#because when your world is spinning out of control how can you ask for help ovo

[mitamicah]

Whelp today I woke up so dizzy and disoriented I was worried I would faint. Luckily some panodils and taking things veeeery slow helped. I looked it up to be sure and it seems a side effect of hrt is noted to be headaches and sudden dizziness; hopefully it is a one time thing 😅

[strawb3rrystar]

Hazbin hotel with a bunny-like demon reader? Nsfw and sfw if possible. Love your writing btw!

Stop stealing my FUCKING CARROTS BUGS BUNNY.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Vox, Valentino x GN! Bunny-like demon! Reader

Warnings: Nsfw stuff, Mentions heat-cycles, Aroace Alastor

Word count: 1.1k

✰Masterlist

Charlie Morningstar - Rabbit species: Pygmy rabbit

Sfw:

✰ She'll 100% play with your ears if you have them! She'll have you lay your head in her lap while she runs her fingers over the backs of your ears and into/over your hair.

✰ Will probably ask you a bunch of rabbit related questions. Like, do you like carrots over lettuce? Or do you have a heightened sense of smell? Better hearing?

✰ She'll squeal every time she sees your nose twitch. She thinks it's the most adorable thing ever.

✰ Will give you bunny kisses while you are cuddling and trap you in a koala hug.

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon her to be more bottom leaning

✰ She works so hard all day, so she needs you to take control in bed

✰ I don't think you guys do anything extreme, pretty vanilla and fluffy

✰ You guys probably take things slow and use sex as a way to relax

✰ She'll 100% help you with your heat-cycle if you let her

Vaggie - Rabbit species: European rabbit

Sfw:

✰ Will let you touch her wings if she can touch your ears

✰ She was so worried the first time she heard your high-pitch squeal of distress. Turns out, Niffty accidentally bumped into you while cleaning.

✰ Her favorite thing that you do is when you thump your foot to get her attention

✰ She also finds that she's a lot more comfortable with you nuzzled into her side

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon her to be a service switch

✰ She can lean both ways, but she always focuses on your pleasure

✰ Make sure you take care of her every once and a while though

✰ Again, I don't think you two would do anything too crazy

✰ I think sex with Vaggie would be sweet and loving

Angel Dust - Rabbit species: Mexican cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Do I think he likes to pick you up and spin you around? Yes, yes I do

✰ Will let you play with his chest fluff while he plays with your tail

✰ He'll tease you in a loving way, don't be afraid to tease him back

✰ Will constantly be giving you flirtatious winks across the room and cheek and forehead pecks.

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon him being a power switch

✰ His work requires him to be the bottom in every situation, but I think he likes to be the one on top with his partner

✰ He likes to know he has complete control over his life outside of work and doesn't have to be treated like a toy all the time

✰ Since he's done every kink at least once, I think he'd be more than happy to guide you through whatever you want to explore

Husk - Rabbit species: Dice's cottontail

Sfw:

✰ You were a bit weary of him at first because cats are sometimes predators of rabbits. But you eventually warmed up to him.

✰ He was freaked out when he discovered you sometimes sleep with your eyes open

✰ You probably kick him in his sleep, but he doesn't mind

✰ He does not know how to deal with your zoomies. You guys are like the complete opposite when it comes to activity

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon him to be a service switch

✰ He can also lean both ways and doesn't mind taking a less dominant role

✰ In his mind, as long as you're happy and getting pleasure he doesn't mind doing anything at all

✰ You guys help each other out during your heat cycle

Sir Pentious - Rabbit species: Volcano rabbit

Sfw:

✰ He likes to curl up in your lap and stay there for as long as he can

✰ Will tear up if he finds you taking care of his egg bois

✰ You guys have a garden together and he makes you mini bouquets of flowers

✰ He sleeps curled up next to you for warmth

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon that he's a bottom

✰ Pentious does not have a dominant bone in his body

✰ He might be a little subconscious about having two dicks, so give him all the kisses in the world

✰ You'll definitely have to take the lead because he'll be too shy to

Alastor - Rabbit species: Swamp rabbit

✰ Imagine him owning your soul and treating you like a pet

✰ Dragging you around everywhere just because he can

✰ Giving you a pat on the head if you did a good job on something

✰ Feeding you treats for the most mundane, stupidest tasks

✰ Actually addressing you as bunny or pet

✰ Keeping you on a leash so you never get away

Lucifer - Rabbit species: Omilteme cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Will wrap his wings around you when you cuddle

✰ He'll boop your nose or play with your ears at random times of the day

✰ Gifts you rubber duckies with rabbit ears

✰ Does a TON of research about rabbit behaviors and your species

Nsfw:

✰ I see him as a service switch, who is more bottom leaning

✰ Like, he LIVES to pleasure you

✰ Literally can not get off if your not

✰ He whimpers (That's all I'm saying bc Lucifer fans scare me)

Vox - Rabbit species: Desert cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Will sneak up on you an rub your ears and then tease you when you have a reaction

✰ He'll play cartoons on his screen to get you to pay attention

✰ If you thump your foot at him, he'll do it back

✰ Teases your tail until it drives you crazy

Nsfw:

✰ I headcanon that he's a bratty switch

✰ He's a tease in every sense of the word

✰ Will help you with your heat-cycle though

✰ But then he'll purposefully tease you in a public setting to turn you on

Valentino - Rabbit species: Tres Marias cottontail

Sfw:

✰ Like Vox, he also likes to tease you

✰ Will use the disadvantages of your body against you, so do it right back

✰ If you like flopping when you're comfortable, he'll join you and nuzzle his face into your neck

✰ He'll find it odd at first when he notices you like rubbing your chin on him. So he'll ask Vox why you do that, once he explains Val will be very honored you do that.

Nsfw:

✰ This man can not top you

✰ Kiss your dreams of being dominant goodbye

✰ Will make you cum over and over again until he satisfied

✰ 100% will help you with your heat-cycle

Star's notes -> I did WAY too much research on rabbits for this

(Thank you, @lovely-dove69 for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @calalapatapola @budozone @sugarplumz100 @marenelili @myamythos @hazbinhappy | Join the taglist

[astropookie]

planets on your 1H and I’ll tell you somwthing about it

betty boop

mercury 1H: overthinking. always persuading people to do what they want. they’re not as many writers as I thought, they seem to be more attracted to careers where they have to communicate with others, like selling, etc.

moon 1H: pretty sensitive. can be a maniac with manipulative and “I always have what I want” issues. they want someone who’ll understand them 100% the way they want even though that’s not posible. they want to be seen. they can like animals a lot.

jupiter 1H: almost philosophers but not. they want to live in the moment but their thinking keeps them hypnotized. they could be drawn to learn and teach others but they have to have in mind that not everyone wants to be their student.

sun 1H: they’re always talking about what they want to do next, their next plan that’d please their desires and would help to create the person they want to become in the future. takes decisions before thinking about others. their attitude brings attention easily.

mars 1H: take a deep breath, you’d worship your goal as you want, just relax. really confident about your sex appeal. too much energy to contain in one body. realize your stamina in some kind of sport so you won’t yell at me. direct. intense? you know what you want and would do wathever to make it reality.

venus 1H: okay pillow princess -I’m joking😭-. there’s a lot of things you want to do but you want others to help you out. dependent. it’s all good until you have to confront the things you don’t like. stop living in your bubble.

uranus 1H: stop thinking you’re so unique and that the world needs people like you to keep spinning -that was me totally roasting myself-. it’s okay you can open up, people would still have different opinions about you and that’s okay, fuck them. what you’re determined to do doesn’t have to always end up as you want.

neptune 1H: yes, people like you. yes, people adore you but for what? for showing them a person you’re not just because their idea of you wasn’t yourself? also, go outside your head and look what kind of people surrounds you. there’s a conflict between finding your identity bc you weren’t showing how you truly felt all this time.

saturn 1H: just bc you had a trauma doesn’t mean it would repeat and that if it does it won’t traumatized you as before. it would be different, it doesn’t mean you’d feel better👅 just follow your advices. you’re too stubborn to be in tune with your emotions. you’re not gonna have control about everything.

pluto 1H: too paranoiac. they’re not following you pls stop 😭. they keep asking why and when and every question you’d imagine just because they don’t trust you. pretty attractive though, pretty mysterious. people want to k more and more about you bc you give them nothing. magnetic.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ/ᐠ - ˕ -マ.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ♡ ⋆ ˖ ݁ . ₍^⸝⸝> ·̫ <⸝⸝ ^₎ ༘⋆૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა

ꕤ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

ꕤ English is not my first language.

ꕤ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[annwrites]

what happened to you?

— pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader

— type: one-shot

— summary: wishing to make amends, ben ends up on your front porch, only to discover he's too late.

— word count: 3,073

— a/n: i have never watched the boys, so i apologize if any of this is inaccurate, or if i've mischaracterized soldier boy. i gathered what i know/implemented in this fic from tribute vids on yt & reading his fandom wiki.

You were his greatest regret.

But not for the reasons you might think. Or, rather, might’ve thought.

As he stands in front of a familiar porch that he hasn’t seen since the mid-forties, listening to wind-chimes softly tinkling in the breeze, and birds chirping in the apple tree out front, he doesn’t feel the sense of calm he’d expected—hoped for. Instead… He’s sure if a Geiger meter were nearby, it’d be playing a symphony.

He takes one measured step up, onto the front porch, and then another, and another, until he’s standing before the front door—his shoes resting over a mat which welcomes him—with a raised fist that wavers.

Perhaps he’s not welcome here.

He shouldn’t be. Not after how he’d left before.

How could he have left like that?

How could he have expected you to react any differently?

You’d been right. He was, and will forever now be, ‘just an empty suit’.

Finally, he knocks, heart hammering away in his chest, knowing he needs to get himself under control. And quickly.

Slowly, the door opens, the storm screen being pushed outward by an elderly man—fine lines crease his tan, weathered face, his silver hair carefully combed to the side, and he dons a light blue button-up, with beige slacks.

His brows furrow. “Can I help you?”

“I… I’m looking for someone. She lived here a long time ago. Do you happen to know a woman by the name of Y/N?”

The man studies him for a moment. “You mean to say you knew my mother, young man?”

Young man… If only.

“You’re…her son.”

He nods. “I am.”

“Is she here, then? Or, do you have her address so I can—”

“She died. Thirteen years ago.”

His world stops spinning.

He had known that there would be a likely chance. A more than likely chance that this was how it would turn out. But he’d needed to come. Had needed to try.

And he was too late.

He swallows thickly. “I—I don’t know if you know who I am—”

The man looks him over once more, then nods. “I know who you are. I used to watch you on our television set. Well, when I could sneak a peak in, that is.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Thinking of it—thought they said you died yourself? Over in Africa or something, wasn’t it?”

Ben shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

Chris turns his body sideways then, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “Would you like to come inside, Benjamin?”

His heart stutters, and he just stares.

This had been your home. He doesn’t know that he should…

“Would she have wanted that?” He asks doubtfully.

The man sighs. “To tell you the truth, I think she’d have let you in, just the same as me. You came back after all this time, didn’t you? Must count for something. To make amends, maybe. Never did tell us the full story. Either way, it’s my house now, and I say you’re allowed.”

He steps over the threshold.

Ben sits at the dining table that’s next to the kitchen, just on the other side of a high marble counter, flipping through pages of an old photo album—full of memories.

Of you. Your family. Your life.

Meanwhile, Christopher, your eldest son, makes himself busy in the kitchen preparing a fresh pot of coffee.

“I always wanted one of those action figures of you, you know,” he says.

He rummages around in a cabinet for a moment. “Begged and pleaded for one one Christmas. Momma always told me no. Finally, daddy took and sat me down one night and told me if I asked anymore it’d end with a whoopin’. That he and momma had made it clear you were not welcome in our home in any form. So, I knew it was pretty serious, because he never raised a hand to any of us.”

He waves his hand. “I just thought I’d be able to win her over with puppy-dog eyes like always, but she held firm. After that, I stopped asking. Got a different one instead. Forget what it was now.”

He shrugs, pouring a cup of coffee, and then another, returning to the table.

He sets one down before Ben, who’s seated at the head of the table. He takes the chair to his right, groaning as he sits.

“No fun in getting old,” he says with a wink, but Ben doesn’t smile.

He takes a sip of his coffee. “Guess you wouldn’t know much about it, though. Must be strange sometimes, I reckon.”

Ben flips another page of the album, not bothering with touching his mug. “You have no idea.”

He nods. “Oh, I do. The things these kids get up to nowadays…”

He shakes his head. “No sense anymore. I’m just glad momma passed before it got to the point it’s at now. Not knowing who or what they are—men dressin’ as women and vice versa. Would’ve broken her heart to see.”

He sets his mug down. “She and daddy loved this country. To see it in shambles the way it is—after he fought for it on that beach—”

Ben looks at him. “He was at Normandy?”

Chris nods. “Says you never were. That true?”

Ben is quiet for a moment and then he nods. “It is. I got there two weeks later. It was just propaganda. Just like everything else I ever did.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “A lie.”

Chris shakes his head softly, but doesn’t reply.

Ben smiles at a photo of you sitting on the front porch, smiling softly as you hold your swollen belly between your hands.

Chris glances to it. “That was her and me. Eight children… You believe that? I don’t know how they do it.”

“She always wanted a big family,” Ben replies, turning the page.

“By golly if dad didn’t help give her one. Those two were in love as two people can be. They met in Europe, you know? During the war.”

Ben’s head shoots up. “They did?”

Chris nods. “They’d eventually both been put on the same base. She was a nurse, as you know. And the first time he saw her, he said his heart stopped. Said he turned to the guy next to him, pointed to momma and said ‘that woman is going to be my wife’.”

Ben recalls how he had the exact same reaction when he first met you himself. Being left speechless by the kind look in your beautiful eyes.

No one had ever looked at him like that before. He’d wanted so desperately for them to—for his father to—but they hadn’t. Not until you walked into his life, that is.

Chris grins, shrugging. “Said the fella laughed at him. Said she hardly talked to anyone, so she wasn’t going to be talking to him, neither.”

He looks at Ben. “It was after you disappeared, turns out. But he started comin’ in every day to see her. Flowers in-hand. When he could get a hold of some, that is. When he couldn’t, he’d walk miles off-base when he had a weekend pass and would pick bushels of them so he’d have enough before he got another chance to go out. The guys ribbed him for it, but he didn’t care a lick.”

He takes another sip of his coffee. “Just used to say that after he sets eyes on her, she’d never be lonely again.”

“Sounds like he was telling the truth,” Ben replies quietly.

He clear his throat then. “Did she ever…talk about me?”

Christopher grows serious. “Not if she could help it. If you so much as came on the television set or the radio, she’d just quietly tell us: ‘turn it off’. We asked her why, but she’d just shake her head. It was daddy that took me out in the garage one day—they always had us up to somethin’; momma would have the girls in the house cooking, cleaning, sewing, while daddy would have the boys outside with him—while he worked on our old Coupe, and he told me that you were no hero to them. That the men who fought and died on those beaches and battlefields were. And you weren’t that. Said you were just…how’d he say that, again? Empty suit?”

Ben swallows thickly. “I hope you listened to ‘em. Found better idols.”

“Oh, me and my brothers worshiped the ground our old man walked on. Just thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. Thought he knew and could do every and anything. He was a good man. But he’s gone now, too. Was about a year after momma.”

He stares out the window. “He never was the same after she passed. Used to talk about her like she was still here. Would tell us all the time ‘she’ll be back real soon, just had to run to the store’. I think he just couldn’t accept her being gone. Still gives me chills when I think about his last night with us. He looked right at me—we were just sitting on the porch out there enjoying the evening—and tells me ‘I’m going to see your mother tonight’. We found him the next morning in bed, clutching her robe to his chest.”

He sniffles, clearing his throat. “So we put him next to her. He had two plots picked out before they ever even left us. Headstone was ready to go, other than adding in their dates of death.”

Ben looks at him.

“Me and my siblings take turns visiting on the weekends, bringing flowers and telling them about how boring our lives have gotten, while our grandkids are off to college, and getting married, and having babies of their own.”

He smiles wistfully. “My sister, Elizabeth, her granddaughter is named after momma, actually. She’s twenty now. Going to school to become a doctor.”

He shakes his head with a wistful smile. “A doctor.”

He grins, looking at Ben. “Maybe I’ll get my checkups done for free, huh? Medicare only does so much for an old man with a body that’s falling apart.”

Ben wishes he had that problem. But, instead, he’s practically fucking invincible. The Russians had proved that more times than he could count. If an AK-47 being shoved in his mouth as they held down the trigger hadn’t been enough…what would be?

When Ben turns the next page, he stares down at a photo of you hanging laundry on the line.

You’d just been bringing it inside the last time he saw you.

He’d stepped up proudly onto that porch in full regalia—his new suit—a broad smile on his face, and he’d knocked confidently.

You’d called from inside ‘just a moment!’ and he’d breathed in the scent of warm peach cobbler cooling on the windowsill on the other side of the house.

And then you’d opened the door.

And instead of you throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him, smiling at him, or taking his hand in yours as you tugged him inside and into your bedroom, you’d stepped out with furrowed brows.

“You’re here.”

He’d nodded. “Know I’ve been MIA for awhile, but you’ve probably seen on television, or in magazines—”

“What happened to you?”

He had thought, mistakenly, you’d meant after he disappeared from the Army base. When you woke one morning in bed alone, and when you went looking for him, all you found was a broken heart.

“Long story short, sweetheart,” your stomach had turned at that term of endearment rolling off his tongue. “I volunteered for some government testing and now I’m new and improved. The damn hero of the war!”

You’d wrapped your arms around yourself—he hadn’t seen your engagement ring—as you stared up at him.

That previous look of love that you’d had when you gazed up at him at night while he was inside of you was long gone.

“This isn’t you.”

You’d taken a step forward, reaching a hand up, cupping his cheek. “This isn’t the man I fell in love with.”

He’d soured toward you in an instant. First his father and now…

“What, I’m too much for you now?” He’d sneered. “Too much man for you to handle? Well, that’s fine. Because when it comes to women, I have no shortage of them.”

Your eyes had filled with tears.

“It’s like you’re a completely different person,” you’d whispered.

“And for the better,” he’d snapped back. “But that works out just fine. Me being too much, because now? You wouldn’t be nearly enough for a guy like me.”

You’d choked back a sob, cupping a hand over your mouth, the other remaining wrapped around your middle.

He’d wanted to shove a gun in his mouth.

Because the truth was? The ticker-tape parades, the money, and women, and notoriety meant nothing to him.

After receiving further rejection from his father, he’d gone to you. Wanting you to fix it. To make it all better. Just like you had before.

How could he have ever been delusional enough to think a woman like you would ever accept the parody of himself that he’d become?

“Please leave,” you’d choked out. “And don’t come back. I can’t take seeing you wearing that empty suit again.”

He’d flinched. “Believe me, only time you’ll ever see me again will be in the headlines, honey.”

And then he’d walked away, and as he put one foot in front of the other, all he could hear was your heartbroken sobs behind him.

Finally, Ben shuts the photo album, turning to Christopher. “Were her favorite flowers in the end still tulips?”

Chris’ brows had furrowed. “They were.”

Ben had stood. “Can you tell me what cemetery I can find them at?”

After carefully placing a bouquet of white and pink tulips in the vase mounted atop your side of the headstone, Ben kneels down, gripping the top of it while he looks it over.

On your husband’s side is his name—preceded by his Army rank: corporal—and dates of birth and death, as well as those things he’d been, which had meant the most: beloved son, brother, father, grandfather, and husband. And on yours: beloved daughter, mother, grandmother, and wife.

In the middle are two rings, bound together in stone.

He presses a kiss to the top of your headstone, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry it took me so long to find my way back to you. But I’m here now.”

He sniffles. “Maybe you don’t want me to be.”

He glances to your husband. “Maybe neither of you do. And I’d understand that. I just… I have a lot of things I’d like to say. And I’d like for you both to hear them.”

He sits back, looking at your headstone, his arms wrapped loosely around his bent knees—his hand holding his other wrist. “I went to see your son, Chris. He’s a hell of a kid. Told me stories about the two of you. Told me…”

He shakes his head, glancing away. “I know I broke your heart. I knew it that day. I’d just…hoped maybe you’d forget about me. I wasn’t worth remembering. But I’m sure I was around every goddamn corner you turned. On TV, in the paper, on the news, on store shelves.”

He fucking hates himself for it.

“I never deserved any of it. The only thing I ever really wanted was you. And I threw that chance away. For nothing.”

He laughs without humor. “You want to know what happened to me? In the eighties, the woman I thought I loved…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve known even then it was only ever going to be you.”

He sighs. “She betrayed me. My team did. Handed me off to the Russians. And for three decades they…”

He trails off, then starts again. “The things they did…”

He swallows, shaking his head. “At first I tried to hold onto some misguided hope that she’d come for me. And when I finally resigned myself to the fate of knowing that was never going to happen, I lost myself, instead, in you. You were the only thing I had left to hold onto. I had a whole life with you inside my head…”

He’s quiet for a moment, a small, sad smile playing on his lips as he thinks back on it. “A good life,” he says, nodding.

He runs his hand down his face, wiping away tears. “We had a family. A good marriage. I came back to you and I gave it all up just to have you. And it was the best thing I ever did.”

His shoulders begin to shake. “And then they came and woke me up and tore me away from you. And I realized it had never been real. Not for one goddamn second. I can’t…begin to tell you what that did—has done—to me.”

He looks at your headstone with a watery smile. “But to find out that you got everything you ever wanted? Deserved to have?”

He looks to your husband’s headstone. “Thank you for that. For taking care of our girl. For being the man I never was. I’m just glad she found someone worthy of her. Who deserved her. Because we both know I never did. Thank you for fixing what I broke.”

He looks back to you. “I hope to God you never felt guilty for the things you said to me that day. Because you were the only one willing to. I needed to hear them, even if I didn’t want to. That was your last gift to me: a hard truth. So, thank you.”

He stands, kissing your headstone one last time, his hand fingering a picture in his pocket which Christopher had given him before he’d left—he’d said he’d nearly forgotten he’d had it.

Apparently, the kids had found it in your things after you passed—they’d never told your husband: a photo of you sitting on his lap while he smiled softly at you, you smiling meanwhile at the camera, holding a small American flag in your hand, still in your nurse’s uniform.

At least he’ll have some shred of his humanity to hold onto, with that, in what’s to come. The fact you’d held onto it for all those decades… It’d meant a great deal to him.

“I love you,” he whispers, walking away.

For the final time.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 5: Duel of Fates – A Perilous Encounter in the Darkened Hall

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„How did you already catch my name?”, he purrs at you with his sickening low voice.

You can’t deny the fact that you found him pretty hot in the manga and anime. But back then, he wasn’t more than a 2D character. Seeing that death machine standing right in front of you with his piercing appearance and 6’2” lingering over you like an unpromising shadow is completely different.

“Your reputation precedes you”, you press out while freeing your shivering body out of his grasp.

Fuck, you can literally feel your heart dropping to the floor. This is bad, even worse than being next to Gojo’s side. Does that man kill as he pleases in this world as well, is he on his way to end Gojo? Your eyes widen in sheer horror while your thoughts spin around you like a carousel out of control.

“May I ask for your name?”

“My name? What do you want to do with my name?”, you reply in an instant.

He tilts his head to the side, his low laughter forcing your whole body to shiver in nothing but fright.

“You’re acting as if I’m here to kidnap you. I saved you from falling over, is your name too much for ask for?”

“(y/n) Zenin”, you mumble under your breath.

Thank god for those glittery gloves Gojo forced you to wear. Without them, your hands would be covered in cold sweat by now. You need to get a hold on yourself, tame down your screaming heart. Toji won’t attack you at a random ball in a hallway, right?

“A Zenin, huh? I feel sorry for you.”

What? You furrow your eyebrows at him. What the hell is this guy talking about?

Oh.

You’re such an idiot.

“Must be nice that they kicked you out of that cursed family”, you comment dryly before you’re able to stop yourself.

Screw your loose mouth and the urge to always voice your thoughts. This was probably the dumbest move you could have made. In the manga, only a handful of people know about Toji and that he was in fact a part of the Zenin clan until they decided to kick him out because he lacked of cursed energy. Out of all people, you shouldn’t be the one who knows about this, you shouldn’t be the one to meet him in an empty hallway in the first place.

“I should get-“

“You’re not going anywhere, Lady (y/n). Just as I expected when I first saw you here, you aren’t an ordinary girl that chases after the prince. Your father forces you into this, huh? Tells you that he’ll kill you if you don’t marry that guy.”

He grabs your wrist with almost no pressure.

“This has to be a family thing”, you mumble to yourself until his cold glare meets yours.

“I swore to myself to wipe out the entire Zenin family after what they did to me, after what they forced me to do”, he mutters.

All color drains from your face as your glossy eyes stare at him. What are you supposed to do? Scream, run, cry for help? Your body refuses to move a single inch, his orbs keeping you in place.

“I won’t be a Zenin anymore after marrying Prince Gojo”, you breathe out.

“Too bad I can’t stand that brat on the throne either.”

You swallow down the knot that builds up inside of your throat. Don’t panic, you need to focus and choose your words wisely. But…how are you supposed to stay focused when that sickening force of a man grabbed your wrist and pierces through your mind with his stone-cold orbs?

“Too bad indeed. I’m in that game just like you are”, you press out as his grasp tightens.

Oh, you are so dead before your life even began, killed by your own “cousin”. Why did you never even think about the possibility that Toji might show up here as well? If he’s coming for Gojo just like he did in the manga, if he really dares to lay hands on Geto and Gojo…Why wouldn’t he kill an insignificant side character? You weren’t even a part of the Jujutsu Kaisen verse in the first place.

So that’s it? You, dying through the hands of Toji Fushiguro?

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence. How delightful to see you here, lurking in the shadows like a true gentleman. I must say, your timing is impeccable as always. But for now, may I ask you to take your hands off my fiancé, Sir?”

A wave of relief washes over you when you catch a glimpse of those iconic bright blue eyes emerging from the darkness next to you.

“I humbly beg your pardon, but apparently I forgot your name, Sir. You know, I’m not apt at recalling the names of gentlemen these days”, Toji replies with a satisfied grin.

“It’s Prince Satoru for you. Who am I speaking to?”, Gojo replies coldly.

With a swift motion he’s standing right by your side, releasing you from the threatening grip of Toji’s hand around your wrist.

That was a close call. Way too close for your liking. If it wasn’t for Gojo to come around at just the right time, that guy would have folded you immediately.

“Sir Toji, Your Highness. Now excuse me, even though it was a pleasure to meet you, I have to return to my other responsibilities. I hope we meet each other again soon, Lady (y/n).”

You don’t even dare to answer, avoiding his gaze like the plague as he disappears into darkness again. A nauseous flood of fear gets a hold of your heart. Out of instinct, you hold onto Gojo’s sleeves tightly while the hallway gets filled with the haunting sound of your heavy and uneven breathing.

This is it, the closest you’ve been to dying again after getting reincarnated into this world – after no more than maybe 48 hours. Your heart feels like exploding any given minute, ears ringing so violently that you fail to understand a single word Gojo tries to tell you. Is this really how your life will come to an end all over again? After all, everyone in Jujutsu Kaisen seems to die. And you’re nothing but a little side character in this story, someone who wasn’t even meant to exist in the first place.

“Lady (y/n), what has gotten into you?”, Satoru repeats over and over again while grabbing your shoulders in order to keep you from falling.

That naked fright glittering in your orbs he knows oh too well, the haunted expression that is written on your face. What did that man say to you before he arrived here? He should have never let you out of sight in the first place, not when there are so many people around who want to see him dead.

“Find us a private room, Suguru. I need to calm her down before returning.”

“Of course.”

Like in trance, you allow Gojo to pick you up and carry you down the hallway, your fingers intertwined with the fabric of his fine suit in a way that doesn’t allow you to let go ever again.

There’s no doubt in the fact that your life will end if you meet Toji like this again. Who else did you forgot, who else do you need to look out for? Is this really how it has to be now? Living your new-found life in constant fear, surrounded by nothing but people who want to see you dead? Apparently, not even marrying the prince of this goddamn kingdom is enough to find peace.

“(y/n), look at me.”

What if you get poisoned or choked in your sleep?

“(y/n), I need you to focus on me.”

Or worse, what if they torture you in order to gain any information about your soon-to-be-fiancé?

“(y/n), come back to me.”

He grabs your face with both hands and comes so close that you can’t escape his stinging bright blue eyes. Suddenly everything turns silent for a brief moment, leaving only you, Gojo and your racing heart behind.

“I don’t know what or who haunted you like this, but you are alright. You are save with me, do you understand?”

“You’re a fool if you think you can protect me.”

“Who if not me? Isn’t that why you chose me as your fiancé and begged me to take you back?”

“Begging you to take me back!?”

You spring back onto your feet faster than Gojo is able to regret his poor choice of words, orbs shooting pure venom his way.

“I begged in no way for you to take me back. We have a contract, right? We are trading partners”, you clarify sharply.

“Trading partners, right”, Gojo mumbles.

“But still, I’ll watch over you. It’s my responsibility to-“

“You can’t protect me from this world”, you interrupt him, shaking your head vehemently.

“This world is my world and I know it all too well. Give me a little bit of your trust, you won’t regret it.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t even trust you over your vows and all those beautiful disgusting words you’ll say later on, about how much you adore me and that I’m the only one for you”, you bark back at him.

You’re being ridiculous and you know it, nothing but the purest frustration catching up with you.

This is unfair, almost too much to bear. You never asked for any of this, never dreamed about being on this man’s side or getting to wear those pretty dresses, you never wanted to be a princess.

“In this world, you’ll be my only. And I’ll make sure everyone in this way too glamorous room will have no doubt in my deep feelings for you. I’ll make sure that no harm ever reaches you, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Prince Gojo”, you bite back.

When he leans closer, your breath gets stuck in your throat all over again. What a mess of feelings and words, what a pile of chaos you maneuvered yourself into. Is this really worth the potential freedom you’ll gain afterwards? There’s no guarantee that your plan works out. What if you get killed before that? What if Gojo changes his mind?

The feeling of his warm hand resting on your shoulder rips you out of your train of thoughts.

“Hands off”, you bark at him while slapping his hand away.

“"I’m not one of your mistresses, and you’ve got more than enough to keep you busy already, don’t you think?"

But instead of having the decency to at least look shocked or caught, Gojo smirks at you the way he always did with his hands raising in mock surrender.

"Come on now, don’t believe everything you hear. Besides, I’ve got high standards—can’t be wasting my time on just anyone," he replies with a wink.

“Prince Satoru, Lady (y/n), guests start to wonder where you went. I’d kindly advise you to return to the ball and end what you started”, Suguru’s voice suddenly bites through the thick tension between both of you.

Fuck, you got way too close. You distract your shaky fingers by hectically straighten your already perfect-sitting dress while avoiding Gojo’s gaze at all cost.

“You are more than right. Let us get this over with”, you mumble before storming out of the room.

Suguru raises an eyebrow as he watches you leave in a hurry, then turns to Gojo with his head tilted to the side.

“What was that about? I have never seen you struggle so hard to keep your hands to yourself, Prince Gojo”

Gojo chuckles, running a hand through his hair with his gaze still glued to the door you stormed through.

“Oh, come on, Suguru. She's not like the others, way more… unpredictable.”

Suguru scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You? Interested in someone who doesn’t throw themselves at you? That’s new.”

Gojo’s grin widens, his gaze still lingering where you disappeared.

“Exactly. Makes it more fun, don’t you think? Now, let me propose to her.”

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren

@sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls @hellkaiserinphoenix @skylarlyn823

@livmarauder @nothisispatrick300 @haileycannotcometothephonern @xstom @byakuya61085

@arehzhera @ttysmfwna @miizuzu @erensfavve @rubyninja1

@luvsymai

[just-french-me-up]

If you'd still like Dreamling kiss prompts, how about 7 or 17?

@martybaker asked : Hello, your fics are so lovely! May I humbly request ‘A kiss to shut them up’ if you’re still taking prompts? 👉👈 @anonymous asked : Thoughts on dreamling 7 or 17 (to shut them up or to distract - maybe even both at once?) for the kiss prompts?

We're shutting him up, yall! This is a Retired!Dream one, in which Dream struggles with the human body and human condition, and can't see how he can measure up to his old self in Hob's eyes. Angsty you say? Deceivingly horny I raise you! I kept this sorta M rated but... hey if there's more to come *winkwink* who knows?

The human body was a curious thing. It required constant attention, fluids, fuel, maintenance, care. And yet it was so... limiting. Morpheus could still remember how it felt, to think of a place and feel the ground shift under his feet without ever having to move. There had been no hunger then. No thirst. No itching, for his skin had never had the notion that it could be too dry.

If he had ever felt those things, it had been because he had chosen to.

Now the world imposed itself to him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Urges baffled him the most. The dryness coating his mouth on a particularly hot day, his mind conjuring up images of cold, condensation-weeping bottles. The drowsiness taking hold of him after dinner, weighing on his eyelids. The burning, devouring heat flaring in his abdomen as Hob would step out of the shower, a towel lazily tied around his hips, the line of hair trailing down his navel guiding Morpheus' gaze downwards.

It was a strange thing, to be overcome by such sensations. An infuriating thing, really. He ought to be able to resist them. He had been able to resist them, once, to ignore them, dismiss them into nothing if he so chose. How vexing it was, to be a creature of wants and needs, when your existence had been nothing but careful control.

He would not tell Hob, but he could not help but feel... lesser. How clever could his mind be, now that he only had access to his own? How good could his hands be, he who had been able to breathe life into dream clay, fashion lands and castles with a single thought? How pleasing could his touch be, now that he was barred from his lover's unconscious? How could he compare to who and what he had been, once?

They had not made love ever since his encounter with the Kindly Ones. Hob had never pushed, reading Morpheus far better than Morpheus ever could, now. There had been times, here and there, when Morpheus had thought they would, with lingering kisses growing deeper, embraces in bed tighter, but something had held him back. Some bitter gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach. Yet another thing he could not seem to control.

Yet he wanted. Desperately, frustratingly so. The most mundane things would strike him as the most erotic sights he could fathom. Hob drinking his coffee in the morning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he'd swallow. Hob reading the day's papers, his gaze intent, focused. Hob reaching up to grab this or that from a cupboard, his shirt riding up and showing his navel, while his tired pajama bottoms hung from his hips, revealing the slight dips there, a hint of hair...

Morpheus' body would betray him often, subjecting him to fantasies and erections that, much like the rest, he held little control over. Unlike food, lust was a hunger he never seemed to satisfy. It only grew.

If Hob had ever caught him staring, he never said anything. Instead, he was highly skilled at noticing when Morpheus' mind would start spinning on itself, feeding the loop of existential dread looming over him. He had taken to giving Morpheus tasks, then, something to focus on. Although it would not quite clear the storm, it muffled it somewhat.

Perhaps he'd sensed another one of Morpheus' spirals that night, when his voice rose from the bedroom.

"Oh, bollocks! Love? Might need a hand here."

As he stepped inside the bedroom, Morpheus found Hob standing by the mirror, struggling with his button-up. He flashed a quick contrite smile at him, emphatically tugging at the fabric.

"Can't manage to button those buggers off," he explained.

"Allow me."

The human condition was one thing, but buttons he could handle. Morpheus' touch was methodical, surgical almost, as he focused on the task at hand, yet three buttons later, he could not help but feel his focus slip. He could feel Hob's warmth under his fingertips. His heartbeat. As he breathed in, Hob's scent filled his lungs, distracting him further. By the time he was done with the shirt, his mind had gone elsewhere.

Hob wore an undershirt, a thin, almost see-through thing. It required barely any effort to see his chest in spite of the fabric. Morpheus' eyes trailed down, heat flushing his cheeks. Mindlessly, his thumb traced the line of hair down Hob's abdomen, his mouth filled with want. He could feel hot breath against his lips. Humans were not meant to withstand such hunger.

They were kissing before Morpheus could articulate another thought, Hob's mouth warm and soft against his, the coarse brush of his stubble adding fuel to the fire overtaking him. No doubt Hob had meant for this to be tender, but Morpheus was famished, taking, and taking, and taking all that was offered until his lungs might explode. He found himself gasping against Hob, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Hey," Hob whispered, gentle to a fault. "It's okay. There's no rush."

Morpheus swallowed hard, feverishly catching his breath. Hob's palm was invitingly cool against his cheek.

"I will keep," he continued. "We don't have to―"

"I want to," Morpheus rasped, weeks of frustration pushing the words out of him. "I want you. I just―"

"Just what?"

The patience in his voice was the lifeline Morpheus held onto as he sighed, embarrassment flooding through him.

"This form, it feels... finite. Flawed. Lacking."

Fallible, he did not say. He watched as Hob's eyes grew round, ridicule joining embarrassment.

"Duck―"

"I am not as I once was," he continued, overcome with the need to justify himself. "I am no longer suited to anticipate your every want. I can not satisfy you to the degree I once could. Everything I have to offer is bound to disappoint in comparison."

Hob's stare felt heavy, too heavy for Morpheus to hold, but as he looked away, Hob took his chin between his fingers, directing his gaze back to him.

"Love, I―. Sex is not about making some kind of... of ranking."

"Your unconscious would rank it, regardless."

"Fuck my unconscious. It's my conscious self who wants you, magic dick or not."

The corners of Hob's mouth twitched at his own joke, but seriousness soon took over.

"I love you," he said, prompting Morpheus to look away again. "I love you. I would love you Endless, I would love you human, I would love you if you were a tentacled monster and hell, you've been that before if you'd recall!"

Morpheus fought back the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I never cared how we'd fuck. Well, I did, but― I did because it was you. I wanted to be with you. I still do."

Hob sighed, and they stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"At least now we know that mind of yours is well and truly yours and not a Dream of the Endless exclusive."

"An unfortunate discovery."

Hob's hand settled on Morpheus' waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt.

"I do want you," he said. "Whenever you're ready. If ever. But I don't want you holding back because you've convinced yourself I may not enjoy it well enough, according to some cosmic standard you've set for yourself."

Morpheus nodded slowly, his own thumb back to tracing the happy trail on Hob's stomach.

"I have always found you pleasing enough, after all," he dared, shooting a tentative look at Hob. "As human as you are."

Hob made a face, pulling him closer by the waist.

"Your compliments need work, duck. But I do think there's a silver lining to this whole human condition you are overlooking."

"Is that so?"

Hob smirked at him, fully conscious of how devilishly handsome that made him. He had had, after all, centuries to hone those skills. How long would it take him?

"You no longer have access to my unconscious, right?"

"I do not."

"Which means you can no longer anticipate my every want, as you said."

Now that was rubbing salt into the wound.

"Yes," he conceded with a frown.

"Well imagine how arousing it is, my love," Hob said, his eyes darker by the second, "to be able to surprise you."

A warm shiver went down Morpheus' spine, sending his pulse into a frantic race. He swallowed thickly, holding Hob's gaze.

"How arousing?"

"Very. Cock-achingly, one might say."

Morpheus glanced down, finding Hob's trousers tight, his hard cock pressing against the fabric, making his knees weak. The human body truly was weak in the most delicious way.

"I could dare you to surprise me," he teased back, his breathing loud in his ears.

"You could."

Gods, that mouth of his, Morpheus was quite certain he could be undone from that tone alone. But still.

"But should you find me displeasing, you ought to―"

The rest of his words were swallowed into a kiss, unheard and discarded, replaced by tender sighs and wanting hands, and after a while, Morpheus found he'd forgotten what they even were, his mind blissfully blank save for pleasure.

The human body was a curious thing. A highly pleasing thing, at times.

Send me a kissing prompt?

[finalgirllx]

festivals

short and sweet for week 4 of the jinxed july challenge. thank you to everyone who participated! it has been fun to read a whole lot of summery content! 1k words | fluff, fluff, corny fluff | f! reader

The Hogsmeade summer festival, already a wonder in the wizarding world, becomes even more enchanting as evening falls. The warm night air is filled with the scent of butterbeer and sweets, while charmed string lights cast a magical glow over bustling stalls, games, and laughing crowds. Despite the captivating atmosphere, you barely notice; your attention is fixed on a claw machine you discovered in an arcade tent.

Bested twice already, you fume as you take your third spin at it. It feels a bit embarrassing to be so invested in a simple game, but no one can convince you that this contraption wasn't built just to test your patience.

The machine, clearly past its prime, still holds a certain nostalgic charm. It features color-shifting bulbs and a faded red joystick, which stands as evidence that countless players have already tried their hand at winning one of the elusive toys inside. Its glass case houses an array of plush magical creatures such as puffskeins, nifflers, hippogriffs, and dragons that seem so close yet infuriatingly out of reach. You nearly drop a niffler into the exit chute, but the wretched crane swings it a bit off the mark, leaving you toyless once again.

"Bloody hell," you growl, barely restraining yourself from kicking the machine. None of its charming aura matters at the moment; it is lucky you haven't blasted it to a million pieces. You irritably clasp the joystick for a fourth attempt when suddenly, a large, rugged hand encloses yours to prevent another try.

"Need some help, love?" asks Mattheo Riddle, a classmate you've been flirting with for months. The smirk on his face as he gives you a once-over which would have made your knees buckle if you weren't so miffed. "I can show you how its done."

Too stubborn to let him try at first, you glance at the machine for any excuse. "It's no use, I reckon. I bet it's broken. Maybe someone's even jinxed it, a damn shame."

Of course, he saw through it and chuckled. "Maybe you're just not cut out for claw machines, love. Let me have a go at it."

Every fiber of your competitive spirit urges you to protest, to prove him wrong. But the way his thumb brushes lightly over your wrist and the magnetic pull of his gaze convinces you to relent. With a reluctant sigh, you slide your hand from the joystick and step aside to become an unenthusiastic spectator.

Mattheo takes control of the joystick with confident ease, the claw machine's colorful lights washing over him. He must have felt unusually chipper this evening because he switched up his typical all-black outfit by adding a worn jean jacket. It suits him rather nicely, especially when combined with his dark brown curls, which have grown to an unruly length. Even the cigarettes tucked into his front jacket pocket and the cuts on his knuckles add to his dreamy bad-boy look.

He focuses intently on smoothly maneuvering the claw, his tongue poking out slightly as he becomes lost in concentration. You watch, somewhat impressed but mostly annoyed as Mattheo scoops up a toy and guides it to the chute. He gleams with satisfaction as he snags the puffskein plushie you had been aiming for.

Mattheo shows off the prize triumphantly, his eyes sparkling brighter than the festive lights above as he playfully holds the victory over you. If he weren't boasting at your expense, you would find him cute as hell in this instant. Hell, maybe you still do. That is, until he lifts the toy above his head as soon as you reach for it.

"Is that how little you think of me? Do you really think I'd snatch it?" You ask, feigning innocence over his defensiveness. Sure, you were trying to nab it, but maybe you just want a closer look at the adorable toy.

"Let's not risk tearing apart the precious stuffie," Mattheo teases, waving it even further out of your reach. He extends his other hand in front of you, gently stopping your advances.

"Tell you what," he proposes, a grin spreading across his face, "Come get ice cream with me, and you get to go home with the stuffie."

You pause, tilting your head as you study him quizzically. "Are you seriously leveraging the stuffie to turn this into a date?"

"That I am. If this little puffball is what it takes to finally get you on an actual date with me, then so be it," Mattheo replies earnestly.

Your heart flutters at Mattheo's surprising forwardness. Sure, the flirting isn't new, but this chance to take things a step further with him was a lot to take in. Thankfully, you were more than ready to accept it with one condition.

"Alright, deal. As long as we stop by a few more games so I can kick your arse," you agree to the terms, much to Mattheo's delight.

As you step to his side and loop your arm through his, he hands you the puffskein plushie to hold. For him, having you by his side is the greatest win of the evening, and you are inclined to agree that being with Mattheo (and still getting the stuffie) is a pretty sweet victory.

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |16|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight The Last Olympian Spoilers, Stab Wound, Dying, Talks of Dying

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids were just so heavy. You couldn’t remember a time you felt so exhausted, your body felt like it was filled with lead. It felt like all your energy was focused on breathing. You slowly tried to open your eyes again, as they finally cracked open you were met with a bright white light.

Everything was blurry, you could only make out shadows as they passed across the light. You closed your eyes, intending to try and clear the blurriness. You weren’t sure how long it took but every time you closed your eyes even though you were just trying to blink it took forever to open them again. When your vision was finally clear you saw you were in some building, a few other demigods shuffling about, it sounded like there was screaming coming from outside, though it sounded far away.

“Wh-” you tried speaking, your voice sounding drier and raspier than it ever had before.

“Easy,” a soft voice came.

You looked around trying to find the voice which turned out to be a mistake because instantly your world started spinning. You needed to close your eyes again, you didn’t open them until it felt like everything had stopped moving. You slowly opened them again, expecting to be thrown back into a spinning world but instead you were met with the sight of Clarisse.

“Easy,” she said again. Her voice sounded so soft; you didn’t like when her voice was that soft, it usually meant something bad had happened.

Your mind was still fuzzy, but everything was slowly coming back to you. You had been fighting, there was a demigod on Luke’s side, he was about to stab Thalia in the back. You winced at the reminder of a dagger going through you, you glanced down, seeing your shirt ripped and bloodied.

“Thalia?” You rasped out.

“She’s okay,” Clarisse whispered, lightly running her fingers through your hair. “She had to go back out there, the fights still going.”

“Why are you here?” It was truly exhausting trying to keep your eyes open, you never knew how heavy your eyelids were until now. You closed your eyes, taking short breaths as you tried not to wince in pain every time. “What?” You asked, slowly opening your eyes when you realized Clarisse hadn’t answered you.

“You were stabbed,” she said, shaking her head like she couldn’t even believe you asked her that.

“But you’re needed out there.” You weren’t sure how long you were out but if the fight was still going on then Clarisse needed to be out there, any other time she would be out there.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

“I’m not really sure I’m getting better.”

You didn’t miss the way Clarisse’s eyes shined with tears once again, maybe you were becoming delirious from the blood loss. “Don’t say that,” she shook her head.

“I’m on borrowed time,” you gave her a sad smile. There were only so many healers, there was only so much they could do, if one hadn’t already seen you then there was no way one would. You were okay with that, there were other demigods that needed attention, ones who hadn’t lived a thousand years already. “I’ve lived enough lifetimes.”

“I don’t care,” Clarisse’s voice cracked. “You’re not dying today. I refuse.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, not even caring about the pain. “Sadly, power over the dead isn’t something Ares can control.”

You’re entire body shook, shivering more than you ever had in the middle of winter. You knew you weren’t actually cold though, there wasn’t a reason to be. You were in New York in the middle of summer, you were also dripping with sweat. Despite the fact that your entire body was shivering you occasionally felt Clarisse dabbing a cloth on your forehead.

“You’re not allowed to die on me,” Clarisse whispered. “First Silena,” she choked back a sob. You could see her trying to keep it together, Clarisse was doing everything in her power to not completely breakdown right now. “Now, you,” she shook her head, “I don’t think I could take it.”

You looked up at her through tired eyes. “I’m sorry,” you rasped out.

You didn’t know what else to say, you couldn’t change what happened to Silena, you couldn’t bring her back. There was also no way you’d take back what you did. You knew the risks when you put yourself between Thalia and that demigod. You would make the same decision again and again; Thalia was alive and that’s what mattered. You hated that Clarisse had to go through this though, you hated seeing someone you cared for be in so much pain.

“I thought you always won,” Clarisse said. “Daughter of Nike, you’re meant to win, that’s your thing.”

You let out a silent chuckle, which required much more energy than it ever should have. “I did win,” you let out in a tired breath. “I protected my lieutenant, that’s my job.”

Clarisse frowned. Artemis chose a lieutenant, someone who was her second and then you were their second, you were always meant to protect them. Even if it wasn’t your job to protect your lieutenant, you would still do it, you would always protect your lieutenant, or your goddess, or any of your sisters. Clarisse knew this, she knew it when she met you, you had talked about it, you guessed that didn’t make it any easier when something actually happened.

“Well, this is a fight you need to win. You need to fight for your life, I need you to fight for it.” she said. “That’s an order.”

“Sorry, boss,” you joked. “I don’t think I get a say in this one.”

Clarisse clenched her jaw. Ares was the god of war; his kids loved a fight. Ares nor his kids ever cared about winning or losing at the end of the day as long as the fight was good. However, this was a fight Clarisse couldn’t do, it was one you had to do all on your own and you knew the outcome was already decided for you, this was always going to be your fate one day.

Clarisse’s eyes snapped up, looking at something across the room. You started to turn your head to see what she was looking at but stopped when the simple movement exhausted you. You opened your mouth to just ask Clarisse what it was when she shot out of her seat and disappeared from your view. You cleared your throat, letting out a pained cough, your throat was so dry.

“Fix it!” came an angry voice. A second later Clarisse came back into view, though this time she was dragging some kid with her. She pointed down at you and shoved him forward.

“Clarisse-” the boy tried, somehow remaining calm despite Clarisse literally dragging him away from whatever he had been doing.

“Now, Solace!” she stepped forward, towering over him, intimidating him as best as she could.

The kid raised his hands and kneeled down next to you. “Hi,” he whispered. “My names Will.” Clarisse tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed, and jaw clenched, as she glared at Will but remained otherwise silent. “Mind if I?” he pointed to your wound.

You nodded, that seemed to be all that you could actually manage at the moment. You felt Will lift up your shirt then peel back the bandage. He sucked in a breath; you hadn’t seen your injury yet but clearly it wasn’t good. You kept your eyes on him, watching as he flicked a glance up to Clarisse, clearly wanting to say something but opting not to. If he wanted to tell her your injury was too severe then you would say he made the right decision, Clarisse didn’t want to hear there was nothing he could do.

Will flicked his eyes from your wound to your face, meeting your gaze. His eyes widened for a split second, probably realizing you had been watching him, before he recovered, offering you a kind smile. He placed his hands just above your wound and quietly began singing a song in ancient Greek. You held your breath, watching as Will’s eyes never left your wound, his brow furrowed despite the soft song he was singing.

When the song ended, and Will took his hands away, you saw his face fall. You didn’t need him to look at you, you didn’t need him to say anything, you already knew, you could feel it, it hadn’t worked. Will finally looked up at you, his eyes soft. “I’m sorry,” he whispered with all the sympathy.

You nodded, returning the kind smile. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “Thank you.” You didn’t want him to feel guilty, he had tried his best. Even a child of Apollo couldn’t heal all injuries.

“Sorry?” Clarisse asked. “What do you mean sorry? Heal her!” she grabbed Will by his shirt, aggressively pulling him closer to her. “You have to heal her.” Though you knew she was still intimidating and would strike fear in most demigod’s eyes you didn’t see fear in Will’s, you only saw sadness.

“I can’t,” he said. He reached up, gently placing a hand on Clarisse’s and slowly eased her hands off of him. “I’m sorry,” he looked back down at you then back at Clarisse. “It’s not just a normal stab wound.” You furrowed your brow; the dagger had looked like a normal celestial bronze dagger, and you knew that was definitely what you were stabbed with. “I think there was some sort of poison on it.” You sucked in a breath, that would explain why your entire body ached, you weren’t just suffering from blood loss, but some sort of poison was slowly killing you as well. “A poison I can’t heal.”

Clarisse released her hold on Will, giving him a little shove. Will stumbled but he still didn’t seem angry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Your eyes didn’t leave Clarisse, you saw her arms fall to her side, when she turned to face you again, you saw it, the realization that this was the end, she was going to lose you.

Clarisse got down so she could kneel next to you again. She rested a hand on your head and gently began running her hands through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp in the process. Your head snapped to the side when you felt someone grab your hand, your brow furrowing when you saw Will back at your side.

Will closed his eyes and a second later you let out a gasp, instant relief flooding through you. Clarisse looked from you then at Will questioningly. “I can’t heal you,” Will whispered. “But I can take some of your pain.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. You watched Will, seeing how he closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain. You knew a child of Apollo could take the pain from someone, but in doing so they took the pain for themselves. You wanted to send Will away, you were sure there were other people he could actually help but Will seemed committed on staying, you weren’t sure why, you didn’t even know the kid, maybe he was just friends with Clarisse or maybe he was just empathetic like most kids of Apollo.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the relaxing feeling of Clarisse running her fingers through your hair. As far as deaths went this definitely wasn’t the worst way to go. You would have preferred a more instant death, it would have been less painful, but at least you were being given the opportunity to say goodbye. Far too many demigods didn’t get that chance, most went off on a quest and just never returned, no one knowing what happened to them or how they died. A lot of demigods didn’t even make it to Camp Half-Blood, the majority of them were snatched up by monsters on their way there.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you got stabbed but the war had been won. You didn’t know exactly what happened, but you could hear the cheers from the other demigods, the fighting and the sound of monsters had slowly died down, only to be filled with screams of joy. Wherever you were, remained quiet though, the Apollo kids quietly moving around to finish healing the injured, and demigods comforting each other on all the friends and siblings lost. You heard quick whispers about Percy and Annabeth beating Luke. Throughout it all though Clarisse remained by your side, she didn’t fight at the end of the war because she chose to stay by your side.

“It was supposed to be me,” Clarisse whispered. You furrowed your brow, looking up at her, it had been a while since she had last spoken. “I was supposed to die first.” You felt Wills fingers twitch in your hand but when you spared him a glance you saw his eyes were still closed, focusing solely on taking your pain. You knew he could hear both of you, but it was clear he was trying not to eavesdrop.

“Guess fate had other plans,” you rasped out. “Don’t worry,” you gave her the best smile you could manage. “I’ll be waiting for you in Elysium.”

Clarisse gave you a sad smile. “I’ll be there.” She hesitantly intertwined her hand in yours before slowly bringing your clasped hands to her mouth, giving your fingers a soft kiss.

“Better not show up too soon.” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Otherwise, I’ll be pissed.”

Clarisse let out a chuckle, but it quickly turned into a sob. She leaned down, resting her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, just enjoying her presence. The two of you were broken out of your little bubble when you heard someone approaching.

When Clarisse pulled away you saw Thalia in front of you, limping slightly. Behind Thalia though was Artemis. You couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh. You knew it had been a long shot, you weren’t sure how long the war would last, you weren’t sure how long it would take for the poison to kill you, but you were hoping you would have long enough to say goodbye to both of them but especially your goddess.

“Do you want me to give you a minute?” Will asked, breaking the silence.

You hesitated but eventually nodded. “Thank you,” you told Will again. You closed your eyes preparing yourself as Will released your hand. Despite knowing it was coming you couldn’t help but hiss, gasping as a wave of pain overtook you again.

Clarisse gave your hand a final squeeze before leaving your side for the first time. Clarisse was giving you your privacy with Artemis and Thalia, but she had just moved right outside the doorway, so you could still see her. As soon as Clarisse vacated your side Artemis filled the space, kneeling right next to you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Artemis rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting rub, as she shook her head. “You did good,” she said, nodding. “You fought bravely, you protected your sister,” she glanced over at Thalia. You nodded; tears began to fill your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Just as you always have.” She glanced down at your wound, her face falling. “Your death will be handled with honor; I will make sure of it, or Hades will feel my wrath.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Hades was powerful, he didn’t take many of the gods seriously, even his brothers at times. You knew your goddess though and she would raise hell to get what she wanted, especially when she set her mind to something, she was truly a force to be reckoned with.

“Now, none of that will be necessary,” a cocky voice came.

“What are you doing here?” Artemis said, clearly annoyed. You followed her gaze to see Apollo leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and his usual smirk on his face.

“I heard my favorite Hunter was trying to die on me.” He pushed off the doorframe and made his way to your side. “And I just won’t allow that.”

You furrowed your brow as Apollo got down on his knees. “Love, if you wanted to hear my gorgeous voice all you had to do was ask,” he said, giving you his classic smirk.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you didn’t have time to question him before he raised his hands over your wound and began to sing. You hated to admit it, you truly did, but Apollo had a decent voice. Seconds after Apollo’s song ended you let out a gasp, your eyes wide as you looked around, the pain was gone.

You looked down at your wound seeing your bloody shirt but no wound. “Thank you,” you said, looking up at Apollo.

“No need to thank me gorgeous,” Apollo said with a smirk. “Though you can repay me, with a date?”

“No.” Apollo’s mouth dropped open in offense.

“As much as I appreciate this brother,” Artemis spoke, glaring at her brother. “Leave my Hunters alone.”

Apollo stood up, raising his hands in surrender. “I have business to attend to anyway,” he said before disappearing in a glow of light.

You groaned as you propped yourself up, groaning as you did so. Though you were fully healed now it seemed you were still physically exhausted. You glanced over at the doorway where you saw Clarisse, her foot shifted forward but she didn’t enter the room.

You caught Artemis glancing at Clarisse out of the side of her eye, but she didn’t say anything. “I have business to attend to on Olympus,” Artemis said. “Help with the injured, with cleanup, anything you can, then make your way to camp.” You and Thalia both nodded at her orders. “I will meet you when it’s time.” You and Thalia gave a confirmed nod and then Artemis also disappeared from in front of you.

As soon as Artemis was gone, someone crashed into you. You were glad to still be sitting down because the impact from Clarisse would have surely sent you to the floor. You groaned as you felt her arms wrap tightly around you and bury her face in your neck. You were pretty sure she mumbled an apology, but you didn’t care, you were happy to return the hug just as tightly.

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @fictionalwhor3

[adventuringblind]

Still Have You

Lando Norris x Reader X Oscar Piastri

Genre: Angst

Summary: and then there were two...

Warnings: crash, injury description, death

Notes: oops... I wrote another sad thing...

Masterlist

Racing is her life. It's all she knows. It was her entire life.

Until it wasn't.

She was a rookie. A female driver that Williams decided to take a chance on.

Oscar signed for McLaren the same year. She already knew he was going to get a seat because he's amazing. And getting to drive alongside Lando Norris was nothing to scoff about.

Oscar introduced his teammate to his best friend, and the three became attached to the hip. Inseparable. It definitely wasn't anything they were expecting. It just happened, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

So then it was them and racing. Like her life had somehow gained a new purpose.

~

The Dutch Grandprix. It's raining heavily, and she'd rather be curled up with her lovers, hot chocolate, and a good book.

"Are they really going to have the race?" She asks Alex who's standing next to her I the cover of their garage.

"Looks like it." He sighs. "Any word from your papaya clad lovers?"

Check jabs him in the side with an elbow. "Shup up! Someone could hear you!" She hisses at him.

"Not my fault Lando can't keep a secret." He throws his hands up in surrender.

They are then promptly told to get ready to head to the grip. She throws a final text to her boys before she has to leave her phone for the next couple of hours.

Alex is starting fourth. It's an amazing thing for him, and she can't help but feel a tinge of pride.

It feels like she's in the car for hours. Just waiting for them to say go or call off the race. She hopes it's the latter. She'd hate to see any of her of the grid get hurt because the FIA decided to put the show on regardless of their safety.

The rain slows, and it seems like it might actually clear up. So it would make sense that the FIA decided it's time to race.

Soon enough, they are racing off the line. Her start was better than she'd expected. Managing to hold her place as the down pour started again.

"We're expecting the rain to stay like this for the next ten minutes."

She mentally groans. Begs whoever controls the weather to let up. Prays that nobody gets hurt.

But fate it cruel.

It's only lap five, but the rain is making it difficult to see. She knows someone is close to her. No idea who, but he's there.

She definitely knows when they spin out. And she feels it when they tap her car as she's flying down the straight.

It's like the world moves in slow motion. One minute, she's driving. Then she's not even on the ground anymore.

Ground.

Sky.

Wet.

Dry.

Shooting pain.

Copper taste.

Radio static.

Cold.

Bright.

Nothing.

~

"Red flag Lando, red flag, come into the pits, please."

"Did someone crash? "

"One of the Williams."

Lando's heart drops. Every thought in his mind going to the worst. "Which Williams?"

"We believe it's y/n."

Suddenly, he can't hear anymore. He passes the crash sight, and he feels like the air is sucked out of his lungs.

He's not thinking. He just pulls the car over and gets out. Not caring at all who's watching.

The front of the car is bent upwards over the cockpit. The back is nowhere to he seen. There are pieces of fence and barrier stuck to the ring of the halo.

The Marshalls are barely getting started. They've started splitting the car into peices with saws.

Lando skids to a halt. His arms pull away the debris so he can at least see her.

They he sees just how bad it is.

There is a piece of metal piercing directly through her chest. Her legs are crushed at odd angles.

He helps the Marshalls pull her out. His stomach flips with every second she doesn't respond. He stays with her until they pull him away.

He fights them. Or - he tries to fight them. But the adrenaline isn't pumping as it was. It's just his anxiety now.

~

Oscar stares at the screen in front of him. He knows he doesn't look as calm as he's trying to seem.

Alex looks similar in a way. The tall Williams driver stands next to him in the blue garage. Waiting for any sign that the girl in the car is breathing.

He's choking on his tears. He's fighting the urge to run onto the track.

There are other drivers in front of the Williams garage. All of them are asking for updates. The one thing nobody has right now.

When they lift her body out of the car, he screams. It rips through his body and pieces everyone's ears.

He tries to bolt, but Alex holds him back. It's not long til he's sobbing into his arms.

He's been nothing but the Trios' biggest supporter since he found out. In this specific moment, Oscar has never felt more grateful for him.

He watches the screen closely. Lando is pressing on the females chest. His neon yellow gloves now staied red from the open wound.

He tries to bolt again. Flee to Lando so they don't have to be separated. He knows the Brits anxiety is probably skyrocketing.

If his is, then Lando's definitely is.

Alex wasn't prepared, and he managed to make it about ten steps before being stopped by Max. The Aussie runs straight into him and collapses once again.

This time, he fights. He flails his limbs and tries to shove his way past until his body gives out.

~

Lando feels a tap on his shoulder. He hadn't realized he'd just been standing where they'd left him until the new presence snapped him out of it.

"Lando, we should go back to the paddock." It's Charles speaking to him. He sounds so distant, like he's calling to him from a meter away.

He just let the Monegasque lead him back down the track. He stares at his glives as they walk. Coated in her blood.

This should've never happened. The race should have been called off. Every time the scene replays in his mind, it makes him angrier at them.

They find themselves at the Williams garage with the rest of the drivers. He takes note of the sobbing Austrian currently trying to break free of Max's grip. Oscar is usually the most collected out of the three. It breaks something in Lando, seeing him like this. Like Oscar crying just makes it more real.

Lando pulls off the blood-soaked gloves and sinks to where Oscar is. The Brit gets his focus and attempts to calm him down. Most likely, neither of them are going to be able to drive in such a state. Lando still has his car on track where he left it.

He really doesn't care who's watching in this moment. He prys Oscar away from Max and cradles him. The two falling into a puddle of tears on the ground.

~

Oscar lays with his head leaning against Lando. Their hands entertained like one would disappear if they let go.

It feels wrong without her.

Max and Alex had come to wait with them. Neither of them deemed it safe to leave the two alone.

"Miss l/n?" Says a doctor. He sounds as exhausted as they feel.

All four scramble up out of their seats. All hope seeming to float away as they see his expression.

"I'm so sorry to tell you that she didn't make it."

And then everything shattered. Their world fell apart. Everything tainted with the lack of her presence.

"She woke herself up right before she flat lined and asked to make sure someone heard it." The doctor inhales deeply. Like, somehow, this message was difficult for him. "She said: 'tell them to cling to each other. That she's not gone. You'll find her on the track."

~

A year later, at the same track, two boys visit a memorial. Flowers in hand as they kneel in the grass.

The sun is shining today. A stark contrast to the weather which had claimed her life.

They sit together, hands interlocked, and engagement rings fit snugly on their ring fingers.

"We miss you. Every day. We think about you all the time." Lando sniffles. The lump in his throat threatened to leave. "Alex makes sure we take care of ourselves, and Max let us stay with him. He won another title, by the way, and dedicated it to you."

"I got my first win. It was in Australia, just like how you predicted." Oscar's gaze is toward the sky. He knows she's up there somewhere smiling down upon them.

"I asked Oscar to marry me, and he said yes. We thought we might have the ceremony at that one park you love in the spring when the cherry blossoms are in season."

"Thought you also might want to know that we have an extra ring for you. We owe it to you for getting us together, after all."

Both of them are choking on their tears now. It's not the same without you.

"We'll always love you. Even if we're only two."

[hai7ani]

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut/not suggestive), reader copes with alcohol, panic attack but nothing descriptive, arguments please proceed with caution

masterlist | playlist

part ii / everything

The year of 2015 and you are an alcoholic. It is a Tuesday night and you've just gotten out of an AA meeting that you'd deemed useless the first time you attended out of courtesy -- there is no amount of talking and sharing and clapping that can help relieve the ache of your heart. It is constant and heavy and you can never make it go away. It never goes away. And yet you still attend every week, every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for the sake of attending because you are sick and tired of being alone. You feel lonely most days -- you are lonely most days.

You hear thunderstorms and figure that it is going to rain soon. You think to yourself while walking and you decide you are not in the mood to go home; you do not feel like dealing with the shitty elevator and your lousy neighbours tonight. So you huff and walk into the first bar you see and drink yourself stupid despite the concerns coming from your therapist.

Ex-therapist.

"Y/n-san, please try to cut down and control yourself with the alcohol. It is making your thoughts go worse and there's no health benefits either. We make progress and you seem to get better at maintaining your sobriety, but you'll relapse every time the topic of him comes up. This is not healthy, dear."

You fired her and stormed out of her office the moment she brings him up again while calling her a bitch. You told her to quit her job since she is so bad at it anyway. And you know it is not nice -- she was simply doing her job. You just didn't like how called out you feel. You said it before that you don't like it when she asks about him. You hate it when she urges you to open up about that summer.

Your vision is cloudy; you feel the world spinning around and everything looks distorted. Warm yellow lights shine brightly from above, a jazz band performing at the stage (their music is ass) that you're sure no one is listening to and you feel like puking so you gag but nothing comes out.

You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth and laugh to yourself when you hear his words echo in your ears again.

"I never wanna lose you."

"Yeah, right." You snort and take another sip of the vodka in your hand.

This is what you're used to -- clinging on to a shadow of a boy you never see again and refusing to let go after all these years. The longing and waiting for him to come back to you turns into desperation and you drink yourself into an alcoholic who secretly has anger issues because it takes your pain away.

Or that's what you tell yourself and the others when they ask why you're alone at a bar.

You cry hard every time you drink; you think of him whenever you feel dizzy and your entire world is finally foggy and he is the only thought that comes up in your mind.

Drinking never helps you to take your pain away. It only helps you to think and relish in him and his love that you try so hard to push away during the day when there are countless of annoying kids tugging on your apron and telling you look at the new clay art they made. You cannot afford to collapse in front of people who are not him. You don't trust yourself to do it when he is not around.

You just miss him so much.

And you sob into the sleeves of your sweater when everything gets too overwhelming and you just want him to come back. You really want to see him again. You really want to tell him that the voicemails you left to him that day was all a lie -- that you still love him so.

"I never wanna lose you."

He never did.

It was you who'd lost him instead.

A hand wrapping around your wrist breaks you from your train of thought and you yelp in shock. It pulls you from the table and another snatches the glass away from yours. You go slack against the chair and huff with a frown. You feel that it is a man because of the flashy Daniel Wellington wrapped around his big wrist and you watch through blurry vision as he hands your glass of vodka to a passing bartender. "No more of this. Get me her bill." The bartender nods and walks away.

You poke his arm and frown deeper. "Hey, you. I was still drinking that." You don't find any energy in you to argue with him for snatching away your drink, so you squint through cloudy eyes and pouty lips as you try to recognise the man. But you shrug and figure he is just a stranger and probably a molester, or even worse, a sex trafficker, so you grab your bag with tired hands and stand to leave. You stumble back a little when the chair obstructs your foot and he places a firm hand behind your back to stabilise your swaying body.

"Tsk. Sit down. You're drunk." He tuts and snatches your bag away from you to place it back on the table. To say you are dumbfounded is an understatement. "Yeah, ya damn right I'm drunk. Leave me alone or I'm calling security. My drink isn't enough 'n now my bag ya wanna touch too. Asshole." You slur and muster up all the strength you can to kick his shin. He hisses at the striking pain and bends over to rub a hand over the area. "Jesus- still as painful as ever-"

But you sit back down nonetheless and take a deep breath, trying to regain your senses. You prop both elbows on the table. "Security," you mumble while leaning your head on your hands, "security!" You say it louder this time and it seems to have caught some attention with a few people nearby turning their necks and observing you with the man who is painfully calm about this whole situation.

You hear him sigh as he shuffles closer to you. He smells like expensive cologne with a hint of lavender -- it's a smell that is very familiar and you stun at it.

And it comes to you after a while when he smooths a hand down the back of your head and you feel like a little girl again. Tears spring to your waterline as you let him touch you. You watch as he rolls the sleeves of your sweater up to your forearm and feel as he gathers your hair to the back. He is gentle when doing all that and you don't feel any malicious intent coming from him anymore.

Because he is someone you know.

Security stands beside you after a moment but you ignore them as you try to focus on the way he is braiding your hair into a fishtail.

Like how he always used to.

A light yet masculine voice speaks as he secures the end of your hair with an elastic he pulled from your wrist.

"I know her. I'm a friend."

Security walks away after further confirmation that you cannot hear properly and you blink your droopy eyelids, trying hard to stay conscious but failing miserably when the alcohol finally takes over and you collapse on the table.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You wake up in someone's bed the next day. You don't recognise the room and you make sure your clothes are still on -- they are -- while hurriedly pushing the blankets off your body and standing up with a groggy head. The hangover is hitting hard and you hiss and yelp when you stub your toe hard at the foot of the bed.

"Morning." A voice greets from behind and your world stops spinning. Suddenly the hangover isn't there anymore and the voice is all you can focus on.

You turn around with wide eyes and see Haitani Ran standing by the door holding a cup of water and a pill in his hands. He walks over to you quietly and shoves them in your hands.

He looks so much different than before. No more long and braided hair in blonde and black -- it is now short and hangs loosely over his forehead in the colours of purple and black. Lanky body more pumped and muscular now -- he looks like someone legit and can be taken more seriously by people. Purple orbs that has never changed in intensity as they stare deep into yours who dulls when the memories starts flooding your brain.

"Ran."

He doesn't react other than nodding towards the stuff in your hands. "Take it. And I left some clothes in the bathroom. Take your time. I'll be outside with breakfast." He simply states with a soft yet firm voice and closes the door behind him when he leaves.

You drop to the bed and try to control your breathing with shaky breaths and a pounding migraine.

You feel your entire world collapsing around you. The strong border you've tried so hard to build with the outside world comes crashing down in an instant. The room feels like it is closing in on you and you rub at your eyes tiredly.

Suddenly you feel like the 19 year-old girl living in Kanagawa again.

And you cry.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Ran is sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when you exit his room. You've showered and got yourself dressed in some clean clothes he left for you -- a woman's clothes -- and you're shy when you pad to him, fingers fiddling with the hem of the cotton t-shirt.

You stop when Ran looks at you.

"Hey." He greets but you don't reply. Instead, you glance around and find that the house is well-decorated -- colourful quilted fabrics protecting the pillows on the couch and a vase full of baby's breath sits on the coffee table. There are many different photo frames hanging on the walls and on top of cupboards and you find yourself wanting to look at them. The kitchen cabinets are transparent and you see a lot of different snacks and instant noodles inside. The house is so lived-in and you can't help but smile softly.

You turn your head back to him who is already staring at your figure as he munches on a piece of bread.

You hadn't seen Ran in a very long time.

"Hi." You finally say it back and take a seat in front of him. He nods towards the cup of coffee in front of you and you move with shaky hands to take a sip. The handle is facing you and you feel a bit more refreshed when the smell hits your nose and you're reminded that Ran has always been attentive like that; like the times where he would cover the edge of the table when you bend down to pick a fallen pen up, or the times where Ran would shield you from a flying ball at the park and it hits him hard on the shoulder instead. The corners of your lips lift up while you savour the taste in your mouth and swallow with a satisfied sigh -- Ran has always made good coffee.

"So good." You murmur and place the mug back down on the table. Ran chuckles airily through his nose and pats the crumbs off his fingers. "Of course. It's Ran's Coffee." You laugh a little at that -- it's what you've always used to call his drink when he passes it to you in the kitchen of his old home.

Ran doesn't bring up yesterday and neither do you feel like doing so, so you choose to ignore it and eat while stealing a few glances here and there at him and smiling sheepishly when he catches you through eye contact. And you observe him openly now while chewing on some sausages -- he's wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it is paired with black slacks. Hair is gelled and combed up instead of hanging over his eyes like before. You think he looks so much more mature now and you wonder if-

Your eyes travel down to his hands and find a very shiny ring on his fourth finger. ". . . You're married?" You stop chewing at the realisation and blurt it out with wide and glossy eyes.

Ran grins at your suddenness and nods.

"Been married for two years now." He pauses while wiping his lips with a napkin. And he takes a glimpse at your reaction, trying to search for something in them -- he doesn't, so he continues. "Got a girl on the way too. Her name's Yui. Just ゆい."

You beam brightly at his happy. "God. Congrats, Ran!" And you truly are so happy for him -- since young, Ran had always been a family man. He's always talked about marrying a pretty woman and starting a nice little family with her -- a boy and a girl to balance it out, he once said. And you'd swatted his arm when he'd wiggled his brows at you while his brother scowled and tugged at a braid harshly.

You'd never gotten the memo back then.

And you decide not to ask him about his wife and how they met nor do you focus the topic to his daughter who is on the way -- you figure it'll bring up some awkwardness to the table (it wouldn't, but you just want to avoid your feelings) and you wince a little when you're reminded of the things Ran had left you in that box 7 years ago.

For the rest of breakfast you both make small talk, and you'd made it a mental note to dodge anything that is personal. Although Ran is a very old friend and you'd immediately felt comfortable around his presence, he is still his brother, and you and Ran still have some unresolved issues that needs to be talked about -- you don't think you are ready for it yet -- but Ran doesn't asks you anything too deep. He doesn't bring up his brother too -- and you relax when he starts talking about himself instead.

Apparently he runs a tech company now. It was nothing like the field he'd used to daydream of being in (the fashion industry) and it shocks you to the core when you find out that it's one of the companies that is currently rising in popularity and net worth in Japan. So you open up a little to tell him you work as a teacher now -- you teach children handicrafts and help younger ones with reading and writing at a daycare centre, though your smile falters a little when he asks if it is what you enjoy doing. You were the girl who's never found out your passion for the entirety of your teenage and schooling years -- you still haven't now that you're an adult, but you don't tell Ran that -- and you nod anyway when Ran continues to share about a few of his wife's friends who are looking for a handicrafts teacher for their children too; he asks if it's okay that he recommends you to them and you give him your consent.

Ran stands to get your plate when you're finished and you stand too, the creak of the chair against the floor loud and you grimace a little at it. You don't know what for -- you know Ran well enough to know that he will for sure reject if you offer to wash the dishes at his house, yet you stand anyway, and you watch from behind as he places them in the sink while switching on the tap. The water runs loudly and your lonely eyes flicker around until it lands on the stuff covering the fridge -- magnets from different countries, a picture of an ultrasound of his unborn daughter at 7 months, some documents and pending bills . . . You think it is all a bit too heartwarming to look at and you reluctantly look away.

". . . Do you have work later?" Ran asks with a wavering tone. He sounds a bit uncertain despite it being a normal question and you blink. "No, actually. I don't have any classes on Wednesdays. It's my off day today." You pat down your shirt and move on your feet to help him tidy up the dining table -- pushing the chairs in, wiping the table, rearranging the coasters and clearing the leftovers stuck to the table cloth. You figure it is the least you can do for his kindness of letting you stay at his house for the night and making you breakfast in the morning.

Ran switches off the tap and dries his hands on a cloth hanging by the wall. He stares at your back and opens his mouth. "Can we talk-"

The front door unlocks.

You turn to the entrance with wide eyes and watch as it pushes open. You hadn't been made aware that Ran was expecting someone until Nobunaga Himeko walks in holding a bunch of stuff in her hands. It ranges from paper bags to recycled bags to a bouquet of colourful carnations.

And she is pregnant.

"Hi."

Himeko is all smiley when she sees you standing in her kitchen, wearing her clothes, and beside her husband who seems nonchalant about her entering the house. He pads over to her with a grin and kisses her forehead.

Your eyes look away from hers that are in thin crescents and shift your weight from one foot to another while picking on the skin around your thumb.

So it is like that.

"Love," Ran grabs the stuff from her hands in a hurry and shuts the door with his foot. "You're back." She nods and kicks off her flats, leaving it by the entrance.

Himeko calls your name in a soft voice and you look at her.

"It's nice to see you again."

She grins warmly and you return it without further words, albeit a little fake because you'd never expected her to be together with Ran, and she is pregnant with his child -- it is all simply too much to process and you take a deep breath when they both turn their backs to you. They whisper to themselves and you hear a bit of this and that -- just chatting about how her morning has been and he shares his plans for the both of them later tonight. They talk like you weren't even there in the first place and you bite the skin off your bottom lip when they continue to ignore you.

You connect the dots all by yourself after a while that Himeko was probably already home when Ran had brought you back here last night, that she'd seen you in a vulnerable state and all fucked up while smelling like disgusting vodka, and she's also probably the one who'd picked out your clothes and gave it to Ran to pass to you when you're awake.

"I, um . . . I should go." You blurt after a moment, finding no place for yourself in this house (damn right you don't -- this isn't your house, and you are merely just an acquaintance at this point) and you tighten your fist, the other hand reaching up to swipe away a loose strand of hair and tuck it behind your ear. Ran and Himeko looks back at your disappearing figure when you head back into the guest bedroom to grab at your dirty clothes. You shove them into your bag and carry it on your shoulder. While looking in the mirror you see the empty shell of a weak and despicable soul and you feel a panic attack bubbling up -- and you scowl to yourself when you remember your therapist's words, that avoiding your problems and past would only make things worse in the future.

When you exit the room in a hurry, Ran's voice boom in your eardrums and you try to control your breathing. "Can we talk?" Your flickering eyes glances back and forth between the couple, who are both donning a worried expression on their faces when you don't reply and instead breathe loudly through your mouth, trying hard to catch your breath and calm your feverish heart.

It'd just came so suddenly -- your panic attack -- and you don't know what for. Maybe because of the surprise from both Ran and Himeko being together -- you'd found out later that she'd harboured feelings first for the other brother back then. You'd also found out later that Ran used to harbour feelings for you way before his brother even did. And now the both are living together at an expensive apartment in central Tokyo with a baby on the way.

Or perhaps it is because the scene from 7 years ago at the Family Mart you'd worked in where Himeko had slapped you in front of your manager played in your head when you'd seen her just now, and your mind says that it does not want to relive the moment ever again; your heart screams that it does not want to feel the pain she'd induced on you ever again. And Himeko is scary when she moves closer and reaches a hand out to you.

"Please don't touch me." A lone tear escapes your eye and it rolls down to your chin. "Please. Stay away." The tear drips to the floor and you start sobbing while inching away and Ran is left dumbfounded at the scene playing right in front of his eyes. He does not know why you are so afraid of his wife who is also your childhood friend, and he is perplexed when he sees her reluctantly stepping back and rubbing a hand over her baby bump.

"What happened?" Ran is a bit furious when he asks it. Himeko stays silent at his question that sounded a lot more like a demand and stares down at her feet. "Hime, what is going on?"

She scratches at her head and you sniffle. "Nothing happened, Ran." You wipe your tears away and inhale the lavender in the air. It soothes you down just a bit. "I'm okay. Nothing happened between us. Just wanted to cry, it's all."

A big lie. Ran scoffs when you say it to his face -- it felt like an insult of you calling him stupid and Himeko is biting hard on her lip when you gather your belongings and walk to the entrance, but Ran is quick to stop you from leaving. He tugs back on your hand and you stop in your tracks when you feel the familiar warmth around your wrist.

"I have something to tell you."

"Not today, Ran. I have to go."

"Please. Listen to me. It's serious."

You try pulling your hand away and Ran only lets go when you click your tongue and hiss.

"Fuck off."

Fury engulfs your head and anger chains around your brain for just one second. And one second is all it takes for you to let it slip. Your eyes are wide, cheeks wet with tears when you realise what you'd just said.

"I am so sorry." You gasp, feeling so bad for letting the anger and hatred and rage you've been trying so hard to suppress all these years get to you and Ran is shocked at your sudden change in attitude. Himeko retreats back to their bedroom with a hand covering her mouth. You think she is disgusted with you, and you don't blame her for walking away.

Even you are disgusted with yourself.

Ran says your name again in an exasperated tone. His eyes are pleading for you when they look into yours.

"I have something important to tell you." He says it calmer this time and you finally give him your ears.

". . . It's about Rindou. Please listen."

Your heart dies at it.

It cracks loudly when Ran finally tells you.

And it crumbles to the ground when you'd fully processed his words.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A group of grown men sits in a circle. Another woman stands in the middle as she reads from a piece of paper. They laugh and answer her questions while she fakes interest and indulges them for a bit.

That's all there is to it, really. A weekly thing where Bianca Taira -- a white woman from the States married to a local Japanese man who currently works in Japan as a certified therapist -- comes by every Wednesday and gathers a few people around to sit in a circle and share things about themselves while having fun. Not a lot of people take her seriously despite her fluency in the language and how she dresses up really professional to show up -- because in the end, that is still a woman in front of them. Most of these men have not seen a woman from the outside world for a very long time other than a few guards and visitors, so they take every opportunity to tease and have fun with Taira-san, who doesn't reject their attitude harshly but is private when it comes to being asked about her husband.

"So, anyway, enough of my husband, please. He is nice and a good man." She huffs with a small frown but is quick to disappear it as she adjusts her top. It is tight and obviously very uncomfortable -- Bianca had picked the wrong shirt to wear today -- but she'll have to cope for now.

"Let's move on to our next question, shall we?" She smiles brightly and the men nod in agreement. She looks at the piece of nearly crumpled paper in her hand and searches for the sentence.

"Oh. This is a fun one." Bianca chuckles lightly and Minamoto, a man who is sitting in front of her, beams at her hint. "C'mon, say it already." He motions for her to hurry up.

She clears her throat and reads it out loud.

"What would you do for love?"

Everyone is laughing and shouting answers when the question comes up. They seem to have a lot of ideas for this one and Taira-san grins. Her objective for holding this session has been accomplished and she feels nothing but satisfaction when the men around her are genuinely having fun while laughing at each other's responses.

And to her, it is nothing but a simple and fun question. Prompts a straightforward answer too. Everyone does different things for love. Everyone is willing to do different things for love, and it would be really interesting to hear different people's answers.

Bianca attempts to calm them down with a laugh.

"Okay, everyone. Please calm down. Let's start sharing our answers one by one, okay?"

She looks around the circle. She spins and spins and spins until her eyes land on a certain individual who has been very quiet this whole day. Which is not a surprise, he is usually very quiet, too -- doesn't share a whole lot about himself and minds his own business when around people but Bianca feels that there is a little something hidden behind those dark, purple eyes. She feels that it is part of why he is so quiet, and she is determined to make him open up his shell.

She'll start from today.

"Haitani-san."

The man looks up at her at the sound of his surname and he blinks. "Would you like to go first?" She is hopeful when she asks it. He'll usually shake his head as a pass and tell her to move on with the question when being called upon, but Bianca finds it amusing when he doesn't do it this time. Instead, he looks back down on the skin around his fingernails that have been picked raw and he sighs.

"What was the question again?"

Bianca grins.

"What would you do for love?"

His mind runs at it. He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing concrete comes up.

He shrugs.

And Bianca is relatively shocked at his answer.

"Everything."

The men in the circle around him grow quiet immediately when he says his answer. No one speaks and he fidgets a little in his seat -- he doesn't like that the attention is all on him now, and he regrets it a little for replying to her question.

Only one guy snickers and he nudges his arm.

Minamoto's face is red as he laughs at the man, "seriously? What? Like you'd even kill for your girl or something? That's so corny, dude."

He shrugs.

Minamoto is a man who'd just arrived here not too long ago -- he'd claimed that it was for something minor and he'll be out soon in no time, but he'd quickly gotten close to most of the people here because of his open mind and bright laughter. But the other men beside him are men who have been around for a very long time -- long enough to know that whatever he says should be taken seriously, and what he'd said is true -- and they'd be a fool to doubt that he is lying.

That he'd do everything for love.

He doesn't say a thing at Minamoto's tease and looks out the window to his right. It is gloomy and seems to be a bit windy outside today -- a bit too similar to what he's currently feeling on the inside and it makes his stomach churn a little. So he turns back and stares at Minamoto who immediately quiets down when he sees nothing but pure darkness in his eyes. It reminds him so much of hurt and pain -- and for once, Minamoto quickly gets the idea and his smile falters.

"Oh, so-"

Minamoto is disrupted by a guard pushing the door open and entering the room, a handcuff in hand and she clears her throat.

"Inmate 103, a visitor for you."

Mizobe stands up abruptly at the guard's notice. He is an elder man who is sitting beside the said inmate and has been friends with him for a very long time -- at least long enough for him to know that this is a once in a lifetime thing -- and he gapes.

"No fuckin' way." He pokes a finger into the younger man's shoulder while pointing another at the guard who is waiting patiently by the door. "You hear that, Haitani?! A visitor for you!"

He says nothing but stands up straight at the call of his inmate number. He shuffles over to the guard with a blank expression but no one knows that on the inside, he feels as though his heart is about to fall out of his chest -- it rattles, jumps and skips beat after beat. And he lets the guard cuff his hands together while walking him out the door.

"Who is it?" He decides to bite when he slowly approaches the visiting room. He has never been here for 7 years already -- just once at the very start of his sentencing when his brother had visited to tell him that he is never coming back here again. "Tell me."

". . . You'll see." She says softly and uncuffs his wrists with a key when they stop at the entrance. The door is locked tight and he is confused when she tells him to turn around. "As far as I know I am not allowed to see people without cuffs." He states in an uncertain tone and the guard chuckles a little at his puzzled expression. She looks around to make sure no one else hears other than the few guards who are in shift. They all smile at him.

"It is your first visitor after so long, so we'll let it pass today. Just take your time, with her. No time limit." She motions to another guard to unlock the door and all of a sudden he doesn't feel like going out anymore.

He hasn't had a visitor in 7 years. Not once in his how long his sentencing has been going on and to hear that it is a her makes his entire being falter. From being a quiet yet strong guy in his unit, he is reduced to nothing but a coward when the guard pushes him out the door by the shoulders and he stumbles a little on the way.

And his heart stops beating entirely at the sight of a woman sitting by a table.

A woman that looks a lot like you.

"Rindou."

The doors close behind him. There is no one else in the room except for the two of you. Rindou hears nothing except for the sounds of your soft cries while you waddle over to him -- they came rolling down your cheeks like waterfall at the sight of him. 7 years later and you finally get to see him again, and your body reacts differently than what you'd expected it to. Your feet moves automatically, closer to his body and his breath fluctuates, in and out of his mouth when your cream coloured coat makes you look so small and you reach both arms out to him.

The bright orange jumper he wears makes him look a bit like the mandarins you'd used to pick together back home in Kanagawa. You cry louder at it and look down to grab at his hands. You whimper because they are so warm when you place them both on your face. A sigh escapes your lips and you turn your head to kiss at his left palm, then the right and his lips wobble at your gentleness after all that he's done. Your tears wet his skin and they move swiftly without hesitation to cup your soft and rosy cheeks -- his thumbs swiping the salty away and you sob in his hands. You hiccup and he pulls you close to his lips to kiss at your forehead. He doesn't retreat and doesn't dare look into your eyes either when you pull away.

"Rindou." You manage to call for his name again after a while and he finally meets your eyes this time -- and he sees nothing but darkness mixed oddly with so much love in them. "My Rindou." The purple orbs you've always loved admiring at fleets and his heart stutters in his chest.

He feels so undeserving of yours as you hand it over to him.

Rindou is in agony when he sees your crying face.

There are no more bruises on you, but you are still in so much pain, and it is all because of me.

It feels like murder to have put your heart through this, and he watches with aguishness as you cry and cry and cry. Because he'd done it. And putting you in so much pain and despair are his consequences to suffer.

He drops to his knees instantly at the sound of your misery. He kneels before you and you cry even harder when he wraps his arms around your legs and bows his head against your thighs.

"I am sorry."

Angry tears fall and drips to the floor as he continues to apologise.

"I am so sorry."

Snot runs down his nose and you hit at his shoulder.

"Stand up, Rindou. I'm not mad."

And you really weren't. You just thought he was stupid for it; that he was crazy -- fucking insane -- for actually doing it and not telling you -- hiding it and leaving you alone to think he'd left and doesn't want you anymore.

He only weeps harder and kiss at your thigh through your pants.

You're sure the Gods are criticising you for feeling everything but anger and hatred when you pull at his jumper to try and get him to stand up -- he doesn't budge and you give up. You're sure they are cursing you to eternal agony when you kneel with him instead and hug him close to your body -- you rub at his back like how you always did when he would come to you after a bad day. And you're sure they are sending the Grim Reaper your way when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss on the skin -- you rub your face on his uniform like a cat and inhale his scent. It never went away. He still smells like the boy you've always loved. He is the boy that you've always loved.

And no sane person would ever understand you for being this close, this intimate, and this forgiving, to a person who had killed your father.

Only you would know why.

Haitani Rindou apologises to you first thing when he sees you.

And it is because he'd killed your father.

For you.

tag: @nana-osakii @idktbhloley ily

( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated <3

(i do not condone anything that has happened in this. this is purely fiction)

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Fighter!Sihtric NSFW alphabet

Note: HCs based on my fighter fic : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13.

template source.

Warnings: 18+!! smut.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: -

wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

Sihtric just wants to hold you and check in with you. He'll kiss you all over and snuggle until he falls asleep when in bed at night. If you had sex during another time of the day he'll want to cuddle for a moment and check in, and then continue the day. He is also a big fan of praising you. He'll help you clean up and get dressed too and Sihtric will never say no to a shower together afterwards, and he always asks if you want anything to eat or to drink.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

Sihtric doesn't mind spanking you a little from time to time or pinning you down (big fan of pinning you down), but overall he's not much into BDSM. He thinks you're way too precious to handle that roughly, even though he knows you could take it, but his anger issues would also make it not the smartest idea to try out some BDSM. He does love to fuck you hard and fast sometimes, but other than fucking you with a head spinning pace and switching positions, he's overall rather vanilla actually.

C=Cum - pretty self explanatory.

He doesn't want to cum anywhere if not inside you. His breeding kink is almost absurd and he wants to fill you up at any given time. The fact that it would not result in pregnancy does not bother him anymore, nothing makes him prouder and his ego bigger than knowing you're full of his seed regardless.

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Sihtric is dominant, but nowhere near as dominant as he thinks. He's actually more cocky and stubborn than he is dominant, and his dominance happens mainly in your daily life, outside of the bedroom. He does like to take control when it comes to sex, but your fighter melts at your touch instantly and if we're being honest, you could totally take charge whenever you want to. He's obsessed with you and wants to please you above all, so he's really more of a submissive. But obviously he will never admit that.

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

Again, Sihtric's rather vanilla. He's terrified to accidentally hurt you and that thought completely puts him off any edgeplay and most of the BDSM stuff. However, if you would deny his orgasm it could completely make him go wild (in a good way).

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Apart from loving the fact he can fuck you in every city around the world if he wants to, he mainly has a thing for car sex. And not in his car, no, no. The only thing Sihtric may love more than you is his car, and the thought of fucking you on the hood of his beloved Bugatti gets him hard more than once a day. He just has no idea how to ask you if you're up for it, because that car has caused trouble in your relationship before.

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

He'd be a little embarrassed if someone would actually walk in on you two, but then will get all cocky about it. He will also headbutt anyone who dares to look at you while getting caught. But the thought of someone only hearing you both doesn't phase him. He actually loves it when people can hear you, because it strokes his ego by letting them know how good he fucks you.

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated (EX: neck).

Kissing that spot right underneath his ear will drive him crazy, but then his neck is a sensitive spot in general. Also his inner thighs will get him worked up without failure. Don't place your hand on his thigh if you don't plan on taking off his sweatpants after.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

Sihtric is an absolute hopeless romantic… at times. When given the time and right place he will try to set up something romantic with candles for example. But even without candles and such he can make it feel romantic as he loves to keep his face close to yours and look into your eyes in between kisses. He especially loves to show you how much he loves you before and after his fights, so he'll try his best to make it perfect for you, but that doesn't always mean candles and rose petals and hottubs. Sometimes it's sex in a dressing room while he's still sweaty and bloody from his fight just moments earlier, but his sweet nothings and desperate 'I missed you,' and 'I love you,' whines still make it intimate in all the right ways that candles could never do.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex.

Sihtric likes a chase and he loves to rile you up. It arouses him when you talk back to him, because he thinks it's cute when you try and act all tough. He knows you're tough, way tougher than him to be honest, but riling you up riles him up too and he loves it. Not giving into him right away only makes him want you more.

K=Kinks - I’ll list a few of their kinks, be they the normalized ones or kinkier kinks.

Again, he's really not very kinky apart from being a tad dominant and becoming a growling and begging mess when you deny his orgasm a few times.

L=Location -  Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Anywhere, any time. Hotel rooms, bathrooms, dressing rooms, showers, the beach, his car, his gym, the couch, the kitchen… literally anywhere, he does not give a shit. If Sihtric wants you, he'll get you.

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

Sihtric has some spicy photos you took of yourself that he has in a secure folder on his phone, which he'll use when he's away from you as it's the only option. It works, but he prefers to just have sex with you or have you jerk him off. 

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

Sihtric will never share you with one (or more) people, he's as possessive as they come. The idea of someone getting off to you makes his blood boil. But since he is so possessive, that also means he is extremely loyal to you and would also never want to do something with another person.

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Truth be told, you don't even have to do anything to get Sihtric horny. You can just look at him and he'll already want to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed. But being a little bratty and showing him you're not intimidated by him always gets him going immediately.

P=Position -  Their favourite position to have sex in.

Prone bone for when he's feeling dominant and a little rougher, and the lotus position for intimacy. He also loves the cowgirl position. Sihtric loves to lay or sit back, his arms behind his head while biting down on his lip as he watches you ride him and take all of his length so well. His eyes never lie and you know he could never get enough of watching you on top of him. And you can never go wrong with the classic missionary.

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

Sihtric loves quickies and would never say no, but he much rather takes his time with you.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

Sihtric can be a bit rough, but once again he would never want to hurt you and his roughness happens mainly when he's been riling you (both) up. He softens instantly once you kiss him.

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Come on now, Sihtric is a professional fighter and a gym beast… if anyone taps out, it's you (and there's no shame in that).

T=Toys - Do use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.

Sihtric is way too cocky to use toys on you nor does he use any himself. When it comes to you, he's the kind of guy that sees a toy as competition and it hurts his ego. Because what do you mean a toy can make you cum much faster than he could? If you'd explain the idea of perhaps using a vibrator while he fucks you for extra stimulation, he might consider it. But it would truly take a lot of time for him to be willing to give it a go, and he'll throw mantrums about it (a man tantrum).

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

Sihtric teases you a lot, but he's rather impatient so the teasing actually backfires all the time. He likes to whisper filthy words to you and to send risky texts, telling you what he'll like to do with you, working himself up in the meantime while you can keep your cool a lot longer than him.

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

Sihtric doesn't hold back his sounds of pleasure, but he prefers to whisper and moan into your ear, because he knows it drives you wild and he loves to feel you clench around his cock whenever he does. He loves to praise you and is obsessed with calling you his wife in bed ever since the wedding, just to remind you that you belong to him.

'My wife is so good to me,' he'll moan, along with, 'I love my beautiful wife.'

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

Sihtric is always clingy, but he gets extremely clingy and soft with you when he's tipsy, and then all he wants to do is to make slow and sweet love to you. But he often has a drink too many and then he gets either aggressive (to others) or emotional, and that's not a good mood for sex.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

Sihtric is like a sculptured god and it's honestly unfair. You could never grow tired of seeing his physique. The scars on his skin, his toned abs, his veiny arms and those biceps always make your mouth water. As do his thighs and most of all his hands, even when they are bruised from his fights. You love to kiss his bruises as you get to drag your lips all over his body when you do so, and he loves it too. And in regards to his size? No complaints there.

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

Sihtric would love to have sex at least once a day, but his schedule won't always allow that so it's usually at least four times a week. But when you both have time off together he'll surely make up for the days you couldn't have sex.

Z=ZZZ - How quickly they fall asleep after having sex.

Sihtric falls asleep rather fast if it's in the evening/at night, mainly because in the evening he likes it a little rougher and faster than in the morning for example. In the morning he likes it slow and intimate. He'll still doze off afterwards in the morning, but not for too long. It also depends on the day. If he's had a long day he's naturally tired already, if he had quite a relaxed day he can stay up for a few more hours just to cuddle with you.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a @verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @succnfuccubus @hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305 @carnationworld

If you want to be added/removed from the taglist, message me 🖤

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Keep it Clean ||

Shane Walsh x female reader

Tags/warnings: shower sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink? apocalyptic zombie world pregnancy worries. E

A/n: I did not think I'd get another one out so fast lol. First time writing for Shane as well (and for why?? Mmm)! This is for @bernthirst-events #bernthirstpalooza Wet Wednesday 😜 please reblog if you enjoyed!

Clean, hot, almost magical water cascades over your naked body as you dance under the strong shower spray, squealing with delight. You don't even know how long it's been since you had access to something so luxurious. This of course meant you were going to enjoy it to the fullest.

You moan with pleasure as you slide the soap suds over your skin, the cleansing sensation feeling almost too good you can't stop giggling to yourself. You could finally relax for a while, recharge and restock after months on the road only ever snatching meager hours of sleep because of the watches. Because of the walkers.

You almost jump out of your skin letting out a scream when something touches your back, spinning around ready to throw your fist until it's held above your head in a strong grip and you're pinned against the tiled shower wall.

"S-shane! Oh my god, don't do fuckin' do that!" You shriek, whacking him on the bare chest with your free hand.

He smiles that shit eating smile, looking you up and down as you try to get your breathing and heart rate under control.

"Sorry baby, but can't a man watch his woman enjoying herself? Couldn't help wantin' to touch…"

You've calmed down enough to realise he's completely naked as he loosens his grip on your wrist. His massive bulk takes up most of the cubicle space, and as your eyes trail down following the water droplets on his tanned skin you can't help noticing he's very aroused.

He trails his wet fingers down your arm as you let it fall, sliding his hand to cup your breast and you gasp, arching into him as he runs his thumb in slow circles around your nipple.

"Y'know it's been a while since we…"

You're grateful for his other hand coming to grip you around the waist as you think you might fall, melting into his touch as you remember just how long it's been since you last had sex.

"Yeah," you breathe out, parting your lips as he leans down pressing his against them, the trickling water flowing around you easing the kiss into one that's increasingly hotter and wetter, one that has your skin feeling electrified as he touches you, his hands everywhere you need them to be. The kisses migrate elsewhere, both of you mouthing desperately at each other's skin, needing to feel this closeness in the new privacy that you haven't been able to have before. You're sinking to your knees so eager to take him in your mouth and show him but he pulls you back up, leaning in close as he kisses you on the lips again so passionately.

"Ain't gonna last if you do that babe."

The feel of his erection pressing against your belly has you wet and ready for him in record time.

"Well what are you waiting for handsome," you ask, reaching down between you, encircling your hand around his cock making him almost choke. "fuck me."

"Yes ma'am." He lifts up your leg, grabbing under your thigh and you hold on to both him and the shower pipe for support as he lines up before slowly pushing in. The fullness you feel with him inside you takes you aback and he feels it too, waiting for you to relax as you curl around him, fingers digging into his muscular arms. After a minute you nod against him, giving him the signal that he can move and your mouth drops open as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in.

"Oh damn baby, oh fuck…"

Your knuckles are white as you grip onto the pipe beside you but he prises your fingers off, interlacing them in his as he shifts you to the side fucking you up against the wall.

Your moans are loud and echo around the bathroom and you're certain that the others will be able to hear, but you don't care, you just want him. You can't even care that he's taking you raw, you should really be more careful but the feeling of him is like nothing else. You need it, need to feel him without any barrier, the primal urge too strong to beat any logic and sense.

His wet skin smacks against yours faster, harder as he pushes you towards your climax. Your fingers twist in his hair and pull, and you feel the growl he makes vibrate through your soul.

"Shane, please…" you plead for something, you don't know what anymore but he's got you regardless, he's all around you, covering you, inside you making you feel safe in the midst of this fucked up world.

"Fuck babygirl, I'm close, we gotta-"

You know he's looking to pull out but your hindbrain has taken the wheel and you pull him closer, nails pressing red crescents into his skin because you need this, you want this.

Fuck the consequences.

He looks you right in the eyes and you're nodding, you're begging for it, you're selfish. You don't care.

You cry out as you cum, taking him with you through his nonsensical curses, his praises, his I love yous, not letting go until you've stopped shaking, until he's shushing you gently, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he pulls out.

You don't know what will happen, if it happens, but you know he'll be there for you no matter what.

.

.

If you enjoy my writing please reblog to share with others!

[bloody-bee-tea]

IntiMarch 2024 Day 6 - Keep no secrets

The prompt for this was "Stay with me"

Satoru is idling his time away in his stupidly comfortable chair, hiding from Yaga and the no doubt judging look on his face and being terribly bored with Suguru out on a mission when his students file into the room. He instantly knows that they are up to something, because Megumi is shuffling behind Kugisaki and Itadori, who keep shoving each other.

“What’s up, dear students of mine?” Satoru asks when they don’t do something except furiously whispering between each other.

“We need your help,” Itadori says and that instantly has Satoru on edge. His students don’t ask for his help unless one of them is actively dying.

“With what?” Satoru asks, sitting up properly, his attention fixed on them now.

“We need you to settle a bet for us,” Kugisaki tells him and it takes Satoru a moment to comprehend her words. Once he does, he lounges back in his chair, though.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun. What’s the bet?” he wants to know and catches Megumi rolling his eyes in the background. 

It makes Satoru smile, because even though he pretends that he wants nothing to do with this, he came here with Kugisaki and Itadori, so clearly he must be invested in the outcome as well.

“You need to tell us who Geto-sensei is married to,” Itadori says, almost bouncing on his feet that’s how excited he is and the image of Itadori as an eager puppy is enough to distract Satoru from the words he just uttered.

But when they finally make their way into his head, they hit, and they hit hard.

“Huh?” he gets out, his insides turning to ice over the situation he’s being presented with.

“You have to know who he’s married to, you two are inseparable,” Kugisaki chimes in now. “Fushiguro says he’s not married at all but we saw the ring and Geto-sensei knows we saw the ring and he only smiled that stupid sweet smile of his when we asked, so there has to be someone. And you need to tell us who it is.”

Suguru is married. Suguru is married. Suguru is married.

It doesn’t compute.

“You saw the ring?” Satoru asks, to buy himself some time, to maybe regain any semblance of control over this situation but he knows all hope on that is lost when Itadori nods.

“He wears it around a chain on his neck,” he explains, helpfully points at his own neck as well and Satoru’s world spins.

He has never seen the ring—or any kind of jewellery on Suguru, except his gauges—and Suguru certainly hasn’t mentioned being married.

And Suguru would have told him, right?

“I see,” Satoru weakly gives back and he can probably count himself lucky that Kugisaki and Itadori are too caught up in their own bickering to notice his strange reaction but Satoru knows that Megumi keeps a very close eye on him.

“So, who is it?” Kugisaki finally asks after shoving Itadori one more time and Satoru swallows heavily.

He’s not about to tell his students that he doesn’t know who his best friend is married to, so he needs to get out of this some other way.

“Who are you betting on?” he asks, hoping that this might give him something to work with and if the way Megumi rolls his eyes is anything to go by, he looked right through him.

“Itadori thinks it’s Ieiri-san,” Kugisaki tells him. “I think it’s Haibara-san.”

“Oh, dear,” Satoru huffs out and he doesn’t even have to fake his laugh for that. “Do not let Nanamin hear you say that, he’s going to chop your head clean off for that.”

Satoru watches how Itadori’s and Kugisaki’s eyes go huge and it’s entertaining enough to distract him from the cold feeling in his chest.

“Don’t tell me you never noticed,” he laughs out because it’s not as if these two are hiding their relationship. It would be stupid to, anyway, because they’ve been married for almost ten years now.

“But Haibara-san is all over Geto-sensei,” Kugisaki argues and Satoru chuckles.

“Because he honestly admires Suguru,” he explains and in his opinion, rightfully so.

Suguru should definitely be admired.

“And Ieiri-san?” Itadori asks, rubbing his hands together as if he already knows he’s winning this bet and Satoru doesn’t feel bad about telling him otherwise.

“Has been tragically pining after a teacher of our dear sister school, so chances are slim it’s her.”

“Wait,” Megumi finally speaks up and Satoru is already dreading what’s going to come out of his mouth. “So you want to tell us you don’t actually know who Geto-sensei is married to?”

Itadori’s mouth falls open at that while Kugisaki points an accusing finger at Satoru.

“Have you been lying to us?” she demands to know and Satoru raises his hands in defense.

“I have not,” he tells her. “You simply bet on the wrong people, that’s all.”

“Then tell us who he’s married to or otherwise we have to believe Fushiguro got it right after all,” Itadori whines out and Satoru doesn’t think it would be wise to cry out that he wishes Fushiguro’s bet is correct after all.

“If Suguru didn’t tell you then I won’t, either,” Satoru says, expertly avoiding a real answer and when Megumi smirks Satoru knows that he knows.

Well, at least he’s bound to stay quiet about it.

“You’re being so mean, sensei,” Itadori cries out but now that this is somewhat settled Satoru really needs to get away from his students.

And it’s definitely not to wallow in his misery alone, thank you very much.

“If that’s all, I have other places to be,” Satoru tells them flippantly, waving them off as he marches past them and he hopes Megumi knows he’s glaring at him when he whispers a quiet “I bet”.

But what Megumi knows and doesn’t know can be a problem for another day, because right now Satoru needs to drive himself insane over the fact that apparently Suguru is married to someone, or at least invested in them enough to wear a ring around his neck.

A ring!

Fuck, just the thought makes Satoru’s eyes burn and he’s glad he’s wearing his blindfold today in case he runs into someone before he makes it to the safety of Suguru’s room.

It should be very telling that Satoru didn’t even think of going to his own room, but that is something Satoru tries not to think too much about. It might not matter anymore anyway, if Suguru really is married to someone.

Once he’s inside Suguru’s room, Satoru falters.

He feels out of place, suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something personal and Satoru never felt like that when he was inside Suguru’s room. Their rooms were never really Suguru’s or Satoru’s but always theirs; small things of both of them have made it into the other, enough so that Satoru feels just at home in Suguru’s room as he does his own and he is certain that the same is true for Suguru.

Well, Satoru used to be certain of that.

Now he doesn’t really know anymore.

Satoru looks around the room, tries to spot any hints of another person in Suguru’s room, but he only stumbles over things that belong to him. It makes something bittersweet twist in Satoru’s chest and suddenly he can’t stand to be in Suguru’s room a second longer.

He can’t believe that their lives are so intertwined, that they are so comfortable with each other and yet Suguru never told him about his spouse.

Fuck, Satoru doesn’t even want to think about this, but of course he can’t simply turn off his thoughts; ‘Suguru is married and didn’t tell me’ is running around Satoru’s head on loop and even after an hour it doesn’t get any easier to stomach that thought.

Suguru is married and he never told Satoru.

Satoru isn’t even sure what hurts more; the fact that Suguru married someone who isn’t Satoru or that Suguru clearly thinks that Satoru doesn’t need to know. Or deserves to know? Shouldn’t know?

He always expected to be rejected by Suguru, that’s why he never said anything about his stupid, useless feelings to begin with, so he expected that kind of pain, but to learn now that Suguru doesn’t even trust him enough to tell him something so personal hurts more than anything else.

Satoru loses himself in his thoughts, speculations on who it might be who snatched Suguru up running wild, but Satoru comes up empty.

The only one he can think of is Yuki Tsukumo and fuck, that would make sense, right? Suguru left with her for two painful years—claiming that he needed a break, that he needed to figure out what he wants to do with his life, and he had come back stronger and more self-assured than ever before—and that is the only stretch of time where Satoru wasn’t plastered to his side.

Did Suguru get married to Yuki? Satoru supposes he can kind of see it; she is a very beautiful woman and she’s strong, too. Is that something Suguru would go for?

It annoys him to no end that he doesn’t know what Suguru’s type is and he startles when he realises that they never talked about things like that. Satoru easily says when he finds people hot or admires them because it doesn’t mean anything anyway, but Suguru never mentioned anything in that direction.

Was he keeping secrets from Satoru all along?

Satoru flops down on his bed at that thought and he doesn’t like how much this all hurts him, how much this upsets his entire world view.

And all because of a stupid ring, which Satoru didn’t even see with his own eyes.

“There you are,” Suguru suddenly says from the door and Satoru jerkily sits up.

How much time has passed, he wonders but a look outside tells him that it’s already dark out. Suguru has been back for a while then, most likely.

“Welcome back,” Satoru greets him and quickly checks Suguru over for injuries. “Everything went well?” Satoru asks even though he can’t spot any injuries on him.

“Of course,” Suguru replies and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on, Satoru?” he asks, levelling Satoru with an expectant look.

“Huh? What is supposed to be going on?” he gives right back because they’ve barely seen each other for five minutes, why would Suguru think that something is going on?

“You weren’t waiting for me when I came back, you weren’t hogging space in my room and even now you’re being all—distant,” Suguru explains, waving a hand at the entirety of Satoru.

“How am I distant, I’m just sitting here!”

“Exactly,” Suguru says as if that makes any sense. “Usually you would be all over me by now. So I’m asking again, what is going on?”

Something in Satoru’s chest twists at that, hearing just how well Suguru knows him and it makes anger rise up in Satoru, too. How dare he know him that well and still keep secrets from him?

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” Satoru bites back and it only serves to make Suguru frown.

“I just came back from a mission, why the hell would anything be going on with me?”

“Have you even been on a mission?” Satoru scathingly asks because who knows, maybe he just uses them as excuses to meet his spouse.

“Huh? Where else would I have been?”

“Yeah, I wonder,” Satoru mutters and Suguru sighs.

“Okay, something really is going on. Satoru,” he softly says and steps close so he can sit next to Satoru on the bed. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Satoru huffs out but it’s more than obvious that Suguru doesn’t believe a single word he says.

They sit in silence for a long moment, and never before has a silence he shared with Suguru been uncomfortable but this is edging close to it. Satoru hates it with a passion.

“Stay with me,” he finally whispers out, because for all that he’s hurt by Suguru’s secrets at the moment, his biggest fear is that Suguru is going to leave him to be with his spouse.

“Where would I go?” Suguru wants to know and Satoru lets out a long breath.

“I don’t know—away. From me. To spend more time with your—” he cuts himself off there, unable to say it out loud and it apparently only serves to confuse Suguru even more.

“With my—? Satoru, honestly, what the hell is going on with you today?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru hotly says, “why don’t you tell me? You’re the one keeping secrets from me!”

“Secrets? Satoru, I’m not keeping any secrets from you,” Suguru gives back and Satoru hates that he is tuned in enough to Suguru’s feelings to know that he’s hurt by the accusation.

“Aren’t you though?” Satoru whispers out and taps his chest, where he guesses Suguru’s ring is resting. “I know you’re married.”

“Married? What the hell, Satoru, I’m not married!” Suguru exclaims and he seems honestly shocked by the accusation.

It only serves to hurt Satoru more, though, because this clearly is a huge, fat, boldfaced lie.

“Great, so you’d rather continue to lie to me than actually be honest with me. Real nice of you, Suguru,” Satoru spits out and gets up because he cannot bear to sit next to Suguru for a moment longer, not when he still keeps secrets from him.

“I am not lying!” Suguru hotly says before he takes a deep breath. “Why do you think I’m married?” he then asks, much more calmly and it only serves to upset Satoru further, so he starts pacing the length of his room.

“The kids saw your ring, Suguru,” Satoru reminds him and he watches Suguru’s face like a hawk, so he sees the confusion melt away into embarrassment.

“Ah,” Suguru breathes out and his hand reaches up to his chest, as if he’s about to pull the ring right out and Satoru tears his eyes away.

He never wants to see that offending piece of jewellery.

“It’s not like that, Satoru,” Suguru softly says and Satoru huffs in disbelief.

“Right. Sure, keep your secrets I guess,” he bitterly mutters as he makes his way to the door. “Later, Suguru.”

Satoru doesn’t even manage to open the door before Suguru is right there, keeping the door closed with a hand while the other is tangled in Satoru’s uniform, keeping him rooted to the spot.

“Let me explain,” Suguru says, his voice barely above a whisper and when Satoru dares to look at Suguru he sees a light blush dusting his cheeks.

It does nothing to settle his nerves and the pit in his stomach that has been there ever since the students came to him only grows.

“Explain then,” Satoru harshly says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and putting a little bit of distance between them.

He wonders why Suguru always allowed him so much physical contact if he’s married to someone but he’s going to find out now, apparently.

Satoru just hopes it’s not someone he has to see every goddamn day, because he’s not sure he could do that.

“It’s not a wedding ring,” Suguru starts with and then takes a necklace out from under his shirt.

There’s a ring dangling on it, but completely contrary to Satoru’s expectations, it’s not a metal ring, something beautiful and expensive like Suguru deserves, but a cheap plastic ring, and one that has definitely seen better days on top of that.

“What the hell is that?” Satoru blurts out before he can think better of it, his eyes still glued to the ring and he’s unable to tear his eyes away.

He recognises that ring, he faintly thinks and then blanches when it hits him.

Suguru is not looking at him, so he doesn’t seem to notice Satoru’s turmoil, because his gaze is fixed on the ring and he seems so fond of it that Satoru’s stomach flips with it.

“I knew you wouldn’t remember,” Suguru mutters, and now Satoru can’t hold back anymore, he lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“I gave you that ring,” he gets out and Suguru’s head snaps up.

“You remember?” he breathlessly asks. “It was just some cheap gift in a candy bag.”

It’s true; it was one of these advertisement thingies that makes you want to buy the candy even more—not that Satoru ever needed any kind of incentive for that—and he still remembers giving this bag to Suguru clearly.

Mostly because he had given it to him because of the ring, just to pretend for even a moment. It’s also the reason why Satoru has the exact same ring in his wallet.

“It wasn’t,” Satoru whispers out and digs around for his wallet, much to Suguru’s apparent confusion. “It meant much more to me,” he admits when he finally found his wallet, taking the very same ring out of it with shaky fingers.

If Suguru kept it for all these years, wears it around his neck and close to his heart, then surely it must mean something, right?

“You—have one, too?” Suguru shakily asks and he reaches out for Satoru’s ring with trembling fingers as if it’s all just a trick of the eyes.

“Of course I have one, too,” Satoru says. “I knew you weren’t ever going to wear it, that you would never feel the same but like this, I could at least—I don’t know, pretend for a little while,” he admits and saying it out loud now, that Suguru doesn’t feel the same, doesn’t hurt anymore because the ring gives him hope.

It has to mean something.

“Satoru,” Suguru breathes out and Satoru drags his eyes back to Suguru’s face only to find that Suguru is already looking at him. “I’ve been in love with you since our first year.”

It takes Satoru’s breath away, to hear it like that and to have Suguru’s gaze on him but Satoru doesn’t let that distract him.

There are more important things to do.

He steps forward, right into Suguru’s space who doesn’t back away and so it’s easy to press their lips together.

“Same,” Satoru mutters, with barely enough space between them to even get the words out but the thought of being further away from Suguru right now seems unbearable.

His admission makes Suguru laugh.

“So you want to say we wasted over ten years?” he asks, his lips brushing Satoru’s again.

“Did we waste them, though?” Satoru wants to know because they share so much already; Satoru’s life without Suguru in it is unfathomable and they are so comfortable with each other that they piss of their friends regularly. “We still spent them together, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Suguru gives back, a smile making his eyes crinkle in that way Satoru loves so very dearly and he kisses the corner of his eye.

“Do you want a real ring now?” Satoru then asks and revels in the way he can feel Suguru’s chuckle almost more than he hears it.

“And now we’re skipping steps?”

“The kids are betting on who you are married to. No one bet on me. I’m upset,” Satoru pouts out and Suguru pulls him into a soft kiss again.

“Clearly,” he agrees. “I didn’t know you to be so jealous.”

There’s a question in there, Satoru can tell, and he sighs.

“Mostly I was upset that you were keeping secrets from me. That was almost worse than knowing you belong to someone else.”

“I would never keep secrets from you and who else would I even belong to? You’re all I’ve seen for the past decade,” Suguru admits and it almost makes Satoru swoon on his feet.

“Please say you’re going to marry me,” he begs Suguru, nuzzling his cheek and he can feel how Suguru smiles.

“If you have a ring for me, I can be convinced,” he gives back and it feels as if Satoru’s heart is going to beat out of his chest with how happy he is.

“Are you free right now?” Satoru eagerly asks and then pouts at Suguru when he shakes his head.

“I just came home from a mission, I’m beat and I have a fiancé to cuddle. We’ll have to take a rain check on that.”

Satoru’s entire being tingles when Suguru calls him his fiancé and he guesses he’ll forgive Suguru this once for telling him no.

“Oh, what a hardship,” Satoru gives back. “It’s a date for tomorrow, though.”

“I’m free right after breakfast,” Suguru agrees and tugs Satoru over to the bed. “Now come here.”

Suguru stretches himself out on Satoru’s bed as if he belongs there—and he is so right with that—and then makes grabby hands at Satoru who happily climbs on top of him. They fit easily together, having spent countless nights plastered to each other like this, and Satoru instantly relaxes when Suguru’s arms come up around him.

“I’m glad you’re not married,” Satoru mutters after a few moments and Suguru kisses his forehead.

“I’m about to be, though,” Suguru reminds him and Satoru wriggles around with his happiness.

“And I am overjoyed about it,” Satoru happily says and lightly trails the tips of his fingers over the place where a ring would soon sit. “You’ll make a good husband.”

“I should hope so,” Suguru mumbles. “I have to match my perfect husband, after all.”

It makes Satoru laugh, because he might be cocky and so very self-assured but he’s definitely not perfect at all, but he’s not about to argue with Suguru right now.

Right now, he will enjoy one day of cuddling his fiancé before he makes an honest man out of him and then he’ll gloat to the kids. That’s definitely an important part of his future, too.

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

(I'm certain) I Know What You'd Say

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader Summary: Pavitr taking you to the tallest building in Mumbattan and feeding you vada paav + "is this a date?" + angst..?  Warnings: Unrequited Love, Pining, Platonic Relationship, Ambiguous/Open Ending (but not that ambiguous), Hopeful Ending, Low Self-Esteem, Reader POV, Negative Thoughts, Past bad Relationship, Italics indicate thoughts

Also read on AO3

🎶🎵I'd never ask you cause deep down I'm certain I know what you'd say You'd say I'm sorry believe me I love you but not in that way🎶🎵 Not In That Way by Sam Smith As usual, all Hindi words are Google Translated (pls don't 🔪 me) *Can also be read as Pavitr Prabhakar x lithro!reader

"Pavs!" 

Pavitr Prabhakar, aka Mumbattan's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, swings smoothly from a lamp post and dives with a twril to land before you. A smile pulls at your lips. Show off.

"Ready, N/n?"

You nod, circling your arms around his neck. He secures one arm around your waist, holding you close to his chest, and aims his web at a tall building. 

"Hold on tight. 3.. 2..1! WhooOHOOO!" 

You squeal excitedly as he swings from building to building, navigating effortlessly through the traffic. It's like riding a roller coaster except you're swinging. You heart pumps faster from the adrenaline rush and you wind yourself tighter around him, almost crushing him in fear as he swings higher and higher. 

"Hey", he says gently removing unwinding your arm, "You can open your eyes now." 

What feels like forever has been only a few minutes when you find yourself on the rooftop of a skyscraper in the middle of the city. 

The view is picturesque but you don't get to appreciate it for long, busy throwing up in the corner. Pavitr winces and turns his face away, peeling off his mask as he sits on the edge of the terrace. 

"Sssssorry..." 

Luckily you've brought water and you rinse your mouth, coming to sit beside Pavitr cautiously. 

"See? I told you it'd be fun!" 

"It is thrilling, but.. you sure we won't accidentally fall off? I mean..", your breathing picks up as you look below, "it's soooo high.." 

"Don't look down!"

Too late. The world around begins to spin as gravity calls for you. Oh no.. 

Pavitr pulls you back into safety and rubs your back in soothing motions. "Relax. I got'chu, N/n." 

"How do you do this everyday without getting your insides twisted!?" 

He shrugs as it's obvious. "I'm Spider-Man." 

"Yeah, because that explains everything", you sass, shooting him an unamused look. "Poor Gayatri, though." 

Pavitr flushes, eyes flitting everywhere but at you as he rubs his neck. "Uh, you're actually the first... she doesn't know yet.."

Oh, of course! You were the only one to know his secret identity. And not because he told you; you'd accidentally caught him crawl into his bedroom wall wearing the suit and you put two and two together. 

You set the street food you bought for this 'picnic' down. Seven vada pavs and two cardamom teas. 

"Did you just say I'm special?", you tease. 

"Nah, you're just lucky to catch me that night." 

You surprise him water to his face in playful retaliation, giggling. He reaches to grab your bottle but you keep it out of his reach, attacking him when he tries to shoot his webs. 

"Hey!" 

He laughs, trying to sheild himself, and, Gods, it's a beautiful sound. You stare entranced, the beautiful pink sunset painting a romantic backdrop as the last rays catch his wet hair, making it shine. The peachy colour falls on his tan skin and Pavitr looks ethereal. He wears that flirty smile that helps him charm his way out of chores, eyes sparkling and -wow, are you in a Bollywood movie? Surely, this must be a dream. 

Mmmm... &lt;;3 

"I know, right!" 

His voice snaps you out of your reverie. What the hell, you were supposed to be in control of your emotions, not practically drool on your crush! 

"What?", you ask, hoping you didn't blurt out anything embarrassing. You have GOT to stop zoning out when he's right there.

His gloves are off and he holds a vada paav in each hand, stuffing both into his mouth. 

When did he-?

"The vada pav -Mmmm!", he moans with a full mouth, "this is The best food to ever exist! It's amrutha!" 

"All street foods are ambrosia for you." 

"No, no, this really is divine! Here, have a taste-" 

You let him feed you, enjoying it while it lasts with the painful knowledge that this won't mean as much to him the way it means to you. 

Your relationship was doomed to ever remain platonic but you will cherish these little moments of your unrequited love till the day you die, alone and still pining. 

Yeah... Pavitr has a girlfriend, who's none other than your mutual bestie, Gayatri Singh. Neither of them have told you yet, but it's obvious. The way they look at each other, always a twinkle in their orbs as they speak eye to eye -the love language of love. Little smiles, sneaky looks, inside jokes.. you feel left out, but maybe it is for the best. It's like, if you acknowledged it, then there will be no denying it and this love-castle you've built in your head will collapse. 

One-sided love is like the thorns in a rose: it hurts, but letting go means you can't admire the flower anymore. And, you've gripped the stupid thing with your whole palm and now you're bleeding. 

'It's not like anyone likes me, anyway', negative thoughts begin to plague you. 'I'm the odd one out, the outsider, the one that doesn't fit in. Invisible, unless they have a use of me.' 

Self-loathing was a dangerous wormhole and you only spiralled more into it as you recalled your ex. You had briefly dated another guy to take Pavitr off your mind but it ended poorly. Pavitr had been there for you then too but it did no good. What little self-esteem you had never increased after that. 

Realizing your eyes had moistened, you inhale sharply and look out into the city that never sleeps to distract yourself. 

You loved the night sky. Grandma always said that when people die, they become stars. Perhaps, one day, you'll be one too. Watch another poor soul like you pine over someone they can never have. 

A stray tear slips down your cheek and you're quick to wipe it away, hoping Pavitr didn't notice it. The last thing you want is for him to ask, because you know you'll blurt out your feelings and it'll be the end. 

You shake yourself out of it, pushing those thoughts away. Now isn't the time. You are here with Pavitr right now and that's all what's important.

"So cold up here." You shiver, rubbing your arms for warmth. He opens his mouth to retort when you cut him off. "If you say 'I can't control the weather Y/n', I WILL push you off." 

He just laughs. "Which King of Mumbattan's Streets would you rather", he asks, holding up another vada paav, "Pav or Pavitr?" 

"Easy. Vada pav." 

You snerk when he holds his chest in faux pain and reach for the snack, but he insists on feeding you. 

"I'm not trusting you at 200 feet high. Also, this is the last one so, we're sharing", he says and shifts closer to you.

Fingers slightly brush against each other, making you tingle and stop protesting as he feeds you again. Control, idiot, control! 

Even if he'll never treated you as a lover, it's okay, because just being next to Pavitr makes your day better. 

You sip your elaichi chai and watch the city in comfortable silence, welcoming Pavitr move closer. You mind goes on a fieldtrip when your shoulders touch and you try not to blush. Maybe even lean in a little, hoping he won't notice.. 

Loud honkings corrupt the quiet air as traffic increases in the city below you. You wonder what time it is, glancing at your watch and -OH MY GOD! 

You jerk and shoot up but lose balance, though Pavitr is quick to catch you before you slip and fall off the rooftop. 

"You okay there?" 

"It's past my curfew! Ma will take the broomstick out on me if I am not home in a few!" 

"Please, N/n, aunty is so sweet. You're making her look like a villain." 

"You're not the one who's gonna be grounded!" 

"Stop fretting, we'll be there in ten seconds tops." Pavitr assures you, packing up everything in record time and washes his hands. "Ready?" 

He circles his arm around your waist once again, holding securely and swings you home, reaching quicker than before. You land on the balcony of your house, surprisingly not puking this time, as he releases you gently. 

Neither of you move and he doesn't seem to let go any soon. Veins thrum in excitement.  

"We're early", he says softly looking into your eyes. 

The full moon is reflected in his orbs, the moonrays highlighting his features. You want to cry; such a beautiful, good hearted guy can never be yours. 

"Huh?" 

"It only took nine seconds." 

You can't help but blush at how his hands are still around your waist, loosened but still there, blood pumping hot under your skin. 

God, he's so close. 

"N/n..." 

He leans in, and for a moment you forget about everything as his intoxicating scent fills your nose. You beg the Gods to prolong this moment a bit longer. 

The sound of your mom yelling from behind the door breaks you apart. Pavitr pulls on his mask and jumps onto the railing, shooting his web onto a nearby building. 

The chilly wind blows through his hair and he looks every bit hero as he stands deific under the moonlight. 

"Thanks for the date, by the way."

His words take you by surprise. Hope fills your chest and you perk up, but quickly shut it down. 

It's not what I'm thinking; he doesn't mean it that way, he's joking. 

"It... was it a date?", you ask, slow and hesitant. You need him to say 'yes' but you're not sure what you'll do if he says 'no'. 

He's just kidding. Why did you even ask!? Why are you so stubborn that he'll like you back!? 

Pavitr's silence makes you anxious. His mask prevents you from seeing his reaction and you grow antsy, unable to decipher his feelings. 

"Maybe." 

And then, Pavitr's gone, leaving you to ponder over his words in the dark chilly balcony, alone. The city below moves about full of life yet you're frozen in place with your breath taken away. 

Maybe. 

______

Hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments feed my fic dragon <3

[dragonrider9905]

Can you pleaaaaaaase do a Howzer x Female Medic!reader with the prompt 36 😭

I need some good angst in my life. I feel like maybe they’ve both known each other for ever but don’t actually confess until it’s a life or death situation and Howzer has to get the gal to leave against her will to protect her 🥹🥲

it can end in death if you want ☠️

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh @carolinetano7567 dear, be very very careful what you ask for ;D You may end up hating me after this XD

Please don't ;D I love you Caroline! XD Can even end in death? ohhhh girl don't tempt me because you know what you'll get? And with sweet Howzer too? ohhh noooo!

I hope you like it!!!! After reading your request I had to think hard but then the idea struck and boom, the angsty angst train arrived. One serving of angst coming right up! Hope you enjoy this :D Thank you SO much for dropping in the request <3 Love you girl!!!!!

36. "I can't leave you here!" "You can and you will!"

Night Reveals All Regrets

Prompt List

Celebrating You Masterlist

Summery: The battle of Teth was bloody. Then Lieutenant Howzer and his favorite medic are caught up in the middle of it. It's time to face how you feel about each other before it's too late. Warning: Angst, no comfort; major character death

You were surrounded. You could feel the heat of the blaster bolts as they flew by, searing everything in it's path. Lieutenant Howzer stood back to back with you as the great battle of Teth reigned chaotically around you. Serving under the great Captain Rex, Howzer was rising quickly through the ranks for his heroics. This was one of the bloodiest battles yet, and Rex already lost a lot of good men.

Your company was sent up ahead to scout and report back about Separatist movement, but ended up getting caught in a surprise attack. The firefight was fierce and the men you served with were dropping all around you.

"You need to get out of here!" Howzer shouted above the din, shooting from double blasters as droids made their way toward you.

"No, I'm not leaving you!" you responded, defiantly, voice scratchy with emotion and dust.

"GO!"

"I can't leave you here!"

"You can and you will!"

"If you don't make it out of here, I don't want to either!"

At your words, Howzer spun around and grabbed you by the shoulders.

"I'd rather it be me than you. You deserve a chance at a life. That's what I was made for..." he paused, "and that's what my heart was destined for."

Your jaw dropped.

"Howzer..."

"Hey, in case we don't make it out of this, I need you to know."

Spinning you around, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, he shot at more advancing droids. He kicked your legs from under you into a controlled roll.

His strong arms encircled you and forced you along until you came to a fallen tree. He knelt and helped you to his level. He didn't remove his hands from your shoulders, steadying you from the dizzy action or perhaps grounding himself for what he was to say--you weren't sure which.

"Firstly, I'm so sorry for our argument. It was dumb. I don't like not talking. Please, forgive me."

You placed your hand on Howzer's helmet where his cheek would be.

"Of course I do."

He sighed in relief.

"Secondly but more importantly...I love you. If we make it out of this, would you marry me?"

Shock passed through your eyes, then disbelief. You squinted, leaning in closer to see if he was serious.

"You're ... not joking?"

"No." He squeezed your arms. "I'm not."

"Then yes, my answer is yes!" You smiled and hugged him, tears streaming from your eyes.

"Just promise me you'll make it out of this?" Howzer said, "No matter what. I need you alive and happy."

You swallowed hard, looking down as the world stood still. When you looked up, you looked directly into his eyes with a hauntingly knowing expression.

"I can't promise you that. You know why."

Your words echoed in his ears in the loud silence, rippling in resounding waves through his mind.

Before Howzer could respond, a blaster bolt ripped through his shoulder. The wound seared with firey pain and a scream burst from his lips.

"Howzer!"

You caught him as he fell forward but another one made impact on his back.

"No!"

Tears ran from your eyes as you helped him to the ground. You rummaged through your bag, tearing through things to get to what you needed, dumping supplies all around the ground in scattered fragments.

"No no no no!" A sob burst from your mouth. You brought your hand up to your mouth as if that'd be some comfort to you, blocking out what was happening in front of you.

"Hey, hey, it's ok." With a cough, Howzer spit up some blood. His hand searched for yours. You grabbed it firmly, stroking his face with the other. You cradled him closely to your chest, trying and failing not to cry.

He was surprisingly calm. He was happy. The pain was a little uncomfortable, but you were here and that's all that mattered to him.

A light shown around your head as he looked up at you, tears falling from your face to his. You started to sing a lullaby, the tune was one he was familiar with, slow and ethereal, but he couldn't make out the words you sang. Your voice seemed distant and echoey.

His focus shifted, and he felt light and willowing, like was floating in the air and drifting in a fast river.

At some point, he started coughing as his lungs closed in on themselves and the singing stopped. Instead, you clutched hard to him, begging him to stay with you just a while longer. You lifted him slightly, hoping he could breathe a little easier.

The floating sensation left, and was replaced with the imminent feeling of your sadness. Your eyes were glassy, and pain was written all over your face.

The yellow light still shone around your head, but the wind shifted and the feeling of warmth faded. When you opened your mouth, his peace left, dread and foreboding took it's place.

"It's not your time yet. I'll wait, I promise. But take your time, love. I miss you, and I love you too."

A shadow passed over you, and the concern and worry which were present in all your movements melted into a relaxed unconcern. All jagged movements melted away. Your ministrations turned sprite eerie, easy motions. The fear in your eyes turned devoid, replaced with an empty nothing. Your lips once pressed, now split into a wide smile.

Placing your hand on his cheek, your touch was soft, but cold; your voice gentle and sweet, like how it always was on a summer afternoon hidden away in secret.

"Howzer, wake up."

Howzer jolted awake, for the hundred-thousandth time, body soaked in sweat and panting from an exhaustion from an exertion he experienced every night in his dreams. But no matter how many times he dreamed it, no matter how many different forms it took, it always ended the same.

How he wished it would have happened.

Teth happened a year ago.

And nothing was as it should be.

There was no confession of love between you.

You never had time to make up for the argument you had. He couldn't to this day even remember what it was about, only that you were mad at each other and weren't on speaking terms.

Worse of all, he hadn't even been there when it happened--he'd read the report so many times, he could insert himself into the scenario and his dreams at night haunted his 'what-if's the day presented and re-ran through his mind.

There was no escape during the waking or the sleeping hours. All he could think about was you.

And how he failed.

You died never truly knowing how he felt about you. You died alone. You died with a misunderstanding forever hanging in the air between you and now no chance of ever clearing it or understanding each other.

You died without him ever asking the one question he would die a thousand deaths to ask.

Why did he ever let you out of his sight?

"We've secured the area for the moment, Lieutenant." One of the troopers under his command approached him. He gave Howzer a sour, sad look. "The surprise attack was bad. The company is all gone."

"What do you mean gone?" Howzer nearly shouted back. He tried to control himself but his heart started to pound against his chest.

Everyone knew that you and Howzer were close. No one knew the correct name to label your relationship, but it was undeniable that you two were inseparable and shared a special bond. Being the medic of his unit, you became the little sister of the group. Everyone loved and respected you, especially him.

"Fireball, what happened, tell me."

"I found her. She's gone."

Time froze and everything around him blurred. The floor felt like it was being ripped from under him. His stomach churned and threatened to give up what little it contained in a biting, rancid taste of acid. Urgency overtook him and the adrenaline rush caused the world to spin.

He had planned on talking to you and apologizing after the day's battle was done. When the advancing company asked for volunteers, you hadn't hesitated. It only took moments before his own company was caught in a firefight--a surprise attack of its own to handle. He fought long and hard in his zone and seeing how many brothers fell, made him realize he needed to talk to you. There was so much to say and in your line of duty, anything was possible. He vowed if he made it out, he'd tell you everything and make up for the foul up. If it hadn't been for the surprise attack, perhaps he'd have caught up with the second company in time. Those few seconds were a wasted, precious few seconds.

Lightyears and pain both traveled at the same speed, Howzer decided, and life was too short to let things go unsaid. In war, even shorter.

Howzer didn't remember when he started running but he was. He had to find you. See you for himself. He didn't even wait for Fireball to direct him to your place of rest. The pounding of his heart made him deaf and dumb.

Frantically turning his head and dodging in every direction with no thought of safety he searched the bodies littered on the ground. His brothers were everywhere. By each clone were ten droids. They'd fought valiantly and fallen with honor.

When he found your body, you were laying in a crumpled heap in the center of the men, covered in blaster bolts. Of course it took more than one to take you down. You were too stubborn to die from just one. They must have circled around you to protect you as long as they could, and yet, that wasn't enough. There were still more droids littered around the ground by you. He would have been proud, if he wasn't so overtaken by grief.

Trembling with shock, Howzer gently, he took your body in his arms and cradled you, rocking back and forth. He removed your helmet and his, resting them side by side. At least your face was free of pain, but it's pale beauty was empty of life. The flame in your eyes would never dance again.

"Cyare? Cyare, wake up. Wake up, please, don't go...don't go." With the back of his hand, he stroked your cheek which was somehow blurring and getting wet with little drops. He ran his fingers through your tangled hair and begged some sign of lift to show from the still form.

"Please, there's something I need you to know. There's something I have to tell you."

He didn't notice his brothers come up behind him, removing their helmets in silent respect. Nor did he see their own quiet grief at witnessing such a loss.

"Please, I love you, come back. Come back..."

"Stay with me, marry me, be my wife..."

"Forgive me...for everything."

Would you be alive if he'd been by your side? He would have taken your place in an instant. Could you both have had a future if perhaps you'd decided not to push forward with the company? What if you'd never argued? What if he told you how he really felt? What if he had gotten there sooner? Would he have been in time to save you? Even prevent you from being shot?

Would things be different?

Or would they have always ended this way, the same?

Hanging his head, he allowed the tears to flow. The night knew his secret regrets of the heart all too well. They surrounded him and offered the little comfort of their light best they could. Their light, which was a reflection of yours. Their warmth, only a fraction of the flame of your own.

The sun would never know his sadness. The stars were his only witnesses to grief, and the pale reminder of who you were. Perhaps they were telling him you weren't gone, but waiting for him like the dream said, but he couldn't understand their language.

Hanging his head, he cried.

What could have been if only one factor was different?

He'd never know.

Dividers by @djarrex

[headkiss]

Hey!! how are u? Could i request a steve x shy! reader fic where she’s just having an anxiety filled day but doesn’t say anything cause she doesn’t want to burden steve and it ends up leading to an anxiety attack and steve comforts her through it?

hiiii thank u sm for requesting!!! i wrote this with what i know personally, but i know anxiety isn’t the same for everyone so feel free to request other scenarios, too <33 | 0.8k, hurt/comfort, tw anxiety and panic attack

It’s been a horrible, horrible day.

Every noise has been getting to you, every thought much louder than usual. It’s as if every little thing is slipping through your barriers, worming their way into your mind. You hate it.

The worst part is that it’s Steve’s day off and it’s meant to be a great day. Of course, you can’t control that it isn’t, but you feel guilty either way.

It started in the morning, waking up far too early, before the sun had even risen and unable to fall back asleep. You stayed in bed only to keep Steve’s arms wrapped around you. Then, an email from your boss talking about some changes being made. Far too many at once for your liking.

Everything kept piling up until, eventually, it boiled over.

You’re on the couch with Steve when it happens. You’re not even sure what’s playing anymore because it’s been muted, overtaken by the volume of your mind. Still, you don’t say a word about it to Steve.

He can tell something is wrong, but he knows that you sometimes take time with these things. That you have to process before bringing anything up. He still worries. You’re far quieter than usual and even now, as he has an arm curled around your shoulders to pull you close, you’re tense.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks.

Had he known that’s what would’ve been the tipping point, he would’ve kept his mouth shut.

Your hands shake and your head spins because where do you even start? What isn’t wrong? You feel awful for thinking this way, especially when you have the world’s best boyfriend right next to you but that’s the thing about anxiety. You can’t control it no matter how hard you try.

Breathing gets harder, and you make your escape as fast as possible. “Um. I'm going to the bathroom.”

You spring up from the couch and go to the bathroom. The door slamming behind you makes you wince. Your hands bury themselves in your hair, pulling at the roof only to feel something, anything other than the panic coursing through you.

Steve’s not far behind, though. Because he knows you and he knows exactly what’s happening even though you haven’t told him anything. He tries to calm himself down to be able to help you properly, he just hates seeing you this way.

Seeing anyone he loves in pain is awful, but it’s much worse when it comes to you. Because he doesn’t just love you, he’s in love with you, and it’s different—the way he feels about you.

You barely hear him knock on the door over the roaring in your ears, his worried “baby? I’m coming in,” muffled.

It’s getting harder to breathe, your chest tight. He opens the door even though you don’t reply, eager to get to you and help talk you down. He’s learned what helps, what makes you feel better, and he learned fast.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his hands reach for yours, easing them from your hair, some strands come away with them. He holds them tight in his grasp, grounding you. “You’re okay. Breathe with me.”

He takes a deep breath in, then out. You try your best to follow but it proves to be more difficult than it seems. He takes your hands and places them against his chest so you can feel it expand with each breath, feel his heartbeat.

“Good, you’re doing so good,” he keeps his hands resting atop yours, then runs them up and down your arms comfortingly. “That’s it. Again. In, out.”

After what feels like hours but might have only been minutes, it gets easier; following his rhythm. The sound of your heart racing in your ears fades away, slowing down. You lean forward and rest your head against Steve’s chest, he kisses the top of your hair.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you say.

“None of that,” he tilts your chin up with his finger so you look at him, gentle as ever. “Never apologize, you hear me?”

“It’s just, today was supposed to be nice and- and relaxing, and I ruined it.”

“No, you didn’t. Still got lots of time in the day, okay? Are you tired?”

He knows the answer is yes. You usually are after what just happened, but he lets you say it for yourself. He’ll do whatever you want to make you feel better, anything at all.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Wanna nap?”

Another nod.

He holds you extra close when you’re in bed, one arm being used as your pillow—he doesn’t care if it goes numb, as long as you’re comfortable—and the other wrapped around your waist.

“Thank you for helping me, Steve.”

“I’m always here, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

And really, you do. He never lets you forget it.