. You were safe. You collapsed on your couch, breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe you had just been imagining things, and Mr. Gryphon with his slicked hair and smirk was just.. dredging up old memories. Maybe you were just going insane.

You let your body go limp and shut your eyes. You wasted an entire afternoon, trying to fake a trail that nobody was following. Fuck. Unexpectedly, you felt tears well up in the corners of your eyes. You were lonely, you were a loner-stalker, with no real friends and no social skills and now you were making shit up to try and feel less alone.

Six years ago, you would have called Peter to deal with shit like this. He would have invited you over, or swung over to your place, put on a movie, and make stupid jokes until it got you to laugh.

A year ago, you would have talked to Natasha. She would have sat you down, looked you straight in the eyes, and said "Radnaya, do not let your mind hold power over you." Or something else that would sound very Russian, and very profound.

Radnaya was what she started calling you, after everyone else was gone, when it was only the two of you, alone. She told you it was what you said to your family, to the people who you were the closest to in the world.

You asked Clint, after Tony's funeral, about Natasha. He didn't bring her body back, he couldn't, but you knew that there would be a grave somewhere. He took care of it, put it out in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. He said that place had meant something to her. You hadn't gone there, you hadn't gone back to Tony's resting place either, nor had you gone and visited the Arlington grave they had given to Steve. He wasn't dead, technically, but you hadn't seen him either, and you would probably never hear from him again, so he might as well be.

You didn't cry yourself to sleep, you didn't have it in you, somehow, even to shed tears for yourself. You fell asleep on your couch, clutching a pillow, thinking about the only things you could ever think about; everyone who you had lost.

Note: This is one emo bitch, huh? Well. After basically two parts of mostly info-dumping, I don’t want you to have to sit through more of it! The story will properly start in the next chapter, nwh spoilers galore! Wholesome sibling vibes with you and Peter 1 and whatever else may be coming,,,

For those of you who have read the comics I’m referencing, know that I am not at all following the plot of those comics, that shit’s a bit too convoluted for this story.

For those of you who do not live in NYC: Neither do I. I just had a google maps page next to me while I was writing. Don’t worry, the geography is pretty unimportant, any important stuff will be properly explained in later parts.

For those of you who DO live in NYC: I am so sorry, I’ve been there once and I nearly fainted the first time I looked up the side of a skyscraper. Geographical inconsistencies are on my part.

The Russian word I used is totally real, it’s written родная in Russian, and according to Reddit and Google it is a very common form of endearment for someone in your inner circle: family, a partner, very very close friends etc.

Part three is out!

Thank you so much for reading!

[greenhikingboots]

heyo!! I'm not sure if you've already answered this because I don't have Tumblr and I keep getting blocked by the log in wall whenever I scroll too far. But why did you delete your old AO3 account and works? Where you getting bullied 😰 I know the jonsa ship and Sansa specifically is well hated...

Hey, anon. I haven't answered that before, so I'll give it a go now. I think it's neat that you're interested. I haven't had any issues with bullying apart from a few random comments on AO3 that were less about Jonsa and more about my writing choices. Whoops. I tagged that fic as a fix but still let Rickon die? My bad. I didn't realize I was supposed to anticipate the preferences of that one specific reader and not do that. *eye roll* That's just one example, but despite my snarkiness about it right now that kind of stuff doesn't actually bother me too much. It is what it is. So anyway. I deleted my old account more because I wasn't satisfied with my work, wasn't finding fulfillment in writing as a hobby anymore, realized I cared more than I wanted to about kudos and comments -- yeah, that kind of stuff. But mostly I felt a lot of self-inflected pressure to post updates quickly. And so my speed became too much a measure of my sense of self-worth. Lame. I took a break for a while, but I'm back to writing now with a healthier mindset. (Though, let's be honest, I still want those damn kudos!) If you don't already know, my new AO3 name is GreenHikingBoots. Since I write for both Jonsa and Dramione, I wanted a name that wasn't fandom specific. And I like the color green and I do a lot of hiking IRL. So there you go. Oh, I should probably clarify that everything I have published under that new name, apart from my current Jonsa WIP called Inevitable, was previously published on my old account (though edits have been made). Most of that is Dramione, though. Also, that isn't to say every old fic has been re-published. Two of my more popular works -- For Better Dreams (Jonsa) and Between the Lines (Dramione) -- are still in my Google Doc and will hopefully get re-published in the future. I'm working my way through shorter fic ideas first. For what it's worth, compared to how I used to do it, I now have firmer plot plans and more detailed first drafts before I start publishing. And I give more author's notes warning that updates may take a while. And those factors go a long way in helping me maintain this hobby in an enjoyable way. Basically, these days, I'm into slow and steady wins the race. Oh, come to think of it! Here's another thing I should have said sooner: major shout out to the Jonsa fanfic writers who take their sweet time publishing updates and the readers who are understanding of that. I didn't see that as much in the Dramione fandom, but I think seeing it here helped relieve a lot of my anxieties. I think that's about all I got on the topic. I'm not going to say TL;DR. But a summation? I'll try. Here goes: Fandom and fanfiction writing is supposed to be fun, not feel like work! I took some time away because I hadn't internalized that. I've since developed some better habits and saw some good examples of people who had internized the message, and that helped. Now I'm back and enjoying writing more than before. Yay! Thanks anon. This turned into a really rewarding thing to write about. Hope you don't mind me getting all philosophical. ;)

[flamingo-writes]

It's Better When The Sun Goes Down — Nanami x Reader

This is a piece for the Anilysium Server NSFW Collab! Make sure to check the masterlist to see other writer's works! This month's prompt was: "I can't hold back anymore"

I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to one of my dearest and closest friends. I'm not a Nanami simp myself, but they are. And I have fun writing for Nanami, and also I love writing angsty things and flawed characters. Reg, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoy my more casual writing.

(it's pink bcs youre Chancho)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Mentions of breakup and heartbreak, alcohol and drug consuption, public sex, ghosting, lots and lots of angst. This does not have a happy ending. This is also non proof read bcs I kinda left it to the last minute I'm sorry, I'll go back and edit it when I am not in a rush dcj nd

Summary: Nanami’s return to the Sorcerer life wasn’t so bad. It could be better if Gojo wasn’t determined to get him back with his ex. As Nanami tries to get on good terms with them, things get out of control, only to end up where it all began.

I made this playlist while writing, in case you wanna listen to it while reading. Preferably listen to it without the shuffle, but you can hear it on shuffle, no biggie.

Nanami had forgotten how painfully unbearable Gojo could be. His return as a Sorcerer had been nothing out of the ordinary for a Sorcerer's standards. Missions here and there, or watching over some of Gojo's students. But God, he had surely stepped out of the line this time.

He couldn't even begin to explain how much he hated his current situation. Fighting by your side for the first time in years felt like rubbing hot oil on an open wound. The uncomfortable ignoring the elephant in the room between you two, as you two tracked and fought what felt like a million Curses.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, it felt almost nostalgic; though he'd then remembered everything else and immediately made his own reality bitter and awkward. Overshadowed by the advantage of years of experience ahead of him made him resent you even more. He knew it was childish and pointless to keep remembering everything that happened between you two, but that bittersweet memory would most likely keep him at bay.

You were still strong, witty, fearless, reckless and quick to act and defend yourself. The way you moved looked more swiftly and coordinated than you did back in your student days. Almost as if you were a professional dancer. He hated every bit of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking about you, and the possibilities of what you two would have become.

After the mission was over, no words were exchanged between you two. Aside from the: "Are you alright?" He told you as you simply gave him a thumbs up as you caught your breath drenched in sweat. An entire ride in an uncomfortable silence, until he reached the school and you got out of the car.

"Thanks. You did a great job. Keep it up" You said. Cold, and straight to the point. Closing his car door before he could reply. And soon, you were gone.

As Nanami tried to get his mind off the mission, Gojo made it difficult. He called him to ask for the details of the mission. He seemed amused and intrigued, as clearly you hadn't told him shit. And honestly, he could understand why. Gojo was meddling on things that weren’t his business, and things that had died a long time ago.

"Why are you interrogating me, Gojo?" He asked as he pressed hisnfingers on the bridge of his nose. "Ask your underling…"

"Because that jerk left for the bar as soon as they arrived" He explained. "And I know better than to annoy a drunk [Name], It took me a while but...I finally learned my lesson" He chuckled. “I knew they could hit hard, but damn, I had a big ass bruise…” Nanami could almost hear his stupid grin.

"You make it sound like it's a recurrent event" Nanami pointed out, slightly surprised as he didn't know you were a drinker.

"Oh, Nanami-kun, you really know nothing huh?" Gojo said, smiling widely as he had managed to manipulate Nanami into asking.

"Know what?" Nanami hissed as he now swore he could hear Nanami creepily grinning at his phone.

"No, nothing!” Gojo said as if it were nothing; trying and succeeding at peeking at Nanami’s curiosity “I'm not gonna talk over depressing things on the phone. Gotta go, bye! Kith kith, Kento-kun" Gojo sang and hung up, as he smirked, proud of his little mischief. He sighed deeply as he stretched in his bed. "Soon, those two will be back together" he smirked to himself.

Nanami hissed a curse under his breath as he locked his phone and threw it on his bed and went to the kitchen. If he had understood well, Gojo had just hinted at a possible drinking problem. He tried shaking his mind off of it. You couldn't, could you? You weren’t a drinker...You weren’t the last time he saw you. You were able to party and have fun without having to intoxicate yourself.

You were wild, cheerful, unpredictable. Everything he was not. And that’s what had made him fall in love with you back in your school days. You were so laid back, he could feel it permeating into him when you two hung out. The few times he’d broken rules was because you’d been the bad influence, however, you somehow managed to get away with it, and leave him with some distant memory in which he felt actually glad to be alive. He usually felt like he was walking on a cloud stuck in time, being present and enjoying the little things that made his everyday memories.

He’d really screwed up after breaking up with you...if he could call that a breakup... His life took a dramatic turn. And then, he turned his back to this world, and got immersed in the gray life the average man in Japan had. Away from what he's familiar with, away from his friends, away from you.

And now, apparently, you had a drinking habit. He wondered if he had caused it, or if he was one of the reasons behind it. The guilt started creeping in. The same guilt and regret he felt after ghosting on you. Not being able to bring himself to properly end things with you.

The guilt he’d managed to swipe under the rug for so many years creeped back out, and followed him around as the afternoon went by. After having a shower, changing into more comfortable clothes and in a lame attempt to cook dinner, he decided to test his luck. He put on a dark button down shirt and decided to go to the bar closest to the School. He felt the naive hope to find you there. However, if you had an actual problem, then his chances to see you there were higher.

Such was his surprise to find you there, trying to get rid of some insistent guy who kept talking to you despite your very obvious lack of interest. Before you could spot him, he watched you aggressively turn to the guy and talk to him in a rather rude tone. Sounding almost like a moody sailor as the guy’s face soon was washed with horror and disgust and walked away. As you turned your face back to your drink, your eyes scanned the bar, finally spotting him.

“Oh god” You whined as you pulled the glass to your lips. “It’s too early to be this drunk…” You hissed.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“Tell Gojo to go fuck himself…” You snapped at him as you stood up and stumbled your way to the bar asking for a refill. Nanami looked at you, feeling slightly sorry for your tipsy state, as he’d never seen you like that. And he knew being mad and drunk was never a good combination. As you turned around with your glass and made your way back to your table, you gave him a slightly repulsed smile. “You’re still here…”

“Gojo didn’t send me here, if that’s what you’re thinking” He replied.

“He might as well have manipulated you into doing so, has that crossed your mind?” You said with a sassy tone as you sat back down. “Why are you still standin’?”

Nanami took that as an invitation as he ignored your last comment, trying to refuse the idea that Gojo had manipulated him.

“Rough day, huh?” He said as you nodded and stared at your drink.

“Look, Kento. I’m glad that you’re back. I really am. You’re strong, and you’re smart…” You began. “But I’m gonna cut the chase, I’m kinda annoyed too. Ever since you got back, Gojo has been sticking his snobby nose into my business” You explained. “Many of the missions he sends you in, I’m supposed to be there as well, but manage to get busy by then and not go”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?”

“Yes” You replied bluntly. “Mostly because Gojo is trying very hard to bring us back together. But no, I learned my lesson the first time” You said taking a sip to your scotch, feeling it smoothly sliding down your throat, no longer feeling the burn from the alcohol.

“I haven’t apologized for that…” Nanami began.

“Don’t” You interrupted him. “It’s better this way”

“Are you sure? Because you still seem to have an issue with it…” Nanami said, managing to read you like an open book like he always did. He still had that ability.

You glared at him, angrily as you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but your mind was foggy and a big portion of your brain was focused on the little details surrounding him. His black shirt, the first buttons undone. His thick wrists, one of them hiding underneath a fancy looking watch, his blond hair pushed back, his sharp features...And god, his smell. The smell of his cologne luring you in like a fly to honey. Since any words made it to your mouth, your next step was to take another sip.

“You’re drinking too fast” He pointed out.

“None of your business” You said standing up and taking your wallet out and leaving a few bills on the tale. “I’m out” You said coldly and walked out of the bar.

Nanami sighed, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to get anything out of interaction. Aside from the pretty clear fact that you disliked him. However, he didn’t think of the possibility of you resenting him so much because you still had feelings for him.

As you walked out of the bar, the chilly wind hit the back of your neck, making you shiver. You cursed, knowing it was going to make you feel drunker faster. You made your way to the school with long steps, trying to make it to your dorm before your last drink made it to your head. Despite the cold wind, the hot tears in your eyes in a way kept your face warm. As you tried to keep yourself from crying, you heard steps behind you.

“Wait” You heard Nanami’s voice calling behind you as you stopped on command, against your own will. You swallowed the lump on your throat and managed to keep the tears still in your eyes, as you refused to look at

him. “At least let me walk you home. You can’t walk on your own like this…”

“Oh, so now you care?” You said turning around and looking at him, giving him a smug smile. “You’ve changed” You scoffed bitterly.

“Please” He said, knowing better than trying to argue with you.

Your stare on him softened, as something within you urged you to say yes. To have more time with Nanami and maybe cling to the bittersweet memories you were constantly reliving since his return.

“Fine” You said, very much to his surprise. He smiled and walked closer to you with the gentle smile that had been haunting your dreams as of lately.

“C’mon. My car is not far from here…”

You stopped coldly as he mentioned a car. Taking a second look at him, you wondered how much he’d changed. He’d become an adult through and through, hadn’t he? While you were still a mess...Or so you thought. To Nanami’s eyes, you were a far better sorcerer and warrior than him. And he envied you for it.

“Are you actually going to take me to the school?” You asked, suddenly growing suspicious of him, as you’d had plenty of experiences with strangers on the street and knew better than going into someone’s car in a drunken state.

Not that you didn’t trust Nanami. You didn’t trust yourself drunk.

“I was actually thinking of taking you somewhere for dinner and then to the school” He said.

“Not hungry”

“No, but you’re drunk. It’ll sober you up, and tomorrow morning you’ll thank me when you wake up without a hangover” He said as he walked towards his car.

“I don’t have any more money on me” You lied, looking for an excuse to avoid spending any more than necessary with him.

“I didn’t ask you if you have money” He said boldly as he managed to make you smirk for the first time since his return.

“Smooth, Nanami. You’ve grown” You said as you followed him.

The walk to his car felt like your chest burnt far more than the alcohol ever did. It felt bitter, it hurt and was nauseating. Was it really it, or was it the alcohol finally catching up with you? Like flashes of instant memories being erased from your memory, the drive to a restaurant felt like a poorly edited foreign film. The car felt like some intense themed park ride as you felt dizzy with the alcohol whispering everything you missed about him. It was gross and it was sickening.

The Ramen sign on the outside on itself managed to sober you up a little by taking your mind off Nanami. As you followed him, clumsily standing on your feet, you sat on one of the tables and tried to make sense of the dancing letters in the menu. More flashes of memories were taken off your head, as you wondered what was happening and how drunk were you for you to start blacking out.

“Not good…” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Nanami asked.

“No. Nothing”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m not”

“You’ll feel better in a bit. Don’t worry…” He said softly as he sipped from a soda you didn’t know he had. When had he ordered it? You looked in front of you to the nice surprise that you had one too despite not knowing how or when. “I ordered some ramen for you. Something spicy...It’ll sober you up faster”

You chuckled as you looked at him.

“And how do you know that?” You asked with a cheeky tone as he smiled softly.

“Went drinking a lot with friends from work” He said. “I learned a few things here and there”

More brief black outs kept lazily painting a rather miserable painting in your memory. As you ate your ramen, you found yourself relaxing more and more. Was it the hot spicy broth? In the beginning, the balck outs weren’t getting any less frequent, however, as the night went by, you found yourself sobering up like he said. Soon, the black outs were gone, however you were still somehow locked in a haze. Although it made sense. The amount of booze as well as the short time, it was going to take a lot more than just one hot bowl of spicy ramen to get you back to a sober state.

The conversation kept flowing comfortably as both of you ate. It was reminiscent of the old days, nostalgic and somehow morbid. As the both of you tried to grasp at the old days when your worries were limited to school work. Catching up like old friends who hadn't seen each other, as if you didn’t have hard feelings for each other.

After having finished your food, Nanami paid for both of your meals and went back out into the cold night. The sky black, stars hidden by the streetlights as you made it to his car and finally noticed the silver color in it.

As he drove back to the school, you noticed he took a small detour, instantly setting alarms in your head.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice considerably serious as he noticed the change in tone from the pleasant talk they were having in the restaurant.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go…” He said as he briefly looked at you and gave you a tender smile.

That smile made your heart uncomfortably skip a beat as you hated the effect he still had on you. You didn’t dare to ask any further as you slowly recognized the route he was taking. As he slowly took one of the roads towards the edge of the city close to the coast line. He stopped in a rather deserted place, as he got off the road and stopped the car.

Despite the lack of light, aside from the few streetlights, you knew exactly where you were. A whole in your chest opened dramatically as you felt your eyes tear up and happy memories attached to the location flooded your mind.

“Kento…” You said chuckling bitterly.

“When I said I wanted to apologize, I meant it…” He said as you clenched your jaw and looked out your window, avoiding his stare.

“And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it…”

“You’re still upset about it, I get it. And I don’t blame you” He began as he felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Look at me, please”

You wanted to say something to him. But you knew you would break down crying as soon as you opened your mouth. You took a deep breath and without saying anything you looked at him. His dark brown eyes gazing into yours, as he was looking at you with a rather pained stare.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” He asked.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clicked your seatbelt, getting it off.

“I’m done” You said dryly as you opened the door and got out of the car.

“No, [Name]. Please, wait” He said as he mirrored your movements and excited the car walking around it.

“Of fuckign course I know where I am, Kento” You barked as you walked away approaching the door. “I know where I lost my fucking virginity, okay?” You barked as you stopped coldly and looked at him, tears finally streaming off your face. “Look, I’ll make us a favour and summarize this conversation. Yes, you’re a fucking asshole for just taking off one day and completely disappearing. Yes, I’m still mad about it. No, I won’t take your apology. No, I don’t care about whatever shitty excuse you have for me to listen to you. You bringing me here out of all places isn’t going to change shit…” You spat all in one breath as you stopped and took a deep breath.

“I loved you, Kento. I really did. And it hurt to have you just dissipate like you were a hallucination or something...You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything! And one day I lost all of that. You ruined sex for me!” You yelled angrily. “I could never hold, kiss or sleep with anyone, because at some point I’d see your stupid face, and then be incredibly underwhelmed because I would not enjoy sex. I can’t feel anything anymore, Kento...The only way I can actually enjoy those things is by getting drunk or high” You admitted. “I can’t walk into bookstores, nor eat sandwiches or diet coke, nor drink tea because all those things remind me of you. And yes, it’s lame that all these years later I still care about those things. And this is why I can’t forgive you” You cried, as your voice shook.

Nanami’s heart broke little by little at each one of your words. He knew he’d screwed up and had hurt you deeply. But he wasn’t aware of the actual impact. He clenched his jaw as he felt his chest tight and a lump on his throat. Now the drinking problem made sense. Gojo had painted it like you were an alcoholic, but it wasn’t exactly the case. So you’d gone to the bar to get it off with some stranger, probably pretending it was him.

The dizzying pain and weight of his mistakes blinded him for a second as he walked towards you as you kept bitterly complaining. As you tried to walk away, you made a very poor effort as he caught up with you and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and shutting you up by pressing his lips against you.

The sudden surprise made your heart stop. Your mind turning numb and blank at once as you struggled to bring yourself to push him away. However, truth be told, you didn't want to push him away. The poor attempt to push him away was more than obvious. The strong fighter you were, barely making any physical effort. Nanami's hands wrapped around your back and pulled you close, squeezing you against him as he sighed into the kiss.

Finally kissing him back, you locked your lips against his desperately, eager to taste the lips you've been dreading in your dreams. Clinging to him like he was going to disappear again, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. Your chest pressing against him as he felt his own world getting blurry.

He broke the kiss pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” He whispered as you clung to him.

“I-I…” You stuttered, the words tasting bitter before they even made it to your mouth. “Fuck, I want you, Kento” You growled as he pulled you in, kissing you hungrily again.

His hands posessively clinging to you as he slowly guided you back to the car. One step at the time as you both melted in a hungry sour kiss. As you ran out of breath, you pulled away, gasping for air as you gripped his collar in your hands.

“I can’t hold back anymore” You said as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, walking back to his car.

Your words unleashed a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped a beat and raced like crazy, as his pants started feeling tighter on his crotch. He chuckled softly as he realized his own judgement seemed to have disappeared with that first kiss. And before you could even make it to his car, he gripped your hips and spun you around as he bumped his forehead against yours.

“I can’t either” He admitted as he guided you to the car’s hood and pulled you over it. Ass you sat on the warm hood, he got between your legs and you wasted no time wrapping them around his waist. He grunted softly feeling your crotch against his as you pulled him closer to seal your lips together.

As you soon were absorbed by the dizziness of your rising heat, his hand went to your bare thighs as he slowly caressed your skin, going up and lifting your skirt up in the process. A soft moan slid into his mouth as he gripped your ass softly and squeezed it. The way your skin got covered in goosebumps and how you jerked your hips made him moan in response.

It felt good, and intoxicating. The driving desire burning his insides. The feeling of desiring to taste you all over and have you shaking underneath him. God, he’d missed that particular rush of adrenaline. His body reacting to the deeply buried memories now loose. He felt like he was in the best high he’d experienced. Lightheadedness and presence in the moment, he hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

Your hands were slowly undoing his buttoned shirt and were quick to explore his warm skin. He pulled away from the kiss, gasping as he looked at you. Your devilish smile matching your hungry stare. You leaned forward kissing his neck, nibbling on his skin every now and then. His hand gripped your hair tightly, pulling it lightly, making you look up at him as he stared at you.

He leaned forward, kissing you once more, this time a lot more slow and a lot more tender. It was sweet and it was slow and it took you by surprise. You felt his sweet kiss begging you, still holding on to the feelings you both decided to drown unsuccessfully. It almost hurt. It was the kind of kiss that told you how much you missed and needed each other. How much you regretted the mistakes you’ve done.

As you melted against his lips, his hands slowly slid your panties off. You helped him lifting your hips a little but as you giggled against his lips.

“Eager?” You said with a playful smirk.

“You have no idea” He replied as he took off your panties and shoved them in his back pocket.

His hand made it back to your thigh, slowly going up until he palmed your hot sex. Stealing a gasp out of your mouth, he teasingly ran one of his fingers through your dripping slit, making him smile satisfied.

“I’m not the only one, huh?” He said as you looked at him with lustful eyes.

You took his glasses off and set them aside. You were about to go back to kissing his neck when he slid one finger inside of you effortlessly. A rather loud moan escaped your lips as you shut your eyes closed feeling your entire body tingle in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You smiled satisfied as you continued kissing his neck. Slowly, he got another finger inside. The delicious stretch of his second finger prompting you to bite his neck softly making him growl your name softly. His fingers explored the whole he knew so well, as he found your sweet spot almost by muscle memory. More moans came out of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

“Fuck, Kento” You hissed as you took off your top, not caring that you were outdoors and by the road. Up to this point, you were so pent up, you simply craved him like you’d never craved anything before.

Nanami wasted no time and kissed your neck, going down to your neck, gently biting your skin every now and then. Sucking delicately on your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long. He pulle dhis fingers out of you, clinging to your body desperately. As you laid on the car’s hood, you devoured him with your lustful eyes, begging him to get on top of you. Wearing just your skirt by this point, Nanami groaned at the plain sight of you.

He undid his belt and his pants. Your hands playfully teasing your own body in an attempt to drive him crazier and crazier. He cursed under his breath as he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his painfully hard erection out of his pants. You watched hi, intrigued, stretching your hands towards him, gently gripping his dick. His breath hitched and you smiled proudly.

Nanami leaned over the car hood, slowly getting on top of you, his shaft resting on your belly as he looked at how much deep could he go inside of you. His tip almost reaching you belly button, as the idea alone made a shiver run down his spine.

"Please, Kento" you gasped, need dripping from your voice as you caressed his dick

He growled softly as he pulled away softly, aligning against your entrance and slowly going in. You gasped, pushing your head back and pressing your hips against his making him go deeper.

Hissing your name, he jerked his hips, his tip.kissing your cervix as sudden rush of pain jolted through your body, followed by pleasure. You dug your nails in his shoulders as he thrusted back and forth, hitting all the right spots. The sound of his gasps and grunts hypnotizing as you got wetter by the second. His length coated in your juices, echoing in lewd wet noises.

He was rough. He usually was. Back in student days, he was particularly rough. As quiet and collected as he seemed, he sure got his stress out if his body through wild sex.

Relentlessly pushing against you, stretching you in such a delicious way only he knew how. Strong and aggressive movements as your walls swallowed him whole every time, breathless moans escaping your lips with every push. The cool wind kissing your skin, only enhancing his warmth.

As you felt your orgasm progressively approaching, the realization of how addicted you were to him hit you. He was everything you desired. And it was wrong. Before the feeling of uneasiness started to sink in, a sudden electric rush ran through your body. Painfully and soothing, as you tightly clenched around himbsoon numbed your mind.

As you came around him, your walls sucked him in tightly, as he was right over the brink, your velvet flesh pushed him off the edge. He didn't have time to pull out. And honestly, he didn't want to pull out. The way your walls milked him felt delicious. As he rode you through your orgasm, filling you up as his head felt dizzy and the world was spinning faster than usual. His hot seed coating your insides, as you shut your eyes closed, feeling the very last of your orgasm fading away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Loud pants echoing.

However, the world didn't quite return to its regular focus.

The rest of the night went by in a fuzzy hot mess of events. You returned to his apartment and kept feasting on each other, making up for the lost time. Both of you incredibly starved and needy, you desperately went at it over and over again. It was a rather long night. As you feared, no one made you feel as he did. All of him was addicting. His smell, his voice, his warmth, his skin...It didn’t matter how many strangers you fucked, or how drunk or high you were, he felt just right. He made you cum so easily, it seemed ridiculous everyone else couldn’t.

But you knew it was far more than that.

You were still deeply in love with him. No wonder why he had that effect on you. Just hearing his breathlessly gasp was enough to have you soaking wet and under his mercy. Between sweet kisses, fake promises and sweaty sex, he quite literally fucked you to oblivion. Until either of you could take it any longer and you two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long tiring night, as you knew many of your muscles were gonna be sore the next day. Your chest painted in red and blue bruises.

It was possibly one of the best night sleeps he’d had. In such a long time. The uncomfortable hole in his chest didn’t feel so wide now. Just like you, he didn’t know how much he actually needed you until now. His regrets, his guilt, the thoughts haunting him on how much of a jerk he’d been when he simply took off...All those feelings went away for a night. As he tasted the wonders of the universe under your skin. Feeling ecstatic and euphoric for the first time in years. However, nothing could’ve prepared Nanami for what he was about to experience when he woke up.

~

“What the hell is this?” Gojo asked as he waved around the folder you’d left a few hours earlier in the Headmaster’s office.

“Why the fuck do you care?” You said as you grabbed it, ripping it off his hands.

“You’re seriously leaving for Kyoto?” He whined.

“So my transfer was accepted? Great!” You said sarcastically as you opened the folder and saw the Headmaster’s seal at the bottom.

“What about Nanami-kun?” Gojo replied as the very last string of your patience snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Gojo! You tried to force us back together, but it’s not going to happen” You snapped. “I’m done. I’m done with him, and I’m done with you sticking your nose in my business”

“Do you really think that running away will solve anything? You’ll still be depressed as hell”

“The less I know about him, the better” You said as you turned around, hot tears blurring your sight as you headed with long steps towards your room. “I don’t trust myself around him…” You whispered. “He’s my weakness Gojo, I can’t let that happen…” You said coldly.

You’d left that morning very early, before Nanami woke up. And you left leaving no trace of you ever being there. Unintentionally doing the same he did. It was unintentional because you hadn’t done it out of spite. Your thought process had been simply. You preferred to not have that conversation and simply leave without him noticing. You had had the exact same thought process Nanami had had all those years ago.

You didn’t waste time and soon started packing your things to leave for Kyoto right away.