#still sometimes wonders if hes doing the right thing

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

the cutest pair

synopsis: how kinich shows his affection! aren't you the cutest pair?

genre: fluff

characters: kinich x gn! reader

warnings: established r/s, kinich might be a little ooc

a/n: mama you don't understand i'm in love with a boy🥹 likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

kinich, in all honesty, was horrible at showing emotions. he’s reserved, introverted, and sometimes came off a little colder than he intended to be — an unfortunate result of his childhood. how he ever got together with you despite his cold front was probably one of the great mysteries of teyvat. even as a lover, he still tended to be silent to some extent, preferring to let you do most of the talking while he stayed behind. sometimes you wondered if you scored a partner or a sentient shadow, with the way he normally observed conversations with your friends instead of joining in. what you failed to notice, however, was the way his eyes would only be trained on you as you laughed and chatted, the faintest smile on his lips at the sight of you having fun.

kinich would never be described to be ‘eloquent’ by most. pragmatic, direct, and efficient, the side of him everyone knew was one that was curt and cold. but those he was close to knew better. so it didn’t matter that he was less talkative, because he would always make up for it with his acts of service. action always speaks louder than words, right? it was always the little things, like making sure you walked on the side furthest from the edge of the clifftops, always staying one step in front of you in case the saurians you wanted to feed decided that you were better off as enemies. 

kinich may not look it to many, but he’s observant. individuals have approached you countless times before, accusing kinich of being too aloof and uncaring for even his own partner, but you knew better. just like the time you woke up with an inexplicable feeling of melancholy, and he left your house only to return in 20 minutes with your favourite food in hand. how did he know what it was? well, he said, i heard you mention it to mualani last time she visited, so i wrote it down in my notebook. believe it or not, he’d completely filled up at least 5 notebooks since the day you met, fully detailed with things you’d mentioned in passing, and observations of your behaviour. he’d never show them to you, though if you asked cutely, maybe he’d relent and allow a tiny peek.

taglist: @xianyoon @kazemiya @dailypenpen @yourfavoritefreakyhan @thestarswhisper (send ask to be added to taglist!)

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[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing sighs as he handcuffs the thief. He went a lot harder than he expected but how can you blame him? His family was in danger and he needed to do everything to make sure it doesn’t happen again

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home

[luveline]

hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style. 

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night. 

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair. 

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.  

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death. 

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them. 

“Hey.” 

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are. 

“Hi,” you say. 

“I’m Jamison.” 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?” 

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.” 

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze. 

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers. 

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.” 

“Nice, really?” 

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels. 

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually. 

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.” 

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.” 

“What were you doing? Before all this?” 

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?” 

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.” 

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.” 

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people. 

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him? 

Nope. 

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there. 

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him. 

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks. 

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile. 

Something seems a little wrong. 

“Steve,” you explain. 

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?” 

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.” 

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.” 

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says. 

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.” 

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?” 

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers. 

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down. 

“Hey,” you say. 

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” 

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.” 

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.” 

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.” 

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?” 

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook. 

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?” 

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“I know.” 

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek. 

You love him so much it must give you an aura. 

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly. 

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.” 

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?” 

“I might’ve.” 

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer. 

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.” 

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.” 

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe. 

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing. 

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh. 

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?” 

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.” 

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“He knows.” 

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose. 

[johnbrand]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: How would yan chuuya, jouno, light, megumi and gojo react to a darling that just doesn't care that they're yanderes?

I already did a similar concept with Chuuya before but I added him nonetheless because I wrote this with a darling in mind that is even fine with the Yandere killing

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, isolation, murder

Tags: @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Darling doesn't care that they are obsessed

Yagami Light

✍️Light takes the information very well, a pleased grin on his lips when he realises that none of the things that he does seem to bother you. It’s a sign of submission from your side, something that could only ever please a man with a god complex like he has. This is how it should be after all. You should know your place and love him utterly and completely for the perfect being that he is. Light has done some terrible things in the name of his proclaimed love for you, things that he believes he has the right to do as no one is allowed to steal the person away from him that he plans to keep by his side after he has become the New God. Stealing what belongs to a deity is nothing short of a sin. A sin that has to be punished with death itself. After having confirmed that his feelings for you haven’t scared you nor have some of the actions that he has committed which you were aware of, Light starts truly testing how far your adoration and your dedication go for him. He reveals his ideologies, his mission, his identity to you as well as the future he plans to have with you all whilst you remain loving and loyal. Oh, you are indeed worthy of ruling this world alongside with him. He chose wisely.

Nakahara Chuuya

🟠Chuuya tends to let his delusional side get the better of him yet upon initial discovery that you truly don’t care about his behavior as long as he keeps on loving you and treating you well, the Executive is a tad bit concerned. Are you sure? You’re really fine with all of this? He’s in the Port Mafia, he’s killed people for you even. It’s just hard to believe that you accept all of it as gracious as you do to the point where Chuuya wonders if you’re trying to trick him. That distrust remains for a while even if you give him no reason to doubt you. Paranoia is rarely soothed by logic after all. Once Chuuya has been convinced that you truly mean it when you say that you don’t care about his obsession he gets undeniably more delusional though. If you don’t mind his obsession after all he can’t possibly be as bad as he thought he was. He starts indulging in his obsession for you more and more as you basically give him a free pass, asks of you to move in with him so that he can protect you better all whilst spoiling the living shit out of you. He doesn’t really have to hold himself back as much anymore which leads the Executive to turn his possessive behavior up quite a bit. You won’t mind after all.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️For Jouno this knowledge is a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand you are easier to deal with, don’t throw any tantrums which could get on his nerves and show quite a level of obedience that deeply satisfies his possessive side. The composed sound of your heart doesn’t overwhelm him but sometimes he also finds himself getting bored. Don’t forget that this Hunting Dog is still an utter sadist after all who would love to listen to the melody of your frantic heartbeat once in a while. After all it’s quite unspectacular for you to be so monotonous with your behavior and your acceptance all of the time. As much obedience and acceptance you may give him after all, it is all for naught if Saigiku doesn’t have control over you by having you fear him. Loyalty and love are not enough in his mind, not if there isn’t fear that weights you down and has you carefully thinking about every stupid decision you might make. The sadist inside of him is truly talking out of him with this desire yet Jouno never attempts to restrain his actions. Since you’ve already taken so well to everything that he’s done so far he’s sure you won’t mind learning how to be a bit scared of him~

Fushiguro Megumi

💙Megumi’s silent paranoia has led him to justify his overprotective and somewhat overbearing behavior most of the time yet there is a shred of awareness still left somewhere inside of him. It is this last shred of sanity that is the only thing letting him know that you shouldn’t think this way, that you should be scared of him. Perhaps you’re trying to trick him? Something holds Megumi back from believing you when you first admit it to him, almost accusing you of trying to fool him so that he lets his guard down. The moment you manage to convince him though that you are speaking the truth the last shard of awareness shatters and leaves him thoroughly led by his paranoid and overprotective instincts. Of course he trusts you. It’s everyone else that he doesn’t trust though. So you two better spend time alone with each other where others won’t be able to bother the two of you. When he isn’t with you, try not to leave the house. If you do, please contact him and let him know where you are, what you are doing and when you are back home again. No, he isn’t overbearing and overprotective. He only wants to ensure your safety, wants to know you’re safe.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Gojo totally eats your behavior up as soon as he knows that you really don’t mind his overbearing, clingy and paranoid attitude. This man has no restrains to begin with as he never holds his affection back but everything becomes even more gross for the people forced to watch as soon as you indirectly give him the free pass. The man is thrilled, constantly smothers you in love and presents and he quickly pushes this relationship to move in the direction he wants it to go. You quickly find yourself moving in with him as it takes him little to no time to convince you, you find yourself spending an almost overwhelming amount of time with him as he gets quickly jealous when you pay attention to others as his possessive and needy nature quickly cages you in. You’re compliant, you’re sweet and you love him for the person that he is which only pushes Gojo to cling tigthter and tighter to you. He finds comfort in you, he finds his peace when he’s with you and he only confines his pain and his feelings to you. You know him. You understand him. You love him. For those reasons he will never let you leave him nor will he ever let anyone lay a finger on you.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (five)

requested here; (one); (two); (three); (four)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(the duff inspired); college!au word count: 5k

Ps: enjoy the fluff bc i might have an epiphany and bring the angst back full force 🥰

It had been days since the talk, and you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. You sat on your couch, staring blankly at your textbook, trying to convince yourself you were focusing on your work, but let’s be real—you weren’t.

You were thinking about him.

The guy who, just two days ago, basically admitted he had feelings for you—and, to your own surprise, you admitted you felt something too. That whole conversation felt surreal. 

It was terrifying in the moment—standing there, in the library after your lunch date with Nate, both of you avoiding eye contact like the plague until one of you finally broke the silence.

And now what? What was supposed to happen next?

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. Your mind kept remembering how everything felt different now. Like, way different. You couldn’t look at Rafe the same way, couldn’t just be around him without wondering if he was thinking about it too—the kiss, the feelings, the whole thing. 

And then, of course, there were Ava and Harper, who were way too invested in your love life now. Every time you and Rafe were in the same room, they’d shoot each other these obnoxious grins, making over-the-top kissy faces behind his back. Could they be more obvious?

As if on cue, Harper burst through the front door, Ava trailing right behind her.

“Okay, we need details,” Harper said, dropping her bag and plopping down next to you.

“Yeah,” Ava chimed in, sitting on the arm of the couch. “You’ve been weirdly quiet about it for days, and we know something’s up.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “There’s nothing to tell. We talked. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Harper raised an eyebrow. “You two pretty much confessed you like each other. That’s not nothing!”

“Yeah, and now it’s weird,” you muttered, pushing your hair back, trying to find the words for everything that had been running through your mind since that day. “We’re supposed to be friends, you know?”

Ava exchanged a knowing look with Harper. “Sweets, nothing about having feelings for someone is uncomplicated. And besides, this is Rafe we’re talking about. You two hated each other—now you’re into each other. That’s a lot to process.”

“I know.” You chewed on your lip, feeling a little more exposed than you wanted to in that moment. “I just don’t know how to act around him. Before, we could just hang out, and it was fine, and now I’m wondering if he’s thinking about it every second like I am. And what happens if this thing between us doesn’t work?”

Harper grinned. “Or what if it does work? What if you actually, you know… like being with him?”

You shot her a look. “Stop.”

But Harper wasn’t stopping. “Come on, have you seen the way you look at him?

“I don’t look at him!”

“Oh yes you do,” Ava said, laughing when you threw a pillow at her, “You even drool sometimes.”

Harper snorted at her comment. “You totally do, like, the ‘I want to kiss him but I don’t know if I should’ thing with your eyes.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys. I knew you’d turn it into a whole thing.”

“Because it is a whole thing!” Ava said, grabbing the pillow you’d thrown and tossing it back at you. “You and Rafe! I mean, come on, this is literally the plot of every teen drama ever.”

You peeked up at her from between your fingers. “Except this isn’t TV.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? You like him, he likes you. Just date already.”

“He didn’t ask me, did he?” You grumble.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.”

“Oh my god, it’s not about that,” you said, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt your face heat up. Of course they caught that.

You knew why Rafe hadn’t asked you out yet. It wasn’t like he was just being slow or clueless. He was literally waiting because you had told him to. You’re the one who said you needed time to figure yourself out, to see if this was really what you wanted. And he respected that. So, technically, this was all on you.

Still, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Sure, you asked for time, but now that you had it? You were just overthinking everything and driving yourself nuts. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want him to ask, because, oh my god, you did. 

You were just being pissy for no real reason, sitting here annoyed that he was actually doing what you’d asked him to do. Classic.

You groaned, sinking further into the couch cushions. “I’m such an idiot.”

Harper grinned, clearly enjoying your self-inflicted pain. “Yep. But at least you’re self-aware.”

Ava, ever the voice of reason, patted your knee. “Look, you said you needed time. He’s respecting that, which is honestly kind of amazing. Most guys would’ve freaked out or bailed, but Rafe’s giving you space. That’s a good thing.”

“I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I don’t even know what I’m waiting for anymore. What am I trying to figure out? I already like him. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Harper interrupted. “You’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you snapped, then immediately sighed. “Okay, fine, maybe I am. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“Rafe’s not some random hookup,” Ava said softly. “If anything, you guys have been building this thing without even realizing it. He’s not going anywhere, so stop psyching yourself out.”

“Exactly. Just text him and say, ‘Hey, I changed my mind. Let’s go out,’” Harper suggested with a mischievous smirk. “I bet he’ll be here in five minutes, tops. I’ve seen the way he looks at you too."

That was the part that got you.

Rafe Cameron, the guy who used to roll his eyes at you back home, now couldn’t seem to stop looking at you like you were the only person in the room. And you… you liked it. A lot.

Ava nudged you, her grin widening as she pulled out her phone. “Speaking of, is he coming over?”

“Not today,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone to check it anyway.

 No new messages.

“Ugh, you two are impossible,” She groaned, crossing her arms. “When are you going to tell him you actually like him? Like the actual words?

“Yeah, and when are you going to stop playing it so cool?” Harper added.

You scoffed. “You think I’m playing it cool? I literally have no idea what I’m doing.”

Just then, your phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down and saw Rafe’s name on the screen.

Rafe:  want to grab dinner tonight?

Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. Ava leaned over your shoulder, reading the text, while Harper grinned like she was plotting your wedding already.

“Dinner, huh?” Harper teased. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date,” you said quickly, though the idea didn’t sound so bad. “It’s probably just… I don’t know. He wants to talk about the whole feelings thing.”

Ava let out a high-pitched squeal, and Harper started making kissy faces. “Ooooh, talk,” she teased, drawing out the word with an exaggerated wink, “Trust me, it’s a date.”

“Oh my God!” You grabbed another pillow and threw it at them, “You’re so fucking annoying.” You sighed, standing up and grabbing your phone. “If this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you two.”

Harper beamed. “You’ll thank us later.”

You weren’t sure how you got from your doorm to the restaurant, but there you were, standing in front of Rafe as the two of you waited for a table. This wasn’t the easygoing banter you’d grown used to during study sessions or late-night hangouts. This was… different.

Rafe stood next to you, looking as calm and collected as ever. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. Meanwhile, your stomach was doing somersaults.

He looked good—like, stupidly, unfairly, make-your-heart-pound-in-your-throat good. The kind of good that made you stop breathing. He was wearing a charcoal grey Henley shirt, the kind you never imagined him in, but now you couldn’t stop imagining it. It clung to his chest and arms in a way that had your mouth watering, showing off his muscular frame more than any of his usual polos ever did.

You swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere but directly at him. But it was impossible to ignore how the sleeves hugged his biceps, or how the soft fabric stretched just slightly across his broad shoulders. Even his hair, usually tousled in a “couldn’t care less” kind of way, looked effortlessly perfect tonight, like he was trying to kill you.

And then he caught you looking.

A slow, knowing grin spread across his face as his eyes met yours, like he could read every thought running through your head. "You good?"

You snapped out of it, blinking quickly, "Yeah, fine," you mumbled, though you were definitely not fine. Not with him standing there looking like he just stepped out of a magazine ad.

"Uh-huh," he said, clearly unconvinced, the smirk on his lips only growing wider. "You sure? You’ve been staring for a while."

You flushed instantly, the heat rising to your cheeks. "I wasn’t staring!"

"Right," Rafe drawled, stepping closer, "If you say so."

The worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing to you. That stupid Henley. He had to know. The server reappeared out of nowhere, "Table for two? Right this way!" she chirped with perfect timing.

You let out a sigh of relief, quickly stepping past Rafe, feeling your heart slow just a little. The place was packed, like it always was—one of those busy pizzerias where you could barely hear yourself think because of all the noise. The smell of freshly baked dough and melted cheese were in the air.

Rafe chuckled under his breath as you followed the server, clearly amused, “Why are you walking so fast?” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. You shot him a quick look over your shoulder. 

The server led you to a cozy corner booth near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t fancy—far from it, actually. The table was slightly sticky, the chairs mismatched, and there was a stack of menus with creases on the edges already waiting for you. You loved it, it reminded you of home somehow.

He slid into the booth across from you, sitting with that same infuriatingly relaxed posture, his eyes never leaving you. "Guess we lucked out with a table," he said casually, picking up a menu.

You nodded, grateful for the noise of the restaurant “Yeah, it’s packed tonight.”

As you read the menu, trying to focus on pizza toppings instead of how good he looked across from you, you couldn’t help but feel the nerves start to fade just a little. It wasn’t fancy, and maybe that was the point. It was just dinner. Just the two of you. You could handle that... right?

"Do you always take this long to pick pizza toppings?" he teased, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. His pretty eyes flickered between you and the menu like this was some kind of game, one you were definitely losing.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin that pulled at the corner of your lips. "Sorry, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t ruin this life-altering decision. I know how you feel about your pizza."

That earned you a chuckle. God, why was it so attractive? You forced yourself to stare at the menu again, but your brain was mush. Every time you tried to focus on mozzarella, all you could think about was his stupid smirk and how his arms looked ridiculously good in that shirt. It was casual, but on Rafe? Casual somehow felt dangerous. And yeah, he was dangerous—at least to your heart rate.

"Pepperoni and jalapeño," he said suddenly, his voice dropping like he was letting you in on a secret. "Trust me, it’s the best combo."

"Spicy," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "Trying to impress me, Cameron?"

Rafe’s smirk deepened, and his eyes did that thing—that thing where they darkened just a little, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. "If I wanted to impress you, I wouldn’t be ordering pizza."

“Right, kook king and all.”

Rafe just raised an eyebrow, “I’m not that guy anymore, you know. Or have you not noticed?”

Oh, you’d noticed.

How could you not? Rafe had always been the guy you were supposed to avoid. The entitled, rich kid who would’ve scowled at you in disgust not too long ago. But now, here you were, sitting across from him in some hole-in-the-wall pizza place, trying not to melt into a puddle under his attention.

“You’re still a kook,” you pointed out, mostly because teasing him felt safer than admitting you actually liked this version of him.

He shrugged casually, eyes locked on yours. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re here, does it?”

You swallowed, trying to stay unaffected by how close he was, the way his voice lowered like the conversation was suddenly just for the two of you. “No, it doesn’t.”

He leaned back, his grin softening. “You’re thinking too much.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “How do you know that?”

“Because you always do.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re always overthinking everything.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been spiraling. It was like you couldn’t just let yourself feel whatever this was without worrying about what would happen next. Whether this thing with Rafe would blow up in your face like a bad movie plot or—worse—turn into something you couldn’t handle.

Jus as his warm smile started to settle you, you heard a voice that made your stomach drop.

“Uh, hey? What’s going on here?”

You froze. 

No way. You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

Nate.

Rafe’s eyes moved from you to the figure standing just behind you.

Great.

You slowly turned in your seat, Nate was standing there, looking between the two of you. This was bad. So bad. 

“Nate,” you started, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Nate said, his brows knitting together as he glanced between you and Rafe. “You said you were busy with school stuff tonight.”

You winced. You had told him that. Because technically, you didn’t lie— you had planned on studying, but then Rafe texted you, and well… one thing led to another. And now here you were, on what very much felt like a date, with Nate staring at you like you’d just ripped his heart out. A little bit dramatic.

Rafe, still lounging casually in the booth, watched the whole thing with a raised eyebrow, clearly sizing Nate up, like he always did. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way he didn’t like this one bit—he was waiting for you to explain, waiting to see how you’d handle this.

“I—um…” You fumbled for words, your brain short-circuiting under the weight of the awkwardness. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you. This is… Rafe and I were just—”

“Just having dinner,” He cut in smoothly, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tensing as he looked at Rafe. “Right. And how long has this been going on?”

You could hear the accusation in his voice, and it made your stomach twist. Nate wasn’t your boyfriend, but you’d been hanging out—nothing serious, but enough that this looked pretty bad from his perspective.

“Nate, it’s not like that,” you tried to explain. What could you even say right now?

Rafe glanced at you, one eyebrow quirking up like he was daring you to say more. “You don’t owe him an explanation.”

Except you kinda did because you felt like you’d been leading Nate on. You owed him something, even if it was just a proper way to end whatever this was between the two of you.

Nate crossed his arms. “Seems like there’s something to explain, though. I mean, you’ve been acting weird ever since we went to lunch the other day, and now I see you out with him?” He gestured toward Rafe, “So what is this? Are you guys a thing now?”

“Nate…” You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you, but I don’t think this is going to go where you’re hoping it will.”

Nate blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Oh.” His voice dropped, and he looked away for a moment. You felt like a bitch. You’d been the one to start persuing him and now you were doing this. 

“Yeah, I guess that clears it up,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Then his eyes moved back to Rafe, and his expression hardened again. “Just watch out for him, alright?” His voice was stiff, but he wasn’t looking at you when he said it.

He was staring straight at Rafe, who didn’t flinch, just glared right back, his posture still cool, but his jaw tightened. “You don’t need to worry about her,” He said evenly, “I’ve got it covered.”

Nate clenched his fists but then shook his head with a sharp exhale. “Whatever. Take care, okay?” He shot you one last look, and you could see the disappointment there before he turned and walked away.

For a long moment, you just sat there, staring after him, feeling the guilt built in your chest. That had been brutal. Maybe you hadn’t handled things with Nate perfectly, but you hadn’t meant to hurt him like that.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased by Nate’s little number. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was checking in.

You nodded slowly, though you didn’t entirely feel okay. “Yeah… just didn’t expect that.”

“Seems like he’s got it bad for you.”

You shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little. But you didn’t answer his question.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What question?”

Rafe tilted his head. “Are we a thing?” Oh god. The way he was looking at you right now—it wasn’t just playful anymore. It was real, and serious. “Well?” 

You took a deep breath, “I guess we are.”

It was like he needed to hear you say it, to own it. "Guess?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I guess we are," you said, more firmly this time. But the second the words left your mouth, you realized you didn’t really “guess.”

You knew. You’d known for a while now, ever since those late-night conversations, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. You weren’t just some fling to him. And that terrified you.

He leaned forward across the table, just close enough that you could catch a hint of his perfume. His hand reached across the table, fingers brushing lightly against yours. It was such a simple touch, but it felt like everything. Like the start of something. You wanted to say something—anything—but your brain had gone completely blank, and all you could do was stare back at him, trying to understand what the hell was happening.

Then, without warning, he shifted in his seat, his long arms reaching across the small table, getting closer, his eyes never leaving yours. Before you could sutter out something stupid, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you toward him until your lips met.

It wasn’t tentative or slow. It was like he had made up his mind a long time ago, like this was something he’d been waiting to do. It wasn’t deep or drawn out, but it didn’t need to be. You could feel the strength of his hand at your neck, his fingers just barely threading through your hair, like he had some invisible line of control over you, but it wasn’t demanding or forceful. You just knew was holding back, knowing this wasn’t the place for more.

When he pulled back—just an inch—you could still feel his breath against your lips. His eyes stayed on yours, his thumb lightly brushed the nape of your neck and you felt like you were still leaning forward, chasing more even though you knew you couldn’t have it.

It was quick—barely a few seconds—but it left you completely breathless. “Told you, you overthink too much,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear, like it was your little secret.

The next day felt oddly normal, like nothing monumental had happened the night before—except it had. You were walking across campus with him now, books in hand, making easy conversation about random things. No one knew about you two yet—not officially, at least.

As you approached the doors to your building, Rafe slowed down. You weren’t even thinking about it, just caught up in the rhythm of your walk and the conversation, until suddenly he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

It wasn’t premeditated or dramatic—just an automatic gesture, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You eyes widened as you remembered exactly where you were: standing right outside your class building, in the middle of campus, where anyone could see. The kiss had felt so casual, so… normal, like he did it all the time. Like you were his and he didn’t care who saw.

He pulled away just as quickly as he’d kissed you, his lips curving into a smirk as he gave you a nod. “See you later sweets,” he said as if he hadn’t just left you completely flustered. Then he turned and walked off, completely oblivious that you were standing there, still processing what had just happened.

You blinked, trying to collect yourself, when you heard it: high-pitched squeals from just a few feet away.

“Oh my God, oh my GOD!” Harper’s voice was practically a screech.

You looked up to find both her and Ava standing by the door to your classroom, wide-eyed and grinning like they’d just witnessed the biggest scandal of the year.

“No way,” Ava gasped, her hands clapping over her mouth, her eyes darting from you to where Rafe had just walked away. “Did that just happen? Did he just kiss you, right in front of everyone?!”

Harper was already losing it, jumping up and down in excitement, her curls bouncing around her face. “I can’t believe this—finally! FINALLY!”

Your face flushed instantly as you looked between your two best friends. “Guys, it’s not a big deal—” you started, but they were having none of it.

“Not a big deal?!?” Ava cut in, eyes wide in disbelief. “Are you serious?!”

“Literally, he didn’t even hesitate!” Harper added, her hands dramatically flying to her head. “That was so hot! I’m obsessed with this. I need details. What the hell happened last night?”

You groaned, trying to hide the ridiculous grin creeping onto your face. “It’s not—okay, fine, it kind of is a big deal, but can you guys not freak out about it? We haven’t even talked about what this is yet. It's a thing."

Ava’s jaw dropped. “You don’t need to talk! He just kissed you!” She looked like she was about to burst from excitement. “Oh my God, this is so cute, I’m literally dying.”

Harper, still vibrating with energy, grabbed your arm and started pulling you toward the door. “We are so talking about this more later. This is the best day ever.”

After class, you three claimed a table near the windows at the cafeteria. You were mid-laugh, picking at your food, when you finally spilled all the details about last night.

“So, get this,” you sai, “Nate just showed up. Like, out of nowhere. I’m sitting there with Rafe, and then suddenly, boom—He’s standing right in front of us, asking what the hell is going on.”

Harper’s eyes widened, a piece of lettuce dangling from her fork. “No way. No way! And you told him—?”

“I basically had to reject him right then and there,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I felt so bad. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything, but still, it was awful.”

Ava gasped dramatically, smacking the table with her hand. “Holy shit, I wish I could’ve seen his face.”

You winced, nodding. “Yeah, he was… not happy. But it’s not like I could’ve kept leading him on. I didn’t mean for it to happen in front of Rafe, though.”

“Oh my God, I bet he was loving it,” Harper said, leaning forward with a wicked grin. “He just sat there, didn’t he?”

“Pretty much,” you laughed, shaking your head. “He didn’t say a word until Nate started getting all protective.”

Harper snorted, “It’s so classic. But seriously, how did Nate even find you guys? Was he stalking you or something?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think it was just a really bad coincidence. I feel like such an asshole, but it’s not like I could just—”

“Ladies.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of that voice, and you almost dropped your fork. Rafe was standing right there, looming over your table like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Speak of the devil,” Ava muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing playfully as she glanced between you and him.

Harper, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back in her chair “Hey, Cameron. We were just talking about you. Pull up a seat.”

He smirked, clearly picking up on the tone of the conversation, but didn’t hesitate to slide into the empty chair next to you. 

“All good things, I hope,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you.

You shot him a look, “When have I ever spoken highly of you?”

“Awww, missed you too.” he said, smirking as he grabbed a fry off your plate like he’d been part of the conversation the whole time.

“Stop eating my fries,” You scowled, he just shrugged, popping the fry in his mouth like it was no big deal. “I’m gonna smack you,” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “Can you at least get your own fries?”

He smirked, “Why would I do that when I can steal yours?”

Harper let out a dramatic sigh, clasping her hands together. “I love this for you guys. Truly. I can’t wait for the wedding.”

You groaned, throwing a napkin at her, "You’re ridiculous."

Rafe just chuckled, grabbing one last fry. “I think I’m gonna like hanging out with your friends.”

Ava gave you a sly look before turning to him. “Okay, since you’re here now, and we’ve got you trapped—let’s get to the important stuff. What exactly are your intentions with our girl?”

You closed your eyes wanting to sink into the floor.

“Are we talking dates? Or are you planning to ask her out for real?”

Harper leaned forward, clearly invested. “Yeah, Rafe. What’s the hold-up? When’s the official girlfriend status happening?”

You could feel your face heating up, and you shot them both an exasperated look. “Guys, seriously? We’re doing this now?”

Rafe, however, looked completely unbothered by the question as he glanced at you. “I was going to ask her when the time felt right,” he said, “But if you’re so eager, maybe I should just ask her now.”

The entire table fell silent. Ava and Harper exchanging shocked glances, their eyes lighting up with excitement. You, on the other hand, were doing your best not to choke on the air around you.

“Wait, what?” you stammered, wide-eyed, not entirely sure if he was serious or just messing with you.

“You heard me.”

Ava let out a squeal, covering her mouth. “Oh my God, this is happening!”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now? In front of them?”

Harper was practically vibrating in her seat. “Yes, Rafe! Ask her! We need a moment to remember forever!”

“No,” You glared at your friends, “If you ask me to be your girlfriend while you’re munching on those greasy fries, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Rafe just laughed, wiping his hands on a napkin “Yes ma’am.”

What even was this? He had this uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you. And the fact that he could make your friends—the two people who knew you best and knew the history between you two—just as obsessed with him as you secretly were? That was dangerous. 

Harper, never one to let a moment die, leaned over the table, her voice all conspiratorial. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like that.”

Ava grinned. “Oh, it so is. Just embrace it, babe.”

Rafe tilted his head, giving you that look .“You gonna keep denying it?”

You felt yourself blush, but you weren’t about to give them all the satisfaction of a full confession. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on your teasing. “Guess I’ll have to make that moment happen soon then.”

Ava let out a dreamy sigh. "I love love."

[shadowsingercassia]

Hiya, bb! 🫶

Vi here! Little fic request (no pressure ❤️)

So basically, it’s a Azriel x Y/N (because we all love Azzy, 🥰) Reader is Nesta’s friend and she asks if she can join the Valkyrie training and Nesta is like “ofc bb” but since they are so far in training, Nesta sets Reader up with Azriel for private training, and Az is like “ok”

But Nesta doesn’t inform our favourite bat-boy that Reader is actually really good at training and ends up kicking Azzy’s butt in their first lesson, and then Az becomes obsessed with her 😍

I’m not making much sense but I’d love to see if you could write it! If anyone can bring this story to life, it’s you 🥰

Love ya Xx ✨🤍

I absolutely love this request (always love my badass readers)!! 🤭❤️

Love you too, Vi!! Thank you for requesting this 💕

Also I'm really sorry for sometimes disappearing for a week or two 😭

So anywayssss

Training Gone... Right? | Azriel x reader

Summary: read message

Warnings: mentions of blood reader being a LITTLE violent while training with Azriel (its not too graphic dont worry!) 😌, cute little obsessed Azriel 😊💕 (also there is a curse word but ignore it) let me know if I missed anything!!

Words: 1.4k!

Little note: 3 povs, (Nesta, Azriel and reader) but mostly it's Az!

☆

Nesta:

Nesta looked up from her book as she saw you entering the library. A determined expression had found its way onto your face. She reached over for her bookmark, closing the book and placing it on the table beside her.

As you approached her, your steps firm and confident, she raised an eyebrow. You stopped in front of her, and your gaze met hers. She couldn't have helped it when her grey eyes softened.

"I want to learn how to fight," you state, your hands clasped behind your back. Nesta's face brike off into a smirk. Clearly, she had been waiting for you to ask her.

Knowing you, and your past, it was logical that you would want to learn how to fight, and honestly, she was eager to train you.

After that, you joined the Valkyries, training with them daily. Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie all taught you how to fight. The different techniques and fighting styles. Nesta observed you throwing a punch at Emerie, catching her off-guard. She knew you would be almost - if not - better than the rest of the Valkyries in no time. When you were determined, nothing would get in your way.

And Nesta had gotten another thought, late at night, as she read the new novel she borrowed from the library. She would set you up to train with Azriel.

Of course, you had seen Azriel once or twice while visiting Nesta in the House of Wind, but he doesn't know you were training with the Valkyries. Nesta had made sure of that.

The next day in training, she approached you as you ran through the stretches. Sunlight hit your skin, making it look golden. Taking her place close to you, she began stretching as well. "Do you remember Azriel?" She asked, turning her head slightly to look into your face.

She saw you pause for a moment before you answered her. "The shadowsinger, right?" You asked her back, furrowing your eyebrows. Nodding, she answered, "yes, the shadowsinger."

"Right, what about him?" You asked her, confused about why she would bring him up like that. Nesta rarely spoke of the shadowsinger with you. "I was wondering if you would be alright with inviting him to train with us tomorrow," she said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders.

"I wouldn't mind it, no," you said, still partially confused, but the anticipation of tomorrow gnawed at you. The door opened, Gwyn striding in, giving both you and Nesta a wave. Smiling, you wave back at her.

Reader (Y/n):

Training was surprisingly light today, and while it usually lasted longer, Nesta had retired early, then Gwyn, and lastly Emerie, leaving you alone. Not that you minded it, Nesta told you she was going to spend the afternoon with her mate, Gwyn saying Clotho needed her help in the library, and then Emerie deciding to spend the rest of the day doing her own things.

However, you wanted to train a bit more, as you always did. Perhaps that was why you had gotten so good, because you stayed about another few hours and practice what you learned that day.

As the sun slowly set behind the Illyrian mountains, the last rays disappearing beneath the horizon, you took a break. Sitting down, you roll back your shoulders, watching the sky shift from the golden hues to a dark blue. A sense of calm washed over you when the stars started appearing like bright flecks against the darkness.

You lost track of time, too deep into your thoughts to come out. Though eventually, you winnowed to your bedroom, taking a quick bath, and laying off to rest.

Azriel:

Strapping his siphons in place, he was about to go train you. Nesta had asked if he could train Y/n, and Azriel couldn't refuse.

As he winnowed to the roof of the House of Wind, he found you alone, getting ready for training. The leather trousers you wore were rolled up to your knees, letting the chill morning breeze kiss the exposed skin.

Azriel had been told by Nesta that you were a new Valkyrie. She just hadn't told him that you had started training with them more than a year ago. Nesta wasn't lying though, you were the newest member of the Valkyries (and the best one in sparring).

His gaze locked with yours, and you gave him a brief smile, which he returned, much to his surprise.

"Quick spar before the others get here?" You suggest, and Azriel nods. Wait, the others? Azriel had been told this was a private training... that's when he noticed one of his shadows, wrapped around your wrist. As his gaze locked there, your own eyes followed, looking at the shadow. You hadn't realized, he noticed as he watched your expression.

Dismissing it, he took his fighting stance, and you quickly did the same. Azriel took in your stance, eyebrows raising as he looked at your near-perfect stance. Maybe you knew a few things about sparring.

He quickly knew that 'a few things' was a lot. You threw punches, most of them hitting their marks on various parts of his body. Azriel could feel the sore spots, knowing they would bruise sooner or later. A groan slipped past his lips as your knee drove itself to his stomach. Stumbling back, he clutched his abdomen, sharp pain shooting through his body.

You didn't falter and that one moment was all it took before you landed a hook to his jaw. His face snapped sideways and he really tried to get himself together. Not even his shadows could predict you.

Suddenly, he was swept off his feet, his back hitting the training mat. The breath was knocked off his lungs and he gasped, struggling to draw air into his lungs. Every coherent thought left his mind but he managed to roll over and scramble to his feet before he could receive another blow.

You dodged most of his jabs, although a few found their targeted spots. Exhausted, that was what Azrisl was. Seemingly, you were exhausted as well, although less than him.

It didn't make sense. Azriel had been training for more than five hundred years and yet you, that have been training for cauldron knows how long, are beating him. He would be having a talk with Nesta after today.

His footwork started to falter slightly, and of course you would notice that too. Taking full advantage of his state, you manage to knock him off his feet again.

"I yield! Cauldron, I yield." He panted, his eyes closing momentarily. Once he opened his eyes again, he was met with the sight of you, hand extended to him.

Azriel froze. Before, he hadn't fully taken you in, but now, you were right in from of him, and Cauldron, you looked ethereal. He had competely forgotten his bleeding nose and the bruises that had started to bloom on his skin as he stared at you.

A thin layer of sweat coated your body, your training leathers clinging to you like a second skin. Strands had fallen free from the simple hairstyle you wore, sticking to your forehead, and falling into your eyes and you pushed them back. His gaze flickered to your parted lips, almost unconsciously, as you drew in heavy breaths. Quickly, he averted his gaze, not wanting to be caught at you, and especially not wanting to be caught staring at your lips.

Realizing he had been dozing off for too long, he grasped your hand in his. Planting his feet onto the ground, you helped pull him up. Finally standing back on his feet, his thoughts replayed Nesta's words. She's the newest Valkyrie. Mhm, he's noticed that, he thought, slightly annoyed at Nesta. Who could have thought the newest Valkyrie would be that good?

Even Nesta couldn't beat him, neither Gwyn or Emerie, and yet this woman had handed his ass to him today.

And he found himself stunned.

And perhaps a little obsessed... but he wouldn't admit that to himself.

Nobody came and as you and Azriel waited, he finally spoke. "Do you think the others will come?"

"No," you reply. After a beat of silence, you speak again. "I'll go find Nesta," you say as you walk towards the door.

"You're a worthy opponent, shadowsinger." The door closed behind you and Azriel was at a loss of words, a flush tinging his cheeks. Get it together, Az, he thought, but the image of you refused to leave his mind.

Obsessed indeed.

-------------------------☆-------------------------

a/n: I had so much fun writing this, I was giggling the whole time! Again thank you so much @anarchiii for this request! I hope you like it, because I adjusted it slightly 💓

general taglist: @blessthepizzaman @amara-moonlight @homeslices @flourishandblotts-inc @anarchiii

comment '💕' to be added to my general taglist!

Love, Cassia ❤️

[reidmania]

soon, you’ll get better | s. reid

summary; when spencer decides to get help for his addiction, you are right by his side the entire time, even when you are both more scared than you’ll admit.

warnings; fem!reader, early seasons spencer (s2) mentions of addiction, withdrawals, getting help, hurt x comfort, its kinda really fluffy though, mentions of tobias hankel, references possible overdosing, (nobody overdoses, reader is just afraid of it happening) this is comfort, pure spencer comfort tbh.

an; heart BROKEN guys. this one hurt. remember you are not alone.

‘I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky, I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try. And I'll say to you, soon you'll get better, soon you'll get better, you'll get better soon, 'cause you have to. And I hate to make this all about me but who am i supposed to talk to? What am i supposed to do, if theres no you?’

You sit beside him, your hand resting gently on his, feeling the tension pulsing through his skin. Spencer's fingers twitch, as though his body is having a silent argument with itself—one part of him wants to hold on to you, to feel your comfort, and the other part is restless, needing something more than your touch can provide. You know what that something is. It’s been between the two of you for weeks now, an unspoken weight that has grown heavier with each passing day.

The hospital waiting room is quiet, but inside your head, it feels deafening. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. The seconds drag on, and you know he feels every single one of them. You squeeze his hand lightly, drawing his attention back to you. His eyes meet yours, wide and anxious, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. You see it all—the fear, the shame, the self-loathing. But beyond that, buried underneath, you still see the man you love.

"You're doing the right thing," you whisper, your voice soft, barely louder than the ticking clock.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His lips part, but no words come out. You don’t push him. You’ve learned that sometimes, silence is safer for him. His mind is always moving, always analyzing, always thinking ten steps ahead, but right now, he’s fragile. His brilliance can’t help him here. And that’s what scares him the most.

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, grounding him in the moment. “I’m so proud of you,” you say, and you feel him exhale, just slightly. The warmth of his breath touches your lips, and for a brief second, you feel that connection again—the one that always makes you believe everything will be okay, as long as you're together.

It was difficult, sitting here and pretending like you weren’t scared. You were, you wondered if you had a right to be scared. Spencer was the love of your life, you had never once questioned that — and seeing him like this, well it wasn’t easy. Being here, wasn’t easy.

Spencer closes his eyes, a shudder running through his body. He grips your hand tighter, the pressure almost painful, but you don’t pull away. You want him to know you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

A nurse walks by, and Spencer's eyes snap open, his body stiffening. You can feel his heart rate spike, the anxiety flaring up again.

“I can’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. His voice is tight, strangled, like he’s holding back something that threatens to choke him.

“Yes, you can,” you reply gently, running your thumb over his knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “Please.”

It was a plea, a genuine plea. You tried to be strong for his sake, he needed someone. You were his person, you would always be. But he was also your person — and the idea that if he didn’t get help you could lose him one way or another terrified you. It caused a genuine ache in your chest at just the thought of him not being him, or not being around at all. You couldn’t lose him, not at the hands of tobias hankel.

He stares at you, searching your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe strength. You aren’t sure if he finds it, but he nods, his breath coming out in shaky bursts.

The doctor calls his name. The sound makes him flinch, and for a moment, you think he might bolt. You can see it in his posture, the way his muscles tense, his body preparing to flee. But then your hand tightens around his, and he looks at you again. And you know he’s staying because of you.

Together, you stand, and you walk beside him as he follows the doctor into the office. His steps are slow, reluctant, but each one is a small victory. When you sit down in the small room, the doctor’s eyes flicker between the two of you—taking in Spencer’s pale, trembling form and the way you hold onto him as if he might disappear.

The doctor speaks softly, his voice calm and measured. You hear him explain the treatment plan, the options for managing withdrawal, the therapy that Spencer will need. It all sounds clinical, distant, like the words are coming from a place Spencer can’t quite reach.

You glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his eyes dart around the room, not settling on anything for too long. His mind is miles away, you can tell. But you’re here, anchored in this moment for both of you.

“Spence,” you say softly, turning to face him. He doesn’t respond at first, lost in the cacophony of his own thoughts. So, you reach out, brushing your fingers against his cheek. His eyes snap back to you, and you see the vulnerability in them, the sheer weight of everything he’s been carrying.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” you remind him. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

His lower lip trembles, and for a second, you think he might cry. But he doesn’t. Spencer’s never been one to break easily, even when he should. You wish he would sometimes, just so he wouldn’t have to hold it all inside.

The doctor gives you both a moment, stepping out of the room to let the words sink in. Spencer drops his head into his hands, his shoulders slumping as though the world is pressing down on him with all its weight.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You scoot closer, pulling him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest. His body relaxes, just a little, as if the touch of your skin can quiet the chaos in his mind.

“You deserve everything good in this world,” you tell him, stroking his hair gently. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m broken,” he breathes, the words thick with self-reproach.

You shake your head, holding him tighter. “You’re not broken, Spence. You’re just…hurting. And that’s okay. You’ll get better. You have to.”

Maybe it was a plea, maybe reassurance, you weren’t even sure. Spencer was single handedly the strongest person you knew, he didn’t deserve what had happened to him — nobody did. The signs had been there for a while, you noticed the change instantly and you tried to brush it off as him coping, but when it got to the point where you knew there was more, without a doubt — you had the conversation.

It took some convincing, and a few weeks before he even approached the idea — he denied for a while. You let him. You could only help him as much as he allowed you to, but then when he nudged you gently in bed one night and broke down — he wanted help, and you were happy to provide him with as much as you could, which also meant getting more help.

His arms wrap around your waist, clinging to you as though you’re his lifeline. And in a way, you are. But you know he’s yours too. You’ve never loved anyone the way you love Spencer—so deeply, so completely. He’s flawed, yes. But so are you.

When the doctor returns, you help Spencer sit up, though he keeps one hand resting on your knee, as if needing to stay tethered to you. You listen carefully as the doctor outlines the next steps, and this time, Spencer listens too. He’s scared, you can tell, but he’s fighting. For himself. For you. For what you both have.

And when you leave the office, walking back through the waiting room, you feel a shift. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Spencer’s steps are still hesitant, still burdened, but there’s a determination now. He’s facing it. He’s facing himself. And you’re right there beside him, as you always will be.

As you step out into the crisp evening air, Spencer pauses. He turns to you, his eyes soft, vulnerable, but this time, there’s a flicker of hope.

“I love you,” he says quietly, the words shaky but sincere.

You smile, your heart swelling. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, with the world quiet around you, “You will get better Spence.”

[thrashkink-coven]

There’s something very comforting about when you finally settle into your witchy routines and rituals to the point where you don’t have to think about them very much anymore. They just become another part of my every day. Gotta brush my teeth, take the garbage out, give offerings to the old Gods, wash dishes etc.

And sometimes my magical routines feel less “magical”. Like these aren’t “special activities“ they’re just chores, routines, things I gotta do just cause. Not in the bad way where I don’t enjoy it anymore, just in the way that it’s extremely normalized.

and then randomly the whimsy and magic will just get turned back on and I’ll be like damn I really am a witch huh. Like ooohh my crystals look so pretty. Gathering apples for my demon friends, sweeping my altar, aha I’m such a witchy guy. Might say some magic words ooh might draw some sigils and light some candles lol. so fun!

A couple weeks or so will go by and I won’t have very much contact or conversation with Lucifer at all, like I’ll still give my daily offerings and whatnot but I just won’t *feel* him around very much, which is totally okay. I’m just like hm, wonder what he’s up to. Hope he comes back soon. Miss you ❤️❤️ and I don’t feel like one of his disciples really, I’m just a guy that likes Lucifer. Just a normal lad with a little crush. Ain’t nothing special ain’t no thang

and then randomly at 4:25pm on a Wednesday afternoon the wind will hit me just right and the sunset will twinkle in a certain way and I’m just SLAMMED with SO MANY feelings and vibes and become absolutely overwhelmed with how much I adore him and how happy I am to be in his presence. and I’m like YES i am A PATRONED CHILD OF LUCIFER FFFFUCCK YEAHHH this is so fuckin cool. My king? My king is here? with me!!!??!! WWOOOWWW i am an on my hands and knees 🙏

This always happens during this time of year. Near the end of Summer I’ll feel him going further and further away from me and then as soon as early autumn starts to hit he’s SO present and dominating

and I’m like !!!! yippee!!! You’re back!!!! I missed you sm!!!! 💕💖

and it’s multiplied by 1000x whenever he’s like “yes I am back, and I have so many more things to show you ☺️” LIKE YES!!!!!! ITS WORK TIME AGAIN !!! YYYEAASSSS!!!!

It’s spooky season, the leaves are yellowing, The Death Gods are taking back their dominance. The shadows are growing larger. Oh boy oh boy. WE ARE SO BACK.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

i've occasionally seen the take that sokka should've have been just as down for avenging kya as katara was and well, no, it makes sense that katara takes it more personally considering kya died to protect her specifically. "the runaway" establishes that sokka has let katara claim ownership of kya's memory to the point where he can barely separate the the two of them in his mind. he doesn't really allow himself to grieve openly enough for revenge because to him openly grieving kya is solely katara's right. any desire for revenge he has manifests more as a general desire to win the war and "knock some firebender heads".

but recently i saw a post that went further and said that hakoda would've supported it and THAT is interesting to me because i do think hakoda decided to go to war because of kya's death. i think he told people objective, tactical, noble reasons - the raid established that the war was more of a threat, he doesn't want anyone else to lose loved ones to the fire nation - but if i were a southern water tribe warrior i'd wonder if i was signing up for a revenge mission. like the tribe hasn't been involved in the war before but the chief's wife is killed and he's suddenly very interested in fighting the fire nation? hmmm. it's not that the nobler reasons are lies but i think hakoda blames himself for kya's death (just like katara does) and feels like he has to go fight the people who killed her because he didn't fight hard enough to save her. and the line between that kind of guilt and revenge is thin. what do you think must be done to make things right? what provides closure? this is what draws katara to revenge, this is what would draw hakoda to revenge. i think there is a part of him that went to war seeking that catharsis. i think sometimes during battle there is a look in his eyes that scares his men, moments where he seems far too eager to stab a fire nation soldier through the heart. the kind and friendly leader they know replaced with something dark.

but would he support katara's quest for revenge? no. he went off to war to protect his kids from its harsh realities. he may want revenge and even be willing to take it but he would never let katara have that on her conscience. if anyone will carry that, it will be him.

and ultimately, he never did seek out the leader of the southern raiders. yon rha is still alive for zuko and katara to track down. maybe he realized he didn't want it on his conscience either

[ruewrote]

𝑖 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

PAIRING: 3A!denkikaminari x gn!reader WARNINGS: sad denki, no use of y/n GENRE: angst to fluff SONG INSPIRATION: there for you by martin garrix & troye sivan WORD COUNT: 1186

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you notice denki has been quieter than usual all day. normally, he'd be the one cracking jokes and keeping the energy up, but today there’s a different air about him. it’s subtle, the way he avoids eye contact, the forced smiles, the way his shoulders seem a little slumped, but it’s slight but it's there. and what bothers you most is that no one else seems to notice. the others laugh and carry on, completely oblivious to the shift in his mood.

he stands up suddenly after a group conversation winds down, muttering something about needing to head back to his dorm. no one questions it, letting him go without a second thought, but you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. you watch him walk away, disappearing down the hall, and a few moments later, you decide to follow.

after giving him some time alone, you make your way to his room. his door is closed when you arrive, and you hesitate for a second, wondering if he needs more time to himself. but the image of his unusually downcast expression sticks in your mind, and you gently knock on the door before letting yourself in.

denki’s sitting on his bed, staring out the window, lost in thought. his usual electric energy is nowhere to be found. he turns his head when he hears you, surprise flickering across his face.

"hey..." he says quietly, his voice lacking its usual spark. "didn't think anyone was gonna come by."

you give him a small smile, closing the door softly behind you before stepping further into the room. "i noticed you were kind of off today," you say gently, sitting on the edge of his bed, keeping some space between you. "i just wanted to check in. see if you're okay."

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. his gaze falls back to the floor, and his fingers fidget nervously with a loose thread on his shirt. "i'm fine," he mutters, though the way he says it makes it clear he's not. "it's stupid stuff. i don’t want to bother you with it."

“denki…” you tilt your head, your voice soft but firm. “you can talk to me. you don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.”

he lets out a short, bitter laugh, still avoiding your gaze. "i don’t know. i just feel like... everyone’s moving forward, getting better, and i’m stuck, y’know? i try to keep up, but i’m always messing something up. like today, in training... i fried out again. everyone laughed. and i don’t blame them, i mean, it’s what i do, right? screw up and turn into an idiot." he laughs again, but it’s empty, and his shoulders slump a little more.

your heart aches hearing him talk like this. denki always seems so carefree, so full of confidence, but now, sitting here with him, you can see the cracks in the facade he puts up for everyone.

“denki, you’re not an idiot,” you say, your voice filled with sincerity. “you’re one of the most hardworking people i know. you’re always pushing yourself, always trying to get better. and yeah, sometimes things don’t go the way you want, but that doesn’t mean you’re not improving. you’re not stuck.”

he finally looks at you, his eyes filled with doubt. "it’s just hard sometimes, you know? feeling like i’m always the one who messes up while everyone else is just... better."

you scoot a little closer, your voice gentle as you say, “you’re not alone in feeling like that. we all struggle sometimes, even if it doesn’t always show. but i promise you, no one thinks less of you for having rough days.”

denki takes a deep breath, and some of the tension in his body seems to ease. he leans back against the headboard, his hands resting in his lap. “i just... i guess i didn’t think anyone really noticed. i’m always the ‘happy-go-lucky guy,’ right? i don’t want people to see me like this.”

“i’m so sorry that i didn't realize it sooner,” you say softly, meeting his eyes. “and it’s okay to have off days. it doesn’t make you weak or anything like that. it just makes you human.”

his eyes shining with a mix of emotions, hope, disbelief, something like gratitude. “you really mean that?”

“of course i do,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. denki’s gaze dropped to your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over yours almost absently. “i just… i don’t wanna be behind, you know? i want to be taken seriously, like everyone else.”

your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty that he usually kept hidden behind his carefree smile. you shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. he stiffened for a moment, then melted against you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“you’re appreciated so much more than you think, denki,” you whispered, your voice fierce with conviction. “you have so much to offer. i’m so proud of you, and i’m so lucky to know you.”

he let out a shuddering breath, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid to let go. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “i…i really needed to hear that.”

you held him close, your hand gently stroking his back. “i’ll always be here for you. whenever you need to talk, or just…need someone. i’m here.”

he didn’t say anything, he didn't need to, he just held you tighter, his breath warm against your neck. for a long time, you sat like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the noise of the common room fading away until it was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of quiet comfort.

eventually, he pulled back, his eyes red but clearer, the tension in his face eased. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice still a little shaky. “i didn’t mean to dump all this on you.”

“don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “you’re allowed to feel how you feel, and you’re allowed to talk about it. i’m honestly glad that you did.”

“you’re…you’re really cool, ya know?”

he smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart swell with relief. “i’ll try to believe it.”

“that’s all i ask,” you said, squeezing his hand. “just…try to see yourself the way i see you.”

his smile softened, his eyes shining with something warm and tender. “i’ll try,” he said again, his voice quiet but steady. “and…thank you. for being here. for listening. it means a lot.”

“always,” you said, your heart aching with how much you meant it. “i’m always here for you, no matter what.”

he nodded, his gaze lingering on yours for a long, another quiet moment. then he shifted, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, the touch so soft it made your breath catch.

“thank you,” he whispered one last time, his voice filled with all the things he didn’t know how to say.

you knew that, whatever happened, you’d always be there to remind him of just how incredible he truly was.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[thechillsquid]

Hillbilly/Blind Eyes Au

More ramblings cause I’m trying to figure out how to write the actual fic out for the dumb au

Mostly with the kids visiting over the summer and how McGucket is also their sorta gruncle Fidds cause him and Stan have a queerplatonic thing going on by that point and Fiddleford actually somewhat knows what to do with kids though he’s still absolutely unhinged but to a slight degree towards the right

Like McGucket has the memory gun around, he just basically doesn’t use it really cause 1. Bill can and has dragged memories back up after he’s tried to erase them in the past 2. He has somewhat of a support thing with Stan

So he’s still got his senses it’s just the fact Stan has lowkey helped corrupt this man’s morals and with Bill constantly asking ‘aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go apeshit?’ eventually the answer became ‘you know what? Maybe I do want to apeshit’

And then there’s Bill, who at that point is dating Fiddleford and has been hit with several realizations about himself over the past 30 years, has kinda sorta lost interest in the destroying the earth thing because he just wants to see what chaos Stan and McGucket get up to, and maybe actually enjoys having somewhat of a family again

And all three of these idiots are trying to still fix this portal without anyone finding out, Bill’s lowkey taken over the shapeshifter’s body/kinda ejected its mind/kinda killed it and is just waltzing about however he pleases (sometimes as a ‘total normal human guy,’ a goat, or whatever other forms he thinks would be fun/convenient) until the portal opens and he’s able to actually physically manifest/they find where the hell Ford went

Ford is going to be thrown for a fucking whirlwind but also I just kinda realized that Bill is also a sorta the kids gruncle cause he’s dating Fidds and him and Stan con people together (though those twos relationship is more platonic than anything)

So like these kids have Stan, Bill, and Fidds; only two of these people know what children need to survive and one of them isn’t even human, Fidds and Bill talk in codes or weird languages sometimes and the kids are just left wondering wtf is going on

Also now that I’m thinking of it more, Bill taking over the shapeshifter’s body offers so much chaos, espically whenever he forgets about playing his part and the kids are like ‘did… did you just blink sideways…?’ and everyone is just like ‘no’ and it’s so clear they’re lying but also it’s so stupid

Anywho yeah, so you got Stan and his boyfriend and this is his boyfriend’s boyfriend who helps him steal cars sometimes

HA, I need to draw more of these idiots

[fireflyinks]

you and hamzah on a planned date he suprised you with! you can make it sfw or not doesn’t matter just thought it would be a cute idea

pinterest worthy picnics

hamzahthefantastic x reader fluff

a/n : IT'S FALL!!!! I hope you guys like this even though it's a little short, hamzah take me on a picnic PLEASE

contains : no cursing, no y/n, just fluff, a date, established relationship, major fall vibes

Hamzah had always had trouble making plans for the two of us. Oftentimes, I would have to plan the dates, just because Hamzah was oblivious on how to approach the situation. Honestly, I knew he would rather sit at home, order take out, and watch a movie with me, but deep down he could tell I craved more.

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder if he even cares, you know?” He heard me say one night, on the phone with Mandy when I thought he was too engrossed in the video game he was playing to listen.

“I just wish for once he would plan something out instead of just letting me do it. I wanna be surprised for once.”

And after hearing me say that, Hamzah knew he had to step his game up. 

“Hamzah, this is genuinely terrifying.” I squealed, holding onto the car door handle tightly as Hamzah drove. He had made me wear a blindfold, saying that I’d make the surprise more romantic.

“We’re almost there…” He replied, and I could tell by his tone that he was either nervous or excited. Maybe even both.

Hamzah anxiously took in the surroundings as he drove, the late October leaves spinning in the air, creating an orange and yellow atmosphere. His plan was simple, but he hoped that you wouldn’t mind. Sometimes the simplest things in life are the best, right?

“We’re here…” Hamzah dragged out with his voice, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his car door. He walked over to my side, opening my door and peeling the blindfold from my face gently. 

I looked around, realizing we were at the local park. 

“What are we doing here?” 

Hamzah smiled, shyly. “I thought we could have a picnic.”

A blush spread across my face. This was extremely out of character for him. Well, not wanting to spend time with me, but taking initiative to plan how we would hang out. 

I climbed out of the car, watching as he grabbed a flannel blanket and a pizza box from the trunk, along with other containers.

“You really took the time to do all of this?” 

“Of course I did.” He said, almost immediately. 

We walked through the park, trying to find a good place to set up. After a minute of walking, we found a nice spot under a tree, and I watched as Hamzah laid everything out, taking extreme care to put everything in a good spot. I could tell he really wanted this to be perfect. 

“Is this giving Pinterest?” He asked, trying to seem as if he was joking but I could tell he hoped his set up was aesthetically pleasing. I giggled, nodding and sitting across from him on the blanket. Hamzah took everything out of the containers, and revealed that he had even melted chocolate to dip strawberries into. 

“So you really just did this unprompted? Like, this was completely your idea?” I asked, clearly still unconvinced. 

Hamzah looked up at me, dropping his shoulders. 

“Okay, I may have heard you talking to Mandy on the phone the other night, and it made me realize that I don’t do stuff like this for you enough. So, no, I guess not, but I still hope you like it. 

I quickly shook my head. “No, babe I promise you do plenty for me. It was just in the heat of the moment.” 

“No, I really don’t. I know I can seem like I don’t care sometimes, or like I don’t actually want to do things with you, but I swear I do. I’m just not good at expressing that.” 

“I know…” I smiled, speaking faintly. 

He dipped a strawberry into the chocolate, taking it into his mouth. I did the same. 

Hamzah reached over, smearing the chocolate that had gotten on my lip off with his thumb. He smiled softly, kissing me slowly. 

After pulling away, we sat and ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying the peacefulness that surrounded us. 

“I’ll have to complain to Mandy more often if this is what I get in return.” I joked, causing Hamzah to laugh. 

“You won’t have to, I have plenty more date ideas. I actually went down a rabbit hole the other night and we might be skydiving together in the near future.” 

I rolled my eyes, “You’d have to drag me onto that helicopter.” 

“Trust that I will.” 

I giggled, “I think I’ll be alright with the Pinterest-worthy picnics for now.” 

Hamzah smiled, pecking my lips with his chocolate covered ones.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn! 

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it? 

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe. 

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works. 

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or– 

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever. 

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus. 

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .” 

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something. 

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .” 

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . . 

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden. 

[cakerybakery]

Lucifer groaned still mostly asleep. A tiny fist was digging their tiny claws into his lip. He wretched his head away and tried to turn but his arm was trapped under a much heavier body than his son and his tail was wrapped around a thick thigh.

He opened his eyes a little. It was still the middle of the night and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. Over their newly hatched son’s head he spotted Adam.

It took Lucifer a few ticks to remember. Their son had been colicky. The two of them paced back and forth, taking turns until just past midnight.

When he finally settled down Lucifer had just laid him between them on Adam’s bed and passed out.

They still had yet to name the little fellow. Adam had been too busy with his victory dance when he hatched.

“A son! I fucking told you. These nuts produce boys!”

“Point of order, Adam. You have exactly one more son than you did daughters, he was the tie breaker. And two, your nuts were not involved in this process. They were born like all heaven-borns. Some of my blood, some of your blood, and a magic spell.”

That didn’t stop Adam from being happy he was right and they had a prince of purgatory. Lucifer that thought for sure they had a little princess.

Another little hand grabbed at him, the baby curled into his chest.

It was going to be weird having Adam around but he was working from home and commuting to heaven once a week after his very generous parental leave from his heavenly duties was up in another two years. Adam coming to live in hell until the baby was grown and ready to take over ruling purgatory was the only option.

Adam wasn’t about to do altering weeks. He refused to miss any of the baby milestones. And Lucifer couldn’t go to heaven. So for the next twenty odd years Adam would be living in his guest room.

Lucifer snuggled the baby with his free arm.

He gave the boy a kiss on his crown. And his tiny halo glowed.

In the dim light Lucifer smiled at Adam over their boy’s head. It was cute how he was cuddling their son. Arms wrapped about him and keeping him safe.

Lucifer laid back down to go back to sleep.

Wait. That wasn’t right.

He poked his head back up. He looked at the baby in his arms. And he looked at the baby in Adam’s arms.

“Son of a bitch! They’re twins!”

He startled Adam awake.

“Huh? What? What’s going on? Lucifer?” Adam squinted up at him. “What are you yelling about?”

“Ugh. Twins! They’re fucking twins.” Lucifer rolled onto his back and rubbed at his forehead as he groaned. “No wonder he was colicky. He was trying to divide.”

“What twins? Who’s twins? Were you dreaming?” He could hear Adam sitting up.

Lucifer pulled his freed arm away and gestured between them. “Count the babies.”

“Uhh? Suuure? One… two… Two? TWO! The fuck?!? Where did the second baby come from??”

“Same place all heaven-born twins do. The baby hatched and divided. Usually it’s right away. The record for taking the longest was Michael and I. Twelve hours.” Lucifer grabbed the clock and looked. “But I think they just beat that. They were about twelve hours old when we got him to sleep. It’s four am now. So sometime in the last four hours he divided.”

“Guess I’m two up for sons, then.” Adam groaned, trying to make a joke despite everything.

Lucifer checked the diaper of the one he was cuddling. “Looks like a tie again. But I’m two to one now. If he’s still a he. Things get tricky during a divide. A boy dividing into two girls isn’t unusual.”

Adam checked his baby. “Tie.”

“Oh fuck!” Lucifer cursed.

“What?”

“This mean double the fucking paperwork.”

“Oh fuck!”