#Just noticed a few errors in wording... I am suffering

[shikai-the-storyteller]

QSMP Actors AU where Quesadilla Island is the set of a reality TV show, except only the NPCs (and a handful of Islanders) know it's a TV show and the rest of them think it's 100% real.

Quackity knows because he's supposed to help guide the show in a certain direction if things get too chaotic / off-track, but he doesn't know everything the production team has planned.

Phil knows it's not real because he's observant and noticed the cameras & microphones on the first day. The crew lets him do his own thing and break the 4th wall because the audience loves that he's so self-aware.

Vegetta knows it's a TV show because he's been on other famous shows (cough, Karmaland) and he was invited by a member of the team (Rubius). He's under the impression that everyone else knows it's a TV show, but they're super in-character all the time.

Wilbur knows, but also thinks everyone else knows. He's MIA because he and his band had a tour-conflict nobody realized when signing contracts.

Fit knows it's a TV show because a rival production company that does Survival-esque shows (2b2t) sent him to check out their competition.

The crew genuinely doesn't know if Luzu knows or not.

Bad figured out it wasn't real but keeps forgetting because he gets wayyy too in-character.

Maximus knows because he's part of the crew. "Gordinho Gostosiho" is their way of interviewing the stars of the show without them realizing that they're on a TV show within a TV show.

I think it'd be really funny if the Brazilians and French legitimately crash-landed on the Island in the middle of filming and the producers were just like "This is great for numbers, let's leave them there and see what happens." (This would also mean Felps is "in the know" now because he hung out with the crew while he was "kidnapped." He just didn't tell anyone about it when he came back because he thinks it's hilarious).

[yichens]

Pit Babe Characters x Cartomancy ➣ Part 2: Alan & Jeff

King of Hearts: A caregiver and a protector. Others look for them for guidance and reassurance. Eight of Diamonds: Focusing on the bigger picture. Keeping an eye out for any problems or errors.

for @pitbabeanniversary week 2 prompts: alan & jeff

(more thoughts under the cut!)

disclaimer: i am not an expert in either cartomancy or tarot reading. i did a lot of research on these two sites to come up with these cards for the characters. some of the meanings associated with the cards are still only my own interpretation, so they might not be completely accurate.

continuing to analyze the characters of pit babe through playing cards by saying a few words of my fave couple in the series ^^

alan: king of hearts was a very obvious choice for alan. the descriptions say that this card represents a "family man" and i instantly knew it was going to be alan's card. he is the dad of the group after all, the caregiver, the guardian to his own bunch of lost boys. he would give everything to those he loves and the others know this. they look up to him and think of him as the rock, as someone to lean on and someone to keep them safe. he is their financial and emotional support and often makes the final decisions.

but his position is also hard to keep, and the duty he's taken upon carrying sets alan up to failure throughout the story. he asks a lot from himself, and so he fails over and over again: he fails to protect his boys, fails to offer them proper guidance and support, fails with money and their plans and with understanding them all. i think he convinces himself of his complete failure as a guardian when dean first betrays them and then when way eventually dies. he thinks those events were somehow his fault. if he had been better and had noticed something off sooner, would way still be alive? and if he had been able to give more, would dean be happier now? he carries all of this alone, and so i thought "family" was both his gift and a burden.

jeff: just like with charlie, it was a bit harder to interpret jeff through these cards. i initially placed him somewhere amongst spades – problems and bad omens seem to be his specialty. but then i saw the description for this one and got caught on the mention of "eyes". that seemed to click bc what else is jeff but the eyes of the group, the seer of everything? he's that both willingly and unwillingly, always around when things are looking down, always witnessing all these events yet unable to do anything but watch.

that's why the edit itself turns into a collection of moments when jeff is reduced to an observer, someone who is unable to do anything but watch. as someone who sees the future but cannot affect it, he must be sick of this position. he needs to watch others suffer, knowing the pain was coming but incapable of stopping it. his apology to alan echoes in my ears – him blaming himself for way's death. it's hard to let go and not fight the future when you know it will hurt those you care about. i get why jeff has tried to remain alone and i admire his bravery for opening his heart and stepping out of his cave. he's an essential part of the group and does his very best to offer comfort when he cannot do anything else to help.

as a pair, alan and jeff are a bit special as they're the only fully red pair amongst these card duos. they're a mix of hearts and diamonds, a perfect balance of emotion and intelligence, heart and mind. no wonder alan so easily opens up to jeff and allows himself to rely on the youngster's guidance, while jeff cannot help but go soft in front of alan's genuine love and care for others. they're a match made in heaven, even in this :'D

[soleilnomoon]

Prompt: “I don’t like them; I can barely tolerate them.” for Abarai Renji. Once again, I leave it up to you what you wanna do (but maybe enemies to lovers) Yes, I might be on a little Bleach binge right now but it's okay you like it. kiss kiss

*hides face* ok, ok, ok, hear me out, let's pretend i didn't take *insert accurate length of time here* and say i wrote this in a few days. i am so sorry i took forever and ever with this but as u know i can only give u top quality work or else i'll never forgive myself. renji is.......well *motions to him* yk how that man is, he made me suffer!!!! in a good way!!! but still i suffered!!! yk how much i love enemies 2 lovers u big brained beauty 🤭 so ty baby❤️️ also this is my first renji fic and i can't belev it.

5.2k words (don't look at me, just don't), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, enemies 2 lovers, angst city, angst angst city biiiitch (yk the vibez babey), smut obviously, no fluff bc who do u think i am? feat. renji being a mean petty bitch (i guess that makes him a mean dom maybe yes), sub reader bc that's what i want; there's a party with alcohol, ichigo and co. make brief appearances, bathroom sex, choking (he's sf romantic), a lot of cursing bc they're grown that's why, renji is a beast when he's jealous, reader is a lil bit of a brat but lbr who wouldn't be in that situation; mutual ""unrequited"" pining, lots of tension, fingering, rough (consensual) sex, lil bit of degradation, lil bit of a size kink, lil bit of praise kink, idk there's probably more stuff but i'm so tired rn i can't think; um renji obviously comes w his own gd warning; reader is determined to not let this man win but, hello, it's renji he always comes out on top wink wink. (if u see spelling errors/mistakes no u didn't hottie)

“when i write about all of this it becomes its own kind of violence. / i retell the story as myth, as if it were my own body devoured.” — caitlin scarano & “so much of love is violence. the desire / to be split open, invaded, mangled / and made new.” — erin slaughter

HATRED X TASTES X SWEET

you’ve never been cut out for this line of work, but your insistence on eliminating all your shortcomings is commendable. brave, even. it’s something you don’t really think about unless you want to spend the night half-drunk, rambling about the things you should’ve done but never had the courage to do.

like telling a certain red-haired, bullheaded lieutenant that he’s the most ridiculous and excessively arrogant man you’ve ever come across. all in all, you’re pretty sure telling him off won’t phase him; nothing ever does, not really anyway.

at first you try politeness; your grandmother would be proud of how well you’ve learned to bite your tongue. it’s ungraceful, but you fake it well enough that others think your emotional maturity is far above theirs. little do they know, you actually have to literally bite your tongue; simply remaining silent isn’t easy for you anymore. so, when you bite, it’s with rage, months of unshed tears and accumulated spite; you bite your tongue so hard you bleed more every time.

your unsaid words bunch together — tiny soldiers determined to strike in unison without fail — and sit heavily in the back of your throat, ready to launch forward at your command.

but you never say them, and you choke more than once; an unbearable shame to carry with you as he continues to slash at your patience, thin ribbons cascading off you like confetti. you wonder if your anger will lead to your death— or if it’ll lead to his. you intend to keep all of that hidden, though, and keep reminding yourself that eventually he will tire from berating you, from talking to you as if you’re the most incompetent being in all of soul society, from looking at you like your very being disgusts him.

that’s what you tell yourself these days. you like to conveniently ignore the way his dark eyes linger on yours during meetings — you’ve noticed that people have taken to describing them as soulless, cold and critical, unimpressed at everything and anyone.

but you see him — all of him; the raw, feral, powerful and severe side that not many have the misfortune of knowing. they think they get the real version of renji whenever they deal with him, but they never do; you know that now. you doubt it’s even intentional on his part, or maybe — just maybe — he really does hate you.

to put it plainly, as you’ve told rukia and rangiku, the sixth division lieutenant has the biggest fucking chip on his shoulder. despite the walls he continues to put up to keep others from carving out a place for themselves in his life, despite the way his words roll around his mouth, clumsily coasting down the length of his tongue before they pierce the air around you with their toxicity — you’re tired of the way he purposely singles you out time and time again to point out your inadequacies without remorse.

abarai renji is also sick of dealing with you. whenever he thinks he’s found a means of scaring you off, you scurry right back more determined and more obnoxious than ever. which is rich, coming from him.

he claims you’re inconsequential, a nuisance — a pest, even — one that he intends to get rid of permanently. it’s harsh and he’s more than aware of that, but he finds that this is the most appropriate solution to his problem. he could easily ignore you; he could try to keep his comments to himself and try to be somewhat cordial whenever you cross paths. but he won’t. and he has no damn idea why.

“no, no come in, i have plenty of snacks for everyone.”

rukia’s voice is a constant in his life that he’ll always be thankful for. he watches her glide into the room, grinning at the friends she’s invited over, her laughter like soft bells that is easily recognizable even with all the conversation happening. when he feels his chest constrict, an uncomfortable, yet familiar warmth stretching over his skin, he decides to drink so that he can ignore the sensation and forget.

a feeble attempt, because he knows how this will all end — with him drunk off his ass in an even worse mood than he started.

mouth opening, renji prepares to tell rukia to get better sake, when rangiku leads you into the living room where he’s lounging comfortably. the bottle in his hand grows heavier by the second and suddenly he’s not very interested in drinking anymore. already, his foul mood from earlier returns, and every step you take only fuels his irritation; it bubbles underneath his skin, making him frown and grip the bottle tighter.

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s glaring at you — he always is. rangiku feigns obliviousness as she encourages you to go make yourself comfortable while she fetches snacks with rukia. you stare at both of them, wide-eyed, confused — a pleading look sliding onto your face after a few moments, but they assure you both that they’ll be back shortly.

with a sigh you sit on the armchair adjacent to him, determined to just remain quiet in the hopes that he’ll just ignore you for once. sitting up straight, discomfort finds its way to the pit of your stomach, swirling around as you fidget with the bracelet around your wrist. his eyes watch your movements with an obsessiveness that startles him; there’s no reason why he should be interested in the shape of your fingers, there’s no reason why he should be interested in the way you keep brushing stray curls away from your face, and there’s no reason why he should be interested in possibly fucking you when he knows for a fact that he is absolutely uninterested in you.

his disinterest runs so deep it spoils the taste of the sake, but he takes another swig anyway. the alcohol burns as it travels swiftly down his throat, and it just so happens that you glance over at him — innocuous, an attempt to gauge his annoyance level — as his throat bobs and your mouth dries at the sight.

you turn your face away quickly, a traitorous flush crawling slowly along your skin, unjustly warming your cheeks. inhaling deeply, you do your best to will the blush away to no avail. where the hell are rukia and rangiku? surely it can’t take that long to grab snacks. you’re tempted to go find them, but you have a sinking feeling that it would turn you into a coward.

and you refuse to give that man any more ammo against you.

IT’S X (NOT) X YOU

what initially starts as a small get-together, quickly turns into a party; leave it to rangiku to liven things up, her laughter infectious and whimsical, flitting about like a persistent hummingbird as she encourages everyone to play drinking games with her. experience taught him better than to engage because despite his high tolerance, there’s really no beating rangiku when she’s on a roll.

but when you emphatically agree to play with the rest, fury rises in his chest; your audacity, it seems, knows no bounds — and, yes, he understands the hypocrisy in his critique. he just doesn’t care.

the games are every bit as simple and ridiculous as you thought they’d be, but as everyone seems to be in relatively good spirits, you play along. not normally competitive with things like this, you get into the swing of things when you win round after round.

cheers resound nearby at your success, but throughout the evening, you feel renji’s stare and do everything in your power to not give in and look back at him. a tough feat to say the least, as you are always acutely aware of his presence; and when you do happen to sneak another glance, his legs are spread and you curse under your breath for finding that attractive.

foolish, you chide, so fucking foolish.

renji sucks his teeth as he feels a heaviness in his head; groaning loudly he swirls around what little sake he has left in his glass before finishing it.

“you lose again,” rukia’s voice is soft and teasing, but he’s annoyed and can’t be bothered with talking to her right now. she pats his shoulder gingerly before standing up to head to the kitchen. his mind is a mess and he blames you for it completely.

“i don’t fucking care,” he says gruffly to her retreating figure, not bothering to elevate his voice as he’s sure she heard him. and he really doesn’t care; he’s trying to tell himself to calm down, but he can’t.

the fault completely lies with you — of course it does, everything you do agitates every cell in his body. the reason is simple, and he hates that he doesn’t want to admit it — he’s so undeniably attracted to you that it pisses him off. he takes in your appearance for the twelfth time that night, admiring the softness of your cheeks, the fullness of your lips, the way you seem entirely too animated as you laugh at someone’s lame joke — and yes, he can tell it’s not funny from how your laughter dies down after a few seconds.

if he had better sense, he’d stop looking at you, but he can’t now; he might blame the sake for this later.

the intensity behind his gaze is enough to bring an inextinguishable heat along your skin. it’s only unpleasant because it travels down to your lower abdomen and brings about an agonizing ache between your thighs. at first, you do the sensible thing and ignore it; but the longer he stares, the more you want to look over, until finally you can’t take it anymore.

“i’ll be back,” you mumble to the other guests, although you doubt they hear you with how rowdy everyone is being; the noise isn’t unwelcomed, the distraction serves to mask your footsteps when you scurry from the living room to the back corridor, turning corner after corner until you find the bathroom.

a coward — that’s what you are.

you barricade yourself in there without thinking, heart pounding loud enough to disorient you. after several long minutes, you splash water on your face and take a few deep breaths.

“i can’t believe i ran away,” your voice is so soft you barely hear the words — almost as if you’re still in disbelief over the entire situation. there’s something off about renji tonight; the tension between you was more palatable and tangible than normal.

even though you feigned nonchalance as best as you could, there were so many moments where you couldn’t help but watch him too. pitiful. absolutely pitiful. there’s no excuse for it, and yet you struggle to find one anyway.

as you look at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you try to convince yourself to head back out there. sooner or later, people will realize that you’ve gone missing — and rangiku is nosy enough and like a bloodhound when she’s drunk. your time is incredibly limited now.

there’s no reason for you to continue to avoid the inevitable, so you sigh and give yourself a small pep talk before heading back outside.

TRUTH X OR X …

renji’s mood doesn’t improve at all; in fact, it worsens the moment ichigo sits right next to him. he’s not even sure why this sets him off, but even closing his eyes and counting backwards does nothing to keep him calm.

with slight difficulty, renji grits out, “what do you want?”

undeterred, ichigo stares at renji pointedly, voice steady as he says, “you could go after her, you know.”

again, renji sucks his teeth loudly, arms folded against his chest, right leg bouncing slightly as he taps his foot on the floor. punching ichigo would be pointless, and then rukia would get involved and he doesn’t have time to deal with the fallout from that so he keeps his hands to himself.

besides, his anger is obviously misdirected right now. he knows — he knows —but he doesn’t care, so he doesn’t mince his words when he responds with, “go after who?” through his peripheral, he can see ichigo’s patience has also reached its limit.

“you’re not that stupid, so stop acting like it.”

normally, renji would take the opportunity to mes s around and argue back and forth, but he might actually fight his friend if he doesn’t walk away. so, he does; abrupt and without looking back, footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.

maybe he just needs to change his approach with you, maybe talking things out would work in his favor; or maybe he needs to fuck you hard enough to purge you from his mind.

he lies to himself when he considers the first option, because it’s the second option that drives him to walk a little faster, head full of impossible thoughts as he wonders just how far you’d let him go.

when renji finally finds you, you’re in the middle of rebuffing the advances of an unfamiliar guest — they’re drunk, handsy, and keep oscillating between giving you cheesy pick-up lines and berating you for rejecting them. but you stand firm, and your voice is relatively loud when you tell them, “for the last fucking time, go away.”

under normal circumstances, renji would let you handle this yourself; he has no desire to play prince charming or be a knight in shining armor. you’re more than capable, and he’s seen the way you fight and argue to defend yourself — but, it’s when they place a wandering hand on your hip that he loses sight of all of that.

a brief moment passes, where your blood boils as you contemplate how best to kick their ass, but you never get the chance. a rather large shadow hovers over you both, but you already know who it is without having to look properly.

renji is a force to be reckoned with on a good day, but he’s at his fucking limit right now.

he doesn’t ask, doesn’t give any options for retreat, doesn’t say a word when he yanks them off with a brute strength that surprises even you.

now, can he really be blamed for throwing them into the neighboring wall hard enough to make a noticeable hole? and is it really his fault that the drunk can hardly walk as they clutch their broken arm while murmuring something unintelligible, something that renji takes as a sign of them wanting a repeat demonstration?

consequences be damned, he gives the drunk a lethal look before they scramble away in fear.

“loser,” he says loud enough for them to hear, but they don’t double back or even try to go toe-to-toe with the hot-headed lieutenant. you watch, half-amused and half-impressed with the unnecessary machismo, but still, you know better than to chastise him right now, especially when your heart sputters out of control from his proximity.

“…thanks,” you say, a faint flush on your cheeks, voice soft, head fuzzy when you realize that renji — aka mr. “i’ll fight you on everything any day of the week unprovoked for no reason other than to drive you crazy” — saved you. unprompted at that.

you make the mistake of looking up at him, your nerves prompting you to take a small step back when you realize that the usual hostility that renji reserves for you specifically is nowhere to be found. in its place is something more unreadable — or, rather, you don’t want to read into it for fear of being wrong.

renji steps closer, which makes you back up again until your back hits the wall and you’re no longer able to escape.

“we need to talk,” he says suddenly, but you shake your head, non-verbally objecting to the idea, curls bouncing wildly with your exaggerated movements. since he knows he’s pressed for time, he grabs your face with his large hand and stops you from moving. “that wasn’t a request.”

swallowing rusty nails would be better than dealing with your conflicting feelings over renji right now, because he’s much too close to you and now you’re forgetting why it is you hate him in the first place. ironically, he’s in the exact same position. so far, he’s acted on impulse over you more times than he can count tonight, but he supposes that’s to be expected — you are a wildcard, after all.

“what if i don’t want to.” your response is clumsy, the words tumbling one after the other. “what if i want you to leave?” you don’t actually mean that, but you throw it at him anyway, to see if maybe this was all a fluke, and maybe, just maybe he’ll remember himself and you both can go back to fighting like usual.

he considers your question, goes so far as to release your face to wrap his hand around your throat instead. your sharp inhale and parted lips tell him all he needs to know.

with a slightly raised brow, he asks, “well, do you?”

because if you do, he’ll walk away right now. but he knows what your answer will be, he just has to drag it out of you. he squeezes your neck to remind you to hurry it up, and before you can answer him properly, he places his leg in between yours, pressing close enough that you roll your hips forward while whimpering softly.

he really didn’t think any of this through, but luckily the adrenaline from it all won’t wear off anytime soon, so he’ll improvise along the way. he spent most of the night dealing with a semi-hard cock that wouldn’t listen to reason no matter how many times he tried to stop thinking about you. but now? all of that restraint goes out of the window, and before he can question it, he kisses you.

you’ve kissed plenty of people in your life — some good, most were mediocre and uninspiring — but renji actually takes your breath away. everything about him commands all your attention; from the way his lips move against yours greedily, leaving behind burning kisses that make your nipples harden underneath your clothes — to the way he thrusts his tongue in between your plush lips, licking inside of your mouth hotly, igniting an inextinguishable flame deep inside of you.

he grabs your hip with his free hand, squeezing hard, fingers digging firmly. all the irritation from earlier dissipates completely, leaving you feeling lightheaded and needy; you grind against him recklessly, arousal dampening the front of your panties, clit sensitive as it rubs against the delicate fabric. his cock presses against you — thick, long, and hard — and you wonder if this is why he’s so angry with you all the time.

was it always that simple?

if you asked the question aloud, he wouldn’t know what to tell you — it’s a combination of things, but mostly he’s an idiot; he knows that now, but likewise you’re an idiot too. you just don’t realize it yet.

it’s renji who pulls away first, lightly panting, breath warm against your lips as he releases his hold on your neck. he doesn’t know where he finds the strength to string together a coherent statement, but his voice is low and husky when he speaks. “answer my question.”

you blink at him, completely in a daze, lips slightly swollen from all the kissing. “wh-what?” you don’t remember what he asked you, and you don’t care.

“do you want me to leave?”

for some reason, you completely forgot that you told him that. you rub your lips together and run your hands along his chest. “no.” the answer comes out automatically, without hesitation, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

“good.”

SAY X IT X LOUDER

he picks you up with ease, almost as if you weigh nothing; a small squeal spills out of you as you wrap your legs around his waist, and renji gives you a sly smile — one laced with mischief and an unspoken promise of what’s to come.

you’re back in the bathroom again, this time sitting on the counter with renji standing in between your legs. his hands coast along your curvy hips and down your thighs. he’s touching you but he’s not touching you and it’s driving you crazy.

with hurried, eager hands you both undress, and for the umpteenth time you internally curse this style of uniform; still, it doesn’t take too long before his hands are on you again, calloused palms rough and warm against your skin. he places a kiss on your jaw, then another on your neck right underneath your earlobe; each kiss he leaves behind distorts your common sense, makes you feel irrational and impatient. your hands are soft and well-practiced, stroking his stiff cock as his hips jerk forward from your touch.

he can’t remember the last time someone had him this worked up, which pisses him off a little; because that means him fucking you once won’t settle things. at that thought, renji bites your neck and your startled yelp quickly morphs into a moan when he runs his tongue along the mark. he dips his hand in between your thighs, rubbing his thick fingers against your slit. a loud banging on the door has you looking over, and you can’t remember if he bothered to lock it once you both were inside.

your attention nearly falters, but when he pinches your clit you buck your hips, a shiver shooting down your spine at the slight pain.

“eyes on me,” is all he says, seemingly annoyed that you would dare to focus your attention elsewhere, “always keep them on me.” what he means by that, he doesn’t know, but you take the command at face value and nod while swallowing. he slides a finger inside of your wet pussy, and while you initially wanted to keep quiet to avoid suspicion and to prevent anyone from intruding, but you can’t now.

“renji,” you breathe, fingers trembling as you hold onto the counter for support, he thrusts his finger in and out, quick and hard, before inserting another. you clench around him, hips rocking forward as he fingerfucks you and grinds his palm against your clit. you close your eyes and moan louder than you mean to, chest heaving, thoughts jumbled and incoherent. he scissors his fingers inside of you, but quickly removes them without prompting.

“fuck!” you open your eyes again and stare at him in disbelief. “why did you stop?”

he laughs darkly and grabs your face roughly, fingers pressing into your soft skin without remorse. “what did i tell you earlier?” everything about this situation is laughable. he gave you very specific instructions, ones he thought were easy enough for you to follow. for some reason your movements are sluggish, mind in a haze as you scramble to remember but nothing comes to mind.

as you open and close your mouth, looking every bit as adorable as you are alluring, he decides to show you a bit of kindness.

“get down.” his command comes swift, his patience practically nonexistent; precum glides down the head of his thick cock, but he ignores it for the sake of teaching you a lesson. you don’t bother waiting for him to repeat himself and slide off the counter. “turn around.”

like a doll, your movements are dictated by renji with simple, short statements. nothing about that phases you, though; it’s all very exciting, so when you do turn to face the counter, you bend forward and lean over the counter. renji admires the roundness of your ass and slaps it hard.

again, you find yourself moaning loudly, without shame and not caring about the volume of your voice. surely the others won’t pay attention, as they’re still very drunk and are entertaining themselves with more games. another slap on your ass has you grabbing onto the counter again, legs shaking, arousal dripping between your thighs in anticipation. if renji doesn’t fuck you soon, you might actually die.

he knows he’s taking too damn long, but it’s much more interesting making you work for him. he rubs the tip of his cock against your puffy pussy, gliding it in between your slick folds, your moans sweetly wrapping around him once he pushes inside of you slowly. someone bangs on the door again, making you look over, anxiety quickly filling your head with unnecessary what ifs that almost command your full attention.

with narrowed eyes, renji grabs onto your hair, curls soft in his hand, and yanks hard.

“the fuck did i say earlier?”

goosebumps travel down your arms as a different kind of awareness and clarity surges through you quickly. you blink at your reflection, watching the way he towers over you, his muscles hard and defined — sculpted from years of training and dedication to honing his skills. it hits you then, what he’s really asking you.

“to,” you swallow thickly, throat dry, “to keep my eyes on you always.” you say it all in one breath, gasping when he runs his tongue along the curve of your ear. you don’t know how much more you can take, but you know if you complain, if you say anything he might stop altogether.

renji’s smile is wicked and dark, his lips graze your earlobe, voice deep and gravelly, a huskiness that wasn’t there before as he thrusts into you, burying his cock deeply.

“good girl.”

he refrains from kissing you properly, instead pushing you down so you can lean over the counter again. your mind melts from it all, and you’re panting, heart beating faster and faster as he firmly places a hand on your back.

“you’re squeezing me so tight,” he remarks thoughtfully, although you note the slight strain in his voice; as much as he tries to act like he’s not that affected by you, you know that isn’t the case at all. your pussy is every bit as enticing and heavenly as he knew it would be; he pulls back and slams his cock into you all over again, filling you completely. you try to keep watching him in the mirror, but he’s fucking you like he’s angry with himself for being so attracted to you.

and he absolutely is. it’s a truth he fought against for so long that he’s given up on denying it now. your moans drip onto his skin like caramel, sticky and sweet, and when you say his name like that — your voice going higher and higher from the ferocity of his thrusts — he nearly loses his mind.

“fuck,” he says out loud, grabbing your hip roughly, your wetness coating the length of his cock, “you’re taking me so well.” he knows you can’t really answer him, and he likes that; you’re beyond caring at this point, instead focusing on the way his cock reaches a spot that has you bouncing your ass and fucking yourself against him. normally, renji would play around and edge you in retaliation, but he’s too far gone, completely under the spell of your pretty pussy, with how soft and tight it is.

you’re not sure how you got here, but you’re drowning in ecstasy right now. he instructs you to lift your leg to rest it onto the counter, pulling out momentarily to help you position and spread your legs further apart. he plunges his cock into you again, keeping his hips closer as he gives you shorter, frenzied thrusts. your head spins and you can’t think straight, but that doesn’t matter. all you care about is the way renji is angling his hips, rolling them forward to pound into your cunt roughly, balls heavy as they smack against your ass.

“oh, oh, oh.” you swear your life flashes before your eyes, because something possesses him, his strokes shorter, brutal, and frenetic. drool slides down your chin, your voice hoarse from how loud you’ve been. you’re sure someone’s heard you by now, but you don’t care.

how can you?

with renji fucking you like this — merciless and possessive, fingers brusing your skin, almost as if he wants to make sure you’ll be as obsessed with him as he is with you — your common decency, your morals, everything that makes you you, they don’t exist.

all that’s left is this burning desire to let him have his way with you for as long as he wants. thankfully, you have enough sense to not admit that out loud; who knows what kind smugness you’ll be subjected to if renji knew.

but you’re pretty damn transparent about it, he can tell from the way you can’t stop clenching your pussy around his cock, from how your pussy makes loud, lewd squelching noises — ones that he’ll commit to memory so he can revisit them from time to time.

tears roll down your cheeks and you sob as you hold onto the counter as best as you can, back arching, hips rocking against him with a neediness you never knew you had. there’s a tightening in your stomach and your pulse skyrocketing as a flash of white practically blinds you. he watches the way your pussy keeps swallowing the length of his cock, and you finally fall over the edge, orgasm suffocating you with its intensity.

your cunt flutters around him, gummy walls soft and hypnotic, an addiction he never thought he’d have; breathing heavily, his muscles tense and renji groans something that suspiciously sounds like your name. the thought alone makes your face burn and warms your chest in a way that doesn’t make sense. and when he finally cums, he humps into you, cum thick and hot as it spills inside your pussy, mixing with your slick wetness. a completely messy affair, but he doesn’t care — it’s not his bathroom, after all.

legs trembling, you’re limp and incapable of movement, whimpering and whining until he finally pulls out of you.

renji runs a hand down his face, feeling spent but more than satisfied. suddenly his shoulders aren’t so tight and tense, and his mood is much more tolerable. you do your best to stand but almost fall — your legs are useless, turned to jelly because of the man behind you. he chuckles at that, then clears his throat once he realizes. he fully expected there to be a moment of awkwardness after, but it never comes. when he sees your face — lips bruised and swollen, face flushed, eyes glazed with a faraway look — he feels compelled to kiss you again. so, he does. it’s not sweet, nor is it tender, but it still makes your heart swell all the same. he holds you close as you wrap your arms around his neck, doing your best to keep standing, even though your legs are ready to give out.

you don’t know exactly what any of this means, but you do understand him a bit better now. he’s terrible with expressing himself, but you kind of like that about him; and maybe this isn’t the healthiest relationship, but life was uncertain and you’d take renji fucking you like it’s his last day alive over him openly hating you any day.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

The most serious thing remains to be said and it is not yet today that you will find me "in love, open, melting"; it is not yet tonight that I will write to you with "joy, brightness, glory", in spite of all the forests of "olive trees of kisses" that you want to put on my face and all the mastic trees in the world! I leave for tomorrow the care to explain clearly that you did not understand anything in my last letter, to tell you that it "often" happened to me to "think coldly" to try to make you understand my "real and lucid desires" and "what is lucid" and "what is constant and true under my changes". 

This is a difficult task to carry out at a distance and quite dangerous when one thinks of the state in which you are reduced. For, my dear love, with your strength and health, with your "fatal and vigorous air", I see with pleasure that you are also recovering your good, solid, Algerian stupidity. Oh! I understand! I understand so many things, and you are constantly emptying yourself, my poor darling! I know! You work! Your essay must exhaust a great deal of your intellectual strength! And then, the rest, isn't it, it's tiring! But don't worry, go on! The little glimmer will come back to shine in the depths of your thoughts and one day - oh miracle! - I will speak to you in half a word... and... you will understand! I am changeable! O rock! 

Since you left, you have spent your time asking me for some reason not to write to you if it would tire or annoy me or torture me or... I don't know what. When, by chance, one day, you don't receive any news, it's a debacle, doubts, dark ideas of the future, more doubts, madness! And you find my letters mean, when, having received from you, for a week, only two small ones every other day I complain at last that the mail is not working well! Since you left, you have been telling me to live as much as I can, to go out, to entertain myself, etc. Now, because I'm going to spend two miserable hours in Iberia, dragged along in spite of myself by some nice friends, and I drink a whiskey and dance a rumba you dare to write to me: "Poor me!" That's all that you found to say to encourage me to start again and as you feel that, I have to spend my energies somewhere and not completely wither. You now advise me to take up SPORT! And the SWIMMING POOL! I hate it! No! But... Do you want to make me die! Do you want to make me catch double pneumonia? The pool! In this cold! And where to find time to go to the pool! But what is the matter with you! 

I can see your face if one day I follow your advice word for word and you receive a letter in which I praise you with warmth (as far as possible!), the joys of swimming, of naked and wet bodies, of water on the skin, wet hair and glances lost on a pair of beautiful legs! Ah, well, if I didn't have other things to worry about, I'd make the effort of swallowing a few sips of chlorine, just for the result! It would be pretty! Notice that while you're feeling sorry for yourself and [complaining] about yourself, you are tasting whiskey, wandering through dances and noticing American women who want to do you good! It is perfect!!! But that's still nothing! Not only are you stupid as a sink, unfair, a pain in the ass (I hope you understand the meaning of this word, which I can't write in full) but, to make matters worse, you are naughty! - I am copying exactly one of your sentences: "You would do the worst things, and against our very love, despite a suffering that I am physically afraid of because I know it so well, I would still love you and stay close to you."

I thank you, my darling, for the general meaning of the sentence, but since I think you love me, I never doubted that it was so. It seems to me obvious that at the point we have reached, errors or blindness of a certain kind can no longer do anything more against our union than to cause excruciating suffering. I am less grateful to you for the little parenthesis "so much I know her". It seems to me that you exaggerate or distort. But all these little impressions disappear before the enormity that follows: "These are reckless words (in all respects) and before pronouncing them I thought a lot about them." How about that! The very fact of speaking of imprudence in a love like ours amazes me, but the parenthesis (again!) that allows me to believe that I could use your words to consider myself free to do things against our love, that is beyond anything else! That is beyond the worst that one can imagine! 

But no! I must not get angry! I must not! It is always the rest, your fatal and vigorous air, your trial, that are the cause of everything! You are stupid, my poor darling! And you have to wait for it to pass! That is all. Ah! I am beginning to feel lighter. As I told you, I leave the serious things for tomorrow, because tonight it is already 2 o'clock and my day has been hard. All this is exhausting and I am tired. 

Good evening, Algerian! Good evening, my love, my beautiful love beast. Good evening, my darling. Curled up in you, your legs mixed with mine (alas if it could be true!) I will fall asleep and try to dream of a pool where you would be lying, fresh and wet, against me. I love you. I love you. I would also like to hold you in my arms and watch you sleep. You see how chaste I am! Unfortunately I believe that I would wake you up slowly, but quickly! See you tomorrow, my darling.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 14, 1950 [#193]

[mah-t-wordblog]

Hello! :)

I was wondering if I could request a ler Gyomei Lee Sanemi? Gyomei could be punishing him for being mean to Genya. If not that’s ok :)

Hiiiii, there it is, I changed your idea a little and put Sanemi being annoying with Gyuu, because I wanted to put him being sweet with Genya, I hope you like it anyways 💛💛

Bad aura

Ler: Gyomei Himejima

Lee: Sanemi Shinazugawa

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Gyomei was sitting on a bench near the trees in Master Kagaya's Mansion

He could smell the scents of the trees, plants and animals around him, as well as hear their sounds.

Until he smelled something different

There were actually two smells.

“And what I’m supposed to do?” He listened

“You should at least care a little about others, you idiot!” Heard another voice

Immediately recognizing the sounds, he could judge that they were Gyuu and Sanemi

“I don’t want to get involved with this, it’s none of my business”

Gyuu was moving away, his voice was more distant

“Then fuck you! Idiot!"

Sanemi's voice was angry and much closer

Gyomei sighed

He heard footsteps approaching

“Shinazugawa, come here please”

Sanemi was scared for a moment, he hadn't even noticed that Gyomei was there

But he obeyed and sat down next to the other

“Are you angry, Shinazugawa?”

"Actually yes"

"Why?"

Sanemi sighed

“Tomioka is very insensitive! He makes me angry! He doesn’t care about anyone but himself!”

Gyomei cried a little

“Tomioka has a difficult life, I feel that the aura he transmits is shaken and unhappy” he said rubbing his hands and crying more “but you refer to him with ugly and dirty words, that's not right”

Sanemi lowered her head

“I’m sorry, Mr Himejima”

Sanemi had great respect for Gyomei, because he was much stronger, experienced and older than him, but also because he was responsible for taking care of his little brother, Genya, who Sanemi wanted to always be protected.

“You’re quite irritable, aren’t you?” Gyomei smiled

“I think I am” Sanemi looked at Gyomei and smiled

“And you’re always picking on Tomioka”

"But-"

“No buts, Shinazugawa, it doesn’t work like that with me, you must be punished”

"What?"

Sanemi opened her eyes wide.

Gyomei raised his big hands and brought them closer to Sanemi

“Where I come from, the rude are punished like this”

Then Gyomeio started squeezing Sanemi's sides

"What-? Hehehey! Stohohop nohohow!”

“I can’t stop now, Shinazugawa, this is how it must be done”

Gyomei was smiling

Just from the sound he could deduce that Sanemi liked this

“Enohohohohough, HIHIMEJIHIMAHA”

Sanemi laughed when Gyomeio ran his hands over his upper ribs.

“Is this your weak point, Shinazugawa? You remind me a lot of Genya”

At this moment Sanemi couldn't even associate with Genya, he couldn't even think or tals

“Do you like this, Shinazugawa?”

He blushed, luckily Gyomei couldn't see, but that didn't stop him from noticing the heat that Sanemi started to contain

“NOHOHOHOHO”

“Hm… Genya also always says that…”

It was too much, Sanemi was ashamed and completely defeated

Gyomei's tickling was very objective, what a shame

“PHLEHEHEHEASE, STOHOHOP”

Gyomei was never one to make anyone suffer, so he stopped because he felt that Sanemi was already much happier

The youngest fell with his head in the oldest's lap.

“I think I feel better”

“It's great to hear that, may Buddha always give you joy” Gyomei said, praying a few words in Japanese

“What do I do now, sir?” He asked for comfort

“Put a smile on that face and go apologize to Tomioka”

Gyomei poked Sanemi's belly and made him laugh in surprise.

“Okahahay, okay, I'll go” he got up and said goodbye

“But first, Mr Himejima”

“What it is, my kid?”

“Is Genya okay?” Sanemi asked.

Gyomei's heart was filled with the tenderness in Sanemi's voice.

“Yes, Genya is perfectly fine, but he misses you.”

The hashira of the wind sighed

“I see… thank you for everything, sir” he bowed

“You’re welcome, now go”

Sanemi laughed warmly and ran

“They are going to fight again” Gyomei said

Then he laughed

And let yourself be carried away again by the sounds of nature

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

[yuujism]

Tainted Promises (geto suguru x reader)

Part 1: Tainted

| PAIRINGS: gojo satoru x gn!reader x getou suguru

| WARNINGS: suggestive, explicit language, smut soon (next chapter will have tags) woo plot, established relationship, cheating, toxic, revenge, angst, kinda modified so it can fit the story (implied to be set after riko's death and geto's spiralling but uhh...), reader's sex and physical appearance is never mentioned, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 2.1k

| A/N: i'm back but im not really back lol this is the first part of a small series I started writing like 2 years ago and found in my notes app so... why not publish it and let people read it even if i am not currently writing? anyway idk if people remember me but thank u for supporting my works even after all this time and liking them :) see you in 2 more years LOL (jk ... unless...)

They were the strongest.

Those words resonated as an echo in Suguru’s mind since that day, the meaning behind those words still a total mystery. Perhaps it was meant as a responsibility. An inevitable fate. 

An implicit promise. 

He didn’t think much of it before Satoru’s serious words struck him like a lightning inside the eye of the storm, coming back to Suguru in form of dreams. Nightmares. Images of welcoming bloody hands spread towards him, an invitation, perhaps even a threat, to join a lawless world dictated by the untouchable. The strongest.

No. That wasn’t Suguru’s ideal.

Who cared about being the strongest among all? Rules were necessary. Listen to the higher-ups, complete missions, save and protect humans, swallow curses, taint yourself. Swallow, taint, conserve the peace. That was the job of a jujutsu sorcerer. That was the job of Geto Suguru.

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong.

So why was Satoru—his teammate, his accomplice, his best friend—different from him? A rule breaker, a rebellious soul with god complex issues, an idiot, incapable of seriousness and apathetic.

Why, even with all those flaws to Suguru’s eyes, could Satoru get someone like you in his life?

You, just like Suguru, followed the rules. A professional sorcerer that cared for the weak, getting out of their way to protect the smallest and even the biggest. Top of the class after him, Yaga’s right hand, the favourite of the higher-ups, probably even more trustable than Suguru himself. However, now with your brand new relationship with Satoru? Not that much. He knew that way too well.

Tainted. Making a promise with Satoru would get anyone tainted. 

The probelms seemed to have started one month after the beginning of your story together. A few weeks later, they were too obvious for Suguru -or anyone- to ignore. Hints of sleepless nights appeared on your features and the memories of an unknown scent that followed Satoru’s clothes kept haunting you along with the jealousy and hurt in your body. Missed calls, ditched dates and  a small bruise on your lover’s neck. It quickly became toxic. Almost unbearable. Suguru knew it. You knew it. 

And you both played dumb.

Responsible. You had to be responsible for your actions. You made a promise after all, and, ever the diplomatic sorcerer, you were intending to keep it. Swallowing the pain and hatred, the sadness and sorrow, the embarrassment and anger, you decided to keep living with the lie that was Gojo Satoru as proudly as your shattered dignity allowed you. You were better than him but for how long? 

Rules were necessary. You followed the rules as a religion. But what good did that ever bring you? 

Suguru could already sense it, perhaps even before you noticed. The corruption that anger and impotence could bring you. It was unstoppable once it started spreading, taking over your thoughts and ideals to then consume your actions. Satoru was the strongest in almost every sense that he became a poisonous time bomb for the ones surrounding him. It just happened to explode in your face to suffer the majority of the consequences. 

But were you the only one living them? You certainly weren’t the only one ignoring the menace that Satoru was. And definitely not the only one involved closely with said sorcerer. 

Suguru vividly remembers the shared laughs between him and his best friend after the story of how Satoru cheated on you. Repeatedly. A good fuck, he described you, his favourite toy so far. But Suguru knew him too well, right? He understood him better than anyone to even expect him to get in a serious relationship, right? That’s why they were best friends, the strongest, the rulers of the new to come sorcery world. Right? 

Right. Satoru was right. Even if Suguru’s brain didn’t stop replaying images of you with clenched teeth and hands closed in a tight fist, angry eyes staring at Satoru’s figure from afar to quickly change into your usual loving and submissive demeanour when he turned to look at you, he agreed. Even if Suguru felt himself become worse than he ever was when you gave him the sweetest of smiles even after laughing at you with Satoru for the nth time behind your back, he agreed. 

Because Satoru was hard-to-swallow for Suguru, yet he kept indulging himself into the bittersweet taste that was that friendship over and over again. 

Rules, responsibilities, strength, empathy. None of that mattered when Satoru was in the picture. The only thing that mattered was a promise. At the end of the day, they were best friends for a reason and you were with him for a reason.

That didn’t change the fact Suguru could treat you so much better. Be so much better. His heart dropped at the thought. Was he in the position to even think that after being accomplice of Satoru’s actions? After playing along and laughing at you? At this point, he was as guilty as your current cheat of a lover. But he could still have a chance, could he not? He was strong, responsible and professional. Would he be any better than Satoru? He thought he would. He hoped he would. 

Suguru’s mind started flooding with questions once again, self-doubt dripping from every single one of them until his thoughts were flooded with insecurities and rage. Rage? Strange yet oddly familiar. The warmth travelling over his body felt nice for once. No longer suppressed and set free to quickly come down from that high to feel guilty once again. Why would he feel rage towards Satoru? He was his best friend.

Was he?

Oh, how Suguru missed that little voice inside his head. A voice that he silenced long ago. The one that told him to commit the unbelievable, that went against all his morals and ideals, the one that ordered him to swallow and swallow, not for the greater good but for him to become stronger. Because he could. Because he wanted to. The voice that was as tainted as his thoughts were right now.

And now, as his chest tightened with anger and his body ached with hunger of power, Suguru never felt more as himself as he did now. Strong and capable, the maker of his own rules and own world. A perfect world. He was right back then when he thought of the weak as simple as that: weak. And he was right to feel what he avoided to feel all that time.

Power.

Suguru had the power to ignore the responsibility that came along with it. He had the power to follow his own path with his own decisions without having to live behind someone else’s shadow. To get what he wanted whenever he wanted. 

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. 

That was Geto Suguru. And right now, he wanted you.

And nobody noticed. Not Satoru, his proclaimed best friend, who kept playing around lost in the pleasure of both you and the freedom of being the strongest. Not the higher-ups who kept relying on him to keep an eye on the threat that was Satoru. Not his acquaintances that followed him mindlessly into a slowly growing empire. His empire.

Nobody noticed the power growth in Suguru. Nobody except you. 

Strong. Suguru was strong in your eyes. With sly movements, smug smile and a powerful stance. Completely overshadowed by the confidence of your current lover until the day he looked at you from above. Both figuratively and literally. His eyes held a promise, a completely different kind from Satoru’s that you understood way too well it scared you. 

Carnal, passionate and angry. That was his promise. A shiver ran down your spine at the mere sight of Suguru, responsible and respectful Suguru, smirking at you. Dark and dangerous. A different Suguru. Because you both shared the same ideal. Rules were necessary. And this time he was the one who made the rules. 

You weren’t interested. At least you tried to convince yourself you weren’t. Rules weren’t meant to be broken nor renewed, not by Suguru, not by you, not by anyone. So why did you feel excited at the thought of going against your own morals? To break, destroy and betray everything and everyone along with your lover’s best friend? It shouldn’t surprise you, in fact, you were not surprised. 

Your promise to Satoru started losing importance when you considered meeting with Suguru. You lied to yourself by thinking it would be to have a small talk, to ask for an explanation behind the meaning of that moment between the two of you and kindly reject whatever he wanted to propose. It sure didn’t matter anymore when you were under his dark gaze at the step of his door, mouth open in a silent gasp at the power Suguru, overshadowed Suguru, radiated, never losing his gentle and highly demanour as he let you in with a soft smile on his face and the smooth sound of your name leaving his mouth. 

A treacherous silence filled the room as time seemed to freeze between the two of you, staring at each other seconds after closing the door. 

You wanted to yell at him for even thinking he could get away with whatever he had in mind. For deeming you so low to think you would break the promise to Satoru and betray him when you were better than that. But were you when excitement was making your legs shake when Suguru’s eyes landed on your lips for a small second? Were you better when you couldn’t stop thinking in the way his large hands would feel on your body?

The answer was crystal clear: you weren’t. You never were. 

And realisation hit you. It hit you harder than Satoru’s cheating. And it sure hit you harder than the surprise you felt when you threw yourself at Suguru’s arms, lips crashing in a desperate kiss.  

Because all those times, Suguru could see through you and he was a great pretender too. He saw your hatred and your thirst for revenge, the constant fight within you to stop yourself from breaking the rules. To disobey the higher-ups. To betray Yaga. To hurt Satoru. They all deserved it. How pretentious of you to even think you were any better than any of them.

You and Suguru were the same. Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. Suguru just happened to be stronger.

As Suguru’s large hands roamed over your waist to push you closer to his own body as his tongue entered the warmth of your own mouth, you realised something else. You didn’t want Suguru and neither did he want you. What you both wanted was the power taht was long taken away from you. 

Power over a certain sorcerer.

It seemed Suguru noticed your change in demanour as your tangled your hand in his long silky hair and slightly pulled, the aggressiveness of your tongue along with his making him let out a groan that you swallowed with a whimper before he pulled away, a sly smirk on his face.

“You sure didn’t need any explanation, did you?” Suguru muttered as one of his hands traveled to your cheek, his thumb caressing your now wet lips as he eyed you. Such a gentle move yet so dominant. Expected from someone like Suguru. “Finally grew tired of Satoru cheating on you?”

That was unexpected.

Rage filled your body once again as you slapped his hand away from your face, glaring at him just the same way you’ve glared at Satoru when he wasn’t looking. Suguru chuckled as he grabbed your face once again, this time a little rougher as he turned you to face him again, other hand sneaking under your shirt to feel the soft skin under it. You held back a moan.

“Oh, come on. It was a small joke.” He playfully stated, long fingers drawing circles on the side of your waist as you grew impatient and angry. At what? You weren’t sure.

“An unfunny one at that.” You finally spoke and Suguru raised an eyebrow at the unknown and new stern tone your voice held. The sweet, professional and kind goody two shoes forsaken under his influence. “I didn’t come here for a stand-up show.” 

Your hands made their move again, landing on the collar of his shirt as you got closer again, anticipation giving you the confidence you lost before.

“I can see that.”

And just like that, your mouths crashes again, this time angrier, hungrier. Suguru’s comment about Satoru cheating on you lit an agressive fire within you that you tried to extinguish. But here, between Suguru’s arms and the feeling of his mouth now travelling down your neck, you finally felt free.

Next chapter (spicy) preview: "Your boyfriend likes sloppy seconds, did you know that? Should I just cum inside you and send you off to him dripping with my seed? Hm?"

[smallraindrops-blog]

Oough all this talk of Hades 2 has me imagining Y/n interacting with young Melinoë and Hypnos.

(Longgg drabble warning Melinoë is roughly 8-9)

Every time he comes back from a mission, and after his reports, he goes straight to Hypnos. No greetings or salutes to the others as he only has one thing one his mind... Well, technically, two, if the young Princess insists on watching over Hypnos while he's gone.

The young Princess had seen you fret over Hypnos body, change his poppies when they got to dull, read to him, and even braid his hair! The Princess wanted to show that she could help, too, to make sure you knew he would be safe when you left. From there, she would come up with bundles of poppies and books to ask if she could watch over Hypnos, too. You wanted to turn her away, tell her it's alright, but the look her eyes, the determination and need to be useful struck you. So you had said yes and taught her how to care for your little corner of the Crossroads.

Going to Hypnos and your corner of the crossroads (mostly hypnos, your bedroll hasn't been used in quite some time. Hypnos would be scolding you about that. You wish he was at this point... You miss his voice), you notice the young Princess. Usually, when returning, she's braiding his hair, rearranging his poppies, or talking to the shades that carry his hammock. (They seem to worship you and Hypnos, guardians, they whispered. You cared not how they felt about you, as long they didn't drop Hypnos, you're fine with them.)

This time was something new, something that left your heart aching.

The young Princess was sleeping atop hypnos chest, his arms wrapped around her. For a moment, you wondered if anyone saw this, if they tried to scold Melinoë. You hope not. The young Princess finally looks comfortable. Most of the time, when she sleeps, she has nightmares and would seek comfort from Hecate. Lately, she has been coming to you after learning you to have suffered from nightmares. (Unlike you, however, she still needs to rest, so you try your best to comfort her and tell her what Hypnos would tell you after a nightmare he couldn't keep away.)

The shades seemed content to hold Sleep incarnate and the Princess of the Underworld as they slept. They almost seemed to be expecting you to join them in rest. A foolish idea (if you slept, would you see him? Would he visit you in your dreams? Would you be able to hold him and he hold you back? Would he forgive you for not taking care of yourself?) You doubt the tiny shades could hold all three of you.

As you watch over the two, Melinoë begins to stir, and as her eyes fluttered open, you slowly approached. The young Princess still dazed and confused from waking up, doesn't put up a fight as you pick her up. She simply sighs and nuzzles her head on your shoulder as she falls back asleep. Hypnos barely twitchs, simply a few mumbled words and soft snores.

As you walk the young Princess back to her bedroll, you ignore the looks from those inhibiting the Crossroads. It's not every day they see the son of Achilles and Patroclus, the shade who once took down Ares, care for someone that isn't Hypnos.

Hecate doesn't say anything when you return from tucking in Melinoë, simply watching you go to Hypnos and scowl at the shades talking loudly about what they just saw.

Reaching him, you replace the old and damaged poppies with new ones, readjust Hypnos' laying form, and wait for Hecate or Odysseus to request your help.

You also wait for Melinoë, who you're sure will be embarrassed when she wakes up. You'll simply pat her head and tell her it's alright. Thank you for keeping Hypnos company, I'm sure he enjoyed having someone to nap with.

(Cough cough,I wrote this at 4 am, so apologies for any spelling errors. Hope you enjoy it, and I can't wait for the next chapter of WMFTD!)

*feral screams*

Anon this is so lovely! I am going to ramble so more under the read more. Also you did great for 4am writing! Don’t worry about misspelling or errors. I make so many during normal waking hours so you are totally fine! :)

Thank you the food my friend!!!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏

little Melinoë!!!! I can just see her determined little face staring up at Y/N, daring you to tell her no. Little baby omg.

I am just imaging y/n keeping a watchful eye on her as she tries to carry an armful of poppies she found, dropping some as she hurried over to Hypnos with y/n picking up the fallen ones to carry for her.

Also Odysseus had totally teased you about going soft. You might or might have punch him in the arm. Hard.

not that it stopped him much. That shade still seem enjoying pushing his luck.

Also I like to think Melinoë would read outloud to both Hypnos and Y/N and sometimes Y/N would have help Melinoë sound out a new word.

And the two shades being worshippers are a wonderful idea! It works too, since many greek heroes have their own hero cult (y/n included, lol i had a fic idea of him having to deal his own set of worshippers bugging him.)

also imagine they almost did drop Hypnos once. The glare you gave them could had set fire to water. It never happened again.

also if they are worshippers, are they warriors themselves, hoping learn more of your strength or Hypnos’ gentleness? Or more like priests/priestess, devotion to the maintaining the mythology and care to the divine? 🤔

Awww, poor Melinoë, she already has so much to deal with she shouldn’t have to deal nightmares 😭

but I like the idea of y/n sharing a moment of vulnerability with her, letting her know everyone has nightmares. Even Odysseus, even Hecate.

Maybe after that conversation, you would look toward Hypnos and hoped that you handled it right. You thought you saw a faint smile but you couldn’t be sure.

gods you missed him so much. You would settle for even a single teasing joke at this point.

i bet you did try to sleep once in hopes of finding Hypnos but wherever he was, it was beyond your reach.

You just hope it was peaceful. Until you would keep watch, his faithful guardian.

And anon, the picture you painted of y/n coming back to see Melinoë cuddled up in Hypnos’ arms broke my heart. Like the gentle light, the softness of their peaceful expression.

And you could tell Melinoë needed it.

It actually broke your heart because you knew it should had been her parents or Zagreus holding her.

Damn Cronus. Damn him.

You were so gentle with you picked her up, not used to children or small they feel in your arms.

You and Hecate rarely speak, but you knew her well know to see the wry amusement in her eyes

A week later you find her there again. But you let her rest for a little bit longer. Hypnos seemed a little happier.

Aaa aaaaaah aaaaaa. Omg this is so good. Thank you sending me this. I am gonna be thinking about this alllllll day.

[qingxin-dream]

Burning for You

a/n | BASED ON GENSHIN 3.0 LEAKS!⚠️ …okay, so i have a confession. two things… one, i believe in love at first sight. and two, i am hopelessly in love with tighnari. <3 wrote this in a few hours high off of my new fav dendro main so i hope it’s okay! (art credits: u/murasakisumire on reddit)

warnings | character leaks, slight profanity, probably ooc tighnari but i’m having fun with it anyway :)

genre | fluff, smug tighnari likes to tease you

word count | 1.1k

pairing | tighnari x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

In the humid wilderness of Sumeru’s lush rainforests, there was no room for error as a forest ranger. It was a matter of life or death—eat or be eaten.

The vast majority of the rainforest was relatively untouched by civilization and teeming with vibrant creatures of all shapes, sizes, and abilities. As a ranger, you were expected to be an expert in animal and vegetation identification, and able to sense danger through disturbances in the surrounding ecosystem.

You had been reminded of this requirement on numerous occasions by your superior, yet somehow you defied all natural laws with how you constantly attracted trouble. Sometimes it’s a simple, easily avoidable mistake on your part, but other times it turned into a horde of enemies charging in your direction with no obvious escape in sight.

As a result, you were assigned under the direct supervision of the Lead Forest Ranger, Tighnari, for special training. But it wasn’t your fault you magically invited danger everywhere you went. At first, you were quite intimidated by the long-eared ranger. You knew he was the best of the best, so the stakes were high. If you messed this up, maybe you really were hopeless.

Expeditions were extremely silent and awkward with your new companion. After a while of suffering from solitude, you had tried to get to know him more, but it proved to be difficult.

“Hey, ‘Nari,” you would inquire softly as he was focused on referencing an encyclopedia from his pack.

An ear would twitch accompanied by a nearly indiscernible hum, eyes not breaking from his work once. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Um, do you ever take a break?” you sheepishly asked, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. He raised a brow, promptly closing his book, and touched his chin in thought. Worried you had offended him, you continued, “L-like do you do anything for fun?”

“This is fun, is it not?” Tighnari replied nonchalantly. “I love my work.”

It was true. All Tighnari would ever discuss with you was about Dawson Rainforest. Such was the extent of any line of questioning you could think of. You could rarely ever get a reaction out of him, not that you wanted to tease him—well, maybe you wouldn’t mind to see the quiet and clever Tighnari devolve into a stuttering, blushing mess at least once.

But that is beside the point. You felt ignored and lonely. Breaking the ice was useless. You were going to have to be a lot more forward if you wanted to get Tighnari’s attention.

Which ultimately led you to this moment months later, as you snap out of your thoughts staring at the burning embers rising from the campfire. You like to think your relationship had improved or you understood each other better since then. At the very least, your skills were improving and working with him in a team wasn’t as bad as it used to be.

You both had set up camp together less than an hour ago after completing your duties since you were too far from the main base to lodge for the night. Tighnari had just set his ranger journal aside, pale green eyes locked onto you.

A strange rush of heat spread across your cheeks in embarrassment. You prayed to the Archons it wasn’t noticeable. Had he said something and you completely missed it? Why is he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say since he still scarcely gives you the time of day, “What?”

Perfect. You were such a great conversationalist, you reprimanded yourself silently.

“You were lost in thought,” he observed, lips pursing slightly in disappointment. “I… apologize if I have come across as rude in the past.”

“No!” you insisted, shaking your head frantically and laughing it off. “That’s not why at all. Don’t worry about it. Just feeling bored I guess?”

“You must always remain vigilant. As you can tell, none of the wildlife here seem bored in all their clamoring even in the darkness of night,” Tighnari notes out of habit, but he pauses for a second before shaking his head too and scooting next to you. “But we aren’t on a mission so I suppose I may entertain your antics this time.”

Did the flame of the fire suddenly grow hotter? Your cheeks flushed with another intense wave of heat when Tighnari grew near, surely it wasn’t your Pyro vision acting up. Then again, every time the lead ranger draws close, you swear you can feel the fiery pulse of your vision on your chest. Or was that your heart leaping?

His bright jade eyes flickered knowingly from your vision to meet your skeptical gaze, a playful, smug smile threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you enjoy this, ‘Nari? Making me—!” you accused in shock, words abruptly trailing off as you find yourself nearly admitting your embarrassment. “Argh. This is what you actually do for fun, isn’t it?”

“Me? I could never partake in such fruitless endeavors,” he responded with an innocent wave of his bushy raven tail, rotten mischief dripping from each word on his tongue.

“Oh, but the excitement is just radiating from you, go ahead. I’m ready to hear the great Tighnari speak to me finally,” you retorted sarcastically in a huff.

“I would be more inclined to say it’s written all over you, (Y/N),” his voice lowers as he leans in ever so slightly, tall ears towering over you in an almost intimidating manner. “I’m… not as oblivious as you may think.”

Fuck, the fennec fox never cared to talk to you and the minute he opens his mouth it was your downfall. Your breath hitched subconsciously, the only confirmation Tighnari needed, a sharp-toothed smirk adorning his smug expression. You hated it.

You had quickly learned long ago he had a penchant for teasing and trickery, and you always walked right into his traps. After all this time pushing you away and reeling you back in at will with his wit, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You were utterly touch-starved and Tighnari reveled in it, lightly grazing the back of his fingers against your hot cheek.

His pearlescent irises glimmered and marveled at you—a predator helplessly enamored with his prey.

“This isn’t fair, ‘Nari,” you whispered, lidded eyes watching with longing as he slowly inches further toward you. The instinct to pull away crosses your mind, just to deny him the victory, but how could you when the promise of his lips was so imminent?

He brushed his nose against yours gently in a loving nuzzle, whispering onto your lips, ���Neither is this burning in my heart for you now, is it?”

Tighnari could hardly restrain himself any longer, drinking in your scent like this so intimately, inevitably succumbing to your sweet lips in a passionate display of desire. When he held your cheek or trailed his hand down to your waist, you felt that familiar burst of your Pyro vision glowing alongside his Dendro one—his touch consuming you with an aching need for more.

You almost considered caressing his long ears when he nibbled at your bottom lip, until he broke the kiss with a soft smile and couldn’t resist indulging in your addicting taste once more.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[clouds-rambles]

Hey bestie may I request diluc,childe,zhongli,and venti having a bad nightmare over their s/o wanting to break up with them and when they wake up their s/o isn’t there but really they’re in another room or something if that makes sense!! Thank you 🤑

Hi bestie positively evil... i love it <3 nobody question why zhongli and the reader are married in all my headcanons thanks lmao

Pairings; (Seperate) Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, and Venti x reader

Warning(s); panic, nightmares, hurt/comfort, injury mention

Keep reading under the cut!

Diluc

Diluc wakes with a start, his brows furrowed as he takes a moment to arrange the events of his nightmare in his head

Both you and he had a particularly explosive argument after he had come back injured from a night protecting Mondstat 

You had left the winery after exclaiming that you refuse to date someone who has such a lack of regard for his own life. In the long run you’d be saving yourself from further heartbreak if he ended up dead on the front porch

Diluc wonders if dream you could be right...

The red-head finally notices the cold side of the bed you should be sleeping on. He more than remembers going to sleep with you

Panic sets in at the bottom of Dilucs stomach. He must be imagining things right? You’re probably just in the bathroom

A beat passes

Then three

No, you’re not in the bathroom. He would have heard you by now...

What if the dream was actually what had happened last night. A breath catches in the mans throat as he gets out of bed and throws a shirt on

If he couldn’t find you in his home has he truly lost you?

Diluc speedily walks through the halls of his home, checking the spare rooms, the study, the library, the living room, the dining room, the

Diluc opens the door to the kitchen his heart threatening to break out of his chest at the pace it’s beating when he finally spots you drinking a cup of tea, in your pajamas

Thank the archons it was just a dream

“Diluc, honey, are you okay?” you ask getting up from the table in the kitchen to your sweating, hyperventilating partner

Diluc says nothing but opts to hugging you, his head bowing to your chest as he breaths you in

“Diluc, you’re worrying me” you tell him returning his embrace and rubbing circles on his back

“You weren’t in bed” is all he offers to tell you. You don’t push him on the details of why he is so panicked

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for a herbal tea” you explain kissing the man on his bed of fluffy hair “I have a cup left in the kettle, I can pour one out for you” you offer

“Please” he breathes, but doesn’t move to let you go from the embrace, you can stand to hold him and tell him sweet nothings for a little while. Tea can always be reheated

Childe

It would only be right, and he suspected as much. You had told him that because of what has recently transpired in Liyue you cannot find yourself to love a brutal harbinger

Maybe its for the best. Childe concludes not paying much attention to his weeping heart. Maybe, you’d be happier not to be under the constant eye and scrutiny of the Qixing, the Milleth, and the watchful eye of Childes own fatui informants

Without much pause form Childes last thought the man finds himself waking in his room, unsure if the dream was reality or his mind playing tricks on him, he feels your side of the bed and notices a distinct lack of warmth... and you

He cries

Childe curls himself up in a ball determined to not get caught by anyone showing such an extreme and out of character emotion, he let himself cry. He’s pretty sure he’s sobbing loudly but he doesn’t care. It’s just him in the house anyway. The one person that he doesn’t mind seeing such emotions has left him

That’s until he hears the distinct click of the bedroom door open “Oh my archon Childe, are you okay?” you ask quickly making your way to the side of his bed and placing a hand on his shoulder

The man looks up to you, he isn’t sure if you’re real 

“I thought-” he starts “I had a-” he tries to find his words without seeming like a crazed person “You weren’t-” 

“It’s okay babe, I’m right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere” you console “I just had an epiphany in my dream and I had to write it down” you add explaining your absence. Childe nods along 

“Stay” he tells you as you wipe the tears out of his eyes. You nod and hum

“Of course” you lay onto the bed and let Childe wrap himself around you

You hum him to sleep and whisper sweet nothings

Zhongli

‘I can’t love you anymore Zhongli, I feel obligated to come back to Liyue after every adventure, it’s starting to take a toll on me’

‘But our vows, [name] we made a contract at the altar’

‘To love each other, yes? Zhongli there’s no love left in this marriage, you sleep in the spare bedroom whenever I’m back, we sit in silence over dinner, I don’t think I’ve kissed you in months. The lack of love itself is the breach in the contract’

‘But I-’

‘Think about it, do you really feel the same love that you felt on the day we got married?’

‘[name]-’

Zhongli wakes up with a start, his heart beats a little fast for a second. The man convinces himself it’s just a dream he had, but the coldness of your side of the bed seems to speak otherwise

In all fairness, Zhongli should have rationalised his dream before he started wondering the house like a mad man. The only time he sleeps in the other bed is when you’ve suffered an extreme injury, dinners are often spent with jolly laughs and conversation. And Zhongli prides himself on the amount of affection he gives you around the house... and in the bedroom

But most things aren’t making sense in his head right now

“Zhongli my love” you call him upon noticing him in the hall. You had just come out of the bathroom after a midnight toilet break “Are you okay darling?” you ask placing a hand on his shoulder

The tenseness in Zhongli’s shoulders dissipate as soon as you initiate the touch

“I love you” he tells you, the declaration is out of nowhere to you. But you smile at him and embrace him

“And I love you too” you pause bringing up your hand baring the ring that sits on it “And this ring is a reminder of our vows and my unyielding love to you” you tell him with a smile

Zhongli chuckles at you and returns your hug “You seem to always know how to comfort me my dear”

“It’s because I’m a mind reader” you jest matching your spouses chuckle

Venti

Disappeared. So much so that the thousand winds could tell Venti that you were in fact not in Mondstat and had travelled to Liyue from the time Venti was playing music in the tavern to when he knocked for you early the next morning

The only trace you left was a letter. Unmistakeably written by your hand

‘Venti, writing this in a letter is much easier than saying this to your face. I am quite simply tired of your antics, no matter try to talk to you, you seem to always brush me off. Be it the nights you spend at the tavern, my general concern when you disappear for days at end just to tell me you were at the thousand winds temple, stormterrors lair, or windrise, no matter how much I tell you I checked all three. Being in a constant state of concern isn’t good for me, it’s emotionally draining and I’m terrified of finding you dead somewhere, despite your archon blood. By the time you read this I’ll be in Liyue where I’ll be staying with a friend for a while. Tell me I’m going somewhere you can’t follow, and I’ll tell you this is how I have felt many a night. I wish I could have kept loving you, [name]’

A harsh way to break up Venti admits to himself rereading the paper a few times before waking up

A dream?

Venti holds his chest, surely a dream couldn’t conjure such a horrific sinking feeling that makes him want to just vomit

Looking to your side of the bed for your comfort the sinking feeling intensifies when he doesn’t see you

So it wasn’t a dream? Venti doesn’t want to call on his kin, the thousand winds, again just to be told once more that you’re currently in Liyue sipping tea with this cousin you had mentioned in the letter 

The archon sits up in bed and takes deep breaths, he doesn’t want to explain to anybody that he had a panic attack over your horrific breakup letter, no no

After calming his breaths Venti steps out of bed with a shaky few steps before walking downstairs to engage in the typical breakout routine. Snacking. Maybe when you left you had elected to ignore some of the snacks you love to litter about your abode

When Venti walks in to the living room towards the kitchen he sees you nursing your head on the couch

“[name]?” he asks in almost disbelief

“Hm,” you answer before looking up to Venti “Oh hey love, sorry I’ve got a headache” you greet properly after a moment. Venti grins at you which causes you to tilt your head. Why is your headache so grin worthy? Weird...

“Would you like some paracetamol?” he asks walking beside you, you shake your head

“I just took some” you reply looking up at your partner “Though I’d love to rest my head on your thighs” you add. Venti more then obliges and settles down on the couch

“You know I had the strangest dream” Venti tells you after a prolonged amount of silence, you hum to let him know you’re listening “You left me” he says bluntly

Oh

Damn

You bring yourself up to Venti’s face with a smile and give him a kiss “I love you Venti, I wouldn’t leave you for even the prettiest lyre” you half console half jest

“That’s because the prettiest lyre is mine” Venti chuckles and you nod pressing another kiss to Venti’s lips

guys it’s 2.42am I’m so sorry if there’s grammatical errors, my brain isn’t catching up rn

[tennessoui]

“I’m not even sorry” !!!!

hello hey and hi!!!!

this is set in the remedial mechanics au, where obi-wan is forced to take a class on engineering because of a new policy the jedi have instituted. anakin, his former padawan, is his teacher. anakin suffers through the sight of his master reverting back to his slutty slutty padawan days, where he would do anything for a good grade, Master.

(1k)

“Wait,” Anakin pipes up from his borrowed Council seat. The Masters of the Jedi Council turn to look at him as one. “Sorry,” he says. Since the end of the war and Sidious’ death, he’s had a complete change of heart when it comes to being given attention.

In other words, he’s shy. Humble. Aware of how much he still has to learn.

Obi-Wan is always torn between anger and some sort of pride when he sees Anakin do this. Pride, because it is fitting of a Jedi, to understand you have more to learn and room to grow, and Anakin seems so very committed to the Jedi Order after Sidious had been revealed, Obi-Wan had begged him not to Fall and even told him he loved him in a bid to keep him in the Light.

Anger, because it feels wrong to see Anakin shrink in on himself so easily. Anakin is a confident young man. It is one of the things Obi-Wan loves about him frankly, no matter how much he has griped and groaned about his Padawan’s inflated ego.

“Yes, Knight Skywalker?” Master Windu asks. At least the Jedi Council is doing everything it can to subtly make Anakin feel more welcome these days. No one had noticed just how close to Falling Anakin was until it was almost too late, and now many days are spent rebuilding bridges no one knew had burnt.

“Well, it’s just that. Um. Master Kenobi has technically been a master for five years, since he was promoted to the rank of Master at the same time that I was Knighted.”

“No, Padawan,” Obi-Wan tells him with a wave of his hand. “It’s not truly been five years.” “Five years minus a few weeks,” Anakin shakes his head. “But five years by the time we are able to truly implement this program.”

The program in question was being discussed and built out because a terribly old Jedi Master had almost caused a planetary civil war by badly conjugating a planet-based greeting. The Master, who had been chosen for this particular mission because of his linguistic talent, swears he doesn’t know what happened. The Council thinks they know: it’s been decades since the Master did any sort of formal learning in a classroom setting.

So, they’ve landed upon a solution. Remedial courses, for those individuals who have been Masters for longer than five years. Five years, because usually one is a Knight for a decade if not more before they become a Master, so by the time one has become a master, one has spent years outside of the classroom.

“Then we will make an exception,” Obi-Wan says lightly. “Since I never specialized in anything in my padawanship, there should be no great purpose in seeing me in remedial lessons. I am nothing more than a moderately skilled Master in most areas.”

Anakin frowns and leans forward in his seat. “That’s not true.”

Fighting a smile, Obi-Wan shifts in his seat. He guiltily loves when Anakin, a man now at 24, proves himself to be just as he was when he was a youngling and Obi-Wan’s padawan: unable to hear one bad word about his master without coming to blows.

“When we—when we rescued Sidious from Grievous, you made at least fourteen mechanical errors. Crashing his ship was avoidable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, padawan,” Obi-Wan waves a hand, leaning back in his seat. “That was a high stress and unique situation. I swear to you that I understand advanced mechanics and am in no need for a refreshment.”

“It’s been fifteen years since you were in the classroom, Master,” Anakin says. “I’m not sure there are grounds for exception.”

Obi-Wan raises both eyebrows. Truthfully, he would not terribly mind having to go through a remedial course. But the fact that Anakin thinks he needs one does not sit well within him. Where has his padawan gone, the one who thought he could do no wrong and hung every star in the sky?

The entire matter becomes quite worse when he chances a glance away from his padawan to see the rest of the Council’s considering expressions.

“Oh, you cannot be serious.”

—-----

“I’m not even sorry,” Anakin declares several hours later as he marches into Obi-Wan’s quarters like they are his own.

Obi-Wan presses a hand to his face. “Do not make me look at you right now,” he says, rubbing at his temple.

Anakin feels…smug in the Force. Anticipatory, even. “That’s no way to speak to your teacher,” he points out. “Show your remedial mechanics teacher a bit of respect.”

Yes, because not only had the Council unanimously decided that Obi-Wan must attend a refresher course in engineering, they’d also decided that the perfect Jedi to teach such a course would be his own former padawan.

Obi-Wan had, of course, been forced to abstain, given everyone’s doubts that he could be impartial.

“Anakin, please,” he tells his padawan. “I’m begging you.”

The Force twists oddly around them for a second, and when Anakin responds his tone is different. More breathy. “I only accept begging if you’re on your knees.”

Perhaps it’s the wine he’s had since the Council meeting. Perhaps he just wants to see what Anakin will do. Either way, Obi-Wan slides off the couch he’d been splayed over and onto the floor in front of his frozen padawan. 

“Anakin, I am begging you.”

The Force trembles around Anakin, and Obi-Waan can hear him swallow twice before he finally can get his words out.

Interesting. 

“Begging me for um. For what?”

Obi-Wan looks up beneath his eyebrows at the man, whose face is bright red. He adopts his most tragic expression. “Please don’t make me do a Force damned group project."

[sillyrabbit81]

Hey there Bunny, how ya doin? Been a while since I stopped by to say Hi and check up on a fellow Aussie. Ive been lurking around but haven't seen you on my dash for a while. RUOK?? Always around to lend an ear, if you need one to hear. Big squishy hugs 💜💜💜

Hey!

Thank you for reaching out. Thats really kind of you.

I haven't been around as much lately. But I am doing okay. I have had a few people asking me similar things lately so, I might just let it all out here and tell people whats going on.

IRL things have been a lot for me lately and I just haven't had the time/headspace to be as active. Plus, if I have an hour or two to sit at my computer, I'm usually using that time to write (or stare at the doc and force out 50 words LOL).

The IRL stuff is mostly about my kids, but I also have had issues lately with my own mood regulation and other issues. Turns out I have Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), which I tell people is basically like PMS but on Liver King levels of steroids. I think I've had symptoms of this for a couple of years, but its recently gotten much worse and I have seen an endocrinologist recently and started a treatment plan that will hopefully help, but it will take a couple of months before I will see any results.

I don't generally talk publicly about my family. Mainly because I feel like my blog and writing is my safe haven, a place for just me. But there has been a lot going on lately so maybe it will make me feel better to talk about it real quick. A lot of people who I talk to in chat/DMs already know most of this anyway.

Both my kids and my husband are on the Autism Spectrum.

My son is 13 and just started high school, so that has been a tough transition for him. He has been involved in a couple of incidents that has resulted in his suspension. Supporting him through that has been tricky and dealing with the school and trying to get the right supports in place for him has also been a slog.

My daughter is 8 and she requires a lot of support at school. She really struggles at school and so there is a lot of time spent ensuring she gets the supports she needs. On top of that, about 6 months ago she had a tonic-clonic seizure that was quite serious and lasted for over 10 minutes. After some testing was then diagnosed with epilepsy, probably as a result from a brain injury she suffered during her birth (she had a lack of blood flow and needed an emergency c-section). So its been trial and error with meds, (she also has absent seizures which we noticed a few times) but after a while we thought things were okay. A couple of weeks ago, she had another serious seizure and we were back in hospital.

So yeah, while I'm okay and my family are mostly okay, there has been a lot going on for me IRL over the past few months that has obviously taken precedence. But, I'm still around when I can be. I still want to be around and still love to write and make gifs and stuff, but its just been a matter of priorities and a significantly limited free time compared to what I previously had.

I hope you are doing well! I hope you're going to have a nice summer break (if we actually get a summer... I know in Sydney its bloody cold so far!) And thanks again for reaching out. That was really sweet of you.

❤️ Rabbit

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

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

PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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

You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

[probably-haven]

Kaeya Alberich & Why his Failure is Inevitable

A theory on Kaeya’s reaction to- that event in his backstory.

take everything with a grain of salt , because it’s heavily based on assumptions, most of which are centered around his reaction to- backstory stuff, so gonna put that under the cut-. i actually originally said this in a reblog to someone asking the exact question awhile ago

im kinda in a content drought though so i might as well bring it back, hopefully some people find it interesting in this context though. Lol a lot of it is just seeing how angsty i can make it too so- ehe

actual content under the cut: (spoilers for kaeya’s backstory, diluc’s backstory, Khaenri’ah lore, and a bit of Childe’s backstory)

so the exact verbiage used in kaeya’s story for his reaction to Master Crepus’s death is: “Even someone like Master Crepus would submit to such a dangerous and evil power…” Sinister thoughts flashed through Kaeya’s mind, and he simply smirked— “This world is truly… fascinating.”

-

Now I’m actually pretty sure this quote ties in, not to the destruction of khaenri’ah, but to the cataclysm before it. Specifically, it deals with the Khaenri’ahn alchemist Gold who started it.

Canonically, Gold was an incredibly ambitious alchemist specializing in khemia 500 years ago. Their most well know achievement is corruption of the dragon Durin, but concealed much deeper in Teyvat’s history, a number of Gold’s legacies include incorporating the powers of the abyss into their alchemy(and eventually being corrupted by those very same powers, tho it might be a translation error), followed by the destruction of Khaenri’ah’s Eclipse Dynasty(including the royal family and the royal guards tasked with protecting the people of Khaenri’ah), and this was followed shortly by ‘using their talents to create an army of “shadowy monsters."’

these monsters, blood filled with the corruption of the abyss, would only continue pouring out of Khaenri’ah in waves until the fateful day that it was destroyed. The era of suffering these monsters caused would come to be known as the cataclysm.

-

taking those facts into account, it could be a remark about how even someone as kind hearted as Master Crepus could fall to the temptation and corrupting aspects of power that caused his people’s fall so long ago, even without the naturally corruptive effects of power from the abyss. that’s sad- but if you get into the theory of it its even sadder the further you go.

Now theory wise its important to make a few connections- I am under the impression that the “fall of the Eclipse Dynasty” that Gold caused through abyssal power was actually the first instance of Khaenri’ah’s curse, and the monsters of the cataclysm- were among the curse’s first victims.

a bit sadder with the fact that his statement can now refer to his feelings of there truly being nothing that could have been done to prevent the very same exact curse that has caused him so much suffering through his life. There was no resisting the corruption of power, only delaying it. It hammers in the fact that the reason he was sent to Mondstadt truly might be the destiny he had many times been told it was. A cruel joke from Celestia perhaps?

but not sad enough. let’s pull out the big one. The Khaenri’ahn Royalty Kaeya theory. (there’s a lot- im not gonna cover the explanation behind that one here)

Gold, the most powerful alchemist in Khaenri’ah would likely have worked under the Eclipse Dynasty, so assuming the theory of Kaeya(and Dainsleif) being the last member of the Eclipse Dynasty, its reasonable to say he would have known Gold. Now whether Gold was a good person or not is irrelivant because it remains the same either way. Kaeya has twice seen the corrupting abilities that come with power strip him of all those close to him, shouldering him with an additional responsibility to carry out in their memory that he never wanted. Yes this hurts more if he was close with Gold and Crepus managed to make him feel safe enough to get close to people even after that- but I’m here to provide the facts and theories, not the emotions, though theres a lot

but…. its a stretch(like a big stretch)… but for the sake of going all out on a limb, we can take this one step further.

In Childe’s story it references the abyss by saying “this dark realm had sensed the burning ambition in this boy’s heart” and it can be assumed that the powers granted by the abyss, as the natural opposition to Celestia(natural as in abyss magic literally opposes the magic of Celestia by nature) might just opporate in a similar way to the gnosises. Kaeya has no knowledge of gnosises though so for now lets use the word visions.

The powers of the abyss that were given to Gold would likely have been favored over visions from the gods in a godless nation like khaenri’ah afterall. and if he knew Gold, a known genius, he likely wouldnt have noticed anything off until it was too late. A sudden fall from his perspective. Visions, delusions, power from the abyss, what difference truly is there to a child raised to shun the gods. All are granted through ambition, and all will only end in suffering

afterthought:

However the main thing behind the Khaenri’ahn Royalty aspect of this angst fest- Kaeya would have been extremely young during Gold’s corruption and Khaenri’ah’s fall… like i cant help think of that one tik tok audio “that must be so confusing for a little girl” but it really does fit because now i can’t shake the imagery of Kaeya, faced with the imagery of the man who raised him dead as a result of a power he chose to use. And he finally understands what he was too young to understand back then. the world is not fascinating in a way that he is interested in it or wants to know more about it, but more interesting in the way that people’s eyes are involuntarily drawn to images of tragedy. It’s an expression of cruel irony, of truths he was forced to face, of knowledge he doesn’t want to know, but that he needs to know- if he plans on carrying through with his destiny- siding against Mondstadt. but siding with Mondstadt would cause him to turn against Khaenri’ah as Gold had all those years ago, and is that not fulfilling a cycle of fate all the same?

It’s an expression of mourning. He is chained by the legacy of Khaenri’ah and there’s nothing he can do to escape it. Either way the cycle will repeat. This fate gives him a unique power and even he will eventually succumb to it, doomed to be viewed as a corrupted betrayer no matter who he sides with, to doom yet another civilization in return. Such is his preordained role as the last hope of Khaenri’ah. The unescapableness, the way it all becomes so sure and clear and nauseatingly relevant in that very moment are what drive him to say that as he finally realizes that he cannot win.

-

of course a lot of this is a stretch and just theories, but the angst potential was there so i decided to run with it lmao

additional afterthought: this isn’t something kaeya would know, but the corruption of Durin by Gold was actually predicted by a priestess in dragonspine before Celestia destroyed it and made it like it is now.

just angsty because it reinforces the idea of a repeating cycle of foretold destiny that no matter hard hard Kaeya tries, he will never be able to escape. Really puts Mona’s “He believes he has made a clean break with his past, but one day fate will catch up with him” line into perspective.

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[seabass17]

All that’s left | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is my first time writing something based on a video I found on TikTok, it’s not exactly the same, but it is kinda the idea. I hope you like it and please let me know if you might want a part two. Also, I apologize if you find some errors, im doing my best since English is not my first language. Anyway, happy reading!!

All that’s left masterlist

Pt. 2

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries (broken ribs, cuts, dislocated shoulder)

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: She still can’t get used to the feeling of being left behind by the people she once called family. After being hurt, she decides that she will give them a chance, and when they failed, she then makes the decision to disappear and start brand new. Of course, she leaves a letter that will left the team standing in the dark, and with more questions than answers about a lot of things, while discovering that she has more of one past that she let to know.

The sound of the rain hitting against the window of my living room was the only thing that could be heard in the silence of my apartment. I looked over my desk where the paper is waiting for me to pick up the pen and get this over with, but somehow, somewhere deep inside of me, a part is waiting, holding on to the smallest of hope that maybe, just maybe, he is going to come knocking to my door asking why the i haven’t showed up to the compound for the last three days, or why i didn’t text nor call the rest of the team. I wanted to see if they would notice my absence so I left the compound on Thursday. I got the answer to my question when Sunday arrived and my inbox was clear; no one noticed. Today is Tuesday, my apartment is thirteen minutes away, fifthteen if you literally fly or speed up, but still, no one came or text.

To be honest, I'm not surprised, that doesn’t mean it hurts less though. I know i should probably think this through instead of making the impulse decision of grabbing my things and get the hell out of here, going somewhere i can start fresh, somewhere i can start over and get a chance to get over all the things that happened,  find people that actually cared for me, or maybe not finding anyone at all and die alone.

I stand up from my bed and go to my desk, it’s time to get this over with. I start writing the only thing that they get to keep.

“Dear Avengers, You’re probably wondering where I am, or you just don’t care, maybe you don’t even find this. If someone from the building finds this, keep it in case they ever come looking for me; thank you. So, this is it, this is my goodbye. You should consider yourselves lucky, given the fact that none of you even deserves a goodbye because you are the ones causing it. I could tell you the reason why I'm leaving, and you know what, I will tell you. I chose to trust you. The one thing I feared the most was trusting people, but when I joined the team, I thought ‘well, maybe i can trust them, they are my team’, guess what, I was wrong. You should really look out for your teammates Stark, oh, and by the way, you might want to look deeper into why the operation that saved those 30 civilians on may 20, didn’t go south, you might even discover its the very same reason of why i didn’t showed up in the compound for a week, yeah, they were busy torturing the information out of me for a week; information that, by the way, i didn't give, hence why the operation went great. Something even more funny, is that behind every mistake, every wrong that each one of you have ever done, I’m the one that suffered the consequences. Don’t believe me? Then you might want to do your homework, because dear teammates, I’m the one you couldn’t protect. By the time you find out the things you’ve done, I will be long gone. I'm very good at disappearing, Natasha (once she figures it out) can confirm that. I wish things would be different and we could be… family, but that’s never going to happen; not anymore. As of now, there will be no record of my name ever existing, everything that once belonged to me, will be burned, and as of me, well, I am no one.”

I fold the piece of paper and put it in the envelope, once sealed, I write down the word my name in the center so they know. I take a last look at my apartment. Everything is intact, the furniture that came with it is the same as always, the only thing different is that it seems empty without all my belongings. I grabbed my luggage and exited the apartment and then went downstairs.

“Hey Richard”  I say to the man that is in the reception like I always do

“Hey miss, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm leaving, for good. If someone comes asking for me, my friends, you tell them that you haven’t seen me. Oh, I left a letter for them upstairs, could you please make sure that it gets to them? Only if the show up, do not sent it”

He looked at me a little sad and confused.

“Oh, well, you will me missed miss, I hope you find happiness and yes, i promised i will make sure they get your letter”

“Thank you Richard, for everything, oh, and this is for you” I handed him an envelope with some cash. He looked like he was about to say something about how he couldn’t accept it but I cut him off. “Please, just take it, please”. He sighs but takes the envelope.

“Thank you miss…”

I smiled at him and then turned around to grab a cab. I'm supposed to be in the airport in 30 minutes. Once in the airport, the only thing left is to start again, be someone brand new.

*3rd person POV*

Friday morning was a little colder than usual in the avengers compound, everyone on the team was up and in the kitchen having breakfast. Everything was normal, until someone noticed that someone was missing.

“Hey guys” Bucky said right before taking a bite of the pancakes Wanda made earlier for everyone. “Have any of you seen y/n?”

The team stayed quiet, realizing that they haven’t seen her for quite a while, not until Barnes brought it up.

“Uh… maybe she took a trip?” Steve broke the silence while the rest started thinking when was the last time they had seen her.

“No, she was here when we arrived from the Jersey mission, it must have been like what, two days, maybe three?” Tony said. Bucky could feel his insides burning and twisting.

“No… that was eight days ago” Vision intervened. The avengers felt like someone just blew up the white house. Her teammate was missing for eight days and no one even noticed. Bucky was the first one to react by getting up and running to her dorm, only to find it exactly the way it was when he last saw her. He searched her dorm looking for something out of place that could tell him that maybe you were in trouble and that he has to come save you, but he is left desperate when he doesn’t find anything.

“She’s not here, everything is intact” He informs once he is back in the kitchen.

“Everyone” Steve calls out, “get dressed, we’re going to look for her. Let’s start in her apartment”

The team leaves to change their clothes and next thing they know, they are in her building. Without saying a word to the receptionist, they all made their way up to her apartment.

“Hey! wait-” he goes unnoticed because the avengers are already on her door. Wanda knocks on the door.

“Y/n? You there?” no one responds. “Y/n come on, don’t be mad at us” Natasha says.

After a few seconds they all start to worry when the door is unlocked, and they worry even more once they see the apartment completely empty.

“What the-” Bucky says

“Where are her things?” Wanda asks to no one especifically

“Where is she?” Thor says

“What the hell is going on?” Tony says a little louder

Bucky storms out of the empty apartment and goes to the man in the reception

“What the hell happened to apartment 108, where is y/n y/l/n?” he asks with worry and anxiety in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but, who are you?” the man asks the rather intimidating group of people in front of him.

“We’re the Avengers man” Peter says and the man suddenly realizes and his face changes from a confused one, to a sad one that makes the team’s stomach drop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he sighs, “She left me indicated to give this to you” he hands them an envelope that looks like it's been sitting there for a while. Bucky stares at the envelope like it's some kind of nuclear weapon that if you touch it, it could kill you. Wanda notices, grabs the envelope and stares at the paper in her hands.

“When did she leave this?” She asked

“Three days ago”

“And why didn’t you send it to us?” Tony asked, getting angry at the poor man.

“Because she specifically said  to handed it to you, if you ever came looking for her”

Bucky could feel the tears in his eyes start to form.

“She said that? `Ever’?” Bucky asked almost to himself. The man slowly nodded. Natasha could feel how her stomach started burning from the guilt and the pain of not noticing that her friend was missing for eight days, little does she know that the entire team felt exactly the same.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y pull the records on the mission on may 20 and also show me the status of y/n on that time” Tony said to the AI and after a few seconds later, pictures of the building that that was about to be blown out by HYDRA with 30 civilians inside showed up. While the avengers were sitting in the conference room looking at the pictures, the AI started talking.

“Mission of may 20. Information was given that HYDRA kept 30 civilians inside the building with the intention of blowing it up with them inside. Source of the information unknown. The Avengers  came to the building and successfully rescued the civilians safely moments before the building was blown up. Agent y/n y/l/n was on an undercover mission on a HYDRA facility at the same time, the communication was lost three days before the civilians situation, and around the same time, the information about the building was given anonymously the very same day that communication with Agent y/l/n was lost; Agent y/l/n returned a week later. Medical record found, access denied”

“Override, Tony Stark” Tony said after a good couple of seconds, the pieces starting to fall in place.

“Access complete. Medical records of Agent y/l/n on may 27th. Access restrained: Agent y/l/n. She presented with several cuts all over her body, three broken ribs, a second grade concussion, a sprained ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Patient refused treatment and was only given medication for the pain”

The seconds were passing and no one in the room would break the silence. The pieces were starting to fall in place, Tony felt nauseous. He yelled at her for being irresponsible for staying a little longer than she should have in the undercover mission, given the fact that she checked in on june 10th, meaning that she waited two weeks for her injuries to heal enough so that he could yell at her for not being good enough. He fell down to his chair, feeling like if he stayed up, he might throw up.

“She was the one that gave us the information about the building” Sam broke the silence. “She was the one that got tortured, and still managed to pass through the data so that we, could be the heroes while she was the one that got beaten up”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is she?” Natasha asked the AI, and it responded after a few seconds.

“No information found”

Natasha frowned, Bucky looked up to the screen to see the red sentence. It only made him want to scream more.

“What does ‘no information found’ mean?” Bucky asked on the edge of falling apart.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y” Steve called

“No information available” it said this time.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, look for y/n y/l/n” Tony said, thinking maybe he needed to check what was wrong with the AI.

“No records found for y/n y/l/n”

“Detail,” Stark said.

The AI showed what it said before, there was no record of her name, it was like it never existed. No phone number, no mail address, no nothing, just a little picture of an abandoned building or mansion somewhere in the world.

“Wait” Natasha said, “I know that building, F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a close up on that picture”

“What is it?” Wanda asked

“It was where The Red Room used to operate” tha AI responded

“Why does it appear related to her?” Bucky asked, fearing the answer

“The picture was taken when a girl escaped The Red Room in 2002, she eliminated four people on the way, the age or who it was is still unknown” the AI responded.

“Oh god…” Natasha whispered but Bucky manage it to hear it

“Natasha, what is it?” he asked

“2002, that’s three years after i managed to escape, there was a girl, we were some sort of friends, i promised that i was going to get us out of here, but i couldn’t take her with me so i left her. Two years later I contacted someone on the inside so that I could get to her and plan her escape, but she was angry at me and said that she was fine, a year later she did escape, killing four people on her way” Natasha explained. Everything makes sense now, why she looked familiar, why she had exactly the same skills as Natasha. The team noticed it too, but they assumed it was because she had trained very hard to be an avenger.

“What was her name?” Vision asked.

“Eliza” Natasha said

“Wait a minute…” Bucky said, lifting her head looking at Natasha. “Was that her real name?”

“No, she didn’t wanted to say her real one” Natasha said

“Eliza, that’s y/n’s grandmother’s name” Bucky said and the room fell into a silence where you could hear the wind outside.

“In the letter…” Steve started, “She said that you could confirm that she was good at disappearing completely once you figured it out, so, does this mean that…”

“Y/n is Eliza” Natasha concluded

“She was in The Red Room” Bucky added.

“She said in her letter that all of us did her wrong,” Sam said, “how are we supposed to know what the hell we do to her? She’s been in the team for what, two and a half years? And just now we realized that she was the one that gave us the data that saved 30 people and got her tortured, and that she was trained in The Red Room like Black Widow here. What else are we missing?” he added.

“Guess there’s only one thing we can do” Steve said, looking at Tony.

“And what’s that?” Wanda asked

“We find her”

[bridgetserdocksketches]

We're suffering tonight, boys

Lena isn’t avoiding Kara, okay? She’s just very busy. That’s all. What with being the CEO of her own company, running her own experiments, and this new little passion project she has a lot going on. Her absence in Kara’s life these past few days has absolutely nothing to do with the black eye she’s currently sporting. Don’t be ridiculous.

Though, in hindsight, she really should’ve known she’d only be able to bail on lunch with Kara so many times before she came knocking.

Lena’s knee deep in some complex coding, trying to figure out what went wrong with this last test and fix it, when she gets the call. She barely even looks at her phone screen before answering. Not that she needs to.

“Kara, hi,” she says warmly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Well, shit. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Are you sick? You know if you’re sick you can just tell me, right?”

“Yes, I-- no, Kara. I’m not sick.”

Lena can practically see the pinch in her brow. The confusion painted all over her face as she tries to puzzle out what’s going on with Lena.

“Okay, well you skipped lunch three times this week. Is everything alright?” Kara asks.

“Yes, everything’s perfectly fine. I’ve just been busy,” Lena assures her.

“So you’re not avoiding me?”

Lena breathes out a sigh that borders on a laugh. “No.”

“Alright, then can you come let me in?”

Before Lena can even ask where she is or what she means (as if she doesn’t already know), there’s a knocking at the door. Not the front door, of course. No, that would be far too mundane. It’s at the back door. The balcony door. The one that Lena always leaves unlocked, but Kara refuses to open without being welcomed in.

Her immediate reaction is to get up and open the door for Kara. But then Kara would see the black eye that much sooner. And if she can stall for even a few seconds longer, she will. So instead, she simply turns over her shoulder (careful to keep her left eye obscured) and calls out to Kara.

“It’s open.”

Still wearing the Supergirl suit and wielding a takeout bag, Kara strides into Lena’s apartment with a little spring in her step. Because as far as she’s concerned, Lena hasn’t been avoiding her. Lena isn’t hiding a few secrets from her and has nothing out of the ordinary going on. She’s just a little extra busy with that passion project she has outright refused to share any information about with anyone. There is absolutely nothing for her - or Lena, for that matter - to worry about.

“I figured you didn’t eat anything since you skipped lunch, again,” Kara drawls, the barest hint of disappointment in her words. “So I brought you dinner.” She walks around to get in front of Lena, finally, and plops the greasy bag of Big Belly Burger down on the counter. “Voila!”

There’s a five second gap after the delectable diabetic nightmare is presented before Lena. Five charged seconds where Lena simply waits for Kara to finally notice. At first, she’s a little too proud of herself. A grin so broad and brilliant and downright beautiful it could be considered blinding spread across her face. But then those blue eyes of hers track a little to the left and they go wide. Her mouth falls open. Her brow pinches. And several emotions flicker over her visage all at once.

Her lips work around a few words, spluttering on air briefly, before she finally settles on “Lena!”

And Lena can’t help herself. “Kara?”

Kara blinks. “What-- When-- Who did this to you?”

Lena exhales deeply and leans back in her chair. “No one did this to me.”

Kara’s around on Lena’s side of the counter in the space of a heartbeat. Her hands cradling Lena’s face like it’ll break under the slightest amount of pressure as she examines her.

“What happened?” She demands.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Lena insists.

It’s almost believable, too. But then Kara’s thumb chances a little too close to her left eye. With a hiss of pain, Lena flinches from her hand. Kara’s brow furrows further and her frown deepens.

“Lena--”

“I’m fine, Kara. Really,” Lena says. She takes both of Kara’s hands in her own and pulls them down from her face. “It was just an experiment gone wrong.”

“What sort of experiment gives people black eyes?”

Lena breathes out an indignant little huff of air. “It’ll be easier to just show you.”

Kara’s gaze narrows. “Alright.”

Kara is right on Lena’s heels as they walk to the spare room. The room Lena has taken to calling the nursery, where Baymax is lying in wait. At this stage in his development, he’s pretty infantile at best. He knows a few key phrases and can identify a person as long as they’re standing in front of him. But he can’t hold a conversation and his object permanence is severely lacking. So, yeah. Lena’s gonna call his room a nursery.

Baymax is in his charging pod where she’d left him a few days ago (when their most recent test run failed spectacularly, leaving Lena with a shiner). There isn’t anything else in the room, though. Lena had removed a lot of it to make space for his assembly. Once that was done, she decided to keep the room empty after he broke her last laptop after a particularly nasty glitch. So the only thing in here, as far as Kara’s concerned, is some weird red luggage tucked against the back wall.

“What am I looking at?” Kara asks, the worry from before replaced with confusion and curiosity.

“Hopefully something that’ll help a lot of people,” Lena says.

It’s cryptic, she’ll admit. But it’s hard to explain exactly what Baymax is at this point. Because he’s not simply a robot anymore. He’s taken on so much more personality and life in just the few weeks since his first test run. He’s learning. Growing. Like a person.

So instead of explaining, Lena crosses the length of the room, kneels down in front of the charging pod, and activates the robot.

Later, Kara would say that Lena leapt away from the charging station as it booted up. Like she’d gotten zapped or something. Lena, however, would vehemently insist that she simply hurried away in case something went wrong. Either way, she now stands alongside Kara, watching with bated breath as Baymax comes back to life.

She counts the seconds it takes him to inflate. 23. They need to get that down. He needs to be faster. If someone is really hurt, he has to be able to help. It takes another 4 seconds for Baymax to fully boot up. His eyes blink to signify that he’s fully functional and ready to assist. A total of 27 seconds. They can do better.

Not that Kara notices. She’s staring open mouthed and wide eyed as Baymax awkwardly stumbles out of his charging pod. His steps are heavy, almost as if he thinks the floor is further down (just another thing to iron out). He stops moving about two feet away from them both. Lifts his hand limply into the air (the fingers not fully inflated or opposable yet).

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

And then he freezes. Standing right there. Unmoving and, to be frank, a little terrifying.

“Wow,” Kara breathes.

“Yeah,” Lena agrees. “He’s still got a lot of bugs to work out. Hence the black eye.” She gestures at her left eye vaguely. “But when he’s finished, he’s going to help a lot of people.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kara asks.

Lena turns to her now. Her brow arched and a playful little smirk on her lips. “What? Is being Supergirl not enough for you?”

“Don't get me wrong. I love being Supergirl, but this.” She points at Baymax’s frozen form. “This will be able to do something I never could.”

Lena’s smirk falls into something softer. Something kinder. Kara finally looks at her now.

“Now, I’m not great with coding and all that… stuff. But I can help you test him out. No matter how hard he tries, he’s not going to be able to give me a black eye.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Do I… do I start now?” Kara asks hesitantly. She fidgets uncomfortably with the sign Lena handed her, then adjusts her glasses.

Lena smiles at her from behind her computer. “You can start whenever you like. But I do want to be done by dinner, darling.”

“Right.” Kara nods.

She looks away from Lena, her eyes landing on Baymax. And then she grins. That unfairly perfect grin. The one that is so infectious it’s a wonder the CDC aren’t investigating it yet.

“This is Kara Danvers,” She says, carefully enunciating each word. “And this is the first test of mine and Lena Luthor’s Baymax Project.”

She reaches forward, just like Lena showed her, and turns Baymax on. She grins again, up at the robot, and waits. Watches as he blinks, tilts his head down, and lifts his hand.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“Hello, Baymax!” She answers cheerily. “Would you please scan me?”

“Beginning scan now,” Baymax announces.

But that’s not what happens. No, it would be too simple if that’s what happens next. Instead, the entire system glitches. And both his arms start vibrating rapidly.

Kara’s face pales. “Uh, Lena,” she calls, not daring to look away from another rogue robot. “Is he supposed to be doing that?”

“No,” Lena says quickly. She looks between the two screens in front of her, trying to search for the error in his code to stop this from happening next time. “You gotta shut him down, Kara.”

“Uh-oh!” Kara exclaims.

Lena’s head snaps up. “Uh-oh?”

“Sorry about your laptop,” Kara says, as if it’s her fault Baymax broke yet another computer. Lena really needs to stick to her no-computers-in-the-nursery rule.

“It’s alright.” Lena waves her off, dutifully working away at the code from her tablet. “I’ll just get another one.”

“Next time I’ll stand between the two of you. That way I can better stop his renegade flying arms.”

Lena's gaze snaps to where Kara sits, finishing off the last of their fries (Lena’s fries, really. But they always share). “Next time? You still want to help after that disaster?”

“Of course,” Kara says earnestly. Then her face screws up. “But do you think we could make him look a little friendlier? A bit rounder? You know. Friend-shaped?”

Lena snickers. “Friend-shaped?”

“Yeah. Friend-shaped.”

Lena laughs lightly, and start typing again. “I think I can make that work.”

Wow. That got away from me

So this is how Kara ends up being the one to test Baymax. It's also part of what Baymax shows to Lena after telling her "Kara is here."

This scene (as in the video, not the ficlet) would serve as an emotional low point, if you couldn't tell. And it would be the moment where Lena decides she's going to let the Superfriends use Baymax to save Kara (instead of his actual purpose which is, you know, healthcare)