#and then the entire through line made me want to vomit

[blackquill-inchains]

forever thinking about how good turnabout big top couldve been if the plot didnt hinge on three grown men wanting to marry a child

mentally rewriting it in my brain forever to remove that shit

ill make my own circus murder trial! with blackjack! and hookers!

[yanderenightmare]

Geto Suguru

TW: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, condescension and patronization

fem reader

Thinking about the utter subjugation of being one of the prettier curses Suguru has made into a silly marble and swallowed…

By the time he spits you back out again, you feel his rule on you like a set of chains. It's awfully crippling. You know you'd wanted to fight back only a minute ago, but none of that remains now—swapped with the sole will to obey. It’s as if he’s stuffed everything with cotton—reduced you to a puppet on his strings, tugged this and that way on his command, summoned from within the prison of his stomach whenever he has use of you.

He keeps you by his side when he’s bored of waiting for templegoers. You’re not a very strong curse, not one he can use to attain his goals of world annihilation in any case, but you serve as entertainment, so you’re not entirely useless either...

It’s beyond humiliating for you, though, no doubt. Being kept on his lap like a pet. No clothes with no means to run away or stop him.

“Most every curse has an unpleasant taste,” he states against the shell of your ear, keeping you snug against his chest, naked and only partly draped in his shared monk’s robes. “Some or other secretion of the human body—shit, piss, vomit, blood, sweat, tears, spit…” he lists leisurely, one after the other, while tracing his finger up and down along the cursed markings lining your skin, a pretty little winged heart symbol on your lower belly, right atop your womb. “You know what you tasted like?”

You shake your head pitifully with a bite of your lower lip. You wish he wouldn’t touch you there—it’s so sensitive you can’t keep from quivering.

“Come on, humor me,” he purrs lowly, snuggling his chin into your neck, watching how you shake with amused slim eyes. “I’ll even give you a hint.”

His humming makes your head feel dizzy. You want to swat his hand away, but nothing in your body obeys you anymore. It’s all kept neatly under his thumb.

His breath licks your ear along with a flick of his tongue, then a soft snicker. “It was sweet.”

You feel sticky all over—overheating—breathing in short as sweat pills upon your brow. You whine, twisting some on his lap—shifting for comfort—finding some as the bulge beneath takes place against your naked sex. You immediately roll your hips to chase the friction it provides.

“Oh? Do you need another hint?”

His fingers glide lower, past the pink tattoo, and onto the fluttering mess beneath it. Two of them ride through your puffy and glossy wet folds, making you curl against his chest—head resting back upon his shoulder while spreading your thighs wider—craving it with every simmering nerve of your loins—needing more and never wanting it to end.

“That’s it,” he praises, but the touch disappears, much to your devastation, but quickly reappears within your mouth as he sticks both digits past your lips and presses down upon the soaked bed of your tongue.

He chuckles like he so often does, softly with mockery, only a bit cruel but equally nursing.

“It’s a nice flavor. Not very curse-like.” His lips skim your cheek as he wipes his fingers inside the warmth of your mouth—making you lick them clean for him. Pulling them out, he angles your face toward his, ghosting your wetted lips with his, pulled in a smirk. “It’s almost like you want to be eaten.”

♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific accent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to learn. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town ain't big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

[bad268]

heyyyyy can i request kimi antonelli and a reader who is sick and has to go to the doctor/hospital? idk if this is too specific or too much to add but could im rlly scared of needles and i feel like he'd be rlly cute and comforting so could reader be scared of needles?

Please Don't Make Me (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Sick! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (as someone who just had to stay in the hospital for 5 days, I relate. Anyway, ily <3)

Warnings: food poisoning (vomiting, weakness, fever), needles

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1486

Summary: Kimi's s/o has been sick recently, so Kimi decided the urgent care is the place to go.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“Do I have to go?” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you leaned away from the car window that you had been resting against for the entire drive as Kimi pulled up toward the entrance to the urgent care. After the first week straight of your fever, painful stomach cramps, and not being able to keep food down, Kimi was already concerned, but then you passed out. He knew at that point you needed to see someone, so partially against your will, he drove you to the urgent care. You were already out of it and usually, you two would go for drives at night, so you didn’t think anything of it when he helped you into the car. Then, he pulled up to the urgent care, and you were willing to do anything besides going in there.

Kimi didn’t answer straight away as he pulled into a parking spot, turned off the car, and leaned over to press his hand against your forehead. You leaned into his head when he moved it down from your forehead to hold your cheek. “You still have a fever, you passed out just before we left, and you have not stopped vomiting in a week. This isn’t normal, amour (love). I just want to make sure you’re okay. Please? I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“You know I hate hospitals and doctors,” You whined, but cut yourself short with a groan as your stomach started hurting again. You doubled over as much as you could in the car, and Kimi climbed out, ran around to your side of the vehicle, and opened the door to help you out. “No, I’m fine, Kimi. Can we please go home?”

“We can go home after you see someone here,” Kimi negotiated, grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the seat. You stood in front of him weakly as your knees buckled, and Kimi had to hold all of your weight. “I’ll get you anything you want on the way home. Just please, let me take you to see someone. You should be able to stand, and it hurts me to see you so sick.”

“Fine, but I want gelato and the special pizza. Both or no deal,” You countered with a pout as you leaned into his body more, craving the heat. He just sighed before moving to close your door and lock the car. Then, he started helping you walk to the front of the building, but you only made it a couple of steps as your feet kept dragging. It wasn’t because you were dragging them; it was because your limbs felt too heavy for you to lift them, so Kimi lifted you to carry you the rest of the way.

He set you down in one of the waiting room chairs while he filled out some paperwork on your behalf. He wrapped up quickly before walking and taking a seat next to you. It didn’t take long for you to go back, again with Kimi carrying you into the room. He set you carefully on the bed as one of the nurses immediately began taking your blood pressure.

“Based on the initial answers, we’re also going to set you up with an IV,” she explained as she pulled out a needle to get the line in.

Your scared gaze immediately shifted to Kimi, who had taken a seat off to the side, out of the way. He met your eyes before moving to sit on the edge of your bed and grab your free hand. He ran his fingers through your hair as he whispered in your ear.

“They’re just trying to get you hydrated,” He comforted. “Squeeze my hand as much as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I don’t want to even have a needle in my arm,” You tried to object, attempting to pull your arm away from the nurse. You could feel your heart rate speed up as tears filled your eyes and your breathing became unsteady. “I don’t want it. Please don’t make me, Kimi, please.”

“Is there any way we can hold off for a little?” Kimi asked the nurse. It broke him that you were hurting and he couldn't make it better. Plus, he knows the IV would make you feel better since you haven't been able to keep anything down and you have been so dehydrated. He also knows he needs to pick his battles. There was no use in trying to argue right now. He just got you to agree to come in the first place. He needed to take the small win before convincing you about the IV. “Maybe do some tests first?”

“We can do that,” The nurse agreed as she set the needles down, causing you to let out a huge breath as your breathing and heart rate returned to semi-normal. “Can you explain the symptoms you have been having?”

“I’ve had a fever, been throwing up everything, stomach cramps, and I’ve just been really tired,” You explained before dragging out as you couldn’t remember anything else.

“You’ve also been pretty weak recently. Like you couldn’t stand on your own outside. It’s been going on for a little over a week and a half now that we know of,” Kimi assisted. “I also feel like your brain has been foggy for the same amount of time.”

“That could be a side effect of the lack of nutrition,” The nurse comforted. “Was there anything you did differently before this all started?”

“I feel like we went out to dinner with the team,” You guessed, looking to Kimi for confirmation. “We were in Brackley for some testing, and I think we went out to a seafood place.”

“Did you have raw seafood or was it cooked?”

“I think you had sushi and I had teriyaki chicken,” Kimi answered.

“Yeah, I had a couple of sushi rolls,” You replied excitedly since this was a rare moment of clarity. “I remember you said you’d rather eat your protein cooked, and I thought it was funny.”

“Well, I think I know what this is then” The nurse chuckled along with you, causing you both to look at her expectedly. “Raw seafood makes for a higher chance of food poisoning. All of your symptoms alight and the timeline fits. The only thing we can recommend is liquids to keep you hydrated and when you feel up to it, eat some bland foods. I’d suggest bananas, rice, applesauce, or toast when you get to that point. Seeing how dehydrated you are now, I’d like to put you on an IV line and maybe give you two bags of fluid before sending you home.”

Your eyes snapped to Kimi as he was nodding at the nurse before he looked down at you, and moved his hand to hold your face to stay looking at him. His hand rested on your cheek as his fingers gently caressed against your cheekbones. This also served as a block, so no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t see the nurse or the needle.

“So no more raw sushi, right?” Kimi teased you as he tried to take your mind away from the needle.

“No more raw sushi,” You replied sadly. 

“Don’t tell Lando anything,” Kimi joked as he briefly glanced at the nurse who was getting ready to put the needle in. “He’ll say ‘I told you so’ or something.”

“Lando is a big baby,” You chuckled lightly. “Food poisoning isn’t going to stop me from eating sushi forever. Just a few months or something.”

“Is that so?” Kimi gasped as you went on.

“Sushi is life, Kimi,” You deadpanned. “A little food poisoning isn’t going to stop my love.”

“And look at that! You didn’t even flinch!” The nurse cheered as she took off her gloves and that’s when you looked over. The needle was already in and the IV was already dripping. You had already started to feel a little bit of the effects kicking in. Were you really that dehydrated? “I’ll come back in a couple of hours to make sure you are getting hydrated, but feel free to get comfortable and call me if you need anything.”

“There’s no way I missed that,” Your jaw was dropped as you stared at the needle embedded in your arm. “I didn’t even feel it, but I do now.”

“That’s because you’re staring at it,” Kimi chuckled lightly. He stood up, going to grab a cloth and wet it with cold water before bringing it back and laying it across the back of your neck. You sighed in relief as you practically melted into the bed. “That should help you feel less hot. Try to take a nap if you can. I’ll be here when you wake up, amour (love).”

He placed one last kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️ Seventh Course: Picture perfect revenge, the definition of the burnt dessert that is brewing inside your unhinged mind. Well, he deserves it though. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Jealousy, Jealousy

wc: 816

genre & warnings: angst, non-idol au, cheating, hints of insecurity, reader drinking wine, cursing, lovers to exes, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You scroll through your phone, sipping on your red wine and laughing to yourself. Giggling like a maniac because the ridiculousness of the situation is truly astounding.

It was a magnificent occasion, one that would normally make people cry but not you.

No, you are built differently.

The discovery that you dug made you so happy you think you're about to burst in excitement.

Because finally, fucking finally! Freedom is nigh and clean air will finally clear your black lungs.

You gaze at the clock, the man that you are waiting for will be home soon, and you are so fucking ready for a confrontation.

Soon enough, your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, jumping a little when he sees your figure in the shadows, indifferently sitting there with a menacing expression.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he frowned when you replied with a scoff, slowly walking in your direction.

The entire living room is dark, the only source of light is the one from the hallway near your bedroom. It gives an ominous vibe in the atmosphere, exactly what you want to exude.

"Y/N, seriously, I don't have time for this. I j-"

You rolled your eyes at his audacity, shoving your phone in his face so he can gawk at the evidence of his betrayal.

He is nothing but a mere asshole in the entirety of this relationship, so thank the heavens for giving you a reason to leave.

Ever since he entered your life, his presence always gave you the sinking feeling of insecurity.

Paranoia at its finest, you could say.

It was all good at first. You can even say with confidence that he was the perfect boyfriend. He makes you feel like you're on top of the world, the only girl that he loves, the happiest person on earth.

But who knows what will happen, right?

His sublime image is merely a performance for you to enjoy and hate later on, especially when you start seeing the signs.

Going home to you smelling like a girl's perfume. Lipstick stain on the collar of his polo shirt. Being secretive on whatever is in his phone.

"Must be your imagination, baby."

"Oh this? This is nothing. I'll wash it later."

"Listen, privacy is also an important aspect of a relationship."

Fuck that privacy. You merely wanted to play games on his phone because waiting in line in his favorite restaurant bore you to death. Must he be so stingy?

Stingy because the shit excuse of a man was hiding something.

You have been tolerating his bland show for a while now, might as well give him a tip for giving you entertainment despite it not being worth your time.

"Tell me I'm crazy now." you smirk, victorious in the battle where you have been wounded far too many times to the point that you can't even bear to look in the mirror without wanting to vomit.

You've had enough comparing yourself to the girls that he hangs out with.

Girls that are way skinnier, comfortable in showing too much skin, wear make up like it's an extension of their body.

Then you saw this very suspicious lady that seemed to be a bit closer to your boyfriend than the others.

You can't help but be jealous of her pretty face, lavish lifestyle, and it seems like her friends love her so much.

But hey, you may be a tad bit insecure but you ain't a raging loser, you are ready to let your inner sherlock holmes out and prove a point.

"What was it again? You are not cheating and it's just all in my head?" here you are, showing him the proof of your hard work and catching him red handed.

Did he really think that you won't see him and that girl making-out in a photo that was posted by his friend a week ago.

No matter how pixelated it was or even if your eyesight is bad, you will definitely see it.

"Y/N, that is not what you think." he tried to explain, and you do not understand the reason for his panic as you confidently push him out of the flat.

"Wooyoung, I've seen, heard and smelled enough. I think it's time for you to shut the fuck up." you give him a fake smile, finally giving him a harsh strike on his chest that got him stumbling in the front of the apartment.

"Please, hear me out." he begs but no, your heart is not made out of cotton to listen to him.

Whatever befalls him, he deserves it.

"Go spend the night with your bitch and come back here tomorrow to gather your belongings while I'm at work. Goodbye."

You shut the door in his face, not paying attention to his knocks and pleas.

Finally, some peace and quiet in your mind, heart and soul.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

[icallhimjoey]

More!!! More!!!! More bookstore!joe! MORE!!!!!!!!!! we've seen his erratic behaviour when he visits the store after not having been able to come in for a while, but what about the visit before he knows he's not going to be able to come in for a while?

omg im so here for the bookstore!joe requests, but the "i already miss you even though youre still here" somehow turned into whatever this is... idk why i went where i went, my apologies, and tw for vomit Wordcount: 3K

---

Lost Moments To Keep

You hadn't stopped staring at Joe with the biggest eyes. You seemed confused and weirdly mesmerised. Your eyes tunneled a little, vision darker around the edges.

"That's Joe." Anne just said, and then your eyes moved to give her the same wild look.

"And I'm Anne. We like me, a lot. We don't like Joe. You've got temporary loss of normal brain function, look, Google says." Anne held her phone to your face, too close for anything to register.

"You're not helping, Anne." Joe scolded through clenched teeth.

"Wha–"

Joe was on the phone to someone, and... you knew who that was. You knew who that was. What the fuck. What was Joe Quinn doing in your bookstore?

And why were you on the floor, exactly? Your left elbow hurt, but the back of your head much worse.

"Yea, she's awake. She hasn't lost consciousness at all." Joe said to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Confused, though. Brain's all scrambled."

"Do you feel dizzy? Google says you might feel dizzy."

"I... what day is it?"

"Oh my God, she's asking what day it is." Anne said, turning to Joe like she was blaming him for what you'd asked. In Anne's terms, she was panicking. Anyone who didn't know her, though, would think she was being exceptionally calm given she'd just witnessed her boss lift a box of books that tipped her over backwards.

Your head hurt.

And you did feel dizzy. And nauseous too, a little.

It made sense that you had fallen, but it was strange to not remember and to have two strangers fret over you in your own business.

Your eyes darted from the worried face of famous actor Joe Quinn who was stood by your feet, to the wildly uninterested face of a younger girl who sat next to you with her legs crossed as she scrolled on her phone.

"Any vision disturbance? Are you more sensitive to light than you'd usually be, do you think?" Anne asked, seemingly going down a list she'd found online.

"Okay, thanks. We'll make sure she doesn't move until you get here." Joe looked at you as he said goodbye and hung up. That looked like your phone.

"Her mum's on her way."

Why was he using your phone?

"Any mental fogginess?" Anne continued, ignoring Joe and additionally ignoring you, entirely unfussed that you weren't answering any of her questions.

"Hey," Joe softly said, catching your attention as he stepped closer and leant an elbow on the counter as he bent down a little. He smiled warmly at you when he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Joe Quinn.

Joseph Quinn.

What was he doing in your bookstore?

And who the fuck was Anne?

Your eyes moved from one to the other until you saw black spots and the pain behind your eyes grew. Your ears were ringing when you softly said, "I'm... I'm gonna throw up."

Joe almost hadn't gone in today. He almost hadn't, because he didn't really have any time to waste. But, Jesus, he was glad he was there.

God, imagine if he hadn't been.

When Joe had woken up that morning, he thought he was likely going actually insane. He was flying out for work the next day, and instead of preparing, of packing, of seeing family and friends before he'd be off for a while - instead of all that, he showed up on the bookstore's doorstep at 10 am sharp. Right when Anne unlocked and opened the door. Just because that was where he wanted to be. He kind of already missed the store, even though he was right there.

Anticipatory nostalgia; Joe could feel it in his bones.

Instead of stepping aside and letting him in, she gave him a deadpan tired stare and waited for him to take the A-frame from her hands to put outside on the pavement.

Joe happily helped out. Said, "Good morning, sunshine!" all chipper and laughed when Anne looked like she had to try really hard not to vomit.

He'd called a good morning into the store, got a faint "Morning!" in reply from the backroom where you were making yourself a coffee, and found his ledge... empty.

Anne saw him look at the spot where he usually left the books that he was reading. You'd granted him that small little surface area of the store so you wouldn't have to keep putting his books back on the shelves, and so Joe wouldn't have to go looking for those same books again the next time he'd come in. A win win little ledge of excuses for Joe to return to your store. A real privilege, Joe thought.

Except he'd left books there.

He knew he did.

Where had they gone?

"I tidied." Anne said unsentimentally and challengingly looked at Joe over her mug as she took a sip of hot coffee.

She loved being a little shit and inconveniencing Joe wherever and whenever she could. Tidying the store was part of her job, and Joe knew if he was to complain, she'd have the upper hand, because what was he even really doing? The store wasn't a library, no matter how much he had starting treating it like one.

So instead, Joe used her inconvenient power move as an excuse to take his time to browse the whole store and took care to be in the exact wrong spot at the exact wrong time.

You secretly smiled every time you heard Anne sigh with frustration and heard her mutter, "Move!" under her breath before using a shoulder to push him aside. Every single time, Joe pretended he was totally oblivious. Would go, "Oh! Sorry! Was I in the way?" all innocently, but you could see how his mouth was fighting to keep his own smile hidden.

It took maybe forty minutes for Joe to have built up a little stack of books on the small sidetable next to your granddad's armchair in the window, and then Joe sat and read undisturbed for an hour and a half.

You loved it when Joe was in.

Just sat there.

Reading.

Absolutely engrossed in his own little world.

The faint feeling of envy was always overshadowed by the joy of being allowed to unashamedly stare at him from the counter, leant on both elbows.

You'd brought him a coffee after those 90 minutes of silent reading, and he'd given you a quick wink and a smile as a thank you.

Customers filtered in and out, and you went from moments of it just being Joe in the store to having eight people needing your attention simultaneously. It was both busy and not, and the switches in energy had left you in a weird spot mentally.

You hadn't realised you'd fully skipped lunch.

You'd seen Joe dart out for some pastries, and you'd ordered Anne to get her ass into the back to go and eat something, but you never followed up on your "I'll take my lunch after."

It was why, in a moment of quiet, you'd picked up a box of books from behind the counter that had sort of been in the way the whole morning, you been unsuccessfull.

Maybe you'd gotten up too fast.

Or maybe the box was just too heavy.

The entire thing had taken you down quicker than you'd been able to get it off the floor. It didn't help that the box was open. The reflex of your body became about making sure none of the books would tip out and hit you in the face, when the reflex should've been about cushioning your fall.

You shot no arms out.

You didn't drop the box.

You just... fell.

The weight of the box pushed the air straight from your lungs and left you gasping.

The back of your head had hit the wooden floorboards so hard, you immediately saw stars.

After impact, for a short moment, it was pin-drop silent. Anne froze, pausing for a moment, listening. She was waiting for you to go "I'm all right!", but that never came.

Joe was ripped from his book at the sound of the fall, but was confused. One moment you'd been there, and then now, you were gone.

When a soft wincing gasp was heard from where you were hidden form his view, he was on his feet in an instant, rounding the counter and finding you there on the floor, box of books heavy on your stomach, eyes completely glazed over as you rapidly blinked up at the ceiling in an attempt to erase the fuzzy bits in your vision.

"Oh my G– Anne!" Joe was quick to remove the box and the books that were tumbling out. "Breathe. Careful, don't move, just focus on breathing." Joe advised as he watched you struggle.

"What dropped?" Anne asked, getting closer now and trying to find the source of the whack.

"She did."

"I know she did, but what was that–"

"That was her." Joe tried to make eye-contact. "Hey, just breathe, all right? Are you hurt?"

The eye-contact failed, as did answering Joe's question.

You hadn't even properly heard him it felt like.

Anne and Joe shared a look, for a moment both unsure of what to do. Who was going to take the lead on this? Joe didn't work there, but Anne was a literal teenager.

Before they could even think of discussing a game plan, you incoherently asked through a constricted panicked voice if anyone had thought of the fire escape. They both turned to look at you, both faces frowning in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What was that?"

Joe and Anne spoke at the same time.

"I think I forgot. Are the bugs gone?" you winced as you moved a hand to where your head hurt, and Joe was quick in deciding he was going to have to be the one to call the shots on this. He'd clearly chosen to spend all day at the bookstore for a reason, so it seemed.

It took a little while for you to return to normal.

You babbled through some more disjointed chat whilst Joe carefully checked with his fingers if your head was bleeding. It wasn't, which was good. But you did wince in pain as he slowly felt around in your hair before you tried to sit up and take your shoes off.

Anne had to fight you back down onto the floor and sternly told you to relax whilst Joe slid his folded jacket underneath your head.

When your consciousness returned into the room, you were met by a girl sat by your side who was scrolling through concussion symptoms, and a guy stood up by your feet, talking to someone on the phone.

"What's going on?" You'd asked, and Anne had just casually said, "You fell."

Joe'd called your mum on your phone. Anne knew the code. Joe told himself he'd give her a stern talk about normal-people things like privacy later. Priorities lied elsewhere right now.

And then you'd thrown up into the box of books that had taken you down earlier.

Served it right, Joe thought.

Joe'd held your hair through it, and kept brushing back little pieces that kept falling into your face. His touches were so tender and gentle but they still hurt, and you were absolutely mortified. So fucking embarrassed. There was a fucking celebrity in the store and you were vomming into a box of books that, halfway through, got swapped for an empty bucket.

It smelled awful, and it probably was the most unattractive thing in the world.

You felt like the most unattractive thing in the world.

"Sorry you had to see that." you croaked when Anne handed you a glass of water to rinse your mouth.

"We think you're concussed."

Somehow, that made perfect sense.

"You took quite the tumble. The back of your head must be hurting."

You moved to sit with your back against a cupboard door, careful to not lean your head back too far, and Joe decided to stay put next to you. Keep an eye on you. Hold your hair back in case you weren't quite done throwing up yet.

Meanwhile, Anne had moved into the backroom and did her best in trying to save whatever books she could from where you'd thrown up over them.

"Do you have any pain anywhere else?"

You paused a second to focus on the feelings inside of your body, and then moved an arm to touch the opposite elbow.

"Your elbow? Are you bleeding?" Joe used a soft hand to move your arm so he could have a look. "Does it hurt a lot?" No broken skin. Joe hoped that maybe the blow he'd heard had been your elbow, and not your actual skull.

"Stop asking her a million questions!" Anne shouted from the back, like she hadn't been doing the exact same thing before.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?" Joe's voice remained soft and warm for you. All kind and gentle.

For a moment, you just looked at him.

"Hi," he smiled, and he saw how you were trying to puzzle the situation together. "I'm Joe."

"I know who you are."

"Oh, that's great!" Joe exclaimed.

"Were you... did you happen to just be in here to buy books, or..."

Oh.

Not so great.

You knew who he was, but you didn't know who he was.

"Um, no, not really. I actually come in here a lot. I um... you let me hog one of the armchairs where I read books."

"You do?"

"Yea, it's awfully rude of me." Joe smiled. "But I'm lucky. You're very cool about it."

Joe could feel his chest swell at the faintest hint of a smile coming from you.

"He's your boyfriend." Anne bluntly interrupted as she stepped back into the storefront, and before you could even begin to process that wild bit of information, she added, "But not really. The two of you are... you're really weird about it."

It sounded like a weird joke, and you looked between the both of them to figure out what the punchline was, because you didn't get it.

Joe just smiled when you looked at him.

"She hates it."

"I do." Anne confirmed, walking across the store to move the sign on the door to 'closed'. Your mum was going to come by and pick you up to get your head checked and there was no way Anne wasn't going to go with.

Joe craned his head to watch Anne as she went to fetch the A-frame out front and then leant close and whispered, "We kind of like that she hates it."

That made you smile into your lap.

"Have you um..." you started, suddenly frowning. "Do you have a plaster for me?"

Joe's concern immediately grew again. He wasn't quite back where he was twenty minutes ago, when you'd laid right where he was sitting now, unable to catch your breath properly, but his eyes bulged like he was just as worried anyway.

"Why? Are you bleeding? Where?"

"I've not finished my homework."

"You've not..." Joe tried to make sense of something nonsensical before he realised he'd lost you again.

Joe wondered if he could let someone know he wasn't going to be able to leave the city tomorrow. Let alone the fucking country. The prospect of leaving you like this for a few weeks and having to actually do a job seemed impossible.

How was he not going to be thinking about you all the time?

To be fair, his life was already like that, a little.

But especially now; after all this, no one could expect him to not constantly worry if you were all right, could they?

"I don't think I've got any plasters for you, sorry."

"Oh," you seemed disappointed, but only for a second. "You bought Blindness from me."

There you were. Back again. God, he really did already miss you, even though you were right there.

"I did."

"You hadn't... you'd not read it, but you'd seen the film."

"I had."

"I remember."

"Read it in one day."

You'd likely be fine.

People got concussions all the time, didn't they?

"Sorry, I'm all over the place."

"You're not actually," Joe smiled. "You're right here."

Joe was going to leave the country tomorrow, and you'd stay with your mum until you'd be one hundred per cent again. You would keep the store closed, so there was no use in him hanging around anyway. And then, when you'd be all better, he'd pop back in on a random Tuesday morning without any warning, and then he could tell you all about today. You'd likely not remember a thing of it, all of it a lost moment to you, but one that he'd get to keep. Get to cherish. Get to share with you later.

"My head hurts..." you suddenly said like you'd only just realised it.

"Yea, you fell." Joe could go through this loop again, he didn't mind.

"I did?"

"Hmm, we think you're concussed. Your mum is coming to pick you up, have you checked out by a doctor to double check and make sure you're okay."

"We?"

Joe saw how you went to reach for the back of your head again, but before your fingers could disappear into your hair, the bell above the door chimed and Anne said, "No sign of her yet."

"That's Anne." Joe calmly explained, and then reached to grab hold of your hand, protecting you from touching your painful bits again. He'd make sure to hold it until your mum arrived.

Joe saw your eyes grow wide as you recognised him again, and smiled.

"And I'm Joe."

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[scuttlingcrab]

A Hellish Dealer

Inspired by the Merchant Raphael that could've been, but now only exists in our imaginations. RIP. Gone but not forgotten. Thank you @firlionemoontav for the prompt idea and letting me know that we were robbed of Merchant Raphael!

Summary: Raphael isn't only a saviour, but a proficient salesman. After coming to Tav’s rescue, again, he offers the little mouse an item, straight from his Devilish line of goods, that he hopes will aid her in the fights ahead.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via devils-little-mouse)

Tav gasped for air, clutching at her chest. Her temples pulsed, her skull vibrating along with each thumping heartbeat. Her throat burned as she inhaled, like she had swallowed a bucket full of coal. It made her want to vomit, a cold sweat dripping from her forehead. Tav shivered, struggling to sit up. She eventually found the strength to hug her knees in a sad attempt to warm herself.

Without warning, memories flashed before her eyes. Just moments ago, she had been falling, her body plunging into something sharp. Pain jetted through her chest, a searing sensation stemming from the pits of her soul. Her companions' screams echoed in the recesses of her mind, their pleas for help, cries of agony had blended into one… until there was only quiet, her entire world consumed by nothing but shadows. 

Tav blinked, her eyes caked with dirt. She rubbed away the grime, her mind scrambling, attempting to put the millions of shattered pieces of this reality back together. She loosened the laces of her tunic, hoping that would give her some more room to breathe. Her hands stopped abruptly, running over a massive tear in the middle of her chest. She looked down, eyes widening at the discovery that her entire tunic was covered in dried blood. She instantly reached for her back, feeling an identical rip between her shoulder blades.

Tav’s chest tightened, spots of black dotting across her vision. 

Breathe, Tav. Breathe. 

She felt the floor with her fingertips. Stones. It was damp, slippery. 

She’s still here. Breathe. That’s it. 

She turned her head, attempting to look around, to search for her companions… but her vision was hazy, the specks of black refusing to leave her alone. 

Tav’s nose itched and she suppressed a cough, tears forming from the corner of her eyes as the scent of sulphur suddenly assaulted her senses.  

A large black shadow came into view, looming above her ominously. She blinked again and the area around her slowly came into focus, the shapeless being forming a clearer silhouette… and then a face. Their features morphed into something familiar. Big dark eyes stared down at her, the irises briefly flickering orange, like tiny flames. They were tall, their hair short and brown… 

Wait a damned second. 

“Raphael?” Tav whispered, confusion contorting her face.

Raphael smiled wide, bearing his teeth. He wore the same shit eating grin from when they first met on that bridge, when this entire fiasco began.

“It seems you’re not very perceptive after all, despite my countless warnings.” 

“Your… W-what?” Tav coughed, blood splattering on her palms. She immediately wiped it away on her trousers, growing more disgusted with herself. 

“The infernal markings, scattered throughout this Mausoleum. So simple I had assumed even a half-wit such as yourself could’ve spotted them.” 

Tav swallowed, another lump forming in her throat. Now that Raphael mentioned it, there were a bunch of weird symbols littered throughout the doorways of that stupid fucking Mausoleum, and a few of those scribbles suspiciously resembled arrows. She had shrugged them off, thinking it was some kind of joke or just someone’s sad attempt at artwork. Not actual warning signs from the Devil himself… pointing in the right bloody direction this entire time. They had been lost for hours, going back and forth one twisted hallway after another.

Well, Karlach was right… and Tav was a fucking idiot. 

Tav stood abruptly, hoping to cover up her festering embarrassment. As soon as she rose, the room rotated, faster and faster like she was caught in the middle of a windstorm. The floor came up to meet her in a blur and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for another explosive impact. She instead felt a sharp tug on her arm as her body was yanked to one side, promptly followed by a pleasant embrace. Tav leaned into the hold, enjoying the stillness and melting against the comforting heat radiating from… 

She opened her eyes, only to find herself snuggled in Raphael’s arms, her head resting against his chest. She held her breath as she glanced up at him. He winked in response and Tav blushed, her cheeks catching fire almost immediately. That damned face, that damned Devil… she never thought his smile could get any more condescending.

Tav ripped herself away from Raphael, wobbling as she tried to keep herself upright without his support, but it only got worse. 

“Oh Gods, I’m going to be sic–” 

The sound of a snap ricocheted throughout the chamber walls, settling her stomach and the spinning room simultaneously. 

“The little mouse, ever so hasty to escape the hands that saved it. You nearly soiled my favourite pair of boots. I will have you know, these are quite expensive.”

Tav held her hands out wide to keep her balance, shaking away any lingering bouts of nausea. 

“My f-friends… what have you don…”

“Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Besides, I’d like a few more minutes alone with you.” Raphael paused, his eyes travelling up Tav’s body as if he was about to devour her for supper. “And please wipe that bewildered look off your face. Yes, that boney little cretin that lingers at your camp isn’t the only one who can bring mortals back from the dead. Now sit still, else you’ll ruin my handiwork.” 

There was another snap and Tav was transported away from the Mausoleum in a rush of sparks that tickled her skin. She materialised on a spacious balcony, her body gently fitting into a plush leather chair. The material stuck to her exposed skin like glue as she fidgeted. Tav inhaled sharply at the view, blood-red skies and an otherwise barren wasteland overtaking her vision. The air was thicker here, weighing on her shoulders like a heavy piece of armour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Tav whispered, just as a dark Hellish cloud appeared on the horizon, growing more ferocious as it crept closer. 

Raphael sat in front of her, legs crossed and cradling a silver goblet. His eyes glimmered against the fiery skies of Avernus as he continued to gaze at her. Out of fondness or hunger? Tav had no fucking clue anymore.

A small table was placed between them, lined with a tray of refreshments.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’d like to offer you some commodities for the fight ahead.”

“Hold on. Since when are you , the almighty Raphael, scary Devil-man who threatens foolish mortals, a vendor?” Tav leaned back, laughing hysterically. She watched as Raphael’s smile faded, a menacing scowl replacing any hint of amusement that had previously occupied his face. “Gods, I must’ve really, I mean really, hit my head back there.”

Raphael’s neck twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he remained calm, taking a sip from the goblet. 

“There is a whole world of services you’ve yet to discover that only I can provide. I just so happen to have an entire line of goods that are simply too Devilish to keep all to myself.”

“Do you think I have any bloody gold left? I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be done with this never-ending bullshit! As if this damned tadpole wasn’t enough, you have to be creeping and crawling around every corner! I’ve ju–”

Raphael leapt towards Tav, erupting into his cambion form. Tav cried out in shock as the table burst into flames, the bottles of wine and various jars of food exploding. She winced, covering her face to protect herself from the flying shards of glass. Raphael crushed the goblet in his hand like it was nothing but cheap, flimsy material. Wine oozed from his fist like blood, the liquid sizzling as it touched his skin.

He leaned closer to Tav, pointing a claw at her face. 

“I would hold that wretched, ungrateful tongue if I were you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing but a sack of flesh rotting on the shores of the Chionthar.” 

“Raphael, I’m sorry.” Tav muttered, her words barely audible against the thunder from the approaching storm. 

“I cannot hear your pitiful squeaks, little mouse.”

“I’m sorry.” Tav said again, her voice shaking. “I-I w…” 

She hid her face in her hands before Raphael could see her weep. She felt humiliated. Actually worse, like she was a spoiled child having a temper tantrum. Ungrateful. 

Tav choked on her tears, her body trembling against each emotional wave that crashed against her, destroying what was left of her self-control. The sadness was suffocating, her exhaustion crippling. She was just so tired. Of everything. Everyone. Fed up with being bent and moulded like she was merely a piece of metal in a forge. It wasn’t only Raphael. No . But her companions, pulling her in twelve different directions all at once, each with their own personal vendettas. And that tadpole, swimming around her brain, digging deeper and deeper into her subconscious. The sleepless nights, tossing and turning from the voices in her head. 

It was too much. 

“Why did you bring me back?” Tav muttered eventually. 

There was a brief pause as thunder cracked through the air, a hot gust of wind blowing across her hands.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Raphael replied, softly. 

“I hope you make it quick then. So the next time I fall you can just leave me to die in peace.”

“Yes…” Raphael began, delicately peeling Tav’s fingers away from her face, lowering her shield. He placed his own hand on her cheek, the warmth from his palm drying the tears that fell. He held his hand there for what felt like an eternity, and in truth, Tav didn’t want him to let go. She tried to look away, but she was drawn into his gaze; those dark, deceitful eyes, slowly losing herself the more she stared into that welcoming abyss. 

“I think I’m satisfied.” Raphael continued, releasing Tav from his hold. “Consider that my first and only warning. Next time I won’t be so… generous.”

Raphael returned to his seat and Tav let out a sigh, pressing her fingers to her cheek where the remains of his touch still lingered. 

He clapped his hands twice and a massive wooden wardrobe appeared behind him. He twirled his wrist, opening the double doors and showcasing an endless expanse of weapons, armour, and potions. He swiped his hand and the thousands of artefacts flew past him at a rapid speed. He hummed thoughtfully until he raised an index finger and stopped the movement, staring at a large metallic staff in front of him. It floated patiently, the metal was smooth and twisted, almost like silver vines.

“That’ll do nicely…”

Raphael moved his index finger and the staff flew out of the wardrobe, hovering before Tav.

“Feast your eyes on this . It can detect creatures who might not want to be found, simply activate the barrier with an intermediate incantation and nothing can hide within its boundaries. I think it suits your strengths just enough to get this next job done.” 

The staff bounced in the air as it twirled, beckoning Tav to touch it. She reached towards the staff, but Raphael yanked it away with the flick of his wrist. 

“Tut, tut. I don’t just hand things out for free, not even to my most treasured customers. I can give you a discount, however.”

Tav opened her mouth in protest but Raphael raised his hand dramatically to silence her. 

“Those soul coins, I can hear them screaming from your person. A far more satisfactory payment for my services. I don’t stoop so low as to accept gold .” Raphael practically shuddered as the words left his lips.

Tav hesitated, her hand resting above her trousers.

“Come now, Karlach doesn’t need them. If you give her any more, she’ll likely explode before you reach Baldur’s Gate.”

“How did you… riiight .” Tav muttered, nodding to herself. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, yes, yes, I know.”

“Ah, has that tadpole riddled brain finally caught up?”

“Fine.”

Tav unclipped a leather pouch from her belt, digging her fingers inside it. She removed a soul coin and held it up to Raphael. 

“And for an additional soul coin I can throw in a few revivify scrolls, 4 for the price of 1. Seeing as you could barely walk the halls of the Mausoleum without falling into a trap meant for the undead. I simply don’t have enough time on my agenda to wait for you buffoons to drop like flies again. Which will undoubtedly happen, I can assure you. I might even bet you on it.”

Tav bit the side of her mouth, trying to keep herself from saying anything stupid to rile his temper a second time. She shook her head as she pulled another soul coin from the pouch. She placed both coins in her palm, extending it towards Raphael. He giddily accepted, snatching the Hellish currency in one showy movement. 

“Ta.”

Raphael inspected each soul coin carefully, rubbing his thumb over the jagged designs. He brought them to his ear, closing his eyes as he listened to music that Tav could not hear. He sighed with pleasure, nodding along to a silent melody. 

“Oh, how delicious. There is nothing that brings me more delight than the screams of doomed mortals. One of life’s simple pleasures.”

Raphael bounced the soul coins between his fingers, like he was trying to impress Tav with an amateur magic trick, until they vanished in a puff of smoke. The goods Tav purchased flew into her hands, nearly causing her to topple over in the chair.

“Well then, thank you for your business. I’ll be sure to keep my fingers crossed you can survive the next few hours. You know what’s at stake. Until we meet again.”

Before Tav could even utter her thanks, Raphael stood from his chair, gifting her with one of his flourishing bows. Her body was enveloped in another burst of sparks and just like that, she was swiftly returned to the Mausoleum. She unexpectedly found herself yearning for the stifling air of Avernus, her thoughts rushing back to Raphael. 

Tav stood in the same chamber, but she was no longer alone. Her companions were lying at her feet, just like the Devil had promised, groaning as they regained consciousness.  

“Gods, my head. That nearly ended us all…” Astarion whispered, jumping to his feet. 

“Yeah, what a fucking close call. Good job getting us out of that one, Tav,” Karlach added. She remained on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It would have been an undignified death.” Minthara said, rising to her knees as she released a healing spell. “And worst of all, my vengeance would have remained unquenched.”

Karlach laughed, using her elbows to lift herself up. 

“We’ll get that bastard Thorm soon enough, Minthara.”

Minthara huffed and the companions continued the idle chatter, their voices slowly fading from Tav’s focus.

Tav looked down at the metal staff in her hands, her grip tightening around it.

Right, she better not fuck this up. For all of their sakes.

[ninnosaurus]

the new professor

i just- i saw @khayalli well dressed donnie drawing and i just wanted to word vomit something that came to mind. I also wanted to practice writing short drabbles.

no beta, no editing, we die like men in here. look out for uh- spelling?

A murmur was buzzing in the lecture hall as you entered. Eyes scanning the room for a free seat that wasn't smack dab in the middle, you were not in the mood for "excuse me"s and "sorry"s and "just coming through"s. Finally, you settled on a seat on the far end of the hall.

Everyone seemed to be vibrating for some... reason you weren't sure about. You'd seen these people before, you've taken the class lots of times. You looked around before resorting to lean over to your right.

"Hey, why... is everyone so worked up? Do we have a test?"

"Hm? Oh, no. You haven't heard?"

You looked at your classmate, head most likely transforming into a question mark right then and there. You shook your head. "No... Heard what?"

"We're getting a new professor, today. Mrs. Larsson passed away in a car accident over the break."

Your entire being deflated like a tire. You liked Mrs. Larsson, you guys always exchanging both recipes and gossip. You made a mental note of sending a card to her family later this week.

Minutes passed. You leaned your cheek on one hand as the other was busy doodling. What broke you out of your zone was how the hall had suddenly gotten quiet. You looked up and saw the door was starting to open. Voices talking in a hushed tone. A chuckle. "Mhm"s. "Yeah"s.

Then he walked in. The door closing with a sssh and hiss at the end. You'd heard about the mutants. Four of them, apparently. Brothers. This must be one of them. He was... Tall. Broad shoulders covered in a knitted, royal purple sweater. Sleeves rolled, ending around the middle of his arms. Arms covered in scars, pinkbrown scars a stark contrast to the green hue that covered him. You tilted your head as you observed him move. Fluent, like water he moved. Long legs carrying him with style and grace. Like he was a human, and not at all bothered by the way people were whispering about him. He stopped by the desk in the front of you all. Leaning against it. Left hand supporting his weight as he sipped out of his mug. A golden watch sliding slightly down his arm. Coffee, probably. He looks like a coffee drinker. You thought to yourself.

Putting the mug down on the desk, he cleared his throat.

He smiled, like he'd been here for years and already knew all of you. "Good morning, class."

His voice, not too dark. If red wine could talk, it would have his voice. You couldn't explain it even if you tried. It just- made sense for you.

"I'm sorry you all have to meet me due to such unfortunate circumstances. I've been called in to... I don't like to use the word "replace", because I'm sure no one can replace Mrs. Larsson. I'm simply here to take over what would have been lost."

He walked to the whiteboard and picked up a marker, that too purple in color. It squeaked in the silence as he wrote. Perfect letters, in a perfect line.

"My name is Donatello Hamato. I'm not personally... big on being called Mr. Hamato, Donatello works just fine."

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, but fluff at the end, cussing, drinking, grinding, NOT PROOFRED, i don't think there's anything else but as always lmk if there is.

Note- the italics is a flashback, actually, Satoru's entire section is a flashback from pt 7.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: VFYVKD. Guys, I think this might be the last part to this series😭😭😔😔 This has been a journey, thank you so much for everyone who has read this far, I truly and deeply appreciate every single one of you❤️❤️ I don't want it to endddd, so lmk if you would like me to keep writing for this au bc I would LOOVE to.

(Requests open)

Satoru

He was beginning to feel like he was slipping. He hadn’t had a glass since the shot he took before Kaito came to spend the night with him. Although it was now night and hours since his son had left, he naively thought that he had overcome his addiction since he hadn’t felt the urge to drink the whole time he was with Kaito. 

Oh how wrong he was. He needed to get a drink and fast. He jumped into his car and began speeding to the nearest liquor store, only to find it with an eight-person line. He didn’t have the patience to wait that long and made his way to a bar. Any bar, honestly speaking, he had no idea where he even was. 

He quickly went over, ordered, and chugged five tequila shots consecutively. Once the alcohol finally kicked in, he finally began to feel like himself again. 

‘He is disgusting. What kind of pathetic, sorry excuse of a man can’t survive without drowning himself in alcohol? How was he supposed to win you back and be a father for Kaito in such a state?’ 

These were the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind as he ordered a glass of whiskey, this time much more relaxed, seated on his stool, staring lifelessly into the endless abyss. 

He was slowly sipping his drink when he felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders before slowly gliding down his arms. Because of his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to sense them approaching, however, he just chose to ignore, only seeming to amuse the stranger. He slowly turned his seat to face them. 

He was completely unamused when his eyes landed on a young woman clearly intent on getting into his pants. She evidently thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, therefore deserving a chance at him, but all he could think of was how ugly she looked in comparison to you. He just rolled his eyes, trying to go back to wallowing in self-pity. The lady just wouldn’t let up, turning around before she began grinding against him to the beat of the music. Foul, Satoru thought, feeling his patience run thin.

“Get away from me you fucking slut,” he hissed, venom lacing his words as he placed his hand on her waist, trying to push her away when next thing he knows, a palm is making contact with his cheek, landing a harsh slap across his face. It was only then that he finally sensed your cursed energy. He quickly turned to face you, heart plummeting when he saw tears streaming through your face. 

Shit, he can only imagine what this looked like to you. He tried to reach out to you but you just screamed at him and ran away from him. 

He began to panic. 

His heart was racing. 

The world around him was spinning and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a single inch. His vision was getting spotty and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to vomit. 

WHY! WHY HIM, WHY NOW! WHY COULDN’T HEJUST CONTROL HIMSELF AND STOP FUCKING DRINKING! He was absolutely torturing himself in his head as he spiraled. 

He finally mustered the strength to run after you, leaving the unnamed girl where she stood, utterly confused.

He ran as fast as his legs could take him but you were nowhere to be found. 

He leapt into his car and drove as fast as the vehicle could go. He was at Jujutsu tech in about five minutes but that was the longest five minutes of his entire life. He had to get to you. He needed to explain, he needed to make sure you know that it wasn't what it looked like.

Y/N

After crying your heart out on the sidewalk, you eventually made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. You texted Shoko and asked her if she could take care of Kaito for the rest of the night. You felt so guilty for staying away from him for two nights in a row but you just couldn’t bear to have him see you like this.

Just as you were about to close the dorm door behind you, you heard running and frantic breathing approach. You didn’t even bother trying to fight Gojo as he forced his way through the door you were trying to shut.

“Y/N p-please” he took a pause, slightly hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, “I pro- I promise it wasn’t what you looked like!” he tried to explain, clearly panicked. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s not what it looked like, Gojo.” you questioned, putting emphasis on how you said his name. It felt like you were continuously stabbing him with a jagged dagger and he felt his knees getting weak but he couldn’t let you go, not now.

“My love please! I swear on my life it wasn’t! I wasn’t trying to do anything with her fuck! I don’t even know her name!” “Then what was it Gojo! She was grinding on you and you were FUCKING ENJOYING IT, DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!” You yelled your throat raw.

“I was trying to get her away from me! Please, believe me, I promise,” He dropped on his knees, reaching for your hands with his own shaking ones. Tears began to trickle down his face as his breathing grew heavy.

A small part of you wanted to believe it, but you were struggling. Deep down, you were telling yourself that he was telling the truth. But that was a part of you you hadn’t seen since Gojo was sealed. You survived this long without listening to it, so why start now?

“Gojo… this is enough, let's get a divorce-”

“NO! NO! BABY PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE, MORE THAN BREATHING, MORE THAN MYSELF MORE THAN ANYTHING! DON’T LEAVE ME-”

“Gojo you were gone for years! I LIVED WITHOUT A HUSBAND FOR YEARS! And from what it looks like, you CLEARLY didn’t feel my or Kaito’s absence! It seems pretty obvious that you’ve moved on-”

“BUT I HAVEN’T! I HAVEN’T! I GO TO BED HOLDING A PICTURE OF YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I HAVE NEVER TAKEN OFF YOUR RING SINCE THE DAY I GOT BACK AND FOUND YOU GONE!” He cried, showing you your ring, which laid on his finger. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice it, but you just assumed that was due to how expensive it was. It would’ve been a waste to let it collect dust in a drawer.

“Y/N, you and our baby boy are the only fucking reason I wake up every day. You two are the light of my life and when I lost you. I was so distraught I even started drinking and you know better than anyone how much I hate that shit, but it’s the only thing that takes my mind off of everything!”

You were now crying too, touched by what he was saying. You could see in his eyes that he meant every word and it shook you to your core. 

You stayed anchored where you stood, sobbing now as Satoru got up off his knees and took you into his arms. Hugging you as tightly as he could without breaking your ribs.

You couldn't even move. You just stood there and cried with him, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired over the past couple of years wash away.

All that grief, suffering, and pain over the past few years was washing away in your tears.

You love him.

You had pushed down your feelings for him so deep that for a moment, you forgot they were even there. But you love him, and he you, and you knew that there was know way either of you could live without each other any longer.

You love him, and he loves you, and nothing was going to change that. 

Not now, not ever.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The End...?

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here, @starlightanyaaa

© gojos-fr-bae

[wintersoldiersoul]

Ease the Pain

My first post on this account!! I'm currently having the worst period ever and I wish I had Bucky by my side to help me.

Synopsis: Bucky helps you feel better on your period

Word count: 850

Warnings: one small mention of throwing up but it doesn't happen actively in the story

Bucky walked inside after a long day at the Avenger’s compound. He got through the long hours by dreaming about the moment he could go home to your shared apartment and wrap you into a hug. 

It was Friday, which meant date night. The fleeting weekend was the only time you and Bucky could really just soak up each other’s company with your busy schedules, unless he got called away on a mission, of course.

He expected to find you in your bedroom in front of the mirror blasting Taylor Swift while you got ready. But the apartment was silent when he entered.

“Y/N? Baby are you here?” he called out into oblivion. He opened the door to your bedroom slowly where he found you curled up in a ball under the blankets. Every light was off and the curtains were drawn shut. “Baby?” He sat down next to you on the bed, carefully placing a hand on your back. “You okay?”

You groaned, fighting the protests of your body as you slowly turned to face him. “Period,” was all you could muster.

“Oh baby…” After so long together, Bucky was all too familiar with the debilitating pain that your periods brought you. Some people were barely affected but you? Yours came with cramps that filled your entire body. Blinding pain that made you see spots. Migraines, vomiting, and a whole bunch of discomfort.

“I don’t think I can go out tonight. I’m sorry,” you whispered, the pain preventing you from being able to speak too loudly.

“Don’t even worry about it, okay? We can stay in and watch a movie or just lay here. Whatever you want, my love.” He tenderly kissed your forehead and you weakly mustered a smile. Thank god for this man. “Now, what do you need? How can I help? Did you take medicine? Do you have a heating pad?” 

His questions made you smile. He was so attentive whenever you weren’t feeling well. He knew your body better than you knew it yourself at this point, always firing off a laundry list of essentials that could ease your pain.

“Both,” you replied, bringing your legs further into your stomach in hopes that the pressure would relieve even the slightest bit of pain in your abdomen. “The heating pad isn’t really working well though. I’m in too much pain to go buy another one.” 

“I’m so sorry, my angel. Maybe I can help.” He lifted up your shirt and placed his metal hand on your stomach. You watched as he fiddled around with a small button on his shoulder until you felt a rush of warmth from his metal hand.

You nearly moaned at the feeling. “Since when can your arm do that?” 

Bucky smiled. “I may have asked Shuri if she could make some improvements. I figured this could be helpful for you when you’re on your period.”

The words practically brought tears to your eyes. “Buck, are you serious? You did this for me?”

“Darlin’ I would steal the sun out of the sky if you asked.” He began to gently apply pressure onto your stomach, knowing that it always helped your cramps. “Does that feel good?”

You nodded. “So good. Thank you.”

“You got all the curtains drawn. Is your head bothering you, my love?” He was so attentive. So in tune with you and your habits that he knew that complete darkness meant migraine. 

“Mhm. Started around 1. I left work early, I couldn’t see straight.”

He looked at you, blue eyes filled with worry. “Did you drive yourself home?” He continued you massage your stomach as he spoke.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. Know you had a busy day lined up.” 

Bucky sighed. “Darlin’ I don’t want you driving when you feel that way. I know the migraines affect your vision. It’s not safe.”

“But Buck-” 

“Shh,” he cut you off. “You’re never a bother. You’re my angel, the love of my life. And if something happened to you because you got it into your pretty little head that you’d be a burden to me, I’d never forgive myself, okay?”

You look up at him with big eyes, full of love. “Okay, Bucky.”

“Good.” He kisses your forehead again, making you feel warm inside. “Now what can I get you? You hungry?” 

You nuzzle your face into his neck, taking in the warmth and comfort of your soft, supersoldier boyfriend. “Pizza.” You mumbled into his skin.

“I’m on it, my love.” He picks up his phone and starts to order pizza. “Anything you want, don’t hesitate to ask. You know I’m here for you. I like taking care of you and I just hate seeing you in pain. So anything that will ease it even a little just tell me, my angel.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night cuddled together in bed watching movies. Whenever you need something, Bucky doesn’t hesitate to sprint out of bed to get you whatever you need. The pain might not have been gone, but the man by your side helped.

[ohtobeleah]

I cant imagine what was going through Jake’s head when Hollywood was dragged unconscious into a cell with a dead body and then he had to wait 20 agonizing minutes (of her laying face down and unconscious) for her to wake up

Bruises // Jake Seresin

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It took Jake a little while to take in his surroundings, his mind was foggy with black and gray spots as he sat back against the concrete wall in the cell he’d woken up in. 

The floor was just dirt, pure dirt and small rocks that crunched under your feet when you walked. Time was moving, but he had no idea of how fast or how slow—but the blood that trickled from the back of his head down into the collar of his flight suit gave him an indication of the seconds and minutes that passed. 

As Jake groaned and tried to get his hands out of the ties he’d been bound in, his eyes landed on the body slumped in the corner of the cell he boarded with. Immediately his mind ran to the worst possible scenario. 

“Y/n?” He frowned. “Fuck no no no—hey Holl—“ As Jake scrambled to his feet, kicking up dust as he did so, he realised soon enough the closer he got that it wasn’t you. “Oh thank fuck.” But then still remained an unanswered question: 

Where were you? 

Jake's mind was running wild with scenarios and situations that made him want to vomit. He couldn’t stop pacing, back and forth back and forth—leaving a distinct foot trail in the dirt the more he did so. 

But through the torture of trying to convince himself you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere, he thought back to the first time his heart beat a little faster inside his chest for you when he hurt your feelings. Back to the first time he knew he was gonna be in real trouble having you around. Back to the first time he’d started to pretend whenever he was alone that you were his all the damn time. Because you could never be his in real life. 

“Woah!” Coyote bellowed out as your dart hit the bullseye on the dart board. “Hey Hangman! Looks like you’ve got some competition over here!” 

It wasn’t uncommon for Hangman to completely ignore your existence outside of work. He’d say goodbye after your last flight of the day and wouldn’t say a peep till the next morning before pre-flight. 

“Ain’t no way—“ Jake replied as he sauntered over to access the situation with a beer in hand that was almost entirely empty. “You don’t confront me Y/l/n.” Jake snarled as he took one of the two remaining darts from your hand as you looked over your shoulder as he looked at you. “You’re not knocking my name off that leaderboard anytime soon.” Jake didn’t even look at the dartboard as he threw the dart. His emerald green eyes that looked like tiny cities in and of themselves with all the different shades never left yours. “So I’d give up now before your ego gets bruised.” 

What was uncommon was this, the flirting was uncommon. You’d been in North Island for just over a week and Jake Seresin hadn’t said a single word to you outside of work. He barely looked at you and when you did catch him he’d look away and look away fast. But he was feeling a little buzzed and you were in his line of sight. Maybe he’d finally gotten over being stuck with a WSO for the first time in his career. 

“Do you ever worry that one day someone’s gonna come along and be just a little bit better than you Hangman?” 

“Not enough to keep me awake at night.” He replied with a smile that lit up the entire Hard Deck. That cheeky grin, the signature Seresin smile. “But you never know, maybe if you keep practicing you’ll be able to bump Roosters outta third place.” 

It was then you made a bold move, you leaned in a little closer to Jake's ear and smirked wildly. Your lips ghosted his earlobe as you whispered in his ear something that made his blood race from one head to the other. 

“Do you stay awake at night preparing yourself to front the same facade the next morning?” You asked before you took your short, a bullseye. “That you don’t care about anyone or anything? Or is that really just the way you really are?” Jake felt your lips ghost his earlobe as his breath hitched in his throat. “Tone.” Was all you said before you moved away from Jake and left it at that. 

Jake stood there watching as you walked away. He didn’t know what he was doing but before he could stop himself from going back for more he was hot on your tail. Ready to be deliberately hurt again by the very woman who had him lying awake at night questioning everything he thought he knew about himself. Everything he thought he wanted. 

“And what makes you think I don’t care?” Jake asked as he found you at the bar waiting to be served. 

“Well you certainly don’t give a shit about me enough to talk to me outside of work until you're five beers deep and buzzed.” 

“That’s not true.” Jake frowned as he finished his beer and placed it on the counter. 

“Oh yeah?” You puffed your chest. “How’d I get my callsign then?” You knew you had him the second Jake didn’t answer. You saw his shoulders slump a little because the truth of the matter was he didn’t know. “Exactly.” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. “Hangman, the guy who leaves everybody hanging, doesn’t care enough to wonder how his own WSO got her callsign.” Jake needed this—he needed you to hate him so he couldn’t fall in love with you. “You know I get that you don’t want to work with me, but I didn’t choose you either pal.” 

His reputation had never been worse, so if Jake could eliminate the problem that remained of you potentially liking him for him it would be smooth sailing. 

“Do you think I’ll leave you hanging?” Jake asked as he watched Penny bring you your order. “If things go wrong?” 

“Well considering the fact you’ve been blatantly apparent that you couldn’t give less of a crap if you tried about wanting me around than yeah—yeah I guess I do worry.” 

“Got me all figured out, haven't you, hotshot.” 

“Hollywood—“ You corrected him as you shook your head in disbelief. You were a fucking goner weren’t you. “Exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“I’m sorry?” Jake faked a raised brow. 

“My callsign dingus.” You turned to stand from the barstool you’d been sitting at. “It’s Hollywood, not hotshot.” 

“I knew that.” Jake fronted, of course he knew and he knew exactly why you had that callsign too—but this was all the plan. You couldn’t like him for him. He needed you to hate him so that he couldn’t love you. It was delicate ground. “Yeah, yeah I knew that, Hollywood.” 

“Whatever.” You sighed, damn you actually looked pretty upset. “Just, go away Jake.” You turned and walked away into the ground and before Jake even knew it? His chest was just a little tighter. 

“Smooth one genius.” Bob chuckled as he came up beside Jake, having seen the entire thing unfold before his very eyes. “You pissed off your WSO? what, you gotta death wish or something?” 

The sound of a clunking door brought Jake back to reality as he raced over to the bars that kept him apart from you. You’d just been thrown into the dirt haphazardly. God Jake thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest at the sight of you. 

“Hollywood!” He tried to get your attention. “You okay?” He asked. “Hey Y/n? You alright? Open your eyes for me.” But nothing got your attention. 

So Jake sat, he stayed right there at the bars, watching the rise and fall of your chest with such a focus that sometimes he had to remind himself to breathe too. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. Not when this was all his fault to begin with. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~*

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell l @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[gblogg]

Phoenix felt it the moment he woke up—a strange unease in his gut that wasn’t quite the usual nerves. He groaned, rolling over in bed, clutching the sheets as his mind cycled through the day’s upcoming events. He had a proposal meeting today. A big one. As a graphic designer, these meetings were always a bit nerve-wracking, but Phoenix had prepped for this. He had everything lined up, his ideas fresh and bold. So why did he feel like absolute shit?

“Just nerves,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his face before dragging himself out of bed. “It’s all in your head, Phoenix.”

His stomach gurgled, a slight pressure building in his chest as he shuffled to the bathroom. He burped, a quiet, bubbling sound that caused him to wince. "Ugh, come on," he groaned, rubbing his chest, hoping it would settle. He brushed it off as another sign of stress—stress always did weird things to his stomach. He wasn’t about to let this ruin his day.

He'd dressed and downed his coffee with half-hearted enthusiasm when his phone buzzed on the counter. Nico’s name lit up the screen, bringing a small smile to his face.

"Morning, babe," Phoenix said, a little relief washing over him at the sound of his boyfriend's voice.

"Hey, my love. How’re you feeling about the meeting? Gonna knock ‘em dead, right?"

Phoenix let out a sigh, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, I guess. Just, y'know, nervous as hell."

"You've got this, baby. You're a damn genius, remember?"

Phoenix smiled despite himself. "Thanks, babe. I needed that."

Nico's laugh was soft and warm. "Go kick some ass, darling. Call me after, alright?"

“Yeah, I will. Love you.”

"Love you more."

Phoenix hung up, already feeling a little better. But no sooner had he grabbed his bag to leave, his phone rang again. His brother’s name flashed on the screen this time, and Phoenix rolled his eyes before answering.

"Daniel, if you’re calling to wish me luck, I’m hanging up."

Daniel chuckled. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Just wanted to remind you not to fuck it up."

“Yeah, thanks. Great pep talk.”

"Seriously, though, bro. You’ll crush it. Later."

Phoenix sighed again. “Yeah, later.”

***

By the time Phoenix arrived at the office, the discomfort in his gut had morphed into something more solid, more nauseating. His palms were sweating as he tried to shake it off. He’d been nervous before, sure, but never like this. Still, he had to push through.

He greeted his colleagues, exchanged some small talk, and took his place at the conference table, but the queasiness in his stomach was persistent, gnawing at him. By the time he sat down, it was all he could do to keep his head from swimming. He burped quietly, this one bringing a taste of bile with it. "Ugh... what the fuck?" he whispered, gripping the edge of the table as his stomach churned. It wasn’t just nerves anymore, and deep down, he knew it.

The nausea built and built until, without warning, it slammed into him like a wave.

"Oh shit," Phoenix muttered under his breath, standing abruptly and making a beeline for the bathroom.

His stomach turned violently, and the moment he made it into the stall, he retched. Hard. Vomit spilled out, a disgusting, acrid mess that burned his throat and left him gasping. He clung to the toilet bowl, shaking, bile still rising.

“Fuck... I’m actually sick," he whispered to himself, a sinking realisation settling in.

It took a while before the wave of sickness subsided, but it didn’t disappear completely. His stomach was still uneasy, still threatening. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rinsed his face, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, drawn.

But he couldn’t back out now.

Phoenix somehow made it through the meeting, plastering on a fake smile, nodding, and giving the presentation he’d worked so hard on. Every sentence felt like it was ripped out of him, and he fought down the urge to vomit the entire time. It was a fucking miracle he didn’t throw up on the table.

By the time he was done, his coworkers were congratulating him, telling him how impressive his pitch had been. He smiled weakly and muttered his thanks, but all he could think about was getting home.

The nausea grew worse on the drive, the motion of the car only making things harder. By the time Phoenix reached his apartment, he was pale, sweating, and barely holding it together. He dropped his bag just inside the door and rushed to the bathroom.

He barely made it. His knees hit the tile, but the vomit came before he could position himself over the toilet. It splattered onto the floor, the toilet rim, everywhere but where it was supposed to go.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Phoenix cried, choking as another wave hit. His stomach convulsed, emptying everything it had.

It was a mess. A disgusting, rancid mess. He hated it. He hated how helpless he felt. Tears welled up in his eyes as the retching continued. He hated this feeling more than anything—the feeling of losing control, of being vulnerable, of being so fucking sick.

Phoenix slumped against the wall, panting, still dry-heaving, tears streaming down his face. He could hear the front door open, followed by Nico’s footsteps.

“Phoenix? Babe?” Nico’s voice called out, growing closer until he appeared in the doorway.

“Oh fuck..." Nico’s eyes widened at the sight of the mess, but he quickly pushed his shock aside, crouching down next to Phoenix. "Hey, hey, my love. It's okay. Breathe, alright?"

Phoenix’s chest heaved as he looked up at Nico, ashamed and exhausted. "I... I missed the fucking toilet. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It’s such a mess—"

"Shhh, don’t apologise," Nico said softly, wiping Phoenix’s tears away. "It’s okay, darling. Don't worry about that. Let’s get you cleaned up."

Phoenix sniffled, feeling small and vulnerable, but Nico’s presence was grounding. "I hate throwing up," he whispered, voice shaking.

"I know, babe. I know," Nico murmured, pressing a kiss to Phoenix’s forehead. "You did great. Let’s get you in the shower, alright? Don’t worry about the rest. I'll take care of it."

Nico helped Phoenix to his feet, supporting him as they stumbled to the shower. The warm water hit Phoenix’s skin, washing away the grime, the sweat, the sickness. He felt like a fucking mess, but with Nico there, rubbing his back, whispering reassurances, it was easier to let go.

“Just relax, okay? I’ve got you.” Phoenix leaned into Nico’s touch, closing his eyes.

As they dried off and Nico wrapped Phoenix in a towel, the nausea seemed to settle, leaving behind a deep exhaustion.

“I think I aced the meeting by the way,” Phoenix said, voice hoarse but carrying a hint of pride.

Nico blinked at him, then chuckled, shaking his head. "How the fuck can you still crack jokes after all that?"

Phoenix grinned weakly. “Talented, I guess.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in his gaze. "You’re fucking unbelievable, babe."

They curled up together on the couch afterward, Nico’s arms wrapped protectively around Phoenix. The day had been hell, but at this moment, Phoenix didn’t want to move forever.

"You’re gonna be alright, my love," Nico whispered, pressing a kiss to Phoenix’s hair.

"Yeah," Phoenix murmured, resting his head against Nico’s chest. "I think I am."

[mycryptidisqueererthanyours]

[Redacted] Hanahaki AU

Hunched over the sink, [Redacted’s] body trembled as familiar pain blazed through him, before being overwhelmed by familiar nausea. Familiar tears streamed down his face, as he ducked his head and retched. He seized and writhed as he threw up, vomit and blood pooling in the sink, clinging to skin in a way that made him want to claw it off. 

‘Angel,’ he croaked, voice reverent almost as if he were in prayer. But they couldn’t hear him here. And, even if they could, what could they do? Hold his hair back? ‘They could love me. They could love me like I love them,’ he whispered to the empty room, with its cold, empty countertops.

After being sick a few more times and finally being reasonably certain that he wasn’t going to be again, they peered into the basin below. Although he already knew what to expect, his doctors always advised him to confirm before doing anything else. Sure enough, hidden amongst his filth, stained white petals shone through. 

Despite their beauty, what they symbolised or - rather - who, he couldn’t help but breathe out a pained swear. Almost entire Brugmansia Arborea or angel’s trumpet blooms were coagulated in the sink, baptised in ugly shades of browns and reds. He had tainted them, as he always did. 

He reached up to open the mirrored medicine cabinet but his reflection gave him pause. God, he looked like shit, covered in assorted bodily fluids, eyes haggard and hair ill-kept. He needed a shower, badly. He tranced a hand over the scar on his chest, like it could in any way quell the lingering pain. It never did. 

Especially with how fully formed the flowers were, they might have to crack open his ribs and clear out his lungs again within the year and he’d barely recovered from the previous round of surgery. 

[Redacted] knew how unusually severe their case was. How - no matter how many times they operated on him - they just couldn’t fully eradicate the roots that were so deeply enshrined in his flesh, how it only ever seemed to progress faster each time, how their beautiful petals secreted sweet poison but he would sooner die than give up on his Angel.

His Angel would reciprocate in time. He’d make sure of it.

They opened the cabinet and grabbed a new needle. He checked the packaging for the dosage of physostigmine, as he always did in case it had magically changed in his sleep (it hadn’t), before peeling the needle open and filling it. Finally, with ill-deserved tenderness, he lined the needle up with his arm and gritted his teeth. 

This part always hurt. 

@14dayswithyou because I think I saw somewhere where they said they like being @ ed but I can remove it if that’s what they’d prefer

[lahazywriter]

Meet and Greet (Reboot Wally x reader)

Inspired heavily by the TikTok made by @bloodrediscream. Love your work!!!

The convention center was vibrant as ever. People in costumes, food stalls, art booths and even meet and greets. My eyes got lost in all the banners advertising the meet ups for different celebrities, artists, and creators, while my smile grew wider as I recognized a few names that I didn't see last time I checked the schedules. I felt an aggressive pull on my hand dragging me back to reality. My smile faded as I saw the annoyed look on his face.

If he's going to have an attitude all day why did he join me. I fought back the urge to roll my eyes and continued forward. "This is amazing! So many of my favorite creators are here!" I looked up at my boyfriend hoping to rub off some of my excitement on him.

He just looked down at me and shrugged, his face remaining annoyed. I released a heavy sigh and pulled my hand away from his. "I think I'm going to explore on my own. We can meet back up in a couple hours," I held up my phone while walking away. "Just text me, when you're ready."

I spent the next hour perusing the aisles of all the different booths. There were so many ideas in one spot it would take me the entire week to go through everything. Even with that much time I still have doubts that I'd get through all of it. I felt a vibration in my pocket and took out my phone. I had 3 missed calls and 17 messages. I didn't hold back the eye roll and set my phone to 'Do Not Disturb' after sending a message of where I was.

The crowd for this Meet and Greet was insane. There were girls screaming, some crying, all were hourding the lines to the booth. My curiosity got the best of me as I joined the line wanting to see what all this commotion was about.

To my surprise the line was moving smoothly. It didn't take long until I could read the banner that said Welcome Home, each letter having it's own color. The name sounded familiar, I remember reading about a reboot of it happening a little while back. I recalled babysitting for my boyfriend's siblings and how they'd beg for me to put this show on. I racked my brain to remember any specific episode but nothing was coming to mind.

"NEXT" the loud voice shook me to my core. My thought bubble was abruptly popped as I stumbled to move forward. I looked at the security guard as he ushered me to go past the velvet rope he had undone. I felt panic erupt inside me. When did I get to the front? Who am I even meeting? I don't have anything for them to sign.

I tried to calm myself down with deep breathes as I moved closer to the table. My calming methods were immediately ruined as I looked at the man at the booth. I felt blush warm up my cheeks. He was devishly handsome, I couldn't blame the girls I saw earlier. He had messy blue hair, that had been done up in an old hair style. His rsmile was sweet but his eyes…those are a different story. For some reason I felt as if he was looking directly through me, reading my thoughts, trying to uncover my soul. It sent a cold shiver down my spine.

I laughed off my nervousness and tried to avoid his eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke.

"Hello neighbor! Thank you for coming to the meet and greet! Do you have something for me to sign?" He sounded tired. His delivery was perfect almost as if he just started the day and his energy was at it's peak, but I could feel the exhaustion behind it.

"You look tired."

"Excuse me?"

My eyes widen at my mistake, I felt my face flush and grow warm. I wanted to rip out my voice box and stomp on it so I could never speak again. Instead the word vomit began.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking and a thought slipped through. You look wonderful, not exhausted. Very handsome. Just great, perfection even. Oh you have pictures, can I have one?" I picked one of the photos off the table, and handed it to him. He signed it quickly before giving me a smile bright enough to grow flowers. "I hope your day is going well…Wally."

He chuckled before responding. "Of course it is, I get to meet all my wonderful supporters and fans." He held out his hand for me to shake and I did so.

"Well, to be honest. I've never actually watched your show."

"Oh?" Wally stopped moving his hand and looked at me with confusion. I felt my hands start to get clammy. I tried to gently pull my hand away but Wally held it firmly.

"B-but I am definitely a fan and will be binge watching it as soon as I get home. Thank you for time!" I finished shaking his hand and waved before leaving the booth. I wanted to die from embarrassment. Why did I even go up there? I've never even sat down and watched his show in it's entiretity. I ran a hand through my hair to calm my never ending thoughts. I looked at the picture of himself that he signed.

"Show me your smile" - Wally Darling

His signature was perfection, I wouldn't believe he didn't just copy and paste it 1000 times over if I didn't see him sign it right in front of me. Did I smile at all when I went up there or did I just stand there like a fool? Wait. Why did I care? I have a boyfriend. Oh shit I have a boyfriend. I pulled out my phone, over 30 missed calls. I immediately called him back. He picked up on the first ring, and started yelling at me through the speakers, why didn't I answer him, why was I ignoring him, blah blah blah. I held my heavy sigh back and told him where I was. He responded by hanging up the phone. I looked at the ended call for moment before putting it back in my pocket, I guess that means he was coming to me.

There was more fangirling happening, as a bunch of girls started forming a circle around who I can only assume to be Wally. I looked over there and he appeared to be singing and dancing to Shakira. I almost burst out into laughter, at how good it was. Guess there's a pretty good reason why he's on television. It was a cute sight. I sighed and looked at my autographed photo again. Wally Darling. Show you my smile? I looked up from my picture to see where he had gone, and found him in the middle of a crowd. I looked at the picture again before looking back up. To my surprise, he was already looking at me. His eyes were half lidded and as piercing as ever. The cold shiver came back as he looked at me. At least I thought he was. Without realising I followed the command on my autograph and gave him a smile, or his general direction at least.

I shook my head at my delusions and began to walk away to find my boyfriend. At least I can say I met THE Wally Darling. I see my boyfriend hanging around the booth selling drinks when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around and see Mr. Darling himself standing before me. I gave him a wave and a confused look.

"Uh hi? Did your meet and greet end?"

"No, but I forgot to add something to your autograph. Couldn't let you get away without it."

"Oh. I didn't realise." I handed him back the photo trying not to linger on the idea of our fingers brushing against each other. I watch as he quickly scribbles something in one of the corners. He doesn't hand the photo back and instead he gives me a sly grin.

"So are you single? Did you come here by yourself?" He looks at me with those same piercing eyes. I wanted to say yes really badly. Which is awful. I mentally slapped myself to restart my thinking process. It took me a moment to answer but by the time I could string together a sentence, my boyfriend had already found me. He put a hand on my shoulder and tried to look as intimidating as possible. I rolled my eyes and shrugged his hand off my shoulder. I looked at Wally with an apologetic smile.

"No, I'm not."

Wally didn't respond, his gaze was on my boyfriend. It felt sinister like he was trying to kill him with a look. I mentally laughed at the idea. I'm just overthinking things. I nudged my boyfriend in the side, so he would stop this dick sizing contest. Wally finally tore his gaze from my boyfriend and looked at me with a smile. He handed me my photo, it had one of the corners folded in. He gave me a quick wink before turning on his heel and heading back to his booth. I turned around and noticed my boyfriend had went back to the drinking booth. I started to walk over to him, and unfolded the corner of my autograph. My internal thermometer broke as I saw the 10 digit number followed by xo. I folded the entire photo and put it into my pocket.

"That was some meet and greet."

[juney-blues]

ever since i made THIS POST a lot of people have been asking for a tutorial, even though in pretty much all of the screenshots i included the specific part of inspect element showing exactly what i edited.

so buckle the fuck up I guess because the tumblr userbase want to find out how to make html pages unusable and who am I to deny you.

get ready for Baby's First HTML and CSS tutorial lmao

ok so first things first we need to go over BASIC HTML

html is made up of these things called "tags" which specify certain parts of the web page, such as

HEADERS (<h1> through <h6> in terms of importance)

PARAGRAPHS (<p>paragraph here</p>)

LINKS (<a href="linkhere"></a>)

BOLDED SECTIONS OF TEXT(<b>bold here</b>)

and a bunch of other stuff,

by default however, specifying all of this just gives us a plain white page with plain black text of varying sizes

that's of course, no fucking good, and sucks shit, so the arbiters of html decided to let us STYLE certain elements, by adding a STYLE parameter to the tag

this can change any number of elements about how things are formatted.

text colour, page colour, font, size, spacing between elements, text alignment, you name it? you can change it!

you might've noticed that, certain elements are nested in other elements

and that any changes that apply to one element, apply to everything included under that element!

how convenient!

anyway this method of styling things by adding a style=" " to their tags is called "in-line style"

i think because the "style" goes "in" the "line"

it's generally ALSO a pain in the ass to style an entire website like this and should be exclusively reserved for small changes that you only want to apply to specific parts of the page.

for any real change in style you want to create a <style> section in your page's header!

this can be used to make changes to how all elements of a type in your page are displayed

or even add new elements with whatever wacky styling you want that can be used with the <div> tag!

wow! isn't css just dandy!

and hell you can even use External CSS™ if you're making multiple pages and want them all to have a consistent theme, by pointing to a .CSS file (which is basically just a <style> header without the <style> tags lmao

ok this is all well and good and very interesting if, say, you're making your own website

*cough*neocities*cough*itsreallycoolandfree*cough*

but you came here because you want to FUCK UP A WEBSITE and make it look STUPID!!

so this is where the transform css property comes in~

you can read up on it HERE if you want the details but basically it allows you to apply mathematical transformations to any html element you want,

all of these fun bastards,

they can be really useful if you're doing some complicated stupid bullshit like me

OR for having fun >:)

if you'll remember, earlier i said that css properties apply to literally everything nested in an element,

and you MIGHT notice, that literally everything in pretty much all html files, is nested in an <html> tag

you can use style=" " or regular css on pretty much ANY html tag,

INCLUDING HTML!

ok ok that was a lot of buildup for something that i could've explained in one or two lines, but i gave you all this fundamental knowledge for a reason,

well, two reasons, go make a neocities

CHAPTER 2: THIS POST HAS CHAPTERS NOW

CSS KEY FRAMES BABYYYY

THESE FUCKERS DON'T WORK AS INLINE STYLING

I HAD TO TEACH YOU HOW CSS WORKED, TO GIVE YOU THE KNOWLEDGE YOU NEED, TO ANIMATE PAGES. TO MAKE THE FUCKERY COMPLETE!!!!

OKAY SO AGAIN READ UP ON THIS IF YOU WANT THE FULLEST POSSIBLE UNDERSTANDING

BUT WHAT KEYFRAMES ALLOW YOU TO DO, IS ANIMATE CSS PROPERTIES

and then make a class, which calls that animation...

and then assign that class. to your html tag.

and then vomit forever

we can do it in 3d too,

the only limit is your imagination... (and how many parameters you want to look up on w3schools and mozilla mdn web docs)

CHAPTER 3: APPLYING IN PRACTICE

ok now the fun thing about all of this, is you can apply it to your blog theme, literally right now

like literally RIGHT now

like step one, make sure you have a custom blog theme enabled in your settings, because that's turned off by default for some reason

step 2: edit theme

step 3: edit html:

step 4: apply knowledge in practice >:)