#i already cut a bunch as i was writing this and its still so damn long

[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Winter 2024 Anime

My feelings on the first anime season of 2024 can be summed up thusly: Most of my favorite shows from winter 2024 were continuations of shows that were already great from last season, not new entries. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and there were plenty of new anime I at least enjoyed watching. But it became clear about halfway through the season that aside from a couple fall 2023 holdovers, there was barely anything truly exciting going on here. Most of the adaptations I watched didn't do much to truly elevate their source material, and most of the few original series we got ended up the worst of the bunch. I can't say nothing good came out of winter 2024, but if this is any sign of how the rest of the year is gonna go, we may be in for a slog. For now, though, let's take stock of the anime I watched this season, and which ones are worth your time.

Metallic Rouge: 3/10

If you asked me what the worst show I finished this season would be at the start, I never would've guessed Metallic Rouge. I mean, it's a cool-ass original sci-fi anime from Bones with slick 2D mecha animation, surely that's gotta be at least a little cool, right? Sadly, no. Because this is, without question, one of the most baffling scripts I've ever seen in anime. Almost every single detail of its world and plot are barely explained, if at all, and the mechanics of what's even supposed to be going on are so nebulous that every attempt at a plot twist feels like a twist on something that never actually existed. Characters are plopped into the story without even an introduction. At times it feels like whole scenes have been cut out entirely. The only thing I can compare it to is the original Suicide Squad movie from 2016: a story so cut to the bone in the editing room that you can barely tell what's supposed to be happening half the time, and yet enough of the original story remains to suggest it was never any good in the first place. The one thing it gets right is the prickly chemistry between its two leads, and then it fucking keeps them separated for like half the damn runtime! How do you even unforced error that badly?

Bucchigiri: 3.5/10

Man, this was not a good season for original anime. Bucchigiri might not have been as staggering a writing trainwreck as Metallic Rouge, but its sin is arguably even worse; it's boring. It's a wacky, colorful high school delinquent romp with rainbow-haired Jojo's punks beating the snot out of each other with genie powers, it's sort of a re-imagining of Aladdin, it's got freaking Hiroko Utsumi at the helm, and it's boring. Why? Because this show gets absolutely stuck in the quicksand of its own status quo and refuses to budge an inch. Character growth is nonexistent, the protagonist is an aggravating loser wimp who never learns his lesson, and nothing of actual meaning happens from the first episode to the end. Literally everything you think is setting up a character arc where someone learns a lesson or grows as a person, all of it amounts to nothing. It's a limp, inert world that perpetuates the same overdone jokes and contrived, misunderstanding-based drama over and over again until all the outsized Utsumi visual personality feels like a tacky coat thrown on top of a lifeless corpse. What an utter waste.

Urusei Yatsura Season 2 (1st Cours): 5/10

I'm still not quite sure what to make of the Urusei Yatsura remake. is it charmingly dated? Annoyingly dated? A welcome throwback or a sign that some things should stay in the past? If nothing else, it never fails to get at least a couple chuckles out of me every episode. But the more it tries to lean into being actually sincere, the more its inherent cheesiness and lack of depth starts becoming a problem. I'm sorry, this cast of characters is just too abrasive and purposefully insane to take seriously, and none of their relationships are healthy enough to unironically root for. Lum and Ataru are not a couple I want to see actually get together, at least not unless Ataru stops being such a fucking shithead. And if him being a jackass could be charming in season 1, then this season is really starting to test my patience with him. It's one thing to be a serial skirt chaser, but his actions this season regularly cross a line from womanizing to unambiguous sex pest, and there's only so many wooden mallets he can get knocked over the head with before it stops feeling like like he's getting punished as much as he deserves to be.

Undead Unluck (2nd Cours): 5/10

Good news, everyone: Undead Unluck finally gave up on those awful groping gags that were ruining its central romance! Bad news: at the same time, it spontaneously developed one of the worst cases of recap padding I've ever seen! I'm not just talking overlong recap segments at the start of the episode, I'm talking constant flashbacks to events we just saw just moments before, straight up playing the same footage again just minutes apart, all climaxing in a truly unforgivable episode that spends seven goddamn minutes on recycled footage. Not even Tokyo Revengers was this bad with its time-wasting. And to add insult to injury, once it finally gets its feet unstuck and returns to a reasonable amount of recap for the final arc, it's probably the best arc of the entire show! It's some of the most bonkers high-concept emotional storytelling I've ever seen attempted, let alone pulled off so spectacularly. It's proof that there is so much brilliance to Undead Unluck, if it could just get out of its own way. But as long as it continues suffering from such massive systemic flaws, it's only ever going to be an also-ran.

Solo Leveling: 5.5/10

Okay, look; is this show dumb as a bag of rocks? Absolutely. Is it as nakedly an adolescent power fantasy as any anime has ever been? Ditto. Does it solely exist for dweeby incels to feel like swaggering douchebag chads getting revenge on all the normies who looked down on them by becoming The Bestest Strongest Chadliest Awesomest Of All Time? You know it. But god dammit, it's actually fun. I cannot pretend I'm too mature and sophisticated to enjoy a big, helping heaping of dumb edgy schlock when it's actually done well. I'm the one person on the face of the earth who still caries water for Akame ga Kill, for crying out loud. And Solo Leveling makes two really smart storytelling choices that keep it (mostly) on the entertaining side of dumb fun: building a genuinely interesting and intricate world that exists well beyond the scope of the protagonist's actions (for now, at least), and making sure that no matter how stupidly overpowered Jinwoo gets, his opponents are always just a little bit even more stupidly overpowered, so he's still pushed to his absolute breaking point and barely scraping together a win by the skin of his teeth every time. There is an art to edge that's too often taken for granted, and this show is proof that being the living embodiment of a twelve-year-old boy's wet dreams is no excuse not to be at least a decent version of that. That said, let's be real, Jinwoo was so much more attractive before his supposed glow-up. Give my boy back his scraggly rat locks, you cowards.

Bang Brave Bang Bravern: 6/10

What happens when a campy, cartoony 70s-style super robot anime crashes headfirst into a much grittier real robot anime? Well, what happens is Bang Brave Bang Bravern, the latest ten-car pileup of mismatched genres from the Cygames masterminds behind "What if horse racing but idols?" Take a desperate war story of survival against impossible odds, airdrop a skyscraper-sized superhero into the mix, and watch him completely shatter the original tone one cheekily ironic powerup and power-of-friendship speech at a time. It's a beautifully bonkers sendup of mecha tropes that has some of the funniest individual moments in this entire anime season, and the absolutely wild twist it pulls with the titular robot's identity in the back half is more than worth the price of admission on its own. Unfortunately, if it wanted to be as perfect a parody-until-it-isn't mecha series as Akiba Maid War was a parody-until-it-isn't mob flick, it probably should've tried being as long as most mecha series tend to be, i.e. more than just twelve measly episodes. There's just not enough time to develop any of the characters or world beyond the most essential parts, resulting in huge chunks of the supporting cast hanging around with nothing to do but take up space. And it leads to this show, which is trying to be so big and over the top, instead feeling so small and half-formed. Also, the secondary romance is gross. Like, really gross.

A Sign of Affection: 6/10

I think this show has helped clarify something for me: I'm really getting tired of how quickly modern romance anime get their main couple together. As much as we rag on the endless will-they-won't-they of ages past, taking so much time to build up the characters and their relationship before they finally make it official can result in some truly one-of-a-kind storytelling when done right. I might agonize over how long Sawako and Kuronoma take to get together in Kimi ni Todoke, but the payoff is so transcendent that none of those complaints matter. Whereas Yuki and Itsuomi getting together so quickly in A Sign of Affection... I mean, they're cute, I guess? His cool demeanor plays off her sincerity very well? But it feels like the show's in such a rush to get to the good stuff- and so determined to make Istuomi the dreamiest, most perfect boyfriend ever- that it skips over so much of the careful character-building that makes all the best anime romances so special. It's a sugary sweet confection, but wipe the frosting away and there's just not that much cake underneath. Honestly, I find the side characters a lot more interesting because they're allowed to have messy internal conflicts with a bit more meat on their bones. But hey, props for putting a deaf heroine at the center of your shoujo romance and taking so much time to explore how that affects the way she interacts with the world. That's a cause well worth celebrating.

Sengoku Youko: 6.5/10

Rejoice, everyone, we finally have an adaptation of a Satoshi Mizukami work that doesn't look like absolute garbage! After the flaming disaster that was Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer's barely animated hackjob production, Sengoku Youko has arrived to give the cult fave manga artist a chance for his work to actually shine on the silver screen. As someone who only knows him through Planet With, I've always wondered if Mizukami deserved the reputation his manga gets, and with White Fox delivering as tight and intense a production as they gave Re:Zero, I guess it's time to finally find out. And the answer is... mostly? Like, the biggest problems in this sci-fi/feudal fantasy mashup are the characters being a little too eager to state the themes out loud and one pretty crummy death that's about as hamfisted and over-telegraphed as I've seen in a while. But there's a shockingly gripping narrative underlying it all, a story about the scars trauma leaves on people, of characters making bad decisions and facing real consequences for them, of hatred and poisonous ideology forced to reckon with the more complex reality of the world as a whole. And it all climaxes in an absolute barn-burner final episode that knocked my score up a half point all on its own. If future seasons can make good on all the potential this first season has set up, then I may just end up a Mizukami fan myself when all is said and done.

Blue Exorcist Season 3: 6.5/10

I'm of two minds about Blue Exorcist's second return after a six-year gap between seasons. On one hand, it's clear the new staff is just nowhere near as talented as the folks who first brought this series to life at A-1 Pictures. The action is abysmal, the storyboarding is clunky, and the animation feels like it's constantly fighting for its life to maintain a passable standard. And it sucks that a series that once brought such great life to its story is now held back by such a mediocre production. But on the other hand... holy fuck, am I glad Blue Exorcist is back. I once described The Devil is a Part-Timer as the mathematical average of anime as a concept, but if you were to ask me what the best possible version of that mathematical average looks like? It would be Blue Exorcist. This is, hands down, one of the best straightforward shonen action stories in the whole medium, a reminder of why all the most generic and overused tropes were once powerful enough to become generic and overused in the first place. It's proof that even the simplest of "superpowered teens kick demon butt with the power of friendship" concepts can result in a wonderful goddamn series when handled with good old-fashioned storytelling fundamentals. And not even the rough-as-hell production is enough to keep season 3 from delivering on the thrills, tears, laughs, and cheers that make this series so magical. Just, please, give the next season more time in the oven so it doesn't feel like it's wading through molasses to hit those heights. Okay?

Delicious in Dungeon (1st Cours): 7/10

Delicious in Dungeon's biggest problem is that it takes a while to really settle into itself. The opening scene of the protagonist's sister being devoured by a dragon sets the tone for an intense and desperate rescue mission, but the actual series that follows this harrowing opening is as lackadaisical as can be. And it's jarring to be thrust into a gag-filled, character-driven fantasy cooking comedy where the harsh tone of that opening scene and the ticking clock of Falin's digestion completely disappear from the characters' heads in favor of how beast to cook and eat the various fantasy monsters they encounter in the dungeon. Yes, it makes a little more sense once the mechanics of death and resurrection are explained later on, but it's a weird note to start on. Which is a shame, because once Delicious in Dungeon gets a handle on what kind of story it's trying to be, it's really fun! Its sense of deadpan comedy coupled with Trigger's expressive animation makes for some really unexpected gags, and the way it explores its fantasy cuisine is genuinely some of the most creative stuff I've ever seen in the cooking anime genre. Plus, with the dark tone coming back in at the end of the first cours- and landing much more naturally this time- I have high hopes for how this series will marry those two sides of itself moving forward. If the manga fans' reactions are any indication, I think we're in for a damn good time.

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (2nd Cours): 8/10

So remember in my last post how I said that it was kind of disappointing whenever Frieren turned into an action show because of how disconnected the fights were from the beating heart that makes this show so special? Well, apparently the writers heard me and decided what I meant was I wanted this peaceful, meditative tale about grief, change and the passage of time to turn into the goddamn Hunter Exams for ten episodes straight. It's one of the most shockingly ill-advised storytelling swerves I've seen in an otherwise good show, discarding all this series' strengths in favor of a half-baked tournament arc with tonally jarring grimdark elements and a bland, overstuffed cast of characters who only start becoming interesting in the rare moments they're allowed to stop slinging spells at each other and just, like, talk about life? You know, the stuff that Frieren's actually good at? Not this brainless slice of shonen envy that only avoids being a complete slog thanks to how spectacular the action is across the board? Ugh. Look, Frieren is officially the most beloved anime on the goddamn planet right now, and its best moments are so incredible that I wish I could join that chorus as well. But it's so disappointing to me that a show this singular and special has so often chosen to be the least interesting version of itself.

The Dangers in My Heart Season 2: 8.5/10

It's official: director Hiroaki Akagi is the master of middle school rom-coms. No other creator so perfectly grasps the specific blend of immaturity, awkwardness, cringe, and heart-on-sleeve sincerity that defines the love stories of early adolescence. That was already clear with his work on Teasing Master Takagi-san, but now that he's pulled it off twice, there's no room left for argument. And just like with Takagi-san, the second season of The Dangers in My Heart takes a show that was already shockingly good and catapults it into all-time greatness. This is a coming-of-age triumph, a soaring tribute to embracing your own cringeworthy self, flaws and all, and sharing that self openly with the people who matter most to you. Ichikawa's journey toward maturity, Yamada's journey toward self-love, and the way their romance sparks the best in both of them is the stuff that dreams are made of. I laughed, I cried, I squealed like a little girl, and I felt my heart grow three sizes by the time it was done. This is a new gold standard for anime rom-coms, and if you can stomach a bit of groanworthy fanservice, it more than deserves your attention.

The Apothecary Diaries (2nd Cours): 8.5/10

Most of the time when I cover a two-cours show on these seasonal reflections, I end up in a pretty different place by the end of the second cours than I did at the first. Either it sort of fell apart in the second half, or found its footing and took it to the next level, or it changed in some interesting way that affects how I view the show as a whole. But The Apothecary Diaries has stayed the course from the first episode all the way to the end. Start to finish, it's remained pretty much the same show, with the same ideas and attitude, exploring the same themes in the same ways. And you know what? When you're as good as The Apothecary Diaries ended up being, there's nothing wrong with that. This is a spectacular historical drama that builds such a rich, compelling world for its equally rich, compelling characters to inhabit. It's a powerful exploration of how old society treated the disadvantaged- women, poor people, people with all severities of disability- and how one deeply abnormal girl carves her way through this viper's den with her body and soul intact. It's the kind of mature, thoughtful series we so rarely seen done this well, and with the announcement of a season 2 already confirmed, we may well end up with close to 50 episodes when all is said and done. That, folks, is what a true shoujo/josei renaissance looks like. And I'm so happy such a deserving series is leading the way in reminding us how damn good women's stories can be when they're given a chance to shine this brightly.

DROPPED

Cherry Magic: Dropped at 2 episodes for looking like butt and the central romance feeling pretty lifeless.

High Card Season 2: Dropped at 1 episode because I realized I didn't care anymore.

Ninja Kamui: Dropped at 2 episodes for being dull tryhard edgy bullshit with overdone fight scenes that are impossible to follow.

[to6ge]

★ ’ BEWITCHED.

★ Gojo satoru x gn!reader

★ IN WHICH ! your lover, Gojo satoru woke you up in the middle of the night just to ask you to ride a bike with him. He took you to a nearby river, just to stargaze and admire you the moon.

★ WARNINGS ?? SFW, pining..?? Cursing, Non Proofread, other than that, none.

★ AUTHORS NOTE : Yall, idk how much times im gonna be changing my theme, but I changed it again 😁😁.. ANYWAYS!! was supposed to be studying, but felt the motivation to go write sooo here we are💀

“Wake up” - “Wake up!!” Gojo said, on top of you. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you were worried that something had happened.

You groaned, still super groggy. “Huh?? Whats wrong??” - “Its really late, you know?” you said with a worried but irritated tone. Why did he have to wake you up in such a sudden??

“Lets go biking” He said with a wide grin. You sighed and turned to the side “Im laaazyy..” you said “Please?? I reaaally wannaa..!!” He pleaded, and you just couldnt resist “Get off me first then!” You scolded him.

You slowly sat up as he got off from you, rubbing your eyes. You checked the time and saw that it was just 1am. The night was cold, breezy and it felt like it was about to rain.

“do i need to change my cloth—” you got rudely cut off by your beloved, he took your wrist and was practically skipping to go outside and ride a bike.

The moment you stepped into the outside, you were hit by the strong, cold wind. You both were in your silly, matching pyjamas. Your teeth almost immediately started clattering, he seemed to notice it but he was cold as well.

You were about to continue walking to your bike, when you felt gojo's warm embrace. He didnt know how to warm you up, so he just thought of this. “I know it wont completely warm you up, but thisll do. Right?”

“thank you, satoru” you smiled so warmly at him, he felt like he was also already warm just because of your mesmerizing smile. He returned the smile, but it was cocky and teasing now.

“You cant live without me, can you?” he playfully asked “Hmm, maybe i can maybe i cant” you returned his teasing demeanor “oh please, ofcourse you cant. Im your amazing, sweet and caring boyfriend!!” he said, grinning ear-to-ear.

You giggled out of his silliness, “i suppose so, i cant disagree with that statement” you were still smiling. “see? Im so cool right!” he was getting even more annoying by the second.

“yes yes, whatever you say satoru” you replied. He finally let go of you, the embrace surely kept you both warm. You continued to walk over to the bikes, one for you, one for him. You were kind of annoyed that there was 2 and he couldnt just bring you with him, but you decided to go along with it.

The both of you hopped onto your own bike, “you ready, [name]?” you nervously gulped your spit down. You could ride a bike, but you werent too good at it. But regardless, you put on a tough face “hell yeah i am!” Gojo seemed to notice your nervousness, he didnt think much of it, expecting that youd be good. I mean, to him, you were good at everything.

He started biking first, and god damn was he good. He was so stable and fast, you were breath taken by the sight of him doing things just so..... Utterly perfect. You tagged along, but when you tried to get fast you started to get unstable.

Gojo laughed and decided to tease you “Pfft! Youre so fucking bad at this!” he chuckled “Youre acting as if you dont suck ass at this too!” Obviously, you lied. He was amazing at this. Then he purposely crashed into you. Both of you shared happiness and laughter. This scenario could be a little more romantic if Gojo wasnt such a tease, but it was a cute “date” for now.

He started speeding up faster into a route you had never been to, you felt a bit suspicious but decided to catch up with him anyways. Turns out, he had taken you out to a lake. The moon was very visible, the sound of the water flowing was so..relaxing. There were a bunch of stars, everything looked so pretty. Even Gojo looked prettier right now!

The both of you parked your bikes and sat down on the grass near the river. The sight was so heavenly. You raised up your head to see the stars,, and they were breath taking. Your attention immediately redirected to the stars and the view, but Gojo? In this pretty place? He was still staring at you, admiring you, yearning for you.

“Even in the prettiest place, id still stare at you. Even in a room full of people, id still stare at you. You bewitched me, and youre so absolutely mesmerising.”

[mack-anthology-mp3]

BOB DYLAN LYRIcS AND CRAZY NOVEL LIKE RELATIONSHIP WITH JOAn bAEZ

okay i'm gonna answer this cos i was listening to joan earlier SO (and no i dont know why this is in greentext format just roll with it i'm so sorry) (this is uhh veeeeery very long too)

>1962/3

>some scruffy loser calling himself bob dylan shows up in new york with a guitar and pretty much cosplays as woody guthrie for a bit

>joan baez, who is the same age, made her debut self-titled album at nineteen years old and is well liked by everyone, her music is generally appreciated by everyone on the scene, she has a beautiful voice and strong vibrato and really good at guitar, involved in activism stuff, played with lost of older respected musicians, the whole folksinger package

>but she doesnt really write her own stuff

>bob dylan write copious volumes of material but his performance is uhhhh less than amazing and technical ability has uhm room for improvement

>his debut self titled album flops hard

>scene is pretty small so they inevitably meet

>joan is like lol look at this loser isnt he cute hehe--his songs are pretty good too huh

>she invites him to play with her, they do a bunch of shows together etc and eventually get romantically involved. joan introduces him to civil rights stuff & anti-war stuff & anti nuclear and all that stuff

>bobs stuff was already political but in a sort of abstract way, his work gets a lot more specifically activist-ey in a very powerful way

>they're still doing a lot of shows together-bob is pretty famous on the folk scene at this point, largely because of joan endorsing him pretty much lol, still romantically involved. music press starts paying attention to bob dylan and he releases quite a few albums with famous songs on them. people kinda shit on him for his voice its a whole thing but i really like his voice so whateverr

>but by 1965 music is starting to get Weird, beatles are happening etc, lots of new styles of music, new youth culture, drugs are also happening

>bob releases bringing it all back home - some of these songs have electric band backing, where previous All Bar One of his songs were solo acoustic guitar, vocals, maybe some harmonica. some people are vaguely put out by this but i think most people find it pretty cool

>20th july 1965 bob releases Like A Rolling Stone, arguably his most famous song. it is very electric and a banger and much Much more rock (it was pop then but yknow) than folk. young people go YAY YIPPEE

>newport folk festival 25th 1965 (five days later) bob plays with an electric band (later to be known as The Band) to Outrage from folk purists who thought he was their god etc. someone shouts 'judas' at the stage implying he was betraying folk music by going electric and that guy must absolutely shit himself every time he remember that he did that because goddamn. pretentious twenty-somethings who hadnt even liked folk music before bob dylan get mad at him, old folk singers are mad at him, popular myth says the famously pacifist pete seeger threatened to cut the power cable with an axe. everyone is Big Mad except like a rolling stone goes hard and people who care a bit less about Proper Folk Music think its a banger

>highway 61 revisted comes out and bob dylan is now a major sensation amongst music enjoyer everywhere, like his stuff is really really cool, new and exciting, also decidely Not Folk but like really very cool. bob also starts smoking weed and taking speed b/c ofc he does & if you look him up he looks like twelfth doctor with the sunglasses and the hair and i'm right on that

>joan is still doing traditional folk music mostly. she is less than amused at bob going electric but iirc mostly polite about it. later that year she released 'farewell, angelina' an album of covers of bob's songs. a lot of them are Very Good, all sung with much more skill than bob could ever hope for sorry bob. which is like. Damn Okay Joan Thats A Move but it was probably finished before newport.... idk..........

>england is suddenly like OMG BOB DYLAN????????? at around 1964/65 but it takes a long time for music to get over there b/c the british music industry had a thing about only selling uk artists so american records were special import it's a whole thing. so people are just getting his famous folk stuff riiiight as he changes his mind about that and starts doing rock music instead, though still with a very poetic bent

>on a related note uk albums were often released differenet in north america to 'appeal to american audiences'?? so the version of the beatles rubber soul that inspired bob dylan and like lou reed and Everyone is kinda of.... wrong...... its weird

>bob n joan's relationship is kinda strained at this point, due to musical differences and yknow relationship stuff, not helped by the fact that bob could be a bit of a prick and was also quickly accumulating A Legend around him. not helped by his insanely cryptic and often nonsensical interview responses.

>at some point in the middle of all this bob marries Sara Lownds in secret. no one knows. he doesnt tell joan. he's not With with joan anymore but she didnt know he was literally marrying someone else. apparently sara wasnt really a music person and didnt know exactly why he was so famous.

>1966 uk tour (this is filmed in d.a. pennebaker's DONT LOOK BACK (no apostrophe. cos dont & look & back all have four letters so it fits on a poster and the apostrophe would muck up teh symmetry also they were all really fuckin pretentious)). bob is playing mostly electric sets with The Band (known then as the Hawkes) which was A Choice To Be Sure

>some people love it but all the folk purists think he's awful and bad and terrible boo him offstage etc which is pretty terrible

>he starts taking a lot of drugs. music gets Weirder. he's kinda not doing too good

>joan shows up partway through the tour and its......awkward....... to say the least. he'd kind-of-not-really-ish broken up with her & then got married to someone else but she just inserted herself in there. idk why. the whole of dont look back he's kinda dismissive of/rude to her ngl

>meanwhile his Mythos has built to uncontrollable levels. he doesnt exactly help this b/c he's very clever with words so people would obvious find meaning in his lyrics, and when he spit nonsense in interviews people would often find a method in the madnes yknow?? like he's smart. he's also really weird. but people have started reading WAYYYYYYYYYYYYY too much into EVerything he says and does. like everything. like idek what a modern comparison would be. gaylors have nothing on this shit. understandably he gets pissed off at people asking stupid questions

>joan has a girlfriend at this point also. like yeah in a lesbian way. she says she's straight but she did have a girlfriend her name was kimmy

>blonde on blonde comes out in '66. its his most......... 60s album if you know what i mean. like its lots of drugs and lots of instruments and plays on words and its very good, big double album, he's looking super hip on the cover, songs rumoured to be about edie sedgwick, the whole shebang. the lyrics are inspiration for batshit insane theories for decades to come even though a lot of it likely is just in there cos it sounds cool and rhymes.

>includes the song 'sad eyed lady of the lowlands', which is about sara. joan thinks its about her and says so. bit awkward. its a beautiful song and bob never plays it live, it was recored at like three in the morning and the band didnt know how long it was gonna be etc etc lots of myth

>in november 1966 bob dylan has a motorcycle acciedent near his home in woodstock new york state and is in hospital. music enjoyers everywhere Very concerned. he's okay, and after this more or less disapears from public life for a bit. has a bunch of kids. just chilling in the countryside. does a bunch of jamming with The Band, lives of royalities etc. tries to avoid people mostly. this mysterious disapearance combined with blonde on blonde fuels a lot of theorising by fans which he thinks is stupid

>in just five years bob did more musical innovation than most muscians could ever hope to, and he Never WOuld Have been Famou s WIthout Joan.

>joan is getting even more involved in activist work as the vietman war drags on and on. still doing folk music. she has electric instruments in her stuff eventually but still in a definitively Folk Style. she plays at the Woodstock Festival in 1969, she got married too, doing lots of activism stuff, everyone still really likes her music. 1969 bob relases his country album which most people (bob included) think is kinda trash

>1972 joan releases 'to bobby' (she called him bobby a looooong time after everyone just called him bob). which is. Wow. its uhmmm. well. it's a song beseeching bob to come out of retirement and help out with the anti-war cause. lots of musicians though that is he wrote a good new anti-war song it would really help the cause like he used to in the early sixties. bob was pissed at this like relaly annoyed he though she was being far too presumptuous and i really gotta agree with him there like dude's been through enough.

>1975, bob's been back touring for a year -ish. he decide's he gonna put together the ROLLING THUNDER REVUE which is pretty much him & all his friends who are also folk.country.rock whatever you wanna call it musicians and they go arund a whole bunch of little venues and generally have a good time. lineup includes joni mitchell robbie robertson roger mcguinn emmylou harris, a very cool violin player called scarlett (i think) allen ginsberg the poet who had a gay crush on dylan in the sixties, the blonde guitarist from ziggy stardust AND JOAN BAEZ :D there are like ten people on the stage at once and loads of guitars and various string instruments etc and they redo all these dylan songs in new and exciting ways.

>they film some of it to make this move called Renaldo and Clara. i havent seen it (yet) but its like a semi-fiction semi-documentary film about the tour and also some sort of plotline they string together from somewhere idk. joan is in this film too. from what ive seen there are some uhh. some fairly OUGH scenes, on top of bob n joan singing together on stage all the time. there s clip of bob saying that he n joan could sing together in their sleep. she is still a wayyyy better singer than him but his voice is really good these years and they way they do the songs together is veeeeryyyyy cool. theres a scene in the film where bob says (and i quote) 'it really displeases me that you went off and got married' (OUT OF NOWHERE MIGHT I ADD) and joan says 'you went off and got married first and didnt tell me' and he doesnt really have an answer to that. like GODDAMNIT BOY

>there another scene where there was a bit of a script but joan went off and said something like 'do you know why we never couldve got married?' and bob was apparently bad at improv so he wasnt saying anything and so joan just kept talking going through all the reasons why they never got married and all the issues between them. On Camera. like damn.

>also in 1975 joan's album Diamonds & Rust comes out. the title track is one joan wrote herself and it is Very Clearly about bob and its uhhh a little bit scathing. also very very good. generally regarded as one of her best songs. awkward as you can imagine. 'my poetry was lousy you said' 'we both know what memories can bring / they bring diamonds and rust' 'you burst on the scene already a legend'

Now you're telling me You're not nostalgic Then give me another word for it You who are so good with words And at keeping things vague 'Cause I need some of that vagueness now It's all come back too clearly Yes, I loved you dearly And if you're offering me diamonds and rust I've already paid

LIKE GODDAMN JOAN OKAY

>bob gets divorced from sara in 1976? 77? idk that happens too. i think joan gets a divorce too but not sure.

>theres a bit gap in my knowledge here idk what happens to them specifically after that. like i know a bunch about bob but nothing relevant rn. hes christian for a bit. makes some albums that suck and some that are good. joan still does folk music & mostly covers.

>in 2003 bob releases a memoir called Chronicles Vol. I (supposedly of three but theres only one lol). he talks about joan a bit, how could he not, describes how he was so envious of her when he was 21 and saysing 'she looked like a religious icon, like somebody you'd sacrifice yourself for'. super normal thing to say about your ex ahaha.

>2022 the rolling thunder revue film comes out (its a netflix film but also. internet archive) and they're both interviewed for it. some iconic moments. i think most interviewers sort of stopped asking joan about bob out of politness after a while but obviously she talks about him there thats what the films about. yeagh.

>joan baez like hangs out with lana del ray n stuff now & has books out or her little drawings. she also paints. and bob still tours at 82 (almost 83) years old. and still relreases new stuff. yeagh

ANYWAYS the concise history of Joan Baez and Bob Dylan. sources: dude trust me ahahah no but the source is the 2022 rolling thunder film, dylan's chronicles and around a year of being obsessed with bob dylan. he was my real life old guy blorbo fr.

[theendofuno]

alr guys i lied theres no au im talking about canon stuff now :3 very self indulgent tho

cw for self harm and prolly suicidal intentions

alr so

its pretty much implied canonically that uno does self harm. i didn't really paid attention to this at the start but since i started playing a year or so ago this really got my attention and i was intrigued as fuck

heres what i mean:

you can say its only one of his skills, and indeed, it is lmao

but for me thats a little beyond..uno can hurt himself to drink his own blood if hes out of people or creatures, and the implications on this are rather worrying

uno hurts himself to feed himself, but damn. hes a literal newborn and has passed to a bunch of traumatic things, he loved someone and lost her on the same day, he probably doesnt even know how to talk and doesnt know how to live by himself. this whole thing going on would absolute break someone's mind, especially since we are talking about someone who is an baby trapped into an adults body.

he doesnt know a single thing about life, he only knows about death, and he only knows HE caused all these deaths. he's an absolute monster, and he probably pretty much see himself as a nasty monstrous thing.

so, the odds that he would feel like he deserves to suffer, that he deserves to be hated and be abandoned, forgotten by the world, while still begging not to disappear are enormous, which would make him go on a depressive spiral

its not about staying alive anymore, its about feeling pain, its about making "him" feel what "he" deserves, its not he doing that to himself as a person, its about he doing that as the "hideous monster" who lives inside of him.

he probably got the catch of being a corrupted highlander, which mostly probably would give him a bigger resistence, even if hes not immortal, he wouldnt die so easily, especially if well fed, so, since he does hurt himself to eat (aka drink but this sounds weird for me while formatting so..lol), he would ABSOLUTELY hurt himself to suffer

i wonder how atrocious his body would look like if he stopped eating, he wouldnt have the strenght to renegerate anymore, so he would be a walking body, all visible bones, cuts all over his body, if not missing limbs

and to be honest? he would probably starve himself to death, he does not want to hurt people (or animals or monsters), he does not want to lose more people, he just wants to not disappear and live a normal life he was denied since the second he was born, he was forced into being this ugly monster he hates so much. and this monster is what will keep him alive, is what will force himself out of the control of his own body, is what will possess him into murdering more and more, at the point its only for fun, he doesnt need to be fed anymore

anyway..i want to do a separated post about the whole monster topic since i have a drawing in mind for it and a whole text in mind already

having paternal feelings towards a character is harsh cuz i project onto him a lot and i feel like im seeing the small me instead of a 2d thing..i love my son dude, i wish him the best forever and ever, he will be happy one day.. (did i cried writing this? oh yeah a lot)

[suzumenoken]

Genji Shimada Relationships/Intimacy Headcanons

Levels of intimacy for shipping/relationship purposes as headcannoned by me.

Under the cut, cause just like my Hanzo, I go into detail, but even more so here with Genji since I write him in varying points of his life. Admittedly its really complex and situational, so brace yourself, this gets long!

All SFW, angst and fluff included!

Sexuality: I HC him straight. He's definitely been experimental a bit in his past, though.

Young Genji:

Theme song: Death of a Strawberry - Dance Gavin Dance

Lvl 1) Someone's interested in him? Well, it's not the first time and certainly not the last. He's on a high horse and doesn't really filter his words and actions. He plays the fuckboy card damn well, it's all anyone sees when he's outside the walls of his estate. It will be no different towards someone who's actively trying to pursue him at first. They'll have to catch his attention for reasons other than the bullshit he's actively involved in. He'll just assume they're the same as everyone else if they show more interest in the delinquency/partying and his family name/history than him personally.

Lvl 2) They caught his attention by consistently showing interest in him, and just him. It likely won't be terribly pleasant for the pursuer because of his cheeky quips as he catches on, cause he does, and quickly, (or maybe they're into that, who knows) but persistence is an eye catcher. He'll be more inclined to talk to them.

Lvl 3) He's seeking them out specifically to talk to, hang out with and bother, trying to pull at their strings. He's pulling a bunch of tricks out his sleeve with a playful attitude to keep them on him. He'll slow down on certain activities, not holding as much of an interest in those things anymore as he does in the other person, now holding a bit of hope for the possibilities. Yet, that hope now grows with fear. He still holds his façade very strongly and struggles to be truly vulnerable. He'll need something to break him out of it/give him confidence that it's ok to show himself.

Lvl 3.5) A confession wouldn't really phase him, per-se, since he's been confessed to before, but as long as genuine time and effort has been given up front, he'll be more receptive, yet still clinging to his mask and won't put it down for just anyone. It'll either have to be forced off him or guided off. Depending on which path the other chooses to take with him, he'll respond accordingly, and this is either a dead end, or the start of something pretty wild. (Or it could already have been, he's a bit of a thrill seeker, so there you go.)

Lvl 4) So, he accepted their confession. Returned it, even. Whether he asks or they do, now he's giving it a shot. There's a crack in the front he's put on for so long, and out of it seeps heaps of genuine passion. He hasn't given up all of his habits, though, and still smokes (primarily), drinks (not as much), etc. Whether or not this is an issue to his s/o is interchangeable and he will accommodate where he can for them. They're something truly different and he slowly grows more attached with each day that passes.

Lvl 5) He's attentive, protective (very, considering his occupation) and god does he know how to love. He keeps disappearing from his home when he's not worked to the bone training or has to do anything for clan purposes to see his s/o, basically living a double life. That is until the canon event happens where he fights his brother and is struck down by him.

Note: if the s/o truly knows the extent of his family history and business, if their relationship is secret or not and more is up to the plot lines.

Blackwatch Genji:

Theme song: WANNA DIE - n9neful & WHYTYLXR (Lyrics)

To be completely honest with you, he's not interested in a relationship at this point in his life. He'd be thrown off and even upset at anyone showing romantic interest in him when he's like this, and genuinely would wish better for them. He's got too much on his mind and is violently angry. He's really not going to be able to be pulled out of that right now, but they're welcome to try.

In the case it's an old flame/the person he was with before he became a cyborg, they won't know who he is instantly. He will try to keep it that way. If they do find out, he'll fight tooth and nail to keep them out of his life beyond anything that's necessary for several obvious reasons.

Note: Whether or not he recognizes its the old flame/partner is also up to plot.

Current Genji:

Theme song: Sunset Memories - Tales of the Forgotten

Lvl 1) He doesn't really pay attention to anyone but his direct circle in Overwatch, so getting his attention is a little tough unless he's worked with directly. Also, if it's a verse based in canon, he's interested in Mercy, so any feelings would be unrequited, anyhow. However, in a verse where that's not the case, it'll definitely start with him not being interested in anyone. A friendship would have to build first, so obviously the interested party would need to introduce themselves somehow.

Lvl 2) Now he at least knows who they are, they're talking here and there, maybe they're a fellow agent and go on missions with him, it's purely business related. He's kind. Quiet. Sweet. The best way to appeal to him is to share his calm, and if they respond well, he will in return.

Lvl 3) The peace he begins to feel with the other grows to friendship. He appreciates their presence and keeps in contact. Nothing romantic, purely platonic. As friendship grows and time passes, the closer they get, the more attentive he becomes to them.

Lvl 3.5) They confess. He's known. If things have gone well up to this point, it's possible he has thought about it at least a little, himself, and isn't against it. If nothing has sparked at this point beyond the friendship, he'll keep it where it is and it will not progress. However if they did click, he will admit he is open to the opportunity if they are.

Lvl 4) He's got them & they've got him. Adding more romantic actions to their relationship, he's always near by when he can be. He's their support. Their protector. Their lover. He trusts them with his mask off, with his life, and will often show any physical affection he can as long as they're ok with it. He's not an incredibly jealous person, but will make it known just who he is if necessary.

Overall, in order:

Quality Time - (time spent in silence, in noise, anywhere, he wants to be there with them.)

Physical Touch - (even though he can only feel it on certain parts of his person like his face and anywhere the armor melds with his skin, he craves that because it reminds him he's still human.)

Gift giving - (he adores making them smile and wants to spoil them now and again.)

Words of affirmation - (voiced affection is important to hear, though he'll always place what's shown over what's said.)

Acts of service - (he never expects much to be done for him since he can very much handle himself, but it absolutely warms his heart when it is done.)

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

I don’t usually rant about personal life in posts unless it’s literally shit but OH MY GOD MY JOB IS LITERALLY SHIT

So, tomorrow will by my 5th week working there. Literally only been there a month +1 week. I’ve dealt with the rush of the holiday season, I’ve already dealt with most of the bullshit that comes with the job… OR SO YOU’D THINK

NOPE

TURNS OUT THE BULLSHIT THAT COMES WITH THE JOB ARE THE FUCKING EMPLOYEES THAT I HAVE TO WORK WITH (aside from 3, the 3 that are excluded are literally angels, I’m so grateful for them)

MIND YOU, I WORK IN A BAKERY, I MAKE FUCKING DONUTS

OKAY, SO I’VE ONLY BEEN THERE A MONTH BASICALLY AND HOW THE FUCK DID I GET BUMPED TO BASICALLY SECOND BEST EMPLOYEE

AND I KNOW, SOME OF YALL MIGHT BE SAYING “thats a good thing”

ITS NOT

ITS AN AWFUL THING

BECAUSE BEING THE SECOND BEST EMPLOYEE MEANS THAT I RARELY EVER GET TO WORK WITH THE FIRST BEST EMPLOYEE BECAUSE I WORK ON HER DAYS OFF

AND I GET SCHEDULED WITH THE EMPLOYEES THAT WANT TO DO FUCK ALL AND THINK EVERYTHINGS A DAMN JOKE

I COME IN EARLY. I COME IN AN HOUR EARLIER THAN I HAVE TO JUST TO GET SHIT SET UP FOR THIS PERSON AND THEY STILL MANAGE TO HOLD SHIT UP

BUT NOOOO ITS NOT HOLDING SHIT UP FOR THEM. ITS HOLDING SHIT UP FOR ME.

I HAVE TO FRY THE DONUTS, I HAVE TO CUT THE SPECIAL DONUTS FOR TOMORROW NIGHT. ALL THIS PERSON HAS TO DO IS DECORATE AND CLEAN THEIR AREA. BUT THEY CANT EVEN DO THAT!

THEY TAKE 2 HOURS TO DECORATE 11 TRAYS. ITS NOT A LOT, AND MOST OF THE TRAYS ARE THE SAME DAMN THING. AND THEN THEY HAVE TO TAKE A BUNCH OF BATHROOM BREAKS, AND THEN SMOKE BREAKS, AND THEN THEY WANNA FUCKING EAT ALL THE TIME.

I FINISH FRYING, AND I HAVE TO CLEAN THE FRIER, CLEAN THE GLAZER, WASH THE DISHES, AND THEN THEYVE GOT THE NERVE TO TELL ME THAT I SHOULD CLEAN THEIR AREA TOO SINCE THEY HAD TO “do everything”

MIND YOU, THEIR AREA IS LITERALLY A TABLE THE LENGTH AND WIDTH OF TWO BASIC SCHOOL DESKS PUSHED TOGETHER… AND THEY MANAGED TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A BOMB WENT OFF

SO I FINISH CLEANING ALL THAT

ALMOST FORGET THAT I STILL HAVE TO MAKE THE TWISTS AND TAKE THE TRASH OUT

I ASK THEM IF THEY CAN AT LEAST CLEAN THE FLOOR (sweeping and mopping)

THEY SAY “i’ll sweep, you can mop”

AS IF I DONT ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH TO FUCKING DO

I STILL HAVE TO PUSH THE DONUT RACK TO THE WALK IN FREEZER, AND THE DOUGH, AND FINISH THE DISHES, AND FILL THE DONUT BOX FOR TOMORROW MORNING, AND I STILL HAVE TO TAKE OUT THE TRASH, BREAK DOWN THE CARDBOARD, AND I STILL HAVE TO FUCKING MOP

MEANWHILE THEY GOT TO GO HOME EARLY AND I WAS THERE UNTIL 12AM

SO IF SOMEONE EVER TELLS YOU THAT YOURE ONE OF THE BEST EMPLOYEES THEY GOT… GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE. BEING A GOOD EMPLOYEE ONLY MAKES THE EMPLOYER AND THE OTHER EMPLOYEES THINK THEY CAN TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR UPSTANDING WORK ETHIC AND HOMIES DONT GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THAT SHIT

(I’m sorry I haven’t been writing a lot, I’m just exhausted and I barely get days off. I’m so sorry!!)

[wyuovvia]

— MEGUMI'S BABYSITTER!

Toji Fushiguro x Trans Male Y/N || Content Warnings: minor writing smut, nsfw, reposted off my old account (@ballsinyojaws2000), slowburn(?? is that what its called?), sex toys, rough sex, name calling, creampie, pregnancy talk, big dick toji, mating press, overstimulation(?), kid megumi :), subbot y/n & domtop toji, rest of writing under cut || Word Count: 2,085 || Followers When Posted: 29 ||Author's Note: raghhh i feel bad -^- anyway this is very very self-indulgent

ALBUM ENTRY!: Who knew that a babysitting gig could get you dicked down by a hot dilf! And since you're in college and don't have enough in your wallet, you could definitely use the money! Nothing bad is gonna happen though... right? WYOVVIA 2024!

“Fuck..” [y/n] doesn’t have enough money for groceries again. He could just ask his friends for money but he’s practically already in so much debt to them! Goddamnit, they were right. He needs to actually get a real job so he can pay for groceries instead of just fucking spending it on sex toys ‘n shit. 

[y/n] looks for jobs and then after a long time finds a somewhat easy job with an okay pay at least. A babysitting job. He accepts the job, surprisingly there’s no background check on someone who’s gonna watch your kid. [y/n] drives to the place and knocks on the door. Time for his first time ever babysitting. Hopefully this shit doesn’t fucking suck.

Toji opens the door. Holy fuckin’ hell… why was this dude hot? [y/n] blushes but Toji brushes it off as something stupid or weird. “You the babysitter?” [y/n] nods and tries to calm himself down a little bit. He hears Toji sigh and then Toji opens the door so [y/n] can come in. “Hurry up and get in the house. I gotta go somewhere.”

[y/n] quickly steps in so Toji doesn’t get upset. “Kids upstairs. His name is Megumi.” And then he… just fucking leaves??? What the hell? God, what a prick. Honestly. At least he’s hot… maybe [y/n] could get some dick from him if [y/n] behaves and is nice to him. Maybe some extra cash? Anything would be good really.

[y/n] shuts the door and actually looks at the inside of the house. Damn, this place is so fucking dirty. [y/n] sighs and goes upstairs to check on the kid. What was his name again? Megumi? Yeah, pretty sure it was Megumi. He left in such a fuckin’ hurry that it was hard to process that he was even there in the first place.

When [y/n] gets to what he thinks is the kid’s room, the door is open. Megumi is in the room. “Are you the babysitter that Toji hired?…” Toji? So that’s his name. Also, the fuck? This kid who looked only 8 or 9 years old is on a first-name basis with his dad? “Yeah, you hungry or somethin’?”

For the rest of the day [y/n] takes care of Megumi. Toji returns late at night. 11 PM, almost 12 AM. What the hell was he doing all day? [y/n] blushes at the sight of Toji and can’t help but look at him. Goddamnit… [y/n] looks away and is about to speak to him. “Hey-“ “You can leave now. Come back tomorrow, I need someone to watch Megumi again.” And as soon as [y/n] realizes it, he got kicked out. C'mon! [y/n] wanted to get his number or something at least! Sure, he is mostly doing this for the money and the hot fuckin' dad there but they still need some kind of conversation outside of the two seconds before Toji leaves and after [y/n] gets kicked out!

Whatever. He has tomorrow at least. This is probably only gonna last until Toji finds out about what [y/n] thinks about it. After that he'll probably just fire him or whatever and [y/n] will go back to how he was before.

The next day when [y/n] gets there, Toji isn’t even at the house! [y/n] wanted to see him again! [y/n] could clean the rest of the house. There’s nothing really better to do until Megumi says he’s hungry. Last time Megumi was asking [y/n] a bunch of questions. Things like ‘how old are you?’, ‘what’s your name?’, and all of that. He’s smarter than his dad at least. Toji just let [y/n] be the babysitter with no questions or anything and then just let [y/n] in his house and left.

When [y/n] is making Megumi breakfast Megumi walks up to him, probably to ask another question. Megumi’s face is cute. He looks like he’s trying to be serious and maybe intimidating when in reality he’s really small and his head can barely reach [y/n]’s mid torso.

“Are you here to steal anything?” Megumi says with a ‘serious’ face and his eyebrows furrowed. Jesus, this was like the ninth time this kid was asking [y/n] if he was here for any bad reason since he first got in the house yesterday. [y/n] sighs a little bit before answering him. “Yes, I swear I’m not here for anything…” “You promise?” “Promise…”

Megumi finally left [y/n] somewhat alone after that. He still asked [y/n] a ton of questions but Megumi kind of got rid of the questions about [y/n] being here for a bad reason. Wanting to see and spend time with the hot dad here wasn’t a bad reason, right?

[y/n] makes Megumi’s breakfast and gives it to him. The kid wasn’t picky with his food, at least that’s good. [y/n] even had to bring some food over from his house cause there wasn’t enough to make an actual, good meal. Damn, Toji as a dad sucks. But thinking of him as someone to sleep with? That was absolutely great. Lately Toji is all that [y/n] is thinking about. He can’t help it. Toji’s just so muscular and attractive that he’s constantly on [y/n]’s mind.

[y/n] goes around the house trying to figure out what other rooms there are to clean. He doesn’t wanna clean Megumi’s room right now because he doesn’t wanna bother him. He finds a room and opens the door. It’s bedroom with a king sized bed. Is this… Toji’s room? It’s pretty messy. There’s clothes on the floor and the blankets are scattered a bit. Would Toji get upset if he cleaned his room? Probably not… right?

[y/n] starts cleaning Toji’s room while wondering if Toji would get mad if he cleans it. [y/n] picks up the clothes and fixes the bedsheets. As [y/n] cleans, he finds some.. uh… interesting things. Specifically fleshlights and a few other toys. Right, Toji doesn’t have a wife or girlfriend that [y/n] knows of, so is Toji pent up? Does Toji go to clubs and places like that all day? Is that where he’s going? If so, [y/n] has no chance against the people that work there or go to places like that!

[y/n] needs to find a way to talk to Toji or someone else could get Toji’s attention! Maybe… What if [y/n] tells him that he saw the sex toys? Fuck no! That’s a bad idea! But what if [y/n] says that he can help Toji with problems like that instead of the sex toys? That might work… Or maybe [y/n] will just get fired after he says that. Oh well. Fuck it. He would rather take the chance to get dicked down instead of not taking the chance.

[y/n] cleans up the rest of the room and puts the toys back where they were. Hopefully Toji won’t notice he saw them right away?… When Toji gets home that day, the same thing happens that happened yesterday. But [y/n] has a plan. He has to risk it. He needs to risk it. He doesn’t want anything other than Toji. The worse that can happen is him getting fired and having to find another job. [y/n] can barely sleep that night. He’s thinking about what he’s gonna try to do tomorrow.

The next day goes how the rest of them went. [y/n] gets there, makes food for Megumi, and cleans the house. Today Megumi let [y/n] clean his room. It seems that Megumi trusts him a little bit more now.

When it’s time for [y/n] to leave, he talks to Toji before he gets casually shoved out. “H-Hey, uhm… I saw your.. sex toys in your room… Y’know.. y- you could use me instead…” Goddamnit! Why was he so nervous now?! It’s one thing to think about saying it but it’s completely different saying it right in front of Toji! He’s so much fucking bigger than [y/n]! Whatever. There’s no going back. What’s gonna happen? Is [y/n] getting fired or is he getting fucked?

Toji raises an eyebrow and looks down at [y/n]. He wasn’t expecting that. No way in hell. But [y/n] didn’t expect it to actually work! Next thing he knew he picked up [y/n] and brought him to his bedroom! He layed [y/n] down on the bed and quickly and roughly tore off [y/n]’s pants and underwear and looked at his wet, glistening cunt, and pretty ass with a butt plug with a gem on it. “God.. were you expecting to get fucked by me? Such a fuckin’ whore that you wanna bang the dad of the kid you’re babysitting?~”

Toji’s words just made [y/n] whine and get even more wet and made his face go red. Toji seems to notice and he grabbed [y/n]’s legs and pushes them up to [y/n]’s chest so Toji could get a better view at [y/n]’s ass, and then he spanks it. “M’gonna take that as a yes, slut?”

Toji pulls down his pants just enough for him to be able to pull his cock out. Holy fuck. There’s no way [y/n] can take that. Toji was too big. It was like a whole 8 inches- no. more than that. [y/n] wondered how it’ll fit. He can’t take that, right? There’s no way.

Toji sees [y/n] staring at his dick and his smirk gets wider. “You scared in how it’s gonna fit? Is it too big for you?~ You’re the one who wanted to be fucked so badly so you better take it like a good boy.” Toji then grabs his dick and lines his cockhead up with [y/n]’s dripping cunt. Toji then slams his length into [y/n] without warning. “F-Fuck!~ T-Toji!” [y/n]’s eyes start watering from how much he feels like he’s being stretched to the brim.

“C’mon. I know you can take it. You’ve probably had someone’s dick shoved up your pussy tons of times. Besides, you said I could use you. So I’m gonna do just that.~” Toji pulls out until only his tip is in, and then sinks back inside his cunt. “Fuck… you’re so tight… loosen up.”

[y/n] tries his best to relax but can’t due to Toji’s cock staring to fuck in and out of him roughly. “Mgh- mnn!- T-Toj- Ah!~ Toji! s’too much!~” “But you’re still moaning while being fucked like a prostitute~” Toji leans forward and grabs [y/n]’s thighs and presses them against his chest, letting Toji go even deeper into him. Toji speaks directly into his ear. “I’ve seen how you looked at me during the little time we’ve seen eachother.. you’re that desperate, huh?~ I’ve noticed how you’ve been feeding and taking care of Megumi- Fuck- Bet you wanna give him another sibling, huh?~”

The thought of them giving Megumi another sibling…- fuck- [y/n] could barely think straight. He’s already going dumb on Toji’s cock. [y/n] can’t even verbally respond due to how good he’s feeling. Every second he’s whimpering, moaning, whining, and every other thing too. [y/n] was already so close to cumming and Toji seems like he just started.

“Agh!- F-Fuuck! Toji!- m’gonna cum-“ “Already? The whore is already about to cum because of my cock? Go ahead, cum. But I’m not stopping until I’m done.” [y/n] cums on his cock and his legs tremble and shake slightly as his cunt clenches and unclenches around Toji. “Fuck- You’re so tight.. Might even wanna keep you… get you pregnant with my cum and give Megumi another sibling…”

[y/n] is so sensitive from his release, but Toji keeps going harder and faster. [y/n] is trembling and his eyes are rolling back while he moans loudly due to how hard Toji’s fucking him. Eventually he feels Toji’s cock twitch inside of him. “Fuck… m’gonna cum, pretty boy. You gonna take it? You better. M’gonna stuff you with my cum-“ Toji thrusts his cock a few more times and then goes in until their hips are right against eachother. Toji cums inside of him and [y/n] is so sensitive. He cums again from feeling Toji’s hot seed inside of him.

Few seconds later, Toji pulls out and watches as his cum drips from [y/n]’s cunt. “Damn… haven’t came that much in awhile.. M’gonna keep you and you’re gonna be a good boy and be a good daddy for Megumi, right?” [y/n]’s throat hurts from being so loud. He faintly nods and Toji smirks. “M’gonna clean up, stay here.” Toji leaves to get some tissues and [y/n] falls asleep before he comes back. Guess he’s staying the night.

[djarinsbeskar]

Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition -  a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained—keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off—grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.”

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

Taglist:

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[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[bad-boy-halo-simp]

soft sex with dream (female reader|she/they pronouns too please:) just lots of praising and fluff you can ignore this but I'm just craving some love🤧

Yes yes yes absolutely❣️ :D

Anything for you @egirlmelody my beloved❣️

I was halfway asleep while writing this so I’m sorry if it’s not great😅

Dream x afab!reader

18+

Warnings: smut, vaginal penetration, smut

It was about 6 o’clock in the evening and you hadn’t seen your boyfriend very much since you two had woken up. Just the occasional bathroom break and the couple of times you checked on him throughout the day to see if he needed anything to eat or drink but other than that you really didn’t want to bother him in case he was filming or editing. At one point you had enough, getting desperate to feel Dream’s arms tight around you, so you decided to order a pizza for dinner because you knew it was his favorite before tiptoeing up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

Pressing your ear to the door, you heard a long sigh and a pop of some kind before knocking ever so softly, just loud enough to get his attention. “You can come in,” Dream said while mid-yawn. The door creaked on its hinges as you pushed it open just enough to peek in and see him stretching. “Hey, how are you feeling?” You asked as you approached your lover from behind before draping your arms over his shoulders. “I’ve missed you,” you pouted while giving him a quick squeeze.

“Oh, ha- I’m sorry about that. I guess I sorta lost track of time, ya know? I got a lot done today though,” you could hear the pride in his voice from the days accomplishments. Something you had noticed while dating him was how if he started a project he wouldn’t stop it until it was complete even if it wore him down more than it should. You could feel him reach up to touch your arms as he tossed his head back to rest on your shoulder, a long satisfied sigh escaping his lips as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Well, I’m very proud of you. You did great today Dream. I love you,” you whispered, holding your boyfriend securely to your chest. His eyes quickly shot open and he sat straight up before spinning around in his gamer chair to face you. “You mean it?” He asked, his eyes wide and bright with excitement. All it took was a nod and a quiet giggle from you to have him pull you onto his lap by your hips, straddling his waist and facing him.

“How did I get lucky enough to have a woman like you in my life?” He asked as he began to press kissed all over your neck and collarbone as his hands remained steadily on your hips. “I should be asking you the same thing,” your voice came out a bit more shaky and breathy than you meant for it to. His lips felt warm against your skin, something just so loving and comforting about the way he held you. His rough hands began making their way up and down your sides as he continued to attach your neck and jawline with kissed, each one getting sloppier and more intimate as he progressed.

At one point, your foggy mind beginning to clear, you had noticed how he started giving you feint hickeys all over your neck which you didn’t mind in the slightest. “Are you okay with this?” He panted out as his hands stilled while holding the end of your shirt, waiting for your consent before removing it. A quick nod was all it took from you before your shirt was removed from your body and bunched up on the floor in the blink of an eye. You could feel the arousal between your legs growing more intense with every one of his actions.

Unclipping your bra had become an easy task for him considering how many times he had done it in the past, seeing himself a borderline expert on bra removing. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled as he cupped your breasts in his hands, feeling and groping at the jiggly, warm flesh. “Thank you,” your response felt awkward and embarrassing to say out loud but he didn’t mind one bit, offering a sweet smile in return.

You stood up just for a second as you slipped your shorts and panties down your legs and onto the floor near where your shirt and discarded bra were sitting. While you were up and off his lap, Dream was quick with pulling his sweatpants and boxers halfway down his thighs, exposing his erect cock as a bead of pre-cum began to form on the slit of the tip. His hands returned to their place on your hips as you mounted him once again, your cunt aching to be stuffed by him.

He rocked his hips back and forth while smearing the pre-cum all over your opening, lubing you up and preparing you to take him inside. “I’m gonna put it in now. Is that alright?” He asked as his tip caught on your entrance causing him to let out a shaky gasp. “Yes, please yes,” the mild desperation in your voice was quickly picked up by him as he slowly and tentatively pushed the head into you, watching for any reaction from you. After a few seconds of letting you adjust, he began to push deeper inch by inch until you couldn’t take anymore.

“Mmm good girl, taking my dick so well. Fuck, you’re so god damn sexy,” his words echoed in your head as he bit his lip firmly to keep himself from thrusting up into you before you were ready. His arms wrapped around your waist before pulling you into a tight embrace, letting your face bury itself in his neck as he whispered how uh he loved you into your ear.

“You feel so good around me, baby. So tight and warm, shit-,” his words cut off as you felt his hips jerk, testing a small thrust and gauging your reaction to see if you could handle it yet. A gasp escaped your lips, followed directly by a harsh moan as the pleasure from the sudden thrust upwards crashed over you. “I’m gonna start moving now, alright baby?”

“Mhmm, yes. Fuck me Dream. I need you,” your voice was somewhat muffled into his neck but he understood you just fine. His thrusts started off slowly and much more sensual, thrusting up into your tight wetness at a gentle and steady pace while holding your body close to his own. “You always make me feel so fucking good y/n. Always squeezing my dick so tight in your pretty little cunt. God, you’re so perfect,” the sound of wet skin against itself started off as being barely audible quickly became louder in volume as he bounced you on his cock.

“Good girl angel, such a good girl for me. So beautiful,” his words faded into grunts and breathy moans as his hips sped up their pistoning motions. He didn’t want to admit it but he was already starting to get close to his own climax, but so were you. “I’m- oh god. I’m gonna- getting close,” your voice was wavering and your grasp on him got tighter as the coil in your lower stomach began to tighten at an alarmingly fast pace. “Yeah? Are you gonna c- ahh... cum for me like a good girl?” A nod was all you could manage as your eyes stayed screwed shut. Within a matter of seconds the coil snapped and the rapidly approaching orgasm ripped through your body violently, causing your body to arch and tremble in his tight grasp. A white hot sensation of ecstasy shook you to your core without you being able to prepare yourself. “Oh fuck baby, can- shit. Can I cum inside?” His hips didn’t stop thrusting upwards even for a second as he awaited your response. Tears had formed in your eyes and you felt dizzy as you came back down from your high.

“Please yes!! Cum inside me, baby!! I want to feel it inside!!” You yelled out as the sensations all began to be too much, your body feeling exhausted and completely drained. With a harsh grunt and a few shaky moans your boyfriend had finished inside of you, his cock keeping the hot white liquid plugged inside of you. You felt weak as you caressed his cheek and looked into his eyes, your legs aching like hell but you didn’t want to say anything to ruin the moment.

“Fuck,” he panted. “I love you so fucking much,” he panted as he found a comfortable place for his face to rest between your breasts. The two of you rested in each other’s embrace for about 5 minutes to catch your breath. “I know right now isn’t the best time but there’s pizza downstairs,” you mumbled as he held you close. A husky chuckle escaped his lips as he looked up at you. “You keep proving my point about how perfect you are.”

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 1: Who is She?

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 Here

I guess this is a Switch!Spencer (mainly Sub! Spencer)X reader fan fiction this is my first fan fiction I’ve written since middle school so bare with me and feel free to message me constructive criticism. This will probs be multiple chapters but I just couldn’t get this idea off of my mind so here we go! And yes this season 1/2 Spencer because he is just the cutest!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Plot: Doctor Spencer Reid has heard of little black books, but that pales in comparison to what he has just found in the BAU’s elevator. A sweetly scented notebook filled with salacious journal entries illustrating the writer's sexual fantasies. He doesn’t know what it is about this book but all he can think of is finding its owner.

TLDR: Spencer finds your kinky notebook and uses super sleuth skills to find you.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: Cumming in pants, Hinting at sex, exhibitionism, no panties, Language, General 18+, Hinting at future kinks

Word Count: 2,439 (gah damn)

𝒯𝒪 𝒲𝐻𝒪𝑀 𝐼𝒯 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒞𝐸𝑅𝒩𝒮:

𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓀𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹.

As Spencer read these sentences, he paused. Not for the warning of so-called curses, there was no scientific evidence for such things and Spencer knew magic was just science with a trick of the eye, but for the vehement warning making him feel intruding on whoever had left their journal in the elevator.

It had caught his eye as he stepped into the elevator on his way out of the office. As someone who had lost plenty of books in his days roaming the halls of the BAU, he knew how frustrating it was to not know what happened at the end. As he picked it up, he noticed the cover. It was old, bound in aged cherry red leather, yet too small to be more than a pocketbook. He had found your message while searching for a name to return the book to, and simply reading the first page already felt prying.

Alas, one sentence enticed him “If it comes into the right hands, You can find me.” Where his hands the right ones to come into? The probability of that could be found easily by calculating how many people got on and off of this specific elevator that day, no, in the past hour, with the hustle and bustle of people leaving for the day. Spencer could and he would calculate it he wasn’t so distracted by the message and his voracity to solve this mystery.

Tentatively, he flipped the page, finding a handwritten table of contents. This book had obviously been very important to the reader if they had taken the time to write in page numbers, detailed headings, and chapters. The table was nearly full of chapter titles in scrawled cursive lettering. His eyes stopped on the first chapter title. “Male Needs” with shakey lettering. He could tell by your handwriting that you grew more confident in your journaling as the chapters progressed, the hesitations in your strokes growing few and far between.

As he flipped the page once more he had reached the next floor and a large group of people bustled into the elevator. Spencer shied away from them, not just because he had an aversion to contact with strangers and their germs, but because of the sentences, he had read underneath that first chapter “I do not need a man, a man needs me. Yet, when I am with a man, I have needs. Needs that most men can’t fulfill. I need a man that eats pussy like it’s the only way to quench his thirst-“ and with that Spencer slammed the book shut, earning some confused looks from the others on the elevator. He should have heeded the warning because now all he could think about was the fact that this was your nervous entry and as your confidence grew, it was bound to escalate from there. He wasn’t sure if it was his flustered mind or the heat growing deep from inside him that made him feel dirty; not because it scandalized him, but because these were someone’s fantasies and he had intruded in their secrets and soiled them with his mind.

Ding! He had reached the ground floor and that was when he decided to leave it alone. He couldn’t bring it to the lost and found as it would be more likely to end up in the wrong hands there and your secrets would be for someone else to find, not that he even knew who you were.

On his drive home, he tried to think of anything else besides the book. His lunch, Garcia’s new item she added to her collection, how to get back at Derek for putting salt in the sugar container, but his mind kept wandering. It didn’t help that the notebook sat tauntingly on top of his satchel as if saying “Open me, you know you want to. You want to know who I am. You can find me.” There was no way that it had been there for that long as the janitor was on duty today and he had been on the elevator two hours ago on his way to clean the top floor. Since Spencer had left a little later than most people that meant there were multiple elevators full of people who would have noticed. He knew it wasn’t so but part of him felt as if you had left it there specifically for him to find. Like it was made for him. He quickly shook off the thought and went back to who it could be. He wanted to return it without reading any more. You clearly would miss it but he couldn’t imagine you wanted others to know about what lay in those folded corners of your book and your mind.

As he walked up the steps of his complex, he clutched onto the notebook with all of his strength, he feared that he would look down and it would have disappeared, he wanted to keep your deepest secrets safe as if they were his own. He was only able to relinquish his grip when he shut and locked the door to his apartment. He set it on the table as he got prepared for the night. By now he had limited his pool to 54 women who were regularly in and out of the elevator at that time of day which was a cut down in comparison to the 860 roughly women in that building on any given day. But that number still wasn’t small enough. He had to minimize the sample size even further. That was the only reason he reopened to the table of contents, right? Not because of his own morbid curiosity and definitely not because of the heat burning in his stomach.

He looked down at the page numbers, still too nervous to look at the titles, and saw that each entry was a page long consisting of 23 entries and one with a title but no page numbers. Not chapters as he previously thought but entries giving lascivious details into what he had not yet mustered up the courage to read. He was still unable to look at the titles in fear of what he might find. If graphic depictions of female oral sex were displayed under “Male Needs”, what possibly could lie ahead.

For now, he studied the handwriting. Cursive, not often used by many younger women, was often associated with antiquities and traditional values but he noticed something off. There was a very specific curl to certain numbers. Every even number had a specific extra curl or flourish to it and the zeros had a line through it like a “do not enter” sign. This went directly against the hypothesis that you were an older woman that the cursive provided; as many older women who wrote in cursive stuck to the rules even when it came to numbers. She wasn’t old enough to even be Hotch’s age but she appreciated the charm of the past. 'Who is this girl?' Spencer wondered. He was able to narrow it down to about half of his previous lot, excluding the women on his team. He had seen them write enough to know their handwriting inside and out. And while Garcia’s had similar flourishes to yours, she never crossed her zeros.

Spencer knew that he would have to read at least the chapter titles to grasp a better understanding of your handwriting and who you could possibly and as his eyes scanned the page, for the first time in a while he was actually reading slowly; putting all of his focus into each word and what order they were in. Unfortunately, his focus was his downfall. His face became so hot that he felt as if you could see steam coming off of it.

Table of contents:

Male Needs

Praise

Degradation

Mommy

Daddy

Work

Exhibition

Choking

Collars

Breeding

And that was all he could take. Ha couldn’t look at the thirteen and a half more entries, even this much knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t have much experience with women and certainly not enough to understand what all of those words necessarily entailed but he knew that whatever it was keeping his internal fire roaring with heat.

While he hated snooping, he knew he would need more information. He chose the chapter that sounded the most mundane out of all of them, "Work." ‘What was more normal than work.’ he thought, but he was so sorely mistaken.

"Work:

"Before I move on to exhibitionism, I have to talk about work. Yes, I would love to have sex at work where I and my partner are one step away from getting caught, I haven’t done that yet. I want to tell you what I have done. Almost every day I go to work wondering if the others can tell that I’m not wearing underwear.”

His heat spread from his face down until it pooled in his loins and his cock became hard imagining this mystery girl walking the halls of the BAU with a breeze in her skirt, nearly exposing the secret that lied beneath. Had he sat next to you when you were partaking in this activity? What would he have done if your skirt bunched up your thigh as you sat, exposing the tan lines where your underwear should be. Would he be able to see you in your tight work pants with no pantie lines and be the only one who truly knows your secret?

“I kinda want to be caught someday by Him. I wonder what he would do. Would he tell me off for being unprofessional? Would he take me to that storage closet 3 doors past Garcia’s office, just far enough away that he could teach me a lesson for being naughty at work?”

He felt so dirty, inserting himself into the fantasies of a girl which he did not even know that he almost glanced across the use of Him, capital H.i.m. He wanted to indulge in his imagination that in some way or another that the “Him” in question was in fact the man reading this with trembling hands and an impossibly hard cock. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining situations in the storage closet that he regularly used as a reading nook when he needed time away from the others.

He rested his head on the pages of the book, hoping somehow that his dirty thoughts would be transplanted from his head and back into the pages so that he could stop thinking about you. His efforts were thwarted as this action meant that he could spoil himself in your scent that enveloped the book. As if you had wrapped it in the deepest most vulnerable part of you to hide it away from others. You smelled of bergamot, patchouli, and musk but deeper than that, you smelled like sweet, tart berries and honeysuckle in summer. There was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on at first but it was intoxicating all of his senses. It was saccharine, heat, and sex all combined in one. When it clicked, it no longer felt as if his head was pressed against a book but as if his he sat kneeling on the ground with his cheek resting in your inner thigh, your hot sex waiting for his indulgence, “like it's the only way to quench his thirst” echoed in his brain. The scent was your natural pheromones beckoning him closer with the promise of a treat.

And that was it. That was what sent him over the edge. The purest embodiment of your scent had him cumming, hot in his pants.

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

You sat down at the edge of your bed after a long day at work; shucking off your work clothes to get as comfy as you could in your PJs as a way to unwind from the day. You went to grab your lip balm from your bag and noticed that the front pocket of your bag had been left open. You instantly panicked, searching everywhere for your little red book. The one that kept the key to your deepest secrets and darkest fantasies. You tore your bag apart, knowing that you had it at the end of your workday because you took it out of your desk drawer and tucked it back into its home in your bag. You cursed your carelessness for not double-checking that you zipped your bag before leaving. With your forgetfulness, you knew it would happen one day but you didn't realize it would be this soon.

There was an odd mix in your heart and your stomach. Part of you felt your heart drop through your ass thinking that it had ended up in the wrong hands, part of you had butterflies thinking about someone knowing the deepest parts of you, intimately in your own words. You had the assurance that your name was nowhere to be seen in the book but you also knew that you worked with people who analyzed people's dark desires for a living. While none of your fantasies involved murder, they were like precious gems that you kept locked away in your heart. You couldn't dare imagine what would happen if it came into His hands. While you were the youngest at the BAU, only by a few months and you weren't even part of the group because you were still tentative, you couldn't put your dirty thoughts into the innocent head of the pretty boy genius. It was almost more worrisome than if SSA Hotchner or Gideon found it and you were fired. The idea of tainting someone so pure...

You had to literally shake your head to clear your thoughts. Imagining His face tinged red in innocence reading through your lewd writing had your head in a tizzy. Imagining Doctor Spencer Reid sifting through the pages with lightning-fast fingers, stroking down the pages of smut as you had imagined him stroking down your thighs so many times before. You decided to bury your head in your pillow, hoping that would calm your mind enough to slip into slumber.

Unfortunately for you both, your efforts would be fruitless and you would both go to sleep unknowingly thinking of each other.

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

Chapter 2 Here/ Chapter 3 here

And that's Chapter one. Hope y'all like it. LMK in my messages and all that <3 have a great week!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I really wanna know what happened during the painful bath that Nanda promised Jameson a while back. Baths in whump have the potential to be so soothing and excruciating at the same time, which kinda fits Jameson’s whole character don’t you think?

CW: Pet whump, dehumanizing language, intimate whumper, dubcon touch NSFW (not explicit), implied dubcon (fade to black), referenced blood and whipping, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, creepy comfort, drowning, talk of sui (to escape torture), implied death by drowning (unnamed oc)

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

NEW VIDEOS of the Box Boy Killer! Never Before Seen!

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 14h ago

So I got a really good response to my short series on the mysterious Box Boy Serial Killer (you can find my previous write-ups here, here, and here).

Well, recently I discovered something entirely new that I think you'd enjoy getting a look at! Found among personal items belonging to Nathaniel "Nanda" Matthew Benson: a medium-sized external hard drive containing nearly 750GB of photo and video content.

The hard drive was labeled 'Personal'. Police stated there was a second hard drive labeled 'Professional', but what content was on there, if anything, has never been released.

Technically, neither has this. Someone from within the police department leaked a bunch of videos and photos at some point, and I was able to get ahold of them thanks to a friend of a friend (who shall go unnamed, don't want to tip off whatever FBI agent is watching his internet activity, haha... or is it her or their internet activity... FBI Agent will never know.)

In my writeup on Nanda Benson's life with his Boxie, I didn't have a ton of details on how they interacted with each other. Finding this trove of info definitely changed a few things on how I view their relationship.

Take a look and let me know if it makes you maybe reconsider a few details, too. FYI: This does have nudity and some spicy times! Nothing worse than you've seen on HBO or whatever, but like, fair warning.

[Embedded Video Player With Title: Bathtime With Boxie: NSFW and Yet Somehow Still Oddly Wholesome Kind Of]

The video begins with the tub already filled with water, hot enough to gently steam. It's a gigantic soaker tub, large enough for four people to easily sit without crowding, nestled alongside a window in a truly enormous, incredibly well-lit bathroom. Everything is in shades of white, which makes the person in the frame even more immediately the enter of attention.

A young man with short, shaggy brown hair and dark eyes sits in the tub. He looks up, wrinkling his nose and glancing away. Only then does a bright red mark, darkening already to a bruise become obvious on one side of his neck.

"Don't fucking tape this," He says. His voice is slightly rough-edged, as if he's been screaming, and he sounds exhausted. "That's weird. Not taping the fucking but taping the after bit."

Red welts are visible above the line of water, marking his shoulders and arms. The welts are a deep red that is nearly purple - they are surrounded by bright red irritated flesh.

"Oh, but I like you like this." The voice holding the camera is deep and amused. The camera wobbles slightly and then settles, and soon enough a second man enters the screen. It's clearly Nanda Benson himself, stark naked.

Where the Boxie is heavily bruised and beaten, Nanda himself would be spotless if he weren’t flecked with drying red spots that are clearly the pet's blood.

"Yeah, well." The pet shifts to the side as Nanda steps in, hissing softly in contentment at the sudden burst of heat when he enters the water. He settles down against a bench set in to the side of the tub, and opens his arms.

The pet moves immediately into them, without hesitating. His eyes flicker nervously back to the camera and then away again.

"Yeah, well-... yeah well what, pet?" Nanda laughs as he pulls the Boxie into his lap, toying one hand already damp from the tub over the ring at the front of his collar. "Cat got your tongue after that fun we had together?"

"Tongue's the only thing you didn't take," The pet responds, almost playfully flirtatious. "I guess you'd miss it too fucking much."

"If I took your voice, who would call me a fucking idiot before I fuck him into the ground, hm?"

The pet flushes, looking down at the water, at the slightest pink of his blood still running into it. "Sir-"

"Ssssshhhh. I like you insulting me. I like punishing you for it more." Nanda mouths at the unmarked side of the pet's neck, pulling him back-to-chest where he sits, so he's facing the camera directly again. The pet's back arches when Nanda's teeth dig in, making a soft, high-pitched whine as his head drops back onto the man's shoulder.

The camera picks up the quiet splash of water as the pet tries to move away and is pulled roughly right back, catches the refracted sight of Nanda's hands on the pet's thighs forcing them apart, each of his calves on the outside of Nanda's thighs.

"Please-... H-hurts-"

"You love it," Nanda whispers, and bites down again, right into the crook of the pet's neck where it meets his shoulder. The cry this time is wild with a mix of pain and something darker, the pet's hands moving helplessly up and back to clasp just behind Nanda's head. His back is nearly a bow, every muscle trembling with a need to escape and to hold perfectly still, both at once.

When Nanda pulls back this time, the camera picks up the blood smeared on his teeth before he runs his tongue over them. It finds the light glinting off the fresh blood welling from the new bite along the pet's shoulder.

"It's too much," The pet says, struggling to sit back up straight, turning to look at Nanda. For a moment, his shaggy damp hair and angle hides his expression from the camera's gaze.

The twist of his spine, though, shows the bloodied whiplashes making their way up his back nearly to the nape of his neck.

"It's too much," The pet repeats, in a whisper. "Please. Please, it's too fucking much, if you fuck me again I'll fucking die. Please."

"Now, pet," Nanda teases, flirts shamelessly, running his wet hands through the pet's hair. He grips on tight and forces his head back again. The profile of the pet's face shows the slight bump of a broken nose healed almost perfectly, but not quite. The gasp he makes when Nanda's free hand presses over the welts on his chest is loud enough for the camera to catch. "You know you don't get to say when it's too much."

"You'll f-fucking kill me," The pet protests, voice tight from the angle forcing his collar to dig painfully into his throat. "Please, I... everything hurts so much..."

"You love the pain." Nanda's eyes look up to meet the camera before a more sinister smile finds its way across his face. "I know what you can take better than you do, pet, and I think you can handle one more. Sssshhh, here we go. There..." Nanda exhales softly as the two of them shift in the tub, the pet making a soft pained sound, his hips rolling as he is worked slowly down into position.

Then Nanda chuckles and slides his entire arm over the welts marking the pet's torso, holding him tightly in place. "Now take a deep breath."

"Wh-what?" The pet's eyes widen, comprehension coming a half-second too late. "Wait, don't-"

Nanda's hand gripped into the pet's hair plunges him forwards, bent at the waist, forcing the Box Boy's head suddenly under the water. The pet struggles desperate trying to get his head back up to breathe. Nanda grunts in a rhythm as his hips snap up and down again. He groans, "So fucking tight, goddamn I love you, you fucking slut for me-"

[/END VIDEO]

The video cuts off there, but my friend tells me the rest of it is basically the kind of stuff you have to pay a monthly fee for everywhere else on the internet.

But there's another video, from way later, that I find a really interesting contrast and comparison. Same friend got me this one. It involves Robert, whose write-up you can see right here.

[EMBEDDED VIDEO: Titled Holy Shit, No Wonder He Killed Him]

The screen is black for a few seconds, with the sound of someone taking the cap off a camera before things come into blurry view and then slowly into focus.

The bathroom in this video is tiny. It's barely large enough for everything in it, and a person sitting on the toilet will damn near bash their knees into the side of the bathtub. The grout in the tile floor is dark with old stains, and the tile itself needs either serious scrubbing or an exorcism.

Sitting naked in the bathtub is a young man with long blond hair that hangs in filthy, dirty clumps down to his shoulders. His face is streaked with mud and worse, and he has a black eye that has nearly swelled his left eye shut entirely. His hands are bound with rope stained brown with dried blood, held up in front of him.

His one good eye, maybe blue, follows with a kind of resigned terror the person behind the camera.

He sits in water up to his waist, but by the way he is shivering, it's clear that the water is not even warm, let alone hot. Further bruises mark his ribcage and his legs. One leg juts out in front, and something about it seems like it might be broken.

The camera is handheld, panning slowly from the young man's torn and lacerated heels and feet through his bruised leg - one swollen - and then back up to his face.

"Tell me your name." The voice is Robert Weber's.

The young man's mouth twists in a snarl that fades as quickly as it came and he looks away, to the side of the tub marked with deep soap scum. When Robert's house is searched, there are scratches in the tub as though someone had clawed that deeply into the sides in an attempt to escape. "It's..." The young man inhales, winces at the pain. "It's twe-... Twenty-One. M-My name is... Twenty-One."

"Good. And-... what did we practice saying next?"

The man's jaw trembles visibly onscreen. Then he says, flat and numb, "My name is Twenty-One and I have... two weeks to l-live."

"Perfect. Now I promised you a good scrubbing if you played along downstairs-" The young man flinches, closing his good eye and curling up in the tub as best he can. "-and I will keep that promise." There's a pause, jostling as the camera is slotted into a tripod to continue filming. Then, Robert's voice is suddenly deafening. "Dog! Get the fuck in here!"

The door opens with the creak of hinges deeply in need of oiling, and then the Boxie moves into view. He's skinny, malnourished and underfed, and his hair is roughly cut short in uneven hunks. He has bald spots worn in by the muzzle that is buckled over his mouth, making his breathing an audible rasp. He glares with unhidden hatred.

"Give Twenty-One a bath," Robert says, and his hand moves into view as he pats the Boxie on the head. The Boxie flinches but then forces himself to hold still, closing his eyes as the pat turns into prolonged petting. His muzzle is unbuckled and then removed. Robert's fingers drift over his bald spots, play along the red marks pressed into his skin by the muzzle, move over a scar cut into one side of his mouth that wasn't there in the video with Nanda.

The Boxie is naked but for an old dog collar around his neck.

Robert hums, disappears entirely from view. The door opens and closes again. The sound of a lock clicks.

The Boxie looks at the young man in the bathtub, who doesn't look up. "Fuck this shit," The Boxie mumbles, but he moves - dragging one of his legs a little, and there are ropes tied around his ankles that ensure he can do little more than shuffle - and finally kneels next to the tub. "Are you going to be a shit?"

The young man looks at him with surprise. "You... I've never heard you talk before," He whispers, looking fearfully to the side towards the door.

"You've never seen me without the fucking muzzle before, either," The pet replies. His voice is far rougher than the first video, suggesting long-term damage to his vocal chords. "I asked you something. Are you going to fight me and be a shit about this or no?"

The young man hesitates, then shakes his head. "I couldn't fight if I wanted to anymore," He says, like a man confessing a sin. "It all hurts too much. You know? I had a girlfriend-"

"Stop it." The pet cuts him off and leans over, picking up a stiff washcloth and soaking it in the water until it's soft enough to use again, running it over the young man's shoulders. For all the edge of meanness in his voice, the pet's touch is clearly gentle. "You're going to fucking die here, better if you don't talk about stuff that gets you fucked up first. Forget her."

The young man leans over to give easier access to his back. The soft whimpers he makes show that there must be some grievous injuries back there that the camera can't see. "I-I know I will. Die, I mean. Do I really have-... is it really two weeks?"

"Yeah." The pet takes a bar of soap and runs it over his own hands, rubbing them together to work up a lather. The soap found in Robert Weber's house after his death is Irish Spring and Dove - it is believed he used different soap for different captives according to his own odd whims. "He's put little heart shapes on a calendar he marks off. He'll hurt you a little worse every fucking day and then make you beg for him to end it."

The young man slowly nods, looking at his bound wrists. There's a soft sniff, but he seems too tired for tears. "There's no chance of getting away, is there."

It's not really a question.

The pet answers anyway.

"You're the twenty-first, and none of the others have. What do you think?"

"I-I can't do this."

"You have to." The pet gets a red Solo cup sitting on the side of the tub, fills it with water, and pours it down the young man's back. He hisses and cries out softly in pain. "He doesn't exactly ask your goddamn preferences."

"Help me escape," The young man pleads. "Help me get out of here."

"I'm fucking hobbled," the pet snaps. "He'll be on us both before we even made it out of the hallway. You think I'm fucking stupid? I'm the only one who might not die if I stay good. Come on, lean forward so I can wash your hair."

The young man moves to obey, hands disappearing beneath the filthy bathwater, and then he turns, looking over his shoulder. He and the pet share a long, silent moment. Then he leans over far enough to put his mouth nearly to the pet's ear and whispers something so low that the camera doesn't pick up the words.

The pet inhales sharply.

He looks at the door, and then back to the young man.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and the edge is totally gone from his voice, now.

The young man nods, slowly. "Please," he says, a little louder. "If I have to-... please. Not him. I-I know you'll get punished, but... please. God, please, just this one thing." His hands come back up to grip onto the pet's hand where it lays along the side of the tub.

The young man leans forwards, and his forehead gently rests against the pet's. They are silent for a long moment.

"Please, don't let him be the one to kill me," The young man says. "I know I'm g-going to die, but... let me take that a-... away from him. Please. God, I don't even know your name, but-... please."

The pet swallows, then nods, tipping his head back to press a kiss to the young man's forehead. "I don't have a name. What's your name? I'll remember it. Your real name."

The young man's throat bobs and he whispers into the pet's ear again.

He sits back up, leaning over until some of his long hair falls into the water. "I'm-... I'm ready."

The pet takes a deep, deep breath, moves up to kneeling with his thighs vertical, lays both hands on the back of the young man's head, and says, "I hope it's better, wherever you go."

Then he pushes the young man's head underneath the water.

[/END VIDEO]

According to my friend, there's more to that video as well, but obviously it's been cut to take out the end of the poor guy. Now, my friend swears up and down the pet is crying at the end of the video, that he can see tears, but I'm not sure.

That doesn't really line up with the pet killing people before this, you know?

But one thing it does prove is that the Boxie knows the name of one of the unidentified victims. If he could be found, we could give that man back his name and get his family the closure they deserve.

I know some of you argued with me last time that the Boxie is clearly a VICTIM and not a PERPETRATOR, and I definitely admit this second video maybe suggests you're on to something there.

But I still think we have a Boxie killer on our hands here - I just think maybe I was wrong about why he's killing them at all.

I guess we'll find out if he kills again.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary @burtlederp

​

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

[jetlaggingbehind]

Whooo I really am writing that bulleted list about mistholme s4e11 bc owie! under the cut:

Throughout this I'm going to continue to call guide guide even if that's not technically its name, mostly cause it proved too confusing for me to keep track of after a while, ill probably get used to it eventually tho

Starting off easy with the interdepartmental turmoil lol

Retrieval bro why u gotta be so rude

'does the guide get a vote' I MEAN YOU'D THINK SO AFTER ALL THIS TIME LMAO

The wish engine is just so wild man though I do think what you wish for and what you get will be very different, especially when you consider what it did when asked to not exist

Research's resentment is palpable D:

Side note I like her va's voice it is very nice :)

what I wouldn't give for a qna episode during a season break with all the vas

The museum is really struggling to keep itself together after everything nowadays, u gotta wonder what it's like for the patrons lol

Tbh this was such a plot heavy episode but it didn't feel full of exposition, which is great

Lmao ma'am did you forget abt the recording you requested??

Idk if we already knew that restoration is called diana, but either way neat!

Damn it retrieval you've jinxed it

Here we start the emotional damage :'(

Beast kinda forgot abt its curator story and I didn't notice until I relistened 😫

IT'S SO SUS HERE HELP

The guide puts so much trust in beast and it hurts me so much that it's misplaced get guide some more non abusive friends 2022

the voice actingggggg u can hear guides fear it's so aghhhhh

'Won't be happening anytime soon' AAAAAA???????

He broke out the villain speech O_o

OH DANG

OH DANG

IT'S NAME IS MISTHOLME

IT'S THE WHOLE MUSEUM

HELP

AGHFJDDJKGKVKDKDKJSEFCH

HOW DARE YOU APOLOGISE U ASS

'you just see a beast' IT SAID YOU WERE ITS FRIEND HOW COULD YOU

THE FACT THAT GUIDES DEHUMANISATION OF ITSELF WAS THE CRUX OF THE PROBLEM BECAUSE IT DIDINT THINK IT HAD A NAME OR MEANINGFUL IDENTITY HURTS SO MUCH

IT MADE AN IDENTITY FOR ITSELF WITHOUT KNOWING AND HAD IT RIPPED AWAY BY BEAST PAINNNNN

IT'S TAKEN CONTROL OF GUIDE AAAAAAAGH

IT'S 'FRIEND' IS THE MAN WITH THE VOICE?????????

(though I have to say that switching TMWTV's gender was a genius move in making me be completely blindsided by this reveal bc I hadn't even considered him a possibility..... dang it's just so smart)

also im so angy that we started off w an antagonistic character, thought it had some good in it, then it turns out it actually was antagonistic... emotional turmoil :’(

Stares at the beast backstory episode that is now also a TMWTV backstory episode

*flashbacks to hello jon apologies for the deception*

(was it a reference? It would make me laugh through the pain it it actually was)

It's completely loyal to TMWTV..... it knows what it's doing is wrong and is still doing it???

me, sobbing: beast you absolute bitch we all trusted you we thought you were cool

OOH I DON'T LIKE HOW BEAST HAS CONTROL OF GUIDE AND TECHNICALLY BY EXTENSION THE ENTIRE MUSEUM

IT KILLED EAGLE OH LAWD

IT'S GONNA KILL THE REST OF THE TEAM TOO AAAAAAA

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?? THAT BEAST GAVE GUIDE PERMISSION TO SPEAK AND IT DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING??????

(probably it was in shock understandable tbh)

WE THOUGH THIS WHOLE BUNCH OF PPL WERE GONNA BE PART OF THE FUTURE ENSEMBLE CAST HOW DARE IT

End notes:

obviously this bodes terribly for the museum– beast literally having guide under its complete control is absolutely horrible, which gets worse when you consider how much information guide holds since it straight up knows restorations and eagles names for starters. adding in how its only just become considered anything close to a colleague/friend to the triple r departments, this whole situation is gonna give it even more trust issues

both plots were built on heavily, on one hand narrative wise this was a phenomenal episode, on the other hand me very sad D':

also this season is spelling 'IRRESOLUTIO', presumably irresolution. foreboding 😬

[tobiosmilktea]

 umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[021] — like a storm!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: swear my writing hasn’t been that good recently and i blame it on my lack of freetime 😔 anyway here’s 4.5k words of trashy word dump that i wrote in 2 hours ;)) also peep the tlc reference

in theory, this picnic blanket was much too small for the likes of fitting a webtoon author, an editor, and a beefy volleyball player all at once, and yet, it still managed to fit two more to come join—tightly bunched up in the park at night as the crisp air temperature slowly drops. having a picnic at the cusp of autumn and winter was a definite mistake, but then again, perhaps they were used to it by now.

it wasn’t like the cold was bothering bokuto at this point anyway as his blood simmered with a boiling hot ichor. he had a death grip on his phone as satomi left him on read. all the volleyball player could do was roll his eyes and scoff as he taps your shoulder. akaashi, who sat on the other side of you was in the midst of speaking to you, yet was interrupted by the bright white light from the screen shone across your faces.

your eyes scanned the texts, feeling your lungs desperately yearning for air. her words suffocated you, crushing your airways as you struggled to breathe. perhaps you have forgotten how to at that very moment. they say it takes about three minutes for someone to suffocate from the lack of oxygen and if akaashi didn’t shake you, that probably would have been you. the fact that seeing that damn photo made your heart shatter more times than you could count over a course of the past few days. you couldn’t catch a fucking break, could you?

you had to look away. if you had stared at satomi in iwaizumi’s bed any longer, you would’ve screamed your head off.

“god, these cookies are so fucking good. i would literally marry these if i could,” kaori moaned into another bite of a matcha shortbread cookie. she practically threw herself over yuko’s lap as she reached in her little baggie for more. “these cookies are a godsend, (y/n), where did you get them?”

“this bakery right next to onigiri miya, apparently they make good lemon macarons as well.” you mutter. the semblance of seeing those texts was still evident upon your expression.

yuko doesn’t fail to notice the way the timbre of your voice had changed within a sudden moment. she gives you a look, “what’s wrong?” her words, careful and genuine filled you with something somber as bokuto handed his phone to her.

kaori grunts slightly as she lifts herself off of yuko, yet her body was still leaned over to skim the texts along with her.

it was a nervous habit of yours to fiddle with your fingers, picking and scratching at your chipped nail polish until it was all gone. you don’t remember when this became a habit, but you always did this whilst you waited for something you dreaded to hear the answer to. as if the nerves within you pooled into a wave, crashing back and forth like a tide until you either get dragged along with it or somehow manage to survive.

their expressions contorted into a nasty mixture of disgust and absolute horror. even kaori who has seen the despicable sweet-tongued manipulations of nicotine-stained fingers of incels had to shake her head and push the phone away.

“i never liked that girl from the start,” yuko scoffs. she hands the phone back to bokuto, watching him switch it off and dropping it onto the cushioned picnic blanket in annoyance.

“god, the amount of anger coursing through my body right now...” muttered bokuto, “i can’t believe she would do this.”

“at least she didn’t do anything to iwaizumi,” akaashi tried to reason. things were already so messed up, it was the least he could do.

kaori shakes her head, clearing her throat from the dryness of the shortbread cookie. “doesn’t matter,” her words were venomous and cutthroat, “she’s still a terrible person considering she got him drunk and made him tell her shit that wasn’t any of her business. what a fucking snake.”

you pursed your lips slightly, wanting to close your eyes and make this all disappear the moment you wake up. the chill of the night air had finally struck you. it was that sudden urge to run away as fast as possible, to escape the words you wholeheartedly wanted to leave behind continued to follow you like haunting poltergeists. and as if the tingling phrases of whispered memoirs of your mistakes weren’t enough, your own decisions whether it was right or wrong lingered back to both iwaizumi and bokuto. it’s heavy baggage you so dearly wanted to get rid of, but the solutions seemed so skewed and out of place for you to comprehend properly that even the chill in the air started to burn.

bokuto glanced at you with worry coated the emotions in his eyes. his hand reached for yours, lacing his fingers through your own as his palm—though rough and calloused—was warm against the biting cold of your hand. it comforted you more than you had expected with the way it was hidden from the others, almost melting when bokuto started to rub his thumb in little circles on the back of your hand and over your knuckles.

your hands were so soft, he had forgotten how much he liked holding them. he could memorize each and every detail just by admiring the way your hand looked so tiny next to his, yet they fit together like a glove.

you swore your heart was ready to jump out of your throat then. you weren’t sure if bokuto could even feel the way you squeezed his hand slightly as a silent answer.

“we should do something about it,” you say after a few beats of silence had passed, but it only comes out in a hushed mutter.

bokuto squeezed back, “like what?”

“i don’t really know,” you shrug while you shook your head, “just something that’ll make her learn a lesson or two.”

kaori gasps, “we should sue her!”

you and the others gave her a look.

“like seriously, sexual assault allegations are terrible especially since she’s a famous sports team’s physical therapist!”

“there probably isn’t enough evidence for that to work, kaori, considering they only made out.” yuko says matter-of-factly, “besides, suing someone is expensive and we don’t have that kind of budget right now.”

kaori braids over arms over each other in disappointment, “that’s lame.”

“yuko’s right.” you sighed, “i don’t want things to get out of hand and end up going public either. iwaizumi is already mad at the fact that i used him for a webtoon and surely being part of a lawsuit would only make it worse.”

it had come to a point that you had noticed how far everything has come. you wanted to laugh at how fast everything went downhill within a matter of months. the skeleton of your mistakes was just waiting for its last bits to fall and crush you.

there had to be a way to just make this—whatever this entire thing is to just end already.

akaashi opened his mouth to speak after keeping his thoughts to himself this entire time, “what if we just... get her fired?” he finished the last of his words in a blazing hesitance as if we would absolutely hate the idea. granted, it wasn’t much to work off of just by a simple proposal, but it had potential.

“we could, but how exactly are we going to do that?” bokuto asks curiously.

“didn’t you say that tomas recently got injured?” akaashi starts, earning a nod from bokuto to have him continue, “well if we want to be discrete as possible we could do it the old-fashioned way.”

yuko furrowed her brows as she asked, “which is?”

“if she keeps missing work or arriving late, she could potentially lose her job.”

kaori bursts out laughing, heaving a heavy snort as she mused at akaashi, “seriously? is that really our best option?”

akaashi rolled his eyes as she teases, “since you wanted to go the legal route, technically, it is.”

the girl’s laughter came to a slow cease, cocking her head in interest as she waited for one of them to elaborate.

“no yeah, there’s still a chance for this to actually work.” bokuto starts without a second thought. hell, he even forgot he was still holding your hand. “professional sports teams require their medical team to be at every game whether it’s real or just practice since the players are always at risk of getting injured. satomi’s known to be good at being there every day on time, so if yoji and their boss sees that she’s consistently missing work now for... let’s say—iwaizumi—and tomas isn’t getting treated asap, they’re allowed to replace her. and if you’re replaced, there’s basically no going back even if it is just temporary. and if that happens...” he pauses as he holds back a smirk, “she’s going to be fined legally with negligence—worst-case scenario, she’ll probably be fined for nonfeasance too.”

“whoa there, those are some big words, sir.” says kaori, “someone catch me up here?”

akaashi lets out a sigh, “nonfeasance means failure to do what’s expected.”

the sound of awe left kaori as she nods in understanding.

“is this really necessary? it seems like a lot of work just to get back at her.” yuko has always been a rational person, just like akaashi, but the only difference between them was that she liked to do things the fastest and most easy way.

“if we play our cards right, i think we could do it.” says bokuto.

“then i think we need all the help we can get if we really want this to work out.” akaashi said, craning his neck towards you to ask, “should i tell semi and suga about it?”

it’s not even a question for you to answer considering how obvious the answer was. of course, you had to tell them. they basically knew everything already, and if anything they’re the only ones who could make this plan actually work.

“i can also tell my team about it to help.” bokuto adds in, but you cut him a look, “only atsumu, sakusa, hinata, and tomas of course. i promise i’ll only tell them what they need to know. what do you think?”

“as long as satomi gets what she deserves.”

you hated the way your thoughts were an endless motion of suffering. it had been keeping you awake all night as you tossed and turned. you couldn’t rest now as if a giant cinder block of forbidden serendipities would clash-boom-bang back onto you as it was being held by a teetering string of floss. it was bound to snap at any second. you yearned for even just a few minutes of rest as maybe these suffocating feelings would disappear once you woke up in the early morning.

it was still dark out—three a.m... maybe, but all you knew was that it was late and your flurrying thoughts were giving you so much residual energy that you needed to extrude. it wasn’t a form of adrenaline or a sugar rush, no, it was something else. your body was well beyond fatigued, but rather your mind was running like a brain on drugs.

there were so many things rushing through your head that it morphed into a jungle of tangled vines of plenty. it was a storming blizzard that couldn’t be calmed down as you finally pushed yourself off your bed, forcing your sheets off of you and sitting on the side of the matress. guilt was eating you alive, gnawing at your hollow chest as your semblance withered while the minutes passed. you just wanted for everything to just stop. please just stop.

maybe this is why you never told any of them. the stress, the consequences— you knew damn well that shit would hit the fan if you did, and yet it’s inevitable. the truth would have come out sooner or later.

ugh, why are you like this? you thought to yourself, dragging your fingers through your hair as you sighed out.

the answers were obvious, but it was the tingling of your lips that sent waves of heat to your cheeks as you recalled the kiss... the kiss! holy shit, the kiss. it hit you then when it played back in your head from a few hours ago when bokuto dropped you off at your door. something melted in bokuto’s eyes the moment you looked back at him, heat emanating from every inch of his skin as you tracked the tension in his body. he leaned over with his face just a few centimeters shy from yours and you swore he could probably hear your heart punching against your ribcage. bokuto could feel the warmth of your breath fanning against his chin and for a moment the world and all the problems in it seemed to disappear for a brief moment. before you knew it he kissed you gently as if it was his last. it certainly would be for a while, anyway.

“dammit,” you cursed in a harsh whisper, leaning over to switch on your bedside lamp in a swift flick.

you slapped your cheeks to force the thought out of your head as you made your way to your desk. you turned your desk lamp on with it’s bright yellow hue flickering slightly over your messy work area. it was scattered with paperwork and miscellaneous notes that it was surely beyond your mood to even fix-up.

usually, you tend to be pretty clean and organized with your desk space, and yet with recent events, you’ve been letting the work pile up instead. you’ve always liked the saying, this is something future (y/n) can deal with, but for once you hated yourself for it. besides, look where it got you.

a sigh escaped your lips when you plopped yourself upon your chair. your delicate fingers traced along the edges of the neatly bonded sheets of love cemetery’s storyboard. you started it earlier today with the help of the rest of the ddd team after the director of the project gave you the freedom to do so as usually, he would be in charge of making the storyboard and such. despite being rather chaotic on a daily basis, you were glad to be surrounded by people who always put a smile on your face while still getting work done. those were the best types of people to work with—friends that cared about you.

you guys managed to get the first fifteen pages done and you needed twenty completed panels in less than twenty-four hours. you were used to this type of pressure, especially while you were working on your webtoon. you were surprised how many times you sprained your hand from constantly working that the aching pain between your joints and your wrists were second nature at this point. surely, you would have carpal tunnel by now if akaashi wasn’t there to always nag you to take breaks.

with a few wrist stretches and cracks of your knuckles, you flipped to the next scene—the day you and bokuto met. your heart tugged slightly as you envisioned the scene you drew in your webtoon, slowly converting it into a movie scene in your head.

oh, how things have changed.

your hand ached for mercy by the time seven a.m. struck. the sun had already peeked through the horizon, sending rays of sunlight through the blinds of your bedroom window as a greeting for the new morning. you had been sketching out the storyboard for five nonstop hours (give or take a few minutes in between trying not to let the different events in the story get to you).

you’ve always had a strange habit of ignoring the pain in your wrist, but now it was certainly unbearable. the lead pencil that was hot to the touch from the heat from your hand dropped onto your desk in a clatter. your eyes flicked down to your palm as you could feel the fatigue darkening your eyebags. your hands were practically alabaster from the constant pressure that it took a good moment for the circulation to run back into your hand.

you left your bedroom and made your way to your kitchenette. it was like your body was moving on its own, grabbing a mug, turning on your kettle, and tossing teaspoons of sugar in your cup for your morning tea as if you were on autopilot.

silence had surrounded you for far too long, you needed some form of sound to keep you sane from staying up all night and leaving you alone with your thoughts to just take over. sounds from the television hummed through the quaint air of your apartment in the lowest possible volume, just beneath the whistling of the tea kettle atop your stove.

you poured out the boiling hot water as your eyes followed the way the tea steeped through the liquid like a spreading storm.

the doorbell rang then, causing your head to swirl towards your door with slight confusion filling your expression. who would even come by so early in the morning?

the floorboards of your apartment creaked at your light steps as you trod towards the door, almost flinching at the cold surface of the handle as you unlocked it. you pulled the door open. there was that infamous morning chill in the autumn air that bit at your bare arms and legs. the heat from your apartment escaped at the motion as your breath hitched within your throat.

he looked out of breath and filled with fearful tension as his broad shoulders relaxed a bit at your sight. his usual soft brown locks that are always styled was tangled and woven into each other like a basket weave. hell, he looked as if he rushed immediately here the moment he woke up, all disheveled and almost desperate. poor guy didn’t even think to put on a coat before coming.

what the hell is he doing here?

“iwa—?” you attempted to say out loud in a harsh whisper that could barely leave your body in the first place. and yet, your voice disappeared into his chest as he pulls you into him, warmth engulfing you like burning ember.

you swallowed the lump forming in your throat as you froze. call it shock or just plain confusion but you couldn’t bring yourself to move your arms from the way iwaizumi’s embrace trapped them to your sides. just the plain sensation of the heat rising from his skin was enough to simmer down your awe as you finally managed to wrap your arms around him.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters into your shoulder.

you captured your bottom lip between your teeth. “i’m sorry too,” you say in the same matter, yet your voice almost sounded hoarse from the dryness in your throat. “i should’ve told you the truth.”

“and i shouldn’t have said those things that i said to you...”

a response would usually follow right after, but you couldn’t piece together the correct words and all of the nuanced phrases in your head to say into the air. your thoughts were too far cluttered and chaotic to even say anything more other than, “it’s okay.”

iwaizumi could only pull you in closer, hold you tighter, and leave his arms around you as if he feared that you would disappear out of his reach if he were to let go even in the slightest. he made the mistake of letting you go that one night many years ago and he has learned his lesson since them. he’s not going to take any more chances.

you two have been in each other’s arms for a while now, but you couldn’t find the strength in you to let go. you haven’t felt iwaizumi’s hugs in so long that perhaps you wanted to savor it a bit longer as well. like a little treat—a reward of a few minutes of peace after a thunderstorm of misunderstanding where all that’s left is the aroma of lingering petrichor of bittersweet nothings. you would like to call this a small victory, but something was off.

“iwa,” you say once you finally pulled yourself into your senses, “what’s wrong?”

“i did something bad, (y/n). i fucked up.”

you pull away from him slightly, just enough to be able to look at him in the eye but still be in the comfort of his arms. “what happened?”

“i was so fucking stupid, i shouldn’t have agreed to go with satomi.” oh, you thought as the words left his mouth. you pursed your lips together, forcing yourself to lock your gaze onto him as he spoke. “i ended up getting drunk and telling her everything that happened by accident.”

it’s okay, i already know. i already know, i already know. the words rang inside your head as you fought to say the words, but nothing was coming out. you did nothing wrong, it’s okay, it’s okay. there was so much hurt and betrayal lacing iwaizumi’s copper eyes that you feared anything you say (regardless if it was in his favor) would obliterate everything that just happened into dust. seriously, how bad would it sound telling a person that you were already aware of what they did? iwaizumi already had so many trust issues that you were treading on thin ice right now.

it really all came down to the question: do what’s right or do what’s easy?

right or easy, right or easy?

for years you have been choosing the easy route to undermine your problems. you always thought to yourself, if you had ignored the problem long enough, eventually it’ll all go away. it might have worked for the tiniest of things, but you should’ve known it would never work when you were fucking up other people’s lives from your own selfishness.

you didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

“we ended up sleeping together.”

you scrunched your brows in confusion, “what?”

did satomi lie then? did they actually sleep together?

“i-i don’t even remember how it all happened!” iwaizumi exclaimed in such urgency. he certainly didn’t want to make the gap between you two any bigger, “all i remember was that we kissed but before i knew it, i woke up to her in my bed but she was fully clothed.”

you sigh with a huff, trying to piece together the disarrayed parts together as you recalled bokuto’s words from last night, satomi doesn’t lie when it comes to sleeping around. the sentence wandering your thoughts as the boy before you continue to ramble. so maybe satomi didn’t lie after all, “listen, iwa—”

“you gotta believe me, (y/n), i didn’t mean to do it. when i said that i still love you the last time we texted i meant it—”

“haji, i said listen!” you huffed as you grabbed his arm. the sudden name change was enough to shut him up and possibly cause a surging red tint to his ears. you found it adorable, but you had to cut him some slack since you hadn’t called him that since high school. “last night i was with akaashi and bokuto.”

iwaizumi was already making a face before you could even start. “why were you with them?”

“just hear me out okay?” you pleaded.

he saw the aggression in your eyes and immediately shut up, nodding for you to continue.

“while i was with them, satomi texted us about everything that happened. she said that you guys only made out and didn’t do anything beyond that.” you explain, watching the slight relief softening his expression, “she ended up just sleeping over instead that’s why she was in your bed.”

you didn’t expect him to say anything when you finished your thought. it was a lot to sudden comprehend as you two just stood there waiting, swallowed up in your own thoughts.

“don’t blame yourself, okay?” you attempted to break the silence, “what satomi did was wrong.”

iwaizumi’s wandering gaze flickered back to you, fist curling up into a tight ball until his knuckles turned marble white. but as quickly as he felt the aching of his nail digging into his palm did he let go and let his shoulders drop. he sighs while he ran his hand through his tangled hair. he didn’t know what to say and the silence was punishing.

you parted your lips slightly as the words tickled your tongue. “this, um, might be too much to ask and you don’t have to say yes, but we need your help with something.”

“who’s we?”

“bokuto, akaashi, kaori, and the rest of my team.” you answer truthfully, “we’re trying to get satomi to face the consequences.”

iwaizumi nods, not hesitating for a second. “alright, i’ll do it.”

well that was easier than you thought.

you held back an amused laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand as you pull away from him. you made your way back to your kitchen as you had forgotten about your cup of tea from earlier.

“but...” iwaizumi trailed behind you as you sipped from your mug. “i was the one who made a move on her first.”

“oh,” you say. you definitely didn’t know about that small detail that sent ivy-like jealousy through your veins, “i mean... you were drunk so it makes sense.” you tried to justify without making your envy too obvious.

you turned away from him, fearing that he could see right through you.

“i kissed her thinking it was you,” he states.

your eyes widen then, slapping your cheeks that heated by the second. there was a grip around your swiftly beating heart, aching within your ribcage as you attempted to calm the roaring serendipities that threatened to bloom prematurely.

a composed sigh leaves you as you pull yourself together, turning back around to face iwaizumi with a meek smile. “cool,” you mused awkwardly as your brain search rapidly for a way to change the subject. iwaizumi moved closer to you, sending you into a mild panic, “have you had breakfast yet?” you asked out of the blue.

but before you could even fathom what he was doing, he cups your face between his hands and pulls you in.

your heart flutters and stops when iwaizumi pressed his lips against yours, soft and delicate as if you were the most fragile thing within his grasp. and you were. his touch against your jaw was light as it trailed down your neck. he could feel the raging ichor that soared through your veins like a wildfire while your hand that was splayed against his broad chest could feel the thumping of his heart against your own palm.

you pull away from him as he says, “no, i haven’t.” but it wasn’t to let him answer, rather, it was the thought that iwaizumi came second place again.

fun facts! —

yes. y/n did kiss both bokuto and iwaizumi within a span of a couple hours 💀 queen shit fr

after iwaizumi left, y/n immediately facetimed kaori and akaashi and told them what happened

it was definitely awkward between bokuto and iwaizumi when they saw each other, but it was harder to avoid satomi

(also by saying “iwaizumi came second place” means who was able to kiss y/n first not who won her feelings over)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[zackcrazyvalentine]

Heyo! I’ve read a few of your stories and they are amazing!!

I was wondering if you could write twisted wonderland scenario with the first years and mc/yuu (or would it be reader..🤔) where the mc has Rapunzels healing hair (from the movie 😂).Maybe something where one of them gets badly injured and Mc heals them out of the blue with hair? Could be funny 😂. It could be platonic or romantic or anything you’re comfy with!!

Have a nice day💕💕💕

OMG thank you very much for the compliment! 🥺💖 Hopefully, I can keep bringing more stories for you all to enjoy  (੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧💕

Just imagine EVERYONE’S reaction to that!! That brings the question… Did the Mirror of Darkness make a wrong judgement for this MC? :o

Title: “Not so magicless”

-- -- --

Early morning More like very early morning

[Name] and their regular group of friends had agreed on meeting before classes started to share a chat and some tea, coffee, a pastry, have a small morning meeting.

Of course, the reliable ones were tasked with buying the drinks and foods everyone desired. They will soon find out the need to evenly distribute chaos and peace between them.

Sebek, Jack and [Name] approached the table they left the other four waiting on. However…

The [color] haired noticed a commotion before the other two. “So early and there’s already idiots making a mess here?”

“Uh, [Name], aren’t those…?” Jack began, making the non-magical look closely at the scene.

A bluenet carrying a redhead with magic, essentially making him float above his head. A short, lilac haired boy doing the same with a grey furball. Both duos were running at each other, yelling tactics, throwing random spells, and laughing at their dumb tournament.

“Wait, those are our idiots!” [Surname] exclaimed, handing the food they were carrying to Sebek before they could start running to stop the madness.

Ramshackle’s prefect tried to knock some sense into their friends. “What do you think you’re doing?!” It was Ace who answered, “Ah, you guys are back! Took you long enough~!” “That doesn’t answer my question!” The boys only laughed at the panicked screams of their friend.

“Very well then, if they won’t care for their safety, time to do my thing.” The magicless one decided.   Mom friend, activate! “Deuce, Epel! Put them down right this instant!” Epel only answered by sticking his tongue out at them. Sufficient enough response for both of them, it seems, since Deuce blatantly ignored their order.

Sebek was the next one to try stop them. “Listen to [Name], you reckless fools! You will only damage the school and end up injured!” “Are you wishing bad luck on us, Sebek?! We’re doing just fine, go away!” Grim yelled back.

Diasomnia and Ramshackle students stared at the people they called friends with surprise and irritation. 

“Grim, I-! ...Honestly, this is expected from you and Ace, what was I thinking.” “Hey!” The aforementioned duo exclaimed in mild anger at the assumption. [Name] continued, “But Deuce! What with being a honor student?!”

In through one ear, out the other. Once more, Spade ignored their words.

“Cut it out, you idiots! Why must you always find a way to make trouble?!” Jack snapped. “We aren’t even getting in-!” Deuce tripped over which led to Ace flying through the air after the magic keeping him afloat was abruptly interrupted.

“Deuce, Ace!!” Everyone panicked and ran to the injured pair.

Trappola tumbled down from the tree and Deuce rolled over on the floor to look at the sky and groan freely at the pain.

“You see why I was telling you to stop?! You guys tend to be reckless, and I don’t want you to get hurt!” [Name] quickly kelt beside the two groaning boys.

Jack looked at Spade’s injuries while Sebek and Epel examined Ace’s and helped him move a little closer.

The wolf spoke first. “There seem to be no major injuries, just some scratches on his hands, forehead and nose. Still, we should take him to the infirmary to make sure that bump on his head is nothing serious.”

The green haired informed, too, “Ace has some scratches from the tree branches, and most definitely sprained his wrist.”

Amid the frantic movements, Grim remembered something helpful. “[Name], doesn’t your hair do something..!”

“That’s right!” The [hair color] snapped her fingers at the comment. They quickly brought forth their long hair and wrapped a couple of locks around the injured places. “Stop sputtering, Deuce! Just let the hair be.”

Everyone shared confused (and mildly disgusted) looks, except the two half students.

“Uh, don’t you think we should take them to the infirmary as soon as we can? Or at least let Sebek, the one who’s from the most magic versed dorm help them heal?” Howl questioned his friend’s sanity at that moment.

Now it was the human’s turn to ignore logical words. They began reciting something, perhaps a melody, or a poem, or just a well thought out wish. Sparkles and light emanated from their tresses, and were gone by the next second.

“There we go~!” [Name] untangled their hair from their friends’ body. “How are you feeling now? All better, right?” Tender smile shaped their lips.

The playing cards duo prodded and touched their previously hurting parts, surprised to see no pain or blood was drawn.

Everyone stared at who they previously thought to be magicless in shock. “What was that, human/[Name]/[Surname]?!”

The monster cat chuckled at their expressions. “What? Didn’t you know they have magical hair that heals?”

“How do you know that?! Why did neither of you tell us this?!” Ace squawked.

“Were we supposed to find out on our own?!” Deuce yelped.

Epel was the one to make the question everyone was wondering, “Then why did the Mirror say your soul had no form?! That you had no magic!”

“Could it be…” Sebek started, “Their powers are beyond its comprehension?!” Everyone stared at [Name] in awe.

“Damn...I thought it was only Ace, Deuce and Grim, but it seems like everyone here share one single brain cell…” The prefect was concerned for their friends. “Guys, I don’t think it’s that mind boggling… It’s probably a delayed side effect from being in this world for too long…” They tried to reassure.

“Is that all it can do?” “How long have you been able to do that?” “Can..Can I touch it?” “Would you allow me to style your hair? Been practicing my braiding skills lately!” “How did you even find out about this?! It's so trippy!” The barrage of curious questions continued through their entire meeting, and even during and after class.

“Maybe I should’ve kept it a secret…”

And that, folks, is how [Name] ended up with a group of easily impressed 1st years trailing after them every time a wound came to be.

[END☆]

-- -- --

Thank you for your request!

It’s always fun to imagine this bunch’s reactions to things! Even more so those concerning Grim and/or MC!

Hope this was a nice read~