#it just seems so disrespectful that the officials just *left* it

[volitioncheck]

i think i wouldn’t hate disco elysium’s collage mode nearly as much if it weren’t for 1) the way that it was marketed in such a tasteless, soulless manner, let alone the fact that it was a last ditch distraction from a dead on its feet studio piloted by dumbass thieving execs and released on the day of the court declaration, and 2) those dumbass fucking stickers

like if it had been included with the base game from the start and had been titled something a bit more tasteful and in-line with how i would have liked the feature to be marketed as— something like “exploration mode”, something that perhaps could only be unlocked after completing the game for the first time, AND didn’t have those stupid as hell visually and tonally incongruent with the artstyle stickers, i would have applauded it as a nice little bonus for being able to study and appreciate the 3d models and environments for reference.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Honestly the detail that gets me the most about Paul Kessler's death is that they just left the blood on the pavement, and it took someone in the community to actually deal with it in any way:

Earlier this in the day, Elena Colomba — a recent convert to Judaism — spent hours marking the bloodstained spot where Kessler lay waiting for the ambulance with a Star of David drawn in blue chalk, reporter Jacob Gurvia wrote on X.

[Source] — please also be aware that there are pictures in that article of the chalk art, the blood, and the victim

[murdrdocs]

death do us part

description. there's murders happening at camp half blood, and you and LUKE CASTELLAN care about them. really, you do. but you can't help but sneak off and break a few of the rules of survival laid out by luke's brother. besides, what's really the worst thing that can happen?

includes. SMUT 18+, mutual masturbation (kinda), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, mentions of vibrators (m and f receiving), shower sex, some mentions of death, subby luke vibes, dom reader vibes, whipped luke, situationships, slightly bitchy reader

wc. 3.4k+

a/n: art is record separator by phil hale. barely edited

Both of you are being selfish. 

Distantly, in the back of your mind beneath the raging hormones perhaps, you’re aware that this is not only disrespectful but also irresponsible. 

Luke’s brother’s words ring in your head, reminding you over and over again. 

You had been sitting around an unsanctioned campfire at the time, a dozen or so of you all passing around bottles of alcohol that had been snuck in by one of Luke’s younger siblings who was desperate to impress and please all of you. With the buzz taking over your body and providing a general feeling of elation, you must admit that they impressed you. Maybe Luke too, who was surely delighted to have you all over him. Your little game of cat and mouse was finally coming to an end, likely spurred on by the havoc that had taken over Camp Half-Blood. Everyone was on edge, wondering who was next. Because according to Chris and a few other kids who were slasher fanatics, there would be a next. And soon. 

Which is likely why all of you were down by the shore and letting off steam. Simply existing before something happened by the time the sun rose. 

Usually, come morning you would blame your touchiness towards Luke on alcohol. But now, if either of you made it to the morning, you swore you would stop playing hard to get, throw caution to the wind, and kiss him during first daylight, a signifier that your relationship, whatever was going on between you two, withstood the test of the night and could now be official. 

You two could do it. If that was tipsy delusion or rationale talking, you didn’t know. 

All you knew was that Chris Rodriquez was definitely drunk, but there had to be some truth to his words. 

“Listen, listen.” He stood, raising his beer bottle as if he were about to toast. You hoped the bottle wasn’t empty yet, for Chris had a habit of pulling you all into a game of spin the bottle whenever he got like this. Sometimes, you didn’t mind it. Not when you got to kiss Luke. But watching Luke kiss someone else always left a sour taste on the back of your tongue. 

When Chris took a swig, you sighed a bit and slunk further into Luke’s side. 

“If we’re going to survive this–” each of you knew what he was talking about. The grieving families and empty beds made sure you each knew what was happening. “We’ll have to live by a set of rules.” 

“Rules?” Luke spoke from beside you for the first time in a while. You turned to look at him and immediately got distracted. His scar shined in the warm lighting, the orange making the slight flush along his cheeks a little more distinct. His eyes were heavy. They were relaxed. He was relaxed, and the irony didn’t fly over your head. 

Weirdly enough, you found yourself relaxed, too. Tucked into his side with his arm slung over your shoulder like the two of you were together. It was normal for you both to get like that late at night, but the difference in the air made it seem more sentimental. 

Luke, likely sensing your staring, turned to look at you. He smiled just a bit, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The two of you separated soon enough to hear Chris’ rant. 

“Yeah. Rules.” When no one around the bonfire seemed to understand what rules he was referring to, he took a swig of his beer, sat it on the log behind him, and stood on his soap box. 

“There are a set of rules to surviving something like this. Rule number 1: never say you’ll be right back. Trust me, you won’t.” 

One of the girls raised her hand, her face scrunched into a pout. Chris stopped to look at her, pointing a finger as an indicator for her to speak. “What do we say instead?”

Chris took a second. He hesitated, his dark and glassy eyes searching around him for an answer, then, “Just leave and come back. Don’t announce it.” 

The answer seemed good enough for her and Chris continued. 

“Rule number 2: don’t shower alone. This is just an invitation for the killer to sneak up on you, and slash you up. Next thing you know, we’re finding you stark naked.” This rule seemed to make sense for everyone else and no one spoke up. “Rule number 3: do not have sex. And if you’re a virgin, now is not the time to lose your virginity.” 

This incited a low level of outrage from a few people around the camp. Your hand settled on Luke’s thigh, and you could feel him staring at you. Still, you continued to stare ahead at Chris. 

“It’s not safe!” He exclaimed. “You’re left vulnerable, just like in rule 2, and for some reason, killers love to prey on the promiscuous. Just keep it in your pants until whoever is doing this is caught. That’s all. And rule 4, the most important one: never ever, ever go off alone. This will single you out and make you an easy target. You follow these rules, and maybe you’ll survive.” 

Chris finished his rant, took a final swig of his beer, and sat back down. 

Luke’s hand fell to your thigh. He ran his touch up and down once, and then squeezed your flesh twice. From the corner of your eye, you saw the grin grow on Luke’s face and turned to him. Neither of you had to say anything. Luke raised his eyebrows, smiled at you, and you nodded. 

Luke opened his mouth to likely spew out some bullshit excuse, but everyone’s attention turned towards one of the kids sitting next to Chris who suddenly broke out of a stupor to protest Chris’ rules. Which left you and Luke an opening. 

He took his arm from around your shoulder, placed his hand out for you to take, and then stood with you on his heels. 

“Where’re you two going?” Silena asked from beside you. 

You grinned down at her and communicated all you needed to in that one look. “To sleep. Chris said not to leave alone, right?” 

She was clearly unconvinced, but she still nodded and kept her mouth shut. 

And the two of you walked away to the sound of Chris pitching yet another spin-the-bottle game. 

Which brought you here, in the bathrooms instead of your cabin. Your poorly formed excuse spoken to Luke was something along the lines of needing to scrub off the grime from the day, and especially the thick layer of bug spray that you’ve recently had to use. Some of the more superstitious kids in camp attributed the increase in bugs to the increase in deaths. You attributed it to a malfunction of the Mist. 

You knew that Luke, being the gentleman that he is, wouldn’t dare let you shower alone. Not since his brother laid out the rules. You also knew that Luke, being as infatuated with you as he is, would take any chance he could to get with you, even if it was selfish and irresponsible. 

But you don’t think he’s considering either factor right now as he’s kissing you as if he has a one-track mind. 

One of the showers is running behind you. The two of you had originally been waiting for the water to turn hot, but that happened a while ago, and now Luke was keeping you busy in the center of the bathroom, his hands gratefully roaming over your body, feeling you up. 

He has one hand settled along the back of your thigh, just right under the end of your jean shorts. His other hand grips your cheek, holding your face steady for him to messily kiss you. You don’t mind the mess of it, you’re not bothered by the way his tongue clumsily slips outside of your mouth a few times, because it’s a sign of how he’ll fuck you. Unabashed, uninhibited, maybe he’ll even whimper in your ear when he cums. 

Just the thought alone is enough to encourage you.

You hook your fingers under Luke’s shirt, a faded graphic tee you thrifted and brought back to camp for him, and lift it just over his navel. He gets the message and pulls away from your lips, but there’s a force pulling him back once, twice, and one final time before he pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He looks like something out of a movie as he lifts the black shirt off by the neckline and tosses it to the floor. You don’t know if he means to, but he flexes while he does it, his abdomen taunt and the veins in his arms popping out more than usual. 

You’ve seen Luke’s body many times and in many different scenarios, but each time you have to take a moment. And he knows you well enough to anticipate it. 

He stands within arms reach, watching you watch him. You can’t tell since your eyes are focused on the way his abs frame his navel, the way his skin has deepened a shade, and the scars and moles that are dotted across his body, but he’s smiling. A small, barely there quirk of his lips. 

Eventually, you take a step closer to Luke, pressing your fingers into his skin and sliding your hands back until your fingers interlock around his back. You pull Luke closer to you, lifting your head and nudging the tip of his nose with yours. 

“You done?” he asks, referencing your prolonged staring. 

You hum, nodding as you reach for Luke’s lips with your own. “‘m done.” And then Luke kisses you again. 

There’s some repetition when Luke lifts your shirt over your head, but he appreciates your frame with his lips. He kisses your shoulders and neck as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. He litters kisses into your stomach as he sinks to his knees, pulling your now unbuttoned shorts with him. He helps you step out of them, taking your shoes off as he does so, and when you’re only left in your panties, he looks up at you. 

“Mind if I do the honors?” 

You answer him through a grin. “Only if you let me return the favor.” 

And he does. 

It has been clear that your shower with Luke was likely going to be more than a shower, even though it was previously unspoken between you both. It doesn’t need to be spoken, not whenever there’s an obvious wet patch in your panties when Luke pulls them down, or when you’re face to face with his semi when you pull his boxers off of his hips. 

You look up at Luke, your eyes slightly narrowed and a tiny smile on your lips. You don’t say anything, but Luke still rolls his eyes. He scoffs, jerks his head in a motion that tells you to stand. As soon as you do, he has your face in his hands and his lips on yours. Your hands grip his sides, keeping him pressed close to you. 

Luke blindly walks you both back to the shower. He turns when your back faces the shower head, and lets the water flow down onto him first, pulling away only when his hair starts to get wet. 

He has his eyes shut, water cascading down his body in a way that makes him look like one of the Greek sculptures that now sit locked in museums. 

He pushes his hair off of his forehead, tipping his head back. 

“Hair,” he tells you. And it takes you a second to tell that he’s asking you if you’re gonna put yours back. You quickly throw your hair up and out of your face, putting it back enough to avoid the stream of the shower, and then you pull Luke closer to you. 

“Not even gonna pretend to shower? Maybe do a quick rinse?” He’s teasing, but you roll your eyes, move Luke out of the way, and then stand beneath the stream, lifting your arms and turning around to let the water roll over your body. 

You look up at Luke and catch him staring. His eyes trail along your tits, deep gaze following individual droplets of water as they collide with your shoulder and roll all the way down to the peak of your tits, where they drop off to fall to the shower floor. 

You scoff but don’t say anything. You’re not a hypocrite. 

“Happy?” You ask him as you step out from the water. 

His answer comes in the form of grateful hands pressing into your lower back. His fingertips pinch your hips as he directs you to the side wall. You don’t have to be told to tilt your head up. You’re already waiting for him, unable to resist smiling into the kiss when Luke brings his lips down onto yours. 

He trails a hand down between your thighs, knocking them further apart with a tap of his knee against yours. 

When his fingers, the middle and index, pull your lips apart, you sigh into his mouth. When they press against you, spreading the wetness already gathered there, you mewl against his tongue. 

Luke’s good with his fingers, you both know it. At this point in your relationship—or whatever both of you decide to call it in the moment—with Luke, he knows you well. He knows that you like it when he hooks his fingers and slightly grazes the top of your walls. He doesn’t have to ask if you’re feeling good, but he does it anyway. 

“Good?” Spoken against your lips, the ghost of his own lips brushing against yours as his words enter your mouth. 

You nod, knocking your head back against the wall without much care of the water there. 

Luke’s other hand clasps behind your knee where he lifts your leg, pressing the inside of it to his hip. He has you opened up for him, giving him free range to practically piston his fingers inside of you. It’s a fervorous pace, more hungry than you’ve known Luke to be. But you don’t mind it. 

It’s late, the two of you are as tired as you are horny, it’s nice to rub one out quickly and then knock out. It’s a routine both of you are used to. 

Like usual, you reach forward and wrap your hand around Luke’s cock. 

It’s no surprise when you swipe your thumb over his tip and are greeted with precum. Truthfully, you’re shocked there’s not more. But tonight, unlike other nights, you hadn’t given Luke the workaround. You wanted him. He knew you wanted him. And you were tired of pretending, tired of acting like you didn’t want to really and truly be with Luke. 

You would tell him. You were gonna tell him tonight. 

… After you came. 

It doesn’t take much more of Luke’s work for you to feel the beginnings of an orgasm creeping in. The urge to reach it is what has you locking your fingers in Luke’s wet curls and nudging him down. 

He doesn’t protest. He just smiles and sinks to his knees, settling his head between your thighs. Without much hesitance at all, he latches his lips onto your clit. 

Soon thereafter you’re arching into his mouth, your standing leg locked while your bent one hooks over Luke’s shoulder, pulling him closer even though your hand in his hair has already assured that he’s as close as he can get. His fingers curl within you, massaging your fluttering walls as you cum around them. Your moans are loud, echoing off of the walls and barely shrouded by the thunder of water meeting the tiled floors. Distantly, you hope that no one else has decided to come for a shower tonight, but the thought in the forefront of your mind is that you hope your orgasm never ends. 

It feels so good when Luke makes you cum. It always does. Rather he does it like this, with his fingers and mouth, or even his cock, or if he does it with one of the toys you brought back from home with you, a recent fascination of his. 

The image of when you had used the toy on Luke, pressing the vibrating shape onto his tip, pushes an aftershock out of your body, one that is pulled to completion by Luke’s eager work between your legs. 

When he pulls himself from between your legs, he swipes his palm, spread out as flat as it can get, along your cunt. You don’t realize that he did it to gather your wetness until he has that same hand wrapped around his cock. He tugs, spreading your arousal with the movement. 

It does the trick, Luke’s eyes fluttering shut as he twists his wrist. 

You tut and pull his hand away from his wrist. He doesn’t question it, only watching you through heavy eyes as you spit a large glob into your hand and replace Luke’s work with your own. 

His arms wrap around your waist. They wrap around your shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours and then lets his head fall to your shoulder whenever you pick your pace up a bit. 

He’s noisy, you can feel his chest vibrating from where you have your hand pressed into his sternum. But he’s too quiet for you to hear. His volume, paired with the noise of the shower, frustrates you. You dip your head to the side, attempting to get your ear closer to Luke. 

It works a bit, you’re able to hear his low groans, but it’s not enough. 

Eventually, you call his name. It comes out as a mix between a request and a demand, existing somewhere in the middle where you hold a considerable amount of control of Luke Castellan, practically the leader of leaders at Camp Half-Blood. 

Yet, you’re his pied piper. 

He hums, his eyebrows pushed together. You can’t tell if his look is one of confusion or pleasure. You figure it’s both. 

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” This is a plea. 

Luke nods once, and then he looks at you. 

It’s something you wanted, but it makes you flush a little. Having Luke’s undivided attention always made you squirm a bit, even when it usually made your ego flare. But that was when you weren’t here. When you were fully clothed and surrounded by the protection of your friends. When they giggled and nudged your side to tell you that the Luke Castellan was staring at you. This look isn’t much different from the one he gave you then, but there’s weight to it. He’s staring at you, with something so sincere in his eyes. Beyond just horniness, beyond a desire for you to make him cum. 

It’s so much, too much, but you were the one to request it, so you don’t back down. 

You square your shoulders and jerk Luke off with more determination. 

His eyes start to flutter shut as he gets closer, getting heavier and heavier as if he’s fighting off sleep. But each time they close, they open back up in a couple of seconds. He’s so determined to obey you, it’s flattering. It’s impossible for the way Luke Castellan treats you to not go to your head. Especially when he starts speaking to you. 

“Feels so good. ‘m so close. A little bit more.” 

He knocks his forehead against yours, holding you still by cupping the back of your neck when your head lolls from the force of the collision. 

He kisses you as he cums. His cock twitched in your hand as warm cum spurts onto your stomach and thighs. His lips move slowly, languidly, not kissing you as much as they just linger. 

But it’s fine that way. You don’t mind it that way. 

By the time both of you have come down, really came down, you’ve washed yourselves clean of the bug spray, cum, and general grime of camp. Luke shuts the shower off, he pads over to the linen closet at the end of the bathroom and you’re momentarily grateful that the kids have actually done their chores and restocked the closet with fresh towels whenever you realize neither you or Luke have clothes. 

Not only did you not have clean and fresh clothes, but the clothes you were wearing before were gone now. 

When you alert Luke of the problem, he groans. He tosses you a towel, wrapping his own around his waist, and stands in the center of the bathroom with his hands tossed onto his hips. He thinks for a second, clicking his tongue a few times. 

“Okay,” he turns to face you. “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes. You stay here.” He kisses your forehead, readjusts his towel on his hips, and tells you, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” 

[shelbgrey]

Dating Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader

Summary: headcanons about courting and marrying Benedict Bridgerton -SMUT warning

💙MasterList ML2 💙Dating MoodBoard

Every Bridgerton’s love story seems to have some sorta trope attached to it. Anthony and Kate have the pleasure of absolutely owning the enemies to lovers, Daphne and Simon successfully fooled the town with their fake courting, and of course the lovely friends to lovers story that evolved between Penelope and Colin.

But when it comes to Benedict and you it just depends on who you ask. Anthony who you have the pleasure to call your best friend says it's the longest slow burn in history or if you ask Kate or violet they will say with everything they believe in that you and Benedict are soul mates.

Growing up and into adulthood the two of you were practically attached to the hip

You've known the bridgertons since you were about ten. You were getting pushed around and picked on by a couple of kids that were older. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin just happened to see it and started throwing rocks at the bullies.

You've been best friends ever since, but you've always had this connection with Benedict.

You are part of the family, there's no doubt about that. Your mother died while giving birth and your father was always gone. The Bridgertons became your family and you a sepical connect with them that outsiders just don't seem to understand.

“wow, your always around them and not one of those men have corted you... Oh I get it, your the Bridgerton’s pet” - Cressida Cowper

Anthony was your first kiss. It didn't mean anything, you just wanted to know how to kiss and Anthony was close enough with you that he could do it and not catch romantic feelings. No one else knows but you guys.

Later on Benedict did find out. “So, you kissed my wife and never givin a thought to tell me?” he wasn't angry since it was way before you and him courted. “we were 13 and she didn't know how to kiss, I was doing her a favor”

Into adult hood Anthony was rooting for you two the most. There was a point he was getting tired of the 'slow burn' as he calls it.

He told Anthony this. “What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict couldn't help but admire you from acrossed the ball room as the words vomited out of his mouth. Even back then he knew those words were about you.

The first time Anthony sees you cry because of Benedict he waists no time talking some since into him. The first time you and Benedict ever kissed was after you found out he quit the art academy. After the kiss Benedict was feeling so many emotions he wasn't prepared for or knew how to handle, he apologized for 'disrespecting your honor' and left. “I kissed Benedict” you told Anthony because he was your safe space.

Anthony spit his wine out in suprise. “and I don't think it mattered one bit to him” after Anthony heard that he went to talk to benedict. Anthony was angry at him for hurting you but at the same time he wanted to help out his little brother and best friend the best he could. “mother told me once it's unthinkable to find someone so special, someone you love”

“I hurt her” Benedict said, shaking his head. Anthony sighed. “real true love is worth it, do not lose her dammit”

But unfortunately you two didn't become official untill the Polin era. During those few months you avoided Benedict and the family knew something was wrong when your arm would be linked to Colin's and not Benedict's during family walk or gatherings. Colin was oh, so confused when he comes back from his travels and finds out Elois isn't talking to Penelope and your not talking to Benedict.

“what? I can't be happy to see you? You've been go for months” you told Colin as you both walked together instead of you walking with Benedict.

You found out about what he was doing all season and the three way an blew up. That's when benedict confessed everything he's ever felt for you. “I never cared for love or maybe I just didn't want it... That was until I met you. I love everything about you. Your compassion, your stubbornness, the way your eyes sparkle. You filled a part of my soul I didn't even relize was empty, you healed me when I didn't even know I needed it. And believe me when I say I loved you the moment we met, I don't care if we were just kids. I love you”

When you got married Anthony walked you down the isle. “I intend to walk all my sisters down the isle”

Anthony and Eloise definitely cheered the loudest at your wedding.

You rarely call him Benedict, it's always my Love, Ben, Benny. He knows he's in trouble or something is wrong when you call him Benedict.

He doesn't care that you're not as prim and proper as most women. He loves the fact you want to fence with him and his brothers or the fact you'd turn your dresses in skirts and wear his brother white shirts that were hand-me-downs.

His love language has always been physical touch even when you guys were clueless to your feelings. He always needs his arm linked with yours or his hand on your hip.

You're the most beautifulest thing he's ever seen and he wants you to know that. He has always been smitten by you.

Before you were together he was always thinking about you, rather he was having sex with another person or touching himself.

He always wants to sketch you or paint a portrait, he probably has a whole sketchbook of just you in different positions and situations, both innocent and not.

You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration when he works on his art, he looks so handsome just standing there working.

you feel closest to him when you're modeling almost completely nude and he's painting. No matter what you're doing you always feel so comfortable around him and you both share a connection beyond words and meanings.

He loves dancing with you, the best thing for him is to take you somewhere private and just have a dance with just the two of you.

Forehead kisses. He is so much taller than you it's just easier in the moment, but it's also just a sweet innocent thing that's a staple in your relationship.

He loves receiving them too. Like if he's sitting on his stool in front of a canvas painting, he'll definitely accept a kiss on the forehead from you.

Speaking of canvases and paint, you've both definitely covered your skin in paint and had sex on a large canvas and made an abstract piece of art. And Benedict will hang it up in your bedroom or his art studio.

Fighting over macaroons all the time beacuse you both like the same ones. But if you're having a bad day or it's that time of the month he'll bring a whole box for you.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

This man needs physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

“Darling, I would love it if you cuddle me” he said, giving you puppy eyes and holding his arms open. You smiled and cuddled up to his chest.

Like I said, he needs contact with you. He loves little and big acts of psycial contact. Like he loves if you stand infront of him and fix the collar of his coat or rest your hand on his thigh during dinner.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, blushing.

“because you're beautiful”

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

He is your biggest supporter. Benedict is your absolute number #1 fan, everything you do amazes him. You've never had a man supporting and encouraging you every day and night.

Whatever you want to do in life he'll be there and have your back. “You are my muse, Darling. And I am forever grateful for you”

He'll think it's adorable if you're a book worm and will always bring home new books for you If he sees them. Sometimes the both of you will sit on the couch in comfortable silence for hours together while you read and he sketches.

Benedict is usually if not always very playful and relaxed, but he also has a protective side. If you're hurt or disrespected a fire will ignight and you will see a side of Benedict that's scary.

Like i said before, you never cared to meet society's expections when it comes to activities and clothes. Of course when you go out to balls, parties, and races you dress properly but there's always a hint of your own style that goes against the 'normal'. Stealing Benedict's top hat is great example. If your borde at the races or just want to wear it, you'll take it and put it on your head.

Benedict and Anthony also tought you how to fence, it's one of your favorite things to do with your boys.

Later in marriage you'd have four kids. Atticus, Charlotte, then boy/girl twins named Eloit and Violet.

Charlotte inherited her father's artistic abilities and Benedict has kept every scribble and every finger painting she's made.

He leaves little notes and sketches all around the house for you. You find them everywhere. In your bag, the book you're reading at the time. On top of your pillow. Stuck onto the mirror in the bathroom. He loves those little details. Loves to write you silly or romantic notes because he knows how much you love them.

Your Favorite one he ever wrote was, 'If I were to kiss you and then go to hell I would, so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without even entering it.'

Like I said from the beginning, he believes you are his soul mate. There's just this unconditional connection between the two of you no one can explain.

If your in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather your the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a long night of dancing.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

If you're in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather you're the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He can be a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure you're the only one on this earth he wants to love.

NSFW headcanons:

If he's had a rough day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and rest his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He's a boob man, He’ll push your bra up and take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls all around while he squeezes your hips.

He'll bury his face into your boobs as he pounds into you. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair, He honestly can’t get enough.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it until you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “Hell... Do that again... Please”

He's very skilled with his tounge, he loves eating you out. your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

bitting your neck just to hear you moan. When you finally give in to him, he'll lay you down on the couch or bed and start pealing your clothes off to reveal your chest.

You guys are very adventurous in the bedroom. You both have definitely gotten messy with paint before.

One time you both got covered in paint and made love on top of a giant canvas. It made an abstract art that he framed and hung it up in his art studio.

If you come into his studio to tease him it'll usually end with you on top of his desk and smear paint across your cheek as your lips move in a heated rethem.

He'll leave trails of red down your body as he does so. “There's my little work of art, all messy and perfect” He murmured against your lips.

Speaking of which, he refuses to refer sex as 'fucking', he thinks is degrading towrds you so it's just sex or 'making love' in his vocabulary.

He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He loves how he can easily make you blush. “you're so Beautiful”

“Mmm, you taste so damn sweet” He moans as he continues to pleasure you, his tongue teasing your clit. His hands move to your hips, holding onto them tightly as he devours you.

Even though he's the dominant person in bed he wants to know you have equal control too, if you don't like how rough or fast he's going he'll stop and check on you and make sure you're okay. All he cares about is your pleasure.

“You want it harder, Darling?” He'll comply with her request, thrusting deeper and faster, causing the bed to shake with your movements. He let out a low groan as he felt your nails dig into his back.

He loves missionary, keeping eye contact while he fucks you. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.

Benedict also loves watching your face while you bounce up and down his dick. He loves the expressions you make when he thrusts up into you when you least expect it. “I can't get enough of you, Darling”

If your lips are wrapped around him, he's taking control. It's usually rough, but he'll never do anything to hurt you.

He'll move his hips fast, thrusting himself deeper down your throat, the way you suck him drives him insane “Darling, you're doing so good”

He loves how good you are at making him feel. He loves being at your mercury as he thrusts down your throat. “Darling, you're going to make me cum so hard. I want you to swallow every last drop.”

Benedict is so vocal, he'll let out deep groans and moans as he feels your tight pussy wrap around his cock when you ride him. “Stay with me, y/n... Fuck me back”

Posing naked for him while he sketches you. One time you both sat infront of a mirror, you between his legs with your thighs spread while he used the mirror to sketch you both.

He'll always bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting as he rides his orgasm out. He'll keep bucking his hips into yours until you're both spent. “Christ you're beautiful...”

his voice is like a siren call, pulling you into the depth of pleasure. His hands moving to your hips, holding you steady as he praises you and drowns you in pleasure.

He can't get enough of your reactions, his eyes always burning with intensity as he takes in the sight of you laying under him, bare and utterly captivating.

One of his biggest kink is cumming inside you, seeing you filled up just makes him go crazy.

He has a thing about cumming on your breasts too. He'll watche in awe as his cum drips down your chest, marking you as his. He'll look at you with so much satisfaction and desire. “You look so beautiful like this”

He'll lap at your clit with so much hunger, circling his tounge over your swollen bud until you're a moaning mess. When he thinks he's teased you enough he'll take it into his mouth, eating you out like a starving man until you're cumming hard on his tongue.

He's very attentive when it comes to aftercare. you want a warm bath? Done. You want massages? Done. You ask, he delivers. All he cares about is your comfort, he insists on cleaning up any mess that's on you or the bed. If he sees any marks or bruises he will apologize for that with a soft smile on his face.“That's a good girl. Just relax and catch your breath, I've got you.”

You'll probably get teased the next morning beacuse Eloise or Colin heard you.

[boonsmoon]

Would you do a Mu Qing from TCGF fluff request Xie Lian (and by extension San Lang) attempt to play matchmaker between Mu Qing and his god/dess crush (cause Mu Qing refuses to admit liking them despite them being the person he’s closest to since meeting each other)?

I fell in love with this idea instantly A Christmas special for the lovelies Btw for creativity purposes, you can be the goddess of literally whatever

Request Masterlist Mu Qing x f!reader Genres:🎉🌸💞🧪

Kiss of Winter

To the untrained eye you would seem like a subordinate or nuisance to the cold-hearted god; however, this couldn't be further from the truth. You would considered yourself a close friend to Mu Qing, you have known each other for hundreds of years after all.

Though when asked, Mu Qing would refer to you as "a valuable acquaintance," and boy did it hurt to say this. Luckily, there was a very observant god who decided he had watched you two dance around each other long enough.

The holidays were approaching and Xie Lian thought this would be a great time to force persuade both of you to be in each other's company more often. So, with some hard thought planning and input from San Lang, the boys decided on a special celebration for the gods.

Now considering all these higher beings actually have standards, lots of works will have to be put into this. And who better to ask than someone that'll be excited to attend?

"I can't think of anyone more fitting for this job than you," Xie Lian praised, hoping to get you on the project. Everything has to be perfect if he's gonna get you and Mu Qing together.

You hesitated for a moment, "I've been getting many more prayers recently, though I suppose those can be put on hold..." There was a look of pondering on your face, weighing the pros and cons of what this could do to your status among deities and humans.

"Don't you have subordinates? If anything important happens they'll surely yap to you about it," you tensed at San Lang's words. Subordinates yes, deserving of disrespect no.

Unfortunately though, you must admit he was right. Your subordinates were always more alert than you, even when it came to your own temples. You sighed, "fine, I will help you prepare for this celebration."

After tireless days? Weeks? Of work, you all finally finished the super secret super awesome holiday party. Now you may be wondering would Mu Qing even come to the celebration? The answer is yes, but only if you invite him.

And let's be honest, most of the Heaven Official's don't like Xie Lian and San Lang very much, so making you the messenger was common sense from the beginning. So after running around and inviting everyone you saw, it finally came to the one and only.

"It is a holiday that comes each year, what makes this one special?" So far, so bad, he doesn't seem very keen on attending your greatest achievement yet.

"Becauseee we put effort into enjoying it this year. It'll be fun, I promise!" You pleaded with Mu Qing, hoping he'd say yes. "I worked on it the most anyways, so you don't have to worry about Xie Lian's 'bad taste.'"

He crossed his arms, contemplating if that was really a good enough reason to attend. "And when did I say you have good taste? It is likely just as bad considering you dare interact with him." OW OKAY THEN.

You folded your hands and begged, "if it's not I swear to never invite you again! Just please come this once..." This is what convinced him, the pain that in the future deities will get to enjoy your hard-work and he'll be left out. No one could ever appreciate your efforts like he can.

"Fine! I will agree this once..." That was a lie, he will make sure to agree in the future, even if it means forcing himself to attend a celebration that involved Xie Lian and San Lang.

The day of the celebration was fantastic, several deities appeared, many complimenting you on your efforts. You most oversaw everything that was happening, what you didn't see; however, was Xie Lian spying on you and Mu Qing while talking.

He took this as his chance to put the real plan into action. After getting a signal from San Lang that the mistletoe was hanging up a few feet from you two, Xie Lian basically sprinted into the both of you, pushing you under the plant.

Mu Qing turned around, visibly angry at Xie Lian, "would it hurt to watch where you move?!" This caused Xie Lian to put his hands up in defeat and shuffle away.

While rubbing your head to try and soothe the pain, you noticed something bright above you. Realizing it was mistletoe your face got darker. This caused Mu Qing to seem slightly concerned, questioning what was the problem. You only pointed up, and when he took notice his face also darkened.

"We can simply move and ignore this tradition, it's not that important anyways-" He was interrupted by you however, "rules are rules, Mu Qing, we can't ignore them. Plus, I kinda like this tradition."

He tried to get over the initial embarrassment and decided it would be easier to dive into the kiss. What would've been a fleeting moment to others felt like an eternity to you both.

Pulling away you could both tell by the look in each other's eyes that the feeling was mutual. And hidden somewhere else was a very proud and excited Xie Lian.

this was a very beefy fic

not that i'm complaining i liked it

anyways, happy holidays everyone! may all be well for the new year

[james-is-here]

oh? OH? 👀 🫢

Part two

Blogs: @heartbinn

Tags: Angst, my first hurt/no comfort cause I have a soft heart and could never go through with it, Chan is the one not getting comfort, Members forget Mn, Made the manager...attached to Mn? He's just as sad to see you go.

Lmk if any other tags are needed. Feedback and comments are welcome, it makes me so happy seeing how you thought of my writings.

You realized something was off when you were 'forgotten' for the second live stream in a row. You don't know when it happened. How it started. You just started noticing more and more that you were being left out.

"Sorry, Mn, I thought you were busy. Didn't think to invite you." They always thought you were busy.

"Hectic schedule, I'm sorry." You guys have the same schedule, that's not an excuse.

"I'm sorry, Jagi, I thought that was tomorrow." Even Chan forgot things.

You never use to be like this. You were all once connected, always talking, always hanging out when there was time. They listened to your feedback, they agreed with your inputs, and when they needed, they'd go to you for comfort.

Now it's like you're a ghost. Present but not visible. You look like a deer caught in headlights when they talk about stuff that you haven't been caught up on. There was one time in the choreography that you were to catch one of the boys and you stood around aimlessly and ended up getting yelled at. You yelled right back because they never tell you anything and you didn't know you had to catch one of them. It wasn't fair!

"Mn, you could've hurt Jeongin! Why didn't you catch him?!" "How could I have caught him if I didn't know that was the next move! You guys don't tell me anything anymore!" "Yeah we do!" "Christopher, Don't lie! You are doing it too!" "Mn!" You didn't care that you disrespected him and used his full first name. You were annoyed.

Your breaking point was two things. The first was when you had to find out about an upcoming album through your manager. He had sent you a preview photo of the album cover and you flew into a panic attack. New Album? When? How? They decided on things without you? You're apart of the group too, how could they not have realized you weren't there?!

The second was when you were waiting...and waiting...and waiting in Chan's room. He had promised a movie night for your anniversary and yet four hours later than when he promised, he still wasn't there. You just left his room, red eyed and absolutely pissed. That night, he didn't even check on you when he came home.

It took a couple days but you had officially left Stray Kids. You couldn't take the neglect anymore, it was unfair, uncalled for. Your manager was sad to see you go but he understood, even he noticed the others neglect but it seemed that when he told them off it went through one ear and out the other.

You packed at night, taking about half an hour to debate if you wanted to take memories of being in the group but instead you just took down the photos of you and the boys and cut yourself out, leaving just the boys along with the few albums and photo cards you kept on your desk, throwing the pieces of you in the waste bin underneath.

Tears streamed down your face as you packed your suitcase. Midway, your realized you folded the two hoodies Chan gave you. You lay one on your bed but decide to keep the white one as you zip up your luggage and start packing your other one.

Leaving in the cover of night let you leave without seeing their faces, without seeing possible confusion or pity pleads to have you stay. In the days it took to be out of the group, you also managed to get accepted into another company. You would've stayed at JYPE if it didn't mean you'd still see the boys that once brought you joy, if you stayed you'd have to put up with them trying to talk you back into the group. You just can't seem to trust them anymore.

You ex-manager was nice enough to take you to your home where you're staying until you can properly integrate into your new company, possibly into a new group. You heard that the company knew you and would be helping you to try and join a group or even help you become a soloist.

That morning, the boys went on with their lives, completely oblivious. It wasn't until after practice and recording that they were finishing up and getting ready to leave the room they gathered in to discuss the album when Chan looked around and finally noticed. "Wait...Where's Mn?" Their manager looked at Chan and the others before sighing. "Really? Haven't I yelled at all of you to stop ignoring him? It took you almost all day to realize?" Your manager felt really bad for what they were doing to you so he did get a bit heated.

"What do you mean?" The manager sighs before guiding the boys out. "Let's get to the dorms." Is all he says. When they get there, the manager makes them sit on the couch, hands on his hips. "Have any of you really realized that you were excluding Mn? I asked him about the album cover and he told me that he didn't even know a comeback was planned to happen. He also told me that you yelled at him for almost dropping Jeongin but you guys never told him or showed him the choreo, how could he have caught him if he didn't even know what was going on?"

With a deep sigh, the manager looks down at the floor before delivering the news. "Mn signed out four days ago..." He looks back up to the boys, staring at him wide eyed. "What?" "He's gone, Chan. I took him home last night." "W-Well, we'll see him at the company at some point right? So he's not-" "He's moving to KQ. He thought that if he stayed at JYPE you guys would stop him at any opportunity to try and get him back. They're already looking to either put him in a group or help him be a soloist." Han was the first to move, running past the manager to run to your room.

The others hear him cry out a moment later then return with your cut photos in his hands. "He's gone..." A few others run to see it for themselves as Han drops the cut photos next to Chan and slides down the nearby wall to cry into his hands.

Chan picked up one of the photos. A picture of you and him, a selfie with him hugging you from behind with his chin on your shoulder. He remembered the negative space where you were, you had your head turned, looked at him with so much love and a bright smile that matched his.

"I'm sorry, Chan...but he was tired of being just a shadow. I wanted him to reconsider but I saw everything and I knew it would be worthless." He saw in the corner of his eyes some members trying to call you only to huff when they got your voicemail.

Years later, they still felt hallow. They were happy and working well but they still felt empty. They know you've blocked them but they still texted you or tried to call you even after this long.

Telling Stay was really hard, they just told them it was for mental health issues but some Stays also noticed the neglect and pieced it together, especially when some fans noticed you in another group.

They were backstage getting ready to preform at the award ceremony the main title from their new album, decked in pirate like outfits with layers and accessories but still dressed a minimum amount to be able to dance.

Chan was helping Felix with his headset when Felix caught something out of the corner of his eye. "Mn!" His eyes widen as a smile took over his dropped jaw and the others turn in the direction Felix is looking. You stop hearing your name, turning to see who it was only to stare at the group of boys unmoving. Felix's hand hesitated before waving at you with a gentle smile.

It's been so long that you were honestly thrown off by how much they've grown and how handsome they've become. You see Jeongin smile at you and you notice his braces are gone, Hyunjin has grown his hair out along with Felix. These little details are forgotten the moment you feel a hand on the side of your face and you turn back around. "Hey." You smile, Seonghwa completely taking your attention as you watch him smile in return, your hands resting on his waist. "Come on, Jagiya. We've been waiting for you." He says, leaning forward to give you a quick peck but you pull him back to you for a slightly longer kiss before you take his hand and he takes you back to the table.

You heard their gasp when you kissed Seonghwa but honestly, you didn't care. You were seen in Ateez, heard and included way more than you ended up becoming in Stray Kids.

Chan's heart was crushed, he honestly had hope that you guys could talk it out but also knew there was no way but he still hoped. His tears blurred his vision as he let a sob left him, he tried not to let them fall, he had to go on stage soon, but it hurt. He had lost not just a member but someone he actually truly loved. He didn't mean to forget him, he didn't mean to push him away. The regret of not realizing sooner still weighed heavily on his shoulders after this long.

The way you held Seonghwa was the same way you'd hold him. The smile and shine in your eye you gave the other idol was the same you'd give to him, the same one in the taped photo that still remains on his desk after he found the other half. The members also have the other photos, taped as well and put on the fridge.

What crushed Chan the most in that moment?

You didn't look back as Seonghwa took you away.

pssst, I would write more Ateez but I don't fully know their dynamics and personalities completely so I'll probably just insert them like I did in this fic 😁

[dreamcubed]

false god | blaise zabini x reader

song; false god [taylor swift] pairing; blaise zabini x pure-blood!slytherin!fem!reader genre; arranged marriage, angst, hurt comfort, fluff, sort-of-e2l word count; 4,7k timeline; deathly hallows warnings; swearing, references to sex/hook-ups, references to battle injuries, questionable views on muggle-borns summary; you had been betrothed to blaise zabini practically your whole life, and while you moved in the same friend group, he had always avoided you. you tried to understand, you really did, but were you really so undesirable?

happy belated valentine's day!!

masterlist

"they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith."

——————————————

The ring of plated white gold and emerald jewels had sat comfortably on your left ring finger ever since you had been big enough to wear it. It was worth a fortune, as your parents frequently reminded you, so it would be disrespectful to the Zabini family to not wear it with pride. You obeyed, even though Blaise - your affianced - had not worn his (more masculine) twin ring for as long as you had known him.

Sometimes you would catch the pitying looks of your mutual friends whenever the sun shone just right on the piece of jewellery, catching everyone's attention. They all knew that Blaise avoided you, never spoke to you, but it was an unspoken matter. You did your best to never show your hurt on your face, and be a strong and positive woman, like your parents had raised you to be.

You just wanted to make them proud.

It's not that you were in love with Blaise, not by any means. You would have to have actually spoken and bonded with the man to reach that stage. Regardless, rejection hurt, especially when you had no part in the arrangement of your marriage either. You were in the same position as he was, yet he acted as if you were at fault for the situation he found himself in.

You weren't a bad person, and you were at least decently attractive - was it really so bad to be betrothed to you? Why couldn't he just make the best of a bad situation and try to get to know you?

***

The Hogwarts Express had never been colder, even the warm red seats looked sallow and grey, reflecting the sullen looks on everyone's faces. You let out a sigh, pulling your thick jacket tighter around you and sinking into the cushions. Pansy was sat next to you, chewing on her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the water droplets cascading down the window. You hadn't said a word to each other apart from a greeting.

In fact, everyone on the train seemed to be sitting in silence.

Slytherin was the only house with almost full attendance from its students, as even the families who didn't support the death eaters felt confident in the safety of their children thanks to their blood status. The same couldn't not be said for the other houses, which had lost a good chunk of their students due to parental fears. Especially the muggle-borns - every single muggle-born you knew in your year had not shown up to catch the train.

It wasn't a mystery as to why: showing up to the school that was now overseen by Voldemort as a muggle-born was a death wish.

Despite its pure-blood status, your family didn't support Voldemort. That's not to say that they didn't have prejudices against muggle-borns, or that they would let you marry one, but they certainly didn't wish death upon them and would likely be okay with you befriending them. Just as long as you kept your bloodline pure.

The L/N family had remained a neutral party during the First Wizarding War, and were doing the same now during the second.

"Have you seen Draco?" Pansy asked, not even looking at you.

"I think I saw him at the platform at one point."

She hummed, and the silence fell again.

You began biting your nails.

***

The reign of Severus Snape as headmaster of Hogwarts had officially begun, casting an even more intense shadow over the school. As a Slytherin, this was actually quite good news, but you weren't so selfish that you could disregard the wellbeing of the other houses. Plus, the subject changes like Defence Against the Dark Arts becoming simply- the Dark Arts- were quite jarring.

"Can someone pass me the roast potatoes?" the emotionless voice of your fiancé rang out, signifying that he was talking to you. Normally, when talking to your other friends, he would smile, say please, even laugh. But when he was talking to you, he would do so indirectly and without emotion.

Sure enough, you were the person closest enough to the roast potatoes, but you decided to hold back in fulfilling his request, instead locking eyes with him. "Say please."

His eyes bored into yours for a few moments, before he scoffed and said, "Please."

"Was that so hard?" you mumbled, passing over the potatoes. Your friends had gone silent during the exchange, some of them sending pitiful glances your way. You were sick of being treated this way, both by Blaise and your friends, even if your friends did have good intentions.

You resumed your meal, aiming to at the very least enjoy the food of your last ever welcome feast at Hogwarts.

***

All you knew about Blaise was what your parents and friends had told you.

He was a pure-blood, and the son of a beautiful witch who had been widowed seven times under suspicious circumstances and become richer every time. As far as you could tell, it was highly likely that one of these dead husbands was Blaise's father. Admittedly, it made you nervous to marry into such a family, so perhaps it was a good thing that Blaise was so unwilling.

But your mother had told you that you had nothing to worry about, as Ms. Zabini only ever married bad men, and used it as a means to eradicate them.

"A noble cause."

Still, you had the rights to be nervous.

"Back to school party tonight," Millicent bounced up to you and announced, "Just us Slytherins."

"A party?" you had forgotten that such an event existed, given the misery of the world.

"I mean, yeah, we all need a pick-me-up," she shrugged, "It'll be in the common room. Bring firewhiskey."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but ultimately decided that drunkenness was just what the doctor ordered.

***

In your defence, you had started off slow with the drinks, mixing with lemonade and gradually sipping over a long period of time. However, once that system had (slowly but surely) gotten you drunk, all bets were off.

"Shots!" someone had shouted, and next thing you knew you were downing your sixth shot, after however many mixed drinks you had.

You stumbled away from the dancers to where some of your friends sat chatting, having the sudden feeling that you weren't too far away from passing out.

"Pansy..." you slurred, flopping on to the sofa next to her.

"Salazar, Y/N, how much have you drunk?"

Ignoring her question, you mumbled, "I feel amazing."

"A little self-control next time, yeah?"

You waved her off, no longer feeling like you were about to pass out so stumbling to your feet. You looked around the room with your eyes squinted, deciding that another drink was an excellent idea.

As you were on your way over - your friends calling after you - your vision became blurrier, until you bumped into a hard chest.

"What the fuck?" you cursed, narrowing your eyes and looking up at the person who inconvenienced you.

"Zabini," you muttered.

"Should you be getting another drink?" he asked.

You blanked him, "Does it kill you to be nice to me?"

He said nothing, biting on his inner cheek.

That was when the feeling of passing out returned, only this time in tenfold, making you drop forward. Your eyelids were heavy, you had to close them, and your body was heavy too, too much effort to remain stood up...

The only things you remember seeing after that were flashes of the stairs down to the dormitories - but you weren't walking, so how was that possible? And then throwing up in a toilet bowl, with your hair for some reason out of the way.

And then cushions, and quilt. But not yours: they smelled gorgeous, so you nuzzled your head into the scent and sighed dreamily.

***

When your eyes slowly peeled themselves open the next morning, your head was pounding and you were quite disoriented. Initially, you seemed to be tucked up in your own bed, but upon closer inspection you realised that the forest green decor was not in the usual place of the Slytherin seventh year girls' dormitories. In fact, this was a room that you had never seen before.

"You're up."

Your eyes shot towards the entrance to the connected bathroom, and every limb in your body froze as you laid eyes upon Blaise Zabini, already showered and dressed even though it was a Saturday.

"What- I-" you stuttered, sitting up in bed. You were relieved to see that you were still in the party clothes from the night before: you weren't opposed to a hook-up, but you would've liked to remember it.

"Relax," he sighed, "You blacked out last night. Carried you down here because I can't go down the girls' stairs."

You nodded slowly, trying to piece together the events, "Right..."

He said nothing, moving over to the dresser to spray a fragrance on his wrists. He truly was your typical classy rich boy. You took this opportunity to look around at the other beds in the room, seeing that the curtains were drawn around one in particular.

"Your beloved Pansy is in there."

Salazar, had she and Draco had sex while you were sleeping in the same room?

"At the very least they put a sound-proofing charm on," Blaise confirmed that thought, and you couldn't help but remark that this was the most he had ever spoken to you.

"Where did you sleep?" you had to ask.

This time, Blaise blanked you, his dark oak eyes void of emotion.

"Next to you," he eventually said, making your breath hitch. "Like we're not engaged, L/N," he scoffed, making you scowl.

"Since when have you acted like it?"

He didn't reply, and you decided that if you let it escalate to an argument, you might wake up the others. So, you forced yourself out of bed, picking up your shoes and leaving without another word.

Walk of shame, here you come.

***

Typically, if one of the girls in your dorm stumbled in the morning after a party in their clothes from the night before, there would be immediate questions of what happened and with who. But, when you entered your dorm, you were met with silence. Partially because half of the girls were still asleep, but mainly because the girls who were awake avoided looking at you.

Daphne was the only one forward enough to say something. "I saw Blaise carry you down."

To be fair, that would explain the lack of questions about hook-ups. They hadn't suspected that the two of you had sex. You simply hummed in response, just wanting to strip yourself of your clothes and makeup and crawl under your own duvet.

But Daphne still wasn't forward enough to ask if that meant your engagement had become a less cold one, as that would be entering the territory of the unspoken agreement to never mention the elephant in the room of Blaise's unwarranted disdain for you.

So, you were able to settle into a new slumber unhindered.

***

The party had been a pleasant but unfortunately temporary distraction from the miserable atmosphere that was Hogwarts. Learning the dark arts made you feel dirty, unclean - like you were announcing to the whole world that you were a death eater. You knew you weren't, and that you would never receive the Dark Mark, but you couldn't help but feel like a bad person.

You knew, however, that being a Slytherin meant the other houses looked at you with disdain, and also that many of your friends weren't entirely opposed to the Dark Lord's cause. It was something that made you sick to your stomach, yet you refused to voice these thoughts to anyone.

Not even Christmas could cheer you up, when before the colourfully decorated castle walls had filled you with a joy like no other. It didn't even feel like Christmas, it was as if all the saturation in the world had been lost, leaving behind a cold, dull grey hue. You had never been so sure of the fact that you would go home for Christmas than you were that year. At least your home wasn't shadowed by the rule of Voldemort, even if it was a tad cold and empty.

"I'll see you in the new year, yeah?" Daphne said to you, pulling you into a hug, "Have a good Christmas."

"You too," you returned the embrace, "And happy new year."

She smiled at you, and that was when you caught sight of Blaise in the corner of your eye. You hadn't spoken since the events of the Slytherin party, primarily because you had avoided him. But, he was walking towards you.

"Merry Christmas," he said monotonously, and Daphne took that as her cue to disappear.

"Merry Christmas," you said curtly back, picking up your trunk as you prepared to get off the train.

"Our families are having dinner together over the holiday."

You hesitated in your movements upon hearing that, but decided against replying, instead leaving him stood there with an expressionless face.

***

It wasn't that your parents didn't love you or care for you by any means, you knew that if you refused to marry Blaise Zabini they wouldn't disown you. But, they were raised with certain values and customs, and you had been raised into them as well. You wanted to make them proud - you just wished that the husband they had picked for you was a more willing participant in the arrangement.

So, when Blaise Zabini and his recently widowed (for the millionth time) mother arrived on your doorstep, the smile on your face wasn't entirely false. There were some truth to your emotions, despite the current state of the world.

"As you know, Blaise and Y/N are in their final year of Hogwarts," Ms Zabini spoke proudly once you were all sat around your dining table, "I believe it's time we start planning the wedding."

"I couldn't agree more," your mother replied, "It should be an elegant affair."

"That goes without saying."

You chewed on your lip.

"Y/N, what colour theme would you like?" your mother asked.

Your breath hitched, as you tried to scrape together a daydream of your dream wedding.

"Maybe pastel green?" you suggested timidly, "Since we're both Slytherins."

Ms Zabini nodded her head approvingly, "Is that agreeable to you, Blaise?"

The man shrugged, "Whatever Y/N wants."

"That makes things easy," the widow said, "It shall be a wonderful event."

***

After dinner, your collective parents had left you and Blaise to your own devices, suggesting that you show him your room. Part of you was surprised they were allowing a boy into your bedroom with no supervision, but you supposed some formalities were wavered due to your engagement to be married.

Blaise snorted when he entered your room: covered in moving posters and animated Lego sets, your four poster bed being pink and frilly with enchanted butterfly decor all around the wood.

"It's a bit mismatched," he said simply.

"It's home."

He raised an eyebrow at that, and silence consumed the both of you. The tension that hung in the air was thick, making you feel like you would go insane if you didn't say something.

"I'm not that bad, you know."

Blaise turned to face you from where he was sat at your desk, meanwhile you had perched on the end of your bed.

"I get that being tied to someone not of your choosing is a bit suffocating - believe me, I know - but you could make it easier for yourself by actually trying to get to know me."

"I do know you."

You rolled your eyes, "You know what I mean, Blaise," his first name was a foreign taste on your tongue, "You could have a worse wife than me."

He appeared to ponder your words for a while, stewing in the dampening tension of the atmosphere meanwhile you anxiously awaited his response. It was as if every action he took was intentional in making your nerves spike.

"The truth is, Y/N, I resent you."

You sat, stunned.

"My freedom to choose has been taken away from me."

Your blood boiled, making you stand up, "And I'm to blame for that? I'm in the same situation as you are, you knobhead."

He said nothing.

"I wasn't the one who made the decision. Stop acting like you're the only one here who's having a hard time."

Blaise went to open his mouth, but you carried on.

"Not to mention, there are people out there dying in the war right now," you vaguely gestured towards the window, "You should count your lucky stars that the biggest problem in your life is having to marry me!"

You scoffed, watching as he stared wide-eyed at you. After you realised he had nothing to say, you left the room to head down to the kitchens. Salazar, you needed a cup of hot chocolate after that whole ordeal.

***

The dark grey clouds cast a grim shadow over the once buzzing atmosphere of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they only seemed to get gloomier by the day. It was all you could do to stand on the sheltered bridge as you watched rain pour down, even though it was meant to be Spring. The mood of the wizarding world had always had a strange effect on the weather.

Your gloveless fingers were beginning to grow numb in the cold, but you didn't move, nor make any attempt to warm them up. You just wish that you could say that your low mood was for something as selfless as the current danger muggle-borns were in. But, no, you were egotistically thinking about your own qualms - i.e. your upcoming wedding with a man who hardly looked your way.

Ever since the argument at Christmas, he had gone back to disregarding your existence, apart from the few occasions you would catch him staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Aside from that, both your mother and his were frequently owling you about decisions for the wedding, which was making the whole ordeal seem a lot more real than it did before.

"L/N," the last voice that you expected to hear called out from beside you.

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to turn around, as if you were paralysed.

"You'll freeze to death out here," he spoke again, this time closer to you, "Everyone's wondering where you are."

Slowly, you turned your head to look at Blaise Zabini, your sallow eyes boring into his.

"They're looking everywhere for you."

"Tell them I'm fine," you eventually spoke.

"I don't think you are, though," he sighed, "You look like you're one minute away from hypothermia."

You shrugged, "Nothing magic medicine can't fix."

Blaise rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand, "Fuck, you're like ice."

That was when he started dragging you back to the castle, and you didn't have the energy to resist at all.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

You scoffed, "Like you couldn't guess."

He didn't reply to that statement, instead saying, "We're getting you warmed up."

He sat you in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, wrapping a forest green blanket around you and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hand. Your friends gathered around you, asking questions about where you had been and if you were okay, but you replied to none of them. Eventually, Blaise urged them all to give you space, letting out a sigh in the process.

Your heart twisted, and you attempted to suppress the pain by sipping on the drink.

It burnt your tongue.

"Careful," Blaise murmured, sitting on the sofa behind you.

You didn't even have the energy to scowl.

"We have our NEWTs soon, you have to take care of yourself."

That wasn't the only thing you had soon.

"You don't have to pretend like you care," you eventually forced out between chattering teeth.

You paused - waiting for him to say something. Anything. Part of you was praying to the gods above that he would say he wasn't pretending, that he did truly care. Instead, his silence was deafening, and your heart twisted and turned all that more. Why couldn't you just hate him?

Who would have thought it would be such a curse to have feelings for your fiancé?

***

Dust swarmed your senses, wrenching at your lungs and causing you to cough horrifically like you were a seasoned chainsmoker; you could barely see a metre ahead of you, and it was all you could do to shield your eyes with your arm as you progressed forwards. Through the crumbles and cracks, you could hear yells of Latin, thrown aggressively and with raw passion that had your blood spiking.

As far as you could tell, you were still in the dungeons - but you needed to get out of them, as they appeared on the verge of collapsing. You hadn't particularly engaged in any duels yourself, both because you were a coward, and because you lacked duelling skills. However, you had aided some students against the death eaters here and there on your progression through the castle.

You couldn't take a completely neutral stance like your parents.

You coughed harder, spluttering as your feet found stairs and began to climb up them - stumbling, but not falling.

"Help," a strained voice called out, making you assess the situation around you as best you could. As you inched further towards the left, you could make out the figure of someone stuck under rubble halfway up the staircase. You moved even closer.

"Blaise?" you croaked out.

A groan.

"Fuck," you mumbled, quickly muttering a spell to lift the rubble off of him. You saw the blood staining his clothes and gasped.

"It snapped my wand," he said, wincing as he tried to move.

You did your best to help him up, letting him rest his weight on your shoulders as you continued to push up the stairs.

"The dungeons are about to collapse," you said, carefully navigating your way around the corner once you finished the stairs.

"The whole-" he groaned, "-castle is."

You grimaced, "You need a healer."

But getting to the makeshift hospital ward without getting caught up in a duel would be quite a challenge. Then, it suddenly hit you.

"Which side are you on?" you quickly asked.

He scoffed, "Which side do you think? I'm still here." He then hunched over with an even louder groan than before, you swiftly moved to support his weight more.

Most Slytherin students who were either neutral or on the side of the death eaters had abandoned Hogwarts instead of staying to fight. You were a coward, but you would never have been able to forgive yourself if you had left. Instead, you found yourself stuck in the dungeons, some way, somehow.

"You stayed to fight," you murmured.

He went to say something, but another sharp pain coursed through him.

"Fuck," you cursed.

***

By some miracle, you reached the hospital ward with minimal further damage, and managed to get Blaise seen to instantly. You were amazed that they didn't question two Slytherin students being on their side, but you supposed it made sense: they were the good guys.

As you watched them take his shirt off to assess the damage, a glimmer of something against his chest caught your eye. It was connected to a thin silver chain that dangled around his neck, showing slight signs of wear and tear, implying he didn't even take it off when showering. When your vision cleared, you realised that the shimmery object along the chain was none other than the white gold band of green jewels that was the matching pair to the ring on your finger.

A lump caught in your throat, "You're wearing it," you choked out.

Blaise's eyes were shut, but he smiled tiredly, "Always."

Tears pricked at your eyes.

***

Eventually, what would be known as the infamous Battle of Hogwarts ceased fire: Lord Voldemort had fallen at the hands of Harry Potter. But there weren't cheers.

There was only devastation.

The wreck that the once majestic Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had become, and the subsequent deaths of thousands of kind-hearted people who had so much life to live. It was the epitome of bittersweet to watch people going around clearing up after the battle. You were grateful to be among the living, sat next to Blaise as he slept restlessly on a mat on the floor.

There wasn't really anyone else for you to talk to in the aftermath after all: Slytherins were quite isolated from the other houses, and hardly any Slytherins had stayed.

You allowed yourself the luxury of taking Blaise's hand in your own and squeezing it gently, letting a solitary tear cascade down your cheek. Was it relief? Was it hope? Was it happiness? Or was it sadness? Melancholia? Regret?

You didn't know, you simply allowed the feeling to wash over you.

"I didn't stay to fight," Blaise said out of nowhere, his voice gruff and quiet.

"Hm?"

"I stayed because you stayed."

Your heart jolted at his words, "Really?"

"Of course," he peeled his eyes open, "'Til death do us part."

You squeezed his hand again, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you act like you hated me?"

He sighed, appearing to be gathering as much energy together as he could, "I resented you, yes, but I- I was also scared of hurting you. You know what everyone thinks of my mother - that she's a-" he coughed, "-serial killer. Killing her husbands."

You admired his smooth face, despite its cuts and gashes.

"I was scared of becoming her, and I didn't want that to be your fate."

You reached out a hand to graze his prominent cheekbone, letting the tiniest of smiles tug at your lips.

"We'll be okay, Blaise," you murmured softly, "You're not like her."

He smiled slightly, wincing in the process. "No arranged marriages for our kids?"

You nodded, "No arranged marriages for our kids."

***

Your parents walked either side of you as you made your way down the grassy aisle, the summer heat blazing down on to the prettily flowered meadow. In your hands was a bouquet of white and pastel green peonies, and on your figure was a gorgeous princess ball gown that cost a small fortune. All your family and friends were stood up from their seats, gazing at your every move. Blaise, proudly stood at the altar in a black suit with a mint coloured waistcoat, was no exception. His eyes were trained into yours, making your heart flip tenfold.

Meeting him in front of the officiant, you passed your bouquet off to Pansy before allowing yourself to truly smile in your fiancé's presence. He took your hands into his and squeezed ever so slightly, as the officiant began to speak.

It felt like forever before the vows.

"I, Mr Blaise Zabini, promise to take Miss Y/N L/N to be my wife, and to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part."

He slipped the ring on to your finger, where it settled above your engagement ring.

The attention was then on you.

"I, Miss Y/N L/N, promise to take Mr Blaise Zabini to be my husband, and to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part." You pushed the larger ring on to his finger.

"I now, by the power vested in me, pronounce you husband and wife."

Blaise swooped down to kiss you warmly on the lips as cheers erupted from the crowd, and you found yourself smiling into his lips.

"I love you," he whispered. Words he had never spoken before.

"I love you too."

'Til death do us part.

—————————————

masterlist

written; 27/12/2023 —> 15/02/2024 published; 16/02/2024 edited; —/—/——

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

The disrespect toward indigenous peoples is what popped put at me today in one of your posts. I wonder how long the English have been looking down on the Welsh. We're the Saxons like that or is it the Normans who really thought they were better than everyone else. Cause it seems like it goes back a long way.

Oh, both, just in different ways. The Normals were imperialist, the Saxons were more theft and landgrab.

Something that makes me want to start hurling knives is the INCREDIBLY COMMON English myth that the Anglo-Saxons were a sweet innocent indigenous British people who were conquered and bullied by those mean nasty Normans (and Vikings), and because the Normans came over via France, that means everything was actually THEIR fault, and the true English i.e. the Anglo-Saxons, were victims too :(

When I say it's incredibly common, by the way, I really mean it. Enormous numbers of modern day English people believe this. I've seen BBC programs about the Viking invasions that claimed without a trace of irony that the Vikings would take slaves from "the native Anglo-Saxons". I've literally had English people comment this shit on posts of mine about Celtophobia and Welsh history. Like I'm there describing how the last Prince of Wales was locked in a wooden cage in Bristol Castle at the age of eight and lived out the remainder of his life there until his fifties so the Welsh would know their place, and some snivelling English cunt will straight up write a message going "Teehee really it was the Normans not the English though and they conquered the poor Anglo-Saxons too, poor England uwu"

Anyway in the dying days of the Roman empire in Britain one of the leading reasons for Rome abandoning Britannia was the constant waves of Anglo-Saxon invaders. There were so many the east coast of Britain became known as the Saxon Shore. There were so many the Romans built a line of forts that were and are literally called Saxon Shore Forts. There were so many that an official, historically documented, paid governmental position in Roman Britain was the Count of the Saxon Shore, i.e. the guy responsible for keeping the bastards out.

Rome had banned native military, of course, so when they then withdrew and took the armies with them, the people left had no defences against the incoming waves of Angles, Saxons and Jutes. England fell pretty quickly, Angles in the north, Saxons in the south, Jutes primarily in the east, I believe. What stopped their westward expansion was the Brythonic Celtic nations living in modern day Wales. And this is the origin of the Welsh dragon - those separate kingdoms needed a banner that united them, and represented Not Saxon. An anti-Saxon force. They chose a red dragon.

This is also the origin of King Arthur. An anti-Saxon king of the Brythons, who would repel these Germanic invaders. (It was several centuries later that England realised they should probably steal the term 'British', because otherwise they were marking themselves as 'not native'.)

Anyway the saving grace of the Anglo-Saxons in the end was actually that they were whiny little bitches who gave up trying to fight in Wales with its difficult mountains and fought each other instead. The whole sorry tale of the Heptarchy is the various Anglo-Saxon kingdoms fighting like cats in a bag, while Saxon king Offa built a dyke along the Welsh border and went "WELL YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OVER HERE" and every Welsh king went "...we literally didn't want to conquer you anyway, you spectacularly sad and stupid man"

Oh, and of course, there's the name 'Wales'. Given to us specifically by the Anglo-Saxons. And translated by centuries of English scholars, mostly very smugly, as 'foreigners'. A fun bit of early propaganda, look - foreigners in our own country that they tried and failed to steal.

All of which is a circuitous way of saying - yeah, it goes way back.

[whorety-k]

Hi everybody!! I'm not dead, I'm just super busy with college! Don't do 8 units of summer courses if you value your social life <3

Please enjoy this random fic drop that I have no explanation for other than I like the pain.

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman (40k) and gn perpetual!Reader

Song Inspiration: Never Know (Unplugged) - Bad Omens [YouTube] [Spotify] “When I go out into the world / I just don’t like what I see / You could call this paradise / but it looks just like hell to me / Lying in between the memories choking me / and I don’t know which way to go / But I’m okay to never know.”

Warnings: Angst, mentions of loss, this piece is bitter and angry and emotionally charged because Raven Lady was in their feels, you + Guilliman have a not-so-secret secret relationship but you’re officially known as Advisor to the Lord Regent, oh and you died at Calth once! yippee!

Word Count: 1.4k

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

The Fortress of Hera was always cold at night, and the chill bit into your skin. It did the advisor of the Lord Regent no favors to be wearing such light robes during Macragge’s coldest season, but the sting of the cold was the least of your concerns. Quiet footsteps carry you down the darkened halls to the only place you seemed to find any solace within the temple anymore. 

Perhaps solace was too strong a term. It was more the only place to freely vent your frustrations without a prying eye to judge you for it. Ten thousand years had seen little change to the great structure the Primarch of the Ultramarines had created during the Great Crusade, but the finely-crafted halls that you had once called home no longer held any familiarity.

The visage of the Emperor of Mankind carved into fine white marble stares down at you in the dark like a deific sentinel. How grand his chiseled image is: a mountain of a man sat upon an ornate throne of gilded gold, one hand holding a flaming sword, posed like salvation itself. The thought makes you scoff, shaking your aching head at the ridiculous notion. Such blatant disrespect would have you branded a heretic outside of the fortress, but within these silver-steel walls, you had no qualms making your opinions known. 

“Your last hope. Your last tool. Is that all we will ever be to you?” you sullenly ask the god before you. No, not a god–, you remind yourself, a fool. A damned fool of a deadbeat father who reaped what he had sewn, at the cost of an entire civilization. A man so obsessed with his secrets and the greater plan that he turned his own sons away from him. Was he even a man anymore? What humanity could possibly be left in something so callous?

Your eyebrow twitches as you fight the way your throat constricts, eyes brimming with bitter tears. The Heresy had been over ten millennia ago according to Imperial records, but the emotions surrounding it were still raw within your chest. For you, it had been one hundred years since your body had been torn apart by bombardment cannons at Calth. It had been one hundred years since you lost contact with those that you had called family. It had been one hundred years since the love of your life had his legion nearly decimated and been forced to rebuild the entirety of the Imperium of Man from scratch. 

It had been one hundred years since everything they had ever known was flipped upside down.

“What a grand civilization we’ve become,” you continue tacitly, scornful, “And with no one that fought for it left to see it. How merciful.” Your gaze wanders out towards the open balcony, fixating on the dull sky. The stars of Macragge looked the same as they did all of those years ago, and for a fleeting moment, you could almost convince yourself that nothing had changed. Nausea blooms in your gut. “They would be disgusted with the rotting corpse of an empire we call the Imperium.”

The marble god regards you with steadfast vigil. Its proud expression persists unchanged, silence uninterrupted. It frustrates you to no end.

Your face screws into a disgusted grimace, lip drawn back in an ugly snarl. “I do not miss you. I do not long for you,” you hiss, “Oh, great Emperor, I have to help your son pick up the pieces so gracelessly left behind.” Venomous words settle like lead in the air of the dim sanctuary. You clench your fists. “Why should I mourn you?”

The face of polished white remains stoic. Your eyes bore into the ancient stone, inspecting it for any reaction. It does not give.

You scoff once more, offended by its wordlessness. The gritting of your teeth exacerbates the headache thrumming in your skull. Ridiculous, you chide. So worked up in the presence of an unyielding god, heartbeat deafening in your ears as your blood pressure rises, and it gives you nothing. You sulk in the quietude under the carving’s watchful gaze.

“...I miss the Sigilite,” your pathetic voice eventually concedes in the silence, “Malcador had his issues, and we did not always get along, but at least he made attempts to guide the children you so thoughtlessly abandoned.” The welling tears begin to fall. Your frustrations paint your cheeks, glittery trails turning frigid in the chill of the fortress. “If someone had told me a century ago that I would be in his place, I would have called them a loon.” Grim laughter racks your body, and you turn your head back up to look at the stone likeness of the Emperor, “Advisor to the Lord Regent of the Imperium? Foolish. Preposterous, even.” The linen of your robes bunches as your arms encircle your midsection. It brings shallow comfort. 

“Tell me, my lord, who it is that is supposed to advise the advisor?” you inquire of the so-called deity, “Who supports me when I must make decisions?” The Emperor responds with perpetuated silence. Your head falls, voice weak, “...you have taken them all from me.” 

The connections you had made in other legions had all been lost to you early in the Heresy. Even if you could have attempted to reach out to them, having been put in stasis after being torn asunder at Calth and being completely separated from anything with the potential of tainted by chaos by Guilliman slaughtered any chances at reconnection. Memories of those you had loved still haunted your dreams, gifting you many sleepless nights. 

It had been ten millennia.

Now you stand alone in the dark, before a magnificent depiction of the root cause of all of your problems, howling your frustrations at him as if somehow, some way, he could hear you. It made you no better than Curze, and that thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You unwrap an arm from your middle to wipe away the freezing tears. “Perhaps I am the fool, thrust into a realm so far beyond me. Floundering like a fish out of water.” Soft footfalls echo through the chamber as you approach the statue and sit at its feet, leaning your miniscule body against the opulent statue. The cool marble bites at your cheek. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, and a false serenity befalls the chamber.

“I am all Roboute has left of the old Imperium. That’s a dreadful pressure to place on human shoulders, you know.” You speak as if scolding a child, a playful cadence in your voice. Your hand taps against the stony sabaton you rest upon, “But I suppose I am grateful he doesn’t have to do it alone, even if it means that I have to.” You shift to rest your back against the idol, placing your chin on bent knees that have long since gone numb from the cold. Against the visage of someone so beloved and beloathed, you feel the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks begin to melt away. You don’t catch the way your eyes begin to grow heavy, nor do you find yourself able to resist the siren call of sleep when it eventually comes.

Guilliman can no longer bring himself to be surprised when two of his sons report his advisor missing from their quarters the following morning. He dismisses the frantic marines idly and steps away from his holotable, closing the current simulation with a flash of green light. As expected, your unconscious form lies curled up at the foot of his father’s statue in one of the former worship halls of the evicted Ecclesiarchy. The primarch gives a weary sigh and kneels down, scooping your exhausted form off of the floor and carefully cradling you in the crux of his ceramite-covered arm. 

Upon standing, Roboute’s eyes meet his fathers, and he regards the marble silhouette with conflicted emotions. It troubled him greatly to find you here as often as he did, but Guilliman can seldom think on it when a line of vox chatter drags him out of his trance. Instead, he shakes his head and swiftly starts towards the command hall to return to his post.

He’ll question your odd behavior when there are less pressing matters to attend to.

[scekrex]

can we get the i bring the ribs I bring the drama 2 where we see male reader going to heaven to try and get lute adopted as their daughter

Fuck yeah you can get that!

Part 1

Call me daddy

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Sera’s office was quiet, the seraphim tried to pŕocess your very unique and special request. In the entire history of heaven no one had ever made the request to adopt a grown woman. The fact that you were the first did not really surprise her though, she had seen it coming a while ago.

The older seraphim had kept an eye on you as you had brought Adam his much desired food, she had also heard the little conversation Lute and Adam had after you had already left the fancy meeting room in hell. So you stumbling into her office with an official request to adopt Lute had just been a matter of time. To Sera’s disappointment, said time had come sooner than she had liked it. “Y/N, I am truly sorry to deny your request, but I find you and Adam unable to adopt his lieutenant,” the seraphim spoke as she looked down at you. Her hands were folded in front of her belly and she seemed in no mood to discuss this topic any further. You however, saw things differently, “Is it ‘cuz we’re gay?” You raised an eyebrow at the taller angel who sighed at your utterly stupid question - the both of you were very aware that it was not because you and Adam were a homosexual couple. You and him were unable to adopt Lute because she was a grown woman and did not need adoption. “No, Y/N,” the seraphim disagreed, she stepped closer to you, one of her hands came down to rest on your shoulder, “Adam and you are able to adopt, I have told you so before.” Her eyes reflected kindness, she seemed to genuinely be sorry for the fact that adopting Lute was not possible. “Lute is a grown woman though, you can’t adopt her without consent, I-” You were quick to interrupt the seraphim, not really caring how disrespectful that act was towards her, “So what you’re saying is, if Lute agrees, we can adopt her.”

Sera dropped her hand from your shoulder and lowered her head, “Yes, this might be a solution, I assume.” The older seraphim was clearly tired of you and your odd request, she had given up telling you no, there was no point anyway. And who would be harmed by Adam and you adopting Lute? Sera thought it would not harm anyone and it would spare her the time and energy to deal with you.

The doors to the seraphim’s office were busted open by Adam, who had just arrived back in heaven after his meeting with Lilith and Lucifer. “There’s my babe,” he joyfully greeted you as he opened his arms and pulled you in a tight hug. “We’ve been looking for you fucking everywhere, babes,” the first man mumbled as he placed a quick kiss on your head. You leaned into his touch, embracing Adam’s warmth at its fullest. “That little stunt of yours was fucking stupid,” he then changed the topic and you chuckled to yourself, “I had to fucking explain the daughter bullshit to Lute in front of the motherfucking traitor.” And Adam mentioning the daughter topic suddenly reminded you about the conversation you just had with Sera. Sera, who was standing next to you and Adam, watching the both of you carefully. “Sera said we can adopt Lute,” you cheerfully told your boyfriend as you proudly tilted your head upwards, the seraphim was quick to add, “Only if your lieutenant agrees to it.” Adam shot Lute a questioning look and the white haired woman nodded with a straight face.

“Congrats, bitch,” the brunette mumbled before he softly kissed your forehead, “You’re a fucking dad now.” A wicked smile met his soft eyes as you pulled away a little to properly look at your boyfriend, “Means I get to call ya ass daddy now, right?” The first man mimicked your grin and seemingly happy about the situation and your offer he hummed, “Fuck yeah you do.” Sera’s face was scrunched up in disgust, those were details she could have lived without knowing and she had preferred to not know about the sex life of the first man and his boyfriend, what a shame that both Adam and you were quite vocal about that topic. Lute on the other hand had simply ignored the comment of yours, the white haired woman knew that something as simple as adopting her would make you happy and if you were happy so was Adam. And the lieutenant was rather dealing with the first man when he was in a good mood, grumpy Adam was something she did not like at all.

[binsito]

red handed

pairing: oh seungmin (o.de) x fem reader

word count: 1.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, panty swiping, dry humping, swearing, seungmin is just a lil perv

note - this is my first official post!! hope whoever reads this enjoys it! it was mostly self indulgent hah

seungmin couldn’t help it.

it was a mistake but he had gone way too far. 

what started off as innocent panty swiping soon turned into a full blown problem.

poor seungmin couldn’t help it.

the first time it happened, you had invited him over to study at your apartment. you were having such a hard time understanding what your professor was teaching so you begged him to help.

seungmin being the sweetest friend ever, cleared his day just to sleep over and help with your homework.

two hours in and you were already exhausted from all the big numbers and formulas. you had fallen asleep and he decided to get ready for bed. 

seems work and school was taking up most of your time because he noticed you hadn’t done laundry. the load was almost toppling over.

but seungmin is such a nice guy.. 

he figured he’d help you out and throw some of your clothes in the washer. he picked up some clothes and tossed them in, he wasn’t particularly looking at what he was throwing in which caused him to accidentally drop something.

oh god, he thinks. breath hitching as he stares wide eyed at the pretty pink panties that happened to fall right in front of his feet.

the obvious thing would be to just pick it up and move on but seungmin was feeling a bit sneaky and a lot needy.

so this is what you liked to wear? so lacy and cute.. he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. imagining how it would hug your hips, how the string would bury itself deep between your round asscheeks.

and seungmin had good intentions! he wasn’t a bad guy! but he questioned himself as he pocketed the panties deep in his pants.

you wouldn’t miss one measly pair, right?

he swore this would be the only time he ever did this. cross his heart and hope to die. but it happened again.

and again.

he just couldn’t stop his pathetic little sticky fingers from nabbing your prettiest pairs! (and he was stupid to think you didn’t realize what was going on) the next time you were sure he was going to strike, you pretended to fall asleep. you were patiently waiting for him to build the courage to go into your laundry room again.

and he did, but not to steal another pair. he was going to kindly put them back before you missed them too much.

just as he was about to drop them into the hamper, you walked up behind him, arms crossed and trying to hold back your laughter. you found the situation quite amusing.

seungmin, on the other hand, wanted to absolutely perish. he wanted the ground beneath him to open and swallow him whole. he knew he was going to the depths of hell for sure.

“i-i can explain-“ he starts, but you wave him off. what explanation could he possibly give?

“did you use them?” “what? n-no- i-i just-“

you reach over him to grab a pair and inspected them. their scent was so strong, the crotch area had dried up stains.

oh, you absolutely caught him red handed.

“you used these to jerk didn’t you, minnie? you stole my panties to cum on them? i didn’t know you were such a pervert.. these are my favorite pair and i had no idea you stole them..” you sigh

“i-i am so fucking sorry.. if you don’t want to be friends anym-“ 

he was shaking, face completely red but you waved him off.

“i appreciate you putting them back.. just come to bed with me please? it’s late..”

you weren’t mad? seungmin couldn’t believe it.. he was certain you had a target on his head. you were probably going to strangle him in your room or throw him out of your window or-

you found yourself back in your room with seungmin. you sat him down on the edge of your bed as you shook your head at him

“minnie..what you did was so disrespectful.. you left me wondering where my panties were disappearing to.. i thought i was going crazy." you scolded him with your arms crossed

 "i had to go to bed all these nights with nothing underneath.. you are so cruel..” 

seungmin swallowed thickly. the sound of your voice buzzing in his ears. “you- are you.. wearing anything right now?”

poor perverted seungmin.

“is that all that’s on your horny little brain right now?..” you chuckle and playfully grab the tips of you nightgown, pulling it up your thighs and letting it linger just beneath your core.

he didn’t know to react. was this his punishment? oh may god have mercy on him. before he could speak, you had lifted your gown over your tummy. your cute little cunt on display for him. he was salivating at the sight, eyes going wild at your bare skin.

you walked over and straddled him, he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch so he just looked up at you with wide eyes, hands at his side.

“isn’t this what you wanted, seungmin?” you whispered as you finally pulled the gown off completely and tossed it.

he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. he wanted to sink his teeth into your soft skin and bury his head between your legs.

“yes.” he answers curtly 

“this is exactly what i wanted.”

and you smiled at him because this is exactly what you wanted too. it played out perfectly and now you couldn't wait to make a mess of him.

the dragging your cunt on his clothed crotch was enough for him to ascend. your hands on his shoulders as you whined in his ear. his erection screaming for release but he deserved the teasing for what he had done.

he could feel the front of his jeans soaking, your cunt making a mess all over him but he couldn’t complain. the friction hurt but the pleasure was too good for him to ask you to stop. he was so scared he was going to cum in his jeans but he just couldn’t hold back. a groan erupts from him as he shuts his eyes tightly. a proud smile plastered on your face as you let him soil his jeans.

“look at you, minnie.. so needy.. you couldn’t even last long enough to get to the fun part?” you mocked him

“i-i can go again.. i promise.. i can..” his brain so scattered, completely pussy drunk just from a little humping.

you got up from his lap and laid besides him, gesturing him to get rid of his pants urgently. just as much as he needed you, you needed him.

he was quick to strip. he didn’t care if he was messy, didn’t care how his cock continually dribbled precum. all he care about was diving head first into your cunt, spreading your legs as he spat on it.

rubbing his cockhead against your folds and smacking your cute little clit with it a few times. 

“fuck.. gonna fuck you so good.. gonna ruin your pussy.. you want that? tell me you want it.. please..” he was trying so hard to sound strong but he was a weak, weak man for you.

you bit your lip as you nodded eagerly.

and he crumbles when he feels your cunt suck him in. just the tip at first, slowly, he was scared he'd cum prematurely again. pressing in and restraining every fiber of his being from fucking you through the mattress of your bed

"s-shit.. so pretty.. pretty girl.. p-pretty pussy.. g-god.." his eyebrows furrowed as he kicked his head back at the feeling.

he sunk himself deeper, feeling how your cunt stretched out on him. you gripped his biceps tightly as he began to pump himself inside of you. it felt even better than you anticipated. his cock slender yet long, pulsing inside of you as he ruined your pussy.

"minnie.. so deep.. can feel you s-so deep" you purred out. he was hitting your gummy spot consistently, making you see stars

he pressed your thighs against your body as he quickened his pace. his forehead had a slight sheen to it and his muscles flexed with every snap of his hips

a ring of your cream formed around his cock as he slipped in and out rhythmically.  he needed you to milk him, he was dying for you to come undone around his cock.

he began to rub tight figure eights on your clit to help push you the the edge, your back arching at the newfound pressure. curses sputtering from your lips as he fucked you so thoroughly. your vision going white as your cunt clenched tightly and spasmed, having reached your orgasm. he continues to thrust, burying himself deep in your pussy to pour his load in you.

he wanted to make sure he left you nice and full of him, even after he pulled out.

he watched as his cum seeped out of you, squirting a few more drops on your cunt and sighing out. the sight was better than he could ever imagine. 

this was so much better than stealing your panties and fisting his cock to them. 

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

thank you for reading my first fic on here!! i was dying for more o.de smut and took matters into my own hands ahsh

[ninapi]

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Snake Pillar ╝

Premise: Love isn't always something beautiful, wanted, expected. Iguro had always been in love with Mitsuri, but that didn't stop his Tsuguko from falling for him.

Word Count: 3686

Warning: Main character death, spoilers of the main manga timeline.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Spring, everyone’s favorite season was now here.

The Sakura trees were in full bloom in the capital, the streets filled with beautiful petals flocking around the chilly wind.

Animals and humans alike were now getting intimate to bring new life to this world.

The perfect season for demons to go rampage in town.

After a two weeks long mission along the fire pillar, you were summoned by Oyakata-sama and his wife, the reason was unknown to you but the messenger didn’t seem to be carrying bad news.

“(Y/N) my child. You’ve proven to be the best of your generation; we’ve both been talking, and we think you should be upgraded to Tsuguko. I believe you have the potential to be our next pillar.”

That caught you off guard, yes, the mission was very intense, but if it wasn’t for Rengoku-san you would have died, at least four times. You considered yourself just one more of the bunch, nothing special, besides your bond with the fire pillar that is. You both got more than along, were in complete sync, and everybody knew about this, even your master.

“That would be an honor, Oyakata-sama. If I may ask for something selfish, is it possible to…”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The pillars were summoned for a brief meeting a few days later, the crows didn’t elaborate on the reason, but it didn’t seem urgent, so they all arrived at their own pace.

Once Oyakata-sama arrived, they all took their respective place around the leader, excited to see their master.

“My beloved children. Sorry to call you with such a short notice, I have some good news that wanted to share with you.” this didn’t happen often, usually the meetings were about important upcoming missions or bigger troubles, but he looked awfully calm this time around.

“(Y/N) has proven her worth in countless missions and the last one was her last trial; she will be officially our new Tsuguko starting tomorrow.” Rengoku’s smile was so bright even Gyomei could feel it. He was radiating fire at this point, as proud as one could be.

“Sanemi, I think you’re the perfect match for our little (Y/N).” this caused said smile to drop to the floor in seconds, he was sure he would be the chosen one.

“With all due respect, Oyakata-sama. I can see the logic behind it, she does have great wind affinity, but I honestly don’t think she can withstand my harsh training, wouldn’t it be better to send her over to Rengoku?” Ah... Shinazugawa…such a lovely man, thought Rengoku as his smile was slowly returning to its rightful place.

“Yes, I thought so too, they do have amazing chemistry. But you know I always listen to my wife; she insists she’d be better off with you.” that left Sanemi speechless and a little bothered, he really didn’t want to train a little spoiled brat, he was already busy at it is.

“I can sense your discomfort, Sanemi. And let me lift those worries out right now, even if we both agreed you should be the one, (Y/N) herself came to us asking if it was possible to be trained under Obanai’s lead, she didn’t even know who she would be sent to by then, but she made her preferences known, and I respect that.” Iguro had a coughing attack at the news, having to place a hand on the ground to recover.

“She did what?” Rengoku was beyond heartbroken, he even forgot Oyakata-sama was the one delivering the news, he would never disrespect him in any way, but this was shocking.

“Rengoku.” Himejima clapped his hands loudly, making Rengoku realize what he had done, throwing himself on the floor at once. “I’m sorry for my behavior, Oyakata-sama. Are you sure…she said that?”

“Lift your head Kyojuro. She did, it sounded like she had a reason though. Why don’t you try asking her?” with a short nod, he went back to his seat, crestfallen.

“Obanai, I know you didn’t want a Tsuguko. But she’s the best we have right now, please make sure to train her properly and don’t be too harsh on her, she asked nicely, must really want to be under your care.”

Iguro was losing his cool. He wasn’t only getting a Tsuguko against his will, it was a girl at that. And not just any girl, the girl majority of the guys around the corps had a crush on, even the almighty fire pillar. He didn’t want this, not in the slightest.

“Iguro-san, Iguro-san! (Y/N) is so, so, so, cute! You’re so lucky! I envy you so much!” Kanroji was pulling from her braids in despair, she had been begging for a Tsuguko and had wished for a cute girl to dot on and talk about boys, you were the perfect candidate.

“Oyakata-sama, as I’m sure you know, I’m not good with girls. How can I have a female Tsuguko?” his breath was ragged, his head was spinning, he really didn’t want any of this. “Can’t you give her over to Kanroji?”

“My children,” his tone wasn’t as loving as it usually is anymore, sending chills down everyone’s spine, “This is not an auction, Rengoku and Kanroji might want her, I wanted her under Sanemi myself, but she wants you, Obanai. I’m being as fair as I can be, she’s the one who must be trained by you, the one who will suffer the consequences of this decision, and it has been made, there’s nothing more to argue about. You are all dismissed.”

They all got up from their seat, walking out to the garden as soon as he spoke, Sanemi collapsing on the floor with a satisfied long sigh, “Safe.”

Rengoku on the other hand was quietly sulking behind a wooden post.

Iguro was just there, trying to regain some air back to his lungs and to process what had happened, his loyal friend hissing on his ear trying to offer some sort of comfort.

“Iguro-san! Don’t doubt to call me if you need help! I’m a girl too, we get each other. Maybe I can even steal from time to time and smother her with love after your harsh training! Ahw! So exciting!” Mitsuri was swaying on her feet, daydreaming happily of who knows what atrocities.

“Will do….” his voice was nothing but a whisper, his feet safely guiding him back to his state. Life wasn’t on his side, he’s always been aware of this since he was a child, but this, this was just too much.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were in the serpent state with your bags by sunrise, ready to fully immerse yourself in the experience, a bright smile on your face.

Iguro, who just woke up was definitely not ready for this, not even saying good morning he jumped right into the matter that barely allowed him to sleep last night, “(L/N) why did you ask to be my Tsuguko? Wasn’t Rengoku a better fit? I’m sure we can get Oyakata-sama to reassign you if we both go toge-“

“I want to be trained by you, Iguro-san. Is that a bad thing?” your eyes were glossy, disappointment painting your features. He wasn’t trying to make you cry, he was just not the right man for the job.

“Why would you want that? You know my training is rough right? I won’t slow down just because you are a girl.”

“I am not expecting you to slow down. I just thought Tsugukos were chosen by affinity. I think you are the coolest Iguro-san…I would like to inherit the snake breathing techniques one day…” this was the first time someone called him cool, this was specially surprising coming from someone who’s been near Rengoku for the longest time.

“Not everyone can do this. You have to have a connection with the species-“ your eyes were glued to the beautiful snake around his shoulders, a childlike expression on your face. “You just want to touch Kaburamaru, don’t you?” his eyes were full of realization, he caught you.

This made you giggle, the snake skillfully wrapping around your arm on its own, quickly enamored by you. “Maybe…”

The ridiculousness of it all made Iguro accept his fate, his snake friend seemed comfortable enough with your presence, he is always friendly but not to this level, you probably had potential for his breathing style by the looks of it, he had to give you a chance to prove yourself.

“Go drop your stuff in the empty room by the entrance, I’ll see you in the training grounds in ten.” He’s never seen such a bright smile before, Kanroji had the most beautiful there is, but your smile was different, it felt warm, you were probably rubbing on Rengoku for too long, it had to be that.

Throwing it to the back of his mind, he moved on with his day.

He had a Tsuguko now, training would be his priority for a while.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rengoku was still in shock, even if an entire day had gone by. He was sure you guys had a thing, or was it just his imagination?

You don’t just hold hands with random people, right? He wasn’t the most experienced in the love department, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t just him, the longing in your eyes each time you saw him, the way you smiled at him so brightly, so tenderly, it couldn’t be all in his head.

He wanted to see it with his own eyes, so he headed to Iguro’s training grounds, he needed to hear it from you, the reason why.

You were exhausted, panting on the floor after a very long training morning with your favorite pillar. Kaburamaru was laying on you, sunbathing on your belly, making you giggle as you caressed his beautiful scales. Iguro was watching the interaction from up a tree, you didn’t know he was there, but you knew he had to be close otherwise the snake would have left after him already.

He was about to leave when Rengoku arrived, his worried expression made him want to stay a little more. In all truth, he was still wishing you would change your mind and go with the fire pillar, but after training you all morning he wasn’t as discouraged to train you anymore, you had more than enough potential to be a pillar and Kaburamaru loved you, it wasn’t easy to find someone so compatible with his own skills, it would honestly be a shame, even if he didn’t want to accept it.

“(Y/N) dear, is your training for the day over? I wanted to have a word with you…” getting up gently, you set the little snake down on a patch of grass before heading your way over to him. “Sure, Kyo-san. What’s up?”

“I…I was wondering why you chose to come to Iguro instead of being with me. We have such an awesome connection, having you teaming with him instead will be devastating for me.” he was more heartbroken than anything else, he couldn’t care less for the missions, he could do it all by himself, he just enjoyed them so much more since you started tagging along, he misses you already.

“We do, yes.. I just…well you know how everyone’s scared of him? I just think he deserves a chance; nobody wants to be his Tsuguko and I think we could potentially get along one day, he’s great with animals, and so am I. Don’t you think I could be a good serpent breathing representative? I don’t think I could do cool things with fire like you do.” your heart was so big, it was one of the things he loved about you, he couldn’t be upset anymore after hearing your reasoning.

“And what about good old Rengoku? He needs a Tsuguko too you know? I will miss you…” his voice dropped along with his hand which now rested on your waist.

“Good old Kyo-san has a cute little brother that will eventually come to be in his care, he doesn’t need me.” your cute giggles were music to his ears, he really did like you, a lot.

Iguro on the other hand felt uncomfortable watching this whole thing. So you felt pity? Was that it? You wanted to be with him so he wouldn’t end up being the only pillar without an apprentice? He didn’t know how to feel about this, it didn’t feel good, but it also made something fuzzy bloom in his chest.

“Oh? So he’s cute, huh? Is he cuter than me? Am in troubles?” a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his hand tugging you closer to him.

“You might be~” poking your tongue out at him in a teasing manner, you ran away from him and headed inside the serpent state, “Gotta take a bath, see you later Kyo-san!”

Iguro came out of the tree to pick sleeping Kaburamaru up, Rengoku glaring in his direction. “Didn’t peg you as a stalker, Iguro.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this is my state. Now, I would like to make it clear from the start that I expect you to stop clinging to my Tsuguko. She needs to train hard; distractions are not welcomed.” he didn’t know why he was saying all this, words were just coming out of his mouth on their own.

“Weren’t you into Kanroji? Why does it matter to you if I cling to her or not?” raising one of his intimidating eyebrows up, he scoffed. “I well, what? No, I’m not. But she has nothing to do with this. I just don’t want you parading around my state all day, that’s all.”

“I’m not here to see you, so I don’t see why it bothers you this much. But ok, I will leave my time with her reserved for after training hours, then I get to have her all to myself.” without another word, he headed to his own state, his heart felt a bit lighter now that he cleared things up with you, but he’s never heard Iguro talk this much, it was a bit concerning.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One thing about Obanai is that he wakes up early every morning, even before the sun’s up.

The reason why being he just didn’t want anybody to get a the slightest glimpse of his unwrapped self as he takes a bath, other members of the corpse share the space and he didn’t want anybody to be even more on edge because of him.

You were the contrary, always late, falling asleep was your worse flaw and he hated it deep down in his guts, but he was glad in a way as he never had to encounter you bright and early when he is most tense.

That was until this day.

You weren’t what you would consider ‘early’ you just didn’t sleep at all, there were a lot of things in your head and coming from a difficult mission with lots of death plaguing it would of course cause you to lose sleep. So you decided to take a bath and start stretching while you waited for your training session to start.

You bumped into him on his way out of the bathing area, making both of your towels fall to the ground. Crouching to pick both up you apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry Iguro-san, I didn’t know there was someone in the bath already!”

He was paralyzed with fear, his face out in the open for everyone to see.

You tried not to stare, but this was your first time seeing his face properly. “Don’t look, I’m hideous…” he tried to cover his face with a bucket nearby, your hand reaching over to stop him from doing so.

“There’s no such thing as a hideous person, Iguro-san. I can understand you being self-conscious about the scar, we all obsess over something in our body, I personally don’t like my thighs, that’s why I cover them, but people say they’re nothing out of the ordinary, even if to me they’re awful.”

Mumbling behind his sleeve, he peeked one eye out to look down to your succulent thighs, “They’re fine…why would you hate them?”

“And why would you hate your beautiful face? Makes no sense to me~” giggling past him, you went inside the bathing area, needing to hurry as your trainer was up already.

“B-beautiful? What-…” scoffing, he headed over to his room, quickly wrapping his face away from the world as he usually does. You were indeed a weird one, always seeing the best out of every situation, it was honestly refreshing, but difficult to handle for someone like him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Time skip~

You’ve been under Iguro’s care for over a year now. You’ve perfected the first three breathing techniques, surprising him with your progress.

You were good, he was even fearing Kaburamaru would leave him and become your partner full time. Who can blame him though? After all this time seeing you around every day, he gets now what people see in you. Not only were you pretty, but you were strong, considerate, kind, selfless. Definitely a match for Rengoku, not him.

You were now sure of his undying love for Kanroji, she would visit him often, eat lunch together, he even bought stuff for her constantly, it was painstakingly obvious they both liked each other. As it was how much Rengoku liked you.

You on the other hand had mixed feelings.

Of course, Rengoku is lovely, he wanted to pursue you officially, but you had a hard time accepting his feelings. You spend all your day with Iguro, you’ve got to truly see him for what he really is, learned to accept him, entertain him, be in sync with him. You now made a great team. It was him you thought about before going to bed and as soon as you woke up. It was him who you wished to receive praises from, it was him you wanted to make proud.

Even if he was clearly in love with someone else, your feelings shifted his way without anyone’s consent.

The way he would bring you a cup of tea after a harsh training routine, the way he would sit quietly next to you eating sweets peacefully, you’ve seen his face already and wasn’t disgusted by it, he could eat around you comfortably.

The way he would let you hold onto his arm if the missions were tough. The way his eyes soften now in your presence.

You were deep in love with a man who’s heart belonged to someone else…

A mission came around for you two, a particularly tough demon had come out very near a village booming with tourists. It needed to be contained and destroyed as fast as possible.

You’ve seen the way his demeanor towards you had changed every time you talk, you know he didn’t think of you as a nuisance anymore, but you also knew he wouldn’t accept your feelings, and as hard as that might be, you decided to keep your feelings to yourself and treasure the relationship you currently had with him.

The demon was tougher than you two expected, even with a pillar there you were having a hard time killing him. Three women had already lost their life to his rampage, you needed to do something.

Since he seemed to like killing women, you were trying to devise a plan to lure him in and give Iguro time to cut his head off, but your head turned blank when you saw the demon sneaking behind Iguro and about to stab him right through the heart.

Panic surged through your body, inhuman speed possessing you as you rushed to his aid, receiving the blow instead.

Iguro saw it all in slow motion, how you fell to the ground, covered in blood, how the wound had pierced a vital organ dooming your recovery. His rage served as the means necessary to cut the demon’s head and send him to oblivion. But the cut was too deep, he didn’t know how to help you.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he gathered you to his chest, tears unexpectedly coming down his face slowly, one after the other, “(Y/N), no, why? Why?? You’re so stupid, how many times have I told you I’m stronger than you? I can take a blow like that! But you….just look at you….why, just why would you do this…?” your hand reached over to his face wrappings, undoing them so you got to see a glimpse of his face one last time.

“Because I love you. I couldn’t just let you die Iguro-san...” his hand came over to stop yours from fully removing the wraps, his entire being too shaken by the situation to comprehend your words.

“C’mon…let me see your beautiful face one last time…I don’t have much left…” your soft smile and trembling hand made him forgo his stubbornness, letting you remove the wraps.

“Thank you for letting me be your Tusuguko…even when you didn’t like me.” you chuckled slightly, coughing out blood while doing so, alerting Iguro and making him tighten his grip around your faint body. “I know you don’t like your face, but I will always think of it as the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I hope you felt loved while being around me, even if it was just a little…” he nodded, collapsing to the ground fully with you in his arms. He really liked Mitsuri, everyone knew about this, but you had loved him like no one else had, openly, abundantly, and he couldn’t give you any of it back.

“Would you…remember me…?”

“Of course I will, what are you saying…you’re my only Tsuguko, I will never have another one, the techniques will die with us…” nuzzling his chest, you gave one last shaky breath, “Thank you…Igu-….” Leaving this world in the hands of a loved one has no price, makes time living among others worthwhile.

With a smile on his teary face, he bid goodbye to his only apprentice, the woman that loved him to her own demise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The serpent state was never to be the same and he made sure of it.

He made everyone leave and remained there on his own, never taking another Tsuguko as he promised he would.

He likes Mitsuri, everybody knows that, even her, and he did till his very last breath, but he always carried with him the load you left him, the unshared feelings, the overwhelming amount of love you had towards him and Kaburamaru and always lived within him, being his companions until his arrival in the afterlife.

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Masterlist

[omentranslates]

Not gonna bother titling this ok so at Momocon yesterday they showed a relationship chart that showed both the English and original Japanese text and I have some INSIGHTS (JUST INSIGHTS) about how they translated it and they're mostly superfluous but I have rabies about this anime SO

YOU CAN VIEW THE CHART IN FULL HERE AND IT'S FROM THIS SUPER COOL LIVETWEET THREAD BY QUINN

OK SO HERE'S MY OBSERVATIONS:

(+) in Knives's line about Vash the language implies that Knives believes Vash has already been brainwashed not that he's in the process of it and also that the brainwashing IS his love of humanity. Lit translation including every word: "Wants to save his younger brother who has been unfortunately brainwashed/mindcontrolled into follies such as loving humans" (does not specify that loving humans is the only "folly" actually uses particle that suggests there are others and Vash is doing multiple things Knives disapproves of (you could probably use a more normal word than folly like literally just foolish action but I like folly bc I think it has the same weird vibe as 愚 which is part of the word he uses in JP))

(+) in JP the same word is used for mindcontrolled in Livio's line is used for brainwashed in Knives's line about Vash

(+) part of Vash's line to Wolfwood is left out: "thinks he's an intrinsically good person AND wants him to be good again, Lit. translation "wants him to return from bad back to being good (of his own volition)"

(+) phrasing that they translated to irritable is 気に食わない, I JUST HAVE A DIFFERENT PREFERENCE I JUST THINK THIS PHRASE HAS A VIBE THAT GOES A LITTLE BEYOND "IRRITATED" my personal favorite eng equivalent is "unable to stomach" if it was my tl I would say: "because Vash's pacifist ideals run contrary to his own beliefs he cannot stomach them"

(+) the section they titled Fanatics in JP is 狂信者 (lit. fanatic, never seen 狂 used in a way that wasn't negative) instead of 崇拝者 (more positive connotation ig, lit. worshipper) and they seem to be using these terms kind of interchangeably bc they also in the description of the Eye of Michael use the word 崇敬派. Legato notably calls the cult 崇拝者 in episode 6 and Roberto uses 崇敬派 to describe them in episode 5 and I FEEL like I remember the subs translating that part to fanatical or fanatics or something equally negative but I can't remember and I can't check the episode for a while so don't quote me if I'm stupid I also don't remember where or if they say 狂信者 in the anime they probably do but I wasn't looking out for that one sorry this is literally just me rambling abt word association than something more comprehensive

OK THATS ALL I HAD.

TO BE CLEAR I DONT MEAN TO CONTRADICT ANYTHING THE OFFICIAL TEAM HAD TO SAY OR ANY CHOICES THEY MADE WITH THE TL NO DISRESPECT INTENDED WHATSOEVER I AM JUST YELLING ABT STUFF I NOTICED

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: TW - SDR2 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (comfort endings)

Some scenarios take place during the DR3//No Despair era at Hope’s Peak and some during the SDR2 island killing game. SDR2 SPOILERS INCLUDED

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting or saving the reader and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Situations and objects like drowning, pills, guns, knives, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Hajime Hinata

It’d been days without food and you felt like you were officially going crazy. Apparently it wasn’t enough that you’d been forced to see your classmates die in the most painful, cruel ways, betray each other, lie,  and scheme, now you had to starve on top of it all? You couldn’t take it anymore: the dryness of your mouth, the grumbling of your stomach. One thing right after another, days turned into weeks of misery, of despair even. But that was Monokuma’s goal all along. You barely ever left your cabin these days, fearing you’d see the worst side of one of your classmates in the form of a swift knife to the back as soon as you stepped out. You barely trusted anyone other than your best friend Hajime anymore. It was so hard to, when you’d trusted Mikan, the meek nurse, Peko, the intelligent and disciplined swordswoman, Nagito, the chill dude putting up an entire act to hide his craziness. Your cabin was always locked with you inside. You hated leaving, and now you were stuck in this damned funhouse, tricked here by that monsterous bear. You felt delirious: mental health declining, hands shaking, mind drifting.

You looked around your room - one of the average rooms in the funhouse’s living quarters - dimly lit like some villain’s secret hidden cave. Scattered around the floor were weapons you’d obtained as a reward for clearing the Final Dead Room, along with scraps of paper lined with scrawled plans and ideas. The ravings of a mad person it would likely seem to anyone else who viewed them.

Your plan seemed simple enough: Kill Nekomaru, make it obvious that it was you, get executed as the blackened and confess and insist, should it not be obvious enough. You wanted people to witness, to be convinced it was you so you could leave this wretched island forever. You felt like you were taking the coward’s way out, but you just couldn’t push yourself to do the job on your own. Maybe you were a coward, but you just wanted out, as soon as possible.

The plan was to make it as painless as as possible for the robot, if he even felt pain. That’s why you chose him as the victim in the first place. Honestly, it was adding to your rapidly plummeting downward mental spiral, the way your peers were treating Nekomaru. It was driving you fucking crazy. They acted as if it was just… normal. None of this was normal. Nekomaru was your friend, flesh and blood, and now he was just this… thing, this metal abomination. It’s not him in there, you’d repeat over and over like a mantra in your head when you saw the bot. It was disrespectful to his memory. Were you the only sane one here, side-eyeing the bot, avoiding him out of discomfort? You found yourself asking: If they uploaded an AI of my personality into a computer, is that me?

No.

It’s not. You all should have just accepted that the real Nekomaru was gone forever. It would be merciful to kill his replacement instead of a real human. It’s wouldn’t even be an actual murder, no guilt on your conscience. Monokuma wouldn’t see it that way though, and that’s all that mattered.

“(Y/N)?” You are shaken out of your mindless planning, sucked out of your thoughts by a knock at your door. Hajime. You recognized his voice and panicked at the state of the room around you. Hajime was a dear, always doing rounds to check on his friends, especially in this particularly stressful situation. As you and he were a closer as friends, he tended to check on you a little more often. You ignored his knocks, sent into an frenzy as you started kicking papers under the bed and hiding as many weapons as you can. You hear the handle jiggle and the door opens quickly behind you. Hajime spared no time when he’d gotten no reply from you. He’d lost too many to take his time anymore. A second too late could mean death for a friend, as he’d learned. You could’ve been dead, passed out from hunger, injured.

He freezes as you turn to face him like a deer in headlights, taking in the insane scene before him. He was definitely looking at the pile of weapons scattered everywhere - definitely noticing how unhinged you looked - and immediately begins questioning you, closing your door behind him for some privacy. It’s when you start stuttering, sputtering out excuses and deflecting that he truly takes in your mental state. You look completely deshelved and unwell, worse than everyone else though you were all starving and on edge.

“Where did you even get all of these?!” He gestures to the murder tools in desperation, just wanting an honest answer from someone he actually trusted. When you reveal the existence of the Octagon beyond the Final Dead Room, he presses you further: “Well what were you planning to do with all of them?” He is apprehensive of your answer. Seeing the genuine look in his eyes that seemed ever-present, you broke down, sighing deeply. You run your hand down your face, defeated,exposed. He sees you visibly sink into yourself as you prepare to finally give it to him straight.

“Look, Hajime, you and I have always been honest with each other. You’re one of the few here I can truly trust so I’m just going to admit what’s going on here… I feel like I owe you that much. I’m not proud of this but…” You hesitate, feeling like finding conviction in your words was an insurmountable task. Your bottom lip began to quiver. You’d held these plans confidently inside your head, but you’d yet to acknowledge them aloud. “... I was going to take a life tonight… I was going to make myself the blackened and then confess, taking someone with me…” Your voice breaks, ashamed of your words.

The room goes quite for a while, as Hajime just stares at you, thinking, not sure what to even say. He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, though his assumptions were confirmed. You can see his chest heaving in the silence, hearing only and his loud exhales. You’d seen Hajime carry your class through trial after trial, seen him peice together complex evidence. He wasn’t stupid. He inferred in his mind as he stared that your target would be Nekomaru. You see the gears turning in his head. It made sense, as you loved hanging around the boisterous team manager before his transformation, and after… you seemed to avoid him like an ex at a party. He knows… but he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to have this difficult conversation.

Slowly, so gently, he simply sinks down to your level as you sit there resting on your shins on the ground. He pushes some of the mess aside, looking you in the eyes before wrapping his arms around your starving body. You let him, not moving an inch, taking in his warmth. Maybe this is what was intended for you, maybe you needed only to hear his next words:

“You’re not going to do this, okay?” You feel him nodding, his chin tucked into your shoulder. “I’m going to be here for you, so I need you to be here for me too, right?” Hajime wasn’t always the best at comforting others in his own opinion, but you knew he was trying his best. Rather, others would say he was good at comforting his friends, but he felt awkward while doing so, like he wasn’t built for mushy moments. “We’ll escape this together: you, me, and everybody else. You have to keep trying for them, too. You can’t do that if you’re dead, right?” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as the stress rolls down his brow in the form of sweat. He felt like cringing at his own words, wondering if he was helping at all. “If you do this, Monokuma wins, and I sure as hell know that you don’t want that. You’re needed here and wanted here, and I know you’re stronger than this.” He feels his shoulder become soaked as your silent tears roll down your face and through his shirt. “H-hey, can I stay here tonight, with you?” He was asking, but you were going to have to physically remove him if you said no.

Nagito Komaeda

You’d been staring down at the knife in your shaking hands for what felt like an hour. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. The blade was long, sharp, gleaming silver. How easy it would be to just… end it. You hesitated, thinking about the pain. How much would it hurt, based on the location of insertion? What was the quickest method to just get it over with?

You sighed. You’d miss playing games all night with Chiaki to avoid thinking about more dismal matters. You’d miss discussing true crime with Sonia, late night snack runs with Akane - whom you always felt safe with. Most of all though, you’d miss Nagito, who you’d developed quite the friendship with. His complex thought process and quirky personality fascinated you, and it was never a boring time when he was around. He seemed to like being a loner, always planning or deep inside his own head, but he didn’t seem to mind when you tagged along. In fact, he sometimes remarked that he didn’t deserve your company, and complimented you skills as an Ultimate student. You’d miss knowing someone as unique as him and having them actually enjoy your friendship.

The room around you made you shiver. The ambiance was so cold and hostile. Now past the Final Dead Room, you’d found yourself rewarded by stepping into the Octogon, a hidden room just beyond. Honestly, if you hadn’t picked up better problem-solving skills through trials and the help of your more intelligent friends like Nagito and Hajime, you may have never completed the Final Dead Room. The Octogon, different from the escape room before it, seemed to be a bunker, a weapons cache filled wall to grey wall with deadly tools of every kind. There was even a fridge that contained lethal poisons. When Monokuma described a reward for passing the Final Dead Room, you’d expected a secret passage out of the funhouse, or maybe some food at least. You should’ve known better.

Tearing your eyes away from the knife, you are startled as the door back to the Final Dead Room behind you bursts open. Nagito Komaeda of all people stumbles into the Octogon, his usual casual lanky form slinking in. His expression was carefree, that standard stoner-adjacent look glazed over his face… as if he didn’t just complete a deadly game of Russian roulette to get here.

“Nagito?! What are you doing here?” You panicked, not expected to be walked in on in this vulnerable state.

“I could ask you the same thing, (Y/N)...” He smiled mischeviously. “I followed you here, of course!” Oh yeah, of course! Why hadn’t you thought of that? “Couldn’t let you have all the fun! To my surprise, when I tried to enter the Final Dead Room behind you, Monokuma stopped me and said I had to finish when you were done. Everyone’s expected to take on the Dead Room on their own, apparently.” He held his hands up and shrugged. “So, after I passed the Final Dead Room, Monomi confirmed that you were through the door at the end.” He sighed. “What a pain to have her in there as a distraction though. I was hoping to catch up with you immediately. Oh well…” You stood stock still, the knife still in hand, so unsure of what to do. How was he always so nonchalant? “So this is what Monokuma’s been hiding back here, huh?” He looked around, taking in the myriad of weapons like they were nothing of note. Then his gaze trailed back to you, scanning you up and down. “By the way, why are you holding that knife like that?”

You suddenly feel extreme embarrassment run up your spine, your skin heating up. Your lack of words tells Nagito everything he needs to know. He was highly astute and intuitive, and you could see him analyzing the emotions laid bare all over you face. Nagito was always a step ahead. You could see it every time you were with him, from playing a simple card game in your cabin, to the seriousness of a class trial. It was near impossible to get one over on him. You feel sweat run down your forehead as you realize he’s figured you out. You’re too kind-hearted to kill someone else, and you’d confided in him at length about your ongoing poor mental state, how you couldn’t take this anymore and felt drained.

Over the many times you’d hung out with him, he’d grown to care about you enough to stop this path you were going down, and sensed the potential for a great wellspring of hope to burst forth from inside of you. He saw you as worth saving, and found himself genuinely caring about your fate, so slowly, he approached you, reaching out for the knife in your hand. When you don’t resist, he coaxes it out of your grip and quickly moves to distract you.

“Huh, that’s weird. Wonder where that window leads…” Gesturing over your shoulder, he leads you over to the very small square window, the only window in the entire room in fact. He hopes silently that the embarrassment of being caught and the knowledge that he’s watching you is is enough to stop you from attempting in the future.

~

It was now well into the night, and your new plan was in motion. This time you’d move at night while Nagito was sound asleep in his luxury sound-proofed room. Everything was seeming to fall into place.

It was already established and agreed upon that Grape Tower and Strawberry Tower were the same location with Chiaki’s eHandbook test. It was still debated amongst your peers just how they could be the same room or how the elevators worked, but now you and Nagito knew better. The window in the Octogon had revealed to only you two what the true secret of the funhouse was. The two towers were one big column, and the floor shifted up and down like an elevator. Your plan was solidified as soon as you realized this fact. A fall might hurt far less than a slow bleed-out. It could be instant death if you did it right.

You’d made a deal with Kazuichi, the Ultimate Mechanic. He trusted you enough to let you keep it vague, and his hunger exhuastion certainly helped with him not giving a fuck about your reasoning. You all knew that the doors to Grape and Strawberry Tower couldn’t be opened at the same time. Everyone assumed it was so that they appeared to be different places to trick you all, but now, you and Nagito knew it was so the floor of the towers could move up or down, concealing the risk of a fall. You simply asked Kazuichi if he could disable this function in the doors so that both tower doors could be open at any time. He was tiny bit hesitant at frist, but nearly started drooling when you showed him a huge toolbox you’d allow him to keep if he used it to do what you asked. It was so very tempting, but led him to worry about where you obtained this treasure in the first place, and if Monokuma would be upset about him meddling with the doors. You alleviated his fears by assuring him that there were no rules against it in the eHandbook and that you’d take the heat if Monokuma got mad. While he paced, you pushed him, stating that the offer was quickly expiring along with the precious toolbox. In the end, he just couldn’t resist those new toys, especially when trapped in the monotony and starvation in the funhouse.

So now here you stood, looking down at the perilous drop from the high-up door to Strawberry Tower onto the floor of Grape Tower. You felt empty inside, both literally and emotionally as you hadn’t eaten in days. There was a hollow, grim feeling to the neon tower at night, something uncanny. Unlike the knife, once you lept, that was it. It would be freefalling, out of your hands. It might even feel like a relief. There was no pushing a blade in further, this would be much easier. You’d left a note in your room stating it was suicide, and trusted your closer friends to confirm your handwriting. Hopefully they didn’t think it was some trick by a real blackened.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ear. You take a deep inhale, and hold your breath. Closing your eyes, you step a single foot out over the ledge to the fatal fall.

Silently and sudden as a gust of wind, a lithe pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. The movement is desperate, sudden and jarring. You gasp and stumble back, falling on top of your rescuer with a thud. Nagito groans beneath you with the force, knocked over with your weight. You knew it was him, by the voice, the smell, the paleness of the arms clasped in a vice-like grip around your waist.

You both say nothing for a while as the severity of the situation sinks in. Suddenly, like a tsunami, a wave of emotions hit you, and you begin to sob at the reality of what you were about to just do. Your chest hurts and your tears flow freely down your face and onto Nagito below you, spattering onto his skin. You want to yell out, to scream What was I thinking?!, to curse yourself. He squeezes you once, as if to say:

You don’t need to say a thing…

“It’s a good thing I happened to be out for a walk, huh?” He speaks after a long while, letting you calm down. He continues his deflection: “Looked like you were about to slip!” He clears his throat and begins to run one bony hand through your hair to comfort you, allowing you to lay there on his chest for just a little longer.

Nekomaru Nidai

There was a simple beauty to the warm, sunny beach out behind the diner on the second island. The sand was soft and the water always looked serene. Usually, you’d come with friends and swim or have a little picnic, but today you were there alone, and for much less pleasant reasons. The beaming sun and tropical scenery stood in stark contrast to the dark clouds inside your mind.

You were floating out in the middle of the water, pondering. It was all too much. Something was so off: this island, the killing game, even your classmates at times. Nothing about this all felt real to you. You didn’t feel real, lost in your own head, a prisoner in your own body. It was bad enough you’d watched Togami and Teruteru die gruesomely, or that you’d just recently sent Fuyuhiko to the hospital after the deaths of Mahiru and Peko. It was traumatizing, and yet it felt so… unreal. And it would only continue. You were sure of that, despite the naive positivity of some of your classmates.

You wanted out, to just disappear without a trace. You felt hopeless and trapped each and every day on this maddening island. You hated the mocking feeling of being stuck in a killing game in a beautiful paradise like this, the irony. If everything went according to plan today, you’d successfully swim down as far as you possibly could, hold your breath, and when you couldn’t take it any longer, hopefully not have enough air to make it to the surface. Hopefully, you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean with a big gulp of water in your lungs. Maybe if your body was never found, there would be no trial. That was the only selfless part of this plan if you managed to pull it off: no trial, no work put on your classmates to solve it. After all, a body had to be found to start an investigation.

Without hesitation, you began your last journey, swimming straight downwards into the deep water, making sure to take a pathetic inhale beforehand to make this all go faster. Maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up on the other side, feeling real again. Once you reach the bottom, you sink into the sand bed and begin to pass the time by thinking of the few things you would miss about this island hellhole, the friends you’d made even though you seemed to lose another each week.

Your heart started to race as you thought about Chiaki letting you win in that first person shooter. Your lungs began to sting and you think of Ibuki and Sonia forcing you out of your comfort zone with new music, activities and movie genres. The sting turns into a burn, and you try to push back any second thoughts as Akane’s tough love and Nekomaru’s beaming smile come to mind. The tried their best to make you feel better, support you, uplift you. They actively put time into making you stronger, in both body and mind. The valued mental fortitude just as much as a healthy body. They made you feel seen, like your company was never a burden, like a big brother and sister. Their blunt honesty could be so refreshing.

Lost in your thoughts, you begin to feel it in your throat. It’s coming… You begin to gag, choke, drown. Struggling on instinct, you kick your feet and grasp at your chest. You look up to see the sun shine down through the water, and feel… sad. It was the last thing you’d expected to feel. You were sure you wanted this…

The last thing you see before your world goes dark is a large shadow swimming in your direction. The muffled sound of movement, an object rushing toward you is all you hear before you let yourself go.

~

Without warning, you’re conscious again. You have a feeling you’re not on the other side when you feel your back  being slammed down onto the sand of the beach. There’s a pressure on your lungs, nearly bursting them and your eyes fly open in shock. Sputtering, you flip onto your side and spit out what feels like a gallon of salt water. You cough up a lung, so dazed that you nearly miss the large shadow completely eclipsing the sun, looming over you.

Nekomaru spoke, and the sheer volume of his deep voice startles you. You turn to face him and find that he looks sad, a rare expression for him. You’d seen him jolly, determined, angry even, but rarely sad. He looked… disappointed, on his knees right before you, so close. You hated that look on his face, even more knowing you caused it. After a long sigh, he began to speak:

“I was in the diner eating lunch… Through the windows I saw you swim out and go under but… after a while, you weren’t coming back up. I’ve seen you swim many times before… you’re an amazing swimmer, I know it. I really hope this was an accident… but-” Before he can finish, you throw yourself up and into his arms before he could see you cry. You hid your face over his shoulder, begging him not to finish his sentence. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, to hear the hurt in his voice. You just wanted someone you cared about to touch you, to make you feel real. He was always on your side, rooting for you, you didn’t mean to hurt him like this. The sand stuck to your soaked bodies as you held him, begged him to hold you back. When you whimper, trying to hold in your cries, he finally does.

“When you’re ready, we can talk about this, and for as long as you need,” he grumbles.

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham, although he was an amazing friend - your best friend in fact - wasn’t the best person to vent to. He had a ton of shit of his own to deal with, you could tell. He came with a lot of emotional baggage locked deep inside. The facade and dramatics, it was all an act, a wall he put up to protect himself from the world that hurt him as a child, the world that made him feel irreparably different. You couldn’t exactly vent about your long-term depression and anxieties to someone who would turn it into a lecture on demonic energies or a pep talk about how you were one of the most powerful mortals he’d ever come across as the Supreme Overlord of Ice. Sure, it would cheer you up sometimes, his theatrics would often make you laugh, but it was always temporary. Besides, he wasn’t a therapist, trauma dumping on him all the time wouldn’t be cool, and he obviously coped by escaping into his realm of fantasy. Why would you want to possibly rehash any old wounds of his by bringing him back down to the realities of Earth? You had too much love for him to do that.

You spent as much time with him as possible, though. It was one of of the few things that brought you joy anymore. You’d lost interest in most if not all of your old hobbies. He sensed it, you knew, but became awkward and nervous, never knowing quite how to both cheer you up and stay on script.

Hope’s Peak provided Gundham with a building of his own on the large campus. It tripled as a sort of animal reserve, rescue, and clinic. Most Hope’s Peak Ultimates had their own space dedicated to honing their talent, and this was his. That was the most important part of their school day after all. The other subjects were second priority. Gundham referred to the Ultimate Breeder’s building as his dark temple, his sanctuary of gloom, always something to that effect. He rarely let anyone who wasn’t in the breeding club enter, and even then he kept a close eye on its members. You joined the club because you cared for him, but you doubted he would ever kick his best friend out regardless. He often made exceptions to his rules for you, using some excuse about how he’d baptized you in shadows to make you worthy, or placed a protection spell first.

The breeding club building was truly impressive. There were medical wings, feeding stations, training rooms, even outdoor yards and runs for the animals to feel free. Everything was so well kempt. The place was split up to accommodate different animals and keep prey and predators apart, and there were some dangerous predators to be found there. You’d even seen Gundham bring a perfectly trained bear to class before. Everyone was in awe that day.

In the clinic area, you sat waiting for Gundham to bring some restock supplies. Sitting there with only your own sadness to keep you company, you began to drift into the dark recesses of your mind yet again. It felt like a daily occurrence lately. You felt insecure, worthless, dangerous. Across the room, you gazed into the cage of a particularly nasty breed of snake. It was deadly venomous, and seemed to be calling out your name. Without thinking, as if in a trance, you raise to a standing position. It feels like you’ve lost all control of your limbs as you hover over toward the testy reptile. Unlocking it’s cage door with a click, you reach in, letting the snake coil around your hand with no reluctance, like a person possessed. Like you had nothing to lose.

Being Gundham’s ward, it’s pretty well behaved already, but still new to the rescue and with a slight feral side not yet trained out completely. With your free hand, you grab its head gently and press its mouth into your wrist. You bump its nose into your skin, not enough to hurt the snake, just irritate. Gudham wouldn’t approve of you hurting any animal. You could never. With a small hiss, it pulls back slightly and strikes forward, latching its fangs down deep into the flesh of your wrist. You cry out, feeling something for the first time that day. The fangs were long and dug in snuggly.

Gundham’s deep voice startles you, booming as he enters with the box of supplies in his hand. He’s boasting, something about how the check-ups would go smoothly with you there to assist today when his words are cut off by the sight before him.

The snake in your hand was just now pulling its fangs out of your skin, and you had a horrified look on your face at his sudden appearance, like you didn’t want him to see. His mind started racing, instantly in fight or flight mode - more like save or let die mode - fitting for a man who spends so much time around creatures that run on survival instinct. You drop to your knees, the venom already beginning its work. Your rapidly numbing hand fell to the ground, the snake safely slithering down and onto the floor. Gundham rushed over to the snake, scooping it up and locking it safely back into its cage to secure the area.

You started feeling woozy, feeling heat creep up your arm and spread through your veins to your shoulder and chest. It both hurt and felt tingly, like a limb that had fallen asleep but was simultaneously on fire. Your head began to pulse like a searing migraine, and you were sure the stress of having Gundham there to watch your downfall was making it worse. Your vision was now swimming, blurry and dimming. Gundham is rushing over to you, grabbing you up into his arms, but his yells are muffled as if there were cotton balls in your ears. And then, with a sudden surge of pain in your lungs, you black out.

~

When your eyes finally crack open, you find them sensitive to the light above. You look around slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings of Hope’s Peak Academy’s hospital wing. You gasp softly when you try to move your right hand and feel resistance tugging back. You glance down, tearing up when you see a bandaged hand firmly clasped around your own. Gundham is pulled up in a comfy chair next to your hospital bed, his head resting on the bed beside your thigh. He’s sound asleep, probably sleeping off the stress you put him through. The curl at the end of his striped hair lays across your blanket. He looked intense even unconscious, his brow furrowed, scrunched up in worry. You said a quiet thank you to his sleeping form, running a hand through his hair lovingly. You assumed that if it weren’t for Gundham quickly administering one of the antivenoms he kept on hand in his clinic, you would’ve been dead before you could even reach the main building’s hospital across campus. You imagined that the view of him carrying your limp body across the grounds in a sprint would’ve been a sight to see.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You’d been friends with Fuyuhiko for years. You, him, and Peko formed an inseparable trio growing up. Peko felt an overwhelming urge to protect you at all times, but you constantly begged her not to, to lay off, as her job was to live to protect Fuyuhiko, and nobody else. You didn’t want to get her in trouble, and his parents already hated you. They saw you as a pest, a bad influence on their son and a distraction from his destiny of being the clan’s leader one day. You had no yakuza ties, you were just a kid from the same side of the city who got mixed in with little Fuyuhiko as kids. Boss Kuzuryu would’ve loved to be rid of you, and it would’ve been easy too, but his stubborn son convinced him years ago that if he wanted his blood in Hope’s Peak Academy one day, he would have to be used to being around “normal” people his age sooner or later.

You, Fuyuhiko and Peko would sneak around Kuzuryu territories and never get caught or scolded. Being in the company of the boss’s son did help of course. With Fuyuhiko’s knowledge of his father’s empire, you learned where not to go and when, patrol schedules, enemy territory lines, meeting spots and so on. It was like some kind of adventure. As kids, it felt like playing pretend: criminals, thugs, crime lords, avoiding police. Except it was all real. Your parents rarely knew where you truly were, as you lied to spare them from heart attacks.

After over a decade together, you truly loved Fuyuhiko, maybe even as more than a friend, though you’d rather die than ever admit it. He was easier to get along with than people gave him credit for. They were intimidated by his family’s reputation, but you knew the real him. He could be a hothead, but he genuinely cared about the people in his life. He was unlike many other yakuza member’s you’d met, often only putting up an uncaring front because he felt like he had to. You’d always been close, but as you began school at Hope’s Peak, a distance began to grow between you. As you got older, you’d begun to feel this odd, uncontrollable sense of sadness deep within. Each year as another birthday passed, it got worse. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. You’d often withdraw from Fuyuhiko and Peko, not wanting to burden them with this depression you couldn’t seem to shake. Fuyuhiko wasn’t good at talking about feelings anyway. Peko was no better. They certainly were no one’s therapists, and you didn’t want to put that on them anyway. How could they fix you when you yourself didn’t know what was wrong? You were starting to feel pushed to the edge by your own mind. You couldn’t go to therapy either. It felt humiliating. Your best friend was the toughest guy in the world. He would never step foot in a therapist’s office.

You’d had thoughts lately, unsafe thoughts about a permanent solution to the problem. You’d try to push them back, but without support, with your own mind betraying you, you felt more and more hopeless each day. You felt like you needed him, to talk to your best friend before you did something stupid. So right after classes were finished for the day, you headed off campus to the Kuzuryu complex. You knew he’d be there right after school on this day of the week. You also knew that weren’t supposed to go there alone, that it was extremely dangerous to be on Kuzuryu property without an escort, but you were desperate. You’d held onto this for far too long.

It wasn’t until you were skirting along the brick wall to the back entrance of the main Kuzuryu mansion that your heart began to race with second thoughts. The inital gut feeling that stopped you from reaching out to Fuyuhiko in the first place months ago was back in full force. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Fuyuhiko had so much on his plate. He didn’t need your cry baby ass dumping your feelings onto him. Maybe he and Peko would be better off without you in their lives at all. Maybe… the initial thoughts you’d woken up with this morning were the right ones.

You peeked around the corner of the wall. This was dangerous territory. Everyone in town knew to avoid this area if they valued their lives. Non-clan members who entered were liable to be shot or shanked on sight. That didn’t happen often though, as the locals had enough common sense. Fuyuhiko had to be inside, and would’ve come out to get you if he knew you were coming.

But you didn’t want him to know anymore. You wanted to just end it, to fade away and never bother anyone ever again, to never feel this way again.

Before you can change your mind yet again, you round the corner into the courtyard preceding the back entrance, and the guards are alerted immediately. Their guns are trained on you with practiced percision. You prepare for your life to be over, for the pain of bullet fire and screw your eyes shut. The yelling and swearing of the guards, prepared to pull the trigger is abruptly halted when you sense a presence in front of you. You open your eyes to see Fuyuhiko standing before you, arms outstretched in a protective stance. He’s swearing like a sailor at his underlings, face red as a tomato with rage.

“Fuyu..hiko?” You sniffle, barely above a whisper. This feels unreal, that a miracle like this would happen to you in what should be your last moment. The petite gangster guarding you was burning with a level of anger too hot to even have your meek voice register in his mind.

“How dare you point that damn gun at (Y/N)!” He was ranting, on a temper-high, and his subordinates were cowering with every word. Upsetting the boss’s son was not a good look for them. Finally satisfied with the amount of fear he’d struck into them, he ordered them to get lost, before things got worse for them. Now alone with you in the empty courtyard, he turned to face you, taking a deep breath to calm himself. That anger should be reserved for the deserving, and he hated when you saw him get like that. He knew he could be a dick, a tempermental jerk at times, but he had a soft spot for you and hated to see you upset. Seeing your forlorn expression finally for himself, he grabbed your shoulder, ushering you off and into the side room he’d entered from when he first saw your foolish ass step into the courtyard alone. Bringing a thumb up, he wiped a tear from the corner of your eye that threatened to fall. “Come on, we have to talk.”

Teruteru Hanamura

Your best friend on campus, Teruteru Hanamura loved cooking for you. Of course he loved cooking, he was the Ultimate Cook after all, but he found it especially rewarding to cook for someone he truly cared about. He was like his mother in that way. You always taste tested his newest culinary creations and were brutally honest about your reviews so he could improve. He spent many lunch periods making you extravagant meals. He refused to let you pack your own, order out, or eat at the cafeteria. It was a win-win: the school saw every minute he spent cooking as him honing his ultimate talent, and you got free food. You guys would chat it up for hours, playfully flirt, and just enjoy each other’s company.

Much to his chagrin, he started to notice you coming to your lunch meet-ups less and less these past few months. When you did show up, you didn't seem as excited as you used to be. He assumed it was normal for most students at one point or another. School work and the pressure to excel at such a prestigious school were probably just stressing you out. He was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy, so the possibility of it being anything more serious than that rolled right off his back. It was out of the question. He didn’t even want to think about such negativity. 

It wasn’t until you stopped coming altogether that he realized he might have to.

You’d miss lunch, and plans to hang out after school hours, and stopped texting back as much. It deeply saddened him. Food was his way to show he loved you and cherished your friendship, the way he expressed his creativity and feelings to the world. If he couldn’t share it with his closest friend, he didn’t want to share it with anyone. In his mind, he’d already attributed your behavior to stress, but maybe you also just weren’t interested in being his friend anymore? You sounded more solemn than usual on the phone, and even with your tone through texts. He wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like him anymore and just wanted to let him down easy. He was a bit much for most people.

After pacing and getting into his own head for hours in the kitchen, he worked up the courage to go to your dorm room and finally have the talk, to confront you directly and ask if he’d done anything to upset you. Sweating bullets outside your door, his fear of confrontation and hatred of negative energy was creeping up on him. With a big gulp, he swallowed before knocking with false confidence. He knew you were in there, he heard your TV through the door and somewhat knew your schedule. This is were you would most certainly be at this time after classes. He called out to you, and when you didn’t answer, he jiggled the door handle, suddenly fearing that maybe the situation was worse than he might’ve once thought. Finding the door unlocked, he gently pushed the door open and crept in.

He finds the room completely dark save for the light of the TV. In the flashing of the screen, he can see the piles of garbage and clothing all over your floor. He scanned the environment anxiously, shocked at the state of your dorm. Then he finds you, sitting up in your bed, blankets covering your legs, silent as the grave, You’re just staring, as if in a trance, completely emotionless. He can see your phone lighting up on the bedside table, notifications buzzing, but you make no move to react.

“(Y/N)?” He can’t believe he’s seeing you like this. You were like a zombie, an empty shell of the person he knew and loved. When you don’t answer, he moves to sit on the side of the bed, concerned. He tiptoes over cautiously, not wanting to trigger any negative response from you. What he sees now, up close to you in the dimly lit room makes his eyes widen in horror.

On your lap, on top of a plastic plate is the cheapest, most unappetizing plate of budget spaghetti he’d ever seen, likely from some cafeteria or corner store. It looked like something a student would keep as a midnight snack in their mini fridge just in case they were starving when everything was closed, a quick fix. That wasn’t the worst part though.

No, the worst most definitely had to be the entire bottle’s worth of pills you’d seemingly emptied on top of the depressing-looking noodles. A plastic fork sat nestled in between the noodles and the pills, as if you were just about to begin eating before he arrived (perhaps in the nick of time).

It’s in that moment he realized exactly what was going on here. This was all so overwhelming to him, but his first priority was saving his best friend. Again, with the intention not to trigger anything, to not overstimulate or make anything worse in mind, he moves slowly, constantly checking your expression or any change or sign of stress. His shaking hands take the plate in their grasp, and he pulls it back and safely away from you. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again.

“H-hey! (Y/N), y-ya know… food is love… food is…” he struggles for the right words, so unsure of his ability to be what you need right now, “... food is beauty, and a very, very good thing! Food is meant to heal and nourish your body, never hurt it!” He smiles weakly, taking one of your limp hands in his own, and you feel his warmth transfer over, flooding into you. “We don’t have to talk right now, but I’m gonna stay, o-okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

Kazuichi Souda

Kazuichi was stressing. He’d never felt this much in a bind in his entire life. When it came to his own negative feelings and problems, he usually felt fine expressing himself, often yelling or crying if he needed to, letting someone know they’d upset him. When it came to comforting others, it always felt so damn awkward, and it was a feeling he’d like to avoid if he could. He was just no good at it. He was torn now, as it was his own best friend who needed his emotional support, and he’d run away like a selfish coward, hidden from the stress of the situation. He was afraid, and now the situation seemed to be boiling over, to the point of no return.

You were obviously going though something, and could tell. He was closer to you than anyone. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed a definite decline in your energy, the amount of sleep you were getting, and general happiness lately. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding a direct conversation about it. He didn’t even know what to say, or if his advice would help. He was no professional, and growing up with a dad that abused him verbally and sometimes even physically, he’d learned to cope with trauma and depressive episodes in his own ways. There were times that he’d have to push back his own feelings to move on when his dad was involved, so how could someone like him help others?

Something that always helped him feel a bit better about himself was altering his outward appearance to satisfy his own sense of self expression and aesthetic. He’d once advised that you get a piercing, dye and cut your hair, buy some new clothes when you were in a particularly dismal mood. You didn’t seem to go for it. In fact, he later felt like a dick for even suggesting it, like maybe now you thought he wasn’t taking you seriously. You’d made an excuse to go back to your dorm almost immediately after the conversation.

He’d felt like an asshole for being a little more distant with you the past few days, but he just felt like a colossal loser for not being able to help one of the most important people in his life. It was overwhelming. What if you wanted to be alone right now? What if him trying to help ended up making it worse? Pacing his mess of a room, he ran his hands through his pink hair, clawing over his scalp in stress. He felt overstimulated, mind bouncing dozens of thoughts around at once.

He stopped, taking a deep breath to try and narrow these thoughts down and make an actual, reasonable plan. At the end of the day, the most important thing was the well-being of his friend. The end goal had to be to get you help or help you himself so that your friendship could get back on track to the normal, happy every day routine that you both loved. The end goal was for sure in his mind: to see his friend smile again and see a familiar glow of happiness radiate off of them. To exorcise this depression permanently, or to at least take the first steps in that direction. If he had to put aside his own feelings of embarrassment and anxiety to achieve that… well, he felt like that goal was worth almost any level of uncomfortableness.

He put his foot down, now resigned to just do what he’d wanted to do deep down for days. You would do the same for him if the situation were reversed, and he knew that. From his room on the opposite side of the dormitory wing, he made his way down the long hall until he reached your own dorm room. You were so very close, but felt so far away when he shut you out for the comfort of his own room. Now he was here, ready to finally give his all to help you like he should’ve the whole time. Even if you just needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, he wanted to pull through and be there for you until he could guide you through the next steps.

Silent before your door, he was about to knock when he picked up a sound from the other side. He recognized your voice instantly, and you were crying, weeping quite loudly inside your room. This triggers something in him, like a need to protect you, like hearing you in pain hurts him as well. Without thinking, he grabbed the door handle and threw the door open. It’s unlocked, carelessly as if you were just coming in from class and thought of nothing else but your current goal, one-track mind not even bothering to lock your door for safety or privacy. Your school bag and books are thrown haphazardly on the ground and he looks for you, following the source of the cries to the small side bathroom that every dorm room contained.

He nearly lets out a shrill scream of shock when he sees you standing in front of your bathroom mirror, holding a little silver razor blade up to your wrist. It looked like you were building up the courage, so ensnared by your own miserable thoughts that you didn’t even notice him until he was already leaping forward and yelling out your name. You looked up, wide eyes streaked with tears and puffy with redness.

“Kazuichi?!” Your voice is hoarse from crying and you feel so taken aback by his sudden appearance, so small and vulnerable. You felt foolish, caught in this compromising situation, embarrassed that someone you cared about so deeply would ever see you in this state. He didn’t seem to care about that though, only concerned with getting you back down to a safe mental state in this moment. He eyed you, then the razor blade in your hand.

“Please… please don’t do it. Please,” he begs you, one calloused hand reaching out toward you, palm outstretched. “I can’t let you go there. Please, don’t make me watch you do this because I refuse to leave, so…” His voice shook, and he inched closer, hand still ready for you to make the next move. Exhuasted, humiliated, and ready to submit to his help, you concede. You place the razor safey flat-side down into his palm, and he quickly discards it into the trash bin behind him, itching to get it out of his hands expeditiously. With that out of the way, he grabs you around the shoulders, pulling you into a hug that’s almost suffocating. He crushes you against his chest, and feels you shaking, breathing slowly evening out in his embrace. You let your eyes fluttered closed, let him help you stabilize.

“I am… so sorry for not taking this as serious as I should’ve. I never thought it would get this bad!” You could hear him crying. Kazuichi was never one to be afraid to shed tears when he was overwhelmed. You liked that sensitive side of him. “I’m sorry from running from your issues. I’m here now… I’m here.”

Byakuya Twogami

You were fascinated by the self-appointed leader of your little group. Ever since the killing game began, people kind of looked to him for guidance because he had a sense of authority and true confidence in his voice. There was a commanding tone and conviction to his words that you assumed was native to one of his status.

You were interested in his family business and the very different world of the elites like him in general, as you’d made it to Hope’s Peak on pure talent alone and not due to any nepotism or financial status. Attending the academy was the first chance you really had to get out of your old neighborhood and see how other people lived. It had been a miracle that you’d been scouted. The Togami family was just so vastly different from yours in every way. You wanted to know how it all worked. You often found yourself following him around and asking him questions that he probably found tedious and trivial. They were questions that he was probably asked in every interview, or with every new friend who tried to cozy up to him for his money and influence, but those were never your intentions. What began as curiosity for his different way of life turned into you simply enjoying getting to know him. He could even have a sense of humor on occasion, even if he didn’t see it that way.

Eventually, he would start to delegate you to little tasks to help him out, as if you were one of his retainers. In his mind you were competent and he respected you enough to trust you with the work. Overthinking, you took it as him just trying to get you out of his hair. You felt kind of bummed out, like you were probably getting on his nerves and bothering him. His style of communication was so different from your own that you would’ve never guessed that him getting rid of you and spending less time with you could mean he respected you, even if there was a task involved taht required you to move on your own. What made it worse was that you spent so much time with him that you really hadn’t gotten to know any of your other classmates. You weren’t close with any of them so it felt awkward to be walking around without Togami by your side. Interacting with a bunch of people who had already seemed to sort out their friendships might be a bit awkward and uncomfortable. Fortunately, there were a lot of extroverts in this group that would probably pull you in and make you feel right at home as soon as you reached out even mildly.

~

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Everyone had agreed that the killing game was absolute nonsense, because none of you would ever stoop so low as to actually kill someone for any reason. Yet here you were eavesdropping on a concerning conversation between the seemingly harmless Nagito and the careless Teruteru. Nagito was planning to start up the killing game at the party you all were planning tonight and it didn’t seem like anything would stop him. You could hear the fear in Teruteru’s voice as he tried to speak sense into the much taller, lanky boy. Nagito already had a weapon hidden under a dining table, had sent threatening notes out, left little hints to put his plan into motion. It sounded completely and utterly insane!

You were there in the first place because Togami asked you earlier that day to scope out the party building stealthily and quietly. He wanted someone he trusted to gather any dangerous instruments or note any faults in the architecture that could cause an injury or allow secret entry. Nagito and Teruteru were there cleaning and setting up the food and decorations for the class party later that night, but Byakuya seemed suspicious of the both of them when he spoke on it. It wasn’t hard for you to see why now, when not too long after sneaking into the building, you happened upon this conversation. You had to tell someone, of course, but who would believe you except maybe Togami himself? Nagito and Teruteru could always deny it and it would be your word over theirs. The class might believe you over Teruteru, but Nagito seemed really well liked within the group.

When you relayed Nagito’s plans to Togami later, it felt like he already knew somehow, like you only just confirmed his feelings. You didn’t know how he knew, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. He asked that you share this info with no one else, and told you not to worry as he had it all under control.

~

How could you not worry about it? Now, at the actual the party you’re unable to relax, on edge even in the presence of amazing food and happy people. You’re nearly shaking with worry, trying to psych yourself into believing that Nagito would change his mind. He was bluffing… he’d chicken out. Everything would be okay. Togami would handle it! Maybe he talked to Nagtio on the side before the party, maybe that natural intimidating aura of his convinced Nagito to let go of his nefarious plans. Teruteru sure seemed to be perky and proud of his food spread tonight, so surely the whole murder plan was off the table. Why would he be so calm otherwise, when he was terrified earlier?

When the lights abruptly went out, everything changed. You panicked, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Your heart rate spiraled out of control, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You followed your instincts to dash over to the back table, the one Nagito was standing next to just before the lights went out. You had to get to that weapon before him, You wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of knowing you could’ve prevented this by warning the entire group if Nagito succeeded in killing someone. You knew this plan was in the works. You trusted Togami to stop it before now and here it was: the moment of truth. You had to act. You weren’t close with any of these people, but they all seemed to already care for each other, if even just a little bit. It was better if you died here over anybody else. It had to be your duty after the information you chose to withhold from them. It wouldn’t have been fair.

As you were about to dive under the table in the dark, you feel a strong grip on your arm. You are lifted and thrusted backwards and away from the table. You yell out, fearing an altercation with Nagito and preparing for a fight, but as you fall back onto your butt with a thud a few feet from the table, all physical contact ceases. There’s a commotion, and you scramble backwards in the dark. There’s confusion and chaos, and then the lights turn back on.

~

You wouldn’t know until you were gathering evidence for very the first class trial later that night, that Togami had taken your place under that table. The arm that pushed you back had been his. While you couldn’t see him, he used night vision goggles to see you and died in your place. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you trusted him when he said to trust him, let him handle it and didn’t get in the way of the table, he would’ve had a second or two more to think and react… and maybe he wouldn’t be dead. It could’ve been you, and you would be eternally grateful for his sacrifice, even if he didn’t plan for it that night,

You vowed to spend whatever time left you had on this miserable island avenging him by and honoring his memory while you all worked together to stop Monokuma.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Omega Angel

yes, I've written this exact trope a million times. I like it!!!

Alpha!Bakugou x Omega! reader

warnings: mentions of hosipitals and injuries, that's about it.

word count: 1,200 (about)

summary: Bakugou teases you about being a bird brain, but when he gets hurt and you're there for him, all he sees is an angel.

“Will you come to see me tonight?” you asked, it was more of a formality at this point. You knew Bakugou would come to your apartment the second he got off of work, just like he did every night. The two of you were still in bed, he hadn’t even left you for the day yet and you were already missing him. 

“Is that an invitation?” he asked, teasingly. 

“Yes, I want to see you tonight Alpha,” you whined into his chest, knowing how much he liked it when you were needy with him. A soft laugh rumbled in his chest and he pulled you closer to him if that was even possible. 

“I don’t know, I have to work late tonight, I wouldn’t be home in time for dinner, maybe I shouldn’t come at all,” he teased, he trailed a finger over your back, in between your wings making you shudder. You were particularly sensitive right there. 

“Come anyways,” you whined. 

“And what if I don’t want to have to pluck feathers out of my hair tomorrow morning? Should I still come over If I don’t want to cuddle all night with a glorified throw pillow?” Bakugou asked. You gasped and batted at his chest which just made him laugh. 

“You act like I leave feathers everywhere, I clean up after myself!” you shouted, you pulled out of his arms, grabbed a pillow, and slammed it into his face. It was his own damn fault he got so many feathers in his hair with the way he would bury his head into your back any chance he got. 

“Brat,” he snapped and shoved the pillow back at you, you tried to catch it, but it was just a distraction, Bakugou lunged and pinned you to the bed. You chirped in surprise as your Alpha loomed large over you.

“I should punish you for disrespecting me like that,” he snarled and a shiver went down your spine. you loved when he got mean like this. 

“Come back to my place tonight and you can put me in my place all night long,” you promised.

Bakugou promised he would be back before he left. Of course, he did, He almost always spent the night at your place. He still had his own apartment but it didn’t feel like home. It was cold and minimalist, almost utilitarian. it certainly didn’t feel like a home. Your place was warm, familiar, and best of all had you. 

He’d mulled over the Idea once or twice of bringing up officially moving in together, but it seemed pointless to him, things were fine the way they were. Besides he didn’t want to think of the nightmare it would be to try and move all that shit around. 

You were his mate, and everyone knew it, so there wasn’t any issue. Still, It might be nice if you were able to change your daily question from “will you come to see me tonight?” to “what time will you be home tonight?”

Bakugou pulled a feather out of his work uniform pocket and twisted it. Despite the hell he gave you, he loved your wings, and keeping a part of you with him helped him make it through the day. 

He’d snagged this particular feather a few weeks ago, you’d made yourself comfortable in the bathroom and started grooming through your massive wings. You usually did Alright by yourself, but it was hard for you to reach the inner corners where the wings met your back.  You’d whined so cutely, begging for help from your Alpha. 

Katsuki was happy to help, he would have helped even if you hadn’t asked, but it was cute seeing you so needy. He combed his fingers through the downy fluff gently as he could, preening away the feathers that had fallen out and gotten caught. He washed your back and delighted in the way you’d lightly gasp when his fingers made contact with your skin. 

You were so sensitive there, Katsuki was amazed you trusted him enough to let him touch you here. He was careful, barely letting his fingers graze the swath of skin between your two wings. Katsuki was never a particularly delicate person, but he practiced for you. 

While you weren’t watching he picked a feather from the trash back and shoved it in his pocket. It carried with it the faintest hint of your scent. Soon enough his own domineering scent would overtake it, and he’d have to swipe another one.

An alarm sounded, snapping Bakugou out of his reminiscing he sighed and stuffed the feather away, and leaped into action. 

You didn’t worry when Bakugou missed dinner, he had already warned you that he would be late, then your phone started to ring, and you saw it was his agency, and your heart dropped. He just lost his phone, you told yourself. Your hands still shook when you answered. Of course, you weren’t that lucky. 

Bakugou was fine, now at least. After hours of healing heroes working on him. You made it over to the hospital where they were keeping him. He was still asleep but the nurses let you in anyways. 

You knew Katsuki loved his work and would rather die than be anything but a hero, but you hated it sometimes.  You hated worrying like this. 

You sat on the edge of the hospital bed and held his unresponsive hand. “You’re going to kill me one of these days,” you murmured and brought his hand up to your lips, lightly kissing his bruised knuckles. 

“One of these days you’re just going to go to far, and not wake up and you’ll take me down with you,” you scolded. You thought he was asleep but then his hand flexed, squeezing you back. 

“Katsuki!” you half shouted half sobbed. You had to hold yourself back from throwing yourself onto him, it would only hurt him. Already you were starting to forgive him, this time hadn’t been so bad, Katsuki was so strong, nothing could keep him down. 

“I really must have died this time, look at this Angel in front of me,” he groaned, his voice cracked with fatigue. Tears started to roll down your cheeks and you couldn’t tell if you were crying or laughing, Katsuki couldn’t tell either. 

“Come here Omega, Don’t cry,” he said and pulled you down so you were laying on his chest. He was still sensitive and your head on his chest hurt a little but he could manage. 

“Shh I’m okay baby, I’m right here, everything’s okay,” he whispered, running his hands over your wings. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again!” you sobbed into his chest, you both knew that he would, in fact, scare you like that again. But none of that mattered for now, for now, it was enough that you were back in his arms.

[theshippirate22]

NASCAR!Steve/Mechanic!Eddie (Thinking of Someone For Whom He Still Burns)

this one’s for you @grimmfitzz my dear <33 you’re too good to me really I’m going to become undomesticated or something ;)

The house was still thick with gold. 

Eddie dragged his fingers down the cream walls on his way down the stairs, stepping softly so he didn’t break the perfect silence. Not that it was silent; Wayne left the windows open when he went out in the mornings. The white, transparent cotton curtains billowed out, bringing in the warm breeze with them. There was a lawnmower outside, giving some white noise to the gentleness of the house; must be Chrissy finding an excuse to have her headphones on all morning. She probably just got back from her run, still feeling the adrenaline, the restlessness, and electing to put it into something productive. 

The light was amber, the way it seemingly danced in through the walls to fill the house up with the same gold of the daffodils in the flowerbed right outside. The air smelled faintly of greenery, whether it was Chrissy’s grass shavings or Wayne’s precious flower gardens, Eddie couldn’t say. 

He filled a glass with water and sipped on it, washing the taste of sleep from his mouth. Flipped on the tv to add another set of lively voices to the sound of summer mornings. It was already tuned into the news, and he almost went to change it, switch it to cartoons or something, but he had already taken the toaster from the cabinet and suddenly breakfast seemed infinitely more important. 

“-nvestigating the disappearance of the famous racer.” The newscaster explained eagerly. “While officials at California Speedway are still waiting for his arrival, his managers have been holding press conferences to ease the fans’ anxieties.”

Eddie popped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster, and leaned back against the counter to see what was going on.

The film switched from the newscaster lady in a pencil skirt and a blazer, to another woman in a pencil skirt and a blazer, backed by a man with more freckles than should have been possible- Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan, the caption provided. “We have no reason to suspect foul play regarding our client at this time. We’re sure it’s nothing more than a miscommunication or misunderstanding of some kind. However, if anyone has any information regarding his whereabouts, we urge you to come forward immediately.”

The toast popped out. Eddie burned his hand throwing them onto the plate. 

The newscaster returned as voiceover to footage of the racer- not that you could actually see him; in every shot, he was either wearing his helmet or turned away- from “Tuesday’s Indianapolis Race,” as the caption provided. “Starting last season as a complete rookie-“

“Turn that NASCAR shit off.”

Eddie startled, dropping his toast back on the plate, before realizing Wayne had just gotten back and rushing to swallow the bite he’d just taken. “Just a sec, I wanna see...”

“When competitor Billy Hargrove was asked about his absence, he said:” The clip cut to the grossest man Eddie had ever seen, with long messy, blond hair and the kind of mustache that just screamed I-disrespect-women. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s probably blacked out in a ditch somewhere and he’ll show up hungover as hell. In the meantime,” He looked dead at the camera, as if he was speaking directly to the missing racer. “I’ll be here hanging out with The King, buddy.”

The way he said the last word certainly implied nothing congenial about the relationship.

“Fans line the streets outside the Speedway-” The camera panned to corroborate. “-to catch a glimpse of his car. In lieu of last week’s interview, some fans are afraid of a darker story. After announcing on live television that he identified as bisexual, then going missing after just five days has his supporters truly hoping this is just a misunderstanding on his teams’ part.”

And back to the press conference and Miss Carol Perkins. 

“We cannot confirm or deny the rumors of death threats being sent to the team at this time. However, with any large announcement from anyone of any fame, there is expected to be public backlash, and our client’s coming out is no exception. We have worked continuously with security and law enforcement to look into any and all potential threats and provide reasonable protection against them. We have no reason to believe the disappearance is a hate crime in nature or related to the coming out at all. Once again, if anyone has any information-”

The tv shut off, the sudden black of the screen swallowing any of the color and Eddie cried out indignantly. “Wayne! I was watching that!”

Wayne’s flat expression didn’t change, but he answered softly, “It’ll just upset you.” 

That was true-already, Eddie’s toast was starting to taste like sawdust- but it wasn’t like people didn’t get hate-crimed every day. Especially people like Eddie. Like...

Damn, Eddie hadn’t even caught the missing racer’s name. 

Maybe the slimy misogynist was right. Maybe he had just blacked out somewhere, so hungover he forgot what day it was. 

Hopefully.

Yes it’s the plot of Cars (2006). I’ve never watched a NASCAR race in my life. I don’t know anything about NASCAR. This amuses me though so I’m doing it anyway because that’s where I am in my life. Anyway! If you’re interested in more let me know!