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[rbfclassy]

STILL IN LOVE! #7 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Toji stood in the empty living room, the light illuminating from the television as it played some random show that you were watching before he came. It’s been so long since the last time he was here, at least that’s what it felt like. Nothing really changed for the most part, still the same decor, the layout still the same. He couldn’t help but notice the set of fresh roses that sat on your dining room table, paired with a detailed glass vase. He already had his guesses on who gave them to you.

Toji looked over his shoulder towards the corridor that led to the bedrooms, you were still busy helping Naya wash up. He walked over to the table, fingertips gently touching the delicate petals. There was still regret and jealously that bubbled in Toji’s chest. When it came to you, he was selfish, never thought in a million years he’d lose you once he had you. That was his problem. With each longing look at the roses, it reminded him of when he did have you, the beginning of things. He used to buy you flowers just for the hell of it, buy you small trinkets he knew you’d like, addicted to your smile when he’d handed them to you. But like almost everything in this world, things fall apart.

Those moments turned into him coming home while you were in the kitchen, eating dinner with Naya and Megumi, not even glancing your way. Not a word to you or his kids all because of an argument you had before he left for work that morning. Of course he regrets it all now, when it’s too late for something to be done and said. It’s cliche, but it was true.

His eyes flickered towards the small card by the roses, his jaw clenched as he grabbed it, slowly opening it to read:

Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman — Kento

“Hey.” The sound of your voice snapped Toji out of his thoughts, quickly placing the card down and facing you. “The kids are, uh, asleep.” You nodded.

“Should we talk here or?” Toji cleared his throat, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“Bedroom should be fine.” As you walked down the corridor, Toji followed behind you. There was still that picture of you and the kids on the wall, the one that he took when you all went to the water park. It was a bittersweet moment, but he’s glad that you still had it up despite the memory that came with it.

He shut the bedroom door behind him as you stood in the middle of the room. “So, you wanted to talk about the kids and us?”

“Yeah, I just want us to find a level placement where we can co-parent healthily. You know…where we don’t fight and argue every time we talk to each other,” you explained with a slight chuckle. “I just want better communication. Like if you can’t or can take the kids, if you’ll be going to their school events or something.” You fiddled with your hands.

Toji stared at you even while you avoided eye content with him. He took notice you how you played with your hands too, something you always did when you were anxious, thinking about things. He could tell something else was on your mind. Something else was on his mind too.

“What I’m saying is, I just think we should strictly keep communication minimal. Just about our kids. What we do with our personal lives should be kept private unless it involves Naya and Megs somehow.” You inhaled, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Toji’s brows furrowed at your statement. “Isn’t that what we have been doing?” He questioned, leaning against your wall.

“Despite what you might think, no. And to be honest, I know that you know that not what we’ve doing, Toji,” you scoff.

“If this is about what’s been going on the last few months, I apologize,” he spoke.

“It’s,” you sigh, “it’s more than that. Ever since the divorce, we never acted divorced.”

“You mean how we were still sleeping together,” he bluntly said.

You rolled your eyes at how honest he was, but you should know by now that he was no different from when you first met him. “Yes,” you answered.

“We haven’t slept together in months—”

“And about the unresolved feelings that we still hold for each other. That needs to stop. All of it,” You interrupt.

Toji was at a loss for words, staring at you, and finally for the first time in this conversation, you locked eyes with him. “You’re really taking this guy seriously, huh?”

You sigh, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “He’s a good guy, Toji.”

“I never said he wasn’t.” He shrugged, standing up straight.

“Okay, but you’re acting weird about it. Why can’t you accept that I’ve moved on? You should do the same.” You stood upright. “Me and you,” you gestured between you and Toji, “it won’t work out.”

Toji knew in the back of his head that you were right, but to hear those words out loud felt like a knife to the heart. Both of you stood in silence. All kinds of thoughts were running through his head, every single of them screaming at him to say something, to try and get you to change your mind. He doesn’t want to argue or fight, not anymore, so he holds his thoughts and feelings back even if it does hurt.

Say something. Don’t. Say it. Just keep quiet. Tell her.

“I’ve tried to move on just so you know. I’ve really tried, y/n.” And there it goes. There goes the words spilling out of his mouth despite what may come next. He just needs you to hear him just this one last time. He doesn’t care if it doesn’t change a thing between you two, he needs you to know regardless. “Trying to get with different woman, having sex, drinking, pretending to be who I was before I met you. But where did I end up each time? Right back to you, right back in your bed, in your home, holding you, kissing you, regretting everything bad I’ve ever done to you, to our kids.”

“Toji—”

“We were together for 10 years, married for 8 . As soon as you told me you were pregnant with Megs, I knew right then I wanted to make you my wife, to build a bigger family with you, to do right by you and our kids. I can’t just throw all that away, all those memories. Even the bad ones. You changed me, made me want to be better. No other woman has done that but you.” Toji walked closer towards you. It felt like your feet were glued to the floor, incapable of moving.

“Then why did you treat me that way?” Your voice slightly broke as you held back tears. “Like you were beginning to hate me, to hate us.” The thought made you clench your eyes shut as a frown formed on your lips. You hated to remember. Your should began to shake as a sob racked through your body. “You don’t understand how that made me feel,” you whimpered.

Toji looked at you with soft eyes. “I never hated you or the kids, not a fucking second. That thought would never even cross my mind. Hate the woman who brought me the most beautiful thing life can bring you? Hate them? Even though they can be a pain in the ass,” he chuckled. You laughed along with him, nodding in agreement. “Look at me, mama.” Toji lifted your chin, wiping the tears off of your cheeks. “I can never hate you or our kids. Tell me that you understand that.”

“I understand.” You sniffled.

“I know the way I started treating you and our family towards the end is what caused everything to fall apart. I don’t know why I did what I did. Arguing with you over stupid shit, acting like a fucking asshole, not being there when I should’ve. You had every right to leave. It’s my own fault that I didn’t realize what I had before it was gone. I’ll live with that for the rest of my life. You’re an amazing woman, a beautiful person, a wonderful mother. You were everything I could ever ask for. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were any less than that.” He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly while you cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

For the first time in years, you and Toji had a conversation without it turning into a heated argument. It was like a huge weight lifted off of your shoulders, like you could finally take a deep breath of fresh air. Toji just held you while you cried it out, rubbing your back gently. Though it hurts, he’s glad he was able to tell you, to apologize. “Mama, you deserve to move on and be happy. It’ll hurt like hell for me, but that’s what I deserve for what I did. My karma. I’ll level with you, I’ll do what you want.”

You pulled away from him, teary eyes staring up into his. “You mean it?”

Without hesitation he replied, “of course.” If it wasn’t painfully obvious already, Toji was still in love with you. How could he not be? He’ll miss you, miss the times you spent together. He wishes he could make up for all those bad times, replace those memories with good ones.

“Thank you, Toji.” You softly smiled.

“Dont thank me. It’s the least I could do.” He held onto your hand, his warm touch lingering on your skin before he pulled it away. “I’ll see you around, y/n.” Before he said anything else, he needed to walk away. Opening your bedroom door, he disappeared from your sight down the hall. You bit down on your bottom lip, brows furrowed as you sat there and began to process everything that happened.

Toji sat in his car outside your house. “Fuck,” he sighed. It should be him. You and him. He should be buying you flowers, kissing your soft lips, holding you tight, making love to you, telling you he loves you. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as looked at your front door. In front of him, a familiar car pulled into your driveway. Toji sat and watched closely, noticing it was the man he caught a glimpse of in your house, your new boyfriend, Kento. As he walked up the steps, you opened the door for him before he knocked, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his lips with a smile. His hands were on your waist as he kissed you back, pulling you closer towards him.

Toji tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him, jaw clenched as he started his car. You were his karma and the woman he was in love with.

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[bat-mom-writer]

Period Panic

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne (Husband)

Reader(mom) X Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

Summery: You started your period, and the boys are... what's the word? Terrified.

Rating: Fluff, slight angst, comfort

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the grand library of Wayne Manor, woman who had captured the heart of the legendary Bruce Wayne, you found solace amidst the towering bookshelves and the comforting scent of aged leather and paper. You hand paused over the spine of an antique volume, the gold lettering glinting under the soft glow of the pendant light above her. 

As you reached up to pull the book down, but your  body tensed suddenly. You leaned over, gripping the edge of the mahogany for support. "This cramps," you groaned, the words slipping out like a sigh before you could swallow them back. The sudden pain was a stark reminder of the monthly cycle that had become a part of her life once more.

The hushed whispers of the library stopped. Four pairs of eyes, belonging to Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne, wide with fear.

"Shit, please no," Jason pleads, sitting up from his seat, "Is it…?" he says to his brothers, his voice trailing off.

Dick and Tim exchange a knowing glance. Tim nods solemnly, his expression a mix of empathy and dread. "Guys," he says, turning to the others, "It's okay. She's okay. Maybe it's just a… you know, a stomachache."

Jason's eyes widen, and he jumps to his feet. "But what if it's not?" He whispers, his voice filled with a child-like concern that seemed so out of place in the hardened exterior he often wore. Dick puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll handle it," he assures him.

"I don't think the full realization of the situation hit ya yet, Dick," Jason said, taking Dick by the shirt, "It's that time. The time we fear and pray doesn't come the next month."

"Jason," Dick said firmly, stepping in front of him, "we don't know that yet. She might just be tired or something. Okay? Let's test it first before we lose our heads." He looks to the you on the other side of the library and calls out, "Hey mom."

"What?" you says, annoyed, not turning from the shelf you were perusing. The irritation in your voice was like a thunderclap in the quiet room.

The boys stop again, fear growing in their eyes. They had hoped it was a simple stomachache, something they could handle with a cup of tea and a warm compress. This was something else entirely.

"Run," Dick says, his voice low and urgent.

The boys don't need to be told twice. They sprint out of the library and down the hallway, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the marble floors like a warning siren. They know the drill; they've seen this before. They need to gather supplies.

"R2," Dick called out, his voice echoing down the hall, "Get the painkillers from the medicine cabin."

Jason took off like a shot, his boots thundering down the corridor towards the medical bay. He knew the layout of the manor like the back of his hand, having spent years here as Robin. His heart raced as he flung open the cabinets and scanned the shelves. "Where the hell are they?" he murmured to himself, his hands shaking slightly.

"R3, get 'The Notebook' queued up on the main screen," Dick instructed. He knew their mother's favorite film was a surefire way to distract her from the pain and offer a bit of comfort.

"Dick, I'm scared," Tim says, his voice trembling.

"Don't worry, R3," Dick responds, his eyes on the prize as he navigates the labyrinth of leather-bound tomes, "We've got this." Tim nods and heads towards the media room, his mission clear.

"R4," Dick's turns to Damian, "Get the snacks."

Damian, ever the dutiful son, nods and bolts towards the kitchen, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. You preferences were ingrained in him, and he knew exactly what you want: a mix of sweet and salty to combat the cramps, something warm for comfort, and maybe a bit of chocolate for the emotional turmoil. He throws open the pantry doors and starts grabbing handfuls of her favorite snacks, tossing them into a basket. The smell of fresh popcorn fills the air as he hits the button on the high-tech popper.

"Okay," Dick says, after a brief moment of contemplation, "Let's get her some comfortable clothes." He knows from experience that the right outfit can make a world of difference on these days. He heads towards their mother's room, the others trailing behind like a pack of worried pups.

In the vast walk-in closet, they scan through racks of clothes, looking for something soft and loose. Dick pulls out a set of your favorite pajamas, the fabric as velvety as a cat's fur, and a thick, oversized sweatshirt that has seen better days but somehow still holds a sacred spot in her wardrobe. He grabs a pair of fuzzy socks with little bats on them, knowing they're the ones you want.

Dick, with the grace of a cat burglar, slowly makes his way back to the library, the pajamas and sweatshirt are draped over one arm, his steps are light, careful not to cause any additional disturbance to the delicate balance of the situation.

Entering the library, he sees you doubled over, your breathing shallow and quick. Your trying to be brave, but the pain is etched into the lines of your face.

Dick rolls his shoulders, taking a deep breath. "You got this," he whispers to himself, the words a silent mantra. "Just don't be too loud, or too quiet. Speak calmly, but not too formally." The last thing you needs right now is to feel like they're tiptoeing around you.

He takes a tentative step into the library, the plush carpet muffling his footfall. His eyes lock onto you, and for a moment, it's as if time stands still.

He tries entering but quickly stops and hides behind the wall as you lets out a groan, the kind that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The library feels eerie, as if it's holding its breath along with him, unsure of what to do next. Dick peeks around the corner, his heart in his throat. You’re there, hunched over, yout hand pressed against her lower abdomen. The book you had been reaching for lies forgotten on the floor.

Just then, and the three other boys come rushing down the hall. "What are you doing?" Tim whispers, his eyes darting into the room in a panic. Dick holds up a finger to his lips, silencing him. They all watch her, their hearts racing in unison, as you winces and lets out another soft groan.

"Every second we wait, the more pain she goes through," Dick murmured under his breath, "Which means the more dangerous her mood becomes." The room seemed to pulse with the tension as they watched her, unsure of how to proceed.

"R2, do you have the painkillers?" Dick hissed at Jason, who nodded, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a bottle, the pills rattling like a snake's tail. Dick snatched them from his hand, "Okay, good." He took a step forward, his heart hammering in his chest. But he backs down, "No, no, can't do it."

Tim's eyes widened, "What? Why not?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dick says, his voice a blend of sarcasm and nerves, "Do you want to tell our mother to take her pills because we noticed she's looking cranky?" He tries to keep his voice low, not wanting to alert you to their presence just yet.

"Well, not me," Tim whispers, the color draining from his face.

"I already died once," Jason says, taking a step back with his hands up.

"I wasn't conceived to die by a cramp." Damian says, his voice steady, putting the snacks down on a the floor.

"Dick," Tim whispers, "You're the oldest. You have to."

"Me?" Dick squeaks, his voice high-pitched and betraying his nerves. "Why me?"

"Because," Tim replies, his voice trembling, "You're the one she won't kill on sight right now."

"Who’s not going to kill Dick?"

The words, are like a thunderclap, causing the three boys to jump out of their skins. Bruce Wayne, their father and the Dark Knight himself, stands in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What's going on here?" Bruce asks, his voice as smooth as silk over the tense silence.

"We were…" Dick swallowed hard, his voice catching in his throat.

"Just talking!" Jason chimes in, "About uh…"

"Sports!" Tim blurts out, his cheeks reddening, "We were just… discussing sports."

Bruce raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from one boy to the next before finally landing on the Dick's arms. "Sports," he repeats, his tone flat. "With your mother's comfiest pajamas, and pain killers? And what’s that? A basket of snakes?”

Dick gulps, "It's… she… well, you know."

Bruce's gaze sharpens, and he nods almost imperceptibly. "Ah, that time of the month again. Alright hand me the stuff, I'll take it from here." 

The three brothers breathe a collective sigh of relief, passing the basket and the pills to their father. Dick whispers a quick thanks before retreating to the hallway. They lean against the wall, listening as their father's footsteps grow closer to the library. The tension is thick enough to slice with a knife, but it's a familiar dance they've learned over the years.

The woman's eyes shoot to the ceiling as Bruce approaches, and she groans. "Oh, not you too," she says, her voice strained. "I'm not a delicate fucking orchid that needs tending to."

Bruce chuckles softly, "You caught on did you?"

"You think this is funny?" She snaps, the pain making her words sharper than any of his Batarangs.

"Not at all," Bruce says calmly, "But I do know how to handle this." He gently holds out the pawns of comfort that Dick had gathered. 

You stare at the basket, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. The smell of buttery popcorn and the sight of your favorite snacks does make your stomach rumble despite the pain. "You think you can make me feel better by shoving snacks in my face?" you ask, or more accused."

"It's worth a shot," Bruce says, his voice as calm as a still lake. He opens the basket and takes out the chocolate bar, holding it up like a peace offering. "You know chocolate fixes everything."

You let out a huff, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "It doesn't fix everything," you grumble, but you take the chocolate anyway. The snap of the wrapper is like the crack of a whip in the library's quiet, but the sweet smell is heavenly. You bite into it, letting the rich, velvety goodness melt on your tongue, and for a brief moment, the pain seems to ease.

Bruce watches you, his eyes filled with understanding. "And when you've had your fill," he says gently, "Take these." He hands you the painkillers with a glass of water. The coolness of the glass feels like a lifeline in your hot, trembling hand. You down the pills with a grimace, and he takes the glass back, setting it down on the small side table next to the armchair you've claimed as your throne of despair.

The warmth of the chocolate spreads through your body, bringing with it a temporary reprieve from the cramps that have taken up residence in your abdomen. You lean into the chair, the plush cushions embracing you like a warm hug. The boys hover around, unsure of what to do next, their eyes darting between you and their father.

"Alright," Bruce says, his voice firm but gentle, "I know the boys have already set up a movie for you. Why don't you change into these?" He holds up the pajamas and sweatshirt. You nod, taking the offered clothes, and Bruce nods towards the bathroom. "I'll be right here when you're ready," he assures you.

As you retreat to the bathroom, the boys approach their father, their expressions a mix of relief and trepidation. "Thanks," Dick whispers, "We had a plan, but—"

"Your plan was to scurry around like mice hoping she doesn't notice?" Bruce asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Well, when you put it that way," Jason says, his cheeks flushing a deep red, "It sounds a bit pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," Tim says, stepping forward, "It's just... we don't know how to handle it."

Bruce nods, his smile fading, "It's alright. I know it's tough, but you're all growing up. And one of these months, I won't be around and you'll have to deal with this yourselves."

The words hang in the air like a challenge, a reminder of the responsibilities they would one day have to face without his guiding hand. Dick swallows hard, looking at his brothers. They all knew it was coming, but the thought of handling "that time of the month" without their father's experience was daunting.

"We're Robin," Tim says, trying to sound braver than he feels, "We can handle it."

Jason snorts, "Yeah, right. The last time I tried to give her a heating pad, she threw it at me."

Tim winces, "I remember that. It left a dent in the wall."

Damian, ever the practical one, suggests, "Perhaps we should prepare a manual of some sort, detailing the proper procedures for handling such delicate situations."

Bruce's eyes twinkle with amusement. "A manual? For dealing with your mother's mood swings?"

"It's not just mood swings," Dick defends, "It's like the seven stages of grief, but with more chocolate and a lot more crying."

"And less dying," Tim adds, his voice a tad too hopeful.

You emerge from the bathroom, looking a bit more comfortable in the pajamas. The sweatshirt is too big, but somehow, it seems to fit you just right. The boys avert their eyes, not quite sure how to handle the tears that stain your cheeks. Dick, ever the observant one, notices and steps forward. "Mom?" he says, his voice a gentle whisper.

You wave him off, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. "It's nothing," you say, your voice thick with pain and emotion, "Just... hormones." The word hangs in the air like a guilty confession.

But Dick doesn't listen. He crosses the library, ignoring the cramps that are now a constant background noise in your head, and wraps you in his arms. He's taller than you, his embrace strong and protective. It's been a while since you've been this close, and it feels surprisingly good. His arms are like steel bands, holding you tightly but gently, as if you might break.

"It's okay, mom," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "We're here."

The dam breaks. You start crying more, "I'm sorry for being a trouble mother," you sob into Dick's shoulder. The other boys hover around, unsure of what to do next.

"You're not a trouble," Jason says gruffly, his hand awkwardly patting your back, "It's just... nature."

Tim nods in agreement, his voice wobbly, "Yeah, it's like Alfred's allergies. It just happens."

You laugh through your tears, the sound a little hiccuppy, "Thanks, guys."

Dick pulls away, wiping at your cheeks with his thumbs. "Come on," he says, "Let's get you set up."

Bruce watches the scene, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite the tough exterior he presents to the world, he's a softie when it comes to his family, especially when you're not feeling well. He nods at the boys, his smile growing as they lead you out of the library and down the hallway.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

My Hogwarts Castle Design

Some of my notes regarding it can be found here and some of my rambling about the castle's architecture here along with the map of the castle's environment here.

In this post, I'm just going to post the images I came to as an amalgamation of all book quotes regarding the castle's structure merged with the basic structure and some floor plan elements from Hogwarts Legacy (since the castle is gorgeous and similar in aesthetic to the movies versions. I'm saying versions because every movie had a differently designed Hogwarts).

Maybe I can make a post regarding all the book quotes that went into this design like Ron saying the lake is to the south of the school (PoA), the DADA and the Transfiguration office have a view of the Quidditch Pitch (OotP, PoA) and the Quidditch Pitch is near the lake (OotP), the lawn for the flying classes is on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest (PS) and the Whomping Willow is visible from the Herbology Greenhouses (CoS), the moving staircases aren't accessible from the ground floor near the Great Hall (PS), Myrtel's bathroom near the DADA office (CoS), hidden passage with the trick step being near the DADA office on the 2nd floor (location mentioned in HBP, but the passage itself is mentioned in multiple books), etc.

So without further ado, my attempt at a Hogwarts floor plan:

There might be some inaccuracies, becouse this was a crazy puzzle to try and make sense of so I tried my best based on various quotes in the books. Locations we know exist but aren't told anything about where they are, were just placed down where I thought reasonable.

I kept the common rooms/dormitories layout similar to that in Hogwarts Legacy (since it's pretty), but I made sure all of them would have enough dorm rooms and bathrooms (which isn't the case in the game).

(I hope my calligraphy is legible enough. I advice zooming in if you want to read all the details on the images)

Dungeons:

Left - Lower Dungeons, Slytherin's Common Room.

Right - Dungeons, Potions Labs, Snape's office, Detention Chambers, the obstacle course under Fluffy's room.

Basement

Left - Actual Basement - Kitchens, Hufflepuff Common Room.

Right - Half floor between Basement and Ground Floor - Hufflepuff Girls Dorms.

Ground Floor

Entrance Hall, Great Hall, Staff Room, Filch's office, Viaduct Courtyard.

1st Floor

Classrooms 1-15, Hospital Wing, Viaduct, Greenhouses, DADA classroom, History classroom, Muggle Studies classroom.

Classroom 11 is said to be on the ground floor, but I placed it on the 1st floor, which is technically the ground floor of the second building. It just worked better with everything else.

2nd Floor

Classrooms 1B-15B, Transfiguration classroom, Ancient Runes classroom, DADA office, Moaning Myrtle toilet.

3rd Floor

Classrooms 1C-11C, Fluffy's room, Charms Corridor, Charms Classroom, Trophy Room, Armor Gallery, Library.

I tried to make the scene in which they accidentally run into Fluffy's room after the Trophy Room, and I think this sort of works for what Harry describes if you squint. The description just doesn't make much sense when trying to keep the general structure seen in the movies/games.

4th Floor

Classrooms 1D-8D, Restricted Section.

5th Floor

Classrooms 1E-5E, Ravenclaw Common Room entrance, Prefect's bathroom, Arithmancy Classroom.

6th Floor

Classrooms 1F-2F.

7th Floor

Classrooms 1G-2G, Gryffindor Common Room entrance, Divination Classroom, RoR.

Towers

Left - Floor 8 - Headmaster's Office, Owlery

Center - Floor 9

Right - Floor 10 - Astronomy Tower

[synthetickitsune]

Tiger In A Cage ✧ k.sy

Pairing: Ghost!Hoshi x reader Genre: fluff Summary: You just wanted to get a new chair but fate had different plans. Also, noise cancelling earphones are useless against wailing ghosts. Word count: 1.7k A/N: for my forever muse coming after my life and (real!) future tiger wife @hanniedream ily 🥺🫶🏻

It’s not supposed to be loud. In fact, you should be able to hear only your playlist, so what the hell. You wince once more at the loud wail that threatens to split your skull in two. Exactly what you hoped to avoid by plugging your ears with earphones.

If there is one thing noise canceling doesn’t help with, though, it’s ghosts.

Must be one of the poor, long forgotten souls that went mad with eternity spent alone. Its screeching is incoherent and echoes through the corridors. It’s fitting, though, for it to be stuck in the middle of the furniture store with its twisting paths and confusing layout that makes you feel like you’ll get lost and die in there too.

Turning the corner from the kitchen section straight into the kids section you discover that the noise is even worse. You don’t have to wonder why for long. The source is right in front of you.

The kid standing in front of two piles of toys, choosing carefully, it seems, between a tiger and an elephant, has no idea that above him a ghost is floating. And screaming on top of his lungs. Now that you’re closer you understand that the incoherent yelling is just a neverending stream of ‘tiger’ blending together.

You stop and stare, frankly taken aback. The ghost looks human, a young man. Handsome. And presumably sane, at least for the most part.

A soft oh escapes your lips and it’s as if that was the only sound the ghost can hear because his head snaps in your direction dangerously fast. Your eyes meet and you know he knows. You’ve never thought of your ability to perceive the supernatural as a curse but today? Hell no. You just wanted a new chair…

You bolt. You can sense the misty body following you more acutely than the stares of the other living humans. By the time you sprint through the gap between the automatic door that hold the ghost prisoner, your lungs burn with the need for oxygen.

You turn back to make sure the ghost didn’t slip away by some miracle but he doesn’t. He throws his body against the glass over and over again, tries the air itself when the living pass through, but he is never successful in breaking free. You feel sorry, and a little confused by your behavior. But today you really have no strength left to deal with this. With anyone, alive or not.

As if sensing your hesitation, the ghost stops and just looks at you with sadness that tugs at your already bared heartstrings.

Don’t leave me, he mouths before you turn your back and do just that.

It’s only a couple days later that you feel in the right mental space to face the ghost. Truth be told, as fitting as the place is, it’s also a little strange. So as the time draws near to the closing time and less people come in, you enter the store and begin your search.

The living room section is empty of ghosts, the entire first floor seems to be. Maybe he’s just hiding. You start to lose hope when you don’t find him on the lower floor either but surely he couldn’t be exorcised just for yelling at customers that couldn’t hear him. You check the whole place once more and then acknowledge your defeat. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be seen.

Did you hurt him last time? Some ghosts get sensitive to rejection, which is no wonder - one does get more vulnerable confined to a certain place they can’t leave. You chew on your lip as you think, almost missing the sudden feelings of mist enveloping you. You stop, the sensation similar to what you think walking through a cloud would feel like snapping you out of it. The ghost is holding you tightly.

His speech is all mumbled and incoherent again, too fast to understand, but you can’t keep standing in front of the exit for so long. The exit… The same exit you left through last time… Things always come full circle.

“Follow me,” you whisper before walking past him, pushing through him, while he wails. You give him a look and nod to the side. He stops his cries and gives you a curious look instead. You walk back towards the entrance, checking the windows to see if he got the hint - he did.

As soon as you step inside, the chilly body of the ghost wraps itself around you again.

“Slow down,” you sigh softly when he starts chanting something again.

“Stay,” he says desperately, as if it took immense effort to slow down and get it out.

“I can’t, but let’s talk,” you offer. He nods vigorously but remains stuck to your body. As awkward as you feel, you accept it for now. You have no idea how long he’s been alone and it feels entirely different from a random living stranger hugging you.

You walk in silence for a while until you find a secluded living room display and you act very interested in all the furniture and decorations.

“What’s your name?” you ask, looking around to make sure you’re alone. You don’t exactly fancy being overheard or seen by strangers.

“Soonyoung,” he responds eagerly before he quickly calms down and the frown comes through in his words as well, “But before you ask, I don’t remember what happened. Sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

It’s a little disappointing you won’t get the answer to the mystery so easily but it can’t be helped. You suppose asking a guy how he died wouldn’t be a proper topic for your first conversation.

“It’s fine,” you smile instead, “Could you, uhm, let me go? I promise I won’t run off before the closing time.”

“You could stay. I’d show you where to hide,” Soonyoung pleads with you. His eyes wide with hope and desperation. He unraveled himself from you, but his hands are still clutching yours.

“I think it wouldn’t work as well as you think,” you try to be gentle as you let him down, “But I’ll be back, I promise.”

He makes you pinky promise. You do. The ghost seems satisfied after that, falling into a comfortable conversation that is admittedly slightly one sided after the initial investigation as to how is it possible that you see him and if there’s a chance to make everyone else see him too. He hasn’t been like this for long, you learn, but he gets lonely easily - that much is evident. Your ears are about to get talked off.

“…and then that couple broke up I think because the girl came back after a few weeks and ordered a new bed and closet and everything. A single bed! Can you believe a guy would kick a girl out and keep all the furniture?”

“If he’s the one who paid for it, it makes sense he’d keep it,” you shrug as you stroll through the corridors. The employees are eyeing you warily, you don’t have much time left but at least the store is almost empty.

“It’s not right,” Soonyoung murmurs, “I’d never do that.”

You sigh. In just a short while you learned more about the business of local customers than you ever wished for.

“What was the last time about, by the way?” you remember suddenly, “The time I saw you yelling at the boy with the plushies.”

As if on cue, you reach the same spot. Walking over to the basket with the tiger and elephant plushies side by side, the ghost swirls around you in excitement.

“Pick the tiger one!” he urges.

“Why?”

“Tigers are the best,” he rolls his eyes at you, attempting to force the plushie into your arms.

You give in and pick up the toy, looking at the silly face. It’s nothing special, you’ve seen much better and prettier ones, but the quality is about what you’d expect of the store.

“Can you possess objects? Have you tried?” you muse aloud.

“Yeah, but I don’t do it much - it scares people,” he pouts while he speaks, his arms crossed over his chest, “And what if they buy the thing and take it away? What would happen to me?”

“It scares them because they’re not expecting it. Show me?” you raise a brow at him, dismissing his worries. It’s not like you have answers for him anyway.

You don’t have to wait long. It’s as if Soonyoung wanted to show off his skills as his face contorts in concentration before he starts to fade and eventually disappears, the plushie in your hand getting more animated with every second.

And as luck would have it, that’s the moment a store employee puts his hand on your shoulder. Telling you to quickly check out and leave because the stores will be closing, he motions towards the stairs to the first floor where the registers are. There are more people coming your way - other customers ushered to finish their business here. Suddenly it feels like you should’ve done more research on possessions.

It’s not like you can protest and try to explain yourself - and it’s not like you can just drop the plushie and abandon the ghost like that without a goodbye. It doesn’t feel right. Or maybe he hit your weak spot with his fear of getting abandoned.

So you carry the plushie and try to coax him to come out but he doesn’t. You buy the plushie, you steal the ghost.

He doesn’t come out even as you approach the exit, no matter the urgency in your voice or how much you beg. The toy gets less squishy, however, as if the tiger was bracing for something.

What will happen? You don’t know. You think he’s just going to get pulled out of the plushie, but you can’t be sure. You can only hope he’s not going to get hurt.

“Well, this is a goodbye, I guess,” you whisper to the toy and pet its head. There’s no response and so you step into the outside world.

You look back immediately, hoping to see Soonyoung, but all there is to see is the store’s interior. You wait. Then you wait some more. Still nothing. Panic starts to rise in your body.

And then - the tiger in your arms wiggles and nudges against your palm resting on your head. When you meet its button-y gaze, it gives you a wink.

Oh no.

[g00seg1rl]

Their Dark

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra | wc: 2.2k | ao3

Summary: Eris is left to his own devices as Azriel attended to Rhysand flavored bullshit. Thankfully the Shadowsinger’s swarm is there to tide him over until Az returned. (SHADOW PLAY BABY 😈)

@azrisweek day 1: creature feature 😇 all the yap below the divider or over on ao3 😘

Another Steppes visit, another time Rhysand called Azriel away to handle his problems.

Eris had become used to waiting around, pettily wearing his most alluring loungewear, inevitably taunting Azriel for his lateness. He was tired of being kept waiting and complaining about how irritating wearing a thong for hours could be, especially the ever-shifting string in between Eris’s globular, impeccable behind.

Azriel had admitted Eris’s looks made him crave ruining, that he felt bad for the need to undo, to claim Eris’s bare body—Eris never understood why Az was apologetic about the overwhelming, clouding hunger that led to Eris’s meticulous work being strewn across the polished-oak floorboards. It was the highest flattery—driving a being as collected as the Shadowsinger wild was such an easy accomplishment Eris nearly felt undeserving, till he passed by a mirror.

Said mirror was across the corridor along Eris’s commute from the bedroom to the settee in the den that was calling to him.

The layout was simple, easy to traverse blindly. The entrance opened to the living room, hearth always lit, opposing wall behind the sirenly comfortable corduroy couch they’d spent entire visits lazing on; walking further into the cabin, the intimate kitchen housed all the essentials—meals took too much time away from them, simplicity satiated them relative to the decadence of their smexy times. To the left of the kitchen was the hallway Eris was walking down, away from the bedroom and bath that made up half of the establishment. Graffitied on every tall wall were shadows that slithered around each crevice, offering animation to their secrecy. A sentient cove that added a sense of safety and thrill, forcing minds lax and asses perked. Knowing such legends of covert intelligence were no doubt reporting the status of his booty multiplied his oversized ego tenfold.

Eyes didn’t need presence within the dark entity to feel surveilled as static blanketed the thin air. Today felt even more encompassing, every small hair jolting, the room shaded blacker. Eris’s breaths were timid as he spread a thin layer of butter atop toast; a small gasp startled him as shadows twined up his legs, paying extra pressured-attention on the backs of his ankles and inner, softer parts of his thighs. Perhaps a camisole and impractically mini shorts were a lapse in his judgment.

Overcautious of each step, shadows slithering like shitty socks, tickling up his calves, occasionally spiking up to the crease of his knee, nearly buckling his wobbling stature, Eris reached his oasis. (Oasis may be a bit much but people don’t usually get picky with those and Eris needed the nearest surface.)

Eris collapsed into the first seat available, abandoning the small plate of toast to the side table. He closed his eyes and tried to pull himself together. Once slightly more collected, he heaved a victorious sigh and opened his eyes to find nothing. Pitch black nothingness possessed his vicinity, gagging a moan from Eris as a breeze trailed over the creases of his lap; they skipped his cock and burrowed down past his sac, tickled his taint and flowed to his hole, where a slithering, silken shard pushed its way inside. Everything else was still, the only movement was theirs.

Eris gasped, grappling the chair’s arms hard enough to break a human’s; his hips arched of their own—the shadow’s accord, pulling himself into their perversion.

They cast themselves around the whole room, dimming the atmosphere from heady to overwhelming. Eris lost sight, lost coherency, lost any distraction from their claiming dark. All he could feel was condensed, compressed from every angle, holding him.

And then they started doing that thing.

That thing that plummeted Eris from heaven to the most sinful levels of hell: they inflated and reprieved, over and over again. They’d stretch, expand, fill, pull the loudest moans as they pumped in and out, just to dissipate, dissolving Eris’s sanity along with them.

There was no way to make it sound coherent, how does one enunciate yes yes yesyesyes fuck finally yes no what more more moremornonooo no more fuck fuck fuck FUCK YES YES YES NO NO YES YE-NO NOOO—OH OH YESS YES? That chaotically. Eris’s own thoughts were calling him gone.

“Please, please just call him,” Eris whined, already craving more.

An ethereal hum thrummed deep inside and all around him, his body quivered. That was an ask again, ask prettier from intimate experience.

“Fuck, please, please, I need him, I need him, need him here.” Eris pressed a hand near his navel, knowing that’s where Azriel could reach if he was here. The shadows were nothing but a tease, a very satisfying tease, but it was simply a harbinger, a placeholder for Azriel.

The shadows within thickened, stretched but avoided the place Eris knew they had pinpointed centuries ago. Ever knowing, always withholding.

He writhed in rhythm with the delving, filling darkness that was readying him for their Master’s wrecking. His hips rolled in time with the deepest shadows crawling up his spine, a perpetual slide that never let up, never became braceable.

This was beyond prep, he was being fucked, fucked harder than anyone but Azriel has. Every nerve felt choked, controlled, out of his reach. He felt like he had dissolved into incorporeality, dragged out of his body and consumed by enigmatic darkness.

“Azriel!” he moaned, confused whose name to scream, selecting Azriel‘s out of reflex, haziness. ‘Shadows’ was not sufficient to describe them, not with such tangibility.

“Hmmfuck.” A growl in the distance echoed around him, a very familiar growl.

“A-Az? Azriel!?” Eris cried.

“E-Eris?” Azriel cooed. Eris meekly, in a fawnish way, whimpered, he blushed. Felt bright red as Azriel chuckled, the gruffness so smug, so damn hot—Eris felt like a traitor to himself. This bastard had been watching far more physically than Eris had guessed for who knows how long—these shadows did, their ganging up on him lumped his throat, nearly sent him over the edge. As much as he hated being left in the dark, this was the exception. They were always the exception. He trusted being left in their dark.

“Please,” Eris begged, shuddering as a blunt finger—a thumb—curved from his nape towards his jugular, Azriel’s whole hand slipping around Eris’s throat and tilting his head back.

Shadows thinned slightly, pulling back like curtains revealing the next act, and revealed his love grinning like a menace, a very handsome menace, above him.

“Miss me?” Oh fuck this guy.

“Please, please, baby, please c’mere, no games, fuck, please, need you, so much, you’re still far, what the fuck,” Eris blathered until Azriel slid his hand down Eris’s chest, resting above his heart as he circled from behind the couch, standing in between Eris’s legs, smugging at his army’s handiwork.

“Whawhewhy-why’d you take so long,” he whined.

“Had to let em’ prep you, didn’t I, baby?” Azriel was so damn lucky he’s hot.

“You – you don’t know what ‘had to’ means,” Eris breathed, his body still shivering at the occasional swipe of shade against sheened skin.

“Dictionary reading session later, right now why don’t you study this dick…shinary.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” Eris responded, hypocritically.

“On your knees.”

Eris huffed but sank, limbs lifeless, onto the carpet, his knees thudding softly; before he could slump into a blitzed pile of gooey Vanserra, Azriel caught his chin, lifting Eris’s face towards his wicked smirk.

“That’s good.” Azriel brushed the waxy pad of his thumb over Eris’s bottom lip. He’d been gnawing on it while being prep—tortured. “Always so good for me,” he murmured, grin softened. “My good, pretty boy.”

Eris was still teeming with need, his hips rutting forward and rolling into a slow pace as he settled to get his face fucked; he’d be furious at the Shadowsinger’s selfishness if he didn’t know he could come just from this, if he didn’t know getting off at Azriel’s feet was as satisfying as being bent over.

“Gonna fuck you soon, gonna fuck you good so soon,” Az swore, freeing his cock from his leathers. “I’m about to fucking burst, don’t wanna get inside start just to finish,” he explained, as if Eris didn’t have a dick or know what it was like to have to shoot one off then reload to get a good stamina going. Eris would object to Azriel’s male-splaining but his mouth was being stuffed with dick. Another time.

Still bleary, Eris forced his jaw lax, letting Azriel do the work. He moaned around half of Az’s cock as a blunt boot nudged against his junk, giving him something to grind against, since rutting air was not providing much friction.

Azriel’s hands tangled in his copper hair, keeping him in place as he earnestly thrust no more than a dozen times before splooging down Eris’s throat with a groaned rendition of Eris’s name.

His orgasm was distanced once again as Azriel rescinded his boot. How absurd would it be for Eris to beg for it back?

Before he could even try, Azriel collected him, a smile painting his flushed face, tossed him midair and plopped him into a kneeling position, his ass up and face buried into the plush backboard of the couch.

His chest heaved, breath fogged from heat. Eris wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could brace himself for Azriel. Doesn’t mean he didn’t spread his knees and arch his back.

“So damn pretty.” Azriel sounded so wrecked, his hands smoothing down Eris’s sides before lightly holding Eris’s hips reverently.

“I’m also fuckable, please, try it,” Eris informed him.

“Oh don’t I know it, my dear,” Az chuckled before leaning forward, moving his lips next to Eris’s ear. “I can never forget it,” Az claimed as he rubbed the weeping head of his throbbing dick around Eris’s malleable rim. He was already hard again, Azriel had a truly miraculous cock, to match Eris’s heavenly hole.

Azriel grunted in unison with Eris’s moan—well, it kinda just sounded like he was dry heaving, hyperventilating for cock, not his finest moment but far from his worst—as he burrowed in incrementally and stretched Eris wide, then a little smaller—then, oh fuck, then it was a smooth slide from head to hilt, prodding at Eris’s organs as their balls slapped together.

“Oh fuckingshittingfuckingfuck,” Azriel groaned, doubtlessly sensitive from coming mere moments ago. Eris had a male with a quick reload and damn him if wasn’t an opportunist.

“It’s Eris, actually,” he corrected, swaying his hips a bit to get Azriel to move, to fuck him.

Azriel snorted, finally pulling back, the slide eased only from shadow’s torment and precome, thank fuck the fucker summoned what felt like an entire olive tree’s worth of oil, sliding back in like butter—if you liked fucking butter.

“And I’m Azriel, scream it for me,” he husked and aimed for Eris’s intestines.

Never one to follow orders, Eris whimpered and sent his hips back when Azriel tried pulling back again.

Azriel snickered, “Love how needy you are, always so desperate for it—”

“For you, need you, you, A-Azriel,” Eris breathed. There were many fae with large dicks, but Azriel was also pretty.

“Ah fuck, that’s right, mine, all for me,” Azriel assured, and pushed Eris’s hips forward, subsequently causing Eris to eat cushion.

��Maybe don’t suffocate me then,” Eris huffed as he reared his head back and crossed his elbows to pillow his chin.

That semblance of coherency that Eris used to be a brat was torn away from him as Azriel snapped his hips forward and didn’t stop moving, pulling right back out and railing back in once more—hard enough that Eris wanted to warn him about the existence of his insides.

“Azriel. A-Azriel! Azriel Azriel!Azriel—oh Az yes, thank you, fuck yes.” His back arched like a waking cat as Eris yowled.

“Fuck fuck Eris, f-fucking Cauldron’s holy fuck, Gods yes,” Azriel grunted with each quick slam, each plapsglop just as ear-pinkening as the last.

“Shitshitfuckyes,” Eris warbled, his body locking up, thighs shaking, his belly fluttering up his throat then plummeting along with the pleasure racing down his spine. “AZRIEL!” he screamed as he came jerkily, falling carelessly—trustfully—against the aforescreamed as his bones heavied and mind ascended.

“Oh that’s it, fuck - HaaahNG!” Azriel bellowed, the hands gripping his hips clamping down and keeping Eris against him. He ground upward and remained inside as they recuperated.

The frigid mess of Azriel’s leather suddenly against his sweltering back rinsed him with chills, shoulders shuddering to Azriel’s snicker. His breath was no longer opaque but he still felt molten; it was always shocking when he didn't disintegrate Azriel’s dick into ash.

“Took so long getting back, shadows felt good but you took so long,” Eris complained. It was difficult post-nut but Eris would figure out how to diplomatically tell Rhys to pull on big boy pants and do his own handiwork so Eris could get railed for three straight (homosexual) days in a row.

“I’m sorry, baby, but now I’m all yours,” Az offered, a grin resting against Eris’s temple.

“And now I’m all tired, come—”

“Again—!?”

Eris rolled his eyes, smirking, “No, wise-ass, come to bed, let’s rest f’ra bit.” His words tapered off into murmurs, the heaviness from his bones reaching his eyes.

“Yes, my prince, it seems to be nap time.” Azriel chuckled along with his bobbing shadows.

“Mmhm, yessir.” Eris turned into a huggable position and yawned into the bronze crook of Azriel’s neck.

Dividers by @enchanthings, lovingly beta read by @makinglongwordsslutty and @iftheshoef1tz, thank you both 💗

My Azris loves, I’ll be doing something for everyday so let me know if you’d like to be spammed yay @the-darkestminds @nus4y @astro-h0e-4azris @jules-writes-stories @mudandmire @fourteentrout @mistandmemories @queercontrarian @wovendreamscapes @icey--stars @irithiadourden @sunstar-drabbles @palomita-de-la-sangre @pippsmcgee @olenvasynyt @nightsandflamess @brunetterebel010 @chunkypossum @neciebee @shadowsandlint @wrraccountant @pippsmcgee @molcat07 @3xolara @missblackstar @eatsbooks @talibunny30 @thesourcabbage @ysmtttty @aleksandra25cracow @bloodyplunder I’m most definitely forgetting ppl mb gah😘💗😘💗

[system-to-the-madness]

Heart Aflame (2/3) - Zuko x Reader

Word Count: 3 173 Warnings: kidnapping, slavery, human trafficking, colonialism, mentions of: torture, physical violence, death Summary: You learn about a camp where your kidnapped sister might be held, so Zuko and you head out to find her   A/N: Part 6.2 of the series Perfect (10 times Zuko thought you were perfect and the first time he told you)

Heart Aflame Part One

The next time you woke up, it was with a strange feeling of utter safety spreading in your chest, even though it took you less than a second to know where you where and why you were here. It took you slightly longer to realise you had moved close enough to Zuko to cuddle against him in your sleep, which he, at least subconsciously, did not seem to mind, judging by the way his arm was wrapped around you. Quickly you moved away from him, but still careful enough that he wouldn’t wake up. Your cheeks were burning at the thought of having cozied up to him in this manner during the night, and you immediately decided he did not have to know. You were about to turn around and try to go back to sleep, when sudden steps in the distance alarmed you. Grabbing the knife you had placed by your head, you moved into a crouching position, waiting to be discovered. Indeed, the door to the washroom opened, and someone entered, but the steps were light and gentle.

“You know the drill,” a gruff voice spoke “One hour, as always.”

“I understand,” the soft voice of a girl answered. The door got closed and locked and for a moment there was no sound other than the steps of the guard disappearing down the corridor.

Then the girl started walking around the room. Was it Xin Yan’s friend, the one who had suggested you should stay the night in the washroom? And if not, how would the girl react to finding you and Zuko here?

A moment later your question got answered, as the girl with the scar poked her head around the corner.

“We don’t have much time,” she let you know, and you reached over to shake Zuko awake. His skin was warm even through his uniform and you couldn’t help the thought of how strong his arm felt even from just the short contact. Warm and alive. “I brought a few bites of breakfast, but it’s not much.” She handed you two slices of bread. “I have to get to work, or they’ll notice something is up. And you should get ready, eat a little, do your hair… They’ll come to let me out in an hour, then the door stays unlocked. Wait a few minutes if the corridor seems empty, you can just leave. Behave as if you belong here and nobody will ask questions.”

You nodded, making sure to not look over to Zuko who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“We were thinking we could hide out in the library until lunch time, as suggested yesterday,” you explained, getting up and following the girl who began taking down uniforms.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Do you know where you need to go?”

“Not at all.”

“Out of this room, to the right. Then through the door into the yard. The library is to the left, it has a huge Fire Nation emblem on the side, you can’t miss it. If you go to one of the reading rooms on the third floor, it’s going to be quiet. Almost nobody goes there during the day, but also not so few people that it would be weird. And if I’m not mistaken, the blueprints for the school are on the third floor, so you can research the layout of the buildings. You’ll find Ai for lunch time at the door to the kitchen, right when the bell rings. From the library, head straight across the yard, to the building with the three trees in the front. Go past the building and around to the back, there’s the door to the kitchen, where you’ll meet her.”

“Got it,” you agreed. “Do you need help here?”

“Rather not,” the girl sighed. “It would be weird if I suddenly got done more than usually. And you should get ready.”

She was right of course, so Zuko and you quickly chewed down the bread she had brought, together with some water you had still kept in the bags you had hidden behind the column. After that, Zuko helped you do your hair again, and in turn he did yours, finishing just in time before the guard returned.

Just as the girl had predicted, the guard didn’t lock the door after letting her outside, and after a few minutes, Zuko and you slipped out of the door, quickly assuming the stances you had taken last night as well, pretending to fit right in with all the other tutors. Still, you couldn’t help the chill that ran down your spine as you stepped from the cool shadow of the building into the warm sun lighting up the yard. A group of students, no older than eight years old, greeted you as they walked past you in two neat rows, and pretending you knew your way around, you crossed the yard, heading into the library building.

The thick stone walls of the library kept out the creeping in heat of the morning, and as quickly and unsuspiciously as possible, Zuko and you walked through the entrance hall and up a broad flight of stairs. The girl with the scar had been right. Hardly anybody was in the library at this time of day. On the second floor you came past a librarian, who seemed to be sorting some manuscripts, but other than that, there was nobody around.

The third floor seemed to be split into two parts; the first part was the reading room the girl had talked about. It had huge windows opening towards the east, letting morning sunlight flood into the wide room. Broad tables with chairs, perfect for piling up books and maps during research were lined up all across the room, making space for countless scholars to do their work, but the room was deserted nonetheless. The other part of the floor was separated from the reading room by a colourfully painted wall, depicting war scenes and the rise of the Fire Nation as leader of the world. It was a sickening image, you thought to yourself, even though the art was of highest quality, and the sun falling into the room made the image glow hopefully. But the depicted violence, the propaganda that went into such a creation… it made your stomach turn. Zuko seemed to feel the same way, because after staring at the mural for a while, taking in the depiction of ostrich-horses trampling down earth kingdom folk and flames eating up water tribe palaces, he finally tore out of his disgust induced stupor.

“Let’s check this out,” he decided, and pushed open a door that was labelled as map archive. The room behind the door was nothing as grand as the reading room. It was dark, no windows and only a low ceiling. Shelves piled up from the floor to the ceiling, stacked with heavy books and loose sheets of paper. Small lights from glowing stone lit up the dark, but it took a while for you to get used to the dim lights. The shelves had to contain thousands and thousands of books, and you already started wondering how you were to ever find the right book that contained the maps of the school, when you noticed the labelling on the shelves. Zuko and you started searching. First for Fire Nation. Then the Fire Nation islands. This island. And about half an hour into your search, you eventually found a box of scrolls that seemed to hold the blueprints for the school. Letting Zuko know of your findings, you carried the heavy folder outside into the still deserted reading room.

When you flicked open the box, dust swirled up into the air, dancing like tiny insects in the morning light. Carefully you pulled out map after map: one seemed to be for the library, one of the buildings you had just come from, the one with the laundry room and the dorms. One scroll showed the layout of the kitchen building, one the layout of the whole school.

Zuko grabbed that one and spread it out on the table, smoothing down the edges.

“This looks like an old military base,” he realized. “Here, this building, and the library,” he pointed to two buildings on the map. “I think they were added more recently. But if you take them away, you get a military base like the ones built during my great-grandfather’s reign.”

“Military bases always had a prison, right,” you asked, leaning over the map as well, studying it. The signs with which the map was labelled were the old-fashioned kind, some of which you could only guess the meaning. “Where would that have been?”

“Here,” Zuko pointed to one of the biggest buildings, that now seemed to hold the school administration. It lay east of the library and right across the yard from the building with the laundry room. “Traditionally the prisons were built underground. This way, rooms with daylight could be used for offices, and the prisoners would suffer the feeling of loss of time without the changing of the light.”

You left the cruelty of that idea uncommented and instead searched through the other scrolls for the one with the blueprints for the administration building. It was one of the biggest and thickest scrolls, several sheets rolled into one another, and Zuko helped you unroll them. It seemed like he had been right. The top floors all were offices, and what looked like the living quarters of the teachers and tutors. The ground floor was mostly just one huge entrance hall with a few broom closets to the side.

“The hall is most likely for school gatherings during holidays or special occasions,” Zuko explained before pulling the sheet away to reveal the floor underneath.

“Here,” you pointed to what seemed to be a narrow corridor with many connecting small rooms, the whole hallway labelled as ‘reprimanding cubicles’.

Zuko nodded. “That might be the cells, you’re right.”

His eyes kept scanning the blueprint, and he bit his lip.

“What are you thinking,” you asked, noticing his hesitation.

“The girls said, they hadn’t seen your sister with the other students in the cells, right? That means, if she’s still on the premises, she’s held separately…”

You nodded, also beginning to study the map again. This was the lowest floor of the building, if the Fire Nation really treated her like a threat to their authority, and still decided to keep her here, she had to be on this floor.

“There,” you pointed to a tiny room in the very back of the corridor, furthest away from the staircase and around several corners. “This must be it.” Zuko didn’t answer, as you stared at the small square. Your eyebrows furrowed. “What does this ‘SD’ stand for?”

Instead of immediately answering, Zuko reached out his hand and placed it over yours.

“You’re shaking,” he mumbled, pulling your hand away from the paper. His skin was rough and warm, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine. He felt so safe. “The ‘SD’ stands for ‘specifically dangerous’. It was used for prisoners who posed a direct threat to the fire lord’s safety.”

You froze. “Didn’t that mean execution?”

“It still does… but this is a school, your sister is only a child,” Zuko swallowed thickly as if he was trying to convince himself most of all that the Fire Nation wouldn’t harm her. “My father’s commands might be cruel, but not even he would allow to put hand on such a small child.”

Something in the way Zuko’s voice wavered gave away that he only half believed what he was saying and you had to resist the urge to ask what his father had done to him.

After you had figured out, where Xiang was, Zuko and you continued studying the maps, coming up with escape routes and possible hide outs, should things not go according to plan. The sun moved across the sky quickly, and while an unbearable nervousness began settling in your stomach, you also wished you’d have more time. More time to come up with better plans, more time to prepare mentally. There was still the chance that Xiang wasn’t in the cell you and Zuko suspected her in. There was still the chance that she wouldn’t recognize you. Maybe she would even refuse to go with Zuko and you. Sure, both Zuko and you could easily pick her up and escape with her like that, but it would make things difficult, more difficult than escaping the guards of a school that was basically a prison already was.

But whether you wanted it or not, the sun kept climbing up in the sky and soon it was time to pack away the maps and leave the library. You made sure the tables you had worked at were cleared and the scrolls back where you had found them, before you made your way back down to the entrance of the library and past the heavy walls of the building into the yard. Out here, the sun had heated up the stone tiles on the ground, making heat blast into your face as you stepped outside. You knew Zuko could tell how nervous you were, but other than sending you a few glances from the corner of his eyes, he didn’t let anything on.

You had almost made it halfway through the yard, when suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees you were heading for. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you recognized the hunched over figure as Guo, your old teacher. Pretending not to know more about her than that she now was working for the Fire Nation, you and Zuko kept heading her way, greeting her in passing. You had already walked past her, when she suddenly called for you.

“You two!” Her voice sounded as rough as ever. “You patrolled the dorms last night, right?”

Zuko and you stopped in your tracks, shooting each other quick glances, before slowly turning around to her. Here in the bright daylight the chances for her recognizing you were so much higher than they had been in the dimly lit stairwell last night.

“Yes,” Zuko answered, taking a step forward, conveniently hiding you behind his back. “Were there any problems that we overlooked?”

“No.”

You couldn’t see Guo’s face, but something in the way she snarled out that single word made alarm bells ring in your head.

“No problems at all. You did a good job. And now on your way!”

Zuko and you quickly bowed to her, before turning around, continuing your way to the kitchen door. Your heart was hammering hard in your chest, both from the unpleasant encounter and the knowledge that you finally were getting close to seeing your sister again.

Ai was waiting by the kitchen door to be escorted by you, just like you had planned. She was holding onto a cart, stacked with covered plates, doubtlessly for the children who were sitting in these cells.

Acknowledging she nodded to you, but when you opened you mouth to ask how she was doing she shook her head.

“Tutors usually don’t talk to us students,” she quickly let you know, pushing the cart forwards so she was walking between the two of you. “I’ll help you get into the Mould, but you need to find your own way from there on out.”

Zuko and you nodded in agreement, before you all started walking. The yard was bigger than it had looked on the maps, and the walk took long enough for the blaring sun to become uncomfortably hot on your head. The building you were headed towards was tall and looming, almost seeming to lean over the yard, and the closer you got to it, the more it reminded you of a waiting monster, with these many blank windows like soulless eyes following your every movement.

As you approached the door, you noticed two guards blocking the way. At your side, Ai started to get nervous.

“This is unusual,” she whispered, before you came into earshot of the guards, who straightened up when you approached them, crossing their speers, to barricade then entrance.

“You are not permitted to enter,” the taller one of the two spoke.

“I’m just delivering the food for the students in the Mo- in the cells,” Ai tried to explain, but the other guard shook his head.

“Wrong answer.”

And with that, he they suddenly pointed their speers at Zuko and you.

“Prince Zuko, (y/n), get down on the ground now!”

Zuko reacted before you had even quite made sense of the situation. With one hand he grabbed the lance that had been pointed at him, ripping it out of the guard’s grip, while he used his other hand to launch a fire ball at the guard who had been threatening you.

“We’ve been found out, come on!”

Grabbing your wrist, he dragged you behind himself into the building, not even looking back to check on Ai.

The hall you entered was dark compared to the bright sunlight outside, but after having memorized the maps, you knew which way to go. Turning right, you raced through the second door from the entrance, which lead down a narrow staircase into the part of the basement that held the Mould. Sure enough, once you had reached the bottom of the stairs, doors with bars lined the corridor left and right. The air was moist down here, moist and full of the sickening stench of mould. The name these cells had been given was not undeserving. You had barely passed two cells, when you noticed the children. One in each cell, pale little faces with wide eyes staring at you as you ran past them. You felt your heart break, wanting to help them, to free them from this awful place in the dark, wet cold. But you couldn’t. Not right now anyway. You had to keep going, find Xiang, get her out of here. And when the war was over, after Aang had defeated the Fire Lord, you’d come back here and make sure each one of these kids got to go back to their family. Or a place equally as good, if there was no family left who they might want to go back to.

The corridor was long and narrow, but your heart was beating so wildly in your chest, that you barely cared. You rounded a corner, then another one. Two more corners left before you’d get to the cell where Xiang was. One more corner. And then-

Zuko stopped so abruptly, that you ran into his back full force, almost making both of you tumble to the ground.

“What’s wrong,” you panted, glancing past his shoulder into the dim darkness.

There was the cell you had been looking for. And the door stood wide open.

Your heart, one minute ago still beating wildly, suddenly sank. You were too late.

A/N: I'm really, really sorry for this delay. Tbh i haven't been doing so well recently. Until now, when I wasn't well, it was "only" my mental health and university, but now to top it off, my physical health is also... it could be better. I injured my shoulder, and in December I'll get told wether I need an operation, and to make everything worse, there's the posibilty that I have insulin resistancy (which can lead to diabetes), and I yet have to get an appointment with a doctor who takes that problem seriously. Which in and of itself is fun, but then with the possibility that I might end up with diabetes because old people don't listen to me... Yeah, so things are not working out as i want them too. I have all the parts of this series written and proof-read, but posting it takes a lot of energy and sometimes time, which i both don't have enough of atm. I hope you guys can understand. I'll try to stick to the weekly posting schedule, but i can't make any promises rn.

Heart Aflame Part Three

Tags (it seems like some of the tags aren't working, sorry...):

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[dazziesrantzone]

Please do one where fade accidentally hits Reader with her nightmare 🙏🏻 and maybe locks herself in her room because she was so upset with herself but reader wasn’t mad

Your wish is my command! This took some time because I wasn't home for two weeks and didn't really use my laptop and I do NOT enjoy doing the editing and doing a layout on my phone.

(also tell me if this is how the continue reading thingies work I've never used one before, I made this a fic because I felt like it hehe)

Fade accidentally hitting you with Nightmare

You were in the kitchen at the Valorant HQ unsuspecting of anything, preparing yourself some cornflakes and getting a pot of coffee ready for the agents that were supposed to return soon. The clock read 3am when you got up, when it hit 3:15 something weird happened. Everything went dark for a second, then red lights and an alarm turned on. You guessed HQ has a generator for emergencies but what would've caused something like that to happen?

Your questioning was cut short when you heard glass shatter and footsteps approaching fast. In your mind hiding anywhere was better than hiding nowhere and just standing there being an open target, whoever it was breaking in surely did not come in peace. Hastily you made your way to the pantry cowering somewhere in between the shelves, useless rugs hanging over the brooms in the corner hopefully covering your silhouette enough to go unnoticed. Minutes went by but to you they felt like hours.

Suddenly your vision went blurry and somehow something in your vision made the pantry seem even darker than before. You understood what happened when you heard your partners voice deep in your head. "Like a fly in a nest".. Surely she'd never mean harm to you so you confirmed your suspicion that the invaders must've been hostile, why else would Hazal use her Nightfall?

Well at least this meant she made her way home safely if she was able to use it. You still decided to keep hiding until everything is clear. Eventually someone would find you, you hoped.

And indeed your partner was the lucky one to find you, or .. unlucky one? Fade did not seem happy to see you, rather upset. You couldn't hear what she said when she stormed off, Nightmare still occupying your vision and hearing, stumbling you got up, finding the rest of the agents in the kitchens having an emergency meeting about whatever happened you were guessing. Some splatters of blood on walls but no body bags in sight, you guessed if it truly was mirror agents attacking your base they left by now. After stumbling into a chair you sat down for a few minutes, turns out getting hit by Hazals abilties really takes a toll on you when you're not some highly trained agent, her not being seen anywhere did worry you though. You asked the others but their last info was also just seein her storm off, but they agreed you should be the one to go looking for her.

So you went to your shared room first, since this is usually the place to find her wrapped up in your blanket. The corridors of the base never seemed this endless before, you know you didn't do anything wrong but seeing her so upset truly made your stomach churn.

When you arrived you gently knocked on the door, trying to open in you noticed that it's locked. She could be somewhere else, but you didn't lock the door when you left so you assumed she locked it from the inside and started trying to console her.

"Hazal, I know you didn't mean to hit me with your powers." No response. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt because of you, I promise it's alright, imagine what would've happened if the intruders found me first. But they didn't because you were there, .. now if you'd please open the door." You heard some shifting, this truly must have upset her if she looks herself in her room, she avoids a lot of people a lot of the time but never you, up until now.

After what felt like an eternity you heard the door unlock and a pair of arms wrapping around you. "I'm sorry", is all she said in a weak tone. "I told you, you don't need to be. I'm just glad you're home safely.", you whispered in her hair but you knew she heard. Hastily she took you inside your shared room and as often went to bed to cuddle with you. You took her into your arms again, hoping she wouldn't have nightmares about hitting you with her abilities after what happened today. You turned on the TV for some background noise since she usually took a long time to fall asleep. Surprisingly not today, and she also didn't seem to stirr a lot in her sleep, hopefully that meant she's having a good rest. You pat her head gentls and give her a forehead kiss before falling asleep yourself.

[angelmatthew]

₊˚.༄ ginger tea - sung hanbin

this is very self indulgent because i was sick last week too :(( i can never keep sickfics short and sweet because i'm a sucker for whump, this is very soft whump though ! my writing's still a bit rusty but it's getting better (i hope). also, i'm still not sure about the layout for my posts so i'm trying out different things, i'll stick to one layout eventually!

🖇️request

↬hanbin x gn!reader ↬2054 words ↬fluff, soft angst, one shot ↬tw: mentions of vomit, a little bit whumpy, not proofread

your muscles were aching, your head pounding like a bass drum and you could barely breathe with your stuffy nose. you had to be in class in an hour but getting out of bed was a daunting mission.

you rolled over, clinging to the warmth of your bed, hoping a few more minutes might work a magic fix. and, before you knew it, you were out like a light.

you’re woken up two hours later by the sound of your phone ringing.

"hey, where are you sweetheart?" you picked up the phone without even checking the caller. once you recognize the familiar voice, you immediately snap into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"oh my god, bin, i’m so sorry i overslept," you confess. you hear background chatter and figure hanbin is already at the coffee shop for your study date. he promised to help you with your finals, despite his busy schedule.

hanbin's voice carries genuine concern. "it’s okay, your voice sounds tired, are you feeling alright?"

“i’m okay," you hesitantly admit, "just feeling a bit under the weather. i'm so sorry for making you wait."

you downplay your ailment, though you can never fully deceive hanbin; his perceptive nature sees through your attempt to minimize the situation. the guilt starts settles in.

"It’s alright, i'm coming over," he reassures you with his signature comforting tone. there's not a single trace of annoyance in his voice, even though he's been patiently waiting for you for the past thirty minutes.

"no! it's okay. I know you're busy, and you made time for me to help with studying, and—" you start to babble, but hanbin interrupts with a soft chuckle.

"my schedule's never too packed for you. plus, it gives me an excuse to escape practice." he speaks in that sing-songy voice you adore, prompting a genuine smile from you.

"well, in that case, i'm glad i could rescue you from the clutches of boredom."

he laughs, "exactly. I’m bringing some medication, tea and cuddles."

true to his word, a few minutes later, there's a gentle knock on your door. you’re greeted with a bear hug and whisker dimples.

“how are you feeling beautiful ?” you can't help but grimace at the pet name, your hair's a mess, you’re pretty sure there’s a toothpaste stain on your sweatshirt, and the fever's turned you into a bit of a sweat machine.

"i look awful," you grumble, stealing a quick glance at your reflection in the small corridor mirror. hanbin's eyebrows furrow, he's quick to interrupt your self-critique.

"you always look beautiful to me," he adds, a reassuring smile accompanying his words. he then, presses his palm against your forehead, seamlessly slipping into concerned-mom-mode. his eyes pop wide, and his lips pull a total 'o' move – the classic hanbin surprise face.

"you're burning up!" he exclaims, guiding you to the couch with a gentle urgency, concerned that standing might tire you out even more. your dizziness was palpable; even reaching the front door felt like a monumental effort.

"did you eat something since this morning?" hanbin questions while putting the grocery bags on the kitchen island, his focus shifting to the small pharmacy bag.

"no, i felt too nauseous," you admit, your voice laced with a hint of shame.

he pauses, worry etched across his features, but he swiftly transforms it into a warm beam, the last thing he wants is to make you feel bad. "no worries, love. let's get you cozy first,"

he disappears into your room, returning with a fluffy blanket and a pile of cushions. he arranges the cushions, making sure they cradle you just right. the blanket, soft and inviting, is draped over you, and he tucks its edges gently, creating a cozy nest.

you can't help but admire his simple yet caring gestures. there's a warmth in his eyes, a quiet assurance that makes you feel secure.

"better?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“yes, thanks bin, you're an angel” you grab his hand, trying to convey your appreciation as best as you can — can’t risk a kiss in your current state. hanbin takes your hand in his, and kisses each of your knuckles softly, you feel like your heart might explode. in moments like these, you wonder how you got this lucky.

“no need to thank me, now, you need to take your medication…" he makes his way to the kitchen and rummages through the grocery bags, revealing an array of medicine.

he hands you a cup of water along with a few pills and another cup filled with a suspiciously white liquid. "i know it looks like a lot, but the pharmacist promised it should work wonders,"

you nod reluctantly, eyeing the medicine-filled cup. you take a sip of the chalky liquid, the taste makes your face scrunch up in immediate disgust.

"ugh, it's gross," you whine, hanbin chuckles at your distaste.

"you did it! now, the water to wash away the icky aftertaste," he hands you the water with an encouraging smile. "bottoms up!”

you manage a small grin, appreciating his encouragement, and with a final gulp, you conquer the medicine ordeal.

"now, about the nausea, how about a little snack, you can’t take more medicine on an empty stomach" hanbin suggests, you manage a weak nod, grateful for his attention. as he heads back to the kitchen, you can't shake the lingering discomfort; the idea of ingesting any food makes you feel even more nauseous but you don’t want to discourage your boyfriend.

he returns with a plate of crackers and slices of apple, “you don’t have to finish it all,” he hands you the fork with an encouraging nod then turns on the TV and puts on your comfort show, in the hopes that having distraction will make it easier for your stomach to handle the meal.

hanbin watches you eat with a mix of hope and concern, his eyes searching for signs of improvement. after a few bites, your stomach rumbles, and you reluctantly set down your fork. he doesn't want to force you to eat but on the other hand that the lack of nutrition might make you feel worse.

"just one more bite, okay?" hanbin insists, his voice soft. instead of waiting for your response, he picks up a piece of apple and brings it to your lips, offering it with a reassuring smile. "small bites. we'll take it slow."

you take a deep breath before taking another miniscule bite, but as hanbin's hopeful gaze meets yours, the nausea suddenly intensifies. without warning, you get up abruptly, rushing to the bathroom as your stomach rebels. your boyfriend follows, concern etched on his face. you wish he didn’t but he holds your hair gently as you vomit, the sound echoing in the small space.

“i'm so sorry," each retch is accompanied by a twinge of shame, intensified by the fact that fever has left you a bit delirious. you can't help but shed a few tears. yet, through it all, hanbin remains unwaveringly calm and gentle, rubbing your back soothingly.

"shh, it's okay” he repeats, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. he stays by your side, offering comfort as you navigate through this less-than-pleasant moment. as you finish, he helps you rinse your mouth, his touch gentle against the fatigue and fever.

guiding you back to the living room, he reassures, "take your time," and tucks you under the blanket. "if you're not up for eating, we can try again later."

you stare at his expression, he looks even more concerned than before, and you're not sure why but an odd inclination to cry takes hold. maybe it's because hanbin is right here, taking care of you, even handling the less glamorous parts without seeming annoyed or bothered in the slighest. your thoughts became a muddled blend of exhaustion, an overwhelming swell of gratitude, and an uneasy undercurrent of guilt,

as you struggled to fend off the fever-induced haze in your mind, you hadn't noticed hanbin quietly settling beside you, extending a glass of water. "small sips,"

you accept the glass, your body still tense from the earlier ordeal. "i'm sorry," you repeat while trying to supress the sob that threatens to escape your lips.

"hey, don't be sorry," he says, wiping away a tear with a tenderness that melts the tension, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "i'm the one who made you eat when you didn't feel like it. we'll take it one step at a time, okay?" his soothing voice intensifies your emotions, and you find yourself shedding a few more tears, feeling extra awful with your scratchy throat and stuffy nose.

being the empath that he is, hanbin seems on the brink of tears himself, but he doesn't succumb. instead, he gently rubs your back and strokes your hair, humming your favorite songs in an attempt to help you calm down.

"think you need some sleep," he whispers after a few minutes. you nod weakly, and he helps you shift into a more comfortable position, fluffing the pillows and adjusting the blankets.

"anything hurting?" he asks while tucking you in, his fingers gently ensuring the edges of the blankets cocoon you snugly.

"my whole body is aching," you murmur, the exhaustion evident in your voice. moments later, hanbin returns from the kitched with warm heat packs, their comforting weight carefully arranged on your body. as he tends to you, the furrow on his brow and his careful, deliberate movements betray the emotional toll it takes on him to witness you in discomfort. he refrains from asking more questions, not wanting to exhaust you or burden you; he still feels a bit guilty from the ealier nausea ordeal.

before he even gets the chance to check on you again, you've already drifted off to sleep. when you slowly open your eyes two hours later, hanbin is still hovering over you, changing the wet cloth on your forehead with a fresh, cool one.

"hey sleepyhead, feeling better?" he asks, gently stroking your cheek. you nod slowly, his cool hand soothing your warm face.

now that your mind is clearer and the fever has gone down, you feel the shame settle in — you've never been this vulnerable in front of hanbin, you know he doesn't mind taking care of you but you feel sorry nonetheless.

"thank you again, for taking care of me, i was a complete mess earlier," you shyly blurt out.

"it's what i'm here for my love," in response, he graces you with that infectious smile, reminiscent of fluffy clouds and blooming spring flowers.

hanbin leaves your side momentarily but returns with a steaming mug of ginger tea, its comforting aroma filling the room.

"here, this might help you feel even better," he says, handing you the mug. the warmth of the tea and his comforting presence start to chase away the stiffness in your body.

hanbin settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace.

"You know," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eye, "you owe me. i've been exposed to your germs," you chuckle and hanbin's relieved to see you laugh.

"i don't mind as long as I get to cuddle you like this," you say, sinking deeper into the embrace.

"even when I'm all sweaty?"

"you did it for me, i don't see why i wouldn't do it for you," you say, your tone light but filled with genuine affection.

hanbin seems a bit taken aback by your response. even though he spends his time taking care of the people around him, accepting the same level of care from others has always been a bit challenging for him. it's as if he fears it might compromise his dependable attitude. however, ever since you started dating, he's been gradually getting used to the idea and the same goes for you — taking care of each other even in the messiest moments felt more natural.

"you've got yourself a deal. just promise you won't judge the sweaty, sickly version of me too harshly."

you playfully roll your eyes, "bring it on, i'm ready for it warts and all,"

with a smirk, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "i'll hold you to that."

[agaypanic]

reese wilkerson x reader!! where he & reader go to a house party together & she’s wearing a seggzy dress & has a lot of the popular guys hitting on her (she’s popular too) & he gets all jelly & sad & reader makes it up to him & makes him feel better! (smutty or fluffy ending)

Little Black Dress (Reese Wilkerson X Cheerleader!Reader Smut)

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Summary: You go to a homecoming party with Reese, and he gets mopey watching people try to get your attention. You find an empty bathroom and remind him that he’s the only one you have your eyes on.

A/N: i dont think ive ever written a hand/blowjob before so hope this is ok lol

CW: semi public sex (bathroom at a party), oral (m receiving), handjob, lowkey sub!reese and dom!reader

***

“I hate the way they’re all looking at you.” Despite his grumbling being quiet and the house being outrageous, you picked up Reese’s words loud and clear. His fingers played with one of the straps on your dress as he kept you close to his side. “It’s like I’m invisible to them or something.”

Your boyfriend’s moping made you feel bad. After all, you were the one who dragged him to this house party. The school’s football team had just won the homecoming game a few hours ago, and being a cheerleader, you had loads of party invitations. As soon as you came in, you were dragged to different parts of the house to catch up, be complimented, and occasionally hit on by a random tipsy classmate. The whole time, Reese was by your side, and you seemed to be the only one who wasn’t ignoring his presence.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You cooed, cupping Reese’s cheek. He usually didn’t like having soft moments like this in public, but you hoped he wouldn’t mind it right now. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“No.” Reese shook his head, giving your waist a quick squeeze. It was clear he was lying for your benefit. “No, I don’t want you to miss out on all the fun.” An idea quickly popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but grin at your mischievous thought.

“I could show you some fun.” Reese picked up on your suggestive tone, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you. “If you want.”

It took a quick moment of contemplation before Reese nodded slowly, allowing you to pull him out of the kitchen where the two of you were taking refuge from the chaotic party. Luckily, you had practically been dragged all over the house tonight, so you had a pretty good idea of the layout.

As you pushed through the crowd of dancing and drinking teenagers, some friends and strangers tried to stop you to talk. You simply ignored them and kept walking, squeezing Reese’s hand extra tight to ensure you wouldn’t lose him.

Eventually, you found an empty bathroom at the end of a dark hallway. 

After a quick look around the corridor to see if anyone was watching, you slipped into the room, dragging Reese behind you. You locked the door before turning to your boyfriend, who seemed a bit antsy as to what would happen next.

You quickly took Reese’s face in your hands, smushing your lips against his in a messy but passionate kiss. Pressing yourself against him, you could soon feel the tent in his pants start to rise. You grinned into the kiss before trailing down to suck on the soft spots of Reese’s neck, causing him to groan and shudder while gripping your hips.

“Want me to take care of you, pretty boy?” You whispered against Reese’s hot skin. You felt the vibrations of his hum of affirmation, a hand being settled on his throat and face tucked in the crook of his neck. You grinned, pulling away and sinking down to your knees.

Your movements were slow, making Reese writhe with anticipation as he watched your hands reach up. Soon, his jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and tugged down with his boxers just enough to free his pulsing cock. Mouth watering at the sight, you looked up at Reese for another look of confirmation before taking hold of him.

With a featherlight touch, you stroked him slowly, listening to his murmurs of relief. Seeing that he was leaking with precum, you kitten licked the tip of Reese’s dick before opening your mouth wide enough to take him inch by inch.

“Oh, god.” Reese had an iron grip on the bathroom counter he was leaning against. He looked down at you before throwing his head back in pleasure as you bobbed your head. Whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth was stroked by your hand. “Feels so good.”

You moaned at the praise, the vibrations causing Reese to jolt and hit the back of your throat. You gagged, but quickly recovered and continued your ministrations.

Reese’s hips started to move on their own accord, slightly thrusting past your lips. You took your mouth off of him, looking up in faux disappointment and clicking your tongue.

“Be good, Reese.” You warned. Your boyfriend nodded feverishly, wishing for you to continue. Luckily for him, you began sucking his cock again, every little touch driving him closer to the edge.

“Baby, I’m-“Reese cut himself off with a moan, trying to hold himself off a little longer.

“It’s okay, honey.” You said, stroking him swiftly to make up for the lack of your mouth. “Go ahead and come.”

With your words and the warmth of your mouth soon engulfing him again, it wasn’t long before Reese finished with a shudder, fingers gripping the sink even harder than before. You swallowed every last drop he gave you, lips parting from his softening cock with a lewd pop sound.

Above you, Reese’s stiff figure started to relax, sighing in slight exhaustion. You smiled at the reaction, rising to your feet. While your boyfriend recovered from his climax, you looked over his shoulder into the mirror, fixing your now slightly smudged lipstick with your finger. When you looked back at Reese, he was already looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked with a smirk. Quickly, Reese shoved himself back into his boxers and zipped up his pants, running a hand through his hair before pulling you out of the bathroom while you giggled at his reaction.

***

Malcolm in the Middle Taglist: @rattilol

Reese Wilkerson Taglist: @hollymaybank @theogirlovermattheogirl

[aidansloth]

Coffee and Chamomile

Summary: Hitoshi can’t sleep (again) so he decides to get up and make himself some good-ass coffee ‘cause he’s smart. When he reaches the common room, he realizes he’s not the only one who wanted a hot beverage.

Warnings/Things to keep in mind: slight hurt/comfort, swearing, suggested low self-esteem on Shinsou’s side and some dirty jokes because they’re teens. And adorably cute. Reader is referred to as they/them or ‘you’, this takes place in the dorms and Shinsou is part of Class 1-A (or 2-A, whatever you want). Also I don’t remember perfectly the layout of the dorms so pretend. I’m not up to date with the episodes (stuck on season 4) so please no spoilers! Last disclaimer: this is KIND OF self-indulgent and I’m autistic so if you think the reader is acting weird, that’s why.

Words: 2.3k

Posted this on AO3 too! You can find it here.

2:38am

Hitoshi turned in his sheets, covers uncomfortably sticking to his form as he sank his face into the scrunched-up pillow.

3:04am

An exasperated groan escaped his lips, half suffocated by the cushion; his arms wide around the mattress and his breathing deep and empty.

3:29am

That’s it. He’s getting up and making himself some damn coffee or whatever the others left in that poor kitchen. His sheets are hurled carelessly as his feet instinctively find their place in his cat-shaped slippers. Trying not to make too much noise (an act he had mastered by now) he opened the door and made his way to the common room. His phone, used as a make-shift torch guided him across the corridors; as he got closer and closer he noticed light becoming brighter, when he finally reached his destination the realization dawned on him. Someone else was up.

He quickly turned his phone-torch off before turning the corner, to find one of his new classmates dancing (or whatever that was) with their back turned to him, hands busy with what looked like a cup of tea.

It wasn’t long since he joined the Hero Course but he was starting to remember some names and whatever faces he didn't remember from the Sports Festival. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that good with names. No one talks to him anyways, why should he care?

While he did recognize you from behind he did not remember your name. You were nice to him, he thought. Nicer than the rest at least. That Denki guy seemed nice too- a bit too intense though. You lent him a pencil- or was it a tissue? No mind that, what was he gonna do now? Leave? No, you’ll turn around and notice him and think he was spying on you. Did you even want company? You seemed pretty busy. On the other hand it’s his common room too- but has he been there long enough to intrude on your private moment like that? He might not be here to make friends or be nice but that doesn’t mean he has to be an ass.

That’s when he realized you hadn’t noticed him yet. Ah. So aware of their surroundings for a hero.

He decided that grunting awkwardly was the best course of action. Bummer, you were wearing earphones. He tried a louder cough, but you only noticed him once you found yourself face to face with him. A loud curse left your lips and your hands instantly slammed against them as instinct. Hitoshi’s eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together to suppress a chuckle. Good thing you placed your tea down earlier. Their eyes were now staring straight into his.

“Ehm- hi.” You licked your lips, saliva suddenly missing.

“Hi.” He managed to grunt out. Now this was awkward. He watched your eyes dart back and forward before settling back on him. He really wanted to say something, anything to get this uncomfortable feeling out but that little voice at the back of his head held him back.

“You here to make yourself some tea too?”

His mouth opened slightly, the careless innocence of the question taking him aback. Still, no words came out. He nodded. He actually wanted coffee but he didn’t think himself able to explain that through words now.

“Cool. I boiled extra water accidentally. What kind of tea did you want?” Your smile looked so genuine and again, careless. Like you didn’t think he was dangerous. Out of habit he was about to nod again but stopped in time to force some words out.

“Is there carcade?”

“Yep!” You were definitely too chipper for this hour in the morning. He tried not to think too much about the fact that you answered his question with no hesitation. He watched as you moved your hands swiftly along the mugs and tea bags, your movements rhythmic, like you do this a lot. In no time your teas were ready, so you placed yours in front of your stool and in front of his. Not that he sat down yet, no. His eyes were too busy watching you. The tea caught his attention quickly enough. Sitting down his hands snaked around the mug, his hoodie sleeves just a bit too long.

A string of silence hung.

“I guess we’re both awake for the same reason.” Hitoshi was glad his voice was back, though the ever-lingering anxiety stayed. He actually didn’t know why they were up but he thought this was a decent conversation starter. His gaze was too occupied marveling at the tea to notice your tilted head and dog-like expression.

“You’re writing fanfiction too?”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“Ehm- no- no I’m not.” Suddenly he felt weird and sorry he wasn’t writing fanfiction. His classmate nodded understandingly while taking another sip off their mug. Looking back at the kitchen island he felt particularly stupid for not noticing the laptop with an open Google Document page open. There was a small beat of awkward silence before the next sentence.

“Then why are you up?”

Ah. There it is. What was he supposed to respond now? Oh yeah, basically I have insomnia, meaning I get no hours of sleep and I do manage to miraculously fall asleep I’m awoken by nightmares and now, as our new guest of honor, the gracious sounds of the guys’ snoring which breaks the laws of time and space by getting across all those walls!

“Just- stuff.”

He thanked every god in the universe that they didn’t ask anything surrounding his very weird and suspicious answer but opted for a simple nod and a ‘cool’. Clinging his fingertips against the mug he realized he should try to keep the conversation going as well; you probably thought he didn’t want to talk to you with all his dry answers. His grip tightened and his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

“What- what is the fanfiction about?” He swore he never saw someone’s eyes light up faster, their lips immediately stretched into a painfully wide smile.

“Basically, you know ‘Lord of the Rings’, right? The fantasy book? There are these two characters, a dwarf and an elf. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, these two races have a really tough history which led to prejudice and hate on both sides. But for this certain world-saving quest they have to interact with each other, trust each other, you know? For the first quarter, maybe, of the quest they don’t get along very well. I mean, not trying to kill each other or anything, but petty threats and jokes are thrown around. At a certain point in their journey they have to take a break in this elven kingdom and by the end of it they are the best of friends! Now, I ship these two characters together, so, I’m writing a specific fanfic that takes place during their pause there and since Tolkien didn’t really go into detail with what they were doing during that time I have lots of creative freedom,”

Hitoshi’s lips pressed together as he watched them gesticulate their way through what could only be defined as a speech; his half-open eyes never left theirs while his chin rested on his hand. His eyes lingered from one feature of their face to another, still listening of course: he was good at that. Though his eyes may have lingered a moment too long on their lips.

“-not even mentioning their relationship later on at the end of ‘The Return of the King’, commenting on Minas Tirith’s architecture like a bunch of housewives! Really, in the middle of a war ‘This place needs more trees!’-” Their face dropped and Hitoshi’s heart with it. Did they notice him staring too much? He did that, didn’t he? Fuck. He made them uncomfortable-

“I’m sorry. I’m boring you.” They say huffing out a half-regretful chuckle. It nearly tricks him.

He stared just a little bit longer before talking.

“You’re not.”

He watched as their lips turned into an awkward smile, like they thought he only said it to be nice. The silence slowly crawled back. Hitoshi didn’t know what sudden urge slapped him in the face enough to have the courage to speak, but he did.

“Your voice is relaxing.” Good job asshole, now they think you’re a creep. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from your surprised one, which quickly turned into one of joy. And now he was blushing. Might as well dig my own grave with that one. Fingers tapped on mugs. Their mouths opened once, closed and then opened again.

“Do you mind if I- we move to the couch? I hate stools.”

“Sure- yeah.”

And moved to the couch they did. Fanfiction-writing long forgotten, they placed their teas on the small table in front of them; Hitoshi was surprised when they got blankets for the both of them and instinctively covered him too but he wasn’t about to complain about it. For a little while they sat in comfortable silence, only sounds of breathing and sips were heard. Just for a little while though. Until he noticed they kept yawning and their head dropping a bit every couple of seconds. His eyebrows scrunched up.

“You tired?”

“Meh, just a bit.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you up? I mean, we’re not that busy right now with school, you could write during the day and not in the middle of the night. Unless you can’t sleep but it doesn’t look like you can’t.”

“Well-” They huffed out a smile. “-it’s not exactly about having time. It’s a bit more complicated. Like-” They exhaled again, squeezing their eyes shut and then reopening them. “There aren’t enough hours during the day to- to be. The whole day feels like a dread and the only thing I look forward to is those hours in the night where I can do anything I want without that senseless guilt. The night is the only time I feel free to be.”

Hitoshi stayed silent for a moment, elaborating every word meticulously.

“That’s- that’s-”

“Sad? Pathetic? Depressing?”

He chuckled. “I mean- a bit.” Their soft laughter mixed together. “What I meant to say was, that’s- relatable.” A simple shared look was enough to fill the silence between them.

“So, why are you up?” Before Hitoshi could excuse himself again they stopped him.

“Don’t you dare say ‘just stuff’ again to me, I just gave you a tear-ripping, punch-to-the-face, gut-wrenching speech.” With their index finger pointing at him he let out a soft laugh, though his eyes lost a bit of their shine for a second when he started speaking.

“I have insomnia.”

“Ah. So you got up to make yourself chamomile or something?”

“Well, I wanted to make myself some coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“And you let me make you tea, why?”

Hitoshi adjusted himself quickly and cleared his throat. “You looked happy.” He felt their eyes stare through his soul, he felt naked.

“Is this helping?” God thank you for changing the subject.

“Is what helping?”

“Talking.” He thought for a moment.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Don’t usually talk to people.”

They smiled. “I noticed.” He grinned.

“Are you going to go back to sleep then? Well, not sleep- you get it.”

“Don’t know. This couch is very comfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” You said, raising your eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. A wide grin grew on his face and he let out a laugh.

“Yeah.” You nodded again.

“You know, I won’t get offended if you want to go back to sleep- or to your fanfiction.” He said.

You shook their head. “I’m fine here.”

He gulped, praying that the low light won’t show his blushing cheeks. Their conversation went on for another half an hour at least, Hitoshi couldn’t tell honestly. Their teas finished and mugs cold, they got up (mostly because they realized the time). Cups in the sink, they began talking again once Hitoshi yawned.

You chuckled. “Is my voice that relaxing?”

“Incredibly so.” He grinned seeing them laugh again. He cleared his throat.

“So, you going to sleep?” Hitoshi watched them as their shoulders dropped.

“Yeah- yeah, is that okay? I don’t mean to leave you alone but-”

“Yes- yes it’s fine don’t worry about me, I won’t die,” he grinned, his hands in his pockets “sleep, you need it.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“No, I’m like Batman.”

“Are you implying he doesn’t sleep because he calls himself Batman?- He’s not even- He doesn’t have super powers like that, you are aware-” Their soon-to-be ramble was interrupted by his laughter.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not mocking, promise.” He bit his inside cheek, clenching and unclenching his fists in nervousness. “I just- like how passionate you are.”

“About Batman?”

“About Batman.” They looked at each other for a second before you nodded.

“Alright… Well, I’m off to bed. Nice slippers by the way.” Hitoshi grinned like a lovesick boy at your comment.

He nodded smiling and moved away a bit from the entrance of the corridor to let you pass. They smiled and wished each other a good night. It only took a few steps before you stopped and whipped around.

“Wait!” You ran and before he knew it they had plunged into him, his torso wrapped nicely within their arms. His body froze at first but quickly came back and wrapped his own arms around their frame. Hitoshi could feel his muscles relax. It wasn’t long before they moved away leaving an empty feeling in both of them.

“Goodnight!” They said and Hitoshi swore that was the sweetest smile he had ever had the luck of witnessing.

“Good- goodnight.”

As if he was able to sleep after that.

Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism/advice is welcomed.

[doledition]

VIGNETTES: THE FIRST WOUND

There were still ways, of course, to get past this small hiccup: the corridors of the Manor were winding, dropping off into parts of the house that sometimes Kylar hadn’t even known about. 

(or: the first in a series of five non-linear short vignettes into Kylar's daily life. Takes place before she meets PC. Be forewarned, I do not play hard and fast with canon, so I will be taking creative liberties in this fic. Reader's discretion is advised. TW for unreality. part two will be uploaded tomorrow.)

⛤⃝

The kitchen smelled of iron and mice by the time Kylar had gotten back home. 

She’d been gone for three hours. One hour, allocated to the park, to sit and breathe in the fresh air and let the birds roost on her back. Second hour, errands, standing in line at the grocery and staring at fresh fruits and vegetables, remembering how they used to taste way back when, and then shaking out of her recollections to grab the discount ramen on the top shelf. 

The third hour she’d been walking through the landfill-she’d hopped the fence, feeling the foul stink on her legs - and combed through trash, mountains of trash, until her hands had cut on discarded rust and her bag was almost too heavy to carry. But she carried it anyway, out of the landfill and back to Danube street. 

Kylar’s neighbors turned away when she appeared. They stared at her through their windows, locked the doors to take in her scruffy knees and ratty hair and the streaks of dirt on her arms and sneer. Ever since her parents fell ill, all her neighbors ever did now was sneer. 

She can’t remember the last time she was allowed in their houses, the costly Manors, all grand and stately and clean inside. It must have been once, long ago, when her parents worked and Kylar was a cute, if awkward baby. Then, her neighbors converged upon her, holding her to the light and kissing her face and commenting on her brilliant hair, so pitch black and royal, sleek! 

Now, her hair had faded to a dull brown, like mice droppings. She hadn’t combed her mop in days, and the tangles had spread down to her scalp, like roaches, walking and biting and grazing. Her hair shuddered in the wind like a wet dog, and she could feel the all consuming eyes of the nobles stare at her with something like disgust as she walked into the manor. 

The good thing about living in an old, storied house such as Kylars was how incomprehensible the layout was. Her grandfather, back when he had first had the Mansion renovated, had been absurd, livid, paranoid- according to her parents, he’d changed the house from the inside out, adding rooms upon rooms upon rooms until it felt more as though a new house had been constructed on top of the dead carcass of the mansion. 

Floor one was the foyer. Kylar hadn’t walked through the foyer in years, ever since termites had eaten through the top half of the extension beams and had caused the room to collapse in on itself. There were still ways, of course, to get past this small hiccup: the corridors of the Manor were winding, dropping off into parts of the house that sometimes Kylar hadn’t even known about. 

It wasn’t a route she liked taking most of the time, especially not when the sun was out and she heard the walls shiver. There was a side door she could use, through the kitchen which took her to the cellar which could take her to the first floor bathroom, and then to the second floor stairs. It was a well trodden path, dusty and filled with squeaking floorboards and empty moth cocoons, left to accumulate in the footfalls of Kylar’s feet. 

Floor 2 held the bedrooms. Seven in all on that floor, only three used. She wasn’t counting the game room, or the drawing room, or the music room, or the library. Kylar only ever visited these rooms sporadically, perhaps once every few months when a school assignment mandated it. Her parents used those rooms, and she didn’t want to disturb them. 

They were sick, after all, and needed as much rest as they could get. 

Which reminded her, she mused as she locked the door behind her, three times for posterity. She needed to head back to the pharmacy later, to ask for more of her mum's medicine. They’d run out last night, as Kylar had crushed the pills into a fine powder and cooked them into the blood stew she’d made. It hadn’t incorporated all the way, and the powder had turned into a thin film that floated to the top of the stew. 

Didn’t matter in the end-her mother never ate her meds, or her food. Kylar would push the bowl of stew towards her as she huddled in a corner of her bed, the sheets covered in red paste and the scent of rot heavy in the air, and her mother would bare her fangs and hiss in response. The bowl would always lay there on the nightstand, until next mealtime, when her parents would crawl into the walls of the house and Kylar would step in to fetch it. 

Regardless, one of these days Kylar knew her mother would take them. If she was persistent, she would. She just had to keep on trying. 

She slid her shoes off and set them beside the doorway. There were three pairs of shoes there, all Kylar’s, organized into a haphazard mound. Her school shoes, which she wore day in and day out, looked as though she’d fished them from the dumpster, all scuffed and torn at the edges. The other two pairs, her hiking boots and dance shoes, had gathered a fine layer of dust on them. She’d stolen those from the Shopping Centre months ago for her birthday (her parents' wishes) and had promptly left them to waste, relegated to her home. 

She picked the pair of hiking boots and, with great effort, shook them, wrinkling her nose and holding in her sneeze as dust drifted into the air. She repeated the gesture with the dance shoes, bundling them beneath her arms as she headed down the corridor, to the left, and into the lab.

Cont.

Read the rest of the wounds here: The Second Wound, The Third Wound, The Fourth Wound, The Fifth Wound

[toomuchdickfort]

I have this game on my phone for arranging rooms into a space like a puzzle and I’m like. Who the fuck is living in these theoretical homes lmao.

Not featured: rooms georg (house with one long corridors and eight rooms), rooms georg’s husband (house with two kitchens, dining rooms, living rooms, foyers, and four bathrooms. Not one bedroom), and that one that had the only bedroom as the room attached to the front door. Truly fascinating layouts lol

[lifblogs]

99

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1240 Summary: Omega tries to meet Clone Force 99. Author's Note: Anyone want a quick, loving fic for my 99th Bad Batch fic? I started writing for The Bad Batch a little over a year ago. I hadn't really been interested in writing in awhile, and I used to write every day. Last year, on January 20th, and then the 23rd, I hit my head repeatedly, getting a traumatic brain injury (TBI). While i healed, the only thing that I could really understand was The Bad Batch. It was there for me through the fog of not knowing language well, what day it was, of pain I still feel, and it helped me feel so many emotions rather than just the confusion and despair I felt. It felt like it gave me everything. And it gave me my writing back, even with my damaged language pathways that I have yet to do official work on healing. This show saved me. It even lowered my seizure activity so much that it became easier to live my life. I could go out in public, I didn't need to worry so much when I was in the kitchen, or showering. I didn't lose my day to suffering like I did. And while I have many issues with the ending, this show lives in me. It healed me. Bad Batch, thank you so much. See you in the next fic. 🫡 READ ON AO3

Omega knew she wasn’t supposed to do this, but a giddy nervousness took hold like small bubbles in her stomach, her chest. Though, her shoulders were raised with the anxiety of this.

She pressed the button that would open the door of her quarters, which she wasn’t really allowed to touch once it was lights out.

The door slid open with a hiss, the lights of the corridor falling on her. For a moment, she stood there, unsure about whether she could do this.

Then memories of earlier that day came to her, of the cadets that would be Clone Force 99 walking by her while she was hidden against Nala Se’s side for her secrecy. She had tried to peer out, to get a good look at them, and the rowdy way they made their way to training.

Sure, many of the cadets were children and could get rowdy, but not in the same way. She had memories of watching them in their growth  pods, wondering what they would be like, if she would ever get to meet them, telling herself that someday she would.

From the glimpses she’d gotten of them, she could see Hunter was growing out his hair against regulations, that Crosshair’s still wasn’t the proper brown, that Tech needed goggles to see (was that a result of the experimentation?), and that Wrecker was big, and loud in a way that seemed so fun. And Omega was missing out on that fun.

Sometimes it was boring not being able to interact with the other clones, aging at a normal rate rather than an accelerated one, only being allowed to help with Nala Se in the lab. She wanted to do something, experience something different.

She wanted friends, a family.

Clone Force 99 was her chance.

She took a deep breath, and poked her head outside of her room. There were no guards nearby, and she didn’t see any patrols for now. Omega left her room.

Sometimes the endless white of Kamino could make it confusing to know exactly where one was going, especially since she’d never been to Clone Force 99’s barracks before, but she’d stolen a look at a layout of Tipoca City, and their barracks were in the same building as hers. She thought she could still remember what she saw, that she knew the way.

Omega had to dodge patrols along the way, and while she liked to think she was brave, she wondered what she was doing. What would happen if she got caught? What would she even say to Clone Force 99? Wasn’t it rude to wake them from sleep?

Though, she figured they wouldn’t mind a little adventure, right?

Omega was caught only a few meters from their barracks, by Nala Se herself.

Was this an accident? Omega didn’t know how she would have been found otherwise. Maybe they had surveillance that she hadn’t considered.

“Omega,” Nala Se said, voice coming from behind, startling her.

She turned, shoulders raising, and then waved. “Oh, hi, Nala Se.”

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?

“Um… is the mess hall this way?” she asked, pointing down one of the halls.

Nala Se grabbed one of her hands.

“You know it isn’t, Omega.”

“Right, um, I got turned around?”

“You are supposed to remain in your quarters till morning. What were you doing?”

“I got really hungry,” she lied.

Nala Se just glanced at her, not seeming to believe it.

“Is this about Clone Force 99?”

“I want to meet them,” she said, voice almost a whine.

“Your safety is imperative.”

“Safety?” she questioned. “They’re clones like me. What could go wrong? They don’t fit in, I don’t fit in.”

Nala Se turned, taking Omega by the shoulders, grip gentle.

“They are not like you. None of these clones are like you.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“We can discuss this later.”

Nala Se continued to take her back to her quarters, but didn’t hold her hand this time.

She always says this when she doesn’t want to talk about something.

Omega didn’t push it, but once she was back in her quarters, she lay in her cot, wondering, and wondering.

What was so different about her that she couldn’t even meet the other clones made to be different? Sure, she was a girl, the only one ever made, but that was it. She had the mutated Jango Fett gene that gave her blonde hair, but that wasn’t so special at all. For instance, she knew CT-7567 had the same mutation.

Then what?

She supposed she didn’t even know enough about the galaxy to guess.

Would Master Shaak Ti know? Omega wasn’t allowed around her much either, which was strange since almost all clones trained under her.

Frustrated, it took Omega an agonizingly long time to fall asleep.

***

This happened again and again. She tried so hard to meet Clone Force 99, to see what they were like, her hope waning, her desperation growing, her heart breaking as they grew older, and went on missions, changed, became men.

Sometimes she would worry the whole time they were gone. What if something went wrong and they didn’t come back?

Omega was jealous of their tattoos they came back with at one point. Hunter’s was intimidating, but his soft smile eased that for her. Crosshair’s suited him perfectly. She wondered how much it had hurt, and this made them even higher in her mind. They were so cool!

While Wrecker had been injured from one of his own bombs, Omega had snuck a few looks at him, wondering if he’d lose his eye, if he’d want it replaced with a cybernetic one, if he’d regain his hearing in his left ear. At first it appeared the bomb had ripped his face apart, but the Kaminoans had put all the pieces back together.

The scar would be awesome.

And eventually, he was okay, and she couldn’t sneak in to see him anymore.

When Echo got added to the group, her curiosity heightened to an unbearable height. She wanted to know his story, wanted to be the one he smiled at in a way that made him seem even more human than others could.

When Tarkin arrived, things began to change, the air on Kamino becoming something volatile, dangerous. Nala Se tried to keep her closer than ever, and it was suffocating her.

The sense of danger let her know she had to get to Clone Force 99. They had to know what was happening, or at the very least, know who she was.

She didn’t know what was going on with her home, but when the Empire rose, it wasn’t her home anymore.

Clone Force 99 could be. They had to be.

They were different, like she was. It’d be perfect.

So when she followed them through the halls, and they’d finally caught on to her tailing behind them, her chest filled with a hope she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

She couldn’t help smiling, surrounded by them, finally getting to meet them.

Even with all that went wrong, she finally felt at home, realizing she never really had before. This was her family, and she would do whatever it took to keep them close. She would be a 99, like them. And together, she felt and gave more love than she had ever realized existed in the whole galaxy.

[extralively]

Satoru's apartment (Part 1)

Continuing with my whole thing of trying to make the characters' apartments from my fic in The Sims, let's finally get into Satoru's apartment! ....Or part of it, because his apartment is fairly big lol. Here's the layout:

*The office and washroom are blurred because I haven't actually gotten around to them yet lol

Satoru's place is pretty big, but not the biggest he could have afforded because he is just one guy... so a fairly "modest" apartment will do.

("modest" my ass lmao)

His apartment is pretty neat, which tends to surprise people that expect someone like him to make a mess of things, lol. But Satoru had a pretty strict childhood so some things just stuck with him, and along with the way his family never allowed him to decorate his room in the Gojo Estate with trinkets and stuff, most of his apartment ended up the same--almost void of personality. The things he actually cherishes are kept away from prying eyes, even if this is his own apartment.

Honestly, I had a few very vivid images of what I thought his apartment looked like in my head (or parts of it), and it was kinda tough trying to put them all together into a definite layout lmao. If I made some weird architectural choices, well.... good thing I'm not an actual architect! I just really wanted to make it look like how I pictured it in my head.

In this post we'll take a look at the living room/fireplace/dining area and the kitchen after the cut!

The entrance is pretty spacious, and right behind the camera here there's a door leading to a whole ass closet for shoes and coats and stuff.

This here is the living room, where Satoru spends a lot of his free time watching movies (especially when he has people over. And by people I mean Yura and Shoko, mostly). He has a bunch of DVDs and Blu rays there on the shelf behind the TV, and he also has a couple of video game consoles that he doesn't use a lot.

Yes, this is where the Movie Night oneshot took place (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)... among other scenes.

(That corridor in the second pic with the white door leads to the guest bedroom, the office, and the washroom. That white door is the guest room, specifically.)

This is the fireplace area! Satoru doesn't actually use the fireplace a lot since he has central heating in the entire apartment, but in the opening chapter of Deeper in the Dark, this is where Satoru made a little pillow nest on the floor for him and Yura to snuggle... and yes, other things.

It's got a pretty good view! (...just pretend it's Tokyo back there)

(That corridor in the first pic leads to his bedroom.)

Here is the dining room that Satoru only uses when he has people over, otherwise it's just easier to eat in the kitchen or outside in the balcony (more on the balcony in another post... cause I still need to make it prettier lmao)

Also I might make some changes to this dining area at some point because I'm not 100% sure on the decor yet....

And here's the kitchen! This is the one place that has the most trinkets on display, a lot of novelty items that were mostly gifted to him by Yura over the years (and that he actually makes a point to use). Funny mugs, cookie jars, silly sugar bowls--since Satoru is filthy rich, it's very hard to give him gifts, so Yura eventually found out that he actually likes being given 'stupid stuff', in her words.

I had a very vivid image of the kitchen entrance in my head from that chapter where Yura was sleeping in the guest bedroom after coming back from NYC, and she sleepily stumbles into a shirtless Satoru with his back to her by the counter... cue her brain short circuiting for a moment lmao.

Anyway, next up should be the bedrooms! It's been a struggle making this apartment because I had to download so much CC and mods to be able to make things look the way I wanted to, and I'm still constantly changing things lol. If I do decide to change something, we'll just call it Satoru renovating his apartment at some point throughout the years lmao

[mssstojifushiguro]

SCAR TISSUE

Chapter II - Next Door

Y/N

The elevator smelled like someone's cologne and half a regret. That sweet-sharp musk that tried too hard to cover sweat and didn't quite finish the job.

I had two cardboard boxes in hand, a bag slung over my shoulder, and Keiko meowing somewhere behind me like I'd ruined her entire week by moving her for the second time in a year.

"You're dramatic," I muttered, adjusting the box. "You'll live."

The doors opened to the twenty-seventh floor. Top. Brand-new building. Polished halls. Quiet. Not sterile, just... empty. A blank slate. My apartment was at the end of the corridor, gold plate on the door that caught the over head light: 17-22.

Cherry red walls. Matte black doors. Gold kitchen taps. A gold dancing pole drilled into the floor and ceiling. Every inch of the space had been mine to design. No roommates, no lingering scent of other people's food. Just me, Keiko, and a fridge full of tonic water and cold noodles.

I dropped the boxed on the marble counter with a grunt. Keiko skidded across the hardwood floors behind me and ran straight under the couch.

"Figures," I said, exhaling.

Then I smiled.

I hadn't smiled like that in weeks. Not since London. Not since the last gig, the last call from my mother, the last time someone told me I was "too much."

And for a moment, there was no guilt. No pressure. No flashing memories. Just the soft hum of a place that was mine.

I actually felt like an adult. Well I am 24, but I lived with my friends for two years after moving from London.

I threw on my playlist through my bluetooth in-built speakers I managed to tweak into yesterday. Summer Walker slid into The Neighbourhood and then into Drake- and cracked open a cold bottle of Ramune.

The lollipop from the convenience store sat on the counter, still in its wrapper. Blue raspberry. I unwrapped it, popped it between my lips, and let the sugar sit there like a secret.

The piercing still ached a little. Not painfully. Just enough to remind me I'd done something reckless yesterday - and maybe needed to do it again.

I leaned on the counter, sucking the lollipop thoughtfully, when Keiko suddenly jumped onto the balcony and started hissing.

I blinked.

"What-"

Then I saw it.

Another cat. In the opposite balcony. Not in the next building. Not across the street.

In the apartment directly next to mine.

Same layout. Same floor. And the cat- black, sleek, yellow eyes glowing like she ate gold for breakfast- was staring at Keiko like she wanted war.

"...oh," I breathed.

And then- he walked into view.

Long black hair. Baggy clothes. Cigarette dangling between his fingers. Hood up. Half-shadowed face.

G.

The piercer.

My neighbor.

I dropped the lollipop.

It hit the floor with a pathetic little thump, sticky side down.

000

the next morning...

I wasn't going to say anything.

I was going to ignore it. People live next door to each other all the time. People pierce each other's private parts and then never speak again all the time, right?

Right?

Wrong.

I stepped out of my apartment, hair fallen down my waist, a tank top and shorts clearly comfortable, keys jangling- and there he was.

Bag of trash in one hand, cigarette in the other, door still half open behind him.

He looked at me like I'd just climbed out of the floorboards.

"You," he said.

I lifted my chin. "Me."

A pause.

Then he turned, tossed the trash in the bin chute, and said, "You follow all your piercers home, or just the special ones?"

I blinked. "I live here."

He stared at me.

I stared back.

My mainecoon meowed behind me like she was trying to say, "This is awkward."

"You didn't mention that," he said finally.

"You didn't ask."

He scratched his head like the conversation was making his cigarette burn slower. "That's... unfortunate."

"For who?" I sneered.

Another long stare. Then he turned and walked back into his apartment without another word.

Door slammed. Soft.

And just like that, I was grinning again.

The lollipop from last night was still on my mind.

Later that night...

Music filtered through the wall. Faint, almost ghostlike - low bassline, probably Giveon, maybe Bryson Tiller. It wasn't loud, just present. Like someone thinking out loud with speakers.

I sat cross-legged on my couch, texting my band group chat while Keiko rolled on her back dramatically, still angry at her enemy next door.

And then- thump.

Something hit the wall from his side.

Not loud. Not violent. Just... intentional.

I paused my music. Waited.

Nothing.

And yet, somehow, the silence was louder than any reply.

A few days later...

I was kneeling by the shoe rack, digging through a pile of sneakers I hadn't organised yet, when I heard the knock.

Not a regular knock. A dry, annoyed one. The kind that came from someone forced to care.

I cracked the door open.

He stood there with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a small white bag.

"You left this in the hallway," he said.

My eyes narrowed. "That's not mine."

He raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the bag - then back at me.

Inside was a tiny pack of cat treats.

Oh.

Keiko padded up behind me, tail high, purring like she'd done something holy.

"Right," I muttered. "Thanks."

He started to turn, but Keiko zipped between my legs like a white bullet and launched herself at his anke.

Claws out. Murder in her eyes.

"Shit-!"

I lunged forward as he stumbled back, hissing like he was the cat.

"Keiko!"

She darted away, satisfied.

He stared down at the angry red line on his ankle, pulling up his baggy pant leg.

"She bit me."

"No, she scratched."

"She drew blood."

"She's just territorial."

"She's Satan," he snapped. "A fluffy, snow-coloured Satan."

I tried not to laugh. Failed miserably.

"Keiko doesn't like you," I said, wiping my eyes.

"I can see that."

"She has taste."

He looked at me, unreadable, then turned and walked off without another word.

From inside his apartment, I heard the click of the door, the rustle of his hoodie as he tossed it down, the sharp sigh of someone who'd just added me to a mental blacklist.

Keiko trotted back inside like she'd done God's work.

That night.

I couldn't sleep.

The bassline from an old Sade track was running loops through my brain - low, groaning, sensual- and I couldn't stop humming it under my breath.

I tuned my bass just to kill time. Fingers dancing across the strings in my bedroom, soft enough not to be obnoxious, loud enough to feel something under my skin.

Then, somewhere close- just past the wall- I heard him.

A choked sound. Guttural. Like something torn.

I froze.

There it was again.

A yell. Raspy. Not pain - fear.

Nightmares.

My hand leaned closer to the wall, not meaning to - just instinct.

Then I heard him mutter something low. Maybe a curse. Maybe a name. Maybe nothing at all.

And then the silence returned.

I exhaled slowly.

What the hell had happened to him?

The next morning...

G looked like a graveyard.

Eyes sunken. Cigarette tucked behind his ear. Hair tied messily. Hoodie pulled low like it owed him money.

We crossed paths at the elevator. Both heading out.

Neither of us said anything. Until Keiko peeked her head out of my tote bag and hissed.

He stepped back.

"I should've brought holy water," he muttered.

I smirked. "Still bleeding?"

"Emotionally."

The elevator pinged.

We stepped in.

He didn't speak again. Neither did I.

Bur as we stood shoulder to shoulder, quiet music filtered in through my earbuds- RINI, moody and romantic.

And for a moment, we weren't piercer and pierced, neighbors or enemires.

Just two people who didn't sleep much hiding behind headphones and hoodie strings.

000

GETOU

The walls were thick. But too damn thin. At first, it was just background noise - a bassline thumping through the walls. Slap- heavy. Sharp. Not bad. Funky, even. Like something Prince would've grinned at. Confident fingers. A little messy, but raw. Real.

I didn't mind it.

It was... lively.

Then it kept going.

And going.

Slap. Pop. Slide. Pop. Slap again.

For hours.

I sat on my couch, one leg thrown over the other, a cigarette burning between my fingers. The ash grew long, curling toward gravity, begging to fall. I hadn't moved in fifteen minutes. My sketchpad balanced on my knee, half-drawn lines waiting for me to care.

A dragon's spine - long, twisted, the kind that coils up the ribs and pierced out the back. I was working on the teeth. Razor-sharp, just like the way she played.

The bassline slipped between my strokes. It snuck under the floorboards, buzzed up through the soles of my feet. Each slap hit like a pinprick to my temple. The hum was thick - molasses and sweat and something dirty, like a bar in the middle of the city that refused to close.

I closed my eyes.

Then-

"FUCK!"

A girl's voice. Muffled. But crystal-clear.

Agitated. Frustrated. Impatient with herself.

Then came the riff again.

Slap. Pop. Curse. Riff. Again.

I exhaled through my nose and let my cig smoke cloud the air. My pencil twitched in my fingers. A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, unwanted.

She was a disaster. A loud, overconfident, persistent one.

I wondered what she looked like when she played. Tongue tucked against her teeth? Eyes closed? Or was she pacing in circles, bass hanging off her like armour?

Was she wearing that same little top she had on the day she walked into my shop? The one that didn't hide much, didn't care to?

My mind wandered - unwanted.

I looked at the dragon again. I had drawn it with eyes that looked dead.

Maybe it was a self-portrait.

The sound kept going. Relentless. Riffs turned clumsy, then clean, then messy again. She was trying. She was fighting the instrument like it owed her something.

And something about that felt too familiar.

The fifth round of a fumbled funk riff sent a tin of matches vibrating off my table and onto the floor.

That was it.

I snapped my pencil in half.

Snapped it slow, too. Right between my fingers like bone.

Enough.

My head was already hurting enough before her bullshit bass playing started.

A few minutes later

Her door was red. Of course it was.

Don't know why I didn't acknowledge that the first time...

I knocked once. Sharp.

She opened it with a towel on her head and her bass still strapped across her chest like a weapon.

I blinked at her.

She blinked back.

"Hi," she said, a little breathless.

"Turn it down."

"Come again?"

"The bass. The slapping. The screaming. Maybe lose the dramatics."

She laughed — actually laughed, bold like I wasn't serious.

"You're the one screaming at 3am like you're possessed," she said.

I narrowed my eyes. "At least I keep it to night hours. You're waging war on my eardrums at noon."

She tilted her head, grinning. "Poor baby. Want me to play you something softer?"

"I want you to buy headphones."

She shrugged. "Or you could just soundproof your walls, Mr. Broody."

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, I heard her strum a single low note — slow and cheeky.

Petty.

I didn't hate it.