#twisted emotions header

[hiloedits]

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[maddiesflame]

cindy kimberly x ninokiara layouts

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[imaginaryf1shots]

Hot and Cold | Charles Leclerc

WC: 3K

Charles x gf!reader

Summery: "I can't do this anymore, I can't be everything to you one minute and then mean nothing to you the next." from my 1K celebration

Warning: angst, don’t think there’s anything else.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Being a Formula 1 driver, isn't easy and it's a very demanding job. You know that and everyone that knows someone in F1 knows that. The sport takes a big toll on everyone involved, physically and mentally. You've seen what the pressure does to drivers. Charles, who you've been with for a long time is a testament to what it does to people.

The road to reaching F1 for Charles was long and hard and he lost so much on the way. There was so many sacrifices he had to make just to reach his destination and achieve his dream.

On track, the smell of burning rubber is strong and the air is filled with adrenaline. It was all familiar to you now. Charles was in his element there more than anywhere else. To everyone he's Charles Leclerc the prodigy, the hope to Ferrari, but beneath that helmet he's just a man juggling the weight of his dreams and the expectations.

Off track, as Charles's significant other, you try to be there for him as much as possible provide all the love he needs, to comfort him when he needs it, to be a stable constant in his life. Charles is a loving and attentive boyfriend, he always wants you to fly with him and be there with him. Whatever your needs are he always tries to meet them.

As the new season progressed though things have began to change, and at first it was just a bad race he'd be upset for a couple of days before he'd become normal again, but then his mood would stay down for longer and the moments when you two could be happy together became less and less. It was rare now to have a moment with Charles that's just the two of and filled with joy.

It was when Charles is home that you started to feel the distance between the two of you. Charles was home but his mind was a thousands miles away, caught in strategies, cars and lap times. As you watched you could see his brows furrowed in thought, his arms absently tapping the arm of the sofa, and a bang of longing twisted in your chest.

"Charles." You called gently trying to pull him back to you, to here, to now. Charles looked up, when his met yours, you can see reflecting exhaustion and something else you couldn't pinpoint. Guilt? Or was it the weight of the expectations?

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" He smiled oh so sweetly, and you returned his smile.

"I was saying if you're not feeling up to it we can cancel our reservation for dinner and go another time." You tell him and Charles takes a moment to answer, and that is telling enough for you, if he wanted to go he would've jumped at the idea of going and refused instantly. "It's alright my love, we can go another time."

"Can we? You won't be mad?" Charles asked and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"No I wouldn't." And you weren't mad, you were sad, you were really looking forwards to tonight, you bought a new outfit and had it all planned out. There was no other time to go, Charles is heading into a triple header and there was no time in between to do anything.

There was no late-night conversations, because Charles wanted to sleep to reenergize, there was no sharing dreams or thoughts, and you haven't been intimate in so long as well. Your heart ached on those night where Charles was sleeping next to you but it felt like he was so far away.

At one point he got you a gift with a hand written letter and you felt like the Charles you fell in love with is back, you were filled with hope. But then the next day he was back in his head, and distant. You're starting to feel like he's playing with your emotions.

Charles one day decided to take you out in Monaco to a café you haven't been to in a long time. You dressed for the occasion, dolled up. The walk to the café was a nice one, you walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. Once you reached the café, Charles got an email from Ferrari and like that he was gone, you ordered for the both of you, something that fit his diet so when you ate he wouldn't feel left out or tempted since he's been hard on himself when it came to the diet and the gym. The food and drinks came but he was still lost in his own world, taking a bite of your food, everything was tasteless, you wanted to spit out the food as your stomach churned. Putting the fork down you signalled to the waiter to bring the check all while Charles is still lost on his phone, he's been good at blocking everything when he's working these days, and he's been working a lot. You paid and he was still none the wiser.

Only when you stood up that he looked up from his phone.

“Amour?" He was confused, he looked around him and saw the now cold drink you ordered him and the bill on the table.

"I'm going home, don't worry about the bill, I paid, when you're done you can come home." You said with a smile and turned to leave.

"y/n, wait!" Charles scrambled to follow you, he walked out after you. Charles jogged until he was behind you, he held your arm to stop you from walking, and as he opened his mouth to speak his phone rang. He glanced at it and bit his lip. He had no idea what to do now. You laughed dryly.

“Just answer." Charles didn't put up a fight and you slipped out of his hold, but you didn't go home, you weren't in the mood. So you walked around the city, enjoying the good weather.

"y/n!" Someone called your name and for a split second you hoped, you hoped it would be Charles, but you recognized that voice. You turn and smile, a fake smile, your heart started beating in your chest as your emotions started to get to you and you fought them.

"Max, hey." You greeted the RedBull driver, you've been dating Charles long enough to be on good terms with the other drivers and their girlfriends. "Kelly, how are you?"

"We're good, how are you?" Kelly asks and you both hug and press your cheeks together in greeting.

"I'm, I'm good." You nod and then bite your lip, Kelly didn't believe you and frankly neither did Max and out of the two he knows you least.

"We were just going back home, if you're not doing anything, maybe you'd want to come over?" Kelly asked and you looked at the couple and gave them the smallest smile you could master.

"No, I don't want to intrude." You say and shake your head no.

"Where's Charles?" Max asks and Kelly hits his chest softly and glared at her boyfriend. Max was a bit confused. Kelly watched your expression, you smiled before your brows wavered and your lips trembled.

"Oh honey." Kelly pulls you in for a hug. Kelly holds you for a few minutes while you calm down, once you did the couple took you back to their home.

Sitting in their living room, you just broke down and told them what's been going on. Your phone started ringing half way through and blowing up with texts from Charles, all going unanswered. The couple were baffled with what you said, to everyone you always looked like the perfect couple, the envy of everyone. Yet, here you are crying your eyes out because your boyfriend has been ignoring you for the better part of the year.

You spent the night at the Verstappen-piquet household before you decided to head back home.

"Are you sure?" Max asked as he walked you to the door.

"Yes, thank you, I'll be fine." You reassured him, and with a quick hug you left. It didn't take long for you to reach your shared house with Charles, when you walked in you heard hurried movements before Charles appeared in front of you.

"Oh mon amour, I was so scared." He did look stressed, you sighed and closed the door lightly, your moves were slow, you took off your shoes and dropped off your bag on the table by the entrance before you turned to look at Charles, it's apparent you both didn't sleep well. You knew Charles had work today, that's why you went out yesterday, but he was dressed in sweatpants and a random shirt, a stay at home outfit.

"We need to talk." You said, your voice tight, struggling to contain the emotions that threatened to spill over. You had given Charles so much time and space in hope that with time he'd find his way back to you, that the coldness in him will thaw and melt, but the moments when you think it happened aren't enough, they're rare and far between.

"Look, if it's about yesterday, I'm so sorry, I should've-" Charles started before you cut him off.

"No, we need to talk about us." You said your voice trembling ever so slightly, you both move to the living room and you sit across from Charles. When you first started dating and until a year ago, you've never sat apart on any sofa, in any room, but it's becoming familiar now. "We need to talk about how we've been struggling lately, our relationship is drowning."

"Drowning? y/n, amour, yesterday I just had an important email and then call about work." Charles tried to explain but it just made you more sure that this conversation had to be had.

"And last week?" Charles frowns thinking about last week, you had planned to go out with your friends, but he bailed last minute to stay home and get on the sim, so you went alone. "And last month? My mum's birthday? Our anniversary?"

"A-Amour, I didn't realise I've been under alot of pressure, you know that." Charles sighed, the sound was heavy and weary, he couldn't meet your eyes, he knows he missed up big time. "The season is in full swing, and I need to focus." "Charles, we've been like that since last year, I only had you for a part of the winter break before you were back at work." You frown, trying to make him realise for how long he's been like this, and you've tried to be understanding, to be by his side and take it. "What about me? Do I not matter to you anymore? Does our relationship mean so little to you?"

"No, it's not like that." He said rubbing his temples. "I'm just... I'm trying to keep up with everything."

"Everything but us." You said your voice gaining an edge as you started feeling angry.

"I... I didn't realise," He stammered, standing up and taking a step towards you, you stood up but took a step back, you didn't want him near you, to touch you, if he did, you'll give up. It hurt him seeing you step away from him, but knows he deserved it. "I'm Sorry, I've neem so caught up with everything, I didn't see what I was doing to you."

"Caught up?" You repeated, the anger in your voice apparent, but your next words took a turn as your voice trembled. "You've been so focused on your career, on your races, that you've forgotten what's really important, I've been right here, waiting, hoping for the old Charles-my Charles-to come back, but all I got are those glimpses and small moments."

Charles' shoulders sagged, he ran a hand though his hair and his eyes filled with pain and regret. "I never meant to hurt you, I just thought that... I thought I could handle it all, I thought you understood."

"I did understand, I do." You said and the tears you've been fighting welled

up in your eyes. "But understanding doesn't mean I can endure this forever. I need you, Charles. I need you to be here, really here and not just you on the phone or in the sim room."

Charles wanted to promise you that he'll be better, but he's scared to make a promise that he may not be able to keep. You knew Charles well enough to know what's going on in his mind, and so the tears escaped and you smiled, it was a painful smile teary and hurtful.

"I can't do this anymore, Charles." You said and you tried to stop the tears from flowing, it's starting to dawn on him what your next words will be. "I can't mean everything to you one minute and then mean nothing to you the next."

"Amour." Charles sounded broken, he loves you and you know that, but sometimes love isn't enough. You've chosen Charles so many times but you have to choose yourself right now, you have to, or this relationship will drain you out. You walk around Charles and head to your shared bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you, you take out your suitcase, and pack your essentials, what you'd need for a week, knowing Charles will be out of the house for a race after that.

When you walked out after you were finished, you saw Charles siting on the sofa looking miserable, you left the suitcase by the door and walked up to Charles. He looked up at you and glanced at the bag behind you. this is it, you're leaving him and he deserved it. He looked broken and it took everything in you not to go back on your decision. You opened your arms and Charles walked in to your hug, he was heavy in your arms. You both held each other for a long while, this may be the last hug you share. No matter what happened there's still so much love that you have for each other making this more painful.

"I'm so sorry amour." Charles muttered in your ear and you ran your hand through his hair and sighed =

"I know, my love, I know." You say back and pull back, you try to give him a small smile. Your hand was on his cheek as you rubbed it, feeling him for the last time. Charles's arms on your waist tightened, he didn't want to let you go. "I'll see you around

Charles."

That was his que to let you go, you kissed his cheek just next to his lips and his hands flexed before he let go. You walked out of his arms. You opened the front door and rolled out your bag before you closed the door you looked at Charles, who was frozen.

"I'll still wear red on the weekends, I'll cheer you on, no matter what." You hesitated before you said. "I love you Charles, please don't make this hard on yourself and don't pressure yourself, I'm choosing myself, so you choose yourself too."

With that you closed the door after you and left.

Being without Charles has been hard, you’ve been together for so long. Even if he’s been distant before you broke it off, you’d always be finding yourself wanting to text or call him. You found an apartment in Nice that you rented until you know what your next steps will be like. Your life has been intertwined so much with Charles’ that it was hard to untangle it. There was this constant ache in your heart.

Charles, on the other hand, was a man undone. The realisation of what he had lost hit him with the force of a speeding car. He threw himself more into his races, each victory a hollow echo of what he truly wanted, his ups aren’t so satisfying now. It wasn’t the podiums that filled his thoughts; it was you, the person who had been his anchor and his heart.

And so one evening, as the sun started to set, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Charles standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and weary, a man who had been through his own kind of race, one that he desperately hoped would end with you.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance.” He began, his voice raw with emotion as he didn’t give you a chance to say anything, he was scared you’d slam the door in his face. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I’ve realised that without you, none of this means anything. The races, the wins, they’re all empty without you. Please, give me one more chance. I promise, I’ll be the man you need, the man you deserve.”

You stood there, heart pounding, torn between the pain of the past and the love you still felt for him. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation of a man who had finally realised what truly mattered.

“I still love you, Charles.” You said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “But I can’t go through this again. You need to prove to me that things will be different, that you’ll be there, really there.”

“I will.” He said, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and familiar. “I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just give me the chance to show you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the man you had fallen in love with, the man who had been lost but now stood before you, pleading for a second chance. With a deep breath, you nodded, a tentative smile breaking through the tears.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “One more chance.”

And as the sun set, bathing the city in a warm, forgiving light, you stepped back into the arms of the man who had found his way back to you, ready to start anew and rebuild the love that had once seemed lost forever.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[theemporium]

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends! .

Max Verstappen wasn’t really good when it came to words. He never had been. 

When Max was told to express his emotions—any of them—it was like a part of his brain switched off and everything became more difficult. It was hard for his brain to wrap around his thoughts, process them and vocalise them. It was difficult for him to say the words that flowed so easily for other people.

When his dad was yelling at him, the fear locked him down before he could even utter a word. When he was happy, the adrenaline made it easy to act instead of thinking. When he was scared or excited or angry, it never mattered. Max Verstappen just couldn’t seem to voice any of the feelings rushing through him. 

And that was the case of love—the most overwhelming and suffocating emotion of them all—Max could barely keep his head on right. 

As cheesy and cliche as it sounded, Max didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met you. He didn’t realise it was love, not really, but he knew that the tightening feeling in his chest and surprisingly pleasant twist in his stomach only urged him to close the distance between you and introduce himself. And he was right. It was love. It was so much more than love, even if it took him a few months to realise it. 

There was never a doubt in your mind that Max loved you, but he just didn’t show it the same as others did. 

You first experienced Max’s love around two months into the relationship. 

Timing for a relationship—romantic or not—was never an easy thing in the world of Formula One. Ironically enough, Max thought the universe was on his side when he met you during the summer break. It was four weeks of bliss. Four weeks of pushing every racing thought away from his brain—something that once seemed impossible—and just focusing on you. 

Even as the season returned, the few weekends away didn’t seem like such a big deal when the two of you were giddy and happy and buzzing to explore this new, bubbling connection. 

But then a triple header came around and Max, for the first time in his life, was annoyed by his job. 

He didn’t like being away from you. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t just drag you along with him, from country to country like the greedy man he wanted to be. He didn’t like that he was so wrapped up with training and racing and resting that the communication between you two was already getting difficult and you hadn’t even left the honeymoon phase.

It was odd to be so happy for the triple header to end, to cross that line on Sunday and know he had at least two weeks before he had to leave you again. It felt odd that he had found something that he adored as much as racing outside of his job. 

Except, despite feeling every single word he thought, he never said it to you.

Instead, he had wandered into your apartment after stopping by his own and simply grinned at you when you opened the door, a brown paper bag in hand as he said, “I’ve got something for you.”

It was a magnet. In fact, it was three magnets, each from the country he visited. 

And maybe to others, it wasn’t much. And maybe to others, it was a little tacky. But to you, it was everything and more. It told you that even when he was away, even when he was working, even when he had a million things on his mind, Max still thought of you. 

It was a reoccurring tradition that continued throughout your relationship. 

At the most random times on the most random days, Max would hand you a brown paper bag that held some stupidly adorable and sentimental gift that made your heart explode. He bought you other gifts, big and extravagant and expensive ones that made your head spin a little, but the ones that came in a brown paper bag were your favourite.

They were thoughtful and heartwarming and they decorated your apartment like little reminders of the man you loved. 

So, three years into your relationship with Max, it was no surprise when you found him in the kitchen one morning, two plates of french toast and a brown paper bag lying by the counter. 

“Hm, forgot to give me it last night?” You teased as you slid into a stool, grinning at him as he passed you a mug—coffee made just how you liked it—before he slid into the stool next to you.

“I was distracted,” Max retorted with a matching grin on his face as he leaned down to peck your lips. “Can’t blame me.”

“I can forgive you this once, I guess,” you said, sighing a little dramatically as you did just because hearing Max laugh was one of your favourite sounds. “Especially if it is one of those cute figurines you sent me pictures of.” 

“I think you’ll like it all the same,” Max said, and maybe if you were a little more awake you would have noticed the hint of nervousness in his voice as he reached over for the bag and slid it towards you. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” you assured the boy, because you always did. Because whatever it was, it meant he was thinking of you—of your reaction—when he bought it and that was more than enough. 

You didn’t comment on his sudden silence as you took the bag, reaching inside to feel a small box between your fingers. You looked up at him with an unsuspecting smile, not even fully realising what sat in your palm when you opened the box until your eyes flickered down and you froze. 

Because it wasn’t the figurine. It wasn’t another pair of earrings he saw at a local market. It wasn’t a funny crystal that he swore was meant to bring good fortune. It wasn’t a magnet. 

No, because the gift inside of the brown paper bag—the gift that was currently sitting in the palm of your hand—was a ring box. 

A ring box with the most perfect fucking ring staring back at you. 

“Max?” His name barely a whisper because that was all you could manage, that was all you were able to get out as you turned to look at him. Your vision was starting to blur with tears but so were his. And fuck, his blurry, smiling face was the prettiest sight you had ever fucking seen. 

“Marry me?” He asked, because he was Max. He was your Max. He didn’t do big speeches or love confessions. He didn’t do over the top celebrations or huge parties when it came to the things that mattered, the intimate moments that didn’t require an audience. 

He didn’t need anything more than a brown paper bag, a question and you. 

“I am gonna marry the shit out of you,” you managed to mutter out before you launched yourself at him, practically climbing onto his lap as he laughed and hugged you close and didn’t let go until your coffee was cold and the tears were gone and there was a pretty fucking ring on your finger. 

Max Verstappen wasn’t good with words, but he had other ways of showing he loved you and there was no doubt in your head that he did.

.

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[myfictionaldreams]

Overwhelming // Mafia!Stucky x fem!Reader

Summary: It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

Prompt: How would the boys help Reader through a subdrop?

Requested by: @southern-goth​ (thank you so much for the request! And for the amazing header that I’ve included in your previous request, I love it!)

Tags: sfw, polyamory, subdrop, dom/sub relationship, mentions of rough sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, aftercare (lots!!), soft steve & bucky, crying/anxiety, size difference, pet names, praising, kissing

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The night was filled with restless tossing and turning from the edge of the bed. There was nothing in particular that you could definitely pinpoint as the reason for the unease but you saw every hour of the night.

Even as Bucky’s warm, solid body found yours across the bed, his mind still deep within the sleep world, he still enveloped himself around you. Normally, the strong beat of his heart against your ear, even his natural musk would be enough to make you feel safe and relaxed in your own peaceful sleep.

However as the clock ticked to 04:30 am, all hope was lost for the land of rest and as you found yourself needing to turn in Bucky’s arms once more, the decision was made. Carefully, as to not wake the sleeping gang member, you inched out from underneath his metal arm, gently laying it back down on the bed.

Stretching out your body, you had to refrain from sighing, for no reason in particular. There was a heavy feeling settled through the centre of your chest, making your body feel heavy and weighted, almost making it an effort to even find the energy to stand.

But you pushed yourself to stand, needing to move and shake off whatever feeling had been disturbing your sleep. Deciding to go and make a coffee, you gave one last glance at the two men still sleeping, usually feeling a happy calm at being able to witness them both look so peaceful. However, your gut twisted, a lump forming in your throat that took a moment to pass.

Exiting the bedroom, your steps were slow and dragging along the carpet. Confused as to why you were feeling upset, almost like there was a rain cloud hovering over your head.

Waiting for the coffee to heat, your mind began to wonder, trying to deduce what might be wrong but in reality, you were already aware, it had just never been this impactful before.

It had been your birthday a few days ago, Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party however, it was the nighttime activities that might have been the cause for your emotions. Not only were you the centre of attention during the fucking but it had been long, intense, mind-blowing sex that left you begging for more, of which your boyfriends were happy to oblige.

The mental headspace that a session like that gave you felt almost euphoric, nothing could be negative, even falling into a little bit of subspace following it, giving the sensation of floating, like being drunk. Then a couple of hours later with the unbalance of hormones (something Bucky had to explain), it would feel like depression with how low your mood would go as you experienced a subdrop. Luckily you were never far from the boys who regularly checked in on you anyway to give the support you desperately needed.

Concluding that this was the cause for how you were feeling, you should have contemplated waking either one of your boyfriends but the shame seemed to overpower any rational thought. You were your own worst enemy during these subdrops and the added exhaustion that was influencing your body, it was a toxic pair.

Steve and Bucky had made the weekend so incredibly special for you, every moment had a smile permanently stitched to your face so for it all to come crashing down and be this needy, depressed person, you were embarrassed and ashamed. The feeling would pass, and it always did so making the decision to just suck it up and keep it to yourself, they’d already done so much for you.

As you poured the now steaming hot coffee into the cup, you heard the recognisable sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind and rather than being excited and giddy which was usually your reaction to your boyfriends, the heavy sensation only increased in your chest.

Unbeknownst to Steve, he padded into the kitchen, smiling upon seeing you with fresh coffee. Walking up behind your much shorter body, his hands cupped your hips, gently pulling you back into his muscular build, his handsome face dropping to give a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning baby”, his voice was thick with sleep, croaking slightly. Trying to play along with it, leaning into his warmth, even though you wanted to run away and cry so he couldn’t see.

“Morning”.

As Steve spoke, he manoeuvred around you, finding his own cup to pour coffee into. “You’re up early, how are you feeling this morning?” his question was innocent but it caused your heart to pound.

“I’m fine”, you were thinking coherent thoughts to be able to think of an excuse for being up so early, usually being the last to rise. “How are you? Are you off to the gym?” referring to his attire and it wasn’t like he was travelling far with the homemade gym in the basement.

A subtle frown momentarily crossed over his expression at the monotone way you were answering his questions but he shrugged it away, you would tell him if something was wrong, putting it down to tiredness. “Yeah, need to work off some of the cake from this weekend”, he joked, a twinkle forming in his eye. “After that, I’m all yours”.

“I had you all weekend”, you were quick to take a drink of your coffee, even as it was too hot and slightly scorched your tongue. Steve squinted at you in curiosity, noting your flat tone once more.

“You can have me every second of every day if that makes you happy” he admitted softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. It did make you happy but with the mood you were in, you felt selfish and guilty for this. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m just tired, I might go back to bed”, this was a lie but he seemed to accept it, kissing your cheek once more for comfort and then heading off towards the gym. Finally being on your own, and getting what you wanted it would be an assumption to presume this would make you feel any better but it only made you feel worse. Not realising just how much you were depending on his warmth and the coolness returning to your skin as you sulked into the living room, turning on the TV to a random channel, not paying attention at all.

No, instead you stared into space, holding one of the decorative cushions to your body to try and fill the void that was aching your chest but this of course did nothing. The longer you were awake, the worst you were continuing to feel, emotionally and physically.

It was almost like being hungover, the anxiety that follows a heavy drinking session and the fatigue from the effects of alcohol, except there was no alcohol involved and you were feeling all of these effects just from a hormone imbalance.

As you continued to sit in your pity, Bucky had begun to descend the stairs in joggers and a white shirt, following the noise of the TV to find you sitting on the couch. He didn’t say a single word or notice the off-mood and simply reached your head over the back of the couch, tipping it back to peck your lips.

His touch had caused you to jump slightly having been lost in your thoughts and not heard him approaching but he was already walking into the kitchen, probably to pour his own morning drink, like he did every morning.

As if right on queue, the hulking form of the brunette returned to your eye line, smiling before taking a sip of his black coffee as he sat next to you. “What are you watching, mama?”

The lump had returned to your throat so instead of answering him, you shrugged your shoulders, not even looking at the TV, knuckles adding to the discomfort with how aggressively you held onto the pillow as if it was your lifeline.

Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew were off the moment he saw you on the sofa, alone. Even without the glazed-over look in your eyes or the tension in your shoulders, he had known you for long enough to know what was going on. Carefully placing his cup onto the small table between the TV and the couch, Bucky sighed in frustration. Not that you were in this situation, but because you hadn’t come to him or Steve, wishing your anxiety would understand that they wanted to help and wouldn’t be annoyed or aggravated by you just simply needing them more than other days.

It was half expected anyway following the weekend, that's why Steve and Bucky had made sure that they were home today rather than in the office, making sure only to be contacted in case of emergency.

Not that this had even crossed your mind at all this morning, in fact, if asked, you couldn’t name what day it was in the week because all that consumed your mind was the hope for Bucky to get up and leave. Hope that he would find something he actually enjoyed doing instead of wasting another hour with you.

Of course, this was ridiculous thinking and if Bucky truly knew what was going through your self-sabotaged thoughts, he would probably sit you down for three hours and rant about how absurd and untrue this was.

“How are you feeling after the birthday weekend, it was slightly intense wasn’t it?” he asked casually, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

“A bit”, was your only answer.

He continued to try and ask questions, hoping to draw some kind of a reaction of out you to engage just how severe this subdrop was and so far, it wasn’t looking that positive. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Again, he referred to the activities from the weekend. Your response was half a shake of the head to say no but that was mostly for his benefit, desperate to not have him feeling bad because, in reality, your body was aching. Especially between your legs and upper arms from where they held you in a firm grip. It wasn’t like they hadn’t prepped but they were so much bigger than you, it always felt a little uncomfortable the day after and yesterday, you’d been begging for them to keep going, thriving in the pain mixed with pleasure. However now as the arousal was swept from your body, and feeling as fatigued as you did, it only emphasised the areas that were especially sensitive.

Judging by your demeanour, he contemplated continuing talking to you, to better understand the stand-offish behaviour but with the slight tremble rocking your body, this wasn’t what you needed.

Bucky instead opted to reach for the pillow, attempting to pull it away but you held on tightly, muttering that it was comfortable. The brunette didn’t relent, however, putting a little more strength until the pillow was firmly in his grip and being placed on the table.

Without missing a beat, Bucky was gently pulling on your arms, coaxing you into his lap. Before you could even straddle his hips, you began to sob, the emotions finally overwhelming you.

Grasping his shirt tightly, you cried heavily into Bucky’s t-shirt and he just held you, running his warm hand up and down your spine in slow circles whilst his metal hand rested on the back of your head.

You cried and cried until completely exhausted and only hiccups remained, eyes now sore and Bucky’s t-shirt soaked. Your boyfriend hadn’t asked you any further questions, he didn’t need to, having been right about his theory, Bucky knew you just needed to be close and present with him and Steve once he returned from the gym.

“You’re safe mama, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere, I love you”. Bucky repeated these four statements repeatedly, over and over until his mouth was dry and even then continued until his fists loosed the grip of his t-shirt.

“I know you’re going to be feeling some negative emotions right now Doll but I need you to listen to me and believe what I’m saying. We love you, this feeling is going to pass and we’ll be right next to you the entire time.”

Bucky’s words did help to break down that mental barrier but now you were completely exhausted.

“What we are going to do first is go upstairs, I’m going to run you a hot bath then we’ll have some food, maybe have a midday nap, we can watch a movie or play a game. We are going to take today slowly but we’re not leaving your side, not until you’re feeling better, ok?”

With your eyes closed, you were only able to nod against his chest in response. His list of activities sounded perfect, the desire to run away having completely disappeared now which you were thankful for but it was only replaced with the sensation to be cradled to his body. 

Luckily for you, Bucky knew this and was more than happy to mostly carry you up the stairs and into the master bathroom, settling you into the bathtub, and helping to discard your clothes before filling it up with water hot enough to relax your tense muscles. Bucky himself didn’t climb into the bath, instead sat on the floor, stroking his fingers across your head exactly how you liked it, smiling as your furrowed brows relaxed.

You could have fallen asleep right there and then, until Steve’s voice was drifting into your ears as he stood at the bathroom door, sweat dripping from his brow. “Everything ok?”

For the first time that day, you properly looked at Bucky, feeling slightly anxious at the thought of him having to tell Steve about the subdrop. But your boyfriend was quick to swipe away the negativity as he said in a low voice, “Remember what I said downstairs? About the list of activities, we’re doing today? Well Stevie here is going to take my place here and I’ll go and cook us some brunch, how does that sound?”

Surprisingly, the corner of your lips lifted into a subtle smile. Bucky beamed at this, the corner of his eyes creasing with the joy he was displaying before he reached across the kiss the tip of your nose and speak to Steve.

You couldn’t hear what was said but Steve was soon joining you in the bathroom and you sat and watched silently as he took off his gym attire. “Enjoying the view baby?” he asked teasingly before helping you to sit forward, giving him room to sit behind you in the water, eagerly pulling your body back to rest against his. “I love you” he whispered as he held you tightly.

If you weren’t so exhausted, you probably would have cried at even that smallest statement because it was all you wanted to hear.

Turning slightly in his embrace, once again you didn’t feel like talking, even though you wanted to repeat your love to him just as much as you had wanted to with Bucky, the words seemed to fail you. So instead you lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat thumping against your ear. Steve understood your intentions, knew these little signs that showed your vulnerability and made sure to tighten his grip slightly, making you feel enclosed more.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Steve eventually had to move the two of you to make sure you were both washed before the water cooled too much. Then once out of the water, he didn’t waste any time helping to dry your body in a large cream towel, dressing you in oversized pyjamas before even starting to care for himself. As the two of you returned downstairs, Bucky announced that brunch was nearly finished and from the smell, it was going to be delicious.

Throughout the entire time, you were attached to either Steve or Bucky, whether that was holding a hand or sitting on either of their laps and they made sure you didn’t do any chores such as washing up. It was important that you rested when feeling this low so straight after finishing the food, they situated into the living room, finding the TV still on from earlier.

You weren’t particularly bothered with whatever movie was selected. No, you were more distracted by the hulky sandwich they’d somehow squashed you into. Your legs were thrown over Steve’s lap, head laying on his shoulder and Bucky was spooning you from behind, it felt like there wasn’t one part of your body that wasn’t touching both of them and you loved it, not even needing a blanket to feel secure in.

Sleep came peacefully now, the ache in your chest having eased after all the comfort you’d been given. Your last thoughts before succumbing fully to sleep were how thankful you were to Steve and Bucky, looking forward to waking up with more energy so you could show them just how much you really loved them.

[augentrust]

The Bone That Has No Marrow

[find it on ao3 here]

Words: 28k | Rating: T | Shadowgast

One moment makes all the difference during the battle at Blumenthal. In the aftermath, the Nein grapple with what comes next.

Featuring:

✨ A twist on Echoes of the Solstice ✨ Mighty Nein-typical emotional regulation and processing ✨ Angst with a happy ending

Header Image: Page 187 of "The Half Hour Library of Travel, Nature and Science for young readers" (1896) courtesy of the British Library's online collection here

[venusandsaturnsrings]

Thoughts on Wriothesley?

I HAVE A LOT THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! cant wait for his bday so i have better art to use as a header… his bday is 3 days before mine >///< almost bday twins!!

synopsis: just a handful of general headcanons i have for him. some are relationship, some are just him!! ^u^

contains: some spoilers for his background, gn reader, trauma related hcs, substance mention, and kink mentions.

wrio is the kind of guy to dance around subjects he has no interest in sharing. he won’t outright tell you not to ask and instead twist it back to you. a lot of “well, what do you think?” or “hm… have you checked with others?” it’s polite but also frustrating at times.

you may think he’s a dog person but he’s actually a cat kind of guy!! i can see him liking dogs for practical purposes but he enjoys cats more because he bonds better with them. what’s better than a cup of tea and a happy cat purring in your lap?

can shotgun any beverage no problem.

he collects tea obviously but he also collects mugs to go with them!! big cabinet!! if you’re ever stumped on what to get him as a gift, you can’t go wrong with a cute mug and tea.

can’t play any instruments and feels a bit insecure about it?? wrio feels like he should have some extra talents or hobbies such as music but he can’t play anything and doesn’t know where to start!! please teach him!!

his favourite dates are ones spent in secluded areas of the over world. on beaches or in small towns, he just likes being away from work and in privacy with you.

wrio does expect you to understand and accept his job. if you’re not okay with the way he runs things or prioritizes then, even if it hurts him, he’ll let you go the other way.

he’s not opposed to suggestions or changing the way things run but, if you want him to restructure everything or quit, then he’s saying goodbye.

MELTS for massages. between being hunched over a desk and boxing, he’s sore constantly. please massage him!!

his primary love language to give is words of affirmation. if you’re ever feeling insecure or unsure of something, wrio is quick to step in and praise you for the smallest things.

his favourite love language to receive is, somewhat surprisingly, physical touch.

he isn’t big on being touched in general or into the beginning of your relationship (part of the ptsd related to his past) but once he’s comfortable, he’ll perk up at even a graze of your fingertips. very much a deprived victorian maiden.

on the topic of his past i do see him as having ptsd. when he was younger, he had oppositional defiance disorder and struggled a lot with containing those emotions before and after his parents. being in prison i think it’s likely he had some substance problems at one point, alcohol or benzodiazepines maybe, but he’s gotten clean!!

i think he’s a total straight edge now except for smoking cigarettes. doesn’t drink or do any other drugs but just can’t seem to kick his smoking habit. he tries drinking tea instead of reaching for his cigs though!!

getting intimate… was a struggle for him at first.

it’s very vulnerable!! he isn’t a fan of that!! so you’ll have to take it slow with him at first.

once he’s warmed up to it and gotten into a rhythm with you, i see his top kinks being: restraints, receiving head/cock worship, creampies, spitting on you, and mild exhibitionism.

wrio has a solid length but is significantly girthy!! it’s a tough fit at first and your jaw always hurts sucking him off :(( but he gives you a good face fucking!! plus it means he can plug you full of cum real well!!

he’s got a teeny tiny secret idea about sharing you with neuvillette but shhh don’t tell him i told you…

[sophiethewitch1]

1K CELEBRATION EVENT OPEN! CLOSED!

Hello, welcome! This event is going to celebrate my first thousand followers :D!! It's as the header says, a yandere alphabet, but with my special brand of soft yandere. Please feel free to send in letters for whoever you'd like, there's no limit, I might just pick and choose if you request a lot of letters. Thank you so much for following, I'm so happy you're here! Let's keep having lots of fun together <3 <3

ACCEPTING A-Z REQUESTS FOR:

The batboys (Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke) The batgirls (Barbara, Steph, Cass) My OCs (Silvan, Daire, etc.) MAYBE for most DC characters, blue lock characters, bnha characters

Alphabet made by @/jaydenchip404 tysm for making this!

List below the cut!

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

C = Cruelty (Once Abducted, How is Their Treatment Marked by a Twisted Sense of Devotion? Does Mockery Become a Dark Form of Endearment?):

D = Darling (Beyond Morality, is Any Act Justified in Their Pursuit of Their Darling? Is Consent Merely an Obstacle to Be Overcome?):

E = Exposed (To What Extent Do They Bare Their Heart to Their Darling? How Vulnerable Are They When It Comes to Their Obsession?):

F = Fight (Does Resistance Only Fuel Their Passion? Do They Find Thrill in the Chase and the Challenge of Subduing Their Darling?):

G = Game (Is Every Move Meticulously Orchestrated, Turning the Pursuit Into a Twisted Game? Do They Derive Pleasure From Watching Their Darling Attempt Escape?):

H = Hell (How Carefully Crafted is Their Darling's Worst Experience, Designed to Break the Spirit While Strengthening the Bonds of Possession?):

I = Ideals (Does Their Envisioned Future Solely Revolve Around the Union With Their Darling? Is Their Love the Only Guiding Force?):

J = Jealousy (Does Jealousy Course Through Their Veins, Leading to Possessive Outbursts and a Relentless Need to Eliminate Perceived Threats?):

K = Kisses (Are Their Acts of Affection Both Tender and Suffocating? Do Their Kisses Blend Love and Possession, Leaving No Room for Escape?):

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

M = Mask (How Drastic is the Difference Between Their Public Facade and True Self? Is the World Seeing a Mask, While Their Darling Witnesses Unfiltered Madness?):

N = Naughty (Is Punishment a Dark Art, a Methodical Infliction of Pain Designed to Correct Perceived Transgressions and Reinforce Control?):

O = Oppression (How Many Rights Are They Willing to Take Away From Their Darling, Molding Their World Into a Prison of Their Design?):

P = Patience (Is Their Patience a Calculated Facade, Concealing the Storm Brewing Beneath the Surface? Is It a Waiting Game for the Perfect Moment?):

Q = Quit (Is Moving on an Alien Concept for Them? Would the Death, Departure, or Escape of Their Darling Shatter Their World, Leaving Behind an Irreparable Void?):

R = Regret (Would Guilt Ever Be a Foreign Emotion, Overridden by the Conviction That Their Actions Are Justified? Is the Idea of Letting Their Darling Go Inconceivable?):

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

T = Tears (Does the Sight of Their Darling's Suffering Evoke a Twisted Pleasure, a Morbid Satisfaction Reinforcing Their Control?):

U = Unique (Do They Defy the Classic Yandere Archetype, Adding Layers of Complexity That Make Them Unpredictable and More Unnerving?):

V = Vice (Do Exploitable Weaknesses Exist, and is Discovering Them a Perilous Endeavor? Does Their Darling Tread on a Thin Line Between Manipulation and Survival?):

W = Wit's End (Is Hurting Their Darling a Dark Possibility, a Consequence of Their Unraveling Sanity When Faced With the Threat of Loss?):

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Y = Yearn (Is the Pining Relentless, an Insatiable Hunger That Consumes Their Every Waking Moment Until It Inevitably Snaps Into Obsession?):

Z = Zenith (Is Breaking Their Darling a Twisted Fantasy, the Ultimate Expression of Possession and the Culmination of Their Demented Love?):

[crystallizsch]

uhhh hi so sorta long post about pre-twst yuusha bc i just need to finally get it out of my system

might be all over the place and incoherent (like it's still proofread but it still might not make sense lmao) but uhhhh anyways enjoy the ramblings of a very (in)sane person </3

(also MASSIVE MASSIVE thanks to @0honeybones0 for making me these name headers, it’s SO cool and pretty 🥺💖) (there’s also one for yuuna i can use when i have the opportunity)

reminder that yuusha’s nrc is set in an au where it's more of a university (everyone is 18+ years old)

so pre-twst yuusha takes place from elementary to middle school and high school

i’ve mentioned before (i think??) that i like the idea that there are counterparts of the twst cast in yuu’s original world. as in like regular people and not the disney characters they are based on.

and yuusha’s original world is just present-day earth so-

i imagine pre-twst there’s parallels to her relationship with the twst cast. they all just know each other through being in a fancy school.

(so essentially this is just like a modern school, magicless au for twst fjdhdsj) that’s why some of the twst cast already has particular feelings and opinions towards the prefect that they can’t understand.

yuusha would have a pet cat similar to grim. ace and deuce are her childhood friends <- all three met during elementary when they were all queued up for the principal’s office after picking fights (not with one another, all separate fights lmao). the trio talked and magically clicked and have been inseparable ever since.

as for yuusha herself, she comes from a pretty wealthy/influential family, oldest sibling of 2 including her (insert doomed siblings narrative here 🤌), and she’s considered an academic and some kind of musical prodigy.

playing instruments comes naturally to her and she enjoys it genuinely (her specialty being the violin).

and if you would ask someone, yuusha has the brightest and most loving personality a kid could have. but she’s also stubborn and headstrong and way too confident.

going back to that bit with her first meeting with ace and deuce, yuusha got riled up and physically fought a kid to defend a friend.

since her family cared about their public image, she was punished by being “taught” to control her feelings and emotions. but that just left her masking her genuine personality entirely from then on-- throughout her preteens -> teens. as a result the bright and loving kid was nowhere to be found anymore.

the only place she can show a semblance of her real personality is when she is performing playing music (or in private with the people she trusts the most). outside that, she was simply cold as ice. the ice queen if you will (yes im still leaning into yuusha being somewhat of a twisted elsa 💪)

anyways yes we have jamil and kalim here too hang on-

due to wealthy/influential families, kalim and yuusha just know each other and they hit it off pretty well. they are good friends but the friendship tend to be just surface level despite having a lot in common (being the oldest, the family’s trophy, etc.)

it’s not a fault of their own that they’re not closer. both families care a lot about public image and influence, and their relationship is just a product of being forced into interactions because they were the only people around the same age during fancy parties/meetups.

kalim and jamil are also childhood friends. they get along pretty well but there’s still that unspoken power imbalance bc kalim’s parents are jamil’s parents' bosses. (the slightly watered down master-servant relationship from twst basically;;)

in this case, jamil still has to be aware of that power dynamic bc i also imagine that jamil’s family are not in the position to just get another job if something messes up.

(and let me live in the delusion that they were genuinely good friends as kids and that jamil just grew more bitter when he grew up as he slowly realizes the position he and his family is in)

(also i imagine jamil as a kid had like an aladdin-type of personality. im basing this on jamil’s scalding sands hometown event where there are childhood stories of him being an absolute menace) (honestly just. obsessed with the idea of a kid jamil being the absolute opposite of his present self)

anyways, jamil was the kid that yuusha physically fought ---

jamil was playing basketball with his group of friends. and yuusha was passing by with her friend (which in this case was riddle) (at first i thought of azul but i thought of a better reasoning for it to be riddle instead)

one of the kids playing basketball thought that it would be funny to throw a ball at one of the “nerds” in the school, and so they did. it was mainly intended for yuusha but it hit riddle instead.

it bruised riddle, and yuusha confronted the other kids. at first she tried to be reasonable, wanting them to just apologize, but it just kind of escalated.

jamil had no part in it but stepped in himself anyway, and defended his friends because of course he would believe them more than the “pretentious upper middle class kids”.

since the tension was already high yuusha ended up beating up jamil after something he said which was the last straw. (girl 🧍)

they were pulled away from each other just in time for a grown-up to catch them. riddle and jamil were sent to the nurse’s office and yuusha to the principal’s bc she was the only one who didn’t suffer any injury and was the one who clearly appeared to be the instigator of the fight (the other kids just ran away and managed to escape any punishment).

mrs rosehearts was already iffy with having riddle be study buddies with yuusha. when she found out that riddle was injured, she chastised yuusha's parents and let them know that she will no longer let yuusha associate with her son.

(riddle then got switched to homeschooling and yuusha didn’t see him again until the start of high school)

the rest is history with meeting ace and deuce and yuusha's punishment.

cutting it off here bc it’s getting long enough 😭

not everything here is set in stone so i might change some things and i still need to figure out some specific details so that i can finally write this in a more proper way ;;;

pre-twst middle school & highschool yuusha + jamil and yuusha pre-twst dynamic will be in a separate post!

thank you for reading if you've made it this far <3333

also im down for questions/suggestions if interested??? idk idk bc a lot of this is very vague or prob doesnt make sense dhjdjd

[hiloedits]

— ninokiara headers

like or reblog if you use/save.

© hiloedits on twitter.

[yuri-is-online]

Hi Yuri! I hope you are doing well<333 I really enjoy reading your writing and I am always more fond of reading the little octatrio fish gang! I dont really know how this usually works because I never send in any asks at all nor do I see your rules list or anything but if you dont mind I would like to make a request<3

A mc who finds an out of tune and old piano and fondly remembers that they used to play piano back in their world. And perhaps Azul hears in on this and despite the piano being old and out of tune, it is rather beautiful how you play it because of how imperfect the notes are being played out. (SORRY I WAS LISTENING TO FALLEN DOWN AND THE FEELINGS WERE JUST SURGING AND THE BRAINROT WAS TOO MUCH)

You dont have to force yourself or anything! Please take care and dont feel too pressured! <3

The Most Romantic of All Arts (Azul Ashengrotto x Yuu)

Hello dear friend and I am doing quite well thank you! I'm pleased you like my writing; the octotrio is what finally cracked my resolve to check out Twisted Wonderland and put FGO on the back burner so I suppose I shouldn't beat myself up too much for writing about them so much. I am sorry I caused you stress with my lack of rules, I don't usually send requests or asks myself, so I felt really bad to have frightened you. Not too sure if this will end up being what you had in mind, it got away from me a bit.

Also when you say Fallen Down, you do mean the Undertale soundtrack piece right? It's a soothing song I listened to it while I was plotting this to try and get into a similar headspace.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, header taken from the painting Spirit by George Roux (1885) which I found on this wordpres blog article I took the title from, it's a neat painting, Azul learning to find beauty and love in imperfections is important to me ok? Other works can be found on my masterlist here.

Sometimes you wonder if Ramshakle is sentient. The old building has more rooms than you know what to do with, and lovely as the ghosts are they don't fully remember what they were used for, if they remembered in the first place. But still there was something about those rooms that seemed to love you; he guest room almost built itself up around you, the kitchen had only needed some basic repairs before it was ready to help play host again, and no matter where a fire place was found it was always eager to burst to life and warm you and Grim.

It does not have the same love for Azul, he'd complained as much when you talked about just what it was he wanted with the building after the events of his overblot had cooled between you.

"It's got a graveyard in front of it, though?" That really had been the crux of your whole argument. It was hard to be annoyed with his laugh when it sounded so nice, the genuine amusement a refreshing difference to his previous performitive indifference.

"Yes," he muses, sipping at his real before he continues, "I'm not bothered by that much, ghosts and grave ships aren't uncommon sights under the sea, but I always forget how unusual humans think they are."

"There's a lot of superstitions about places where people are buried." You mean it as an explanation, but it brings an odd look to Azul's face, like there's an emotion bubbling beneath his surface he doesn't want to acknowledge but is too strong to suppress. It settles over you both, as you try to focus on drinking your tea while your host seems content to let his grow cold.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that ruin isn't really sentient." He sounds almost bitter, disappointed in how long he has let his drink cool you decide as he reaches for the pot and warms it with some fresh tea. "Otherwise, I'd accuse it of trying to keep you."

It's a silly thought, but the sight of this latest discovery really does have you wondering. You are supposed to be in that wonderfully accommodating kitchen making snacks for when Azul decides to "coincidentally drop by" later this evening to "go over the Lounge's expenses" in your guest room. On a Tuesday. When it was almost guaranteed business would be slow enough to keep anyone from wondering too hard about where he'd gone or the twins from being too upset about running things. But instead of "just wanting to try" a new recipe, you are here, tucked in a room just a bit further down the hall from the guest room watching Grim give his best impression of Ace after completing a magic trick. Because stars know he has never seen any other magicians.

"TA-DA!" He puts both of his paws out to really sell the piano at the window. "See, I told you I had a great surprise!"

"I'm sorry for not believing you." You say and try not to laugh with just how much more proud that seems to make him. "But where did you find this? Or how I guess, unless you moved it?"

"Nah." He shakes his head before remembering he's supposed to be the "great" Grim. "I mean I could have! But I'm just so cool I managed to find a piano here already, so all I had to do was clean it up instead! You're welcome henchuman." You scratch just behind his ears and politely ignore his purrs as you examine the piano and its bench. They're old, likely just as ancient as everything else in the dormitory and likely extremely, achingly out of tune. But the mere sight of it makes your fingers itch, and Grim barely has to whine "Well ain't you gonna play somethin'?" Before you're at the bench, experimentally pressing the keys to try and sound out something.

Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are-

You hum it rather than sing, irrationally worried Grim will somehow figure out it's a lullaby and complain that you're babying him instead of cutely dancing along with the music like it's one of the cassettes Deuce let you borrow. He cheers for another, and you oblige, letting your muscle memory carry you as far as it can as you try searching your brain for just what it was you wanted most to hear from yourself after all this time being unable to play.

And missing the click of a heavy door down the hall in the effort.

Azul hears nothing at first, and though it does disappoint, it does not bother him. He's had a long day, one about to be made longer still by the grey zone already draping itself around his thoughts as he shrugs his blazer off to his shoulders while en route to the Ramshackle guest room. He pauses, for what he tells himself is only going to be second, at the kitchen door and is left unrewarded for his detour.

You aren't there: and that does bother him somewhat, even if it should not if his pretext is to be believed. These visits were too commonplace to be random, but maybe you'd made plans, deciding not to look past his excuses for the evening. Maybe you were asleep, tired of the day or just plain tired of him. But there is a kettle sat on it's base, mercifully not on just yet, but two mugs and the pour over cone set next to as if it was expecting company. The nerves remain knotted in his stomach, though the cause shifts towards something more welcome.

So you do have a mug purposefully set aside and designated just for him, and is that a little recpie card with notes on coffee taped to that tin? These things should worry him, the picture he snaps and immediately hides in a folder should be for a purpose. But it's separate from those ones, labeled something inane and barely full with how careful he is to have his longing remain unseen. He wonders, briefly if it would be an intrusion to make the drinks himself. If it would reveal to much to show outright he knows the way you take yours instead of just saying it in time with your order, but knows that would not be the exact issue here. He is a guest, and guests limit themselves to the halls and that room he forces himself, with haste that would be noticeable if you were there to see it, back down the hall and back towards the guest room. Azul has work to do, he can content himself with the warmth the mental image the cups on the counter produces until something forces him to pause at a door once more. The piano is old, droning out a tune that is unpolished and rusty from the player's lack of practice but filled with such a specific sort of joy it has him actually running towards it.

You sit at the bench, a serious look of determination on your face so unlike the usual Yuu it can't help but be cute. Grim sleeps contentedly on your lap as you continue searching for the threads of melody still trapped inside your head from years of only occasionally reluctant practice. It's an unfamiliar tune in composition, but not in feel. There's words to this song, maybe not in the form of lyrics, but there all the same for him to stumble even closer to as he comes to a halting stop just behind you and the music ends in a surprised crash as you whip your head around to see him.

"Azul!"

"Very sorry to interrupt." He holds up both hands in surrender, composure only just maintained as you check to see Grim still asleep and laugh nervously. "I didn't know you could play."

"Can't really." You say somewhat bitterly and more confidence comes to Azul as a slight plan froms in his mind. "I'm really out of practice ugh. I know it shouldn't annoy me! But with how everything's been since I showed up, it's just not been on my mi- Oh hello?"

Azul fully removes his jacket and sets it on a side table close to where he had been satanding, moving to sit on the bench next to you. He has enough mercy not to loosen his tie or do anything else scandalous, but the close examination he gives to the keys could have fooled you. "Pity it's so out of tune, this is a nice piano."

"I know right! I'm really happy Grim found it." You resist the urge to poke his cheeks some and Azul lightly, trying not to too openly relish in your surprise reaches one arm around your back to place his hands into a similar position as you had been earlier, tucking you close to his side.

"May I?" He's smug. Too smug it's robbing you of sanity.

"What's it going to cost?" You try too hard not to sound like you're flailing as you look to see your question hasn't even phased him at all.

"Oh normally I wouldn't dream of charging for a performance," he clearly lies "but it's been such a long day I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee." And he's off, music only marred by the off key of the piano in a clearly purposeful display of talent meant to sear itself into your mind enough that you don't think about his request too long. You and he are from two different worlds, but he knows that music has a way of gapping that if the stories of the mermaid princess told him anything at all. So when he purposefully slows the song at its end, he knows you know, that tricky smile he swore once he'd always hate kicking his heartbeat up again as you lean fully against his shoulder.

"Beautiful." You say, not bothering to give the compliment direction as he can't help but agree. "We should play together next time."

"I-" You pick yourself up and what he wants to say slows when you pick up his jacket for him and hold out a hand. Later, he all to easily decides. Later, without Grim and with specific time set purposefully aside so you know just how much it matters. "I would like that. You'll have to show me the songs that you can remember from your world." And he takes your hand just to soothe some of the ache, trying and failing not to show just how happy he is when you keep it.

[public-use-trans-it]

Listen. I know we like to clown on those vanilla ass mother fuckers with a blog header saying some shit like "Welcome to my twisted fantasy..." and then it's nothing but the most fucking boring ass gifs of a straight couple having sex in the missionary position, with a black and white filter over it. And like, yeah. I get it. To us, these are some boring ass motherfuckers. But to me they inhabit a very important place in what is more or less the 'taboo pipeline'.

Taboo is like... this pit in your stomach. A feeling of disgust. You have seen something repulsive and vile and it has made you want to get away from it. And that makes it very easy for you to get swept up in hatred for the thing that invoked those emotions. That's why it's important to push those feelings aside so you can't be manipulated through them. And for that, desensitization is a FANTASTIC tool to use to change yourself. Not everyone who goes through it follows the exact same progression, but it is still interesting to see how people's relationship to kink and taboo changes overtime.

For many people it starts with stuff that, to basically everyone online, is considered unbelievably vanilla, but to these people it does give that feeling. That pit in their stomach. That feeling of disgust. But they still TRY it and that's to be admired. Stuff like having a praise kink. Dirty talk. If you are feeling REALLY risqué then MAYBE even a spanking or two! And let's not forget, the dirtiest most fucked up kink of all: BREEDING. God, can you imagine? Having sex with the intention of having a child? Gross.

And as these people participate in this stuff that pit in their stomachs starts to go away. They grow more comfortable in that space. This does not, by any means, mean that they are now people capable of being normal about other people's kinks. Quite the opposite. They see other people being into feet or armpits or stinky girls or piss, and they react with disgust as that pit in their stomach comes back. They have forgotten what that feeling of first getting into something was like.

Some of them, though, will manage to push through that. They will go "I mean, that's just... normal stuff about a person's body... it's not THAT weird?" This is usually made easier if they know people with those kinks. Slowly realizing that "Oh. These are just people with their own interests, like I have my own" a few of them might even try it out. See what the big deal is. They still get that pit in their stomach, that feeling of disgust, but that isn't enough to deter them. They might even find in the end they actually like some of those things!

Then they see other kinks. Rapeplay, somno, hypno. Things pushing the boundaries of consent. Of what your own desires mean and what it means to put those on others. Again, the pit in their stomach comes back. They feel that disgust. Consent is a REAL issue! It has REAL impacts in the world! ACTUAL people outside of kink spaces are having their lives ruined over this stuff! At this point that pit in their stomach drives them in one of two directions.

They could become the kind of person who writes callout posts about the gross perverts online who don't take these very real and dire issues seriously enough! These kinda people suck and are miserable to be around. Cut them out of your life quickly. A feeling which is certainly mutual.

The rest will typically be around this point where recognize that pit in their stomach and that disgust, for what it is. It's something that should be chased, something that shows you new and wonderful things you would have never considered before. And chasing that feeling is starting to be it's own kink. Corruption. Feeling yourself getting "worse". You know people are going to shun you as you do, but who CARES what they think? You know the people into this stuff aren't actually dangerous. They are just people. Whatever. Give it a try.

Bloodletting, torture, branding, even snuff. It's disgusting. That pit in your stomach is eating you alive now. You love it. It's an awful feeling and you want more of it. It's starting to seep into your real life in ways you never imagined. You get sick, and don't even feel as miserable as you usually do because you just smile about how easily someone could take advantage of you in this state. You cut yourself while cooking, something that would normally ruin your whole night before, and your first thought is "I should take a picture. I know some people who would be excited to see that." Your snuff kink normalizes the thought of death. It's no longer a desperate way out of this life you consider every night. It's something wonderful that you can only engage in once, and you want to save that experience for someone very special to you, and you need to live to do that. The 'worse' you get, the easier it is to find happiness in things that used to make you miserable.

By this point, you don't even bother trying to look at pictures or videos of real people. If something can be done safely enough in the real world to post online, it's not going to do much for you. People mention 'The Big Three' in discourse, and you have become so desensitized that you struggle to remember which ones those were. That stuff is all too tame. It becomes harder and harder to be disgusted by anything. To chase that pit in your stomach. You have exhausted everything that used to be a limit.

It's a lot of introspection. Looking inwards like that is... difficult. It's hard to take a look at the kind of person you really are deep down. It's disgusting. Leaves you with a pit in your stomach. ... Yeah. You can work with that. Your only options now are more abstract. Philosophical. Ideological. The idea of betraying not a partner, but yourself. Compromising your own values just for a moment of pleasure. Sacrificing your identity just for a new experience.

You start looking back on how you got here. Who you used to be. That person who used to still be able to get worse. The torture and snuff just feels like a forgone conclusion at this point. Like, can you even get off if it's not ruining someone's life? Yours or your partners. Doesn't really matter which. Sex is a process someone should survive only barely, if at all. And it should absolutely scar you permenantly so you never forget about that encounter, to make it TRULY special.

You look back at those noncon kinks, and again, that's just so basic. Sex should have a purpose, changing and altering someone on a fundamental level. It doesn't matter if they want it. It doesn't even matter if they like it. It's not even to get off, it's basically just a public service at this point. Something bigger then yourself. Stuff that would ruin the lives of everyone you know. Things that would drag the entire world down kicking and screaming into scenarios most would describe as pure horror. As something disgusting. You need to teach them how lucky they are to still feel that. To still get that wonderful pit in their stomach.

You look back further than that. God. You didn't appreciate this stuff RIGHT back then. It was just something to get off with. You didn't properly admire the body and every beautiful inch of it. All its beautiful systems and interconnected parts. How much redundancy it has. You can get rid of oh so much of it, and it will find a way to keep working. It really is a work of art. And yet, at the same time, it's oh so very fragile. A tiny mistep could destroy it forever in ways that can never be fixed. Such a frail and easily lost thing...

...

Uh. Yeah, sorry, this post got away from me a bit. Sorry. What were we talking about? Right. Those losers with the extremely vanilla blogs who think they are the pinnacle of kink. Can you imagine actually SLEEPING with one of those dudes? Like... god. You can do so much better. You would have to have no standards to sleep with them. They don't care about their partners' pleasure. They don't know how fragile our bodies are. They don't even understand Risk Aware Consensual Kink. This dude is going to try to choke you, squeeze wrong, and cut off your circulation for just a bit too long, and freak out when you pass out and never wake back up. You are going to inflict lifelong trauma on this dude that he will never recover from. Personally? Whenever I think about actually having sex with one of these dudes and what a mistake it would be, I find the idea disgusting. It leaves a pit in my stomach.

[vagabond-umlaut]

la douleur exquise

(noun) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable

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gojo satoru x fem!reader; 18+ content so mdni; former teacher gojo x former student reader; angst & smut; heavily-implied satosugu angst; semi-public sex [car sex] with WAY TOO MANY feelings; unrequited love; hurt/no comfort; age gap [characters are adults older than the age of consent]; no one's rly happy or lucky in love in the story...

header is from pinterest. jjk isn't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

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"Grant that one request of mine and I promise to be fine with whatever you say, Gojo-san."

You're lying. Gojo can see you're lying. Yet he says nothing of that.

He lets his eyes roam over your earnest face from beside. So young. So sweet. So caring.

A shudder racks through Gojo, betraying the toasty temperature in the car. He steers his gaze away from you to focus on the snow-covered highway before. These terrains are awfully known for the lives they have devoured, after all.

Although… the sorcerer wonders if it might be better to be consumed by the precipice to his right, than by the chasm of your coy words.

He manages to eke out a chuckle.

"You're tired after the mission," Gojo says, mouth twisting into a well-practised smile of ease, "Once I drop you home, go straight to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"And what if there's no tomorrow?"

The steering wheel goes slack for a beat in his grasp, before his firm hold returns. If not worried, he chances a definitely curious glance at you. A serene smile greets him. His smile fights to fray. "Too desperate," he teases, voice airy and free of the weight thrashing against his ribs, "Yet that wasn't the worst way I've been forced to give an answer… I'll give you an eight out of ten, I think."

"Aw no." His grading receives a pout. "Is there no way I can increase it to ten?"

You've no knowledge of lip care, is the first thing Gojo realises.

The second thing, he doesn't know how to deal with you without hurting you.

It would have been infinitely better if Nanami was here, he thinks to himself. A foot presses a tad too hard on the accelerator. Shoko too would have known how to navigate this. Hell, Utahime too would have evaded this situation just fine.

But no. It has to be him. Trapped here. With no escape route in sight. Just two eyes, bright with innocence, dull with gravity, gazing at him. Perhaps even into the depths of his soul. An invisible sharp knife twisting in the back of his skull, Gojo sighs—but finds himself an instant too late.

You answer the question you meant for him.

"You'll never give me a ten," you state simply. No frown. No tears. Nothing.

The man nods, an eye trained on the road. An eye on you. "No, I won't."

"Is it because I'm not him?"

Gojo hits the brakes, the car skidding a foot or two before reaching a stop. Teetering too, too close to the edge of the road- the sorcerer finds himself uncaring of the fact, however. You simply look out the window before redirecting your attention to him. A wry smile clashes with the grim line on his mouth. With the maelstrom of emotions ravaging his insides to shreds. For the first time the evening, he lets go of his faux cheer.

"Stop this little game you're playing," he breathes out, knuckles growing white on the wheel. Memories searing the landscape of his mind. Black eyes. Black hair. Red blood. Oh god, so fucking much of that damned red blood. On the walls. On the road. On his clothes-

He nearly chokes on a gasp, struggling to form syllables. "You don't know what… it's better… you better not speak on this ever again."

"Just so I can watch you slowly fade away?"

A yell, a scream, a roar- anything, everything, something swells within him. Whetted by your soft query. Fuelled by his white-hot fury. Incensed by his overwhelming guilt. Growing, growing, growing-

Until nothing remains.

Having withered away in the wake of the gleam in your irises. A wretched gleam he has seen himself wear far too many times for his liking. A wretched gleam, he is seeing, kept for him but not by the person he fervently wished it to be from once.

Gojo slowly removes his hands from the wheel. And twists towards you. Feeling terrified-out of the blue, for no particular reason. His words come out as no more than a few faint puffs of air, stern yet pleading. "You can never make me forget him. He is a part of me, always has been-you can never separate us. You…"

Sorrow swallows the rest of his sentence. He offers you one last look. Warning. Entreating. Hoping.

Only for you to disregard it with a giggle of yours. It sounds worse than the worst noise in the world to him. Blissfully ignorant, you watch him, he watches. Your timid smile, unruffled.

"I know I can never do that, Gojo-san," you say, "First loves are the most difficult to move on from… Trust me, I know. However, it'll never do you good to dwell in the past forever. Let yourself be stolen away to the present for a while- please?"

No. No. Never.

Gojo feels a new wave of old emotions crash on the sands of his conscience. Knowing he should reject you. The same way he has rejected every person who approached him before. After him. For there's only one person who may steal him away. No one else, he can allow to.

Yet he finds himself unable to tell you so.

Chest heavy, mind heavy, tongue heavy. The sorcerer finds himself rendered utterly useless in front of your request. Sitting with you in the stifling silence of the car. Staring at the specks of dried blood on your cheeks, glowing in the moonlight. Zeroing in on that gleam in your gaze.

Something horridly bitter like pity, horridly salty like fatigue bombards his senses.

The strongest sorcerer concedes defeat.

"Your place or mine?" he asks.

****

Gojo makes it to neither.

Not that you're too surprised.

Self-control is nothing to a deity, mortal or not. Nothing to his devout follower too, pining or not.

Though now you wish you knew some of that damned quality.

Maybe then you would have been lying on your bed. And not on the backseat of his car. Maybe then your gaze would have been dancing across the familiar old walls of your room. And not drowning in the sky above the open moon-roof. Maybe then you would have bitten your lip and drawn blood. And not asked your ex-mentor to fuck you.

Like the shameless slut you know you aren't, but your request says otherwise.

But the moans you're stifling beg to say otherwise.

A particularly harsh snap of hips against yours makes you yelp. In a blinding burst of pain. Plus pleasure. Perhaps. You don't really know. After your third climax, everything's become pretty hazy. Much like the secluded forest outside the fogged windows. Much like the blur of lust and irritation in those beautiful, eerie, bewitching blue eyes atop.

The grip on your two wrists over your head tightens. You hold back a hiss. Three rules are all the man asked you to follow- no kissing, no noises and no more such 'requests'- you think you would much rather be damned than break any of them. Or pop this bubble you two have slipped into.

A bubble, too desired by you. Too precious for you. Though you wish heard something other than sultry squelches and subdued groans. Smelt something other than expensive cologne and sweat. Tasted something other than tears. And copper.

Did you bite your cheek too hard? Or is it just an injury from the mission?

You don't really know. Like said before: everything's become pretty hazy.

A long finger taps the side of your face. Tap, tap, tap. You see a bright smile flit over the face in those ocean mirrors. Wow, you're a natural at acting, eh? Gojo huffs. His movements stutter once, then again. A jolt of electricity runs through you.

"You still here or not, girl?"

"'m still here, Gojo-san," you murmur, spent and shy. Another sloppy thrust. As toe-curling as ever. Your voice quivers. "I- ah, fuck- I'm s-still here."

"Good, good," he says. It's absent and strained. Very, very strained, in fact. Your brows pucker for two seconds before lifting in realisation. And you gasp. Tears rush down your face in steady rivulets. The tightness ascends a steep curve in your lower belly. Neither seems important to you, however.

Nothing does, except the man with whom this night of yours is ending a bit too soon. Way too soon.

You wish you knew how to freeze this moment. You wish this moment never began in the first place.

A calloused thumb messes the wet stains on your cheek. Paired by a frown for you. Concerned, yes. But conflicted, all the same. Gojo looks as beautiful as the day you first saw him, six years ago on the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High. He thumbs your lower lip, inquiring, "Wanna do this again?"

No.

No.

Please, no.

His heart is not in it. His heart will never be in it.

You should refuse. You're strong enough. You can, you will live with the pain. You should refuse.

You Should Refuse-

"Yes, please." The words escape you, mixed with a mewl and a moan. Something flickers in Gojo's expression. Before it's disappeared, replaced by a pretty flood of pink. He cracks a smile, neither crinkling his eyes nor dimpling his cheeks. It hurts. But you don't let your attention waver from his lips as he croons, "You make the cutest noises, y'know?"

"Really?" you want to ask. But you don't.

Rather, you can't.

Your beloved deity is already, finally kissing his adoring believer.

———————

masterlist

———————

[pddngchi-artblog]

📌WANT TO SEE YOUR FAVS KISSING? OR DO YOU WANT TO KISS THEM INSTEAD?📌

Hiya! I'm Pudding, though some people know me as either Deku or Chi ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱⊹♡

If the header caught your attention, then the following probably applies to you:

• You're a rareshipper that wants to see more art/fanfics of your ship; • You're a yumeshipper enthusiast; • You're a roleplayer that's in need of some icons; or • You have a Discord server that needs some new emotes;

Regardless, if you need your ships drawn, your OCs drawn (whether fandom or original), or just needs some icons—you're in the right place!

📌MY ART & WRITING COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!📌

This blog is mostly dumps of my art ranging from sketches, doodles, or illustrations. I suppose it's a gallery of sorts!

If you want to contact me for a commission, my DMs are open (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ if you just want to chat, my asks are open too!

My top two fandom interests right now are IDENTITY V and TWISTED WONDERLAND! So if you have any OCs or ships you want drawn or written for it, feel free to contact me ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

☛ GENERAL RULES FOR COMMISSIONING ☚

Here's the general rules for both my art and writing commissions! If you need to clarify anything, just DM me and I'll be happy to help!

☛ ART RATES ☚

Please note that the prices for dollars and pesos are not interchangeable! These rates are different from each other ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ

I’ll only be accepting payment through GCash for Filipino clients and PayPal for international clients!

☛ SAMPLE ART ☚

The sample art included here have their rates summed according to the type of art a client might want!

☛ WRITING RATES ☚

It's not included in the image below, but if you want to read about my works, you can look up XelSaji on ao3 or twst-campos13 here on Tumblr! I don't just write about ships, I can also write drabbles for characters or do a write-up about your OCs!

Links to my favorite works:

we'll meet again; some sunny day; a two-chapter fic on Miles and Michiko's union mama's boy; papa's boy; a relationship study between Floyd and Riddle If the Shoe Fits; a multi-chapter character study of the dorm leaders if they were assigned to different dormitories

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I'll be posting all my art in this blog, I hope you guys look forward to it!

[darlin-collins]

(Do) have feelings

Yall asked for comfort and comfort you shall get

Part 1 . Part 2

Characters: bright eyes, darlin/tank, sam (mentioned)

Ships: none

Summary: darlin went to visit sam, what they didn't expect is to find a teary eyed bright on the porch and an argument

Notes: comfort, tank is a hero, tank sees themselve in bright, i love writing these two's friendship, they both need a hug,i do too, author relates to both parties, bike ride, bright really wouldn't have minded if they fell off the bike and died

A/N: hope this is as good as the first part, because i wrote that while crying because of what "sam" did, i think it had more emotions poured out on it then this one does, but i like the writing in this one, tell me what you think?

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bright stayed there, tears still flowing down their face but they no effort to wipe them away now, leaving the tracks they leave behind to chill and give them a feel of what they should feel now, cold, they should feel cold, because they don't have feelings for sam to hurt..

And yet here they are crying because he hurt them

Bright stayed there, on the porch paper towls barely hanging on at their relaxed hand, eyes unfocused and listening to the screaming match inside, they huffed a laugh, despite being a part on the argument and cussed out in the middle of it, they didn't know what was it about, now it's about how sam cares for fred and that he would do anything for fred and themselves, they do believe him when says that, he proves it everyday,there wasn't a time they or fred asked for something and they didn't get it (not that bright ever asked for anything), he is a great parental figure(caretaker? He is not exactly their maker), if emotional support wasn't in the list of needs...

They bowed their head,staring the the space between their feet, listening to them argue,, they could hear them clearly as id they're in room with them now, but they focused on it, another habit they did when they were human when their parents argued, in case something happened

They didn't hear the engine that got turned off at the front of the house, nor the steps that followed

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Tank parked their bike, still confused about the yelling they started hearing ever since they got close enough, they thought things between sam and bright had gotten better after they talked to sam about it, and they spotted them, head low arms stretched on their bend knees, they didn't seem to have heard them when they arrived, either that or they did but didn't care enough about it, they walked across the entrance, stopped in front of bright, whose head shot up at the sight of their boots, so it was the former, they gave them a confused smile, one bright eyes looked away from..

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Tank kneeled in front of them, one knee on the stairs, the other they rested their arms on top of, bright returned their eyes on them, now sure they saw their tear filled face and their red eyes,red in all the spots they shouldn't be,

how embarrassing..

"are you ok" they said, gentle, and bright flinched away from them, tears on the edge of becoming a tide, they considered lying to them, saying the loudness caused their ears to hurt and thats why they were crying..

But their eyes... Tank saw right through them

Tears fell header and they took a shaky breath in "I'm just so tired" they whispered,voice tight, any louder and they might sob

Tank took a breath in too, look towards the house behind them, and then back at them, theu patted their shoulder twice and got up "come on"

Bright looked up at them, confused "come where?" but standing and following them anyway

"Somewhere!" they said with a shrug going back to their bike

Bright stood there watching them open their seat and taking out a helmet "here" they handed it over

Bright took it without a word, put it on as tank did the same

Tank hopped on the bike then twisted and looked back at them "hop in, i know a cool place"

And bright did just that

They held tank's shoulders as they sped up through the dark streets, music blasting in their helmet mixed with the sound of the wind rushing past their face, drying their tears and taking away any new ones that came

Street after street, block after block, and then they cut to a forest, tank stopped "we're here"

they both hopped off, and walked for a bit, bright looking at the trees and how beautiful they were, yes sam's cabin was out in woods but this was, another level of woods, trees huge and thick you can barely see the sky..

"And tada" tank said putting no effort on the "tada"

Bright tore their eyes off the giant tree they were looking at and paid attention to what was in front of them and their eyes winded

It was huge, beautiful lake, with the water reflecting small bits of the moon that shined through the trees, surrounded by huge rocks

"come on kid, it ain't gonna be night forever" tank said already climbing the rock to their left, they did the same, having the wolf helping them to the top

They sat, a bit satisfied, looking out the wonderful sight before their eyes, but all that came crashing down when the amusement of those moments faded away

And tank saw that, putting a hand on top of theirs

Bright couldn't help but spill all their feelings righ then and there, how they wish they'd stop doing everything wrong, how they want sam to look at them once, and anything but anger or disappointment, how they are trying their best to makr him proud, and how they know they shouldn't seek his approval but they do, so much, so much that when they don't get it they feel useless, so they just avoid him in general, but there's no way they could do it forever, and how it's a never ending circle of seeking affection by actions, never getting it, and crashing down and doing it all over

By the end of their talk they were sobbing into the wolf's chest as they ran their hand up and down their arm and rocking them back and forth

As bright starts to doze off they hear the shifter whisper "you're enough kid, you don't have try to be anymore"

More tears fell from their eyes as they mumbled "i wish i could believe that" and let themselve fall into the comforting darkness of sleep..

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