#can you tell they make me want to chew furniture

[nutcasewithaknife]

Thinking about postcanon difang again and just. They came this far together only because of Li Lianhua. He was the hinge between them, and also what made them fail to consider the other as a person in their own right. Di Feisheng was the one who was trusted more than Fang Duobing, and Fang Duobing was the one who kept being lied to, left out, running to catch up and belong. Fang Duobing was an annoyance, a constant reminder that Li Xiangyi was no longer the man Di Feisheng once knew and understood. They just started learning to really see the other, and then. Li Lianhua leaves them to each other, to fill the space he thinks he's left in both - Fang Duobing as the young swordmaster who will grow to be a more worthy opponent to Di Feisheng. Di Feisheng as the man who has learned to survive in the Jianghu better than Li Xiangyi did and can be a better guide to Fang Duobing.

But of course these two find each other beyond all that. They were just learning to see each other, but then that hinge is gone and it changes every equation. Di Feisheng is left behind just like Fang Duobing is. They're equals in a way Li Lianhua never allowed Fang Duobing to be. That intricate tug-of-war they play about who is closest to Li Lianhua ends in a draw with both of them on the ground, defeated. Of course I'm going insane about them helping each other up after!

[orcelito]

There's also the impulse to be like "women ain't shit" but that's a lie I love our women. Not women as a whole's fault that one of them turned out a selfish bastard of a coward.

I just need to find a woman who doesn't treat me like That. Get me a good butch. I need me a good butch.

[chososlilprincess]

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

[suashii]

— 𝒽𝑒𝓎, 𝓃𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝒷𝑜𝓇 ౨ৎ

after learning that you live in the same building, you stop by xavier's place after a long day at work.

xavier x reader. 1.1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ neighbors to lovers-ish ﾉ food

thoughts race through your head as your knuckles come in contact with xavier’s apartment door.

is showing up here weird? is he even at home right now? if he is, what if he doesn’t want company?

you chew your lip as the questions aimlessly bounce around your skull. despite not having many items in it, the plastic bag hanging at your side suddenly feels heavy in your grasp. you’re starting to think the loneliness you’ve felt the past few days is dictating your actions, that your heart is leading over your head. 

you briefly contemplate abandoning your impromptu plan and going downstairs to your floor to have dinner alone like you have been. your foot makes a move to turn on its heel, but the click of the door opening and the sliver of light spilling into the hall from the gap stops you in your tracks.

even though you had hoped he’d be home, you find that your lips part in surprise upon catching a glimpse of xavier. he brings the heel of his palm up to rub at one of his eyes, the other squinted as if the light is too bright for him to handle. the ash blonde hair atop his head is disheveled and despite how unkempt he looks, it appears as though he’s still wearing the clothes he had put on this morning.

“sorry,” you keep your voice down, “did i wake you up?”

“it’s fine.” he waves his hand in dismissal and yawns. “i fell asleep on the couch.”

peeking behind him, you see that one of the throw pillows he keeps on the furniture has fallen to the floor along with a book he must have been reading before dozing off.

the mental image you create of him hanging off the edge sound asleep makes the corner of your lips twitch in a smile but, at the same time, knowing that he’s tired almost makes you feel guilty asking about having dinner with him.

though, before you can even pose the question, xavier’s blue eyes flit down to the bag in your hand. “what’s that?”

you look down as if you’d forgotten why you’d stopped by. “oh, i bought ramen. you want some?”

the mention of food seems to wake xavier up a bit, the drowsiness in his eyes fading as he lightly nods and steps aside to allow you in. you do so, slipping out of your shoes and into the pair of slippers the man gestures towards. they soften each of your steps as you make your way to the kitchen.

setting the bag on the table, you pull each item out one by one—two things of cup noodles, a bag of share-size chips (the fried chicken flavor), and two bottles of tea. you can barely consider it a dinner but xavier says nothing about it, turning to heat up water in the kettle upon seeing that you brought instant ramen. it warms quickly and as the noodles cook, the two of you sit on opposite sides of the table, pulling your wooden chopsticks apart to get ready for the meal.

when the timer you set for three minutes goes off, alerting you that the ramen is done, xavier wastes no time dragging his cup towards him and picking up a large bite. the noodles hang from his lips as his cheeks puff out, broth dripping down into the cup as he slurps them into his mouth. you watch with a growing smile and only speak once he’s swallowed the massive mouthful. “hungry?”

“mm,” he hums with a short nod as he digs back in for another bite. “i didn’t eat before i fell asleep.”

the fact doesn’t surprise you but instead of lecturing him, you eat your meal too. the idle chatter you two share ranges from about what he had been reading earlier to plans for the upcoming weekend. each topic holds little relevance but simply talking to him quells the loneliness that brought you here.

as you clean up, you wonder if he’d mind doing this more often.

“thanks for eating with me,” you tell him, slowly starting on the way to the door.

xavier hesitates before he says anything and scratches at his neck before he finally does. “you don’t have to leave yet. we can… watch a movie or something.”

you stifle a giggle at how awkwardly he proposes the idea. you can’t help but mess with him a little. “oh, so you can fall asleep and i have to finish the movie on my own?”

the man tries to hold back a pout at your teasing but it peeks through in the way that his lip slightly pokes out. as much as he wants to, xavier can’t deny the possibility, so he stays quiet.

your teasing is lighthearted but the more you think over his invitation, the more you start to think that maybe, just maybe, xavier’s in need of some companionship just like you. the carefree way he approaches life never made you consider it before now, but maybe he’s lonelier than he let’s on. it’s no more than a silly hypothesis on your part but still, you clear your throat to rid your voice of its jovial tone.

“i’m only joking,” you reassure him with a small smile. your feet carry you to the couch and you plop down on the far end, the one opposite of the mess he left behind earlier. you look over your shoulder to see xavier standing in the same spot. raising your eyebrows, you ask, “does the offer still stand?”

he seems almost surprised that you’re sticking around but he only lingers for a moment before rounding the piece of furniture to join you. he picks up the book and pillow, quickly cleaning them up. with the clutter handled, he turns on the tv and looks to you with a question. “what do you want to watch?”

“you pick. i’m curious to see what kind of movies you’re into.”

“sure.” he turns his attention back to the screen ahead of him and you do the same to watch his selection process. you don’t expect him to add on, “but no more making fun of me.”

your head quickly swivels to see if xavier’s serious, to see if you actually touched a nerve earlier. and while his eyes are still glued to the tv, you don’t miss the way his lips curl up in a jesting smile. 

you laugh and tell him, “no promises.”

you could get used to nights like these.

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, consider reblogging or leaving a comment :3

[gatorbites-imagines]

Might be weird to ask but petplay? I just think certain COD men *cough cough* soap *cough cough* would be esp good as dumb puppies y'know?

COD petplay headcanons

Little do you know anon, I enjoy petplay, so this is no weird question at all. And you are so right. Petplay COD be upon ye.

Ill be going on holiday all of next week, so if you guys are fine with shorter replies i can write some on my phone, let me know what you think.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap is such a good pup, kind of a brat sometimes but its because he wants your attention. You’ll catch him crawling around with your clothes in his mouth or half crawled under the kitchen table, his lower body still sticking out as he chews on something he shouldn’t be chewing on.

Whines loudly and paws at your leg for attention any time you aren’t paying attention to him. Can’t you see how good he’s being? How tempted his tummy is when he rolls onto his back? Don’t you wanna rub it?

The type to crawl around in a jockstrap, a harness, a collar, a puphood and pup gloves. Don’t forget the plug with a tail attached so he can wag so prettily for you, or so it can wag all over the place when he’s feeling playful.

Sadly, you’ll have to punish the poor pup on the regular, he makes a mess and can’t keep himself from humping your leg or crawling onto the furniture to lick and bite at you. Its not unusual to find him humping pillows in your bedroom, whining for you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Hes more calm than the others, but don’t expect that means he’s less of a troublemaker. Will steal your keys or your clothes and hide them under the bed, or under his dog bed so that you can’t leave. Will chew on your belts and throw your laundry all over the place.

A whiner too, has this warbled pathetic sounding whine he lets out when you tell him to stay still and quiet so you can work, but settles down if hes allowed to wrap around your feet. It always ends up with him chewing or licking your ankles though.

Wears a getup similar to Soap, with the jockstrap, harness, hood and gloves. Likes how it makes him dependent on you as his master to take care of him. Sometimes he just gets home from a mission, puts on his hood, and lays down with his head in your lap to calm down from the day.

Tries to be more sneaky when he’s horny, like subtly grinding into the floor or his dog bed, or sitting down and wiggling in his spot so he can move his plug around inside him. You always catch him though, since he starts that warbly whine when he gets close but can’t finish without you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The most well-behaved pup, think like a well-trained military dog. Always standing straight on all fours, back straight, head lifted, and chest puffed out. He soaks up any praise you give him with a gruff bark and a small wag.

Doesn’t regularly whine, is more of a barker or growler. He growls the most if there are other pups around that try to get close to you or play with him, as he’s always standing on guard in front of you. You always have to muzzle him around other pups cuz Ghost does nip at times, especially when other pups are acting up and he needs to correct their behavior.

Tends to do play either fully dressed in his military gear, just a tail strapped to his belt and a customized hood with his skull paint. Or fully naked, only wearing maybe a harness, a spikey collar, his hood, his tail, and a cockcage unless you need it off.

If Ghost is in the mood, you’ll invite other pups over (unless you are poly and have multiple partners who are pups) and Ghost will assert himself as the alpha amongst them. This is where you take the cage off him so he can push down the other pups and take them. He will always arch his back for you though, or roll onto his back and spread his legs with a tiny barely audible whine for you.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

A very quiet pup and doesn’t act up much, tends to be more on the chill side. Hes even allowed in the furniture since he wont mess it up like others, and likes to curl up beside you with his head in your lap.

When hes feeling it though, like if you’ve been apart for a while, he might start growing antsy. Crawling around in front of you or sitting right by your feet and letting out tiny barely audible whines. It always ends up with him pawing at your knee and looking at you with the most lethal puppy eyes ever.

Doesn’t wear as much gear at the others, I don’t think he would enjoy the gloves that make his hands unusable, and the hood might feel too restrictive to him. Instead hed just resort to walking on his knuckles, wearing a headband with ears, and maybe wearing a belt with a tail on top of his boxers.

A licker, he doesn’t say much, but you will know he’s truly in the mood when he starts licking you all over. Licking at your hands, your legs, your torso, slobbering all over your pants and crotch until you open your belt and give him what he wants.

Phillip Graves

Another troublemaking pup, a brat. Rips up pillows and gnaws on your belts and wallet. The type you have to play tug of war with for your belt as he growls and yips, wagging his tail and drooling on the floor.

The kinda pup you’ll have to spank and punish in other ways, not out of this world to put him in a cockcage or crate for the night if he’s acted out way too much. He enjoys it very much though, so it’s nothing he hasn’t asked for himself. Graves has probably come up with some of the punishments himself.

Hes fully geared up, hood, gloves, tail and all, except he wouldn’t wear a jockstrap, just fully naked expect for the pup parts. Hes not always wearing a cage as its only for punishment, so you can catch him grinding against stuff sometimes.

The most effective punishment for him is overstimulation, laying him across your lap and jerking him off until he’s whining and writhing and shaking, where after you’ll let him cuddle against your chest after cleaning him up, praising him and giving him good aftercare.

[rishiguro]

ANAGAPESIS - K. SHINSUKE

warnings: break up. heartbreak. self-deprecating thoughts. hurt/no comfort. 3.2k words.

angstober event

kita sighed as he closed the door behind him, the day’s fatigue springing onto him as soon as he took his shoes off, neatly placing them away and putting his slippers on.

it wasn’t particularly often that he had bad days, but he couldn’t exactly hide from them forever.

sure, he had a job he loved, putting all of his passion in it, but nothing really seemed to go right today. he found security and sense in his routines and yet somehow everything was misplaced or even missing today, throwing off his entire schedule.

but he was so glad to be home.

he couldn’t wait to fall into your arms and feel the weight on his shoulders disappear, letting himself be comforted by your warmth.

usually he’d come home and be greeted by you. you’d have some dinner together, either some leftovers or something one of you made (sometimes you prepared dinner together), and calmly let the day pass.

your shared apartment was more that just a few walls and furniture — it was his home, his safe place.

however, today he found you sitting in the living room, dressed in some jeans instead of the usual sweatpants. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“hey, love,” he greeted you with a warm smile, stepping closer to you, “you going out?”

oddly enough, you didn’t greet him cheerfully like you often did, instead only throwing a weak smile in his direction before looking down to your hands. “can we talk?” you immediately asked him with an almost timid voice.

“sure” kita sat down beside you, his entire body aching as he did so. he could only barely stop himself from letting out a relieved moan as he finally sat down again. grabbing your hand, he turned his entire attention to you. you were fidgeting, toes wiggling on the floor, as if you were anxious. “is everything okay? you seem distressed”

you took a deep breath before absentmindedly chewing on your thumb’s nail. as soon as you noticed however, you immediately brought your hand down, clenching it in your lap. your actions however only confirmed kita’s suspicion. you chewed on your lower lip for a moment before you decided to speak up. “it’s not. i- i need to tell you something,” you felt your heart race in your chest as you spoke, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. you quickly glanced over to kita, noticing the deep frown on his face and his tired, sunken eyes.

it was obvious that he had a hard day and here you were, only making it worse. could you really do that to him?

for a second you paused, before mentally shaking your head. no. you didn’t really have a choice, did you? you couldn’t just continue lying to him.

he deserved better.

“and i feel terrible for bringing it up now, but i don’t think this can wait any longer”

kita nodded slowly, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand slowly. “okay”

he patiently waited for you to begin, yet your mouth went completely dry.

just how were you going to say this to him? could you even do it?

you knew you had to – you didn’t have a choice.

but how could you hurt someone who never did anything to hurt you?

“hey, take a deep breath,” he mumbled to you, “whatever it is, it’ll be alright, i promise”

you clenched your jaw, turning your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut.

just why did he have to be so damn understanding? why did he have to be so loving and caring?

why was he everything you ever wanted in somebody?

and why were you planning on breaking him?

“love? talk to me,” he spoke softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze after bringing it up to his lips and pressing a small kiss on it. “whatever it is, together we can work this out”

don’t do this. don’t be like this. just this one time.

you quickly shook your head, still not looking at him, when you felt your eyes getting teary.

“i don’t think we can work this out, shin,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break.

before he could even reply, you turned to him, looking at him with teary eyes. “i think we should break up”

kita could only look at you, completely shocked.

was this supposed to be a joke?

no, you would never joke about things like that.

then why?

after way too many moments of silence, kita could still only bring himself to mutter one word. “why?”

you hated to see him like this. his eyes were wide in horror, if not even shock, as he looked at you completely confused. his hand, the same one that held yours so securely just a few minutes ago, was loose around yours, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be touching you. his eyes, albeit wide open, looked more like he was staring right through you, not focusing on a single thing.

you hated this look on his face.

meanwhile kita felt like he couldn’t breathe, his thoughts running wild, filling his head with way too many concerns at once, before he managed to sort them, the next words spilling over his lips.

“did i do something wrong? did i hurt you?”

he looked so sad, so full of sorrow and guilt.

he couldn’t do anything to hurt you.

pressing his lips into a thin line he looked at your still intertwined hands, giving you a short, weak squeeze. he swallowed down a lump in his throat, looking down in shame before meeting your gaze again. “love, i’m so sorry”

how could he be sorry for something he never did?

“just tell me what it is and i promise i’ll do everything i can to fix it” he sounded so sure, like it was a fact that he was the one that did something wrong, that he had to make up for something, that he was the one at fault.

you were used to kita speaking with a matter-of-factly-tone, no matter what the actual subject matter was. but how could he be so convinced that he did something wrong? he— the one that always thought about the things he did, the one that always thought about what he said, the one that was always sure of what he did and always made sure to care for you, to love you.

and to never hurt you. and he never did.

but you had to hurt him.

you looked down on your intertwined hands, torn between the urge to give his hand a squeeze or pulling yours away. but could you really let him go? “no, shin, listen-,” you tried, only to have him jump in immediately, like he didn’t really hear you in the first place.

“and if you still want to do this, i’ll respect it, i promise. just please, let me do this,” he asked, no, begged, with a sad smile on his face.

it was safe to say that kita felt like you had just pulled the rug away under his feet. he felt lost, confused and most of all guilty. he had always tried to be the best version of himself for you, be the best partner he could possibly be— and even more than that.

did he slack off recently? did he forget an important date? did he neglect you?

“shin”

mentally he ran through the past days, weeks, months, the whole last years, analyzing pretty much everything he could remember. every time you fought, every dumb argument and heated discussion, every time his tone was a little off, every time he didn’t really understand just what you wanted from him and every small thing he might have forgotten. the days he forgot to ask you how your day was, the times he could only give you a short kiss before rushing out the door, the number of times he came home and simply wanted to go to bed, not having the energy to spend a lot of time with you after an excruciatingly hard day working.

was it all too much for you?

he rushed out the door one too many times, his tone was too sharp one too many times, he forgot to kiss you properly one too many times.

he couldn’t really blame you.

but was it really that? was it all of that? was it something else?

were you going to leave him hanging like this?

pressing his lips to a thin line, he forced himself to focus back to you. “at least tell me what i did wrong, please,” kita asked before lowering his head again, taking a deep breath to distract himself from his racing heart, blinking rapidly to get rid of the few stray tears in his eyes. “don’t just leave me like this”

you closed your eyes in shame, not wanting to look at kita so broken.

while he kept asking himself what he had done to you and why you never felt safe enough to talk to him about this, you asked yourself how you could do this to him.

a sad smile on your lips, you shook your head, still not daring to take your hand away from his, desperate to feel his warmth for as long as he would allow you to. “you didn’t do anything wrong, shin,” you whispered through the lump in your throat, your voice all hoarse, “nothing”

nothing?

his head shot up, looking at you with wide and teary eyes. “then why?”

and despite that he looked so calm and even resigned, like he wasn’t even going to protest as soon as you provided him with your reason.

now it was you who looked away, biting your lip as you stared on the floor. “i just,” you stopped, not even wanting to actually say it out loud and make it real. you didn’t want to believe it, much less say it. you still hoped that this was just a weird, long dream, one that you would wake up from and everything would be the way it was before.

you would wake up next to him and he would already be awake, greeting you with his deep morning voice, with a small and loving smile. you would simply mumble some greeting, still half asleep, and move over, putting your head on his chest. his hands would find their way on your back and your heart would skip a beat, your entire body filling with love.

but you haven’t woken up for multiple weeks by now. and you didn’t wake up now.

“i just fell out of love with you”

just like that, kita felt his heart stop in his chest, shattering into a million pieces.

you fell out of love with him.

he nodded slowly, spacing out.

so there was nothing he could do anymore, huh?

did he do too little for you? did he get too used to having you by his side? should he have been more attentive, take you out more, give you more flowers, more compliments and little gifts. he should’ve held you more, kissed you more, loved you more.

he should’ve been more.

maybe then you wouldn’t have fallen out of love with him.

“for how long have you been feeling like this?” he asked slowly, sounding almost shy, like he didn’t want to actually know.

and he truly didn’t.

for how long had he made you feel like this, for long did you feel like you had to stay in a relationship you didn’t want to be in solely because of him?

“i don’t know. for too long”

you knew exactly what thoughts were running in his head. you knew how he must be blaming himself, how he was trying to find any kind of fault in himself.

and there was nothing you could to to relieve him from this, even though none of this was his fault.

you doubted there was anybody at fault — and if there was, you were sure that it would be you.

you were the one that was breaking up with him, you were the one breaking his heart, you were the one that wasn’t perfect, unlike him.

he was always perfect. and that’s what hurt you so much.

he was the ideal partner — he was caring, loving, attentive. honest, loyal, open and always communicating. he was firm, but not strict or mean, never making you feel belittled. and if he did fuck up and do something wrong, he was quick to realize his mistake and apologize, willing to do everything to make up for it and change his behavior.

he was everything anybody could ever want.

and you were throwing him away just like so.

“okay,“ he whispered, nodding to himself before pulling his hand away, clasping his other one with it and putting them in his lap, taking his warmth away from you.

your fingers itched to reach out to him again, try to comfort him, protect him from the same pain that you inflicted on him. you clenched your jaw, clenching your hands into fists instead and digging your nails into your palm. “shinsuke, i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry”

“it’s okay,“ he breathed out, the corners of his mouth reflexively turning up for a second.

you shook your head, swallowing repeatedly. how was this okay or fair? and how could he even thing about comforting you when he was feeling like you were effectively ripping his heart out? “no”

“it is,” he replied immediately, a sad smile on his lips as he looked at you for a short moment. “you can’t choose how you feel, can you?”

you knew he was right — and yet that didn’t give you any comfort. instead, it only made your chest constrict in pain as you clenched your fist even more, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“i never wanted to hurt you,“ you breathed out, voice so weak that you felt like you couldn’t speak up without starting to cry.

why were you the one crying?

“i know” kita smiled sadly at you, looking down at his feet.

silence settled over the two of you, both of you occupied with your thoughts, before you decided to speak again.

“i packed a few things and i’ll stay over at a friend’s house,” you started slowly, getting up from the couch and stepping away from him. “and, uh, look for a place”

kita didn’t look up at you (probably for the better, you didn’t think you could handle his teary face), instead only nodding slightly, playing with the fingers in his lap. “okay”

you left him sitting there, rushing into your once shared bedroom to pack some essentials into a bag.

as you grabbed some clothes, you tried to ignore your blurring vision and the heavy feeling in your chest.

you didn’t want to leave him behind like that as you were gathering your things to leave what has been your shared home for so long.

and yet you had to, you knew it was the best thing to do.

because staying with him would hurt him even more.

when you returned, kita was still sitting in the same spot, looking like he hadn’t moved an inch.

and truly, he didn’t — he felt paralyzed.

was he not good enough? where did he go wrong?

what could he have done to make you fall out of love with him?

he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, clenching his eyes shut, like that would stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.

you shook your head at the sight.

how he could just sit there and let you break his heart, just like that?

“why aren’t you mad at me? you should be yelling at me, cursing at me, anything!” you bursted out, your bag falling on the floor next to you. kita jumped as he heard your voice, turning his head to look at you. he expected you to look angry, irritated, anything but seeing you with tears running over your cheeks. “why are you just letting me break your heart?”

he swallowed thickly before giving you another comforting smile, like the tears on his face weren’t even there.

“it’s not your fault. you can’t choose who you love” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly at his words. “and also not who you fall out of love with”

you looked over at him, looking him up and down before speaking again, your voice slightly agitated. “so? how can you just take it like that?” you asked, gesturing in the air.

how could he just sit there and do nothing?

“nothing i’ll say will change this, won’t it?” he simply stated, sounding resigned. he looked over at you, noticing how you stayed silent, proving his point. “that’s why”

contrary to how that might look, kita wanted nothing more than to fight this. he didn’t want to let you or this relationship go.

he didn’t want to let go of the lazy mornings or late evenings, the trips to the farmers market or the dates at bakeries or cafés, the warm cuddles or cooking dates.

but did he really have a choice?

“i don’t want this, i still love you. i can’t look at you leave, knowing that there’s nothing i can do,” he confessed, twiddling his thumbs as he spoke. “but i will respect your choice and i will not fight to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me anymore”

a pained, but warm smile appeared on his face again when he noticed the tears rolling over your cheeks. “it’s okay. i’m not going to yell at you and i’m not going to call you names or hurt you in any way for something you can’t control”

you swallowed, grabbing your own thigh and digging your nails into the fabric of your pants. you couldn’t even look at him.

you were such a coward.

“why do you have to be so understanding, even in this moment?”

he sighed softly. “you know why,” he whispered, feeling the tears in his how eyes again, “i cannot bring myself to be mad at you and i don’t think i’m able to give you what you want right now. i’m sorry”

he was too good for you. and you were everything he wanted.

“don’t be” you shook your head, trying to blink away the tears as you wiped over your cheeks. “it was dumb to even try to bring you to yell at me. even dumber to ask you to do this to make this easier on me” you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “especially since i’m the one breaking up with you”

you scoffed at yourself before picking up your bag and finally walking towards the door, opening it with shaky hands.

and even though you had thought about this for weeks, way longer than you’d ever like to admit, you weren’t ready for a life without him.

“i’m sorry, shinsuke,” you croaked, still standing in the doorway with your back to him, “i really am”

“i know“ was all you heard before shutting the door behind you and walking away from your home, your relationship, him.

kita always strived for perfection and nothing less of perfection, not just finding comfort in it, but also believing that everybody deserved nothing but the best of him. and that belief has never failed him.

until now.

until he failed you.

reblog and comment to support your fanfic writers

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You guys devise a plan to stop Ghostface once and for all, but some shocking news stops you in your tracks.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, a little angst, my attempt at humor

A/N: Never mind y’all I just got motivation out of no where last night and apparently I can still write! This one’s kinda short…but I hope u like <3

You don't get to planning the demise of a certain wimpy pea faced masked killer as fast as you'd like.

You'd expected Sam to call the rest of the group and discuss details immediately; but that hasn't happened yet.

It's really starting to annoy you, but you can't even move far enough to grab your phone without help; so you relent and figure you'll kill the fucker when you can actually stand.

The only bright side, it seems; is Tara. She hasn't left your side for even a minute during the whole debacle.

She's gotten more comfortable, you can tell. Even gotten so brave as to come sit on the armchair beside yours.

Your anger has simmered down into a calm sea of peace; and you're starting to feel a bit bad for the indifferent way you've been treating her.

It's impossible to say you don't still care for Tara, in fact; you care a lot more than you probably should. The feeling is so overwhelming you can sense it's tendrils wrapping around you; threatening to engulf you whole.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

You tilt your head and look at her now, wonder if she feels the same.

Almost like she can feel your gaze, she turns and cranes her neck at you.

"Do you need anything?" She asks, flipping over the page of the book she was currently reading.

You don't trust your voice to come out as anything but a strangled whimper, so you nod.

She sits up immediately, practically jumping off the piece of furniture.

"Oh thank god! This book is so boring." She huffs, eyes brightening up as she gets closer.

She walks up to you and folds your shirt up, enough to show your wound. She examines it slowly, lips pursed.

"You know...maybe we should take you to a hospital? It doesn't really look any better." She states, staring intently.

You suddenly feel small underneath her intense gaze; and you wiggle a bit.

You weren't exactly at your best, since you'd been practically glued to the couch for days; apart from the occasional shower and a brush of the teeth.

"Tara?" You rasp, making her look at you; worry in her eyes.

"Yeah? You okay?"

You shake your head no, motion for her to come over. She looks downright stressed.

"Why? What's wrong?" She asks, reaching out to touch your face but stopping short, hesitance clear in her expression.

You muster the strength to bring your arm up to grab her hand, lay it down on your chest; intertwined.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick lately." You say, breathe in heavily.

"It was uncool of me. And I was wondering if you...would maybe want to be my girlfriend again?" It comes out as a soft whisper, and you watch as Tara's face changes from worried to unreadable.

Oh god.

"I mean- uh it's just that I think we might be better off as like girlfriends and I didn't really mean what I said before, I was mad you know? But it’s totally fine if you don’t-" She cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, soft and tender.

You melt into it immediately. Her hands fly to cup your cheeks, and yours press against her neck; pulling her closer.

You guys stay like that for a bit until Tara pulls away, breathlessly.

"I'm sorry too. I was being a bitch, and I should've listened to you. I promise I'll be better this time." She says, chewing on her bottom lip.

You pull her down, taking her by surprise and making her stumble and land right on you.

You let out a groan at the contact and peer down at your wound.

She retracts immediately, mumbling a million sorry's.

"It's okay Tar, come on. Come here." You wave with your hands, let her rest her head on your chest.

She doesn't press herself into you in fears that it'll hurt you, and it's the most straining and uncomfortable position she's ever been in; but she doesn't pull away.

"This is like doing a plank." She says, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You shake your head and smirk. Tilt her face up to yours again and kiss her.

"Shut up."

And she does.

-

The sound of your phone ringing is what wakes both you and Tara up. She stirs, then immediately tightens up; like she has a flight or fight response to the sound of it.

Oh wait, she does. You realize dumbly.

"It's okay. Everything's fine, could you just grab me the phone sweetheart?" You murmur, rubbing the top of her head in small circles.

She wearily gets up on her knees and reaches for the phone from the couch. It's too far; and she doesn't want to leave your body for at least 3-5 more business days.

"Woah!" She squeaks, loosing her balance and falling with a loud smack onto the rug.

You can't control the giggle that stumbles from your lips; almost on reflex. You quickly realize your error and shut up.

It's too late; because Tara turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. Then she lets out a giggle too, smiling so wide you can see her dimples.

It's a small moment, but it means everything.

It almost feels like the past few days have never happened and Tara's still freshly your girlfriend. Floating in nothing but love-filled teasing bliss.

She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your phone ringing again.

"Jesus christ they won't stop calling." Tara says, slightly annoyed at the intrusion on your moment.

She hands it over to you without looking at the contact, and you scrunch your eyebrows at the unknown number.

"Hello?" You muse as you bring your phone to your ear, still staring at Tara with a playful smirk.

It falls immediately when you hear the distorted deep voice.

"Hello YN."

Your breath hitches, but you don't want to alarm Tara; so you smile at her reassuringly.

"Hey bro, what up?" You say, with all the nonchalance of talking to a close friend.

"Bro? What the hell are you talking abou-" Ghostface starts, but you cut him off immediately.

"Oh yeah yeah, I'm still in uni. I hope you're not getting into any trouble like you always do?" You continue; pursing your lips.

Maybe you'll just pretend for the rest of the conversation and not tell Tara.

"Oh Yn, you don't even know what kind of trouble I'm about to get you into." He says, tone teasing and taunting.

Your chest tightens up a bit. What does he have on you? He's bluffing, he has to be…right?

"That is so fun, but I kinda have to get back to my amazing girlfriend now; you don't mind if I hang up do you?" You smile, eyes flitting up and down Tara's small frame.

She's sitting, quite adorably, on the floor. Looking up at you with curious but shining eyes.

"Don't you dare hang up or I'm going to split you from groin to ster-" You pull the phone from your ear and press the red button.

"Well that was a little rude." She tuts, scooting closer.

You chuckle.

"Can I help it that my girlfriend is the best-est person in the world and I wanna spend every minute with her?" You ask, nudging her nose with yours.

"Best-est, huh?" She smirks, leaning in impossibly closer.

You're about to lean down and kiss Tara but it twists your wound the wrong way and you hiss.

She brings her hand up to your face and caresses the skin of your cheek.

"You okay?" She asks, brows furrowed.

You're not, and you think it might even be getting worse like she suspected; but you don't tell Tara. Instead you nod your head and give her a tight lipped smile.

She grins, and closes the distance between the two of you. She gets up off the floor and climbs on top of you so you don't have to strain your neck. She does all of this with your lips connected, and you silently marvel at her skill.

"I know you guys just got back together, but can you stop eating each other's faces right now?" Sam interrupts, quite rudely you might add.

Tara pulls away reluctantly and wipes at her mouth. She looks flushed.

"We weren't even doing anything."She mumbles underneath her breath.

"Let them be Sam, I don't think I can take another day of Tara whining about how she's not with YN anymore." Mindy says, waltzing into the room after Sam.

You cock an eyebrow at Tara, but she avoids your eye; blush creeping up her neck.

"Nice job, by the way T." Mindy adds, clicking her tongue and shooting a finger gun at the girl.

You notice the rest of the group behind them, Chad, Ethan, Anika, and some other strange man at the back.

He must see your lingering stare on him because he's moving forward and offering a hand to you.

"Danny." He rasps, mouth turned in a crooked smile.

Okay, kind of hot. You think.

"I'm Sam's..." He trails off, sending a questioning look at the older Carpenter sister.

"Danny's my boyfriend." Sam answers, and out the corner of your eye you see Danny smile a little wider.

That's cute.

"Nice to meet you Danny." You say, shaking his hand eagerly.

"So, we're all here because we need to devise a plan. To catch ghostface, once and for all." Sam says, walking to the front of the living room.

"And what exactly is your plan?" Tara asks, moving beside you and taking your hand in hers.

You notice Sam biting the inside of her cheek as she thinks.

"I'm not sure yet, that's why I all asked you here." She says.

There's a moment of silence as anyone thinks of something to say. You try to think back to your interactions with him.

"We could make a suspect list? I'm sure Mindy has a lot of theories on her mind." You suggest, glancing over at the twin.

"Yes! Thank you for bringing that up YN. Sam, move it's my time to shine." She walks up to Sam, gently nudging the Carpenter to sit on the couch.

"So we all know Ghostface has some sort of beef with all of us, but from the attacks we can assume he hates Tara and YN the most." She starts, hands on her hips.

"We know Ghostface isn't really that strong. Either that or YN is just one hell of a fighter." Mindy says, gesturing to you.

You smile shyly at the heads that turn toward you.

"Can I add something? Back on the balcony, where I got attacked; Ghostface seemed kind of...small." You say, pursing your lips in deep remembrance.

"Like, way shorter than the one that attacked me and Tara on that roof. So I think there might be two." You finish.

Mindy nods, like she was already expecting you to say this.

"It's always been two killers, except for Roman Bridger; kudos to him for ambition."

Chad raises his hand, waiting for Mindy's approval before he speaks. She nods toward him.

"Could we assume the first ghostface was a guy? Because we all saw him, and he looked pretty damn big."

You shake your head in agreement, trying to think back on the night up on the roof. It's sort of hard because all you can remember is Tara kissing you for the first time.

Even after what had happened, you still considered that to be one of the best nights of your life.

What a simp.

"Now! Let's move on to our suspects..." Mindy says faintly, but you're not really focused now. You'd rather daydream about the girl sitting beside you.

The group ends up picking your apartment as the spot for Ghostface's Demise. You'd actually been the one to suggest it yourself, it's relatively big; and didn't have one too many hiding places for him to surprise y'all in.

Tara moves to sit on your lap as you continue to plan. Papers are strewn everywhere, multiple empty coffee cups on the table. You've drawn out a map of the layout, and Sam's made it her personal mission to storyboard the whole attack.

Despite the reason for for your gathering, you can't help but smile a little at everyone huddled together. They look like a real family.

Quiet laughs are occasionally let out, teasing and poking fun about how Ghostface is gonna attack. You sort of enjoy it.

The doorbell rings and catches only yours and Tara's attention. The rest of them are still in heated discussion about whether Ghostface or Voldemort would win in a battle.

It's Voldemort, obviously.

"I'll go get it." Tara whispers, planting a firm peck to your lips and standing up. You nod, let her untangle herself from you.

You sit a bit longer until you start getting antsy. It's been five minutes since Tara went and you’re getting a tad worried.

Has she been kidnapped by Ghostface or something?

She steps into the room now, and you smile at her; breathe out in relief.

You see a tiny envelope in her hands. It's ripped; and she's reading the inside.

"Any mail for me honey?" You ask teasingly, pushing yourself up on the couch slightly.

You don't notice the serious expression on her face till she tilts it up, eyes dark.

She doesn't answer as she strides to you, shoving the paper in your hands; arms crossed. She looks hurt.

"Care to explain?"

You frown, look down at the piece of crumpled paper. It's a DNA test.

At the top of the page it says:

DNA REPORT TEST

(For Personal Knowledge Only)

There's two boxes that fill up the whole paper. You stare at it, mouth agape.

It says:

CHILD (YN)

Alleged Father (Stu Macher)

[angelmichelangelo]

the dad diaries for @turrondeluxe ❤️

if anybody doesn’t know, the peepaw and babies au has TOTALLY taken over my brain like. in the best way possible so of course i just had to write a lil fic for it <3 i hope u like this, amigo! i have other little ideas floating around in my head if you’d ever want more fic version of your au :) anyway enough rambling ENJOY!! everybody go check out the au i’m fairly certain everything is archived on @peepawronin for your enjoyment :-)

His coffee, as strong as it may, didn’t deter the headache that was blossoming behind his tired, weary eyes from expanding; creeping across the front of his skull with each steady pulse of his heartbeat.

He takes another sip, steels himself to see if perhaps the magic he knows does not truly exist has worked and…

“Papa!”

There’s the sound of his youngest, voice thick with babyish chub still, carrying across the lair with determination, tallying around inside his squeezing head like a brash drum cymbal.

Before he can push himself up off his stool, it goes off again, shrill and impatient,

“Papa! Papa! I’m telling!”

That was nothing new for Michelangelo these days, that familiar old phrase, minced with saccharine dramatics, he’s blinking his eyes hard to starve off the rest of the headache that threatens him; the kind that travels down the back of his skull and towards his shell and over his spine and makes him feel about a million years old.

He heaves a sigh. He already feels a million years old these days, what with the trophies of his days gone by evident across his aging body, like his trick knee and the ache he gets in his elbow when it perhaps rains a little too hard. It’s one thing to feel it physically, but the added bonus of it being emotional as well weighs just a touch too heavy for his liking.

He comes to a stop in the pit where the sounds are louder and more pitchier, and there’s two little turtles to accompany them, faces all pinched into varying degrees of annoyance.

It’s Odyn who reaches him first, as it often is, he’s a daddy’s boy at heart, little tiny legs carrying him the small distance that separates them, he goes barrelling into the larger, older turtle, face first into his pant leg. He’s gripping the edges of the fabric with three little fingers, giving it a sharp tug when he says with a rush of air,

“Papa, Uno is being mean again!” He whines, pressing his snout into Mikey’s leg. “He keeps calling me names!”

Uno has since joined their fray now, chest heaving with each stuttered breath as if the idea of being accused of such a thing is stunting each draw of air into his lungs.

“No I didn’t!” He retorts, voice all pitchy and nasally. Michelangelo groans softly to himself. “He’s just being a baby! Like he always is!”

Such a spiteful word directed towards their youngest is enough to erupt a hurtful sob from the smaller turtle. He buries his face further into his fathers leg, his voice warbled and muffled from both the tears the the mouth full of pant he has right now, but Mikey is able to carefully decipher it of something along the lines of, (in true irony),

“See! He keeps calling me a baby!”

He pries his son’s iron grip off from his leg, forcing him to look upwards with a tap of his finger beneath his damp chin. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, framing his face almost perfectly, he looks at his child sternly.

“You know not to take it to heart, hm? Do you eat baby food and wear diapers?”

Odyn sniffles, bringing a fist up to scrub away at the snot collected beneath his snout.

“No?”

Mikey hums. “And do you chew on furniture and need papa’s help to feed yourself?”

Odyn shakes his head. “No, papa.”

Michelangelo grins softly. “Then you’re not a baby. You know that, I know that.” He looks pointedly at his other son who is unmovable under his gaze. “Uno knows that. He only says it to get a rise out of you, right?”

Odyn’s bottom lip wobbles dangerously. “Yes,” he says in a rush, “but—”

Michelangelo is swift to cut in. “But I will deal with your brother. Okay?”

Odyn doesn’t seem entirely swayed; Michelangelo thinks that maybe he wanted some sort of permission to perhaps say a bad word directed at his brother, or maybe to have it out in a short scrap and there as kind of emotional compensation that only siblings would believe to be a reliable source of insurance against name calling.

But the smaller turtle eventually heaves a heavy, wet sigh, and nods his head solemnly.

“Good. Go play with your sisters,” Michelangelo instructs him, tapping him gently against the ridge of his shell. “I think they’re coloring. Will you make me something pretty?”

That gets his spirits up, the smile beaming across his face so bright, it might as well evaporate his previous tears left behind on his cheeks.

“Okay!” He calls out with delight as he toddles off to join his other, much quieter siblings on the far side of the room. Mikey watches them as they scoot aside and make space for him, offering up a fresh slice of paper, he’s already making grabby hands for the brightest crayons they own.

“He’s always getting me into trouble.”

That’s Uno’s low, forbidding voice, all full of that way too early angst that he recognises from himself and his brothers in their adolescent years, and when Mikey turns to face him, he’s sullen.

He doesn’t wait to hear whatever wisdom his father might be able to offer, instead, his bottom lip is trembling like it’s heavy with the weight of all the words he wishes to say; all the woes and the hurt that comes with having little brothers, and suddenly, with his face drawn in such an expression and his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight, Michelangelo sees a glimpse of Raphael in this child.

“You know, I was the youngest of my brothers,” Michelangelo explains to him. He motions for him to follow as they leave the pit, letting the soft voices of the other children behind them as they walk back towards the kitchen from which he came. “I pulled the same tricks he pulls from time to time.”

Uno pauses his end of conversation to clamber on top of the barstool that wobbles slightly under his swaying weight. Michelangelo steadies it with a hand until his son is fully situated, and once he is, he’s swiveling around to face the older turtle, still sporting the same, sour expression across his younger face.

“Then why’d you let him get away with it?” He says, words barbed, like this was somehow his fault now. “It’s not fair, papa.”

And Michelangelo chuckles softly. There are the glimpses of Donatello that shine through, like bright sunshine filtering through curtains in the early morning in hues of gold – that sharp intellect that constantly comes with its millions of almost unanswerable questions.

“Because I also know what my older brothers were capable of,” he tells him gently. “They did all they could to push my buttons, to get me in trouble. They knew how to play the game without getting themselves a foul.”

Uno heaves a loaded sigh, his plastron rising and falling, his hardened glare seems to melt away a little as he allows his father’s words to soak in.

“I just hate him,” he says suddenly, words dark and low. “He’s so annoying.”

Michelangelo stiffens at that. And at his father’s physical reaction, Uno shrinks a little, aware of what he’d just said; how loaded his words were.

“You don’t hate him.” Michelangelo tells him, Uno’s gaze gingerly lifts to meet his. “You are annoyed by him, yes, but hate is such a strong word, musko-san.”

Uno’s dark eyes flicker across the room with nerves, caught out, he wrings his hands together, as if trying to rid himself of the nervous energy that this conversation was building within him.

“I’m sorry chichi,” he says in a small voice. “That was mean. I don’t hate Uno.”

Michelangelo hums. “I know.” Then, “You know how I know?”

Uno shakes his head.

“The time you taught him kanji,” he begins to list. “Or when he lost a tooth and you soothed him because he was hurt.” He watches with pride as a small smile ghosts across his child’s face. “Or whenever you read to him before bed, even when it’s the stories you have already heard before.”

Uno rubs tiredly at his eyes; all of these emotions are a lot to bear for such a small boy.

“I know you love your brother, Uno,” Michelangelo tells him, tapping a green finger beneath his chin to gather his focus. “I know because I see so much of your oji in your soul.” He smiles warmly at his son. “Each one of them,” he adds, moving his finger down from his face to rest across his plastron, right over where his heart lies. “Right here, hm?”

Uno shifts in his seat, the old, worn barstool groans under his growing weight, he pitches himself as far forward as he can go without toppling off, looking up at his father with big, round curious eyes.

“Really?” He says, voice clinging to an awed whisper.

“Really.” Mikey tells him with a stern nod. “Now go play,” he says quickly, flapping him away with a dismissive hand.

“Papa hasn’t had enough coffee this morning,” he mutters, pinching his eyes narrowly to try and avoid the impending headache that’s crawling back across his skull. “Try not to have anymore arguments until at least late afternoon, yes?”

Uno hops off his seat, almost tripping in the process, he stands tall when he tells him,

“That’s okay!” He’s smiling now. A sight Mikey is sure he’ll never truly tire of, no matter how many headaches life brings. “Maybe I can ask the others if I can draw too, and we’ll make you something nice to make you feel better, hm?”

Michelangelo reaches across the countertops for his discarded beverage from earlier. Curling his fingers around the mug, he finds with welcomed surprise that it’s still warm. “You better,” he tells him with an entirely serious tone surrounding his words, raising one brow ridge for emphasis. “I didn’t spend hours scavenging those crayons for nothing.”

And with that, Uno is padding off in the direction of where his other children are gathered; straining an ear he can hear their excitable chatter and babble as they continue to work together.

And when their eldest sibling joins in, there doesn’t seem to be any lasting animosity; Odyn shows off what he’s already made, pride and excitement swelling over whatever leftover hurt from their spat, and Michelangelo chuckles to himself as he listens to Uno’s gentle encouragement that floats through front the other room.

He brings the coffee mug to his lips, steam curls itself around his snout, and a smile touches at his face, the slightest of turns. He awards himself with another mouthful, and whilst it doesn’t do much to quell his migraine, it does feel deserved.

And later that night, when he has all four of his children growing heavy in his arms, fighting a battle against fatigue that they are bound to lose against, as it is most nights, he watches his as Uno shuffles in closer to his brother, his pudgy little arm draped across the slope of his shell, and Odyn, his jaw slack, drool dried across his chin, his soft snores only just about disturbing the silence that falls across the room, he seems to curl into his brother’s offered warmth and Michelangelo smiles softly to himself.

Here in his lap are his children – the little turtles that call him papa and rush to him to settle disputes and disagreements, and to kiss scraped knees and to devote each of their wobbly crayon drawings to him that end up covering the fridge and the kitchen walls in a decoration of color and love and he knows that even with coffee, even with the best coffee in the world, all of this is worth a thousand bad headaches. Tomorrow might bring peace and tranquility and ease, or perhaps it shall be Yi and Moja that decide to scrap and fight or maybe all four will fall out of love momentarily, as siblings often do.

Michelangelo should know, he’s been one his entire life, even if his brothers are no longer here to push his buttons or fight him or argue over petty, useless things, he knows with great ease, that despite it all, they always found their way back together, whether it was over something big or small – that was the love between brothers and family.

He presses his sleeping turtles closer to him, curling his arms around them, they melt around his warmth and he knows that much like his group of siblings, these four here, were no exception to the same rules.

He closes his eyes and basks in the moment, acutely aware in the moment of quiet, of the headache that has finally shrunk itself away.

[satorqn]

an: angst? fluff? self indulgent i am sorry i am v sad rn

suna is strong. you know it. he knows it. everyone knows it. he benches 220 daily, can squat double your weight like its nothing and don’t even get him started on his deadlifts. he can make his grocery run from the car to the fridge in one go, comically lifts large pieces of furniture to dust underneath it and is your go-to jar opener. 

suna can do it all ... except break you. it’s all he wants to do, actually, because you’re his strongest opponent. suna wants to squeeze you until you absolutely shatter in his grasp. he wants to hug you so tightly to him that you fall apart into a million pieces. because that’s the only way he can catch a glimpse of what goes on inside. 

suna is strong. you are strong. but suna is stronger. 

your shell is tough, easily holding in everything within your mind and soul. your fortress, fortified enough that nothing ever slips out. but suna wants in. 

he wants in on why your eyes can seem so empty and soulless sometimes. he wants in on why you snapped at him the other day and gave him the cold shoulder. he wants in on you and what goes on inside that pretty little head of yours. 

suna watches you quietly from behind his mug of tea, as you slowly slip your shoes off and place them in their place on the shoe rack, then shoulder your coat off before laying it on the back of the couch before truding off to your bedroom. all without a single word or glance to suna. 

suna knows how hard you’ve had it recently; the endless tabs open on your laptop as you work late into the night, your empty stares at the dinner table as you quietly push your food around your plate like a small, picky child. he sees it especially in your eyes, which harbors a deep sadness that makes his gut churn. 

you hear suna gently calling your name from beyond your bedroom door before he cracks it open slightly to peek his head through. he stays just beyond the door frame, not wanting to intrude in your space without your consent. you feel bad that you’re dragging your beloved through the mud with you. he offers nothing short of love and understanding, yet your immediate reactions are to pull away, hide from it all. 

“sorry, i’ve had a long day.” you pull the door open wider, an invitation to let him in. 

suna hums in response, eyes scanning your room. “don’t apologize, it’s all okay.” he makes a mental note to help clean your room when he finds the time to. 

you fall back onto your bed, wrapping yourself in your sheets until you resemble a burrito, only your face visible. a small smile graces suna’s face as you falls besides you, pulling you close into his grasp. “what’s wrong, hm?” it’s a mere whisper, as if he said it any louder it would scare you away back into your cocoon. 

“oh, nothing.” you chew on the inside of your lip. you’re nervous, for some reason. “just lots of work that’s all.” 

glancing up to your boyfriends face, his brows are slightly furrowed and lips downturned. “no, what’s wrong?” 

“nothing, really!” you sit up straight to face suna, shaking your head as if to insist and drive home your point. “it’s nothing really! nothing for you to worry about.” 

its true that suna wants to break you, but you’re still his girl, his prized and beloved. he treats you gently. gently taking the blanket from your grasp, unwrapping you so you can’t hide from him and placing you on his lap. his touch is soft as his large hands, the same ones that absolutely demolish his opponents on the court, cup your face. his thumbs caress your cheeks, then trace the outline of your lips. his hands push back to card through your hair, slowly working through any knots and frizz, then down your neck, across your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps down your arms before they find home on your thighs. “tell me whats wrong.” 

his voice is firm, and it’s a demand. he’s tired of playing cat and mouse, tired of watching from the sidelines and he’s tired of seeing you in this state. 

you stare down at his hands, where they grip the plush of your thighs before meeting his gaze. it’s stern, borderline scary as he stares deep within you and whatever excuse you were about to utter dies on the tip of your tongue and comes out as a quiet squeak. honestly, everything in you dies in that moment. because you’re not quite sure what wrong, you just know it is. you don’t know how to explain to your lover why you’ve been so mean lately, so shut off, such a weight in the relationship. 

you can’t explain yourself, so you don’t. you just let all the wrong in you bubble up within you, until it fills your heart and lungs and you’re bursting at the seams. you can only let out desperate whispers of ‘i’m sorry’ over and over again as your lips wobble, and your face pinches up in a futile attempt to ward off the hot, stinging tears sitting on your lash line. you can’t stop apologizing and crying, or shaking and hiccuping  and sniffling.  

and just like that, suna has broken you. “ah, i told you not to apologize, didn’t i?” he’s as gentle as ever, pulling you into a tight hug. 

you are strong, yet suna is stronger. he wants to break you because he knows he’s strong enough to share some of the weight you hold; hell, he would hold all of your worries, sorrows and pains if he could. 

[comfortless]

How would König be with a more masculine girl? she likes him! she does care, she just has no soft corners, only sharp edges, she wants to care for him but instead of gentle nudges she almost commands him to come in, sit, eat, close his mouth when he chews

König would be both over the moon and smoldering beneath the sun all at once! Unwilling to accept any of it, but incredibly interested. You’re more like one of his fellow operators than some damsel civilian begging to be rescued, and he likes that.

You’re so independent and headstrong, it puts him in an odd position where he’s not even sure that you need him around at all. So, he does what he does best, and… fucks things up just a little. There’s plenty of taunting to be had in this household (one-sided, too, because he can dish it but most certainly can not take it).

Ultimately, the twist of competition and competence that you bring is exciting for him. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t need to worry so much when you’re apart. You can do more than just handle him, but yourself too. He doesn’t get to play out his silly fantasies the majority of the time, and for König it is nice to be a bit pampered and put into his place from time to time. He just doesn’t tell you that.

You want to “pretend” to be a lone wolf, yet you’re struggling with a jar or lifting a heavy piece of wooden furniture. You won’t have the opportunity to make the request for his help (if you even want it at all), because he will come rushing over to you the very second your hands reach for something that he doesn’t believe you can handle on your own. If he’s seemed cocky in some other scenario before, it most definitely triples now. “Look, schatz. You do need me, hm?” each time that he assists you in some way. You roll your eyes at him, tell him to stop showing off and prepare dinner, and he listens, though not before giving you a little squeeze and likening you to something small and cute in his mother tongue as if to further accentuate his point.

And maybe it is very a bit annoying, to have some man liken you to bunnies and fairies when you’re just as capable as he is, only in different areas of expertise. You can’t rid him entirely of his weird, old-fashioned fantasies where you two share a brood of children and live on the side of a mountain; he can’t sway you into settling for biding your time getting your nails done or flashing him helpless looks any time he’s purposefully screwed a lid on too tight. The love is very much here, but accompanying it is König’s eternal pettiness. Even dinner turns to a taunt when he prepares something vaguely phallic, Debrezeiner instead of something simpler.

He tries to coax you into wearing some frilly little dress rather than a ratty old shirt of his, or heaven forbid, his boxers. The scandalized looks he gives you then are in abundance. And it’s odd to him just… how much he realizes that he likes it, how cute you look in things meant for a man his size, the way that you even smell like him now when you’re prancing about in something that he’s had for years. The blush that stretches from his neck to his temples is more than a small betrayal.

The playful sparring is a regular past time. He likes to remind you in the gentlest way that he’s on top here, and on top of you happens to be his favorite way of doing so.

He doesn’t even seem to realize that really, he’s more fragile than he makes himself out to be. Every brazen and blunt word out of his mouth or show of power reveals itself to just be a front when he rests his head over your chest to sleep, listens to your heartbeat as though it were his favorite lullaby on earth. He babbles endlessly during a session of intimacy of just how much he needs you, doesn’t shut up even when he comes and whispers against your cheek of just how he would die without you here. The fear of being left out in the cold, alone, is maybe what sways him into acting this way, but there’s always that comfort in knowing that you need him just as much; you don’t hold back in saying so.

[joocomics]

eyes on me

pairing: photographer!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 3047

contains: friends to lovers trope, praise kink, body worship, masturbation, dry humping, filming

You always used to say that you’ll never make an only fans, but here you are - your account is all set up, you just need to make the first post.

“There’s no way you won’t blow up.” Your friend peeks at your phone.

You keep checking your profile although it’s still empty, and there’s nothing to look at except your name and the cheesy bio that you should definitely change with a new one before you upload anything.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous and your best friend is a professional photographer who doesn’t want your money.” Your friend keeps babbling while scrolling on her phone as you snack on a bag of chips together. “If that’s not a recipe for a successful only fans I don’t know what is. So when is the first shoot gonna be?”

“This Saturday.” You reply, just now realising how near the date is.

“Are you nervous?”

You look away from the screen, taken aback by her question.

“About what?”

“About getting butt naked in front of Jungsu?” She spits out, as if making her elaborate was super unnecessary.

For an unknown reason you start thinking over the question. Your friend stops chewing, staring at you intrigued.

“No…” You turn around to avoid her stare. “Of course not.”

Should you be nervous?

You’re making the last final touches of your makeup when Jungsu rings at your door.

He enters the hallway with a big backpack on his shoulders, an extra bag with equipment in hand and a warm smile. You want to help him out by taking something, but he tells you it’s heavy, so you step aside to give him space.

“Oh, what happened here?” He enters the living room after you, blinking impressed towards the small cozy spot you created right in front of the windows. His eye notices the different positions of some of the furniture right away.

Since you live on a high floor you doubt someone will catch a thing of what you’ll be doing, so you decided last minute to open the curtains and let the natural light come inside the space where you’ll take the photos. The fuzzy blanket on the floor, the vase with the flowers, the candles and cushions are all nicely lit up by the sun making it the perfect time to shoot.

“I moved a few things around last night to make the photos more interesting.” You talk as he inspects your decorations. “Is it too much?”

He turns to you after hearing the slight concern in your question. As he stands in the centre of the room with hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, Jungsu for the first time since he walked in, allows himself to just stop and really look at you.

Is it because you haven’t seen each other in a while because you’ve been both busy with work and finals, or is it because the reality behind him being here is starting to sink in?

“No, I think it looks great actually.” Jungsu quickly mumbles like he’s trying not to get lost in his thoughts again. He squats down to unzip his bags. “You might make a good creative director.” He chuckles quietly, taking out his equipment one by one.

A moment later, after Jungsu has set up his camera in the right position with the appropriate settings and lights, he takes a step back, giving you a thumbs up.

“We can get started if you’re ready.”

“I just need to change, I’ll be quick.”

He mumbles you to take as much time as you need, watching you run to the sofa that’s now moved to the other side of the room. He didn’t expect you to change here so when he accidentally catches you pull down your sweats, he turns back around so quickly, as if he’s not about to actually photograph you half naked, and then eventually… completely naked.

He feels your familiar presence getting closer, but he’s too stunned to move a bone, and he hasn’t even seen you yet.

The second you appear in front of him he realises what a huge mistake was to agree to this. There’s no way he can spend an hour, or even more, cause things like this are time consuming, looking at you in this state - with your familiar gentle gaze sparkling with lust; with your gorgeous body swaying provocatively in front of the camera, bending in different positions that will be lit up by the sun, while the lingerie will do the worst job at covering up anything.

“I have a few poses in mind, but you better tell me if something doesn’t look okay.”

“Of course,” Jungsu responds in a lower tone after clearing his throat. He continues to speak while focusing on the camera. “You said you want a profile picture, right? Let’s do that first.”

You pick up loosely your hair as you face the camera, parting your lips slightly just like you’ve seen models in different magazines do.

“Lift your chin up a bit,” Jungsu mutters focused on the little screen, and without even realising his lips curl into a smile as you follow his instructions. “Yeah, pretty.”

The clicking sound rings in the room again.

You do a few more - with you biting on your nail; hands on your boobs; a side profile. Each snap is only another reminder of how in love Jungsu has been with you for the past what… almost six years?

Different poses follow up after you kneel on the blanket. Jungsu alternates between squatting and standing up to photograph you from a higher angle while hovering over you.

The closer he gets to you, the more his palms sweat against the camera. It’s surprising his hands haven’t started shaking yet. His mind is fully occupied by thoughts about how beautiful you are; your shape, your curves, and the fact complete strangers from different parts of the world will touch themselves while watching those exact same things he admires right now.

He notices your thumbs tug at the waistband of your panties, and his eyes immediately unfocuse from what he’s doing.

“I think we can move onto the video.” You say through a soft voice that effects him just as much as your next move that consists of swaying your hips left to right seductively while your fingers tease by tugging the lingerie lower and lower before bringing it back up.

Jungsu swallows while zooming at the view of your pussy peeking through the thin fabric. It’s just for a few seconds, but it brings pressure into his core that unfortunately he cannot ignore. He’s undeniably turned on.

He keeps recording as you lean slowly on your elbows, arching your spine like a cat. He starts to feel the fabric of his boxers pressing a bit too harshly on his cock when he’s suddenly standing behind your ass that’s up in the air.

“Jungsu,” your mellow sweet voice pulls him out of his trance. Hours could’ve passed since he started recording and he wouldn’t know, that’s how lost he is in this moment; in you. “Can I ask you to pull my panties down? For the video.”

He hesitates for a second. Is the camera catching his heartbeat? He feels like it’s banging too hard against his chest.

“Are you sure?” He peeks at you. Your head is resting on top of your hands, but after his next words you lift up on your palms, trying to take a look behind your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind I—“

“No, silly,” you chuckle. “You’ll cut this part out, right?”

You smile, staring at the floor while the gentle brushing of Jungsu’s fingertips starts to linger on your hips. He’s so careful with every move it brings shivers down your spine.

He traces his knuckles up your back then glides them all the way down to your lower waist very slowly, making sure everything is caught on the screen. His fingers sneak under the string and tug down until the panties begin to expose more of the pretty shape of your ass.

His mouth waters at the sight. He would’ve never thought he’d find himself in this situation; that he’d be able to see you the way he does in his secret fantasies. True, this is all for your content, but he can feel you underneath his fingertips, and it feels like a dream.

Jungsu’s gaze alternates between watching your folds through the camera and outside of it. It’s time he does something else or he risks to leak through his underwear if he keeps staring into your pussy like that.

“Turn around.” His voice comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t even know why he suggests that. If you turn around he’s almost sure his heart will jump out of his body.

You shift on your back, and your eyes catch Jungsu’s darkened gaze. He looks uneasy, and not as concentrated as he was earlier, when he brings the camera back up close to his face.

You keep on the seductive look while biting on your bottom lip.

“You’re doing perfect,” he praises you, causing your eyes to glow even brighter from the compliment. “So beautiful, stay just like that.”

He moves backwards, as the sun hits the perfect parts of your figure just at the right angle, earning you even more effective shots.

You let out a chuckle when Jungsu notices your panties are tangled around your heels. He drops on his knees and removes them while keeping the video going.

“You can touch me.” You tell him, tilting your head. You’re not really sure what to do for this video anymore, and to be honest, a part of you misses the feeling of his hand on your skin.

Your lips open for a gasp, but nothing comes out, because his palm gliding on your inner thigh steals your breath. It most likely comes from the fact you’re standing with your legs spread wide in front of him…. naked. Both of you can see your tummy clenching as his fingertips trace light patterns on your skin, reaching closer to where you feel warm and wet at the same time. Eventually they trail away, not daring to go further.

The drunken state this put you in makes you bolder, and you take Jungsu’s hand, guiding it to your chest. This time you’re relieved to see he doesn’t hesitate to act on his desires.

“This makes things more interesting, right?” Your question comes out airy from the way he squeezes your breast through the lacy bra.

You both stare at each other for a moment, trying to figure out if you understand the question the same way.

Jungsu nods, moving the camera in the direction of his roaming hand which goes up your cleavage, your neck and stops at your lips. His thumb swipes them lightly to feel enough of their texture without messing up your lipstick.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.” Jungsu’s breathing turns uneven as your teeth graze his finger before he pulls it back.

He’s kneeling between your legs, so hypnotised by your pretty face that he’s memorised like the back of his hand, but yet, feels completely new to him right now, that he doesn’t notice when your hand starts to rub slow circles on your clit.

At this point he cannot do anything about the tent in his pants. His erection throbs and yearns while he films your lower body sat on the fuzzy blanket. After a moment of you touching yourself, the silence in the room grows intense from an obvious squelching sound - clear lewd noises begin to emerge from you, and not a minute later Jungsu notices that your folds are glistening.

“Jungsu,” a moan spills from your lips; one with his name, that makes even breathing a difficult task.

“Y/N… Shit, you’re so wet.” Jungsu utters, as he regains a better grip on his camera, although caring about the quality of the video is long neglected thanks to your arousal and the way you call his name.

For a moment he wonders if you’re asking him for something. If you’re provoking him. However, he quickly tunes back into his own reality again, - he’s a friend helping out a friend.

“Keep going, you look perfect.” His dreamy voice encourages your hand to move faster, reaching for your peak while simultaneously building up the bubbling pressure in his tummy too. “Your body is so perfect, you’re perfect…” Jungsu’s thoughts that have been clouding his mind from the start begin to burst out on their own.

Your body squirms the second you stop your fingers in one place to delay your orgasm. The camera records your overwhelmed panting, and each flinch of your muscles that anticipate the sweet burst of energy.

You observe your friend who seems just as excited as you, and your attention lowers to his crotch, or more specifically the big vivid bulge underneath the black denim.

“Is it true?” You lean closer, placing your hands on his thighs. “Do you really think I’m perfect?”

He doesn’t hesitate to say the truth, nor he needs time to think about his answer.

“In every possible way.”

You both recognise a new spark in each other’s eyes, one you’ve never exchanged before.

Jungsu’s brows knit together for a moment when you distance yourself back from him.

“Kiss me then.”

Jungsu leaves the camera on the floor not bothering to waste time by turning it off, and crawls on top of you. Your legs hug his hips while the rest of you easily gets used to the nice feeling of his weight pressing against you.

Your lips cannot separate from each other. You kiss deeply and sensually, making up for all these months you spent secretly fighting back against your own cravings. The pleasure flows even stronger through your veins, causing Jungsu to welcome each and every one of your small whimpers inside his mouth.

You break the moment to catch your breath when you get the idea to switch places.

You take a seat on Jungsu’s crotch after he relaxes on his back, attaching hands to your hips. The simple thrill from your weight suddenly on top of his erection shoots intensely through his core, and he groans before you even press against it properly.

You grind once, shutting your eyes closed at the immediate pleasure, then repeat the same move, watching Jungsu’s expression change in a euphoric state.

“Yeah,” Jungsu moans again, but louder, feeling his cock throb inside his clothes, “yeah, like that, baby.”

The friction coming from the rough denim fabric is so strong and effective, it provokes you into instantly speeding up your movements back and forth. The lucent slick spreads onto Jungsu’s clothed bulge, as you put in the effort to reach both of your peaks while rubbing your clit on the stiff shape. He is so immensely hard, that you don’t need to apply much force in your humping to heighten the stimulation. One normal swaying of your hips is just enough, but with each passing second Jungsu’s desperation becomes thinner.

“Fuck, gorgeous…” His hands drag higher on your waist, quickening the way you move on his cock. His fingers dig in your flesh emphasising his needs. “Faster—“

You listen to his pleading tone, and with palms underneath his t-shirt for support, you fasten the pace.

Jungsu’s hazed gaze trails up and down your mesmerising body after he lifts up on his elbows to appreciate the view better, especially the one of your breasts pushed together from the position of your arms.

The hitched pants and whimpers escaping your mouth melt into longer moans as you get dangerously closer to fall apart, but the burning exhaustion of your legs slows you down. Jungsu sits up, digging back into your lower half with his fingertips, not letting the sensation slip away.

You wrap an arm around his broad shoulders, as he helps you ride out your high. His open mouth covers your neck with kisses while you shake on top of him, pressed down as hard as possible by his strong grip. Your voice cracks in the middle of your orgasm that muddles your mind, but not enough to not realise Jungsu cums at the same time as you.

“Aah, f-fuck, ‘m gonna—“ his weakened voice is lost, muffled in the crook of your neck, but it still rings so captivating in your mind, clearing out everything except the thought of him.

Your fingers tug tightly at his shirt as your arms stay around him. You listen to his elevated moan; how it becomes less heavy till all that’s left from it is just panting from relief which warms up your already sweating skin.

While the warm release soaks his underwear, Jungsu slows down the motion of your hips, slightly bucking up his own, as his climax washes off.

You stay in each other’s embrace for a while; the only thing filling the silence is the sound of your own heartbeat till Jungsu whispers in your ear.

“I want to see you.”

His hands leave your body, so you can lay down, allowing him to take a nice look between your legs. The sight of your intimate lips is even more arousing with your skin coloured in light red from the fabric of his jeans; your entrance clenching around air, begging to feel him inside.

You humm from delight when Jungsu pushes half of his middle finger in, gliding through your walls with ease from so much slickness. His ring finger goes in next, stretching you out in the most pleasant way. It feels soothing, laying like that on the floor while he freely moves his digits so slowly like he has all the time in the world. You don’t even realise the camera is back in his hand until he speaks out.

“This is just for me.” He says, meaning the footage of the way you’re squeezing around his slick fingertips.

As time passed, the sunlight sneaking through the window turns much more subtle, and now it invites new shadows to fall over your silhouette, making it even more seductive and addictive for the eyes.

“It’s all for you,” you say back.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

My Dear Sweet Home

Self-Aware! Sigma x GN! Reader

Description: You need a helper for one task. You talk.

Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Give Sigma home he deserves

Sequel to Reading to him

Prequel to Art Forgery

Warning: OOC. English is my second language

A/N: Reader from one shot series getting bits of lore. The next part of"We will protect you" will elaborate a little on it.

_______

"[Y/N], do you think, this place will be my home?" Sigma's voice was quiet. You stopped marking the furniture in the catalog and looked at Sigma.

The table before you were covered in furniture catalog. Some of them you already looked through, others were waiting for their hour. Alcott, who brought this catalogs, overdid herself, by bringing two backpacks full of pamphlets.

And it was your job to look through it.

Fitzgerald finally found the house, that was big enough for all of you. And, he offered you to look through the catalogs and looked at the furniture for new house. And you immediately rope Sigma into helping you. His opinion about what to put in the new house deserved to be heard.

You two sat next to each other on the couch, looking through countless furniture catalogs.

Everything went well, until this moment. You were looking through decor part of the catalog, where all this "Home Sweet Home" things were displayed.

And Sigma asked his question. You put pen and catalog down. Sigma was waiting for your answer.

"Beg pardon?" His home? Is Sigma thinking, that you will kick him out? Or forget him in this apartment? He looked sad, nervous. And... hopeless. He looked at you, his eyes looked tired. Sigma point at picture of the house and a building plan.

"Will this place be my home? Will I finally found home?" you didn't answer at first. Sigma spoke again. "I knew, you already have home, so, my question may sound dumb to you, but, please, can you answer me?"

Home... Do you even have a home?

He looked like he was ready to plead. Your own thoughts swarmed your mind. You licked your lips and spoke.

"What is 'home' for you, Sigma? I need to hear it, before I answer your question."

Sigma looked at the distance, thinking.

"It's a place, where I belong. Where I feel safe. Where I can find people, that don't want to use me. Where I can be happy."

You feel tears in your eyes. You try to wipe them as stealthy as you can. In that definition, you also don't have a home anymore. Only a house. Should you share some of it with Sigma?

Not should. You must.

"Then both of us must hope, that new house will be our home, Sigma." your voice was soft. Sigma looked at you, baffled.

"But, this place... And you mentioned your family... Aren't you..."

You laughed. The laugh was hoarse and mixed with sobs. You wipe your tears again. You start talking, slowly, carefully choosing the words.

"My family don't want to see me. Ever since I promised to do something during last family reunion..." You chew your lips. Sigma looked like he wanted to ask more. You elaborate a little. "Nothing Illegal. Moreover, one day, I will be in the right to do it. But, my family didn't want me to do it."

Sigma looked confused.

"What do you want to do?" You looked guilty. But you can't tell him or others right now. You shook your head.

"Sorry. I can't tell for now. It's a long story. Something terrible happened in my childhood. And, what I am planning to do is connected to what happened. I am not ready to tell about it." After a few moments of thinking, you add. "I promise, one day I will tell you and others about my past. But, sorry, not today."

Sigma looked like he wanted to say something, but, he simply nodded, showing, that he understands. You decide to continue your speech about not having a home.

"Ever since I tell them my decision, they constantly remind me, that I am not welcomed in my parent's house. That I am not welcomed in any family gathering." You take a breath. "Mom doesn't agree with then, but, there are too many of them. And every call with them ends in futile attempts to make me change my decision."

You looked at Sigma again.

"So, I don't belong, I don't feel safe, people want to use me, and I am not happy. I don't have a home. And that" you slap one of the walls. "I am renting this place, and, I don't think I will stay here, after I graduate."

You leaned back on the couch. You were silent. The familiar sense of loneliness crept into your soul. You forced yourself to speak.

"I hope that new house will be a home to you, Sigma. And that it will become my home as well."

You reached out to Sigma, taking his hand in yours.

"I hope, that we will find our home. Both as in a place, and as in people."

Sigma scoots closer to you. He gave you a side hug and put his chin on your head. He squeezed your hand.

"I... Back in the app... I hoped that my home will be next to you. And I think, that's how it will be. [Y/N], let's find our new home together."

You turned your face a little and nuzzle his neck. On a whim, you kissed his cheek.

"Deal, Sigma."

Sigma chuckled.

"No problem, Cookie Heart."

You chocked on air. How did he call you? You feel, how your cheeks became warmer.

Noticing your face expression, Sigma blushes.

"Sorry! Just... All of us have a nickname for you, besides Guiding Light. And, I thought that moment was appropriate..."

You blinked a few times and smiled.

"Don't worry. If you want, you can call me that." you mentally repeated your new nickname.

'Cookie Heart... Cute'

The moment between you and Sigma were interrupted by Steinbeck's voice, who called from the kitchen.

"Sigma, [Y/N], are you going to join us for lunch? Or you two decide to skip lunch and bury your noses in the catalogs?"

You and Sigma glance at each other. Then Sigma stands up.

"We are coming. Shall we, Cookie Heart?" he held his hand towards you. You took it.

"We shall... Sigma, I want to promise you something." You looked at the former casino manager. Sigma raise an eyebrow, waiting for you to speak.

"I promise, that I will never ask you to use your ability. Friends don't use each other. Family don't use each other."

Sigma didn't look surprised. He hugged you.

"I knew, that you will say this. Back then, you also promised that I won't be used."

You stay like this for some time. After another shout from the kitchen from John, wondering if the 'two turtles get lost', you two finally go to the kitchen.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Summer

@wolfstarmicrofic August 16, word count 803

Previous part First Jegulus part

Sirius had popped home after the café had closed for the day and picked up their airbed. He’d offered Regulus a place to sleep at theirs while he got the flat sorted, but he’d refused. Sirius could see how excited his brother was to have a space all of his own, so he didn’t push it. He’d collected a few other things for Regulus that they had going spare. A floor lamp, pillow and duvet, the picnic set and travel kettle, a rug that he’d bought home and Remus had hated, that had been rolled up on top of their wardrobe ever since, and a few of their books, on loan, of course, or Remus would have his guts for garters. Remus was a book dragon and hoarded his books like they were precious treasures. 

He had so much in his arms that he ended up dumping it in the sidecar of his motorbike and drove it over to the café. It had been too long since he had driven the second love of his life. She growled happily beneath him as he drove the short distance to the café. He beeped the squeaky horn when he arrived and saw a disgruntled Regulus glaring at him from the upstairs window. 

“Come down and let me in!” He called after he’d taken his helmet off. Regulus, seeing it was him, gave him a small wave and disappeared from the window. 

“You didn’t have to bring all this, Sirius,” Regulus said quietly as Sirius plied his arms high with the things he’d brought. 

“Nonsense, it’s too late to go get anything tonight, and you need a few things to make it feel more like home,” Sirius grinned at him as he began to lug everything upstairs. 

The summer sun was still shining outside and bathed the room in its golden glow. “Sorry, I didn’t think about curtains. I can go back, I’m sure we have some spare,” He said when he took in the bare windows. Regulus shook his head and pointed above the frame. 

“There’s nothing to hang them off any way.” 

“Oh, you’re right.” Sirius huffed out a laugh. “Well, we’ll add it to the list of things you need,” He furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out when they could go shopping. “I can maybe see if we can shut the café a bit earlier tomorrow so we can go look for some things for you. But we’ve got the BBQ and Remus will go mental if we’re not there on time, so we’d have to look around quickish,” Sirius said as he set up the floor lamp in the corner of Regulus’s bedroom and began to spread out the air bed. It was a fancy one with the pump in it, all he had to do was plug it in and it did the rest. 

“Erm, about that,” Regulus said from the doorway, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “I kind of already agreed to go with James tomorrow morning. He said he knows a place that had good furniture for reasonable prices, and they should be able to do same-day delivery,” Regulus was chewing his lip nervously, clearly waiting for Sirius’s disapproval. Sirius pressed the on button on the air bed and stood back as it began to fill with air. 

“Actually, that’s a much better idea,” He smiled at his brother. “You’ll have more time to look, and I can help Remus set up,” The look of relief on Regulus’s face let Sirius know he’d said the right thing. “Oh and don’t tell Remus, but I borrowed a few of his books for you to read until you can get some more of your own. I’m guessing you didn’t have time to get any before…” He didn’t need nor want to finish that sentence. 

“Yeah, I had to leave most of them behind,” Regulus said sadly. Sirius’s brain went into overdrive and a plan began to form in his mind. He’d rectify that situation as well as he could, probably with the help of a certain matriarch and her electric blue 500. 

“Shall we order in for dinner? I don’t know about you, but I’m famished,” Sirius said, pulling out his phone and punching in the number of his favourite pizza place. “You eat carbs, dairy and processed meats again, don’t you?” He grinned wickedly at Regulus. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, alright, get me a Hawaiian will you, please,” He said as he sifted through the books Sirius had brought. 

“Heathen,” Sirius winked at him as he turned the air pump off and placed their order. He smiled to himself, as he realised that this was the longest he and Regulus had gone in a long time without fighting. It was nice. It was really nice.

Next part

[mintharan]

I've been burdened with terrible visions. Walk with me.

It struck me how Spawn Astarion with Duke Wyll and Ascended Astarion with Duke Wyll could work as negatives of each other.

For instance, Wyll marries spawn Astarion, they are so happy everyone around them gets hit with the fallout. Wyll singlehandedly makes nightly soirees a thing. "I just think parties should happen at night, there's no point in holding any kind of grand event during the day if you really think about it." Just so Astarion can attend and be the centre of attention and speculation.

Everyone wonders about the Duke's mysterious husband who never goes out during the day. Rumours abound. "I hear Duke Ravengard is extremely jealous and doesn't let his husband out of his sight, locks him up inside the house so none may gaze upon him." "Nonsense, I hear the man is actually a pale drow and the sun hurts his eyes." "More nonsense, I hear he's an insufferable prick who thinks everyone is beneath him and only comes out at night because the sun makes other people's flaws too apparent."

You get the gist of it. Astarion delights in having all these rumours about himself, and tells Wyll to stop trying to dispel them. "Darling, the people of Baldur's Gate get bored easily, let them speculate, it's better than starting yet another cult." They adopt Lily Aurora, who Astarion raises to be a menace. Wyll thinks she's just darling even as people look in horror as she attempts to chew the furniture.

It's all very sweet, despite Astarion's occasional maudlin periods about not being able to go out into the sun.

Now, Ascended Astarion and Duke Wyll get exactly the same story, except no one's happy about it.

This works best imo if they were together before Astarion's ascension and then Wyll broke it off. In this case he'd choose to become a Duke out of an extreme sense of duty to protect the people of Baldur's Gate from the monster Astarion had become.

They would orbit each other constantly, Wyll reminding Astarion that he couldn't go too far without consequence and Astarion testing the limits of Wyll's feelings for him (the love was still there, just twisted).

Eventually the loneliness gets to them both, but mostly to Wyll, who can never get over Astarion, and in a moment of weakness gives in. It feels like a victory to Astarion at first, but like everything else about Ascension he soon realizes it's hollow.

Wyll isn't happy about compromising his morals, even if it's for love, and he despairs in not recognizing the man he fell for in Astarion. Wyll tries to end it many times, but Astarion has him wrapped around his finger, with sex, but mostly with the mimicry of the romance they enjoyed during their early courtship.

Astarion fears one day he'll leave him for good and that he'll be alone. Again. Haunting the halls of his former prison with only his memories for company.

So he brings Lily home, and at first Wyll is horrified but soon he finds comfort in the child's presence. He stays home for longer periods of time. Less 'Duke' duties take him away from Astarion. He's a fucking genius, he solved it.

Except it's obvious Wyll loves the child more than he loves Astarion. He takes to being a father like a duck to water, and while he's home more often all his time is spent with their daughter. His daughter really, he seems to think Astarion will be a bad influence on Lily if he as much as breathes near her.

So his grand plan backfired and now he's so jealous he can barely see straight. He wishes he could take back the damn girl and return her to the Ilmater priests.

But then he remembers. Cazador had made good use of a father's love for his daughter when he made Leon do everything he wanted to keep Violet safe.

Astarion starts doing the same, manipulating Wyll with veiled threats to Lily's life. Wyll knows exactly what he's doing, but he's powerless to do anything. Astarion got the child on his own, they're not married, Wyll has no rights to her.

But he could have, Astarion reminds him. Dangling the promise like a noose. If he agreed to become Astarion's consort, he could have everything.

"Have I not been made into enough of a monster?"

"Darling, at least we'd be monsters together."

It all comes to a head when Astarion threatens to turn Lily instead. "Think about it, she'd be your sweet child forever. She'll never grow up to blame you for anything."

Wyll gives in, allows Astarion to turn him and becomes his consort. They get married, it's a grand event, with the whole city in attendance.

Astarion is triumphant, Wyll is resigned. He becomes more accommodating to Astarion's whims, and Astarion wonders if that's the result of his influence over him through their bond, or Wyll finally accepting the love he can give him.

It kills him that he'll never know.

Astarion has everything he ever wanted, he just wishes he could be happy about it. Wyll still dreams about the shy kisses they traded on an empty beach with only the moon for a witness. Another life.

[sanguineterrain]

about strawberry jam - e.m.

Summary: Eddie knows what kind of jam you like.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: discussion of food and a sort of unhealthy relationship with food, but no mentions of eating disorders! reader just isn't fond of eating with people. reader is anxious about relationships and has commitment issues but they are trying their very best, like i know all of you are <3

Notes: first of all, i want to say how blown away i am by the response that about a boy got! thank you so so much! i have some ideas for future snapshots so please enjoy this one here, which takes place about a month after about a boy (though you do not need to read that to understand this one). that being said, this fic is loosely connected to the series.

divider by firefly-graphics

"Pasta sound okay?" 

You doze on Eddie's bed. It's weird, being in his space, but you're practicing. You have to remember that he wants you here, and if he doesn’t, he'd tell you. You're not an intrusion or a wrong piece of furniture. You belong here. Eddie had told you so. 

"Pasta is good. Mac and cheese?" you ask. 

Eddie's head pops up from his pillow. Affection overwhelms you. You need to be close to him, suddenly. You scoot closer so your knuckles brush his. Eddie links your pinkies and kisses your hand. 

"Sounds great. I can go—"

"I'll start it," you say. 

Your brain itches with the thought that you take too much when you're with Eddie. If you want to earn your keep, you need to do more than laze about in his room. 

Eddie's expression suddenly turns serious. With his other hand, he gently pushes his thumb into the center of your brows. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You're thinking too hard again," he says. "Had to smooth it out."

Eddie molds your worry into something pretty, like you are dry clay and his hands are damp with love. You wonder if this is what creation feels like. 

"I'll start it," you say, trying again. "And… and you can help in a bit?"

Your forehead stays smooth. Eddie's eyes crinkle at the corners from his smile.

"Sounds like a plan, sweet thing. You know where everything is?"

"Yes. But, um… your uncle isn't home, is he?" 

You feel terrible asking. You do. It's not that you have an issue with Wayne Munson. You're sure he's a great guy, with how Eddie gushes about him. You know that, at the very least, his love for his nephew is cavernous and infinite. 

"He's not," Eddie confirms. "But y'know he wouldn't chase you out with a broom if he was, right?"

"I know. It's just… we're new and I don't want to rush things."

You're a new fixture in Eddie's life and a part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. A part of you thinks this is too good to be true; your clay will dry out beyond fixing and Eddie won't want anything more from you. 

"Hey." Eddie doesn't kiss you, just brushes his lips onto your cheek to get your attention. You look at him. 

Eddie licks his lips and chews on chapped skin, studying you for a minute. 

"Do you like this?" he asks finally. "Do you like how things are going?" 

"Yes," you say.

It's only been a month but it's been one of the greatest months of your life. And if this is the time you have with Eddie Munson before you overstay your welcome, it will have been worth it. If only to have found a home in a person. 

"I do too," Eddie says. "I really, really like you. And I want us to stay like this."

"Now."

Eddie tilts his head. "What?"

"You want to stay like this now. But in a month, you might get tired. Or you might want to leave and I'll hold you back."

Eddie's eyes turn soft and sad. Sometimes you do that, with your stupid, clumsy words. Eddie never turns sad around anybody else. It's only you that pulls it out of him. 

"I wish you wouldn't think of me that way," he says. 

"I'm sorry."

You're afraid, and it makes you selfish. You should think of others, but you don't, because that's when you get hurt. And you don't think you can take it if Eddie hurts you because you think of him. 

Eddie brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it. Your lips draw down. 

"I'm sorry," you say again. "I'm scared."

"Of me?"

"Of what you've become to me."

"I would never do that to you," Eddie murmurs. "Leave you. Hurt you. Never."

You release a slow breath. "Okay."

"It's okay if you don't believe me right now," he says. "But I wanted to tell you. So it's somewhere in there." 

He kisses your forehead. You want to try once more. 

"We can start the pasta together," you offer. 

Eddie's smile doesn't scrunch his face up this time. But it's fond. It's good. 

You get up with him. 

You're not fond of people watching you eat. 

Eating with people feels like a sin. You enter their space and you're caught. They can watch you hork down whatever glutton you feed yourself that day, and you can't do anything about it. 

Or it's a bribe. Come to lunch with me, and food suddenly becomes a leash. A chain with expectation collared to your throat. You reach for your fork and you are an animal with your claws in a raw steak, blood dripping down your chin. You howl and your companion sneers at how you can't even control your hunger under their gaze. 

Eddie asks you to come over a lot more now, and, being that you have a real heart and a real stomach, the time does come when you eat together.

"I think we have Velveeta in the bottom cabinet," Eddie says, digging through a top shelf for a box of macaroni. 

He turns on the stove. You hear him open the fridge and dig through there. 

The unopened package of Velveeta is exactly where Eddie said. You take it out and pause. 

A jar of strawberry jam sits at the front. You take it out and stare at the label. 

"Find it?" Eddie asks. 

"Yeah… Eds, can I ask you a question?"

"Fire away, pretty."

"What does your uncle eat for breakfast?"

"Hmm. Eggs, bacon, y'know. He grew up down south, though, so he really loves grits." 

"Oh. So not a jam on toast type?" 

"Nah, he's not much for sweets. Why?" 

"Grape jelly," you say.

Eddie comes over and closes the cabinet doors. You give him the Velveeta but you cling to the jam like it's your firstborn. 

"Grape jelly?" he asks. 

"You only like grape jelly. It's one of the first things I learned about you. Steve made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and you said you wanted grape jelly or no jelly."

Eddie nods. "Sounds like something I'd say."

"Well, I—" You swallow and hold up the jar. "I think you made a mistake, Eddie. You bought strawberry jam."

"That wasn't a mistake, sweet thing. I bought it for you."

Macaroni bubbles in a pot and you want to run because you know this is a trick. It must be. 

"For me?"

"Mmhm." 

You watch Eddie's hand twitch, like he's about to tug you into his side, but he stops, because he doesn't want to overwhelm you. Your tongue tastes sour. 

"Strawberry's your favorite, right?" he says. 

You look at the jar again. When you come over for breakfast, you will turn the lid, and the seal will pop. Eddie will smile at you from across the table and tell you about the campaign he's writing. And you'll eat the reminder that you are a part of someone else's life now. 

"You thought of me," you say. 

"I think about you a lot," he replies. 

"You do?"

"I do."

"Oh. I never thought I'd have somebody to think about me.” 

"Well, you do now,” he says, ducking his head so your eyes meet. “That okay?" 

"It's good."

This jar of jam is good. That pot of macaroni is good. Being cared for is good. 

Eddie strains the pasta, and you’re reminded of the fact that you're going to eat together. 

But it doesn't frighten you as much. It doesn't feel like a bribe or blood on your chin. 

You slice the Velveeta. The two of you make food and take care of each other side by side. 

It feels good. It feels like Eddie says he'll stay and he means it. 

It feels like a place on the shelf for your strawberry jam. 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

This week on "CJ needs to gush about DAO": Morrigan's dark ritual.

I adore Origins because depending on how serious you take roleplay, every decision you make is a thread that leads back to your origin, and in this case of the ritual, who you choose to romance can have a major impact on how you handle this choice.

For context, my canon run is with a female Tabris who romances Alistair and keeps him as a Grey Warden, and is close friends with Morrigan. It's more in character for my Tabris to reject Morrigan's ritual and not even bring it up to Alistair, which would result in her leaving him behind while she makes the ultimate sacrifice in killing the archdemon... however, agreeing to convince Alistair to do the ritual with Morrigan is the only choice in the entire game where I break roleplay because I'm selfish and weak and I want Tabris to live.

I have a lot of strong feelings about the ritual, like it hurts me. It makes me want to chew on furniture. I can talk about it until I can talk no more. I so badly want to be strong enough to remain in character and reject the ritual.

Let me explain: Tabris survives an origin that deals with sexual assault. She gets kidnapped on her wedding day, she watches the other kidnapped women and her husband get murdered, and then is too late to save Shianni from being assaulted... and Tabris carries that trauma with her throughout the entire game.

If the way to save her life is to ask the two most important people she cares about; one being her lover and the other being her best friend; who she knows hate each other, to have dubiously consensual sex in order to make a baby to absorb the old god soul... she's saying no. The last thing Tabris would ever do is put someone into a sexual situation where consent is at all dubious after what she saw happen to Shianni and nearly happened to herself. She'd rather die than force that upon Alistair and Morrigan.

That's what I mean when I say origin affects everything; I know some will side eye that with "Really? Your warden would rather die than let Alistair sleep with another woman? It's one time, and Alistair agrees to it, so no one needs to die?"

Let me be clear in saying this isn't a "Morrigan slept with my man" issue. Sure, that part's awkward and it sucks, but that's not even breaking water tension, let alone diving into the deep waters to the core of the issue.

For my Tabris, this is about betrayal, consent, and accepting fate.

The person offering Tabris this deal is someone she thought of as a trusted friend who has actually been lying to her the entire time. It doesn't matter what Morrigan's intentions are now or if she genuinely wants to save the wardens. She knew from the beginning why Flemeth sent her with them, she admits as much. She knew a warden would need to make the ultimate sacrifice and then leveraged that to get what she wants. Morrigan waited until the night before, when Alistair and the warden learn one of them has to die to defeat the archdemon, and took advantage of the high running emotions and possibly the fear of dying to make the warden agree to her ritual.

At least, that's how my Tabris interprets this confrontation. She feels betrayed by someone she came to love like a sister and went out of her way to help Morrigan with her mother upon learning what's in Flemeth's grimoire. And then that someone tells her no one needs to die, she just needs to convince Alistair to sleep with her... which is a huge fucking problem.

The Alistair and Tabris romance is slow; it took a long time for either of them to be comfortable with being emotionally vulnerable and trusting each other with basic intimacy, let alone sex. Tabris is mortified at the idea of putting Alistair in this situation. Not only would it feel like a betrayal on her part to ask that of him, but she knows the last thing Alistair ever wants to do is father a bastard who then goes on to grow up without him. How could she possibly ask him to do that?

Then you consider that ritual or no, there isn't a guarantee that they'll survive anyway. Say they do the ritual and Tabris dies anyway; she made Alistair sleep with Morrigan in order to save her and then she died anyway. Or if Alistair dies then Tabris gets to live with the fact that the last person Alistair was with was a woman he hates because she asked that of him… and either way, Morrigan gets to walk away with what she wanted.

Tabris led the group, and she's accepted that if Riordan dies [which he does] then she'll be the one to make the sacrifice, even if it means breaking both hers and Alistair's heart.... except she doesn't because I'm a coward who doesn't want to lose her because my worldstate isn't good without her in it but I also refuse to lose Alistair so I just pretend it plays out differently in my head it's fine-

But... that's how I play Tabris and view the situation. My friend @pi-creates and I have discussed the dark ritual at length. While I play a Tabris who romances Alistair, Pi plays a Mahariel who romances Morrigan, so we have vastly different interpretations of the ritual itself and Morrigan's intentions.

Which yeah, it makes total sense that someone who romanced Morrigan with a different origin, and has the option to do the ritual with her rather than asking someone else to do it, wouldn't see this the way I do.

To quote Pi: "Playing as a male warden in the Morrigan romance makes the whole situation feel different, and maybe it’s because she’s presenting it differently due to the emotional connection, but it feels more like she’s opening up about her initial instructions (that she had been given by Flemeth) and offering a solution to avoid the possibility of death. And for my Mahariel, the constant threat of sudden death has haunted him from the start – he caught the blight and was ripped away from his clan (something he did not want to do in the slightest), got forced into a Grey Warden ritual that could kill him, was forced into a battle that could kill him, going on this whole quest that he never wanted but has now become responsible for regardless of his thoughts on the matter… the dark ritual may be one of the few moments where he is presented with an option to decide if he wants to walk into certain death, or take actions of his own volition to stop it.

"The idea of the ritual still feels like a dodgy thing to do since the ultimate outcome is unknown at that point, he’s taking Morrigan at her word that it will save the warden and that this child would be unharmed, just with an old god soul that she isn’t exactly clear on why she wants that and is determined to runaway immediately after the battle to secure it properly. It could be interpreted that it’s purely a preservation thing, but I’m biased to wanting Morrigan's intentions to not be power based.

"But also, taking part in the ritual isn’t as outlandish for my warden since he and Morrigan have already been involved in an intimate relationship. It’s the future of the ritual that is scarier – the idea of this old-god baby, and the idea of Morrigan insisting that she’s leaving afterwards when Mahariel and her have a loving relationship. He’s hurting, but he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want Alistair to die, he doesn’t want Morrigan to leave, he definitely doesn’t want pregnant Morrigan to leave on her own… it’s complicated, but for completely different reasons."

And I find that fascinating. I want to know how other players approach this part of DAO, what origins they play, and who they romanced. Seriously, this is an invitation to anyone reading to share their thoughts.

What about a warden who doesn't even have Alistair in their party because they made Loghain a warden? Is there anyone out there who has Loghain do the ritual with Morrigan and why? What about male wardens who don't romance her? Do you choose to do it with her anyway, or do you ask Alistair or Loghain to do it? Do you tell Morrigan to fuck off with the ritual? Why? Who makes the ultimate sacrifice in that case? And what about Morrigan herself? How do you interpret her intentions/motivations? I want to know.

I'm telling you, this is a discussion that gets me excited, as most discussions about DAO do.