#And I wish I had it out to draw a God damn skull

[mss-eclipse]

I should not have put Bob in the box

[soft-mafia]

Can we have where the S/O was sketching Captain Buggy in secret, because she has a thing for him and she didn't want him and the crew to know about it. Until she lost it until the crew took a glimpse while laughing; they figured that she had a crush on the captain. She hid in the Crow's Nest in shame until Buggy finds her, after hearing what she's been doing in secret

Crush [Buggy x Reader]

warning: fem reader, nude drawing descriptions

a/n: this is such a cute idea😭😭 also this is me coded bc I low key draw Buggy half naked sometimes

part 2

Y/n was sitting in one of the crow’s nests on the Big Top, hunched over her sketchbook, scribbling out another fantasy she had of Buggy.

Yeah, it was weird drawing her own captain half naked with a visible happy trail but— was she hurting anybody? No, of course not, besides nobody had to see these drawings except her. Y/n was beginning to get a little flustered sketching out the muscles, defining them.

She had a little smile on her face, but it was all interrupted by Buggy calling everybody down to the deck. Y/n left her sketchbook up there without thinking and quickly climbed down.

A while later after they had to make a pit stop somewhere to stock up on food, Y/n was carrying crates of meat when she heard some other crew mates snickering and giggling. She wondered what the hell was so funny, so she glanced over— but then a look of horror washed over her face.

“What a pervert!!” One of the men said, flipping through the pages, “Do you think she joined the crew just to get a piece of Captain Buggy?” Another man laughed. “Awww she has a little crush on him.” Another one said before they all burst into laughter.

Oh my god?! Is that my sketch book?! She nearly dropped the crate, so she quickly set it down and ran back onto the ship, panicking and feeling humiliated. Oh god.. this was awful, what if they show the captain?! He’s gonna kick me out of the crew!! This is so embarrassing I’m gonna throw myself off the ship, I can’t do this!!

Y/n hid in the crows nest, curled up in a ball, crying into her knees from embarrassment.

“Hey Captain!! Take a look at this!!”

Buggy’s attention was directed over to the group of men with Y/n’s sketch book, “Huh? What is it?” Buggy grunted and snatched it out of the man’s hands. His eyes went wide and nearly popped out of his skull when he saw the sketches.

Why was he such a hunk?! Damn he wish he looked like this, is this how people saw him? If it was then this was an absolute win. “WHO DID THIS?!” Buggy shouted, “WHO’S SICK JOKE WAS THIS?!” There were so many pages!! Who even had time to do all of this?!

“That girl, Y/n. I think she has a little crush on you, captain.” One of the pirates jokingly cooed, which made Buggy’s face go even redder.

Y/n could hear Buggy screaming from where she was, it made her curl up and want to die even more, “Ugghh!! Why did I have to leave that fucking book up here?!” She cried to herself. “Y/N!!! WHAT IS THIS?!” Buggy said once he got back onto the ship. Y/n sniffled, peeking over the side of the crow’s nest as she looked down at Buggy, “I’m sorry captain! I-I didn’t mean to..” oh god how could this situation get any worse.

“DIDN’T MEAN TO?!” Buggy took another look at the drawings. Damn he was hot, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘DIDN’T MEAN TO’?!”

Y/n hid in the crow’s nest again, crying harder. He was going to kick her off the crew.. she knew it.

Upon her cries, Buggy sighed and decided to climb up to where she was. “Cmon-.. don’t- don’t cry.” He kneeled down and gently patted her head, he looked back at the sketchbook, still amazed with how handsome he was.. “These are really good..!” He flipped to another page which was just him.. completely naked, his eyes went wide again. That fucking penis was bigger than his, why was it was so vascular!! He cleared his throat and closed the book, handing it back to Y/n, “You really captured my likeness.” He giggled, his cheeks redder than a tomato, “Maybe you can.. draw me.. maybe a bit more buffer, taller? Just a suggestion..” he coughed again.

Y/n took her book back and sniffled, “Y-You’re not gonna kick me off the crew? You’re not mad?” She couldn’t even look up at him.

“What? Why would I do that? It’s kind of a stupid reason to kick someone off..” Buggy laughed and sat beside of her, “Of course I’m not mad. But.. am I really that hot?” He chuckled softly, making Y/n even more flustered. “Maybe I can model for you sometime eh?” He joked, but then kind of regretted it.. no way did he look as hunky as those drawings.

Y/n hid her face into her sketch book, “This is so embarrassing..” she whined, “They’re never gonna let me live this down.” She could still hear the sounds of those crew mates laughing.. it made her internally recoil.

“Yeah.. not a chance.” Buggy laughed, then patted her back, “But hey, if you ever want the real thing, you can come to me whenever you want.” He grinned, winking at her.

Her face went red again and she hid it further into her book.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

Matchup maybe possibly? 👀

I'm a 5'1" short king trans guy and I need to wear glasses but I simply Do Not out of spite. My hobbies include eating, drawing, writing, and eating some more, so I'm hefty and hairy like a bear cub. My favourite genres of music are nu metal and alt rock, and I dress like a stereotypical dad with button-ups and cargo shorts. I'm also autistic and my dream job is to be a mortician since medical science is a big special interest of mine!

I hope that's enough to go off of! Have a great day / night!!

You sound so cool tf (true asf with the short king stuff i feel you)

not gonna lie i was fighting for my life choosing this one, so i hope its not god awful

I match you with...

Stu Macher !

He'd never say it out loud, but he is fascinated by you entirely. You guys share similar music tastes, though he indulges in pop / punk rock more than alt rock. Your guys favorite shared bands are korn and slipknot, though he wishes you would indulge in weezer more (hes a loser in my heart of hearts.) He loves how you listen to such heavy music but look like Just Some Dude. Hes the adhd to your autism, good luck. Hes just as blind as you so good luck trying to read menus, both of you are hopeless and sightless. I dont know how either of you are still alive at this point. Loves to feed you also. He has a huge fixation with your mouth. Loves to watch your mouth as you talk, eat, drink, even just resting and dormant. Also hes in LOVE with how hairy you are. One of his strongest fascinations with you is how well your hair grows. Hes incapable of growing any hair basically so he likes that you contradict him. When youre drawing he'll do that annoying thing where he constantly asks stupid questions. "You drew that?" "Can you draw me?" "How'd you do that?" "Do you draw often?" so good luck drawing in peace. He'll ask often if he can dress you, choose your outfits and style you like his personal doll. He also steals your clothes. When you tell him about your dream of becoming a mortician, he kind of thinks its a joke at first. When you solidify that you are serious, he will be so supportive. Calls you smart and a genius and other nicknames in that pattern anytime you infodump or tell him something you know. Will fantasize about you having to work on a body he killed. Its exciting to him how vastly different yet oh so similar your guys interests are :D. He asks you suspicious questions all the time too. "Hey, where would you have to hit if you wanted to keep someone alive but also paralyze them? Like,, with a knife or something." "hey babe, what happens if you accidentally stab through your thigh? do you, like, bleed to death or do you still live?" "Babe, I need to know something. How hard do you have to hit someone in the head with a blunt object for it to kill them? Like, do you have to cave their skull in or can you just keep it in one piece but still kill the person???" If you dont know hes one of the ghostfaces already, he wont tell you for a long time. One time, after he asked a lot of extremely suspicious questions, you made some joke about him being a murderer. He laughed but then his face went blank. "What if i was?" and anyway he told you the truth and was in awe that you didnt leave him. yeah you guys are in love.

hope you like your pairing! sorry for how damn late this was. If you havent seen my post, i was on vacation for a week and had 0 internet so i had to take break. have a wonderful day/night!

[teethpaste]

Sometimes you have sex with a person you shouldn’t, just to do it. Because of the lust or how badly you crave the feeling of being wanted. Because there’s a tiny voice screaming in the back of your head that THIS time will be different (when there’s zero proof to validate that thought). But it’s an important reminder that lust and like are different. Every time I do this I’m able to convince my swamp skull of a brain that MAYBE, just MAYBE it will be different. And it never is. I say out loud ohhhh I knew this would happen. That we’d text and talk like crazy for a few weeks to build it up. We’d have sex and then you’d leave again, vanish into thin air because having my body is another game to you.

Convincing me to let you in again - you’ll say all the things I want to hear. The things you know make my walls crumble. That even when you say you miss ME… we’re not thinking of missing the same things. Or maybe we are. But I miss when you slip from holding the small of my back to holding my hand when we’re walking around in public or when you rest your head on my shoulder for a cigarette on the stoop or even when I gently slip off your glasses for you when you fall asleep piss drunk on the couch. You miss slapping me in the face and choking me while having sex with me until you cum. We aren’t the same and I wish we were. Why can’t you want both? My delusional ass just rationalizes it in my head like “ohhhhhh he’s avoidant I’m sure he does miss you, he just doesn’t know how to express it”. But no. You do know how to express it up until you get what you came for. You’re a taker. And you took something again. And I’ll get over it, because it’s important to learn these kinds of lessons the hard way. And I let you do it. But damn.

The grossest part is I’m not even offended he used my body for sex I’m like oh god is it bc he saw me naked AGAIN and realized he’s not attracted to me??? Body dysmorphia is truly a mother fucker lol.

Even writing that out I find myself second guessing “was it worth it to let the love bomber back in. Cut him out. Then back in again to the point where you stepped over all your own boundaries, fucked him when you made accountability statements with friends and across social media platforms, and now you’re in the same position as before”. And at some level yeah it was. We had a fun evening and at some level it’s worth it to exist in fantasy land where I imagine us in a relationship. Because he’s the only person that has matched my level of weird/banter since I broke up with my last bf almost 2 years ago. But I also hate the fucking guilty gross feeling after when you realize that someone just wants to fuck you not love you and their words don’t match their actions. Even worse when it feels like they’re incapable of loving .. not just you, but anyone. Oh well. Back to the drawing board!

Also the funny thing is like, he told me he would disappoint me. And I told him I knew he would, but I wouldn’t be mad this time. And it’s true that I’m not mad. Old me would send a text now to be like SEE this is why I told you to leave me alone, because you come back in and you take and then you leave. But I knew he was going to do that. And he knows that I know that. Deep down I knew it would be the same. And I let him anyway. And that doesn’t need a conversation between the two of us to clarify. But I still find myself dipping my toe into a bit of delusion thinking “because I’m not gonna say anything this time, that will almost hurt him more”. And maybe it will. Or maybe it won’t. It probably won’t. If it ain’t the consequences of my own actions.

[vincentv90]

Finding you again

A Borderlands self indulgent fanfic.

A rewrite is going to be necessary but enjoy nontheless!

That fucking voice, that god damn ear grating narcissist voice blaring over the intercoms. Handsome Jack. That fucking bastard. Even after 7 years, he haunts everyone.

Why me? I asked myself mentally. I helped him on Elpis, not knowing anything about him other than him being an employee at Hyperion. He was tracking enemies of a different corporation, who were tearing the place apart for the vault. If I knew what was coming in the near future I wouldn't of helped. None of this would be my fault.

As a vault hunter I've come across many interesting characters, fought so many people looking to backstab me, even fought monsters with the strength of a God. But this encounter changed me.

Even know, I wish I could've done something different. Know I found myself stuck in the Handsome Jackpot, Handsome Jack's casino. I wasn't even searching for it. My ship got dragged in by the place, and once entering, no one could leave. Especially since Jack was dead. My life was over, I thought, while pacing back and forth in one of the many casino area's that resided in the place. Slot machines whirring and playing the same music and audio messages playing over and over.

I sighed, walking out of the place to try to find any source of life that wasn't the Service bots milling around the place. Plenty of dead bodies, bloodstains and graffiti littered the place the more I walked. How long were people trapped when the casino first shut down?

Ignoring Handsome Jack's face plastered in gold as I walked further in, focusing more on the sounds of a struggle. Yelling and guns being fired were heard as I walked through a hallway into an open area.

Bandits were circling what looked like an employee maintenance area, banging on the door and yelling obsinities. I crouched down, fumbling for my echo device, switching frequencies to see if there was any signs of life.

"Hello?!?!? Is anyone there?" A voice asked, clearly panicked. "Please help me!!!!!!!" The voice continued, higher pitched. It sounded familiar.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I grabbed my sniper rifle. Looking down the sights I held my breath before pulling the trigger, the bullet piercing through a bandits skull, body crumpling. His companions jumped back, guns drawed and itching to kill. I grabbed my smg before leaving the cover of the hallway and open fired on everyone else.

Minutes passed, before the final enemy fell. It was silent. I waited for a sign of life, not knowing if the person in the echo call was dead or not. A slight noise startled me, pulling out my pistol and aiming it at the door, not knowing if this was a trap or not.

A tall figure stepped out, hood obscuring their face, hands raised. "Don't shoot!" The figure shakily said, reaching up to pull the hood off. "I'm not Jack, please don't shoot"

The hood came down, and I froze. Similar features and the exact same eyes stared back at me. His hair, while a bit longer and more unkempt, still had the same style to Handsome Jack, but there was something familiar about him (and not the likeness to Jack).

"Timothy, is that you?" I blurted out, more and more in disbelief that he was still alive. The first Doppleganger Jack ever made, the one I had adventures on Elpis with.

He looked confused. "Have we met somewhere before?"

I took a deep breath, before taking off my hood and peeling my face covering off. As we made eye contact, he sharply inhaled.

"It can't be. (Y/N) it's you!" he said, in disbelief I was standing in front of him.

"Yeah, it's me" I said, slowly walking towards him until I could pull him in a hug. My eyes started glossing over, unshed tears threatening to fall. "I can't believe I finally found you" I choked out. His arms shakily wrapped around me, squeezing me tight.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you again" He shakily said, voice wavering with emotion. We embraced each other for a while before parting to look at each other again.

"I thought you died. When Handsome Jack died I thought I lost you too" I said, tears starting to fall. Timothy shook his head, starting to get emotional too.

"When he died we became trapped in this casino. Bastard didn't tell anyone that when he died this place would be on lockdown indefinitely." I just stared in shock. This whole time, after 7 years, he was trapped here against his will.

Whatever I was going to say next died on my tongue when new yells and screeches echoed in the hallway I came from.

"Come on, I know a safe place" Timothy grabbed my hand and pulled me into the opposite direction. We ducked and weaved through a couple open areas before ending at what I thought was just a dead end. Timothy leaned his face close to a wall, a beam of light scanning his eye, before a click sounded, part of the wall giving way to a secret room.

Stepping in, I realized this is where he was hiding out most of the time.

"It's not much but it's kind of home" He said sheepishly. I smiled, seeing his likeness throughout the room. I turned around and hugged him again.

"It's perfect, just like you" I said, enjoying his warmth and presence. I felt him return the hug. As long as I was with him, nothing else mattered.

[plvtosun]

For Blanca for the OC assumptions!

🤍 She either has a bunch of cute cell phone charms, or she secretly wishes she did

🤍 She hates the taste of bitter things

🤍 Her phone wallpaper was always Sanrio until she became friends with Toki. Now it's a selfie of the two of them, and she get really embarrassed when people notice

AAAAHHH! THESE ARE SO GOOD i had to write a scenario for the last one under the cut :,) <3

10/10 yes! she has a container full of old ones she used before that she can’t part with because they’re too cute to throw away! the latest one she has on her phone is a sparkly skull charm. she totally tries to find the more “metal” ones to use but i mean….. c’mon…… she’ll pick out like, one edgy charm and three cute ones and buy them all

7/10, she has that genetic thing that makes cilantro taste bitter and soapy. she gets clowned on SEVERELY because of it at family functions. but once in a while she’ll have straight black coffee or add less creamer into it “cause coffee’s supposed to wake you up and make you feel bad when you drink it”. so overall she doesn’t love bitter tastes but she likes them in some rare circumstances

10/10 GET HER ASS!! it used to be that her lock screen was this and her home screen was a picture of hello kitty and cinnamoroll. buuuuut nooowwwww her home screen is that selfie with toki. when they eventually get together, she sets it to both. >:) (fuck i gotta draw this now)

blanca makes the mistake of leaving her phone unlocked on the table after she answers a text. see, you’d think she’d learn from last time when skwisgaar swiped it and took like, 10 selfies on it, but no! (toki joined in at one point. she totally kept that one.) she leaves her phone unattended while she gets up and walks outside to stretch out her legs since she’s been drawing for about 3 hours straight. nathan passes by on his way to the studio and does a double take when he notices her wallpaper.

is that…?

he squints and picks up the phone, giving the screen a tap when it dims so it doesn’t lock.

…oh my god it is.

when blanca comes back inside and sees nathan with her phone, she freezes.

blanca: w-what are you- PUT THAT DOWN!

nathan: wow. pretty fucked up you got a picture of you and toki but not with the rest of us.

blanca’s stammering trying to come up with an explanation but she can’t! she tries to snatch her phone back from nathan but he just holds it up higher. she’s short, what’s she gonna do? tackle him for it? pff. nah, this is funny.

blanca: GIVE IT BAAAACK!

she’s getting on tiptoes, jumping up, nothing. she’s not getting that phone back until he hands it to her.

nathan: i mean it’s a cool picture, don’t get me wrong. but i know you took one with me and pickles that day too.

he’s totally laughing at her red face and her sad attempts to get her phone back. he just holds it up higher.

blanca: I-I JUST LIKE THE WAY I LOOK IN THAT ONE! SHUT UP! god you’re so annoying! give me my phone back! don’t you have some vocals to record or something?! give- GIVE IT BACK!

nathan: just think- just think it’s kinda mean, that’s all. i thought you and me were cool. damn. guess not.

blanca: WE’LL BE COOL ONCE YOU GIVE ME MY GODDAMN PHONE!

nathan: jesus i’ve never seen you smile that big. hah. you always look so pissed off. are you high in this pict-? oh. hm. no, i guess you’re not. your eyes aren’t red.

blanca’s a fucking wreck now and she’s smacking her hands against his arms, swearing at him in half spanish, half english. he’s cracking the hell up and he finallyyyy gives her phone back so he can go to the studio. but before he leaves…

nathan: …he’s into you too, y’know. wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you the other day.

blanca: wait

blanca: what

blanca: WHAT?!

aaaaand nathan’s gone without another word. ay blanquita.

[iviarellereads]

Harrow the Ninth, Chapter 50

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Second House skull) In which there are a number of shocking reveals, and the other pun that nearly made me defenestrate my e-reader.

THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE THE EMPEROR'S MURDER

Ianthe leads Gideon to God's rooms, but the door stands open when it should be locked tight. The two press themselves against the wall to listen and peek inside.

Cytherea's body is inside, tied to a chair with tendon, as John asks how she's done all this.

The voice was still gravel. "I charge you with acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, the human race--" "Commander." "--for which the only sentence is death; repeated mass killings, the utter disintegration of institutions political and social, languages, cultures, religions, all niceties and personal liberties of the nations, by use of--" "Commander Wake," he said. It sounded like he scrubbed a hand over his face; there was a muffled exhalation. "I've heard all this before." "Call me by my full name, or don't name me at all. I'll be damned if I pass up the chance to hear you speak the words."

He delays a bit, and tries to get away with only a partial quote, but eventually she draws the whole thing out of him.

"Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity,"(1) he recited, all in one breath. "Correct?" "They're dead words--a human chain reaching back ten thousand years,"(2) said the corpse. "How did they feel?" "Genuinely sad, bordering on very funny," said God. "Can we talk?"

John continues that Wake has been trying to "commit suicide by cop"(3) since he found her. She asks if the ten billion he killed gave him telepathy, and he half wishes they had, but he knows people. He asks what her mission was, fishing for information.

After some more exchange of words, he asks why she went to the Ninth House twenty years ago, and how she's still a sane revenant after all this time.

"You're not a necromancer--" "Necromancy is a disease you released," she said. "Necromancy needs to be strategically and deliberately cleansed."(4) "Don't spout bigotry, Commander. I won't kill you for it and it hurts your cause," he said calmly. "I have access to any number of cute pictures of necromantic toddlers with their first bone. They don't make for fat-cheeked roly-poly babies, but they've got a certain something, and nobody likes toddlers juxtaposed with cleansed."(5) "How many babies died in the bomb, Gaius?" "All of them," he said.(6)

He asks again, how she got into Cytherea's body as she wasn't there when he picked it up at Canaan House, and what she was doing at the Ninth nineteen years ago. Before she can even think about responding, though, he asks who's at the door. Gideon almost thinks they've been found out, but Mercymorn and Augustine stroll into John's room, seeming not to notice Gideon or Ianthe hiding in the coat rack.

Mercy says it's all over now, and Augustine suggests that John man up and give in. John asks if he's in trouble (causing Mercy to burst into approximately four seconds of angry tears before she works it out of her system) and if it's really the right time to confront him about it.

As John gestures to Wake, Mercy and August seem to notice her for the first time. He introduces them, but Wake says, with great satisfaction, that they've met.

God said quietly, "You've met, Commander? Can you tell me more about that?" "I met the woman. I never met the man. She was the spokesperson for both." Mercy said, "It can't be. This can't be happening. This cannot be happening," and the other Lyctor said, "It evidently can." And God continued, "In what context?" "They were working for me," said the dead Commander. Mercymorn demanded, "Are you flattering yourself, or being wrong on purpose?" The other Lyctor interrupted, "Joy--" but she was saying, wildly: "Oh, let it happen! If this is happening, let it happen ... We had a deal, Wake! Where the hell have you been hiding for nineteen years?" "Where--you--fucking-left--me," she ground out. "In my bones. Then a blade.(6) In--that--fucking--hole."

Mercy and Wake argue for a bit, repeating that Gideon was on Wake's tail for two years before he sent her, in a dying tailspin, down onto the Ninth.

John freezes everyone, like he did at the dinner with Harrow's soup, and asks again why Wake went to the Ninth. She replies:

"To break into the Tomb."

Wake goes on to explain most, if not the whole, Dios Apate, Major(7) plot: Mercy's eggs and the dummy incubators were non-viable, so she inseminated herself with the sample obtained. The child's blood was supposed to help her break into the Tomb.

As John explains how this could never have worked, Gideon Prime walks in, finds Harrow and Ianthe cowering, and steals the sunglasses from Harrow-Gideon's face,(8) then continues on into the room until he's noticed by Augustine.

The woman I was pretty sure was actually my mother - wearing the body of a woman I'd had a crush on, who in turn had been wearing the identity of a woman she'd murdered, until I fell on a spike so that my boss could kill her - craned her head around in her bonds.

Wake looks like her saviour has just walked in. Duty closes the distance between them, taking a gun out of his belt, and shoots Wake at the base of Cytherea's skull.

God is dismayed that Wake's ghost is completely gone. Augustine asks what happened to Number Seven, but Duty says it ran away. Augustine wants to know how THAT works, with Duty still alive. Mercy interrupts to say she wants Gideon I to hear this too, to know what Pyrrha died for.

God asks Gideon Classic if he was aware Wake was pregnant when she landed at the Ninth House. He did. God asks why he didn't stop her, to which he replies that he thought it was his, to the disgust of Mercy and uncontrolled, desperate amusement of August.

John puzzles out that the plan, then, was to kill a Lyctor's baby to open the wards… but Mercy says he knows they all know exactly what those wards entail. It was his essence, collected in another night of debauchery, twenty years ago. God asks if the baby died en route to the ground, but Mercy says no, it didn't.

At this, Gideon, wearing Harrow's body, emerges from the robes, and closes the space between herself and the group. Everyone turns to look at her, as she comes to stand behind the chair with the body on it.

"I'm-" I said.

The world revolved.

"I'm not fucking dead," I said, which wasn't even true, and I was choking up; everything I'd ever done, everything I'd ever been through, and I was choking up.

And the Emperor of the Nine Houses, the Necrolord Prime, stood from his chair to look at you - at me; looked at my face, looked at your face, looked at my eyes in your face. It took, maybe, a million myriads. The static in your ears resolved into wordless screaming. His expression was just - gently quizzical; mildly awed.

"Hi, Not Fucking Dead," he said. "I'm Dad."(9)

=====

(1) Yes, those are, in sequence, quotes from Henry V, New Zealand's national anthem, and Eminem's Lose Yourself. Also explains the dogtag! (2) Hmm. Well those are definitely references to our world and time. So… this is the far future, somehow. And Dominicus is definitely our solar system. (3) I'm not personally a fan of the "commit" part of the phrase (suicide shouldn't be framed as a crime to be committed, but a tragedy of loss and failure of support systems), but "suicide by cop" is such a weird and loaded phrase to find in these books that, up to a point, appeared to be silly space lesbians, y'know? Oh, but we were never quite in a silly book, were we? Not since Gideon's "indenture" on Drearburh was made clear. (4) I suppose that begins to hint at what the BOE's agenda is. (5) He's so cold about it, too. Not harsh cold, I don't think, but so calm about discussing a war of propaganda. (6) In her bones, then in a blade. Perhaps a very large blade, carried nearly everywhere by a certain redhead of her own make. A blade that, perhaps, might give off an aura of malice toward a necromancer sensitive but untrained in reading or understanding the presence of spirits. The first night on the Mithraeum, when Harrow was possessed and found herself in Cytherea's tomb, the sword plunged into the dead woman's heart. A thanergetic link indeed. (7) Recall, when Mercy was horrified at August's calling the new plan "Dios Apate, Minor" and he had to reassure her that it was Minor, MINOR! before she agreed to go along. Well, they'd used a plan very, very similar to that very one, twenty years before. (8) Now why would he need sunglasses, and why would he not have his own? I feel like this also carries a LOT of emotional and thematic significance, because as we see in this very chapter, G1deon thought that Wake's baby was his. So here he is, forming a connection with her. The child denied him. (9) It took me a long moment of thought not to throw my e-reader at this one. I'm just as glad I didn't have the hardcover to contend with because I'd have valued it less than the potential replacement cost of a nice Kobo. Though it would've been VERY cathartic.

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 4 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. We gettin spicy now. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Hybern have slipped into the mortal lands, and will any day now be at the wall.

The wall has always been the weak point of Pythian, and the Spring Court holds the south most border. After gathering as much information as he can, Rhys sends word to Tamlin.

The first attempt is a letter, which goes unanswered. Rhys waits for hours, until he cannot wait anymore. The second attempt is to send Mor, but by afternoon she returns. She was not granted an audience with the High Lord.

“Gods fucking damn it,” Rhys roars when she tells him. She doesn’t flinch, just looks worried. “Tamlin you stupid fucking prick,” Rhys mutters. He has started pacing. It is one thing for Hybern to attack another court. It is one thing for Hybern to breach Prythian. It is one thing for war to be on their doorstep.

It is another to endanger Feyre.

“I’ll go myself,” Rhys growls.

“Careful,” Mor says. “If you go in there all hot-headed, you’ll only give him a reason to start a fight.”

Rhys gnashes his teeth in frustration, but eventually nods his acknowledgement. Mor bites her lip, bows her head, then leaves him. Rhys takes a deep breath in through his nose, rolls his shoulders, and then winnows onto the steps of Tamlin’s manor.

It’s been a very long time since he has been on this doorstep.

Once, years ago, his father brought him, wanting him to have experience of a High Lords’ meeting. Rhys had known Tamlin had a daughter, but on that day she was nowhere to be seen. Rhys wonders idly how much of her life Feyre has spent locked in her room.

He strolls through the great doors, not bothering to wait for Tamlin to deny him entry. As he walks, he shoves his hands into his pockets, and listens to the chatter of the minds of the house residents. He does not look for Feyre’s. Doesn’t want the distraction.

Rhys finds Tamlin in the study, and leans against the doorframe.

“Afternoon,” he says in greeting. Tamlin’s face twists at the sight of him.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d grind your bones if you ever came back here?” he says. Rhys just looks at his nails.

“You did,” he said, “but I’m in an altruistic mood, for some reason.”

“What are you jabbering about, boy?” Tamlin snarls. Rhys pushes off the door frame and looks him in the eye.

“Hybern,” he says. Tamlin snorts.

“Not this again.”

“Tamlin. My spies are never wrong. Hybern is moving against Prythian as we speak, and you need to be ready.”

“I don’t take orders from whelps,” Tamlin growls.

“Fine,” Rhys says cooly. “Do what you want. I only thought you’d be interested in the preservation of your own lands, or your people, or your daughter for that matter. I shouldn’t be so presumptuous.” Tamlin growls again, but Rhys looks bored.

“You dare speak of her,” he begins.

“Calm down old man,” Rhys says. “I just wanted to come here in person, so that I could be assured that when Hybern attacks and the Spring Court falls, you knew it was happening and you let it.”

“What do you care?” Tamlin spits. “You only rule a savage court, you’ve never spared a thought for another in all your life.”

“Yes,” Rhys says simply. “And if we’re worried, so probably should you be.”

“Leave. Now.” Tamlin pounds the desk as he speaks. Rhys just shrugs.

“As you wish.” He sketches a bow from the waist, and exits the room.

But he doesn’t walk out of the manor.

Rhys folds himself into the shadows, and climbs the grand staircase without anyone noticing him. Feyre’s bedroom door is locked, of course, but he he shimmers through the wood without much effort.

“I know I should have knocked,” he says, “but I’m not looking I swear.”

“Rhys!”

“Can I come in?”

Feyre laughs, soft as eiderdown, and pulls his hands from his eyes.

“Yes,” she says. “Thank you for asking.”

“I would have asked from outside,” Rhys tells her, drawing her into his arms, “but that would have ruined the whole sneaking around thing I’ve got going here.”

Feyre stands up on her toes to kiss him. Rhys sighs over her lips, and the taste of her soothes his soul.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Rhys chuckles.

“I’m not the one being kept prisoner in my own bedroom.”

“You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept the last couple of days.”

Feyre touches his cheek and he leans into her palm. “Well come lie down then,” she says, and turns toward the bed by Rhys stops her.

“Feyre,” he says. “I have to tell you something. It’s important.”

Feyre’s eyes darken with concern, but she tugs him forward and he gets on the bed with her. They lie on their sides facing each other, and Feyre touches his chin.

“What is it?” she asks. Rhys folds her fingers into his.

“For a long time now, Hybern has been looking to expand its territory,” he tells her. “I have reason to believe- I am sure, they are now gathering in the mortal lands, and plan to attack Prythian from the south.”

“The south… is us,” Feyre says, eyes widening in understanding.

“Yes,” Rhys says. “I have tried to tell Tamlin but he won’t listen. I’m starting to think that if I told him the sky was blue he’d disagree, just because it was me saying it.”

“That’s probably true,” Feyre admitted. “So… what do we do?” Rhys lifted their entwined hands and kissed her fingers.

“I want you to know that I won’t let anything happen to you. The Night Court is ready and willing to send aid. Tamlin won’t hear me. Could you try to convince him to let us help?”

Feyre exhaled heavily. “Well, he doesn’t listen to me either. But of course, I’ll talk to him.”

Rhys kisses her knuckles again, on both hands. “Thank you,” he says.

“Rhys? What if doesn’t agree to it? What if he doesn’t listen?”

Rhys slides a hand under her hair, and his thumb strokes her jaw. “We’ll come anyway,” he says. “And I am finally going to get you out of here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Feyre says, and her voice is small with worry. Rhys kisses her until the tension slides from her shoulders.

“Rhys?” she says.

“Yeah honey?”

“I love you too.”

Rhys quirks a smile, and kisses both her cheeks and then her nose.

“I love you too, too.” He kisses her mouth then, and she wriggles closer to him. Rhys slides an arm under her and rubs his fingertips against the is of her skull.

It is so easy to forget wars and jailers when Feyre is touching him.

Feyre’s bare feet press into his ankles, and Rhys slides a hand down the outside of her thigh. The silk is cool beneath his fingers, and there’s a split in the fabric just above her knee. He catches her calf and hitches it over his hip as he keeps kissing her, and she squeezes him closer with her leg while his hand strokes her ankle.

“Are there flowers in the Night Court?” Feyre murmurs between kisses. Rhys smiles against her lips.

“Yes,” he says. “And the most wonderful fruits.”

Feyre’s hands are sliding up his chest now, fumbling with the fastenings in his shirt. She nips his bottom lip, and he licks the back of her teeth.

“Don’t they need sunlight to grow?”

Rhys laughs. “Feyre darling, we have just as much sunlight as you do.” His hand on her ankle has slid back up her calf, and is now curving around the underside of her thigh above her knee. The cream coloured dress is pushed further up her legs.

“But it’s always Spring here,” she says. She’s found the hem of his shirt and her hands have slipped beneath it. They are warm on his stomach.

“Well it’s not always night in the Night Court,” he assures her, and moves his lips to her throat. Feyre tips her head back to give him better access.

“Why?” she gasps.

“Because,” Rhys murmurs, trailing kisses down her neck, “things need to grow. And we need the warmth.” His hand on her leg is moving again, and cups her backside now. “And because no amount of power in the world stops the sun from rising.”

He kisses her mouth before she can ask any follow up questions, and the taste of her moan is so sweet it makes his head spin.

Rhys presses Feyre onto her back, and his hand on her ass slides around to her hip. His other arm is still behind her, and he massages his fingers in the back of her head. Feyre tugs at his hair, and he pushes her skirts further up so he can stroke her from knee to hip. Feyre shivers under his touch as his thumb skirts her inner thigh.

“Touch me,” she whispers, and Rhys’s hand tightens on her thigh before it dips between her legs.

Feyre’s hands fall from his neck and grab a hold of the sheets. Rhys watches her eyes flutter closed as he moves his fingers again, lightly over the cotton of her underwear. He slips beneath the waistband, and Feyre’s back arches up off the bed. He bites down on his own moan- Feyre is so wet on his fingers.

“Gods Feyre,” he breathes. He slides his hand down over her pussy before circling lightly against her clit. Feyre bites down on her lip and makes sure to stay quiet. Rhys thinks he’s never been so turned on as he is as he watches her writhe on his hand. He’s circling faster now, and sucks against her nipple through her dress. Never taking his eyes off her face.

“Don’t let anyone hear,” he reminds her softly, just as he pushes his index finger deep inside her. Feyre grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him hard, as she begins to fuck herself on his hand. Rhys grinds the heel of his palm against her clit as she does, and his other hand makes a fist in her hair.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he tells her. “I just wanna make you feel good.” He adds a second finger, and can’t help but imagine what she’d feel like if she was rocking on his cock like she was on his hand. Feyre’s nails scrabble at his chest, and her eyes meet his only momentarily before rolling back in her head.

“Do you feel good Feyre?” he asks her. She nods, mouthing words but not making any sound. “Can you come like this?” he whispers. Her hands tighten in his shirt and she’s struggling to draw breath. “That’s it,” he says. “Don’t make a sound, just come on my fingers.”

And she does. Her lips move silently, and her hips bow up off the bed. It takes Rhys a minute to realise she’s mouthing his name.

Feyre tightens around his hand as she climaxes, and when she finally comes down, she looks so peaceful. Rhys gives himself another moment to watch her, and then kisses her softly.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispers. Feyre’s eyes open into his, and waves crash in her gaze. He put his fingers in his mouth, kisses her again, and then disappears like smoke.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

[yanderenightmare]

ooooooooooohhhhhhh bully!bakugo pleaseeeeee feed me! like I don't know if you do underage things like school, but you can keep it sfw

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: abuse, anxiety, bullying, paranoia, NONCON elements, stalking, manipulation, profanity, anger issues, arson mentions, trauma

TIP-JAR

PART TWO

IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM

In many ways, Bakugo was her morning alarm clock.

A shrill shriek of a sound she wanted nothing more but to ignore and rake at her ears until she grew deaf. An impact, taking a toll on her whole day. Something to regret. And something to dread the next morning.

Something that follows her, haunts her, hunts her in the hours she’s without it and blares like sirens or howls from some great monster when it’s caught her.

Alarm clocks can’t push her to the ground though, that’s where Bakugo deviates.

And he’s always pushing. Toppling her books with a flick of his wrist. Pushing and squeezing and pulling at her like a rag doll. Pushing her into the wall. Pushing screams to come bursting from her lungs. Pushing tears to well up in her eyes. Pushing her sanity.

And now, pushing his knee in between the space of her thighs. Grinding her up against the wall in the barren hall of an empty school. Pushing and digging callous fingers into her thin uniform. Messaging the tender ticklish flesh of her midriff and keeping her in place. Pushing and seizing her breaths with his wicked grin. Teeth sharp and deadly and way too close to her neck.

“Let go!” She screamed. And the echo that reverberated throughout the hallway should have sent every packed classroom to flood the tight space.

But it was a field-day, which meant no classes and everyone outside enjoying the sun.

Except for her and Bakugo.

Cocking his chin in impish humour. He grinned too widely for it to be excused for mere casual bullying.

“Or what?” He coaxed. His breath fanning over cheeks. Wafting into her nose, making her entire face contort. “You’ll tell on me?”

He manipulated his voice to sound childish and whiny. Pouting at her. Yet the sheer maroon look of sadistic thrill was hard to put any mask over.

“Ha? You think this school is gonna give two shits worth a damn about some fucking nerd like you over their top student?”

He was too wrapped up in his frenzy to pay the weak fists banging on his chest any mind. Barely even registering them before they relented. Turning soft and careful, defeated upon his words, as they dragged sloppily down his stomach. Stopping where he’d hiked her skirt up around her hips.

She looked down. The realisation of her situation settling.

Not settling like an explosion, but like dust after the fact. Just like it did every time Bakugo trapped her in a corner.

She didn’t know why she even bothered fighting anymore, knowing how she always gives up.

Her breath hitched and hiccupping as she forced herself to bargain with her bully.

“What do you want, Bakugou?” It was more of a sniffle than a sentence. Meek and feeble and delicious.

But it was wrong in its essence.

“Katsuki.” He growled. His nose touching hers briefly, making her screw her eyes shut in pure crippling fear.

Another thing an alarm clock couldn’t. Come to think of it, perhaps he was rather the sound of bones breaking, or clothes tearing. His laughter like gunshots, and every move he made an explosion that left the ears bleeding and ringing.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you for you to get it through your thick skull. It’s Katsuki.”

His grip on her waist tightened. And she was sure his claws would rip yet another one of her thin white shirts.

The disgusting instruction left her baffled each time. How he would force her to call him by his given name as though they were good friends as opposed to predator and prey.

“Say it.”

His features were blank in expectancy. Cold despite his fingertips warming.

“Come on! Fucking say it!” Spit flew as he barked his command as he pushed her just a smidge further into the wall.

Her whole body shook. Kept in place by the hold he had on her, but still trembling violently like a leaf caught in a storm.

“Katsuki...”

It was barely audible, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was rather overcome with satisfaction instead.

“Good.” He seemed subdued.

Calming down as his fingers relented their building fire. Cooling yet nowhere near comfortable.

“Good girl.”

It was close to a purr of some sorts and it made her stomach fold and topple in on itself, as he stroked a stray curl from out of her face. The action only resulting in even more locks of hair falling before her eyes as she shook her head as a means to swat his hand away. Where her own hands were too busy in their position on his chest, in a means to keep him at bay. But it was of little use as his face closed in on hers.

Leaning, towering, suffocating.

“Baku-”

Fear of what it looked as though he was about to do crippled the notion of it being ridiculous. But the protest was weak, even as her nails dug into the hardness of his chest.

Her voice overpowered by his, despite it being only a ragged whisper.

“Kiss me.”

Her suspicions where answered, but it only aided in her dread.

“Ba-”

She shifted her head to the side to avoid him. Panic consuming her.

But his large encompassing hand was quick in finding her cheek. Cupping it in its callous palm and forcing her to face him yet again.

“Are you deaf? I said kiss me!” He roared. The sound once again blaring like thunder from the gods in her ears.

However, despite his lips coming to attack her and the threat of his sharp fangs that could easily bruise her, she continued to push at him. Trying to pry him off her and run like the prey he had made it clear that she was.

“No.”

It surprised him to say the least.

Small, weak protests he could brush of with a shrug was nothing he wasn’t used to, but firm acts of retaliation was new.

Granted, he’d never tried kissing her. Always settling for feeling her ample supple flesh in his hands and seeing that sweet look on her face. Feeling his pants grow tight and jacking of in the school showers when no one was there to see him in the downright pathetic state.

“No?”

His brow quirked. His mouth a firm line until it once again sprung into his signature smirk.

“How about this? Kiss me and I’ll stop.”

Her eyes softened at that. Growing large. And he swore he could see her ears draw back.

There was no doubt she was surprised, intrigued, tempted.

“That’s right.” He drawled.

His thumb rubbed across her bottom lip and she was too consumed by his offer to mind.

“I’ll stop following you around, pushing you, calling you names. I’ll stop it all.”

He drew closer, to her ear. Lips ghosting her temple. Relishing the moment when he felt her shiver because of it.

“And all I ask in return is a little kiss.”

Pulling away, he looked content at first, but soon his features turned malicious once again.

“But... if you refuse... I’ll tell everyone about what a little slut you are. About how you love sucking my cock like a good little cumdumpster.”

She looked horrified at that. Her tears finally spilling over.

“But I-” She stuttered but he paid her no mind.

Already knowing whatever she was about to say.

“Who’s gonna believe you? It’s my word against yours. What are people gonna think? Huh? You think you’ll have any friends left after I run that rumour? Nah... you’ll have no one... and by that time, you’re gonna be begging me to kiss you.” His voice was frenzied.

And it must have purely because he was so lost in that craze, that he didn’t notice her leg coming to kick him in the groin.

She was thoroughly disgusted. Mostly with him, but also with herself to even having considered demeaning herself like that.

“Fuck you.”

His hold relented at the assault. And despite it being a mere temporary act, one he soon recovered from, it was enough for her to start sprinting.

“Fuck me?” He had to laugh.

And she was right. The noise really did sound like gunshots being fired at her as she ran for her life.

“That’s what the whole school’s gonna think you did come tomorrow!”

Falling onto the floor. His arms and legs spread like a starfish he couldn’t stop cackling, as though mad. Excited and thrilled, even with the stinging pain still spurring in his ball-sack. Heck, maybe even because of it.

This was fun. This was very fun.

His voice mellowed down.

“I’m gonna get you… one way or the other…”

Good thing he knows where she lives.

Good thing she didn’t live too far away.

Good thing she hadn’t kissed him.

Good thing he wasn’t forced to become a liar when continuing to force her to do as he wished.

Good thing there was plenty of broom-closets in the school.

Good thing she couldn’t do shit to stop him.

TIP-JAR

PART TWO

[tetsurobunni]

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Yes, sir.

A/N: I’m on my period and my hormones are raging at the moment, so I whipped up some fluffy smut because why not?! Unedited so be gentle.

MASTERLIST 

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 1130k

Warnings: fingering, light SMUT, language. Just don’t click if you’re not into smut? Enjoy! 

****************************************

“Henry! People are starting to stare.”

His beard continued onward tickling along the crevice of her elongated neck, exposing all the more skin for him to devour. Ever so gently, Henry lightly nibbled forcing a whimper from Y/N. The smile upon her lips was contagiously infectious towards the playful and extremely handsome gentleman beside her. Especially when sporting a hand-stitched tailored tuxedo created by Tom Ford himself. Yes, Henry was a fucking snack waiting to be unwrapped by Y/N.

In his best southern accent, Henry spoke animatedly; “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“Ah, I see. Pulling out all the stops tonight, aren’t ya?”

“Clark Gable is a classic, my love. Can’t mess with perfection. Ever the clever one.”

Y/N giggled nuzzling into his warm embrace eager to mask her mounting excitement. Her entire body hummed in pleasure sending a tingle between her thighs. A moan clumsily slipped out; her breathing increased uncontrollably.

“Baby…”

His hand had been resting along her knee giving reassuring nudges the duration of the night. After all, it isn’t every day the BAFTA’s happened.

“I know your games too well, darling. It’s an added bonus to see you in such a frivolous state in public no less. Tsk, tsk.”

His heated hand skimmed from her knee gravitating towards where she needed him most. She shivered in anticipation questioning just how far Henry would push her.

“Cheeky bastard, Cavill. And a fucking tease.”

“Never thought I’d say this but thank god for dinner award parties, this table in particular.”

Y/N sat speechless; jaw slightly agape.

“Have I told you yet how delectable you look this evening?”

“Mmm.” That was all Y/N could muster up without losing her cool, collected self.

“Cat got your tongue, honey?”

This time, Y/N parted her knees willingly allowing for better access to her Adonis. Thank god this dress was designed with a sexy, deep slit. She swore she witnessed Henry drool. His fingertips glided over her newly waxed pussy.

“No knickers? Naughty, Y/N.”

“This dress fits like a literal glove! The stylist didn’t recommend it unless I wanted to end up in the tabloids with panty lines hence the wax, asshat.”

“Well you know better than most I prefer a more natural look. Fuck, you’re soaked.”

Henry began moving in small circles over her swollen clitoris. Y/N clenched the table cloth attempting to stifle the groan growing in her throat.

“Eyes ahead. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now would we?”

Mischievous pants filled the air surrounding them as Henry’s fingers sunk inside her slit. Y/N was on the brim of begging for him for more fully forgetting where they were. Her dress now hiked up the majority of her toned leg. Henry plunged deeper brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. He sinfully motioned his fingers into a come-hither movement repeatedly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Y/N’s high-pitched voice wavered as her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. Her pussy squelched as Henry picked up his speed simultaneously hitting her g-spot. Y/N was splintering at the seams, on the verge of cumming. Stars burst behind her closed lids as her breath stammered brashly.  

“Shit, right there. Don’t stttop.”

In a blur of thoughts, Y/N heard a distant voice drawing closer.

“Cavill!”

None other than the Chris Evans stood meters away smiling widely.

“Just the man I was searching for. How’s the evening going, Y/N?”

Y/N coughed clearing her parched throat squeaking out a meek reply; “Good, good. Always nic—”

Y/N stared daggers at Henry as he thrusted harder; “You look downright devilish in a tux.”

Henry inserted a third finger causing Y/N to hyperventilate. His thumb grazed her plump clit unwilling to slow his ministrations.

“Says the most beautiful girl in this place. Cavill, they’re ready for us in 10.”

Smiling that charming smile of his, Henry nodded acknowledging Chris.

Furiously blushing, Y/N knew she was about to cum if Henry didn’t let up.

“Ttthanks, Evans. We, uh—ah! Appreciate the hea-heads up.”

Eying the couple suspiciously, Chris darted back and forth between Y/N and Henry unable to pinpoint what exactly felt off but walked away regardless. Y/N’s nails clawed into his forearm as her orgasm erupted in her belly.

“I’m cum--cumming!”

Her walls tightened clutching around him showing no sign of letting up. She spasmed aching for his now erect cock zipped away in the confines of his pants. Shockwaves jolted through every neuron in her body. She bit her bottom lip in hopes of concealing her guttural moans. There, in the middle of a ballroom, Y/N shattered to absolute pieces at the mere touch of her boyfriend.

“Good girl.”  

Henry placed a loving kiss against her forehead glimpsing around the overly crowded room stroking her pussy to no end. She sighed when he left her warmth but not before bringing his fingers to his lips suckling like a hungry animal.

“Mmm, sweet as sin. My personal favorite.”

Y/N’s irises alit in passionate flames; “How much longer must we stay, Hen?”

“This was only the beginning, my love. The night is still young. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Y/N tilted her head his direction slyly maneuvering her hand over his hard cock. She squeezed reassuringly coaxing him into fleeting submission.

“Alright, tough guy. I’ll sit here like a horny teenager and play the dutiful girlfriend. On one condition.”

“Name it, love.”

“You. Me. Car sex on the way home. Kal can wait a tad longer.”

“Done. Absolutely done.”

“Now to distract myself until then. Kegels it is.”

“Ha! You are a vixen, my dear.”

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch as Y/N gazed up at Henry. Thanking her lucky stars simply didn’t seem like enough when it came to their love, that she knew for sure.  And so, for the remainder of the awards ceremony, Y/N twittered in her chair craving for a hint of meager satisfaction. Henry laughed wishing he could bend her over the table and fuck her. 

God, he would give just about anything to feel her walls shutter around his dick. He pictured the sensation of her skin slapping against him. Pre-cum oozed from his tip moistening the material on his gray boxer briefs.

He tried to curve his lustful thoughts watching her squirm delightfully without any relief. Unexpectedly, the lights brightened signaling a commercial break. Just his luck.

“Damnit, woman. I must be inside you. Bathroom. Now.”

He gritted his teeth making his words sound short and assertive. Y/N smiled smugly, like a whore in church before speaking the two final words that would bring him to his knees; “Yes, sir.”

Y/N winked reaching for his hand to follow in pursuit. Oh, how the night is young indeed.

~~~~~~~

Tags:  @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14 @bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @cap-barnes @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie  @nalathefirefly @vikingsbifrost @bloodyinspiredfuck @moderapoppins @cooldiva1234 @icedcoffeeismythang @titty-teetee @summersong69 @kaatelyyynn @missursulacalmet @michelehansel @iloveyouyen @shyshu @star017 @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83 @starrynite7114  @wheretheriversrunintothesea @i-love-scott-mccall  @darkbooksarwin @ellieseymour70 @designerwriterchic @studywithrosie01 @dangerouslovefanfic @lebguardians @crazybutconfidentaf @hen-cavill  @cavill-sass @oh-for-fic-sake @icedbottles @buckysgoldenheart @brexrif @gryffindorwriter @laketaj24 @foxyjwls007 @lawsofthejungle @henrycavillfanpage @kaboogie21 @fangirl199812 @gothicninibalor @qualitynightkoala @strictlybuckybarnes @toomanyfandomsshreya @hersilencescreams-blog @viking-raider @sesamepancakes  @madbaddic7ed @fuckoffbard​@funfickgirl22 @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ 

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Idiot | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies— I wrote some flangst even though I have a billion other things that needed to be written. I really woke up and said “comfort character? I think you mean: Tony Stark” and then wrote a fic with no plot. It’s just sappy and sad and cuddly and kinda’ elusive as to the relationship. Might expand on this or might let it sit in the void like I am :) Enjoy

Description: Literally like zero plot, this was literally written today this morning because I am a heartbroken mess and I fucking hate real life men right now and I hate the military and I hate guys who tell you that you’re special when they don’t fucking mean it and I really need a Best Friend/Maybe More!Tony Stark cuddle

Pairing: Best Friend / Maybe More!Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Warnings: Like nothing, kinda angsty

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, breakups LOL

She wakes up screaming again. This is the ninth night in a row and she’s starting to think that the others are going to request to soundproof her room. She wouldn’t blame them. She would almost prefer they do that because at least then she won’t have to stop screaming when she wakes up. She can just keep going and finally run out of voice and then maybe— maybe— she won’t be able to say his name anymore.

She flips over, her hair plastered to the back of her neck, her stomach tossing like she’s on a roller coaster. She can’t tell if she wants to cry or throw up— she wants to scream at both choices. She wants to rip her hair out too but then she would be sad and bald and she can only do one of those things right now. She’s not deep enough in the spiral to chop it off yet— that’s a day twelve activity.

She settles on crying— like she even has a choice— and soon her room is filled with the sound of her heaving against a pillow that still smells too much like him. She tosses it— she whips it across the damn room and doesn’t flinch when she hears something shatter. It was nothing important, she knows that for a fact. She hopes it’s the picture of them.

She pulls her knees up, tucking them under her torso, praying the pressure will alleviate the bubbling in her stomach. It won’t— she’s only fooling herself. He’s not a cramp— it’s not food poisoning; it’s rage. It’s brain melting sadness. It’s every ‘Good morning beautiful’ and ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love—

No. Nope— not that one. She can’t think about that one. If she does then she might never stop— she might take a match to everything in this room, every piece of clothing in her closet, every mug in the kitchen that he ever touched. Where would she be then— stuff-less, clothes-less, and with every Avenger looking for a coffee mug pissed at her?

Yeah no— better to just not think about it. Better to just scream.

She squeezes her eyes closed— not like it matters, the room is pitch black anyway— and slams her fist against the mattress, letting the sting that rips up her arm ring louder than his name in her head. It only works for a moment before it’s back— louder and angrier than ever. Louder and angrier than her. His name in her head is a separate entity, haunting her skull like it’s a dilapidated mansion, trying to evict her from the endless halls of her own mind.

She bunches the blanket up, shoving it against her mouth and praying that it muffles the crazed roar that sheds from her lungs— like an animal being ripped apart, she can’t tell if she’s screaming for help or for something so much worse.

There’s a knock on the door and she freezes, her blood running ice cold. A few seconds tick by, her limbs and jaw glued into a tight position, tongue heavy and aching in her mouth. Her heart pounds hard in her chest— the entity knocking back to whoever’s at the door— there’s just no way.

“Would you open the door if I told you there are macaroons in my hand?” A collected, slightly sarcastic, familiar voice breaks through the wood barrier of her door.

Her shoulders drop, her throat closing slightly— it’s just Tony.

“I— erm—” she jumps off her bed quickly, stumbling in the dark until she finds the lamp on her desk, turning it on the the sight of her blasphemous pillow and the shattered remains of a purple mug— damn she overshot the pillow by an inch— “gimme’ a minute, ‘k?”

“You get five seconds — these walls are thick but Friday alerted me to the— and I quote— distressed wailing.”

Oh god of course she did— how could she forget about the damn AI? She presses her palms against her eyes, wicking away as much moisture as possible. She’s so tired— her bones feel like cement, her neck barely keeping her head screwed on let alone straight. She’s a mess and all she can do is chuck her pillow back on her bed and ignore the purple shards peeking out from behind her dresser. One thing at a time.

She pushes her lead bones to the door, trying not to wince as the light pours into her dim room. She blinks a few times, her eyelashes sticky and cheeks stiff, taking in the man in grey sweatpants and a worn MIT hoodie in front of her. She glances down and sure enough he has a mug of pistachio macaroons. A mug. How ironic.

She flicks her gaze to his face, blinking back another wave of tears when she sees the concern mingling with his coffee eyes. “Hey doll.”

She swallows, trying to clear her stinging throat. It doesn’t work, her voice still sounds like she’s been chain smoking since the ripe age of five years old. “Hey Tony.”

He raises a dark brow, eyes drawing down her front, and she shifts on her feet, wishing the hallway light would flicker out. She just knows her eyes are puffy and her hair a mess. Her t-shirt is definitely crumpled, hiding what she can only hope is shorts and not just a pair of panties, and she only has one sock on— she can feel it now, the hardwood like ice against her toes. Her face flushes with heat, fingers clasping awkwardly in front of her— she may as well have a sign flashing above her head. Heartbroken idiot.

For a moment they just stand there, eyes locked, daring the other to move or speak or do anything at all first. Finally Tony sighs, holding his arms out, shaking his head. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Get your butt over her— now.”

That’s all it takes for her to practically jump into his arms, throwing her weight against the man like a drowning woman would a life preserver. That’s kind of what he is. Her best friend— her life line. Any other time she would have been the one knocking on his door— kicking his door down is more like it— but he told her— he told her that he was no good and she didn’t listen. She wraps her arms around his neck, biting her lip hard enough to keep the tears from dripping down her face again. She missed him— she’s been missing him for months.

“He’s an idiot, doll.” Tony mumbles against her hair, arms circling her back and pressing her to him so tight that it feels like he’s trying to fuse their bodies together.

He smells like motor oil and coffee and her chest shakes from the contrast of the fire in her veins and the cool relief of finally going home. It feels like longer than months— it feels like years. She’s been walking on eggshells around him since she introduced her— now ex— boyfriend. They don’t fight— at least, they didn’t before. They’ve never had a reason to.

Not until him.

Warmth seeps from him, curling around her limbs. She presses her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent ingrained in his hoodie. He’s been wearing it for a few days, she can tell. If things were normal she would be tugging at the pocket, slipping her hands in and tangling them with his, tracing his knuckles with her thumbs. She’ll settle for this though— she’ll take anything.

“I’m the idiot.” She mutters dejectedly, fingers tugging on his hood, trying desperately to distract herself from how much she wants to scream again. “I thought, Tony— I— god I’m so stupid.”

Tony stiffens, chest like marble and pressing against hers so hard she can feel his heart beating against her practically bare skin— deadly calm but beginning to pick up.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice is gravelly, grinding his words against her ear.

His hold on her loosens and she panics, her own heartbeat spiking rapidly in her chest— what is he doing? Is he leaving? No, no, no he can’t leave! She locks her arms around his shoulders as he bends down, shaking her head, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks, hot and angry and desperate. “No please— don’t go I’m sorry— I’m— please don’t leave me.”

She’s incoherent, not even sure that the words coming out of her mouth make any sense at all but she has to at least try. He can’t leave— not now. She can take a broken heart, she can take one stupid man, she can take having a sockless foot and a head that feels like its caving in— she can’t take her best friend walking away and leaving her in this obscenely bright hallway to fend the light off by herself. If she loses her home she’s done for. “Tony no you can’t— you can’t go.”

She’s sobbing, chest heaving, and she just barely registers the soft clink of the mug settling against the floor before one of his arms is slipping under her thighs, hauling her toes off the floor. His other arm remains anchored around her back, fingers digging into her side to keep her from falling. The sudden motion makes her gasp— a watery, broken noise— her legs pushing around his hips and clinging for dear life.

“Hey—” his jaw rubs against her temple, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, stubble scratchy enough to regain her attention— “I’m here, doll. Right here— you honestly might be an idiot if you think I’m leaving you.”

She chokes out a laugh. It sounds more like a whimper— like she’s scrounging for the last drops of happiness in her for his sake. Probably because she is. She tightens her legs around his waist, socked ankle crossing over bare ankle, sucking in a deep breath as his thumb rubs circles on her ribcage.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” She sighs and his hand stills. “You were right.”

“Trust me— I wish I wasn’t.” His fingers crawl up her back, curling around the back of her neck, pushing the hair from her clammy skin.

The warmth of his skin on hers is like heaven and she tries to ignore the fact that he’s touching her while she’s a complete wreck. “You should hate me.”

His hand clamps harder around her skin, the sharp inhale he takes making his chest rise and push against hers. His fingers slip into her hair and he tugs gently, coaxing her to lift her head from shoulder. When she does she meets his determined, narrowed stare and his minute frown. Her heart clenches when she takes in the rest of his face, her gaze landing on the off purple bruises under his eyes, the tell tale sign that her best friend hasn’t been sleeping. It’s her fault— she knows it is.

He shakes his head, his brown hair ruffling slightly. “God, baby, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Her lip trembles, her stomach squeezing— baby. “Tony—”

His forehead drops, his damp skin meeting her own, nose bumping against hers, drawing up the bridge and then back down— she can’t breathe. “You’re an idiot if you think for a second that I could hate you. For anything let alone something so damn ridiculous.”

He laughs a breathy, frenzied sound, nose drawing along her cheekbone. She must be dreaming. That's the only explanation as to the sudden lack of oxygen in the hallway— the only explanation to the way her veins are thrumming like guitar strings being plucked. This can’t be real. She feels like she’s going to wake up any minute now, throat raw and chest aching twice as much.

She opens mouth— she has to say something— but he keeps going. “An idiot if you think I wouldn’t follow you to the other end of the earth. Of the galaxy. Here you are thinking I hate you because you dated a moron? Because, what, I told you not to? Big deal— you tell me not to do things all the time. That’s what we do, baby. We tell eachother not to do stupid things and then we don’t listen.”

He pulls back enough to take in her face, eyes drawing over the curve of her nose and the slope of her cheeks before landing back on hers. His stare is intense— demanding, like him— she wouldn’t be able to look away if she wanted to. That’s impossible though; she could stare at this man all day and not get bored. She thinks back to all those days in his workshop, watching him fiddle with his suits. What she wouldn’t give to be there now, legs curled under her and his MIT hoodie— the same one on him now— pulled over her, singing along to their playlist and passing him screwdrivers. Her chest squeezes at the thought— she can’t remember the last time she did that.

His hand in her hair tugs again and she forces herself to stay in the moment, watching his lips form the words first and then letting her ears catch up. “He was a tool and you’re too good for that, alright? That has nothing to do with us. Point blank, whatever, he has no effect on us. Okay?”

She nods, her nose bumping against his again, and for the first time all night— all week— it feels like she can breathe. “Okay.”

His chest sags under her, the tension in his shoulders releasing under her fingers. “Good. Don’t say stupid things. That’s my job.”

“You’re right.” She cracks a smile, one that feels too foreign but entirely familiar. “You can have it back.”

Tony’s brows push together, head pulling back, his own smile beginning to carve over his lips. “Have what back?”

“The title of world’s biggest idiot.”

Just like that she’s giggling, throwing her head back and letting the laughter pour out of her. It’s cathartic— it’s natural. Like a dam breaking, it’s fast and dangerous and exhilarating. Before she knows it he’s laughing too, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, chest shaking, and she’s digging her fingers into his hoodie to keep herself steady. They’re definitely waking up everyone else in the compound but she doesn’t care. She only throws herself closer to him, hugging him so tight that she’s practically falling over his back, legs locked high around his stomach.

He turns his face against her neck, mumbling his words into her skin. “Missed you, doll.”

Her fingers slip into his hair, toying with the soft strands and sighing. “Missed you more.”

Groaning, he straightens, re-securing his arm around her. He passes her another smile, this one softer, more in control. She pulls at his hair in return, earning a half-hearted eye roll and the reward of him sinking his head against her hands. She scratches at his scalp lightly, scrunching her nose and trying not to giggle again. Now that she’s started she can’t stop— that’s his real super power; leaving her in stitches.

“You think you’re ready to sleep again?”

She sobers at his question, shrugging. She already knows she’s not. The thought of going back to her room and having to sleep without a pillow again, alone, makes her blanche. She would rather not sleep at all then do that. She may as well go make a pot of coffee if that’s her option. The answer bubbles in her mouth— no.

No she is not ready— but she has to be. She has to be a big girl. Even if it means sleeping with the window open so that she can’t smell her sheets, even if it means freezing because the windows are open and she can’t use her blankets, even if she would rather be tucked under the covers of Tony’s bed like the old days when things were normal and she was happy.

But she can’t say that— can she?

“I guess— you gotta’ put me down though,” is what she finally settles on, trying to keep the disappointment from her words. It definitely doesn’t work but for the sake of her sanity she pretends it does.

He frowns— fully this time— blinking at her like she’s grown another head. “Uh no I don’t.”

He says it sarcastically— like she’s crazy for even suggesting such a thing— his face incredulous. It makes her heart spike, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s missing something.

“Tony, what are you talking—“

And then he turns, starting down the hall, starting towards his room, and she shuts her mouth. She’s not going to protest— she’s not risking her chance.

She’s not an idiot.

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || 9

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. through a few strange twists of fate, you’ve ended up living with the very boy who’d broken your heart. but, perhaps it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be. he is the perfect gentleman, after all.

warnings: f!reader, angst, swearing, a touch of spice? 

wc: 1.5k

m.list |  ch. 8 ↞ ch. 9 ↠ ch. 10

There was a knock on your door.

“What?” You yelled. Maybe you were being dramatic. But you certainly felt like you had the right to be.

“Can I talk to you?”

You bit your cheek. You didn’t have the emotional fortitude to look him in the eyes. But…

“Fine,” you sighed. “But you have to stay out there.”

“Okay.” He didn’t hesitate.

You sat up, sitting cross-legged on your mattress. “What do you want?”

There was an uneasy silence – the kind that made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

“You said I broke your heart.” You barely heard him. His voice was so low, so uncertain.

You didn’t know how to read his tone. Surprise? Regret? Confusion?

No. Fuck his feelings. He hadn’t given a damn about yours.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“I—”

“What did you think would happen when you kissed me and then told me to pretend it never happened?” Your voice was barely below a yell.

They were words fuelled by rage. Maybe you’d regret them in the morning. But in that moment, you didn’t give a shit.

“You knew I had feelings for you and you just—you just—” Your breath caught in your throat, choking you. You wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Hajime,” you hissed, the words dripping with vitriol.

You hadn’t thought it through. It was just what you felt; raw, honest, angry. It was a revelation to yourself just as much as it might be to him.

“I know.”

There was no frustration in his words. Just pure, simple acceptance.

“I was stupid.” His voice was almost illegible through the door. You knew that tone. It was the one he adopted whenever he was being sincere – something he struggled with outside of the odd frustrated outburst. “I… I should’ve talked to you about it instead of just making a decision for you.”

“Exactly.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, drawing your knees up to your chest.

Everything was so muddled. You’d been wanting to hear those words – you deserved those words.

You’d never known how to ask for them. If it hadn’t been for the weird tension tonight, you might never have heard them.

But were they worth it?

“I shouldn’t have behaved like that,” he said. “That was a mistake.”

“Good,” you sniffed.

In all honesty, you’d expected him to bite back after your outburst. He’s fiery, a tempest that’s easily stoked. But his words were so calm, so full of awareness.  

He’d been thinking about this for a while, hadn’t he?

The realisation gave you less satisfaction than you’d hoped.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said. He meant it. “If this… arrangement makes you uncomfortable, I’m happy to find somewhere else to live. And I’ll deal with finding you a new roommate.”

Your blood ran cold. What was he talking about?

How was that his solution to this problem?

“I… I’m angry with you,” you admitted. “But… but I don’t want to stop living with you.”

The weight of the contradiction burned through your skull. Honestly, you’d been angry with him for a while. The resentment had never really dissipated. Not as much as you’d believed it had.

But it was like he’d been trying to make up for everything since the beginning. Or, maybe he’s just a good guy. That in itself seemed like an apology.

God, why’d he have to go and be so likeable?

“Look, Hajime, I…” What did you even want to say? What could you say? “I… I… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time.”

You sighed, stretching your legs out and flopping back on your mattress.

It felt like you were supposed to say something.

But there was too much to say. And yet, there was too little.

“If you want to talk, let me know,” Iwaizumi said after a long moment.

The sound of footsteps faded away, leaving you with an uncomfortable silence.

He was gone.

You bit your cheek, clenching your fists at your sides.

How could everything go to shit so quickly?

All he’d done was act a bit bratty. Well, ‘bratty’ was an understatement. He’d been acting like a little shit.  

But had it really warranted your outburst?

If you asked Amaya, she’d say ‘yes, absolutely!’ She’d probably tell you that you’d gone soft on him. Maybe she was right.

But it felt like there was more nuance to it. Or, maybe you just wished that was the case.

He’d apologised.

He’d said he regretted treating you the way he had back then.  

But he hadn’t said he regretted kissing you.

Albeit, maybe that wasn’t on his mind. But it felt like an important omission. He hadn’t said “I shouldn’t have done it,” or “I regret it.” The act itself wasn’t the problem.

It could be wishful thinking. You wanted him to not regret kissing you. Especially when the two of you were getting so close. Especially when you could feel your resolve to not fall into the same trap as two and a half years ago crumbling away.

And he’d been jealous. Of Kohei.

Jealous.

Did that mean…

You sat up, swinging your legs off the bed and planting your feet on the ground.

Your heart was thrumming in your chest, an insatiable, excited rhythm that you felt all through your body. It was like your brain was pulsing, a whirlwind of thoughts rushing through.

Were you sweating? Everything was so confusing, so real and yet so unbelievable, a cacophony of confusion and—

Your feet moved before you could register it.

There you were, standing in front of his room. What did you want to say? What did you want to do?

Your mind was blank. You were running on pure instinct and nothing else.

A knock on his door.

“Hey, Hajime?” You called.

“Hm?” His response didn’t give much away.

“Can I come in?”

A very long silence.

“Sure.”

Your hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment, nervous. For what, you weren’t sure.

You took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

He’s laid out on his bed in the lamplight, the warm glow cast flatteringly across his face.

You bit your lip, your mind racing with a myriad of jumbled thoughts that you were too tired to decipher.

“I… want to try something,” you swallowed, clenching your fists.

Iwaizumi frowned, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Deep breaths, you thought.

It was a stupid idea. A reckless one. But it’d buried itself deep, seeping into your bones.

You walked over to him slowly, each step its own ordeal. You stopped in front of him, an arm’s length away.

“You can say no,” you murmured.

Confusion rippled across Iwaizumi’s face as his eyebrows drew together.

His expression reflected exactly how you felt. But it was too late to back out now; that would only confuse things even more.

You cupped his face with trembling hands.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he gazed up at you, the confusion crumbling away to reveal something else. Something vulnerable.

He didn’t move away. You lingered for what felt like an eternity, but he didn’t pull back, didn’t tell you to stop.

He didn’t say no.

You swallowed roughly, your heart beating so hard you felt like it might burst through your chest.

This was stupid. Unbelievably stupid.

But you leant forward.

His eyes fluttered shut.

And you kissed him.

It was gentle, even reserved. But it was a kiss.

Warm, soft, gentle. Those were the only words to describe it. Iwaizumi leant into it, sending a jolt through your body. It was more a question than a kiss; a challenge, even. Nothing else mattered. Just this moment. This gesture.

You drew back slowly, finally ending the kiss. Iwaizumi leant forward with you for a moment, as if he didn’t want it to end.

He was staring at you with half-lidded eyes, his cheeks flushed red. You bent down to his ear, letting your lips brush against the shell.

“Do you want to pretend that never happened?” You whispered, the heat emanating from him almost overwhelming.

A moment of excruciating silence.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you forward onto his lap. You buckled against him, grabbing his shoulders in an effort to stabilize yourself.

You blinked at him, your bravado dissipating as you realised just how close you were.

He was staring again, his eyes glinting with something close to hunger.

Was he waiting for permission? Rejection?

He plunged forward, capturing your lips in a rough, eager kiss. You gasped, digging your fingers into his shoulders. That was different.

“Fuck no,” he growled against your lips, his hands sliding from your hips to your back.

You sighed, leaning into him.

This was what you’d wanted all along. Being friends with him was fine. Nice, even.

But there was no way you and Iwaizumi could be ‘just friends’.

You wanted all of him.

And he was eager to give it to you.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: if i change my mind and delete this... you didn’t see anything

[0poole]

I LOVE No Straight Roads

Honestly it’s hard to keep me away from a game with great visuals and even greater character design. I knew from the INSTANT I saw these characters that I was going to love it. I just finished it because it’s (unfortunately) pretty short, and even though I cheesed the final boss through it’s very lenient death mechanics (Instant respawn at the cost of a good rank) I actually appreciated that it wasn’t a pure cake walk. I’ve yet to rematch all of the bosses, but since I had genuine trouble with the later ones I’ll hold off on that.

But who cares about gameplay, am I right? I sure as hell don’t. I would’ve bought the game no matter what the hell it was. I wanted the characters (and the music, although I realized that second) and that was it. 

First of all, I love any world that is super fantastical but cheesy in its concept, ala a city powered by music, and battles between artists using music. Ideas like this only spawn from a mind that wants to create a fun atmosphere, if nothing else, and it was sure as hell fun. I genuinely love when someone goes so far into a crazy idea and doesn’t waste your time explaining it with real world logic. Wanna know how a city can be powered by music? Shut up and look at the cute virtual mermaid. Lord knows I did. Every once in a while, it does you good to just let the player/reader/viewer just revel in the idea without having to go out of your way to make things seem realistic. It’s not about “turning your brain off” or whatever, it’s picking your battles.

Also, I can seriously love a world with great background characters to it. Any game with the right situation to insert the random nobodies you find onto the streets into the art in the credits really played into the greatness of the world’s less important characters, and that’s always a good thing. It’s technically world building. But, since I always love to pick favorites, I’d have to say my favorite background character is easily Mia, the NSR infodesk assistant. It’s funny, because you can literally search “nsr characters” into Google and she’s the third image result. I love how jumpy she is when you first interact with her, since NSR probably spread the word about B2J suggesting they’re rock thugs who’d beat up anyone, so for all she knows she could die right then and there with a guitar lodged in her skull. She’s probably just some intern trying to pay for college. She don’t want trouble.

Also, I just realized that 90% of the characters in this game have the same body structure that I always love, that being having arms/legs that sort of fan out in width into relatively large hands/feet. It’s a kind of limb structure I fall into so much because it just really hits me right for some reason. I really can’t explain why.

Anyways, I gotta talk about the big boys individually:

Mayday and Zuke are an amazing duo. I’m always a sucker for a cute and crazy girl, but honestly Zuke hit so many of the right notes too. I will say it’s weird to pair the martian Zuke with the humanly-skinned Mayday, but honestly it doesn’t even matter because he looks so cool on his own. I love his weird blocky blue dreadlocks, and his weirdly shaped shirt which bares his chest in the weirdest way... And, oh my god, Mayday’s weird Spongebob background flower eyes? It’s little tidbits like that that really make me jealous. How could I have ever thought of that? It looks so perfect, and I don’t know why. And her little booty jig she does in her idle animation? Adorable. I played as her as much as was reasonable not only because I’m a filthy button masher with little strategy but also because she’s so damn cute. I can also appreciate how she has a tough-as-nails persona while still keeping a semi-girly attitude, like with her falling for 1010 and Sayu. Characters are so much better when they’re a perfect blend of characteristics, instead of being all one-note, like how Zuke is the quiet one but gets heated against DK West, and all. 

Honestly the voice acting for every character is great, but I love when Mayday’s VA’s accent shows through. It’s a perfect twang to accent (consider this the only acknowledgement of a pun in this post) her snarkiness. 

DJ Subatomic Supernova was going to be an easy favorite since he’s all space-themed. Also, I don’t know why I always end up liking the egotistic characters. Not in the sense that I like their egotistic-ness, but in the sense that I like everything else about them and they just so happen to also be egotistic. The same applied with Empoleon (maybe like my 2nd favorite Pokemon) and Rarity from MLP, probably among others. Either way, I’ll never not love space themes. Not to mention he’s got a funky disco theme, and I’m slowly starting to realize that I am in extreme love with techno-funk styles of music. The instant I heard his music he cemented his place into my playlists. 

As for design, I still have no idea what the fuck he is. Clearly AI is at human levels in this world, but if he’s a robot why does he still have hairy legs? But, if he’s a human, is that weird orb his head? Is it just some sort of puppet which he controls from inside his giant jacket? I know I dissed explaining things realistically but I actually want to know with this guy. Even the wiki doesn’t say. Either way, he’s clearly the logical extreme of “being at the center of your own universe.” Even his jacket depicts a solar system, with his hood being the sun. Didn’t see that until I tried to draw him. I really wish this guy wasn’t so tied to his DJ stand so I could reasonably draw him without it. I don’t want to draw his hairy ass legs. It is a great touch for his design though (although I prefer his beta look with pants and long boots, another design trait I tend to gravitate to) since DJs could reasonably not wear pants, since they’re always behind a table.

Sayu is my favorite. It’s so plainly obvious. It’s weird to say that sometimes, because some characters like Sayu are so clearly engineered to be as adorable as possible, to the point where they’re basically a parody of whatever they’re supposed to be emulating, but then they do that so well that they are still likable for what they’re trying to parody. Also, even though I’ve never looked into any vocaloid superstars myself, the fact that they exist and are loved in real life is absolutely perfect to be used as a character design in a world like this. It’s so weird conceptually, but we all know it’s normal and realistic. But yeah, she’s a giga-cutie whom I’ve already drawn and I’ve listened to her theme on loop on many different occasions. Favorite character, favorite track, favorite weapon of choice (What did I say about Empoleon?), which, and I wouldn’t have noticed this myself, looks like the USB symbol you see above USB ports on computers. How crazy perfect is that?

Even apart from my unbridled love for cute monster robot(?) girls, her boss fight is probably the 2nd greatest of them all, at least conceptually. She’s just a hologram, so you can’t touch her, but you CAN disconnect the artists which control her in order to defeat her. It’s the kind of concept for a boss fight that could only work for this type of character. I’m a sucker for the cute girl that provides her voice, but I love how the animator (video editor? the yellow one) actually attacks you with a mouse and lowers the brightness of the setting once he appears. Also, the mocap guy being the deeply-voiced type but still providing the adorable movements of her body. It’s such a great combo of characters, and their little extra art in the credits makes me like them even more. I just wish we could interact with them individually.

DK West was probably one of the most interesting characters visually, especially since I knew of every other NSR member long before the game came out, but I only just heard of him closer to the release. I wasn’t sure where he was placed, but I definitely assumed his gig was the weird shadow demon we saw in the trailers. When I finally saw him in game, I was shocked to hear him speak an entirely different language most of the time, which was really cool. Also, finding out he was tied to Zuke and wasn’t strictly an NSR artist really made him more interesting. You know, if his fucking shadow clone magic didn’t make him crazy cool enough. Even though I suck at his game and am not especially fond of his raps, the visual of him rapping with this giant monster behind him and dozens of weird shadow wingmen by his side hyping him up was probably one of the coolest in the entire game. The dark way they were hyping him up too gave such a bizarre atmosphere, especially since it parallels his seemingly chill and smiley demeanor. 

I definitely hope they’ll introduce new bosses as DLC in the future, and make them sort of in the same vein as DK West, where they aren’t the biggest artists ever, but they want to pick a fight with B2J. I’d kill for any extra content this game can provide.

Yinu is obviously special since she was the subject of the demo they put out for the game. Even though I knew all her bells and whistles, she and her mom still beat me a few times in the full game. Considering she’s semi-tied to story-ish spoilers I kinda want to go more into her in a separate section. It is worth considering playing the game first since it’s not hard (with the easy going deaths) and it’s short length.

1010 seriously grew on me as I learned more about them and interacted with them. I got their shtick when I first looked at them, but after seeing that animation of them touring the city on Youtube I was kinda falling for them. Then, I learned that they’re apparently repurposed navy war robots? I mean, maybe not them specifically, but it seems to heavily point in that direction, with the warship cars and “attention!”s and all. It took me a bit to get into their music too, but once I actually fought them and put their actions to the music I fell in love with it. I swear, Neon J’s weird dancing can has some of the smoothest moves in all of gaming. I don’t know whether they mocapped out those movements or got one of the greatest animators ever, but it looks so impossibly clean his part of the song gets me like 30x more hype than it would normally. 

Also, their little art piece of them looking at fan mail in the credits is probably one of the most adorable things ever. Even if they’re just Neon J’s puppets, that piece of art really makes it seem like they love every one of their fans. I’m not gonna lie, I might swoon a bit too if they picked me out and gave me some special attention.

Oh yeah, and the fact that Mayday was super sad in her showstopper against them was adorable and hilarious at the same time. The little tweaks they made to the showstopper for each fight were great.

Eve just has to be Lady Gaga, right? Like, an even crazier Lady Gaga. DJSS is Daft Punk (or any artist with a helmet persona, you know what I’m talking about), Sayu is Hatsune Miku, DK West is Kanye West, Yinu is a generic child protege, 1010 is a KPop boyband (just pick one) and Eve is Lady Gaga. That’s just how things are. But, again, this is the kind of boss fight that only this type of character could provide. It’s not just surreal imagery, it’s ARTISTIC surreal imagery. The fight is so mesmerizing in every way, especially by how it starts off so slow and calm and progresses to insanity, as well as the increased emotional investment in the fight making you feel so much more into it than just “That’s the boy band. Let’s fight.” Not only does it get you more invested, but it makes her artistic persona go deeper than just “she looks weird.” She is genuinely conflicted about her relationship with Zuke, and naturally that leads her to literally split him and Mayday apart. That mechanic specifically was the coolest, although I do wish they made it more obvious when you needed to switch over to a different side. I was getting pulverized by her fight too, since there were so many things to pay attention to. Her fight was definitely the best one. 

Tatiana and Spoilers:

Let’s be real with ourselves, the twist was so obvious. I do also think, though, that obvious twists aren’t bad if they’re just good reveals. At some point, a person just has experienced so many stories that “only pretty good” twists are easy to spot. It doesn’t mean that the twists are bad, it just means you yourself experienced.

I feel like her transition from rock to EDM was pretty understandable, even as a non-musician. She was so caught up in what she assumed was popular that it basically consumed her. It’s easy as an artist to want to forgo what you truly want to make in favor of what makes you popular, and clearly since her transition to EDM made her the CEO of the biggest company in the city (world?) that probably made her think she truly needed to change her outlook. Then, when she saw B2J try to bring it back, she sort of coined them as being as misguided as she was and knocked them down a peg. Plus, they were kinda being jerks about it.

It’s kinda like the Trolls sequel, where everyone pegs rock music fanatics as being too stuck up in their own heads to appreciate other types of music, which honestly seems more like the case than the alternative. When I first heard of the story of the game, I was seriously hoping they did put an asterisk on B2J’s ambitions because they were a bit sketchy from the start. 

That’s kinda where I want to talk about Yinu, because she was the true turning point in what they were doing. She’s literally 9 and yet she’s getting dragged into all this BS. When she said “I hate you all” at the end of her fight, and played a somber tune on her broken piano after the fight destroyed it, you kinda got a kick in the face to realize you’re kinda being an asshole to some of them. Sure, they fight back, but they wouldn’t fight in the first place if they didn’t have to. They are just people who play music under a joint name that B2J just so happened to get in hot water with. 

Then, of course, there’s Kliff, who also reeked of surprise villain, and who’s basically the embodiment of the bad side of B2J, where he just wanted to destroy for his own sake and not for the actual greater good. Once B2J realized their mistake, they backed off, but Kliff was so hard pressed to do what he planned on in the first place he wouldn’t stop. I kinda wish he got a bigger fight to his own since he’s clearly a big enough tech genius to divert a whole satellite into one specific building. Maybe the Elliecopter chase bit was his thing, but I do kind of wish he was there to fight against them too.

Even though Tatiana did kind of reform a bit quick, It’s still not too crazy to assume she could see that B2J was just misguided and the fact that they worked to revert their wrongdoings for her sake would make a pretty strong impressions. They clearly can hold their own, so it’s not like she wouldn’t want them to join NSR too. 

Oh yeah, and her boss fight was clock/time themed. If there’s a theme under space that I love, it’s clocks/time. 

And If I am to be respected by the internet, I must provide a negative opinion to balance out my positive one. I will say that the character model physics (like Mayday’s braids, DK West’s vest thing, Neon J’s fluffy neck thing, etc) got kinda funky at times. Especially DK West’s vest, which was completely messed up for every scene he was in... Also, even though the voices are mostly great, some lines felt a bit off. Just a bit. That good enough? Good.

But yeah anyway that’s another favorite game to add to the pile. Eventually I’m gonna have to compile a true list of my all-time favorite games/movies because I do kind of want to have a solid idea of what my all-time favorites are.

[bloodxbat]

(Part 1) Triple W Mafia George x Fem! Y/N series

Warnings: Swearing! that’s it really (unless I've missed something then please let me know)

Word Count: 2,174

Summary:  George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back...his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist 

The lights were dim in the what looked like to be an old bar room, the red hue coming from the red lamp shades hitting the walls. Smoke from cigars fogging up the top half of the room barely keeping the floor below visible. At each table there were groups of men, all sitting in perfectly tailored suits, sipping on their glasses of whiskey, laughing and having a good time. At the back of the room however, sat one man, alone. His elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his finger brushing over his top lip as if he were deep in thought. His other hand held the same glass as every other man in the bar, lazily not caring if it were to fall and smash everywhere.

The man, George Weasley, a tall ginger man who’s eyes were the dark but kind shade of brown. Although seemingly intimidating, George had a kind heart, if he seen someone being attacked or robbed in the street, everyone would end up feeling bad for the attacker by the time George was finished with him. He had no time for the scum who go out of their way to make someone else’s life a living hell in order for them to feel a small, temporary taste for a God complex.

George had only recently taken over the title of the Triple W Mafia Boss, when his father Arthur had decided it was his time to retire and pass over the family ‘business’ to one of his sons. George was one of 6 sons and one daughter within the Weasley family. His identical twin brother Fred was technically supposed to become the next Mafia boss, as he was the older twin. But, he had decided that his brother George was more fit to the job than he was. So, George gratefully took over the role and appointed Fred and his younger brother Ron, to be his sort of ‘Body Guards’ although, of course George was far from needing any form of help when it came to beating or killing a criminal, it was still always good to have a little back up sometimes.

“Hey Georgie, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do about these damn Death Eaters?”

George sat, not moving, deep in thought. ‘What was he going to do about those Death Eaters?’ He has no where to start, the bastards are constantly on the run. He was determined to find their whereabouts however, as they had stolen something very precious to him, his mother’s necklace. The Weasley family heirloom.

-

In a room that was very clearly abandoned and covered in moss and mould, sat groups of men and some women in black cloaks with peculiar pointed hoods. These people, in contrast to that of which the Triple W members, appeared extremely intimidating. The members of Triple W were intimidating,  but these were the sort of people no one would want to encounter in the streets, day or night. There was no smoke from cigars in this small dingy room, there was however and eye watering stench, that was so strong some of the Death Eaters swore they seen a slight foggy green haze floating around the room.

All cloaked members were sitting in a circle all surrounding their leader Tom Riddle, or as he likes to call himself ‘Voldemort’. A tall man (not as tall as George) with black, short curly hair. He wasn’t wearing a cloak like his ‘followers’ but was wearing something that looked more like a bath robe, it was all black of course to fit in with the rest. All were listening in carefully to what he was saying, all apart form Y/N Greyback, daughter of Fenrir Greyback, a man who is considered very high up in the Death Eater mafia. She was sat in the corner, wearing a contrasting blood red dress that hugged all of her curves perfectly. Her Y/H/C hair was curled at the ends in neat ringlets, and she had some makeup on but not too much so she looked ‘dolled up’.

“We all know that the Triple W are cowering out in some fancy old bar, trouble is we don’t know where, I’ve had a few out scouting round the area, unfortunately they have all been caught” Riddle speaks out gesturing and engaging with his followers.

“What do you suggest we do then sir?” Said Fenrir who was sitting right next to where Riddle was parading around the room.

“I say we send out our most valuable member, of course, real them in, make them vulnerable” he smirked

“You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes, but I do, your daughter shall make excellent bate my dear friend, for she wears what Weasley most desires” Riddle finishes

Y/N too busy sat in the corner reading an old book, didn’t even notice that every Death Eater members eyes were on her, all smiling to themselves.

This may actually work, if we send out Y/N who is wearing that incredibly expensive looking, diamond necklace, it may just lure the idiot ginger straight to us” Fenrir laughed.

So their plan was set, send Y/N as bait and hopefully George would follow.

-     George still hadn’t moved from the position he was sat in, he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink, his eyes focussed and barely ever blinking. He was seemingly ignoring every person who tried to get a word out of him for some sort of plan to take down their Rival mafia. Sure he had killed a lot of spies they had sent out, but he was getting absolutely no leads on where exactly they were coming from, Riddle was smarter than he thought. It seemed he had Death Eaters coming from all over the country in all different directions and disguises. George had to find some way in order to track down where exactly they were based.

The sounds of other members arguing, specifically Fred and Ron who were standing right next to where George was sat, started to sound like a horrible ringing noise, it was driving him insane, how could he concentrate when these buffoon’s were yelling nonsense at each other.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP” He yelled now getting up from his seat and walking to the middle of the smoky room.

“I can’t fucking think when you’re all fighting and arguing with each other on what we’re going to do. I am very aware that those bastards are close to finding us, alright? They’ve gained more members in the past few months than I can count on my two hands. Problem is, they’re coming from all over the country, there is no set direction from where they’re all coming from, meaning that they aren’t coming from their base. This brings us to our next problem, what we’re going to do about it. The only thing I can suggest right now, which I believe may actually be our only two options, is either we leave and find a new base OR we send out multiple people all round the general area of here just outside the boarders of this town where the forests are. Each mile will have two of our members, armed and ready to capture and interrogate anyone that comes from outside the town. This includes anyone who seems innocent to the eye I.e. a mother and child as we all know by now there are families who have been a part of the Death Eaters for years, long enough for them to welcome their children. If you see a mother and child however, you of course don’t attack them straight away, you take them for questioning and more importantly, you look for that damn skull snake monstrosity that they all have tattooed on their left forearm.”

George stands looking between each of his guys trying to gauge what they were thinking by their faces.

“So what’s it to be? Hands up if you think we should move”

No one put their hands up and George smiled knowing that everyone in Triple W are too loyal to the town of Diagon to even consider leaving.

“Good choice boys, now” he rubs his hands together “who’s volunteering to be part of the watch team?”

- Y/N couldn’t believe her ears when she heard the plan to trick Triple W into following her back to the Death Eaters. She also had no idea that the beautiful silver diamond necklace that hung lazily round her neck was the stolen Weasley heirloom.

The actions of her family disgusted her, she knew that what they stood for and what they were doing was wrong, but putting her in harms way all over a stupid rivalry, AND tricking her into thinking that the necklace she had was a gift. She felt so stupid for believing them, Y/N had no options but to accept that she was going to have to go along with their horrendous plan and bait George and other members of Triple W into following her back into her family and Riddle’s evil grasp.

“Perfect” Riddle smiled grimly when Y/N accepted

“But of course, we can’t just lure them in, in one mere night, no, you have to spread this out over the course of a few days. Have him become intrigued by you, follow you a little while. You’ll be staying in a place called the Leaky Cauldron, don’t let him see you in there, it’ll blow your cover. Make sure he only sees you walking through the streets. Got it?”

Y/N tentatively nodded her head

“Good, and then, when the time is right, you’ll lead him straight here. We’ll be in communication with you, don’t let me down”

Y/N shakily made her way to Diagon, bags packed and the necklace still hanging round her neck. She had since changed into a black, silk dress, helping the bright silver of the necklace stand out against the dark colour of her clothes, further, of course to draw George Weasley’s attention.

Once she had settled into her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she was given specific instruction to make sure she wondered round the street at night, as that is most likely when Triple W members will come out from wherever they were hiding.

Y/N took a step out into the cold crisp night air, her heels click clacking off the stone pavements. She couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the town, cobblestone roads winding all through it, the windows on each building slightly askew but somehow didn’t seem out of place. It was as if she were walking through an old victorian town.

Snapping her thoughts back to the task at hand, she pulled her black shawl over her shoulders more and continued to wander aimlessly round, trying to find some form of clue as to were Triple W were hiding.

- George was more than satisfied with the outcome of the meeting they had today. He had 40 people on a list to keep watch each mile surrounding Diagon, meaning that all 20 miles would be covered. They all had their instructions ingrained into their heads and were ready to get to work the next day. Fred and Ron as usual would stay within Diagon with George, communicating to those who were out surrounding the area getting updates and passing round information. George had also decided to send a few extra spies out, including his younger sister Ginny to be on the look out for any Death Eater members who may still be lurking round the town.

George, Fred and Ron made their way out of the old bar room, and onto the streets. George made sure that they each had means of contacting each other. Fred whom George would normally live with, agreed that they each should have their own flats or place to stay in order to cover more of Diagon, and therefore be more accessible to those out in the forest. With their last goodbyes and a few phone calls to book places to stay, the three brothers separated all going in opposite directions.

George headed down the street, his hands becoming slightly red from the cold, and he could see his breath in the air. The dim orange streetlights barely lighting up the path as he walked past the old crooked houses and shops.

Just a George turned the corner he bumped into someone, a woman, dressed in a black dress and shawl.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, these damn street lights barely light up 2 feet in front of you. Are you alright” George asked looking into her eyes with worry

“I’m perfectly fine, sir, thank you” she smiled back and walked away

But George followed her with his eyes, more specifically he followed her neck, because what was hanging from it made him do a double take. He knew those diamonds from anywhere, they way they glistened brightly in every light. Was that, his mother’s stolen necklace?

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[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #11

Prompts:

74. Rome

46. "Hold me just a little longer."

15. Tackle Hug

Rook Hunt x Reader

Summery: The Gods are waging war and you wait for your God to come back patiently. But, when the war leaks into the mortal realm, will he be able to get to you in time?

TW: Blood; Violence; Threats; Religious Themes (very loose)

Word Count: 1,594

A note from Fel: This one, I've had done for over a damn week??? Like, I love Rook to death and my girlfriend really likes this one so like * high fives self * ALSO I LOW KEY WANT TO DO A SERIES WITH THIS??? IT'S JUST- I HAD SO MUCH FUN (if y'all want to send in any requests centered around this, you will own my whole H E A R T)

It had been a long time since he had waved to you, walking off into the forest, his bow slung over his shoulder with his quiver of arrows hanging from his hip. You had watched as the shadows devoured your god that night.

The seasons had changed and yet the angry clouds, rumbling with thunder lingered throughout each of them. Now, a thin frost had covered the fields, leaving you to shiver and pull your shawl closer to you. You stood at the start of the forest, the looming trees acting as a wall. You grip your basket tight in your arms, shifting the dried meat and the few fruits and cheeses you managed to save, the loaf of bread still warm. Your friends had tried to tell you not to go- told you that the gods would not be back for a long time. The war in their world was too important. You knew that. You knew that the first time a shower of red poured down on you and the fields you were tending to. You had watched as your neighbors fields faded, still hesitant to pray to lord Epel for good harvests. And, yet, you couldn’t just give up- not on your god, not on the one who so gently took your hand that night and saved you from the bandits who had burned your village to the ground; who burned your family to a crisp.

“You have no need to fear,” he had said to you, picking you up in his arms and cradling your head close to his heart. “I will protect you no matter what, for you looked up to me and asked for me to save you, Mon Clair de Lune.”

He had taken you to this village, where the gods held a special spot for the people- giving you the home closest to the forest. He had asked you if you knew how to draw a bow and you told him you did. You think that’s when the two of you truly connected.

The laughs and shrieks of joy as he would chase you around the fields and trees just to wrap his arms around your waist were memories you held dear to you everytime he went back into the forest to answer Lord Vil’s calls (no one could deny Venus his wishes).

“I will be back, Mon Clair de Lune. Je t'aime.” He whispered into your hair, running his hands along the expanse of your back.

It had made you nervous when he was hesitant to let go, like he was afraid he wasn’t going to come back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and cheeks before turning and waving with a soft smile.

You sigh, another shiver shot through you as the wind picked up. Your eyes squeezing shut and you blow a breath of white air out from your lips. Maybe you’d see if Ace (you refused to call him Lord Ace, you were much too close for that by now) could dial down on the winds- though it might not even be him dictating these winds for once.

You sigh, turning to go back to your home when you hear a strange gurgling noise to your side. You furrow your brow- it almost sounds like a creek, you think as you turn to see where the noise was coming from. There, off in the distance, a black mass pulsated and writhed. You felt yourself go stiff as it jerked to and fro, red dots rolling around the expanse of its flesh until they finally pointed forward to look at you. The basket in your hands dropped as you turned to dash somewhere away from the village, as you hear flesh tearing and a bone rattling shriek leave from somewhere behind you.

You rush past the fruit fields and through the flower beds, praying that Jack could forgive you as you feel the delicate stems crunch beneath your foot. The sound of thundering steppes racing behind you causes a ball to form in your throat, pushing yourself to run faster and faster.

You had hit the creek, the bottoms of your wool pants and boots frigid in the rush of cold water as you slosh through it. You’re almost to the other side when you stop: yellow eyes stare at you through the leaves of the bushes. The shrieking comes to a stop behind you and you look over your shoulder to see the black mass staring past you as you turn back. The eyes had moved, now well above the branches of the tree, you can make out long arms, veins straining underneath skin, and white teeth glinting in the light of the early morning sun.

You nearly begin to rush up stream when a voice says, “I wouldn’t.”

You freeze, looking back at the pair of eyes to see a long snout peeking out from the bushes.

It’s mouth smiles, showing off sharpened fangs, as it steps further into the light. It towers over you, hunching over as it pushes branches out of the way. “You look delicious- all of the humans here do.” It hums to itself as it takes more heavy steps towards you. “Maybe it’s because you all have been blessed by the gods-” it throws its’ head back to release a wheezy laugh- “the ones that left you to fight a war they won’t win.”

“The gods will win.” You’re surprised with how much confidence you say it, but you try not to let it show as you watch it tilt it’s wolf-like head to the side.

“Not if you are all dead. Gods have nothing without their worshippers, you know?”

You shiver from the mix of the cold water and the realization, crinkling your nose at the smell of rotten meat and old blood that wafts from it’s hulking body. You look up at it, glaring. “Do-” you almost gag at the smell and it almost seems to laugh- “do not doubt the strength of the gods. They’ll come back to us and they will save us no matter what.”

“You put so much stock into them, human.” It crouched on its haunches, sliding a hand under your trembling chin. “So cute and delicate.” You can hear the other behind you shuffle, grunts and wheezes following its movements. The other in front of you laughs again as it watches your gaze begin to shift. “Do not take your eyes off of me.” Your eyes stare at it, swirling with a dread that it finds positively delectable. “I will take your head without you realizing it.”

Your vision began to grow glassy as its maw stretched wide; hot, humid breath, that smelled of rot, hitting your face as a row of giant teeth showed itself to you. You clasp your hands together, praying with all your might, with every ounce of your soul, that Rook would come and save you. That your huntsman would come and shoot down the beasts that wished to devour you.

Just like that night when he had first saved you.

"Si ma lune prie pour que je vienne, je le ferai.”

The creature screamed in pain, the sheer volume shaking your bones and piercing deep into your skull. It shoved you away, your body falling under the frigid stream of the water. You hear a muffled scream from above as you break the surface of the water. You gasp as you suck in air, dragging yourself to the side of the bank where Rook rushes to meet you.

You're leaning on your elbows as you catch your breath when Rook’s body barrels into yours, knocking you back with a loud ‘oof!’ coming from you. His face nestles into your neck and you swear you feel him tremble. “R- Rook?” You wrap your arms around him, running them along his back to see for any wounds. “Are-” you breathe out a cold breath- “are you ok?”

He’s muttering in that tongue he adores so much (French- you remember him calling it), squeezing you tighter.

“Rook?”

“Hold me just a little while longer.”

You freeze, your eyes blurring with tears at his tone: devoid of everything carefree and casual. He sounded like he was in pain. You wrap your arms tighter around him, burying your face into his neck.

“I am so sorry, Mon Clair de Lune. I should have come sooner.” He pulled away, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his green eyes glassy. “Were you afraid?”

You blink, trying to keep the tears from spilling over your bottom lashes. “I was.” You close your eyes. “But, I knew you would come for me. I knew the gods wouldn’t abandon us.”

He laughs, soft and tired. “You are too important for me to let you die so easily.”

“And I will not die so easily as long as you will it.” The quiet that settles between you two is gentle and you can’t bring yourself to want to leave his embrace despite the cold of your wet clothes seeping into your skin and making your bones ache. You open your eyes to look into his. “Is… Is this truly going to be a war?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’ll stay by your side. No matter what.”

“And I shall protect you no matter what, Mon Clair de Lune.”

He presses his lips against yours and you let yourself melt into it, holding onto the last semblance of peace that may allow you rest for a long time.

<The Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!