#i hope this made sense but lolol

[dipplinduo]

Scrapped Content for The Dichotomy In Our Hearts

Where have I been? Ah. Well. Would you believe me if I told you I have been writing and rewriting the same chapter across this past like...week? xD

I have been working through a series of ideas for chapter updates, but I've been very very stuck on The Dichotomy In Our Hearts.

When I tell you. I have written this one scene. OVER AND OVER. LOOOOL.

Ultimately, I've realized the voice of DIOH comes from a sweeter/reflective/"grow through growing pains" kind of tone. Not as much of a conflict-driven/angsty/"Kieran can you please chill the edge bc you're lowkey toxic chain'd" one, like with what you might see me write in Sweet & Sour Dipplins. And lemme tell you, it feels sooooo good to have this breakthrough, because one thing I've been actively trying to do with DIOH is distinguish it from S&S D across the board (but especially with Kieran & Juliana's characterizations & dynamics).

So that being said, I'm gonna rework the last two chapters. I was originally going to have them come out as part of a bigger update in general, but if you've been following this story you've honestly waited long enough, lol. So! I'm prioritizing this. Next update from me will come out within a few days with the conclusion of this story. <3 In the meantime, I figured I should share some of the scrapped work I had - it's a good scene on its own, but you'll see a different version of this scene play out in a more effective way within Chapter 4. :)

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Kieran huffed out a breath of the furious storm that had festered inside of him. He had hoped his time decompressing in the frosty woods would freeze over the raw cut to his already withering pride, but it proved to no avail as he walked along the cobblestone pathway to his home. He relished in what remained of the short-lived comfort he obtained through casting himself to the shadows as his home’s lingering lights began to expose his wounds back to the watching world. The rays were an anomaly for this time of night; his grandfather had always had a strict rule of dimming the house before bed, and Kieran was highly certain it was too late for people to be awake. 

He braced himself with a careful inhale as he quietly stepped up to the shoji before him, and the door felt like a paper barrier between the last of his solitude and judgment itself. They couldn’t have been waiting up to lecture him some more, could they? At this point, he didn’t need any punishment beyond the torment of his self-criticism. He knew he was rash and reckless. He knew he was lucky the little boy was okay. 

He just wished he was better. It was another moment he could’ve used to prove himself, but he blew it. Again.

 The guilt already gripped into him mercilessly. It seemed as if the history of his inexcusable failures enjoyed repeating themselves - no matter how hard he tried to remedy them by pushing himself - and it seemed as if the world would do anything but retire the spotlight from him while he dug his grave further into the lifeless ground. The real salt in the wound was the dramatic irony of how he had failed this time, though. 

Once again, his efforts were fruitless. Once again, Juliana had stepped in so effortlessly. Once again, she is showered in praise while he is showered in shame. 

And of course she bore witness to his humiliation.

Kieran clenched his jaw tightly as he slid the shoji. He remained stealthy, but still nonetheless moved swiftly to rip the band-aid off to whatever awaited him indoors. He squinted his sensitive eyes against the blaring, toasty lights - they were more powerful than what had seeped through to the front porch - and the illuminance from the lamps refracted warm hues off of the yellow-orange walls. Minus the scattered lights, the house was void of his noisy family members. They must’ve all retreated to their beds as Kieran would reasonably predict.  As Kieran’s vision adjusted to his bright and tidy home, his movements slowed to the sight before him. He stepped inside in a manner that was as Dedenne as he attempted to survey the situation.

Juliana was curled up against the kotatsu in an awkward position - one that looked far from comfortable. It appeared as if she had fallen asleep entirely by accident; she had donned her usual attire instead of the pajamas she was meant to borrow, and she was sitting up rather than lying down into the kotatsu’s blanket that poorly covered her lap. Her back was hunched over so she could rest her cheek against her forearms, which were somewhat sprawled along the wooden surface of the kotatsu. Her Deerling-like eyes remained sealed shut as Keiran inched closer, and there was a subtle droop in her parted jaw as she softly breathed. Odd touches of flyaways and frizz decorated her waved, somewhat messy hair, and Kieran noted slight creases that wrinkled in a hidden gray underneath her eyes. 

Was she waiting up for him? 

It was yet another moment that felt stolen and improper. When he observed her, he could see nothing but a much more vulnerable aspect of his rival that he felt he wasn’t meant to experience.

It was yet another moment that felt stolen and improper. When he observed her, he could see nothing but a much more vulnerable aspect of his rival that he felt he wasn’t meant to experience. She was supposed to be unyielding and ruthless with limitless capabilities. An obstacle in his path that he could overcome to clear his conscience.

Kieran bit the corner of his lip and exhaled slowly - the bewildering tugs of emotions on either end only added to his already building frustration. He quietly snagged the patchworked, quilted blanket that was draped along the plush sofa nearby her - why she couldn’t just resign herself on that at the minimum, Kieran didn’t know - and carefully wrapped it around her narrow shoulders. As he turned to leave, a gentle touch around some of his fingers caused him to gasp. 

“Ki…Ki-”

Kieran’s mouth suddenly felt dry as his heart skipped a beat. 

“-eran,” Juliana finished, and the weird sensation in his chest rallied heat around him. Why was he imagining she would call him…?

The touch around his middle and ring finger became a soft grip as Juliana stirred and began rubbing her face. Now that she was awake, reality struck him back into his senses and he suddenly felt as restless as he was in the woods. 

Kieran tried to keep his voice even as he spoke. "Juliana, it's late. Ya’ should go to bed," 

Juliana blinked sleepily as she sat up, still holding his hand. "I was worried about you," she murmurs. "Are you okay?"

Kieran nearly pulled his hand away as the realization dawned on him. So this was what it was all about: pity.

She was the hero who looked down on him and pitied him before anything else.

The epiphany was a coarse grain of salt rubbing in his wounds, but it was somehow the easiest and most sensible thing to believe than any lingering alternatives. "Why do you care so much?" he snapped, immediately regretting his harsh tone but feeling unable to stop himself. "You don't need to pretend to be worried about me."

Juliana flinched as she became more alert. “Why would I pretend to be worried?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Kieran spat as he snatched his hand away. 

“Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?” Juliana asked firmly as she rose, a hint of anxiety in her defensiveness. “Is this about Peacharunt?”

“It’s about way more than that.” Kieran tightened his fists as he steadied his gaze on a chair cushion, readying his words like canons. “You won again. Ya’ always do. I don’t need your pity as a consolation prize.” 

“I’m not trying to pity you,” Juliana countered. “I just know that things have been hard lately, and I-”

Kieran turned to face her, his voice almost trembling as the pain in her face brought out some of his own. “That’s why ya’ came here in the first place, right? I just mess everything up left and right. Ya’ just want ta’ keep an eye on me and fix my mistakes. ‘Cause I’m so horrible.”

Juliana stepped closer and spoke softly enough to make the hair behind Kieran’s neck raise. “Kieran, you’re not horrible at all. But you’re acting like you are, and you keep pushing people away. You’re pushing me away.”

Juliana’s cries fell on deaf ears as the anger flared inside of Kieran, directionless. An ugly mix of self-loathing, resentment, and deep-seeded insecurity oozed uncontrollably as he spat out his words. "Stop beatin’ around the bush, everyone knows that I can't ever measure up to you!” His voice cracked with the weight of his emotions, and he turned away again, unable to face her and complete his thought. How even his own grandparents trusted her battle skills over his.

“This isn’t a competition. I’m not trying to compete with you,” Juliana breathed unevenly, as if there was something unsteady brewing in her.

Kieran's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "Ya’ think it's not a competition? It's always a competition! Everyone is always comparing us, and I always come up short. Do ya’ even know what that's like?” Kieran continued as Juliana opened her mouth in protest. “Ya’ don’t. ‘Cause you’re always the hero everyone wants and loves. You are perfect,” Kieran spat as an insult as he ran out of breath. 

A pulsating surge of shock struck Kieran as his rival’s voice grew uncharacteristically intense. "You think I'm perfect? You think I don’t have struggles? That I don’t actually care about you at all?” Her voice cracked before becoming small and hushed. “How could you say such a thing?”

His eyes danced between hers in anguish, and he messily attempted to somewhat soften his outburst as he recalled her smile under the fireworks. “If you had any flaws they’d just be a work of art.” (MAKE CONTRADICTION MORE FLUID)

“I thought you of all people would know that I'm anything but perfect!” Juliana cried out, tears bursting down her face. “After everything you’ve seen me struggle with.”

As he witnessed the seams of her composure become undone, Kieran felt as if he was sinking, too. The tension in his fists released as he was taken aback, rendered speechless. 

Juliana continued to fall apart before him, using both of her hands to wipe her face repeatedly as her voice trembled. “I don’t fit in at the academy. I miss being at home. And the only person that really feels like a home is the one person I’m pitted against. You’ve seen me fail over and over again with all of these things. You’ve seen parts of me I haven’t shown anyone else. But you... you act like I’m this flawless person who just waltzes through life without a care. And it hurts, Kieran. It hurts because I care about you so much, and you don’t even see it.”

Kieran’s eyes widened as he was hit with a sudden sense of clarity. He began to blink rapidly as he recalled the intimacy and affection he had misread as a threat. Her giddiness, her eagerness to accompany him and cling to him, her interest in his thoughts and moods. A tingle ruptured inside him as he pieced everything together. 

She…liked him? 

It felt like a haughty deduction, but it was the only way he could make sense of such strong feelings. He wasn’t sure what to make of it - what he was even supposed to do with it. Kieran hesitantly reached out an arm around the shaking girl’s back and nudged her forward. His hyperawareness grew as she collapsed into him as she sobbed, curling her fingernails around arms. It felt as she was slipping down, and Kieran unintentionally dropped to the floor with her as she buried herself against him. 

It was a moment he was entirely unprepared for and could never predict. There was a part of him that felt good - as if his damaged ego was stroked and given value. There was another that raved about the attention he was receiving, to have someone fight because they cared. There was another part that was disgusted at himself for those feelings. There was another that couldn’t make sense of Juliana and her multidimensionality. Was he wrong about her? Does he have the right to be mad at her? Is he even mad at her? Why would she have a crush on him, if she even did? Kieran felt as if he was short-circuiting from the swirling contemplation. 

He was ages away from speaking as Juliana continued to blubber. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I don’t know how to make up for what happened with Ogerpon! And it breaks my heart to keep seeing you get so angry without knowing how to fix it!” 

"Juliana, I..." he starts, staring aimlessly at the wall behind her as his voice trails off. “I didn’t realize…” 

"Of course you didn't," she weakly replies against him to the point where it was difficult to hear. "You're too busy seeing me as this perfect person who has it all together, like everyone else. Well, I'm not. And it hurts, Kieran. It hurts.” She repeated, nearly nonsensical.

(Below are notes that follow the direction of the scene):

Kieran feels guilty and hugs Juliana awkwardly

I'm sorry/angry at self / feels disarmed by Juliana's crying

His thoughts eventually grow quiet as she sags further against him and nearly falls asleep 

“We should both go to bed” wanted to escape but didn't want to leave, conflicted 

(J) I’m sorry if I was being too much

(K): Thats the second time you said that/improved ability to observe Juliana

Was she afraid of taking up space? Starts to see how difficult that must be

Closes door abruptly, holds his hands to his face where Juliana touched him

~EMBARRASSED EMO ~ / Reflection on duality of relationship

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

crimsooonnnn, (〃ω〃) i wanted to ask if you have any cute stories about baby tomioka or any funny family moments with you, him, and giyuu ♡ i’d love to hear about them!!

Aaaahh these thoughts usually just creep up on me lolol but I’ll try to remember them!!

One I always think of though, that I’ve already mentioned, is baby Tomioka being a hair puller lolol. Always pulling our hair and never realizing bc he’s just trying to cling on lol. Only sometimes does he do it out of entertainment. So sometimes I’ll headcannon that that’s the reason Giyuu cuts his hair so it could encourage his baby to pull on hair less lol

He also like to chew on things, teething or not teething. He’s just a chewer lolol. Since I also mentioned already with the whole “he loves to steal Giyuu’s kirimi keychain and chew on it” kekeke. He’ll chew on his straw and then whine that he can’t drink out of it anymore bc he chewed the straw shut lolol

And he of course had the good baby smell!! He smelled so cute and sweet, Giyuu had caught me huffing his head multiple times. (And often times he joined me too lmao)

I also kind of wanna say he’s more of a papa’s boy!! 😖 not cuz it’s “father and first born son” but just because they get along so, so well. So this one time, Giyuu was holding him and he just kept crying and Giyuu didn’t know why. He tried everything and nothing worked and when I held him, he finally stopped crying. He just wanted his mama and we were both surprised bc of just how much more attached he is to Giyuu lolol. (Of course he loves me too! He was more attached to me the much younger he was since a baby usually often depends more on their mother lol)

I REALIZE IM JUST REALLY RAMBLING ABOUT HEADCANONS LMAO!!

Okay so a silly moment or scenario!

One I think about often is Giyuu walking in on me singing our baby a lullaby 😖😖💗 there are a few songs I always have in mind that I think would be great as a lullaby. And I’d just wanna sing them to my fictional baby lol. But Giyuu knows I’ll stop if I see or hear him so he’s just admiring from the doorframe until I sense his presence and get embarrassed that he heard me lmao. (Giyuu will also sing to his baby, but so softly and quietly. More of like he’s singing to himself while holding his baby but nonetheless still singing to him ♡)

Not really a silly moment but I guess a cute one! I looveee ponds and watching fish swim around and I wanna say my baby would be mesmerized by it too lol. So we’re walking through a garden as a family one day and find a pond with koi inside so me and baby Tomioka are just staring in awe, pointing at the fish and just simply entranced lol. And it gives Giyuu a chance to just stare and admire us and he just thinks about how absolutely happy and lucky he is ppfftt. Such a soft expression on his face!! Smiling happily at us as he watches his family being all cute and domestic lolol. And then he starts to think of adding a koi pond to his estate so that we could stare at it all the time kekeke

[todayisafridaynight]

if i doodle during unlucky monkey stream later would we be mad at me

[theloveinc]

What were the leaks? I never know where to see them or how to decipher like others on here.

they're pretty easy to search up on twitter, or used to be, if you just type up "bnha ### spoilers" ... but idk if that's still going cuz some of the accounts that were posting moved to other places.

i use this discord to get them, tho...!!! and this link should be the invite, tho idk if i'm allowed to share or how long it will last or whatever LOL.

but just for brevity, and you can always ask (spoilers under the cut):

we're currently seeing endeavor's fight with dabi, who is basically a burned-up, non-entity right now (so delusional that he's calling out for natsu to play :((()

and he's basically at the point of blowing up/exploding, which endeavor realizes, so he starts to like... fly? with him to get him away (resigning himself just to die with him), and as he's in the sky, dabi starts producing ice (essentially a newly-developed extension of his quirk)... and then REI IS THERE LMFAOOOO using her quirk too .... anddd chapter END.

and that's what u missed on glee!

[hitomisuzuya]

Happy early birthday!!! I wish you the best :)<3 

This is my second request lol and I want to state again how much I LOVEEE your writing!

As for my request (smut), how abt scummy slightly whiny? scara that just loves to overstimulate himself as well as us! Whether it be with sex toys, with his tongue (piercing?) and his dick lolol. Reader has a sensitive body and often squirms around a lot and tries to stay quiet which he does not like at all so he decides to have his way with us and teach us a lesson in his college dorm where he does NOT care if anybody hears 🧍‍♀️. Feel free to add anything you’d like to this if you do end up writing it and go wild🙌

that was embarrassing to write I hope that made even an ounce of sense lol. I hope you have an amazing birthday once again and a great day/night!! 🩷

Scummy Scaramouche. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Sex toy. Cunnilingus. Overstimulation. Creampie. A dash of Daddy kink and degradation. Scara with a tongue piercing. College AU.

Aww hunny, don't be embarrassed🥺 It was my pleasure to write this. Thank you so much🥺 Because this Scummy Scara, it's kinda gonna be filthy😳

Scaramouche's eyes were hooded into a very annoyed glare. On the one hand, being able to reduce your poor sensitive body into a squirming state stretched his ego, and made his cock pulse. But you were doing something that really annoyed him.

Pissed him off, in fact.

His head has been buried between your legs for what felt like hours now, his tongue piercing grinding and flicking on your swollen clit as he fucked a vibrator in and out of your weeping hole. He could faintly hear the cutest noises keening from you. Noises you were holding back with a hand over your mouth while you squirmed in bliss.

"Don't you dare hold your noises back," He growled, latching his lips around your clit, swirling the ball of his tongue piercing around the throbbing nub. You clamped your hand tighter on your mouth, your other hand finding the back of his head to press his mouth down onto your cunt. The delicious friction of his tongue piercing made your legs shake.

You swallowed back a whimper behind your hand as Scaramouche took the vibrator out of you. He groaned into your cunt as he reached down to rub the toy along his throbbing cock. His cheeks flushed embarrassed at the soft whine that sounded from him as his cock throbbed.

He shivered knowing the more overstimulated he was, the more cum he would pump inside of you.

He slowly drug the toy up and down his cock, his mouth sucking wetly on your clit, and his tongue lapping at your clenching hole. There was a determined look on his face, his thrusts with the vibrator reflected his determination to make you be loud. "Moan for Daddy, you know you want to," He purred, nudging the toy relentlessly into your sweet spot as he teased his tongue piercing on your clit.

"Sc-Scara, someone might-might-" Your hand reflexively tightened on your mouth to quiet your moans, your hips bucking up to grind on his tongue. "-might hear," You barely managed to finish.

Scaramouche scoffed, frustrated. You were always so stubborn in a very determined way. He would fix that. How dare you try and stay quiet in bed! Sighing he released your clit with a wet pop and sat up. Taking the vibrator out of you, he grabbed your hand and took it off your mouth.

"Come on, make noise for me. Moan for me," He hated that he sounded whiny, but he needed to hear you scream and moan for him. Even though the door of his dorm room was open a crack, he really didn't give a shit if anyone heard.

And neither would you when he got his way.

"I'm going to tie your wrists above your head so you can't cover your pretty mouth," He handed you the vibrator as he batted your legs apart. "Hold this on your clit, and rub it on my cock while I fuck you," His instructions were simple. He had to have at least one of your hands busy. He could control the other one easily.

He was going to be damned if you didn't call him Daddy while you crying that you were cumming. Let everyone hear who was fucking you this good.

Blushing shyly, you knew how lewd you were going to look. He turned up the vibrator to the highest setting, putting it on your clit before you could take it in your hand. Scaramouche smacked your other hand away as he came up to quiet your moans.

"Fuck, I need to be inside of you now," He moaned, not being to stand how hard his cock pulsed watching you rub your clit with vibrator. The fact that your hole was already clenching around nothing as he pushed his cock inside felt divine to him.

"Or maybe you prefer if I tied you up, and fucked you with the vibrator inside you too," He groaned, bottoming out a fluid snap of his hips, "You would moan for me then," He couldn't help but moan at the thought. It wouldn't take a lot of sweet talking to get you to let him do that sometime.

His hand grasped your chin roughly. "Be a good girl and let everyone know how good Daddy is fucking his slut," He couldn't get enough of the way the shy blush darkened on your cheeks.

The stimulation of the vibrator on your clit, coupled with his cock head hitting your sweet spot relentlessly made your head spin. The overwhelming ache of overstimulation was setting in, making your walls clamp tighter as whimpers and soft moans that started to rise in octave with each thrust started to escape you.

You alternated between rubbing your clit, and rubbing the parts of Scaramouche's cock that wasn't inside of you between thrusts with the vibrator. These periods of time were the only moments you got breathe and adjust to his size. He slowed down his pace to feel the vibrations on his cock, slowly fucking his cock inside of you.

The eventual overstimulation proved to be simply too much for you. It wasn't long before you started crumbling, writhing on the bed as your orgasm curled tighter and tighter in your core. "Daddy! Daddy! I'm gonna cum!" You moaned loud behind a whimper.

Scaramouche let out a shaky, but victorious laugh. Finally! You were finally being loud in the way he craved. You almost dropped the vibrator from how good his cock felt stretching you apart, returning it to your clit with shaky hands.

"God you should hear what a slut you sound like," He moaned, shuddering in pleasure as he felt your pussy come undone on his cock. You couldn't control your moans, squirting from overstimulation while you shook from the intensity of your orgasm hitting you.

He rubbed and played with your clit while you while you tended to his cock with the vibrator. A few more pumps between your gummy sensitive walls emptied his cock inside of you. "Good girl. Fucking good girl," He groaned, satisfied at the state he'd reduced you to.

Pulling out of you, he scooped the cum that leaked out of your pussy onto the vibrator, and fucked it back inside of you.

[livelaughlovesubs]

guess who's back, back again, it's 🃏 anon back at it again!

so. Sampo Koski (i'm fully inclined to say his full ass name because why not, it's hilarious) recently i had a big craving for his bratty little ass, so i was thinking, maybe reader (gn or otherwise) getting way too tired of his quips and just... fucking him roughly, rough sex, bondage (or any form of BDSM), some (or a lot of) manhandling and a teensy bit of a blood (either from clawing or biting can work!) can work really well!

but honestly, go wild i don’t really mind whatsoever, i’m swamped with work right now and i just need to satisfy my needs from them lolol.

so, again, have fun with this request!

from, le 🃏 anon!

Hello hello~! Great to see you again. After two whole months, I hope you aren’t that swamped with work anymore? Haha

Dom!reader x sub!sampo - reader is gn

Warning: bondage, pegging (I use dick), rough sex, slapping, manhandling, chocking, scratching, mention of death, hair pulling, edging

It was a mistake to trust him.

Seriously, this man is wanted by the guards and owns the infamous image of a liar, how could you believe in his words? Maybe they were just too sweet, too tempting and irresistible. Even so, it doesn’t justify how stupid you were to trust him. That sweet yet two faced smile, it made you blind. I mean- how dared he scam you with low quality ropes?!

All you wanted was to buy some nice, pretty ropes, and he even gave you a discount. Then he talked big about how well he threats his customers, and that he’d personally bring it to your house. Though the moment you glanced at the item, seeing the rough texture and poor handicraft, your jaw dropped. No wonder the price was so damn cheap, this guy tried to rip you off! Who did he take you for? This won’t do, you wasn’t someone easy who’d let it slide after him apologising. You’ve been so excited to receive it after all, that’s why you had to teach him a lesson.

You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him inside, throwing him onto the ground. The rope slipped from his hands, landing next to him. A cold look in your eyes and you kicked his sides, telling him to get onto the bed. He eventually obliged, then you began stripping his clothes. Sampo let you do it with a sheepish smile and dropping eyes, chuckling satisfied. That lewd little fox just loved it when you are rough with him, when you push him around and put him in his place. Now his face was being pushed into a fluffy pillow while his ass was high in the air, kneeling basically. Wrists near his ankle as you brought the red rope closer to him, straightening it out then whispering, “hold still.”

With a swift move, you tightened the knot around his wrist, pulling with all your strength. He groaned a little and bawled his hands into fists, fully aware that there will be bruises on the next day. “Most esteemed customer~ why… are you testing your product on me?” His voice got higher towards the end, a sense of excitement hidden under the surface. “Hah, come on, we are more than just merchant and buyer.” You reminded him while giving his bare butt a harsh slap, leaving behind a red mark. “Nghh~! Ahaha! Oh y/n, you are as fascinating as ever.”

That’s right, you two have shared some intimacy before and despite the relationship you both had he still tried to scam you. “Save your flattery for later. Now, tell me, does this feel like quality ropes?” You asked him with a scorn, in the meantime opening the lit of a bottle. The tall male had a rather sarcastic expression, acting like he didn’t know. Though the answer was as clear as day. He could feel it rub against his flesh, irritating and burning his skin. It had an itchy feeling to it, yet it also hurt, causing the area around it to turn red.

A faint blush covered the cheeks of the boy. His breathing was heavy and ragged, sweat forming on his forehead. Then you grabbed his roots and yanked on his hair, making him arch his back into a crescent shape, mumbling, “answer me.” The rather rough treatment was immediately met with a loud moan, “uhhH-nNNGhhh~! Ah, be gentle, y/n..” finally he looked at you, mouth parted and tongue hanging out a little. His face also reddened by a few shades, the corners of his lips were curled into a grin.

“I take it you know what this means for you?” You sighed and asked him, squeezing a large amount of lube onto your inner palm. He acted like he didn’t know, staying quiet and making a -hmm?- sound. So you continued with, “your punishment, for deceiving me.” Then you stuck two fingers inside his hole, fingering him sloppily. “Punish.. ment? Ah-ngHhhh..! To-too rough~♡” Sampo threw his head back, his blue-white hair bouncing around. “Yes, punishment for bad boys.”

Seeing how he shuddered and shook, you deemed him prepared enough and pulled your fingers out. Afterwards you lined the tip of your length to his hole, followed by you dropping the bottle onto the ground and grabbing his waist with both hands. Holding him, making him stick his ass out some more. “Mhmm~ ha, haah… don’t hold back now, dear customer.” His breathing became even more ragged, he was obviously enjoying this. “What a fucking whore.” You chuckled, giving his bottom another squeeze, spreading his hole with two fingers before penetrating him.

You slowly pushed the tip in, noticing how his shoulders jerked upwards, the oh so familiar grin returned to his wet lips. Since he was taking this so well, you might as well speeding up the process. With one snap of your hip, you pushed the rest of it inside him, your pelvis hitting his ass. “NgGGHhh~!! Ah- f-fuck, so good, more, ha- mHm, do me harder ♡♥︎!” Sampo cried out, hands wrapped around his own ankle, grip tightening with all his might. He wanted to trash around so bad, though the restrains weren’t bulging in the slightest. Keeping him in check, unmoving and restricted.

Without wasting much time, you began moving, thrusting your dick in and out of him at a fast pace. “AhHh!” He moaned at the sensation, at you rubbing against his walls and hitting places so deep inside him that it made him see stars. Then you leaned closer to him, grabbing his hair again as you whispered into his ear, “You said harder? Let’s see if you can take it then.” After that you licked his earlobe, running your tongue all over the shell while moving your hips ruthlessly. “NGhhh! Y/nnn~! Ah, t-touch me more!” He whimpered, wanting you to show some attention to his leaking member, but you ignored him.

Instead, you opened your mouth and bit his shoulder, trying to raise the speed even more. The hand on his hip gripped him harsh enough to leave bruises, the other one accidentally ripped off some strains of hair from his scalp. You bit down even more when his voice hitched, enough to draw out some fresh drops of blood. At this point he was a withering mess, crying with such a dumb yet blissful expression on his face, his blush spread to his shoulders as well. “OoOhhhH, AHHnnHgg fuuuck!! There, r-right there, so good, fuck me more, more!!” A series of unintelligible words left him, echoing through the lust-ridden room.

The pain he felt from your rough treatment, from the newly gotten bruises and wounds all faded away the moment you found his sweet spot. Not only that, you’ve been abusing that poor area with such brutality he felt like he was gonna die. Each time the tip pressed and hammered against that spot, his head would empty themselves and more tears would fell from his eyes. Drool was hanging out of his mouth as you relentlessly pounded into him, panting and doing your best to keep the tempo up.

“Hah… this is hardly a punishment for you, isn’t it?” You scoffed under your breath, feeling a little bothered by it. That’s why you slapped and scratched his butt again, cursing out, “look at what a fucking pervert you are, Sampo koski.” After drawing some blood with your nails, you insulted him, smirking sadistic. His face was quite a sight to behold, so chaotic and blushy, so damn adorable. “UhHHmm!~♡♥︎ GuUughhh!!” All he did was whimpering and moaning like some dog in heat, struggling against his restrains while his cock leaked his filthy pre onto the bed. With all the remaining strength he had, he meekly trust his hips back against you, trying to get you to go even further.

Then you stopped, very abruptly. “Ah-ahhh..?” A confused squeak escaped him. Hands still holding his hips while he sobbed into the pillow, but you didn’t move at all. “Shall I just leave you like this? Considering you aren’t seeing this as a punishment.” You asked yourself, though talked loud enough for him to hear, you wanted him to know. “uhhh- huuu~?? N-no! Don’t stop y-yet!” His voice was rough and hoarse from his screaming his lungs out. That man really has no shame considering how loud his volume was the entire time.

He turned his head back, trying to look at you. And when he did, a shiver ran down his spine, almost enough to push him over the edge. You were smiling with your eyes, a dangerous look, one that told him to run away r he’d regret it. But, to him, he was already too deep in this mess to escape. This was going to be a long night for him, and he knew since the beginning. “You wanna cum, Sampo?” You began, leaning down to his level again. By doing so you pushed your dick a little deeper in and he whined at the friction. The male didn’t respond with words, he only nodded his head hesitantly, meekly. A sense of fear and pleasure bubbling inside him. How he loved to feel like nothing next to you.

Next thing he knew you clasped one hand over his eyes and wrapped the other one around his throat, squeezing him, about it choke him. “Be a good boy and endure it. If I’m satisfied, I’ll let you cum.”

His heart pounded against his chest, he felt lightheaded. All the ecstasy and anticipation was making him dizzy with lust. He didn’t even have to think twice before groaning with a low voice, “yes, please, toy with me. Kill me with your love♡”

[14dayswithyou]

Meowdy Saint! ^^ lolol hello hello o/ hope you are doing good!!

So this masterpiece of a game has been invading my mind with ZERO chill lately which directly translated to me coming up with a TON of questions orz I really didn't realize how many I ended up compiling lol

If you don't feel like answering this many please feel absolutely free to ignore this ask or only answer the ones you like the most, the last thing I want is for you to feel overwhelmed! ^^

ALRIGHT LET'S-A GO

-do Rendacted's memories remain intact when he resets the day or do his wipe too with everyone else's? Also is there an in-universe answer for why he has these glitchy powers or is he just Built Different™?

-if angel made it VERY clear that they would be mad asf and prolly even start hating and leave Ren/[REDACTED] if he were to hurt their friends(or killing people bc this man needs to chill fr), would he listen to them? Bc I know that if he touches Violet, Elanor, Kiara or god forbid Moth I'm personally deleting his kneecaps 🥰

-since it seems to me that Ren/[REDACTED] is only kinda meh at cooking I was wondering if he actually made the not burnt pancakes in day 3 or if he had some store bought ones that he passed off as his own lol

-does he know how to give massages? :00

-during day 1, how did Ren come up with a book on the local flora?? It seems like such a random topic to pick when put on the spot without already having a genuine interest in it lmao

-if I understood correctly Maple should be Jae's dog right?? Did you have a specific breed or age in mind when creating her? I got curious because in my head she automatically popped up as a young australian shepherd to match with Jae's hyperactive dumbass energy lol❀⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝❀

-staying on the dog topic lol, in day 1 when angel gets up from the couch to get Ren the inflatable mattress(iirc) and he follows right behind them i immediately thought he acted like a puppy lmao. So would he mind being called 'puppy' as a pet name?

(I am not sure if this⬇️ questions falls under character deaths, if it does I really apologize and absolutely feel free to ignore it ^^)

-from an ask from last year it seems [REDACTED] would ultimately kill angel if there was ultimately not way to enter in their life?? Gotta say I was very taken aback by this, would this still be the case after a year of building more to his character? (Ok I went back to check the ask again but I can't for the life of me find it anymore maybe I dreamt it up idk😭😭 im really sorry if that is the case jdkslajdl)

-uuhh I know there is already a lot in this ask(im seriously sorry orz), but I was wondering if we will eventually get an SFW alphabet for Ren/[REDACTED] for the folks who don't care about the nasty 👉👈

-THIS IS THE LAST THING I PROMISE 👹 will there be a guide to get all the endings? I'm not sure if there is one already and in that case I missed it 100%

Also I find it ironic how the fandom is trying to find out every single aspect of Ren/[REDACTED]'s character the same way he must do with angel lmao

ALRIGHT THATS ALL IM SO SORRY FOR ASKING SO MUCH THE REN BRAINROT HOURS ARE SO REAL IM LOSING BRAINCELLS orz Remember to take care of yourself drink water and take breaks!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

(Also sorry if some phrases don't make sense, english isn't my first language as I am 🤌 lolol)

✦゜ANSWERED: Under da cut because this got long >:3

-do Rendacted's memories remain intact when he resets the day or do his wipe too with everyone else's? Also is there an in-universe answer for why he has these glitchy powers or is he just Built Different™? Ren's memories remain intact!! I mean... He remembers each time you get a bad end and sometimes says something different... >:3 There is also an in-universe reason as to why he has his abilities — I won't spoil anything, but his real name (along with River's and one other character) have a reeeeally big tell. But what this tell is is for me to know and you to find out >:3

-if angel made it VERY clear that they would be mad asf and prolly even start hating and leave Ren/[REDACTED] if he were to hurt their friends(or killing people bc this man needs to chill fr), would he listen to them? Bc I know that if he touches Violet, Elanor, Kiara or god forbid Moth I'm personally deleting his kneecaps 🥰 Ren (and by extension [REDACTED]) knows not to harm anyone if he knows you won't like it — and even then — he won't actively show that murderous side of him in the first place. To Angel, Ren is just a timid, normal guy.

-since it seems to me that Ren/[REDACTED] is only kinda meh at cooking I was wondering if he actually made the not burnt pancakes in day 3 or if he had some store bought ones that he passed off as his own lol Ren is actually good at cooking, he's just a bit out of touch since he doesn't normally cook for himself! It's normally microwave meals or takeout for him... ^^; And yes, Ren did burn and burn the pancakes in Day 3 — he was distracted by something on his phone :3

Bonus cut Day 3 content: I took out the scene where Ren started to profusely apologise for burning the pancake because he often had to cook when he was younger. Given the dynamic of his family and the environment he grew up in, Ren didn't have much room to make mistakes ;n; I cut this scene out because I felt bad ksgskd So y'all get to have flustered, happy Ren instead!!

-does he know how to give massages? :00 If that was one of Angel's interests or desires, then sure!! ^^

-during day 1, how did Ren come up with a book on the local flora?? It seems like such a random topic to pick when put on the spot without already having a genuine interest in it lmao Someone else likes flora too, and it sure would be funny if Ren (eventually) starts to mimic certain traits and interests of the person you have the highest affinity/relationship points with in order to make himself look more appealing… >:3c

-if I understood correctly Maple should be Jae's dog right?? Did you have a specific breed or age in mind when creating her? I got curious because in my head she automatically popped up as a young australian shepherd to match with Jae's hyperactive dumbass energy lol❀⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝❀ It was mentioned in Jae's lore post (I'll link it here once I find it), but Maple is a Labrador! (Leon would be Jae's Australian Shepherd hehe) In my mind, Maple is only 2 or 3 years old, but that wouldn't really fit the official timeframe... ^^; Jae adopted Maple during high school so he wouldn't feel lonely at home, and it's been over 6+ years since then.... hgdshjg

-staying on the dog topic lol, in day 1 when angel gets up from the couch to get Ren the inflatable mattress(iirc) and he follows right behind them i immediately thought he acted like a puppy lmao. So would he mind being called 'puppy' as a pet name? Angel affectionately calls Ren a puppy during the scene in Day 1 where they meet up after work, so that nickname definitely could work!

-from an ask from last year it seems [REDACTED] would ultimately kill angel if there was ultimately not way to enter in their life?? Gotta say I was very taken aback by this, would this still be the case after a year of building more to his character? (Ok I went back to check the ask again but I can't for the life of me find it anymore maybe I dreamt it up idk😭😭 im really sorry if that is the case jdkslajdl) aaa I think you might be mistaking that ask for something else? ;v; [REDACTED] would NEVER harm Angel in any capacity, and they're a very patient person. Even if it took decades for Angel to fall in love with him, they'll wait.

-uuhh I know there is already a lot in this ask(im seriously sorry orz), but I was wondering if we will eventually get an SFW alphabet for Ren/[REDACTED] for the folks who don't care about the nasty 👉👈 You're fine!! And I'm open to doing that! I'll add it to my list hehe

-THIS IS THE LAST THING I PROMISE 👹 will there be a guide to get all the endings? I'm not sure if there is one already and in that case I missed it 100% I've shared a spreadsheet that lists all the available choices, the points you earn from each of them, and the endings you can get — however it's only available on Discord and I don't really want to share it outside of the server and potentially put it in the hands of minors. Sorry!!

Also I find it ironic how the fandom is trying to find out every single aspect of Ren/[REDACTED]'s character the same way he must do with angel lmao Hehe >:3 There's a loooot of lore that won't ever be mentioned in the game (since it doesn't seem fitting/I don't see a reason to), so I'm happy to provide it here!

[tnt-kokoo]

Gestures

Sae Itoshi × fem!reader

summary: Sae isn't good with words, so he used everything else possible for him to show how much you mean to him.

warnings: mention of being nacked (nothing happens)

To Sae, it was hard to show his true intentions. He did love you, alot but he just wasn't sure how to show you. His words felt like empty promises to him with no real love behind them and that's something he doesn't want you to think.

You, who managed to gain the attention of the famous pro football player Sae Itoshi.

It hasn't been long since the two of two of you started dating but you already felt comfortable with eachother, it just felt right. To you and to Sae. He wants to prove to you, how much he loves you. But his words weren't going to do it, so he learned how to love you with physical touch.

The best example for it would be when you come home exhausted and tired, he offered you a bath. It was a cute gesture but what made it even more intimate, in a sentimental way and not in a sexual way, was when he took the cloth and carefully scrubbed you clean. He made sure to use your favorite body wash and wash you carefully and respectful. He also used your favorite hair care products, the same way you always did. You then noticed, he knew how you liked it. He was really attentive.

Another example would be, how he takes the hair brush and goes with it through your hair. Sae himself can't really be seen as a patient person, so when he took his time to carefully remove every knot, move strands of hair and embrace you afterwards and askes you 'I didn't hurt you, right?' for reassurance, you knew he was taking his time and tried (for you) to be as patient as possible.

He realized how nice it is to be in touch with you. You gave him everything he wanted by just loving him and he tried his best to give you everything back. Before meeting you, he hated physical contact. But now....

He loves coming home and seeing you every day in his home, being there for him and giving him reassurance by kissing him.

He loved when you took his hand in yours when there was a huge crowd of people. And he liked to use his thumb to comfort you.

He loved being able to hold you close to sleep at the end of the day and wake up with you still in his arms.

He loved how calm you looked in his arms, not anyone else's, his.

He loved kissing you a goodbye before getting ready for his daily morning jogs or before going to work.

He just loved you, and he learned to love you with physical contact and gestures.

____________________________________________

AN: I hope it ended up alright, it's two am rn and I am soooo tired 😣 lolol

(I hope this story makes sense bc damn idk)

[g1rld1ary]

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

[kawamarii]

teatime

⋆ ࣪. zhongli x reader

contents Ⳋ fluff fluff fluff, mutual pining, zhongli is so smitten ohhhh

a/n : felt nice to write sum fluff for a change :3 i hope you guys like it !!! i had fun writing this lolol

word count: 869

a faint tune played in the background of a teahouse tucked away in qingce village; tea and an aroma of incense clouded your senses.

“it seems as if my invitations to you have become a habit of mine. i hope it isn’t grueling for you,” zhongli speaks, his golden orbs cast upon you. he delicately lifts his teacup to his lips. you shake your head. “nonsense,” you smile, “i’d not rather be anywhere else.” you follow suit, lifting the teacup to your lips and taking a sip. the taste of sugar and tea leaves swarm your mouth; a wonderful taste.

his eyes never ceased to fixate upon you. he was enamored — though his eyes were calm — as if he was gazing upon the moon and the vast night sky, or basking beneath the sun. “would you like another cup?” zhongli’s voice was soft, almost as if he weren’t human. his eyes were filled with a gentle gaze that made you feel warm. his lips curved into a thin upturned smile.

you nod, your eyes shining upon is. “i’d much appreciate that. thank you, zhongli.” his name flows off your tongue like butter. as if it was always meant for you to say. “of course.”

zhongli sets his empty cup, then quietly poured another cup from the kettle, steam rising to the ceiling. zhongli was incredibly focused on the task at hand, but also extremely conscious of your presence. he would glance at you from time to time. you watch his movements with precision, and you wonder how his actions always seemed to be so graceful and flawless.

he hands you your cup, his fingers gently grazing against yours amidst the action. “thank you,” you say, your voice quieter. you didn’t want to distract him, he seemed focused. he notices the shift in your voice, his gaze back to remaining on your face. the way his fingers brushed against yours wasn’t accidental; he didn’t mind the contact, in fact, he was comforted by it. “you are welcome.”

the moment went on quietly, until he cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. he sipped on his tea, his gaze lingering as you set the teacup down on the silver plate that matched. you take a cube of sugar and drops it into the seething liquid, stirring it with the tip of your finger before bringing it to your lips with a hum. you pick it up carefully and take a sip, a sigh. “your tea is always amazing, zhongli.”

he smiles. he doesn’t mind being complimented so regularly, as long as it is from you. “the art of making tea is something i’ve perfected over the eons,” his voice was deep and soft — warm — and a light chuckle leaves him. “tea brings life to the table. i hope it isn’t too strong for you.”

your lips curl into a gentle smile. you love the sound of his voice; baritone and rumbling. comforting. you shake your head. “i’d never refuse tea, especially brewed from the hands of you,” you chuckle. he couldn’t help the way his heart tendered at your words. he chuckles in return, a gesture he had heard from you multiple times before.

your heart beat is ringing in your ears, unbeknownst to him. the way he never fails to extend an invitation toward you for a cup of tea always had you giddy, no less with his voice, his gentleness and his entire being. the way he looked at you had you melting every time. you couldn’t help but wonder — was there something more to this? or were you being delusional?

“how does it taste?” he inquires, his voice gentle as his eyes remained glued to yours, not daring to gaze anywhere else, just in case he would not be met with yours again. you snap from your little daze and clear your throat a bit. “it’s delightful,” you smile, your voice a bit softer as you look at him.

a beat of silence goes by.

“you are beautiful.”

oh. oh. was this happening? were you hearing things correctly?

he watched your cheeks heat up a little, and he smiles. he gazes at you as if it was the first time he’s seen you, as if he wanted to commit these moments to memory. “t—thank you,” you mutter, unknowing of how to go about this.

he smiles and begins. “since we’ve been drinking tea together in the evenings for quite a while, i’ve come to notice something about myself.” he speaks, and you hum. “what may that be?” you ask with a tilt of your head. you feel your heart in your throat. there’s no way.

he hesitates for a moment. it was as if he was trying to find the right words to say; but he decides to express his words with conviction, just as he spoke before. “i feel a deep sense of attachment to you,” he begins, his hand extending to yours and gently placing it atop your skin, “as if you’ve become… a part of me.”

you smile, your eyes sparkling with a glimmer of joy. “im glad im not the only one who feels that way, then.”

© marimisses on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[erinwantstowrite]

hi! hope your having a good day/night/timezone/etc.! u got any writing tips (like how to not lose motivation/use up as much of it as u can while u have it, any ways to get the words flowing/“get in the writing mood” that have worked for u) for any of ur fellow fic writers? (idk if this’s been asked b4 (it seems like a common question lmao), but if it has, ‘pologies, lolol ^^)

i have a few that i've been thinking up to try and post!!

remember that you aren't on a deadline to write, and to take the time you need. no one wants to read something you rushed, let alone do YOU want to read it. and it REALLY matters if you love what you're writing. you'll kill your motivation trying to keep up with something like that!! if you only had time to write 300 or you had a great day and wrote like 3000, you're doing great either way!!!

there's a lot to keep up with when you're writing, and you have to remember and understand all of it. if you're trying to write while you're tired/upset/etc, you'll likely end up with something you're not that proud of. (granted, art is art, and sometimes these emotions can create something beautiful or meaningful). take metal breaks so you can come back to your work with a fresh mind, and don't overexert yourself. you'll remember and understand more if you treat your writing time like you would when you're studying. sometimes i make flashcards to remember characters, places, events, etc.

sometimes i can get too analytical with my writing, or it starts to become flat? if that makes sense? meaning, like... i'm putting words on paper rather than delving into the story. too many "they felt this way" and not enough "Character A turns to face the man that had changed their entire life with the single shot of a bullet, careless to what damage he could have caused. It's haunting to see that the man is simply that: a man. Not a monster as they had imagined, laying awake at night and wondering what their father had seen in his final moments. He's just a man." what helps with this is putting myself into the shoes of a narrator, remembering that i am telling the story as if i already know what's happening (even if I don't know where I'm going with a scene yet). i imagine that my reader is right there next to me and i'm telling them the story in real time like we're sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories, or that i'm the quirky narrator of a book they just picked up.

During times where i'm losing inspiration or feel like i'm in a loop, i like to go back to my favorite medias and spend some time with them. i recently rewatched Gravity Falls, the Sea Beast, and the Adam Project, and it was a fun mental break that got me into the writing mood. i try to find similar media to what i'm writing at that time. if i want a scene focused on funny banter or a comedic effect, i read or watch comedy. if i want to write a scary scene, i'll watch a horror movie. etc etc. "studying" your favorite media and putting yourself into your fav writer's writing shoes is a great way to improve your own writing. think about why that joke was funny, what the set up was that made it that way, and if it would have been a different joke if another character said it (Gravity Falls is one of the best media you can use for this, but really, reading mysteries in general can help)

physical exercise, if you can. getting your blood flowing and treating your body well!! when i was in band, we used to do "body warm ups" set to music, and i still do them to this day. it gets me awake and alert while also letting me listen to fun music before i write

[saey707]

*heavy breathing* pls, feed my thirst with a little heartsteel kayn pls I need him -I-I need to read some yandere heartsteel kayn *coughs* I can't breath I need him to be angry at me for his own feelings omg omg I need it I need the water

✿ Prompt: Kayn is a toxic boyfriend ✿

♡ champion focus: kayn ♡ tw: npd, yandere ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author's Note: Your request made me laugh so hard that I had to respond as soon as possible LOLOL ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა I'm always down for writing toxic yandere boys! So let's get into Kayn ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Enjoy!

Most days, you couldn't help but feel like you were trapped in a relationship with Kayn. Yes, you loved him, hell you even accepted him the way he was... But really, that was only because you feared what he could if you did try to speak up.

The warning signs were always there- People constantly reminding you... no, warning you that Kayn was toxic. But, you chose to ignore them. You wanted to believe there was some degree of good inside of Kayn. You wanted to love him like no one did before. You tried to convince yourself that you could even change him!

However, seeing Kayn in all his selfish, narcissistic colors made you realize far too late that you were stuck with him... and Kayn loved the power he had over you.

He loved having control over your shared relationship and felt like he could do as he pleased whenever he pleased. Time and time again Kayn would exercise unscrupulous control and influence over you. And you let him.

The control issues Kayn harbored at the beginning of your relationship were small. So much so, that you believed he was just obsessive-compulsive. He spoke devilish whispers that persuaded you to do things you would never do. He had you wrapped around his finger. He had you in his possession. His trap.

And as the devil's web unwound, it was only a matter of time before he was only just beginning to control every aspect of your life, from deciding what you wore out to events together to who you spoke to.

"I saw Aphelios looking at you the other day. You shouldn't trust him. You never know what the intentions of the quiet ones are..."

"I heard what Yone said to you the other day. You shouldn't listen to him... He has no idea how happy we are together!"

"I don't want you talking to Ezreal anymore!"

While the rest of the band felt it was wrong to enable Kayn, they kept quiet. They kept their distance when you all were alone. Because Kayn knew as much about them as he knew about you. And Kayn wasn't afraid to abuse the information he knew he sabotage all of them if they crossed him and his relationship.

The only sigh of relief you ever had was when the group performed interviews out of the country. Even though you could tag along, you chose not to. You made the excuse that you had work, and that saved you every time. Work was the only thing you had in your life that gave you some sense of control. Kayn couldn't take that away from you... yet, at least.

"Why aren't you texting me back? Are you listening to me?!" "Answer right now!!" "You're seriously going to put your phone on mute this long?! Who the hell do you think you are?!!" "Fine then. You did this to yourself. Keep that in mind." "LMAO" "When I get back you better hope that I'm fucking happy!!"

And he made sure to let the world know how frustrated he was.

"So Kayn, how is your relationship with your partner? You both are still together right?!" The interviewer happily questioned, your boyfriend playing the part, showing off that devilishly smug smile in front of his awestruck audience.

It made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you dread what he was about to say and what he could say.

"Oh, we are! Things between us are better than ever. We're both so happy..." His smile fell. "But..." He began to brood, looking off to the side for a moment. The audience ate up his vulnerability.

"They get so busy with work sometimes. I just wish they could respond to me sooner! Babe, if you're watching this, answer me!! Ahahaha!!" His smile returned, the others trying to hide their discomfort with joyful laughter.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to see you when you get back Kayn. Don't be so discouraged!" The interviewer reassured him, Kayn rubbing the back of his neck, staring forward at the camera. Staring forward at you.

That was the telltale sign: That you were absolutely, most positively, fucked.

[iguessiwritenow]

To Cease or Not to Cease

Summary: A Reader/OC fix-it because I just finished season 4 and wtf was that. Also this may be unhinged as its 1am and I haven't slept yet lolol.

“We cease to exist.”

Thalia let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes for a moment of peace. The confirmation of the end of the world and her existence weighed heavy on her. As it did for all of her siblings based on the silence that settled over the rest of them.

“Old Klaus might have been down for some recreational hara-kiri,” Klaus started, “But it turns out, I’m really not into killing myself. So, uh, count me out.”

“Actually, it’s not killing ourselves. It’s worse than that. We’ll be erased from history. None of the the timelines will have ever existed. No one will have any memory of this… or us” Five corrected. 

Diego turned towards Five suddenly.

“But if we cease to exist, what’ll happen to our families?”

“I’m not sure.”

And Thalia couldn’t help but get angry at that response. The uncertainty of it all left a pit in her stomach. After everything didn’t her family deserve to be happy, to be at peace.

“No.” She stated to the room.

“Thalia, please, this is the only wa-“

“No!” She exclaimed again tears starting to fall, “I am not just going to sit here and die. To let any of us die!”

Luther put his arm around her in a half hug to comfort her as she cried. But Thalia, in her upset and anger, found conviction and once again addressed Five.

“You said it just has to be there marigold right?”

“Well, yes but-“ Thalia cut him off now glancing in Viktor’s direction.

“And you can extract the marigold?” 

Viktor gave his affirmative with a brief nod as Thalia moved over to him. Putting her hand on his shoulder she activated her powers and pulled until a copy appeared.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Thalia started to make her way towards Five. “Viktor’s double will extract the marigold from us and the double I make of Five will take us to the subway.”

Thalia pulled at Five so his doubled appeared and then at herself. Once done she spun to face her family and took them each in. While there was still despair and uncertainty, Thalia saw hope on their faces and it brought a small smile to hers.

“Who’s with me?” A chorus of cheers went around the group in affirmation. “Then let’s get started!”

-

Experiencing the marigold get extracted was strange, there was a pain to it, but the sight was strange as well. Thalia thought it looked like hundreds of fireflies conjoining around her family. If it weren’t for the situation Thalia may even venture to call it beautiful.

To think that power that changed the timelines, if not the universe as a whole looked like glowing Fanta when contained.

Thalia watched as the double she had created of Five vanished with Diego and Lila’s family and Claire with a sense of accomplishment. Facing her family she let herself relax a little. Her family would live a hopefully peaceful life from here on out.

Thalia glanced at the double of Viktor and dismissed it. Then Thalia was face to face with herself. Until this moment Thalia hadn’t realized how much older she looked. Gone was the grief of her childhood and regrets as a young adult. In her place stood a woman at peace with herself. A pat oh her shoulder interrupted her thoughts.

“Let’s go sis, before we miss the train.” Diego said as he guided her towards the rest of the family. And with a final glance at herself and the jar full of marigold Thalia allowed the double of Five to jump them away.

-

Watching the reunions as everyone bored the train brought tears to her eyes. To see Allison hug Claire and cry, while Diego and Lila tried to fit all of their children in their arms. Yes, Thalia thought to herself this made everything worth it.

Sitting on one of the empty seats Thalia closed her eyes and leaned her head back until it hit the window of the train. The motion of the train starting to move almost putting you to sleep.

“You okay there sis, you’re looking a little… glowy.” Luther asked you after a while. A chuckle escaped you at the wording but you gave a nod.

“It’s here.” You whisper.

“What’s here?” 

“The Cleanse.” With that answer Thalia felt her siblings gather around her. In an attempt to understand they all started to ask question, everyone speaking over each other.

“Please tell me you didn’t.” Thalia heard Five over the rest.

“What did she do, what’s going on Five” Diego demanded.

“She stayed back. The Thalia here, with us, isn’t the real one. She’s a double.”

“Please tell me that’s not true Thalia! Why would you do that.” Sobbed Allison 

“Without the marigold, Thalias doubles wouldn’t be able to exist, so we wouldn’t have been able to get to the subway if she gave hers up. But she also couldn’t come with us otherwise the cycle would just restart.”

Thalia gave a hum and a nod to Five’s explanation. 

The dim glow that had surrounded Thalia before grew stronger and as if feeling her originals pain, a tingling sensation began to fill her body.

“It tingles.” Thalia commented as a tears started to stream down her cheeks. Thalias feet started to dissolve into dust and the rest of her slowly followed.

“I love you guys so much.” Thalia sobbed, “I just want us to be happy together, a family.”

Diego and Five shared a glance.

“Promise me you’ll fix things.” Thalia begged, “Please.”

“I promise Tally.” Diego stated eyeing Five.

Sighing in relief Thalia smiled and let let out one last breath before dusting all together and ceasing to exist.

[birchbow]

One of the worldbuilding facets I love in PoF is the trollish cultural aesthetic sense with respect to horns! Big horns are often described as handsome and Karkat’s little nubs are apparently pitiable-cute with a distinctly “soothing partner” pale flavor. Are there other horn shape/size connotations that trolls would generally have?

Oh man this made me think of troll actors: it would be so much easier to play a historical figure or a character adapted from a novel who is supposed to have a specific horn shape if you naturally have really small horns and use prosthetics!

I hesitate slightly to answer this ONLY because I have written so much at this point I feel like I'm likely to contradict my own writing by accident haha. But! Some horn rambling.

Horns that are perfectly intact would be an impressive achievement--"This person's incredibly dangerous and hasn't taken a scratch" vs "this person is a fucking loser pansy"

Conversely, horns that are chipped or scarred, especially in a good position for headbutting etc, would be a tough, badass look. Hot for pitch or ashen!

In my half-assed theory of horns as recievers/broadcasters of psionics, big horns would be considered a sign of more brute strength in whatever your power is, and small horns would be considered an indicator of more precision

...which is passed around as a hard and fast biological rule but is actually just moderate correlation + confirmation bias/word of mouth

I make note of Karkat's little horns in a pale context b/c of my headcanon that deep, firm pressure at the base of the horn's root nerve has an autonomic soothing effect. Small blunt horns that are mostly that darker red-orange base chitin would be very sensitive to pressure--but also, no good for challenges or threat displays. Very hot if you can get your hands on them but also not exactly grabbable. It's giving "You Can Look But You Can't Touch" lolol

Conversely I write the horn away from the base as sensitive to clicking/catching sensations (like another pair of horns locking and rattling against them) so for a black quadrant more of the hardened gold-to-orange would be hotter!

I've described Makara horns as "elegant"--horns that extend up or out from the body would come across as eye-catching and kind of impractical, but very striking. Personal preference varies whether that's attractive vs compact/spiralled, etc.

For that matter, I imagine it's hotly debated whether horns that are "mismatched"/asymmetrical are a turn-off or are preferable because they're more interesting/unique...

Similarly one horn, or more than two, would be increasingly noteworthy.

Trolls with NO visible horns would be just as startling as like. A person missing their eyes, or their hands; certainly possible, either from birth or from Alternia Life (TM) but seeing someone missing an entire body part/sensory system would give most people pause.

Horn jewelry was not a big trend on Beforus: the empress's love of shiny shit all over her body made it a big thing on Alternia. Horn "bracelets" fitted to the horn are expensive and most people who aren't seadwellers go for tied/woven decoration instead.

Some real tough customers drill piercings into the horns, but that's famously hideously painful especially near the root--plus it can make them dangerously fragile, especially for a larger-bore piercing.

Hornsssssss >8Ic Anyway this has been a lot I hope I answered your question in there somewhere lol

[niki-phoria]

Can you do some headcanons of Chishiya, Arisu, and Kaino with an s/o who was a famous singer before they cane to the Borderland? I haven't seen any ideas of this yet and it sounds so interesting to me lolol

‧₊˚✩ chishiya, arisu, and kuina reaction - their s/o is a famous singer

warnings: slightly ooc chishiya, pre-borderland au, i've never actually been to a concert before so maybe this is a bad depiction of how they work lmao

a/n: i'm assuming you meant kuina thank you for requesting !! i actually don't write headcannons (i don't really know how to ?? if that makes sense) so i made this a reaction instead. this idea was really cool, i hope you like it :))

gn reader (they/them pronouns)

‧₊˚✩ chishiya - someone recognizes you in public

word count 235

“y/n?” you freeze a little when someone calls out your name. next to you chishiya grabs your hand, already scanning the restaurant for a quick exit. a young girl walks over, nervously holding her phone in her hands as she bows. “i’m a big fan.” 

“hi,” you smile. 

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude, i just wanted to say hi,” she smiles. “your music means a lot to me. it’s really helped me though a lot of tough times, so i wanted to thank you.” 

“oh, thank you so much,” you smile. chishiya keeps a careful watch on you as you step forwards to let the girl hesitantly hug you. the blush on her face makes you chuckle. “i’m glad my work has been able to help you so much.” 

she smiles, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. “i know we can’t take a picture, but can i have your autograph?” 

“of course!” you quickly scribble down your name onto the paper before handing it back to her. 

“thank you so much,” she bows again. “it was great meeting you!” 

“you too,” you smile. 

chishiya gently squeezes your hand from across the table. he chuckles when you look back up at him. “that went really well.” 

“it did! i wasn’t expecting anyone to recognize me.” 

“you should get used to it,” he laughs. “you can only grow from here.”

‧₊˚✩ arisu - he brings chota and karube backstage

word count 329 got a little carried away lmao i wish we had more chota and karube :(( also THIS IS THE PERFECT GIF OMG SKNELKNS

“i still can’t believe you got us backstage passes,” chota chuckles, pulling at the lanyard around his neck so the v.i.p. pass faces outwards. 

“it wasn’t too difficult,” arisu says, following the security guard to your dressing room. 

“wasn’t too difficult?” karube scoffs. “dude, y/n’s one of the most popular acts in japan right now! do you know how expensive tickets are?” 

arisu laughs, leaning back against the wall as he waits for you. he can feel the bass from the speakers rattle against his chest. the feeling is exhilarating. 

“thank you so much for tonight,” your voice is clear through the microphone. he can hear fans cheering, even from backstage. “i love you all!” 

“ah, i’m nervous,” chota says, standing closer to karube. “i’ve never been so close to a celebrity before.” 

“don’t be,” arisu pats his shoulder. “just act natural, they’ll love you.” 

despite the reassurance, arisu can feel chota tensing as soon as you make your way backstage. “arisu!” you smile when you see him, rushing over to where he stands. he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. “it’s so good to see you.” 

arisu presses a kiss against your forehead, wrapping an arm around your waist before turning back to chota and karube. he laughs as they stare at him in shock. “y/n, this is karube, and chota,” he says, gesturing to each man. “guys, this is my partner, y/n.” 

karube is the first to react, giving a respectful bow before holding his hand out. “karube daikichi,” he smiles. “it’s nice to meet you.” 

you take his hand, nodding. chota is quick to follow, greeting you despite the blush on his cheeks. “chota segawa.” 

“i’ve heard so much about you guys, it’s great to finally meet you!” arisu presses a kiss against your temple, unable to hide his excitement as he watches the love of his life interacting with his best friends. 

‧₊˚✩ kuina - she surprises you at a concert

word count 234

kuina jumps in her seat, watching you on the big screen. you look around the crowd in awe, scanning through the thousands of people who were willing to pay money to see you. kuina jumps even more when you spot her in the crowd. you laugh into the mic, kneeling down to your knees. 

the camera pans over to her, now showing her on the big screen instead of you. she covers her face, a little embarrassed. you laugh even harder when you turn around and notice the dark blush on her cheeks. “my girlfriend is here,” you say into the microphone. “hi darling.” kuina waves her hand over her head, smiling. “can i bring her on stage?” 

you look over at the crew, kneeling down to the edge. one of the security guards makes his way over to kuina, gesturing for her to step out of the crowd and move closer to the edge. you set your microphone aside, reaching your hand down to help her up onto the stage. her blush deepens when you wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her to the center. “thank you for coming,” you whisper into her neck. she wraps her arms around your neck, pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“i wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

you smile, pulling back to pull her into a sweet kiss. “i love you.” 

“i love you too.” 

[devildom-moss]

For the requests... Maybe a GN!Mc that just constantly flirts with Mephisto despite him being all grumpy towards them? Like a "I hate you" "Aww I love you too" type dynamic if that makes sense? Like a onesided enemies to lovers or like a frenemies to lovers type of thing. Thank you so much!

Okay, I hope I got enough flirting in this one and that you will enjoy your very late request. And thank you for the request and for an excuse to think about Mephisto.

Flirty gn!MC and Mephisto (one-sided enemies-to-lovers)

(Mephisto x gn!MC)

(slightly suggestive) (tsundere Mephisto) (maybe lacking good transitions?)

Word Count: +2,400

The thing is, Mephisto really didn’t like you at first, and there wasn’t anything you could have done to change his initial impression: a feeble little human who was getting attention from Diavolo and staying with the brothers. Even the fact that you were cohabitating with the likes of Lucifer had rubbed him the wrong way, but that was okay. You kept changing and growing. And you were persistent – despite how much of a cold asshole Mephisto tried to be, especially when you first started talking to him.

Leviathan had once told you: “LOLOL your toxic trait is that you think you can befriend any demon just because you’re cute and nice – I-I mean! I don’t think you’re cute, per se. Just that – GAH! Forget I said anything!”

He was right, in a way. When you saw that lanky, purple-haired loser in a god-awful tie, your first thought was, “yeah, I want that one.”

The fact that he didn’t seem to like you wasn’t the deterrent he was hoping it would be, either. However, when Mephisto saw the slight narrowing of Lucifer’s eyes as you greeted him in the hallway with that smile, he knew that the attention you were giving him was getting under Lucifer’s skin. That was all the reason he needed to let you keep doing whatever nonsense you were doing: when you waved at him even though his only response was ever a glare, when you brought him sweets that you and Luke made, when you told him he looked handsome randomly or praised him for his most recent newspaper piece. Initially, his response to your compliments was a rather blunt and defensive, “what do you want?” He was a demon, and he mostly only conversed with other demons; it was only natural that he assumed you would want something in return for your praise. But after the seventh time, you still hadn’t asked him for anything.

Somehow, the first time you asked a favor from him didn’t actually hurt your cause. You had just received a text from Luke, warning you that Solomon had baked that morning and he was looking for you. Your eyes widened, and when you looked up to see Mephisto just a few feet ahead of you in the hallway, your affection and whatever you had left of your self-preservation launched you towards him.

“Mephisto, my favorite demon, hide me, please,” you begged as you tried and failed to hide behind his back.

“H-hey.” Mephisto was shocked by your actions – and your proximity to his body. “Who’d you annoy this time – other than me?”

“Solomon baked. He’s looking for me.”

Mephisto may be a demon, but he wasn’t a monster. He had heard the stories of Solomon’s creations, so he grabbed you roughly by the arm and dragged you into the newspaper room. The not-so-distant sound of Solomon calling your name filled both you and Mephisto with dread. Mephisto brought you to his usual desk and shoved you underneath it – safely out of sight just moments before Solomon entered the room.

“Mephistopheles, is MC in here?”

“Of course not,” Mephisto sat down in his seat – surprisingly careful not to step on your hands. Now you were hidden from all sides. “I’m in too good of a mood for that to be the case.”

“Can’t relate,” Solomon narrowed his eyes. He was going to offer Mephisto a cookie, but if he was going to be that way about Solomon’s favorite apprentice, he could forget it. “I thought I heard their voice a minute ago. Maybe not, then. I should just text them and ask where they are. I hope they didn’t leave RAD already.”

You quickly turned your D.D.D. to silent.

“This is all very interesting, but I would appreciate it if you did leave. I have plenty of work to do.”

“Alright, consider me out of your hair,” Solomon turned to leave.

You held your breath until you heard the door close. Your D.D.D. lit up just as Mephisto slid back in his chair and gave you the “all clear.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled up at him as you crawled out from under the desk. Mephisto looked away. That was a sight he was not prepared for.  You joked, “I owe you my life.”

“No thanks, I’ve seen enough of it; I don’t want it.”

“Want head instead?” you teased, “I’m already down here.”

Mephisto wondered if you had read the brief thought that had entered his mind when he looked down at you earlier. He started to blush, wide-eyed and dumbfounded. Maybe that was too far?

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I was just teasing you, but I think that was too vulgar. I shouldn’t –”

“You shouldn’t tempt demons like that – even as a joke, you fool. But,” Mephisto sighed, stood up and offered you his hand, “don’t worry about it or anything.”

The eighth time you complimented Mephisto, there was a noticeable change in his response: “It doesn’t mean much coming from you, but thanks or something.”

Every little allowance Mephisto had granted you inevitably resulted in you growing closer until you were joking with him in the hallway after class. If someone didn’t know better, they would suspect that you two were friends – despite the fact that Mephisto typically refused to smile around you.

“So, Satan had set up a trip wire at the top of the stairs, and we didn’t think it would work. It probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t so preoccupied with chasing Mammon around the house – he opened up another credit account under Lucifer’s name. Anyway, both of them got caught and fell down the stairs. Neither got too hurt, but when Lucifer got up, he was pissed. He rounded us all up and asked in that scary tone of his, ‘what the fuck was that?’ I, barely thinking, told him it was a performance art piece titled ‘Oh How the Mighty Have Fallen 2: Down the Stairs and Into Debt.’”

“You didn’t,” Mephisto smiled and laughed – perhaps too much for his own comfort.

Diavolo, who happened to be nearby, remarked, “goodness, Mephisto, you seem to be getting along so well with MC recently. I’m glad.”

“Them? My Lord, you’re uncharacteristically mistaken. I don’t even like this human,” Mephisto denied Diavolo’s claim.

“That’s okay. I have enough love for the both of us,” you smiled. Diavolo nodded and left, hoping he could erase those words from his mind.

“You’re annoyingly persistent and delusional,” Mephisto rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“And you still keep me around. I’m so lucky.”

Mephisto let out the most exasperated huff you had ever heard. Although, in truth, he was probably more upset at Diavolo for pointing out that he was actually enjoying your company. But it was only because you were telling him a story at Lucifer’s expense. Understandably, he was even more annoyed when Lucifer started heading your way. Lucifer came up and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you away from Mephisto slightly.

“Shall I walk you home today, MC?” Lucifer offered.

“Oh, but I wanted to annoy Mephisto on his way to town,” you told him. “You were going to see if that shop had gotten the special edition case of Demonus you asked for in stock, right?”

“How did you know that?” Mephisto questioned you.

“You told me earlier this week. Don’t you remember? You whined about how your shipment got delayed and the store told you to come back in a few days.”

Mephisto tried to recall, and it came to him slowly. It was irritating how many moments with you he had to scan through just from this week. He kept his arms crossed tight and sternly told you to go home with Lucifer. You agreed, hoping not to irritate your grumpy friend any further that day. Bitterly, once you left, Mephisto recalled the story you had told about Lucifer, and a smile graced his lips again. He wished he hadn’t let you go.

Technically, you did want to annoy Mephisto and spend time with him, but you also wanted to check out the shop he mentioned. It would be a nice place to investigate, especially if you ever needed to gift a bottle of Demonus to someone. You decided to go there yourself the following day, only to hear a familiar voice when you entered the shop.

You found the source and called out to him. Mephisto was pleasantly surprised to see you, but he hid it well.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“They didn’t have my Demonus when I stopped by yesterday,” Mephisto admitted. “They told me to come back the next morning and they’d have it, so now I’m here.”

“Oh? Well, I’m glad I ran into you.” He wished you hadn’t said that.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to check out the shop. I figured you have good taste in Demonus, so if I ever wanted to get some as a present for somebody, buying from a shop you frequent would guarantee good quality.”

“You know, they sell cheap shit here, too. It’s better to learn about the brands than to just go to the store blindly.”

A pretty witch with such muscular arms that you couldn’t help but notice appeared from another aisle, carrying Mephisto’s Demonus, and cleared her throat knowingly.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that, Esme. You know I wouldn’t trust anyone other than you to procure the good stuff. Listen, MC, if you really want to know what’s good, come in and ask her. She moved to the Devildom just to open the shop – she couldn’t last if she didn’t know what she was doing.” Mephisto scrambled to not offend his favorite Demonus supplier.

“Don’t sweat in front of your cute little friend, Fifi~” she teased. You tried not to laugh at that nickname. “I know we sell Devil Tail Demonus – but some people like the bad stuff. Anyway, you’re pretty handy at recommending good Demonus, too. Just ask him if you want to know what to get, cutie.”

“First of all, this isn’t my friend. And second, I don’t have all the time in the world to explain the ins and outs of good Demonus.”

“Not friends? Lovers, then?” She set the case on the counter. “That’s a shame. I was hoping this little one might be into witches.”

“Definitely not!” Mephisto protested.

“Not into witches or not dating you?”

“Neither!” He handed Esme his black card.

“Hey, don’t speak for me!” You interrupted. That really got under his skin.

“You must be really flustered if you’re forgetting that you already paid when you put in the order. I mean, if you want to pay me twice, I’m cool with that.”

“Sorry.” He put the card back in his wallet quickly before grabbing his Demonus. “Thanks.”

The witch shook her head. “You certain there’s nothing going on here?”

“Oh, I’m basically in love with him,” you poked him gently, mindful of the case in his arms.

“Carrying a big case of alcohol here,” he sighed, “could you not?”

“That’s too bad,” Esme joked.

“I hate you both.”

“I love you, too,” you grinned.

“And I love that you’re a consistent patron – and a very entertaining one at that, with very cute non-friends.”

“Let’s go, MC,” Mephisto shifted the weight of his alcohol into one arm so he could grab you and pull you towards the exit.

“But I was going to look around.”

“Nope. Maybe another day. You’re helping me carry this back to my house. Not everyone has arms that could pop a demon’s head like a grape.” In truth, he could have called for a ride or any number of alternate solutions, but he was desperate to get you out of there. Witch? More like a succubus with all of that flirting.

Mephisto carried the bulk of it, only giving you one of the six bottles to carry. When you arrived at his home, he invited you in. With a short, “follow me,” he walked you down into his Demonus cellar.

“You’re not going to murder me and stuff me in a Demonus barrel, are you?” you asked.

“Good plan, but no. I’m just storing these in the proper place.”

He had them organized by origin Realm, millennia, and then century, with different shelves for woody, floral, fruity, and blended flavors. He even had a notebook near the entry to the cellar with an inventory that included notes for all the Demonus he had tried thus far. It was . . . very normal.

“Do you want to stay and try this new one? You did help me carry it home – consider it a thanks of sorts. It has to chill, but I suppose I could talk to you while we wait.”

“Oh, someone is softening up to me,” you teased. You weren’t entirely sure that he didn’t still hate you and that his upbringing just encouraged him to be polite. However, there was also no way that carrying that one bottle was even necessary. You smiled at him. “Sure, I’d love to try it with you.”

Mephisto took the bottle from your hand and brought you and his Demonus upstairs. He placed the bottle in a large, enclosed terrarium and tapped the glass. It started to snow inside the terrarium.

“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” In your awe, the pun flew over your head. He could have chilled it with magic – hell, even you could have chilled it with magic, but neither of you did.

Mephisto motioned for you to take a seat on the nearby couch before he sat down in the chair opposite to you. “So, you’re looking to buy Demonus for someone? Lucifer or Diavolo, I assume?”

“No. Not really, but I thought if I ever had to, it’d be good to know where to go.”

“Good.”

“Huh? Why is that good?”

“Fuck, are you really going to make me say it?”

“I think you’re going to have to, yeah.” He was being too vague.

“You better not be joking around when you tell people you love me, got it? Because I,” Mephisto squirmed in his chair, “I don’t like the idea of you buying gifts for some other demon. I don’t like witches flirting with you. And I completely abhor Lucifer putting his arm around you like some big-shot and walking you home.”

“You told me to go home with him!”

“I didn’t know it was going to piss me off, okay?” Mephisto crossed his arms over his chest like an indignant child.

“Shit, I really wore you down,” you teased. “You like me.”

“I like you when you shut up.”

“Make me.”

Oh, he had spent all night thinking about how he could shut you up (and how he could make you scream). You really hadn’t learned not to tempt demons, yet.