#on the note of things ive gotten into though i have in fact gotten into insane drama because of discord roleplay servers

[dyketubbo]

i think before joining or making a minecraft roleplay server every creator needs to either have played at least ONE campagin of a ttrpg of their choice (doesnt have to be dnd) or they must have spent their entire childhood roleplaying with people on any social media/forum/chat app their tiny hands could get a hold on. i want these minecraft roleplayers to have backgrounds in doing roleplay with actions written out *like this* in their friends text messages and getting into insane drama as teenagers in discord roleplay servers

[deus-ex-mona]

belated ✨congratulations✨ to dai for being the first ft4 member to get 2 5☆s!!!!

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th 

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“ 

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.” 

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?” 

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“ 

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“ 

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker. 

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod. 

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod. 

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.  

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[luizd3ad]

Happy Birthday? | Poly!Moonwaterkiller x Fem!Reader One Shot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black x Barty Crouch Jr x F!Reader WC: 3,163 TW: Polyamorous relationship, swearing, teasing type of relationship, mostly fluff, slight angst at the end, slight talks of Regulus’s childhood, no use of Y/N Author's Note: This ship is inspired by @ellecdc please send her love. She's so talented and is just straight up amazing. Also I'm still new to writing so I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's not good/doesn't make sense.

Summary: It’s regulus birthday so you, Remus and Barty want to make it special but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

I made this ig mood board inspired by the guy idk ive never made one before

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“Bartemius Crouch junior! I swear to all that is holy in this world! If you stick your grubby hands in the frosting one more bloody time!”

“Oh come on Lupin! You can’t blame me, it's just so fucking good!"

Barty yelled, waving his hands around trying to defend himself.

You couldn't help but laugh at hearing two of your boyfriends’ bicker while you put the chicken you just got done seasoning into the oven to cook. 

Admittedly it was quite entertaining and it helped distract you a bit from stressing over the cooking that still needed to be done and the small decorations that needed to be put up for today.

It was Regulus's birthday, so you and Remus had gotten Sirius to take Regulus out for the day so you and your partners could try and surprise him with a birthday dinner for just the four of you. 

You couldn't help but stress seeing as he should be home sooner than later at this point, and you wanted everything to be as perfect as possible since Regulus wasn't completely comfortable with celebrating his birthday still. 

He didn't find the idea of a party and things of that nature to be fun, he found it more stressful and anxiety inducing than anything. (due to his childhood)

So the three of you have always tried to do a little something to make it special for him and to show Regulus that you all love him but never anything too much as to avoid overwhelming or making him uncomfortable. 

“Barty, my love, how about you go and set up the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner?”

“Anything for you angel.”

Barty says with a look that he reserved for only you. 

It was love sick looks. The kind of look that could show the receiver every emotion the other person was feeling. It showed that you were loved by that person with their whole heart. The type of look that had both parties feeling vulnerable in the best way possible.

Even before you all had started dating, when you all were just friends in your earlier years at Hogwarts, he had always looked at you as if you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. 

He'd look at you as if you were the only good thing left in this world, and to him you were one of the only good things left in this world.

You and two other people that he held closer to his heart than he'd probably be willing to admit most days. 

Though that didn’t mean Barty didn't love Remus and Regulus.

It also didn't mean it was a secret of how much Barty loved Remus and Regulus. In fact he loved them with all his heart. He expressed how much he loved them somewhat often in his own ways.

Especially since he could be known for his flair of the dramatics at times, he had expressed many times that he loved the three of you more than anything. 

Not that anyone could deny, or question it. More like no one would dare to deny or question it. 

Barty has expressed many times how he'd burn down cities, commit unspeakable acts and take on any unforgivable in a heartbeat for Regulus and Remus.

The love Barty held for them two was the kind of love that was teasing and could be chaotic in the best way. 

The type of love that could only be described as a ‘I can pick on them but you can't pick on them because they're mine’ in the most loving way Barty could possibly manage. And may the gods help any poor soul that ever tried to mess with someone who he deemed as his. 

But the love he had for you was a softer kind of love, it was sweet. The kind of love full of things like love sick looks, soft touches, sweet kisses and even sweeter words.

Along with the promises of burning down cities, committing unspeakable acts and taking on unforgivables’, who would expect anything less from Barty?  But I digress.

“Yes please, piss off for fucks sake.”

Remus says in an exasperated tone waving Barty away. Barty then gasps dramatically and clenches his shirt as if he was clutching his ‘pearls’. 

“You don't mean that, Remmy.” Barty all but whined. 

“Plus you couldnt get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

Barty states sending a smirk and wink at Remus, which Remus just responds with by rolling his eyes and hitting Barty with a dish towel playfully to distract Barty from the light blush that's undoubtedly spread across Remus’s face, as to avoid being teased further by him.

“Barty’s right Rem. Even if we wanted to, we're stuck with him, unfortunately.”

You say with a sarcastic little sigh while trying to suppress a smile that threatened to form due to the two men playful arguing. 

Barty then gasps dramatically once more and puts his hand over his heart as if you just stabbed him in the heart as Remus snicker at Bartys reaction and to your comment. 

“Not you as well, angel. You should know that words hurt. You've wounded me, you've basically killed me.”

Barty then pretends to sob as you and Remus shake your heads with smiles on your faces due to his behavior.

“Gods you’ve been spending way too much damn time around Sirius.”

Remus says while rubbing his hands over his face trying to hide his smile. You chuckle and walk up to Barty and give him a hug giving him your best ‘I'm sorry’ look. 

“I’m sorry Barty, I just couldn't help it. Remus has influenced me far too much.. Blame him.”

You say in fake sincerity with a small nod as you hear Remus huff at your comment.

Barty lets out a chuckle and hugs you back with a smile on his face looking down at you as he holds you. 

“It's okay angel, I could never stay upset at you. Lupin on the other hand..”

Barty drags out the end of his sentence with a small smirk on his face as Remus scoffs dramatically at his lovers’ statements.

“Really love? It's my fault is it?”

Remus says with his head tilted to the side and eyebrow raised, as if daring you to continue saying that he should be the one to blame for your ‘cruel’ comment to Barty. 

“Actually Lupin,  I think it is your fault.” Barty stated apparently agreeing with you.

“And what has brought you to that conclusion Junior?” 

Remus says as he walks toward the both of you with a small smirk on his face.

“My angel was just that, an angel. That was until you lot got your Gryffindor hands all over her.”

Barty says with a small shrug, feeling as if his point was valid and made sense. You supposed for Barty it did.

“Is that a fact?” Remus asked while getting closer to you and Barty.

“Yeah, Lupin it is actually.”  Barty says, giving Remus a somewhat challenging look.

“You don't seem to complain when I have my Gryffindor hands all over you, Junior.” 

Remus then winks at a now blushing and flustered Barty. You then cover your mouth trying to hide your own blush while also trying to suppress a giggle.

Barty tries to say some kind of come back and it  just results in him stuttering.

“W-well I- Goddamnit! That’s not fair Lupin!”

“All's fair in love and war Junior.”

Remus says sending another wink at Barty and smirking at you while Barty stares at him with wide eyes in complete silence.

He had managed to make Barty Crouch Jr speechless.

That was actually one of the many things that Remus was good at, especially at the beginning when everything was still new and more unexpected. 

When the four of you were in that space where you weren't officially dating but it was clear to you and everyone who'd been around your little group that you four had very strong feelings for each other.

It had taken Remus no time at all to get comfortable with having at least one of you flustered almost all the time, usually to the point of stuttering or speechlessness. 

He loved seeing you three like that.

Especially Barty.

Barty wasn't someone you could easily make blush let alone actually fluster, especially with just words so whenever Remus would manage to make Barty speechless he felt like he won a reward. 

Barty would never admit it but it was clear as day that Remus was good at making him a flustered stuttering mess. 

And Barty hated it.

“Now love. I believe someone owes someone an apology for trying to place blame.”

Remus says, walking up to you now at arms length and giving you a pointed look now waiting for an apology. 

While Barty mutters a ‘fucking hell’ under his breath and runs his hand through his hair as he walks towards the kitchen counter still mumbling quietly to himself.

“I'm sorry moony. Truly. Do you forgive me?” You say somewhat sincerely knowing Remus doesn't really care all that much. 

“I could never stay mad at you, love.”

Remus says with a small smile he then cups your cheek and gives you a kiss on your forehead, you lean into Remus's kiss taking in the moment and enjoying the affection from your boyfriend.

When suddenly you and Remus feel a cold, grainy substance rain down on you, which you both quickly realize is flour once the shock wore off.

You then hear a familiar giggle, and turn to see none other than a proud looking Barty standing now several feet away, covered in white powder himself. He just stands there proud of himself as if he didn't just cover you both in flour.

As you stare at him wide eyed and mouth a gasp, he just gives you a cheeky little smile.

“You did not just do that Junior.”

“Oh but I think I did, Remmy. That's what you get for teasing and being mean to me.”

Barty then sends a little wink to you and a somewhat apologetic smile.

“Sorry angel. Collateral damage, you understand.”

Barty says with a small shrug and a tone that makes it seem like it's the most reasonable thing that he has ever done.

You simply nod with the most convincing smile you could possibly muster in that moment.

“Of course my love. I understand.”

You say walking near Barty and grabbing a bowl that's filled with whipped cream that you had made earlier. You then walk closer to Barty and with a smile on your face.

“And you'll understand when I do this.”

You say while grabbing a handful of whipped cream and throwing it at Barty just for him to duck in time ending with the cream hitting Remus in the face. You gasp and cover your mouth trying not to laugh as Barty busts out laughing.

“Oh shit Rem! I'm so sorry.”

You say trying hard and failing to suppress your laughter, while Remus wipes his eyes off with his hands.

“It's okay love. All’s forgiven. Just come and give me a kiss.”

“Ummm I would love to, honestly I would… After you clean your face, that is…”

You back away from a now smiling remus while he opens his arms for you and starts walking closer to you. 

“No, now would be fine for me.”

Remus proceeds to walk closer to you as you start to back away towards Barty who's starting to calm down from his laughter.

“Why not kiss Barty?! This is all because of him anyway!”

Barty then gasps.

“Angel! I can't believe you'd throw me under the bus like that… Is it bad that I liked it?”

Barty asks the last part more to himself than to anyone else. He was so caught up in his thoughts for a second that he didn't notice you now using him as a human shield, that was until he felt a clump of whipping cream on his head and looked to see a smirking Remus. 

“Oh. This means war.”

All of a sudden it was every person for themselves. The kitchen was now a war zone. Flour, whipped cream, sugar, powdered sugar, fruits and berries were being thrown all over the place. It was pure chaos. 

The Three you were making a mess out of the kitchen and even bigger messes of yourselves.

Next thing you, you’ve been thrown over Remus’s shoulder while Barty is chasing Remus around the kitchen. 

There’s so much going on, so much laughing and screaming that no one heard the door open. Which meant no one heard Regulus make his way to the kitchen, and so no one noticed him standing in the doorway till you heard him speak.

“I leave you alone for a few hours and suddenly the kitchen explodes?”

Regulus in all his stoic glory just stood there not even looking a little surprised.

All three of you stopped running around, suddenly feeling like kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Then all three of you look at eachother then at Regulus.

“Happy Birthday?” You, Remus and Barty said accidentally making it sound more like a question than in an enthusiastic way.

Regulus just points at the oven says.

“The ovens smoking.”

“Oh shit! The chicken!”

You yell as Remus puts you down and he rushes to the oven to take out the now burnt chicken as smoke fills the kitchen.

“Sooo… Chinese?” Said a very uncertain Barty  

After opening some windows, having the Chinese food delivered, a few showers and quite a few cleaning spells the four of you ended up on the couch with a movie on not many words being exchanged.

After the movie was finished and the food had all been mostly finished Remus had brought out the cake that he managed to finish decorating while waiting for the food to arrive.

The three of you had sung (or in Bartys case basically screamed) Happy birthday to Regulus while he sat there with a ghost of a smile on his face. After another hour or so the four of you found yourselves in your shared bed.

You couldn't help but feel guilty since Regulus hadn't really expressed any emotion which wasn’t necessarily not normal about his birthday. You felt like maybe you had upset him in some way, maybe you over stepped or maybe he was irritated due to the mess you Remus and Barty made. 

You were spiraling. 

Till you heard a whisper.

“Thank you..” 

It was quiet for a few seconds, you supposed no one really knew what to say.

“For what Black? I feel like we kinda ruined your birthday.” Said a almost half asleep Barty

“It wasn't ruined Junior! It just didn't go.. as planned..'' defend Remus who laid on the other side of you. 

You and Regulus laid in the middle of Barty and Remus.

“Would the two of you stop bickering for just a moment please?” You say with a small shake of your head and a small chuckle. 

The next second there's a small choir of ‘Sorry angel’ and ‘Sorry love’.

“What are you thanking us for, Reggie?” 

You say pushing some of his black curly hair behind his ear looking at him softly, though he probably couldn't tell since it was dark in the room.

The only light coming through the window from the half moon.

“For today.. I know it didn't go how any of you planned or would have wanted it to go, but still. It was nice. I spent most of the day with my brother though he can be insufferable, loud and dramatic most of the time, it was still nice. And then to come home to the three people who mean everything to me laughing and having fun... That was the best part. I know I'm not the easiest when it comes to celebrating my birthday but, your three and Sirius have been the only people who have ever actually cared for my birthday. You've never treated it like how my parents did. Never used it as an excuse to have a big party full of people I didn't know or care about just so it seemed like we were better then them or make it seem like we were the perfect family, even though it was evident that we weren't. You've always made it about me and always respected what I'm comfortable with and well I appreciate that. So.. Thank you.. I love you.. All three of you..”

“We love you too Reg.” You say quietly, giving Regulus a soft kiss.

“Awwww did Regulus Black just say he loves me.” Barty practically squealed.

Barty then pulls Regulus into him so Regulus’s back is to Barty's front and then proceeds to messily kiss Regulus all over the side of his face while Regulus tries and fails to get away from him.

Remus then starts to laugh harder than you had seen in a while, almost falling off the bed as he hears the bickering between the two (mostly on Regulus' part) and sees the shadows of a struggling Regulus and a very determined Barty. 

You can't help but start to laugh almost as hard as Remus as you try and get the words out to have Barty let go of poor Regulus.

The night continues for only a few more moments it's filled with more laughing and eventually sleepy good night kisses and I love yous.

To say the four of you had an interesting relationship would be an understatement. It could be messy and chaotic, it could be a fucking headache sometimes. 

But there was love. There was always love. 

There were mornings where the four of you would wake up and just lay in bed happier than any of you thought you could ever be.

There were tender kisses and loving touches.

Dreams and promisses of the future.

There were smiles and laughing fits that would fuel you for the days when you felt like you couldn't even get out of bed.

Admittedly, it was a lot most of the time. 

There were screaming matches and arguing at its worst times but at its best times it was you and three people that you couldn't see your life without. Three people that made life easier most of the time. People who could make you laugh till you cried and that would hold you while you cried and fall apart.

This was a life that none of you ever thought you'd have the opportunity to have, and ever so often one of you would feel like you didn't deserve the life you had.

This was the kind of life that probably wouldn’t exist for you guys in different universes. But here, in this universe? This is the life you have and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

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[milfjuulpod]

Guidance Ch IV

An apology is shared between you and Melissa, with a surprise had afterwards.

read the first chapters here

A/N hi don’t hate me for this being so late, i’m working on the next chapter for you lovelies already! does anyone read these notes? anywho lmk what you think!! kisses 💋

Before your alarm went off in the morning, you were up. Anxiety high, mind full of everything that could go wrong meeting with Melissa today. Last time you saw her it went…not well. You were ready thirty minutes early, heading to the coffee shop much faster than you should be driving at 6:30 in the morning. 

Coming on to the school grounds, you had your bag slung over your shoulder, two coffees in hand. A latte for you, and a macchiato for Melissa. Of course there was an apology to go along with the coffee, but it couldn’t hurt to bring her a little present. After dropping off your personal belongings, you made the unbearable trek to her classroom. The warmth from the drinks didn’t help the sweat coming from your hands. 

At her door, you took in a deep breath. Never before have you been so nervous to apologize. What if she was still mad and didn’t want to listen? What if she didn’t believe you? Realizing the options were to go inside and give it your best shot, or stand outside the door and spiral out, you finally decided on the former. 

A couple quiet knocks on the door, and you gently let yourself in. Melissa’s head popped up at the sound, her demeanor stiffening at the sight of you. “Hey, I wanted to apologize,” you started. The redhead said nothing, in fact she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Nonetheless, you approached her desk and continued. 

“I shouldn’t have believed what I heard, especially since things were going so well, there was no reason to. And I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of it. I know you’re probably regretting starting to be friends, so I hope we can at least remain professional.” You ended the statement by placing the coffee in front of her and immediately leaving. After accidentally getting a bit emotional with your words at the end, you just wanted to leave. 

Luckily your office wasn’t far, and you were back in a safe space, for now, at least. You pulled out your phone to text Gregory that you took his advice and hoped for the best, and texted Janine the same thing as well. One for logical support and one for girl talk, of course. After wrapping up those conversations, you started up your computer for the work day. Only fifteen minutes until the kids came in, which didn’t affect you as much, but chaos would sure ensue. 

You had barely gotten started when there was a knock at your office door, strange since it was so early. You offered a “Come in!” and poked your head past the screen to see who could be needing something at this hour. It was Melissa, with a look you hadn’t seen on her before. Embarrassment, shame maybe. 

     “Hey,” She started, closing the door behind her. She didn’t sit down at your desk though, instead she remained at the door. “Thank you for the coffee, you didn’t have to do that. If anything I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that hon, I know how Janine can be and the reputation I have. I know you mean well.” 

You were silent for a moment. Shocked, honestly, at Melissa’s words and actions. It took you a moment to gather your words, trying to be careful this time. 

       “It’s okay. I think it’s safe to say neither of us handled it well,” You joked. She smiled, but didn’t look at you. The floor seemed to be more interesting at the moment. The redhead stood there silently, looking at the floor. Her smile faded into a furrowed brow. Unsure of what to do, you waited, afraid of scaring her off. From what you knew about the woman, Melissa was not one to get emotional with others, so treading lightly seemed best. 

      “I don’t regret it, by the way.” She finally spoke. Her emerald eyes finally returned to your gaze again after she got her first sentence out. You bit back a smile, trying to hide the joy and pride from watching Melissa work out and speak about her emotions not only in front of you, but to you directly. It was a big step for her, so it was clear she was no longer upset with you. She seemed to be in a better place, so you tried for more. 

      “You don’t regret what, Melissa?” You asked, but instead of keeping eye contact, you focused on moving your bag from the desk to the floor and a few other items around, giving her a moment of space and pseudo-solitude. 

       “Being friends with you. Earlier when you were…bringing me coffee you said I might regret starting to be friends with you. I just want you to know I don’t,” She answered after a couple moments. You looked back up at her and smiled, unable to hold it back this time. “I’m happy to hear that, I’ll see you at lunch?”

        “I’ll see you there,” Melissa replied and returned your smile, turning to make her exit. “Hold on…Did you just, guidance counselor me?” She asked, hand frozen on the door handle. 

      “Maybe,” You replied, not taking your eyes off the screen in front of you. The redhead huffed in annoyance but you turned your gaze at the right time and saw she was still smiling. 

The first half of the day was easy to get through thanks to the buzz from seeing your work crush earlier. Lunch luckily came sooner than expected, and you made your way down to the break room with a pep in your step. Upon arrival, you saw Melissa and Barbara were already at their usual seats, with a third empty spot next to Melissa. You started walking towards the fridge, but stopped halfway. In an effort to make amends with your friend this morning, lunch was completely forgotten about. With a sigh, you turned back around to get lunch elsewhere. 

       “Hey kid, where ya goin?” You knew that voice from anywhere. With an extra pouty look, you turned to face Melissa. 

       “I may or may not have forgotten my lunch this morning, so I’m going to grab something at the store really quick,” You answered. Melissa kicked out the seat next to her and motioned for you to come to her, so you did. She pushed the tupperware she had to you and got up to the fridge to grab a salad she had as well. When she sat back down, you gave her a quiet thank you, to which she gave you a warm smile. 

    Your phone buzzed on the table, a text from Jacob that read, I’m glad to see this morning went well! 

    You smiled and set the phone back down, and when you looked up, Melissa was looking at you with a smirk and raised brow. Rolling your eyes earned you a nudge from the other woman, she obviously saw the text as well. Lunch continued with this light energy, everyone chatting about their day and whatever was on their minds for the next thirty minutes. It was nice, you were starting to feel settled at Abbott. Even though the issue with Melissa wasn’t pleasant, it made you realize how quickly you had become one of the group.

Despite getting a head start on this morning, the day seemed to drag with the amount of work on your plate. It wasn’t until after the kids had left that you were finally pulled away from the strenuous projects you took on. 

“It’s open,” You said sweetly to whoever was behind the door, not yet glancing up from the computer. 

“Hey, what’s-Oh! Melissa!” You interrupted yourself as soon as you looked up and saw the Italian woman. She tried to hide her smile and pink cheeks, but you caught it, just in time. 

“Hi hon, could I sit with you for a minute?” She asked, but instead of pulling out the chair in front of you, she crossed sides of the room and sat herself atop your desk, barely scooting over your keyboard. 

“Yeah go ahead, make yourself at home,” You teased. In that instant, you realized how close she was to you. Her knees were level with your abdomen, just a couple inches away, sitting oh so pretty on your desk. You couldn’t look anywhere but her even if you wanted to, and couldn’t help but wonder if she did that on purpose. 

“Listen…I’m startin’ to think my apology this morning wasn’t enough. Let me make you dinner tonight, at mine,” Her sultry voice spoke. 

Dinner? At Melissa’s? Cooked by her? Was this a dream?

“Words, my dear. Yes or no? You won’t hurt my feelings.” It was so hard to focus on her words and speak your own when she looked this good, this close, treating you with this kind of attention. 

“I- Yes. Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Good, because I lied. That would’ve hurt my feelings,” She smiled at you, and you returned it. “I’ll text you my address now, just let me know when you’re heading over. I’ll probably start cooking around 6, but you’re welcome over whenever,” Melissa told you. She went to stand and take her exit, but you stopped her with your hands on her knees. 

“Wait, do you want me to bring anything? I can’t expect you to do all the work,” You said honestly, trying to ignore how warm Melissa’s skin felt through the fabric of her pants. Unbeknownst to you, she was trying to ignore the sensation as well. 

“Mm, I think I have a couple bottles of wine at the house but if you want anything specific I’d grab it on the way. Other than that, just bring you. That’s all I need,” The redhead smiled and gently took your hands off her so she could stand. As she walked out of your office, she shouted, “See ya tonight!”

[zepskies]

Devour Me - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: This is a two-part sequel to “Midnight Espresso!” I would read that one first before you dive into this one. (It’s fun, I promise!)

Word Count: 3,800 Tags/Warnings: Supernatural shenanigans, tiny bit of body insecurity, hurt/comfort, fluffy fluff, and a cliffhanger...

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: "A Takeover"

When Dean asked you to move in with him, he really didn’t think it would come to this.

Clearing a nightstand for you, half of the dresser, a section of his closet. Those things are reasonable. 

But this is a total takeover, he thinks, as he surveys the sheer amount of crap you’ve brought into his room.

Mind you, despite this still being a bunker, the décor is nice. You brought in sturdy, but stylish wicker baskets for his pile of cassettes (and your CDs) next to the TV, filing bins for the haphazard shuffle of papers on his desk, installed dark wood shelves on the wall for his various weapons and your collection of books. 

But he’d had his music organized—not alphabetically or chronologically, but by his own personal rankings of awesomeness. Now they’re all shuffled together by band name. 

Plus, he likes having his shotgun on the floor by the bed, within reach, not three feet above his head. And where the fuck is his collection of…magazines?

The point is, every time he looks for something, you’ve put it in a different place. Not to mention the damn bathroom (don’t get him started on all your shea butter lotions, makeup brushes, frilly-smelling soaps, and the army of hair products now taking up space in his cabinets and drawers). 

Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out where the hell his cassette of Zeppelin IV is, when you breeze into the room he now shares with you. You’re dewy with sweat in a Guns & Roses shirt and some yoga pants you reserve for cleaning. 

And that’s another thing. You’re more anal than Sam about having the bunker smelling like Pine Sol. However, as you’ve expressed before (after nagging him to pick up his dirty, and occasionally bloody clothes from the floor), while you like a clean house, you are not in fact the maid.

“Hey, baby. Can you fold these for me?” you request. “I need a shower.”

He raises a brow as you dump a new basket of fresh laundry onto the bed. It looks like you washed your clothes mixed in with his, which he actually doesn’t mind. He fishes out one of your red, lacey thongs with a hint of a smile. He bought you these last week, and they already have a tear. (His fault.)

“By the way, next time you move one of my things, mind leaving me a post-it note or something?” he dryly remarks. “It’s like a scavenger hunt in my own damn room.” 

You pop your head out of the bathroom, though he can tell by your bare shoulders that you’ve already gotten undressed. Your mouth is quirked at the corner. 

“It’s called organization,” you tease. “Apparently a foreign concept to you.”

You disappear back into the bathroom, giving Dean the privacy he needs to grumble almost inaudibly to himself. But then he hears your voice behind the door.  

“Oh, by the way. Your vintage collection of smut is in the bottom of your nightstand,” you call out. “That 1996 edition of Busty Asian Beauties is particularly classy.”

Dean hears the wryness in your tone, and his face actually heats up in embarrassment. He frowns at the bathroom door, his jaw tensing, but he takes a breath. Deciding to let it go with a roll of his shoulders, he puts on the TV to catch up on Dr. Sexy M.D. He also neglects the task you gave him, just for a little while.

When you’re still in the bathroom an hour later, Dean starts to get curious about what the hell you’re doing in there. The shower isn’t even running anymore.

That’s when he hears the hairdryer go on. 

He knows he’ll never be able to concentrate on his show with all that noise. So with a sigh, he clicks off the TV and eyes the pile of laundry. You probably cleaned the whole freaking bunker this morning. Despite his annoyance, he figures folding your clothes along with his own is the least he can do. 

Dean scoops up the pile back into the basket and takes it elsewhere. 

He finds his brother at the kitchen table and joins him with his basket. Sam’s gaze raises from his laptop to meet his brother’s grumpy face. He watches in mild curiosity as Dean plops down across from him and dutifully begins folding one of your shirts. 

“You okay?” Sam hazards the question. 

“Fucking peachy,” Dean replies. “Looking for a new case?”

“Yeah. Nothing yet.” Though Sam raises a brow when Dean all but tosses one of your girly sundresses on the table after it’s folded. (It’s yellow, and it happens to be his favorite on you.)

“Everything all right?” Sam asks. 

Dean glances up, finds his brother’s knowing eyes, and doesn’t have it in him to lie. He lets go of a breath, as well as one of his undershirts to rub at his forehead. 

“She’s nosey, Sam. She’s all up in my business.”

“Your girlfriend?” Sam clarifies, with raised brows. “Of six months.”

“Yeah, that one,” Dean quips, with all due sarcasm. “Ever since she moved in, she’s been going through everything, moving my crap every which way, making it so I can’t find a damn thing.”

Sam’s mouth edges at a smile. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Sam, she’s damn near taken over,” Dean insists. 

“You done?” Sam teases. Dean just leans in, like he’s about to level his brother with a secret. 

“Matter of fact, she locks herself in the bathroom for like, forever. I just heard the hairdryer go on, meaning another hour at least. What the fuck is she doing in there, getting ready for prom?”

Sam finally has to chuckle. “Clearly it’s been a long time since you’ve lived with a woman, Dean.” 

Dean scoffs. “Right.”

“And she’s actually been a big help in cleaning up around here,” Sam says, with a growing smirk. “Which is, quite literally, a refreshing change.”

Dean snorts at that. 

“Of course, you’re happy,” he says. “A new damn dish rack turns you on.”

Sam shoots him a wan look. “The question is, are you happy?”

That manages to take Dean by surprise. He hesitates to answer…

But he’s saved when he hears someone approaching. He knows it’s you because he can smell the mix of your floral soap and coconutty shampoo; it’s a scent that often lingers on your pillow and has unconsciously infiltrated Dean’s nose. 

His reply to Sam dies on his tongue when he sees you.

“Hey,” you greet both men, all bright and smiley with your hair in wild curls down your back. 

A lot of the time you keep your hair straight or loose and wavy, so it’s rare for Dean to see your natural look. It’s a good one for you, he thinks. Along with those jean shorts hugging your curvy hips, and the V-neck top you’re wearing, which offers a nice peek of cleavage. 

Your hand falls on his shoulder, with your thumb stroking his neck. You then brush that hand across his back as you pass by on your way to the kitchen. If possible, you’ve become even more touchy since you two got together.

Dean holds fast to your hand, stopping you in your path. 

“So that’s what you were working on in there,” he remarks. “Thought I was gonna need to break out the fire extinguisher.” 

You grin in amusement and do a little twirl under his hand, shaking out your curls a little.

“You like?” you ask. Dean tugs you back over. He reaches out and fingers at the soft ends of your hair. 

“Beautiful,” he says.

“Looks real nice,” Sam adds.

“Why, thank you.” Your smile is contagious, and Dean can’t help reciprocating. You drop a hand on his shoulder again.

“I know you’re our resident Gordon Ramsay, but I kinda feel like cooking today,” you say. “Is Cas coming home anytime soon?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he called this morning. Probably dropping back in tonight.”

You nod. “Good! I’ll make plenty then…oh, wait, he doesn’t eat.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asks. 

“Well, I know you guys haven’t had much Cuban food, so I thought you might like to try some ropa vieja,” you reply. Sam’s brows knit together. 

“Old clothes?” he translates. His two years of high school Spanish can give him that much.

“Yeah! But it’s basically shredded beef with onions, garlic, tomato sauce, and a bunch of other good stuff,” you explain. Then your eyes brighten. “Oh! And I can make my grandma’s famous black beans, white rice, some bread with crushed garlic and olive oil…”

By the time you finish listing the things you plan on making, Dean is already salivating. 

Later that evening, when Dean actually gets to sample said food, he’s eaten enough for three men in the span of forty-five minutes.

“Jesus, man. Going for a record on indigestion?” Sam cautions him, despite his amusement. 

Dean pointedly ignores his brother to look over at you. After he swallows another forkful of beef stew, he says, “Not for nothin’, this is probably the second-best meal of my entire life.”

“Oh, yeah?” You giggle. “What’s number one?”

“Diner called Slammies in Alabama. Best fucking pie on Earth,” he easily recalls. “Double applewood bacon cheeseburger, chili cheese fries, brick oven pizza. Bar none.” 

Sam inclines his head, remembering the food coma he and Dean had that night. They’d hit the rock-hard pillows at the motel and slept like they’d been on an all-night bender. 

“But this is like, right there,” Dean says to you, leveling his hand up by his head. 

“Well, let’s see if this moves the needle,” you reply as you get up from your seat. You answer the question in his eyes. “Forgot something, hold on.”

But before you can leave the table, Dean reaches over and takes your hand. 

“Thanks, sweetheart. For all of this. I mean it,” he says. 

A soft, genuine smile grows across your face. You lean down and press a tender kiss below his hairline, stroking his cheek before you go. 

Dean quirks a smile. It’s taken him time to get used to how open you are with your affections, but he likes it. All of it. Every time you reach for him, touch him, brush against him, intentionally or not. He always has.

Though he has to resist embarrassment when he notices the way his brother is watching him. Sam raises a brow, smiling that irritating smile of his. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re not happy at all,” he intones.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Dean says defensively. But he perks up when you return. Maybe you’re bringing more garlic bread. 

Instead, you’re holding a tin pan.

“What’cha got there?” he asks.

“Dessert,” you announce. It’s a Cuban flan: creamy, rich custard with a consistency smoother than cheesecake, and thicker than pudding.  

You haven’t even sat back down yet when Dean carves himself a generous slice. He moans when a large forkful melts in his mouth. You start to blush as you watch him with crossed arms and a hand over your smile. You don’t know whether to be amused or flattered.

Sam watches his brother stuff his face with a subtle shake of his head.    

“You’re enabling him,” he tells you. You shrug, but then you rest your hands on both Sam and Dean’s shoulders. 

“Now I have someone to cook for,” you say. You have tears in your eyes, but you quickly blink and try to turn away. Frowning, Dean takes your hand. 

“Hey, where you going?” he says, and aims to pull you into his lap. You hesitate, knowing you’re not going to be able to squeeze between him and the table.  

“It’s okay, these hips don’t fit,” you chuckle wryly, with a sniffle. But Dean just backs his chair up from the table a bit to make room. 

“What’re you talking about? You fit right here,” he says firmly, and he tugs you down. This is the one thing Dean has tried his damndest to break you out of—that self-deprecating streak of yours. 

You finally accept being guided into his lap, where you indeed fit snugly across his thighs. His arm comes around the front to hold you close by your hip, while his other hand rests comfortingly on your back.

Looking up into his eyes, you draw enough courage to be honest. 

“I was mostly raised by my grandma,” you begin to explain. Your father wasn’t ready to be one, and so wasn’t in the picture. Your mother died when you were in high school. So when your grandmother also passed away a few years ago… 

Well, you’ve been alone for a while.

You sniff and wipe at your face, but your eyes close as Dean’s lips press above your brow. When you next open your eyes and cautiously look between the brothers, Sam’s sympathy warms you. 

“If it isn’t obvious, you have a home here,” he says. “We can never replace what you’ve lost, but…we’re your family too.”

You know that Dean feels the same way by the way he brushes the tears from your cheek, thumbing at your bottom lip.

"You're right where you need to be," he says, with a hand squeezing your hip. His sincerity is in his even tone, in the firmness in his eyes.

You’re able to smile a bit.

“Ah…I’m interrupting, aren’t I?”

The three of you turn to the kitchen doorway, where Castiel stands awkwardly. He clearly senses emotional tension, but it breaks the moment you turn to him with a tearful laugh. 

“Hey, Cas. Have you ever eaten ‘old clothes?’” you ask. 

His puzzled expression is absolutely priceless.  

When Sam finds a possible hunt in Hope, Indiana, Castiel agrees to go with you all. It’s a small, corn-fed town in the middle of nowhere, and five people have gone missing over the course of a year. 

The latest is a nine-year-old kid named Andy Campbell. That alone upsets you; if you have one weakness, it’s for kids.

“Local farmers have been reporting dead cattle too, drained of blood,” Sam says from the passenger seat in the Impala. “I’m thinking vampires trying to keep a low profile.”

“Sounds about right, if a bit sloppy,” Dean remarks. They are in the Midwest though. If this is a coven, or even a rogue vamp who’s been here a while, maybe they got lazy. “So what, police station first? Get any details they might’ve missed.”

“I want to talk to the kid’s mom,” you say. It earns Dean’s gaze at you in the rearview mirror. “We can get the last time she saw him, where he went missing, anything she might’ve held back from the police.”

He nods and shares a glance with Sam. “I’ll go with her. You and Cas scope out the station.”

The angel has gotten better at pretending to be a Fed, but not by much. Sam agrees, even though Dean sees in his face that he’d rather be taking his brother. Dean tempers a smile and keeps driving to the closest motel in this dusty town. 

You don a sensible pantsuit to match Dean’s Fed suit, along with your badges: Agents Buckingham and Nicks. 

When Andy’s mom, Rachel Campbell, opens the door of her modest home to you and Dean, he lets you take the lead. You’re good at this part, connecting with the victims and getting them to talk. He sometimes worries about you though—that your soft, sympathetic heart will get the best of you. 

“How long has Andy been missing?” you ask, accepting a cup of tea from the woman. 

Rachel is around your age, maybe a few years older. She looks run down, a shell of a human as she looks at the carpet rather than at you or Dean. You can’t know exactly how she feels, but you have a vivid imagination. 

And from the various pictures of her and Andy on the wall, just the two of them, you deduce that she’s a single mother. Just like your mom had been.

“Almost four months,” she admits. “The police station doesn’t even return my calls anymore.”

That upsets you, but you keep a lid on your emotions to focus on the woman in front of you. 

“Andy’s father, he’s not around?” Dean asks. Rachel shakes her head, confirming your suspicions.

“No, we split up shortly after he was born,” she replies, her tone tired and resigned. “I was at work. I uh, I work at a doctor’s office. Andy was supposed to come home on the bus, like any other day…but he never did.”

She sucks in a shaky breath as the beginnings of tears make her eyes red and glassy. 

“His school couldn’t tell me why he wasn’t on the bus. But one of his friends said he was late getting out of class, so he must’ve tried to walk home. Even though he knew he could call me when that happens…anyway, somebody must’ve grabbed him.”

Rachel looks away as a tear streams down her cheek, followed by another. You feel your throat tighten with a sympathetic burn behind your eyes, but you keep it at bay long enough to set down your tea. You reach out and lay a hand on the woman’s hand. She meets your steady gaze. 

“I promise, we’ll find your son,” you tell her.

“What?” you ask Dean as the two of you leave the small house, walking back to the Impala in the driveway. You just know there’s something up with him by the stoic look on his face. It isn’t so stoic to you. 

He waits until the two of you are in the car before he levels you with a raised brow. 

“Look, I know you want to find this kid. I do too,” he says. “But watch out about making promises you can’t keep.”

You frown back at him. “What’s better, letting that poor woman have no hope at all?”

In his mind, Dean thinks it’s worse to give her false hope. But he sees how stubborn you’re getting, so he doesn’t push it. The fact that you care about people like Rachel is part of what drew him to you in the first place, but there’s a line, he thinks. A point where you can care too much. 

When you two eventually meet up with Sam and Castiel, they’ve been able to confirm from the body of a recent Jane Doe, with a row of lethal bite marks on her wrist, that this is definitely a vamp case. 

After narrowing down where each of the victims were taken, the four of you sketch out a perimeter of where the monsters could likely be hiding. It’s Dean who finds the old barn on the verge of a corn field, about three miles away from the school where Andy was taken. 

You all wait until high noon the next day to scope it out. Looking into the front windows is useless; all evidence points to an empty home.

The back of the barn is another story. Cracking the barn door open reveals a large storage area, where a nest of vampires are sleeping in their beds. Some are coupled off, but you note a few on single beds.

Then, your eyes narrow on the humans sleeping piled together in the corner—three women, a young man, and Andy Campbell on a twin-sized bed of his own.  

Dean carefully closes the barn door, and the four of you regroup back to the Impala.

“It’s a bigger nest than we thought,” Sam says, though he keeps his voice quiet. Dean is already opening the trunk for his favorite machete. 

“First, let’s get those humans out,” he says. You agree with a nod when he hands you a weapon.  

Dean shoots you a wink. “This one’s Brenda.”

“What happened to Lucille?” you ask, taking the knife from him.

“That’s the bat wrapped in barbed wire. Matter of fact, I should break her out.”

Dean reaches into the trunk and pulls out the blood-stained bat. He rubs the handle fondly. 

“Ahh, Dad loved this thing.”

You sidle up next to him and glance over wryly. “You want some alone time with your big stick, there?”

Dean flashes you a smirk, giving you a long once over in your form-fitting shirt and jeans. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to join me, sweetheart.” 

You snort in response, bumping into his side with your hip. Dean teasingly bounces one of your curls in your face. You smile and swat his hand away.

Sam subtly rolls his eyes, despite a small smile as he shares a look with Cas.

“All right. Can we go, please?” Sam says in amusement. Castiel awkwardly straps on a machete to his belt. He doesn’t believe he’ll need it, but Sam and Dean are always prepared. He wants to be as well. 

You’re ready to go, but Dean holds you back by your shoulder. You look up at him curiously.

“Hey, follow our lead on this one, okay?” he asks. 

You sense that he’s hedging at something more specific with that request. 

“What do you mean?”  

“The kid. I know you wanna beeline for him the second we get in there, but hold off,” Dean says. His gaze is serious. “He could be turned.”

He got a good look inside, the same as you. The kid was lying on a bed while the other humans were chained up on the floor. Still, you shoot him an incredulous look. 

“Why would they turn a kid?” you ask. “They have the others.”

“Yeah, and they were chained up. Why not him?” Dean asks, imploring you to think logically. He shares a look with Sam, who silently agrees. You look between the brothers with pursed lips. 

“Maybe they don’t give a fuck, because they’re cocky assholes,” you retort. And you walk past them to head back towards the barn. 

The brothers and the angel share one last look, with Dean letting out a subtle breath before he follows you.

You creep back into the barn, as quiet as possible through the room of snoring vampires. The brothers and Castiel go to the sleepy women in the corner. They look dirty and malnourished, wearing threadbare clothing. Sam feels the pulse of the man prone on the floor, but he’s already dead. 

When one of the girls wakes with a whimper, Dean holds his finger to his lips, warning them all wordlessly to be quiet. He looks over and doesn’t find you next to him. He nearly curses out loud when he sees you heading for Andy’s bed across the room. 

Meanwhile, you touch the little boy’s shoulder and shake him a little. He wakes with a small sound of reluctance, but you shush him gently. 

“Andy?” You grasp his shoulders. He nods, though his blonde brows are furrowed with confusion. 

“Who…who are you?” he asks. He rubs at his sleepy brown eyes. 

“I’m here to help,” you reply in a whisper. “I’m going to get you back to your mom, okay?”

After a moment, he nods and lets you pick him up into your arms. You hazard looking over across the room, and you find Dean’s annoyed gaze. Despite the uncomfortable churning in your belly, you ignore him for now and head for the back door.

You’re only able to take a few steps when you feel a hand wrap tightly in your hair and pull it away from your neck, just for rows of several razor-sharp teeth to sink into your neck.

AN: 😬 ...Sorry. If you don't know me by now, I love a cliffhanger. But how'd you like Dean getting used to sharing his space? (And having someone to occasionally put him on his toes.)

Part 2 will feature a good old fashioned "you should've listened to me" fight, some angst, some making up, some salsa dancing, and a healthy dose of smutty smut.

Next Time:

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

Keep Reading: PART 2

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[melusinealarice]

Hi can I request something for House, like where the reader is helping take care of him after the episode where he loses the patient that he decided to remove the girls leg (sorry I don't remember the episode number) Anyway basically though the reader and House have been hiding their feelings until after that incident so while she is taking care of him they get together (hints at smut)

My new addiction

Warnings: cursing, mention of medical things, mentions of smut, amputation mention, age gap?? Reader is like 35 and House is like over 45, angst, fluff? Mentions of alcohol and alcoholism, mentions of underage drinking, implied smut

Today sucked, like royally sucked, there was a crane that collapsed so House went to go handle patients on the field. A patient was trapped under rubble and House amputated her leg which resulted in her dying anyways. And House was in a mood, a self-destructive mood. He wouldn’t admit it but he felt bad in his own twisted way. He went home the second you called time of death, well after insulting you and the team for a good few minutes. And the worst part was, he still had no clue what was wrong with the patient. You stayed for about an hour, wrapping up notes on the patient before going home. You tried to go to sleep but you couldn’t, you were worried about House. As twisted and fucked up as it was you had managed to fall for the ass, you tried to hide it and ignore it as best you could but you still cared about him. You got in your car and drove to his apartment, just to check in on him.

You knocked, at least 10 times, “HOUSE! I know you’re in there, its me…” you waited a while, but it looks like he wasnt gonna answer. As you started to turn around the door opened. “You really should give a cripple more time to answer the door ya know.” He said, it was obvious he hadn’t gotten any sleep either. “You could’ve said something.” You stated, he opened the door the rest of the way, motioning for you to come in. You were wearing a tank top and pj pants considering you didnt bother changing, and you didnt have a bra on, something House took immediate notice of. “If you had told me what you were wearing I would’ve been much quicker in answering the door,” he said as you walked in, not bothering to hide the fact he was shamelessly checking you out. “Asshole,” you muttered under your breath as you walked towards the couch. There was a half empty bottle of scotch on the table, he sat down next to you, he smelled like whisky and mint. He poured you a glass and offered you some, “no thanks,” you said waving him off, “what, scared that if you’re inebriated the sexual tension will be to much to handle.” He said before downing the glass. “How much have you had to drink?” You ask, ignoring his previous comment, hoping that he was too drunk to notice how flushed you got. “I lost count,” he said pouring another glass, “well i think thats a good enough indicator you should stop” you said, taking the glass from him. “How about passing out as a stoping indicator?” He said, trying to get the glass back, but you took both the glass and the bottle into the kitchen.

“So who was it?” He said as you sat down across from him as he was now sprawled out along the couch leaving no room for you to sit there. “What?” You asked, “Who in your family was the drunk? Dad, mom? Sibling that went off the rails, creepy Uncle?” He said motioning to nothing in particular. “What makes you think someone in my family was a drunk?” You asked, hiding your distaste for the smell. “Well, you have no alcohol in your apartment, ive never seen you drink, and you clearly hate the smell. And i know its not a religious thing because you don’t believe in any God.” He says, staring at you expectantly. “My boss, he was an egomaniacal drunk who couldn’t cope with loosing a patient so he would go home and drink himself half to death.” You fired back, he just laughed and rolled his eyes. “I can deal with the fact a patient died” “clearly” you scoffed “so, who was it?” He said, not dropping the subject, “you can’t take a hint can you?” You said, “I got the hint you had the hots for me.” He said back bluntly. Shit, “It was me,” you said a desperate attempt to change the subject to ANYTHING else, “I was the drunk, nearly killed myself. I was knocking down shots from 13 to 16. And then I had to get my stomach pumped, I was sick for days, never drank since” you said, turning away, “so you do have the hots for me.” He returned, clearly amused. “I do not.” You said, trying to keep a straight face. “You do, because if you didn’t you would’ve just ignored my comment, instead you deflected because you’re embarrassed, so you decided to answer my previous question.” He says in that voice when he is finds the final piece of the puzzle “Thats why you came to see me, you were worried about me.” “Do you always have to over analyze House?” “Do you always have to deflect y/n?” “Fine, I was worried about you,” you say, knowing he wouldn’t drop the subject “Why?” He says, “you know why…” “I want you to say it.” He said, sitting up. “Because I like you, unfortunately for me.” You returned, turning to face him. You stood up, and so did he, you were now face to face, you could smell the alcohol on his breath, and god it smelled good, you wondered how it would taste. “I dont need coddling you know” he said, “I know,” You started into eachothers’ eyes for what seemed like forever, “I-I should go,” you stammered, “don’t,” he muttered, running his hand along your arm, your breath was getting faster, your chest rising and falling faster, “House..” you whispered, trying to resist the urge to drop everything and let the moment swallow you both. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and you wanted this, you have for so long. Finally you gave in, closing the distance between you and pulling him into a kiss, he did taste good. Your hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer, wanting to feel him pressed up against you. Wanting him to engulf you, and so did he. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tugged on his hair. “I want you,” you said, and that was all either of you needed in the moment.

The next morning you woke up in his bed, both your clothes littered around the floor. Thank god he was still asleep, you got your things and got out, praying you had time to go home and shower before work.

You were late but House didn’t care, and neither did you.

I hope you liked it, i am currently on a road trip so I’ll probably be writing more, and I am working on your second request

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 1

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some swearing, mentions of wounds & medical stuff, dottore warning (?) he doesn’t exactly do anything but y’know- it’s dottore, sort of proofread

note ; i am so scared, i’ve never posted anything like this on tumblr or at all LMFAO this is my first fic ever and very self indulgent. ive already posted 5 chapters of this on ao3 but i was curious as to how the tumblr ajax kissers would react to it. im sorry if this sort of info tab isn’t very descriptive, im just basing it off what i’ve seen from the viewer’s perspective.

ALSO, for context- tetya= aunt and dyadya= uncle in russian!

constructive criticism is appreciated!

next part | masterlist

“hey, watch your step! snow’s gotten harder and slippier these days…”

“yes, sir!”

“yes, father!”

just as the warning rings out, it’s followed by the dry crunch of heavy boots against snow. it’s not the same soft sound as it was a month or so ago, rather it sounds almost as if the ice gnashes aggressively at the leather boots.

it gnaws at your ears painfully, though you’ve been sensitive to such sounds for as long as you could remember, yet you still flinch.

ajax notices right away. he always does.

“here,” he goes, the cloud of his warm breath visible. turning your head toward the boy, you see that he’s handing you his earmuffs.

a sheepish grin invades your lips as you wordlessly take him up on his offer. mind rid of the god awful crush of the snow, you come up with a brilliant idea.

“last one there’s a rotten catch!” you charge onwards with a laugh.

“ah, n-not again!”

ajax’s father only watches from behind as his son hurries to catch up, a defeated sigh leaves him. “these kids…”

said kids were already reaching the lake clearing at that point. the frozen water already has its own layer of fresh-fallen snow, making it seem like an entire new tundra- that is, until you and ajax brashly create footmarks and snow angels on the surface while his father is still yet to catch up. if he’d been closer you would’ve heard the old man’s grumbles about having to carry all the fishing gear.

thankfully, there were no rotten catches that day.

your best friend’s laughter and your very own echo in your head like bells in an empty chapel, uninvitedly. the entire memory is instead invited by the sight of a father on the street with his own children, he carries a bucket and fishing rods as the youngins run ahead excitedly. you conclude that you should’ve left for zapolyarny palace earlier today.

this morning cannot start off on a bad note, not when the doctor had meticulously scheduled an operation for this very day with your presence prerequisited.

you’re acutely aware of this.

you’re still acutely aware of this when you slam your work bag onto the desk with such force that even the fatui guard monitoring the palace hallway jumps.

and you’re still acutely aware of this when you almost bump into one of your boss’s segments on your way to the operation room, a most certain death that would be if you did bump into him. even as you break your stress fueled stride, the segment blocks the path forward.

“if i didn’t know any better, i would assume this is your first day on your first job. ever.”

you furrow your eyebrows confusedly while the segment coldly scrutinizes you top to bottom.

“even the lowliest of fatui recruits know that the first thing one should do after clocking in is get into the proper uniform.” he indicates with a snark in his tone.

ah- your lab coat.

“yes sir. my apologies.” with a haste in your step previously thought impossible to achieve without actually sprinting, you beeline straight to your office, which is conveniently on the other side of a very long hallway from the operation room. so long, in fact, that it gives enough time for a certain someone to slink into the office room without you even seeing it.

you don’t notice him even as you’re already inside the room. well, how could you with such tunnel vision, powered by your early-morning frustration and innate fear of disappointing the doctor. you’re practically out the door with lab coat in hand when he finally quips.

“uhm, doc?” the voice is shaky but still impossible to not recognize.

god dammit.

the tsaritsa was truly not on your side today. with a deep inhale, you do your best to keep a neutral expression as you turn around to face the head of red hair that haunts your dreams. or rather nightmares.

“how may i help you, lord tartaglia?” you still hated that title.

“well heh… this is the head nurse’s office, i believe you can help me by exerting the very function of this room?” the harbinger puts on a friendly front, acting like he can’t feel your burning glare. within it, you start to gauge at what’s brought him here, few surface-level scratches and even fewer cuts that are ever so slightly deeper present on him.

“i’m afraid i’m running late for an important appointment with the doctor, you’ll have to ask one of my subordinates.” you state matter-of-factly and start turning to leave again.

“w-wait, please!” he reaches out to stop you and the hand lands on your bicep, rather than your wrist which would’ve been a quicker latch. huh. “let me talk to him afterwards, he’ll understand. plus, i’m your boss as much as he is.”

“you’re quite literally not.”

“yeah, i’m not. still your boss though.”

childe is not of as high authority over you as the doctor is, afterall you’re one of the doctor’s assigned assistants, but the way he talks so casually and… playfully makes him seem even less bossy. but you don’t allow yourself anymore time to dwell on it, instead you roll your eyes and give in. your boss almost giddily sits on the examination bed.

the sterilized silk gloves slide snugly onto your palms as you look your patient up and down.

“how did you even manage to get yourself roughed up so early in the morning?”

“it’s never too early in the morning for a spar! though- hah… even i didn’t expect to take this many free hits.”

“who were you sparring?”

“eh, some junior lieutenants at the northwest wing. there were some new recruits there too so i figured i’d set an example for ‘em.”

northwest wing..? you visibly pause at the revelation.“that’s… on the other side of zapolyarny palace.”

“so?”

“so there’s nurses there too.”

childe himself seems to pause then- you were catching onto him. he realizes he must think about his next actions as carefully as humanly possible.

“ahah… a-are there?”

good one, ajax.

you look down at the alcohol-soaked cotton ball sitting snugly between your tweezers and then up to a scratch right above childe’s eyebrow- seems like the perfect time to treat your patient. the sting comes before the harbinger can even react and much to his dismay, you keep the cotton ball on his forehead even as attempts to lean away from it.

“childe tartaglia,” you start, voice menacing and low. “did you orchestrate a sparring session with low-rank officers and get yourself injured on purpose to come see me?”

“a-ah ouch!” childe hisses. “surely you w-wouldn’t commit medical malpractice over something as trivial as this?” clearly he forgets who you work for, or pretends to at least.

“start talking.”

“okay, okay! yes, i did all that…” the red head sulks with a defeated sigh. pleased by the confession, you move away with your alcohol cotton ball of doom and give him space.

you watch the tsaritsa’s weapon of war crumple into himself, looking off into a meaningless corner of the room.

“i… i’m being stationed to liyue tomorrow.” his voice is entirely different from what it was when this entire ordeal began- quiet, hesitant.

“and?” is your response before you can even think about how douchey it sounds. it’s already too late when you see childe deflate even more and feel like you just kicked a puppy.

“and i wanted to come and give you the news.”

really? that’s all he wanted from this?

“then why go through all this effort of sparring newbies at practically the ass crack of dawn and lose? why not just come here and tell me at once?”

he scoffs bitterly. “like you’d talk to me under normal circumstances.”

the regret you were feeling from your cruel response from earlier quickly bleeds out into incredulousness.

“you haven’t talked to me under normal circumstances since we were fourteen.” you stab back and childe bites his tongue, he won’t retaliate this time. the rest of the appointment is spent in the deadliest of silences as you finish tending to his “injuries”. neither of you ever look up to face the other.

you pack up quickly as to haul ass from the office room as soon as possible. but not before you mutter stoically- “have fun in liyue.”

and childe is left to sit pathetically on the bed and contemplate his astronomical failure.

—

what a wretched week.

the days seem to take a thousand years each to end, the laboratory feels stuffier, the people less tolerable and you swear the pen in your hand feels heavier than a lead ingot.

“are you done sulking?”

oh yeah, there’s also the ruthless fatui harbinger you work under and the equally insulting bajillion copies of him. you know bajillion is a gross overestimation but you also gave up keeping track of how many segments the doctor has a long time ago, they’re bossy all the same.

“not sulking, sir, just… thinking.”

“thinking about the medical records you’re supposed to be overseeing surely?” he taunts and you can only scoff non-committedly.

said medical records were mere reports on several of the doctor’s past experiments and operations, arguably not worth such a commitment of your time or worth a hackling from your boss. either way the words and paragraphs had merged into blurred lines and incomprehensible messes in your eyes about ten minutes ago, you were only pretending to be doing something at this point.

the irresistible force of your boredom drives your gaze to anywhere but the papers in front of you, eventually settling onto a corkboard hung up on a farther wall of the doctor’s laboratory. tired retinas struggle to focus on the blueprints that are stuck onto the corkboard but they seem to have rough sketchings of… body parts? they’re definitely not human, no, instead the drawings indicate they’re robotical. on another blueprint is an unfinished rendering of the full robot body. the shape language is unconventionally stylized, to a point where they almost resemble traditional inazuman patterns or even… the patterns on scaramouches robes-

“l-lord dottore!! i have an u-urgent matter sent by lord pierro himself.”

huh?

“out with it. quick.” the segment doesn’t even bother to face the stammering officer that had bursted through the door right then.

“u-uhm… some of our liyue informants have reported t-that rex lapis suddenly p-perished during the rite of descension,”

huh?

“rex lapis, dying? well,” he drawls amusedly. “that would certainly be a sight. but how exactly does this development concern me? is the banker not available?”

“w-well y-yes… lord pierro specifically requested for your word on the matter a-and perhaps see if one of your s-subordinates could… be on-site?”

dottore’s segment lets out an exasperated sigh while a gloved hand goes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “unfortunately it doesn’t surprise me that the collective surplus amount of agents we have stationed in liyue harbor proves to be utterly incompetent to the point where the jester himself would come to me for help.”

a feeling of dread settles in your chest as you try to digest the insane information you’ve been given-

rex lapis, the oldest of the seven archons of teyvat, is dead.

pierro, the head of the fatui harbingers, is requesting dottore to send one of his subordinates to investigate the scene.

that’s you, you’re dottore’s subordinate.

which means you’ll be sent to investigate an archon’s death. in liyue.

that’s where he is.

your head feels like it’ll explode any second now. the segment, ever so brilliantly clever like his prime version, seems to have the same idea as you and beams a sharp-toothed sadistic grin.

“why my assistant here does seem to be available, wouldn’t you say?” he turns a serpentine stare over to you.

“err… i don’t think i could leave my post here, sir, i am the head nurse after all-“

“nonsense, i doubt the bumbling idiots of this palace will find themselves into anything more troublesome than a papercut while you’re gone.”

oh the irony of hearing that after your… situation the other day. you huff defeatedly, standing up to start packing for your impromptu trip. the mysterious blueprints in the laboratory long forgotten.

—

morepesok hasn’t changed a bit since you left.

which, as much as you love your hometown, isn’t saying much- morepesok is as uneventful as it gets. in such a small seaside snezhnayan village, the only points of interest are the painfully traditional values of fishing and family.

the visit to your parents’ house is brief but comforting, some teary goodbyes and heartfelt words about how pleased and proud they are of what you’ve accomplished for yourself- achieving such a high position in the fatui ranks by merely helping people. you don’t even consider telling them about the doctor.

but what makes you feel worse is the visit to ajax’s family home. it’s like the house has been frozen in time, the place where you spent years of your childhood is intact and unchanged- except for some newer family pictures, of course.

teucer, tonia and anthon are the ones to greet you first, then ajax’s parents come along. huh… ajax. you hadn’t even noticed the switch your brain does whenever you’re back home. here, he’s ajax but in zapolyarny palace, he’s childe or tartaglia. but there’s no time to dig yourself a deeper hole in that topic because you’re presently being pampered like a very own daughter of the house by his parents.

“my dear, look at you! you look so grown and mature… have you been eating well?” his mother walks up to cup your cheeks with the most genuine parental love. she, like the rest of the environment, looks exactly as you remember her, with a few newer white strands betwixt her bright orange curls. well, remember is a strong word.

“tetya, it’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other, i’m all the same.” you laugh and she reciprocates.

“yes yes, i know… and- oh! as a matter of fact, we saw ajax just this week, said he was being transferred to a northland bank all the way in liyue!”

and when you thought you could not feel shittier about this.

“it is a shame to have our ajax so far from home so suddenly but at least we still have you, dearest!” she grins, pinching your cheek with more vigor than you’ve seen apparent in fatui sergeants.

“hey!” the three younger siblings call out in unison.

“yeah, a-about that, tetya…” you start hesitantly. “i’m… also being transferred to liyue. there have been some unexpected developments and i’ll just be on field to check up on things.”

ajax’s mother huffs incredulously. “by the tsaritsa’s name! they must hate mothers over at that palace!” she shakes her head with disappointment. “speaking of which, have you gone to see your parents yet?” you only nod. “good good… well anyhow, are you in a hurry, dear? i could make you some hot chocolate and then you’re free to be on your way.”

how could you ever deny your tetya’s hot chocolate?

the rest of your stay in the household is spent chatting with the family and playing games with the younger kids, as well as drinking a cup of hot chocolate so delicious you almost cry. the afternoon is nearing its end when you’re walking out the door and teucer is bawling his eyes out at your departure, or maybe he’s just tuckered out.

“have a safe trip, kiddo.” ajax’s father pats you on the shoulder firmly.

“thanks, dyadya, i will.”

“oh! and take care of ajax, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head.” this time it’s tonia who pipes up and the rest of the family nods in agreement.

“bye bye, everyone!” you’re already at the house’s front fence, waving back as fiercely as you can.

the only thing you don’t notice is the knowing look that is shared between tonia and her mother when she mentions ajax.

[dylansslutt]

judas kiss / t.s

part three of dishonest (mini series)

 authors note// hi thank you so much for your feedbacks, if i have anything unfinished yall really want another part too please lmk bc i literally have lots of ask/request or even things ive started up & forgot ab or have in my drafts. butt i am going through and finishing out some stuff, i just took a vacation and rlly needed some me time... BUT IM BACK BITCHES!!!

   also... holy shit a thousand something followers!!!! thank you guys seeing the endless love and support of my writings has boosted me into starting my own book series ... but thats for another spill. thank you again for following me on my journey of my shitty writings to my development.

i got this tip thing working, i do work full time & go to school so any tips are welcomed and appreciated but either way ty all.

anywhore here is the third part/ im thinking final part as well. let your imagination think of the end... unless too many of yall want more.

 tag list: @allie131313​ @casa-boiardi​

summary: lying about your identity, leads you face to face with the one and only thomas shelby. as chaos unravels much more surfaces as well.

  staring in the mirror, feeling the old, yet the familiar feeling of a silk night gown cascading down your body. remembering the time lasted only for a mere few years. years you weren’t happy. the bruises were faded mainly, except the slight pain in your ribs still.

 taking small pain killers help.

 the day has left you tired leaving the rest of the clothing in the corner of the room. laughing almost as you take in the fact; he really did get you some new clothes. as well as being kind of enough to grab some of your own from your apartment.

 which you were notified was absolutely trashed, yet hidden away you found a picture. one of you, your mum and sister. so young... so innocent. the memories of everything was building up.

 the gown fit you nicely though, the cloth was soft and comfortable. something you almost forgot what felt like, since being alone on the run . glancing over at the clock noticing it was getting late. 

biting your lip softly, things mule over in your head. how thomas was and if maybe, just maybe you two met under a different circumstance. hell even just a re-do of your meetings.

 ignoring it as your hair gets tucked behind your ear. deciding to leave this room and not be cooped up.

 as you step out, your eyes flicker down the hall. movements halting as your mind comes more clear. he was right there in that room.

 the room you’ve seen him enter a mere few times. the light flickers through the crack of the door. it was there. right in front of you. 

 hand never leaving the door knob, biting your lip in deep thought. happy he got you your clothes from home, as well as a few new items. must’ve gotten help from a lady because there’s no way he chose these alonesome. 

 shaking these thoughts your feet spring into action. hand beside you now as your focus was on where he was. fist raising to knock on the ajar door. it swings open wider, creaking slightly as thomas sets some papers down. 

 smoke still in hand as his eyes lift to yours, exhaling the smoke from his lips. he lifts it back up, inhaling again taking in the sight of you. in more different clothing than anything he has seen before. work uniform, one little outfit, and his clothing. you looked good, stunning in a way.

 he was as he usually was, expect a bit more exposed.

 the anger still present when your wounds become more visible, thankfully more faint now. he’s already sent john to deal with that particular matter, but now he had to deal with some stuff tonight.

 “got to look at the stuff, thank you.” giving him a small smiling, trying to make this attempt for a better start forward. needing time to plan future things as your mind hasn’t had a hint of peace.

 he nods licking his lips, ashing in the tray.

 “can’t have you walking around naked, can we?”

  the joke brought a smile small to your lips, as your head thinks about the picture. unaware if he knew it was there or if someone else did the work. his focus is back on the papers making you step in. taking in this private study he enchants himself too; felt like him.

 biting your lip softly, the sight of him before you has your mind in another place. he looks like something you saw only moments before. a mirror image of yourself. less battered and bruised on the outside though, yet he was tired. his eyes red, the bottle out in the open. he was more open, more vulnerable.

 “y/n?”

 you shake your head, a blush crosses your cheeks. “sorry. what ya’ say?” 

he holds back his emotion, but his attention is now yours. “i’ve gotta meeting tonight, tomorrow some more to do. until then just stay here, out of harms way for the love of god.”

 he stands up and stares at you. your lip ends up between your teeth, feeling a bit nervous. he didn’t sound so serious so fierce, he sounds exhausted. as you were to even fight back, which he noticed.

 “if you are up by the time i get home, we should talk.” your eyes narrow at his words, nodding slightly. hands coming up to brush your hair back once more.

 “just knock on my door when you get back, thomas.” 

 with that you open the cracked door wider, rushing out of the room. everything felt too tense too unsettling in there. only when his footsteps become noticeable, you realize he was following you.

 heart racing as you reach halfway down the hall, nearing the stairs. for a moment, your eyes flicker to the front door. 

 the thought crosses your mind. ignoring it as you continue to ‘your’ room desperate that he isn’t actually following. that he would walk himself down those stairs instead.

 as you reach the door his presence was there, the defeat leaves you. turning around to face him. his face was inches from yours. something deep in his eyes as he pushes the door open.

 “thomas?”

 the door closes behind you as he is now only standing in front of you, a heave in his chest almost. “their dead, alright? the men from that night, their gone.”

 your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “wh-why are ya’ tellin’ me this?” he comes forward cupping your cheek. the look in his eye is something you’ve seen before. loss.

 staying still in his embrace, “i-i don’t want ya’ scared of me... for some fuckin’ reason.”

 the confession made your mouth shut completely. “i don’t want ya’ scared at all.”  it didn’t feel exactly true but it what was easiest for him to say. 

that was until he pulls you onto his lips. hands landing on his chest, mouth moving with his out of instinct. pulling away as you push him back slightly. staring into the eyes of a loss man, knowing this could end terribly. 

your chest rises and falls quickly, “i- told ya-”

 “tell me to stop then, y/n.” the deep stare between you two leaves something rattling inside of you. 

 “i-i get your past. i know mines fucked, but i-...” you trail off biting the inside of your cheek for a moment. the internal debate ends with him pushing forward.

 lips on his he pulls you close, your hands around his neck as you both fall back on the bed straddling him. his hands push against your back, deepening the kiss. the hold on you wasn’t harsh, just tight possessive like. as if you were to disappear at any moment.

 pulling away for air, his lips trail from your cheek to your neck. the giggle escapes your lips involuntarily, and for a moment thomas sighs. not of boredom and displeasure but of relief.

 it made your heart swirl because you felt it too. the non-serious feeling of this. even though it wouldn’t last, it felt real for the moment.

 his hand slips down from your waist onto your thighs. eyes flickering back up at you. your hands tug at his shirt, him taking the hint to remove it. the bare chest was there and now you could really look at it.

“thomas.”

 his hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss. he flips you over and he holds himself up against you. your back against the bed, other hand trailing between your thighs, you just as desperate for his touch.

 he lifts the gown up slowly, teasing you with his touch. his head drops into the crane of your neck, kissing it softly before tugging your panties down softly. a soft gasp escapes you and he whispers something in your ear.

 “so fuckin’ beautiful.”

 your eyes roll back as he swirls your clit, the sensation incredible. “fuck.”

 “taste good too.”

 he enters a finger before he slowly moves his body down. his motion was slow and you whine when he leaves you. looking down seeing him between your thighs now, inches from you. his eyes flicker up, the blue prominent.

“impatient ay’?” your hand flies into his hair. trying to ignore the urge to roll your eyes,

“did ya’ forget that already?”

 without another word his tongue swirls around you, a soft moan leaves you. he continues but slowly adding a finger. your calves press into his shoulders more, leaving his tongue to move slightly faster.

 “oh th-” he slides another finger in making your words cut short, back arching off the bed slightly. giving him access to push your gown up above your breast. his hand comes back down around your thighs, feeling them shake around him.

 unable to take it anymore your hand pushes at his head, but he holds it down instead. speeding up as your stomach drops, a moan leaving your throat. liquid coats his fingers and tongue as he stands up completely.

 “do ya’ love anyone y/n?” the question caught you off guard. your breathing uneven coming down from your high; his pants drop and your body felt even more turned on.

 “never really had a chance to experience love. probably doesn’t exist.” you confess the mere summary as you spread your shaky legs. his grip on them tightens, moving you closer to him.

 he stares down at you in a way that you truly didn’t understand. “i like ya’, ms.solomons.” he confesses as he spits down on you. the action so dirty, but the confession so clean.

 “just y/n, thomas.” the intent was known and he kisses your knee before moving. the feeling of him entering you slowly, made you grip his arm that held your waist. 

 “i sometimes-” you stutter out as he rocks against you slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open.

 “i sometimes like to believe it could be true.”

 he leans forward, the angle deeper than before as he kisses you deeply. his free hand coming to cup your jaw. his hips pick up speed leaving you a moaning mess in his mouth.

 he was gentle, taking in what you reacted too. this wasn’t your first time but he felt as if you were innocent in a way. your eyes flicker up to him before you tug your dress over your head.

 leaving you both completely exposed, “it’s true.” he confesses pulling away, turning holding you up against him as he lays down. your knees against the bed as he bucks up into him.

 “ya’ crazy mr.shelby.” he pushes your hips down even more leading to the familiar feeling arise again. your nails sink in his shoulder, biting your lip clinging to him.

 “say’s the one who’s dead.” you try to get a witty remark out but your orgasm spreads, feeling yourself starting to clench.

 “yet ya’ look so fucking alive around me.” the wetness spreads down your thighs as he doesn’t let you go. “m-maybe i feel alive- with ya’.” the deep moan leaves you, the feeling of your bare chest touching had you in a whirl.

 he’s buried deep in you as you cling to him, almost in tears overstimulated. you beg him. “tho-thomas. i-”

“so fuckin’ good.” his his shake slightly, as he leans back staring into your eyes. “do you trust me?” at how you were feeling you’d trust anything. your eyes flutter but you nod.

  he stutters into you as his releases inside you making your eyes widen. pulling back panting as his eyes connect with yours. two different looks.

 “wh-what did you do?”

 “do ya’ trust me?” the logic in the room was clearly not there because without a second thought you nod again. he kisses you softly, “be mine. stay alive and i promise ya’ everything you could need.”

 you pull yourself out of him, wincing at the feeling. your eyes stare into his, as the covers surround you,

“but you don’t love me.” 

 his eyes drop slightly, “i can see somethin’ in you. i need someone like ya’, think of this as something good.” you feel so exposed staring at him in disgust. “ya’-ya’ just came in me, who knows if i’ll get pregnant! thi-this is not gonna end well. what the fuck were ya’ thinking?”

 “what the fuck was i thinkin’? oh my go-”

 he sits up, “i’m thinking fuckin’ smart! ya’ know this shit, i am rising y/n, i need a wife and i need someone who can be that wife.” you stare at him and stop for a moment. it cut off your overthinking for a moment.

 it wouldn’t be real but it could be. yet either way you could be safe... you could be free of being on the run. you could be alive.

 “i need to think on it? i-i can have your answer tonight.” your words tremble slightly as you slip your gown on, facing away from him. “hey.” his hand lands on your shoulder. 

your flinch makes him wince, scooting closer to you. covered up with the sheets. “i haven’t asked just anyone this question. this is fuckin’ insane but i-i do like ya’. we can figure this shit out because you know it’s true.”

 “you need me just as much as i need you.” you mutter as a  small smile appears on your lips, “i need a shower for a fact and nap thomas. you have somewhere to be, should get going.”

 his hand leaves yours taking your hint, “i’ll knock on your door tonight. get some rest.”

after he redresses and the door closes behind him, the tears stream down your cheeks. you wanted him but you were so scared and conflicted.

 your answer was yes from the moment you realize he was as stubborn as you but you were now a ghost.

-

 you were laid down, the candles still lit allowing thomas to see your image. he walks closer but you were barely asleep. he sits down beside you and sighs heavily.

 he doesn’t know you’ve woken up, and his energy was strong. you figured thomas shelby out and for a man to keep you around long enough...

 you knew from the beginning you liked this man, but being ‘dead’ has made you believe any. any of that type of thing was impossible. slowly you turn over, facing the man who stares ahead.

 “eric is tryin’ to be a political man. if ya’ know alfie, imagine a sickenin’ no good bastard times a billion.... as him.” the words made thomas sit a bit straighter. you felt vulnerable now, half asleep tucked into a new home.

 you had to give a answer.

 “i’ve looked him up, he isn’t much and from what i’ve heard. alfie really doesn’t give two fucks for him.” the way he settles his sentence lets you know that eric is no threat. to you or himself in any aspect.

 “charlie’s mother, i-i won’t ask you to speak of her.” you sit up now, thomas takes in your sleepy appearance. “if i take on that boy as my own. i will love and teach him as my own, but you have to tell me about her so he can know his true mother.”

 your eyes swell up slightly. “she won’t be forgotten in your mind ever, i know that. so let me learn, let me be there for you so i don’t go crazy. so i-i can do better...”

 the words hit thomas and he only shifts to maintain his composure. you don’t notice since your emotional more so, but he knows he did right choosing you.

 “i have a story, everything about how to make you ‘undead’ since your job at it wasn’t the best.” that made your eyes look up at him.  “i know ya’ can’t be her, but i do have some’ towards you.” 

his hand reaches out to cup your face. “she wanted some of the stuff you did as well...”

 the deep stare was all that was needed, you let this moment last. he was gone when he lost her. loosing her was loosing apart of himself. you accepted it because you truly knew love was not meant for you in this lifetime.

 slowly breaking the moment, lips almost trembling but your composure well gathered now. “if we do this- ya’ can’t treat or make me out to be some fool of a house wife. i-i’m more than that and i’ll be damned to be one of your puppets.”

 moving out of his reach makes you ache for it more yet thomas sees something within you. you were sorta like polly sometimes. strongly determined woman.

 “ya’ help me stay together, ya’ help me keep this household together... my family together and whatever ya’ want is yours.” flickering from each eye, he awaits your response and you nod.

 “i agree, to be your wife. i agree to hold your secrets, now for i wish to get rid of the jewish ways though... go back to the gypsie ways. please.” your desperation was without notice and he kisses you.

 kissing you felt like kissing grace.

kissing you felt like kissing grace.

-

  setting down the glass of whiskey, your eyes train along the inside courier. everything was simple, everything was different. charles was taken to bed not too long ago, you didn’t see much of him but it made you think.

 too take on this responsibility was what you were raised for. yet you ran from it because eric was a vile man... so is thomas. your heart aches though due to the surprising feeling erupting yourself; that you may just like the man ever so slightly.

 with your past and his it felt like you both being so fucked up, it could work? sighing heavily and grabbing the glass once more. the liquid slips down your throat as you enjoy the peace of true alone time.

 telling his maid, well lady of help to head to sleep since you were up. if charles was to awake you could handle it or if need be. get her up. charles really ponders through your mind, for you would be like a mother.

 you could be his mother, yet you would never wanna replace his true mother. what was she even like? what did she view or believe? what the hell did she see in thomas shelby?

 he said she was a bit like you, in what fucking way?

 you move and see her painting and you looked nothing of her. she looked of class and elegance, some real princess shit. you didn’t compare to that, so what motive was this?

 make me alive again, was this his plan? biting your lip you throw back the remaining liquor. rolling your eyes at the empty cup, you head towards the kitchen.

 smiling to yourself of the kindness that francis left out the bottle for you. moving forward you almost reach the counter but you were hit over the head. your body hit the ground harshly, the glass breaking surrounds you.

 it flashes back to the moments of your mothers death. yet before you could react you were hit again, and the darkness overtook you.

-

 you awoke in a moving vehicle, head pounding your face contorts in displeasure. trying to focus your vision, your eyes land on a priest as well as a few other men.

 “hello miss solomons.” the priest smiles wickedly and you stare back unfazed, or atleast as much as you could appear.

 “well you see, there’s so many ways this here can go. yet as of right now, you are actually of great use.” his tone menacing and your head was spinning.

 you try desperately to maintain eye contact with his. unsatisfied with your response of nothing; he nods as one of his men move forward. the hit makes your head sling to the side. blood literally splattering onto the window beside you.

 the taste of blood in your mouth has became a all too familiar feeling. as you let your head hang lowly, you over hear someone mutter. “we are almost there.”   

 moving your hand to wipe your chin, seeing the back of your hand covebloody finally angers you. not knowing where this was going, you finally look back up. “i think we might just have to use the boy instead.” 

your heart drops, distracted now. the boy? of course it had to be...

“what boy?” you finally speak, it slightly muffled due to your severe swollen lip. this gets the mans reaction. “she speaks!”

 “what boy?” you question again, feeling a sense of protectiveness all of a sudden. what is going on with you?

 “ahh, mr.shelby’s boy. ya’ see we have a deadline, and i do have orders with him. oh i spoke to your cousin mr.solomons... he does seem to have a keen interest of seeing you.”

 sitting back you take in everything, the deep wrenching pain in your chest over came you. ”didn’t mention if it meant alive or dead, though. dear.”

 tears fill your eyes, as you realize everything. this was all a lie, a pawn, a game.

 “yet your price is a wager, does thomas care more for your safety or does your cousin? or i could merely kill you now and just let you be what you so ‘desire’.”

 his words let everything truly settle now. you never escaped. you just switched paths.

 it almost could make you laugh, until it did. you looked crazy and stupid but you were laughing, hysterically almost. wincing at your lip throbbing, heaving out as your head pounds from the movement. you stare into the mans eyes dazed. he stares back at you in discomfort but looks away.

 thomas got his own kid into this shit. he better have this all figured out. dizzy from the amount of hits to the head you’ve taken. you look back over and see the man on your right snatching out two pills. eyes widening slightly as you try to move back.

 “what is that? wh-wha-no!” the men hold you down, your kicks and hits defenseless. the pills shoved in your mouth. water forced down your throat whilst your nose was plugged, left you choking on the water. forcing you to swallow.

 yet they continue it for a few seconds longer, leaving you to start choking horribly. knowing it was swallowed, you were let go finally. shaking and drenched in water, you wildly swing your fist forward. 

pure rage in hitting the man on the right. your leg kicks the other guy, before you hit the priest once. a strong hit leaves you slumped, mind swirling until you were no longer able to stay awake.

-

 a strong jerk makes your eyes flicker open. charles was crying softly, making you ignore your own pain. sitting up you look at the man holding him. out of it but desperate you plea.

 “give him to me. please, i-i was a mother, i know how to make him stop.” you lie out of instinct but the man seems irritated and hands charles over with ease. ignoring their looks as we come to a stop.

 pressing a soft kiss to his head, you hold him soft rocking him softly. your watch the men get out of the vehicle, it was dark out now and your head hurt so bad.

 keeping it together for the sake of charles, you try to stay focused. the priest man comes back and you clutch charles more tightly, charles surprisingly soothes down within your hold.

 “come on, lets go.” knowing what happen last time, you slowly move out the car, careful with charles the cold wind hits your skin for your only in a nightgown and light sweater. which was blood stained.

 the darkness led you to follow him, but soon a room with light appears. you sat down as instructed, feeling the light make your head hurt worse. you notice the two other guys didn’t follow through and he was now alone.

 trying not to move, you let charles sit beside you. oddly enough he gave charles something to eat while you stay silent. he looks up at you with a smile.

 “the deal is all taken care of, you will be taken care of soon.”

 this sick bastard. he gets up suddenly looking back at me, “stay here.” the tone was threatening and you nod softly. scared of what might happen, you sit quietly listening in hard. 

moments pass before you heard the words uttered, “please don’t shoot.” you fly up, feeling dizzy from the quickness, glancing back seeing if charles will be okay. 

moving forward grasping the wall beside you, as the spots slowly fade from your vision. following the way he took trying to listen in on where the sounds were coming from.

 moving quicker at the noise of grunting and painful sounds, ignoring your own pain. you round the corner, taking in the sight of the priest guy fighting a younger guy. 

 in the oddest moment you notice a hat, the familiar hat. the cap thomas had, a similar one on the ground.  “you know who your fucking messing with?” 

 he throws the guy against a bench, swinging on him. both hands wrap around his throat in such a swift motion. the look on his face reminded you of what yours probably looked like. without thinking you grab a nearby book.

“i’ll take the fuckin’ life from ya’.” you throw the book, it missing your goal hitting him in the back. “leave him the hell alone!” rushing forward, as he turns around one arm coming out. his elbow hits you harshly making you fly back.

 hitting the side of a bench, your ribs aching out from the movement. not even knowing what you hit, you stay on the floor. tears leave your eyes unwillingly from the pain.

 flying back the back of your head slams into a bench, rolling over sideways. in a slump, you barely were able to make out what was in front of you. all the damage to your head, you knew in nursing this was severe.

“both of ya’ gypsie bastards” without a second thought, the man slices the priest eye. him stumbling back in pain, as the younger man kept coming and coming at him.

 “melanie?” you call out as you swore you heard her voice. snapping out of it at the slam open of doors.

 two men emerge from a door, too much in pain to handle that situation. trying to push up, hearing the sound of charles cries. “charles.” you gasp out, completely remembering the boy. 

managing to get up shakily, moving forward only to stop momentarily. taking in the sight of the bloody mess of the once alive priest. the image locks you in, before you turn back. your were weak and slow but you reach charles.

collapsing beside him leaning back against a near wall. ignoring everything in the world, for it was too much to bare. how odd you found yourself near something of pure innocence; after the chaos you just endured.

 charles babbles as you softly sob, “oh charles.”

“it’s alright.” the mans voice spoke, stopping you momentarily. you went silent uncertain exactly anymore of anything. despite everything though you speak up.

 “thank ya’.” your tone hush as if you weren’t bold to speak loud. the man sighs out and you wince.

 “but ya’ gotta get th-thomas.” the words slip out weakly, eyes flutter as they gaze upon the boy. not even noticing he came around the corner. blood soaked and shaken up, trying desperate to stay focused.

 “i’m michael, i’m tommy’s cousin.”

 so simple, which was all that was needed. “y/n solomons.” he helps you up, you lean against the wall as he scoops charles up. “hold onto my arm, there is a car outside.”

 managing to get inside, but once settled your body slumps. you try to stay up, but the tiredness takes over.

 still out not noticing you arriving at the shop, or that michael already took charles inside to the rest of his family. he notified them of you. ada and polly knew for they were the ones who helped you get your clothing.

 thomas spoke of you to arthur once.

 michael ends up carrying your lifeless looking form inside. polly rushing out orders, ada making a place for you to lay. you were set down and polly pushes your hair out of the way examining you, but when she touches you.

 her heart sank. for no reason apparent it just did. 

 “someone call thomas.” and the cheerful glee of happiness of charles was apparent but the dark silent loom of your appearance was one of unease.

 “mum, sh-she helped save him.” he confessed out to polly, who let out a sigh. “well call the damn doctor as well, for christ sakes.”

 your eyes flutter open slowly, “charles?”

 polly grasp your hand, “he’s safe dear, your both safe now.”

 “n-no my head. i can’t my head.” you groan in agony, and your heart aches. “thomas?”

 the room went silent. “tho-thomas?” polly speaks up, “he’s on the way.” yet after those words your eyes roll back. “the doctors on the way!” ada calls out and polly sighs in worry for the girl.

[spacedlexi]

Wait, people think Carver is the best TWDG villain?? I always thought he was basic as hell, and the fact that he was beefing with an 11-years old girl... Now Stranger on the other hand was great, he was super intimidating and off-putting and I was genuinely so scared he would hurt Clementine. I also liked Minnie for the same reasons (she was so creepy/off-putting), but I still think Stranger is the best villain bc he had a great setup while Minnie was kind of a secondary villain. But going back to Lilly/Carver, I also definitely prefer Lilly over Carver even though neither are my favorite... And now I'm kind of curious how you would rank the rest of the TWDG villains? 🤔

carver being the best villain is a sentiment ive heard for years 😭 im sure its coming from the "S2 is the best season" crowd tho which i also dont agree with 💀

the stranger is an effective villain. hes not exactly the typical villain type people expect. but hes very unsettling and him stalking clementine for who even knows how long through the walkie talkie is 🤢 he really makes me feel sick. she was using that talkie to deal with the loss of her parents, and this fucking creep took advantage of that so hard he was able to convince her to trust him. ugh he makes me feel so gross. and think of all the guilt clem must have about that situation. trusting this freak to help her find her parents, when if she had just stayed then lee wouldnt have gotten bit looking for her, and her parents were already dead the entire time anyway. oof. theres no way that isnt one of the biggest regrets of her life

carver is fine. i definitely think his character wouldve made more sense if they put kenny in that role instead. that way theres less "i am a grown man beefing with an 11 year old" and more "this is a child i helped look out for once, and im gonna make sure shes raised Right". but i agree that carver as he is is just over the top. overly villainous to the point of it being a little comical. like when villains are all tough like that my reaction is usually "god i WISH youd fucking kill me already so i dont have to hear your bullshit anymore do you know how GOOFY you sound??". if it was kenny in that role i definitely think they wouldve been able to tone it back a bit, and him "having a good side" wouldve been way more believable. as he is carver is kind of one note

joan.... definitely the weakest of the bunch. i dont really have much to say about her. david isnt even technically a villain but i definitely saw him as the better antagonist for the season. i mean hes definitely a villain in clems eyes. and is a constant semi-antagonist towards javi throughout the whole season. joans just kinda.. there.. doing things behind the scenes to cause conflict until the final confrontation. and then she can just disappear... okay

i like the way the antagonists work in S4. theres more of a discussion around what actually makes someone a villain and the difference between a person who fucked up and made (very horrible) mistakes, and a person who is straight up a threat. and i like that it connects back to the idea of lee and his murder of that senator. did he do something horrible? yes. did he destroy his relationship to his family? yes. does he regret what he did? i think so. and he definitely has guilt about his fucked up relationship with his wife. in S1 they mention how non-guilty people got sent to prison all the time. while lee is Definitely a murderer, we get to see over the season that hes a good guy who just wanted a family and in a moment of rage and betrayal did something he can never take back. this is why i never hated marlon. did he fuck up and do horrible things? of course. but he was a scared fucked up teen leading a group of other scared fucked up teens. he knows he fucked up, and continued fucking up to cover for his previous fuck ups lol. but he can be talked down. its a shame it ends the way it does, but i really like being able to teach aj the difference between people like marlon and people like lilly

lilly takes that kenny/carver idea and applies it to a clementine that has grown up and has been looking out for herself (and baby aj) for years now, instead of the 11 year old trying to figure shit out she was in S2. shes too old for lilly to be able to sway her in a way she couldve been more susceptible to in S2, and when lilly finally realizes this she just turns her attention to aj instead, seeing the potential in him (a potential clem does NOT want aj to live up to, wanting him to get to be a kid and not just a survivor, let alone a killer). lilly is fun because you can see in her that she WANTS clementine on her side, and throughout the season progressively realizes that its just never going to happen. both lilly AND clem come to the realization that this person they once considered family is beyond reason, their views too different, and so the fighting begins. their fight at the end of EP3 really feels like a "so its finally come to this" moment for both of them, their final fight. i always shoot her.

whats interesting about minnie is seeing her evolve from secondary antagonist in EP3 to straight up primary villain in EP4. the things shes done, the way shes been broken. she becomes her own downfall, seeing herself as someone beyond redemption. that this is just who she is now, its how things have to be. because if they didnt have to be this way? well then theres a lot more guilt she'd have to deal with. yelling at her in EP4 to just STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ANYMORE but she has been changed (in her eyes) so irreparably that she cant see any other option. and she progressively sees clem as the one who fucked everything up for her, instead of accepting that it could all finally be OVER. after killing sophie, the delta was all she had left. it cant have all been for nothing. and so she blames clem for taking it all away from her, even tho clem is just trying to protect her family. the family that used to be minnies. and so in her rage she gets bit. something else that she couldve avoided. but shes just too lost to her own downward spiral, unable to be reasoned with. by that point she just wants it all to be Over. and she wants to take tenn with her so she can finally pretend things can all go back to the way they used to be. her, sophie, tenn, and their parents all together again, where no more bad things have to happen to them. shes super tragic and i love her for that. and i love how she holds this dark mirror up to clem. clem struggles to let go of her past too, and the guilt she has over the things shes done and people shes hurt. and that if she cant learn to let go and move on she could get lost to it the same way minnie did. theres a reason clem is so quick to accept her fate, but shes finally able to leave that guilt holding her to her past behind in that barn. and she returns to ericson a much happier and lighter person, so much weight finally lifted from her shoulders. its finally over for her too

so yeah. my fave villains are definitely the S4 ones due to their nuance and layers. then the stranger, then carver, then joan. if i had to put david on this list he'd probably be above carver. but thats mainly because he has more nuance than carver ever did

[ohshy]

Feelin kinda down so fuck it- how about some burnt bread hcs if you got any?

If not, how about disco kid?

~ fan-mans

hope u feel better soon bro ! also HELL YEAH BURNT BREAD !!!!!!!! one of my favorites :3

so where does it all begin? well.... (under the cut bc its Long)

aran didnt actually have to use any of dirty tricks to take joe down, so they didn't start off on that bad of a foot, or a bad foot at all. (fighting is par for the course for this sport, of course.)

that being said though, you still see n hear things ab eachother, and have assumptions as a result. Aran initally sees joe as a snobby, wimpy man, and joe aran as a scary, unpredictable brute.

eventually, however, aran starts looking at joe... a little differently. he pranks him a lot because yknow. its funny. but joe doesnt seem to mind it at all... in fact, he takes his pranks really well, and it makes aran see strong joe is in a way and how much of a sense of humor he has.

joe at the other hand, noticed that aran, outside the ring, was actually fairly tame, outside of his pranks of course. it helped a lot with mellowing his perception of him. combine this joe's many hobbies and aran's try-everything attitude, and youve got the start of a click !

news of their little budding relationship spreads around the minor- and world circuit, and kaiser begins to take notice ab how joe talks ab aran, how hed normally b horrified at the prospect of him being anywhere NEAR him.

so one day, in all his eternal german grace, he says...

''well if you love him so much, why don't you two kiss, hm?''

and joe hadnt gotten that thought out of his head since.

as for disco kid hcs, ive already told most of them so ill talk ab how the minor circuit reacted to joe wanting to confess to aran instead !!

disco, albeit kinda scared of aran, is ecstatic for joe, wishes him luck and wants to know EVERYTHING about how it went afterward

i imagine hippo would be pretty whatever about it. guy isnt too concerned ab peoples love lifes. wishes him luck like disco tho.

meanwhile kaiser? ''Eh, it is your funeral''

I imagine the world circuit wouldn't be as close with eachother seeing as how theyre busier n likely more hounded by journalists, but they do know in broad terms what goes on in the lives of eachother.

so macho catches wind of aran's crush, and he basically shittalks joe to arans face

''I know everyone's standards are too high for you, but joe's just a sad bar, even for you.''

Aran, not even reacting to the dig against him, starts ranting to macho about how joe is admirable as all hell for getting back up after 99 losses, and how that must mean he has a real love and respect for the sport. He even boldly exclaims that joe arguably works harder than macho, the victories who seems to come so easily to him.

macho eventually leaves, deciding aran's not worth his precious time.

aran then turns around, and OMG HE SEES JOE STANDING THERE !!!!!

anyway he heard all about what aran said (thats right, overhearing ooc conversations and miscommunication happening is OUT, overhearing conversations and gaining respect for someone is IN), and confesses right there and then. aran, hearing prolly the most romantic speech thats ever been directed to him in his entire life, is at a loss for words. He can't say anything other than ''of course, joey.''

and thats the start of their relationship :3

as for other misc hcs that dont fit anywhere else...

one time, when cleaning out aran's jacket pockets (joe's a bit of a neat freak), he found... a bunch of lint. But also !! he found a ton of crumpled up notes. They included phrases for the ring, comedic poems... but they also had affirmations for himself, about his family, but also about joe. joe, sans the lint, left the pockets as is. ever since then though, he's felt closer to him than ever.

joe will often try to pick up aran like a princess. considering hes still decently muscled, he can do it succesfully.

joe loves baking, especially bread, but aran will ALWAYS manage to set something on fire. think spencer from icarly.

they infodump to eachother ab their respective countries histories and folk tales, joe esp ab the former n aran ab the latter.

one time, joe and aran set out for a night walk. then, they (or rather aran) thought he heard a banshee screech. what they actually heard prolly was a car tire screeching in the distance. aran, however, was never the less scared SHITLESS and ran tf home, screaming highpitched. He had to be comforted by joe all night after they got home.

aran loves going to theme parks. he loves the rush. joe, however, hates the tall rides like the rollercoasters, n prefers the calmer rides like the teacups. They have a ''goes onto the rollercoaster alone'' x ''holds the persons stuff while theyre gone'' dynamic.

they rly like singing duets together, especially after a couple drinks. wine in joe's case and beer in arans case. theyve sang at macho's parties before as well, and needless to say they make for great entertainment.

aran often sends joe cursed memes n selfies that joe just Does Not understand

''aran, i will Not hold feet with you, zat's disgusting''

''come on joey..... do ye love me or not......''

[sistervirtue]

i think i hauve a crush on you can you talk about ibara more

okay um teehee ill try to say something i havent just said a million times before o7

um but!!! one thing i think is interesting about her is ofc her hairstyle and the fact the crown of thorns very clearly had to have been styled herself (given we see her without it as well and just like, the nature of her hair) and in the sheet for her hero costume it says that "if she gets cold she can just wrap herself in her thorns". which is like, curious to me in that we know her thorns have some cutting and scraping power-- she expresses being worried about people getting scratched in the light novels, we see kirishima and kaminari covered in scrapes after getting wrapped up, etc. so this to me implies one of two things: either her skin is naturally just like, too tough to feel it, or shes gotten used to it

given like, what the crown of thorns represents and ibaras whole hardcore humble nature, personally i think that instead of being predisposed to thorn immunity, shes just gotten used to the prickles over the years. thats why i like drawing her with a lot of teeny tiny blemishes and scars on her face/neck/shoulders when i draw her!

(some of these are old as fuck fojeroijtgojogj sorry)

i would really. really like to see the vine sweater though like whatever "wrapping herself in thorns" means. please horikoshi i want to see it

i also think ibaras personality is full of some really fun and interesting contradictions and sillyisms like i know ive hammered on about how a lot of the times she just kinda does her own thing, but i think its cool to note that shes not like, obscenely arrogant or reckless or whatever. we see her express uncertainty a few times; she gets stage fright before class b's play, as well as in the ova when she tells jirou that she hasnt ever played baseball before. I think with ibara, it's not that she believes shes good at everything and always correct: i think ibara knows what shes good at, and so on THOSE things she doesnt really give a lot of wiggle room, but with other things, shes a lot more willing to let other people take the lead because shes like idkkkkk idkkkkkk girl

theres also times when she does lie! i know youre gasping. scandalized. but i think its also a really interesting little bit of insight

in the light novels, theres a chapter about the girls luring mineta into revealing himself while hes trying to peep in the training camp baths so they can kick his ass, and in that chapter, kendou, yui, and ibara act as the "decoys". they fake a conversation while they fill the room with smoke with a machine yaomomo made, and then all the girls hang out after and have a slumber party. ibaras well aware of what theyre doing and why, and she doesnt express any regret or uncertainty on the matter, even though shishida using her as a decoy in combat was something she was shocked and upset by. not to mention, she also mentions having stolen minetas headband in a "deceitful way" during the sports fest, and only mentions it possibly being a bad thing when their team wakes up after being brainwashed by shinsou and is like "was that karma for doing that"

like, there's very clearly this precedent of her explicitly and exclusively thinking of deception as 100% okay against mineta, which is hilarious, because we even see her apologize to gigantomachia.

This guy is trying to kill them. He is a "walking natural disaster". and shes still apologizing to him for outnumbering him. Which is hilarious. But she never once apologizes to Mineta. Given what that kind of thing means to Ibara, I think this makes her the character to express the most outright malice and hatred towards Mineta in the entire series. And she's right for that. (I don't know why so many people seem to ship them together also like what....anyways)

the biggest thing with ibara i think is that a lot of people will write her or write her off a certain way because of her initial gimmick and so they just kinda automatically assign a personality and traits based on the very western american concept of a devout christian. which is fair, i guess, like i get it, but ibara isn't in america (shes in a country where christianity is very heavily a minority) and i think most importantly, she's still a 16 year old girl. a very weird, very super powered 16 year old girl, but the appeal of the bnha students as characters is that even with all their funny habits and quirks, they're still VERY 16, and ibara is no different. the girl may talk about flayings and the body of the lord, but she still wears little pink sneakers to gym and gets nervous performing in a school play and has to worry about her math class.

and another one of her funny contradictions ive also spoken about but the way in which she speaks i think is another interesting facet. we know ibara is a very above-board, straightforward, honorable kid who hates lying or any type of deception. she has a moral panic over basic tactical maneuvers. but the way she talks is so esoteric that a lot of her peers dont seem to really understand her, and she seems almost completely oblivious to that fact? again, take an example from the light novels: iida asks what he just ate in the hot pot penalty game, and ibara says "the body of our lord..." to which he responds "A BODY?!" and its only when Yaomomo clears up that she's talking about bread does it get clarified at all. I can only think of one or two instances when Ibara clarifies what the fuck she's talking about at any time, and that's with a very direct set of questions. Another example is Shishida and his nickname:

It's very clear that he doesn't want to be called that, but they continue nonetheless.

And I don't think any of this is at odds with Ibara's very straightforward, guileless nature. I think it's just a "translation error"-- Ibara thinks what she's saying is exactly the same as what everyone else is saying, and doesn't get that most people don't have the context or background to decode how she speaks. They're "synonyms"-- but only to her, and nobody else. It's interesting! And I think it could provide a lot of interesting play with other characters who haven't had to adapt to it yet, or even with characters who by necessity would-- like Kaminari and Sero, who do work studies with her.

anyway eeeeek i have to get ready to go to work love you bye <3

[darkk-academic]

From the Shadows

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V]

Summary : The fact of the matter is, unrequited love sucks.

Warning : None.

“A mighty pain to love it is, And ‘t is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.”

Ain't that the truth, you think. Gaze running over the tattered pages of your journal, reading the poem over and over again— as though it might soothe the sting.

Unrequited love sucks. 

Your eyes dart up from your journal, fixing on the subject of your thoughts.

Five Hargreeves. 

Sitting a seat forward on your left, next to the window. Head tilted down, scribbling away, wholly oblivious to your stare.

It'd caused such a ruckus in the school when 'The Umbrella Academy' started attending. Whispers and wide-eyed stares followed them, like they were stars—which fair they kinda are. It took months before things settled down. 

Not that the stares and whispers stopped, mind you, they are still the apple of everyone's eyes, the students just got less starstruck and more subtle.

As for you?

After being paired for a project with Ben in literature class, you'd gotten closer to some of the others, emphasis on some. 

Luther had shown clear disapproval at your appearance—something about you being an outsider. Diego too prickly, and prefers to brood. Allison too busy with theater, although you still exchanged polite greetings. 

Klaus, Ben, and Viktor, on the other hand, had welcomed you with warmth. Ben and Viktor share your love for literature, and Klaus brings along an impulsive kind of fun with him, which you are all too eager to participate in. 

Which brings you back to— Five. You still don't know how you became friends with him. 

All you know is one afternoon you were waiting for your friends in the empty library, only to receive a text that they were bunking. You remember saying—

"Damn you, Klaus!"

"I share that sentiment," a voice spoke, startling you. 

You turned around, eyes settling on the culprit. Five Hargreeves. He stood, leaning against the bookshelf, hands shoved in his pockets. 

You'd talked to him a handful of times, during class, or when with his siblings. Acquaintances at best, still you both never tried to initiate a friendship or conversation. 

"Seems someone was ditched," he continued, an easy smirk on his face. "I feel like I should ask you to join me," the smirk grew, "out of the goodness of my heart."

"And why, exactly, am I being showered in such kindness?" You retort. Lips curling upwards as you stepped towards him. 

"Haven't you heard?" He tilted his head, a brow rising. "I'm a superhero. Benevolence is kinda our thing."

"Is that so?" you asked. 

He gave a nod, mirth gleaming.

"How will I ever repay for such generosity?" Eyes widening dramatically. 

"Well," a mocking frown, he pursued his lips. "You can promise to stay quiet as I work? Not too much, is it?"

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped past your lips. You looked at him, taking note of the tiny curl of his lips. 

"Lead the way."

And that was that. After that, talking to him became a routine, and before you knew it you'd grown much closer to him than Ben, or Klaus or Viktor. 

It's been two years since you both became friends. Almost a year since you realized you're in love with him.  

It feels like it happened all of a sudden and simultaneously, as though every second and every moment spent with him led to it. 

Everyone knows. Your best friend. Ben, Klaus, Viktor. You have a suspicion that even Diego knows. And yet, it's a secret. 

A secret that protects itself. Only from him. 

You are a coward. You don't—can't fathom confessing to him. So, you stay in the shadows. And your love stays there with you. 

You and your love. 

From the shadows. 

Your gaze clears at the thought—stepping out of the reverie—and locks on him again. 

The sunlight filtering through, tracing his skin, making him even more mystical. A blue hue in his eyes as he concentrates on whatever he is working on. The furrow of his brow, the twitch of his nose. 

Him in his entirety. Extraordinary. 

You sigh. Extraordinary sounds like such a beautiful compliment, but not to you. To you, him being extraordinary means he's that much out of reach. Your reach. 

Like, no matter what, there's always going to be an invisible line between you two. Separating you. 

"You are staring," a voice cuts through. "Again."

Tell me something new.

You turn in the direction of it. Peering at your best friend. "Yes, Lila," you deadpan.

Lila, your best friend. 

"It's pathetic."

Lila, your childhood best friend who has no filter. 

"Yes, Lila," you agree. Honestly, at this point you're devoid of shame. 

"Seriously, what do you even see in him?"

You open your mouth to question what she sees in the brooder, but your attention diverts. 

Gaze narrowing at the feminine hand that has curled around Five's hand, to draw his attention. And yours inevitably. 

Dolores. 

You almost dismiss her. Almost. 

It's Five. He'll brush the girl off. It's what he does. Has always done. 

Not this time, it seems. 

Because Five smiles.

A seed of dread plants itself in your stomach. 

You look between the two of them. The smiles on their faces resonates a sinking feeling in your heart. 

Yeah, unrequited love sucks.

..................................................................................

A/N :

Hello!

The poem at the start is by Abraham Cowley. Beautiful isn't it?

I really wanted to write an AU like this tbh, unrequited love kinda one. Angsty. So here it is. This one will have more parts btw.

Also for those who're waiting for Ballerinas & Brellies, I'm working on the chapter it's taking a bit longer, sorry about that.

I'm considering making a taglist, so like if you guys want to be added let me know.

Hope you enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

..................................................................................

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part III

Characters: Ghost!ATJ x Black Female!Reader Rating: M+ (Warnings: Death, Claustrophobia, Nyctophobia, Horror Elements [Demonic Entity]) Word Count: 2.2K Summary: Your new, dead roommate disappeared into the ether. So...now what? a/n: This chapter is a little more creepy than previous chapters. I felt like horror comes with the territory of the not-so-dead. You know? There will probably be more horror elements in the future. SIDE NOTE: Below is a playlist of songs that give a great idea of what his band sounded like in 2003. I've also included parts 1 & 2. If you'd like to be tagged in the update, please let me know. Please like, comment, and reblog!

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part IV] [☁ Masterpost ☁] | [♫ The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

--

It'd been about three weeks since he poofed into thin air.

Not that you were really counting.

You'd just gotten used to the idea of having a ghost in your apartment only for him to just disappear without a trace in less than 24 hours. After learning that Gavin was Aaron's former bandmate, you briefly wondered if finding out Gavin's fate was his unanswered business, and why he moved onto the other side. It was a true hardship to get over the feeling of constantly being watched, and you questioned your sanity for feeling that way. Aaron's presence--before you knew he was there, obviously--never felt threatening. You could compare it to having a very clingy cat who seemed to shadow you wherever you went. Though, he swore he never watched you in the bathroom, a fact you were thankful for.

At least he was a respectful dead guy, given the circumstances.

You decided that it'd be best to move on and mark this as just one very strange initial experience in your new home. To stave off the loneliness, you decided to invite over your best friend, Kayla, for a sleepover. Between the drinking, the dancing, the movies, and the junk food, you were able to forget about the last few weeks only for a moment.

"Have you ever considered dating, again?" Kayla suddenly asked, as she sat at your feet. Your hands hesitated as you braided her hair, and you sighed before resuming the task.

"No." You responded, shortly.

She made a noise that sounded like a slightly sympathetic hum, and you nudged her with your knee.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

You playfully tugged at the braid in your hand, "That. Say what you wanna say, babe."

Kayla made a point to sigh dramatically, and pull her knees up to her chest. When she slightly rocked from side to side you rolled your eyes, dropping the completed braid down her back.

"I just..." she sighed again, and you snorted, "Don't laugh, I'm concerned about my little sister. You're in your twenties, you're beautiful, smart, funny, and you're supremely prickly."

You feigned offense, "I am NOT prickly. I'm just able to see through the romanticism of it all."

"So you say," Kayla hmphed, "You and I both know you get a little bit of a thrill out of bullying people."

As you combed your fingers through the completed braids with mousse, you smirked to yourself. She wasn't wrong. But you didn't fully see that as an inherent character flaw. Bullying could be fun sometimes.

"Maybe..." you agreed.

"Not 'maybe.'" You could almost hear her pouting. "I know things with your ex ended badly--"

"--Don't." You warned, leaning away from the woman sitting between your knees like she'd scalded you.

"I'm just saying that you were right. And I still wish you'd let me hit him with my car, but whatever. I'll ask again in a couple of months and see how you feel..." At this, you giggled. "...BUT I think you should consider dating around. Just so you can remember what it feels like to actually like someone, you know?"

"I did go on a date with someone and you know how that ended."

Kayla sucked her teeth and turned to look at you, squinting her dark brown eyes in annoyance.

"What?" You asked, fighting the growing smirk on your face.

"What?" She mimicked in a voice that sounded impressively close to yours.

Kayla, of all people, knew that dating in the modern age was trash. Who really wanted to go through the talking stage over and over again, with numerous people? As much as you hated your ex at the moment, there was a small comfort in never really having to question if he wanted to be with you. You watched your friends have tired dating experiences. And though your relationship was far from perfect, you didn't envy those who still had to search for their person.

Karma was a no good, rotten ass bitch. You refused to entertain her.

You finally tilted Kayla's head back and gave her a gentle smooch on the forehead.

"I'm okay, babe. I promise," You reassured her. "I'm okay with my solitude."

She scrunched up her nose at you--the perfect mirror of yourself, and you knew she was very much your sister.

"Gross." She chuckled.

Once Kayla finally went to bed, and you had the chance to get lost in your own thoughts, you tried to better understand what the emptiness you felt stemmed from. I couldn't have been a relationship. Despite everything that happened in the last year--and a LOT had happened--you didn't feel like you needed a partner. You simply just felt aimless.

You examined your face in the bathroom mirror, with a towel wrapped tightly around you. You focused on your grounding mechanisms to ward off the dissociation that'd been slowly creeping up on you over the last few months. There were two dark, dull eyes staring back at you.

"Ooookay." You said to yourself, shaking your shoulders out before hanging up your towel and stepping into the tub.

You mentally examined yourself: a nose, a mouth, braids with a disappointing amount of new growth. A neck, shoulders, a chest, a stomach, and legs. You were there: thinking, existing, blinking, and breathing in the minty steam rising from your shower.

The repetitive sound of the water hitting the tile walls made you zone out, briefly wondering if maybe you were just doing something wrong with life. After all, no matter what you did, you could never seem to find that much needed level of satisfaction. Maybe you were meant to be unfufilled--

"SHIT!"

You jumped at the sudden outburst, nearly braining yourself on the floor of the tub. A new shadow shifted on the other side of the curtain.

"GOD DAMN IT, AARON! FUCK!"

-x-

He had no idea where he went. One moment, he was standing beside you in your bedroom. The next, he was submerged in pure darkness. He saw nothing, he felt nothing.

He tried to call out for you, but it was as if his voice was snatched from his throat. His brain was floating in an empty space devoid of sound and light.

He tried to scream.

Nothing.

The unnatural quiet of the liminal space set his nerves on edge. It was as if his brain--or what was left of it--was trying desperately to find something to latch onto.

Aaron's consciousness felt stretched thin and compacted at the same time. He called out for you again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

That was when he felt it.

Something that watched him in the darkness. It had a thousand eyes that seemed to be stalking him from all sides, and he could almost feel the heat of its breath on the back of his neck. The thing spoke, croaking from deep inside his subconscious, and scratching at the inner corners of his mind.

Malevolus...et caedes. I hunger. I'm watching. ...you can't have her.

The thing shifted around him, and he felt its icy hand on his shoulder, nails digging into him hard enough to draw blood. It leaned in close to him, and the smell of mold and blood lingered on its mouth.

Suddenly he was in your bathroom, hands up in a defensive stance, and screaming.

"GOD DAMN IT," you screamed, "AARON! FUCK!"

He curled up in a ball, trying to get his bearings but unable to focus. He stared off into space, chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused. He couldn't hear you calling his name. And even as you crouched in front of him in your towel, he couldn't stop staring at the thing that seemed to stare at him from the corner of your bathroom. Grinning with sharp jagged teeth and a mouth full of blood. Its eyes were black without pupils, and its face seemed to shift in the light. Then it was gone.

"Aaron?" You whispered, reaching out to him. He shrank away from you, continuing to stare at the wall where the creature had been.

"I was gone for almost a month?" He asked the following day, watching you pace back and forth in your bedroom. He shook his head, "That's...that isn't possible. I was only gone for a couple of minutes. Maybe an hour."

It killed him inside to watch you ignore him as Kayla rushed in to check on you and eventually led you to bed. He didn't want to be alone. Not when that thing was still watching him. But now that he was back, he wanted to grab you by your hands to get you to stop and look at him. He just needed to know that he wouldn't disappear again.

"I thought you'd moved onto the other side after the Ga-" you hesitated, then glanced at him cautiously and whispered, "the Gavin thing."

You both paused, almost waiting to see if he would drop off the face of the Earth. When he didn't, he let out a deep sigh and shuddered to himself.

"What happened?" You asked. When he quirked an eyebrow at you, you clarified, "What made you disappear?"

He swallowed hard and avoided your questioning gaze, choosing to stare at his hands. He was relieved to see them again, but was confused by some new scars that seemed to have appeared on his knuckles. That couldn't have been right.

"I was so angry," he confessed, "I felt white, hot rage. Rage I'd never felt before. I just...Gavin was like my brother. And Talia was the only woman I'd ever really loved. He was constantly saying that Talia was terrible, and I defended her with my life. I died angry at my best friend over her. Only for them to get married not even a year after I was put in the ground?"

When he said it aloud, he felt the heat rising up again, and he flexed his hands.

"My body wasn't even fucking cold yet." The lights flickered in the apartment, and he tried to reel himself back in. Aaron wanted to desperately squeeze the bedsheets in his fists, maybe even punch something, and was frustrated that he couldn't. "And now he's dead. Gone forever. And I can't even ask him why he did it."

He briefly wondered if Gavin was haunting some hole-in-the wall somewhere. It'd be on brand for him. Maybe he was in Hell, if that existed. That was even more on brand.

"I'm sorry." You murmured, sitting beside him, "For all of it. I'm sorry you found out this way. I'm sorry you lost your best friend--"

"I want to know how he died."

He watched you fidget with your hands and bite your inner cheek, avoiding eye contact.

"...Are you sure?"

It still hadn't even sunken in that his best friend of several years was dead, leaving behind Talia and three children. He figured it'd be better to rip the band-aid off.

"No. But tell me anyway." He wanted to reach out and hold you to let you know that he'd be okay. Instead, he offered you a small smile and shrug, hoping to reassure you that he could handle it. You still stared at him with wide, worried eyes.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"C'mon..."

You huffed at him, crossing your arms, "You don't know how you looked when you came back. You were terrified. You were babbling about a thing in the dark. And you were gone for almost a month over this. Who's to say you won't be gone for even LONGER next time, just because your emotions shifted?"

The mere mention of the dark made him involuntarily shudder again, and you motioned at him as if to say, "I told you so."

He decided it'd be better to concede. For now. He would ask again at a later date. He was sure you thought he was curious out of a desire to feed some morbid curiosity. He wished it was just that.

He finally coaxed you to sit beside him on your bed, and he was surprised to find that there was still a small tingle of warmth as you sat near him.

...you can't have her.

The croaking voice seemed to ring in his head as he looked at you. He didn't tell you everything. He couldn't. As long as it couldn't invade your thoughts you were safe.

At least that was the assumption he was going to make.

He spent the following nights sitting in bed next to you, keeping watch as you slept and it watched him from the darkest corner of the room.

I hunger.

He focused on the sound of your breathing, actively trying to ignore the grinning creature. As the nights wore on, it seemed to slowly vanish. Soon there was nothing.

On the eighth night of his hypervigilance, he watched as you sighed in your sleep and curled up closer to him. Your brows furrowed, and you groaned.

"You alright?" He whispered, hovering his hand over your forehead. You were burning up. He could feel you burning up. He hesitated, and then fully pressed his hand to your forehead. In turn, you instinctively grabbed his hand in your sleep, and jolted awake.

You both stared at your joined hands.

"Oh...you're ice cold." You whispered before passing out.

[anzynai]

Log Date 7 13 2

Peridot & Steven & Garnet (Steven Universe)

a/n: i genuinely could not find a good gif for this fic so the one above is the one ur getting. ALSO THIS IS THE FIRST FIC IVE WRITTEN IN A WHILE and it’s literally been sitting in my notes app for months unfinished but i finally finished so!! and it’s peri bc she’s beautiful and she was my first character obsession whatever and i’m still obsessed so yes. anyways, enjoy!!

summary: from listening to old logs, peridot is reminded that she doesn’t know what tickling is. steven and garnet teach her.

word count: 1.4k words

——

*Click* “Log Date 7148: The Steven has demonstrated a new.. ritual that humans seem to partake in. The name of this ritual is a ‘Tickle Fight’. I do not understand it. I searched for an answer in a large book filled with numerous words and their meanings, but it does not seem plausible. Perhaps, I should look more into it.” Peridot tilted her head. This was an older recording, taken a few months ago. She had never actually gotten the chance to continue her learning of what tickling actually was, helping Steven and the Crystal Gems save the world and all.

However, she had stumbled upon her old tape recorder and decided to listen to a few of her logs. The reminder of her curiosity revolving a “Tickle Fight” arose once more. Tickling, she recalled, was ‘to touch someone in certain sensitive spots to make them flinch and laugh’.

Still, she didn’t understand. How could lightly touching someone incite laughter? Was it an involuntary response? Should she ask Steven?

It wasn’t a bad idea; Steven had always helped her when she didn’t understand something on Earth. She threw her fist in her hand in resolve, searching for the boy.

Luckily, it didn’t take long. He and Garnet were doing something with a sphere, but Peridot couldn’t find herself caring enough to ask.

“Steven?” She asked, loudly, catching the attention of the two.

“Peridot!” Steven exclaimed, setting the ball down and running to the gem. Garnet followed soon after.

“What is ‘tickling’?” She asked, scratching her chin and eyeing Garnet somewhat shyly. Garnet and her had settled their (one-sided) tension, but sometimes, the gem still managed to intimidate her.

“Oh! Tickling! It’s where if someone touches-“

“No! Steven, wait. I know what it means but I don’t understand it. How does it make one laugh?” She inquired, as Steven’s mouth made an ‘o’ in understanding.

“Well, I don’t really know the science about it.. but it has something to do with your brain makes it happen..?”

“Ehh…” Peridot hummed, though she couldn’t say the answer given to her was very helpful.

“Why are you so curious about tickling, anyway?” Steven asked, looking at her then to Garnet.

“Oh, that’s because it was in one of my old logs. I always wanted to understand it but never could find the time.” Peridot said, handing them the tape recorder. They listened back to it, giving it back to her when the recording was finished.

“We’ll help you! It will be fun!! Right, Garnet?” Steven shouted, excited. Garnet only gave a thumbs-up.

And so, the next few minutes we’re spent finding answers about the strange thing. By the end of it Peridot could almost confidently say she understood tickling, or Gargelesis, the scientific term according to to the internet. Well, almost. There was one thing she didn’t quite understand. What did it feel like? She didn’t know. Could gems even.. feel ticklish? Sure, she had seen Steven been tickled before by the other gems but that was all it was.

Still, she didn’t want to ask. It was starting to get late and for some reason she couldn’t explain, the thought of being tickled felt.. embarrassing? That a mere touch can make someone feel so sensitive and laugh beyond their control.

The three of them sat down on the couch in Steven’s house, before Steven began to speak.

“Hey, Peridot.”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been tickled?” It seemed like an obvious question, the fact being that she hadn’t, but she answered anyway.

Peridot sat up. “No, I.. I can’t say that I have.”

Steven beamed at that, reaching to grab her hands. “Do you want to be?!”

“I mean, Gems probably aren’t ticklish, right? So it would be pointless, wouldn’t it?” She said, though she wasn’t even sure if it is true and to be honest, she did want to know what it felt like.

“They are.” Garnet said, simply.

“O-oh.”

“So…????” Steven spoke slowly, in anticipation. He looked so excited to tickle his friend that she sighed.

“It would help me completely understand tickling. So I suppose it would be beneficial on both parties!” Peridot clapped her hands as Steven resisted squealing in delight, his lips quirked up. Peridot would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little nervous, but the best way to understand something was to experience it.

“Yesss!!! Garnet, help me tickle Peri!” Steven exclaimed, practically stars in his eyes. It felt nice to know that the gem wasn’t the only one looking forward to this.

“What should I do?” Peridot asked, unsure if it would only work if she did something in particular.

“Hm,” Steven put his finger on his chin. “Put your arms up— a little higher—yes like that!” He slowly brought his hands to the gems hips, grabbing the belly fat.

“If you are in any discomfort, tell us. We’ll stop.” Garnet added, as Steven squeezed. To say Peridot flinched was an understatement.

It was unlike anything she could have ever imagined and— yes, there’s the laughter the “dictionary” was referring to. Peridot immediately brought her hands down, pushing away at Steven’s hands, squirming wildly. Tickling felt sensitive, and she couldn’t help the toothy grin on her face.

“W-whahahahat?! T-thihihis iHIHIs tihihickling?!” She cried.

“Yes it is! Do you like it?” Steven asked, as Garnet hooked her arms under Peridot’s. Did she like it?

“Yehehehes! Ihihit’s weheheheird buhuhut I l-lihihike it!” She said, though she did struggle to get the words out. She wasn’t even completely sure that Steven and Garnet understood what she was saying.

She was overwhelmed. Not in a bad way, though. She couldn’t stop squirming and flailing and twisting and shaking. It felt as if each new spot that was explored caused her to become more sensitive.

“Can you hold her arms for me, Garnet?” Steven asked, as the gem nodded. She went from in front of Peridot to behind her, hooking her arms with hers. Peridot felt a new wave of anticipation wash over her with this newfound vulnerability.

“Ahahahaha..” Peridot stammered, giggling in anticipation. That anticipation didn’t last long because Steven had already stuck his hands into her armpits, scribbling on the sensitive skin.

She thought that was she had been feeling before was bad but this.. this was a whole new sensation!

“N-NaHAHAH?! W-WHAHAT?! W-WHY IHIHIS IHIHIT SOHOHO bahahaAD?!” She cried, struggling in Garnet’s grasps.

“That’s your tickle spot! Hehe, we found it.” Steven exclaimed, excited. Garnet smiled.

The tickling was beginning to feel overwhelming. Who knew a “tickle spot” could feel so intense? Peridot felt tears of mirth gathering in her eyes, her cheeks beginning to ache from the smiling and laughing.

“N-noHOHOHO MOHOHORE!” She shouted, getting their attention. Almost immediately, Garnet unhooked her arms and Steven removed his hands from her armpits. Garnet patted her back, comfortably, catching her before her knees gave out. The fusion moved Peridot to the floor. Peridot was exhausted. She tried catching her breath, shocked at how exhausted she had become.

“So how was it?” Steven asked, plopping down on the ground with her.

“It.. it was nice. It was overwhelming, but it wasn’t bad.” Peridot admitted.

“Haha, you’re so ticklish! That’s why!” Steven laughed. Garnet decided to sit on her knees and join them on the ground.

“Am I really that ticklish?” Peridot asked, as she scratched her chin.

“Yes, you are.” Garnet spoke, without hesitation, and Peridot blushed slightly.

“This makes us an expert in tickling now, doesn’t it?” Steven inquired, raising a brow.

That was true, wasn’t it? Peridot thought to herself. They spent about half an hour researching and then tickling Peridot so she had experience with it. But… something felt missing.

“Not yet. Peridot has never had a tickle fight.” Garnet voiced and.. that’s right! That’s what was missing! Steven’s eyes lit up as did Peridot’s while her body suddenly seemed much more energized.

“I’ll get you, Steven!” She shouted, eagerly, pouncing on him, kneading her hands into his sides.

“N-nahahahat if I gehehehet y-you fihihirst!” He giggled, as he tried to tickle the gem back. It seemed Garnet decided to sit this one out, but Peridot didn’t mind. She didn’t know what tickling was, but was happy to find out. Not the mention, the joy she felt spending time with Steven and Garnet, creating new memories with them that she would cherish forever. But for now, she had a tickle fight to win!



[darklilcreature]

Beautiful Little Creature

Notes: open to feed back. Hope you enjoy 🖤🦇

Chapter 2

You were up earlier than normal, for some strange reason, the interview had you very anxious. It wasn’t as if this would have been your first, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. Yet you couldn’t shake the nerves that had you up and pacing your hotel room 4am that morning.

By 6:3am you were showered and standing in front of the cupboard. Staring blankly at all the clothes that you had brought with for this day. More than one option, yet you could decide which one to wear. Skirts weren’t always your thing, even though they normally end up making head turn. No, that’s not something you need for today. Not at a school. A slim fitting pair of black slacks, a white blouse and heels. That should be perfect. 7:00am you were in the bathroom finishing up your hair and makeup. Nothing special, a little base, eyeliner, and mascara. Your hair you curled lightly and twisted into a pin up look. Taking a final look at yourself you sighed. For the first time it bothered you that you hadn’t changed your hair colour to something normal. The emerald green stood loud and proud. Too late now. The piercing your face held would also just have to stay. Tattoos were concealed. This is who you are. The school board wanted you, so they must know what you look like.

By 7:30am you were in a cab and on your way to Netherworld College. “You know Miss, I personally have never taken anyone up to the school. The name alone freaks me out. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into here.” The drivers voice sounded as anxious as you felt. He had a fair enough point. Everything about this school seemed odd, the name, the Principals name, the fact that no one actually knew a thing about the place. “Honestly Mister, I haven’t the faintest idea what I am facing.” You saw the concern in his eyes as he glanced back at you in his rearview mirror. You couldn’t help start wondering what it was you were actually doing. Dark and mysterious may have been your way of life, but this seemed more life risking than you even deemed normal for yourself.

Driving through massive iron gates you swallowed hard. The grounds seemed darker all of a sudden, as if the sun was dimmer past the gate. Glaring out the window your eyes widened as you came up to the massive stone structure. While your anxiety grew, there was something oddly comical about your current situation. Here you are, at a castle like structure, coming to meet a Morningstar, the Principal of the school called Netherworld. To top it off, while Lily is what you had always gone by, Lilith was truly your name. Stepping out the car the driver gave you a smile and was out of there before you could ask him to wait.

As you walked up the steps the stupendous door slowly opened. Stepping in your found the entrance to be empty. Who opened? “Lily…I think it’s time we call this for what it is.” Whispering to yourself you slowly started stepping back. Deciding that maybe this isn’t the best idea. As you turned so the doors closed. Pulling on the oddly warm handles you started to panic. A low voice came ringing behind you, a squeak left your lips as you turned and pressed against the door. “You must be Ms Ives, they were concerned that perhaps you had gotten lost. If you’ll follow me, I shall take you to the Principal.”

“They? I am sorry, my understanding is I am meeting one person, who is they?” Confused and still unsure what your situation, you waited for the obscenely large man to provide you with an answer. “That is who you will be seeing Ms Ives, you will soon understand. Now please, they don’t like to be kept waiting.” Falling into step with the man you thought you already understood. The Principal must have been non-binary! This might not be such a bad idea then. At least the two of you would have the same sort of understanding, and then maybe they wouldn’t have too much of an issue with your physical looks.

Little did you know, little could you ever imagine, that once those doors had closed behind you, your life was about to change. A change that one would only read in stories, a change that someone maybe even fantasied about. As came to halt in front of the most magnificent marble doors your heart sank. ‘L. Morningstar’ written above the door frame. Whatever or whoever was behind that door had you now wanting to know more. Your nerves buzzing softly through your veins, excitement slowly taking over. The man knocked and you found yourself holding your breath.

From behind the door, you heard the most beautiful voice one could ever imagine. Soft yet dripping with command. “You may enter” It was only three simple words. But it was three words that had you wanting to burst through the doors and do whatever the voice commanded.

Chapter 3