#plot [misery loves company]

[chaospirals]

is anyone interested in. plotting?

[wynterlanding]

I was there when you fell from the clouds And landed in the desert There was a thunder inside of my heart There was a wonderful pleasure

And like a stallion racing the rain You rode on the back of my bike I knew from the song that you sang You were my lover for life

Oh, there's no time to sleep Oh, living in a dream

So take me to the paradise It's in your eyes Green like american money You taste just right Sweet like Tennessee honey

And we can run away Swimming in the sunlight everyday Paradise, it's in your eyes Green like american money

@xwildheart

[intonightcity]

@txnnesseehoney said:

kissing the tears that roll down your lover's cheeks. ~Shiloh and Lavinia

kiss me

A week seemed to pile onto the brunette's shoulders. A week and no sign of him. A week and she's had no time to break down any of these events to make sense. She's been occupied for the most part. Attempting to be there for another friend wrongly accused in the midst. Even with a phone call to Shiloh during this whole catastrophe she never prepared herself for this. Lavinia tried with all her might to be strong. Yet when she saw her ex standing there? All of it built up. Whatever dam she constructed around herself broke. Those cracks were fissures in a heart still raw, aching to fix what went on between them. The added stress and worry only pushed her head underneath those emotional waves. Lavinia felt tears spring. Hot. Salty. Streaks of desperation and still the most unexpected but needed thing came with a kiss. Tender to her cheeks. A reason to break further down, as she sank into Shiloh's arms. Absolutely swept up in exhaustion, she knew her sobs were greater but part of them were happy. If only to know she actually came. "… I think he's dead, Lola," her voice is small, strangely so for the typically robust horror personality. "I think he's -" And she could say no more.

[fumekara]

ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE (Part 1)

SatoSugu x Gn reader 

Plot: Your relationship with the strongest sorcerers in Japan was falling apart after they yelled at you and broke your heart.

n/a: English is not my first language, there will be a second part of this writing experiment, I am not very satisfied with how it came out. 

Tw: A lot of angst, polyamorous relationship, swearing, mention of the death of one's pet, the reader has a cat, in this version Geto is a sorcerer. If you are sensitive to mourning for your pets, do not interact with this fic. 

WC: 2.2K 

After parking in the driveway, you sank into the car seat, still gripping the steering wheel with both hands and let yourself go into convulsive, uncontrollable crying. 

For days, you had been stifling the inner turmoil that gripped you, holding back your tears and trying not to think back to Satoru and Suguru's words that had hurt you so deeply, to the fact that your relationship with the two men you loved so much was slowly falling apart…

To the fact that you had just lost your cat.

On the passenger seat lay a cat collar, the same collar that your cat, Nuko, had long held until an hour before and was now without an owner. 

You did not know whether your tears were only and solely due to the cat's disappearance or because Nuko's death was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He had kept you company for years, you had adopted him in high school when he was still a kitten, you had cared for him by loving him and giving him everything he needed, and you had taken him with you when you moved in with Satoru and Suguru.

You would never see your little friend again, of course you expected this, he was still an old cat and for a couple of days he had been giving clear signals about his health showing that he was not well at all, so you took him to the vet, even though you knew there was little you could do for him. 

The death of your pet is something everyone has to face sooner or later, after all Nuko had lived a long and happy life. 

However, you hoped he would stay with you a little longer, because you had long felt that Nuko was the last one in that house who cared for and needed you. 

And now he’s gone.

You know you made the right choice, the vet had informed you that his condition was too critical, in a few weeks he would have died anyway, but this would have put him out of his misery straight away. Simple and painless, he would feel nothing, he would go in peace. 

And so you did.

You held back tears when you gave the OK for the operation, you held back tears when you removed Nuko's collar from his soft gray fur, you held back tears when you stroked and cuddled him for the last time. 

"Thank you for always being there for me, you have been a great friend," you told him hoping he would understand that he would be loved and remembered even when he was gone. 

You held back tears when you stayed by his side and when the vet told you the operation was successful. 

You held back tears when you filled out the paperwork at the reception desk, you held back tears when you left the veterinary clinic and headed for the car park, and you held back tears as you drove home.

But now the emotions you had repressed were pouring out of you and you couldn't control them, all you could do was cry and think about what would happen when you got out of the car and crossed the threshold of your home. 

You hadn't said anything to Satoru and Suguru, they didn't know anything about what had just happened and you were pretty sure they wouldn't care and wouldn't give you any consolation anyway, you weren't even sure they loved you any more since you'd had that fight.

——————

That day was hard for them. You first noticed that both of them must have had a bad day at work, the small scratches on their faces was evidence and they were also more nervous than usual, Suguru also must have injured himself during the last mission as he was holding his side and struggling to keep his back straight. 

You knew that their work as teachers and wizards exhausted them and often made them return home with a few extra bruises. You always took care of them when they needed it, several times you treated their bruises and cuts when they returned from a particularly demanding mission, often relying on Shoko's advice on how to treat them. 

You received a kiss on the forehead or lips from them as a thank you.

You always offered your boys a shoulder to cry on and all the love you could give them, and they did the same to you. And you wore their love like armor to face the storms of life and work. 

They were at the front door, Satoru had just taken off his shoes, while Suguru had taken off his coat with difficulty and extreme caution, confirming your hypothesis that he had been injured on the mission. 

You greeted them with a smile and walked over to hug them as you always did.

"Not now Y/N," Satoru told you firmly in a colder tone than usual. You turned away from them as you saw them heading towards the kitchen, hearing the white-haired male cursing in a low voice. Suguru made his way behind him as if he had not noticed your presence as he grunted from the pain in his right side. 

You were amazed at their behavior. Normally they would have welcomed you into their arms and told each other how your days went. 'Did something bad happen?' you thought as you joined them in the kitchen. 

Satoru had his back to you with his hands resting on the sink jamb while Suguru sat at the table, both of them seemed to be rather restless. 

"Is everything alright guys?" you asked hoping you could figure out what had made them so nervous.

You heard Satoru sigh heavily "Yes, everything is fine" he said coldly still holding your shoulders. 

You looked at Suguru hoping that at least he could give an answer to your question, but the black-haired man seemed not to be interested in doing so.

You approached your boyfriend's side to see how serious his wound was, you hadn't seen any blood or anything, but you wanted to be sure there was nothing too serious. Between him and Satoru, Suguru was the more patient and calm of the two. You gently brushed one of the long black locks from his face and gave him a small smile. He must not have liked the gesture, however, because he turned away as if you had given him an electric shock. 

You tried to maintain a caring attitude, not wanting to make the situation worse. 

"Are you okay? Are you hurt, dear?" 

"Y/N, please let it go. It's fine," he said, not using his usual sweet and calm tone. 

You didn't like this attitude they were both using with you at all. But you were really worried and did your best to try to be helpful. 

"Let me help you, Sugu', if it's serious I can...". 

"Y/N stop, I told you that you don't have to worry about it!" he interrupted you acidly as he gave you an icy stare, making it clear that he had no interest in talking to you, much less getting treatment from you.

You looked down at the floor and got up from your chair, leaving Suguru alone, but this made your worries increase. 

You approached Satoru who had removed the blindfold from his eyes, but still had his back to you. "Toru... What's going on?" you gently touched his hand, hoping that a small trace of your warmth might give him some comfort, but your gesture was bitterly rejected as he removed his hand from yours. 

"Y/N stop it, I already told you it's OK!" he said, raising the volume of his voice a little too high "For God's sake, stop being so fucking clingy!" 

"I just want to know what's going on" you said, turning to both of them "you know you can tell me about everything".

"Y/N enough!" you heard Suguru as he turned in his chair towards you "we have other things to think about and we don't have time for your bullshit".

Now you felt offended, you knew they weren't really mad at you. They were using you as an excuse to vent their frustrations. But you didn't like being scolded when you just wanted to help. It wasn't the first time this had happened, lately it seemed like they were getting ruder and ruder with you every time something went wrong.  You were starting to get sick of it. 

"Wanna know how it went at work, Y/N?" asked Satoru sarcastically " SHITTY, that's how it went. The meeting with that bunch of assholes from our superiors went horribly and on top of that we got our asses kicked by a special level curse." he paused "And the last thing we need is you asking us to hug you and give you attention. Are you satisfied now?"

"I wasn't looking for attention, I just wanted to he-" 

"Y/N for the last time, piss off!" shouted Suguru at you making you realize it was time to stop. You looked at them both in astonishment, you were sure that the last people who would say such a thing to you were them, your boyfriends. 

Geto noticed your expression and that was enough to soften him "Just...leave us alone now, please." he said in a calmer tone. 

They both looked away from you. 

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the floor with a sad expression " I'm sorry" you said and left the kitchen.

______________

That evening you did not speak to each other, you dined in silence and kept your gaze fixed on your plate so as not to meet their eyes. You didn't know if they were still bothered by you, but the words they had said to you kept coming back to you. About how they thought you were clingy and that your mere presence was enough to make them lose their temper.  

When you finished eating, you decided to wash the dishes in the sink, as Satoru had set the table and Suguru had prepared dinner that night. 

As you were drying the last dish, you realized that your cat's bowl, which was lying on the kitchen floor, was still full from this morning, also the water bowl. You hadn't actually seen Nuko all day. 

You put the dry dish back in the cupboard and went to the living room to see if your cat was there, perhaps lying on the sofa or armchair.

"Nuko?, where are you buddy?" you called him as you walked around the rooms of the house looking behind the curtains, the sofa, the television, but nothing. 

It had happened before that Nuko left the house and returned after a couple of days, but that was when he was still a young and energetic cat, now he was old and spent his days in the house or in the garden.

you looked in the bedroom you shared with the boys and looked under the bed to see if he was hiding there.

"What are you doing Y/N?" 

You looked up even though you knew it was Suguru's voice.

"I can't find Nuko, he hasn't touched food today," you stood up avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you. 

"Have you tried the guest room? He really likes it," he told you, scratching the back of his head and staring at the wall as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

The guest room was your bedroom before you moved into Satoru and Suguru's when you made your relationship official. However, Nuko had a habit of taking naps there, as if habits die hard for him. 

You headed toward the room and, not seeing the cat above the sheets, peeked under the bed. Nuko was lying in the shadows and raised his little head after noticing your presence. 

"What's wrong buddy?"

________

Satoru and Suguru knew they had to apologize to you, but they had decided to give you some space after what happened. They did not ask you why you had decided to sleep in the guest room so that you could come and sleep with them, even though they would have liked to do so. 

"We really messed up, Sugu," Gojo murmured, "I feel bad about what happened, we went too far with them, they didn't deserve it."

Suguru also felt guilty about the way things had gone with you, but at the time he had yelled at you he was convinced he had a broken rib and was furious about being reprimanded by his superiors at the meeting. When he had seen you looking for Nuko he had tried to apologize, but could not find the words. 

"Yes me too, tomorrow we will apologize to them properly," he said, turning off the light.

"No shit."

They hoped that the next morning things would settle down. It was not the first time you had argued, but never had they used those words with her in that way. Both men were happy and lucky to have you in their lives and were so grateful for the love the three of you had built together, but they feared they had crossed a zone from which there was no turning back. 

Click here for part 2

[daisynik7]

I’ve had this in my head for awhile

“promiscuous” by Nelly furtado for Toji Fushiguro- smut

Promiscuous

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.0k

cw: p*rn without plot, smut – PIV sex (doggy), degradation, public sex, nipple play, fingering, sex without a condom, spit play, daddy kink, breeding kink, cream pie

Summary: You’re a waitress working in a ramen shop at the racetrack. There are always the regulars that come in during the odd hours of the day, killing time with a bowl of ramen or takoyaki, waiting to either win or lose. Toji Fushiguro is one in particular that catches your eye. When he continues his losing streak, you decide to cheer him up in the only way you know how.

Author's Note: Thank you for the request for the y2k karaoke party my lovely @batafuraikisu! I love you so so much, you’re always so sweet and so supportive of me! I hope you like this one for your man Toji! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

It’s noon on a Tuesday morning. A gun fires off in the distance, signaling the start of the next race. The regulars you’re used to seeing gather around the monitor, watching as the horses they placed their bets on gallop around the track. Ken, one of the cooks behind the counter, rings the bell; a fresh order of chicken karaage is ready to serve. You stack it on a tray, balancing it as you walk to the dining area, waiting for the race to end, knowing everyone’s attention is on the finish line. 

When horse number #4 eventually crosses, followed by #1, then #3, most of the men groan, tossing their crumpled tickets into the nearby trashcan. Goro, a retired grandpa you’ve befriended throughout the years, pumps his fist in the air victoriously. “I knew Prince could do it! Wahoo!”

You smile at him, setting the food down at his table. “Congratulations!”

He pats your hand gratefully, snapping his chopsticks in two, popping a piece into his mouth. ���Thank you, dear. Please ask Ken to make three more orders for me.” He points his thumb to the others, moping in their seats, some taking long drags of their cigarettes. “Figured these losers could use a little treat.”

Giggling, you respond, “Coming right up.”

On your way back, you notice a familiar figure slumped in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Toji Fushiguro is a new regular from the past few weeks. He’s significantly younger than the others, and also undeniably attractive. Naturally, you take an interest in him. It’s rare to find someone with his muscular stature around here, considering the usual crowd consist of middle-aged men with beer bellies or elderly fellows hunched over from old age. While you never minded these type of men before, it was a pleasant change of scenery to see someone like Fushiguro grace you with his presence. 

Behind the counter, you add an order of takoyaki, hoping to lighten up his mood. It’s obvious his horse didn’t win. He’s been this way for the past two weeks, continuously betting on the wrong one, none of his choices even placing. When the food is ready, you pass it out to the depressed men smoking in the corner, who wave at Goro in thanks. The friendly old man joins them, trying to lift their spirits by offering a round of drinks. Everyone in the restaurant is gathered together because misery really does love company. Well, except for Toji. 

You approach him consciously, remembering that you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with each other, whenever he would place his order. Silently, you slide the food over to him until he notices it. He peeks at you with one eye open, glancing at the little plate of octopus balls in front of him. “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house,” you say, smiling.

Glaring at you, he responds, “I don’t need your pity.”

Yikes, you think, standing your ground. Not quite backing down just yet, you explain, “It’s not pity. Consider it thanks for always supporting our business. You’re a regular now.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, studying you thoroughly. “So, this isn’t because I’ve been sulking here for the last two weeks, right?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Absolutely not. But if you really don’t want it, I’m sure Goro and the others will happily eat it for you – ”

“I’ll eat it,” he interrupts, pulling it towards him, finally relaxing. 

You smirk. “Great. Have a good meal.” Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer before you turn on your heel, leaving. 

Just barely do you hear him mutter a quiet, “Thanks.”

~~~

The next day, Toji is back, nodding at you as he walks into the establishment. This is the most he’s acknowledged you personally before, and part of you feels a sense of accomplishment. As if you’re slowly getting through to him. 

Throughout the morning, he sits in his usual seat, watching race after race, groaning at the end of each one. He’ll rush out of the shop only to return minutes later with a new ticket in hand. It’s a sad cycle that continues past lunch, still no luck. 

Your coworker is serving him today, so you haven’t said a thing, a bit nervous that he might snap at you for “pitying” him again. However, you’ve been exchanging knowing glances here and there; you can tell he’s watching you, and you don’t mind it. Not at all.

After setting down a table full of ramen bowls for a particularly cheery bunch of winners, you brush past him, his hand grabbing your wrist firmly to stop you. “Hey.”

You face him, alarmed and excited at the sudden contact. “Hello,” you say, stepping towards him. 

He doesn’t let go, eyes scanning you up and down. You swallow nervously, not quite sure what to do or say. “Do you need something?”

It takes a beat for him to respond but he does, smirking. “I do, actually. I need some pity.”

You crack a smile, teasing, “Oh, so now you want my pity. What do you want? Karaage? Another takoyaki?”

“I’m not really hungry for food right now.” His grip tightens around your wrist, electricity radiating from his touch straight to your chest, sending your heart racing. 

Normally, you wouldn’t do this type of thing, but you can’t help yourself: you’re far too curious to let an opportunity like this go to waste. Mouth grazing his ear and as confidently as you can muster, you whisper, “My shift ends in an hour. Think you can be patient until then?”

His grin widens, teeth showing like a predator who has set their sights on its prey. “Sure. I have a feeling this will be worth the wait.”

~~~

As expected, Toji remains seated in the same spot until you’re done. When you start to approach him, he stands up, ready to follow wherever you lead him. You wave goodbye to Ken and your coworker, who stare at the two of you curiously. Ken even yells out your name, asking, “What are you up to?!” 

Ignoring the question, you walk briskly down one of the corridors towards the exit. Toji trails just behind you, not speaking. You turn into one of the single vacancy bathrooms you usually use, pulling him inside with you, locking the door with a loud click. 

His back is pressed to the door, staring at you, cocky. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” you say, clutching his collar, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He chuckles into your mouth, tongue swiping yours, hands arounds your waist. They slide below your ass, squeezing your flesh between his large fingers. You moan, dragging your lips down his neck, sucking on his skin. 

His thumbs hook on the waistband of your jeans, tugging you closer to him. The bulge in his sweatpants is throbbing and hard against you as you grind your body on his, eager for more. He hums. “And here I was thinking you’d be nervous around me. Who would have thought you’d be so promiscuous?”

You laugh, your hands gliding under his shirt, fondling his muscular body. “Are you that surprised? I don’t offer pity takoyaki to just anybody.”

“Lucky me,” he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip. 

Soon, you’re both stripped naked, clothes tossed hastily onto the floor. He licks his lips as he studies your figure, hands roaming your body, pinching at your nipples all perky and hard with arousal. He flicks his thumbs across them, asking, “You like having your tits played with?”

You nod, watching hazily as he bows down, lips near your breasts. “Good. Feed them to me.”

You obey, squeezing one in your hands, guiding it into his mouth. He puckers his lips around the sensitive teat, sucking until you whine with pleasure. You pull out of him slowly, releasing you with a loud pop. He does the same with the other side, suckling on your nipple until it’s plump and aching with arousal. 

“Think you’re wet enough for me?” he growls, reaching for your throbbing clit, flicking it with his fingers. “Bet I can make you wetter.”

“Then do it,” you moan, grinding against his hand. “Fuck me with those fingers.”

His eyes widen, two beefy fingers sliding into your entrance, stretching you out. “Fuck, you’re bad. So ready to get finger fucked by a total stranger. Nasty slut.” He sticks his tongue in your mouth, slobbering all over you as he pumps his digits in and out of your pussy, rubbing his thumb on your clit. After several more strokes, you come for him, gushing around his fingers until they’re coated in your slick. 

“Shit,” he swears, letting you ride out your orgasm on his palm, thumb still circling your bud. “It’s real creamy now. Perfect for my cock.” He pulls out, stroking his dick with his wet fingers, spreading his own precum around the tip. “Bend over for me, sweetheart.”

You’re needy and desperate for him to fill you up now, obedient to his every command no matter how crudely he spits it out to you. In this moment, you’re nothing but a cock sleeve for Toji, waiting to be stuffed full. So you follow his orders, bending over with your hands flat against the wall, sticking your ass out for him. He smacks it, watching with mirth as your skin jiggles from his harsh touch. He nestles his cock between your cheeks, grinding it against you. “Goddamn, that’s sexy,” he growls, spitting into his palm, lubricating his shaft with his saliva. “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, anticipating. “Give it to me.”

“Tell daddy exactly what you want,” he coos, slapping your bottom once more, teasing the tip up and down your folds. 

“Fuck, I want daddy’s big cock inside me!” you cry out, thrusting yourself onto him, his dick sliding smoothly inside you. 

He laughs, gripping your hips tightly as he starts to thrust. “Yeah, you want daddy’s cock pounding this wet pussy, huh? Look at you swallowing me up. Fucking whore.”

The degradation only spurs you to throw your ass back onto him, fucking you deeper and deeper until your knees are wobbly, legs shaky. He rails you harder, spreading your cheeks apart to watch his dick disappear with each plunge. “This pussy was made to be bred. You want my cum inside you? Ask for it. Beg for it.” 

“Please daddy! I want your cum!” you plead, unashamed. Really, whatever figurative chokehold this man has on you is outstanding. To have you begging for his seed, desperate to be stuffed with his load, it’s concerning and riveting all at the same time. 

“Louder,” he demands. “Let the whole racetrack hear how much you want daddy’s cum.” He reaches around to stimulate your clit, massaging it between his thick fingers.

“Give me all your fucking cum, daddy!” you moan, choking on your own spit, drool trickling out the sides of your mouth. It’s pointless now to deny how fucking cock-drunk you are for him. Useless to save face when you were already so blatant about seducing him from the start. All you can do now is comply and hope that none of your coworkers can hear you screaming from the other side of the wall. 

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear,” he purrs, flicking your bud rapidly. “You’re going to get all this fucking cum.”

He comes as soon as you tighten around him with your second orgasm. He doesn’t stop stimulating your clit until he empties his load inside you. Slowly, he pulls out, marveling at the lewd sight of his cock coated in cum. “Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to gaze at the mess the both of you made.  

You gradually come to your senses, carefully picking your clothes up from the floor. When you’re fully dressed, he steps to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, kissing your forehead. “Are you working tomorrow?”

With a weak smile, you respond, “Yes.”

He grins back, brushing your lips with his thumb. “Good. See you then.”

~~~

The next day, coincidentally, Toji’s horse places first, ending his miraculous losing streak. After collecting his winnings, he waits for you until your shift is done, waving the earnings in his hands, smiling. “Guess I got myself a good luck charm now,” he says, winking at you. “Want to make me a winner again?”

[sykosomatic]

ugh you always deliver!! im gonna request some nice, tasty angst. so ftm reader finally comes out to his parents after being no contact for two years and they dont take it well at all. by the time he comes home, hes a sobbing mess and just feels terrible. he honestly thought his parents would love and accept him for who he is, and just wishes he wasnt like this.

hannibal and will come home after a long day, and are so worried about him. he explains it to them and they are just hearbroken for him. they take time comforting him until he's asleep.

a week later, reader is informed that his parents have been found dead, hehe. reader is totally unaware of what his boyfriends have done

-🚄

oooh! love a good angst plot 😭💕

hannigram x ftm!reader (with unsupportive parents)

you’d done the work and put in the time to try and rekindle your relationship with your parents; the threat of losing them, unwilling to understand your transition as they were, was too high not to at least give it a shot. after all, you were already no-contact with them, what was there to lose? so you’d texted them, adding them to a little group chat (against your better judgement, group chats with parents are very awkward, you knew that) and texted them a heartfelt but succinct text message about going to meet up with them and have coffee and ‘talk about things’. they’d agreed.

they didn’t know about hannibal and will; though they weren’t wholly conservative on every issue, they probably would’ve sneered at you having two partners. ‘that’s weird,’ they might’ve said; ‘why not pick one?’

but you powered through and didn’t cancel like you wanted to, meeting them for coffee and bagels at a local cafe within walking distance to hannibal’s place. you’d called his luxurious place home for the better part of the past few months, and he seemed pleased with the idea.

needless to say, skipping past the choked tears and terse nods, your parents hadn’t taken your official coming-out very well. not only were you transitioning, but you were a masculine individual in a relationship with at least one man (you’d only mentioned will, by accidentally mentioning how he liked his coffee the same way your father did) and that was very much displeasing news to them. by the time you’d finally stormed out, tears spilling over your cheeks, they’d made up their minds that they were okay never talking to you again if you were… their words.. ‘planning to be like this forever’.

so you rushed home and slammed the door behind you, leaning your back against the door and trying not to slide down onto the floor as you hung your coat up on the rack by the door.

your partners peeked out from the kitchen, rushing over to you once they heard your woeful sobbing.

“didn’t go well,” you managed to say into will’s chest as he wrapped you into a hug. he and hannibal exchanged a look as you sobbed yourself tired.

the two of them had just gotten home and had been in the kitchen preparing dinner — or, hannibal was preparing dinner and will was keeping him company.

you explained to them, once you’d caught your breath, that you didn’t think it would’ve gone so bad. they were your parents, after all, didn’t they want to have a relationship with you after two years of no contact at all? you’d foolishly allowed yourself to think they’d accept you with open arms and apologize for everything. but of course that’s not what happened at all. you were devastated; why couldn’t you just be cis? you were miserable as you requested — against hannibal’s very serious wishes — to just go to bed without dinner that night, opting instead to just sleep away the misery of your lost relationship with your parents.

hannibal and will took turns visiting you through the night until you finally were able to fall asleep. they would hold you tight and kiss your forehead.

a week later, after you’d finally blocked your parents’ numbers and the whole interaction was starting to fade away from your immediate thoughts, you caught your parents’ names on television. it made you stop in your tracks, turning around to watch the newscast.

they’d been found dead.

you were shocked — it seemed really sudden; like karma had come to them for the way they’d treated you. only a week ago they’d been sneering at your lifestyle, and now they’d been found dead. the newscaster didn’t say anything about the cause of death or anything, just that they were dead.

they were dead. you’d never have to worry about what they thought about you again, you supposed. it felt… good. you were relieved; which is not what you’re expected to feel when your parents died, but there you were.

you told will and hannibal and they expressed their congratulations to you in the form of cooking you your favorite meal and watching your favorite movie. things were good. and you never had to think about what they could’ve been, because it couldn’t have been better than this.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your monster husband

General Plot: This is kind of the prequel...sort of...head cannon backstory of the other Chase one shots. Chase meets you at your workplace and falls in love.

Tentacle monster (Chase) x Bimbo female reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterpost

W: drugging, kidnapping, yandere behavior, mostly sfw brief mention of cum

Chase watched you sleeping, remembering the woman you were before he took you. 

You’d been an award winning researcher at a biomedical lab developing performance enhancing compounds for the military. 

You’d been smart and confident, breezing around the building with that short hair that didn’t suit you but was easy to care for and those schlubby loose clothes. The way you dressed didn’t slow you down. You were the brightest researcher the company had and you knew it. You led every meeting and guided the strategy for their latest products. He’d watched you struggle and argue with brass over the efficacy of your experiments, but you held you head high through it all.

No matter how bright you showed you were, they were demanding, wanting everything tomorrow and at double the strength. He’d watched you run yourself ragged trying to please them that useless husband of yours watching from home, proud of the misery he let you go through.

While you slaved away at work, he stayed on the couch playing Fortnite and screaming at twelve year olds online. He liked showing off his brilliant wife despite how the circles under your eyes darkened and you hunched from peering at your laptop. 

When you met Chase had been hired by his boss to infiltrate the lab and steal your research, the drug you’d developed was a potential component in his successful rebirth. 

“You have to do it like this, silly,” you’d giggled at him as he fiddled with the coffee maker in the break room the first time he laid eyes on you. 

You’d leaned over him, surrounding him in your sweet scent, and pulled out the coffee pod, turning it around before reinserting it the correct way. Your fingers had brushed his, sending a spark shooting up his arm. 

“Never used a coffee maker before?” you’d teased as you pulled your own mug out of the cabinet. 

“Not one like this,” he’d replied, staring at your face and marveling at how remarkably cute you were despite your terrible haircut. 

You’d winked and his heart had skipped a beat. 

“Don’t feel bad, you have to have two phds to operate everything in this building.” 

He’d chuckled at your lame joke and smiled at you while you waited for the coffee to brew. You had two phds and everyone knew it. You were the brilliant mind behind the company's progress. The youngest in your field. Everyone in biomedical science had heard about you.

“First day?” you’d asked, sticking out your hand, “I’m Dr. Lorelei Driver but you can call me Lori, everybody else does, except my husband...He calls me Lorelei, but I hate it. Who names their kid Lorelei and what upstanding husband agrees with his in-laws about it? He gets away with it because he’s cute…but you don’t have to call me doctor or anything, that’s just weird. We’re all equals here…I mean, how stupid of me…you probably have your phd, too if you are working here! Sorry…I’m rambling…I do that…You’ll get used to it…um…oh! Welcome to the team! If you need anything just ask me.” 

You’d blushed and he’d fallen head over heels for you. Those big doe eyes held an innocence you weren’t allowed to reveal to your colleagues and he wanted it. He’d shaken your hand and you noticed he’d held it just a little too long, but chased the thought away.

You were never any good at social interactions, always awkward and talking too much. Who were you to say when a handshake went on too long? For all you knew you’d been giving short, rude handshakes your whole life.  

From that moment forward Chase had started plotting. He wanted to give you the life you were missing…a happy life where you didn’t have to stay up long hours working. A life where your face would be soft with smiles and he could dress you up the way you ought to be dressed, pretty and delicate.  He could give you a life with no worries, no thoughts, just happiness. The life you deserved. 

He’d done everything in his power to get closer to you. It coincided with his mission so it was easy. He became fascinated with your work, hanging around you like your biggest fan, pushing anyone else who was near you out of the way.

One by one your assistants got burned out by the long hours or sick and quit until only he was left at your side. Of course, you had no idea of the amount of poison he'd used to carve his path through your employees.

He had to admit you were truly brilliant, what you’d come up with was exactly what his boss needed. He almost thought it was a pity you would have to leave that all behind. Almost. 

His wife wouldn’t need to wrack her brain over the world’s problems late into the night. His wife wouldn’t need to think at all. He would craft the perfect world for you where he could protect you and cherish you and keep you safe, even from your own ambition. 

He could see clearly that your own thoughts were destroying you and all these people around you were just enabling you. They didn't care about you, really. They wanted what you could create for them and would watch you drive yourself into an early grave for their own profit. Only he really cared about you.

“Here, darling,” Chase had said the night he’d taken you and your research, handing you a cup of coffee.

You’d been working late, trying to sort out a problem you were having with the flavor of the medication and he’d stayed with you like he usually did. You’d gotten much closer, professionally. He was sharp as a whip and understood your work completely, even offering helpful suggestions and had quickly made himself an integral part of the team. 

Occasionally, you would notice a touch that lasted too long or that he was standing far too close, but you’d brushed it off that he was a touchy person.

There was no harm in that. Some people’s perception of personal space was just different than your own. He wasn’t unattractive and he smelled nice. If you weren’t married, you’d even be flustered by his occasional lingering touches. 

However, you would have been disgusted and chased him away had you had any idea of how much of his cum you’d swallowed in the cups of coffee he was giving you or how he prowled outside of your window at night jealously working himself into a fury as you and your husband made love. 

You’d been distracted and barely considered the odd use of the pet name when you thanked him for the cup, immediately taking a big sip of it. 

“Have some more, you look tired,” he said, when you went to put it down. Without thinking you’d followed his directions, taking another big swallow. 

“If you drink the whole thing, I’ll make you another cup,” he promised, so you eagerly gulped down the rest, passing it back. You needed as much caffeine as you could get. You were so close to finishing this project and your bosses were breathing down your neck to get it to market on time. With just a little more work it would be perfect. 

He disappeared, coming back a few minutes later with another cup of coffee, milky with the creme he knew you liked. You blinked your eyes, rubbing them. They suddenly felt dry and heavy. 

“Need another cup?” he asked, smiling at you with his big, white teeth. 

“Yeah, youuuuuu’re aaaayye liyyyyfesaouhh,” you slurred, reaching your hand out for the mug he was offering, but your fingers never made it to the porcelain as your world went dark. Chase gathered your limp body up in his arms, amused that for someone so smart, you were really quite stupid.

When you woke up you didn’t know who or where you were. 

“(Y/N)?” a handsome man asked, looking down at you. 

You’d glanced around and found yourself in a nice master bedroom on a comfortable bed. 

“Who…who is (Y/N)?” you’d asked. 

The handsome man had cradled your head in his hands and smiled at you. 

“That’s your name,” he explained, “you had a bit of a fall and hit your head. Do you remember anything? Who you are? Where you are? Who I am?” 

You shook your head, rubbing your skull. You didn’t feel a bump anywhere but there was a slight ache in your brain. He looked at you sympathetically. 

“I’m your husband, (Y/N). Chase,” he said. 

You looked down at your left hand and sure enough there was a pretty diamond ring on your finger. Nausea overwhelmed you as you tried to recall anything about your life. 

“I can’t remember anything,” you murmured, starting to panic. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, brushing his hands over your hair. They were large and his touch was comforting. 

“Don’t try to think,” he said, “you’ll hurt yourself. You don’t have to remember anything right now. Just let me take care of you.” 

“Do I need to go to the hospital?” you asked nervously. 

“No!” he snapped sharply and you jumped. 

He smiled down at you, pulling you closer. 

“You already went to the hospital, you just don’t remember,” he clucked, “the doctor said this might happen and that you just needed to stop trying to think.” 

“Oh,” you said, muddling through your thoughts. 

Something sounded wrong about what he was saying, but you couldn’t figure out what. 

“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice dropping a bit lower and more growly. 

You looked up at him. 

“Doing what?” you asked. 

“Thinking,” he grumbled, “my wife doesn’t need to think.” 

“B-but…who am I?” you mumbled, “I don’t even know who I am…”

He pulled your cheeks into his palms and searched your eyes. 

“You are my sweet little wife, (Y/N),” he assured you, “that’s all you need to be concerned with. We are happy together and we love each other. There’s nothing more to know. Just let me take care of everything.” 

You were going to push for more, but he kissed you. His lips were soft and confident, moving over yours as he pressed your head into his hand. Melting into his mouth, you lost track of what you were worried about. A hot tongue brushed your lips and you granted him entry, wanting more of what he had to give you. He must have been your husband. This kiss felt…right.

You relaxed into his arms, sure you were where you were supposed to be. Thoughts could come later. 

Chase felt the moment when you gave into him, your body softening in his arms and your lips surrendering to his. He stifled a smile at his victory.

This had actually been easier than he'd thought it would be. He'd worried you would put up more of a fight, question him more, but the way you melted into him only reinforced his belief that you were meant for one another.

The spell he’d used to erase your memories had worked.

Chased brushed your hair off of your forehead as you slept. It had grown out to a flattering length around your cheeks and he smiled at how perfect he'd made you. You were his, safe in his nest and your ex husbands bones were scraped of flesh in his back yard. No one was coming to look for you and he would never, ever let you go.

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 21: "Cordialement, Y/N et Benedict"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It has been two years since your secret was exposed and you had to leave London. Two years with deep buried misery and in which you missed everything you used to have. However, neglect, novelties, and letters made sure to give you more than one reason to return to claim someone who is as rightfully yours as your estate and your people: Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, mutual pining, (kinda???) enemies (fake, this is just pride) to lovers (surely), bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: You and Benedict return to London with a wedding invitation and more shocking news for the family.

Word count: 2.7K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

“Ma chérie, when did this happen?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, during my first trip to London, my Lord.”

“This is unexpected, but… I shall speak to the council about this,” Lord Monet replied. “We believed you and the Prince of Monaco-”

“No,” you firmly denied. “He was a mere suitor, but Mr. Bridgerton is my love match.”

He raised his eyebrow, giving him a despective look. “Is he now?”

You two nodded.

“Is he also fit to be a duke?” he questioned. “Because if you do not marry the Prince, you must marry a man fit to rule the region, at least.”

“Even if he wasn't, and I am not saying he is not fit, I must be the one to perform the ducal duties,” you answered. “Not a soul knows this region better than I. Since my father passed, as you know quite well, I have been the one to take care of Burgundy, the winery, and the state. Therefore, I should be the one who continues doing it.”

“What is your cousin for, then?”

“Nothing, my Lord,” you sighed. “And once I marry and have children, the region shall stay in good hands. Always in our family.”

He sighed. “What is his background, then? His family, what?”

“His father was the late Viscount Edmund Bridgerton. My father's friend from Oxford, if you can recall,” you replied. “He is his second son, and his older brother is Anthony Bridgerton, the now Viscount.”

“You come from a good family, it seems.”

“I do, yes,” Benedict spoke for the first time. “I have seven brothers and sisters. One of my sisters, Daphne, is the Duchess of Hastings.”

“Well, you sound like a good man,” Monet smiled slightly. “Have you decided on a date for the ceremony?”

“The sooner, the better.” Benedict said.

“Why the rush?”

“As I am sure Lord Cartier might have mentioned, there have been issues with my grandfather,” you answered. “He found a bastard child of Father's to take my rightful place. The sooner I marry, the safer I will be, you know? Protected by marriage.”

“As long as the rush does not mean anything else, I believe two months from today will be perfect so you can have everything ready.”

“Will the priest be available?” you asked in concern.

“I'll make him available provided he isn't. The Duchess of Burgundy's wedding must be a priority for the Church,” he replied. “I might as well have the Pope himself marry you.”

You chuckled. “That will not be necessary.”

“The fourteenth of September, then?”

Benedict looked at you with an enamored smile. “Yes.”

Dearest Bridgertons,

We are most delighted to reach out to you with the news of our engagement and upcoming matrimony, which will take place on September 14th at the Palace of Versailles. However, before that, we are pleased to invite the whole family to the engagement ball on August 5th at the Château du Clos de Vougeot.

Additionally, we would be honored for Lady Violet Bridgerton to stay with us until the ceremony to assist us in its planification and keep us beloved company.

We are grateful to all of you for your support and, unbelievably, for meddling in our love. We would not be here today without your carefully schemed and loving interventions.

Finally, we announce our stay in Versailles until July 20th, when we shall start our journey back to London for some days. We are expected in Vougeot by August 1st at the latest (in hopes that you join us), in Dijon on August 28th, and in Versailles on September 2nd. The former information was provided to inform you of our whereabouts in case you wish to join us someday.

Sincerely,

Y/N & Benedict.

You and Benedict were having breakfast when Antoinette arrived at the dining room. Her expression gave you an insight for whatever the unfortunate announcement would be.

“My lady, your grandfather is here. And he brought unpleasant company.”

Your lips formed a fine line, and you looked at Benedict in utter worry.

“Please, inform him we are breaking the fast and take him to the sitting room to wait for us,” you replied. “Tell him we do not have much time to receive him as we are leaving for London within the hour.”

“What should I say if he asks who is ‘we’?”

“Tell him I mean my fiancé and myself.”

She nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“If you wish, I could ask him to leave,” Benedict proposed when he saw your maid leave. “You will not have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“I will not show him any sign of intimidation, my heart. Plus, I must extend our invitation to the engagement ball in person and have my guards take that misfortune of a brother to the dungeon he belongs to.”

Benedict smirked. “You are a devious young woman, aren't you?”

“This particular trash will not take itself out, so I must make sure someone does,” you replied. “And if it has got to be me so I know it is done properly, you know I will.”

“My darling, you are an unstoppable force of nature.”

You rolled your eyes with affection. “You are a silly man, Your Grace,” you noted. “You better kiss that attitude goodbye by the day of the engagement ball if you want the King of France to approve of you.”

He smiled and finished the last of his breakfast. As soon as you finished, he helped you stand up and walked to the sitting room alongside you.

“Good morning, sir,” you greeted him. “Raphaël, I thought you would be in a dungeon right now.”

Benedict cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Your grandfather raised his eyebrow arrogantly. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Were you not informed?”

“Of what?”

“Y/N and I are getting married mid-September.”

Raphaël frowned. “Married?”

You looked at the engagement ring in your finger and showed it to them. “September 14th, to be precise.”

“You can not marry this man. He is a mere artist! He is not fit to rule the region!”

“And this bastard is?” you questioned, looking the man up and down. “The only person fit to be Duke or Duchess of Burgundy is me, and not even over my dead body somebody else will take my place.”

“No one is asking for your permission, Y/N,” he said. “Either you leave soon, or I'll tell your cousin, the King, about your London shenanigans.”

You frowned. “Are you aware that I could be killed for that motive? Are you truly capable of causing your granddaughter's death?”

“You have brought it upon yourself.”

Benedict watched the scene in bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

“You might be engaged to her, but this is a family matter and none of your concern, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Anything in regards to the mother of my child is of my concern, and I will not allow you or anybody to disrespect her.”

You opened your eyes in the widest astonishment.

You were certainly not with child —at least not just yet—, but you couldn't deny that was a smart move from him.

“Are you with child?!”

You cleared your throat, looking at your grandfather in awe. “Yes.”

The anger in his features was unmatched, and for a second you thought he would have a heart attack at the news. A short second that resulted in the slow-motion scene of him attempting to hit you but his hand landing on your fiancé instead.

Both you and Raphaël gasped loudly as Benedict returned the punch with all the strength of his body.

“Oh, my Lord!”

“Stop!”

“I will kill you with my bare hands for doing that to my granddaughter!”

“Is she your granddaughter now?! You get away from her or I swear to God you will not make it to the engagement ball!”

“You dishonored her not once but twice, and you dared inform of her condition as if it was the most normal thing on Earth to have a lady with child before marriage! Mr. Bridgerton, you are the furthest thing from a gentleman that there is, and you, Y/N, must learn your place! You are acting like a-”

“Speak of her badly once again and I will make sure to break your face.”

“You know what? I am out of here right now.” Raphaël rolled his eyes and exited the sitting room, tired of you and the chaos that surrounded the Dukes of Burgundy.

Your grandfather looked you dead in the eyes. “See what you caused?!”

“Whatever do you mean?!” you questioned. “Leave our property right now for I do not wish to see you again, sir. Perhaps the King should know of my faults and my condition and see how He assesses the situation.”

“For as long as I breathe, I will make sure you never rule this region. I will not let you tarnish my daughter's sacred name.”

“You are welcome to stop, then.” Benedict finished, to then yell for the footmen to take your grandfather out of the Palace.

And then there was silence.

“I will get killed, Benedict.”

He shook his head. “For all the Ton knows, everything was one of Lady Whistledown's rumors. Nobody has actual proof apart from witnesses we can trust in and mere hearsays. We will find Lady Whistledown and have her say it was all a lie or a misunderstanding.”

“Penelope Featherington is Lady Whistledown.” you replied.

“What?!”

You nodded. “She told me herself in an attempt to get my forgiveness so I wouldn't expose her to the Queen. I can only assume Eloise told her the truth, that the Queen and I were looking for her, and she decided to come clean.”

“Did you tell the Queen? Because Lady Whistledown hasn't published anymore, and the Featheringtons are in an economic crisis. The only thing keeping them alive is my family's support.”

“I did tell Her,” you replied. “I confessed to Penelope and Eloise that I was Antoine, and Penelope used that against me to have some sensationalist novelty for her ridiculous scandal sheet. She exposed Eloise's friendship with Theo to save herself because the Queen was getting close to her. Penelope saved herself at the expense of all of us instead of facing the consequences of her actions. It was only fair for me to return the favor.”

“Why would she do that to you?”

“When I was going through Eloise's stuff to find something about Lady Whistledown's identity, I saw that she exposed Miss Marina Thompson's pregnancy right after she got engaged to Colin,” you replied. “She surely was not aware that you and I were the couple and must have known about Colin's intentions to court me and the constant flirtations.”

“My heart, are you completely sure about this?”

“I am, and if her actions keep threatening my life and peace, I will make sure she pays for it even if it's the last thing I ever do,” you swore. “She was responsible for two years of my suffering. If it weren't for her, I would have been able to tell you myself about Antoine and I wouldn't have lost you. Nobody would have found out about anything and my grandfather would not be trying to ruin me. My life would not be hanging by a thread. If I must live in fear for as many moons as I have left, so will she.”

He sighed, kissing your gloved knuckles. “We must tell the family everything as soon as we arrive in London, my heart.”

“We must,” you conceded. “Along with a few other things.”

“Oh, my children! Welcome!”

You and Benedict looked at each other with a smile, and then at his mother again.

“We have been eagerly awaiting your return.” Kate said with a graceful smile.

“We sure have.” Eloise smiled widely.

“Now that you're here, we are finally ready for dinner!” Colin exclaimed. “I am so very happy for the two of you.”

“You better be, Brother.” Benedict teased him.

You cleared your throat. “Uh, before we do, we would like to speak to you. Adults only.”

Anthony nodded in surprise. “Of course. Gregory, Hyacinth, wait for us in the dining room.”

They complained but reluctantly left the sitting room.

However, before getting started, a maid appeared and announced Penelope's arrival to Bridgerton House.

“If you'll excuse me, I must receive her and we shall join you right away.” Colin commented happily.

“We would be grateful if the conversation could please stay within the family.” You looked at them with shyness in your tone.

“But Pen is like part of our family.” Eloise frowned.

“Well said, Sister: like.” Benedict conceded.

“Benedict…” Colin warned him.

Anthony cleared his throat. “There is no need to make a fuss out of this. If Y/N and Benedict's topic of conversation weren't confidential, there would be no issue in her being here. Since it seems to be as such and it is important that it stays between us Bridgertons, then you must respect their wishes, Colin.”

“If she cannot hear it, then perhaps it is none of my concern either.”

You rolled your eyes. “It's just that I personally would not want to see what I have to say on some scandal sheets tomorrow morning, Colin. Though I do not think she would expose herself, will she?”

The room fell silent, and you could see Eloise's offense at your comment. Despite Colin's tension caused by your gaze and words, you did not hesitate to continue.

“But if you do not want to hear what we have to say, it is fine. Less chances of Lady Whistledown finding out about my life if you do not tell her yourself, Colin.”

“Are you implying that Miss Featherington is-” Anthony began, but couldn't bring himself to finish the statement.

“... Lady Whistledown?” Kate continued for him.

“This cannot be true, and I kindly suggest you stop making such accusations, Y/N, for you have the reputation of a liar already and cannot deal another blow to your name.”

You stopped Benedict from interfering. “Eloise, am I lying?”

“I-” she blurted out, but couldn't form a sentence in her favor.

“El?” Colin asked, but she stayed silent.

“Eloise, did she or did she not expose Miss Thompson's condition in order to keep her away from Colin? Is that not the same thing that happened when she said that I was dressing as a man to go to the Academy when the only people who knew for sure were you, her, and my maid?” you questioned. “Did she not expose you and every single one of your family's matters to save herself and have something to say, respectively?”

“This is a serious accusation, dear…” Lady Bridgerton noted. “Are you… are you certain?”

“She told me herself,” you answered. “Trying to get my forgiveness after, I can only assume, Eloise suggested she tell me due to my plans with the Queen.”

“Did you, Eloise?” Anthony asked.

Eloise chuckled nervously but you spoke before she could. “At the end of the day, it was never her secret to tell,” you murmured. “But, for those of you who didn't know, I could get killed if word of it reaches France, so forgive me for not wanting her here.”

“Oh, this is too much to handle…” Lady Bridgerton sighed.

“Colin, have Penelope return home. She is not welcome here.” Anthony demanded.

“But, Brother-”

“Even before being Benedict's fiancée, she has always been the daughter of Father's dear friend, so we owe her our support,” Anthony stated. “And if not for her, do it for our sister Eloise regardless of how fine she is about it currently. Think of how she has affected our family, even Daphne… We are withdrawing our support to the Featheringtons effective immediately.”

Everyone looked at each other in silence.

“You cannot do this, Anthony.” Eloise retorted. “We have known them for-”

“Exactly. If she did not care about that when she used us and took advantage of our crises in her numerous issues, then we shouldn't either,” he spoke firmly. “It should be you or Colin whoever breaks the news. Decide or I'll do it myself tomorrow after breakfast.”

Colin left the sitting room, and Eloise shot you a look of disappointment before doing the very same.

“Let's not make Gregory and Hyacinth wait any more time. They must be starving.” Anthony said before leading the family to the dining room.

taglist: @yentroucnagol @crimsonincursive @czarinera @uwumd @omgnctchina

[voxofthevoid]

Welcome to Time Travel Fuck-It Wednesday #2. We'll be here a while!

...I keep saying that, huh?

The fic is ~16k now, and while I have no earthly idea how long it will be, I've tentatively outlined seven chapters. There isn't much of a plot, except some background fix-it elements. The main story is a mixture of vibes and feels and, eventually, porn.

Spoilers for Ch 236 below. CWs for referenced MCD and underage.

“What about you, Yuuji?” Satoru asks. “Have you thought much about it? Beyond your type. I remember that—a tall woman with a big butt, hm? Good taste.”

Yuuji makes a low, throaty noise. It’s not quite embarrassment, even if his skin has grown warmer under Satoru’s fingers.

“I don’t know,” Yuuji answers after a few seconds. “I’ve never really… I mean, everyone has something about them. Pretty things, good things. I don’t know.”

“Everyone? That’s a dangerously generous way to love.”

“It’s not love.” Yuuji squirms a little, the mattress and the covers shifting with his movements, and when he resettles, his whole body is closer to Satoru’s. He’s not even sure Yuuji has noticed, brows furrowed in deep thought. “I’ve never been in love.”

“You’re only fifteen,” Satoru tells him.

Yuuji’s eyes snap to his face. He doesn’t say, I might only ever be fifteen.

But it’s there in the air between them, lending it a new weight.

Satoru shouldn’t, but—

“Do you wonder about it?”

“About—” Yuuji’s voice gives out. He clears his throat and tries again. “About being in love?”

“Yes. And everything else. The journey and the end.”

“…Not really.”

“Liar,” Satoru says, not unkindly, and Yuuji’s mouth curls into a puffy pout that’s quivering at the edges. “You’re a teenage boy. You can’t tell me you haven’t ever wanted someone.”

“I—that’s—it doesn’t really—”

“Or just thought of it,” Satoru continues, putting Yuuji out of his misery. “Kissing, touching. Sex. I remember that age, you know. Nothing wrong with wanting.”

“Even if it’s you?”

“Oh, I’ve wanted plenty in my life.”

“No,” Yuuji says, uncharacteristically solemn. “Me wanting you. Is that okay too?”

Satoru’s breath stills deep inside his lungs, long enough to become a feverish pulse. He lets it out, slow and controlled, and Yuuji’s eyes flutter shut for an instant.

There’s no surprise in him. He knew from the beginning how this would end.

“But is it me you want?” he asks. “Or am I all you have?”

Inexplicably, Yuuji laughs. It’s quiet and not mocking at all, but it’s still the one reaction Satoru wasn’t expecting.

Ducking his head, eyes heavy-lidded and hidden, Yuuji says, “I knew you’d say that. Somehow, I just knew.”

This boy, he—

“I’m not rejecting you,” Satoru hears himself say, tasting those words like they belong to a stranger. “But I’m your only real company aside from your grandfather. I’m not family, and I’m very handsome. I understand why, Yuuji. I just want to make sure you do as well.”

“Very handsome,” Yuuji repeats, and it’s louder and brighter now, the laughter in his voice. “And so humble too.”

“Humility is for the weak.”

Yuuji hums, more amused than skeptical. He looks and sounds like he couldn’t care less about the precise size of Satoru’s ego.

He looks—

“You’re also my death, Satoru-san,” he says, calm and steady and unspeakably devastating. “I want you anyway. Is that sure enough?”

Satoru swallows a noise. It wounds his throat, blood dripping acid-hot all the way down to the bones in his chest.

He says, “Yes.”

Yuuji kisses him.

Satoru sees it coming and lets it happen, and then it’s gone, the scant space between their bodies, as Yuuji presses close enough to burn them both down.

It’s a hot, needy press, all want and no finesse, and Satoru allows it without complaint until the frenzy drains out of Yuuji’s muscles and the line of his mouth gentles, pulling back a mere millimeter from Satoru’s lips before returning to him, a little more tentative and a hell of a lot sweeter, and Satoru can’t not smile into it, something hot and helium-light ripped right out of his guts, and Yuuji smiles too, letting out a long-held exhale that warms every inch of Satoru.

He curls a careful hand around the back of Yuuji’s head, palm sliding along the bristly undercut and the softer hairs above, and slots their mouths at a better angle. The newfound ease shivers down the length of their bodies, Yuuji’s smaller frame melting into Satoru’s.

Satoru parts his lips, and Yuuji, ever the eager learner, follows suit.

Warm mint floods his mouth, the familiar taste of his own toothpaste turned into sacred sacrilege on Yuuji’s tongue. Satoru sucks it clean, chasing the simple heat of flesh buried underneath.

Fingers dig into his shoulder, almost hard enough to bruise.

Yuuji’s panting into the kiss, harsh and ragged like he can’t quite breathe right.

But when Satoru pulls away, he chases his mouth, and Satoru chases him right back, holding Yuuji close as their mouths meet and part and breathe and burn. Pretty noises color the air, wet and sweet.

Nothing washes off the taste of blood in Satoru’s throat, but he wasn’t expecting that; he doesn’t deserve that.

He stops before they can go too far. Once, he’d have let Yuuji immolate his youth in a blaze of glory, not unlike and yet nothing like how Satoru had at an age no less tender. There was power in the choice, even if there would never be peace.

And he’ll still let Yuuji burn, but…not tonight, not yet.

Yuuji’s still breathing hard and staring at Satoru with stars in his eyes.

“Satoru-san,” he says, “that was…”

“Good?” Satoru fills in when Yuuji seems content to stare in stunned silence.

“Yes,” Yuuji rasps, shockingly vehement. “Yes, Satoru-san, I want—”

“Everything,” Satoru cuts in, “is yours. Tomorrow, the day after, every day until the end—everything is yours, if you want it. I promise. But for now, sleep on it.”

For a moment, it looks Yuuji will protest. It’s easy to tell why. Satoru can feel him, all that heat. And he wonders what he’ll do if Yuuji pushes. The wise thing, the right thing, the good thing—well, those are all past. But the best thing to do now would be to not indulge him.

Satoru’s not entirely sure that’s the choice he’ll make.

But in the end, he doesn’t have to choose at all. Yuuji nods once, making a visible attempt to calm down. Their entwined bodies don’t make it easy, and Satoru lets him extract his legs and angle his hips away without comment, but that’s as far as Yuuji goes, his torso still plastered against Satoru and his face still close enough that Satoru can feel his breath and his heat, all the way to the back of his throat.

“This is fine, right?” Yuuji asks. “You’re still staying.”

It’s not quite a question, but Satoru answers anyway. “As long as you want me to.”

“Good,” Yuuji breathes, another layer of tension draining from his body. “Thank you, Satoru-san.”

“Good night, Yuuji.”

It takes a while, Yuuji’s mind and body both clearly too awake, but he’s a very well-behaved boy through the torment, only breathing into Satoru’s shoulder and throat, deep and shallow in turn, until the call of sleep grows stronger than the bite of desire.

Satoru holds him through it, arms around Yuuji’s chest and face buried in his hair. It’s sinfully soft, the fruity scent of his shampoo not quite overpowering the smell of his sweat. It’s not familiar, but it’s not unfamiliar either. Satoru never held the old Yuuji like this, but he touched him and was touched by him plenty.

And Satoru never kissed that sunshine boy, but there’s a story he will never tell this Yuuji:

You kissed me once. I was dead. You closed my eyes and kissed my mouth and told me to rest, and when you died, it was still my blood there on your mouth

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Call Me When You’re Sober

Summary: The scents of aftershave and laundry detergent fought with that of sharp whisky and for a split second, you closed your eyes, pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you, that you were still having silly date nights every weekend like you used to two years ago and that the cold of distance had never moved in alongside with spilling the contents of your moving boxes into his living room.

Pairing: Simon Walker x afab!Reader

Word Count: - 2.3k

Content Warning: Plot With Smut 18+!, Angst Gallore, Hurt/Hardly Any Comfort, Unprotected P In V, Everybody Is Kinda Very Uncomfortable In Here, Mentions Of Alcohol

A/N: Massive thank you to @ohlookapan for indulging into my Simon Walker brain rot!

This is supposed to eventually grow into a multi-chapter thing, but let's see how far we come 🫶🏻

Tagging: @queer-crusader @somethingblu3 @blueberrypancakesworld

Don't cry to me, if you loved me

You would be here with me

You want me, come find me

Make up your mind

- Call Me When You’re Sober By Evanescence

A sharply burning sensation emitted from your tired and weary eyes, the discomfort buzzed through your skull and the sensitive skin of your under-eyes alike, yet, no matter how hard you tried to let your mind wander and dissolve into much-needed sleep, you couldn’t.

With your thoughts racing and a new, uncomfortably hot gush of tears pricking at your tear ducts, you pushed your face into the pillow.

Everything seemed to suck so fucking hard.

Work - shit.

Friend circle - deteriorating rapidly.

Relationship - raging dumpster fire.

No matter how hard you fought to keep it all together, to glue together the sparse things that could be glued back together, that little card house called your life came back crumbling down at the very first breath of inconvenience and misery certainly loved your company as of late.

As the heavy wooden door to the apartment flew shut, leaving the walls to vibrate for a moment, you flinched and groaned, knowing just by the sound of it that trouble was highly likely ahead. Feeling yourself tethering at the edge of patience already, you wanted to hide your head beneath the pillow, to muffle the uncoordinated sounds of your boyfriend stumbling out of his boots and slightly struggling to get his torso out of his coat. He groaned just like you did moments before, complaining under his breath and careening through the corridor whilst your mind depicted the mental image of his nearly terrifyingly tall and lean body having been dulled down, incapacitated to the point where his olive green coat would be found tossed to the floor instead of hung up nicely.

The sound of the door to your shared bedroom being pushed open came to you much more quiet and gentle, at least some decency hadn’t been lost just yet.

“Hey…” You hummed, turning yourself onto your back, choking back a wayward sniffle.

“Still up?” Simon retorted, questioning whilst stating the obvious just the same.

“Can’t sleep.” Your answer came quickly, being fabricated out of the same sense of obviousness.

“Hm.”, Simon hummed, pulling his thin, gray t-shirt over his head and tossing it in front of the nightstand, “What’s up?”

What’s up? You couldn’t keep your jaws from clenching down, teeth gritting in the futile attempt to shove back a sob. The very second the pathetically pained and tortured sound slithered past your lips, Simon’s intoxicated sense of attention was on you.

“What’s going on?” With his fine eyebrows raised into an arch, he flopped himself onto the bed, mattress curving down under his weight as he seemed to cup you with his height, half embrace, half sloppy attempt to find some sort of comfortable position.

Inevitably, it drew you in, pulled you closer to him with the need to simply press your face into his chest and hide away from everything for a moment.

“Everything fucking sucks. What’s up with everybody lately?” Your already heavily strained walls caved down with every word, some of them addressing Simon just as well but that went conveniently right past him.

You turned to the side, body curling up into Simon’s almost embrace in search of comfort. The cold from outside still clung to his fingers and face as he rested his chin atop the crown of your head, slender fingers finding your waist underneath the oversized sleeping shirt loosely covering you.

“It’s the season, I bet. Dark, raining all the time, y’know? Hard to keep up a good mood when it’s pissin’ again outside.” He wasn’t entirely wrong, however, it didn't even begin to cover your struggle in the slightest.

The brief inkling of frustration that had bubbled up in your stomach over it got washed away as quickly as it had formed by the pungent waft of deeply smoky whisky that trickled from Simon’s words. It didn’t actually surprise you anymore, only enraged you a little more every time it happened because he allowed himself to be careless enough to numb it all down, to quite literally drown it all out and be comforted by bottles.

“Yeah, probably.” You shrugged your shoulders in a whim of apathy, the palm of your right brushing over his side, hardly really touching him although everything within craved to do so.

To your surprise, Simon caught the notion. For the duration of a quick peck, he pressed his lips to your hairline and mouthed a swift: “Issok.”

The touch of his skin against the inside of your hand felt off, strange, and almost unfamiliar and the realization hit you like a sour burp, bile gushing up along the root of your tongue, leaving you with a sharp sting. For an uncomfortably long moment, you roamed your memories in search of the last time he’d hugged you or vice versa. It must’ve been weeks already, apparently falling out of familiarity happened quickly.

In a terribly overcompensating fashion to counteract the feelings rising inside your chest, you pulled yourself closer to Simon until your face was snuggly nuzzled into the curve of his neck. The scents of aftershave and laundry detergent fought with that of sharp whisky and for a split second, you closed your eyes, pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you, that you were still having silly date nights every weekend like you used to two years ago and that the cold of distance had never moved in alongside with spilling the contents of your moving boxes into his living room.

“Can’t we just leave? Drive and don’t look back?” You hummed into the crook of his neck, the tip of your nose brushing against his skin softly.

“I wish, but I doubt that’s how it works.”, Leaning into your touch, timidly following your invitation, Simon led his hand to wander along your stomach, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault, love.” Was it not, though? Your little, saccharinely sweet white lie prompted the corners of your mouth to twitch downwards.

You were fucking yourself over and all it took was Simon to so much as breathe in your vicinity. You really dared to cry unto yourself about everything being shitty lately, about his actions or much rather the lack thereof tearing you up from the inside but what were you doing in all this? Pampering him in moments you could very much speak up.

A quick, low hum of his got lost in your temple, the vibrations of his uttering sending a wash of goosebumps down your body. The physical reaction was followed suit by your breath hitching in the back of your throat as his hand crept up for the pad of his thumb to trace along the curve of your breast.

It took but this barely even there crumb of affection, already more than you’d expected to be subjected to anytime soon, for you to feel like you were dissolving. Any sort of reason or proper critical thinking turned into mush the very second Simon’s lips inched down to reach your cheek, coaxing you to lift your chin from his shoulder and turn your face towards his.

“Simon..:” You mouthed his name like a breathless prayer.

He shushed you gently, his mouth now skipping over your cheeks in direct aim to press down onto your lips to shut you up. At that, your stomach started twitching and turning as if you were to board a rollercoaster; nervosity pitted in the depths of it whilst your insides felt like being elevated all the same. Up and up and further up, dangling right on the edge expecting to fall, to be dropped, ripped down into freefall until the ride was over.

Your heart hammered against its ribcage with such vigor that you were certain Simon was aware of it. For a split second, you felt a sense of embarrassment passing you by, triggered by how easily he had you all wrapped around his fingers just by touching you. It set you ablaze with a growing need to feel more of him, to devour him whole if he would just let you, wants and needs clashed within whilst his touch still somehow came unnatural. Something about it was blatantly off, and you tried to drag yourself to care, but your need for quick, cheap escapism posed as way too hungry. He might’ve been sloshed off the whisky so you got drunk on him for the time being.

In the absence of his shirt to find purchase on, you palmed at Simon’s hip, pulling him onto you for you to roll on your back again, shoulders digging into the soft mattress below under the doubled weight. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist immediately, not planning on letting go anytime soon, not when you felt Simon pressing against your crotch like that and for a moment you sensed all your reasoning leaving your body, your mind effectively going blank, in the very second your other hand tugged at the elastic of his shorts with a sense of greed and hunger that would’ve left you speechless about yourself under sane circumstances.

Simon didn’t stop you as your nails lightly scratched along his lower back and neither did he pull his hand from groping at your breast, thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple repeatedly, eliciting quiet moans to trickle from your lips into his mouth, drinking them all up.

You arched your back from the sheets, pressing your front against his chest for your other hand to shove and tear at the delicate fabric of your slip, dragging it past the round of your behind until you could awkwardly shimmy out of it, heels nudging and scratching along Simon’s waist.

“No need to beat me to it.” Your boyfriend laughed in a weirdly dry tone, trying to take the edge off his very own comment but it pricked uncomfortably regardless.

“Sorry…” You muttered in return, the sour sting dampening the momentum of the situation for a brief instant.

“ ‘M just messing with you.” The tip of his nose nudged yours softly, stroking along the bridge until his lips left a gentle peck in the space between your slightly crinkled brows, aiming to smoothen them out again.

Instead of addressing them, you decided to leave his words hanging in the dark air of the bedroom, waiting for them to slowly and most of all silently evaporate into oblivion. The only hushed sounds quietly echoing from the tapestry- and picture-adorned walls now were the hasty shuffling of fabric and shallow breaths, a poorly choked back moan that pushed a watery sheen to glaze over your eyes as Simon drilled himself into you.

The sensation of being stretched out like that, skin against skin and heart to heart came painstakingly foreign to you. You were well aware of how soft, bendy silicone or your own fingers felt when you hid yourself away for a quick stress release in the bathroom but having Simon above you - inside you - threatened to overwhelm you with its intensity. It very much wasn’t a matter of you being wet enough or not, yet it nearly pained you to be so full of him, your mind suddenly acting in dissonance to a body that couldn’t get enough after being starved of attention and affection alike.

“You okay?” Simon whispered to you sweetly, sounding as if he actually cared, as he rolled his hips into your lap.

“Uh-huh.” You pressed between slightly quivering lips, your body awash with the pressing need to just let him work you, to finally fuck the doubt out of you so you wouldn’t have to deal with it all by yourself all the goddamn time.

You wanted Simon to use you for a little while because that would’ve given you at least a fake sense of purpose in this gradually deteriorating clown show of a relationship.

“Fuck me,” You muttered with your lips moving against his collarbone.

“What?” Simon halted and it made you want to cry out in strained patience and desperation.

“Fuck me, please, rail me into the mattress, whatev-” You got cut off unexpectedly, the air being plowed out of your lungs by Simon having very much understood and now doubling down.

For a moment you felt like choking on your breath, air getting stuck in your throat that tried to exhale just as much as groan into his smooth check as he pinned you down against the sheets with the weight of his body, effectively pushing past the border of emotional overstimulation with much more primal needs eventually taking over.

You’d pleaded unto him to make you forget, to properly fuck you into the next day and that’s what he did with reckless abandon. In this state of fragile ecstasy, you clawed at Simon’s sky, leaving red marks with your fingernails all across his waist whilst teeth latched into the firm muscles of his chest. With everything you held on to him, allowing yourself to be taken away by comfortably numbing surges of pleasure for as long as Simon towered above you, spreading your legs with the width of his hips until you couldn’t feel them anymore.

[ay0nha]

Misery Loves Company | N.K. (prologue)

SUMMARY: Fear rolled right off of you. Fear was like a pet to you: something you picked up to get a better look at but that you soon grew tired of. 

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x f!reader (anti-hero of sorts)

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

WARNINGS: Introduction to story/reader/plot, underground fighting/Gachinko fight club, higher-ups after reader, Nanami being a softie deep down, description of fighting/related injury, jjk typical things, tad angsty, made up cursed objects, etc.

A/N: Overdue to post something Nanami-related...missing our man extra these days... thank you, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, for talking this out with me and helping <3!!! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts. Enjoy.

Nanami tags:

@chimamire-ga @eliuriastwo @betterthanuyou @satorulicious @moon-taffy @thefutureastronaut @planetahmane @musababy @kannra21 @khaleesihavilliard @vee-ai @killlerqween @nokkoongie @anti-heroism @nanamin94 @darkstudentsaladbakery

“How obedient.”

Nanami just barely caught your taunt over the vigor of the crowd. The very one that begged for appeasement. They chanted while he fought, asking and receiving the dynamic movements they so adamantly desired. 

Nanami delivered. 

Your smile was bloody, alive with genuine pride. He had impressed you, listening to the crowd’s pleas for bloodshed. Nanami’s blow was delivered with predictable instinct, a protective measure against your coy fighting style. 

“Do you always do what you’re told?” You hummed, pulling at your neck to alleviate the sudden stiffness. “You must if you came looking for me.” 

You raised your fists, ready for another spat. You circled each other, the makeshift ring only allowing so much space for a proper fight. However, it could never be that. 

The shadows were deep from the light of the dingy parking lot. Smoke clouded the crowd's judgment, swaying the bets in favor of the suited man. You couldn’t blame them; fresh blood was always teeming with hopes of prosperity. 

You welcomed Nanami at the entrance, feeling his cursed energy blocks away. The guards surveyed him, unimpressed by being met with unwavering poise. He didn’t belong, but they were far more afraid of your soft touch on their shoulders that dissolved their interrogation. 

Boys, you had purred. They stiffened. Let him through; he’s my guest. 

You hadn’t led Nanami in directly; you allowed his presence to simmer. It wasn’t often that someone of his status didn’t pose a threat to the venue. It took sarcasm and wit on your end to pull out the reason behind his visit. 

They’ve sent me for you, Nanami told you. 

It was sterile in tone but revealed emotions long since buried. From childhood, the higher-ups deemed you dangerous. They wanted to see the gods fall. Yet, that wasn’t convincing enough to kneel before them. 

Instead, you’d decided to return Nanami with a threat written in bruises.  

“What do they want?” You hissed, your weight an extension, following through your fist. With no cursed energy attached, your hit was still violent. You knew Nanami could handle it. “Afraid to come themselves?” 

Fear rolled right off of you. Fear was like a pet to you: something you picked up to get a better look at but that you soon grew tired of. 

Nanami’s breathing became labored. “I’ve told you—”

“Come up with something better.” You moved swiftly, another charge at him. 

You put on a show that for non-sorcerers seemed only possible in fiction. Nanami could feel the way you held back, and even then, he struggled to stay upright for long. Sliding under his legs, you swept your own for another satisfying fall of Nanami. 

The premeditated outcomes you fixed were boring, your mind elsewhere while your body danced. This, though, this was worth every risk. It wasn’t hard to drag Nanami into the squared circle. He was logical, knowing the odds wouldn’t be in his favor if he didn’t play along. It was the only chance he had to get you to heed the warning he came with. 

“They want to kill you—

Nothing new, then?” Your words came out hoarse, following through with your kick. 

“They’re mocking up the bounty as we speak,” He said. “They’re looking to be—” Pausing, he’d just narrowly missed a broken rib. “—your highest payer.”

“Honestly,” you smiled. “I’m flattered.” There was truth in jest. “Finally, they think I’m something worthwhile.”

“No—” Nanami was blunt, never one to embellish facts. It always made you flinch. “You’re their scapegoat.”

You swung. 

Nanami dodged you just barely, able to gain traction in his next few movements. Even without his blunt sword, he was always skilled in combat. He saw steps ahead, measured every movement precisely, and delivered. 

Everyone had their weak points, their fighting style a clear giveaway in how they contorted their bodies. Typically, the ribcage, the exposed spine, or the unstable stance marked it. Your fluidity made it hard to pinpoint. 

“That observation have a point?” You adapted instinctually, with no formality in any decision, and always found success. 

Nanami’s tie loosed, the buttons of his jacket ripped apart by awkward movements; you were unraveling him by the minute. However, his appearance deceived you more than you thought. You grew comfortable winning, relishing at the shouts of your name followed by rowdy applause. 

This was your element, where you could dance rehearsed steps without paranoia. It felt safe. You felt in control, contrasting how life had cruelly treated you. The non-sorcerers couldn’t see this, only attracted to a woman holding her own against men twice her size. Yet, Nanami could see beyond that. 

He saw how you moved without restraint and extended beyond innate skill. You had untapped talent that the higher-ups were afraid of. Your technique, cursed energy, and gaze shattered any notions they had of strength. 

You knew there was more to you but ignored that always sinking feeling. That was distraction enough almost to misconstrue Nanami’s movements for surrender.  Then again, your body knew better than to accept that. 

Your cursed energy absorbed the strike Nanami had landed on you, but you still used its momentum to involve those around you. You reveled at how the crowd supported your fall, only to push you back in, defenseless—it was your best performance yet. 

“They think you have the Soul Harvester.” Another button was lost under the pounding feet of the mob. 

“Fuck off—” Your laughter caused Nanami to stumble against your grapple. There wasn’t much humor to it, but the sound was just as addicting as years before.  “No one knows where that piece of shit is.”

It was a myth. 

The legend differed every time; no one knew the source or had an accurate understanding. A thread remained the same, a warning to the one who possessed it—you have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. 

Your ears buzzed as Nanami explained further. Frustration bloomed across your features. Your eyebrows pinched together only to cave inward the further you worked; a frown turned to a scowl; that usually indifferent gaze was pointedly violent. 

You refused to be consumed by something dragged to your doorstep like dead fowl. 

"You're devoted to these causes." You started with proper vexation. The push and pull no longer lulled like a game; your words came with a bark of anger. “Always sniffing around where you don’t belong—doing more harm—always.”

“You’re no saint.” 

"At least I care about what happens to them” You were quick. You hadn’t even considered it an argument, as it was veracity.  “Sorcerers like you always love to forget the mess you leave the rest of us with.” 

Nanami used your temper, his elbow striking your solar plexus, making the crowd roar. The air was pulled from your lungs, your hand grasping at your chest as if it would help regain your breath.  

7:3

Even the crowd was silent. You slid on your knees, absorbing the hit poorly. Your head hung between your shoulders as you tried your best to swallow the elicited tears. 

The corners of this ring were under constant surveillance. Undoubtedly, if you didn’t finish this quickly, Nanami would be eaten alive by the sorcerers behind it all. The pain told you to allow it. 

You frowned. “Ouch.”

The crowd booed when you stood, changing its allegiance. Copper filled your mouth, and your insides were begging for reprieve. 

“Please understand I am not here to criticize you,” Nanami spoke lowly, hoping only you could hear his promise. 

You shook off your discomfort, knowingly releasing whatever held you back. It was for his sake, you reminded yourself. In moments, you’d move faster, no longer pull back the weight of your punches. By then, If Nanami were still standing, you’d bless him with your domain. 

“You’ve got my attention now, Kento…” From your lips to God's ear, you pulled him close. His tie was wrapped around your fist so tightly you could feel his Adam’s apple bob with fear.  “...but answer me this: what is it you want with me?”

[wynterlanding]

LIPSTICK GOSSIP – Landon Wynter (director, actor, writer) shows off new look with Alice Lee (actress, model, murderer?) at an event and everyone seems happy about it. We at Lipstick Gossip see a near convicted murderer touting around with the man she was almost accused of involvement in his disappearance. Guess it pays to woo to the top doesn’t it Miss Lee? @xwildheart

[alemonyoyo]

No Country for Young Humans - Chapter 8.5

I am officially back at school, attending my final year of high school! I will be busy, chapters will come out very infrequently!

To tide you over, since I am exhausted, have this short little bit of actual PLOT!!! (IK not just North Star fluff, dw, that will come soon).

Also, I'm drifting a little from the UTY fandom (yeah, uh oh) but I definitely DON'T wanna abandon this fic!

Worse comes to worse, I'll finish it swiftly, and do my best to still make that entertaining. This is the longest fic I think I've ever wrote, most of my other stuff is oneshots!

Sorry about all that, hopefully you can enjoy this very short snippet of what's to come (maybe heh).

Missed the previous chapters? Check out the Masterlist!

Words: 552

Tags: GN Reader, Jealousy, Plot?

Summary: We shift to a new perspective as things unfold behind the scene.

Chapter 8.5 - A New Perspective:

There was a piercing sound in the air. It was faint, but persistent. Her ears, sharp as a dagger, picked up its sound all too well. As she fumbled with the equipment splayed out on the desk beneath her, she found her patience waning thin, the sound piercing into her skull, stabbing like the thick spears of the Royal Guard.

How could she let it get this far? How could she have been so stupid? She should have killed them right then and there when they walked into the Wild East, yet the look on his face; it healed all of her wounds, though only for a moment. She entertained this idea only to keep him happy, but it had been too long now to turn back.

Ceroba walked over to the vials of serum, each a pungent blue in colour, painfully standing out amongst the backdrop of muted greys. She had to do this. For Kanako. It was the only way to keep her alive.

Going through with this though, she thought, would ruin everything for him.

She had never felt so happy for him, the moment they admitted their feelings for him. That flustered look on their face, all bashful yet trusting in her company. They *trusted* her. Star trusted her. And she was going to throw that all away.

Finally, Starlo was going to feel the love she had always wanted him to experience, taken away from the years of torment she knew she put him through. She was happy then, and he was miserable. Now it was like night and day as she wallowed in a sea of misery. But he would be happy. He would finally be happy.

Ceroba clenched her fists tightly, walking over to the large, old TV. No- She can’t let this sway her. Surely Star would be happier knowing her child was safe and out of harm's way. Surely Star would be happier knowing she was happy? Surely she meant more to him? She pressed the small round button on the TV, knowing the tape was already loaded in the slot when she had last watched it. A sobering reminder of why she had to do this.

It wasn’t just for Kanako. It wasn’t just for Chujin. But for the fate of the world.

Well, that is what she told herself as she waited for the video to play, though she was only met with static. Ceroba smacked a pawed hand on the TV, growing impatient and frustrated as she sobbed out. This was too much! Too hard of a choice! Why was this her choice to make? Why couldn’t she have both? Why did they have to be human?

She ceased her abuse of the TV, instead pressing the eject button, waiting for the tape to shift out of the slot. She waited, the still ringing sound of the machines around her whirring in an annoying fashion. She heard the mechanics in the TV shift, the slot opening and pushing out the thick, heavy air. There was no tape, nothing at all.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, reaching panicked hands into the slot, trying to slip down into the small slit. Empty.

Someone had taken Chujins tape which could only mean-

Someone knew.

***

“母？”

[farm-fresh-hell]

“You know I hate watching the Knicks alone!”

“SO DO I!!!!”

I’mma address something understated about this show. I love, love, LOVE how they depicted Sally and Gabe’s relationship.

I think what the media fails to show oftentimes is that in toxic relationships, there’s a lot of give and take. If being with somebody “unhealthy” was all misery, nobody would ever choose to be with them. If we were completely subjugated, we would never allow that subjugation to begin with. I stayed with my boyfriends (and girlfriends) because they made me feel special. They made me feel like I was the only one in the world who understood them. They showered me with gifts and WILDLY exaggerated flattery and obsessive devotion. I needed that. I needed to feel like I was important. So despite the controlling behaviors and the dismissal and the belittling and the fact that they ignored who I really was as a person? I stayed. They called me their Jessica Day and their Haruhi Suzumiya and their Clara Oswald and their hero. It wasn’t all evil all the time.

That’s not how these things work. There are good times. There is fun. There are things we have in common with our abusers and our toxic partners. We like their company for a reason. Nobody is a monster 100% of the time.

Percy’s mom has a voice. She has agency. She is a survivor, not a victim. And this show really goes out of its way to show that. There’s banter between her and Gabe. There is a clear illustration of what he brings to HER life as well as what she brings to his. This show is interested in three dimensional people - not in tropes or stock characters. This show is interested in grey areas and in emotion and in truth.

And that alone separates it from… most of what is on television (streaming, whatever) these days. There’s heart here. There’s a dedication to faithfully recreating not only what this book series brought to people’s lives, but to illustrating what all this would look like on a realistic world stage. It’s… frightfully well made. And maybe I’m just jaded because cinema has really fucking sucked as of late with all the cash grabs and the franchise formulation and the IPs and the rampant, capitalistic greed for more, more, more…

But Percy Jackson and the Olympians?

…it’s damn fucking good, you guys. From character work to storytelling, this shit is tightly written, expertly plotted (as adaptions go - RR gets credit where credit is due, of course…), and full of life. Those things alone put it leagues above the rest of the shit on our platforms today.

I HATE THAT I HAVE TO WAIT FOR THIS WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME DISNEY

[midnight-pluto]

PJO asker comes back, I humbly request for a Will Solace x gn reader

Trope: angst, soulmate and hurt/comfort

AU: Riordanverse

Format: one shot

Plot: Will and reader were a couple before the unfortunate events of the war that leaves reader dead, but since their both soulmate, reader accidentally starts to haunt him with guilt but Nico steps in since reader's a ghost and they are reunited and reader comforts Will.

Note: like the usual, you can change parts to make it easier for you to write.

SEE YOU THEN — will s.

TROPES: hurt/comfort, soulmates

UNIVERSE: riordanverse

PAIRING(S): will solace x gn!reader

WARNING(S): death, injuries and blood, will not taking care of himself properly, survivors guilt(?)

A/N: sorry this took so long, but I think it’s one of my longer works so I hope you’ll except it as an apology <3

THE CLASSIC RED string that was wrapped around your ring finger which connected to your dearly beloved was the last thing you saw before your passing.

You expected your death to not be as peaceful as others, that was the life of a demigod after all. But did you expect to die by being swallowed by the Earth? No not necessarily.

Oh how Will wished the string that wrapped around his his finger could be used to pull you up towards him before the Earth had closed on the both of you. But perhaps it wouldn’t make that much of a difference.

The string had snapped after all, just as you were reaching towards him, tears welled up in your eyes as the snapping sound echoed in both of your ears.

It was the only thing Will could think about. Body working like clockwork in the infirmary, working like it was on autopilot — wrapping bandages and muttered words of comfort, the noise still ringing in his ears.

You on the other hand, well, you didn’t think it was possible for you to cry without a physical body. Your soulmate connection had been severed, but why did the red string still remain?

Though, perhaps it provided some sense of comfort for you in the darkness in which you sat in. Red was the only color you were able to see after all in what you presumed to be underneath the Earth. But you hated it — it was only a constant reminder of what you once had and lost.

Misery loves company, that much was true for the goddess. So maybe that’s how you found your way back up to the surface. You didn’t know what hurt more — you remaining in the same place you stood when you were swallowed, or seeing the look of defeat on Will’s face.

Looking at his ring finger and yours, you could only sigh in disappointment.

Even when you came back to the surface the string hadn’t restored itself, the tear being obvious as it lazily dragged across the grass as Will walked.

Dragging your feet along the grass, you followed Will to cabin 7 to which he automatically crashed onto his bed with a groan. The small noise made you smile a little, seeing that he hadn’t changed one bit but made your lips curl back down.

He hadn’t been sleeping properly if his eye bags were anything to go by making you sigh to yourself. His normally charming blond waves were now unkept messy locks.

Sitting on his bunk, you lean against the wall and watch him sleep hoping his sleep would be peaceful — just like he deserved.

Unbeknownst to you, your actions would lead to the opposite. Plaguing what Will had hoped to be a dreamless sleep to replay the loss of his soulmate again and again.

After about the seventh replay, the loop ended with Will shooting up in a cold sweat with his eyes automatically darting to his ring finger to which he mentally curses himself for not being skilled enough to save you.

Seeing his disdain towards the broken string, you reach out your own hand — well, at least try to — to place it on top of his despite knowing he can’t see you. But he balls his hand up into a fist, scrunching the bedsheet in frustration.

Looking around at the empty bunks around him as the morning sun shone onto his face, taking it as a reminder from his dad to keep his chin up he stumbles out of his bunk and walks towards the bathroom.

Frowning at the sight of his tired form, you wait until you hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom before faxing through it and see Will splash is face with water. Turning the faucet handle back to neutral and turning the faucet off, Will looks at himself in the mirror mumbling words to himself.

“And people dare to call me a hero, what hero can’t save their own soulmate from a war they won? What hero looks like me? What hero can’t even have the proper skills to protect—“ his voice broke, as he gripped the sink counter tightly, “Useless.”

Eyes widening at Will’s words, you desperately try to hold onto him yet knowing that your actions would be nothing but futile.

Putting on a new camp shirt, Will nostalgically rubs his fingers against the beads on his necklace as he walks out of his cabin to which you follow.

Surprisingly, Nico had exited his own cabin himself and was walking around camp. As he walked past Will, he did a double take — seeing another figure trail behind him.

The figure had dried blood on its arm and was wearing a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, worn well if the faded words meant anything. Their hair was messy but still recognizable to Nico — it was you.

“HOW LONG HAS Y/N been following you around for?” Nico asked, though his gaunt eyes and tousled hair made it look like he was demanding an answer.

Will’s eyes widen at his words, looking over his shoulder both ways swiftly but met with nothing but the trees. They were at a secluded corner of camp to which Nico had dragged him over aft, saying he wanted to talk privately.

“Right, I forgot you can’t see them like I can,” the son of Hades chuckled dryly, gesturing for Will to step aside.

As the blond stepped to the right, Nico pulled his hand out of his pocket holding a small McDonald’s fry box, still having some in it. Using the heel of his boot, Nico dug up some of the Earth right where Will used to stand. Crouching down to inspect it, he deemed it enough since your presence was already strong and poured the fries into the hole.

Will eyed the hole wearily to which Nico noticed and joked, “Wanted a fry?”

“Just wondered if you always kept McDonald’s on you is all.”

Nico then stood up from his kneeling position and clasped his hands together as if he were in prayer, chanting in ancient greek. The environment had reacted to his chants, smoke arising and the fries dissolving into the Earth.

Soon enough, the smoke that came from Nico’s chants formed a silhouette Will had known all too well.

You were still standing, but feeling slightly different as you met Will’s gaze with a soft yet sad smile. He had audibly gasped and took a step towards you. Then another.

Then he wrapped his arms around you, sobbing uncontrollably into your collarbone. Embracing him in a hug, you patted his head — hair still retaining its softness.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Will stammered out in between sobs.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you softly chastised.

“But—“ he pulled away, looking into your now misty eyes, “I couldn’t save you or protect you—“

“Will,” you gently took his hands into yours, “You were an amazing experience, and I’m glad I could spend my short life here with you — my soulmate. That’s all that matters.”

The red string that was once severed was now conjoined once more, making Will’s lips quirk up into a smile, rasping out a small, “Yeah,” before pulling you hack into an embrace making you both fall to your knees onto the soft grass.

“How’re we able to touch each other?” you turned your head to Nico, who was just watching the exchange silently.

“You may not have a physical body, but I’m able to give you something similar to that,” he vaguely answered to which you hummed at, rubbing Will’s back comfortingly.

Reaching back into his pocket, Nico pulled out a shiny drachma. Fiddling with it in his hand for a moment, he looked up at you — silently asking if you were ready.

Nodding your head, Nico flipped the coin over to you. Catching it with your right hand, you could feel your soul slip away and down under.

Pulling away from Will just enough so you were face to face with him, you say, “I have to go now, Will.” Turning back to Nico, you offer him a smile, “Thank you.”

Surprised at your words, Nico just nodded. “It’s nothing.”

“I suppose I’ll see you once your time comes,” you say jokingly, “And it better be at least another 10 years until I’ll see any of you again.”

Will merely chuckled at your antics, “I’ll see you then.”

A/N: is this what happiness feels like?

[seareefer]

Hiii could I request Idia, Riddle and Floyd (and if that’s to much just Idia) with a fem!reader who is like deathly scared of thunder storms, and one night there’s a really bad one, please? Have a good day!

Omg please....I love Floyd so much. Also storms are set off my anxiety so bad this was very self-indulgent for me to write hehe. I hope this comes out as you like, you have a good day as well! Also baby eels are called elvers for Floyd’s section.

Idia Shroud

The plot twist with this one is he’d probably also be scared of thunder. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing! There can be a positive spin on ‘misery loves company’! His anxiety would probably be the cause for his distress for the loud noise the storms bring.

I think if you found solace in his room for a storm, you’d both just end up cuddled up on his bed under the covers. His normal nerves around you completely forgotten on his mission for company and comfort.

If you have a plushie or something you usually use to help comfort you the two of you would be sharing it. It’d be between you like a kid with their parents.

The two of you probably wouldn’t fall asleep easily since you’d both be so anxious but there’d definitely be a comforting silence between the loud booms. It’d be easier to fall asleep towards the end of the storm when there hasn’t been thunder for a while but you guys are still snuggled close together just in case. Waking up together would probably lead to Idia not being able to speak properly when seeing you for a few days.

Riddle Rosehearts

On a scale of 1-10 for comfort, I think riddle would be like 7. He’s definitely not deathly afraid like Idia but the really loud and bad thunder storms I think would just put him on edge a little bit. As a kid he might have been scared but if he needed to stay up to study and prepare for teachings with his mom he had to power through.

So though he doesn’t seek out comfort during the storms anymore they still have a slight effect on him. But not enough to not comfort you when you come to him during a storm. At first he’d probably just let you hide under the covers of his bed and he’d be off to the side reading or studying because he doesn’t have a lot of experience comforting people.

But after seeing that just hiding isn’t helping much he’d sit on the bed and hold your shaking hands under the covers. If it still wasn’t enough I think that’s when he’d cave in and cuddle you.

When you guys fall asleep towards the end of the storm he’s completely under the covers with you holding you close. Just don’t bring it up when you’re both awake.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is a 10, you don’t even have to ask him to cuddle. As soon as you make it to his room he’d picking you up and not letting you go. Despite his quick aid he would definitely tease you a bit, as he personally isn’t afraid of them.

As an elver Floyd would go near the surface during a lot of storms. He liked watching the ripples in the water, the lightshow from the lightning, and he loved the way thunder would make the water around him vibrate in a way.

Although he personally enjoyed them he could clearly tell you didn’t, and he never wanted to see his lil shrimpy upset! He’d cuddle you all night and talk your ear off about whatever topic came to his mind. He’d even tell you about stuff he and Jade did back home.

You’d probably fall asleep before him, which his fine by him because now he can cuddle you tighter without hearing complaints. When you guys wake up you’d have to bribe him hardcore to let you out of his grip, never do business with a greedy eel.

Can you tell I love Floyd? But I hope this was what you wanted, I enjoyed writing it so thank you for the request!

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