#how silly. thank u death note

[naenaex0xx]

I find it so funny that I have so much death note stuff ... 2 shirts + the black edition manga + a dvd + the death note notebook

[freaktoru]

Can I pleeeease have some general bf headcanons for Igris x reader? Theres a severe lack of content for the knight in shining armour </3

summary: igris x reader - what igris would be like as your bf. warnings: smut, fluff, just the regular hc silliness. author's note: thank u for the request <3 i absolutely adore igris. i hope you enjoy!

like jinwoo, igris is very introverted and suuuuper shy. get ready to be making those moves baby, because he won't.

he just refuses to believe that you actually like him.

he won't admit that he likes you until he actually has to lol

i actually imagine you fall in love with him without actually seeing his face, so when he finally takes that helmet off and reveals his long hair pulled into a manbun, fuckkkkkkkk, panties dropped. instantly.

but when you two finally (after so much yearning) start dating, igris will truly be the best boyfriend.

in comparison to his very intense and precise fighting style, igris is a very gentle lover.

he is so so so attentive, always keeping an eye on you no matter where the two of you are, and always knowing how you're feeling.

he has a very strong fear of losing you. seeing so much death had traumatized him to an extent, making him overly fearful of losing you.

he's a true protector, having been a knight for so long has instilled that command in him. he lives to protect you and keep you far far away from harm.

despite being very quiet and keeping to himself, he's good at communication and comfort. he's always willing to talk through a problem together and face any hardships as a team.

love languages - words of affirmation, quality time and a teeny bit of physical touch.

he's very articulate and good with his words, but not very touchy. i think he's so used to using his body to fight and protect that any soft physical touch actually throws him off at first, but he comes to love it later on in your relationship.

DO NOT LET THIS MAN INTO THE KITCHEN!!! he will burn it down. he never learned to cook and no offense igris, but don't try to learn, please. do us all a favour and stay away from the stove.

he's just so soft with you in your relationship. he loves to be gentle and kind for you (this doesn't apply to the sex tho. be ready to be bedridden after he's done with you. more on this later.)

back hugs. he absolutely loves to hug you from the back when you're cooking or doing work. he'll wrap his strong arms around your waist and rest his neck on your shoulder.

neck kisses. yeah. he loves it both ways, whether it's him coming up to you to kiss you while hugging you from the back^ or he'll absolutely lose his mind to the feeling of you pressing your lips to his neck.

bad texter. he's reserved, and also doesn't see the point of emoji's or useless texts.

goes MAD when you brush his hair. fuck. he'll close his eyes and pretend to fall asleep just so you keep doing it lol. he's so cute.

if you're mad at him and the two of you argue, he will get on his knees in front of you to apologize. that's just the type of man he is. i don't make the rules.

his favourite pet names for you include baby, PRINCESS (get it cuz he’s ur knight), love

super patient with you. never rushes you, lets you take your time and honestly just enjoys watching the way you handle situations, interact with people and overall go through life.

very jealous. he doesn't like other people fucking around with you. once he got you, he intends to keep you.

very very caring. he's the best person to have around when you're sick. he will sit by your side day and night until you are fully recovered.

speaking of being sick, he's the type of person to not want to inconvenience you so he will pretend he's fine up until this man literally collapses from his fever. fucking annoying. but he'll relish in every moment that you take care of him.

he's okay with pda. not crazy about it but if you like it, he will do it for YOU.

that's his attitude with a lot of things, if you like something and he doesn't he will still do it because he is just so down bad for you.

lowkey an adrenaline junkie. i imagine he actually really loves adrenaline and loves driving fast.

ok wait hear me the fuck out here. remember how i said jinwoo would drive a motorcycle? well he needs a partner in crime. someone to race with. who is that someone? you guessed right. it's igris.

they'll go on late night drives together all the time.

loves the gym. he's lowkey a gym bro. i mean hello, he's a knight so he has to stay in good shape but i think he mostly likes it as a form of stress relief (when fucking you is not available)

fav season is definitely winter. he loves to cozy up with you and really likes playing in the snow lol. (but don't tell beru cuz he needs to keep his mysterious and collected facade up around the other shadows)

he's kind of a child at heart. he comes off as super serious and he's very locked in when he's fighting with jinwoo but when he's with you he feels like he can comfortably relax and be a little sillier.

he screams morning person. he will wake up early to go on a run or go to the gym while you sleep in.

really likes taking candle-lit bubble baths with you. he loves having the two of you wash each others hair.

now for my fav: igris in bed.

this man is kinky. real kinky.

his bedroom energy is the same as when he's all worked up and in combat.

he likes to take control and he likes it ROUGHHHH

this man has insane stamina. never seen anything like it. (i can confirm i've been in his bed.)

he may be a gentle lover but that trait is far gone when he is absolutely fucking you into the mattress.

likes to have your ankles on his shoulders when he fucks you so he can hit deeeeeep.

really into choking and breath play. likes to see you squirm under him.

FACE SITTINGGGGGG!!!! he'll have u sit on his face for HOURS before that man lets you go. he's extremely addicted to eating pussy. don't you dare deprive him.

with that he's a huge fan of overstimulation. can you imagine omfg. "p-please igris, n-no more, i c-can't" you stutter pathetically, your eyes all bleary and hair disheveled from him pulling it while pounding into you from the back. "hmm i think you can take just one more princess" he'd say, his voice all raspy n breathy from going multiple rounds. "n-no" you plead, trying to pull away. it's just too much. he's fucked you out so good on his cock you simply cannot take it anymore. "shh, you're such a good girl, taking it so well, c'mon gimme one more baby" he'd coo, rubbing soothing circles onto the bruises he formed on your hips from how tight he held you. god. i'm so deeply unwell for this man.

he BITES. oh yes. he will bite you alllll over, leaving little love marks all over your neck, your tits, your ass honestly wherever he can mark you up, he'll do it.

huge fan of 69. he likes getting down and dirty TOGETHER.

also really likes to tie you up. especially to all 4 corners of the bed so he can do whatever he likes.

has the nicest cock hands down. not very thick but long and it curves upwards real nice so yk he's hitting that sweet spot in you every. single. time.

now hear me out: discipline kink. he really enjoys disciplining you.

you wanna act bratty? fine, but you won't be able to walk the next day and your ass will hurt. a ton.

despite him being jealous and possessive he likes threesomes. with jinwoo. i mean cmon he’s his main man, how could they not.

overall igris is the bestttttt lover both in and outside the bedroom<3

© @blessedmisery 2025.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ BEGINNER'S LUCK ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: you beat him at his own game on livestream, and it's your first time playing

contents: fem!reader. gojo gets slandered by everyone </3 but he slanders toji. again. vague descriptions of what game you guys are playing, imagine whichever game u want.

author's note: thinkin' about making streamer!gojo a series, stay tuned ...

"so you're gonna want to click that when someone attacks you," satoru informs you, hand on your shoulder. his chin rests on the top of your head as he watches you learn the in's and out's of some game he's well-known for streaming. "no, not that one, silly. the other one."

you groan and make a face at the screen in exasperation. "why do all the buttons look the same?" you grumble, drumming your fingers on the table next to his luminescent keyboard. "you better go easy on me when we go live."

satoru laughs and kisses the top of your head before strolling over to his own plush seat next to you. "don't worry, sweetheart. i will, i promise."

a couple minutes later, satoru starts chatting with his thousands of viewers as you puzzle over how to join his co-op lobby. 

toji-fushiguro: is your gf gonna join? ;)

you hear satoru scoff and see him lean closer to the monitor, squinting at the message that mentions you. "i remember you," satoru huffs, white hair falling into his eyes. "you better stop bringing her up or i'll block you, fishface."

a small laugh bubbles out of your lips as satoru continues addressing the flood of comments asking about you. in his last stream, he had mentioned thinking about teaching you to play the game he got famous for, and his viewers reacted more than enthusiastically. "wow, you guys really want to see me win against my own girlfriend?" satoru tsks, wagging his finger at the screen. "nah, i promised i'd go easy on her. i like her more than you faceless strangers on the internet. i'm looking at you, toji."

"satoru?" you whisper, scrunching up your nose when he immediately turns to you, all thoughts of publicly humiliating toji set aside. "how do i... join a co-op session?"

your boyfriend grins and leans over, clicking a couple buttons in too fast of a sequence for you to follow, and soon enough, your avatar stands next to satoru's. "there!"

"thanks," you huff, watching him slide back into his chair and banter with a couple more comments. and moments later, the game starts. satoru starts out with a play-by-play of his actions, making it really easy for you to piece together the strategy and techniques of the game. to your surprise, you don't die that easily — in fact, you eliminate five other players before retreating to the top of a tree to hide.

a couple kills later, you and satoru are some of the last people on the map. satoru makes quick work of the leftovers before stretching his arms and grinning smugly. "looks like i trained you well, darling," he calls, briefly turning to you and blowing a kiss. "now, where are you? come out and let me catch you, baby."

you hum in response, not bothering to come down from your tree. thankfully, the leaves are thick enough to obscure your avatar from satoru's view, and he walks right past you without even bothering to check. you grin and lean in closer to the computer, aiming at his blissfully unaware avatar and—

"what the fuck?" satoru yelps when his avatar crumbles to the ground. a message noting his death appears on his screen, and he turns to you immediately, betrayal evident on his shocked expression. "you shot me in the back!" he whines, getting up and looking at your screen in disbelief. "how could you?!"

you stick your tongue out at him smugly. "i win!" you cheer, and satoru splutters in disbelief, stumbling over his words as he watches you reap the rewards of your win. "i can't believe you lost to a beginner," you muse, rubbing in your victory. "maybe i should take over your stream," you continue, fluttering your eyelashes at satoru as he gapes at your screen.

"it's only 'cause i went easy on you!" satoru huffs, walking back to his chair and requesting a rematch. "this time, i won't be so nice."

the next game, satoru doesn't say anything, ocean-blue eyes focused on his own screen. from the stream opened in the corner of your monitor, you see his comments blow up.

suguru-geto: wow you're really off your game today

inumaki: he just sucks wdym

toji-fushiguro: deserved 💯

you think about hiding in a tree again, but decide against it. satoru would probably expect you to repeat that strategy, and for all you know, he might have an item that could help him sneak up on you. so you run off to an area that's relatively flat and keep an eye out for other users. you eliminate two before you catch a glimpse of satoru in a tree, but just a second later, he vanishes. 

from the corner of your eye, you see satoru mouth "got you" to his screen, and just in time, you dodge an attack you wouldn't have seen otherwise. somehow, your finger slips, and you shoot without aim. and somehow, your aim was on-point — satoru's avatar falls to its knees once more, and satoru groans in defeat.

"why are you good at this?" satoru grumbles, jumping off his seat and strolling over to wear you sit with a cocky smile on your lips. he all but abandons his stream as he walks over and pokes you childishly. satoru watches you eliminate the last two users, and he scoffs at the emblem of victory that lights up your screen. he kisses you begrudgingly and mutters something about losing a bet, to which you kiss his nose affectionately.

"but really," satoru whines, plopping back down in his chair and swiveling it to face you. "how are you so good?! and shut up suguru," he snipes, leering at the chat. "i'm doing fine, she's just insane! and you too, inumaki. there's a reason all your fans are regulars on my stream! because you suck!" at that, you snicker, spinning around in your own chair and half-watching the chat blow up with more of his viewers' thoughts. 

inumaki: SHUT UP U JUST LOST TO A FIRST TIMER

megumi-fushiguro: real 

"oh, shut it, other-fushiguro," satoru scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the chatbox. "at least my hair doesn't look like how little kids draw grass."

you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the laugh threatening to slip out, but when satoru turns and pouts at you, you can't help it. he's so petty and stubborn, but his eyes soften when he sees how big your smile is. and, not to your surprise, he matches your grin with one of his own. satoru draws a heart in the air with both his index fingers and scrunches up his nose at you, and your heart melts.

"you're so stupid," you mumble, watching him kick his feet like an antsy five year-old. satoru opens his arms in response, and no more than two seconds pass before you're nestled in his lap. he's wearing a light blue hoodie and white sweats, and nothing could make you more comfortable than that in the world. you turn your head and make eye contact with satoru's camera, and smile at the flood of comments on how cute you two look together.

yuuji-itadori: awww its kinda cute

suguru-geto: sooo down bad tbh

toji-fushiguro: you gotta be f*cking kidding me

satoru kisses the side of your face while glaring at the screen, and eventually he presses his lips to your ear and whispers, "wanna end the stream? there's too many people watching and i wanna keep you all to myself."

"hehe, let's do it!"

[juliettejwnewinesa]

OMG UR FICS NEED MORE ATTENTION WAAA I JUST BINGED UR ENTIRE ACD WAA UR ACTUALLY SO GOODDD UGHHHHH

ID LIKE TO REQUEST A SIEUN X READER 😭🫶

In a cutesy little scenario where reader leaves cute little notes in the notebooks/textbooks he let reader borrow while studying :3 and then he starts collecting them or something then one day mentions it in person !!! when he does they both agree in a cute sentimental way that they like it better when the reader says things out loud to him and stuff and but then HEHEHE maybe things could get a bit spicy? Idk it’s completely up to u 🫶

THANK U FOR 4 FEEDING ME YUMMY YUMMY FICS/HCS/WTV I LOVE UR ACC

WAAAAAA THANK UUU 😭😭😭🫶 you just healed five of my inner children, three of my chakras, and a minimum of one organ I didn’t know needed saving. I’m literally putting this message in a locket and wearing it to my wedding.

AND YESSSSS absolutely I will write your Sieun x reader request!! The concept is so 🥺💘💌 cute I wanna eat it like candy. Notes in textbooks?? Secretly collecting them?? Soft confession with a little spicy twist? You have taste. Michelin star level taste.

Scribbled Hearts

Pairing: Yoo Si-eun x Reader Genre: Fluff → Smut | College AU Word count: ~6,500 Summary: You’ve been borrowing Si-eun’s textbooks all semester, and along the way, you’ve left behind little notes: doodles, encouragement, private jokes. What you don’t know is that he’s been collecting every single one. And what he doesn’t know is how you feel—until now.

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

It started with a pen.

Well—no. It started with Yoo Si-eun, deadpan and dry, passing over his physics textbook without a word when you forgot yours for the third time in a row.

“You should carry a bag,” he mumbled, not looking at you.

“You should carry less judgment,” you shot back sweetly, and he scoffed, just enough to make you feel victorious.

You didn’t know why he kept letting you borrow his books. He barely seemed to like people, and yet every time you arrived breathless and unprepared, he’d slide one across the table with a sigh like it was inevitable. Like he’d been expecting it.

So you thanked him in the only way you could: you doodled in the margins.

At first, it was dumb stuff—tiny frogs saying “ribbit” during momentum formulas, or stick figures in increasingly dramatic death poses next to your least favorite equations. Then it became… something more.

"Don’t fall asleep in class again today." "You’re really good at this, even if you pretend you’re not." "If you ever smile during lectures I’ll pass out." (That one was in pink gel pen with little hearts.)

Si-eun never said anything. But he never erased them either.

A month later, you spotted something.

A fat envelope stuffed into the front of his folder. Peeking out of the corner?

Your frog doodle.

Your handwriting.

He was keeping them.

Your stomach did a little somersault, like a frog of its own had launched off a lily pad directly into your chest. You didn’t say anything, too nervous to ask—but suddenly every exchange between you felt different. His stares lingered longer. His tone had softened.

And one day, when you passed back a borrowed workbook with another silly message inside—"Can you believe you’re the hottest guy in linear algebra?"—his hand caught yours.

“Do you do that for everyone?” he asked.

You blinked. “Do what?”

“Write stuff.” He looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “In their books.”

Your mouth went dry. “No. Just yours.”

A long pause. Then:

“Good.”

You never kissed Yoo Si-eun for the first time. It just… happened.

One moment you were sitting beside him in the library, knees pressed together under the table, and the next he leaned in like it was a secret, like it was something he’d been wanting to tell you for a long time but couldn’t say out loud.

So he showed you instead.

His lips were warm, shy at first, then hungry. His hands—always so careful when flipping pages—were suddenly gripping your waist like you might vanish. And when you pulled back, just a little breathless, he didn’t let you go.

“I like it,” he said quietly, “when you say things out loud.”

Your heart flipped. “What things?”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “That you like me.”

Your cheeks burned. “I do.”

“Then say it.”

“I like you.”

He kissed you again, firmer this time. “Again.”

“I really like you, Si-eun.”

You felt him smile against your mouth.

“Okay,” he murmured, voice dipping. “Now say something else.”

[⛔ SMUT BELOW | soft, emotional, a little needy 🫶🍶💗]

By the time you were back at his apartment—your hand still in his, your bag discarded somewhere near the door—neither of you could stop smiling.

He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you take off your shoes, his eyes trailing your every move like you were some kind of dream he didn’t quite believe.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You stepped between his knees.

He tilted his head up to look at you, then reached up to tug you down, letting you straddle his lap.

Kisses turned lazy. Melty. Like the tension had cracked and now all that was left was warmth.

His hands slid under your shirt like he was learning a language—fingertips skating along your sides, your back, anywhere he could touch. He pulled the shirt over your head carefully, slowly, like he didn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you.

You did the same to him, admiring the way his skin flushed beneath your fingers.

“I wanted this,” he whispered, brushing his lips along your collarbone. “For a long time.”

You laughed gently. “But you never said anything.”

He met your eyes. “You never said anything either.”

You kissed his cheek, then lower—down his jaw, down his throat, until he hissed softly and cradled your hips against his.

“I want to hear you say everything,” he breathed.

“Everything?”

He nodded. “What you want. What you feel.”

You nuzzled against his neck. “I want you to touch me.”

His fingers dug into your thighs. “Where?”

You leaned in, whispering the answer into his ear. His breath caught—and then his hands were on you, exactly where you needed them.

He took his time. Like reading one of your notes—again and again and again, just to make sure he understood every word.

By the time he was inside you, you were saying everything.

That he felt too good. That he was too deep. That you couldn’t believe this was real.

He answered you with kisses and low, breathy groans, and soft-spoken words that spilled out between thrusts like he couldn’t stop himself either:

“You’re so warm.” “You always smell so good.” “I wanted to fuck you since midterms.” “I keep every single note.”

You kissed him harder. Wrapped your legs tighter around him. Clung like you’d never let go.

And he let you.

Held you.

Until both of you came undone.

Later, when you were curled up in his bed—his hand tracing lazy patterns on your arm—he said, “I’ll keep writing things too.”

You blinked sleepily. “In my books?”

“No.” He looked at you, smiling. “On your skin.”

[niningtori]

the way we were before | preview(s)

out now

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu for as long as you've known him. deep down, you've always thought that he loved you, too; so when he tells you that he's engaged to another woman, you decide to break it all off after a nasty fight in which he shows you just how little you mean to him. a life-ending accident seems to put your feelings to rest for good. just when you think it's all over, however, you awaken to a time before everything fell apart; and you're determined not to repeat the same mistakes. it's just that beomgyu can't seem to let you go.

genre: ANGST (literally so much angst it's not even funny), romance, second chance!au, rebirth!au

warnings: mcd (and rebirth), depictions of death, suicidal thoughts

notes: below are snippets for you all to get an idea of what's to come. this work contains a lot of angst... and that's coming from ME. this might be too sad to the point of being corny but luckily i was born on the cob. don’t be mean to me tho i'm going thru it rn

"but you can't expect me to just owe you my feelings,” he snaps.

“that's not what this is about, and you know it.”

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” your eyes burn with an intensity so great, it feels like they're being seared out of your skull. in this moment, you realize that he will never, ever respect you enough to consider you worthy of being leveled with. he doesn't think you're even worth the time. you're his silly, lovesick best friend who's absolutely delusional to the point of being laughable for suggesting that he actually take you seriously, for once. and that revelation breaks you like nothing else.

you won’t do this anymore. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and you don’t.

-

the collision is bone-shattering in the literal sense. you’d think you’d feel adrenaline alone in such a situation, but you can feel pain bursting out of every cell of your body as you feel yourself stilling after being thrown back and forth in your seat. every organ, every bone, feels like it’s just been crushed, and not for the first time today, you’re struggling to breathe.

as you feel yourself slipping out of consciousness, one immovable thought resounds in your head: i wish i never met him.

-

“don’t even bother finishing that sentence. you don't like me at all,” you sneer. “you just don’t like seeing me move on.” this makes him pause, and even you don’t have the heart to pretend like you can’t see the hurt in his eyes.

notes pt. 2: yeah...

if you would like to be tagged in this work, please let me know by commenting or sending an ask! thank u <3

[pathologicalreid]

Hiii I was wondering if you could write a part 2 or a sequel to the fic your wrote a little ago called next of kin. I loved it so much 😊😊😊 thank u!!! <333

stepping up | S.R.

after taking custody of your younger sister, spencer steps up in his role as caretaker

part one

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: previous murder of parents, emphasis on not having a dad, maya is bffs with jack hotchner, spencer is an empath, not proofread word count: 1.58k a/n: for a while i wasn't giving my requests summary's but now im getting back into that because i realize I Got Too Silly. thank you for requesting! i love you!

You jumped as your younger sister slammed the door to the garage shut behind you. Keeping her purple backpack slung over her shoulders, she trudged up the stairs and retreated into her bedroom. The six-year-old was either unaware or uncaring of the way you immediately followed her path to the stairs.

In your periphery, you saw Spencer peek his head over the back of the couch, making quick note of your troubled expression before he snapped his book shut and joined you. Hesitating, you looked up the stairs at the landing, the dim light of her lamp left a pinkish glow at the bottom of her door, but there was no noise coming from Maya’s bedroom.

“She didn’t say anything the whole way home,” you murmured thoughtfully, placing a hand on your chin. You’d thought she’d be happy when you picked her up as a surprise – you and Spencer had just gotten back from a case a few hours ago. Your cousin – who usually took care of Maya when you were away – had offered to pick her up from school, but you hadn’t seen her in three days and needed to see her.

Gently, Spencer placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you up the stairs with him trailing close behind. With the two of you standing outside the door, you placed your hand on the brass doorknob and let your hand sit there, listening closely as you registered the small whimpers emanating from inside your sister’s room.

Unable to tolerate it, you wiggled at the door just to find that she had locked it from the inside, “Maya,” you said, consciously keeping your voice soft. “I know that you probably want to be left alone right now, but we need to know that you’re alright,” holding your breath, you waited, hoping that she’d open the door on her own and you wouldn’t have to go hunting for the key.

You were afraid that she was being bullied, she transferred to a new school in the middle of the year and was frequently absent in the beginning, but they didn’t make a guidebook on how to ease a child into a new school following the death of both of her parents. Luckily, Maya was placed in the same classroom as Jack Hotchner, so you knew she’d always have at least one friend around.

Just as Spencer was asking you if you wanted him to go get the room key, the lock clicked and the door slowly opened, revealing your younger sister. Her backpack had been discarded on the floor and her face was bright red, she had been crying.

Shooting yourself in the foot, you hesitated. You just stared down at your sister while she lowered her eyes, watching the floor. Despite the fact that you and Spencer had more than willingly taken her in, Maya was still an orphan. She was a six-year-old whose most prized possession was a stuffed bunny named Thumper, but she was an orphan, nonetheless.

Next to you, Spencer knelt down to the floor, meeting Maya at her height. Tentatively, he reached up and took one of her hands in his much bigger one, “What’s wrong, Bambi?”

Your chest ached at the nickname he had bestowed upon her, keeping your eyes focused on the both of them as Maya retreated back into her room, yanking her hand out of Spencer’s and tossing herself onto her canopy-covered bed. Sharing a concerned look, both you and Spencer made your way into the room.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you sat at the desk across from her bed, and Spencer sat on the flower rug that she kept in front of her dresser. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you got the chance, Maya blurted, “I don’t have a dad!”

Eyes widening, you seemingly choked on air as your eyes darted from where your sister was now sitting up on the bed to where Spencer stayed still, looking equally as startled as you. Jumping up from the bed, she dramatically dropped to her knees in front of her backpack, unzipping the largest pocket before producing a green folder and thrusting a paper in Spencer’s direction.

Smoothly, Spencer accepted the paper from your sister, turning it right side up in his hands before skimming the print. You wheeled the desk chair over in his direction, eyes flickering over the flyer as you realized what it was for. The school held an annual daddy-daughter dance for Valentine’s Day, and your sister had been handed a flyer.

Once you had gotten through the holiday season, you convinced yourself that you could get yourself and Maya through anything – evidently enough, that had been a mistake. This, this made you angry. The administration knew exactly what your sister had been through, and the fact that they still chose to hold this event.

Her biggest worry should be what theme she wanted her seventh birthday party to be, not being left out of a school event because she didn’t have a parent to go with. You checked the time on her Hello Kitty alarm clock, knowing that the school administration would still be around until the end of the workday, you made a mental note to call them and file a complaint.

Concerned with your next steps, you hadn’t even noticed that Spencer had shuffled across the floor, using his fingertips to wipe tears from her face as she looked up at him with big eyes – Bambi. “I could go with you,” Spencer offered, cupping her small cheeks in his hands as he knelt in front of her.

Frowning, Maya shook her head rapidly, “You are not my dad,” she insisted, stepping back and away from Spencer, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, closing herself off.

Your boyfriend nodded in acknowledgment, this had led to a lot of confusion, as Spencer didn’t want to take over the role of father in Spencer’s life, so Maya frequently introduced him to people as her brother. There were a lot of lengthy explanations as to who he actually was. “No,” he responded simply, “I’m not, and I don’t have any intention of trying to be your dad. You already have a dad, right?”

Stepping back toward Spencer, Maya nodded, “Yes, but he’s gone.” Her arms dropped back to her sides, and your chest ached at the euphemism.

“Did you know that I didn’t have my dad around when I was growing up either?” Spencer asked, speaking tenderly to your sister as he tried to navigate this situation. You stayed completely still, trying not to move lest you interrupt the negotiation process.

Maya’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really?” Her small voice came out in a whisper like the information that she and Spencer were sharing was a secret, Maya called whispering adult talk, because that was how you and Spencer always spoke about work.

Reaching up and gingerly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Spencer nodded almost indeterminately, “Mhm, not the same way that your dad’s gone, but I know what it’s like to not be able do all of the fun dad things. If you’re alright with it, we can go together to the dance.”

“You don’t have to,” Maya whispered timidly, the standoffishness she had displayed earlier completely replaced with nerves.

Your boyfriend nodded, “I know, but I would be honored if you would let me,” he said, taking both of her hands in his. “We don’t have to go at all, but I want to make sure you know that you never have to be nervous about asking me for things.”

She pondered this for a moment before giving a sly smile, “Can I wear a pretty dress?”

“We’ll get you a new one,” Spencer assured her, looking over at you as you sighed, holding a hand over your chest while tears pricked at your eyes. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you to the Valentine’s Day dance?”

Jumping up and down excitedly, Maya beamed and threw her arms around Spencer who, in kind, hugged her tightly, rubbing a hand up and down her back, “I get to go to the dance, and I have no homework! This is the best day ever!”

Laughing lightly behind your hand, you grinned at your sister who was, after all, only six years old. “Your sister and I don’t have to work until tomorrow, do you want to do something?” Spencer offered, reaching out his hand and pulling you over to the two of them, allowing Maya to tackle you to the ground in a bear hug.

“Can we go to the park?” She asked, looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You nodded, “Absolutely we can, and we could go out for dinner after too if you want,” you offered, looking over at Spencer as he grabbed the dance flyer and pinned it to a corkboard in your sister’s room.

She gasped in surprise, even though the two of you rarely told her no – one of the dangers of raising an orphan. “Can Jack come?”

Laughing lightly, you quickly realized that your trip to the park was going to become a BAU family affair while you rose to your feet, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans, “If his dad says yes, then we can take Jack with us.”  

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. the fireworks festival.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing, character death (off screen, dw) wc. 6.3k author’s note. gege deserves to be charged for war crimes for what he's done, but besides that, thank u for reading once again. i really loved writing this story and agonizing about what it would be like to be with our dear satoru. he is, without doubt, a character that deserved so much better. but anyway, thank you again!!!! c u at the end of this xx

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CHAPTER 14: you know where to find me & i know where to look

you will not lie and tell yourself that being away from gojo isn’t strange and off-putting, even if you would like to. it’s different when either of you are on a mission, because, theoretically, now you know he’s just on the other side of the wall and you have chosen to not curl up beside him. you have slept alone for a long time, and it had never been an issue until now – there’s no one to be too warm against, no one to hog the sheets, no one to chew on your hair dreaming of something sweet.

the stockholm syndrome really got you, huh?

still, you sleep well. there’s enough space and you awake refreshed, with no limbs tingly or numb, but a bit lonely. the room is too big, and even if the view behind the curtain is nice enough to snap a picture, it’s not as charming without gojo pointing and saying, “heh, look, a bit more rain and it’s gonna be a landslide,” and you, naturally, nodding along, because he must be right.

you dress and douse yourself in a heavy, heavy cloud of the perfume he got you. gojo insisted on this one because he liked the way it smelled, and you are feeling better today and are willing to hear out another heartfelt apology. you are very nice and very merciful and deserve the very best for your endless efforts to steer this relationship into something at least vaguely harmonious.

maybe you can reconcile during a tasty breakfast with a cappuccino syruped with caramel and the foam resembling a cat. yes, you have put the pieces together – normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself a great strategist, but surprisingly, last night you had ran this situation through your head over and over and over again till every possible scenario and an equally possible outcome was engraved into the squiggly lines of your brain. you have never been more prepared for anything in your entirely life.

“i’ve learned my lesson,” are the very first words you hear when you open the door, met with a head hung low and an unhappy gojo satoru.

alright, this you did not anticipate. he looks a bit miserable. gojo always hated the silent treatment or the ignore policy the most, even when he was harassing you for his personal entertainment, but you didn’t think eight hours apart would make him like this. suppose he might not have slept at all; suppose you did leave on a sour note, a small good night and a strained smile he tried to mimic but failed, waiting till you shut the door before heading to his room.

you wonder how long he’s been antsy behind your door, waiting like a lost pet. you decide to assume he just got here instead of thinking of the more likely scenario that he sensed your cursed energy spike once you rolled out of bed and was at attention ever since.

“that’s nice,” you tell him. a soft kiss to his cheek seals the deal for both of you, and an ache you didn’t realize you were suffering from lifts seeing him instantly brighten.

“you smell nice,” he leans in, happily nosing the side of your neck, “and look nice. super nice. hello.”

“hi, good morning.”

“yes,” a toothy smile, and your fingers twining with his, “great, even, actually. didja miss me?”

you will not lie to yourself, but you will lie to him. you shake your head, as though disappointed by such an unfair and silly line of questioning, “it’s barely been a night. i was relieved, if anything.”

he wrinkles his nose, a look that borders on not so playful if taking in the arctic gleam of his eyes, “not funny,” the comedy will have to wait, it seems, he’s serious, “no jokes about that. or separation. ever. you and i are conjoined twins from now on. we could be permanently glues together by my infinity. now that’s an idea.”

a bit too frankensteinian for you, so you have to pass, “let’s leave the morally questionable experiments to shoko, please.”

“if you insist,”

well, now that the apology is out of the way and the awkwardness is cleared, you are prepared for a feast that he will pay for, “let’s go down to eat?”

if it weren’t for the slight downward twitch of the corners of his lips, you might’ve been fooled that all is fine and dandy. apparently, it is not. hesitation, from him, only comes when he’s preparing for something major and likely emotionally taxing. this, on an empty stomach, will not do, but drawing it out isn’t an option, either.

he squeezes your hand before you can come up with an excuse to avoid breakfast or this conversation, as this isn’t going at all like you have pedantically strung together. another squeeze, and you decide to never plan anything ever again, “…can we order room service instead?” he inquires, and you relax a little, glad you won’t have to have this conversation mid-hallway where any other guest could sneak up, “i, uh,” he won’t meet your eyes, “i’d like to talk a bit. first. if that’s okay?”

your insides are twisting into knots – not from the present anxiety but from the honesty in his quiet voice.

“sure,” you settle.

he nods and takes the lead, hand a little sweaty, face a little flustered – all very out of character, but very sweet. you let him drag you the whole of the next door down and you’re graciously let into the spotless, untouched space he had spent the night in. the curtains are open, the bed is pristine, and gojo is never this clean so it can only mean he hasn’t used it. you glance at him with a wordless question but he’s still avoiding your gaze.

has he really agonized over this the whole night? you have, too, a bit, but seemingly not nearly enough. maybe it’s his first time having a fight with someone; maybe it’s his first time being in the wrong and knowing that he is and actually doing something about it. too many maybes. you think he might be just as confused as you.

once the door is shut, he breathes out. perks up, finally, once you’re safely secured in his perimeter. he gestures toward the expanse of the bed, face morphing back into a rather placid expression that betrays nothing but an odd edge that doesn’t manage to leave his eyes entirely.

“after you,” he announces chivalrously. no ulterior motives there.

“uh-huh,” you sound, toeing the slippers off and climbing in. you scoot back till you’re pressed against the pillows, leaving ample space for him to join. he chooses a spot by your thigh, warmth pickling against your skin, and you really do forgive him, you decide, and you would probably forgive him again even he pulled the same stunt at this very moment. no, that is terrible, how has this idiot managed to ensnare you so completely?

once he’s fidgeted enough, he moves onto his next agenda, “the menu,” he pulls out a booklet from the drawer, placing it on your bent knees like a little gift. this all feels vaguely rehearsed, “pick what you want.”

that was always the intention, but you see that he’s trying very hard to work up the courage to something he wants to say, so maybe some good old fashioned enthusiasm from you will help him relax, “alright,” a hum for added measure, “hmmm…. mhmmm…. ooh, pancakes sound nice. like, maybe a mountain of them.”

“yeah?” his chin finds its usual spot on your shoulder, “pick between the triple and a tower.”

the picture showing off the pancake tower does look very impressive, not to mention delicious. however, you aren’t entirely certain you would finish one, as the heading reads over one meter!, which is simply ridiculous. thankfully, you have a man with a black hole for a stomach right next to you, “i’d like a tower.”

“sure, whatever you want.”

“and a cappuccino,” you’re not skimming out on that, even if it’s unlikely the barista will make you cat-shaped foam. maybe you can press gojo to bully them into doing it, but pressing gojo into anything at this moment would likely lead to another disaster, “with a double shot. possibly triple. how many shots do they do?”

“think one’s plenty enough,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. they appear  bit chapped, but nothing you can’t fix, “…can i get a kiss?”

…so much for wanting to talk. this is already familiar. he’s trying to change the subject.

“for good behavior?” you venture coyly, peeling your gaze away from the breakfast details to gauge his expression.

it makes him smile, small and wicked, “yup. best behavior, actually. i said sorry, it counts. right? say yes.”

“mmm,” you manage, thinking up another scheme. you would like to keep this on track. it’s likely he won’t dare to say it again and the implication of it will hang between the two of you until another fight, and another, and it’ll keep stacking up and up and likely higher than the famed pancake tower. his pupils grow larger the longer he waits for your permission. a small sigh, and your nails scratch at the nape, “maybe let’s eat first?”

his gaze flickers for a second, and then he gives you a kind, patient smile, “alright,” because he meant it when he said whatever you want.

“so nice of you,” you praise. his grin shifts. you recognize i – it’s the one he dons when he’s winning.

a quick call to reception, gojo’s back to holding your hand again, softly as not to crowd you. his fingers really are much longer than yours, and he measures them idly, more than used to the sight but still somehow mesmerized by it.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” he starts, voice even, though low, “the rest i don’t really care about, but you,” he tugs on your finger, “you just, doesn’t…” he trails off, confidence shaken by something invisible.

“i don’t like fighting with you either,” you share, hoping it will ease him. it seems to work, but only a little, “it sucks.”

“yeah,” he huffs, “super major sucks,” he draws closer and the mattress shifts. he finds home beside you, head once again nestled into your shoulder, like it’s the safest place on planet earth.

gojo always seeks refuge in physical affection. it’s a way he can express himself without using words. suppose you can pull him into your embrace and calm him like that; suppose he’ll feel a bit braver without your eyes so deeply focused on him, even if there’s always a chance he’ll take the easy way out and refuse to speak at all.

but that’s not what happens, “i just wanted to find a spot where we could watch the stars together.”

“oh,” you utter, unsure what to make of this yet. you are glad he has finally told you, but that still doesn’t explain why he was acting, dare you say, nervous before the argument. there has to be more. there always is, but you will never pry, because it’s painful enough for him already.

“didn’t work out the way i had hoped it would, though,” and now he sounds genuinely sad. a horrible feeling surfaces in you, “but we can still watch them tonight. if you want.”

“i do,” you assure him, “but you have to talk about what’s bothering you. i can’t read your mind.”

“thank god you can’t,” a hollow chuckle follows, “it’s a secret anyway. none of your beeswax.”

impossible, like always, but you wouldn’t really have it any other way. you card your fingers through his hair and he relaxes further, warm breath tickling the side of your neck. a small sigh, this time from him. now that he’s said all that he has wanted to say – which still doesn’t really explain anything, but is more than enough – he can pretend to be an overgrown cat and bask in your affectionate gestures.

it’s going to be okay. you hope he doesn’t see your little smile. lucky.

*

“is this supposed to be a white tiger?” you inquire, holding up a glass phone charm for his inspection. another pale, blue-eyed thing that has caught your fancy. soon, your dorm room will also include a private zoo of all the cute plushies and ornaments you’ve managed to collect with gojo’s money.

“doesn’t have any stripes,” he hums, twisting and turning the vaguely animal-shaped object in his palm. dusk falls on his shoulders, tinting the edges of his hair a soft lilac, “maybe a polar bear?”

suppose it doesn’t really matter, since all charms displayed at this stall look the same, and it surely has nothing to do with the talent of the man that made them. he gazes over them proudly, each sat in a small leather box with a lavish seat, ready to be taken home and hung by the mirror or looped around a cellphone. the monkey ones could maybe resemble monkeys if you squinted and took a lot of creative liberties, and the rest are just shapes with four legs and a snout. oddly cute, in an incompetent, unexplainable way.

“you wanna…?” gojo raises a brow, shades blocking the double-check he no doubt sends you. you nod vigorously.

he has learned his lesson from last time and carries a concerning amount of cash in his wallet. your tiger-bear is placed in its box and then wrapped in a little bow before being hidden in a colorful plastic bag that eventually makes its way to you. you bow in thank you.

the matsuri continues. the winding streets are blocked from traffic yet crowd with too many patrons; gojo pinches your sleeve and tugs when a particularly large wave of people try to separate you. even when they manage, and you’re momentarily disoriented from the sounds and smells and sights, he always manages to spot you first. maybe he just knows where to look.

gojo has changed from his usual garbs into a baby blue yukata. blue really is his color, and he looks so infuriatingly handsome that you have to glare at a sizable amount of people to let them know he is not available to be admired now, or ever, really. you have contemplated buying him a kabuki mask, but even then, his height and broad shoulders – not to mention that unshakable gait and all-over enticing confidence! – would somehow reveal him, and people would still stare or try to grab his attention. perhaps the mystery of the mask would be even more alluring. your hairs stand on end at the thought.

“m?” gojo, never one to miss anything and still latched onto your sleeve, tilts his head, “are you hungry? i sensed murderous intent.”

you hide your lips behind your fan – an expensive trinket gojo insisted to get you since it would match your baby pink yukata. yes, you have come in matching bubble gum ice cream flavors. when your head moves even slightly, the hairpins clink. the sound is light and satisfying, or so he said. you can’t hear it over the noise.

“no, not really,” you say, though the dango stand does look delicious, and the twinkling lights are inviting. your displeased eyes do not leave the group of high school girls donning their flowery yukata and giggling into their kakigori bowls. it is truly a blessing you have been born with a useless amount of cursed energy, because you would definitely use it for evil.

maybe gojo knows, and he graciously steps forward, blocking your sight from the rest of the people. another tug, and you snap into motion.

around you, lanterns sway, alight and warm; they cast low over the sidewalks and shine bright against the cobblestone walkways. in the corners of your vision, the glow swirls into endless rainbow-colored ribbons.

“how good are you at shooting?” he asks.

all dolled up and pretty, you can only clap your lashes  few times at the absurd question, “really well, why?”

“like, a bow or  a gun?”

“does it matter? both require concentration and precision,” you explain, “still, are we planning a heist or something? i don’t have any cursed tools on me,” and while the prospect of danger and adventure is enticing, you really are having fun just being here with him and would rather stay.

“nah, just a bit of friendly competition,” he grins, glasses drooping just enough to catch the mischievous twinkle in his eye, “wanna go against the strongest? you’ll be the only one to that lived to tell the tale.”

wanna do this, wanna do that? want food, a plushie, something absurdly expensive? if you asked for the moon, you wonder if he’d try to retrieve it. perhaps calculate if a missing edge wouldn’t spin the planet out of orbit and bring it back to you as a souvenir.

“i’d like a soda,” you say.

“let’s get you a cola,” he switches directions so quickly you almost collide into an equally mushy couple enjoying their date.

only you and gojo are not a couple, and this is not a date, and each time he recalls an insignificant detail about you and goes out of his way to do something small for you only because he wants to do it, it becomes harder and harder to remember the fact. pretending is awful, and it burns strangely acidic in the back of your throat. but it’s so warm, too, and you want to cling to his arm and press your cheek against his yukata. hide there, in his sleeve, like he always does in the crook of your neck.

gojo wouldn’t mind. once he gets you your tasty drink, you paint a kiss mark on his cheekbone with your lips. it’s faint and pink, glossy against the rose that steadily rises onto his face, and he doesn’t wipe it off, only smiles sheepishly.

eventually, you make it to the shooting range. it’s a large stall decorated with sea creatures and varying shades of purple and blue. you’re handed a large water gun and told to hold till the targets – large jellyfish – fall over, officially earning you a point. depending on the amount of points one receives, one might win a prize, or so the man in a pirate costume explained.

“ready?” gojo asks, fixing his glasses. you’re not sure how serious you should take this. your pride may be on the line, but this game is likely extremely rigged. he’s already the strongest, and whatever he’d receive from the pirate would ultimately make it into your hold without you having to steal or resort to anything desperate, like politely asking.

still, you are a sorcerer. if a friend and colleague is requesting, you must put on a brave front. it is the morally righteous thing to do, after all.

you put your hand on your hip and nod.

the game begins. three seconds into it you realize that the water stream is much too weak for you to successfully take down a significant number in the modest time allocated for this quest. still, you keep going, and several jellyfish fall by your skillful hand and steadfast accuracy.

no matter the physical differences or innate abilities, there should not be a lead in this competition, and if there were to be one, it would be you and your clear head compared to gojo’s impatience and petulant whining. as a matter of fact, he is not whining, nor is he sulking in defeat or trying to sabotage your chances.

he is barely containing his cackle over tightly pressed lips and quivering shoulders, his grip on the plastic so tight the bright red grip cracks a little.

the jellyfish stood in his path to victory keep falling one by one so quickly you take a second glance to ensure he’s not using an actual gun to knock them over. cursed energy permeates in the air like static after a storm, and you sigh, lowering your water gun before the timer’s up.

he's cheating. somehow you didn’t expect this, even if it was obvious from the start. should you scold him and be disappointed, thus ruining the fun for everyone out of principle?

you feel like he’s been through enough. even a fake argument would leave him discontent, and you even more so. besides, you doubt either of you would have won even the most useless trinket if you played fair and square. this you judge from the absolutely aghast expression of the stall’s owner, who might snap his neck at any moment if he keeps swinging it from jellyfish to gojo and back.

the bells chime. the game ends. with trembling hands, the pirate picks up the stuffed animal gojo pointed at and hands it over.

 “there you go,” gojo thrusts the penguin in your arms, and you take it, all fluff and cold seams, “for you.”

“okay,” you concede, cradling the stupid looking bird. it's cute.

you do not miss the owner checking gojo's gun for a malfunction. he does not miss the sly look you send his way before departing.

“where to next?” you can't wait. you have had fizzy drinks, munched on so many yakitori skewers you've lost count, watched a truly horrendous standup comedian and stayed till the end of the performance out of pity, and exchanged three handmade charms for a total of two plushies. your penguin will be named yukihira because that was the name of gojo's pet koi fish.

pet, as in it was in the pond, and gojo liked looking at it the most, hence he named it. there were no pets allowed in the gojo household, or any fun, for that matter. you didn't understand, not entirely, but you wanted to. a lackluster childhood burdened with responsibility so vast and complex it's hardly comprehensible. he wouldn't elaborate further, simply bury his face into the bend of your neck and kiss until the memory had finally, and perfectly, faded from your mind, and you could breathe just a bit easier.

“to sit,” gojo says, indicating the lone bench beneath the awning across the stall, “exhausted. gotta recharge for the next conquest.”

“how dramatic,” you comment, but take his extended arm and accompany him.

together, you remain unbothered, a tiny island amidst a current of shifting yukata, cork shoes, and the occasional colorful sandal. fireflies wink around, chasing each other like sparklers.

gojo fishes out his phone and clicks his tongue, reading the message you know is there. most likely another important thing to deal with. you wish he wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again, but that sounds ridiculous even to you.

“what's up?” you lean your shoulder on his. the penguin sits on your lap, quietly reflecting your somber gaze. it's round, black eyes are welcoming, so you poke its nose.

“nothing,” he decides, waving the thought away, “it can wait, probably.”

you make a face, “that doesn't sound very assuring.”

“unlike some, i have a healthy respect for privacy,” he grins, not taking his eyes off the device even when his tone softens considerably, “i won't interrogate you if you don't want me to. so the same goes for me.”

you snort. that's a lie if you've ever heard one, because he has never shied away of reading your messages along with you or providing helpful responses. still, you won't push. you trust him. if he says it's nothing, it means it's nothing.

a short silence settles. the air feels balmy, and a phantom wind circles you. one of the lanterns has blown out, and a little trail of smoke floats to the sky.

“huh,” you blink, the information suddenly resurfacing in your brain, “the sister event is next week.”

“ugh,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket only so he could rub the disgust off of his face, “don't remind me.”

you grin, “heh, how come? we can just send you alone. we'll win anyway.”

“always gotta do all the work,” he groans, then leans his head back, fixing you with a knowing look from the corner of his eye, “aren't you going to hold my hand?”

“want me to?”

his throat bobs, the simple question alone making his breath stumble as if he was walking down a dark alley, and hearing your voice had given him goosebumps. his voice is steady when he answers, “yeah.”

with one arm securing your precious yukihara, you reach over and take his hand. his larger fingers slide over yours, catching.

“so spoiled,” you tease. he lifts your hand to press his lips to your skin. now it's your heart's turn to waver. his eyes are crinkled happily, the crescent of his smile lighting up in the growing shadows. there's something playful hiding there, too, something secretive that he wouldn't share until he was sure you'd like it, and that patience of his, newfound and endearing, spreads like sweet nectar down your throat and bubbles a giggle.

“yep,” he agrees, so delighted his nose scrunches adorably.

you could stay like this forever, watching and enjoying the thrum and beat of a summer festival. the atmosphere, the laughter and tittering, the low chatter as people find their way from one thing to another. live in this moment, like a firefly caught in a glass jar.

at one point, gojo's cheek rests on your head, and you soak in the warmth. perhaps this is his favorite part. the glow of the lanterns is just the right side of orange and highlights the angles and divots of his face, while his other hand stays coiled around yours, and his thumb rubs small, soothing patterns into your knuckles.

“let's sit it out.”

“hm?”

“the sister exchange event. haibara-kun, nanami-kun, and suguru can participate for us,” you tell him, “we could hide in the clinic with shoko.”

he pulls back from his position, but only so he could survey you properly. his stare is less calculating than it is contemplative. behind his glasses, his eyes are burning quietly. at times, there's something almost solemn glazing over his expression, softening the sharp lines and allowing his features to relax. it makes him seem so much more mature and so unlike himself that you never know how to react.

“can't,” he says with a small sigh, finally coming to stand. he pulls on your hand and you scramble, grappling to keep yukihara from falling along with all of your things, “yaga would definitely beat my ass if i ever tried pulling something. but that doesn't mean i don't want to,” his smile widens, “thank you for the offer, though.”

“wow, a sincere and gracious rejection. thanks, satoru.”

“anytime,” he winks. you flick his forehead.

no pouting this time, though, no furrowed brows or crossed arms. instead, he bites his lower lip and seems to be wrestling with himself not to jump you. he is behaving extremely well by comparison, his touches never bordering on anything even remotely inappropriate for a public settling.

you appreciate the consideration. even despite the crowded space, he is focused solely on you, his finger grazing along your palm, tickling your wrist. if you smile any wider, your cheeks will start hurting. and if he continues looking at you like that over the rim of his sunglasses, your heart will start hurting instead.

“should we head to ashinoko?” you ask, keeping yukihara close, “or will there be too many people there?”

“probably, but it doesn't matter,” he reassures, “we'll find a spot. worst case scenario i'll let you sit on me. my shoulders, to be exact.”

how would you explain the sudden rush of blood to your head? “that won't be necessary...”

“why not? can't get much of a better view. and you get to play with my hair, too,” he tacks on, “or maybe i could hold your legs and give your-”

you take back everything you thought of good behavior and growth as a person, he is nothing but a lewd pest wanting to embarrass you in the middle of a romantic setting, the absolute traitor, and you have half a mind to stomp him to death right then and there. all the private tutors in the world couldn't teach him manners, and no stifling house rules could condition him out of his shit eating grin.

he is terrible, and you like him still, more and more each day. even now, when he looks on the verge of laughing, so pleased to have flustered you, while you try and fail not to panic.

“kidding,” he assures, “mostly. i would, if you asked.”

“satoru, pl-”

“wouldn't even question it.”

“sa-”

“got a list of places i could put my mouth. just say the word.”

you've lost. completely and irrecoverably. your shoulders slump, too tired to continue picking the pieces of your shattered dignity, “yes, yes, i get it. please stop talking.”

he shrugs, unbearably nonchalant considering he basically propositioned to make you cum between fireworks displays, “if you insist.”

unruffled by any objections, like he'd simply whisk you away to somewhere secluded should you demand him to, and it would be so easy. like he's itching for a chance, a sign, a simple smile. like he'd drop to his knees if you only said yes. you're almost appalled by his shamelessness, yet that, unfortunately, is part of his charm as well.

still, what a tease. you wish yukihara wouldn't have to hear such things. your dear penguin doesn't deserve to experience such trauma so early into your care. you are so very sorry.

“then...” you steer the topic back to where it's mostly harmless, not counting his smug look that would haunt you till the end of days, “let's go?”

“okie-dokie.”

you fall back into the crowd and lose all traces of rhythm. children push past you, twittering and shrieking, with their chaperones stumbling after them and rapidly bowing apologies left and right. the ground is smooth beneath your feet, stone flattened in ages by carts and soles alike. the two of you branch off and enter a lesser known forest path to avoid the onslaught of people rushing to see the performance at the hakone shrine before the fireworks.

the change in scenery is instantaneous. the suffocating density of bodies disappears, as well as the oppressive humidity. it's darker without the fairy lights and lampposts, the cicadas overlapping everything else. the air smells like fern, cut grass, and wet tree bark, oddly fresh and cool closer to the lake.

gojo stores his sunglasses into a discreet inner pocket. his eyes glint under a stretch of tree shadow, emitting a faint bluish glow, not bright enough to lighten his features yet remaining ever present. ever so beautiful. the woods seem to sigh around you, branches fluttering nervously above as he leans in, almost a specter.

“what's wrong?” your question brushes against the fringes of his hair.

“you're looking at me funny.”

“i am? sorry.”

“like you have so much you want to say.”

“oh,” you blink, then stare down at your shoes. a fallen maple leaf rustles when you step on it, giving a dry crunch, “not really.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches his cheek, “me too, kinda.”

a soft smile, this time, something private and indulging.

for a while you don't speak, not because you can't think of anything to say, but rather can't choose the right words. none of them seem enough, too sweet or too plain. the small trek through the damp forest path leaves your shoes a bit muddy and the hems of your yukata covered in dry flakes and pine needles, most having already blown away.

you hear it first – the deep, thunderous sounds of drums coming from the direction of the shrine. then, ways down the twisting tree line, you spot dancing lights. closer and closer, and the sounds become powerful enough to shake you, vibrating through the ground up to your legs. you hold on just a bit tighter, and gojo returns the gesture firmly.

he is quiet. his head is bowed, gaze focused ahead and somewhere else at the same time, like he's thinking about other things, which, knowing him, can be anything. he leads you off the path and you follow, passing between the foliage and low hanging branches. the weather grows colder. you're approaching the shore.

finally, the landscape clears. a thin border of black pines separates water from earth. wisteria vines drape over the whole scene like curtains on windows, billowing gently. the noise of the show is still loud and beats to the drum of your heart, each thud somehow too close and too obvious. from here, you can see the massive red torii gate stood in the shallows.

the water sloshes by your feet, and the sandy soil squishes pleasantly. far and wide, there are others waiting, too, all finding their own spots amongst the reeds and gravel. a few lanterns float in the moonlit surface of lake ashinoko, bright and orange, like the ones in the market district, and you watch, captivated, as their reflections spill over the shifting water. the chimes wind up to a symphony. it's beautiful.

gojo tilts his head to you, and his lips move, but you can't hear what he's saying.

“what?” you call, ticking a waiting ear in his direction.

the boom cuts through everything, the flash of gold drowning out his face, and you realize way too late what's happening. the crackle continues, and the air trembles, releasing another burst of fireworks. the light leaves fractals dancing over him, each one landing just so, as if aimed, cascading over his eyelashes.

he repeats the words, and something about his expression makes your heart stutter: longing and apprehension quickly replaced with shyness, almost endearing as he watches you expectantly. the sky glitters around, awash in blues and greens and whites, brilliant enough to blind. you can't look away from him.

he says it again, and again, and again, and you can't read the shape of his mouth because you're too afraid of what you will find there. the drums, the cheers, the changing lights, the words airy against your lips. he kisses you. you understand the phrase now, or you hope that you do, so you tell it back, quietly, so he couldn't hear you either:

“i like you.”

your hand finds purchase on the fabric at his chest. it's tight, and his grip is strong, cradling you with such care you can't help but shiver. each kiss is like that, little sips of air, barely enough to sustain either of you, and then he holds you and you let him, boneless, allowing yourself melt into the sure, enveloping warmth.

the light is dying, and you're dizzy. yukihara sits as a witness between your pounding hearts.

eventually, the display fades away into starlight. you want to say it again, but neither of you are brave enough to do it.

*

gojo: just waved nanamin and haibara bye bye on their mission 4:56pm

gojo: can’t believe you all left me w ijichi ( ⩌'︿'⩌) 4:57pm

you: where’s shoko? 4:57pm

gojo: clinic like a loser i dont wanna go down there lol might catch smth 4:59pm

gojo: when are u coming back 5:00pm

you: i just got here (˶˃⤙˂˶) but probably in a few hours, i won’t stay overnight 5:01pm

gojo: yeah u wont the hell 5:02pm

gojo: my girl gotta get back to me asap ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧waiting impatinetlyyyyyyy 5:03pm

you: omg lol just bumped into some salaryman and he almost knocked me over. i think he was frightened of my poorly concealed weapon and apologized heh 5:05pm

gojo: where is he? give him ur phone i wanna talk 5:05pm

you: he left already, it’s ok 5:05pm

gojo: teleporting rn 5:06pm

you: ? you can’t do long distances stupid 5:06pm

gojo: yeah and he better be grateful that i cant 5:07pm

gojo: r u done yet want u home 5:41pm

gojo: hello? no ‘yes my gorgeous blue eyed king'? rude 5:42pm

gojo: ok it has been an hour im gonna be serious, did you meet another boy or something? cant wait to murder him 6:33pm

gojo: dont tell me you got kidnapped. i will purple the planet 7:01pm

gojo: 10 mins until i start ripping at the seams and go psycho and rip the roof off the entire city. call me rn, and then, when youre done, i'm stealing you away for a month 7:15pm

gojo: ok in a bad mood now 7:46pm

gojo: we’re talking cthulu levels of bad 8:00pm

gojo: would it be dramatic if i were to jump over a cliff 8:10pm

gojo: hi this is principal yaga gojo has jumped to his death please text back and list everything you love and find sexy about him 8:12pm

gojo: ok ur freaking me the fuck out im coming to get u u can cry abt it later and yaga can scream and shit all he wants grade 3s shouldn’t take this long 8:25pm

gojo: gonna text u till you respond, u know that, right? 2:00am

*

MISSION REPORT: 15.08.2009

LEAD ASSIGNED OFFICIAL: YAGA MASAMICHI, 1ST GRADE

SORCERER: KAWAKAMI Y/N, 1ST GRADE

PROBLEM DESCRIPTIONS: 3RD CLASS CURSE CONFIRMED DISPELLING PROCESS (UNKNOWN – FIRST RESPONSE TEAMS)

REPORT REGARDING JOB ACCOMPLISHED: KAWAKAMI LOCATED CURSE SITE (CHICHIBU STATION UNDERGROUND) – SCAN FOR TARGET, CRITICAL INJURY; CURSED INHERITANCE-TYPE SPECIAL GRADE – ATTEMPT AT SEALING PROCESS FAILED, DISEASED APPENDAGES, LIMBS & 80% NECROTISED FLESH - UNKNOWN ANGULATION - TIME OF DEATH, 15.08.2009. 5.13PM.

CURSE CONFIRMED DESTROYED: 15.08.2009, 9.59PM, GOJO SATORU.

DEATH REPORTED: 15.08.2009, 11.03PM, GOJO SATORU. BODY RETRIEVED: 12.15AM, MEDICAL TEAM. FINAL EXAMINATION: 2:02AM, IEIRI SHOKO.

ACCELERATED FUNERAL CEREMONY IN EFFECT AS NEXT OF KIN; NONE.

JOB SOLVED: GOJO SATORU.

MISSION REPORT SUBMITTED: NANAMI KENTO, 18.08.2009.

CLOSED.

author's note:

1) so sorry it was planned from the start 2) i do wonder how long satoru would have really sat there in the ground levels of a train station when the fight was over. he did for an hour, but if he had the time, he would likely have spent more time saying goodbye 3) now u know why the cover image of the masterlist is the specific one where gojo wakes up w tears from a dream he had about his school days

before you lynch me, the technique of our dear reader really was in her lastname - kawakami. i'm a big fan of junji ito, and since there's already a ref in jjk of his manga (uzumaki), i though "huh, it would be sooo cool if the mc had a power like tomie!!!" so i wrote this. i wrote a lot of versions, some were a bit scary, so i scrapped them. tomie kawakami's power is essentially being able to clone and heal herself from a single strand of dna, along with a bunch of disturbing stuff, but that's one of the main components of her power.

so here, i present to you an endless amount of endings (2): a) reader has really died, getou has defected, more nice trauma b) reader has not died and returns at any point after the report is submitted, as per her cool powers. getou still defects im sorry some things are doomed by the narrative

either way, u can't get over something like this. megumi? satoru? suguru? shoko? they could never heal from this, no matter if reader came back or not xx

next time i promise to write something where no one dies and there is a happy ending. but for now, that's all, folks! i love u even tho u probably hate me. that's ok. i, too, am gracious and merciful.

tags (couldn't tag in bold!). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @alygator77 , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy , @mydearchoso , @plutoisaghoul , @byerno6 , @bqvz , @harryzcherry , @noira-l , @your-sleeparalysisdem0n , @satoryaa , @cccandynecklaces , @stuffeddeer , @cherriee-ee , @ducky1232

[amoeganism]

HIIII I just saw your post about your event and thought I'll be silly and request smthing ^_^ ok sooo first time meeting ness ! 😯 (one shot or hc whichever you feel more comfy writing! <3) have a great dayyy (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠) ♪

ACADEMICALLY SMART BUT EXTREMELY STUPID alexis ness

aka. how u meet ness aka academic rivals to lovers but ness dont gaf bc hes just trying to #play #ball

you meet him at quite a young age and share a few things in common

ill fitting school uniforms and the wandering eyes of any child

while you find yourself fascinated by the numbers written on your teacher's chalkboard, ness is folding dinosaurs and stars on pieces of scrap paper, mumbling to himself

you didn't mind him and he didn't mind you

you guys were classmates and that was that

but then middle school came around and you started acting like you had a stick up your ass 24/7 as long as ness was around

like wtf that mf almost never studies why is he at the top of your class...

suddenly you get distracted in classes because you're focused on drawing mini ness figures with fat x's covering his face and devil horns

ness sees this one day after your notebook fell to the ground and at first is like omg!!! cute drawing of me as a fantasy creature but then he was like wait what the fuck why do they have it out for me????

he barely thought about you until then but apparently you've developed a passionate hatred for him just because he scores higher grades

he still has no clue

you are FUMING

so you start studying even more if that's even possible

while you go to your schools library to bust your ass in the textbooks ness goes outside with a ball he managed to shove into his bag and starts kicking it around

ness: :D ball!!!! no school!!! ball :D

you: KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF

after one particularly hard test that you flopped (it was like an 80% be serious) you caved in and asked ness with help studying

he looked at the material and was like man idk it just makes sense

little boy thought you were going to punt him into hell like he does with his football

him, terrified out of his mind and just wanting to go to his football club meeting, sits down and looks at the material

you show him your notes and he quickly explains it but is running late on time

he gives you his number and says hes going to text you help

you went home that day like ???? that dude lied to me he isnt sending me shit ??? before it clicked

he does not text you because he does not have your number... he gave you his number...

so you swallow your pride and shoot him a message, begging for help a second time in the same day and on his end, he laughs at you a little but offers to call

you guys work on the subject for a good couple hours and before you hang up, you offer to study together for future exams because he's admittedly a good teacher

ness is trying to find a way to say "no thanks i don't care about school good luck tho XD ROFL LOLLLLL" but then he realizes that it's going to make his parents trust him a little more

he accepts and you guys go to the library together once a week

he finds that you're actually kind of funny and cool and not just a human bomb that's plotting his death

he tries to be slick about offering to meet more often

"oh... this unit is a lot more difficult than the last one.... you wanna heh.... come back tomorrow? *gulp*"

"ok"

"WOOOO"

one day ness told you he was going to try out for bastard munchen and you somewhat knew of them because of ness going on tangents about football

you supported him on it, not realizing it would cut down your weekly meetings

suddenly there was an alexis-shaped-hole in your chest but you didn't want to admit it to him

and for alexis, there was a you-shaped-hole in his chest that he tried to fill by training with kaiser and the rest of bastard munchen

yes, the team was filled with dicks, but none of them had the same foul personality you had!!

texts dvery day checking up on each other but it was nothing like hanging out in person

calls were better but still not the same

as soon as he heard about his first off day, he called you and asked to hang out

you tried to be nonchalant about it but who were you kidding both of you guys wanted to see each other again

although the directions of life the two of you were headed towards were almost polar opposites, being reunited at a stupid library table for the first time in months was all that mattered

[egrets-not-regrets]

Imposter (1)

Someone finds the perfect opportunity to muscle in on Erriox's bond.

Author's Notes: Current Chapter >>> Next Chapter

**Dialogue spoken in Gothic language are bolded and italicized.**

Inspired by a conversation on Discord. This takes place earlier in Erriox's and Lenora's relationship, during the two months that Erriox is still trying to figure out logistics of Ancient Terra and is unsure whether to live with Lenora or not.

Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @legionsofthehungry

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

@cruelmeltryllis,

“Are you leaving again?” Lenora asked the Iron Warrior as he helped her clean up after dinner. 

Erriox wrung the towel he just washed and replied, “Yes. I will be going to the Steelix fortress base.” He technically didn’t need to tell her where he was going to be, but some nagging feeling made him feel obligated to tell her where he’s going. If only to ease his bonded’s mind. 

“When will you return?”

Erriox went quiet for a moment. He wasn’t sure how long this trip would take, between orientation, training, and the likelihood of being immediately thrown into work or missions. Uneasiness crept into his bones, Lenora and her home will be left alone for an unknown amount of time.

“I’m not sure.” he murmured, “I will be back as soon as I can.” He'll make it happen one way or another. Putting his gauntlets back on, Erriox then turned to Lenora and repeated, “I will return as soon as training is over.”

She smiled at him fondly. That big silly Iron Warrior, his determination to return was quite endearing. Erriox wasn’t the type to stay for long, unwilling to impose, and he always seemed to have something on his mind; but will stop by to visit from time to time. Well, even though he was bonded to her, Erriox had his own business to deal with and it’s not for her to pry. She’s sure he’ll return whenever he wishes, like he does normally. To be fair, it wasn’t a bad thing, Lenora thought. She enjoyed her privacy and freedom after all. She’s heard stories about how scarily codependent and suffocating bonded Astartes can be. 

Lenora accompanied him to the porch and gestured to him, “Kneel down for a moment. Please.”   

Erriox did as she requested, only to be taken aback when she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. He couldn’t stop the heat rushing to his face each time Lenora embraced him. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, but it felt strange as he didn’t need comforting nor did he do anything to warrant such a gesture. No baseline in his time would have willingly given such a gesture of affection, let alone initiate it. (Though there had been whispers of some of his brothers having illicit relationships with baselines.) After all, as Iron Warriors, they were a legion that people reviled rather than admired. 

Erriox leaned his head against hers, inhaling her scent. He could feel Lenora’s gentle sigh on his cheek.

She whispered, “Safe travels. And be careful, alright?”

“I will naturally be cautious, but why do you say ‘safe travels’? There Is no guarantee my journey would be without danger.” 

Lenora hummed, thinking about his question, then chuckled, “It is a human saying, similar to wishing someone luck or wishing someone to survive another day. I want to see you again, alive, and not at death’s door.” 

Warmth filled his chest. His bonded was so kind, he felt he wasn’t worthy, but he was lucky enough to have bonded to her, and treasured her words. Erriox nuzzled her. He replied, his voice steady and confident, “I will return to you.”

“I know. And you will always be welcome here.” she smiled as the Iron Warrior held her tighter.

They stayed together like this for some time. Lenora didn’t resist. She enjoyed giving hugs and considering how long Erriox held her, she knew he needed it. The Iron Warrior had talked about some of his experiences before appearing here on Earth. It broke her heart since it seemed his world and his time wasn’t very kind to him. So she hoped to make up for that during his stay here. Besides, everyone could use a kind word and a hug every now and then.

Eventually, after one last nuzzle, Erriox reluctantly let go and was about to stand up, “I have to leave.”

“Wait.”

Lenora held his face in her hands, brushing over his scarred temple, her expression soft and gentle. She pressed her lips between his brows, murmuring, “One for good luck.” before letting go. 

Erriox stood up, a small smile gracing his lips, “Remember to lock your door. I will return.” he said. 

Lenora laughed and waved, “I will. See you then!”

Content, the Iron Warrior put on his helmet and turned to leave, not knowing that they were being surveilled by a pair of calculating turquoise lenses. 

[vanilladollette]

helloo!

do u think u can a make a head canon on how the glory characters would react or do when they found out that the reader has a terminal illness and only has a few months left to live?? to make it more dramatic they're involve with the reader and could u also make them the aftermath when reader died?? thank you:D

- The Glory characters with terminal ill reader

Warnings: Grief, huge angst, details of being sick and death.

Author's note: none . . . ?

Moon Dong-eun

When she finds out:

Immediately goes into “fix it” mode—researching treatments, clinical trials, even illegal methods.

Tries to stay calm for your sake, but you catch her staring at you with watery eyes when she thinks you’re asleep.

Becomes incredibly protective, shielding you from stress or anyone who might upset you.

Starts writing letters to you, but never gives them. She’s terrified of saying goodbye.

After your death:

Withdraws from everyone. She disappears from the public eye.

Keeps your favorite book by her bedside and rereads it constantly.

Visits your grave in the rain, sitting in silence for hours.

Uses the grief to drive herself harder, never letting your memory fade into vengeance.

Park Yeon-jin

When she finds out:

At first, she refuses to believe it, thinking it’s a manipulation or a cruel joke.

When the truth hits, she becomes frantic—offering money, favors, flying in specialists.

Tells you that you can’t leave her, because she doesn’t know how to be alone.

Shows real vulnerability for the first time, pleading, “Please don’t leave me.”

After your death:

Shuts down emotionally. Cold, sharp, and bitter toward everyone.

Keeps your photo on her vanity but never speaks your name again.

Occasionally breaks down alone in the shower or in her car, punching the steering wheel in rage.

Secretly wears the ring or accessory you gave her under her clothes every day.

Lee Sa-ra

When she finds out:

Laughs nervously at first, high out of her mind, thinking you’re joking.

When reality hits, she crashes hard—quits drugs (briefly) to be present for you.

Tries to get as much paintings of you as she can—portraits, abstract pieces, dream-like scenes

Sleeps beside your hospital bed.

After your death:

Spirals back into addiction, haunted by your memory.

Talks to you while high, believing you’re still with her.

Keeps one of your scarves tied around her wrist like a security blanket.

Jeon Jae-joon

When he finds out:

Immediately denies it, yelling at the doctors, accusing them of lying.

Rages behind closed doors but softens completely when he’s with you.

Spends a fortune trying to prolong your life, even bribing shady clinics.

Holds you like you’re porcelain, constantly saying, “Don’t go. I’ll give you anything.”

After your death:

Becomes colder, more dangerous—angrier at the world.

Keeps your perfume bottle in his drawer and wears your ring on a chain.

Stops dating entirely, saying no one compares to you.

Can’t sleep in the bed you two shared—starts sleeping on the couch, or not at all.

Choi Hye-jeong

When she finds out:

Falls apart immediately, crying hysterically, asking why this is happening to you and not her.

Tries to be everything you need—supportive, cheerful, doting—while clearly cracking inside.

Plans a “bucket list” of silly and sweet things to do together before time runs out.

Constantly says, “I love you” like it’s a shield against fate.

After your death:

Posts tributes on social media constantly, sometimes talking to you in the captions.

Keeps every message, photo, and voicemail. Plays your voice at night when she can’t sleep.

Wears your favorite clothes, mimics your mannerisms unconsciously.

Tries to live like you’d want her to, but often stares blankly into space for hours.

Son Myeong-oh

When he finds out:

Goes silent. Doesn’t react at first—like the news didn’t compute.

Then becomes impulsive—starting fights, picking up dangerous gigs, acting like nothing matters.

Only softens when you cry. That’s when he breaks, holding you like he’ll break too.

Sleeps by your hospital bed, holding your hand tightly even when you’re unconscious.

After your death:

Vanishes for weeks. No calls. No trace.

Returns with hollow eyes, thinner, and quieter.

Gets your name tattooed on his chest or over his heart.

Keeps your sweater. Never washes it. Sleeps with it every night.

Joo Yeo-jeong

When he finds out:

Takes it the hardest emotionally but hides it well in front of you.

Stays by your side for every appointment, every sleepless night, holding your hand.

Tries to make you laugh even when his voice trembles.

Tells you he’d trade places with you if he could, every single day.

After your death:

Becomes a shell of himself—still gentle, but somber.

Starts volunteering at the hospice center where you passed, comforting others in your name.

Writes letters to you weekly and leaves them at your grave.

Keeps your stethoscope (if applicable) or something small and meaningful in his pocket.

Ha Do-yeong

When he finds out:

Tries to stay rational. Quietly hires the best specialists and makes arrangements.

Doesn’t show emotion until you ask him if he’s scared—then he breaks, just once, in private.

Brings you flowers daily. Holds your hand like you’re already fading.

Tells you you’ve changed him, that he never knew love until you.

After your death:

Withdraws from his company temporarily.

Keeps your photo on his desk and looks at it before every decision.

Reads your favorite book to Ye-sol and says, “They loved this one too.”

Never takes off the ring or bracelet you gave him. Still sets a seat for you at dinner sometimes.

[hugemilkshake]

i am rapidly approaching to your location. /j

i am CRAVING for more ananas dragon fanfics. theres barely any more of em im gonna CRY, its my daily activity to search for any new ananas fanfics and all of them are rotting OLD and i dont see new yummy content :,<

so may i request YANDERE ananas dragon x reader ples? im feeling hungry for yandere dragons muahahaha...i jst LOVE the thought of clingy touch starved ananas lol its so silly whatthehell--- okok tries my best to serious........ scenario : basically reader is always busy, being well-known and always spending their time with their peers instead of ananas. i wonder how yandere ananas would react to this lol maybe jealous? its always a permanent thought in my head hehehehaw, hcs or oneshots, whatever u prefer! thanks so much and disappears

-this user LOVESSSS yandere dragons and is wildly obssessed with ananas dragon.

Enjoy the milkshake! Tbh we better be getting a new dragon in kingdom because I might start biting someone if they don’t/j

Jealousy kills

-Romantic-

!TW! Under the cut there are themes like implied death, kidnapping and unwanted affection

Jealousy. At times it’s not a threat. But others, jealousy can be a threat on you or someone else’s life.

Mango Cookie always invited you to visit the golden dragon. But unfortunately you were never able to go, you were busy and had jobs to do since you were a highly respected member in your tribe.

But one day it came to a boiling point. Mango Cookie invited you to see the dragon but he seemed… desperate…

“Y/N Cookie please! I’m begging you! I-it won’t be that big of a deal just please!”

You refused like usual. You were busy. All that Mango Cookie could do was sigh

“…at least I tried..”

After that you didn’t see Mango Cookie for the rest of the day, which was odd. He was always bouncing around chatting with other cookies.

As night was falling, you were about to finish up a task, you just had to talk to someone then you could go home and sleep, and you didn’t have anything to do tomorrow so you could visit the golden dragon with Mango Cookie!

But when you entered the living quarters of the cookie you were meant to talk to but… you saw blood, and what you swore to be some scales…?

But before you could inspect the scene more, the world went black as you felt a strong pressure collide with the back of your head.

—————————————

When you awoke, you felt… cozy? Like a blanket of warmth was being wrapped around you. Your vision was still very blurry but you could tell that there was an abundance of gold and yellow colors, it was harsh on your eyes, but you soon adjusted.

You lifted your head only to feel your head collide with something, or someone. You turned your head a little and you saw that you were on the lap or Ananas Dragon. To say you were scared and confused would be correct.

On a positiveish note, the dragon seemed to be asleep, and on the negative, you might have been kidnapped by Ananas Dragon.

You didn’t want to move, what if you anger the dragon? So there you sat. Still as a tree.

Which got you thinking… what led to this?

Mango Cookie.

Mango Cookie always bragged about you. Ananas Dragon found you interesting from how you were described.

But the more times the dragon found themselves getting frustrated that they haven’t met you, and jealous of cookies they’ve never met..

All because you were busy.

[picklebunbun]

HIII HOW U DOING I would like to make a request (if ur not busy!!) 

About flippy/fliqpy (htf) and reader with anger issues!

Like they just randomly go mad crazy but they calm down easily, but it’s kinda freaky how fast they go form psycho crazy to a lil silly person

Oh could you also make reader’s gender neutral? 

Thank you so much for ur hard work!!

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ Flippy/Fliqpy x gn! reader

৻ꪆ..

savior

novulent ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

৻ꪆ..

❦. gender neutral! reader, no agab, kind of masculine pronouns but not really at tge same time

❦. genre: more crack than fluff and maybe a hint of angst but you have to squint to ses it

❦. cw: violence, talks about violence, violent tendencies, kind of gorish,, reader seems very bi polar, just reader getting vilely angry, and death

❦. fandom: HTF

❦. can be read as rom or plat

summary: headcanons of reader switching from wild anger to their normal happy go-lucky self in front of Flippy/Flipqy [reader is so kenji from the hit series bungou grey dawgs]

{angel's/pickle's notes 🪽🥒: sorry I've been gone so long, finally school ended and I can focus on writing requests ! Anyways I have to catch up, thank you for requesting !}

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

"*_- hcs !

when Flippy first met you, he saw how bubbly you were, kind of air-headed, always hapoy about something. It was nice to see someone like that since most of the people he met hid behind a façade, they were either deeply terrified or would wrap around your throat like a snake, but it turns out, you were actually pleasent to be around.

first of all, you decided to hide this problem away from him, keeping it in a locked caged, making sure it didn't escape, but, just like how you bottle up everything, it all starts to bubble up and explode.

the first time Flippy saw you like that, it was Flippy at all. It was Flipqy.

needless to say, it was very surprising to see you so violently angry, it was like a different person was controling you.

you acted almost exactly like how Flipqy does, although, his was a trauma response and yours was probably for a different reason. You did just as much damage as him when you switch.

when he saw you act this way, it just encouraged him to be even more violent. In no time, blood and guts were flying everywhere, blood-curdling screams from your friens and crying could be heard from miles away.

everything kind of blanked after that.

keep in mind, Flippy doesn't know, only his alter-ego does. So when you tried to apologize from how you acted that day, he was confused, horrified, a little appalled, but he was just a whirlwind of emotions.

you guys had a huge talk that day.

it was kind of funny how you turn back to a silly goober and waddle away from the corpse you just killed.

you were so adorable too, anyone could've had their guard down around you. It's like you were constantly stuck on ':3' you're whole life,,,

one time, when you were basically destroying everything in your path, the minute you saw Flippy, you stopped what you were doing and hopped your way to him. Very weird,,, but he loves you so it's okay, in his words,, "who am I to judge anyways ?"

but yeah, he makes sure he's around you in public so no more people have to be tortured endlessly by you,, and so you can calm him down when he has another PTSD episode! So it's basically a win-win.

most of your time is spent with Flippy cause of how paranoid he can get from you being out in public alone.

Flipqy is still kind of wary around you, but since you treat Flippy right and he trusts you with all his life, he eventually learns to trust you.

you'd probably almost go to jail or a psychiatric hospital multiple times.

your [best friend or lover] will always bail you out, dw my man. 🙏

a whole protest to bail you out too,, "FREE MY HOMIE, [NAME] ‼️"

you come home in the middle of the night standing in the doorway.

"DARLING, GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM JAIL" "WHAT?!"

they can't keep ya boy locked up, YOU STAY WINNING 😼

but long story short, you and Flippy are awesome and everyone should treat you guys like royalty.

[murmel-malt]

Hedaera Targaryen - 92 AC

Viserys Targaryen x Hedaera Targaryen (OFC) prev / next wordcount: 1.6k summery: my answer to the question: what if Viserys and Daemon had a little sister? canon divergent dance of the dragons au featuring canon and original characters.

chapter summery: After Aemon Targaryen's death on Tarth, King Jaehaerys names his second son Baelon Prince of Dragonstone and also decides on the future of Prince Baelon's children. His plans are not well recieved by his youngest granddaughter.

A/N: note that english is not my first language so there will probably be some grammar mistakes.

92 AC - Kingslanding

Once Hedaera had thought that changes happened slowly, like the changing of the seasons. It took years for summer to pass into autumn and for autumn to pass into winter. So slowly that one barely noticed it until a raven came from the Citadel to announce it. But now she knows better. Now she knows that things can also change in the blink of an eye; and she hates it.

Just last week they had celebrated uncle Aemon becoming a grandfather. It had been a grand family dinner, where Rhaenys announced her pregnancy to the rest of the family. Grandmother had been thrilled and even Grandfather had looked less sour than he usually did. Everybody had been happy. 

Now her uncle is dead, killed on Tarth. Drowned in his own blood by a crossbow bolt to the throat, that’s what the messenger had said as Daera had her ear pressed against the door, eager to catch some of the things the adults never let her hear. Her grandmother always said that she was too curious for her own good. 

Rhaenys had admonished her for eavesdropping when Daera had gone to comfort her afterwards. While they are not as close as Daera is with Aemma or Gael, Rhaenys is her cousin too and she loves her no less. She had felt silly, stumbling over her words of comfort. After all, what comfort could she - a girl of only eight - offer her - a grown woman of eight and ten and mother to be? But her cousin had only pulled her into a hug and thanked her with a gentle and watery smile. They had talked for a bit afterwards about Rhaenys’ baby and Driftmark, which Daera had only ever visited for her cousin’s wedding two years ago.

They stand together now in the throne room. Grandmother and Rhaenys wear a pinched expression of carefully masked anger and Daera hates that she is too small to be told or asked anything of importance. Grandfather is sitting up on the Iron Throne, this ugly and dark and jagged and pointy thing that is quite dangerous to climb up if you are unsteady on your feet. Not that she had ever tried and nearly tripped over the uneven steps.

But Grandfather had always been sure footed when taking his seat at the top. Just like he had this time. His intense gaze sweeps the hall before he speaks and Daera’s world shatters.

Her father is heir now and she is to marry Viserys.

“My sweet”, Grandmother says gently, reaching out to cup her cheek as she always does. Usually Daera would appreciate any and all gentle affection from the Queen, but not now; not like this. With a small cry she slaps her hand away, ignoring the admonishing warning from her father and furiously rubs at her eyes, trying and failing to keep the tears away. She hates that she is crying like a little girl. They will never take her seriously like this.

“No,”she says in between a sob, “I don’t want to marry Viserys.” She has lost count how often she had told them by now and still nobody seems to listen to her. “I won’t! He is stupid and boring and- and old. He never listens to me and only talks about boring things.” Her hands are fisted in her dress, dark splotches where her tears hit, marking the soft golden fabric. “I don’t want to marry him”, she repeats weakly.

Grandmother smiles gently as she kneels in front of her. Something dark and angry in Hedaera wants to make that smile drop from her face.

“You are still young, Daera”, Grandmother tells her. “And Viserys is too. He will grow up and so will you. You will come to appreciate each other and when he is King” - Alysanne’s expression twists for the blink of an eye - “you will be his Queen, and your children will be the princes and princesses of the realm.” Her stomach twists at the thought and she suddenly feels sick.

“But I don’t want to be Queen. And I don’t want to marry Viserys”, she screams the way she had always been admonished for and Alysanne and Baelon flinch at the shrill break of her voice. Hedaera continues undeterred: “Tell him! Tell grandfather I don’t want to marry him. Tell him to find someone else. Please!”

“Daera”, her father sighs and she looks to him with teary green eyes. He beckons her closer but her feet remain glued to the ground. There will be no safety in his arms today. She can see it in his face. He had once said he would protect her from anything that would ever try to harm her, but apparently not this. She feels even more sick.

“I know this seems scary but it is for the best. Viserys is a fine young man and your brother”, Baelon says. “He will treat you well and you will be happy together. Just like your mother and I have been.”

Understanding hits her. She will get no help from them. Father and Grandmother won’t listen to her. They will only tell her that she is still young and will change her mind; that she will come to love Viserys and that they will be happy together. 

“And how has that ended for my mother?” She watches as all color drains from her Father’s and Grandmother’s faces at the reminder of Alyssa Targaryen’s death. The dark, angry thing in Hedaera rejoices at the pain she has inflicted. And she does not feel bad about it. If they so easily condemn her to a miserable future as her brother’s wife, she will make them equally as miserable.

Without another word she storms out of the room, ignoring their calls and slamming the door behind her as she goes. Outside she finds her cousin and aunt. Aemma and Gael must have been waiting for her and Daera wants to throw herself into their arms and cry her eyes out. They get her, they listen to her. Aemma immediately takes note of her cousin’s mood and tear-stained cheeks and dress and her expression falls. She herself is still grappling with the revelation of her own future. 

Just like Jaehaerys has decided that Hedaera is to wed Viserys, he has decided that Aemma will wed Daemon. She knows that her grandfather’s decision has raised some eyebrows as it left his own daughter still unwed but Gael doesn’t seem to mind and Daera is happy for her; and a bit jealous.

“What did they say?” Aemma asks nervously, hoping that maybe, hopefully she has read Daera wrong.

“They don’t care what I want”, she replies bitterly.

“I’m sorry, Daera.” Her cousin tries to give a smile. “It’s going to be alright though. We will still have each other.” It is as much reassurance for herself as it is for Hedaera. Daera knows she is nervous about her match to Daemon. Truth be told, if they had given her the choice between her brothers, Daera would have picked Daemon over Viserys. At least Daemon is fun; very annoying but fun. 

She stops thinking about it before the ugly thing inside her makes her lash out at her cousin.

Instead, she goes looking for Viserys. If they won’t listen to her, they will surely listen to him. Her brother is five and ten, almost a grown man, and with their father now Prince of Dragonstone, he is his heir, the future King. They will have to listen to him. The thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. It should be Rhaenys. She should be Princess of Dragonstone. She is uncle Aemon’s only child; it is her right.

She finds her brother, of course, with his new miniature. The model is still small but quickly growing, and will probably be taking up more and more of the room in the coming months as Viserys adds painstakingly recreated building after building. Daera would have been more interested if she hadn’t been bored half to death several dozens of times by him talking about it before.

He barely notices her as she enters, as absorbed in his work as he is and Daera wants to scream at him. Their lives are being decided for them and he just sits here with his stupid, tiny city. Only when she steps in front of the window, blocking out the light he needs to work, does he finally look up with a frown. His mouth opens, undoubtedly to complain but Daera beats him to it.

“Tell him to find you someone else”, she tells him shakily. “Tell them you don’t want to marry me! Grandfather will listen to you.” But Viserys only sighs the way he always does. Hedaera hates it.

“It won’t change anything, Daera”, he says, as he picks up the small sculpture again.

“You don’t know that”, she accuses angrily. “You haven’t even tried!” You never do. You never do anything at all.

“This is not about what I want. Grandfather has made his decision and there is nothing to be done about it.” There is no regret in his voice, no sign that he is unhappy with this; because he isn’t, Hedaera realizes with a sinking feeling.

It’s not defeat that keeps her brother from doing anything about this, it’s complacency. He doesn’t mind that they are going to be married and he doesn’t care that she doesn’t want to. He thinks they are going to be their parents some day just like Grandmother and Father told her; that she is going to be his Alyssa: spirited and stubborn but happy - no, eager - to do her duty and ‘give him a thousand sons’.

“It will be alright. You’ll see”, Viserys tells her and Hedaera wants to smash his stupid model to pieces.

a/n: cannot believe I am actually posting this. the only other thing I ever wrote and also published was the first four(?) parts of my Daensa Skyrim!AU.

[dewdr0pz]

“silly lil sleepy dadbur and sleepy daughter and silly little y/n watching their little sleepy interactions” headcanons ❤️

dadbur & daughter hcs

₊˚⊹☆ author's note: hello ax! thank you for the ask :) also my story format has changed slightly! there will be little pictures at the top now & the taglist will be at the bottom :)

₊˚⊹☆ contains: the reader is referred to as "mommy" at one point but otherwise it's gender-neutral!

we all know how Wilbur hardly sleeps which might result in him being sleepy, which probably passed on to his daughter!

Wilbur would be singing her to sleep one night & when he hadn't come back to your shared bedroom in a little while, you went in your daughter's bedroom & found him asleep on the floor next to her bed <3

"mommyyyyyy i don't wanna wake up for school!"

on weekends, she'd come into your room & climb on top of the bed just to sleep more with you two <3

when she was a baby, she would fall asleep FAST

when Wilbur would put her to bed as a baby, he would fall asleep in the rocking chair with her for sure

when she got a little older (10-12 or so), she loved taking naps & would usually ask Wilbur to play songs for her to help her fall asleep

when she moves away for college, she's face-timing you two almost every night so that she can fall asleep on call with her parents

₊˚⊹☆ tags: @zuuriell @vibestillax @ax-y10 @joviepog@themonsterunderurmom @ogelizasoot @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@thosecolorfulsheets @aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@shd454@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza @stars-around-scars-collective @finleyforevermore @poraphia @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @mysticalsoot @21-cats-in-a-trenchcoat @strangleetomz @lil-stormcloud (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged)

[niningtori]

Hi nini! I'm a silent lurker hehe i've been reading your fics and absolutely love them! Idk if you're down to writing some arranged marriage trope with beomgyu or soobin? I think it fits them a lot :< this is just an idea, would really love to read one from your perspective! You write so beautifully ♡

should have known better | preview I

beomgyu should have known better. he knows his parents think of him as little more than a pawn in their never-ending game of monopoly, and he knows that if he ever strays from the suffocating mold that they force him to shrink himself into, they will cut him off without a sliver of hesitation. he also knows he can’t really do anything about that, either, but that doesn’t make him any less surprised when they tell him that not only will he be marrying the person of their choice, but that choice is you.

you’re not the worst person beomgyu has ever met, but you’re certainly not his favorite. how could he possibly have feelings for someone as vapid and seemingly inconsequential as you? you talk during important meetings with your equally as silly friends, your wild nights out are plastered on every tabloid in the country nearly every week, and you have no problem with trying to blow the fortune your daddy has so graciously decided to continue supplying you with even in the face of your many, many indiscretions. you’re so stupid and so spoiled, he’s surprised your doting father even agreed to subjugating you to this sham of a marriage. well, he guesses even the most spoiled of brats are just chess pieces to their parents at the end of the day.

beomgyu should know better than to refuse his parents, and he does — he really, really does, but as he sits with his family and your own during an almost cartoonishly extravagant dinner at his place, he finds that he just can’t take it anymore. they're going over numbers and figures — you know, the logistics of this prospective marriage — and you just smile and nod along with every new point. you even take to giggling when his father boasts about the potential profits, and it’s like even the vows “til death do us part” would earn a snicker from you. do you not understand how serious this is? you’re about to be chained to him for life, so how could you laugh at a time like this? if he didn’t know your life has been nothing but sunshine and rainbows since birth, he certainly knows now. he’d rather die than be promised to someone like you forever. no way in hell.

notes: hi honey! i love this idea, but i've genuinely never really thought about it in much detail until now. thank u for the suggestion and ur very sweet words! and yeaaah this one is gonna be angsty but what else is new...

if u would like to join the taglist for this work, pls lmk! if you would like to join any of my other taglists, including my permanent one, join here!

[allovertheplace-writing]

Hi, thank u for ur reply and I'm glad to hear ur doing well. I will send in my request again if u wish to write it although I don't remember it exactly. I think it was about a fem reader with hanahaki disease who is in love with kazuha but feels unworthy of him and she thinks she doesn't stand a chance with him because she isn't beautiful or smart and there are better options who are interested in him as well. Regardless she is happy and grateful she got to meet him and be part of his life even tho it leaves her with so much pain and suffering. Also she hides her disease from kazuha. I think it went something like this?? And sorry about the dumb request u don't have to write it, I remember I was going through a rough patch which is why I submitted such an angsty request in the first place. Btw if u choose to do this I'll leave it up to u if kazuha reciprocates her feelings. Thank u in advance and have a lovely day.

Genshin Impact

Character(s): Kazuha

Genre: Angst + Comfort

Type: Headcanon + Small Drabble

Description: Life becomes desolate when one finds themselves alone.

Warnings/Notes: Gender-Neutral Reader(gender did not matter for this), Death(implied + mentioned yet doesn't occur), Inability to Breathe(mentioned + described)

your request isn't dumb at all and i'm happy to write it, anon <33 thank you for sending it in again, i hope you like it!

At first, it was a mere ache. A subtle, dull pain that pulled at your heart. It was something you easily wrote off as longing at first, but, as time passed, you realized it was your lungs. A squeeze and a brush...you could still write it off as another thing if you truly tried. Excitement or anguish, perhaps even just simple joy. But it was painful, almost unbearably so.

As if air could barely make it in or out, your sarcophagus felt clogged - tight with whatever couldn't make it out. You could still breathe, though, so you carried on. Perhaps a little silly of you, but it wasn't...terribly concerning. It could just be allergies.

It was difficult to watch him smile and laugh with someone that wasn't you. Seeing that gleam in his eyes directed at another being more than enough to inflict you with hurt. He began to notice that here and there.

The way you grew distant whilst hanging out. The way you cleared and rubbed at your throat. You remember him giving you a cough drop once when it got bad. His gentle voice suggesting that you should take it easy and rest up.

The first petal happened that day.

It was ticklish and uncomfortable, but there was a sense of relief once it was out. You had looked upon it and...threw it away immediately. In your mind you had already known what was happening, but simply wished to ignore it. Maybe even pretend it wasn't happening at all.

Ignore it. Ignore it and carry on. Feelings can shift and change like a water's tide and everything will soon cease.

...in a way, it was easier than continuing to think about him and how far away he feels. Than to keep acknowledging how good he looks with someone else.

It didn't turn out so well after a week.

There were more petals- one even being half a flower at one point. You didn't even think about him all that much, but it just kept getting worse and worse.

He found you a few days after that, worried and wondering why you've disappeared. Despite the lack of contact, he has a hunch...one that he desperately hopes isn't true.

The knock on your door turns into the turning of it's knob.

He freezes as soon as his eyes land upon you, a panicked chill running down his spine. His mind is scrambling despite his careful movements.

There's so many flowers—too many flowers. But you're still here. You aren't gone.

It'll be okay.

He won't lose you too.

"..y/n- hey, hey, hey," You feel the way he comes closer, his body heat joining just beside yours. "You'll be okay.." It sounds like he's reassuring himself rather than you. His hands find your face, palms gently cupping your cheeks and fingers lightly brushing against your ears. There were many thoughts crashing through his mind.

Why is it this bad?

Who in your life caused it?

His mind stills.

Who else but him?

With quickened breaths, he moves a little and shifts himself in front of you—knees just barely brushing against your own. He wants to say something—anything, but knows he lacks the words.

You feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, his soft hair gliding across your skin. He's pensive, unsure how to get you out of this alive. What words would be the best? Those of comfort or from his heart? His arms squeeze you a little tighter before lightening up, fingers lightly digging into your clothes.

"Go- don't...don't go." Dwelling on his own emotions, he manages to form segments of sentences and wastes no time in saying them. It'll be jumbled, but there's rarely a need for flowery words when one's love is dying.

"I love you."