#i keep forgetting to post about it/work on it

[sluttyminghao]

♡ ︎title: off-limits, on his tongue ♡ ︎pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ ︎genre: smut, fluff ♡ ︎word count: 3.5k ♡ ︎au: brothers best friend ♡ ︎smut warnings: praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft dom seungkwan, possessiveness, almost getting caught ♡ ︎1/13 in the Thirteen Temptations Series ♡ ︎ a/n: I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! big thanks to @supi-wupi and @chanranghaeys for beta-ing, and all the feedback!

It wasn’t often you came to visit your brother, mainly because he lived over an hour away. Still, work had graciously given you a week’s leave after spearheading a huge project that succeeded, and you figured you could spend that time near the beach, forgetting everything existed. Because of the short notice, you weren’t able to find any suitable accommodation last minute, so he graciously offered up his guest bedroom, reminding you that he had three other roommates and to just keep out of their way.

The only person you knew in that house besides your brother was Seungkwan. He was a very soft-spoken, well-mannered man whom you had known for several years and got along great with. He was someone you occasionally hung out with outside of your brother, and with every interaction, every hug goodbye, you felt your heart swell. Everything about him was perfect. It was a shame that your brother would be appalled if you confessed to having feelings for him.

As you had grown older, you sometimes noticed Seungkwan staring at you a little too long, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs whenever you wore a bikini on a beach outing, and even once when you were changing and he’d accidentally walked into your room. You could see his cheeks grow red as he stumbled out an apology before turning on his heel quickly and removing himself from the awkward situation. You had to admit, you didn’t mind the staring, and sometimes you even provoked it.

However, when you moved away to college, you saw much less of him. You grew distant, aside from the occasional like or comment on a social media post. It was a long run, between pulling all-nighters for assignments and doing group projects with no effort from your team members, but eventually, you graduated with high honours and found yourself a good job closer to home.

As you pulled into his driveway and turned off your car, you could feel your pulse quicken. There was so much unspoken tension between you and Seungkwan that you wondered if there would be a chance for anything to happen while you were here. You pushed the thought away and grabbed your bags from the back seat before making your way up the steep driveway.

“Oh look, the pest has arrived.” Your brother's ragged voice makes you groan as you flip him off, with him reciprocating the gesture before pulling you into a hug and shutting the door behind you.

You met his roommates after toeing your shoes off at the front door: Joshua, who provided a friendly smile and wave from his perch on the couch. Chan, who offered you slightly burnt chocolate chip cookies with a sheepish smile, and Seungkwan, who offered up a smirk and slight wave that had your heart skip a beat. His gaze dropped to your body, dragging slowly over it like he had done all those years ago, making you flush. He’d dyed his hair darker since the last time you’d seen him, and you have to say, it made him look a hundred times hotter.

After some general small talk with the roommates and your brother, you glanced at the digital clock on the wall near the television, noting it was after 11 pm, the red numbers glaring at you. You realised how late it was and excused yourself to the guest room with a yawn, before trudging up the stairs to the guest room Chan had pointed out earlier. It surprised you with its neatness when you entered, given that four men were living in the house. The bed was already turned out for you, with a blue towel draped over the edge of the end of the bed and a lamp that lit up the room warmly. The best part was that you had your own bathroom, so you didn't have to share with the boys. Win-win.

The warm shower loosened your muscles. As you slipped into an old tank top and pyjama shorts from five years ago, you felt any tension slip from your body. Sliding under the covers, you hoped that the power of sleep would wash over you so you could be rested for your presentation in the morning.

It never came.

You tossed and turned, eyes not even willing to stay shut for more than five minutes. Even listening to and watching your favourite ASMR videos wasn't helping. Surely Seungkwan wasn’t the reason you were unable to sleep, it couldn't be. You had hardly seen him in the last few years. But, you couldn't stop thinking about the way Seungkwan had bore his eyes into you the moment you walked into the house, his eyes burning with something you couldn't quite place, but with the way his gaze dragged slowly over your body, you figured it was his hormones at play.

You sighed in defeat and removed your body from its warm cocoon, blindly making your way to the kitchen that still smelled faintly of burnt cookies. It was a wonder they hadn't burned the place down.

The hallway is dimly lit when you creep into the kitchen for some iced water, the soft hum of the fridge filling the calm silence within the household. You didn’t expect to find him already there, leaning against the counter in a loose hoodie, legs hardly covered by his sleep shorts, and his hair sticking out in all directions from what you presume was a deep sleep.

Seungkwan looks up from his phone, his eyes tracing you lazily. “Can’t sleep either?”

His voice, laced with sleep, deep and slightly crackly, hits a nerve deep inside you that has you pressing your thighs together to try and stop the rush of heat to your core. You hated how much he affected you.

You nod, your heartbeat already skipping due to the conversation. You hadn’t seen much of him this trip, but whenever you had, he’d looked at you just a little too long, and almost too slow. It was nearly like he was trying not to think dirty things about you, and losing that battle every single time.

“I thought you were avoiding me,” you murmur, half joking, setting your glass down.

He smirks and steps closer to you. His voice is lower than it was before, almost feeling like velvet-wrapped sin that has your breath hitching in your throat and your pulse quickening. “I was. Didn’t seem to work too well though.”

You try to laugh it off, hoping that his sentence means what you think it does, but your breath catches when his fingers brush lightly against your arm, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch, which didn't go unnoticed by him. 

“You shouldn’t be out here dressed like that,” he says, eyes flicking down to your flimsy tank top and short shorts, a mischievous grin spreading across his smug features. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Your silence betrays your answer.

He steps forward into your space, crowding you against the wall. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers.

You don’t dare say a word, not when he’s this close to you.

He exhales shakily—you aren't sure if it’s out of nervousness or adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hand slowly slides up your waist, almost like he’s taking his time, while the other braces itself beside your head. “I’ve wanted to hold you since the second you walked into this house.”

His mouth hovers by your ear.  “But I’m a gentleman… so I’m gonna ask you as nicely as possible before the lust clouds my brain entirely.” 

You gulp and close your eyes as you feel his warm breath beside your ear, your mind obscuring with want as he whispers what you had desperately wanted to hear since you had arrived.  “Can I put my hands on you, baby?”

You nod fervently, almost too quickly. He clicks his tongue, a smirk toying on his lips once again.

“Use your words, baby.”

“…Yes.”

And then he devours you.

His mouth is hot and skilled, he’s kissing you like he’s waited years just for this to happen. His hands roam your skin gently at first, then progress rather fast to needy, then straight to possessive. He lifts you onto the counter with a low grunt, parting your trembling legs with practised ease.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of you, eyes peeking up at you through his soft, dark locks. “That for me?”

He kisses up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing sinfully along your skin, his smile wicked and almost daring. “I haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.”

You quiver when he skillfully pulls your shorts and panties to the side, his tongue sliding out to wet his lips as the hunger grows in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but he does dart his eyes back to yours, his pupils completely blown with the lust consuming every inch of his body. It was almost like a silent consent between the both of you, as he moves himself forward to attach his tongue to your cunt like it was his lifeline.

As his tongue finds you, his voice never leaves you, almost like a mantra that he’s repeating and will never get tired of.  “That’s it, baby, just like that.”

“God, you taste so sweet.”

“Don’t hide your voice, I wanna hear every sound I pull out of you, even if that means waking up the rest of this house.”

You’re panting and writhing under his wicked tongue, your knuckles turning a dangerous shade of white as you grip the counter like it’ll save you from unravelling. When your back arches and when you cry out his name, he moans into you like it’s his reward. He spends a good amount of time afterwards sucking and licking your sensitive skin and bud, stretching you to a point where your trembles continue despite already orgasming.

Through it all, as you ride out your high, he presses soft kisses to your thighs and whispers:

“You’re never staying in the guest room again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn’t let you walk. Instead, he carries you princess-style with ease, his plush lips ghosting against your cheek as he whispers, “No way I’m letting you wobble around the house after the way you fell apart on my tongue.”

His room is quiet and cool, neat in that almost perfectionist way that had you questioning if men were as messy as you thought. He gently places you on the bed as if you were made of glass. Despite his gentle gestures, your body was still buzzing with the memory of how roughly he had made you cum no more than ten minutes ago.

“I need you to tell me,” he murmurs, leaning down so that he’s kneeling between your thighs again. “Is this just for tonight… or do I get to have you for real?”

You breathe, your words coming out shakier than you had expected them to, “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And he loses it.

His hoodie is off and tossed onto the floor mere seconds after you give him the green light, revealing his toned arms and a chest you knew was hiding under all that fluff and charm. His kisses now? They’re messy and hungry, and the possessive edge returning as it had earlier, like he's been starved for weeks and you're the first tantalising, addictive bite of sin.

“You have absolutely no idea,” he growls against your throat, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh, “how many times I’ve imagined this body spread out on my bed, how many times I’ve jerked off to the thought of you, how often I’ve fucked my hand to get myself over the edge thinking I was inside of you.”

His hands explore your body like he’s learning by feel: a firm but sensual grip on your hips, a teasing drag of fingers over your overly sensitive breasts, nipples pebbling at the cool touch of his flesh against yours. He takes his time removing your clothes, watching how your body reacts and worshipping every inch of you, even the parts you were insecure about.

When you whimper, your thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction, he chuckles.

“You want my fingers?” he coos, sliding two up your inner thigh, seeming like a challenge, but one you weren’t going to argue with. “You’re dripping, angel. You don’t have to beg for anything, but I do like it when you do.”

You whisper his name, afraid that if you speak any louder, you’ll wake up his roommates or, even worse, your brother.

“Louder.”

“Please, Seungkwan, I need you to touch me.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, lips curving as his fingers slide into you with sinful ease. “You’re so damn tight. So good for me.”

And it only gets hotter from there.

He talks you through every single movement he makes, his voice equally as warm as it was filthy, it makes your eyes roll back so far you think you almost see your brain.

“That’s it, ride my fingers, baby.” “God, look at how you clench around me when I say your name, fuck.” “You wanna cum again? Right here, on my hand? Say it.”

When you do finally cum on his fingers, your body trembling and whimpers passing over your swollen lips, he guides you through your orgasm with a breathless, filthy sweetness that could almost make you cum again from the sultry tone alone:

“Good girl. Just like that. Let it all go, I’ve got you.”

And he doesn’t stop.

You’re gasping and whining when he finally rises above you, his toned frame over your own and his perfect cock pressed to your entrance, throbbing with want. His voice softens once again; it’s still dark and still dripping with desire, but now it’s laced with something just a touch more vulnerable than it had been.

“I don’t just wanna fuck you,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face, the action alone making your heart race and your cheeks burn. “I want to make you feel like no one else ever has.”

He slides himself in slowly, inch by deliciously eye-watering inch, all whilst watching every single twitch of your lips, and every stutter of breath. He groans onto your lips, low and ragged, and only further coiling the rope of heat that had settled deep into your abdomen.

“You fit me so fucking perfectly. Like this was meant to happen.”

He rocks his hips rhythmically into you, deep and steady, while he holds eye contact as he whispers pure sin to you, as if you were the only two left in the universe:

“You take me so well. Every time you squeeze around me, I wanna lose it.” “You’re mine now, right? All mine?” “I don’t care if your brother or the others here find out. Let them. Let the whole house hear who’s making you scream.”

You pull him down into a passionate kiss, and the rhythm of his movements shifts into one that’s more desperate and wet, both of your bodies slick and writhing together in harmony, your moans tangled in kisses, skin slapping obscenely against skin.

In a bold move, he pulls your leg over his waist, hitting deeper inside you than you thought was even possible. You whine at the sudden stretch, almost like you were feeling him inside your cervix. He smirks, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you now.

“There it is. That’s the sound I needed to hear from you, angel.”

You cum again without any warning, white flashing across your eyes and your body arching up so high that your chest hits his, your nails digging into his back, likely leaving crescent-shaped marks that would remain for days. He grits his teeth and moans as he refrains from cumming inside you, breathing through his nose to help slow his orgasm down so you could bask in your orgasm glow. 

He felt the way you squeezed around him like a vice, and he knew he couldn't hold back anymore, your body making him succumb within only a few moments. With a grunt, he pulls himself out of you just as he starts to cum, painting your abdomen and thighs with his load, his hips stuttering while he pants your name like a prayer. He collapses beside you, pulling you to his chest and kissing your temple like he didn’t just ruin you completely.

After lying in comfortable silence for a while, he gets up and goes to the other side of his room and comes back with a towel and water bottle. He cleans you up with the surprisingly warm towel, kisses every inch he potentially bruised, looking at some of the marks with concern etched deep into his features. You’re tucked under his arm, wrapped in his scent, the room still humming with leftover heat.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, smiling against his skin. “Better than okay.”

He laughs softly. “Good. Because this isn’t just a one-night thing. Not after that.”

You look up. “No?”

He kisses you again, slower this time, more controlled and fuelled with adoration.

“No, baby. That was the first time I claimed you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, the clean smell of laundry detergent and soft skin, and the soft, rhythmic thudding of Seungkwan’s heartbeat beneath your cheek.

He’s still half-asleep, hair messy and lips parted as he takes in slow, deep breaths. His arms are locked tightly around your waist, almost like you might disappear if he lets go. When you shift slightly in his grip, trying to slip out of his comfortable bed, his grip tightens on your waist instantly.

“Mmm-mm,” he groans, voice raspy and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not yet. If you leave this bed, I’ll just drag you back.”

You laugh at his possessiveness so early in the morning, quietly and fondly. “You’re clingy in the morning.”

“I just claimed you last night,” he whines into your neck. “Do you think I’m going to be letting you go this soon?”

He rolls over, pulling you with him, so now you’re straddling his hips, your body bare beneath his oversized hoodie, which he must’ve pulled over you sometime in the night. He grins up at you, eyes still half-lidded, laced with adoration, with possibly a hint of heat.

“You look good in my clothes. Kinda makes me want to take them off you again.”

You try to climb off him, or pretend to just to get a reaction from him, but he immediately grabs your hips with both hands, holding you still. His thumbs stroke slow circles into your thighs, emanating a warmth you hadn't realised was there.

“Stay right there,” he says, voice dripping with lust-laced venom. “I want my morning treat.”

You raise an eyebrow, perplexed and intrigued by his bold moves. “Are you always like this when you wake up?”

“No,” he says simply. “Just with you.”

He pulls you a little further forward so that you’re now sitting more on his chest, your body heating up even more with the slight friction of the pull, and also with the way he’s staring at you, like he’s trying to claim you again. He leans up as far as his body will allow, his mouth trailing up your inner thigh before pausing.

“...Unless, you’d rather I start with a kiss up here first?” he teases, his eyes flicking to your lips. “I could behave.”

You grin, licking your lips and letting a hand fall through his messy strands. “I don’t want you to behave.”

He hums. “Good girl.”

Before you realise it, you’ve been flipped again, your back pressing into the warm spot of the bed where Seungkwan had lain just seconds earlier. His hands are caging your head, and the smirk on his lips has only grown, seeing you in this vulnerable position. Just as he starts to slide down the bed, there’s a knock at the bedroom door. Then a voice.

“Hey, you guys seen my charger? I���wait.”

You freeze. It’s your brother.

“Why is your door locked, Seungkwan? What are you hiding in there?”

You scramble off him like you’ve just been lit on fire, cheeks flaming, trying to tug the oversized hoodie lower over your body in hopes of covering yourself, but failing miserably.

Seungkwan, still lying bare and smug on the bed, calls out without missing a beat: “I’m busy! Try again in an hour!”

You mouth “an hour?!” at him, and he just winks. When the footsteps finally leave, he sits up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist again, lips brushing your neck.

“You should just stay in my bed the rest of the weekend.”

You turn to him, heart thudding. “And after that?”

He leans in closer, voice soft but sure. “After that… you’re mine. For good.”

[astrolook]

🎤Unpopular Opinion: Debilitation of Planets in Astrology💬

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

A planet is considered debilitated when placed in certain signs; its energy would be the opposite, weak or diminished. The planet would give malefic results. But not all debilitated planets are bad. A single planetary placement or aspect can't determine the outcome. Debilitated planets can lead to positive outcomes as well. You can consider this post for your natal chart(D1), D9 or any divisional charts. Vedic focused post.

Sun is debilitated in Libra - First off, everyone born under the Libra zodiac season is gonna have a debilitated Sun. The Sun represents ego and authority, but Libra seeks balance and compromise, two things the Sun isn’t great at. It’s like putting a spotlight in a room full of mirrors. The light scatters, and the focus fades. Sun thrives on decisiveness, but in Libra, it weighs every option like choosing which restaurant to eat at. Libra Sun people cater to the needs of others, forgetting their own. Libra is all about "we" and Sun is all about "me". The positive side of this debilitated Sun is that it's leadership with diplomacy. The ego takes a backseat, giving space to social intelligence and emotional tact. Thrives in partnerships by bringing light to shared goals, not just solo ambition. A natural peacemaker. I don't see why it's bad. Even exaltation can give bad results at certain positions, like the Sun in the Aries 12th house. Until they move somewhere else or work behind the scenes, this Sun makes a native feel like a background character in their own life.

Moon is debilitated in Scorpio - The Moon wants emotional safety, whereas Scorpio wants emotional intensity. Moon wants to be seen and felt, but Scorpio wants to stay locked in. Scorpio Moon people would sulk in the corner like, "No one gets me!" but the Scorpio is like, "Cool! Let's keep it that way." These natives are the kind to cry behind sunglasses. On the positive side, these natives don't break easily and are human lie detectors. Scorpio Moon natives aren't afraid of the dark, they grow in it. They feel others' emotions and can be a safe haven for others. Moon is exalted in Taurus and if it's in the 6th, 8th or 12th house or aspected by Saturn, North node or Mars, even this exaltation can give results like mental unrest, health issues, hormonal imbalance, etc.

Mercury is debilitated in Pisces - Mercury wants logic and Pisces swims in feelings. Mercury loves clarity and Pisces loves mystery. Mercury is all about details, whereas Pisces blurs them. In Pisces, instead of a direct answer, these natives talk in metaphors or symbols without getting to the point. Decision-making gets foggy. On the positive side, this placement is great for poets, artists, fantasy writers, singers, lyricists, etc. Pisces Mercury sees beyond the box, they live outside it. These natives are drawn to the invisible layers of life and are great at making intuitive leaps where logic falls short. Mercury is exalted in Virgo and in certain positions, like Mercury in the 8th or 12th, can cause severe anxiety and nervous disorders. Virgo Mercury natives can sometimes be tone-deaf and can have little empathy.

Venus is debilitated in Virgo - Venus wants a candlelit dinner, whereas Virgo notices if the lighting is too warm or the cutlery is sanitized. Venus loves to write a poem, but the Virgo proofreads it until all the feelings are gone. Venus is about seeing beauty in everything and acceptance, but Virgo is like, "But my hairstyle doesn't match my aura!". Venus wants harmony whereas Virgo wants improvement. Venus loves beauty whereas Virgo gets lost in flaws. On the positive side, Virgo Venus natives express their love through acts of service. These baby-faced cat energy natives see the beauty in the practical. Can be picky in relationships and won't waste their time on short-term affairs. Venus flows but Virgo Venus edits to fit their theme. An exalted Venus in Pisces in the 6th can have poor boundaries, leading to over-giving. In the 12th, they can be sacrificing and put their partner on a pedestal or have secret affairs. In the 8th, they can attract abusive partners due to their idealization of love.

Mars is debilitated in Cancer - Mars wants action whereas Cancer wants emotion. One wants to fight, the other wants to feel. Mars is direct and to the point, but Cancer is sideways. Cancer Mars sulks and simmers. Decision-making becomes emotionally biased. Instead of direct rage, you get cold silence, guilt trips or "I'm fine" with death stares. On the positive side, Cancer Mars gives the "mama-bear" energy. These natives win quietly and won't advertise their accomplishments. Cancer Mars takes action when it really matters. An exalted Mars in Capricorn can be blunt or bossy, even in personal settings. If it's in the 8th or 12th house can become self-destructive in some cases. Can have anger issues.

Jupiter is debilitated in Capricorn - Jupiter wants you to have faith in the Universe/ God but Capricorn wants proof. Jupiter expands whereas Capricorn restricts. Jupiter brings hope but Capricorn is cautious and won't move an inch without a backup plan. Philosophy meets harsh reality. On the positive side, these natives turn their big dreams into solid, long-term goals. Their faith isn't blind, it's earned. They won't believe until they experience it firsthand. Slow and steady growth, the growth that lasts and leaves a legacy. An exalted Jupiter in Cancer, their belief and value systems are emotionally driven. They give away too much of their time, money or trust to people who don't deserve that and end up feeling drained/ exhausted. May resist growth if it means leaving their emotional “nest” or support bubble, especially in the 3rd or 4th house.

Saturn is debilitated in Aries - Saturn is like a slow cooker whereas Aries is a microwave. Aries wants to lead but Saturn is like, "Well, earn it!". Hard lessons in control. Aries can be like, "Why can't I have it?" and Saturn would be like, "Bcoz you're not ready." Explosive frustration. On the positive side, these natives are tough cookies. Aries Saturn people evolve fast. Others reach level by level, but these natives skip a few levels due to maturing faster than others. An exalted Saturn in Libra can become paralyzed in decision-making. Can try to fix everyone around them, especially in the 1st or 7th. Prone to attracting people who are emotionally cold towards them.

North Node is debilitated in Sagittarius - Lol, this placement is like a philosophy class being run by a conspiracy theorist. The North node just can't stick to one belief system. Might practice three different religions within a year or so. Sagittarius likes spiritual direction, but the NN is obsessed with anything foreign, forbidden and wild. Sagittarius wants to go deep into one philosophy. NN would be trying Buddhism this month, Witchcraft next month and invests in cryptocurrency in between. Can be cult-like thinkers, in some cases. On the positive side, these natives challenge dogma and are drawn to higher knowledge. Can be visionary thinkers if it's aspected by Saturn or Jupiter. Seeks purpose beyond success. They might fall for a few fake gurus first, but when they finally get it, they really get it.

South Node is debilitated in Gemini - Gemini is all about intellect, but SN is like, "I don't care, everything is an illusion." SN can't handle Gemini's endless questions, it would rather meditate in silence than debate logic. Gemini is social but SN wants to be alone. Gemini juggles with hundreds of interests whereas SN deletes all apps permanently. SN is like an ancient soul forced to deal with a toddler. On the positive side, SN rejects surface-level info and can access deep insights, spiritual or metaphysical. These natives can't be fooled by trends or fake news. They know that the celeb X and celeb Y aren't into each other and just doing it for clout and money. They walk with the "I'm too old for this" vibe and don't give a s#!t about what that model with 15M followers on insta had for breakfast.

Note: There is a debate over NN-SN signs of debilitation and exaltation. Some say it's Taurus - Scorpio, others say it's Gemini - Sagittarius. Personally, I stick to the Gemini-Sagittarius signs as I find it makes more sense to me.

✨🔍Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[kabsey]

My new obsession: Illario Dellamorte, secret nerd

He’s under house arrest post-Veilguard, and he is bored out of his fucking mind. He has nothing to do but drink and needle Lucanis until Spite shows up. (He avoids Spite at all costs. He also avoids Rook because she once implied she had a poison that could render him permanently impotent. He’s pretty sure it’s bullshit, but he is not willing to risk it.)

One day he’s wandering the villa, feeling sorry for himself, and he passes Lucanis’s office, which he is not supposed to enter. The door is open, and describing the interior as chaos would be understating the mess. Piles of papers cover every surface, and even from the hallway, Illario can see that it’s not even organized chaos. One of his eyes starts twitching and his hands are just itching to organize it all, and he finally decides “Fuck it” and goes in.

He gets so into the task that he forgets to be alarmed when Rook shows up.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demands.

“What the hell am I doing?” Illario repeats. “What the hell is Lucanis doing? He’s got House accounts mixed in with the family holdings, contracts with reports…” He holds up a sheaf of papers and shakes them at her. “He signed a contract for one of our specialists at the normal master rate! Is he trying to make us all homeless?”

Instead of calling him a melodramatic ass and dragging him out by the ear, Rook realizes this could be the solution to all the headaches she and Lucanis have been struggling to deal with.

“Do you know what ‘contingent liability’ is?” she asks.

Illario scoffs. “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”

“Congratulations,” Rook announces. “You’re now Lucanis’s secretary.”

That gets his attention. “What.”

“You’re always bitching about how bored you are.” Rook grins at him. “You’re welcome.”

And she leaves him there to wrestle with his reaction. On the one hand, he can now continue with his task without risk of being saddled with a limp dick. On the other hand… Lucanis’s secretary?

But when they actually start working together, Lucanis is so genuinely grateful and impressed that Illario can’t even find the urge to snipe at him anymore. They start getting along better than they have in a long time. And Illario genuinely enjoys the work, though he keeps up appearances by complaining frequently.

Eventually he handles high-level contract negotiations personally because he’s better at it than even the professionals they employ. The nobles who hire them always think they’re getting a great deal… until the final invoice comes and they realize Illario has taken them to the cleaners. They start grumbling behind his back (not to his face—he’s still a Crow after all) and calling him “the Shark of House Dellamorte.”

When that gets back to Illario, he flashes a sharp-toothed grin. It may not sound quite as intimidating as “the Demon of Vyrantium,” but at least he didn’t need Viago to make up his nickname.

[catsoupki]

I’LL BE HERE (WAITING) (8.0K) AO3

pairing - katsuki bakugou x reader

synopsis - you first meet ground zero when he needs a place to be alone. now, coffee, for bakugou, becomes less a necessity and more of an excuse to see you, maybe.

cw - FLUFFY !!!!! WHOLESOME !!!!! pro!hero bakugou, coffee shop AU, hurt/comfort but the hurt is very brief, canon-typical violence, reader has no specified quirk, typos

a/n - inspired by “sunflowers don’t grow in the city” but i can no longer find that work on ao3 :( finally decided to cross-post this ancient relic from ao3 after editing a bit

taglist - @cashmoneyyysstuff @staraxiaa @hatsukeii

wednesday

You swear that when you catch feelings, which you will as much as you promise you won’t, you’ll keep quiet, you won’t tell your closest friends, you won’t even have the chance to deny the guess even if it were correct because your friends wouldn’t know that you have a crush to begin with. You’ll watch, you’ll listen, and you’ll do those in silence too; they won’t confess because people just don’t do that nowadays, and you sure as hell won’t either because everything eventually falls apart, and you’re already busy from picking up the pieces from before.

Maybe you’re still making yourself more likeable, paying too much attention to details nobody cares about, maybe you’re still making people fall for you intentionally, maybe you’re not, who knows? But what you do know is that you won’t fuss over having a crush anymore, because people grow aloof, they turn selfish, and things get messy, and more so, they get too tiring to be cared for.

thursday

You find that you often attach your emotions to songs; right now, before closing, you’re feeling the same exact feeling you felt all those years ago, back when you were 16 years old, after school, giggling with your friends, drawing little hearts next to your crushes’ names, all huddled up around your desk talking about boys, the homework that was originally the whole entire reason why you got together in the first place laid ignored on it too; back then, it felt like you were eternity.

And back then, never have you imagined that by the time you were at the age of twenty three, you’d be working at your own cafe, well, sort of, half cafe half library.

friday

It’s getting cold, again. Right after the A/C gets fixed when it hasn’t been working the entire summer. The sun is starting to reach the counter earlier again. You’ve missed this. You hope you’re not being basic, but you love autumn so much, and the amount of mochas you can get without being judged since you are the boss at a fucking cafe after all. You’re being basic. Fuck it. Cause you love being basic.

The moon really does offer solace, to the ones drowning in their own thoughts, to the ones that are bored out of their minds. Never moving, just, there. The crickets.. quacking? (You laughed at that, your own joke) Cricketing? They’re behind your ears, you feel like you are out of place somehow, wherein you should be in a movie instead. The city lights, the blurring ones, they’re so pretty: the red, white, and blueish ones? Flashing flashlights on faraway mountains, on the tips of airplanes, I guess you never really realise how fast they’re flying until you’re on the ground and looking up, standing still. You think you can close the cafe early today, you have to open at six tomorrow, God please let me get a good night of sleep. It’ll be fine though. It always is.

saturday

Today, the Number Two Hero visited your cafe. I know. Crazy right? You couldn’t really freak out over it though, since this is a place supposedly made for people to find the quietness that they need. You don’t know why you’re so surprised that Ground Zero (number two hero!) does in fact wear normal clothes. He is still human after all, you sometimes forget that, that they’re mortal. Anyway, he looks totally different compared to what he does on billboards, where he’d either be in his hero costume or some high end fashion suits that probably cost more than this cafe. He’s just wearing that. Sweatpants and a tank top. I mean, boring but definitely flattering. He isn’t a hero for nothing, his job is literally to stay in tip-top shape. To fight bad guys or whatever.

Okay that’s a bit mean, he does keep the streets safe, but he’s kinda rude, yeah you get it, you’re exhausted from the constant flashes surrounding you, but really no need to scream at everything and everyone you see. He hasn’t screamed here today, though.

Maybe you don’t get it, after all.

Other than him, nothing interesting has happened. All the same, teenagers that either bring other teenagers here to take aesthetic pictures and look at books or they bring their very reluctant significant others here. It’s always a victory to see said partners grow fonder of this place as they spend time here. Small wins. You know its charm, that was the whole reason why you bought it.

Blondie left after a few hours, right when the sun was setting, it’s a shame that he didn’t stay, the view there is always the best out of the entire harbour. It’s also a shame you didn’t ask for his autograph, you could have sold it for something, that’s a certain.

ᝰ

He scoffs as he reads that line, of course you only want his autograph to sell it for money.

ᝰ

sunday

On again, off again, love you like oxygen

You heard that on the radio today when you were driving to the grocery store, and fell into one of your melancholic episodes again. You wanna be in love, can someone love you? Please? You know it’s stupid and selfish and just ridiculously not right to wait and do nothing until someone finally makes the move, and expect them to be the perfect match to all your standards, but can’t a girl dream?

6:47 pm, Ground Zero comes in again. At the spot he sat last time too. Near the window, at the corner on your left. All depressed and quiet and stuff. So for the entire day, he was at the corner of your eye, grumbling under his breath for whatever worries he has, or had, you hope the cafe eases at least one away.

monday

The weekend is over, for five days you’ll be writing in this journal for ninety percent of your work day, which is actually very fine with you. In the morning, you had the biggest order of this month come in, five new york cheesecakes, five iced americanos, six iced bubble teas, and one matcha muffin. You hope their party is going well. You wonder whether they’re having a farewell party, but this early in the morning and on a Monday? They’re definitely living the good life.

He comes in, again. It’s the third time this week, the atmosphere was kinda nice before he came in, I mean, it couldn’t really be bad since you were the only person there. He sits in front of you this time. The table that is closest to you, which happens to be in front of you too. He also orders a black coffee besides the usual chocolate chip muffin. Of course Dynamight would drink coffee as dark as his soul, straight, bitter, like him.

tuesday

You’ll have to stay till late to clean up. A typhoon without prior notice hit the harbour so everybody came in here to hide from the rain, so the floor is wet as hell. Hopefully you don’t fall, you don’t want an ass print on your pants.

The cafe is crowded today, a lot of tired workers came in after they got released early to go home, only to get hit by the heavy rain on their way back; and also you had a lot, a lot, of students. Reminds you of the days where you’d make plans with your friends without checking the weather forecast first, but today there was only one hero, though.

And who would have guessed that he’d be the one for small talk?

ᝰ

“Why do you have so many romance novels in this shithole?” He mumbles as he looks around at the books as if they were gonna attack him.

“First, it isn’t a shithole. And second, I’m a sucker for love.” You smile. His heart skips a beat.

ᝰ

“You’re always writing in that journal, what could possibly be interesting enough here to fill that many pages?” He asks you, laying his forearm on the counter, while you’re tapping away at the screen at the drink he just ordered. With a frown on his face, of course.

Villains are humans too, and apparently they don’t like wreaking havoc in the rain either.

He’s grown to like you more. Or maybe just the cafe. Maybe. He doesn’t have to deal with the press or any obnoxious fans or anything here, really. You didn’t react, like at all, when he first came in. He skipped breakfast that day since he woke up late, he got home later than usual the previous night, and fell asleep on the couch immediately, so he didn’t get the chance to set an alarm either. Luckily he still made it to his patrol the next day on time though, he just gave up his precious food for it.

“It isn’t interesting, but wouldn’t you want to know, maybe a few years later, exactly what you were thinking on this particular day?” His answer is no, no he would not like to know what he was thinking back in his UA days.

Read: no he would not like to know what he was thinking back in his horny puberty days.

The rest of the customers have left already, since the downpour had calmed to a quiet drizzle by then, but Bakugou hasn’t gotten his order yet. He’ll tell you to hurry up, that he has somewhere to be, but he doesn’t, because he didn’t have anywhere to be at all. Even if he does, if he had the choice, he’d stay here, with you maybe.

ᝰ

wednesday

It’s becoming a routine at this point. Between six thirty pm to seven o’clock, he comes in and orders his coffee, then he leans against the wall and watches me clean up the tables and prepare for closing.

Sometimes he’ll help you open the rubbish bin when you’re walking there with the broom and tray already taking up space in your hands, but most of the time he just watches you, like a hawk. Though he still washes his own glass, the glass that holds his bad choice in drinks, (black coffee is disgusting, you stand by it) you don’t think he knows that you still have to wash it again after he leaves.

When he does, you flip the sign from open to close, you shut off the lights, then you take the glass along with your bag and walk upstairs to your apartment and wash it there.

You hope you’ll see him again tomorrow.

thursday

Sales have been going down. The rest of your income that usually goes to your savings is going down. The bills stay the same, the rent stays the same, but income is going down.

You sold three more vanilla cupcakes when you were waiting for him at 7:01 pm. You hope you’ll see him tomorrow, you didn’t today.

friday

ᝰ

(His heart is pumping: You hoped to see him again today.)

Friday is still empty, but he looks at it anyway. He knows he shouldn’t be here reading your private thoughts, now that his head is flooding with them, but the thing that you’ve been writing in since the day he first visited the cafe was right there in front of him, exposed and naked on the counter, inches away from his tapping pointer finger when you were in the back readying the batch of muffins needed for tomorrow’s early baking.

Now, he’s thinking that maybe he should treat the agency to a pastry or two, or thirty, or more, tomorrow, from his favourite half cafe half library, sort of, anyway.

ᝰ

“What?” His assistant asks him, eyes unblinking, what did her boss just request?

“It’s not that fucking difficult to understand, order a drink and a snack of everybody’s choice from the corner street cafe down the harbour. I’ll put the extra money in your November paycheck.”

“From Espresso Express?”

“..yes.”

The agency is in a better mood after that, chirpy, despite all the calls coming in to report villains causing trouble, people going in and out, in and out to stop the trouble, and some needing the many, many first-aid kits in the building, everyone is chirpy, and so are you.

ᝰ

friday

Today, the biggest fucking order came in, since the entirety of the cafe’s history, shit you not. Twenty iced bubble teas, eleven hot ones, two lattes, two caramel shakes, ten new york cheesecakes, ten matcha muffins, ten chocolate chip muffins, and five vanilla cupcakes. Bless whoever made that order. This month’s income just jumped ¥36000. That’s enough to pay two and a half months worth of bills, mind you.

ᝰ

The door swings open, making the tiny bell on the door ring a few times, zephyrs running through the strings of his hair, making him even more attractive than he already was in his matching tracksuit.

“How was today’s sales?” the first thing he asks after walking into the cafe. And when he looks up, he sees the tiniest smile decorating your face. Then what the fuck does it take for this shitty woman to laugh?

“Well, very, very well. Your patrol?”

The question definitely shocked him a bit, not really, so you do know that he’s a pro hero, how come you’ve never made a reaction before? He is the number two hero after all, it didn’t phase him that you knew who he was, right?

“More villains, nothing I couldn’t handle though, some stupid shitty pickpocketing gangs that didn’t even put any thought into the whole process, if you’re gonna wreak havoc at least do it well.”

And you laugh. So that’s what it takes?

He notices that you are placing two plates down on the table he is sitting at, hm you look cute in that apron.

“Don’t you dare waste my food, I’ll fucking kill you, pro hero or not.” He takes it back.

ᝰ

saturday

I saved her today.

ᝰ

The sound of glass shattering makes you jump, looking up immediately you are met with the sight of civilians running, almost over each other. You grab your bag at once and dash outside, the stupidest decision you could make.

Running while carrying a tote bag is more difficult than you imagined. It bumps into everything, flipped over cars and other running people mostly, but never mind because your tote bag is knocked out of your hands when a blast of water is shot at your back so hard that you fall to your knees. You immediately feel the skin tearing from the rough asphalt road and your muscles bruising from the impact, you get up immediately though, it doesn’t matter if you lose your phone, or your wallet, or your entire bag, just not your life.

Then your ear drums almost burst from the sound of explosions, but you couldn’t be happier, to see him.

Him— he looks oddly handsome. In his hero costume, he’s shooting explosions from his palms, simultaneously yelling at people to run, but you can’t, couldn’t, your legs are glued to the ground, you’ fucking stuck.

“Dumbass hide!” And you can only assume ‘dumbass’ to be you, as there is only you on the street.

So as much as you don’t want to, you run as quickly as your legs would allow you to hide behind an alleyway, you hear sirens coming from afar, the cops are here, he wouldn’t need to face the stupid fuck face lowly shit villain alone anymore.

Never mind, ducking your head to peek at the fight is the stupidest decision you’ve made so far, as your face becomes the big red target of both a water blast and an explosion, your head shoots backwards and it bashes into the concrete wall, you grow dizzy, your line of vision is slipping, or are you the one slipping? You couldn’t tell. At least you got to see him once. His eyes grow wide.

Fuck you and you villains, you stupid fuck face.

He quickly finishes the fight, letting the police handle the rest (mostly damage control) as he is hurrying to you, the paramedics couldn’t see you, so there is only him.

He knows where you live, from the times you head upstairs. He tells you that’s he’s leaving, but in reality, he flies to the rooftop next door, and for the first half an hour of his night patrols, he listens to your dragging footsteps up the staircase, to the tired door click, to your record player, to you singing along, to the sounds of you washing his glass, to the sounds of your muffled singing in the shower, while he finishes the muffin you gave him. And at around one o’clock, he’ll go home, when his limbs become laden with a satisfying exhaustion, when he knows you’re safely tucked in bed, dreaming, maybe of him, hopefully him.

Now, as you’re slung over his shoulder with his hand on your calves making sure you don’t fall off, he searches for the tote bag he knows you have, dirty on the side of the road, no doubt it got stepped on as people were evacuating. He picks it up with his other hand, trying to search for the key in it, and he walks to your apartment door.

ᝰ

Your head is pounding, that’s for sure. You also hear the sound of your record player playing, the lights from your living room almost blinding you. Woah, sensory overload.

“Good, you’re finally awake, dumbass.” That’s the first thing you hear, great. “I need to change the bandages around your head, they’re already fucking bleeding through, it’s barely been two hours, fucking Christ.” He cursed how many times? While you’re still trying to register everything around you.

Why is he in your apartment? Why do you have bandages around your— Oh. Right.

“Sit up, woman! I don’t have all day!”

That is a lie, he does have all day, in fact he could stay here all week if he wanted to, if you wanted him to.

So you do, you sit up, and immediately your center of gravity is somehow all down at your back and you’re falling again, not as bad as last time certainly, your house doesn’t have a concrete alleyway nor does it have a villain whose superpower is blasting water that is fighting with the number two hero—

But your head almost hits the armrest on your couch, though it doesn’t, because his hand is placed on your upper back to stop that.

“Be a bit more careful, will you? You already have a mild concussion.” He growled before rolling his eyes, without real malice behind it, but he doesn’t know if you know that.

Your hand grasps his shirt, then onto the back of the couch. Since you have your eyes closed — it’s still taking you a bit to get used to the strong lights, your head is already tight as shit — and thank God you have your eyes closed, because the tips of his ears are so fucking red. You basically just unintentionally face-planted into his chest (with your eyes closed), what the fuck.

He unwraps the tight bandages on your head and replaces them with new ones, trying to calm himself down. (“Can you make them looser please? I’ll have a severe concussion and not just a mild one if you don’t.” you ask, very politely too, which he responds to with: “Fuck’s sakes woman they’re supposed to be tight so it’ll stop the bleeding.”)

He orders you to sleep (“You need a lot of rest and drink a lot of water, eat more things that contain iron since you lost a lot of blood.” “Sure doc.” “Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you.” “Sure doc.” And he hears you laugh the second time, so he lets you go) He screams at you to sleep once more, so you request him to support you and offer balance while you walk to the bed. And as he leaves, “Come back tomorrow.”

So he does.

ᝰ

You wake up to the sounds of knocking, you didn’t close the curtains last night, which is fine since right now it wakes you up more to greet the door. Right before you do that though, you do try and fix your bed hair a bit more, and splash some cold water on your face to wake your swollen face up, maybe you would do something else too but his knocks (bangs) are gonna break the door soon so you open it first.

“Go back to sleep.”

“You woke me up.”

“Jesus okay! Suit yourself, fuck’s sakes.”

You wobble to the bathroom, as you shut the door you hear the clicks of the gas stove being turned on. At least he’s cooking breakfast for you when he so rudely woke you up from your slumber.

“They’re doing damage control right now, since your cafe is included in the area, they’ll fix it, and pay for it as well so you don’t have to spend a penny, they’re gonna buy you all the books too; you have to close the shop anyway, even if it weren’t damaged,” he stops you when he sees your eye twinkle. “you’re fucking damaged so don’t even think about it until you’re completely healed.”

“Rude.”

After that, you guys don’t talk for the rest of breakfast. Basic eggs and bacon and some leftover days old muffins from the cafe that you took home: a western breakfast.

He does the dishes too, guess it makes up for the times you did his. (“IT’S ONE SINGLE GLASS HOW FUCKING HARD CAN IT BE! LOOK AT THIS! TWO PLATES, FOUR UTENSILS AND A FRYING PAN-“ “Yes okay, okay you’re giving me brain damage again.” “SHUT UP YOU-“)

He doesn’t leave, even after the dishes are done, he joins you on the couch, you’re reading, and he turns on the news next to you. You can feel his smirk as he listens to the report talk about him, saving your day.

ᝰ

sunday

You got attacked by a villain yesterday, haha, you were saved by him though, so it’s okay. He cooked me breakfast, I guess that was to make up for waking you up at seven in the morning by banging on your door until the hinges were about to fall off.

Today’s fine, he’s here after all.

ᝰ

A bump has formed on the inner side of your middle finger from holding the same ballpoint pen for a few hours every day, the resting foam on the pen has thinned into a layer that you could barely call a layer. It’s still a very pretty pen so you keep it anyway.

ᝰ

As days go on, things start to return to normal, you go back to taking care of the cafe, and as an apology his agency sent you a fair share of money to make up for the income you would have gotten in the week of repairing. However, there’s one thing that didn’t go back to its state prior to the attack: Bakugou.

Katsuki, you mean. He’s been making you call him by his first name since the day you got home from getting groceries, and you were looking for him, so you were shouting his name around the house, before you could finish the third shout though, he cut you off and told you to call him Katsuki. For whatever reason, not that you care.

When the day starts, hours before patrol, he goes to the cafe and helps you set up everything, he only stays in the back though, his reason being he doesn’t want stalkers seeing him there, nor the press, he doesn’t want to end up on the front page from rumours again.

Two hours before patrol, you cook him a meal, and not just muffins and cupcakes, you cook him something filled with all the nutrients he’ll need for the day of fighting bad guys (he whacked you over the head for that one) curry with rice, spaghetti with meatballs, depends on the day and also the leftover groceries from the dinner of previous nights; he sits at the place behind the counter that’s covered by the largest menu, so he could eat without people staring at him.

Correction: he could eat with nobody but you staring at him.

And during patrol, he tries his best to not let you infiltrate his mind: your smile, your laugh, your voice, your scent, (it’s actually just the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip muffins, when it’s still warm, its best state he often claims) the creases next to your eyes when you grin—

He’s getting carried away, again.

After patrol, he hurries the shower that he’s been taking since the first day he became a pro hero at the agency and hurries even more to Espresso Express. He helps you do the dishes, he helps you clean up; and when the cafe closes (which means when the curtains are down) he leaves the back room like some animal that just finished hibernating in the winter (he also whacked you over the head for that one) and he lifts the chairs, flips them onto the tables, so you can vacuum the floor.

Then the day is over. You invite him up for dinner, which he declines, then you insist, then he declines, then you insist, then he declines— Never mind he’s too tired to argue, is what he tells himself when he finally agrees.

He cooks you dinner. Romantic, right? Wrong. He shouts at you to turn down the volume of the music played by your record player so he can hear when the oven is done. He shouts at you to get the heatproof mat ready because he’s already carrying the burning pot to the table and it’s really burning his fingers but you were still laughing at the show you were watching.

He just looks at you, and sometimes when you do notice, you cock your head to the side and he’s cursing at you in his head to stop being this fucking cute because he’s already blonde and the pink blush will show up extra overtly and he does not want you to see that.

You ask him ‘What?’ even when the pause of silence is barely noticeable to the third person, but with that, he knows you’re listening, you don’t just block him out and ignore the name calling like the rest (most) of the world does, but—

Never mind, no buts. He’s thankful. That’s it. Just really fucking thankful.

For you, maybe.

ᝰ

“Good morning sir, what could I help you with today?” You smile knowingly— knowing that it’s him, despite the cap and sunglasses. “You know what.” He grunted out, hey at least he got you to smile.

“Coming right up!” As you whisk away to the back to make his au lait, (no longer black coffees because you claim that those are what makes him so grumpy all the time) and you swear you see the difference, he certainly doesn’t.

ᝰ

“Hey— oh what the fuck.” Kirishima stands at the door frozen, he had just rung up Bakugou, wanting to hang out since they’ve both been so busy cause of the increase in crime.

When Bakugou sent him a new address that he didn’t recognise, he just thought his best friend got another house that would be closer to his agency and his patrol route, but when he’s met by a girl that certainly doesn’t look like Bakugou after he rings the bell, he thinks he has gotten the wrong address, maybe this is his neighbour, his cute neighbour.

“I sent Katsuki down to get groceries, he’ll probably be back in a few, please come in and wait for him if you’d like.”

Damn they’re on first name basis? Bakugou and a cute girl are on first name basis—

“Yeah sure thing! Thank you—” Before he can even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out his phone to text Kaminari.

SHITTY HAIR: BAKUSQUAD GUYS GUESS WHAT

DUNCEFACE: did bakubro blow up something again

RACCOON EYES: denki got bitches?

SHITTY HAIR: NO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE GUESSED BROS HE’S ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH A CUTE GIRL

SHITTY HAIR: SHE EVEN SAID SHE SENT HIM DOWN TO GET GROCERIES SO MANLY

FLAT FACE: he’s whipped.

Yes. Yes he is.

ᝰ

Katsuki’s brow is twitching, actually his entire face is twitching, because why the fuck is Dunce Face standing outside your door along with Shitty hair asking you a bunch of questions that all involve his name!

He’s sitting so stiffly at the kitchen island that you’re afraid his back will snap. Red Riot, or Eijiro Kirishima as he insists, and Chargebolt, ’My name’s Denki but you can call me yours anytime— BAKUBRO!’ are talking about you like you’re not there. Which is kind of funny, seeing Katsuki’s reaction.

You prepare tea for the four of you, which manages to calm him down a bit, and after a trip to the bathroom, you come out to the three of them having a very enthusiastic chat. Denki pointing fingers at Bakugou, which he seems like he might just snap them off, and Kirishima trying to stop Bakugou from actually cutting them off.

The day rushes away when you’re happy. And soon, it was already night time, ten o’clock night time. As you two bid them goodbye, you can still see the faint dusting of a flush on his face. Is he embarrassed of you?

“Uh.. sorry about that.” You apologise, trying to see where to step and where to not on this field filled with anger landmines.

“What?” It’s almost like a magic trick to you, to see his face soften before you can even blink, compared to his usual frown, and the extra frown he had on before they left.

“I didn’t clean up the house properly since I didn’t know there’d be guests.. I only figured out they’re your friends since they are Red Riot and Chargebolt after all. So, uh, sorry about the messy place, you must be embarrassed—“ You’re in the middle of talking when he cuts you off.

“What?” He repeats, but you know he heard you fine both times.

“I, uh,” He looks cute scratching his neck like that.

“No, uh, the house is fine, I’m not embarrassed, why would I be? It’s fine, I should be apologising for not telling you earlier that somebody would be coming over. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He tries his best to not look like an injured animal and to actually look like he’s smiling when he turns his back, fuck, his blush is back again (stronger too). He’ll blame the way your eyes widen, pink covers your cheeks as it does to his, because how can anyone not blush at that? He’ll blame how cute you look, his heart pumping, faster, and faster, and faster and faster—

Fucking traitor.

After he turns the corner at the staircase, you slam the door shut. Like slam slam. He can’t help but let out a small chuckle at the way you reacted. It’s good to know he has the same effect you have on him, do you know you have this effect on him? Probably not, you’re a dumbass.

(His dumbass.)

After the door is shut, you get up immediately and scramble to find your journal because you absolutely do not trust your voice right now.

12/12

Help help help help help help help help help help help—

Okay you get it. You think. Nevermind. Wait. Fuck. You think you might just be doing the one thing you said you won’t.

13/12

Okay yeah you definitely do.

And quite frankly (ironically too) you don’t know what to do about it. He’s so pretty, he’s so, so, so, pretty. Sometimes you think you’re looking at some kind of Greek God when you see him. Then yoi register that, oh, he is one. Or I guess more specifically: King Murder Explosion God Dynamight.

Or something along those lines, but at times you really can’t understand how can someone be this perfect? You hope it’s just a crush, it probably is. He’s leaving soon anyway. Some, transfer? Few years away should be more than enough for you to get over him.

ᝰ

Maybe he should do this diary bullshit too.

ᝰ

Why is this so awkward?

He’s scratching the back of his neck again, he does that when he doesn’t know how to communicate in words, you’ve noticed.

“I’ll—“ You gulp. You don’t know. “—have food ready when you get back. Please shower first though, I don’t want this place to smell like sweat.”

He smiles. He doesn’t try to hide it, for the first time. “Yeah, don’t worry about—“

“Don’t hurt yourself.” You’re not looking at him, too scared, too afraid. And he smiles again, you don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of that sight.

“Okay enough of that shitty stuff, let’s eat I’m hungry as fuck.” He whisks you away to the kitchen, and this time you’re the one who cooks, but not really, you’re too busy worrying.

Tonight, you two sleep on the same bed, for the first time, but when you wake up, you don’t see him. You know why, he’s been telling you for a week, but you’re gonna get up, get out of bed, and go around the house calling for him.

“Katsuki?” Not in the kitchen. “Katsuki?” Not the living room either. “Katsuki?” You give up finally after ten minutes, calling out to no one, and no one answered.

ᝰ

monday

He left today.

ᝰ

When you get back to your bed again, you notice the notebook that has been lying on your bed for a couple of hours.

So you read.

ᝰ

saturday

I saved you today.

monday

I still like you. That hasn’t changed one bit. Or it has, this fucking thing in my heart is only growing and growing and sometimes I worry it’ll make me explode. Ironic.

wednesday

The au laits you make are the best. Better than black coffees, I don’t know how, but you make them just right, they always taste a bit fucked when I try them at other cafes, but never here, or maybe that’s just you. Probably, but I’m fine with that.

I think you know that your chocolate chip muffins are my favourite. I don’t believe you when you say there’s always one, literally only one every day, muffin left, and that you’re full, (even when you always down two bowls of rice every time I cook) so that I should eat the remaining muffin. Do you always just save a muffin for me? Or am I lying to myself? The lie tastes too sweet to care anyway. I’ll never get tired of chocolate chip muffins.

Correction: I’ll never get tired of your chocolate chip muffins.

thursday

I’m leaving soon, you know that. I know that you pretend you don’t.

sunday

Let’s go on a date. I’ll buy you tickets to the concert of the singer you love. Let’s go.

monday

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

tuesday

You look so pretty all the time. You’re fucking adorable. I don’t think you realise just how much power you hold over me. Tell me to die and I will. For you.

wednesday

How do you do this shit for so long? Everytime I put my pen down and write, I write about you.

saturday

I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know.

sunday

I know what I didn’t know yesterday. I just don’t know how to tell you. You shine brighter than the stars. That’s what. You’re the brightest, most radiant thing in the universe. So when you’re out of my sight, it’s so fucking cold.

I hate winter, you know that, I’ve forced you to listen to me go on about how much I hate it a fucking ton, but this December, somehow winter is warmer than summer. And I don’t think it’s climate change. You’re so warm. You’re the warm one. You’re the warmest person I know, and you know what, love? I didn’t meet you last summer, but I should have phrased it nicely enough for you to know that winter is warm here because you’re beside me.

For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be a hero.

I hate the HPSC. They’re hypocrites who specialise in the marketing of their image. “Reformed”, they said, but my hero license will be revoked if I said no.

But darling, please know that even when I can’t reach you, I’ll be looking at the same moon for solace, alright?

People only learn to cherish people when they’re gone, I only knew how much I needed to say I love you to my mom until she was gone. And I don’t want to lose you to finally know how to love you out loud.

Love me. Is that okay? I want you to love me half as much as I love you. I love you, so fucking much. If you still don’t know that, then I must’ve done something terribly wrong.

Hold your breath until I’m back, and there, and with you. Then, I’ll never let you go. Will you do that for me, my pretty girl?

ᝰ

ᝰ

katsuki:

you’re the leaves below brushed autumn wind, meek with kisses, fresh with love. you’re like the clouds that shift across the blue, blue sky, the beaver moon lighting my way. i’ll walk miles of mountains, cross bridges of rivers to see you again, my love. let me write letters full of my dreams, i’ll let doves deliver them your way. for however long it may take, can i be the person you’re missing at three, darling?

ᝰ

thursday. 26th january 2168

Maybe the stars will listen if you pray.

ᝰ

monday

You swore that if you caught feelings, you’d stay quiet. You said you’d rather keep it to yourself because everything eventually falls apart.

Now, you see the ghost of your past haunting you. When you pass by the harbour, you hear the blooming noises of explosions. You hear the insults he throws and you smell the stench of nitroglycerin. The last time you had seen Katsuki Bakugou was this morning, when you were making dough in the kitchen with the television turned on. The bleed of morning sun fluttering into your shop windows while the news channel broadcasted an accident from last night, in which pro hero Dynamight was able to catch and arrest two villains by himself during his night patrol, but still left destruction in his wake.

It’s the collapse of scaffolding, the uprooting of walkways, with soot and burn scars scalded into the walls of concrete. It’s the name of the void he left behind plastered over every single surface that exists.

The last time you had seen Katsuki Bakugou, he was saying goodbye.

He had looked at you with guilt in his eyes. Head held high with the kind of dignity that’s forced upon the pillars of society, the dignity that comes with no other choice.

Since the day that god awful notebook was left on your bed, you see the ghost of your past everywhere. When you walk past the convenience store on the way to work, only to be greeted by the face of Dynamight on the package of onigiris. When you go shopping with friends, you'll be reminded of his face on the commercial district billboard for Calvin Klein.

The last time he saw you, you were breathing peacefully next to him, hair messy from slumber, his heart beating, and beating, before it shattered.

ᝰ

The winds that are whistling outside suddenly become all too clear as the door is pushed open, the heavy thumping of shoes against the freezing floor.

“Sorry, but we’re no longer open—“

“Hey,” Before you can even say anything, he’s right in front of you already. His face inches away from yours, and then it’s like the ever-growing distance between the two of you before has never existed.

You’re positive that you’re dreaming. You’re so scared, too, because you’ve had way too many hallucinations to not believe that this isn’t one of them. What if your broken voice chases away this delusion?

“Katsuki?” He lifts your head with his two calloused fingers, slowly caressing your strawberry-tinted cheeks, are they the same as the ones he’s been dreaming of since the day he’s left? “I’m here, darling, I’m here. I’m here with you.”

ᝰ

With Katsuki Bakugou, there are first glances. When he catches you staring.

Then, there are second dates. Less fidgeting taps beneath the table, less of a blush that could literally settle on any cheeks in that cafe yet they always decide to take home on yours, and what could you do about it except to cover your face for a few moments with your already cold mocha?

Third kisses are the best. Awkwardness put aside, tentativeness chased away, they’re familiar in their own comfort.

Your forehead that once upon a time used to foster creases whenever the memory of him leaving pops up, would be littered with kisses all over by him, his words ringing in your ears instead of your own crying as you begged for him to just come back, memories of that heart-felt abandonment long forgotten.

Your nose that used to stifle for hours on end during the nights where the over-analysing of his actions finally got to you, because just why couldn’t he stay? It would be dusted with the tingly feeling for the rest of the day because he presses his lips against it in the bright and early morning after he wakes up.

You like being kissed on your lips the most. When the plushness of his lips envelops yours, his breath slowly mixing with the aftertaste of chocolate chip cookies, and you can no longer tell the difference between his body and yours. You’re drowning and drowning and drowning but it just feels so good, so it’s okay.

You decide that it is indeed worth it to go through all the late nights of staying up late, worrying that because you weren’t good enough, he left, and what if you’ll never be enough to hold onto him? Because now you are, and you know that, after the countless times he’s made it clear, (“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I FUCKING TOLD YOU? YOU’RE MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR ME DUMBASS!”) you know that you are enough, you always will be.

After all, he’ll always be here, waiting.

[evamame]

anon request for kita / post marriage life in your new tiny country house

you’re in the kitchen, a place that’s still a bit bare and lacking decorations, mixing together a side salad for dinner in the only bowl you could find. from the small window above the stove you watch kita out in the field, finishing his work of tending to the rice paddy for the evening. the sun’s just begun to set, hues of pinkish orange and yellow decorating the sky. you slide open the tiny window, creating a slot for you to yell your voice out into the vast space beyond the walls of your new home. “kita, dinner’s ready!” in the distance, you see his small figure stand up straight from its crouched position and give you a glove covered thumbs up. you leave the window open to ventilate the house, letting the breeze nick your skin and the cicadas become background music.

he returns to the house quickly, going to the bathroom to wash up as you set the table. your real dining table hasn’t came in yet—everything takes longer to arrive far out in the countryside—so you sit on the carpet in the living room where the low coffee table resides. kita returns from the bathroom, throwing his towel on the arm of the couch before taking his spot on the floor across from you.

“how’s the rice going?” you ask. you don’t know much about being a rice farmer, but you act invested in his work nonetheless. kita never fails to listen intently to everything you say no matter how mundane, so it’s only right you return the favor.

“it’s goin’ well. now that it’s the summer season, i have to work on managing the fertilizer and the water,” he tells you as he picks up his chopsticks.

as he scarfs down his food, worn out and hungry as he should be from a whole day of hard labor, you look around your new living space. the area is decorated by empty shelves yet to be filled, boxes piled high that still need to be unpacked, and dim evening lighting surrounding the two of you created by the only light source not still in the moving truck—the overhead light. lines of gold stream in through the windows, fully uninterrupted without any curtains put up. your plates are mismatched, and kita sips out of ice water from a coffee mug as you use chopsticks of different lengths. your socks are just as uncoordinated, since you’ve deemed it impossible to find a matching pair in the mountain of clothes that were rearranged in turbulence on the road.

“i can’t believe we really have our own house,” you say in between bites of pork belly and lettuce.

kita smiles in agreement. “it’s kinda surreal, isn’t it? sometimes i still forget we’re even married.” his wedding ring, a sleek silver band on his ring finger, shimmers as he moves to grab a side dish. you look down at your own, a perfect match to his. his last name, now your’s too, is inscribed along the curve. you feel a weird swell deep inside your chest as you look it over. not one that’s fluttering, not a fleet of love like you felt when you two were still teenagers crushing over each other. rather you feel something more permanent, something you know will be there forever as long as you two keep the rings on your fingers. a warm and comforting feeling—home.

your new home, the paperwork for it written under your shared last name, isn’t necessarily big. there’s nothing more than cozy cottages within the walls of the countryside. all the room has been saved for large expanses of fields filled with beautifully colored flowers and rice farms overflowing with fertility and growing life. you hadn’t expected you’d ever find yourself in a place like this, but kita brought you here and so you can’t bring yourself to mind it. even through simple things like these, sitting in a comfortable silence over a small meal in a tiny and empty home, everything feels right. like it’s all you’ve ever wanted and all anything was ever meant to be. maybe that’s because, and you realize this as you watch him sit across from you, that the man you’ve become newly weds with is the only part of your life you need to feel fulfilled. as long as he’s there, the time spent lousing around on the wooden front porch doing nothing and taking slow walks across long quiet roads is all worth it. and you can’t wait for every evening to come where it’s just him and you, in the solitude of your sanctuary, tending to rice fields and spinning salads under the sunset lights.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @nanasrkives @mires765 @amaliaaliena @frozen-waffle

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[vidavalor]

oh right on @seaweednpeanuts lol. Don't forget my favorite:

@werehounded: <<people who can't see aziraphale as at least a switch baffle me. literally baffle me.>>

Jim knows what they all are lol.

<<i say this lovingly, as someone who's usually a Dominant partner, and has done plenty of submissive stuff and kinky things irl as well as online - crowley is conclusively NOT a sadistic daddy dom into impact play and leather or whatever else people assume of him because demon has to = Dominant top or whatever>>

I think that Crowley would love for you to think he is this but, yeah, I agree that he's definitely not lol. Shax thinks he is-- that alone probably tells you how much he absolutely is not. It's not seeing the show Crowley is putting on. Soft dom Crowley and his pun-laden growls, sure, but nothing remotely sadistic.

Obviously, everyone's own ideas about this are their own and fine and everything and I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yum, but if we're all just talking about what we personally think? I've never seen two characters who are less into pretty much any kink that overlaps with pain or violence than Crowley and Aziraphale. The ceiling on that really feels like Aziraphale liking the occasional swat sometimes with a Bible ok this is getting too specific lol but like that's a far cry from some of the people who seem to think Crowley wants to build a dungeon in the South Downs Cottage basement.

It's like thinking that his taste really runs to the gauche chair in his old flat when his car and his love of Aziraphale's bookshop (and his angel) tell you he's got a far classier eye than he lets on. He's just trying to keep himself safe in a den of vipers. It's all part of a persona he's crafted for himself to give him a sense of power and control in a situation in which he actually has very little power and control.

And you know who else acts like that in a very similar way to cover up the fact that he's a fucking marshmallow and a half? This guy:

<<like. this angel, even if his predilections tend to have him bottoming - which, none of us know if he prefers that, really. we just know he's flamboyant at times, and 'gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide' at others >>

See, this is what I think is really good about Good Omens at the same time as it can be frustrating when reading posts sometimes because just in this one post (not your response alone but all of them so far to the original one I made), I've seen a bunch of really intelligent people showing how we all have some internalized assumptions that we have to work to overcome.

The level of misogyny in our world is such that we have internalized the idea of a gay man who can be, at times, what some might term effeminate as a woman and a woman as always being a receptive and/or submissive partner. So pervasive are patriarchal ideas about gender in our world that even here, in the fandom for the story about the non-binary-out-of-the-box, human-angel-demons, we're still wading through our ideas about it.

This is why the show is talking about patriarchy so much with Pepper and Sitis and references to Lot's Wife and many more. It's why Jim is asking what a wife is because, when you ask that question, what you're really asking is what is a partnership where the partners don't adhere to traditional gender roles? and the next question there is: wouldn't it be a hell of a lot more equal and satisfying? It's 'smash the patriarchy' in a question.

There's also a moment in the show about how perceived gender informs sexuality assumptions in otherwise really progressive people that I loved because it showed how even the best of us need to be a bit more aware of it at times. It's Nina's assumptions about Crowley in this bit here:

Nina is a modern, progressive, socially conscious, queer Black woman-- exactly the type of person you would think would be the least likely person on the planet to make assumptions about someone's sexuality-- and even she makes the assumption that Crowley has no desire for pussy.

That's not actually true. There is plenty of suggestion in both the novel and the show that Aziraphale and Crowley both swap up their bits at different times. The suggestion does seem to be that Crowley might do it a bit more frequently and that they both go the cock route more often than not ("occasionally damp, most likely singed" from Demon's Guide lol, among other things) but the whole point is that they both sexually desire one another when the other is sporting a cunt. Nina made the assumption that Crowley wouldn't want, say, penis-in-vagina sex, but he does and has had it. He's gone down on lady parts more than Nina has lol.

Nina perceives the Thin Dark Duke as a gay man because she sees a man with feminine attributes so she thinks that this man then must be one that only desires a man and why does she think that? Because patriarchal notions about gender correlating traditionally to sexuality are so pervasive that women (even women who are attracted to other women) often reinforce them without even realizing it, as Nina is doing.

She assumes that Crowley is only attracted to men because she perceives him as being woman-like and unconsciously assumes that this must mean that he wants a man because a woman must want a man. Plenty of women who have sex with other women unconsciously do this just as much as straight women.

What she's really doing is perceiving him not just as gay but as an exclusively receptive partner because she's equating being a receptive partner with femininity and femininity with submissiveness. Not to mention that being a receptive partner is also not inherently submissive. Crowley does desire men and he does enjoy being a receptive partner but it's not the totality of his sexuality-- just as he's not even actually exclusively a man in the first place.

Mah point is that Nina looked at Crowley and decided what she thought his sexuality was and she was wrong about it. He has a fella, yeah, but he also has a girlfriend, and they're the same person.

This Nina moment also comes at a point when she's standing in for the audience a bit in trying to figure out what Crowley & Aziraphale are so I think that it's subtly asking us to not make the same assumptions that she does.

I don't know that Aziraphale has a preference. He definitely loves getting fucked for sure but I had someone message me once and insist he was a pillow princess (a reductive term that I hate) and it was just like... god, no lol. He loves giving Crowley pleasure and he absolutely gets off on it. The scenes (crepes; go by train vs. take the car, etc.) where they're kind of always figuring out what they want to get up to speaks to how there are a lot of options and not always the same configuration. It seems to me to be close to a 50/50 split.

<<but for me personally, it's gotta be aziraphale calling crowley a good boy and hand feeding him sweets tbh, not the other way around ;)>>

Babe, I'm just excited that you also think that Crowley eats. You've made me feel better about the state of the world with that take today so thank you lol. If you also come back and tell me that you're sure he reads, I might ask you to marry me, just a warning lol. [P.S. if you'd be into good girl just as much as boy, watch this space for when I get around to finishing the thing. 😉]

I saw you agree with the soft dom stuff in Aziraphale Defenders and I just don't know where you guys are seeing that.

For starters. 💕😇😉

[radishpasta]

Hiii😭 okay so this is my first everrr fanfic and i obviously had to write about Sevika!!

Please give me some advice & critiques (but not too mean, I will cry:’c) and if people like it I’ll post more:3

Sevikas been your co worker at a convenience store for about 5 months, and even with your age gap, her being in her forties and you in your early twenties, it’s like you’ve been friends for years, she’s so honest and blunt about everything, you can ask and talk about anything with her. One night, you and her were working the night shift and barely anyone was coming in so you two were mostly goofing off. She leaned against the counter listening to you go on and on about your dorky interests.

“Yeah I don’t know, it’s the stupidest thing, probably why I haven’t kissed anyone.” You laugh at yourself and how pathetic it sounds to not have kissed anyone at 23. But Sevika pauses and stares at you dumbfounded.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?!” She starts to laugh, a loud, mocking laugh. She’s practically wiping away tears from how hard she’s laughing at you.

You regret ever mentioning it the moment you saw her eyes go wide and a small smirk forming on her lips. “Jeez! Alert the whole town why don’t you!” You can feel your whole face heating up and turn away from her, dying to escape this hell.

“I shouldn’t have told you, just forget I said anything.” You shake your head and go to walk away but Sevika grabs your arm and pulls you back to where you were with ease.

“I wasn’t judging you sweetheart,” she begins, her voice low and rough, “I’m just curious how a pretty girl like you can go all these years without being kissed.” She stares down at you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

You stare up at her for a moment before looking away, the way she’s looking at you makes your heart beat faster. “I- I don’t know,” you shrug, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, trying to avoid making eye contact with her. “I guess I was just too busy for romance…” You mumble, eyes nervously flicking up to her.

“Too busy huh?” She cocks her head and there’s a long pause as she looks at you, her gaze unreadable, then her smirk turns into a wide grin. “you’re not too busy right now.” She says bluntly, studying your face as it turns a bright red at her words.

“Wha-“ a nervous chuckle escapes your mouth, “well no I’m- I’m not, it’s jus-“ Sevika interrupts you, “You don’t wanna kiss me? That’s okay.” She shrugs and turns away but you reach out and grab her wrist, and Sevikas a big and sturdy woman, you could never move her even if you wanted to. But you pull her back so easily.

“No I would love to kiss you!” You blurt out, and then immediately getting embarrassed at how loud and fast you said that. And Sevika doesn’t help as she slowly turns back around, a wide and mocking grin on her face. “Wow…, you would love to kiss me, huh?” She asks, keeping her gaze locked on you as she steps closer. “Oh shut up!” You cup your face with both hands, trying to hide your reddened face, but she laughs and grabs both your wrists, pulling them away from your face.

Her big and rough hand holds both your wrists in place, using her free hand she grabs your face and makes you look up at her.

You can feel your heart pound in your ears as she slides her hand to the back of your neck, and unknowingly you start to hold your breath, thoughts like “I should never have eaten those onion rings bro” are running in your mind, but the second Sevikas soft lips press against yours they all disappear.

She slowly starts to kiss you harder, deep and passionate, letting go of your wrist to slide her hand around your waist, pulling you closer. Her touch causes a shiver to run down your spine, and she pulls away for a second just to look at your flustered face and chuckles condescendingly, immediately kissing you again, more roughly as she slips her tongue into your mouth.

With your freed hands you wrap them around her neck, pressing your warm and needy body against hers. You can feel her hand run up underneath your shirt, stopping under your breast when you hear the door bell ringing and your eyes snap open, and both of you turn to look at a middle aged man standing there in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis, with his mouth agape.

“I- my car just, um, broke down and I was wondering if yall had a phone or could help fix it… but like I ca- I can come back late-“

Sevika immediately peals your arms off her, and practically ran to the door, mumbling something about helping him.

And you just stand there, staring at the door close as your legs wobble. You softly touch your wet and swollen lips, your mouth slightly open. You bite your bottom lip and turn around towards the bathroom, you can still taste her in your mouth, and can feel a dampness between your legs as you close the door behind you.

[sturniphone]

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . introducing:

; ⌗ dealer!chris && bambi!reader﹒🍥 ⸝⸝

Chris is the guy everyone wants: hoodie up, eyes sharp, always smelling like weed and cash. Bambi is the girl everyone stares at—tiny dresses, glitter lip gloss, and a pink bunny plush peeking from her purse. They shouldn’t work; he’s cold and careless, and she’s all feelings and tears, but they orbit each other like gravity. He sells, she sulks, they argue in his car and make up in the backseat. No matter how much they fight, he always comes back with her favourite snacks and mumbles, ❝Don’t cry, baby. You know you’re mine.❞

Bambi cries a lot. Because he was mean. Because he didn’t answer. Because her bunny plush dropped on the floor. Chris used to lose it, but now? He sighs, rolls his eyes, and wipes her tears with his sleeve. ❝You done?❞ He’ll mutter but pulls her into his lap anyway. She’s dramatic, pouty, and painfully cute, always climbing into his lap like she belongs there (she does). Her world feels too loud without him, and when she sniffles, ❝I just want to be near you,❞ he holds her tighter and whispers, ❝Then stay forever, yeah?❞

She doesn’t know how to lie or pretend to be cool. She needs love in excess, melts under praise, and her voice cracks when she says, ❝You’re not going to leave me, right?❞ She’s impossible not to spoil. Chris never even tries to stop himself.

At parties, she’s the quietest one in the loudest outfit. Pink fishnets, a leopard mini skirt, hair ribbons, and lip gloss too sparkly to be real. Everyone watches her, but she never flirts back; she just blinks her big Bambi eyes and hides behind Chris like, ❝Why’s he looking at me?❞ He eats it up. Puts a possessive hand on her thigh, tells people, ❝She’s off-limits. Look again and I’ll break your jaw.❞ She giggles, kisses his cheek, and whispers something filthy only he gets to hear.

They fight way too often—she’s clingy, he’s cold, and both of them have tempers. But the love is insane. Chris could be mid-deal, yelling at someone, and if she texts ❝I’m sad,❞ he’s ghosting the guy and driving to her with a blunt and a cupcake. She’ll scream at him for forgetting to text and then, two minutes later, be crying in his arms while he kisses her forehead. It’s not perfect—but they don’t want anyone else. ❝You drive me fuckin’ crazy,❞ he mutters. ❝Yeah? Well, you love me.❞ He does. More than anything.

Chris acts like he doesn’t care about pictures, but his lock screen is a blurry photo of Bambi asleep with her bunny, drooling on his hoodie. He tells everyone it’s just ’cause she looks dumb. The truth is, he checks it a hundred times a day just to see her face.

They’re obsessed with each other. Like gross, horny, can’t-keep-their-hands-off-each-other obsessed. Quickies in his car, her moaning his name into her bunny plush, his chain hitting her chest while he tells her, ❝You love when I ruin you, don’t you, Bambi?❞ But it’s not just sex. It’s post-party bath time with her in his shirt. It’s him doing her lip liner while she sits in his lap. It’s her tracing his face and whispering, ❝You’re safe with me.❞ Freaks, yes. But freaks who are endgame. Forever, no matter how loud or messy or filthy it gets.

what to expect?

So yeah, basically everything for them. I’m obsessed. I’d love little texts or blurbs for them, especially since they fight a lot and she’s always texting him like, “I’m sad, come over and cuddle me.” Definitely need smut too because, let’s be honest… they’re total freaks. But also fluff and angst, of course—they’re messy but madly in love. I actually have a moodboard for her saved in my drafts if you guys are into it?? please asks and questions about them !!

@chrepsi @ph3ebssturniolo @sturnsxbbyeilish @j21l91 @pip4444chris @mattslutt @sophand4n4 @mattscoquette @mi-co-uk @tezzzzzzzz @emely9274 @oopsiedaisydeer

[sunshades]

Kind of a dumb thought but something just hit me: What if Heathcliff got a bit of Book!Cathy's personality? Book!Heathcliff wasn't really very violent or temperamental but *Catherine* in the books was. Do you think that's true?

I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS BEFORE TOO!

i remember laughing my ass off back in part 1 when hindley talks about losing the manor to her because that was like. wait. she wasn't lying she really is heathcliff 😭... then we find out it was Literally Heathcliff who physically ran that con, but it felt purposeful to have catherine be the one behind it, even if it was with nelly and n corp.'s help. book!cathy is impulsive, gets carried off by her feelings, while game!cathy has a much cooler and more calculating demeanor, even when literally getting overwhelmed by the despair of countless lifetimes (very heathcliff!). the way she explicitly sees the marriage as a means to an end in particular to me reads as closer to book!heathcliff's own view than to her book counterpart, who is instead the coping and suppressing queen 🔥

ON the other hand those traits fit heathcliff much more, i think particularly the way the reasoning behind it- cathy's is a reflection of how hindley has raised her, used to seeing that violence, always on edge and ready to snap at the slightest provocation. that's incredibly close to game!heathcliff, where a lot of the violence seems to come specifically from being insulted or looked down upon (hi S.E.A). it's a very different brand from book!heathcliff who, while also violent, is much more calculating about when and how to use it, working in tandem with his status to force others to respect his superior role as the patriarch. we see this trait in the erlking instead, the whole system of "whoever i kill belongs to me" which is cool as fuck btw.

also (<- guy who always has to make it about how theyre gen2) it's fun because some of these traits are then shared by the gen2 characters theyre based on too- catherine's more gloomy personality, the kind of fatalistic way of talking is in line with book!heathcliff but with catherine linton as well, with both of them getting described in mythical terms as a way to insult them (heathcliff is called a vampire at various points, cathy l. is called a witch) which checks out with game!cathy being described as frightening.

on the other side heathcliff's short fuse is close to book!cathy, but also to hareton, and both of them are also very empathetic (yeah even cathy. the if she made you cry she'd keep you company (and cry as well) from the early chapters as well as the whole each of his miseries speech) in a way that heathcliff shares, but not his book self. which is also a fun thought because book-wise heathcliff seeing catherine in her daughter is very obvious, but he also absolutely sees her in hareton which is so interesting.

there's also the factor of the post canto vi identities which is really huge. the narrative focusing on that theme of an empty life really connects heathcliff back to the catherine from the book- the repression of her feelings for heathcliff, the attempt to fit into a life she admits is not right for her, the idea that just forgetting about him would allow her to be happy. all ideas that both game and book nelly strongly believes in! and the outcome is SO similar to what happens to the heathcliffs of those worlds where she doesn't exist anymore. denying those feelings never truly allows either of them to actually suppress them. he ends up much like cathy falling into her delirium- asking whether he's going to come back for her, seeing him in the shadows, knowing something is wrong and something is missing even if you can't put a name to it.

ofc then their feelings corresponding and overlapping is part of the plot and the big reveals of the canto, but when comparing them to the book selves it definitely feels like the switching around of many elements of their characters was purposeful. as the spread of the traits they share and the points where they differ was really well balanced, the outcome is a dynamic that's fresh while still being recognizable! very tasty!

[thelostprincessposts]

Paperweight [Verso Dessendre]

Pairing: Painted Verso x Reader

Summary: AU painted world where soul mates exist. Reader starts to have dreams about Verso and is intent on finding him.

Rating: G

Warnings: Canon typical deaths?

Author's note: this is probably garbage, but there's so little Verso fics that I'm making myself post it anyway. I haven't written in a while so *shrugs*

Every word you say I think

I should write down

Don't want to forget come daylight

The dream was happening again: the sound of a soft ballad playing on a piano. It was peaceful and made you want to stay, but you knew the dream never lasted longer than a few minutes. Each time you had it another image would appear, meaning you were one day closer to meeting your soulmate.

The dreams started a few months ago, but you had kept them to yourself. That is, until you had one too many drinks with Gustave after work one evening. You'd let it slip that you thought you'd started having mate visions. Not everyone was lucky enough to meet their mate in their lifetime, and you weren't even really sure that the dreams were consistent at that point or if they were just manifestations of late nights or sleep deprivation, but Gustave was intent on hearing out your experience.

Your boss second and your friend first - Gustave was easy to confide in. You'd felt bad, knowing that he desperately longed to have the dreams himself, but he and Sophie took it upon themselves to create their own relationship despite perhaps not being each other's soul mate. It was common enough in Lumiere; the population dwindled each year and no one was really sure how the mates were fated. Plenty of young people had relationships anyway.

"So all you've seen so far is a piano? I mean, that's kind of fitting. Perhaps you will be able to sing his songs," Gustave quipped after taking a sip from the bottle of bourbon.

The emergency bourbon was kept around for these late night work sessions. Everyone was burning the candle at both ends either finishing preparing for the expedition in a few months, or spending as much time with their loved ones before the gommage.

The warehouse was dimly lit as you and Gustave made repairs to an electrical converter for a nearby restaurant: a work order your team willingly took on the side.

"I haven't even seen the piano. At this point I'm only hearing his music, which is beautiful," you replied as you reached for the bottle yourself.

"Everyone's dreams are different. I'm happy for you, though. Soon enough you'll be able to meet him. I just hope it happens before I leave with the expedition so I have a chance to kick his ass once or twice," Gustave laughed. You smirked, but the light feeling didn't last once he brought up the expedition.

It had been an unspoken rule that no one would bring up leaving. You were still a year younger than Gustave, Lune, and Sciel. You were planning on staying in Lumiere to keep working and performing when you could in your free time.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Gustave said quietly, looking up at you from the work table. You looked away, out the window angled at the night sky. Suddenly it felt like time was moving too fast. The sound of Gustave's tinkering, while calming, made you anxious.

"I think you should go find Sophie, and I think maybe I should head home. I'll finish this first thing in the morning," you offered, leaning off the table and grabbing the bottle of bourbon to stash away. His eyes also followed your gaze to the night sky and sighed, getting up from the work table.

How strange to feel like life was ending and beginning at the same time.

"Thanks, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow."

That night you went home and hummed the piano song from your dreams, trying desperately to hold onto it until the next time the dream came.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first images came to you weeks later. Dark hair and the sight of a piano on a cliffside. The cliffside was covered in the softest looking grass and flowers carpeted in shades of white, lavender, and dreamy yellows. It made no sense. You expected to see the piano in a home or perhaps at one of the local performance cafés, but not outside.

Part of you looked for him on every street in Lumiere. When you were helping Maelle with deliveries; when you were on stage on Saturday nights singing with the band; when you walked with Sciel to the market; but you didn't have much to go on.

The expedition was only a month away. How strange to have this secret hope in a time that felt so hopeless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You awoke startled in a haze. The dream was longer this time: places you'd never seen and snippets of sounds you'd never heard entwined with melodies on a piano. One of the melodies sounded a lot like the song you'd finished with tonight at the café.

You supposed it wasn't "tonight" anymore, but closer to 4 in the morning. None of what you experienced in this dream was alarming...until the end. The last flash of a clue happened to be clothing. And not just any clothing: an expedition uniform.

Could your soulmate really be going on the expedition, and you had not met him yet? You supposed it was possible that you didn't know everyone in the city, but you knew quite a few people around your age.

Your heart hammered looking at the clock again, trying to make sense of the dream. The gommage and expedition day was only a week away.

The second the sun rose you were out the door, your feet taking you to the Expedition headquarters at the heart of the city.

"Y/N, you're here early. Did Gustave send you?" Alan asked as he checked a crate of rations that were being dropped off.

"No, sir. I'd like to enlist for the Expedition," you replied, trying to sound even-keeled after having been awake in a panic for the last few hours. Alan hesitated as he stepped toward you, but gave a short nod when he caught the glint in your eye.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dreams came every night leading up to your leaving. Gustave was irked by your decision to join, but vowed to protect you as well as he could.

You'd been training with Maelle for the last year or so, but if you were being honest, you weren't paying much attention. You were only looking out for her at Gustave's request when he was too busy with other projects.

You realized that you were seeing potential memories from your soul mate: a fireplace burning warmly next to a woman painting at an easel. You only ever saw her from behind, but the most beautiful records could be heard. A flash of a stuffed friend on a bed. Laughter and the sounds of another male saying that he was "owed another fight after that sorry excuse for a duel."

This time the dream ended with a final clue: the brightest blue eyes, with scarred skin around one side. The sight of them burned into your memory as you shot awake.

It was gommage day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You should have been dead: that much you knew. The blast of the initial attack left you incapacitated for hours. By the time you woke the area was only left with smoke and debris. Bodies surrounded you as you scanned the area for survivors.

It had all been a waste anyway. No one ever showed up for the expedition that matched the man in your dreams. You had known everyone on the team. You'd come to the conclusion that you were delusional and it was now your duty to protect Lumiere. Perhaps your mind had concocted this false hope to cover up some sick martyrdom fantasy buried in your heart.

It was still light enough outside that you could attempt to swim to a nearby outpost. Staying still didn't make any sense when you didn't know what attacked your team.

Then again, you didn't know what was in the water either. Your only bet was to move, and move fast. You slipped into the water nearby and took off despite your headache and fatigue.

It took an hour or so to reach an outcropping of rocks away from the beach, but close enough that you could make out the shoreline. Without any supplies, you drifted off quickly from exhaustion.

Your mind could not grant you peace even after that hell of a day. Your dream took you to the manor with the warm fire, but this time you could see the man peering over a bed. You were watching him from behind, just outside the door.

It was quiet until you shifted your weight and your boot made the sound of a wet sole squeaking on the marble floor. It made no sense because you weren't really there, right? You'd been sleeping against the rocks, sopping wet from your pathetic attempt to flee home.

The sound made the man's head pop up and turn slightly towards you. He was taller than you imagined with a strong stature. You couldn't see who he was watching over, but by the time his body turned to look at you, you were in awe.

His piercing eyes tore through yours, stealing all breath from your body. If this wasn't real, this was a cruel hope your mind had conceived to survive.

"Mon couer, what are you doing here? Why are you in an expeditioner's uniform?" He asked tightly.

You tried to will your body to move to his, but you were stuck. You couldn't move and you couldn't open your mouth. You could only stare at the horrific beauty of this dream that wasn't real and somehow felt like the most precious thing you'd ever experienced.

The dream was ending - you could feel the edges of your vision clouding before seeing one last look on your mate's face: determination.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were floating, so you must have been dead. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of clouds and birds passing above you. The early morning sun was bright and made your head want to split open, so perhaps you weren't dead, but surely you would be soon once this creature disposed of you.

"Ah, mon ami! You are awake. Do not worry, I am taking you for a swim swim to a safe place." The creature spoke to you in a lazy lilt that somehow felt safe and endearing.

"Thank you, but I need to get back to Lumiere," you said confused. Land passed to your left as your eyes tried to adjust to the colors and sights.

"Ah, but you see, I am taking you to friends. Verso will know what to do with you," the creature hummed.

"What is a Verso?" You asked.

"Verso is my best friend. He will be your best friend too. You'll see! You should rest." The creature returned to focusing on swimming and you were honestly too tired to think of your next move.

Your team was gone, you had no weapons, and even if you did you weren't sure you could take this creature down yourself.

You were captive, whether you liked it or not.

"How did you find me? And why are you helping me?" You asked as you floated down a body of water much like a river.

"Verso and I look out for the expeditions. I was looking for survivors from yesterday's landing. I'm sorry about your friends."

You still weren't sure who or what Verso was, but the reminder of your friends' suffering had snuffed all other questions from your mind. It occurred to you that you were farther into the continent than you had ever hoped to be. It was still your responsibility to finish the expedition.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The creature, Esquie you'd learned, was actually taking you to his friend Monoco, who lived safely on a mountain that very few dared to venture to. Esquie and Monoco argued for a bit about Monoco's involvement while you tore into the food offered once you reached the station. There was still no sign of this Verso, but you could only venture what sort of creature he'd be after meeting these two.

Esquie had left you in Monoco's care until Verso could collect you. This made you feel captive again, but Monoco advised against venturing on your own down the mountain. He told you of the nevrons and even started to offer tips on how to get to the Monolith in between challenging you to duels. You ceased to dream altogether, but to be fair, you were only sleeping in fits since the night you tried to swim home. A few minutes during the day...napping after dinner...and then staring at the fire all night.

Monoco tried to enthrall you with tales of his adventures, and it was during one of these such tales that you both heard the sounds of voices approaching. You were in the middle of laughing at one of Monoco's jokes when the crunching of snow beneath feet made your companion move toward the station entrance.

"Stay here," he warned. You were on high alert, having yet to encounter another being since Esquie.

You peaked around the train car in time to see several figures approaching - and what felt like a dream to you. You recognized your friends standing beside Monoco: Sciel, Lune, and Maelle all miraculously alive.

A sob tore from your throat as you sprinted down the station's center toward the group.

"Y/N! You're alive?" Sciel beamed. You crashed into her with the biggest hug you'd ever given anyone. You could feel Lune laughing beside you before joining in.

In the chaos of the moment, you'd failed to notice one more figure that was shadowed by Monoco initially. You broke from the hug and turned to meet the eyes of the man who'd been haunting your dreams the last few months.

His striking eyes locked onto yours for what felt like forever. You could hear the girls asking you questions, but your mind became blank upon seeing your soul mate standing in front of you.

"Am I asleep?" You asked, barely above a whisper. You were terrified to look away from him, fearing that your mind was playing tricks on your sleep deprived existence.

"No, mon couer. I'm here," the man replied. He also sounded in disbelief, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Y/N, this is Verso. He's the one you've been waiting for," Monoco introduced, though he seemed perplexed by Verso's words.

Verso's hands trembled as they lifted from his sides and flexed with a nervous tick as he reached towards you. Your feet moved before you could stop them - not that you wanted to.

Your arms reached up on reflex, your hands grasping the light scruff on his face. Neither of you broke eye contact once.

"I don't believe it," you whispered. "I was sure that my mind was making you up. When I signed for the expedition and you weren't there, none of it made sense."

His hands gently rubbed your sides as he leaned his forehead forward to rest against yours.

"I will never believe that you are mine," he whispered back. You would never get over the feeling of his hands on your body. It felt like a dream...that is until Monoco cleared his throat.

"So, what are you lot doing here?" Monoco asked.

The rest of the evening was spent catching up - learning the fate of your fellow team members and what lie ahead. You agreed to make camp one last night at the station for some much needed rest, and selfishly, so you could have some more time to speak with Verso.

You were the last two sitting by the fire when he asked, "should we get some sleep?"

"Will you still be in my dreams?"

"Only if you will enchant mine, Y/N. I don’t think I can sleep without hearing you sing."

Your dreams welcomed the sounds of Verso's piano before you saw him playing in a field, waiting for you to join him in this peaceful existence once more.

[omgfangirlland]

A neglected reader x batfam where she's dating klarion 👀.

Like.. Imagine, the reader was loved by Bruce and everyone in the fam but ever since the death of Jason, they begun to forget about her because of their grief. They distanced themselves without even noticing, busying themselves with works and crime fighting.. Not noticing that a certain someone had been distancing themselves.

Reader is the type of person who doesn't like to chase after someone. If she feels that she's being pushed away then she'd just back away.. Of course she'd try to communicate with them but if it keeps failing then she'd stop. She also noticed how her father took in Tim and that was when she gave up.

She'd often sneak out of the mansion and that's how she met klarion. Reader somehow befriended both Child and klarion. Her friendship with klarion became something more and then BOOM! She's dating him (very odd trio considering that child and klarion are both chaos Lords and have a very poor relationship with one another but let's pretend that reader somehow befriended the two of them 🙂)

-🔱

I'm really trying to do these in order, but damn, do some of the newer stuff you send unsmooths my brain-

This is me when I saw the Lost Twin Sister of Bruce, and One Night Stand asks you sent:

Post scriptum- Slighty murderous reader- unintentionally murderous if you will :))

I heard your Child and Klarion- I'll get there- I just want to get this little thing outta my head.

After Jason died and everyone grieved in the worst way possible, maybe you included, you were understanding, taking care of Bruce and Dick even if they were short, but that quickly ended when Tim came around, took Robin's place and started getting the families praise for what she had been doing before he came.

Any pity you had for them died and got buried with Jason, and you've become a silent menace.

So, when newly escaped from the assassin's league Jason saw your 16 year old self grumbling to herself while chipping at a ledge Bruce and Tim started using as their perch point for surveilance- he couldn't help but smile. It was methodical enough for the bats to think it happened naturally, a bit there, a bit more on the chips that already existed- it'll be sturdy enough to hold Tim, but as soon as Bruce lands, they'll both go down.

You flinched at his voice from beneath you, leaning over a sturdy part of it, only to be met with a red helmet across the building, the man standing on the balcony in one of the smaller apartment buildings.

"...Mind your own business, motorbike fetishist."

Jason snorted as you went back to work, cleaning up. "I don't think the bats would apreciate you messing with their shit." And you just huffed. "Well, I don't appreciate them sending my boyfriend to hell. And this is public property."

"Boyfriend?" Jason didn't come back from death just to have you thinking you're grown and, good heavens, DATING some lowlife in prison. "Minding your own business will keep you alive, newcomer."

The anger only got worse when he found out how they've been treating you, and that the boyfriend was actually a Lord of Chaos, and they didn't even know it.

Speaking of- that's about how you met Klarion and Child.

They were ignoring you, so you took the chance to let out some steam. It was small inconveniences at first, all left shoes going missing, switching around the place of things on their belts, mixing red food dye in the softener.

Alfred knew it was you, he saw you standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring at the cupboard, and the next hour he heard a crash and found Tim crying, in one hand his coffee mug, in the other the cupboard door- matter of fact- every cupboard and countertop door was on the floor as if Tim simply opening one created a domino effect. He didn't say anything. If they couldn't tell it was you, that was their problem.

That escalated the more Tim took over, starting to act like he was the only one Bruce needed. Maybe it was a mix of jealousy and anger, resentment- you weren't sure, but it did get worse, both your feelings about them and your mischief.

Klarion already had his eyes on the family, on Bruce, so when his senses tingled when one of his brats essentially became Discord reincarnated, he was giggling up a storm- he didn't care about the undead one anymore- you were more fun.

He enjoyed it- watching you put sticks in their lives, creating cracks in Bruce's relationship with Selina, making Tim so paranoid that every day he's on the edge of a breakdown, Dick's life was a mess around this time anyway, the little pushes you gave from afar just made everything thumble down.

He didn't expect the help he gave you for free, pushing things towards you and giving you ideas in your dreams, and he sure as hell didn't expect to do such a human thing as falling in love.

It made him cackle. Him? Falling in love with a human? He'd laugh until his stomach hurt just to ignore the longing in his chest. But he couldn't watch from the shadows forever, it wasn't his style, and when you almost slipped into the Lazarus pit as you were fucking around with it- he simply counldn't have hisfavorite human die.

You became friends. At least in your mind, he was already gathering information on binding your souls to one another. Not just one way, he wanted to show you how willing he was to trust you with such an important part of him.

Soon enough, you met Child, and initially, she "befriended" you just to annoy Klarion, seeing him throw tantrums over you being busy with her was entertaining. She had to reevaluate the choices she made that eneded with her in your room, watching some shitty horror movie as you painted her nails.

She knew she was in deep when you looked at her with a smile, calling her and Klarion your best friends. She hated it. She was so angry after, mainly at how easily she let her guard down around you, how happy she got when around you.

She got why Klarion was so enamored with you. Child took it upon themselves to protect you... Protect to a lord of chaos meant something different- especially adding in Child's hate toward Klarion.

The witch boy knew the blonde was trying to mess with his relationship with you, jokes on them both, you already knew they both were crazy and enemies, so you really didn't believe anything that they said about the other one.

And above all, Teekl was utterly obsessed with you. The familiar was on you whenever it could, refusing to leave your lap most of the time and purring constantly in your presence. Poor thing would get so annoyed once your relationship with Klarion became official, and he'd try to touch you while the cat was in your embrace.

Bruce didn't notice shit. But John Constantine sure as hell did- well, he saw the cat and connected the dots.

At first, he just thought the thing bonded to a human by accident and decided to stay for the warmth and cuddles. He's seen you dote on the thing like it was a baby, for fuck's sake. And then he met Klarion and his familiar. The same one you took care of.

Yeah, he wasn't going to have Bruce's kid on his mind- Klarion's probably draining her energy or whatever his little evil self is doing (like whining and crying your ear off when the Young Justice League don't want to play with him but are entertaining Shazam)

And thus, why you are upping Bruce's and Tim's misfortune, even if you know that your lover will be back tomorrow.

Jason uses this card in the big fight with Bruce, and the man has to stay awake the whole night just to think of a way to bring up to his daughter this- I mean- what do you even say to your teen daughter dating a 16 million years old Lord of Chaos?

...

He goes out as Brucie that night, getting so hammered that he barely remembers the discussion. He freezes when he sees you with that blasted cat, feeding it caviar. Alfred's look says that Bruce is on his own with this.

[eggonthemoon]

My interpretation of Mizisua's dynamic and how it changed over time (Part 1)

As some may know, considering that my last three posts have been all about it, I'm not a fan of people thinking Mizi was putting up a facade 100% of the time. And while I rejected the idea of her putting up any front at all, I've changed my thoughts on it somewhat.

I think we forget just how much time they spent in Anakt Garden. They were there since they were small all the way up to when they became adults. People's relationships change over time, especially when it comes to people you've known since childhood. So here's how I think Mizisua developed over time

Simpler times

Early Mizisua (probably around 9-12 years old) was the beautiful beginning of tragic story.

Sua had many sisters but didn't have any bonds with them...except for one. Her older sister was like the mother, her owner could never become. She doted on her, cheered her up but was also very stern and harsh with her words, out of fear that not giving Sua the proper discipline would cause her harm later.

Having to separate from her was frightening and lonely, a reminder that she won't be there to protect her if she were to step out of line.

But by chance, another girl in the transportation case beside her felt the same.

Mizi had never seen another human before. All her life was spent in the deep sea ocean planet her owner and mother figure Shine, hails from. She was pampered and well taken care of by segyein standards. She was given many things, every wish she had was granted. So when Shine asked if Mizi wished to go to Anakt Garden with the goal of one day joining Alien Stage she agreed in a heart beat.

Because there was one thing she never had...human connection. She wanted to meet others like her, to trade stories, play and sing together. Anakt was described as a pet human paradise so of course she wished to go there!

Sua was the first human she ever met and was instantly captivated by her. When they arrived at Anakt Garden she was too shy to approach anyone in the beginning, she was surrounded by other humans but she was still just as lonely. For months all she could do was watch Sua from a far, until one day when she accidently sang along with Sua during playtime.

They grew to be the closest of friends at a fast pace. The things they wished for, they had in each other and for a long time that was enough...until

A Dream is Shaken

Sua always knew more about their situation than Mizi did, the expectations of her owner Nigeh and her older sister had long since stolen her hope for the future. As they entered their teens and years went by, they kept getting closer and closer to being old enough to compete in Alien Stage.

Nigeh focuses all her attention on Sua, often taking her away from Anakt for modeling gigs and promotional work. It was not an issue at first, Mizi had other friends...but none of them could fill the void Sua left. She was the reason Mizi even had the courage to go out and make friends in the first place.

Eventually the trips became too frequent for Mizi and the two girls got into a fight. Mizi wanted Sua to stay with her, not understanding the responsibilities that had been placed on her. Sua was beyond exhausted and grew spiteful of the "freedom" she perceived Mizi had. The two of them walked away from the fight on bad terms but this was supposedly the last trip for a while so Mizi was hopeful that the two of them could reconcile.

But then she unintentionally offended someone, someone who hurt her. She never realised that the humans around her could mean any harm, she might have felt uncomfortable at times but never unsafe...until now. She was so happy and carefree in her and Sua's bubble that she never really considered how she might appear to others. But now saying the wrong thing, to someone who was attracted to her, put her in harms way.

So she ran back to Sua, to her bubble that would keep her safe. But it didn't, once again she had to face how she was perceived, this time by the person she feels the most safe with.

Simply existing as she was left a negative impression on someone. She knew Sua would never harm her physically but hearing those words again took her back to the traumatic event she had just experienced. Mizi was so frightened that she hit Sua without thinking. This would be the first and only time she ever harmed her. What happened that day taught her this:

"The things you say, the things you do and the way you appear to other people can either keep you safe or cause harm to you and others"

From that point onwards she never felt safe without Sua, doing her best to tiptoe around other people (men especially) making sure to never step out of line or say things that might offend others. If she keeps in line with what others expect of her then they won't harm her. If they don't harm her then she won't cause harm in return and then everyone benefits and she can keep being happy with Sua!

Everything can still be perfect.

The dream can still exist.

[liketolaugh-writes]

I don't think Danny would be super into the idea but I can only imagine that maybe Vlad would be an appropriate blood donor and that Bruce may or may not have a contingency plan that if Danny is in dire need of blood that he will drain that fucker dry

I keep forgetting to answer this, sorry!

I talk about it briefly in the notes of one of the blood posts, but in essence: it could work this way but that's not how I've set it up! I keep joking about this in my head because essentially how it works is that the ectoplasm in their blood tries to set the 'enemy blood' on fire. And Vlad's blood is definitely 'enemy blood' to Danny. (Vlad's ectoplasm would probably comply because of his obsession, but that's not enough.)

Bruce's contingency plan is to use pure ectoplasm in place of blood, which would work up to a certain point, but there's a reason that he wants this resolved as quickly as possible.

[yungkrawfishofficial]

officially produced my first song. feeling: questionable and also tired?? 🤨🦐

[heartorbit]

i want to know everything that makes you happy! 💫🪐🎇

[pangolin-404]

Finished suturing kit last night (It broke me) and just saw the "She's careful with her teeth" art. Tell me EVERYTHING abt Sam x Hellen 👀👀❤️

you've caught me at the perfect time (doodling them)

I'm still getting a solid grasp on their relationship (both platonic and romantic) but so far:

Hellen is extremely blunt about many things, but not cruel. Sam appreciates this. It's kind of unclear how much of a toll the Visitor took on her mind, or if she was just like that. Did she kill anyone pre-Visitor? Sam's not sure.

Hellen likes Sam's kindness and general demeanor. He's endearing, honest, and extraordinarily patient with all he has to deal with. Strangely collected and soft, even in such an environment.

generally strong mutual respect for each other's skills and tenacity

Sam tends to shoulder a lot of responsibility, which Hellen normally allows. She sees that he's got a good head on his shoulders and doesn't intend to get in the way of the latest plan he's zeroed in on (besides, she's got nothing better to do). But when Sam steps back from the front, he gives the reins to Hellen.

Both Sam and Hellen like doing things for people to show they care. Sometimes they get in each other's way about this. Sometimes it works out (Sam cooks, Hellen does the dishes after).

They try to get into each other's interests. Hellen will lean over the back of the couch to watch Sam play games with Joel (or whoever he's with that session), but wouldn't have any interest in playing herself. Likewise, he'll listen to Hellen talk about plants, and the garden she maintained pre-Visitor. She rarely talks about herself, so it's nice when she opens up a bit. Maybe, eventually, she admits she wants to return to it when everything's over, even if the plants get weird.

the day Sam digs up a gardening game is a beautiful day of bonding

Sam is afraid of, or unsettled by, Hellen's face for some time, but he's seen enough horrors to not react to it. She knows it scares him. Neither of them could put a finger on exactly when Sam stopped being afraid. Over time, and depending on who else lives with Sam, Hellen grows more comfortable leaving the mask off in the apartment.

They're each, in their own ways, unused to human contact. Sam was extremely lonely pre-Visitor, and Hellen's whole perception of herself and her relation to others shifted when she looked outside (she views herself as objectively frightening and something unpleasant to look at; she doesn't want to scare everyone on sight <- I'm still tentative on that take but she's got SOMETHING going on). tldr they're awkward about each other and holding hands

Even during the apocalypse, time to take things slow is rare. They're always either in the trenches or recovering from a fight or stressful encounter. Hardly enough time to be with each other, or even the other people in the apartment, in a peaceful way. Always other things and other people (mainly the kids) to worry about. Not quite such a thing as domesticity, out there.

If Monty and Xaria have kicked Sam out of his own room, he occasionally sleeps against or on top of Hellen while she keeps watch.

even though Hellen is careful, she does end up accidentally biting Sam while kissing him at least once she's bitten him on purpose too

the goofy rabbit drawing kinda gives away part of what I think the rest of hellen looks like. but yeah that, just to a far greater extent. all cuts across her flesh opening into teeth and sometimes eyes. she doesn't have a lot of sensation or control over those mouths but she gets kissed there too because why not, she deserves it :)

Fifteen days wasn't enough for them to know each other as well as they would've liked.