#It has so much potential for horror angst AND fluff

[clumsiestgiantess]

New angsty g/t idea just dropped (into my head)!

First meeting between a human and a borrower only instead of trapping them or questioning them or even letting them go the human immediately helps them.  No questions asked.  Every time the human catches them they shower the tiny with a plethora of food and items that will help them survive and sends them on their way.  

The tiny is ultimately confused by such sudden and intense kindness they believe the human must be trying to trick them and doesn’t do anything with what was given to them.  They don’t eat the food or drink the water because it might be poisoned, they don’t use the resources given to them because they’re scared the human might have some way to track it. Unfortunately, without that help they don’t really have the resources to move anywhere else, so they ignore the human and move on. It doesn’t seem like the human has told anyone…

Eventually they end up with this huge waste of a pile of things they need that’s been gifted to them by the human, and it’s taunting them.  They need some of that stuff, but it’s just not safe. The human keeps leaving gifts out on counters, too.  Everywhere they look is some sort of suspiciously left-out item. And every time the human catches a glimpse of them they worry about how they’re not looking any better off.

The tiny starts getting anxious, paranoid even.  Are they even ‘borrowing’ anymore, or just taking things the human wants them to take?  Why is this human so insistent that they take what’s being offered?  Why are they so concerned with the wellbeing of something they shouldn’t have known existed, yet hadn’t even freaked out about when they found?!  What is this human plotting?!

Finally, finally, the tiny can’t take it anymore.  They go up to the human and start ranting.  They ask them genuinely, and terrified of the answer: “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m just helping y-”

“Why?”

The human takes a deep breath and confesses that there was another tiny that lived there before them.  They’d befriended this tiny and was very fond of them, but there was an accident.  Maybe they hadn’t watched where they were stepping.  Maybe they hadn’t heard them yelling to stop as the vacuum cleaner passed over them.  Maybe they were simply rubbing their friend’s back comfortingly and heard a small crack after accidentally pressing in too hard — watching their friend fall over limply in their grasp.

Whatever the case might’ve been, they’d felt such an immense guilt about it for so long and now.. finding another tiny.. god, they just want to make sure this little person has the happiest life possible.  

This human just really wants a second chance.

“Oh.”

I imagine the tiny then befriends the human afterwards, but they have to slowly guide them into a friendship because of how scared the human is of hurting them. And the human who they were so sure was maliciously playing mind games with them suddenly becomes a huge mess of nervous affection instead.

Will that lead to a suffocatingly overprotective giant, or a healing arc for the human to finally come to terms with, and move on from, what happened? Who knows?

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi lovely ! you asked for kny requests and i've just finished my kny volume 22 re-read, so thats perfect timing 💙

I was wondering if you could write something with Yoriichi — (tw for potential child loss)

Maybe a hurt/comfort fic where his pregnant wife actually survives the demon attack while he's away (but maybe she gets quite badly injured and their unborn child doesn't make it, if you want to add a little extra angst to it. If not then that's totally fine, this man deserves a happy ending after all 🥺)

Of course, you're the writer — feel free to take any creative direction you'd like or ignore this request if you're not comfortable with it. Have a lovely day/night! <3

Again, I'm beyond sorry you were forced to wait for this so long! But here you go honey, let me know what you think <3

Yoriichi saving his pregnant wife and unborn child just in time

Pairing: Yoriichi x pregnant!wife!reader

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: You never expected to face a demon ever again, especially not when you are about to deliver your child while your beloved husband Yoriichi is in search for a midwife. Will you and your child be alright? Will your husband make it back on time?

Warnings: injury, horror, child birth, tortue, description of death, extreme angst to fluff, last part is not proofread

Notes: Since the first Yoriichi fic I wrote, I'm so deeply in love with his character that I adore writing him so much! Since this fic took a while, I would totally appreciate your support through liking, commenting and reblogging this fic - thank's a lot babes <3

He can’t get enough from simply looking at you. You with your head in the clouds, you with your hand mindlessly roaming around the soft grass underneath, the other one caressing your heavy pregnant belly, you when you give him those surprised eyes as soon as you notice his presence.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you’re already here”, you say in a small panicky voice.

You didn’t expect your beloved husband back this soon. If you would have known that he’ll be here by know you would have cleaned the whole house, made him something to eat and-

“I can only imagine what is going on inside your head again.”

His soft but at the same time rough hand touches your cheek gently, the loving gleam in his fuchsia eyes making you blush in an instant. All the voices in your head stop right in their track when he’s around.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Your savior, your best friend. And most importantly, your husband and father of your future child.

“How are you feeling, love? Did you enjoy your afternoon?”, he questions, eyes wandering down your body to your swollen belly.

It was hard leaving you alone in a state like this, but he wasn’t able to resist the urgent call from last night. He might be nothing but another simple man holding a sword, but it is his responsibility to save those who are in need. What else is he able to give to this world?

His hand lands on your belly, feels the tiniest kick of his unborn child against the palm of his hand. At least he was able to create a smaller version of you. Is it a boy, a girl maybe?

“I hope our child is a reflection of you”, he finally mutters into the silence, a small but somehow sad smile forming itself on his lips.

You suddenly forget how to breathe, glossy eyes fixated on his captivating sight. Oh, oh much you hate the stinging fact that your husband thinks so negatively about himself. Why can’t he see all the heroic things he has done so far, how respected he is in the demon slayer corps? Why can’t he see that every inch of his body is flawless? Out of instinct, you let your head rest against his broad chest, breathe in his strong scent. If you could only stay like this here forever, his hand resting against your body while the sun tickles your skin-

A violent moan escapes your lips when a sharp pain runs through your stomach. A kick. A really rough kick, to be exact.

“Are you alright, love? Did something hurt you? Is it the baby?”, your husband asks feverishly, his usual neutral face garbled by worry lines on his forehead.

“Just a kick”, you press out, still fighting to regain your composure.

“I will search for a mid-wife, (y/n).”

His words make your eyes widen in an instant, a wave of fear crushing down on you. Is it really time already? You look down at your swollen belly, so big that you aren’t even able to sit down properly anymore. This has to be the ninth month of your pregnancy.

Your heart sinks. The ninth month. If the books you’ve read are accurate, it really is time.

“I can’t do this, Yoriichi.”

Thick panic runs through your veins, forces your heart almost out of your chest. You aren’t ready to deliver a child, let alone to be a mother. All the things you haven’t read yet, the things you’ve probably never heard of…What if you mess it up? Until you met Yoriichi, all you were able to do was trying to survive. Your mother never had the chance to tell you about those things, isn’t here anymore to stay by your side.

You are…on your own.

“Look at me, (y/n). I will go out and search for a mid-wife and I’ll be back at sunset, you hear me? Just stay inside the house and nothing will happen. I promise to return as early as possible.”

Fuchsia eyes that radiate through your soul immediately. An angelic voice that calms down your tingling nerves with only four sentences. Strong arms that lift you off the ground and lead you back into the warmth of your home.

But know, it’s not the wooden cabin that feels like home. Your eyes wander to the neutral expression he wears on his face, only betrayed by a worried glow in his orbs. It’s him, your beloved husband.

“Are you feeling alright, love?”

You take a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Eyes focused exclusively on him until your mind finally silences. It’s just you and him. You and your beloved husband, the man you would trust with your life without battling an eyelid, the man who made you the person you are today.

“I do”, you breathe out.

Your heartbeat tames down as well as the kicks of your unborn baby, Yoriichi’s hands keeping you from falling over.

“Promise me to lock the doors and wait in bed until I return, (y/n).”

A seriousness you only know from him when he is forced to leave at night veils his calm eyes.

“But…you will be back before the sun sinks, right?”

He gifts you a small smile, hand caressing your cheek so gently that you almost forget about the worry lines decorating his face. The truth is that the next midwife lives miles away. Even if he gets to the village as soon as possible, the sun will be about to set when he returns. Yoriichi can’t help but clench his other hand into a fist next to your stomach. The sheer thought of not making it in time, that you’ll be defenceless.

“Don’t worry, love. Rest your eyes and be assured that I’ll return as soon as possible.”

But he cannot allow himself to fail you, to leave you alone in those oh so merciless nights. He will return, no matter what it costs.

He presses a soft kiss against your forehead before grabbing his sword tightly.

This. This is his fate, his family. You are his whole life.

And he’ll do everything to protect you.

-later that evening-

You are exhausted. Over the last few hours, your body was haunted by waves of pain coming and going like the seasons. Again, you dig your nail into the wooden floor, your heavy breaths hanging in the thick air. You definitely don’t need a midwife to tell you it’s time. Yes, your baby is on its way.

And your husband didn’t return yet.

Your glossy eyes dart towards the window, witness how the sky outside turns bright red in the down-going sun. Is Yoriichi alright? You know how cruel life can be. Maybe he met a person who needed to be saved on his way, maybe the midwife is too old to rush to your side in time.

“Rest your eyes and be assured that I’ll return as soon as possible.”

Those words. Even though he’s not yet by your side, you are able to feel his powerful presence around you, how he calms down your aching heart.

“Everything will turn out alright”, you mutter to yourself while caressing your tummy.

“Everything will be alight…”

You allow your lids to rest, body relaxing for the first time since your husband left. You will get through this, you will deliver your wonderful child tonight. A tiny bundle of joy, an image of its father. Is it a boy, a girl? As long as your child is healthy, you couldn’t care less.

Carefully, you curl up on your futon, snuggle yourself into the blanket that still holds his scent. Maybe you’ll be able to catch a few hours of sleep until he finally comes back. Sleep sure does sound very appealing at the moment.

But just when your breath begins to steady, a violent scratch forces you to sit straight up. It came from outside, without a doubt. Is it an animal, is it…

Your throat gets tight immediately, glossy eyes staring at the closed window in sheer horror. The trees bend back and forth peacefully in what looks like a tender night. But that scratch, it sounded exactly like claws digging into hard wood, sent shivers down your spine immediately. You know that sound all too well, experienced what it means to get slaughtered by a demon before. Just before your whole family died violently, this was exactly what you’ve heard.

Out of instinct, you bury yourself into the corner of the room, the blanket that holds Yoriichi’s scent still pressed against your now shivering body tightly. Please, let it be nothing but a wild animal, let your husband come back home soon. Maybe this is nothing but a nightmare and you’ll wake up any given minute-

A violent pain runs through your body so suddenly that a shriek escapes your lips. Suddenly all air escapes your lungs, the way your belly cramps making you see start. No, you know exactly what this means, that this is not the right time to deliver a baby. Isn’t there anything you can do to stop this? You still need to wait for your husband, the midwife, for this gut-turning feeling to vanish. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, sharp and fast breaths hanging in the thick atmosphere.

But it doesn’t stop there. As if this wasn’t enough already, you can only stare at the door that gets opened painfully slow, claws digging into the wooden frame.

Without any doubt, this is a demon.

You press your sweaty palm against your mouth, force yourself to stop screaming, to stop breathing.

“I know you’re here, human. You smell like a…woman.”

It’s like all life is drained from the dead shell of your body, widened orbs staring at the frightful creature that makes its way into your home. Get up, fight, defend yourself like you saw Yoriichi do countless times, use the knowledge you gained from him.

But you don’t move an inch, don’t dare to look away. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still. Out of all the nights you’ve spent together with your husband, this is the first away from him, the first without his protection. Is all of this a dream, a hallucination to test your nerves?

The second the monster’s deadly red orbs meet yours, you get hit by reality. No, this isn’t a dream.

This will be your death.

“I knew you were here, lady. Let me help you up, okay?”

“N-no. Please d-don’t”, you whimper under your breath.

Your coward of a body doesn’t even fight back when he lifts you off the ground with ease, his nails digging into your soft flesh.

“Oh, you’re expecting a baby, don’t you? Well, does this count as a double kill, then?”

Your baby getting killed? If that thing ends your life, it means your unborn child will never experience dawn, will never get to see the face of its father, will never take in his scent. Your glossy eyes widen in sheer horror, tears now streaming down your face like waterfalls when a single frown form on your forehead.

You couldn’t care less about your own life. After all, you were lucky that Yoriichi saved you back then, didn’t even deserve to survive when your whole family had to die before you. But that oh so innocent child that might have the eyes of its father, the blessing of your life right after your husband. That innocent life cannot be taken.  

There is no way you will let this creature lay hands on it.

Your body reacts faster than your mind. With a surprisingly well-placed kick, you free yourself out of the monster’s casual grip. You need to get out of the house, out where you are able to find shelter, to run away. Your lungs feel like bursting any given minute, legs trembling underneath the weight of yourself and the unborn baby you still carry right under your heart. Even if it means you’ll die in vain, even if you won’t be able to see Yoriichi’s tender eyes ever again, you have to make sure your child is safe.

“I underestimated you, stupid woman. As it seems you didn’t give up on life yet”, the creature purrs what feels like right next to you.

A new nauseous wave of panic rises up your veins, makes you sprint even faster through the thick woods that surround your house. This has always been your favorite place to be. The calm trees waving back and forth in a soft breeze, your husband right by your side-

Your husband. Just the thought of never getting to see him again makes your heart ache. You didn’t even get the chance to thank him one last time, to let him know how much he truly means to you, that he’s way more than the man who saved your life back then.

He’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed.

A sharp pain that radiates through your lower body sends you straight onto the ground immediately, figure cramping so violently that you can’t catch your breath. No, this is not the time labor, not when a demon is this close.

“Oh, there you are. Did you really think you can run away like that? You, a little human? You made me so man that I will kill you as painfully slow as possible.”

You try to lift your trembling figure off the ground, try to get back onto your feet, to sprint down the forest you know so well. But just when you’re about to get back onto your knees, a stinging pain in your right thigh paired with a contraction sends you straight back.

A violent scream escapes your lips.

Red. Everything around you is discoloured red. Is this your blood? Did this thing kill you already, are you going to die? Despite the way your guts start to turn when you follow the trail of blood, you can’t look away. And there it is indeed, a gaping hole in your leg, throbbing and bleeding.

All color that is left now drains from your face. With an injured leg, your chance to escape this demon’s claws is non-existent. Which means…

Your heart skips a beat, threatens to fail you any given second. What about your unborn child? A violent storm of anger and determination clouds your mind, makes all logical thoughts vanish into thin air.

“You can’t kill me”, you press out.

Since the day you first laid eyes on a demon, you accepted your own death. Your life is worthless anyway, compared to great warriors like your husband himself. But that oh so innocent child, that tiny life you were given to. You ball your hands into fists so tight your knuckles stand out white and lift your throbbing self off the ground. You cannot allow a demon to take the life of that unborn baby.

“I won’t allow you to touch me.”

You realize the stupidity of your words after they spill out of your mouth in rage. You, not allowing a demon to touch your puny figure? Another contraction makes your guts turn and vision almost go black.

As expected the frightful creature draws closer, its unpromising pair of razor-sharp teeth glittering in the dim moonlight. You never expected to see a demon this close again. Oh, how much you hoped you’d never find yourself in that situation again. But you have to get through this, have to make sure you will survive long enough for the mid wife to deliver your child to this world.

His child.

“I’m sorry Yoriichi. I never planned on leaving you alone like this”, you mumble to yourself, shaky lips tinted in salty tears.

“But this all I’m able to do.”

-Yoriichi’s POV-

Something seems off. Is it the way the trees bent back and forth in the soft breeze of the already set sun? Is it that distant smell that hangs in the air, the one that reminds him of fresh blood and lavender?

“We must make haste. I can sense that danger is ahead of us”, he speaks out with firm voice.

He promised you that he’ll be back before the sun goes down, that he will make it on time before demon are able to roam around freely. Are you feeling alright? Is the pain unbearable at this point? Do you still hold trust for him in your heart? His footsteps pick up instinctively, eyes set on the visibly stressed man behind him. In contrary to most people, Yoriichi doesn’t fear the night or the demons it brings. The only thing he fears at the moment is what you have to endure without your husband by your side.

With every he takes forward, the stinging smell of blood mixed with lavender becomes more urgent in his nose.

Lavender.

He always wondered how you did it. Even after washing, all your clothes kept that calming scent that surrounded you as if you were standing in a lavender bush. A smell so sweet that it caught his interest back then before he caught a glimpse of your fascinating orbs, a smell that always reminds him of home. Yoriichi’s home will always be where you are, where the sensation of lavender is the strongest.

Lavender, the stinging smell of blood that hangs in the air. His eyes widen when his mind starts to race. The smell, it radiates from the direction of your shared home, from the direction that usually fills him with excitement. Can it be…?

His heart starts racing uncontrollably while he dashes forward and draws his sword. Let it be nothing but coincidence, a cruel joke his thoughts play on him. But the stinging fragrance of lavender mixed with iron fills his heart with dread, makes his mind go numb. What if you got attacked by a demon, what if you are in great danger? All because he didn’t live up to his promise, because he didn’t make it on time. His eyes roam around the dark area, desperately searching for a sign.

And then his eyes find you.

Yoriichi’s heart stops.

There you lay, leaning against a nearby tree with a puddle of blood surrounding you, widened eyes starring straight into the face of a demon who hollers above you.

“No one is coming to save you, stupid girl.”

He doesn’t waste another second. With a swift motion of his sharp blade, Yoriichi beheads the demon on top of you while a toe-curling scream escapes your lips. Just one look at your sliced-up kimono reveals countless injuries, especially a gaping hole in your thigh. You hold onto your swollen belly for what looks like dear life, eyes still widened in nothing but shock.

“(y/n)”, he gently speaks out while letting himself fall down next to you.

You have to blink a few times. The demon, it was just about to dig its sharp teeth into your sensitive skin, to take the life of your unborn child in front of your eyes.

Maroon.

But those aren’t the deadly red orbs. No, those oh so gorgeous eyes look so familiar that your heart tames down in an instant. Could it really be, is it possible that it’s…him?

“Yoriichi.”

You breathe his name into the night like a prayer.

Maybe this is nothing but an illusion, a cruel trick your own brain plays on you.

“Words can’t express how sorry I am for arriving too late. I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone this long, for causing this to happen”, his oh so familiar voice blurts out.

Yoriichi’s usual so composed face twists in sheer agony, eyes filling with salty tears. All of this is his fault. He should have arrived sooner, he should have made hurry, he-

“We didn’t come this far to worry now. Please, help be delivering this child, let it all make sense”, you press out while grabbing his hand tightly.

It doesn’t matter that you’re severely injured, it doesn’t matter that your beloved husband took longer than expected to come back to you. All that matters now are you, him and your unborn child that waits to be delivered.

“Allow me to assist you.”

A foreign man suddenly speaks out with sweat dripping from his forehead in waterfalls. Just when another wave of nauseous pain hits you with full force, as if you got kicked into your stomach by a horse. You fail to breathe for a second, hands holding onto your husband for dear life.

“You are already close, it won’t be long now”, the man reassures you while gently opening your legs.

“You can do it, (y/n). After all the things you had to endure today, you will be able to get through this. With me by your side. I love you more than any words could ever say, darling.”

One more push.

One more wave of pain before your body goes numb, before you lose the ability to feel anything except for sweet nothingness.

Until a loud shriek finds its way to your ear.

A violent scream, almost frustrating. When you open your eyes again, you are greeted by a crying but alive bundle of joy, carefully wrapped into a white cloth and placed onto the arm of its father.

Those eyes.

“I prayed every night that he would have your eyes”, you whimper with tears running down your cheek uncontrollably.

You did it. You saved your beloved child who looks just like its father, you managed to somehow stay alive.

“She”, the midwife corrects you gently.

“She…”, you mumble with a small smile.

The last thing you see are the troubled maroon eyes of your husband before your world goes dark.

-the next day-

A foreign but still so familiar laughter fills the atmosphere around you with joy while you see nothing but black. When your stubborn lids finally open, you are greeted by the wooden ceiling you know so well. This is your home, without any doubt.

The home a demon invaded.

The home where you feared for your life while your husband rushed to the midwife in order to deliver your child.

Your child.

You get up way too quickly, glossy eyes darting around the room without a real aim. Is your baby okay? What happened after the delivery? All you can remember are those familiar maroon eyes that looked so much like the orbs of your beloved husband. Your husband…Where is Yoriichi?

“Don’t move too quickly, love. The doctor strictly forbids you to be in a haste”, his gentle voice speaks out next to you.

Just a few moments later, you get invited by the warmth of his arms swallowing you whole. Out of instinct, you let yourself fall against him, press your very own body into his despite the scorching pain that immediately takes over your whole self.

Right, you were attacked by a demon the night you gave birth. How did you manage to escape? Are your injuries critical.

But most important: How is your baby?

“Look what you have accomplished. A little wonder. Just like you, my love”, your husband murmurs, carefully lifting a little bundle off a blanket nearby.

Your heart nearly stops when you catch a glimpse of her. Those maroon eyes are the last thing you remember before everything goes black. With shaky hands, you start caressing her puffy cheek. This. This is what you fought for, what makes it all worth it in the end.

“She has your eyes”, you hush, tears now streaming down your face in waterfalls.

“And your hair”, Yoriichi replies with a soft smile towards you.

“(y/n), I promise I’ll do anything in my power to protect you and her from something like this. I promise I will stand by your side no matter what. And I hope that someday, you will be able to forgive me for not being there for you when you needed me the most.”

The second your husband’s voice cracks, you can’t hold onto yourself any longer. You wrap your arms around him and your daughter longingly, take in the scent who gave you strength that night.

“There is nothing to forgive and nothing to feel sorry about. You did your very best and that is all that matters. I love you, Yoriichi. And I have to thank you for saving both of us just in time.”

“You are my greatest treasure on earth”, he mumbles against your lips while giving you a passionate kiss.

What a plot twist, what a happy end after all. Yesterday you were sure your life is over, that you won’t live onto the next day. And now you’re lying in your house, holding your giggling daughter while pressing your heavy head against your husband’s broad chest.

“Well, I fear I will have to share this special place by now”, you comment while gazing at your perfect little daughter.

“This might be true, love.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san

[terabyteturtle]

hey!!! Can I have Jin Kazama x Pregnant wife (who happens to be a model) Reader headcanons. An idea I have is what if they have to keep the pregnancy a secret from Kazuya due to a fear of harm??? Make it fluff with a bit of angst

Jin Kazama x Pregnant Model Wife Headcanons

Once again, I apologize for taking so long! I tried my best to encapsulate everything you put in the request. Hopefully, it's what you wanted!

- It takes him a while to process the fact that you're pregnant. When you first break the news to him, he's just in shock. He experiences so many emotions at once that his mind just stops working. You better have a chair ready because Jin will need to sit down and process everything for a few moments.

- Once it sets in, he becomes angry with himself. He took every precaution to prevent this from happening, and yet somehow, it still did. It's his fault. It has to be. Jin blames himself for burdening you with a child potentially capable of mass destruction, and although he's tried to separate you from his family feud, you're bound to get dragged into it anyway, and it's all because of him.

- The fact that you're a model only makes matters worse. You already get a ton of publicity and exposure on a daily basis, but now that you're pregnant, that'll increase tenfold. With help from Lee and Lars, you and Jin have managed to keep both your relationship AND your marriage a secret so far. However, with a child on the way, it'll be impossible to keep that secret any longer. People will ask questions about the father's identity, and it's only a matter of time before the paparazzi find out the truth.

- Upon realizing this, Jin launches into full-on panic mode. As soon as he's revealed as the father of your child, his face is going to be all over the media. And Kazuya will be the first one to see it. Jin isn't entirely sure what his father would do, but he has his suspicions. He can only imagine the sheer horror of G Corp soldiers busting down your door, hunting you down like hound dogs trying to take you and the kid. If those suspicions are correct, then you'll likely be forced into hiding until the war is over. As long as Kazuya retains his powerful position, there's no telling how much danger you'll be in.

- Additionally, the people closest to him are sure to freak out. Xiaoyu and Hwoarang would panic, and he already knows Lars won't take kindly to it. He's not sure how Lee or Alisa would react, and that uncertainty only makes him more nervous. Jin knows that he should tell his loved ones before they find out through the media, but the mere thought of mentioning it makes his heart skip a beat.

- To top it all off, Jin's main mission is to exterminate his bloodline once and for all. The fact that you are now pregnant is pretty much the opposite of what he wanted.

- His course of action was to take Kazuya's life, then take his own. He was ready to sacrifice himself so that the Devil Gene would no longer exist. As much as he loved the people closest to him, as much as he adored and cherished every moment with you, he knew deep down that the world would be better off without people like him.

- But now, this complicates everything. He doesn't want to take his own life and leave you to raise the kid by yourself. Sure, friends and loved ones might help you out, but at the end of the day, you're going to have a lot of responsibility on your hands. Additionally, Jin knows how it feels to have grown up without a proper father figure, and he'd seen how difficult it was for his mother. He knows how it feels to have lost a parent, and no matter how much time passes, it will always hurt. Does he really want his child to witness those same struggles? To feel the same pain? Does he really want to leave you behind, after everything you've been through?

- Beneath that cold, edgy exterior, there's a soft spot in his heart that truly wants to settle down with you, but he doesn't believe it'll be possible.

- As he tries to solve his dilemma, a million questions race through his mind. Like, what if the kid has the Devil Gene? Will he have to kill his own child? But it's not just his child; it's your child too, and he can't bear to imagine the pain you'd feel if that were to happen.

- But then, what if the kid doesn't have the Devil Gene? What if they turn out to be a normal kid? In that case, he'd care for them and love them until the end.

- But that's when a thought strikes him.

- Why does it matter whether they have the Devil Gene or not? They're still human, after all. They still deserve love and compassion and nurturing. Just because they have the Devil Gene doesn't mean they're inherently evil; they still deserve a chance. Hell, Jin himself has it, and although he's done some terrible things, he's trying his hardest to atone for them.

- Maybe Jin could help teach them how to control it. Not that he really has control over it himself, but that's okay. Maybe they could learn together. Maybe that could be their way to bond.

- That's when he starts to realize how happy this truly makes him. He loves you more than life itself, and the fact that he's going to have a child with you is one of the greatest blessings life can give him. Being a father will come with a lot of responsibility, but Jin is willing to bear it and do the best he can for his kid. He realizes that he is willing to undergo the trials and tribulations that loom ahead, and he will fight to the ends of the Earth to keep you both safe.

- Jin will try and convince you to take a break from modeling and lay low for a while, as any publicity will become more dangerous as time passes on. You think it would be suspicious to just drop off the face of the Earth, which is why you let your agency know beforehand that you're going to be taking a hiatus for personal matters.

- As the baby starts growing and it becomes progressively obvious that you're pregnant, you will be heavily discouraged from going outside at all. For the baby's safety as well as your own, it's best that you refrain from going out in public where the paparazzi are bound to catch you.

- Naturally, Jin becomes very protective over both of you. He starts treating you like a glass vase because he's scared of hurting you somehow. He also gets slightly paranoid around the others and sticks by your side to make sure nothing happens to you.

- He still blames himself a lot for everything that's happening, and he's sorry that you can't just have a normal pregnancy. You have to reassure him that no one's at fault for this, and you're just as willing to fight for the baby as he is. If you have to break away from your normal life to keep them safe, then so be it. It'll all be worth it in the end.

- With a lot of encouragement from you, Jin confides in his friends, starting with Lee, who is happy to help you guys out. As the CEO of a well-known company, he can try to pull some strings and get the press to leave you alone. While it's no guarantee that they'll be gone completely, Lee will try his best to hold them off for a little while. He'll also give you a secret place to stay, stocked with plenty of food and water.

- Lars almost freaks out but manages to keep himself composed. He congratulates both of you and agrees to help you out in whatever way possible. If there's anything you need, be it more food, more water, or just more paper towels, he and Alisa will go out shopping and get it for you.

- Alisa and Xiaoyu are super excited and happy for you. Although the circumstances are not ideal, they still want to make sure that you enjoy yourself and celebrate your pregnancy. In fact, they've already started planning your baby shower.

- Hwoarang also ends up being super supportive. Though he makes himself out to be a tough guy, he has a big soft spot for babies. Rest assured, he will fight tooth and nail to keep this kid safe. Also, Hwoarang has officially proclaimed himself the child's godfather, and there is nothing you or Jin can do about it.

- If Jin's stressed out, you let him lay down and press his ear to your belly. Listening to the baby and being physically close to you has become the most calming feeling in the world to him.

- If Jin doesn't know what to do in certain situations, he'll stop and ask himself what Jun would do. He loves his mother deeply and thinks very highly of her. She was a loving and nurturing woman, so when it comes to taking care of you, he tries his best to emulate that kindness. Jun was a wonderful parent, as well as an excellent role model. When the baby arrives and he officially becomes a parent, Jin deeply hopes he'll turn out to be half as good as she was.

- He will constantly ask you if there's something he can do better. From this point forward, Jin will always be questioning whether or not he's doing the right thing. Your input is valuable to him, and if there's any advice or guidance you have to give, he'd greatly appreciate it.

- At the end of the day, Jin wants to be the best father he can be. Your child's happiness, as well as your own, mean the world to him. No one can take either of you away from him, and Angel have mercy on those who dare try.

[suzdin]

Washed Up Has-Been: a Dieter Bravo one shot

Dieter Bravo x F!Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: soft!Dieter, sweet!Dieter, smut, angst, bodily insecurities, reader is plus sized but no other physical attributes are described, Dieter is a little chubby as well, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral (m receiving), mention of sex toys, fluff? (gasp!), did I forget anything? I know next to nothing about the film industry, don’t judge me :(

Word Count: 2,800

Enjoy and feel free to reblog and comment if you wish! 💜🙂

——

Dieter Bravo had not been the same since Cliff Beasts 6.

What did they call it? Losing your spark? Your mojo? Your moxy? Whatever it was called, he’d lost it, along with his marbles… if he ever had any to begin with, and he was sure many would agree he hadn’t.

The reviews were bad, abhorrent, really. ‘Dieter Bravo as Gio Ricci baffling’, ‘Bravo couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag’, ‘I can’t believe this man has an Oscar’, ‘Did he get his Italian accent at an Olive Garden?’, on and on the critics wailed and lambasted.

He’d had a mental break shortly after the premier, firing everyone he could in his vicinity — his publicist, his hair stylist and manicurist, hell, even his agent of twenty five years. He’d hired a new one, of course, a potential script FedExed to his door that morning, fist curled and white knuckled in anger around the thick stack of papers as he perched himself like a sentient gargoyle on his couch, in the tattered clothes he’d been wearing for nearly a week.

A dad. They wanted him to play a fucking dad, some sort of buddy comedy family film opposite Dwayne Johnson, it might be a good move for your career, buddy, his agent had explained. But seriously, him? Hollywood heart throb Dieter Bravo, reduced to playing someone’s bumbling father, opposite THE FUCKING ROCK?

He couldn’t believe it.

He had put on some weight since his last film, sure, but that was no reason or excuse to allow himself to be typecasted as a dad.

Or was it the ever persistent graying in his hair and beard? The laugh lines? The crow’s feet?

‘Dieter Bravo is a washed up has-been’ the internet screamed at him daily, leading him to drown himself in an endless stream of drugs and alcohol…more so than he was already doing, anyway.

He was barely a functioning person. A husk of his former self, he could no longer get it up, unsure whether to blame the drugs or his steadily fleeting mental health, and even putting brush to canvas felt more like a chore than an escape nowadays. He’d become a hermit in his own home, the ghastly, aging 1970s mid-century horror he resided in the Hollywood Hills, that he thought was amazing when he originally bought it a decade ago.

Well, much like him, older things fall apart, and the house was a piece of shit, which was apt.

He had hired you as his assistant and he was so vague as to what that entailed that you were sort of a jack of all trades as far as helping was concerned, acting as his maid, his cook, the middle man to screen his calls, his emails, so on and so forth. Hell, you even took care of the large python he’d bought ‘because it looked cool’, that he was now too scared to touch, himself.

You did it all, and although he never properly expressed as much, he was more grateful for you than he let on.

He always found you pretty, too. Beautiful, even, and not in the fake way he’d grown used to, living in Hollywood. You were kind, sweet, and uncorrupted by a crueler world, always happy and eager to assist him with whatever he needed.

And if he was being honest with himself, the thought of you sheathed around his cock was the only thing that could even get him half hard anymore.

When you arrive for the day, you find him on his couch, glowering at what you can only assume is another bad script, graying hair disheveled and curling away from his skull, teeth gritted in disdain. A look you had come to recognize and were more than familiar with.

“Let me take that to the garbage for you,” you offer, as you normally do in these situations, stepping forward to reach for the offending script.

His eyes clock the way your breasts sway when you walk, the roundness of your belly, the plushness of your arms. He can’t help but stare; he wants to bury himself in you and stay there forever.

He swallows, moving the script away from your extended hand and tucking it behind a cushion, distracted by your body.

“No — no, it’s okay,” he replies and his voice feels like gravel in his throat, realizing he hasn’t spoken all day until now.

Although the script sucks and he doesn’t want to do it, he needs the money. “Thanks.”

You notice his eyes on you and you sit, leaving about a foot of space between you to maintain a modicum of professionalism, observing the sadness behind his dark brown eyes and knowing this has been the norm for several months now but still hating it for what it is.

“What’s on the docket for today?” you ask him and he shrugs, unhelpfully, his lips pulled into a frown, shadows staining the lines of his face. You haven’t seen him this bad in a while.

“I can… make you some hot tea?” you ask, looking down at the schedule in your lap, of which nothing is jotted down for the day.

He shakes his head, carding a hand through his hair. “No. I’m out of tea.”

You chew your lip. “Okay… well, then I guess I’m running to the store today. I have a list already, but can you think of anything else?”

Once again, he shakes his head. “No. I’ll just order it or something.”

You frown and tuck the schedule away, crossing your legs and turning to face him, contemplative.

“Then what do you want me to do today? You’re paying me to be here,” you note. “Unless you’d rather I go home.”

“No!” he damn near shouts, making you jump, and he immediately regrets his lack of impulse control. His gaze traverses your subtle cleavage and you clear your throat, heat warming your skin. “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t want to be alone right now. Can we just hang out?” he queries.

“Dieter, are you okay?” you question and he shakes his head in response.

“No.” A single word that says so much more than that. It pulls at your heart strings, seeing him like this. “I — I’m a nobody.”

“You aren’t a nobody, you’re Oscar winner Dieter fucking Bravo,” you counter, and he snorts, picking at some dry skin on his ankle.

“Yeah, Dieter fucking Bravo, the aging has-been who can’t act his way out of a paper bag,” he snorts.

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to take away your internet access so you can’t read all the mean tweets about yourself,” you threaten.

“You wouldn’t.”

“One call to your financial advisor and I would and could,” you retort and Dieter scoffs, trying to remember if he’d fired him yet or not.

You cross your arms and flop back against the worn and flattened couch cushions, eyeing him smugly.

The movement pushes your chest up and out, his gaze on you once again and he isn’t subtle about it this time. You clear your throat and stir, staring back at his soft, plush lips.

“Dieter—“

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and the spontaneity of it catches you off guard, your jaw hanging agape in disbelief and confusion.

“…What?”

It had been months since anyone had touched him, had wanted to touch him, and now, as he stares at your body and smells your light vanilla perfume, after the shitty week he’s had, he needs to be touched, even if only briefly.

“Come… here,” he repeats, more dogged than before, and in spite of yourself, despite how unprofessional it is, you find yourself scooting forward.

He grabs your hips when you’re within reach and drags you the rest of the way, pulling the cushion partially off the couch in the process, a small yelp of surprise escaping your lungs as he softly grips your face to bring his lips to yours.

They’re plush, dry, lightly chapped and he tastes a little like whiskey and weed, but you don’t really mind, his coarse, wiry mustache scratching and tickling against your nose.

Suddenly, with a soft groan in the back of his throat, his hand is under your shirt, cupping your breast, and you break the kiss, looking down to where his arm disappears beneath the fabric, shock settling over your features.

“Dee… are you… are you sure?” you ask. You don’t exactly look like the people Dieter had been confirmed dating in the past, and you feel a wave of trepidation, your self conscious nature bubbling to the surface. You’ve always felt Dieter Bravo was more than a little out of your league.

Not that you’re dating him, but, you know.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure,” he tuts and kisses you again, rougher this time, palming your breast, making your cunt throb.

He groans. You’re so good to him, always taking such good care of him, and you feel exactly the way he thought you would, warm and luscious and supple, his dick already fighting with the seam of his pajama pants, the first time in weeks.

And you’ve wanted this, too, as long as you’ve worked for him, never confessing your feelings for fear of losing your job. You never imagined Dieter fucking Bravo would feel the same way about you.

You know Dee needs this, you need this, and you want to make him feel good.

You brush a hand over his hardening cock and he damn near bucks himself straight off the couch with a grunt and a sharply uttered, “Fuck” against your lips. You grin into his mouth at how much composure he’s already lost from so few touches.

You pull away after a moment and scoot off the couch, sinking onto your knees in front of him, nestling yourself between his broad thighs.

He watches you, rigid cock tremoring in his pants at the sight, the outline of it clearly visible and straining against the fabric. “You… you don’t have to…” His voice is thick, haggard.

“Let me take care of you, Dee,” you mewl as you nuzzle your face against the squishy paunch of his stomach, lifting his shirt to plant small, reverent kisses in a circle around his belly button. He giggles and flinches at the contact.

“Sorry, sorry — ticklish,” he explains and you smile, placing a few more kisses there, more delicate than the ones that preceded them, trailing a line from his navel to the thick swathe of hair leading to his crotch.

Despite the pounds he’s put on recently, he doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable in front of you, eyes darkening as he drinks you in visually, lips tight and parted, breaths growing deeper in the barrel of his chest.

You look up and from your current perspective, he’s all wild haired and broad shouldered, panting, your cunt clenching with desire as you eye him with a wry grin.

You smooth his shirt down over his belly and move your face to the hard bulge below, nosing the bulk of it through the fabric and inhaling his natural scent, thick and musky and masculine in your nostrils. You both groan in unison.

“Dear god,” he grunts, “I feel like I’m about to— aaaaugh— fucking bust already.”

“Save it for my mouth, at least,” you snip and his head rolls back against the cushion at your words, the one with the sag in the middle where his neck always rests, eyes sliding shut.

“You’re so good for me,” he pants softly, already so close to falling apart, “I take you for granted and I’m sorry.”

“Dieter, shh.” You find the stretchy waistband of his striped trousers and drag them down his hips, not all surprised to see he’s gone commando, cock springing free from the cage of fabric, uncut and dribbling against the drag of soft cotton. He’s girthy, and you’ve never seen one intact in the flesh before — literally — a small puff of air escaping your lips, taking in the sight of him for a few seconds before coming to your senses.

“Is everything alr—“ he starts to ask, cutting himself off when you unexpectedly cup his heavy balls in your palm and lick a slow stripe up his length with the flat of your tongue, his hips quivering and bucking involuntarily. “Shit—“

You grin, humming satisfactorily to yourself and continue to tease him, his hands finding your hair, fingers twisting at the roots as the rings he insists on wearing get caught in the strands, pulling ever so slightly. You moan.

You feel incredible, your tongue working his most sensitive areas, and he’s having a hard time holding it together, torso heaving above you, tiny whimpers departing his lips, and he hasn’t even entered your mouth yet.

You sense how much trouble he’s having at keeping himself in check, so you back off a touch to give him a momentary reprieve, shifting to kiss along the meat of his inner thighs, nipping at the tiny elephant tattoos etched into his skin as you do so.

He cups one hand on the back of your neck, watching you through half-lidded eyes, your lips like pure velvet and heaven.

He’s already forgotten about the shitty script tucked into the couch, about the bad reviews and the critics with their cruel, baseless quips. Faded away to nothingness, akin to what he experiences when he’s completely blitzed, negative thoughts dissolving to the back of his mind to be discarded, and for now, for the moment, the only thing that matters is you, your beauty, and how well you take care of him.

After what seems like an eternity of small, worshipping, teasing touches to the insides of his thighs and the rim of his belly, your lips return to his cock, lapping at the precum that’s beaded up at the slit before taking him into your mouth, hand fisted at the base as you work him into your throat.

He’s impervious at this point to keep his hips flush against the couch, shuddering into your mouth as you take him and pushing further down your throat, not entirely on purpose, moaning as the wet heat of your mouth engulfs him.

“Wanna— fuck your pussy next time— with a vibrating plug in your ass,” he grunts, hardly able to string a single cohesive thought together, making your cunt throb and slick leak into the cradle of your panties.

Dieter wasn’t one to shy away from toys, and in fact had an entire drawer full of them, which you had accidentally stumbled upon one day when putting away some of his clothes; everything from butt plugs to cock rings to flesh lights with multiple attachments and bondage gear.

You steady his hips with your hands and hold him in place as best you can, difficult with how much stronger he is than you, jaw stretching to fit him, the musky tang of him flooding your tastebuds.

You steadily rock your head up and down his length, taking him all the way to the back of your throat, and you can feel the veins running the length of his shaft pulsating against your tongue, feel the way his balls tighten as he edges ever closer to the precipice.

He’s wanted you, needed you, for so long, that he can’t contain himself much longer. His hips begin to stutter and you feel his body growing taut, hear his breaths growing shallow and haggard, fingers curling against your scalp.

“I’m… I’m gonna… fucking cum,” he grunts deep in his chest. That’s all the warning he allows before his hips stall and he lets out a visceral growl of pleasure, spilling a hot and heavy load across your tongue, some of it seeping out at the edges and dribbling down his thighs until you’re able to steady yourself.

You hold him in your mouth until you feel the very last drop hit the back of your throat, slowly pulling off only when you feel him starting to go soft.

“You should really clean up this awful mess you’ve made,” Dieter taunts when you sit back to catch your breath, watching the cocktail of spend and saliva slide down his tan skin.

You grin and tip your head forward to obediently lap at the escaped fluids. He groans as he savors the delicious sight of you, affectionately brushing his fingers through your hair as you do so.

After a moment, you rise from the ground, your knees cracking from the exertion, joining him on the couch as he tugs his pajama bottoms back up his hips.

He snakes an arm around the small of your back and kisses you, deep and full, moaning when he tastes remnants of himself on your tongue.

He grins against your lips and then rises, yanking you off the couch and giggling along with you when you pass him a perplexed look.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, pleased to see him happy and relaxed again after all this time, to actually see him smiling.

“You took care of me, so I’m going to take care of you. You’re familiar with my special drawer, aren’t you?”

—

FIN. xx

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Under His Protection

Pairing: Andrew!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: angst, stopping a potential rape, getting slapped, minor fluff at the end

Summary: Your good heart won't let you walk by something when you know something is wrong. That usually means trouble for you, but you can always count on Peter to swoop in and save the day.

Squares Filled: villain/hero for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Shit, you’re going to be so late. Thank God you live right behind the school for this exact reason. Your backyard is right by the school’s football field so you cut across it every single morning and afternoon. Due to being so close, you can sleep in longer than everyone else.

This time, you might have overslept.

You jump over the fence and walk across the empty football field quickly. You think it’s empty until you hear someone over by the bleachers. You walk a bit closer and see it’s one of the most popular jocks, Jake Staton. He’s honestly one of the best players this school has seen in a few years but all you’ve heard is horror stories about him.

He’s arrogant, a terrible lover, and at times, abusive. He thinks so highly of himself and doesn’t treat women right. Ask any one of his ex-girlfriends.

The girl he’s with says something you mistake for a moan but the closer you get, the more you realize she is protesting against Jake.

“No, stop. Get off me,” she begs.

“You know you want it, baby. Don’t fight it,” he smirks and kisses her neck.

“Seriously, stop. I mean it.”

You could keep walking and ignore what you saw but that’s not who you are. You have a reputation for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

“Hey, dickwad,” Jake steps back from the girl to glare at you. The girl pushes him off her but he doesn’t move much. “She said no.”

“Fuck off.”

You step closer and put a hand on his shoulder to yank him away from her.

“She said no. You’re the one who should fuck off.”

Suddenly, you feel a stinging sensation on your cheek. You fall to the ground from the impact and stare at Jake in shock. He backhanded you with the hand that has rings on it. The girl sees this chance to run away from him, and he scoffs at not getting some before school. He steps closer to you but you don’t do the smart thing and back away. You’re not going to show him any weakness.

“Get in my way again and it won’t be your face I’m slapping next.”

Once he is gone, you take your hand away from your cheek to see it bleeding. God, this shit hurts. You can’t go to class with a bleeding cheek so you push yourself to your feet and head to the nurse’s office.

“Come on in, honey,” she says when she sees you standing in the doorway. When she sees your cheek, she gasps. “What happened?”

“I tripped and fell.”

She knows you’re lying but she doesn’t press on if it’s going to make you uncomfortable. You sit down on the examination table and allow her to look at you. She takes care of the bleeding which isn’t from a big cut so it’s easily manageable with a bandaid. The only thing that will be prominent is the bruise already starting to form. She grabs an ice pack from the freezer and places it over your cheek.

“Thanks,” you wince and keep it there.

“Stay here. I’m going to grab something to help with the pain.’’

“Okay.”

You’re sitting there for not even five minutes when Peter Parker walks by the nurse’s office. He makes eye contact and keeps walking but stops suddenly when his brain registrars that it’s you. He rushes into the office with an angry look on his face.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he cusses quietly. You try to keep him away from you but there is no use. He takes off the ice pack to see the darkening bruise underneath. “Who did this to you?”

When he sees your bruise, you can tell a piece of his heart broke through the look in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Peter. It’s nothing,” you sigh.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You forgot how overprotective he was when you two were dating. He was the perfect boyfriend to you. He’d treat you like you were the only woman in the world, he brought you flowers every time the old ones died, he made you feel safe and loved. You were and still are in love with him.

He was the one who broke up with you. You went to his house for a study session when he dropped the bomb on you. You were heartbroken. Why did he do it? You two were going really good save for a few secrets you knew he was keeping from you.

That’s why he ended things with you. He hasn’t told you that he’s Spider-Man and it was becoming a hindrance keeping that secret from you. He loved you too much to bring you into his mess so he had to end things with you before you got hurt because of him. It hurts him to keep you at such a distance knowing how much he loves you.

“Jake Staton,” you sigh. Keeping it from him is pointless. He would have gotten the answer one way or another. “He was going to rape this girl and I had to stop it. I couldn’t do nothing.”

He loves how caring you are about other people, even people you don’t know. He places the ice pack back on your face and you hold it there so it doesn’t fall. He doesn’t say another word and leaves the nurse’s office.

He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know where he’s going. After the nurse gave you some medicine for the pain, a touch up of your makeup, and one of Peter’s baseball caps that you stole, you were ready for school. You kept your head down for the first half of school so that you didn't have to talk to anyone.

By lunch, you are sitting with your best friends who already know what happened. You’re checking out of the conversation since you don’t feel like talking to anyone when you notice Jake on the far side of the cafeteria. He’s sporting his own bruise on his face with a swollen eye and busted lip.

Your eyes immediately go to Peter who is sitting with Harry and Gwen. He grins when he sees you and winks at you to let you know even if you’re broken up, he still will always protect you. You know you shouldn’t feel this way but your heart skips a beat and your stomach does summersaults at his attention.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[local-fire-dumpster]

I know that Seraphim Ace has a lot of Angst potential but it also has so much fluff and hilarious potential.

Think about it:

-Ace becomes a warlord and doesn't join Whitebeard,meaning no Marineford and death.

-Luffy and the gang still train 2 years, reunite and proceed with their journey as in canon.

-Then they reach Egghead, where an angry looking Ace seraphim attacks them and Luffy can't help himself and scoops the kid up.

-The fact that little Ace is still trying to kill him while being stuck between rubber arms doesn't faze Luffy ,quite the opposite, it's making him nostalgic.

-Flash foward to Ace who is currently recovering from a heart attack after discovering whatever huge scandal Luffy caused on Egghead. (He knows luffy can take care of himself but he can't help but worry,he is a big brother afterall)

-Then suddenly his brother's ship anchors and an excited Luffy jumps down with a weird kid in his arms.

-He immediately heads to Ace and tells him about the mini Ace he found on egghead,giving big Ace another heart attack.

-much to the Spades pirates horror,there are now two Ace's on their ship. The crew curses VP every night.The Straw Hats can't help but feel pity for Ace's crew(they keep a close eye on VP when he is near Luffy)

[milktei]

When you write angst/fluff one shots, I love how you indulge more with your character's feelings and not just straight up jumping to the good part where everything's alright. Specifically during "Again" and "Fine". Would you mind writing the same stuff but with a bit of hostile management of actions whilst in a disagreement with the reader? Will writing for Kuroo or Ushijima okay? ( I think you've taken a liking to Sakusa so I'm not sure if you want the first two captains.) Anyhow, I'm frankly talking about a bit of viol3nce. In this view, how would they speak up their mind and resolve the matter maturely?

Of course when you're available, thank you for your time:3

Love Sealed in Gold

Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, tiny bit of hurt/comfort

Warnings: Violence (not towards reader), Possible oocness again. Not edited :P

The pace that i managed to get this out is surprising even to me :o But i had an idea the moment i read the ask!! Isn’t that crazy???

the fact that it’s obvious that sakusa is my fav is kinda embarrassing ngl HAHA BUT i just enjoy writing for haikyuu so don’t worry about requesting people i haven’t written on!

hope you enjoyed this anon! i couldn’t in good conscious add anymore “violence” than i did. what i wrote is really tiptoeing the line for me.

That being said anyone who reads this please don’t take this as me saying to forgive everyone who acts like Ushijima does in this, of course every situation is different but i don’t want it to seem like this is acceptable behaviour and something a person should have to deal with and accept. Violence is a scary and serious thing especially in a relationship so stay safe!

Anyways the idea of using Kintsugi as a metaphor in writing isn’t exactly new but i hope you guys enjoy my take on it and how i wrote it :)

The Japanese art of Kintsugi is a method of fixing broken pottery that has been popularized all over the world, romanticized even. Something about using the precious material that gold is (among other materials), to put something back together seems to tear into the hearts of people all over the world. So much so that companies even sell their own Kintsugi kits where you can break the provided pottery and put it back together yourself.

How ironic, to buy something only to break it and go through the tedious task of connecting all the broken pieces back together again.

Many hold the belief that kintsugi hold its own deeper meanings. Some say it shows that something breaking and being repaired shouldn’t be covered up, but instead embraced, as it is a part of that objects history.

A more pessimistic view on the subject could be the fact that no matter how beautiful the broken pottery looks, it will never be the same again.

As you stand looking at your boyfriend with only horror filling your body, you could only think about the same could be said for your relationship.

You knew from the get go that getting into a relationship with the Ushijima Wakatoshi was going to be a tough mountain to climb. Anyone from family, friends, colleagues, and even complete strangers had warned you of that fact.

From his personality, to his schedule and the demands that came with being a professional athlete; it seemed that everything was put against the two of you.

But he was the one to ask you out, to court you, the one who crossed the line from friends to potential lovers. That was something that no one could deny being surprised about.

Yes your boyfriend was intimidating, seemingly expressionless and emotionally constipated. But you loved him, and he loved you.

You could work around schedules, you understood why he works as hard as he does, and learning who he really was something that came with time.

As your relationship progressed you could really begin to see what kind of person he was, and how the most subtle changes in his demeanour could signal a change in mood.

But this behaviour was not subtle, it was pronounced, loud, it filled the entire room and made it difficult to breathe properly.

You could barely remember what you two were arguing about this time. Perhaps how you acted during a charity event? How he was running late to a date and didn’t text or call to let you know? it seemed to be a trend for you two in the last couple of weeks. Pick at every little thing one found less than pleasing and then getting mad when the other tried to defend themselves.

This cycle had been going on for far too long and both of you were tired of it, but at the same time too stubborn, too proud to admit defeat.

It was late, far too late for the both of you to be awake, it was far from an appropriate time for you two to be arguing at the volume you were, but whatever exhaustion either of you felt was smothered by a whirlwind of emotions and stubbornness.

Ushijima wiped a hand down his face in frustration from where he sat at the dinner table. Across the room you paced, ranting about your point in the argument that had only been going in circles at this point.

“I-it’s like you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore!” you exclaimed frantically.

A piercing glare was sent your way and it took everything in you to not shrink away from it.

He stood up, with his size, the action in itself felt extremely intimidating, but you felt the way he talked down on you much more severely.

To further articulate his words, a palm would slam down on the surface of the table, so hard that you could feel the vibration in the floor. Each slam was louder and each time you flinched.

His words grew harsher, louder, and more pointed with each sentence. The look of pure, searing anger and hatred on his face kept you frozen in your place.

The man in front of you was unrecognizable, the man in front of you was not the gentle giant you loved. If anything, he was exactly like how many people would describe him upon meeting him. If not worse.

His words, which had now become shouts swirled in your mind, your eyes began to sting as tears began to well in your eyes. All you could think about was how you wanted this to stop, how if only your body would listen to you and move so that you could begin to ask for forgiveness. How you would give anything right in that moment for him to stop yelling and to stop looking at you like you were dirt on his shoe.

Your prayers were soon answered by the sound of shattering ceramic.

The gasp you let out was visceral, uncontrollable, you couldn’t hold it back if you tried.

The fire in his eyes seemed to die out all at once, his gaze moved to his outstretched arm and he look at it as if it had a mind of its own.

His arms were his prized possession even if he never said it out loud, some would go as far to say that they were something to be celebrated. His arms that can hit a volleyball with the utmost precision, arms that brought him to victory and through loss. Strong arms that held you at night and provided you with a great amount of comfort some could only dream of.

Arms that now only served to fill your body with dread.

A vase, along with all its contents was shattered on the hardwood floor.

It had chipped the paint on the wall beside him where the impact initially happened, water that splattered the surface had begun dripping to the ground.

You both recognized the vase, how could you not?You had gone out together to buy it when he had brought you flowers for the first time and you had realized you had nothing to put them in. After moving in together, you used it as a center piece for your dining table.

How sad that an item so fragile and small could hold so much meaning, and that it now lay broken, it was almost as if it were mocking you.

The room was silent as the both of you stared at the scene before you. Minds reeling as you both tried to process the events that had just unfolded.

Ushijima had thrown the vase at the wall in a fit of anger.

“y/n-“

“Don’t”

You looked up at him and wondered if the conflicted emotions that flickered across his face mirrored your own.

You looked away and took a shaky breath. “An apology won’t fix it. You can’t throw and break something, especially not that, and just expect me to be able to hear and accept an apology, not now, not for this.”

His mouth snapped shut and the tension that filled the room was suffocating. Every time you glanced at the broken ceramic the urge to cry grew and grew.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and took a step back, “I’m…” You swallowed roughly as your voice cracked, “I’m going to the bedroom, you need to clean that up and it’s obvious that we need time to cool down.”

With one last glance at the scene, you turned on your heel and made your way towards your shared room, not seeing the look of anguish that Ushijima held on his face as the watched you leave his sight.

You softly closed the door behind you and as it clicked shut, the realization of what had just transpired fell upon you like waves during a storm.

Despite popular belief, Ushijima had never been an intentionally violent man. The only harm he had caused was on the court, where it wasn’t uncommon for athletes to get injured no matter how good or bad they played.

But tonight, he had no reason to do what he did, there was no excuse even if it was the nth argument of the week. The Ushijima you knew was emotionally intelligent enough to know that he did not have to go through the actions of picking up the vase and throwing it at the wall in order to let his anger be known. He did not need to do that to show you how angry you made him.

His anger had been shown all throughout the night. It was practically palpable.

Your legs shook underneath you as you tried to make it to your bed but your efforts were in vain, you crumpled to the cold hard floor, feeling like you were in pieces, much like the ceramic on the floor of your dining room.

You desperately tried to hold yourself together as you replayed the what had just unfolded again and again in your mind. Not understanding why you felt so conflicted.

Fear. You realized.

Fear is what you felt, refused to believe. How could you fear the one you loved?

And yet every part of your body rejected the idea of your boyfriend and urged you to be afraid of him. Afraid of the only man who could make you as happy as he did.

The man who was supposed to make you feel loved, protected, and safe was the same man that made you feel the complete opposite.

Your chest ached and you breathing quickened, now fully aware of the situation you found yourself in. You were afraid of your boyfriend and didn’t know what that meant for the future of you relationship.

He was- is all you ever want, you couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone but him, but how were you supposed to move on from this? You now knew how he could react in times of great anger, what if it only got worse from here?

It was then that you finally allowed yourself to cry. After all that had happened you didn’t know where your relationship stood.

It was only after a couple minutes that the door to the bedroom began to open ever so slightly, at a pace so slow you couldn’t even see or hear it through your sobs.

“y/n?” His voice managed to spit out. He was quiet, uncertain, he feared for what your reaction may be at him being there at that moment.

You didn’t respond to him but he knew that you knew he was there, even as sobs racked your body and you pressed a hand to your mouth in a feeble attempt to quiet them.

Slowly, as if not to startle a deer in the forest, Ushijima sank to the floor from where he stood. Keeping an eye on you as he sat down, angling himself so that he was looking at the far wall and you wouldn’t be forced to make eye contact if you could find it in yourself yourself to look up at him.

This was far from ideal to him. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and bring you to bed, quiet your cries as he held you tight and told you that it would pass and by the morning it would be a thing of the past.

But he knew better. He knew that he was the reason for your tears and the last thing that you needed was for him to wrap his arms around you.

He was aware of your fear before you were. The horrified look you gave him would be something that would stay engrained in his mind for years to come.

He was only used to you looking at him with love and happiness in your eyes and he had managed to ruin that in one night.

“I know that you don’t want an apology right now.” Ushijima started, he looked down at his hands and clenched them together to prevent them from trembling. “But I just wanted to let you know that… I am fully aware of how unacceptable my actions were tonight, that was no way to take out my anger and I should know better than to display my anger in the way that I did.”

Your cries had stopped at this point but you still trembled, still it brought him the smallest amount of comfort knowing that you were likely listening to him now.

“You deserve better than my misplaced anger, and you have every right to be angry with me, to not want to even be in this room, in this house with me right now. If you wanted to leave-“

His breath hitched and he found himself looking down at the hands in his lap with disgust and sadness.

“If you wanted to leave right now I would understand, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on us, I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

Your head lifted ever so slightly and it gave him the confidence to keep going,

“I’ll get help, I’ll find other ways to channel my emotions. Along with that I’ll ask you for your feedback on how you think I’m doing, if what I’m doing makes me worthy of being with someone like you. It won’t start more fights I promise.”

He smiled at himself sadly “You seem to know me better than I know myself at times and that’s one of the reasons I fell in love you. I don’t think I could forgive myself for losing you if I didn’t put as much effort into trying as I could.”

The room was filled with silence once again as Ushijima finished talking. He sighed to himself. He hated this, he hated what he had done to you two, he hated that he was the reason for your tears and he hated that he was feeling completely helpless at the moment, and that you were well within your right to end everything, and there would be nothing he could do.

Your hand grazes his shoulder and he has to do a double take to ensure that you were there. Right at his side like you always had been for the years you had been dating.

Your smiled was coupled with sadness and exhaustion, and he couldn’t hold back the sound of surprise that left him as you wrapped your arms around him and let yourself press your weight into him.

He let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding and allowed his arms to finally reach for you, the next thing you knew, you were being pulled into his lap and he held your head close to his chest, you could hear his heart pounding and could feel his entire body tremble. He kissed the top of your head and let his head rest on top of yours. When he realized how instinctively he was acting, he froze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to act so suddenly I-“

You shushed the man and ran your stroked his arm soothingly in an attempt to calm him.

“I understand.”

Quiet filled the bedroom and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel oppressive, or hot with anger. It felt comfortable as it always should have.

Ushijima was the first to break the silence. “We’ll be okay y/n, right?”

The question was almost childish, naive, and ignorant of how many more questions would be raised answering it.

But it was purely Ushijima. Something that only Ushijima would ask in a time like this, he knew about the complexities, knew it would be hard to answer, but he asks anyways.

You ponder for a moment, knowing that no matter how you answered, there was still always the chance that everything could still turn out very differently that whatever you two could imagine.

“We’ll have to work towards it Toshi, and it might be a slow process, but from the bottom of my heart. I believe in us.”

Strong arms hug you tighter, filling you with that familiar warmth

“Thank you.”

Kintsugi is the art of repairing what was once broken by adding something precious to the mix. When used as a philosophy it encourages the acceptance of fragility, coming back from hardship stronger than before, and being proud of something imperfect.

Something that is repaired using this method will never look the same, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it still holds a unique beauty to it and will continue to function, as long as it is done properly and handled with care.

[yuujispinkhair]

To the end (Chapter 3)

The end of the world as you knew it began with the virus spreading in your dorm. Six months later, you are once again on the run. By your side is Sukuna, the bad boy of your camp, the most unlikely companion you expected. But maybe this is exactly as it should be because sometimes hope comes in the form of a smug smirk and a tattooed pair of sword-yielding arms.

Masterpost ++ Chapter 1 ++ Chapter 2

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, horror, smut and some fluff Playlist: Zombie Apocalypse Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, violence, gore, homicide (Sukuna kills people who attack him and reader), angst, smut, cumshot, cum-eating, squirting, rough sex, oral, zombies, fighting, knives, blood, mentions of several side characters' deaths, alcohol, suicidal thoughts. This AU is based on The Walking Dead, so imagine a world like this. It's cruel and hopeless at times, but there is also a love story :) All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

The first week in the cabin passes without any bigger problems. Sukuna needs three days to build a fence around the small hut. You can't help but admire him for working so relentlessly on it. You offer to help him chop wood but end up crumbling to the floor with shaking arms and sweat running down your face after only a few minutes. You clearly underestimated how much strength it takes to swing an axe and actually manage to split those thick branches.

Sukuna, on the other hand, chops the wood with a determined expression on his face, making it look easy. And sexy. His tank top is abandoned in the grass at his feet. Sweat glistens on his exposed pecs and abs, which flex enticingly with every powerful axe swing.

You can't tear your gaze away from him, silently cursing yourself when you realize that the way his abs flex rhythmically reminds you of when he was kneeling between your legs and fucking you on the floor only a few days ago. You gulp hard and have to avert your gaze.

But even though Sukuna is a constant temptation that still makes you feel a bit uneasy and flustered, you are grateful for him. He knows how to survive out here and never seems to tire. His body is strong, packed with muscles he gained through years of being an athlete and regularly visiting the gym. Back when the world was still a normal place. Back when that body was just good for sports and attracting potential lovers.

Now in this new hell, Sukuna's strength and fighting skills are priceless assets.

The fence is a luxury. A safety puffer that brings some comfort in this dangerous world. It means the zombies won't be able to overrun you in your sleep.

Sukuna assembles the last fenceposts while you install a perimeter alarm made out of wire and some empty cans. The sound will alert you if a horde of zombies comes too close, giving you enough time to get ready for a fight.

Sukuna grins at you and gives you a high five when he finishes ramming the last wooden post into the ground.

"We did it! Good work, brat!"

There's a proud glint in his eyes, and you can't help but feel warmth flood your chest at his praise. Even though he is the one who did the most work. And so you smile at him and put a hand on his arm, patting it a bit awkwardly, trying to show your gratitude.

He laughs, but when you want to pull away again, you get stopped by a strong arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you against Sukuna's solid body.

He smirks that infuriatingly smug smirk at you while he cups your chin and tilts your face towards him. Before you know what's happening, Sukuna licks slowly over your lips while his maroon eyes watch you with an amused glint.

Your knees feel weak when he slips his tongue inside your mouth and captures you in a quick but deep kiss that makes you instinctively press against him.

The desire is always there when you are around Sukuna. Just waiting to get awakened by one of his touches or the things he says to you. Ever since that fuck on the floor a few days ago, you have caught yourself looking at him when you think he doesn't notice. Admiring his body and his pretty face. Remembering the feeling of him inside you. Remembering how good it felt to forget about the apocalypse while you had sex with him.

His strong hands slip down your back and cup your ass through your jeans, giving it a firm squeeze as Sukuna pulls away from the kiss with a naughty flick of his tongue and a teasing smirk on his handsome face.

"Do you wanna fuck, princess? I think we deserve it after all the hard work."

As much as his words make your pussy throb, you roll your eyes at him, trying to act unimpressed. But Sukuna just laughs, and his maroon eyes sparkle mischievously at you.

"At the very least, we should take a shower together. Look at us...all sweaty and dirty. Join me under the shower, brat. You know we have to save water."

You have barely finished undressing, then your back gets slammed against the wooden wall of the hut, and Sukuna's tall solid body presses against you, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss.

The makeshift shower he built here behind the hut is basically just a rope with a bucket to let water drizzle down on you. It's hard to collect water. Either you have to hope for lots of rain or drag buckets full of it over here all the way from the creek.

So yes, shower water is rare, and it only makes sense to save it by showering together. You can't even argue with Sukuna when it comes to that. And it's not like you don't want to be here with him, both naked, caught in a hungry kiss as the water comes raining down on you.

Your hands are roaming over Sukuna's broad chest, helping him wash off the sweat and dirt, and his large hands do the same for you, wandering over your body, massaging, caressing, driving you crazy with need, making you moan into his mouth as his tongue wraps around yours.

He has you on his cock only a moment later, lifting you up in his muscular arms, slamming your back against the hut, and telling you to wrap your legs around his hips.

Your hands tangle in his soft hair, and you bounce all too happily on his thick cock. Or rather, Sukuna bounces you on it. His biceps flex while he guides you up and down on his hard length. He rolls his hips, fucking into you with hard powerful thrusts, making you gasp with how deep he is inside you, with how perfectly he fills you up.

It's not as savage as the first time the two of you had sex, but it still qualifies as a hard fuck. Sukuna always seems to give his all, taking you with all his strength.

You aren't complaining, though. What he does to you feels too good. You find yourself clinging to him, moaning needily as his fat tip hits your sweet spot and his balls slap against your slick cunt with every firm snap of his hips.

His wet skin and firm muscles feel good against you. His kisses are intense. Deep and hungry, making your head spin. You aren't sure if it's from the lack of oxygen or because of the way Sukuna's tongue fucks deeply into your mouth, making your pussy clench around him with every flick of that slick tongue.

You cum embarrassingly fast. Crying out desperately, trembling in Sukuna's strong arms, head falling back against the hut as your orgasm gets ripped out of you in several intense waves.

Sukuna watches you with heavy-lidded eyes that burn with desire. He looks so sexy like this, mid-fuck, horny, and riled up. You can't look away from his pretty face.

He groans loudly and lifts you up further, making his cock slip out of you before he sets you down again.

Your legs are wobbly, and you let your back rest against the wall of the hut, watching Sukuna with big eyes, breathing heavily as you take in his aroused state.

He leans closer, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, as his other hand wraps around his thick cock. He strokes himself with fast moves of his hand while loud pants and groans fall from his mouth.

Your mouth opens in a moan as you let your gaze trail over him for a moment. Watching him jack off in front of you, pumping his fat cock in his fist, needy and fast, abs flexed so prettily, getting coated with pearls of his pre-cum.

Before you know it, you drop to your knees, your hands on Sukuna's muscular thighs, bracing yourself on the strong muscles, moaning when you see the black rings tattoed high on his thighs. Your nails dig into the inked lines as you lean closer and look up at him.

Glittering maroon eyes meet yours, and a groan falls from his lips.

"Fuck yeah, brat. Suck me off."

His hand is still wrapped tightly around his cock, but now it slips down to his thick base. A surprised but turned-on moan falls from your lips when Sukuna slaps his cock against your cheek, making you turn your head to look with dazed eyes at that gorgeous hard length that is right in front of your face now, letting you admire it up close.

Sukuna has a pretty cock. The kind that makes your mouth water. Long and thick, with a gorgeous swollen mushroom head and a prominent vein on the underside that pulses enticingly as if it is encouraging you to trace it with your tongue. And that's exactly what you do.

Your tongue darts out, slowly flicking against that pulsing vein and then following it all the way up to the dark pink tip. The swollen pink cockhead that's smeared with milky pre-cum and your pussy cream. You wrap your lips around it and suck.

Sukuna's broken moan is the best thing ever. Pride surges through you upon hearing his reaction. Your eyes fall shut as you hollow your cheeks, and you suck harder, suddenly wanting to hear him make more of those sexy noises. Blow him with as much devotion as you have, letting him know how good he was at building that fence for you. Showing him your thanks by spoiling his pretty cock with your mouth. Hoping to hear more of his needy moans, hoping to hear this arrogant guy lose control.

You can taste yourself on him, the taste of your orgasm when you creamed so much on his talented cock. 

Sukuna's hand tangles in your hair, grabbing it tightly and guiding you up and down his thick length. He is moaning again, low and sexy, with growing urgency. His hips snap, shoving his thick cock deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you choke on him.

It's a fast blowjob, hard, almost brutal. Sukuna's strong fingers tug on your hair as he fucks your mouth with needy hard thrusts now, making you splutter on his fat length. Spit is running messily down your chin, and tears gather in your eyes as you flutter your lashes and look up at him.

His maroon eyes gaze back at you, clouded over by lust. But his breathless low voice is surprisingly caring when he asks,

"Are you ok, princess? Can you take it?"

You moan around his cock and nod softly, pressing your flat tongue against the vein on the underside, showing him that you can take it. You want to. Want to let him use your mouth. You want to suck and lick him, make him moan, and forget about the apocalypse for a little while at least.

You keep your eyes on him as you bop your mouth on his cock, watching his lips falling open in low, sexy groans, pretty eyes heavy-lidded with arousal. You can see how bad he needs this, and it gives you a rush to see him like this.

Sukuna cums when you reach his fat swollen cock head, engulfing only the tip in the warm cavern of your mouth, suckling lovingly on it, your tongue lapping at his slit teasingly while you look up at him with big tear-stained eyes.

"Ah! Fuck, fuck fuck!!"

His taste begins to flood your mouth, the first spurt of thick milky cum. But Sukuna yanks on your hair, pulling you off his cock so he can shoot the rest of his load over your face in several thick warm strings.

He pulls you to your feet, leaning down to lick your face, licking his cum off you before he finds your lips and kisses you deeply, sliding his tongue against yours, sharing his cum with you in a sticky and hot kiss.

It's filthy and nasty. It makes you moan loudly. It makes you feel so alive here in this world that seems so dead.

Maybe becoming fuck buddies with Sukuna was the best thing that has happened to you since the start of this virus.

You are collecting hazelnuts not far from the hut when you hear it. The snapping of a twig, followed by light footsteps. Your head snaps to the direction of the sounds, and your heart skips a beat.

There's a man.

He is standing a few meters away from you. A tall, bulky guy in his forties. His gaze meets yours, and he grins.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here? Hey sweet thing, what is a sweet girl like you doing here all alone?"

He smiles brightly at you as he takes a step toward you.

Fear grips you. Even before the virus, you would have been scared of a random stranger suddenly chatting you up in the middle of the woods. But now, in this apocalyptic world, it's even worse.

"Don't come any closer."

You sound more confident than you feel. Your hand automatically flies to the knife that's strapped to your thigh. Your fingers wrap around the hilt as you glare at the man.

But it doesn't stop him from walking toward you. Panic flares up in you. What do you do if he doesn't stop? Run? You know you aren't very fast, and he will probably catch you. Fight him? You will stand no chance against him, and the thing is, you aren't even sure you can do it. You never had to fight a living person.

He has almost reached you when a familiar smooth voice speaks up behind you,

"Get away from her!"

You let out a breath. Nothing has ever sounded sweeter than the sound of Sukuna's voice right now.

You look over your shoulder to see him walking up behind you, crossing the few meters in large fast strides. He is glaring at the stranger, one of his knives already in his hand.

Sukuna's hand brushes against your arm when he passes you, a quick reassuring touch that makes you feel immensely grateful for him. He stops in front of you. Putting himself between you and the stranger. A tall, muscular shield.

The stranger takes a step back and lifts his hand in a soothing gesture, smiling good-naturedly at Sukuna.

"Aw, chill. I don't mean any harm, brother."

Sukuna's posture remains hostile, though. His head is held high, fingers wrapped tightly around his knife hilt. His voice is hard.

"I don't believe a single word coming out of your mouth."

The guy starts laughing.

"That's good, brother. It's wise to stay cautious, But I am just a wanderer. I'm on my own, and I move from one place to the next, trying to survive on the things I find in the woods."

The answering chuckle that's coming out of Sukuna's mouth isn't a humorous one.

"Oh, I see. Then I have a question. Are we some of those things you survive on?"

The guy laughs again, sounding heartfelt and friendly. But you feel your pulse flutter nervously, adrenaline surging through your veins. You can't tell whether he is genuine or if he is trying to fool you.

"You have nothing to fear from me. I'm just looking for deer to hunt and berries to eat. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Another loud crack is heard out of the underwood to his right, making you jump. And to your horror, a second stranger steps onto the path.

You feel sick. This isn't good.

Your gaze darts back to Sukuna. You can see how tense he is. Hard muscles flexed, ready to attack at any moment.

His voice sounds controlled, though, deadly calm and snide.

"Ah, so there is another one, hm? See, I knew you were a liar. Tsk tsk, that's not very nice. Kind of fucks up that whole little trust-building thing you tried, you know?"

He shoves his knife back into one of the pockets of his cargo pants and instead unsheathes his katana.

This makes the two guys both take a step back. The one who arrived later holds up both hands.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down."

His gaze travels over Sukuna and then lands on you. Blue eyes bore into yours as an overly sweet smile spreads over his face. When he speaks again, it is directly addressed to you. 

"Hey, sweet girl. Can you please tell your boyfriend to put down his sword? We don't mean any harm. You don't want anyone to get hurt, right, sweetie?"

"Don't. Talk. To. Her."

Sukuna's voice comes out in a deadly cold growl, emphasizing every word.

The guy who talked to you smiles, and his gaze slips back to Sukuna's tall figure.

"You seem a bit tense, brother. Just put the katana down and let us talk. We don't want things to escalate. That wouldn't be good, right? Just imagine your girl getting caught in the middle of a fight."

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head in mock regret while he continues,

"Nasty injuries can happen in moments like these. We don't want to risk that, right? So put that sword down and let us talk. We saw an abandoned camp on the way here. Are you from that camp, brother?"

You see Sukuna's grip on his katana tighten. His posture looks angry even when you can only see his back.

"That's none of your business."

The new guy shrugs and grins, continuing as if Sukuna didn't talk.

"That place looks really bad. The zombies overran it. Guess the survivors had to flee really fast. And yet there were no supplies to be found on the whole campsite. Someone must have raided it already. I wonder who that could be?"

You don't hear more of what he says because the rushing of your own blood in your ears gets too loud.

That's why they are here! They want the supplies from the camp. And they know you and Sukuna must have them. This will not end well.

With shaky, sweaty fingers, you slowly grab your knife handle. You feel dizzy. How are you supposed to fight those two big guys? You aren't even sure you can stab another human being, someone who still has a heartbeat, someone who didn't change into a soulless zombie yet.

You are still lost in your anxious thoughts when Sukuna lifts his katana above his head and, without any hesitation or prior warning, charges at the two guys with an angry growl.

You watch with wide eyes as he brings his sword down in a brutal, deadly swing, beheading the guy on the right before he can even lift a hand in defense.

A loud ear-ringing scream fills the clearing. It takes you a moment to realize that it is you who is screaming. You press your hand on your mouth, staring wide-eyed at the gruesome scene in front of you.

Everyhing seems to play in slow motion. The guy's head lolls to the side before tumbling to the ground. For a moment, the headless body is still standing upright before it finally topples over and lands on the grass with a sickening dull thud next to the severed head.

The ringing in your ears gets louder, black spots dance before your eyes. A small part of you screams at you to do something, to help Sukuna. But you can't seem to move at all.

In front of you, all hell breaks loose. The guy on the left yells and lungs at Sukuna. His hands connect with Sukuna's chest, pushing him hard and making Sukuna stumble backwards.

The guy is strong, maybe not as athletic as Sukuna, but just as tall and even heavier.

Your breath is coming out in panicky huffs. You hate being so useless, watching with wide eyes as your companion gets attacked while you are immobilized by fear.

The stranger has his weapon out too now, a long machete, which he swings at Sukuna. It barely misses Sukuna's cheek.

Sukuna blocks the next attack with his katana. You can see the strain it takes him, though, the muscles of his arms and back taut with exertion as he throws himself against the brutal attacks.

You look down at the knife in your hand. Would you even be able to stab the guy? Would you be strong enough to make it through his clothes? Do you even know where to stab? Or will you just cause more problems for Sukuna if you join the fight?

It's too much, too overwhelming.

But you have to do something! You can't just stand here and watch Sukuna fight for his and your life! 

You can see that they are equally matched opponents. The outcome of this fight will be determined by sheer luck. You can't just stand here and watch Sukuna get hurt...or worse.

The stranger is only focused on Sukuna, attacking him with his machete, hitting the blade of Sukuna's katana over and over again. Even when Sukuna kicks him, the guy is back on him in a mere second. 

Maybe this could be your chance. You are practically invisible to the attacker. You could catch him off guard. Perhaps you can provide a distraction that will give Sukuna an opening to land a deadly strike!

Your gaze lands on the bucket with the hazelnuts you were picking.

You feel lightheaded as you slowly walk past Sukuna. Everything seems to be much brighter than it usually is. Your heart is thundering in your chest, yet your hand isn't trembling anymore as you come up beside the stranger and hurl the bucket at him.

Of course, it doesn't do any damage to him, but it makes him stagger for a moment, and that's all it takes for Sukuna.

His knee connects forcefully with the guy's balls, making the stranger cry out in pain and then stumble backwards when Sukuna throws his tall, muscular body against him, using his opponent's current distraction to wrestle him to the ground.

The machete falls out of the guy's hand. He tries to reach for it again, but Sukuna kicks it away. Finally, the odds seem to be in Sukuna's favor.

The stranger is lying on his back, the blade of Sukuna's katana hovering over his throat, preventing him from getting up again.

Sukuna towers over him, tall and threatening, a deadly twinkle in those maroon eyes. His face is an emotionless mask, looking terrifying because of the lack of emotion and the black tattoos that always make him look like someone you shouldn't cross.

There's fear in the stranger's eyes as he stares up at him.

"Please stop! Please don't kill me! Have mercy, brother, please. I am just a hungry man who needs food to survive, just like you. Please, let me live. I am begging you!"

His pleas come out in desperate teary sobs. It is almost unbearable to listen to it. Tears are running down your cheeks as you tremble. You feel almost something like pity for him.

But there is no compassion on Sukuna's face as he lifts his left foot and places it on the guy's shoulder, pressing him down forcefully.

"Shut up. You wouldn't have let us live, either. You came here to take our things and kill us. Do you think I will let you live and risk you coming after us again?"

He presses the sole of his black army boot even deeper into the man's shoulder and adds, in a dangerously soft voice,

"And don't call me brother. It pisses me off. I already have a brother. I don't need scum like you."

And with that, Sukuna lifts his katana and rams it into the man's forehead.

You quickly hide your face in your hands, even though it is already too late.

The pitiful sobs have come to a sudden stop. The only sound you hear is the chipper of the birds filling the forest with their cheerful song, unaware and unaffected by the horrors that take place here.

You slowly take your hands off your eyes, staring at where Sukuna is standing over the crumbled body of the stranger.

You feel cold all of a sudden and wrap your arms around your torso, hugging yourself as you shiver.

Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you. His eyes are wide with distress when they meet yours. There's blood on his face. Human blood this time. Red and vibrant.

He took two lives. He killed two people right here in front of you.

But you aren't scared. You are grateful.

A horrible relief washes over you upon seeing both of those men dead.

One of the hardest lessons you have had to learn since the virus outbreak is that zombies aren't the worst thing to encounter. The most terrible enemies are other survivors.

Homo homini lupus est. Man is a wolf to man. It has never been so evident as in this apocalyptic world where rules don't exist anymore. The fight for resources brings out the worst in people. And then there are also the ones who don't even care about the resources but just use this sick world to live out their disgusting, violent fantasies.

It's tragic but the scariest things are humans, not the undead.

It makes it hard to stay a good person. Because how can you trust someone in this world? How can you keep a compassionate heart if being kind to someone can kill you? It's safer to shoot first and ask questions later.

And yet, you still struggle to cross that line. The thought of killing another person scares you. The idea of attacking someone before they can attack you makes you feel uneasy.

Sukuna isn't like that. Maybe he never was. Or maybe he learned the hard way that he has to be the first to strike to stay alive. He does what is necessary, no matter how dark it might be. And that's what saved your lives today.

Sukuna's low voice pulls you out of your thoughts, drifting to your ears through the fog clouding your mind.

"Are you ok, brat? Did he hurt you?"

His maroon eyes are filled with worry as they trail over your figure, searching for any signs of injuries.

You shake your head.

"No, he didn't hurt me. Are...are you hurt, Sukuna?"

He shakes his head too,

"Nah, I'm fine."

You watch him pull a cloth out of his pocket and wipe his katana clean with it before putting it back in its sheave and fixing it on his back. All the while, your gaze follows the movements of Sukuna's long graceful fingers, staring transfixed at them while you are still too shocked to move.

But Sukuna's gaze locks with yours again, looking cautiously at you as if he's unsure what to do. He doesn't come closer, just watches you and says softly,

"It's ok. They are gone. You don't have to be scared anymore."

You nod and try to smile, but your lips tremble too much, making it probably look more like a grimace than a smile. Your arms tighten around your body, seeking comfort.

Sukuna looks tense when his eyes wander over your face, and he asks in a carefully neutral voice,

"Or is it me you are scared off?"

Your gaze darts to his, blinking rapidly at him. Is that what he thinks? He is wrong, though! You could never judge him for what he did. He saved you. He did what you wouldn't have been able to do.

You shake your head vehemently this time, and your voice is firm, unwavering,

"No! Sukuna no, I am not scared of you! You protected us!"

You can see his defined chest move as he lets out a deep breath he had been holding.

And suddenly, he crosses the few meters between you in a few long strides, and then you get pulled into his strong arms.

You melt against him immediately. Your arms wrap gratefully around his muscular torso, clinging to him tightly, burying your face in his warm chest and breathing in his comforting scent of leather, sweat, and cherry blossoms.

You have no idea why he smells like springtime. It doesn't even make sense. Maybe that's just a trick your mind is playing on you because his stupid pink hair reminds you of cherry blossoms in the park during more carefree times. Maybe it's because he is your safe place now, the only one you still have.

Sukuna holds you tightly, swaying you surprisingly gently from side to side, obviously trying to do what he thinks must be soothing. And it really is. It is comforting to be held by him, to be in his strong embrace, even if those are the same arms that just took two lives.

You help Sukuna clean up later on when you are back in the hut. You make him sit on the bed while you straddle his lap and wash his face, cleaning the blood off him and tracing his black tattoos gently with a damp cloth.

"Are you ok, Sukuna?"

"Yeah, none of the blood is mine, don't worry."

"That's not what I mean. Those weren't zombies. It's...it's different."

You stop washing his face, your hand still cupping his cheek as you look intently at him, watching him closely for any sign of discomfort. He looks back at you, his eyes pretty and yet so hard.

"I'm ok, really. Those were vile people. It was either them or us. So I had to make a choice, and I chose us. I don't have any regrets about that. The world is a little bit safer without those two."

You nod,

"That's true."

Sukuna smiles grimly,

"And it's not the first time I had to do this. This makes me sound fucked up, I know. I am fucked up. But the only thing that matters to me is that we are still alive. And if the price I have to pay for that is killing two monsters in human form, then I can live pretty unbothered with that."

He keeps looking deeply into your eyes, fixing you with an intensity that makes it unable for you to look away. Like he asks you to take a close look. Like he wants to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into. As if he is challenging you, and he half expects you to get up from his lap and run.

But you don't plan on doing that. Instead, your thumb brushes gently over the black lines on his face.

"You aren't fucked up, Sukuna. I'm glad you did it. I just wanted to make sure you are ok."

Surprise flashes in Sukuna's eyes, and then a grin spreads over his face. It makes him look so boyish and charming that you can't believe this is the same man who just took down two guys.

You can't help but smile back. Sukuna's grin grows bigger when you lean closer and cup his handsome face with both hands before you press your lips to his, kissing him, slow and sweet. Letting him know that you are grateful for him. Letting him know that he isn't someone you fear, but instead your only hope in this sick world. Your light in the dark.

I finally managed to post chapter 3!! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I would lose my mind too if I could watch a shirtless Sukuna chop wood. He has no business being this sexy in the middle of the apocalypse lol. But I love him for it :) And what I love even more is how protective he is!! I know he likes to act so tough, and he is tough, BUT there is also a really big heart underneath that hard shell. If you belong to the few people who he cares about.

Please let me know what you think about the chapter! I promise that I will post the next chapter faster than this one!!

Comments and reblogs make me happy!

Chapter 4

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has It's Thorns - Part One

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc (Talia)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, betrayal. (potentially more to be added?)

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. Not that it is any easier for the soulmate in question. Thus is the fate for Ricky and Talia. Sooner or later, however, life is bound to collide, but what will happen when it does?

author’s note: Part ONE, as usual unbeta'd and will just throw my jumbled words at you and ask you to love them. I don't know how long this series will be yet, I am playing by ear to having a feel for this story and where it will take me.

tags: If you would like to be added feel free to ask, please let me to know whether to this list specifically or in general.

~~

Talia forever would hate the day she learned about soulmate tattoos. Well, marks, they weren’t really tattoos as far as she was concerned. Just because they were intricate images like tattoos, some of them anyway. Some of them were nothing but simple stick figures that little children could draw, the reason that everyone called them tattoos was because they were artwork that was permanently inked to a person’s skin and could never be taken off. Unlike real tattoos though, no needle needed to be taken to your skin for them, there was no ink, no pain, no healing. Everyone got their mark.

On your eighteenth birthday, at the exact moment you were born, your mark appeared. If you were born at five thirteen in the morning, or exactly a minute before midnight, that was the moment that your mark was going to appear. You couldn’t predict what it was. You couldn’t predict where it would be. There was no rhyme or meaning behind them.

Some people used to think that there was an emotional meaning connecting the pair with the tattoo. However, Talia found that hard to believe when there were people that had literally poop emoji as their soulmate tattoo on their ass, out there in the world, oh yes, they were out there, she was well aware. Her cousin, Gemma’s best friend, was her soulmate tattoo. The poor girl, Talia actually hoped that she didn’t find her soulmate if there was truth that there was something linking them emotionally with that emoji, because no.

Not everyone found their soulmate, not everyone wanted to. Some people actively avoided looking at their soulmates because honestly, it took the surprise out of life, and where was the fun of that? The joy of falling in love, and the hope and thrill of putting your heart on the line and wondering, is this the person? Is this the person that fate had chosen for you, the one you were meant to be with?

Talia would never know that feeling.

She knew who her soulmate was the very moment her mark appeared, and the shock that she felt was something that she couldn’t even put words to. Seeing that tattoo appear, one that she knew. One that she’d seen on fansites of one of her favourite bands more than once, and in the same place.. If it wasn’t in the same place it wouldn’t have been him. If it wasn’t in the same place she wouldn’t have been in the position she was in now. If it was just the same image, and not the same place, it would have just been an uncanny coincidence.

This wasn’t just some uncanny thing.

It was real.

Problem was, it was all over the fansites, and Talia had never kept it any secret how much she loved Motionless In White. Especially Ricky Horror.

So when the day she turned eighteen came and she turned up with the exact tattoo that all the fansites claimed was his soulmate tattoo but he always refused to confirm, what famous person would confirm and have millions come out of the woodwork claiming to be their soulmate? Well, it was safe to say, she was ripped apart by so many people that she at least used to think were her friends.

Her true friends, all these years later, were down to three. Three people that in no way would ever bag on her for the rose tattoo that not so innocently sat on her neck, and none of them dared mention anymore.

Years.

Talia used to try.

Despite the cruelty of those around her treating her like some psychotic obsessed fangirl that had gone and gotten the tattoo on her birthday just to fool the man into being with her. She’d loved going to concerts, not just to try and meet Ricky, despite the assumption, but also for the music, thank you very much, but yes, for Ricky. How could she not want to meet the man whose very soul was marked on her skin for the rest of her life? Whose life had been marked with hers longer than hers had been marked with his…

There had been close calls over the years, when she almost got to meet him. The closest had been the time when she’d actually managed to get a VIP ticket to a concert. Sure it was two states over, and she had to fly there and take some time off work, but the fact that she’d managed to save up, and get the ticket at all.

Ava, Jordan and Kyle had all helped her. The three people in her life that had never, not once, ever questioned that mark on her skin and who the other person on the other end was.

Even her family had made her wonder if she was a little insane for thinking that Ricky Horror was her soulmate. Her mother had been so obvious in her effort to placate her, never once did she feel like her family thought that maybe, just maybe, did they believe her. Her father actually suggested she get medical help more than once. Not surprisingly though, there were therapists that did specialise in the effects of the soulmate bond and sometimes delusions that could come from them. The day her father made her appointment with one of them though, was the day she decided to move out of her parents house.

Thankfully Ava had a spare room and was more than happy to split rent with her.

Oh, and that VIP ticket that she got?

She didn’t make it there in time.

One thing happened after another that night, and you could call it a disaster of fate, and in hindsight, she should have seen it coming. Maybe it was a product of fate. Maybe the whole thing with the soulmate tattoos were always going to be wrong and hers was just sitting on her skin to taunt her.

First, her client appointment ran late, and if she had tried to end it early so she could make it to the airport in time, she would have risked losing her job. Not that it would have mattered considering her flight had been delayed anyway, and then by the time they were finally about to board they cancelled it and had to get her onto a different flight. A different flight which meant she didn’t even get there in time to get into her VIP meet and greet in time.

She got to go to the concert.

She got her VIP merch.

After all that, beaten down with the day behind her, her hotel booked and not needing to be at the airport for the flight home until late the next day, she decided to wait to see if she could catch them after the show.. Until she saw him, finally. The smile lit up her face as she saw Ricky pass them by.. Talia had wanted to say something, but when they were actually talking to the fans she was stuck behind some idiot and blocked out of the way, and by the time she managed to elbow her way through, they’d already been ushered on by security.. Not that it mattered when he saw one of the people he was with. His new girlfriend, hand in hand.

It had been an amazing night.. But one that had ended with her in heartbreak.

That was the night that was the beginning of the end for Talia’s attempts to meet Ricky. After so many trips to see their concerts, and try to see him, this last one, this VIP trip, was when she saw him walking back to his tour bus with his new, pretty girlfriend. He was smiling at her so bright, holding her hand between them.

It wouldn’t have killed her as much, except he looked so happy.

Sure, Talia had no doubt he’d had girlfriends before, she’d dated guys, but Ricky had never been open on social media about any of his relationships. This girl though, he was very vocal about. Talia, she couldn’t destroy that, soulmate or not.

Not everyone wanted their soulmate, not everyone wanted their soulmate. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, he was famous, that had to be hard, after all, nearly every single person that knew who her mark connected her too thought she’d was just some psychotically obsessed fan. Why wouldn’t he?

So life moved on.

Talia moved on.

However, if she had to endure one more pathetic attempt to set her up on a blind day from her mother, her brain might explode. Ever since she’d given up on her soulmate tattoo, not that she’d talked to mother about it in years, her mother’s attempts to interest her in someone else had only increased. Now though, the moment the inevitable subject of soulmates came up, she never knew what to say. More often than not, the date came to a dead stop then and there just from what he said even before she could open her mouth. Too many people went on blind dates in hope of meeting the one. She knew she wasn’t that person, and there was no second date then.

Sitting at her desk and looking up from her sketch patch when her phone started going off repeatedly, she was working on a new piece for one of her long-time clients, he was slowly working on a full tattoo sleeve and this was the next addition she was designing, provided he liked what she worked up. He hadn’t yet, but there was always a first time.

Trying to ignore the alerts on her phone to focus wasn’t going to happen, but she needed to take a lunch break anyway. So she set her pencil down, picked up her phone and set to go make herself a cup of coffee.

When she saw who the messages were from, she glanced up to the front of the tattoo palour to one of the culprits, Ava.. she was right there at the reception desk, flicking through a magazine like she didn’t have a care in the world, typical. Shaking her head with a smirk as she opened the messenger app to her friend groups chat to see what the three of them had been gossiping about back and forth.

Kyle: Hey guys, we’re still on for tonight? Jordan: Party girl, you still in? Ava: Oh, I’ll get her there, she’d got her head in her work, like usual today, you know her. Jordan: Oh come ON, TALIA! BIRTHDAY GIRL! Kyle: T, Darling, I did not agree to double shifts to get the night off for you to BAIL! Ava: Kyle! Cool your jets, she’ll be there!

It had been a few moments since the last message, she knew they’d been planning on taking her out to a bar for her birthday for weeks, she hated going out on her birthday, she hated it. It always reminded her of the fucking tattoo on her neck. It shouldn’t. Everyone talked about soulmate tattoos on their birthday. Counting down the years and remembering how they felt when they first saw theirs, or when they first met their soulmate.. When all she wanted was to forget she ever got her mark at all.

She understood Kyle’s frustration though, he was a nurse, and sometimes getting time off for a night out was difficult for him. Kyle and Jordan were fucking lucky, they were soulmates, two of her best friends, known each other since they were in diapers, had been joined at the hip since middle school. The biggest worry they’d ever had was if they were soulmates at all. When Jordan had gotten his mark two months before Kyle, they’d agreed if Kyle didn’t have the same, they wouldn’t care, and lo and behold, two months later, sure enough, Kyle did.

It was actually scary really thinking about it, the way the marks worked.. How if you got your mark years before your soulmate, they could be out there and have no idea. She was younger than Ricky by years, and she wondered sometimes what he must have been thinking, how he must have felt. Some people never met their soulmate, some people never got the chance, and it wasn’t by choice. You knew when you lost the choice, if your tattoo changed from black to white on your skin, then it meant your soulmate had died.

Talia’s of course was still very much black. Not that it mattered. Ricky was out there, not looking, and neither was she. He was happy with someone else, and who was she to ruin that for him.

After she pushed the button on the coffee maker she looked back down to her phone and tapped out a message on her phone.

Talia: I’ll be there Ky, be prepared to die by shots.

[daemour]

Answer (2/2)

Pairing: ghost!Seonghwa x Reader ft. future San

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Ghost AU, Mystery, Supernatural elements, vaguely horror

Warnings: Religious content, toxic possessiveness, slight yandere, mentions of death, death

Word count (part specific): 2495

Summary: For as long as Seonghwa had been roaming the world as a ghost, he hadn’t remembered much of his life when he was... well... living. But one thing he does remember is you. His childhood friend whom he hadn’t seen since he moved in primary school. So naturally, he seeks you out.

To his surprise, you can see him. He immediately decides to hold onto you for as long as he can. After all, you’re the only tie he has to the living world. He doesn’t want anything to get in the way of what could be a normal life. 

Not even your potential partners.

Part 1 - Part 2

finally done!! and yes it was ssupposed to be x san too but i didnt wanna shoehorn it in

-

Seonghwa doesn’t like this new development. You can see him sulking in the corner but what are you going to do about it? Your project is due next week and you and your partner need to work on it so you invited them over to study. He can’t fault you for that.

The worst thing about this arrangement is that he knows that you like Mingi. He’s not blind, he can see how you talk to that Mingi. The way you smile at him so tenderly, how the tall redhead is always finding reasons to sit next to you on the off day you let Seonghwa join you at the library. And you’ve told Seonghwa before that you like Mingi. How could he forget?

“Hwa, are you up?” your quiet voice draws the attention of Seonghwa, who was previously quietly reading one of your school textbooks.

“Of course, (Y/N). I have no need for sleep. What’s wrong?” He sits up, cracking his neck by force of habit rather than any ache.

“I think I like Mingi.” Your words catch him so off guard that he starts to sink through the couch. It’s only after he realises how long the silence has gone on that he floats up and offers a smile.

“Well, I wish you the best then,” he says quietly, just as quietly as his heart is breaking. He knows it’s unlikely that you would like him back but what’s he going to do about his feelings? He can’t exactly stop them so he’ll just get through it one step at a time.

Seonghwa huffs quietly. He resents this project you have to do, and he resents Mingi. As soon as your project partner leaves, he moves quickly to be by your side again. “(Y/N),” he starts to whine, “you take so long with him. When will your project be done?”

You laugh. “Just next week, Hwa. It’s funny to see you be so protective, but trust me, it’s okay.” Your smile is sweet but does little to stop the negative thoughts from intruding into Seonghwa’s head. It’s unfair that he has to be dead and watch you be swept away by everyone else.

Something must show on his face because your brows furrow and you reach up to pat his cheek.”I…just want you to be careful around him.”

You giggle a little. “Hwa, Mingi couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry in my life. Don’t worry so much, Seonghwa. I promise to be safe.” And what else could he do but watch you slip just a little more through his fingers?

-

“You’re dead, Hwa!” Seonghwa recoils as if he’d been slapped. He had never seen you this upset before. Not even when he first told you he was moving across the country and you smacked his shoulder so hard a bruise formed.

“Is it really so wrong?” he argues back, his defenses rising although he knows he’s in the wrong. He shouldn’t have told you how he feels, even if he wanted to. He knows there would be no point in it, especially since he knows his actions went too far. It was selfish of him but it’s too late to back down now, and his pride won’t let him go without a fight. “I can’t help my feelings!”

You shake your head, pinching the bridge of your nose and Seonghwa’s stomach sinks at the thought of your disappointment. “There’s nothing wrong with having feelings, but you can’t just expect me to give up everything for you. I don’t want to have to come home and not be able to be physically affectionate with my partner. You can’t be corporeal for very long, Hwa. It just wouldn’t work out.”

“(Y/N)...” Seonghwa trails off, unable to think of a single counter-argument. “Please…”

“No, Hwa. You crossed the line, fucking possessing Mingi to plant the idea that I hated him, that he should ignore me. Our project was ruined and he…he won’t even look at me, Hwa.” You turn, pulling on your coat. “I’m sorry, Hwa. But even if it was plausible, I don’t like you in that way. Maybe…maybe it’s time for you to move on.”

Seonghwa takes a step back at the weight of your words. He can deal with you not wanting to b with him because of external forces. At least then he could be content knowing that you at least liked him back. But the idea that he wasn’t even in your heart since the beginning…and you don’t want him around anymore?

He knows you don’t mean that he should get over his feelings for you but that he needs to pass in peace. And that’s just unacceptable.

-

“San, I need your help.” You hold out a cup of coffee to your classmate who you’ve only ever exchanged hellos with. “You like ghosts, right?”

The blonde boy raises his eyebrow, glancing at your meagre offering of peace. “Why do you ask?” He gingerly plucks the cup from your hands, taking a sip. You take that as a good sign.

“You can’t laugh at me, okay?” All San does is take another sip and you press on. “I need to know how to exorcise a ghost.”

San fixes you with a look. “If you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.” His voice is tight and in any other situation you would’ve been immediately worried, but right now you have a real problem on your hands.

“I swear I’m not,” you beg, clasping your hands together. You must look a fool, but you don’t care. “I will literally beg on my knees—my neighbour is a ghost and he’s possessing the people around me to keep me from getting into relationships.” After Mingi, you tried to find someone else but strangecircumstances would always keep them awy from you and you knew why. It was when Seonghwa caused Hongjoong to fall and crack his head on the ground, resulting in a coma that you realised things had gone way too far.

San makes a face that reads ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-smoking’ but you’re stubborn as hell. After a solid minute straight of eye contact, the man in front of you sighs. “What kind of a ghost?”

You beam, grabbing his free hand and shaking it heartily. “Thank you so much, San! It’s mostly passive, but it only recently has been affecting my friends’ mental states and they just…seem to be proud of it. They’re honestly really possessive.”

San frowns. “Tell me all you can.”

-

“Seonghwa? Are you home?” You crack the door of your apartment open carefully, keeping an eye out for the ghost that now occupies your space. You don’t see him anywhere near you so you usher San in. “He’s out now, but he’ll be back any time soon. Please work as fast as you can.”

San nods, immediately setting down his bag and pulling out an assortment of things that you don’t even know the name of. You only recognise a handful of them—crosses, prayer beads, and what looks to be a small bottle of fragrant oil. But it appears he knows what he’s doing, and so you let him do his thing while frantically checking outside the door for Seonghwa’s return.

A gentle tap on your right shoulder makes you jump almost a foot out of your skin and you turn to see San smiling sheepishly at you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to go over our findings.”

“Ah, yeah, of course! Sorry, I’m just a bit jumpy,” you explain yourself, letting yourself focus on San. “What is it you want to tell me?”

San frowns. “You might have to sit down for this.” You immediately sink into the couch and San takes a seat beside you, leaning forward onto his knees. "You mentioned that the ghost had attached himself to the house, but…I didn't find traces of any point of tethering in here."

Your brows furrow and your stomach sinks even as you ask the question you already know the answer to. "How is he bonded then?"

"He tied his soul down to you." San's voice is full of frustration and he runs his hand through his hair. "He's managed to pass it off as being here because your essence is all over this place—and I don't mean that in a creepy way—it's practically like he's tied here anyway. That's why he can accompany you to the library."

"What can I do?" The fear in your voice must show because San reaches out and grabs your hands to steady you.

"It's not great news, but it's not bad news, (Y/N). The process of expelling him will be a bit harder, but the plus side is that we won't need him present for the ritual." That does improve your chances of being able to remove him from your life, you guess.

“How do we do th–”

“(Y/N), I’m back!” You stiffen at Seonghwa’s voice, glancing to the side to see him float in past the walls. “Who’s this?” 

Your eyes widen slightly and San notices. But he has more tricks up his sleeve than you can imagine and turns to greet Seonghwa. “Hello, you must be Seonghwa. I’m San.” He even smiles, a far cry from how you’ve stiffened in your seat. “(Y/N) here is in my class and heard about how I can see ghosts and figured it’d be nice for you to have a friend that isn’t her.”

The lie slides so easily off his tongue and you try your best to look normal. Seonghwa raises both his eyebrows and for a long minute, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach. “You fan see ghosts?” he asks, voice disbelieving.

San smiles. “It’s a rare ability. (Y/N) here can only really see you because your energies are so tightly interwoven. She can’t see any other spirits. I have…what some may call a gift and others a curse of true sight.” Seonghwa ‘ahh’s, understanding dawning in his eyes.  “So! What do you say to getting to know each other?” San claps his hands together, grinning at Seonghwa expectantly.

“...I think we could make that work.” Seonghwa’s lips pull into a smile and you breathe a slight sigh of relief. That’s one big issue out of the way, ow you can only hope that San will be able to remove Seonghwa with no other issues.

-

“Seonghwa! Leave San alone!” you yell, your voice cracking from the sheer volume.

The exorcism (or “spiritual cleaning” is what San had called it) had started out fine. You and San found a secluded area near the woods and laid out everything you guys needed. It was halfway through the ritual that a loud crack resounded and Seonghwa had appeared, pulling San into a hold that you doubted even the strongest man could get out of. You could physically see the skin around San’s neck turn purple and fear struck deep into your heart.

“I wanted you, (Y/N). I wanted you so bad,” Seonghwa roars back, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “I was so alone after I died, and then I found you and everything could’ve been okay! But you couldn’t accept what we had was enough!”

You frown, shaking your head as your own eyes water, both from emotion and from the dirt swirling around Seonghwa in his anger. “Hwa, I told you. It just wouldn’t be fair to either of us. It’s just not plausible.” It’s hard to keep calm but you can see Seonghwa’s grip grow tighter the more upset he gets.

“It’s un-fair!” Seonghwa cries, nails digging into the soft skin of San’s neck. You can see a trickle of blood drip and you know you must act fast.

“Seonghwa, please put San down and we can talk about this like civilised adults,” you beg. “I’ll tell him not to do the ritual, please just don’t hurt anyone else.”

You could practically see gears turning in Seonghwa’s head as his grip loosens on San. “Fine,” he says sullenly and drops San to the ground.

You run over, helping an up as he wheezes and rubs his sore neck. The punctures aren’t too deep thankfully but you still hand him a napkin you hadd in your pocket for whatever reason. “San, you have to go,” you whisper harshly and he shakes his head.

“I can’t leave you here, (Y/N),” San hisses back. “He’s dangerous, (Y/N).”

“Yeah,I had that figured out when he almost fucking killed you, San. Please. I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. He’s already hurt…so many people, and he almost murderd you in cold blood. San…just do it for me.” You gently push him away and with another moment’s hesitation, he finally sets off towards the car.

When you turn back to Seonghwa he’s got a confident smile spreading across his face and you feel a wave of disgust. Never in your life would you have dreamt that your childhood best friend who was oh-so-sweet and always had band-aids on hand would turn out to be this goddamn spiteful.

Your eyes flick back to the chalk circle that San had drawn out, inwardly cursing yourself for not paying attention when San was explaining the ritual steps to you. You had too much faith that Seonghwa would not interfere and look where that got you. You could try and stall for time and ohope San figures something out but you’ve already dragged so many people into thiss mess. You don’t think you could ever forgive yourself for what happened to Hongjoong.

“God, I’m so glad I tied myself to you,, (Y/N). Who knows what would’ve happened if I didn’t,” Seonghwa boasts but his words spark an idea in your head. If he’s tethered to you, then…

The ghost doesn’t notice for a long while as you take a few steps back, but once you get far back enough his eyes find you. As soon as he meets your eyes, you break out into a run and he takes off after you. You’re very sure that he doesn’t know your plan exactly but you aren’t going to linger any longer.

You know this area extremely well as you duck and weave through the nearby forest, but you’re still lucky that Seonghwa had expended a lot of energy to find you and San as he doesn’t increase hisw speed or just plain apparate in front of you.

You skid to a stop right by a cliff, overlooking the edge of it into the crashing waves of the sea and the jagged rocks. There is a moment of hesitation but as you hear Seonghwa rushing through the branches you squeeze your eyes shut tight and jump.

The last thing you remember is Seonghwa’s desparate cry  and a sharp pain on the back of your head.

[mdhwrites]

Ever find it funny how fandoms love taking light-hearted stories and making grimdark fanfiction about them, and doing the opposite with stuff like horror and making them cutesy, wholesome, etc?

I think it's because we, as consumers of fiction, love exploring routes that canon doesn't take, just for...well, the fun of it. But do you think there's anything deeper to it?

So there's a phrase me and a friend heard once that we ADORE when describing fanfiction, or fan stories in general to encompass comics:

Fanfiction lies in the holes.

What that means is essentially what you're bringing up but in all genres. Why does Sadako inspired non-horror stories? Because that's not the story told by the source material. It's the uncharted frontier of that franchise and so when you ask "What if" you don't actually get a concrete answer or think "They might address it in the sequel." No, instead you know it's up to you so why not play with it?

This also goes into how people will write their own endings to cliffhanger questions. A couple is clearly going to get together eventually? Well, the question of how is pretty big in every consumer's mind. One of the ones that was the most fun with The Owl House was that the Human Realm had non-boiling rain. It's not a big question but how Luz freaks out about the hot water begs the question of how characters would react to the cold water. I don't think any Lumity author worth their salt for the first two seasons didn't tackle it, myself included.

This is also why shipping is SO. PROLIFIC. Especially in things that just staunchly don't have shipping in them. The subtext of scenes, just the general questions of sexuality, chemistry, etc. like that are exciting for a lot of people, regardless of context. It's always going to be an evergreen question with high amounts of drama, angst, fluff, etc. potential because it's an entire genre within a piece of fiction that has its own subgenres, etc. within it.

AUs and Crossovers are kind of the ultimate version of this. Fantasy world? What happens if these characters were instead in the modern day? Dark, gritty noir? How about a cozy coffee shop instead? And of course: What would this character do/be like if they were in an entirely different work?

I think all of this points to a simple fact when it comes to the majority of stories: Writers and Scientists both start with a question. A scientist conducts an experiment to narrow down the answer while a writer expands on it to explore the possibilities. As such, the more questions you leave to your audience as a writer, the more that can be expanded by your fans as they see fit.

And really, who doesn't love seeing someone be inspired to experiment with your work? See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[asherisawkward]

What do you think of the different interpretations of Philip / The Wittebro brothers? What are the ones you like, don't like, and what do you think of content for them that's more fun / light hearted rather than angsty?

I love the different ways that Caleb’s beliefs towards the societal norms of Old Gravesfield can be interpreted. Did he start out in the same shoes as Philip, believing that witches were evil? Did he use the witch hunts as a cover so he and his brother wouldn’t be persecuted by the town?

When you have a character that there is so little known about in canon, it gives a lot of potential for fans to come up with their own ideas, and I think that’s awesome!

Having said that, I am more fond of interpretations that acknowledge the blame on both sides of the brother’s story. They both have their flaws (Philip has a lot more), and that’s okay! In fact, their flaws are part of what makes them so compelling for me.

I’m fond of AUs that have a mix of both angst and fluff because as much as I love hurting my characters to see what they’re made of, they deserve a break.

The first AU of the Wittebros that I got introduced to was the Arofam AU. Compared to a lot of the others, it’s pretty lighthearted, and it depicts the way the brothers’ bond changes over time as well as the various situations that resulted in the way that their personalities form. I still follow that one to this day, and I love the themes of redemption and growth in them!

The funniest AU I’m interested in would have to be the pitmdau or Gamer Grandpa AU. In it, all of the Golden Guard ghosts and Caleb are real, and it works on a slow rekindling of the bond between Philip and Caleb. It’s pretty funny to read about them playing Minecraft or Among Us together, and the GGs finally get a break from the trauma.

I am definitely an angst enjoyer, so you can notice that the Brother’s Keeper AU is one of the ones I show interest in. I love the way the creator explores the various depths of both Philip’s manipulation and obsession with his brother. The entire situation is crafted in a manner that feels very real, and it makes my skin crawl (in a good way. I love horror done well.)

I don’t know if this last one is entirely relevant, but I love the Twin Rulers AU. In it, Fanon Philip and Canon Philip meet and decide to adopt each other as brothers since they both lost their version of Caleb. It depicts the grief and emotional weight of Pip’ and Phil’s relationship beautifully. The difference between the way they think of their versions of Caleb and what they do to keep them in memory is glorious, and it makes me think.

I hope I answered your question. Have a great day!

[donationwayne]

Feelin' Good (Could Be Better) || Buddie || 10/10 Chapters || 24.6k words

Hi, I just realized I never made a post for the full work since I completed this a month or two back, so I thought I'd give it a little post!

SUMMARY

The Buckley parents unexpectedly visit, turning Buck's already shaky mental status from precarious to impossibly worse. Buck joins Maddie, Chimney, and his parents for a dreadful dinner. We take a little look into Buck's childhood through a series of flashbacks. And Buck is super fine thanks for asking, he'll just bake about it. And think about kissing Eddie, obviously. There's a family barbecue in attempt to keep the Buckley's on their best behavior. It doesn't really work. SNIPPET

Before he has a chance to make an attempt at opening the door, it flies open to reveal May, who stares at their offerings in disbelief and bewilderment. “How many more people are coming?” May asks, dazed. “We’re the last ones,” Eddie replies, amused. May takes the cookies off his hands and follows them to the kitchen. “Good Lord, Buck,” Athena exclaims, torn between horror and amusement. “He bakes when he’s anxious.” Eddie offers. “Maybe next time, just book an extra therapy session.” May teases. Buck, who is standing by the sink, grabs the hose attachment and sprays her with it, earning a shrieking laugh. “Don’t even try me, Grant,” Buck threatens. “You’re cleaning that up,” Athena informs Buck, who is already grabbing a towel to soak the water up from the floor. “I’ll tell Bobby you two made it inside.” Athena hesitates. “Everyone is already here. And your sister is babysitting your parents.” Buck nods, smoothing down his shirt. “Right.” Chimney darts inside, holding onto his glass for dear life, looking like a man in desperate need of a buoy. “Booze?” He blurts at Athena, who gestures towards the fridge. “That bad?” Eddie asks in amusement. "Oh, thank God, you’re here. It's almost your turn for babysitting duty.” “I agreed to no such thing. I plan on avoiding my parents until we all sit down for dinner.” Buck replies. Chimney opens the fridge, brandishing gold tequila at him. “Either of you in?” “Definitely,” Buck says, joining him. He grabs three disposable shot glasses from the drink area and hands them to Chimney. “I’m the potential getaway driver, so I’ll be drinking a beer early on at most.” “That’s genius. If you escape, please take me with you.” Chimney pleads, he fills all three shot glasses, and pushes two of them towards Buck. “You can have Eddie’s.” They cheers, tapping the shots on the counter before swallowing down the sharp, cheap tequila. He throws the second one back and shivers. Chimney glances at Eddie while grabbing three beers from the fridge. “Ready to meet your in-laws?” Buck feels himself flush at Chimney’s implication, but Eddie simply rolls his eyes, unphased. He cracks open the beer that Chimney hands him, “Come on, let's go rip the band-aid off.” Eddie offers. He sets a warm, grounding hand on Buck’s shoulder, steering him to the patio doors. Chimney leads the charge.

Above is a small offering of fluff to appease you. I'm sorry, there is a lot of angst ahead.

This is basically just a fic about how much I hate the Buckley parents and yes I made them even worse, you're welcome! I went Hater school so I would have the tools to properly hate Margaret and Phillip Buckley.

[answermywearyquery]

how do you come up with new ideas for stories? and what has been one of your favorite fics to write? 🤗

Thank you so much! 💖😊

Firstly, it's a very good question, I'm not totally sure how I come up with ideas. When I'm bored – commuting or can't fall asleep - my fuzzy mind wanders, and I come up with random scenario to entertain myself (unloved characters getting hugged within an inch of their life, my fave going through all the horrors to bring a smile to my face, etc.) and if I like its random escalation well enough to play with it again and again, I schedule a proper daydreaming/brainstorming session, i.e. next time I go to bed or take a 3 hour train ride I do it with mission, where I try to decide if the idea could potentially work (or just self-indulgent fluff/smut/angst with no goal or discernible plot).

And if the answer is yes, I put the WIP in the WIP Excel Sheet™, where I keep all my ideas, and then I promptly don't even think about working on it for 2 to 30 months.

Secondly, [insert Defunctland quote about filmmaking] I hate writing, it's traumatic and I despise every goddamn step of it. (It's my longest lasting hobby and I never not long to write, but still.) So, I kinda delete the memory of the process a week after I publish anything as a survival tactic, but! My first VegasPete fic Con: He's a Psycho. Pro: So Are You. has a very special place in my heart! It's very far from perfect, but that was the first fic where I truly felt like it was done with my own unique style, it just flew out of me, both in obsession and in style. Felt so comfortable working on it, truly joyful. So, all hail VegasPete, The Brainrot of A Lifetime, and me letting my freak flag fly.

Thank you for asking! 🥰

[lesbicosmos]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!!

saw @celestialcrowley did this and it looked fun!! im pausing writing my current WIP for this

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

as of right now, 27 but i have another 3 currently in the works (dead boy detectives has turned my brain into fanfic soup and i love it)

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

89,795 (what the fuck how did i do that)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

currently only working on dead boy detectives ones but ive also written dead poets society, merlin, good omens, doctor who and supergirl

4. top 5 by kudos?

the great petname debacle of '24 (dead boy detectives) - 398

it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then (dead boy detectives) - 354

hope that you're good to me, baby (supergirl) - 292

'cause it was always you, alright (dead boy detectives) - 228

we should just kiss like real people do (good omens) - 166

5. do you respond to comments?

yes!! i try to respond to all of them because they're so good, there's no better feeling than an ao3 comment notification <33

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

probably either the last one i wrote, where did i go wrong? i lost a friend (dead boy detectives, post-canon) or no grave can hold my body down (a really niche dead poets society / afterlove au) but neither of them are Angsty, i don't write a lot of angst lmao

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of my others lmao, currently id say it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then but that's just because it's a recent one that i remember writing the ending of

8. do you get hate on fics?

i don't think i ever have

9. do you write smut?

no, i tried once when i wrote my supergirl fic but it was shit so i scrapped that part 😭

10. craziest crossover?

i guess the dead poets / afterlove one but it's also my Only crossover soooo

i tend to think about crossovers more than i write them lol, like me and @latin-8-o-clock-my-room had a whole conversation the other day about a potential dead boy detectives / six of crows crossover which was fun

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no but i think that would be so cool, i love that it's a thing that happens to make fics more accessible to people

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

not exactly co-written but the dialogue in one of my merlin fics was based off a conversation me and a friend had late at night once where i swear we got possessed by merlin and arthur

so if that counts then yeah i guess? but i was the one who wrote it up so semi-cowritten ig

14. all time favourite ship

no ♥️

i simply cannot choose an all time favourite, current fav is definitely charles and edwin from dead boy detectives though

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

there was a merlin one i started that i still love the idea of so much, everything you've done...i know now, where arthur relives his and merlin's past while in avalon so he saw everything merlin had done for him, but idk if ill get around to finishing it :/

16. what are your writing strengths?

dialogue and descriptions of emotions, and fluff

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i feel like i can't write a detailed kiss scene to save my life

also descriptions of actions

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

confusing question, idk. if it fits the plot it's fine ig but if it's random...why? i have no idea how to answer this

19. first fandom you wrote for

discounting the harry potter fics i wrote when i was like 11 because no one wants to see that, i think the first main fic i wrote was for IT, the horror movie 😭

20. favourite fic you've written so far?

currently probably 'cause it was always you, alright because i had so much fun writing it and people seem to be liking it

not gonna tag anyone specific but this was rly fun lol