#the ​cleaning out of my drafts continues and this is an important one

[dreadblaidd]

I’ve had this in my rules for forever but I want to highlight it specifically on the dash -

If you’re not a pc (Inquisitor/Hawke/HoF/Rook), I will default to my world state/other pcs to the extent that pc/world state is relevant to our thread. I’ll be open about what that is as we plot and we can discuss how to mesh mine with yours so they fit.

The sandbox should be 50/50. RP is collaborative writing, not ‘karen come and play in my novel.’ It reduces me to a spectator or a reaction board. That’s not fun at all.

My Solas has important character relationships just like your character does. We should both be able to develop our muses as we write together, and to do that requires an even split. I will always ask you ‘is it ok if I use X’s Rook as the Rook in our thread’, for example.

Same goes for world states. I won’t change my character to fit how you want him. I won’t accommodate your Solas headcanons, pre-established relationship with him (unless we’ve discussed), or canon divergences that affect Solas. I think that’s pretty self-explanatory. If something tangentially affects Solas, we can discuss and I’ll decide if I’m cool with it.

If something is incredibly important to your character, talk to me before we write. If we’ve written together before and I’ve been using your world state/pcs, know that I’m doing it very happily and want to continue. I’m especially happy to accommodate relationships you have with other people’s muses.

End of the day, this isn’t set in stone and I tend to be more flexible than this post suggests. All I ask is that you don’t assume or try to force it on me. Just talk to me beforehand and be respectful of the fact that we both want to have fun, and that I might say no.

[mrsmnsn]

do you want to know a secret? -eddie munson

summary: In a party, Eddie had a important secret to share with you.

w: this story is a fluff; fem!readerXeddie, drunk!eddie (the poor boy is just needy), it is a very short story (maybe a bit shitty).. let me know if there’s something more :)

an: I had this draft for a while now and i just love it very much. i can help it, i’m a simp for teeth rotting fluff. (yes if you’re wondering, i made this short fic based on a song by the beatles.)

All of your friends were heading to a party, of which you didn’t know the owner. Steve was the one who encouraged everyone. “I know the weekend is short to recover from a party, but please, i just feel like we never had nights like that anymore. To just fool around…”. His speech went on and on but apparently it worked. So you got ready with Robin and later Steve would pick you up with Eddie. Steve spent the whole drive talking about the girl he was going to meet there.

“So that’s the reason why you kept bugging us to go? So you can meet up with some girl?” Robin asked as Steve parked the car “Jeez Stevie, I didn’t know you were that dry, cant even call a girl for a private date…” Robin kept mumbling and that earned her a bitchy look from Steve. They walked towards the house and continued teasing each other.

“What about you Eddie, what Steve promised you to convince you to come?” You asked giggling “If he promised you a date with a girl, it’s all bullshit! I saw him doing it before, it’s his little scheme to make you follow him.”

He laughed at what you said and kept walking towards the house. "Actually, he didn't promise me anything. I just asked if I could bring my friends, you know? God knows how much they need to socialize with real people!" You laugh with him. Really, you didn't imagine that nerds would have a very hectic social life. "They're either in there scaring everyone or they're already on the fourth girl of the night!"

“I bet that Gareth is following that same girl he fell in love with at the mall the other day.” You say extending your hand before getting in. He looked at you and clasped your hands together, closing the deal, and pushed you in.

The thing was that you and eddie were friends for a quite some time now and it couldn’t be any different, or more cliche, but you fell for him. He didn’t help though. Always being the best friend he could be, helping you in every way possible, not to count how gentle he was, how smart, how handsome… It was inevitable. You actually tried to make a move a couple of times.

The first time you were at lover’s lake. You went there to hang out because it was too hot to stay inside the trailer. Eddie was smoking a joint and was doodling some things in his notebook. The golden light of the sunset was reflecting on his face and hair, making him shine even more. You were suddenly very close to each other and impulsively you approached and kissed him on the cheek. At first he had no reaction, he just looked at you. Of course you immediately regretted it and soon changed the subject and asked him to take you back to your house.

The second time it was a bit more intense. It was a campaign day and to celebrate the group's victory everyone started drinking the beers that Jeff had managed to get from his dad and the ones Eddie had bought. Eventually everyone left and you stayed to help your friend clean the place that was dirty with beer bottles scattered on the floor. You were already bubbly, laughing at everything and feeling light. Until you leaned on the table in the center of the room to talk. You are not very sure how the conversation took this turn, but you started talking about your romantic lives and Eddie was telling you about some past romances. You made fun of each other, talked about your current situation and again he had approached in a way in which you had no way to escape. It was like a charm. In a matter of seconds you grabbed him by the neck and kissed him fervently. He returned the kiss pressing you against the table. You kissed each other for a while until you returned to sobriety and all that courage completely disappeared from your body. "we are drinking, we shouldn't be doing this in this state of vulnerability" you told him trying to convince yourself that you should not proceed. You shouldn't take advantage of a drunk friend.

You decided not to talk about this kiss with anyone! You didn't even tell Robin about it. You didn't want the subject to just fade out. But that would mean having to confess to Eddie that you were completely in love with him.

Anyway, you entered the house, which was full of horny teenagers drinking without caring too much about the consequences. So you just mixed in, taking a bottle of beer from the kitchen.

Time went by and you managed to sit on the free sofa in the living room. The combination of an empty stomach and many beers was not a very good idea. You hadn't had many beers, trying to be the most aware of them thinking about having to drive back home, but Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Robin (Steve was probably getting laid in some room on the house because you never saw him again.) were playing their own style of beer pong with bottle caps. Eddie was completely thrown on top of you. His head was on your shoulder, his left arm on top of your lap and his leg was intertwined with yours. Well, Eddie never understood very well the matters of personal space, but that was too much even for him. They probably went out because they went from playing and laughing to be in complete silence.

“Are you ok there? Still alive?” You asked not looking at him, just resting your head on his. He let out a grown when you did that. “Sorry, heavy head.”

“No no, not that… you can stay.” Eddie said, the words coming out kinda dragged from his mouth. “Actually can i tell you something that’s on my head now?” When he spoke you could smell the strong sent of beer. “Do you want to know a secret?”

“What is it?” You asked, caressing his arm that was resting on your lap.

“Do you promise not to tell anyone? Cause is a very important secret!” He lifted his head to make sure you understood how important that was.

“I won’t tell anyone Eddie, i promise!” You said giggling a little but he believed in you.

“I believe in you. Alright come closer, let me whisper to you.” You sat a bit straighter and he approached you, close to your ear so he could whisper. “I am completely immensely desperately crazy head over heels in love with you sweetheart.”

His drunk but sincere words seemed to be echoing in your head. Now you were the one getting dizzy. It just stuck there and you got paralyzed, leaving him in silence too, now with his head back on your shoulder. Eddie? In love with me? How many beers he fucking had?

You looked around to see if someone was looking, but they didn’t seem to notice what was happening there. You were combusting, not knowing what to do. “Sorry I scared ya… I had to let it out. I-I mean it, though. It’s just stuck up there in my head and my chest and if i didn’t say anything i would probably barf…. sorry, thats so not romantic-“

“Eddie… that happened before, remember? Where the booze took us to a place we shouldn’t. We definitely shouldn’t drink beer anymore” You cut him, in disbelief.

“How could i forget? I constantly think about that kiss.”

You made him look at you. His face was a bit tired, his eyes kind of heavy with booze and tiredness.

“And that time in the van, you know… you kissed my cheek. I guess i figured I loved you there.” As those words left his mouth the memories came back all at once, flooding your mind with flashbacks from that day.

“Eddie, love is a very strong and meaningful word!” You speak highly above a whisper. “It’s serious business.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” He adjusted himself in his seat to look better at you. “I might be drunk, but have you never heard that phrase ‘drunk actions are sober thoughts’? I mean it. This is not a joke, it is true and i need you to believe in me!” His pleading eyes were looking at you now, almost crying.

“Eddie, I do, I believe in you! Please d-don’t cry.” You say cupping his cheek. “I just said that because i don’t want you to say all those things and regret later. Because i’ll believe in them and in you. Why do you think i made those ‘moves’ before? I’m also in love with you!”

His eyes teared up anyway and he smiled. “Uh, it’s so nice hearing that, isn’t it?” He said and that made you giggle with him. “Can we go home so I can sober up and say all that again over and over to you!”

“Yes, we can!” You take his hand that was pressing your waist and you give it a kiss, then pressing it against your warm skin. “That was a beautiful secret Eddie!”

“Not as beautiful as you” He kissed your other cheek, pressing them.

You blush at his comment. “Ok, before all this cute thing starts, i’m just going to tell Steve we’re going and-“You finish your sentence before when you see Steve coming up to you a bit annoyed.

“Next time, make me remember to really evaluate all my options, deal?!” He said in a hushed tone.

“What happened Steve? What about that-“ He cuts you again before you could understand.

“I really don’t want to talk about this, i’m going to drink something” The moment he turn away from you and Eddie he saw Gareth on the couch, but there was something unexpected, the girl he was kind of stalking on the mall almost straddling his lap and they’re sharing a heated kiss while Jeff and Robin run away from there. “OH COME ON MAN! EVEN THE NERDS!”

[bbokaricentral]

In my eyes, you're everything but flawed.

Pꪖⅈ𝕣ⅈꪀᧁ: toxic!lee minho x reader

Ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ: you think you're going to hell. probably deserve to. you've lost your faith, lost your purity, lost everything that made you who you were. and the worst part is you'd probably do it all again if he asked.

Authors note: i have so many minho fics marinating in my drafts, ill post them all today

Ɯαɾɳιɳɠʂ: ANGST, religious guilt, smut (edging fem recieving, asshole minho there as well) toxic behaviour, toxic minho (reminder this is fiction and doesn’t reflect his character in ANY WAY.) lowercase intended,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ-ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.5k

you were raised in church, knew every hymn by heart. you believed love could fix everything, that if you were good enough, you could save anyone.

then you met minho.

he wasn't supposed to change you, but the first time you saw him, something shifted. he looked at you like he could see straight through to your soul.

"you're different," he said that first night, fingers tracing your cheek. "everyone else is so... fake. but you're real."

you melted.

at first it felt safe. warm. he'd text you constantly:

miss you already

can't stop thinking about you

 you're the only one who gets me

but then came the cracks.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he'd whisper against your neck. "you're all I have. promise you'll never leave me?"

and you promised. of course you promised.

when you didn't answer his texts fast enough: "where were you? who were you with?"

when you made plans with friends: "I guess I'm not important to you anymore."

when you tried to explain: "I'm not controlling, I just love you so much it hurts. is that wrong?"

your parents saw it before you did.

"he's not good for you, honey."

but you couldn't hear them. he was charming when he met them, all smiles and compliments.

"your daughter is incredible," he'd tell your mom. "I'm so lucky."

then later, alone with you: "your parents don't like me. they're trying to turn you against me. but you won't let them, right?"

you chose him. 

every. 

single.

 time.

he became your god. you worshipped him the way you'd learned to worship everything holy. gave him your time, your body, your soul. poured yourself into him hoping he'd love you back.

the first time he touched you, you thought it meant something. thought the way he whispered your name in the dark meant forever. but even in those moments when you were closest, when you gave him everything you had to give, there was something cold in his eyes. something distant.

"you're mine," he'd say afterward, but it never sounded like love. it sounded like ownership. Like you were nothing but an animal to him.

you'd lie there in the dark, feeling emptier than before, wondering why something that was supposed to bring you closer only made you feel more alone. he'd fall asleep and you'd stare at the ceiling, trying to understand why your chest felt hollow when it should have felt full.

he never held you after. never asked if you were okay. just took what he wanted and rolled over, leaving you to clean up the pieces of yourself in silence.

one night, he edged you relentlessly, his fingers teasing you until you were begging. "please," you whispered, your body aching with need. 

"p-please, minho." 

he smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. "not yet," he murmured, his voice low and mocking. "you're not ready yet."

 he continued to touch you, bringing you to the brink over and over, each time pulling back at the last second. you were a mess of pleasure and frustration, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire.

 "please," you begged again, your voice hoarse. "i can't take it anymore." he finally relented, thrusting into you with a harsh groan. it was so painful.

 at that moment, it didn’t even feel like your body was your own. it felt more like a ready-to-use toy whenever he's bored.

when he finished, he pulled out and turned away, leaving you alone and unsatisfied. you lay there, your body still throbbing, feeling more used than ever. 

the silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but feel like you were nothing more than a tool for his pleasure.

his love wasn't love. it was need.

"you're the only one who understands me," he'd say when you caught him in lies. "everyone else judges me, but not you. you love me for who I really am."

and you did. even when who he really was hurt you.

the silent treatments lasted days. you'd beg:

"what did I do wrong?"

"you know what you did." he’d coldly replied

"please just talk to me."

"I need space. you're suffocating me." he said blankly.

so you'd give him space. wait by your phone. cancel plans. make yourself smaller.

when he finally came back: "I missed you so much. I don't know why I do this. you make me crazy, you know that?"

and you'd forgive him. every time.

"I can't live without you," he'd whisper. "you're my everything."

but you were never his everything. you were just... there. convenient. safe. someone who would always take him back.

your friends started avoiding you.

"all you talk about is him."

"he's changing you."

"when's the last time we hung out without you checking your phone?"

but he needed you.

told you so constantly. 

made you feel guilty for having a life outside of him.

"your friends don't understand us," he'd say. "they're jealous of what we have."

slowly, it was just you and him. the way he wanted it.

you stopped going to church as much. stopped praying before meals. your faith felt contaminated, like everything pure about you had been stained by wanting him more than god.

the worst part wasn't the yelling or the accusations. it was the way he made you doubt yourself. made you feel crazy.

"I never said that."

"you're being too sensitive."

"you're remembering it wrong."

until you weren't sure what was real anymore.

even in bed, even when you were giving him everything, he'd make you feel like it wasn't enough. like you weren't enough.

"why can't you just relax?" he'd say when you'd tense up, when something felt wrong. "stop overthinking everything."

and you'd try. god, you'd try so hard to be what he wanted. to move the way he wanted, to sound the way he wanted, to disappear into whatever version of yourself he needed that night.

but it was never about you. it was never for you. you realized that in the moments after, when he'd turn away and you'd feel more like an object than a person. when you'd reach for him and he'd already be reaching for his phone.

"was that... was I okay?" you'd whisper.

"mmm," he'd hum, not even looking at you.

and you'd lie there, staring at his back, understanding with crushing clarity that he'd never once asked if you were okay. never once cared if you wanted what was happening. you were just there. convenient. available.

a body to use when he needed it.

you broke the first commandment without meaning to. he became your god, and you worshipped at his altar, sacrificing pieces of yourself you didn't even know you were losing.

he promised forever, but forever was never meant to last.

one day he just... stopped trying. stopped pretending to care. you'd text him and get one-word answers. you'd try to talk and he'd scroll through his phone.

"are we okay?" you'd ask.

"we're fine."

but you weren't fine. nothing was fine.

you found out about her the way you find out about everything now - by accident. her name in his phone when he left it on the table. her laugh in the background of his calls.

when you confronted him:

"you're paranoid."

"we're just friends."

"you don't trust me."

until finally: "maybe if you weren't so needy, I wouldn't need someone else to talk to."

"maybe if you were better in bed, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere."

the words hit you like a physical blow. all those nights you'd tried so hard to please him, to be enough, and he'd been thinking about someone else the whole time.

"I gave you everything," you whispered.

"no," he said, cold as winter. "you gave me what I wanted. there's a difference."

and that's when you understood. he'd never made love to you. he'd never even had sex with you.

he'd just used you.

the last time you saw him, you begged. actually got on your knees and begged him not to leave.

"I can change," you whispered. "I can be better."

he looked down at you with something like disgust.

"you can't," he said simply. "you're too much. you always were."

and then he was gone.

but you weren't. you were still there, hollow and empty, picking up pieces of a person you used to be. the worst part wasn't that he left.

the worst part was that you'd let him take everything, and now you couldn't even remember who you were before him.

you sit in church now, the same pew you sat in as a child, but the hymns sound like lies. the prayers taste like ash in your mouth. you can't focus on the sermon because all you can think about is his hands on your body, the way he made you feel dirty and holy at the same time.

you gave your devotion to the wrong god, and now you can't pray to the real one anymore. can't even look at the cross without remembering how you worshipped him instead. how you let him become your salvation.

the guilt eats you alive. you've committed the worst sin - idolatry - and you can feel god's disappointment like a weight on your chest. your grandmother's voice echoes in your head: "the wages of sin is death."

you think you're going to hell. probably deserve to. you've lost your faith, lost your purity, lost everything that made you who you were. and the worst part is you'd probably do it all again if he asked.

he texts sometimes. late at night when he's drunk or bored or wants to feel powerful again.

miss you the most when you didn’t fuck up.

I really did love you.

and part of you - the part that's still that soft girl who believed love could fix everything - wants to text back.

but you don't.

because you finally understand: some people aren't meant to be saved. and some love isn't love at all.

because you were nothing but a fool to believe love could heal every wound, wash away every sin, lead the broken back to grace. in the end, you're nothing but a once god-fearing girl destroyed into a woman whose love became her religion, whose devotion became her downfall, whose faith died the moment you chose him over heaven. 

how pitiful.

do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform. do not repost, alter, or translate any of my content without my consent, also my work doesn’t in no way shape represent the actual people. 

[alexanderlightweight]

Bro, Sir, my dude, your Pray to the Hunters verse has completely consumed my brain. Thoughts, gone, I live here now. Please sir may I have some more? Thank you so much for all of your hard work!!!

okay i've had a bunch of asks for pray to the hunters verse but this is my oldest and I saved it in drafts with a reminders because when I finally was able to write it again, I wanted to make sure I could share it with you because even though it was a while ago, I've thought of this prompt on and off and it's always made me smile. anyways it's been a long time but I hope you enjoy it <3

lumine

pray to the hunters

-

Condensation drips like slow tears down the crystal of Magnus’ glass as he stares at the werewolf kneeling before him.

“I’ve warned you before, if you wish to keep your pack within the bounds of my territory, then you must also follow the rules.  My rules. Was this somehow unclear?” Magnus’ voice is gentle, almost kind and every word, every question makes the pathetic creature in front of him flinch.

Just as he is about to continue, the wolf’s ragged breath comes out not only in a whimper but in a gust of frost that hangs in the air  and Magnus inhales. The air of his club suddenly sharp and clean like a fresh layer of mountain snow... and the tang of blood.

The droplets etching their path down his drink freeze, stuck to the side like tiny glistening diamonds. 

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs to himself, beyond pleased despite the simmering impatience that still lingers in his veins. In his core, the death magic he’s carefully concealed within the cafe of cold necromantic energy Alexander shared with him, roils as if in hungry excitement.  

Alexander melts from the shadows as if he was born from their embrace, not even bothering to spare the wolf a glance, ignoring everything else to look only at Magnus. 

As he should.

It’s as enthralling as it is maddening, wishing to be both the shadows embracing Alexander and the splatter of red flecks on his jaw and neck.

“Are you busy?” Alexander’s voice is quiet and calm despite the intensity with which he looks at Magnus. There's mocking laughter in the court around them, for who could see this scene and not realize Magnus is busy. 

For a moment Magnus lets the question linger amid derision, taking a long, slow sip of his drink and savoring how the alcohol slides thickly down his throat, so cold it burns. 

How quickly his court latches onto any weakness shown, yet they’re misunderstanding the question.

Alexander isn’t inquiring if Magnus is busy, he’s asking if Magnus is too busy for him.  

Alexander wants to know if whatever Magnus is doing is more important than Magnus’ interest in him.

Specifically. 

Magnus’ laughter is a deep chuckle that only encourages the mockery around them until, with two fingers raised, he silences them and stands.

“Nothing is more intriguing to me than you, Alexander.” 

Magnus holds out his hand and Alexander takes it, his flesh and muscle covered fingers just as cold as the bone-knuckled grasp of his ancestors.   It feels like the phantom cage of skeletal fingers still lingering on his heart and Magnus brings Alexander’s hand to his mouth in a long, claiming kiss.

Around them PanDEMONium has gone silent with shock and Magnus ignores them with a breathy laugh of delight. Only three days and yet it feels like three centuries since Alexander’s deathly cold magic soothed the raging fires of Magnus’ desire.

Three days since Alexander’s offered boon gifted Magnus the ability to harvest more power than he thought possible without consequences. 

Well, there is a consequence, but Magnus finds Alexander — and the pull he holds over Magnus — such a delightful one.

“Were you hunting, darling?” Magnus wonders just how far he’ll be allowed to press, in public and without a ritual or a boon tying them together.  

Alexander smiles at him, hazel eyes soft and encompassing like a beautiful everglade with thousands of hidden dangers.

“Was I?”

Magnus takes that as permission, using his grip on Alexander to pull him closer — thrilled at how easily his shadowhunter lets himself be led — and leans forward to possessively lick at the specks of blood on Alexander’s jaw.

It carries the vibrancy of life, not death and Magnus tsks in disappointment, a shame then that Alexander hadn’t come to him fully sated by death.  It means he’ll probably leave, when whatever business he’s come here to make with Magnus is done. It also makes Magnus even more curious, about why he’s come when he’s clearly not finished with his hunt.

“Pity.” Magnus’ voice is quiet, only for the two of them and Alexander’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“I’ve heard that most of the business you conduct remains at your club.”

“Aren’t you well informed.” Magnus hums thoughtfully and uses his thumb to smear the blood and saliva on Alexander’s face into a claiming streak of color. “Do you want us to talk here?”

Alexander smiles again, disarmingly pretty, if it weren’t for his bone-white teeth and how his lips and tongue are almost the same color as the blood of prey on his skin.

“If you’re willing to share, then why would I object.”

Magnus is not willing to share.

Magnus would rather burn down his entire club and everyone in it than to share a moment of Alexander's precious, remarkable power and existence with a single other being.  

“Teasing me is a dangerous game, Alexander.” Magnus creates a portal with a dark smirk and winks at his shadowhunter, “but I think you know that.”

—

notes:

alec is being a little shit btw. he purposefully didn't go finish his kill because he wants to tempt Magnus into joining him and this is his grand plan and idea of flirting because yes, his idea of 'do you like me y/n' is 'hey why don't we go see if the high warlock of Brooklyn wants to go eat more hearts with me?' totally normal even for Shadowhunters, right?

If it wasn’t clear, magnus’ drink temperatur and the temperature everywhere is affected by alec’s powers which are basically based on how steeped he is in necromantic ancestral magic at the time. Everything is affected by him and Alec is both making a statement and not. He’s kind of forgotten its a side affect at this point 

And btw magnus totally finds alec pretty, its just the disarming part of the pretty doesn’t work with how dangerous alec actually is the aura he exudes and let me tell you, something really pretty that screams danger is much scarier than something not as nice to look at. Magnus is charmed tho, just not disarmed 

Magnus is trying to just live life... while enjoying necromantic magic and a bunch of murder but that's not the point. He really did not need a bunch of werewolves attacking a NY police officer werewolf.  He just did not okay. Like that was not well thought out at all and magnus is so fucking done. especially because they need those spies and not many are willing to do it and no one is going to force them. Magnus is ACAB and wants to be involved with mundane law enforcement as little as possible okay, unless its to fuck with them and he can do that without being around them personally.

Uhm clary and simon did not get kidnapped. Well they did, they just didn’t stay kidnapped long enough to get into big trouble but luke and the pack still beefed and magnus caught wind of it because alaric has at least a quarter of a braincell and was like ‘uh the highwarlock will not be happy that a downworld police officer is about to have a very unnatural death that will be super investigated since cops are like that about their own when they're already suspicious about all the mundane deaths'. 

The werewolf magnus is currently about to eviscerate doesn’t have a name because magnus can’t be bothered to remember his name when he’s this irritated and so he’ll probably call him about a dozen names that aren’t his own before killing him (i’m going to be real, this is a death magic story. It doesn’t matter what mood magnus is in when he gets back, the werewolf is going to die. Even if its just because magnus wants another taste of death to share with alec the next time they meet

Alec carving bone flowers for Magnus because 'one of his ancestors shared the impression of getting flowers and liking them but since Magnus is interested in necromancy, ofc she'll give her favorite descendant permission to carve her bones into a bouquet because that will be 'more personal'.

alec was the favorite of a bunch of fanatic dead warriors (more obsessed with eradicating demons than revering Raziel), he's more fucked up than normal but also more like, has better self-worth than canon so that says something about canon I feel. also when a bunch of your ancestors who didn't tarnish the family name but made the family name don't care about who are interested in as long as they're powerful? self-repression who?

ngl this is one of my most loved but difficult to write verses and I hope I got into the vibe right because it has to fit right or i'm just trying to finish a puzzle with the wrong pieces

[norissisca]

“I wish to be with you in my final moments, my love”

PTII — TEASER

Satoru x Suguru x Non-Sorc!Reader

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT : fempov

content warning : gore, thoughts of cannibalism, death, angst, miscarriage, alcohol, mention of rape, horror themes, psychosis, suicide

a/n : I felt bad for making my snookums wait and with my recent problems with tumblr and then deleting my whole draft, I had to re-write it so here is the beginning teaser of ptII. I hope you guys can tell what the first bit of the fanfics are, hehe always love challenging people into little puzzles

PT I

August 10th, 2017, at around midnight,

Commence of investigation and assessment

Like usual he had to say something snarky, always having the last word to those elders. . . God, I should’ve killed them ages ago. But whatever. A smirked piqued as he spun around his heel and pulled up his blindfold, concealing his icy blue eyes, as if the thought of seeing those old ragged men seeing a flash of purple before they were wiped clean from the Earth gave him euphoria.

“Fucking hell. . . Seriously, it’s just a body that is unidentifiable, these second-grades keep getting more pathetic and pathetic as they go. Makes my white hair turn whi— no, no, no, black.”

He would whine and complain, swinging his hands around to express more dramatic key to how he’s currently feeling. He’d teleport himself to the site, stretching his lanky arms and his long legs took wide steps, shoving his hands in his pocket with a pout on his face. Striding past Ijichi as he began his usual “important” rambling, breaking down the suspicion of the attack and how the investigation will play out which as expected Satoru literally always ignore him and simply waved his hand as if he already knows everything.

“Soooo. . . Do you know who this person is or are we gonna play guess who with this body.”

Ijichi would adjust his glasses as he let out a soft sigh as he had to repeat himself yet again. Satoru nodding as he continued with the information.

“Gojo-san, if you heard me correctly, the body is completely mutilated to the point the body is unidentifiable, we don’t even know the sex of the person. . . At the moment all we are suspecting is that this curse must’ve eaten its way in or out of the lower stomach, we be—“

“Euughhh! Now thats just gross, I’ll give credit to the curse for trynna be a weirdo. Cause that’s just outright weird, but nothin that isn’t past my big leagues.”

“Right. Anyways, as I was stating, we believe this theory because although the body is completely disorientated we can tell it was from the lower stomach due to the massive hole in it that its the focal point of the attack.”

Satoru would abruptly stopped walking making Ijichi speed walking into a halt which merely made him skid to the pole in front of him. Satoru would tug one of his hand out of his pocket and lazily point to the alleyway with the corpse in it. Although they can’t see the body yet due to how deep it was into the alleyway, it was evidential that it was there because of the rotting stench kissing their noses and that made the both of them grimace (mostly Ijichi).

“If that’s so, has any of you dudes found the curse yet?”

“Uh, no. That’s why you’re here, the second grade won’t talk. He’s in a state of shock from seeing the body, so it was quite hard to ask if he’s seen the curse or not.”

“Welp! I’m only guessing you want me to ask?. . . Jesus, ‘state of shock’. This guy is obviously weak as hell, can’t even handle the sight of a body torn up!”

He would’ve grumble the insult underneath his breath, obviously he was currently pissed off as the investigation is being dragged out even more all because some second grade is being a pussy. Ijichi notice the aura change of Satoru, which made him a teeny bit scared of him.

Man, I wonder how my sweets is pulling up. Lowk kinda worried about her since the past few weeks, she’s been acting strange. . . Like real fuckin’ stran—

Until it struck him. The scent of nostalgia, it reminded him back in his school days. That smell coming from the alleyway where the body was located, it was no doubt. . . Suguru

[akutasoda]

war lasts, and so does a broken heart

synopsis - you lied to him, but was it your fault or was it his fault for failing as a healer

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, angst no comfort, sloght fluff, kinda arguments?, implied death, brief mention of injuries, wc - 1.2k

a/n: found this in my drafts, don't remember writing it but decided to finish it! shout-out to @harque and @iceunhie for proofreading and offering very valid suggestions and advice! :>

jiaoqiu abhors you.

he despises the saccharine words that leave your mouth, hiding sickeningly sweet, placating lies behind them. he despises how you make him feel, how you made him care for you - how you make it so much harder for him to say goodbye. all the lingering memories he held dear now only served to mock and torment him, they were so vivid that for a moment he could indulge in the idea that you were still there with him.

all those years spent with you along rainsoar lake. in rain or shine, you accompanied him while he harvested ingredients as he rowed along the lake. he'd always make a point of peeling open the rice stems and handing them to you, a sweet treat as a form of thank you. jiaoqiu always spent longer at rainsoar when you were around but ultimately he would end up rowing ashore, though he wished that there'd be more time for just the two of you.

but now there was no time for reminiscing. the misty rain, various flora and peaceful fauna were replaced by unpredictable environments. the smell of iron and ash permeated the air. a chill found its way to the pink foxian and wormed its way into his very core, but it was the least of his concerns - he should be used to it after all.

jiaoqiu was drawn from his thoughts by the shouting and rushed footfalls of various soldiers drawing closer to his position. he looked over to the incoming soldiers and immediately honed in on you, being carried in by your allies. his heart dropped to his stomach but he remained still - after all, it’s important for a healer to remain calm and composed for their patients.

he listened to your allies explain today's calamity that unfortunately claimed part of your health before ushering them away. as soon as they were out of the field hospital, he turned to you with narrowed eyes. you smiled sheepishly as he sighed and started assessing your wounds.

it was silent.

you knew he was mad, and he could deny it all he wants, but he couldn't stop his ears from drooping or tail from lashing back and forth - or even prevent the frown making itself more prominent as he kept finding injuries. jiaoqiu eventually stood up and made his way to the nine-square cauldron, busying himself with cleaning and slicing ingredients.

the silence was soon filled with the bubbling and boiling of the cauldron. you tried to speak up, but jiaoqiu beat you to it. “i thought you said you'd be careful”

you sighed.

“i did jiao-ge, but you know what it's like out there” pausing for a minute before making a pained gesture to your uniform “i took on this responsibility”

“i wished you didn't” is what jiaoqiu would've said, but he couldn't form the words. when you told him about your decision to join the ranks, he respected it, bringing up his disapproval now would only be distasteful. instead he just nodded, turning to add more ingredients to the pot.

it didn't take long before he made his way back over to you with a full bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other. jiaoqiu handed it to you before going to retrieve fresh bandages - there was only so much that his ‘medicine’ could do. he took care dressing your wounds while you ate, and when you finished, he took the bowl and chopsticks away

he seemed too distant for your liking and so you called out again “jiao-gege we both know the risks… but you have to trust me”

he didn't move to face you but he did stop to respond “this is the second time”

“but it isn't my last, is it? and that's thanks to you” your answer did little to soothe him so you continued,

“i can't guarantee i won't get hurt, but i can guarantee i will always make it back here”

a lie. it was all lies that were meant to comfort him and you both knew it. jiaoqiu shoved his thoughts and feelings aside, biting down on the urge to say everything that weighed on him

“just try and rest”

he'd never sounded so distant to you, and it hurt.

he knew that by dawn, the bugle would call again.

that dreaded bugle that forced you away from him and into the battlefield. whether he would see you again or not was anyone's guess. jiaoqiu could only hope that you weren't a part of those missing faces that he knew had departed the world for good.

every morning, he would hear that bugle. and this morning, he watched your injured form leave the field hospital in a dejected silence as he again held back everything he wanted to say. again, he tricked himself into believing that you'd always return. again, he clinged to those lies you both believed in, even if deep down he knew that it was a futile effort.

it was only a matter of time before you never returned, and jiaoqiu could only wonder how many days you had left.

the answer was one he dreaded. he wished that the day when he lost you forever never came, that it was only him doubting your abilities because that was better to fix than the pain of losing you. jiaoqiu had lost plenty of patients, he knew what happened to all of them and he hated it. but jiaoqiu barely knew those fallen soldiers. and if he hated losing them, how would it feel to lose you?

your absence did not go unnoticed.

he searched for days, a foolish part of him hoping that you did return completely unharmed, that you had simply decided to stay with your allies but…

jiaoqiu never saw you again

what hurt most was that he couldn't mourn your passing. the battlefield was no place for such sadness, if he was even capable of displaying such remorse anymore, and so you became just another face among the many patients he healed that went straight into the jaws of death.

jiaoqiu knew he had to continue on, push through the ache that tore his heart into shreds and left him with nothing but a hollow emptiness. he knew he had to move on and heal more people that would soon perish as well.

---✩

“jiao-ge look!” he turned to see you crouched beside a leafy green plant, one that had a white flower blooming out the middle. he joined you, pulling a small amount from the soil “sand ginger. good find” he placed it into his herb basket and ushered you along.

jiaoqiu stared down at the sand ginger that had grown in abundance. it wasn't the spiciest, it wouldn't bring his senses to life again but it would do - he wouldn't admit that it was foolishly more for the memories than anything else. maybe it could counteract the bitterness that consumed him.

you lied to him.

he believed you, clung to your lies like a lifeline because he refused to face the truth.

sometimes he questioned if it was his fault. he knew that all the soldiers he healed were ultimately destined toward death, but he didn't want to believe that fate would also befall you.

so maybe if he told you his feelings, if he became a better healer, then maybe… you would join him by his side one last time.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[chbvalentine]

4. SOMETHIN’ STUPID

song #4 of sometimes (a leo valdez x daughter of dionysus smau)

NOTE! i don’t know if I mentioned this in previous chapters, but y/n is female / uses she/her pronouns. also, there’s some writing in this chapter, so don’t skip past it!

Leo sat on his bed, waiting very impatiently for his friends to arrive. His palms were sweaty and his throat seemed to close up at the mere thought of confessing, but it hurt even worse when he pictured you dating somebody else. Why was he so nervous?! He had asked out plenty of girls before.

Although, none of them had ever said yes, but that was just a minor detail. Also, he had never been in love with any of them, and none of them had been his best friend for years. Whatever. Not important. The point was, he was practically a pro at talking to girls, so this shouldn’t stress him out at all. The sweat trickling down his forehead was probably the result of confidence, or something along those lines. 

“Leoooo! Open uppp!” The familiar voice of Percy echoed from outside the cabin as his fist repeatedly knocked on the door. Leo quickly jumped up, opening the door to reveal his three friends, all eager to help. He smiled, pausing momentarily, although it didn’t last long.

“C’mon! What are you doing just standing there?! We have a confession to write! Go, go!” Percy ushered himself in, Jason and Frank following behind. They immediately got to work, pulling out some paper and pens and brainstorming what to write. 

After what felt like forever, the final copy was written neatly on a piece of clean notebook paper and was sitting pretty on Leo’s desk, next to all of the scrapped versions that had been crumpled into paper balls. 

“Ow!” Leo yelped as Jason brushed his curls, trying to get him looking sharp for his grand declaration. “You can’t do that when my hair is dry!”

“Right, right. Sorry. I don’t really know how to do this,” Jason replied sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Let me see the brush!” Percy shouted, snatching it out of the blond boy’s hands. “Annabeth taught me how to work with hair like his. Leo, you just continue practicing your speech.”

He nodded and continued quietly reciting the clever lines, trying to get every word perfect. He was sitting in a chair in front of a floor-length mirror, with the three boys hovering behind him and fixing his appearance. Finally, Percy spoke up.

“We’re almost done. Text her and ask her to meet up in around ten minutes.”

Leo picked up his phone, opening your contact and sending a simple message while the boys peered over his shoulder to watch your responses. 

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry,” Jason broke the silence after reading your replies. Everyone just stared at the phone, absolutely gobsmacked. He had been too late. 

Tears welled up in Leo’s eyes as he looked up from the phone for the first time in minutes, staring at the speech that lay on his desk, practically mocking him. He swallowed his sadness back, trying to lighten the situation as if it didn’t just shatter his heart. 

“It’s no big deal! Hahaha, no biggie. There are plenty of other girls that love the bad boy supreme! All da ladies luv Leo, right?” He attempted to joke, frantically shoving the letter into his desk while the boys just stared with pity. 

“I don’t really care for her that much anyways! It’s fine! Everything’s fine!” Leo continued, throwing away the rough drafts and clearing away any evidence of his feelings. No one knew how to respond to his lies, so they remained silent as he freaked out.

“Okay then, fun hanging out with you guys! Bye!” The boys sent him confused glances as he practically shoved them out, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks as he smiled emptily.

“Wait-“ Frank started, but Leo was already shutting the door. The three stood on the porch awkwardly, wondering what the hell they should do. After a minute, they hesitantly walked away, coming to the conclusion that he needed some space for a minute. 

Gods, Leo hated himself right now. And he hated Cameron even more.

-

TAGLIST (comment on any post in this series asking to join if you want to be added!): @eclipse-777 , @thebestsetter ,

TRACKLIST // NEXT

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Kafka Taking You On A Date

Kafka Hibino X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: A little steamy but it's just a whole lotta fluff

Word Count: 2k

Requested by @banana658

(A/N:) I didn't meant for this to take me as long as it did. I've been in a little writing slump as my artwork is taking most of my time. It doesn't help that I have a painful cyst in my wrist. But I can tough it out especially when I get to write cute stuff like this! I just love writing for Kafka and getting requests for him are like a present to me! I'm glad to see other fangirls appreciate Kafka like I do! So I hope you enjoy this little piece of fluff and that is everything you wanted and that it was also worth a little bit of the wait! I still have several Kafka works sitting in my drafts so keep an eye out! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Kafka leaned against a building wall, tucking his hands into his pockets while strangers passed him by. It was a nice change of pace seeing civilians so relaxed, despite the fact that a kaiju attack could come at any moment. It was thanks to The Defense Force that people could have some semblance of normalcy and he so desperately wanted to join that team. And he had one last chance, one more time to try before his age caught up to him once and for all. But he shook his head, shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind as he continued to wait. He hoped for just one evening the kaiju would pity him and let him have this moment to enjoy something he never allowed himself. Rushed footsteps had Kaka turning his head towards the sound pushing any remaining thoughts to the very back of his mind. He spotted you quickly making your way through the flood of the crowd. You waved when you noticed Kafka staring and he waved back. His heart began to pound a little harder, seeing your messy bun and casual clothes that were both comfy and stunning on you. In seconds you stood before him panting and tucking strands of hair that had slipped loose.

"Sorry I'm late," you panted. "I got caught at work and I ran home to change. I hope you weren't waiting here long."

"Nah I haven't been here that long at all," he grinned easing your worries. In all honesty he would wait an eternity for you if it was required. He kept that embarrassing thought to himself though.

"How was work," you asked while adjusting the strap of your purse that had slipped in your rush.

"Messy," Kafka replied causing you to giggle.

"I salute you and all the crews that clean up the kaiju aftermath. I couldn't do it."

"The smell isn't so bad once you get used to it," Kafka shrugged before offering you his arm. "Though intestine duty sucks! Nobody can get used to that part." He knew you were being nice, asking him about his work but he refused to let the topic of kaiju guts ruin his night out with you.

"Seriously," you took Kafka's arm leaning up against him while your fingers threaded together with his. "I appreciate what you do Kafka. The Defense Force gets all the glory and they should but I don't want you guys to feel like nobody appreciates you."

He blushed, glad to have people like you to realize the important work he and his fellow kaiju cleaners do.

"How was work for you," Kafka asked, happy to have a chance to change the subject as you both walked together. The softness of your fingers laced with his wasn't lost on him as he was having a hard time keeping himself together.

"Ugh busy," you deflated. "I was so excited about tonight that everyone and their aunt came in to slow me down. Then when you're naturally in a hurry everything slows you down. But I made it and I'm here with you so that's all that matters."

"You don't have to be in a hurry to be on time with me. I would wait for you as long as it takes. You're worth every second."

"Well aren't you sweet Kafka," you cooed as a blush darkened Kafka's cheeks.

"Soooo," he coughed, "how about conveyor belt sushi?"

"Yes please! I'm starving and I feel like I could eat my body weight in sushi right now."

"Good because I know the perfect place."

"Lead the way oh valiant man of kaiju disposal!"

The place Kafka chose was packed with the dinner rush but you both were able to snag the last booth before the line outside started to gather. Kafka helped you to sit before taking his seat in the booth across from you. He knew most girls would hate having to be in such a cheap place, they rather have the expensive sushi restaurants. But not you, you were always content and happy to be around him no matter where you both went. You were watching the little plates go around and around, trying to decide what you wanted first and Kafka was just content just watching you instead. You glanced towards the screen at the table, of the anime character keychains the restaurant was advertising if you ate so many plates. Kafka made it his mission right then that he wasn't leaving until you at least had one keychain, even if it wasn't exactly the one you wanted.

"Who are you wanting to get (Y/N)," Kafka leaned in to ask.

You pointed," Him! He's my absolute favorite but I would take any one of them honestly. It's fun just to see the surprise."

He nodded, "Well we can't get you your prize unless we start eating so dig in!"

"Gladly," you beamed.

Easy conversation passed between you both as plates began to pile on the table. Kafka would take the time out to slide them into the counter and it wouldn't be long until you had that prize in hand. You had forgotten about the prize so far as you were enjoying the food. While you stuck with most of your favorites you weren't scared to branch out and try other things you normally wouldn't. You picked up a plate while Kafka slid more plates getting them out of the way and counted, you took a bite. You could have melted into the floor at the delicious taste and you knew you had to share with Kafka.

"That good huh," he chuckled.

"You have to try some!"

"Okay," Kafka smiled. "I'll grab one as it comes by."

"You don't have to," you picked up the other sushi piece with your chopsticks and held it out to him. "Here have this piece!"

Kafka looked at you before glancing at your chopsticks. The ones you had been using since the meal began and it made him shiver.

"I couldn't possibly take yours. You really like it."

You still held the sushi out a stubborn pout on your face and Kafka knew he couldn't win against you. He liked you too much and he would count this indirect kiss as a blessing. He took the food and you were right it was delicious. Though he did have to fight the red in his cheeks before you noticed. Kafka gulped as you took another bite with the chopsticks you just used to feed him. That's when you jolted, realizing what you just did.

"Kafka I am so sorry," you couldn't believe you didn't realize. "I wasn't thinking! I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable."

He waved his hands quickly trying to dash your fears, "No it's fine! It didn't bother me at all! I just didn't want you grossed out that you shared your chopsticks with me and I didn't want to take a piece of the food you're enjoying."

"I want to share," you replied pushing the plate towards him. "I never want to be selfish whenever it comes to you."

"I don't think you have a selfish bone in your body," Kafka replied as he took your hand when you released the plate. He kissed your wrist gently and placed it back on the table. He turned to put more plates into the counter when you tried to reply. It was that moment that you both had eaten enough and your prize dropped down cutting the conversation short. Kafka gently took it from the chute and deposited it into your hand.

"Your prize! Open it let's see who you got," he grinned brightly and you shivered in anticipation.

Kafka paid the tab and held the door open for you as you both made it back onto the street. You skipped happily your new keychain already put on your purse. You had to stop yourself from squealing in the restaurant when you opened the capsule to see the character you wanted nestled inside. Kafka had clapped for you, extremely happy that on the first try you had gotten the keychain you wanted. His mind kept racing as did his heart at the thought of your radiant smile.

This time Kafka took your hand, lacing your fingers together. He had never been happier than in this moment. He had a lot riding on tomorrow and he wanted to remember this time for a long time just in case everything didn't go well tomorrow.

"Are you okay," you interrupted his thoughts as you felt Kafka's body stiffen.

He sighed, "Yeah. I take the physical test tomorrow for The Defense Force. Ichikawa pushed me to try again and he's testing with me. The kid has a lot of potential but I'm still skirting by by the edge of my teeth. And I'm terrified, it's my last chance as I'll be too old next year and that's the end of my dream."

You squeezed Kafka's hand tightly, trying to will the confidence you had in him into his being. "You can do this Kafka. I believe in you and Japan could use a man like you in The Defense Force. I know your best friend is a captain and she's amazing, but you're amazing too. You just have to realize that and know that nobody can judge you by things you can and can't do. Just give it your all I know you can do it!"

Kafka wiped at his eyes and tugged you into a crushing hug. You squeezed him back tightly glad that you were able to encourage him, even if it was just a little bit.

"C'mon let's get you home so you can be well rested for tomorrow," you finally said when he let you go.

"That eager to get rid of me," he chuckled while he sniffled.

"Absolutely not but a Defense Force officer in the making needs plenty of rest!"

"Yes ma'am," Kafka saluted. "But I'm making sure you get home safely. I'll go straight home I promise."

"Pinky promise," you glared knowing that Kafka had a habit of enjoying a beer or two once he got home.

He wrapped your pinky with his and nodded, "I promise."

You leaned in kissing his cheek, "For luck."

He cupped your cheek and pressed his forehead to yours as your pinkies remained intertwined. He brushed a tender kiss against your lips. You melted against him tugging him closer with hand pulling at the collar of his shirt. He deepened the kiss leaving you breathless as you both finally realized the tension between you two melting away. Kafka had tried to rein in his feelings, afraid that he would lose you if you knew how he felt about you. But as you kissed back he realized how much you felt the same. Parting from you he kept his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath as he gazed into your misty eyes.

"I wanted to do that for awhile now," he admitted.

"Me too," you smiled blushing bright pink. "But no more distractions get me home!"

Kafka swung your clasped hands making you laugh as you both continued talking. Dreaming about the future as he lead you home, making sure you were safe inside before you closed the door. As promised Kafka went straight home and got ready for bed. He just knew he would make it this time and it was all thanks to you. He couldn't wait to call you tomorrow and tell you that he made it. He fell asleep with your smile in his thoughts and the kiss still lingering on his lips.

[thesirencove]

.˚ ༘ ݁₊᪥⋆. ݁☾⋆ NEAL CAFFREY X FEM!READER -- IN THE LILAC GROVE

hi everyone ! this fic got lost in my drafts for such a long time , but it's finally here !! it took me a while to get this one written because of a mix of writer's block & stress from classes . this was a random idea i got and i felt like i had to write it with neal . it's very angst which i was very evilly giggling over as i wrote this >:) thank you for the patience on this fic , and enjoy !

my requests are still open , so be sure send in any y'all have :) i'll be slowly working through any that get sent over as exam season has come to an end & i've started winter break !

neal caffrey x fem!reader (romantic)

summary: when neal forgets what's supposed to be the most important day of his life, things become irreparable.

warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of a rocky relationship, wedding, the looming end of a relationship

word count: 2.7k

when the light flooded into her bedroom windows this morning, she awoke the happiest woman alive. her heart was fluttering and the smile never left her face from the moment she opened her eyes. she was so giddy, so excited for today. 

the day she and neal were meant to get married. 

he proposed to her a few months back. they planned a quaint ceremony, just the two of them in a lilac grove. it was always her dream to get married in a lilac grove. he knew that–has known that since their five month anniversary. they would get married and then run away together. neal loved consulting for the fbi, but he loved her more. he knew that if he still consulted there, even married their relationship would continue to be strained.

it’s been that way for a little while now. neal promising to be home, only to arrive late. his dinner left on the table, cold after being there for hours. the first few times, she stayed up for him. waited for him to arrive, reheating his meal once he got home with a smile. playing the part of a doting wife, without the ring on her finger. 

then it became a regular occurrence for him to get home late, staying up working on a case in the office. losing track of time. he’d miss dates, forget about the close friends who were meant to come over for dinner. he left her with everything, while he consumed himself in his work. it wasn’t the same as before, no, it hadn’t been for a while.

something had changed in him, and she didn’t know what. she didn’t understand how their perfectly balanced life had dissolved into this. how the days once spent together became ones spent in solitude.

but he promised to make an effort. he’d get home on time at least once a week. they went on dates once a month, if his work allowed. and then he proposed, and it felt like the answer to their problems. like a saving grace, an angel sent to her directly from God himself. 

she said yes, of course. she can’t remember much of that night, but she knows she was crying. she knows it was likely the happiest she’s ever felt, and she wanted to hold on to that. she did hold on to that. she was so excited to marry neal. when they set up their plans, and neal told her they could run away together, that they could make up for lost time, she was sold. 

she’d have given away her heart on a platter for him if only it meant she could finally be with him, the way she’d been longing for these last months.

neal still had a case to tend to this morning, but he promised her that he’d be there. he’d get to the lilac grove at five o’clock sharp, dressed in his best suit and favorite fedora. he’d be there, ready to commit his life to hers. ready to love her the way she deserved to be loved. 

the hours leading up to their set time were grueling. she went on a coffee run first, cleaned her apartment–or what was left of it, as all her bags were packed and boxes littered every corner with all her things–and even read an entire book in anticipation. 

until the ceremony was finally approaching, and time began to slip out of her hands.

and so she got ready, putting on the a-line wedding dress she bought weeks before. the satin dress was simple, yet it had the most beautiful corset top, laced in the back with chiffon sleeves that draped off her shoulders. the skirt fell to her ankles, highlighting the shoes she wore. the elegant sandal pumps laced up with a beautiful bow tied right at her calf. they laced up similarly to a ballerina’s. she smiled at the thought. it made her feel pretty. she styled her hair, putting it up into a beautiful up-do. a mix of braids and white crystal flowers. she worked on it for what felt like hours so it would look perfect.

she texted neal right before she left, telling him that she can’t wait to see him. that she can’t wait to finally be his wife. her heart was beating erratically and the smile gracing her face had never been brighter. this was the start of a new beginning for them afterall, no?

hopping in the car, she drove to the lilac grove, walking underneath the arches she visited just two weeks prior. it felt surreal. walking here, on the day of her wedding, about to get married to the love of her life. about to run away with him, and live the life she’d dreamed of them having together. 

she was early, so she took in the beauty. she stood there, in the middle of the field and closed her eyes as she breathed in the smell of the flowers around her. she felt at peace. she felt happy. it was everything she’d ever dreamt of. all that was missing was neal. so she sat on a bench, near the arch they would stand under with the officiant and waited for him.

and waited.

and waited.

thirty minutes passed. she tried to text him, but the text never went through. the wifi here never worked, the officiant told her. she nodded, staying silent.

an hour passed, and she tried again. the officiant was getting a little restless. so was she. he felt bad for her, she could tell considering how his eyes shone with pity whenever he looked at her. she sat on the bench, anxious, thinking maybe something happened to him on the case. she felt her nails splitting at she picked and scratched at the stone bench, attempting to calm herself.

more time passed, and it only got darker and darker. it had been hours since their agreed upon time, and neal never came. once eight o’clock hit, she accepted he wasn’t coming.

“i’m sorry for wasting your time,” she said, getting up from her spot on the bench. “it seems my fiancé is occupied by another matter.” it took everything in her for her voice not to break. 

“i’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. 

“it’s alright. nothing i can do, right?” she responded, a grave smile adorning her face. the man nodded. 

“please let me know if you need anything.” her head fell at the words, and she hear his footsteps in the grass as he walked away. 

her smile wasn’t as bright as this morning.

she sat there, defeated. eventually the dam broke. the tears started in quiet streams down her face, the mascara she so carefully painted onto her eyelashes smudging her cheeks. her sobs became louder, shaking her entire body. her hand weakly came up to cover her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut. breathing was difficult, and it took all of her effort to stop crying for a second so she could breathe. the bench suddenly felt so high up off the floor, and so she fell to the ground in a heap, using her arms to hold herself up as she continued to sob. her hands pawed at the grass, dirt digging into her palms and under her nails. her dress was starting to become dirty, too, but she couldn’t care less. she just kept sobbing, pouring her heart out. at one point she began to dry heave. 

her heart was shattered in the same place she dreamed to be married to neal. to the love of her life. she completely fell apart in that moment, underneath the moonlight as a soft breeze flowed by. she felt the lilacs brushing against her from the breeze, almost as if to reach out to comfort her, to try and embrace her in the hug she so desperately desired in this moment. 

the tears stopped after what felt like an eternity. the time on her phone told her it was already long past nine. taking a breath, she stood up. she had to get up, to keep going because otherwise she would never leave the grove. her hands shook as they gripped the bouquet and her phone, and she started to walk away from the arch. away from the bench where she felt her heart shatter. 

dirt covered her hands and the bottom of her dress was lightly stained brown. there were still mascara stains on her cheek. her veil caught on a branch, and she tugged for it to come loose. she walked out of there, holding her head up despite the ache in her heart. 

she should have expected it. she should have known he’d get caught up with work again, that he’d forget. she wasn’t sure when exactly she’d been put on the backburner of importance in his life. it happened so suddenly, became the norm so quickly that she lived with it. until she couldn’t anymore. 

she knew this had to be the end. neal once told her that she changed him, and yet she wondered how much she did if their wedding day wasn’t important enough for him to make time for. neither of them would be happy unless something changed, and she knew it wouldn’t. so she had to be the one to walk away first.

she walked to her car, pulling the door to the driver’s seat open. she got into the car, closing the door behind her, and once again she felt her heart shatter. she didn’t have the energy to cry anymore, so she just sat there in defeat. her hands were wrapped together in her lap, and her forehead on the steering wheel as shaky breaths escaped her. she took one deep breath, trying to pull herself together as much as she could. 

she drove home, to the apartment she and neal shared. her heels scrapped the ground as she walked to the front door, as she forced herself to keep going and walk into the home filled with so many of their memories. 

the home that was empty as she walked through the front door. she looked at the boxes strewn in every corner, the table with scuff marks made over the years, the unmade bed that she’d hoped they’d sleep in together tonight. together, as newlyweds. 

she slipped her heels off, walking into the bathroom. the cool tiles on the floor made her shiver as she stepped across them, instinctively rising onto her toes. she peeled the wedding dress off of herself, leaving it on the floor. the bottom half was covered in mud. 

she didn’t bother taking off her makeup or taking her hair down. she just wiped the smeared mascara away and changed into new clothes. a soft yellow sweater she’d bought a few weeks earlier and jeans. she put socks onto her feet and a pair of white sneakers. she worked swiftly, gathering her things. the boxes she’d packed already had hers and neals’ things separated. she scoffed at the irony. going in and out of the apartment, putting each box into her car and topping it off with the luggage she packed for what she thought would be their honeymoon. 

it took some time, but she was able to fit everything in the car. her entire life, minus neal, all packed away. she went back to the apartment one last time, her eyes catching on the dress she left in the bathroom. making her way to it, she kneeled on the floor, clutching it in her hands. holding it close to her, trying to savour what would have been happy memories. 

she knew she couldn’t take it with her. it would be too painful. she’d find it every few months, shoved in a box, and it would break her all over again. so she left it in the apartment, draped over a chain in the dining room. a reminder to neal what was meant to happen. the dress he’d never get to see her in.

looking around for what would likely be the final time, she smiled sadly at the years spent here, and closed the door. she locked it after her, making her way downstairs to the car. hopping in, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the cool night prickling at her skin, she drove away, and did not look back.

—

on the other side of town, neal was drowning in papers. trying to make sense of the case they were currently on. peter had brought it to him this morning, fashioning it as a quick and easy case. that was far from the truth. 

the second he began tugging at the strings, trying to unravel this case, he was focused on nothing else. it was almost as though this case was the only thing to exist. some part of him knew there was something missing, something he’d forgotten, but he shoved it down to stay focused on what was in front of him. time had passed and it was now late into the evening, but he barely realized.

trying to piece together what the letter, obviously a calling card, received by an art gallery nearby could possibly link to. which painting was going to be stolen, or was there another motive underneath it all? the signature had especially stuck out to him, making him sift through old cases and even looking into his own past, thinking it could have been someone he crossed paths with before. 

as he was staring at the case file, he felt his phone buzz. he ignored it, until it buzzed again, and again. it kept going, a flood of messages, almost like they’d been sending for ages and only just now came through. he picked his phone up, frustrated. who could be sending him this many messages while he was in the middle of an important case?

when he realized who it was, and skimmed through some of the messages, his heart dropped. he wasn’t sure how he’d get out of this one. if he’d get out of this one. he grabbed his suit jacket off his chair as quickly as he could. 

would she still be there? would she have left already, and been sat waiting at their apartment? or maybe–

he couldn’t bring himself to finish that last though. to think that she could have left. part of him wouldn’t blame her for it. he’s been letting her down for so long. neal promised to marry her, to start a new life with her. to leave everything behind. he wasn’t sure how he would have done it. neal loved his job, working with peter, catching the bad guys. it was part of him. but she was part of him, too. she was the most important piece of him, and he couldn’t let that go. 

speeding to get to their shared apartment wasn’t easy. traffic was heavy, and he kept getting stuck behind people who he swore couldn’t drive. he tried calling her, but it went to voicemail every time. 

by the time neal arrived, running to open the door, it was too late. his heart heart plummeted even further than before. his face contorted as he tried to stop himself from crying at the sight of their empty apartment. what was even worse was the dress, staring at him from its place on the chair. he walked slowly towards it, picking it up in his hands gently. neal dropped to the floor with it in his hands, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. 

he pulled his phone out with shaky hands, texting her, over and over again to apologize. he didn’t know what he could even say in this situation. how do you make up for missing your own goddamned wedding?

the phone fell to the floor beside him, as he crumpled into a ball, his back against a leg of the table and his arms wrapped around himself. he held the dress close to him, as though she’d magically appear in it if he held it tightly enough.

drowned by his string of messages, apologizing, begging for another chance, was the final message she’d sent him before leaving.

“i’m still here, neal. why aren’t you?”

[ddarker-dreams]

I ASPIRE TO WRITE LIKE YOUUUUU UGUGUHHHHGUGHHGHHGHGHHGGHHHHHH I CAN'T STOP DEVOURING YOUR WORKS PLEEEEASE HOW DO YOU WRITE SO ELOQUENTLY YET SO CHARISMATICALLY?? PLEASE SHARE YOUR WISDOM, GREAT ONE!!😭🙏

PLSSSSSSS thank you so much,, i feel undeserving of such high praise 🥺 ...

i'm not entirely sure how my writing style came to be hjiegrjw lots of practice, i guess?? i consider what i want to get across in any story, whether it's a snippet or full-fledged series, then work around that. all that experience has made me familiar with my most effective storytelling methods.

my writing process basically looks like this:

initial idea

brainstorming about the idea (what are the character's positions? if they're at conflict, how do they express it? what's their body language, their word choice? etc etc)

open the accursed google docs and either:

(a) start at the beginning of the story, specifically what context the reader needs and drawing them into the Vibe. also equally important is knowing what information not to provide the reader, so they're left wanting to unravel what is going on.

(b) start smack dab in the action. structure comes later. lean into the excitement of the cool idea. context be damned, go ham.

in both cases, when i feel like i'm getting stuck, i come back to it later if it feels like it's grinding the entire process to a halt. i'll underline the segment, write a description of what it is i'm going for, then keep chugging along.

🚄 continue chugging until i can't anymore. exit google doc.

daydream about the story literally nonstop until i can work on it again, looking at things with a fresh lens in the days that follow the initial draft.

i make a few copies of the draft and try out different ideas, scrapping and adding as i go.

(here's an example of what this looks like, chap 4 and 5 of nexus had multiple versions with differences throughout until i landed on something i liked)

reread 458729x times and nitpick over smaller things like word choice, clean up dialogue to make it more fitting to the character

pray

huh . this is actually more convoluted than i thought. i'm not entirely sure if this will be helpful or not, messy as it is... but it is an unfiltered look into whatever tf my process is.

[iwritesnortsintragedies]

Back in late September I made a poll to know what fic I should work on, completely forgetting I was about to run headfirst into the end of year rut (plus moving plus other life projects) so I ended up predictably writing nothing of substance aside from a quick snippet in an AU that has cool aesthetic but not enough foundation to stand on its legs -_-

So, as a way to finally start working on the most popular option from that poll (aka: the one where a Catland kiss is the spark that gets Payneland started) I'm going to just write and post the first draft on Tumblr and then I'll clean it up into a more proper story for AO3. @kepodewers you asked to be tagged in case that happened so watch this space (unless you want to wait for the polished version). This is based on this prompt from @stinastar which I got somewhere around forever ago^^" I'm very sorry about the delay and the rushed format, I hope it satisfies anyway! Fair warning: it starts out pretty angsty.

ETA: Important note: Like all my first drafts this is going to be posted in several snippets! I'll be making separate posts for each I think, unless the overwhelming consensus is that people would rather have a chain of reblogs

Edwin falls through the floor.

He hasn't lost control of his corporeality since his first week back on Earth and never that badly. The thought of it would be mortifying any other day, but not today. Today, it is a relief. Today, Edwin's entire being is intent on denying his death harder than it ever has before. Blood pulses in his ears as he finally comes to a stop in the basement of their building, tears burn in his eyes and in his throat, and his heart claws at the inside of his ribs with the ferocity of a hell hound. Half-blind with tears, Edwin pulls his right foot out of the ground, spins around, and rushes to the staircase as soon as he spots it.

His feet clatter up the steps, the door bangs in his wake, and when he bursts through the front door he cannot even manage to avoid running straight through Crystal. She calls out his name and Edwin slows down, trying to decide if he can stand to speak to anyone right now—

"Edwin!"

Edwin turns around just in time to see Charles phase through the door, through Crystal—continue without even apologizing to her—and then... And then his feet turn around again, carry him across the street and into the little park there, Charles' footsteps thundering after him.

"Edwin, wait!"

Edwin ignores Charles' pleading tone. He has never done that before. Not for a case, not for a reward, not even to preserve his own existence. Nothing could have forced him to ignore Charles then, no amount of danger, no amount of torture, no amount of pain. Except, it seems, if Charles himself were the source of Edwin's distress.

"Leave me alone!" Edwin yells over his shoulder, harsher than he meant but unable to stop and soften his voice.

Charles hasn't caught up with him, Edwin knows that. He is the much faster runner of the two, especially with the novelty of needing more distance from Charles than ever before. Perhaps it is that knowledge that stops him in his tracks when he hears Charles gasp.

"Edwin," Charles tries again, but Edwin shakes his head, ignoring the jogger that goes through him with a disgruntled shiver.

"Charles, please," he pleads, "please leave me alone. I can't—"

"Edwin, please, talk to me," Charles begs.

He is standing in the middle of the street, hands up as if to calm down a distressed client. He looks so genuinely distraught, so sincerely hurt, that Edwin feels bad for the way he is acting. He wishes he could be a better person. Wishes he could be a better friend. Yet, when he tries to speak his voice comes out cold and cutting in a way he never thought he could have used against Charles.

"I fail to see what there is to say. You made it quite clear before that you were uninterested in what I had to offer. It is hardly my place to be upset about where they lay instead!"

"But you are upset," Charles replies, and the lack of denial feels like a knife going right through Edwin's chest.

"Well, Charles," he says, a sob clinging to the cold fury that laces his voice, "I think you might be able to understand why I am."

"Look, Edwin, Thomas—"

"'Thomas'?" Edwin exclaims, anger and hurt dragging his voice down, making Charles flinch. "Thom—what happened to 'That Cat King'? What happened to 'Whiskers'?"

"Edwin—"

"You know, it is your right to move on," Edwin says, pressing his hands together so hard he is half afraid to damage his nonexistent gloves. "I understand that my feelings do not entitle me to your affections, but I would have thought you would at least have had the courtesy to let me know you had figured 'the rest' out! I would have thought you would at least told me so I didn't have to find out like this!"

Edwin closes his eyes, half to avoid the look of hurt mixed with almost fear on Charles' face, half to catch the flood of tears threatening to spill on his face as he remembers. Coming through the mirror. Looking around for Charles, so eager to show him the new book he acquired. Finding him sitting on their sofa, with his hands on the Cat King's hip, his head tilted back, the long column of his throat all but offered up to the other man as he cradled Charles' face in his hands and kissed him with exactly the sort of tenderness Edwin would endure another seventy years of Hell to give Charles.

"Please," Edwin repeats, "leave me alone. At least for now."

And Charles, silent and pale, nods and turns around, and leaves Edwin alone.

[thatdesklamp]

One Month Before Suguru Geto's Betrayal, 2007

My final satoru POV oneshot before the next intrinsic warmth update. Five is a nicer number than four, and I really wanted to put some more focus on Geto before I continued with IW canon. (This has been in the drafts for a while but I had a free half hour to clean it up a little and figured it was better posted than not posted. Enjoy!)

“You’re good for him,” Satoru hears you say, through the thin partition of the wall.

Satoru pauses outside the door. He wasn’t expecting to hear you: this is Suguru’s room, and it’s early evening on a Wednesday night, which means Satoru and Suguru are going to boot up a movie on Suguru’s shitty DVD player and watch it until one of them falls asleep. Which will probably be Suguru: he’s always falling asleep, these days.

Satoru has a thriller movie jammed under his arm, because he’s figured that it’s impossible for Suguru to fall asleep to something that’s meant to make you all tense and wired, and it’s the kind of thoughtful thing he thinks Suguru will appreciate.

“You think?” Suguru responds. His voice is quieter, muffled, like he’s facing away from the door.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

It’s you again. Satoru has his fingers on the door handle. They catch there, hesitant.

“Tough luck for him.”

“Geto.”

“What?”

“I’m not joking.”

“Well. Neither am I.”

Satoru’s fingertips slide from the door handle. He is very aware of how loud he is breathing, and how thin the door is. Satoru doesn’t move, wary that the floor will creak, and that you will know him from the sound of his footsteps.

“I’m trying to be nice here,” you say.

“You don’t need to. Just be honest.”

“Then I’m being honest.”

“No, you’re not.”

You let out a sharp sound, a quick exhalation of air. “Come on. This is a compliment. I wouldn’t say it to anyone else.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious—Geto, what’s with you today?” Your voice is pitching up, questioning and quietly teasing. It borders on playful, and Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. You never act like this with him. “Did you wake up cranky, or something?”

“Probably.”

Satoru doesn’t hear your reply, if you give one. He rests his forehead against the door, trying not to make a sound.

You’re good for him, you had said. You had to be talking about him—who else could you be talking about? You and Geto talk about things other than him, yeah, Satoru gets that. But who else would Suguru be good for?

It’s got to be Satoru. Satoru is Suguru’s best friend. Satoru is the most important person in Suguru’s life, and he knows it. He likes it, being that important to someone who is so important. And it’s not as if Suguru isn’t just as important to him. It’s Suguru. Satoru has never had to think about why he’s so important to him: it’s always been obvious, and accepted, and he’s never needed to justify himself to anyone.

You had said it. Why?

“Would you really not say it to anyone else?” Suguru murmurs.

His voice is quiet, so quiet Satoru can barely hear him. The low scratch of his voice is familiar, from all those times Satoru would sneak into his room after curfew, when they’d stay up and talk about any of their wild ideas until the sun made them squint and blink. Satoru would steal the bed, but Suguru never minded; he would sit splayed on the room’s desk chair, or lie down on the floor and look up at the same ceiling as Satoru, or he’d go cross-legged at the foot of the bed, pretending not to notice when Satoru prodded him with his toes.

Those nights, especially in their first year, were the moments Satoru really began to understand Suguru, right to his core. He hadn’t known what to expect from him, back when he was just Suguru Geto, child prodigy, and when Satoru was assumedly just Satoru Gojo, heir to the Gojo clan. And then when you stopped talking to him, just a few months before his sixteenth birthday, Satoru came to rely on those nights more than he ever had.

Satoru would walk into a room, and your conversation with Shoko, bright and friendly and cheerful, would fall quiet. You would look at him with such hatred, and such sadness, and you would turn your back on him, just like how you had promised never to do. Satoru hated your silence more than anything, but he knew he would always have Suguru, and Suguru would never let their silence fester.  

They would talk until their voices were hoarse, because Satoru had never met someone so intrinsically similar to him before. He and Suguru disagreed, but he could feel the underlying rush of recognition permeate every conversation, and so even in their disagreements he could only see their likeness. Satoru devoured every word, because every word led him closer and closer to confirming what he was desperate to know: Suguru was the same as him. Suguru is the same.

Satoru has missed their evenings together. He’s knocked on Suguru’s door, but he hasn’t had it open to him in a while, not the way it used to, every night, without question.

Satoru has wondered if Suguru’s getting to be an insomniac, because he looks so tired all the time, like he hasn’t been sleeping. Satoru figured that him knocking on Suguru’s door in the middle of the night, every night, was probably the thing keeping him awake, so he’s stopped.

“I just said so.” Satoru tries to picture the scene: you’re leaning against the headboard of Suguru’s bed, arms crossed, attempting to hide your impatience with Suguru. Suguru’s a good distance away from you, because he’d have to be, since you’re still not comfortable for Satoru to be close to you anymore, and so Satoru decides Suguru will be sitting on the end of the bed, or, more likely, on the desk chair, or on the floor. You’ll be rolling your eyes, but trying not to. Something alights inside Satoru’s chest, fond. “And then I said I wasn’t lying.”

“I guess not.” Suguru chuckles to himself; it’s not his usual laugh, which is loud and broad and compelling, the laugh Satoru hasn’t heard for a long time. It’s more subdued, and it sounds meaner, somehow. “I figured you were playing dumb on purpose.”

“That’s not really me,” you say. “You’re thinking of Gojo. He’d play dumb for the attention: I wouldn’t.”

“Satoru would.” This time, when Suguru laughs, the mean tinge has softened. He sounds, just for a moment, familiar. “Yeah. You’re right, he would.”

“Course I’m right.”

“Now you do sound like him.”

“Oh! Oh, don’t! You’re so mean to me!” You let out a loud gasp, a touch too overdramatic for you, and Satoru realises a second later that you’re imitating him. He presses himself closer to the door, eager to hear. “But Geto, don’t you remember, I’m the—shit, what did you call me? Ages ago? Do you remember? The… like a snake charmer—”

“The Satoru whisperer.”

“Yeah!” Suguru laughs again, but you’re smiling: Satoru can tell that you’re smiling, from the roundness of your voice, the endeared tone you can’t get rid of. Satoru isn’t even offended that you’re both comparing him to a snake. You’re smiling, and Suguru is laughing.

You’ve made Suguru laugh. Satoru’s memory—his perfect memory—reminds him with the emotionless cruelty of his six eyes that it has been two months, one week, four days, since he has made Suguru laugh. He remembers the moment, the day, the joke he had made.

“I’m the Gojo whisperer. The Satoru whisperer.” Satoru’s heart stumbles. “That’s my real cursed technique, Geto, did you know?”

“I didn’t. Take off the gloves, then.”

“No.” Your laughter fades, naturally, and then with a dull thud. “Nah. I’ll keep them on.”

“I guessed as much.”

“Yeah.” There’s the sound of bedsheets rustling, and your long exhale, and then the soft scuff of fabric on fabric. Your gloves against the itchy blanket Suguru keeps on his bed: you’re fiddling with it. You’re nervous, or you’re thinking deeply about something. If Satoru could see you, he would know which it is.

“Still.” You continue, with a touch more hesitation. It surprises Satoru: you haven’t been tentative for all of this conversation. Why would you be now? He’s struck with the fear—fear?—that it could be Suguru, making you nervous. Suguru’s expression, dampening your mood, making you doubt your words. Satoru tries to brush it off.

“What is it?”

“It’s what you said.” You trail off. Then, when you next speak, it’s with the hard set your voice gets when you’re striving for manufactured confidence. “Why’d I be playing dumb? Telling you you’re good for him—or that you’re the only one?”

The conversation holds, and Suguru doesn’t say anything. It stretches long enough that Satoru, impatient to hear Suguru’s reply, fears that he’s missed it, if Suguru responded in a whisper he couldn’t catch.

But then Suguru clears his throat, and says: “Because, Hebi, it’s obvious you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Of course you are.”

Lying? Satoru shares your confusion, and his brain races to provide answers. This cryptic thing is something new that Suguru’s been trying out, and it doesn’t suit him. Satoru has always liked his friends honest: it’s why he likes you, and how blunt you can be, even when you’re pretending to insult him.

“About which part?” Yes! Good question, that’s a good question: which part? That Suguru is good for Satoru, whatever that means, or that Suguru is the only one who is?

But, no—he doesn’t need Suguru to answer! Satoru comes to the answer before Suguru has decided how to phrase it. It’s the second, of course it’s the second.

Of course Suguru isn’t the only one. He never has been; he’s just been different, a different facet to the desperately necessary friendships that Satoru keeps close to him. There’s you: you, his longest friend, the only person who has seen every shade of him and still wanted to stay. You: his first, his only, his best.

Thinking of you, Satoru understands what you had meant, when you had said that Suguru is good for him. Because you’re good for him, too—you’ve changed him, him and his life, and Satoru could not be himself without you by his side. He knows, because he’s lived it.

Satoru is still fresh from your absence, when just last year you were still cold and distant. Satoru had hardened into someone he hadn’t liked, and he has only been able to thaw now you are back with him.

So of course it’s the second: of course, everyone knows it’s not only Suguru. Suguru isn’t the only one, not when Satoru needs you, too.

“Both,” Suguru says.

Satoru can feel his heart contract.

“Oh.” You hum. “How have you figured that one?”

“Well. I know why you’d think you’re right—I shouldn’t have said you were lying, that wasn’t right. But we’ve changed a lot, all of us. And I don’t know how much Satoru needs me anymore.”

Anger flares up, hot and fast. What is Suguru blabbering on about? Of course Satoru needs him!

Why is Suguru saying all of this with some straight face—Satoru knows what Suguru sounds like when he’s being honest, and he’s being honest now, but Satoru keeps waiting for the punchline. Seconds pass, and Satoru hears the tick of every single one as they go, and he strains his ears for when Suguru will laugh again, and say he’s kidding, that of course he knows Satoru needs him.

“I know what you mean,” you say, quietly, and Satoru’s blood curdles. He goes completely still, even as his heartbeat thumps in his ear.

You know that he needs you. You know he does.

A flash of bitterness—how many damned times does he need to tell you, before you get it? He tells you all the time, he laughs with you and has never shared a conversation with you in which you haven’t been showered with compliments, all of them genuine. What can he do, then, if you don’t believe him? What more can he say?

And then it subsides. The hot spike of cruelty fades, and Satoru is left with a gaping hole in its absence.

“Maybe it’s an age thing. Us getting older.”

“It could be.”

“You don’t think so?”

Suguru pauses. A beat. “I think you’re good for him. Not me, not anymore.”

“You are. You just don’t see it, but you are, more than me.” You say the final word—me—so dismissively, almost with revulsion. Satoru cannot comprehend how you could think of yourself like that.

“I know what you think, and why you said I am. But it still doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“You make him better.”

“You’ve far surpassed me in that skill, Hebi.”

“I can’t give him what you can.”

“Neither can I. Not what I used to be able to.”

“No. No, Geto, you don’t see it.” Your voice picks up, and it sounds like you’re about to say everything, to finally be open as well as honest—and then you sigh, quiet and small again. “It’s different, with you. You’ve got something different with him.”

Suguru laughs that mean laugh again. “It’s interesting you still think so.”

Still? Satoru waits for you to echo it yourself, for you to insist Suguru gives you an answer. The conversation isn’t complete, and it’s unsatisfying and vague and Satoru can’t stand it. He wants you to ask for more. But you don’t: you don’t push, you don’t pry. You hold yourself back, and let everything remain unsaid.

Satoru can’t ask Suguru himself. Suguru will not be this honest with him, even though he’s been so equivocal with you.

“It was meant to be a compliment.” The words come out in a whisper, like a child at a sleepover.

There’s that rustle of bedsheets again, and Suguru says, kinder this time: “I know.”

“Yeah?”

Suguru must nod, because you let out a soft huff of breath, small and trying at laughter.

Satoru stands there, his forehead still resting against the wooden door. He only realises when he opens his eyes that he’s had them squeezed shut: his glasses have been pushed down his nose, and even though it’s late in the evening, the dim light is blinding. Satoru straightens, his mind full and thrumming and painful, and adjusts the lenses.  

“Hey.” Your voice: Satoru knows this voice. You are strong, with this voice, and so gentle.

He remembers being eleven, sitting on warm wooden stairs with the orange afternoon sun blazing behind your head like a halo. He remembers the realisation that you would die before him, that you knew, and that you accepted it. He remembers the blazing look in your eye, when you told him he would never be alone when you were still living with him.

He remembers crying in front of you, how much he’d hated it, and how much he’d wished you would take his hand and hold him.

You had comforted him with this voice. And, now, you comfort Suguru.

“You’d tell me,” you say, so tentative and kind, “if there was something wrong. Right?”

“Yes.”

“You would? Really, Suguru?”

“Yes,” Suguru repeats. Then he chuckles, blows out some air, and you squeal.

“Hey, you—!”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says, as you both laugh, and as your laughter dies down. “Seriously. Sorry if I’ve been short with you lately, it’s just the heat getting to me.”

His voice is light but genuine, and when you reply, you’re echoing his tone. “You sure, yeah?”

“I’m sure. I promise. Why, did you want to pinkie swear on it?”

“Oh, you’re a bastard. Maybe I will. Take my gloves off and turn your fingers into ash, see how you like it.”

“It sounds intriguing.”

“Ew.”

“Maybe it’s like a hot stone massage. Have you ever thought to try?”

You scoff, and it’s rich with the same affection as when you laugh with him. “Geto, you’re really weird.”

“You might have mentioned that.”

“Might I? Yeah, no, I think I have.”

Satoru doesn’t want to listen anymore. He pushes the door open with too much force and it bangs on the wall opposite, whining on its hinges. He feels high on adrenaline, and he doesn’t know why, but it’s the rush he gets when he’s in a fight and tastes blood.

You look up. Suguru looks over his shoulder. “Oh. Satoru, hey.”

Satoru stares at you two. He’d thought—he’d thought you’d be sitting apart, that you’d have insisted on distance between you and Suguru. You insist on it when you’re with Satoru, and he hates it, because it shows that you still don’t trust him after what happened in the Chapel, and that you’re still not properly friends again. But you and him are still much closer than you and Suguru, so—

Why aren’t you far apart? Why is Satoru standing in the doorway, staring at you and Suguru lying on the same bed, lying down next to each other, both on your sides, facing each other, only, like, actually only inches away from each other?

You’ve discarded the duvet on the floor, but you’ve draped Suguru’s shitty itchy blanket over both of you, and you’ve got a section of it wound between your fingers. You’re fiddling with it, like Satoru knew you would be. But it’s only a single bed, and you’re close to Suguru—actually, weirdly close, closer than you’d let Satoru get. And that’s him! He’s your best friend, not Suguru.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asks, before he can stop himself.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and give him a small wave. Your body had been half-obscured by Suguru’s.

You open your mouth to answer, but Suguru cuts in, dry and sarcastic: “Finishing some intense, passionate lovemaking, Satoru. What do you think?”

Satoru reels back, even though he knows Suguru’s just being a dick, teasing him. Satoru gives him a warning look, and Suguru holds his gaze, undeterred. He doesn’t know if Suguru’s bringing it up on purpose, or if he’s just being cold—Satoru had told him about the dreams he keeps having, and he wishes he hadn’t, because Suguru hadn’t said anything helpful about it. Not at all the way Satoru’d hoped he would, because he’d just given him an uninterested look and told him not to tell you about it. Which, yeah, obviously Satoru wasn’t going to. That wasn’t the question he needed answering.

Satoru looks back to him. Suguru’s hair is down. It’s like pen ink, the way it spills across the white of his pillow. Suguru raises his eyebrows at him, and Satoru knows his face has been burning scarlet.

You snort, and drop yourself back down on the bed.

“You haven’t finished next week’s essay, have you, Gojo?” you ask, placing a gloved hand over your eyes and letting out a tired sigh. “I was going to make Geto help me with it, but he distracted me, and I’ve only just remembered about it. Eugh.”

“Distracted?” Satoru’s brain goes on autopilot, and he clocks what he’s saying whole seconds after the words leave his mouth. “Hey, that’s not some innuendo is it, Hebi-Hebi? Have you two been holding out on me?”

“What? Oh, right. The passionate lovemaking.” You laugh, amused and tired. “Yeah, you know me. Number one playboy right here.”  

“For sure,” Satoru says, playing along. “I feel you could be a player, you know, if you went and got yourself a boyfriend sometime. What do you think?”

His eyes flick between you and Suguru. He doesn’t have a name for the boiling feeling rising up in him, but it’s got him flushed and out of the loop, and he dislikes it vehemently.

“Probably not anytime soon,” you say. Satoru notices Suguru’s lips curl, knowingly, and he almost blurts it out right here, that he knows Suguru knows something, and that he needs to know it too.

“Hey, never say never.” Satoru shakes it off. He tries to: the boiling feeling stays simmering, and he still can’t squash it, no matter how much he wants to. But Satoru is excellent at ignoring and pretending, and so he does, and turns to Suguru. “Yo. Movie night. I’ve chosen a good shitty one, yeah?”

Satoru thrusts the DVD case in front of him. Suguru’s eyes flicker on it for a second, and then he leans back.

“I’m pretty tired, Satoru,” he says. He rolls onto his back, his hair ink on the pillow, his dark eyes closed. “Can we skip this week?”

“What?” Satoru blinks. Then his face contorts into a scowl, and he grimaces down at him. “What do you mean, tired? It’s Wednesday night. I’ve picked us a movie.”

“I could do with the sleep. Next time, yeah?”

“But—”

“You have been looking tired, Geto,” you say, standing. “We’ll leave you be.”

You send him a look, but Satoru ignores it. “No, we won’t.”

“Gojo—”

“C’mon, Suguru,” he urges. Satoru crouches down next to him, so their heads are level. At the proximity, Suguru opens his eyes, and turns his head so he can meet Satoru’s gaze. Satoru sends him a grin. “C’mon. Movie night. You won’t remember you were tired when you’re thirty. Movie night, come on.”

Suguru watches him. Satoru swallows.

It’s not just his eyes that are dark. There are heavy bags around them, deep-set and puffy. Suguru’s cheekbones are gaunter than they used to be. His gaze has been losing its warmth. He even says his name differently. Satoru.

Satoru has asked. Suguru doesn’t let him in. Suguru doesn’t think Satoru needs him.

For a split second, Satoru wishes you weren’t here: if it was just them, maybe Satoru could admit that he’d heard it all. Maybe he could grab Suguru by the shoulders and shake him, and then he’d force sense into him, and make him realise that yes, Satoru needs him, that Satoru needs him desperately and that Satoru cannot imagine carrying on without him. Maybe Satoru could say that to him.

Maybe he will. But Suguru just quirks him a smile, and waves him off. “Nah, honestly. I’m tired. I’ll get an early night, and we can do something later.”

Satoru is not used to being dismissed, but he has learnt what it means now, after all these years.

“Yeah,” he says, brightly. “For sure. Next week.”

Suguru hums, and Satoru tries not to read it as non-committal.

He avoids your gaze as he ducks through the door. If he looks at you, or lets you see his face, you will be able to read every emotion flickering through him. Better than himself: Satoru doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

“I’ll walk you back,” you say, as you shut the door.

“Great.”

“Yeah. Hey, Gojo, I’ve got a DVD player in my room. I can watch it with you, if you really wanted to see it.”

Yeah, sure.

Will you let me get that close?

Satoru wants to say it, biting.

As close as you let him get? Both of us, on your bed, inches away?

Will you do that again? Will you do that with me?

Will you?

He looks down at you, ready to spit it out.

Satoru falters. Your smile. The small upturn of your lips, the gleam of your eyes, the warm glow to your skin in the evening light. You’re smiling up at him, and Satoru knows you better than anyone; you know that he’s upset, and that this boiling feeling is going to burn him alive, and you’re trying to make him feel better.

You know him. You want to spend time with him.

Satoru lets out a breath, and feels the tension, heavy set in his jaw, leave him. He looks back to you, to your shy hopefulness, and there’s that rushing feeling, that affection and fondness and warmth all rushing together.

“Now, if you insist,” Satoru says, grinning broadly down at you. “I know you’re desperate to stay in my company, Hebi-Hebi, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it! But, I guess I’ll let you see it with me, if you really want to.”

Your eyes shine. “I’m glad I can. Thanks, Gojo. Come on.”

[zqombi]

ORAL FIXATION ☆ FT MIGUEL O'HARA.

★. masterlist ᡣ𐭩

☆. headcannons for miguel ! coming soon…

★. currently listening to… ON DAT BXTCH - LUMI ATHENA

☆. this fic contains… intentional lowercase. everyone is 18+ ! miguel o’hara x reader. fem bodied reader. blackcoded but anyone can read it. chubby!reader. spiderwoman!reader. reader wears a pink spider suit. miguel calls you spiderbarbie as a insult because of your suit. miguel o’hara. miguel has a nose piercing. also has salt/pepper brown hair because he be stressin’. miguel speaks spanish. masterbation (fem.) kissing. pet names. hair pulling. throat fucking. heavy dirty talk. not proofread so mistakes are def present .

★. summary… you’ve always had a persistent oral fixation. since you were small you always had your mouth on something, but miguel wants to help fix that nasty habit once and for all. (I’m terrible at descriptions.)

☆. word count aprox… 2k.

★. notes… hi! I’m kinda back into the writing scene? I originally posted this on a03 but decided to also move it here for some reason, just with a couple of tweaks. Hopefully during the summer I can write more and produce some more fics/head cannons or whatever. Main goal rn is to clean out my drafts to declutter. Until then, see ya later ! <3

one of the many, many strange things about miguel o’hara was his attention to detail. his keen observation and good memory grants him the ability to notice even the smallest, minute changes. doesn’t matter if something is slightly moved from its original spot or if old paint starts to lose its tint, it never escapes his vigilant, hawk-like eyes, not even you. to him, your sucker seemed like an inseparable part of you, which he was absolutely right about. ever since you were little you’ve always had a knack for putting things in your mouth—chewing pen caps, biting water bottle tops. your bad habit offered a bit of comfort, especially during anxiety inducing moments. gum became a temporary solution, always at hand to help your needs, but over time gum became boring so you moved on to the next big thing: candy. a sweet, textured solution of various sizes that seemed to be helpful. though, out of the millions and millions of options, only suckers stuck: a pink lemonade flavor. the taste left a soft tingle in your mouth which you couldn’t get enough of. you weren’t exactly new to the world of suckers but this one you really liked a lot. like a lot, a lot. the first time you let the ball of sugar rest on your tongue you bought almost $133 worth of suckers off amazon and almost finished them in the same week. between battling villains to regular day job hours, you always had one in your mouth. the feeling of something so heavy and so sweet resting on your tongue just felt so good.

your obsession soon extended to the spider society, stashing suckers in your spidey belt or around the base. there was even a time miguel found some taped under his control pad, which he was obviously not happy about. when you arrived at headquarters your mask was pulled over your nose to expose your mouth at work. signature lollipop hidden between your soft, glossed lips. the candy’s hue stained them a charming baby pink, a shade that complimented you cutely. as you traversed the corridors you greeted a couple of members you happened to pass by—some familiar faces. others new arrivals. flashing them with your gorgeous smile and a wave you continued your way towards the meeting room, you knew gwen, peter b, jessica, patrick, and of course miguel were all gonna be discussing something important. the moment you enter you catch miguel’s gaze immediately. a viscous glare that shows his impatience clearly. "well look who finally decided to show! oh don’t mind us, spiderbarbie," he says, voice oozing with mockery, "we were just y’know, waiting here for you so you can grace us with your presence!" a mean smile sits crookedly on his handsome face. afterwards he formally greets you with a venom laced "you’re late." before rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingers. still standing in the doorway you mock his expression. “i’m not late, you’re just early.” your remark causes some of your coworkers to snicker.

of course, miguel doesn’t like your snarky tone. with a scoff of irritation he rolls his scarlet eyes with a disapproving smack escaping, a sound that’s unique to him. “if you’re just gonna show up late, why do you even—you know what? whatever. it doesn’t matter just get in your seat.” he just bears his vampire-like teeth in hope of being more authoritative but it never works, especially not with you. you move away from the closing doors to your assigned spot at the meeting table. miguel says nothing, his towering presence does all the talking for him. tough, broad shoulders squared in a stance that radiated his disappointment, strong arms crossed firmly over his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit as if channeling his discontent into a physical grip. as the others dived into details of the mission, you found yourself becoming more and more bored with the conversation. It wasn’t long before your focus turned to something else, something more fun. subconsciously, your hand reached for your sucker, the vibrant swirl of sweetness was your favorite diversion. the plump rim of your mouth wrapped sensuously around the candy again.

as minutes stretched into an eternity of plans and contingencies, miguel's authoritative voice droned on. anomalies here, some dimension rifts there with the occasional bickering with lyla about the shared info. you, however, were busy letting your mind wonder, sucking and savoring that not so subtle, lemonade escape. miguel catches the shift in your attention. slowly but surely frustration began to etch its way across his features once again. it was that stupid, rose colored candy twirling in your mouth. while lyla was keeping the others engaged miguel crumpled a old sticky note behind his back and with a swift, precise motion, he balled up a piece of paper in his hand tightly. the tension between you two momentarily thickened as he aimed and then, without a second thought, he flicked his wrist, sending the paper flying across the room. the paper sailed through the air, landing with a soft thud on the side of your thigh. your eyes followed the trajectory back to its source, meeting miguel's intense gaze, his eyes speaking volumes as they bore into yours, he quietly formed the words “pay attention.” but instead of complying, you stuck your middle finger up at him before casually shifting your attention to the projections, a sly smile spreads on your lips. soon the sucker became more like a prop. a deliberate instrument of play. you trace the outline of your lips in a teasing manner, your slow, deliberate movements contrasting with the urgency of the discussions.

throughout the whole meeting miguel tried his best to focus on the conversation but of course he found himself entranced by the dance of candy and saliva. his eyes couldn't help but follow the slick trail the drool left in its wake, tracing its glistening path over your luscious lips. It was an act that blurred the line between innocent indulgence and tantalizing seduction. you shoot a side glance at him, loving the way his nose scrunched up at you and that gorgeous vein on his forehead getting more and more taut. miguel clenches his jaw, trying to maintain his composure in the face of your teasing. as you finally withdrew the sucker from your mouth, his hand instinctively rose to rub his forehead, a feeble attempt to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. the telltale signs of his embarrassment were evident in the deepening hue of his ears, glowing a dark shade of red. as the meeting pressed on, miguel's patience wore thin. clearing his throat, he shifted his gaze away momentarily to the rest of the group. lyla gives one more rundown on the situation at hand before miguel creates pairs to help with the investigation. peter and gwen had been paired off to place more anomaly trackers. jessica was tasked with helping close up rifts between universes. however, when she suggested a partnership with you, miguel's voice cut through like a whip-crack. "i got her." he asserted, his tone firm, leaving no room for negotiation. "patrick can go with you. barbie—" his gaze shifted to you, “you’re with me.” with the decision settled, a swirling portal manifested, miguel took the lead, beckoning you to follow. you were in a futuristic city, similar to miguel’s but this one felt more ghostly. it was quiet, tranquil. rain lashed down in sheets, the droplets hitting the ground with a force that sent up sprays of water. soft lightning forked across the dark, brooding sky, illuminating the scene in stark, brief flashes. the only thing that protected you from the onslaught of water was a rust torn metal sheet hanging about you attached to a brick wall, a dry halo surrounds you that ends at the tip of the roof. the moment the portal closed behind you the proximity changed the tone between you two. miguel turned to you, his eyes no longer weighed down by sternness, but instead ablaze with a different intensity. eyes fixed on the sucker, now sticking to the side of your mouth, he speaks up.

"I see you have a bad habit," he taunts. "and I need to fix it."

miguel tucks some of his silver colored strands behind his ear and wrinkles his pierced nose. “you’re so fucking annoying,” he growls, “you and that stupid sucker.” that's when miguel takes his time, eyeing you as he torturously drags his clawed hand against his stomach, the holographic layer slowly rippling apart. the disturbed film revealed parts of his muscular thighs and already semi hard cock, bulging and twitching. he was huge, veins strewn about like vines, if dick analysis was a club somewhere you would be the ceo of it. using a wave of his hand, miguel was able to remove his hologram suit completely, “i don't like you. you never listened to me, did whatever you wanted…” your legs clenched tighter together where you sat, “but I liked it. still do.” you softly moan to yourself when his hard cock hits his stomach. you needed to lick him up real soon, it’s almost inhuman the way he looks down at you. “keep looking at me like that, amor,” he huffs, “keep those pretty eyes on me.” he guides your face a bit closer to him. you place your hands on the cold, concrete floor for a bit of stability, still sitting on balls of your feet . miguel grabs the base of his cock and rubs the tip on your lips. spreading a mixture of precum and drool across them. “ngh—just fucking—” miguel stretches his arms out as a force of habit, holding each side of your head so he can work his pretty cock in nice and easy. “don’t move your head, please, just stay here,” you can see his earlier irritation start to crumble, turning him into a desperate mess. you keep eye contact with him, placing a couple of kisses on the head before wrapping your lips around the tip with a smile. he was fixing to say something (probably something that helped him fake some control) until you take him further down your mouth.

his thighs twitch as he lightly moves his hips, trying so hard to meet your lips, and when you let him a gasp flees from his agape mouth as you gag and suck. releasing him with a wet pop and maintaining eye contact you ask, “so you like me?” you watch him look around for a couple of seconds before he closes his eyes with a sigh and whispers a soft “yes, yes I like you.” you could barely hear him over the rain but his confession made butterflies dance around in your tummy. with a devilish smirk you slick your puffy lips along the sides of his cock, darting your tongue out and moaning deeply. you remove both hands off the ground to wrap one around the base and the other on his balls. you place on your lips to start sucking on the tip as you work both hands simultaneously. saliva building, bubbles forming the quicker you bob your head and stroke his dick. you heard him huff out soft whispers of ‘si si si, buena chica’ before you switch gears. you release his cock with a loud pop before going lower. the hand that was once massaging his balls was used to support you. you nudge his balls with your tongue before sucking one of them into your mouth, keeping your rhythm stroking mostly the tip, a low growl escapes his pretty lips. “no pares por favor no pares! dios mío, te amo.” from the way he’s howling you know that's his most sensitive area, his breathing is frantic, a waterfall of drool drips down his jaw and some droplets land on you nose.

you spread your fingers languidly, sticky with his precum and your spit, you can feel the blood pulsing in his cock, rotating your hand and sucking the heavy sack as the whimpers that vibrate in your throat travel to him. “dios mío, lo estás haciendo muy bien, amor,” he babbles, “sigue así, sí, sí, sí just like that.” miguel’s eyes are scrolling back. if the universe didn’t know any better you could say that he was possessed. the sound he makes is so needy that it makes your clit throb even harder, you slip a finger inside your spider suit, going lower and lower until you reach the elastic of your laced panties, slipping inside. Using some of your arousal you rub tiny, tight circles on your clit to help the ache go down and your legs begin to shake. you have to clutch onto miguel’s thigh so you don’t lose your sense of reality.

when it becomes too much and your clit gets super sensitive, you know you’re close, ending the fun too soon, and so you stop. You let him go, you take a step back to lock at your work. miguel was a mess, hair wildly laying on his head, face decorated with drool and sweat, his eyes are all on you. you could have sworn you saw some hearts beating in his irises. “what- why’d you stop?” you give him your most innocent look. “wanna play with you some more,” you whisper. you go to wipe your jaw with your forearm but he stops you, a firm grip on your wrist. “don't fuckin’ tease me, mocosa or i swear-” but before he could finish you giggle, purposely pissing him off further. the vein on his forehead goes taut again. “f-fuck!” he curses angrily, groaning with pain and pleasure stirring inside. his dick jumping for attention. you pout, voice oozing with mockery, “you want it?” reclaiming your position previously with your hand wrapped around his cock again, tightly gripping the base, miguel’s jaw clenches, sharp nails balling into fists as he tears into the wall behind him. “please, fuck just please- please let me have it. I need it. I need you, fuck, just-” he rambles, pratically growling. without another word you decide to ease the teasing and suck him off as you rub your clit again. you moan out with each rotation, alternating from circular motions to flicking motions. you’re trembling again. your breathing is sporadic, heart is pounding in your chest, you’re close. “f-fuck, { ur name }. g’na cum. voy a correrme en tu maldita garganta, fuck!” he grips the wall even tighter, the bricks slowly turning to powder from the sheer force. he could feel the hitching in your breath, “ joder si, cum with me, cum with me yeah? please cum with me.” and you do. your orgasm almost knocks the wind out of you, and the cherry on top was when miguel released a deep, guttural moan as he came down your throat. after you fully come, you remove your slick webbed fingers from the front of your panties, wiping them on your thigh, before you slide down to your knees. miguel, tired and slumped against the wall, reached out, his hands gentle as he cupped your cheeks. his touch was gentle, caring. "lo hiciste muy bien, amor" he murmured, voice soft, his words a caress against your ears. "you did so, so well for me, moscota." miguel, who’s usually stern and serious, found himself softening in your presence, a strange yet relaxing thing to witness. a small, appreciative smile tugged at the corners of your lips. his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, he leaned down, his lips first brushing against your nose in a sweet, lingering kiss before finding their way to your pretty mouth. It was a soft, tender moment."¿Quieres agarrar algunas empanadas?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting, suggesting a moment of shared comfort in a simple meal. When your head cocked adorably to the side he rephrased his sentence, “wanna get food? know this good spot back home.” before you could respond, jess interrupted, her heavy sigh drawing both of your attention "you forgot to turn off the voice receiver," she said, her tone a mix of annoyance and amusement.

how in the hell were you gonna explain what just happened?

─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

© SATOTOKii 2022 — All rights reserved. do not modify, copy or claim my work without permission. oh ! and don’t you dare copy my layout, i will get someone to eat ur house ‹𝟹

[herefortheships]

Things I would love to get in BJ3, in no particular order of importance.

Ok so this post has been in my drafts for a while 😂 Enough time to make this a pretty long post. Some of these (or, maybe all of these 😆) are unlikely to happen, but I'm just sharing my little hopes and fangirl dreams. I decided to share the things I do NOT want as a separate post, because then this would be way too long (spoiler alert: it already is too long 😅). I will just link this post to the other one, and vice versa, when I post it.

Here we go, things I would love to get in BJ3:

The return of the line "I myself am, strange and unusual". Doesn't necessarily have to be the full phrase as long as "strange and unusual" is used to describe Lydia or something related to Lydia. Bonus points if Lydia calls Betelgeuse "strange and unusual". Extra bonus points if it's part of her reasoning to fall in love with him or explaining to Astrid why she's even attracted to him. Because he's strange and unusual. lol

Lydia taking up photography again. I wanna see her walking around with her camera taking photos again.

Betelgeuse either being set loose, or returning to life again for act three. It can be for a brief portion earlier in the movie, too; like as part of act two, and then he goes back to being a ghost for whatever madness happens in act three. (But, for act three it feels more fitting. It'd be cool if part of act three had Betelgeuse able to walk freely in the world of the living for only one night [on Halloween], bonus points if he's in the flesh, like, alive for one night. Cool idea, but unlikely. Yet, this girl dreams).

Betelgeuse and Astrid bonding. I want to see them interact and get along better than anyone would have expected. She can hate him at the start of the movie, but then grow fonder of him as the events in the movie unfold.

That said: Stepdad Betelgeuse! Lydia, Betelgeuse, and Astrid becoming a family by the end. We all know how in love I am with the idea of them all becoming a family. If the movie ends this way, they can even continue the series as an animated show about their odd little family! I dream. It'd be sweet to see Beej actually try to be a good dad to Astrid because in life he never got the chance to be a father, or even decide if he wanted to be one. Now that he gets a chance he wants to be the best dad. 🥹 (Making myself emotional with an unlikely scenario. But again, I dream 😌). It would also be funny if he's trying to be a good dad and kinda failing because, he's a ghost and also he's Betelgeuse 😆, kinda like him trying to reach out to Lydia and romance her, and instead scaring her in BJBJ.

Lydia saying "Though I know I should be wary..." before summoning Betelgeuse. She doesn't have to say the full chant, but it'd be cool if she said those words as a shout out to the cartoon!

A totally wild (and possibly whacky) Betelgeuse and Lydia sex scene. 🤭 Bonus points if it starts with a wild make out session. Extra bonus points if Betelgeuse is a ghost (i.e they don't have him be alive and all cleaned up for it lol I'm sorry, Winona, but you'll have to eat up that stage makeup off of Michael's face. Oops). Extra extra bonus points if Lydia accidentally banishes him saying his name during the act, just because that'd be a hilarious way to end the scene 😂.

Lydia having a hard time accepting that she has feelings for Betelgeuse at first.

I would also love to meet Lydia's real mom.

Delia and Astrid being team Betelgeuse and supporting Lydia being with him.

Delia must be in BJ3 of course. She did say she was gonna stick around until Lydia begged her (and Charles) to move on, so we'll definitely be seeing her again unless they forced her into the Soul Train.

It'd be cool if Astrid is the one to summon Betelgeuse this time, at first, actually.

The story ending with Betelgeuse taking the Soul Train to the Great Beyond next to Lydia, if they don't end it just with them married and starting their married life. Even though Betelgeuse has been freed of his burdens and owes no more time as a civil servant (think loophole, or just as a result of having been freed of his curse by Lydia [see my Betelgeuse and marriage theory; that's how I'd like it to go, personally 💜] which resulted in allowing him to finally pass on) he'd stick around and wait for Lydia. So yes, *Not saying Lydia has to die in this movie, but when it's her time, it'd be sweet if Lydia and Betelgeuse take the train together. Even if they end the third movie with Beetlebabes married, and we don't get to see the end end of their story together, I want to imagine that at the very end they're taking that train together, even if one of them has to wait for the other to be able to pass on.

The return of "Jump in the Line". It would be a dream if BJ3 ends with "Jump in the Line" or includes it at some point in the movie. Bonus points if Betelgeuse and Lydia dance to it. Extra bonus points if it's their wedding after-party song! And Astrid and Delia join in the dancing. How cute would that be (man this list is getting more and more unrealistic, but this would be so perfect to me, if it happened lol 😭🥹💕).

Now that we're at the Harry Belafonte music part of this wishlist, another song I would like is "Sweetheart from Venezuela" lol. I understand if they don't want to include these songs though, since Harry Belafonte music in the first film is more connected to the Maitlands. Even though the lyrics of "Sweetheart from Venezuela" make me feel like the song was picked to be be in the movie because of the Betelgeuse x Lydia marriage situation 😆. If you don't remember the lyrics, they start "Juanita, my darling, you sure you love me? Sí, señor! You feel in your heart you will marry to me? Sí, señor! You promise to love me the rest of you life? Sí, señor! I love Juanita! My sweetheart from Venezuela." So as you can see, the song is about getting married, and specifically about marrying someone from another country, in Beetlejuice's case, Lydia marrying Betelgeuse, someone who is dead. So I feel like the movie starting with that song it was alluding to that. But this isn't what this post is about! 😂 Anyway they can include his music; in a way, his music is also connected to Lydia. It's part of her teen years and probably reminds her of the Maitlands, whom she must still love very much.

The movie needs to include another Betelgeuse and Lydia dance scene.

Also the wedding scene (there HAS to be a wedding, ok) should be more intimate. I don't think Tim Burton should try to top the epicness of the McArthur Park scene, unless he has something absolutely crazy and even more beautiful in his mind. So maybe it should be more lowkey. Even if he tries to top the BJBJ wedding scene and fails, I'm sure I will still love whatever he comes up with, as long as the wedding succeeds this time around.

Did I already mention a Beetlebabes kiss? There has to be a kiss.

The return of Delores as a proper villain.

The return of Wolf Jackson! I just really liked him.

If only it was possible, the return of Bob. I understand if he's not coming back, though. But I wish he would. He was Betelgeuse's friend (Beej has to appreciate him more if he does come back, though...)

A cute family scene with Lydia, Beej, and Astrid.

And finally, a proper ending that closes the story in a satisfying way, but that also leaves it open in a sense that the story is not over-over, so it could potentially continue as a series (even if animated) eventually. But even if it's kinda open, it has to be satisfying. Like, it ending with Beetlebabes married and all of them living together as a family, that'd be a satisfying ending that's still pretty open to continue the story as a series. If they do decide to make the story fully over and done with, though, then I already wrote up there what I'd like: for Betelgeuse and Lydia to pass on to the Great Beyond together.

These are my wishes. Of course, realistically I know a lot of this or all of it may not happen, but it's what I'd like to see. And I'm sure I'm gonna keep having ideas of what I'd like to see, so I will STOP this post here or I risk this becoming a mammoth post of unrealistic expectations. 😅 I feel like some of these are possible, but ofc I'm biased. The thing it all boils down to, what I want the most is a happy ending for all the main characters, and for that happy ending to involve canon, fully reciprocated, Beetlebabes. 💕

Next post: the things I do NOT want to see and my fears for BJ3.

[eternallytxt]

Pretty (wo)Man TEASER

Warnings and Themes: cursing, alcohol consumption, fluff, comedy, some angst, childhood best friends to lovers, rich!reader, socialite!reader, fake dating trope

Words: projected to be 7k ish

Playlist: Trust Fund Baby - Tomorrow x Together, Perfume - NCT DOJAEJUNG, Those Eyes - New West, Diamonds + And Pearls - DPR LIVE, Good Looking - Suki Waterhouse, Don't Let Me Go - Cigarettes After Sex

Summary: Soobin and (Y/N) have been friends since kindergarten. Yes. (Y/N) (L/N), the future inheritor to one of the biggest luxury fashion brands in the world, and Choi Soobin - just Soobin. Now, "just Soobin" is going to be posing as (Y/N)'s fake boyfriend for a celebrity wedding. But first, he needs to look the part (courtesy of his best friend and her daddy's money, of course).

A/N: would you guys believe me if I said I've had this concept in the drafts since I was 15? (yes because I have a wip graveyard)

Anyway, I love cheesy 2000s rom-coms (yes I KNOW Pretty Woman is a 90s movie), so I wanted to write one, and Soobin is very much rom-com male lead coded. Hope you enjoy it!

She’s been a part of my life since I was six.

I remember I was playing in a sand pit at my neighborhood park. The sand was wet, courtesy of the rain the day prior, so it was perfect for packing together sturdy sand castles. I didn’t have to worry about sharing the space since the park happened to be empty. The whole sandbox was my metaphorical oyster. My mom was on a nearby bench, reading her book, and my older sister and brother were playing on the swings. 

I was used to playing by myself growing up. Don't get me wrong! I actually enjoyed being by myself most of the time. I was more of the read-comic-books-alone-at-home type. Plus, I had a huge imagination, so I could entertain myself in a doorless, windowless, toyless room for hours on end.

I had just begun digging a moat for the sand castle (my best one ever, in my humble opinion) when a girl about my age appeared in front of me with her hands clasped behind her back. “I really like your sand castle,” she had said, a sweet grin pushing up rosy cheeks.

The girl looked way too clean for a kid, especially one playing at a muddy old park. Her hair was glossy without a single strand out of place and tied up neatly, topped with a blush pink bow. The sparkly dress she wore was the same color, and so were the flats that adorned her feet. She reminded me a little of my sister when we took our family photos last year.

I frowned a little, then shrugged before continuing to dig. “Isth ok, I guess.” 

You see, I had just lost not one, but both of my front teeth, so I talked with a slight lisp.

 Barely a moment passed when the girl plopped down right next to me, getting sand all over her dress. I stared at her wide-eyed and she stared right back at me with a grin, now showing off her missing two front teeth.

“My name is (Y/N)! Can I play wif you?” I was confused as to why such a princess-ey-looking girl wanted to play in the dirty sand. All my sister wanted to do was play with her Barbies, nowhere near dirt. But I was a pretty chill kid, so I shrugged my scrawny shoulders again and replied, “Sure. My name is Soobin.”

We played for what seemed like forever in that sandbox. At one point, I noticed an equally polished-looking man in a suit speaking to my mom on the bench. (Y/N) told me that that was her  “assistant, Seunghyun.” I didn't know what that meant at the time. Neither of us knew what it meant that (Y/N) was an heiress, either, but it was apparently very important.

After that day at the park, my mom organized play dates with (Y/N) through Seunghyun, and she soon became my best friend. For the most part, I went over to her extremely large house. I met her mom and dad, who both dressed a lot fancier than my mom and dad.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was the heiress to the multibillion dollar fashion conglomerate, CROWN. They weren't clothes that my family could afford at all, but people that were famous and extremely wealthy could wear once and throw away. Of course, our five and six-year-old minds didn't really understand just how important that was, nor did we really care. All we really cared about was playing and doing things best friends did together.

19 years passed (yes, nineteen) and our friendship never faltered. We both watched each other go through different phases (including my secret crush on her when I was 15, but we don’t need to talk about that). We had fights of course – never anything too serious, but they still happened. They typically always ended with me going to reconcile almost immediately after, but (Y/N) beating me to it with a phone call, wailing and crying about how much she missed me already. She was secretly very sensitive. 

As I grew older, I began to have this nagging feeling that (Y/N)’s parents didn't approve of our friendship. After all, she was extremely rich and important. I was just….Choi Soobin. Normal, not rich Choi Soobin. (Y/N), of course, knew of my anxieties, and was always quick to reassure me. “Soobin, we've been best friends since we were kids. Do you really think that I care if my parents don't like you? I like you, and that's all that matters!”

I was now 25 and (Y/N) was soon to be turning 24. I’ve since moved out of my family's apartment and into my own shortly after college. (Y/N) had also moved out, but into an expensive penthouse. The major difference was that I made just enough for rent and the bills, while (Y/N)’s penthouse was covered by her parents. She tried to beg for something smaller (and further away), but “the heir to a multibillion-dollar business isn’t going to live in a little shanty”, so that was the end of that argument. Instead, she became my non-roomate roommate. Weekends I wasn’t caught up with overtime work and (Y/N) with a photoshoot or party were spent on my couch with a popcorn bucket, fast food, and whatever shows we were feeling that day.

That's where I was today, sitting in my tiny Seoul apartment with (Y/N), watching the first episode of a new slice-of-life anime on Netflix. My head was in (Y/N)’s lap, fingers absentmindedly playing with freshly washed hair as my abnormally long legs hung over the other arm of the tiny two-seater. A perfectly normal way for best friends to hang out.

Her ministrations suddenly came to a halt. “Hey, Soob?”

I looked up and saw (Y/N)’s glowing colors flickering across her features, her eyes still glued to the TV screen.  “What's up?” 

She finally looked down at me and, when she saw my eyes on her, a small grin grew on her face.

“My cousin is getting married and I'm in the wedding party, so I need a date. You wanna pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Pause…WHAT?

coming soon

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check In - September 28th, 2023 🎀

did not do much today by my standards but I’m still recovering from this cold plus my allergies are acting up so I’ve been in bed a lot of today. I did accomplish some things tho so it was not a fully unproductive day for me!

🩷 What I Ate Today -

Breakfast - boiled chicken potstickers, hash browns with ketchup, and a coffee

Lunch - bowl of spaghetti with two pieces of buttered bread

Dinner - two slices of dominoes handmade pan pepperoni pizza and three slices of cheese bread

Extra - three more cups of coffee and not near enough water, half a green smoothie made with frozen fruits, spinach, and almond milk

I have not been eating the best recently and I know that, but I think that’s due to my hormones being messed up at the moment, my current sickness, my extreme fatigue and exhaustion, and a lack of physical activity in my life. However, I decided I’m going to try to go to the gym and get on the treadmill (maybe do some strength training if I’m feeling confident enough) at my university activity center at least three days a week so that way I can start getting some of my energy back and gain some more discipline and control in my life. I’m hoping I get to the point where I can be a runner again, I miss my 8 minute mile time, my running playlist, and how free I felt when I’d go running. So that’s a new goal of mine as well! My boyfriend even said we can go jogging together when I see him next weekend, so I’m looking forward to that for sure!

🩷 Personal Accomplishments -

Did the dishes

Brought my laundry from the dryer to my room (have yet to put away clean clothes)

Night time skincare

Studied Duolingo/Busuu for ~20 minutes

Skimmed through first Genki lesson in preparation for actually studying from the textbook

Showered and washed my hair

made a tentative workout schedule in google calendar for next week

🩷 Academic Accomplishments -

completed and submitted extended assignment for psychology class

completed and submitted lab report for anatomy lab

began paper set up for first section of research study paper for psychology class

again, not a super productive day but I’m still happy with it. I got a decent amount of stuff done and I have some stuff I want to accomplish tomorrow, which I will list below.

🩷 Academic Goals for Tomorrow, Sept 29th -

Complete a rough draft of first section of research study paper before 10am psychology lab

Begin taking notes for module six for my health for sport and fitness class

Complete practical assignment for health for sport and fitness class

~20 minutes japanese study using apps

🩷 Personal Goals for Tomorrow, Sept 29th -

Morning and Night skincare

morning and night guided journal

work on content for RD mentor instagram

Go to bed by 10pm (be asleep by that time!!!)

Drink at least one liter of water

Only two cups of caffeine

Don’t buy anything from the university food court!

wake up early <3

not the most specific personal goals but still things that I know I can achieve! I’m super tired and it’s not even that late and I haven’t done much this week. That’s how I know I made the right decision to take time for myself. always have your own best interest at heart, in a positive and healthy way! Don’t push past your limits and don’t let yourself burn out! It’s easier said than done but taking care of yourself is so important! That’s something I need to continually remind myself!

til next time lovelies 🩷🤍