#why does he do that?? why does he hold that expression

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[kenobers]

tremble & shake | jason todd x sionis!reader

but first free palestine !! Jason doesn't show up for your hook-up. You don't think much of it until he comes barreling through his window in a distressed state. He's desperately in need of your comfort and you don't have a clue why, but you can't stand to see Jason Todd hurting. tw: angst, hurt/comfort, could be read as a panic attack, mental breakdown, slightly dubious attempts to initiate sex, non-sexual intimacy, uhh fear, self deprecating thoughts (i swear, one day i'll write something where neither you nor jason have anything bad to say about yourselves). jason todd needs a hug, reader was previously not very good with emotions. or empathy. fem!reader. a/n: happy batman day! here's jason crying <3 this comes after magic hands & is this love?

Slam.

You jolt awake from your sleep, immediately reaching for a blunt object. Blinking hard, you squint at the door. Jason's door.

That's right, you're in Jason's apartment for one of your regularly scheduled hook-ups. He hadn't shown up, his phone abandoned on his bedside table. You figured he must've had to patrol tonight and forgot to give you a heads up. However, it's been pouring rain all night, so you decided to stay. You must've fallen asleep waiting for him.

"Jason?-"

No sooner does the man's name leave your lips than he practically tackles you on the bed. He's still in his costume, the red bat on his chest heaving heavily. His red mouthpiece hides the bottom half of his face as he looks down at you from behind the white of his domino mask. He's absolutely drenched. Cold clings to him and sends a shiver down your spine.

You furrow your brow. Something's wrong.

"I thought you weren't patrolling tonight," you whisper. He says nothing.

Pursing your lips, you ran your hands along his bare forearms. He's shaking. He'd gone out without his jacket. Jason's tough, almost inhumanely so, but if he'd gone out without his jacket in this rain...he must've been in a hurry.

"Did something happen?" Your eyes search his unbroken skin for injuries. Still, he says nothing and the empty whites of his mask are starting to freak you out.

You push his wet hood back and comb your fingers through his soaked hair until they find the buckle of his mask. You undo it and pull the mask from his face, peeling the domino along with it. His expression underneath is just as blank, like his mind is somewhere else.

Before you can say anything, he's kissing you hard. Almost violently. A shaky hand grips your shoulder with a ferocity Jason hasn't previously had with you, even when you've really gone at it.

"Hey," you say between harsh, wet kisses. "Jason, stop."

As if he doesn't hear you, Jason moves to your neck. The hand on your shoulder drops to your hip.

"Jason."

It starts to paw underneath your satin hem.

"Jay!"

The fear in your voice makes his head snap up. He stares at you with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. You shake your head, "I don't want this. I don't think you want this."

He moves off of you, staring at his lap.

You sit up slowly, mirroring his position on his knees. Panic chews at your insides as you try to assess him. He needs help, needs comfort, maybe. You have no experience with comfort, no clue what to do. You can't do this, you're not the person he needs, this-

This isn't about you. The man that has been at your every beck and call for the past several months looks like he's fighting for his Goddamn life. You don't hate the possibility of making a fool of yourself as much as you hate the sight of seeing Jason Todd in pain.

Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, there's a vague memory of a hand cupping your cheek, wiping away your tears. You copy it, reaching out to him hesitantly, terrified of making things worse.

Your fingertips brush his cheek with an almost non-existent touch, just heavy enough to wipe away the remnants of rain. He leans into your touch and you take this as permission to hold his face in your trembling hands.

His own hands find your hips again, drawing you between his thighs as his head comes to rest in the crook of your shoulder.

"'just wanna feel you," he mumbles against your skin, making your shoulder vibrate.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like this," you card your other hand through his damp hair. "You're going to wake up and realize it wasn't what you needed."

He says nothing, but clutches you as close as he possibly can. You tense as he presses against you. His armor digs into you uncomfortably, the buckle of his holster poking at your thigh. Water from his soggy clothes seeps through your satin nightgown. The hand on his face begins to cramp at this bent angle.

You've never seen him like this. Neither of you ever really come to one another for comfort, sans the time he brought you pads. Or the other time he calmed you down from a fight with your father. Or came to your rescue when your friends got you greened out on some fucked up weed. Okay, so you come to him for comfort, but he is...much more reclusive about his emotions. Complaining to you, sure. He often pulls to your sessions pissed and fucks you until he felt better. Sometimes he's so hungry for your body that he doesn't speak, except to check in with you. This was neither of these things. But this would mark the first real emotional emergency of whatever this relationship is. This was sad, desperate. Fearful.

"Please," he breathes in a broken voice. You...relax.

Without thinking about it, you hug him. You run your hand between his shoulder blades, supporting the back of his head. You cradle him like he might break. The same way he holds you when he sleeps.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let 'em," the memory in the back of your head says.

"It's okay," you soothe, pressing your lips to his wet curls, feeling them tickle your cheek. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. Nothing's gonna touch you here, Jaybird."

There's a slight shake of his head as he clings to fistfuls of your dress. Your stomach clenches at the thought of whatever was bad enough to puncture his mind like this. You pull back just enough to look at him. Only the bottom half of his face was visible. His lips quivered, silently forming "no" over and over again.

You momentarily retracted your hand from his back to rest your palm to his cheek.

"Baby, I don't know where your brain is telling you or what it's telling you is happening, but I swear to you, you're safe with me in your apartment. Nothing is coming for us, I won't let anything happen."

His breath shutters and he buries his face completely into your shoulder. You squeeze your arms around him, rocking the giant man back and forth. He defeatedly sags against you with a single sob. Your heart drops even further at the sound. You shush him gently, resting your chin on his head.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're here with me. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

The next however many minutes go on like this. You cradle him, praying he doesn't shatter in your lap. You coo any sweets words you can think of until the tension in his muscles eases at your touch. His weight grows heavier in your embrace. For a moment, you think he fell asleep.

"Jay?" You call out softly. He lifts his head and rests it against your forehead. His gaze is still lost in space, but at least they look exhausted. That's better than nothing.

His skin burns against icy hot yours. Sweat starts to replace the rain. He needs to sleep, but he needs to properly warm up first.

You frown, "Jay, you should take a shower. You'll catch a cold."

He tightens his grip on you, not eager to let you go. You tuck your hand under his jaw, "I'll come with you."

This is a good enough promise to sway him. He nods, reluctantly pulling away from you. You slip off the bed, then shyly grab his hand. He intertwines his fingers with your own and follows you into the bathroom. It hits you that this is the first time you've held hands. Under better circumstances, it would feel nice.

You eye him up and down, taking in the damage under the bright bathroom fluorescents. His cheeks are flushed and newly decorated with tear streaks, but otherwise, he really doesn't look hurt. Just incredibly lost. Like he's not quite sure where he is. Green irises burn holes in you, golden flecks incinerating your skin, as if he's trying to figure out if you're real. The gaze is so intense, you have to look away for a minute. You conveniently make note of how funny of his scuffed up black boots look compared to your pedicured toes, bare against the checkered tiles.

He needs to get out of his wet clothes.

Sliding your hands under the shoulders of his sleeveless hoodie, you ask, "Can I undress you?"

He blinks. You hold your breath, praying you didn't just trigger something else. Then, wordlessly, he nods. You let out the breath as inconspicuous as you can and make quick work of the damp hoodie. His shirt follows. All scars, bruises and beauty marks look present and accounted for. Nothing new in the inventory. 

It's when you tug his gloves off that you finally locate any kind of laceration. Pebble-like imprints litter his palms; he must've been clutching something concrete like a stress ball for hours. He hadn't bothered with his usual red wrist wraps either, another sign he'd left in a hurry.

You don't pry, however. Instead, you kiss his reddened palms. Then, as your father taught you to do, you turn his still trembling hands over in your steady ones and kiss each knuckle gently. Unlike his forehead, his skin here is frozen until warmed by your loving lips.

Something about this interaction seems to ground the man a little more. You kneel to untie a beat-up boot, reminiscing about how your father used to let you take his loafers off for him when you were little. However, you've only managed to undo the other knot when Jason stops you.

"I can get the rest."

You're thrilled to hear him speak and nearly pop a kiss on his lips like it's a gold star before thinking better of it. You leave him to it, redirecting your focus on turning the shower on and picking out two fresh towels.

When at last he's naked, you make to shed your own minimal clothing. However, Jason stops you yet again, with time with an unsure hand on your bicep. He takes a moment to simply examine you once more in the good lighting, this time letting his eyes wander from your face. A hint of adoration crosses his drained features as his gaze combs your body, lingering on the curves and swells highlighted in baby pink.

Jason's index hooks around the thin strap of your slip. His thumb skims along the satin material before caressing your collarbone. It's a classic Jason move, but now it feels more akin to the way a child might grip a blanket.

"...Can I?" It's the shyest you've ever heard him speak. You nod and he brushes either strap off your shoulders, watching as the item pools at your feet. You give him a moment to admire the matching pink thong underneath before it joins the fabric puddle on the floor.

The shower is quiet, save for the dulcet sound of the running faucet. Jason winces when the hot water stings his frigid skin, however you can physically see the tension in his muscles melt away. His shoulders are much more relaxed beneath your washcloth, the rise and fall of his chest is becoming less stagnant. You take turns washing each other, like it's some kind of game. You touch him tenderly, still gauging for any kind of pain. He touches you with an intent that doesn't meet his drained eyes, still just gauging you.

When the silence is broken after who knows how long, it's by Jason.

"I don't deserve you."

His voice cracks like a 15-year-old.

"Don't talk like that," you chastise. He doesn't elaborate as his hand continues to rub body scrub along your back. You turn to him, both of your hands finding his face and holding it in place, the way he loves to do to you. "Don't talk like that."

You don't know what else to say. Neither of you are wordsmiths. You're afraid if you try to keep him talking, he'll just be self-effacing. You don't think you could handle hearing him talk about himself that way, not with him being as stubborn as he is. So you press a soft kiss to his lips. It isn't long, it doesn't invite more, but when you pull away, there's more green in his eyes. He envelopes you into his chest and holds you there. You return the embrace without hesitation, arms sliding around his waist while water taps the tops of your heads. You think you could stay like this forever; wrapped in each other's arms under the sanctuary of warm water, as the sound of his heart beat lulls you somewhere far away from the world outside the fogged up glass.

You do stay like that until the shower runs treacherously cold. Until one of you has to shut the faucet off, until the other is swathing each of you in fluffy wine colored towels. It's just a series of tasks you wordlessly complete so you can earn the reward of collapsing into bed, just dry enough to avoid waking up to a still damp pillow. You're both too tired to be bothered with pajamas. You aren't sure you're so wiped. Maybe you're just desperate to hold your lover again. He seems to feel the same way as he wastes no time reaching for your waist once the comforter is pulled up.

He slides down to kiss your shoulder and appreciate the warm scent of your body scrub. Much to your surprise, his head stays there. Even more to your surprise, you find it's because his eyes have fluttered shut. Jason never beats you to sleep, even at his most tired. But the relaxed weight of his body on your tells you he's winning this round.

You stroke the nape of his neck, grazing your fingernails through the tapered patch of hair. You'd been so focused on everything else that hadn't even noticed he'd gotten the haircut you'd asked him to. The request had been a joke really, something snarky to remark when he'd said something too nice about your appearance. It looked good, even from this angle. He must've just gotten it today. He must've gotten it for you.

Not everything's about you.

You try to push the thought out of your head as you admire the way Jason's cheek is smushed against your chest. If you lingered on it, you'd just started ragging on yourself, making it even more about. Earlier tonight had been the first time may be ever that someone with the last name Sionis had dared to consider something might not be about them. But what, did you want a cookie or something? A key to the city for your basic empathy?

Jason's earth rattling snore yanks you from your tailspin. You giggle quietly, no wonder he waits to fall asleep second. Your fingers resume wandering their course through his hair and a tremor runs down his back. He lets out a satisfied snort, his red lips parting. With a deep breath, he nuzzles into you. His usually hardened face is the softest you've ever seen it. Even the scars seem to fade. It's the complete opposite of the stony picture you woke up to. Despite the circumstances, you wouldn't trade the world for the sight before you.

You smile drowsily, ready to follow his lead and doze off when your phone vibrates rudely on the bed stand. You swear mentally, first at yourself for jerking so suddenly, then at whoever the fuck just had to send you a notification right this very second. A string of potential threats crosses your mind as you clumsily reach for the phone, gritting your teeth at the awkward way you bend your arm. It isn't easy to reach when a 225 pound man is slumbering (thankfully) unperturbed on top of you.

It takes you a few seconds to recall how to read as you glare blearily at the too bright screen. Your eyebrows knit when a message from an unknown number at last comes into view.

'Is he okay?'

You inwardly rescind your threats. It doesn't take a genius detective to deduce the identity of the sender.

'He's okay. He's sleeping now.'

The reply is instant.

'That's good. Moderate case of fear toxin, it should wear off all together by the morning.'

Ah, that will do it. You frown at Jason. A sick feeling creeps in at the thought of how terrified he must've been. That's why he seemed so unsure of you; you weren't the only thing he was seeing. Your poor baby.

When you glance back at your phone, there's another text.

'Are you okay?'

You blink.

'Yes, thank you. We're all fine here.'

There is one more response before you shut off the phone.

'I'll check in in the morning. I'm glad he's with you. Get some sleep.'

You're glad he's with you too. You're glad he came to find you. You're glad he wanted your comfort.

You're glad you would do anything for this stupid boy.

Jason sighs into your now dry skin. For just this moment, he knows nothing but peace. You'll fight off anything else.

Finally, you succumb to your exhaustion, knowing better than to disobey the Bat. The last thought you have is how warm Jason is wrapped safely in your arms before dreams of his shit eating grin take over. 

[lialuvsaven]

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

[syluslnd]

Imagine request please. Sylus is frustrated that someone he's fond of always looks away from him. But one day, she turns away and is facing a window/mirror; he catches her reflection and discovers she only does that because she's trying to hide her blush from them. What happens next?

sylus imagine with blushing reader

Sylus paced the room, his frustration barely concealed behind a mask of indifference. You sat across from him, nervously fidgeting with your hands. It wasn’t the first time he noticed this—the way you always avoided looking directly at him. It grated on him more than it should, a sting of rejection he couldn't shake.

Why did you always look away?

“Sweetie” Sylus’s voice cut through the tension, low and commanding. “Why do you always turn away from me?”

You stiffened at the question, the heat rising to your face. You kept your eyes on the window, the glass reflecting both the stormy cityscape outside and the quiet intensity of Sylus’s gaze. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer but your heart raced too fast for you to respond.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.” Sylus’s tone had that teasing edge he always used to rattle you. He approached slowly, a predator in control of the space, the moment. “You do this every time. I talk, and you look away. Tell me…” He paused, leaning against the table behind you, his voice dipping lower, “Why do you act like you’re afraid of me?”

Your breath hitched but before you could muster a reply, Sylus’s eyes flicked to the glass of the window where your reflection was faintly visible. And there it was—your blush, unmistakable, painting your cheeks a soft pink. His eyes narrowed slightly, a slow realization dawning.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Well, well…” he muttered, pushing off the table and moving closer until he stood directly behind you. “You’re not afraid at all, are you, kitten?” His hand gently slid to your waist, fingers brushing your side. You stiffened at his touch, feeling the heat rise to your face even more. “You’re just trying to hide that blush from me.”

You froze, caught in the moment, the warmth of his body so close that you could feel his breath on your neck. Sylus’s lips hovered near your ear, his voice a soft tease. “Isn’t that right?”

You tried to stammer out a denial, but words failed you. Sylus, however, wasn’t going to let you off that easily. He turned you around, forcing you to face him.

“Let me see that cute little blush you’ve been hiding,” he whispered, his tone both mocking and playful. He tilted your chin up so you couldn’t escape his gaze. “You thought I wouldn’t notice? You’re adorable.”

Your eyes met his for just a moment before you instinctively tried to turn away again, but this time he wasn’t having it. He caught your chin between his fingers, holding your face firmly in place, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“There it is” he said, his tone softening ever so slightly as he took in your flustered expression. “You look so sweet when you’re embarrassed. Did you think you could hide that from me forever?”

Your heart pounded in your chest and the intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe. You wanted to look away again but Sylus wasn’t letting go. His thumb brushed over your lower lip and the touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been trying to avoid me, huh?” he murmured, his voice lowering to that dangerously soft tone he used when he was completely in control. “But now I know. You’re not scared—you’re just flustered. How cute.”

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as your face grew even warmer. Sylus leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand still resting on your waist. The teasing glint in his eyes only deepened.

“You’re adorable when you blush like this, sweetie” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “But don’t hide from me. I like seeing you flustered.”

His fingers traced a line down your neck, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The touch was almost gentle, but there was an underlying intensity to it that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Maybe I’ll have to tease you more often if this is the reaction I get,” he continued, his smirk widening as he watched you squirm under his gaze. “You look so pretty when you’re like this.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, not with the way he was looking at you, the heat in his eyes and the teasing lilt in his voice making your mind go blank. Sylus seemed to sense this, and his amusement only grew. He leaned in even closer, his lips barely brushing against yours.

“Tell me, kitten” he whispered, his voice like velvet, “why hide from me when you look so cute being all flustered?”

Before you could respond, his lips met yours in a brief but heated kiss. It was soft at first, teasing, like he was savoring the moment of catching you off guard. But then, the kiss deepened, his hand tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips demanding and firm against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing, your cheeks burning even brighter than before. Sylus chuckled, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he whispered, “There it is again. That blush. You can’t hide from me, sweetie.”

His thumb gently brushed your cheek, the touch almost tender, though the playful smirk never left his face. “You’re mine” he murmured, his voice soft but possessive. “And I’m not going to let you forget that.”

Still flustered and speechless, you could only look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Sylus gave you a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with how thoroughly he’d unraveled you.

“I think I’ll keep you blushing like this,” he teased, his voice low and promising as he pulled you closer again. “I like the way you look when you’re all flustered for me.”

[tragedy-of-commons]

hi gwen!! could i request a "i just wanted to hold your hand" dialogue prompt with dan heng, romantically for the 200 event? if you can't do it, it's alright! take your time with it if you can 💗

"I just wanted to hold your hand."

Are you hallucinating? Has every star in your immediate proximity exploded into a raging supernova yet? Has someone set off a gas bomb in the parlor car? Are you really lying half-dead in an infirmary somewhere, frothing at the mouth and dreaming up impossible scenarios?

Dan Heng's gaze flickers to the floor sheepishly, only for a moment, before he continues.

"That is why I have been, quote, 'staring at you like I want you dead'," he repeats your earlier remark, only meant to be a bit of harmless teasing. "I am not used to asking for... things like that."

No kidding. Ever since you began dating, nothing's really changed. You still sleep on the same pallet with the same guy in the same Astral Express archives. You still initiate all the physical contact (not like there's anything wrong with it being that way), and you definitely are the one to render him speechless - not the other way around!

"I--" you actually stutter, "you w-want to what?"

Delight erupts in your chest as he rushes to backpedal, in that constipated-but-endearing-Dan-Heng-way.

"Hold your hand. You are not obligated to," he elaborates quickly, cheeks and nose dusted with pink. "It's just a whim. You haven't been around as much lately."

That's true; you've been busy occupying Jarilo-VI while the rest of the crew has been traipsing about elsewhere. It's been an arduous separation (you cried after seeing a stray gray kitten in Rivet Town), but you didn't know it was affecting him this much. You frown.

"Don't," he warns, entirely willing.

"My love, my one and only!" you croon, giving him approximately one second to prepare before you launch yourself into his arms. On instinct, Dan Heng catches you, cradling your form with the utmost care - bespeaking any kind of declaration he could possibly make.

This is a lot more than he'd bargained for, you realize. You have to bite down your mad giggles so you can give him what he wants. Pulling back just a fraction, you fumble for his hand, stopping just shy of grazing his trembling fingers.

His admission echoes in your head - he wants to hold your hand. If you initiate, it'll be just like all the other times, just as nice... but not what he needs right now. Your top priority, though sometimes hard to tell, is to give Dan Heng exactly what he needs.

"Go on," you encourage, chin perched on his shoulder.

You feel the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows and takes ahold of your hand successfully. You were right; it is just as nice, maybe even a little nicer. You can't hold back your laughter anymore, even as you press your face into his neck (where gooseflesh just happens to be breaking out).

"Does that feel okay?"

Hidden inside Dan Heng's sudden question, you're able to decipher the underlying message with ease: 'Am I doing this right?'

Of course, there is no right way to show love. But for a man like Dan Heng, who would rather sustain a spear to the gut than take anything at all from you, it makes sense he'd need something to go off of; a basis to fall back on when the tide sweeps him under.

"Yes," you murmur, "it feels perfect."

You don't see yourself as his life-preserver or anything. Your boyfriend is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and finding his footing in gray areas - more proficient than you are, probably. However, as sappy as it may be, you're proud and overjoyed that he stepped out of his comfort zone all the same.

Sometimes he won't allow you to be so supportive (and it breaks your heart every time), so any praise has to be concealed in a plethora of entendres and the gaps of your interlocked fingers - the only time Dan Heng favors such an indirect approach.

That's just fine with you.

Maneuvering just enough to allow it, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He sighs, tension melting from his shoulders.

"Okay," he nods, likely signaling that it's time for you to let go.

Respectfully, you take the hint, stepping back--

Then he kisses you.

His lips are chapped but warm, swallowing up your ensuing gasp. Seems like you were doubly wrong, because Dan Heng has surprised you more than he ever has in the brief window of two minutes. You're rendered speechless, alright, more than that - you feel your eyes sting as they close in tandem with his.

After the best silence of your life, he notices your tears, something like panic in that sweet, sometimes flat voice of his.

"I'm sorry, I--did I overstep?" like he'd been scorched, he pulls his hands back immediately, much to your displeasure. They only return when you positively beam, your smile shadowed by his thumb wiping away any perceived evidence of despair.

You admire his visage, marred with concern, confusion, and an ever-growing warmth. "No, never. I'm just really happy, okay? I'm so happy with you, Baobei."

...your predilection for the cheesiest pet names is concerning, you know, but he hasn't put a stop to it just yet (at least not in private).

He withdraws for real this time, eyes of crystal enchanting as always. And when you think he can't possibly surprise you anymore than he already has, he proves you wrong again.

"Then I am content. With you, I mean," he states, firm.

That's all you need, you decide, yanking Dan Heng into another embrace for round two.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @mikashisus

a/n: BELL... your brain is HUGE!! tysm for this prompt and all of your support. you're so fun to chill with and i'm glad ure my mutual :3 as for other notes, thanks seth for linking those chinese naming basics. if i used baobei incorrectly, please lmk!

event post here

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[crows-in-the-house]

The human form

Summary: Hcs for Bill in his human (canon) form

pairing: Bill Cipher x reader

tw: none

Ok so let's get it straight - this guy doesn't care about his human looks at all. Like there's milions of great looking species and you would be asking him to look attractive in this vile-monkey-fleshy form? Come on, he has standards!

He will make it look as bad as he can just to spite you. Of course he could make it handsome and interesting for you, but since you still don't want to make a deal with him - why bother?

this is when this canon form comes into place

little does he know you don't really care about the outer layer - it's the insides that matter!

hold his cheeks and poke them while he speaks. He may act like he wants to bite them off, but until he doesn't actually do it, it's just a play! Wanna see how long your fingers will last?

talking about his mouth, make him wash his teeth. They are crooked, and sharp, ready to bite off a dentists hand.

style his hair! And wash them! And burn them if you see another bug crowl out of them!!!

you can also sprey him with a cologne cuz he smells like rotten flesh. But atleast it's your rotten flesh, right?

actually give you two a self care day. He doesn't know how to take care of anything, and the longer he uses this form, the worse it looks.

can he change it back to make it look clean and neat with a snap of his fingers? Yes. Will he do that to spare you work? No.

give him glasses for actual depth perception, he may be in a 3D sensing form, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a 2D seeing being. Same with a cane.

also, give him other clothes! He definitely likes fancy outfits so whatever you bring that isn't a mystery shack merch (and is from you) will be accepted.

you better get him two top hats tho.

why? Mind your business that's why.

he will help out with your skincare as a little payment - he's a benovolent demon after all! Get ready for lots of mud, nettle and leeches kid!

do his make up! He would just love you sitting on his laps, firmly holding him in place, lightly pulling the mascara on his lashes, and then smudging all your work and laughing at your expression!

not that he would do that all the time, he enjoys spending time with you like that.

he will try to open himself up. Litteraly. Better hide all knifes in his proximity, he wants to see his insides!

he also likes to loom over you. It's funny how scared or tired of his bullshit you can get. Imagine going to your kitchen for water at night, it's dark, quiet, it doesn't help you watched a horror film earlier. Suddenly you hear a raspy breaths against your back. You move your head a little, seeing the gums of a sharp canines, stuck in a smile. Large, claw like hands keep you in place, they could dig into your flesh-

if only you didn't pour the water on this fucker

since he has a higher build now, he likes to hold you, rest his head on your shoulder or dramatically lay his chin on your head - just so he can iritate you and laugh at how small you are now

[osalotte]

OPERATION: KOTOHA’S BOYFRIEND!

WC 1.2k, part 1/???

SUMMARY: Umemiya knows that his precious little Kotoha-chan has a boyfriend--it’s obvious. But when he asks her, she won’t tell him anything…. So, being the good big brother he is, Ume takes it upon himself to find out just who this mystery boyfriend is, and if he’s good enough for Kotoha.

(aka: Kotoha is a girl kisser an and Umemiya has no idea)

CONTENTS. Kotoha x Fem!reader, Umemiya being Umemiya, lots of fluff and misunderstanding, reader is explicitly described as feminine/a girl

It was closing time at the cafe again. Nothing out of the ordinary, and for all intents and purposes it was a very normal night. Umemiya was in the back washing dishes while Kotoha straightens up the front. It was one of the only times that Umemiya could genuinely spend time with his little sister.

So why does she keep checking her phone?

As Umemiya scrubbed a particularly stubborn bit of cheese off a plate, Kotoha’s phone dinged, and even from the kitchen he could hear her drop everything to scramble over to check it.

Ume flicked the sudsy water off of his hands and wiped the rest on his apron as he peeked around the corner, careful to make sure he wasn’t noticed.

And there she was: Staring at her phone, completely absorbed, tucking her hair behind her ear, giggling and blushing-

Wait. Giggling and blushing?!

Now, contrary to what some people might assume due to his carefree, friendly nature, Umemiya was not stupid. Not that it took a genius to figure it out--he was sure, watching the scene unfold in front of him, that even someone as emotionally dense as Sakura could come to the same conclusion he did.

Kotoha was texting A Boy.

And no, not “a boy.” A Boy, capitalized. Because this boy was not just any boy, he was THE Boy.

The boy she liked.

Umemiya was able to realize this in a split second. He stepped fully out of the kitchen, not necessarily trying to be stealthy but his appearance went unknown to Kotoha either way as she eagerly types out a response on her phone, fighting (and losing to) the grin on her face. In fact, he was able to sneak up right behind her, peering over her shoulder.

“Who’re ya texting?”

Kotoha yelped and all but jumped out of her skin, immediately closing her phone and protectively pressing it screen-side into her chest. She was red in the face and if looks could kill, Ume would be six feet under.

“What the hell?! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Kotoha snapped.

Umemiya tilted his head innocently. “Huh? It’s not like I tried to--you just didn’t notice me.”

Kotoha simply growled and went back to open her phone, angling so that her brother couldn’t see who she was texting. And just that alone told Ume all he needed to know.

His face lit up. “Are you texting your boyfriend?”

Kotoha glared at him again, holding her phone even closer to her chest. But she looked flustered. “None of your business.”

‘None of your business’? That wasn’t a ‘no.’ Which must mean…..

“Aha!” he cried, pointing a finger at her. “So you do have a boyfriend!”

Kotoha’s face got even redder and she seemed to shrink in on herself. “Shut the hell up. I don’t.”

“You can’t lie to me, Kotoha-chan,” he strutted around her, leaning in close to her face as she leaned away. “I know you too well. I know what your lie-face looks like.”

Which was true. He could read her expressions like a book. And the one she had on now was the oh-shit-I’ve-been-caught one.

“Whatever,” she grumbled, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she went back to closing up the front. Her face was still red. Umemiya leaned against the counter, looking at her with the biggest grin on his face.

“So…?”

“So what?” she growled.

Umemiya threw up his hands. “So who is he, Kotoha-chan?”

Rather than answering, she simply went back to cleaning. Umemiya made a noise of distress. “C’monnn, I’m your brother-”

“No you're not.”

“-you have to tell me!” he pleaded. “I need to know who he is, what he’s like, if he’s good for you, if he’s good enough for you…. And I also need to tell him that if he breaks your heart, I’ll snap him in two.”

Kotoha scoffed, preparing a retort when there was a sudden knock on the front door. Both of them turned to see you standing there, sheepish, illuminated only by the streetlamp, and carrying a bag of something. You gave them a little wave, and Kotoha immediately scrambled to unlock the door and let you inside.

Umemiya knew you. Quite well, in fact. You and Kotoha had been friends since middle school, and even more recently, you’d been hanging out at the cafe almost every day. Kotoha seemed a lot happier, more vibrant when you were around. You were sweet, polite, and above all, his sister’s best friend. So of course he adored you!

“(Name)!” he exclaimed, bounding up to give you a bone-crushing hug. “How’ve you been? Is school going well? You should really stop by Furin sometime with Kotoha, all the guys would love to meet you!”

You simply chuckled and patted his back, but Kotoha was quick to wrestle you out of his grip.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you replied as Kotoha pulled you away, giving you some breathing room. “What about you?”

“I’ve been good!” Umemiya started to talk about the recent goings-on in Furin, but Kotoha cut him off.

“Shut up, she’s not here for you,” she snapped, making Umemiya pout. She fully ignored him as her face softened and she turned to look at you fully.

“I’m happy to see you, but I didn’t know you were stopping by. I thought you had plans,” she said, reaching out to rub your shoulder. Almost automatically, you brought your free hand up to touch hers, gently holding it.

Meanwhile, Umemiya was shocked by the complete 180 her tone did when talking to you versus him. She’s so…. soft.

“I do, so I can’t stay for too long, but I wanted to drop this off,” you explained. You held out the tote bag you’d been carrying, and Umemiya immediately recognized its contents to be one of Kotoha’s favorite sweaters. The red one she’s had since middle school with holes in the sleeves.

“You left it at my place the other day,” you continued. Kotoha blushed, not meeting your eyes as she took the bag from your hands, and you chuckled.

“You didn’t need to come all the way out here. You could’ve just waited till tomorrow,” she grumbled, still not meeting your gaze.

“It’s no big deal, love,” you replied, smiling at her so warmly and genuinely that Ume realized how happy he really was that you were Kotoha’s best friend. “Wanted to see you before I left, anyhow.”

Umemiya watched as the two of you bid your farewells, heart warming at the tight hug that she gave you before you left.

After the door closed behind you and you walked out of sight, it was quiet. Kotoha hadn’t even turned.

“Ah, she’s so great,” Ume sighed gratefully after a moment. “I’m really glad the two of you are friends. She’s so good to you.”

“...Yeah,” she replied flatly, shuffling past him to finish up closing.

She didn’t look Umemiya in the eye for the rest of the night.

A/N: to be continued! this fic absolutely took over my brain and i had to remove it like a tumor. let me know if u want to be tagged in part 2!!

[sonik-kun]

Let's remind eachother why Jiang Cheng resorted to leading the seige, shall we?

If you recall, WWX inadvertently killed JZX after he lost control of WN. JZX being JC's brother in law .. The heir to the powerful Jin sect but most importantly, his sister's husband whom she loved dearly.

EVEN THEN JC DIDN'T OUTRIGHT DECLARE A SIEGE!

We see he's reluctant, torn, but still holds some hope for WWX. This can be seen in the line thereafter where WWX loses control once again and JC cries "I thought you could control it!"

Both JC and JYL in that moment couldn't truly bring themselves to go after WWX and hold him accountable. But we can also see that they are torn. That they are unsure how to feel about WWX and the dangerous person he has now become. We see this when JYL is dying and she can't bring herself to express what she may or may not be feeling in that moment.

But love and loyalty aside, let's look at what would happen if JC didn't take part in the siege.

If JC didn't take part he would either look complicit in JZX's death or he would look like a weak coward who rolls over for his former second in command. Not only that, he would be expected to pursue justice on behalf of his sister. How would it look if he didn't raise a finger to kill or apprehend his sister and her husband's "killer?"

We don't even know if he wanted to kill WWX in that siege or apprehend him. Giving his literal job and the politics of that world, he wouldn't be wrong to do either. JC's job is to keep his people safe. And if WWX has become a threat, a threat that killed two of his family members, then I'm afraid to say it is his duty to stop him.

I would also argue in defence of his mental state at the time of his siege. JC literally lost his only remaining family left, his sister leaving behind an orphaned nephew. He's also not being fed the information we as the reader receive.

From his pov WWX had not only betrayed him to side with the sect that had nearly decimated his own, but it also looked like he had walked down the dark path and had become corrupted by his DC. His corruption had led to the death of people who he loved. In JC's eyes, WWX had betrayed him first.

Now before anyone starts, I am in no way condoning the massacre of the Wen remnants. But I would like to argue that we don't even know JC's full role in the siege other than that he lead it.

His goal was to get to WWX. If he wanted the Wen dead, he would have sided with the rest of the cultivation world in the beginning instead of defending WWX's actions and being mocked and demeaned for it. He was willing to embarrass himself and receive criticism from the other sect leader's for WWX! That to me suggests his love and loyalty for his brother.

For all we know, JC's party could have went after WWX and his fierce corpse army. Whilst the Jin took advantage and took care of the Wen. WWX never blames JC for the death of the Wen nor does he seek justice or revenge. Instead he puts the blame on the Jin when the truth of their conniving comes out. So.. if you think JC should be held accountable for the Wen, WWX himself doesn't even entertain that idea. 🤷

So no, actually. The siege does not nullify Jiang Cheng's sacrifice. JC made that sacrifice out of love for his brother without a second thought. JC only turned against WWX at the very last minute when he inadvertently got his beloved sister killed. He could have picked the easy way out and sided with the three powerful sects to take down WWX and the Wen a long time ago but he didn't. Because he loved WWX. He respected him. And he was only pushed to commit the atrocities he commited because of WWX. JC is not inherently evil.

[sturniolobsessed]

YOU’RE HIS AND NOT MINE - M.STURNIOLO (PT1)

Warnings : Crying, arguing, bullying, reverse comfort, shouting, use of y/n

Summary : In which, Matt is head over heals in love with his best friend… but she has a boyfriend already

Authors Note : You lot are being fed right now because this is part one of a four part series. Part 1 might be a little bit boring but please bare with me, it will get good soon, I promise. There will be a angst, smut, fluff, all the emotions. Good luck and I hope you enjoy a rollercoaster of emotions. <3

Pink is reader

Blue is Matt

Green is reader’s boyfriend

Orange is teacher

Purple is Nick

Italics is flash forward/back

________________________________________

Your best friend Matt is crying in your arms and he won’t tell you why. When he finally does and you find out that it’s because of your boyfriend, your body fills with sadness and rage.

You and Matt have been best friends since you were kids. You’ve gone from playing on the parks to talking shit about people and laughing at mildly sexual jokes. You’ve changed a lot but you’ve changed together.

Although you and Matt are the closest of friends, you are complete opposites. You are literally the definition of “opposites attract”. You are popular and extroverted and Matt is nerdy and quiet.

It is not uncommon that Matt will get picked on for being nerdy and you will always stand up for him, but when it comes to your boyfriend being the one to ridicule Matt, the seas start to get a bit rocky in your relationship.

Your boyfriend, Jack, has always been jealous of yours and Matt’s friendship because he doesn’t like the idea of another man getting your attention besides him. It’s fucking annoying.

“Matt, come on, I can’t be arsed to do fucking algebra.”

“Come on, kid, we have a test in a week and you don’t even know how to find x in a simple equation.”

“Stop saying big words!”

Clearly, your protests are useless because Matt just laughs and pushes the paper and pen towards you, encouraging you to study.

After a long time of studying, Matt explaining things to you and a few minor breakdowns, you get there and you finally understand the question.

“Alright, now you can do that, let’s start adding numbers-“

“Hey babe.”

You hear your boyfriend’s voice behind you and you smile. He starts to kiss your neck and you feel a little uncomfortable, not wanting to do this in front of Matt.

“Hey, my love…”

You subtly try and push your boyfriend away when you notice Matt look a little uncomfortable. You start to feel a little suspicious because Matt went all quiet and shy the second your boyfriend walked in.

“You alright, Matt?”

“Uhh… yeah I’m alright.”

Matt shoots you a weak smile but you are nowhere near convinced. You let it go for now but you stay wary.

Your boyfriend takes a seat next to you, putting a possessive hand on your thigh as you and Matt continue to study together. You still don’t understand algebra.

After you and Matt are done with your homework and studying, you start packing up your things and getting ready to leave Matt’s house. You look over at Matt and he still looks sad.

You go over to him and give him a goodbye hug, holding him for a little bit longer, hoping that you can make whatever is making him sad a little bit better.

“Bye Matt, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye y/n! See you tomorrow.”

“Okay whatever..”

You look at your boyfriend, a little bit confused at his passive aggressive behaviour towards Matt.

Timeskip

Later that night, you and your boyfriend are lay in bed and you are lay on his chest. For some reason, you can’t get Matt’s sad expression out of your head.

“Babe…?”

“Yes, love.”

“Do you have any idea why Matt was so sad earlier? He was visibly upset and I don’t know why…”

“Why do you care? It’s not your problem?”

“Yea but it is because he’s my best friend and I love him.”

You saying that you love Matt must have clearly set something off in your boyfriend because he immediately stands up, telling you that he’s going to the toilet and slamming the bathroom door behind him.

You flinch when the door slams but you just roll your eyes and pick up your phone to text Matt, knowing that your boyfriend can be like this sometimes.

Matt 💗

Hi Matt

Hi :)

Are you alright? You really didn’t seem yourself earlier

No, yeah. I’m fine, I promise

Are you sure?

Yeah ofc, I’m just tired

Okay well let me know if anything does happen, alright?

I will, thank you

You’re welcome, Matt

Your boyfriend walks back into the room and he still looks a bit mad but you just brush it off. You open your arms for him, waiting for him to come and lie with you.

“I’m sorry for saying that, babe.”

“It’s alright… sorry for snapping at you.”

“It’s fine..”

Timeskip

You walk into school, not excited for today. You have the shittiest lessons but, luckily, the teachers aren’t that bad. You walk into maths first and you walk over to your desk.

You take out all of your equipment, getting ready to start the lesson. The teacher starts taking attendance and everyone says “here” but Matt.

“Matt? Is Matt not here?”

“He should be. He always texts me before school if he’s not going to be here and he would never skip a lesson.”

“Okay… we’ll send someone to go check on him because it does say that he is in school, he just isn’t in my lesson.”

You nod, knowing that this is very suspicious. You saw Matt this morning, driving to school with his triplet brothers, Nick and Chris. You immediately take out your phone to text him.

Matt 💗

Matt, where are you?

Matt?

You send the message and 5 minutes later, you’re still on delivered. You start to worry like mad. You spend the entire maths lesson just worrying about Matt.

When the lesson is over, you don’t care about going to history because you need to find Matt. You start searching the school.

You are pacing around the school, having looked everywhere and not finding him. You start doing a second lap of the school when you hear sobs coming from an empty classroom.

Your head starts spinning. Is it Matt? If so, why is he crying? You walk over to the door and gently push it open. You see Matt crying, sat at one of the desks.

When you see him, you instantly shut the door behind you and make your way over to him. You don’t even say anything, you just pull him into your arms.

“Matt… what’s wrong?”

“H-he said that y-you s-shouldn’t be friends with a l-loser like me…”

“Who’s ‘he’, sweetheart?”

“J-Jack…”

“As in, my boyfriend, Jack?”

Matt nods his head against your chest, continuing to cry into it. You are absolutely fuming right now, knowing that your boyfriend had made Matt sad but you don’t show it because you don’t want to scare Matt.

“Don’t listen to Jack, okay? He’s just jealous that you’re getting my attention and not him.”

“I-okay… t-thanks y/n.”

“It’s okay… I’ll have a word with him tonight. A strong word.”

Matt just nods again, not wanting to speak because it just comes out as a stuttering, shaky mess. You understand and just pull him closer to you, playing with his hair.

After a few minutes, Matt starts to feel better but he just wants to stay in your arms, enjoying the comfort that it brings him. You simply comply and hold him.

He pulls away after another minute or two and he looks up at you. His cheeks are stained red from crying and his nose is running a little. You grab a tissue and wipe his nose and eyes.

“What are you gonna say to him..?”

“I don’t know yet, sweetheart, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay… I hope this doesn’t make him more mad..”

“Well… if he says anything else to you, if we don’t break up tonight, I’m breaking up with him then!”

Matt simply buries his head back into your chest and nods, now starting to overthink about whether this is just gonna make Jack more angry at him.

You hold him for another little while and then the bell goes. You guys can finally go home and you can finally yell at Jack. You have a LOT to say.

You walk Matt out to the gate and you give him a hug before he leaves. He wishes you a quiet ‘good luck’ before going to his car and taking himself home. That’s when you see Jack.

You’re trying to contain your anger at least until you get home but it’s getting difficult. You get in the car with him, not saying a word. You want him to know that you’re pissed off.

To your annoyance, Jack doesn’t say anything in the car but when you guys get back to his house, you snap. He tries to kiss your neck and you push him off you.

“How fucking dare you, Jack?!”

“Woah woah woah… what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Why the fuck have you been saying all that shit to Matt about him not deserving me as a friend and calling him a loser?!”

You watch as Jack’s face drops and he instantly knows why you’re pissed. He tries his best to explain himself but, in your opinion, it’s all utter bullshit.

“Listen, babe.. I only said that because I was jealous. He’s getting more of your time than me.”

“Doesn’t take Einstein to figure that one out, dipshit! You scoff and roll your eyes like a bitchy toddler whenever I speak to Matt.”

“Yeah… because I’m your boyfriend… you should spend your time on me.”

“Oh so now you’re tryna control me? Fuck you Jack.”

Your eyes are cold and he can tell that whatever he says isn’t gonna change your mind. He’s trying to reason with you but it’s proving difficult.

“Babe… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t even talk to him again.”

“You said that the last time I brought this up. Last time it was just because of your stupid fucking meltdowns whenever I spend time with him and now you’re making fun of him and calling him names?”

“I know, babe… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

You continue to argue for a while until you’ve had enough. You want to go back to yours but the whole reason that you were supposed to stay at Jack’s is because your parents aren’t home so you ring Matt.

“Matt? Can I come over to yours? I can’t deal with this dickhead anymore.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You can hear his smile through the phone, he’s clearly happy to hear from you. You smile a little too and grab your bags, heading out of the house. You put the phone down on Matt, telling him you’ll be there soon.

“But babe-“

“I said, don’t call me babe. Talk to me again when you’re less of a twat.”

You get in your car, leaving Jack at the door, still trying to get your attention. You slam your car door and drive off, not paying any attention to Jack.

You start speeding off to Matt’s house, not sure whether you want you want to cry or scream. Holding back all of your emotions, you reach Matt’s house. You get out the car, collect your bags and go knock on his front door.

When you knock, Nick, Matt’s triplet brother, answers instead of Matt. You, Nick and Chris are all good friends but you and Matt have always had a closer relationship. You never really knew why but you two have always been closer, since you were kids.

“Hey girl, you okay?”

“I guess… me and Jack got in an argument. I don’t know if I wanna cry or scream..”

“Shit… I’m sorry. Matt’s in his room.”

“Thanks…”

You smile at Nick and he closes the door behind you. Taking your bags with you, you head over to Matt’s room. You knock and then just let yourself in. You find him lay on his bed, just on his phone.

“Hey…”

“Hey. You didn’t sound too happy on the phone. Can I assume that it’s Jack?”

“Yeah… I spoke to him about the thing with you but he was just making up excuses. I think I got my point across though.”

Matt decides that it’s a better idea to just open his arms for a hug instead of making you talk about it much more. When you see Matt extend his arms for you, you smile and put down your bags, walking over to the bed.

You collapse down next to him, letting him hug you and you lightly hug him back. You start to feel tears welling up in your eyes but you push them down as much as you can, not wanting to pay too much attention to the whole scenario.

Matt looks down at you and he can see your teary eyes. His eyes soften and he just pulls you a little closer, rubbing your back.

“What did he say? Why did you sound so pissed off on the phone?”

“He was basically just telling me that he’s jealous that you’re getting more of my time than him. First of all, I don’t think that’s necessarily true and secondly, you’re my best friend.”

“He annoys me so much sometimes… was he yelling at you?”

“A bit.. but I was definitely yelling back.”

Matt laughs and rests his head against yours. You stay in Matt’s arms for a while, helping you feel better, and then after a while, you just throw a movie on that you both like. Matt got some snacks and you’re just hanging out together now.

After a while of just sitting together, Matt speaks up. He sounds a little frustrated for some reason but you don’t ask why.

“Your boyfriend really pisses me off?”

“Why? Is it because he yelled at me?”

“Yeah well.. that too but… it’s because you’re his and not mine.”

________________________________________

Taglist : @astrolynnworld @moncherriis @mattybsbitch @strnzzvsp @strniohoeee @sturnsem @sturnsdarling @sturnslesbo @sturnioloho @sturniolo-slvt @sturniolojpg @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @loud-sturniolos @iheartmattsbeard @sturnioloslife @stuniolvs @mattgirl4eva @33sturniolo @sturnsxx @thetriplets3 @slashzgirl @hoeforchrizz @shadowthesim @letstrip13

[redditreceipts]

hey! I saw ur post asking about peaking stories. im not sure, but im guessing peaking means when you realised the whole trans thing was bs? if so then i have a story for that !!

so i used to be a huuuuuge trans supporter, at one point thought i may be a trans man (though i thankfully didn’t come out or change name or do any sort of transition).

then i started to realise the flaws in the logic and distanced myself from the whole thing. but i decided that i would take the approach of “if it’s just people being themselves and it doesn’t affect me, i should be fine with it.”

then one day a man on public transport cyber flashed me and my friends by airdropping penis pictures to us. i knew who it was because there was only one guy on the carriage actually on his phone. he was holding two separate iphones (suspicious as hell) and looking around all sneaky. I can’t fully explain it, but if you were there you’d just KNOW it was him. so i took a picture of him. I decided to report this incident and send in the picture of the guy, hoping something would get done.

when i was spoken to on the phone by the transport people, the staff member basically gaslit me into not putting the report through, told me there was nothing they could do, made me feel like i was overreacting. literally quote he asked “do you feel like a victim?”. sadly i was too young and shy to call him out. i was far too polite about the whole thing.

Anyway, in this interaction he referred to the man doing the airdropping as “he or she”. I remember thinking ‘she???? SHE????’ and i realised that in this world of self identity, there’s nothing to say that he couldn’t have identified as a woman. And I thought to myself, in that scenario, am I meant to think of that as a female-on-female sex crime? would that be how it’s counted in crime statistics? and suddenly everything came crashing down for me. like, wow, trans ideology actually does affect me and isn’t just about self expression and people being themselves. it has serious ramifications on people’s, specifically women’s, lives.

So yeah, that’s when i ‘peaked’ if im using that word correctly lol

yes, you are using that word correctly and WHAT THE FUCK?!?! Why are people like this??? (I mean we know why men are like this, but the staff members???)

I mean I'm glad that you're here now, and I also hope that this experience didn't have any lasting impacts on you because wtf

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Small biology rant

I dont really get how people made the one way skeletons reproduce is an ecto body

Like i get yall want nsfw but like be creative

Because honestly in my head monsters do it with souls, that makes sense to me. Not everyone has..the equipment, but everyone has a soul (well not ink, but yk)

If you want them to have ecto bodies it'd make more sense for it to be as protection, their soul is in their ribcage but without a shirt you could probably just grab it if you're fast enough- same things with their bones, if you're strong enough it's incredibly easy to break their ribs. With an ecto body their bones and souls are protected

Anyways that was my rant

Yeah I always personally viewed the possibility of reproduction for monsters to mostly just have something to do with the souls, and things like ecto—mostly for skeleton monsters (or those who are bodily skeleton monsters, in killers case)—are for as you said, protection, but could also be as a form of self expression (if ecto is really just magic used in a certain way), and also just to experience physical pleasure and intimacy.

Perhaps the ecto also helps to keep fractured, broken, or frail bones/body safe either all the time (such as in the case of Color’s frail body and abundance of magic due to his six souls), or just when it’s too broken and needs extra cushion if it can’t seem to heal naturally (such as killer, who very likely experiences frequent injuries and broken bones but either isn’t given/allowed or just doesn’t take time to heal in any significant way. so perhaps sometimes his magic forces him to maintain an ecto body to protect bones that need to heal but are not being allowed to.)

Or in some cases (killer), a source of experimentation, and a way to cause further self harm.

Especially if, ectos are usually used a way to protect a skeleton monster’s body and soul (and also therefore the monster’s developing baby/babies if they are pregnant and the “fetus” is housed in/around the soul), but for some reason, Killers own ecto just doesn’t protect his soul anymore.

His soul floats keeps floating outside his body, exposed and vulnerable, for everyone to see or just reach out and try to touch and take. (Yet another reason why someone holding his soul in their ribcage for him, summoning an ecto to keep it (him) safe, is a very appealing thought.)

(and yet his own ecto refusing to keep him safe is yet another way the body he’s stuck in just keeps betraying him. as if it doesn’t recognize him and keeps rejecting him. like it’s trying to kill him even as it protects itself.)

In the case of ink, who does not have a soul they need to protect, i think it’d be cool if he primarily uses their ecto as a form of self expression. Maybe he finds a way to change its color whenever they want, or perhaps draw on it as if giving it tattoos. maybe ink’s ecto can kinda have something like vitiligo too like I often see them drawn in a human form.

{ @brokenramunebottle }

[awriternamedart]

a collection of my middle aged man yaoi sampard headcanons -

Sampo has poliosis, a condition that can cause premature greying in areas on the scalp.

Gepard has lots of facial and body hair but it grows slowly because of their cold enviroment. His beard is a stopwatch for how long hes been on the frontlines that time around as he only gets to shave when hes at his home/stationed in the city.

Sampo has a few beauty marks n moles ! mostly on his back and shoulders.

Gepard has freckles! All the Landaus do!

Once Gepard scared the ever living shit out of Sampo because the Landaus have reflective eyes. So Sampo just saw two blue dots in his bedroom once and nearly fell out the window he climbed in through.

Gepard has piercings! Two simple lobe piercings, he only wears them when hes on break. (so like, never.) Serval pierced them for him when they were teenagers so its a little botched but he does his best to take care of them because their a fond memory of his sister. (He also owns a pair of studs for each of his sisters - a snowflake set for Lynx, and a music note set for Serval. Otherwise, simple black studs.)

Sampo has sideburns!! He tends to keep them trimmed well , since his appearence is a huge part of the show. Hes incredibly meticulous down to the last detail in order to sell it, and can spend up to two hours every morning making sure hes ready for the stage .

Gepard is an amputee. I need to update my arm lore doc but basic gist - his gauntlet is a prosthetic used to trap Fragmentum in his arm nub and uses that Fragmentum as a powersource for the Geomarrow to bounce off of and create the ice and mist he uses in battle. He still deals with phantom pain but most of the time it is soothed with his prosthetic - though it can still flare up horribly when overused.

Sampos really weak to being kissed on the nape of his neck, right where his hair is. Hes not quite sure why.

Gepards easy to blush but inCREDIBLY hard to fluster. Hes so used to keeping himself in check and in control that to catch him in any form of stupor is rare.

Related - Gepard struggles immensely when hes out of control of a situation and someone he is unfamiliar with or doesnt trust holds power over it. Hes so used to being in charge and being looked to and only having those he trusts as peers or over him in the power system that being thrown into that situation crawls under his skin in a /neg way. Physical vulnerabilty is also not easy and very stressful.

Quite the opposite for Sampo - emotional vulnerabilty ties this guy in KNOTS. Hes pretty open to touch (once your on his trust list and ONLY if your on the trust list) but youll have to drag him kicking and screaming if you want a glimpse at his actual thoughts.

also Sampo has a wheezy hyena laugh.

Gepard only has only one or two potted plants he tried to use as motivation to go home more often- it was a suggestion from Pela. But uh, yeah it didnt work. Hes a great cook though!

On the other hand- do not let Sampo within 5 meters of a kitchen. For your sake and his. (hes not that bad and can make enough to get by- but it really .. does not taste great ...)

Sampos not entirely sure how old he is, but Natasha figured he was somewhere in his late twenties early thirties when he arrived on Jarilo and hes kinda been rolling with that ever since.

Gepard overheats really easily when he gets off planet eventually. Like it is bad how easily he gets heatstroke.

Sampo uses his blades to pick at his teeth sometimes. Both Natasha and Gepard hate this .

Gepard has a nasty resting bitch face. Hes learned to be able to nullify it a little bit but when hes tired it drops back to usual and makes it look likes constantly about to murder someone.

On the plus side, this control over his expression means he plays a nasty game of poker! (or whatever the Jarilo 6 counterpart of poker is)

Sampo has on more then one occassion forgot that he has the ability to neutralize most of Belobogs cold and has wandered outside without his jacket. Many people looked at him like he was insane.

Gepard always cuts the sleeve right above his gauntlet implant and sews a new hem to keep it from getting caught in machinery.

Hook called Sampo Gramps once. He never recovered.

Gepards hair is slowly turning brown instead of greying! Sampo is infact, salty about this.

Gepard has three majorly noticable scars. He has frostburn on his flesh hand that wind up his arm, he has Fragmentum cracks that wind up his opposite shoulder (amputated arm)(inactive so it looks like scar tissue or a lightning scar rather then black or gold) , and an impact scar/explosion scar across his lower back. Other minor scars are shrapnel cuts and his knuckles being scarred from being a fistfighter. Also his nose is slightly crooked.

Sampo has done a damn good job at making sure he looks the part of the shifty businessman but he has a few marks of his own. Being an Emanator means he heals quickly- and can mask any scars and injuries he gets with relative ease - but he prefers to not rely on this aspect. His biggest scar is an ugly blade cut into his right shoulderblade, and its only so prominant because it struggled to heal properly.

Sampo is shorter the Natasha! Natasha is just tall !! She is shorter then Gepard who is the tallest among the Belobog cast but shes second.

In order of tallest to shortest of Belobog adults its - Gepard, Natasha, Sampo, Serval, Luka, Bronya, Seele. Sorry Seele.

The Landau eye color and color crest is so recognizable in Belobog that that shade of blue is called Landau Blue.

When Sampo has a difficult time sleeping, he wordlessly buries his face into Gepards neck, who simply begins to hum if hes also awake.

Gepard is a light sleeper- he wakes up very easily. Sampo is not. Gepard has had to fight an extremely sleepy Sampo to get up in the morning more times then he can count.

Gepard actually does have a good singing voice, its just that he has poor discipline and tries to match Servals octave. Which is. Way to high. He also has good rhythm!

This does not mean he is a good dancer.

He can get through on dancing, it being part of his upbringing and studies growing up, but he can only do what steps he knows. Any improv and he falters.

Sampo has in fact trust falled on Gepard multiple times. Once at Bronya and Seeles wedding. He basically forced Gepard to dip him.

Gepard is actually incredibly sassy. Its just that hes awful at inflection and everything comes across as matter-of-fact or dry as fuck. That, and he only dares to sass Serval most of the time- theres not many other people hes comfortable enough with to let loose that much.

When it comes to fishing out back alley deals, few are more knowledgable than Sampo. Even before the Trailblazers, Sampo and Gepard had an under the table deal where if Gepard was unable to crack a case alone, he could get information off Sampo in exchange for supplies and shield. He was not happy about this deal but he deemed it a necessity- for the sake of Belobogs safety.

Sampo would and still does anonymously tip the Guards off on major crimes that could severely impact Belobogs already fragile economy. Hes no saint , but he has his personal morals and he sticks to them.

Gepard had many sharp teef , lil fangies even ! but theyve been worn down over time.

Sampo also has lil sharp teef ! his are more snake fang like tho, thinner.

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[valentine-cafe]

I know you replied to a similar ask but...i wanna know more about Alessio 164's tail..like, how sensitive is it? Can you hold it or playfully tap it or lick it o--

Just general facts about his tail pls! Plspls

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 164 alessio / gn reader ꒱ just some quick facts about alessio and his tail <3

𖹭. content warnings◞  none! . 0.4k

𖹭. receipts◞  absolutely! been wanting to write some stuff for emerald<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. alessio’s tail is particularly sensitive around the middle and extending to the base. it is why he can manage to wrap the upper parts around your wrist or whatever body part he wishes - rather then the rest. because that is when he might get a little hot and bothered

𖹭. for some reason, and he’s not too sure why, the skin around those areas are sensitive in the sense that they send shivers down his spine or pricks along the back of the head. well, that’s to say for the centre of the tail at least.

𖹭. at the base is where we see the tail getting sensitive. he might whine a little if you touch him there. will definitely squirm a bit if you start stroking at it

𖹭. you can tap his tail but depending on where you are tapping it, expect him to either snatch you by the waist with it or send you a playful glare. especially if you’re doing so with certain intentions. he may just hoist you up and throw you onto the sofa

𖹭. if you lick his tail this man is going to whimper. regardless of where you lick it. his knees will either start shaking or he’ll reach out to immediately grab onto you

𖹭. his tail is also a bit sensitive to temperature! it tends to get a bit limp in the cold and not as active. in the warmth it’s a bit everywhere. he prefers neutrality for this sake because he can be quite expressive with his tail

𖹭. on that note, alessio is quite expressive with his tail. when he’s saying something, he often expresses it with his hands just as much as he does with his tail. whether that be for emphasis or simply out of habit. it can be quite the funny sight

𖹭. his tail can sometimes indicate what he’s feeling. drooped down between his legs? something must be bothering him. flickering around? either excited or agitated.

𖹭. he often uses his tail amongst his work. using it as an extra limb to grab and hold onto things. especially when he’s working with alchemy

𖹭. sometimes he uses his tail to playfully give you or talisen a little spank. the texture of the tail is just right for it after all, and he likes the faint mark it leaves on your skin

𖹭. on really rare instances. you can find him mindlessly fiddling with his tail when he is bored

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𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[cosmic-walkers]

what the hell, was the relationship between henry and thomas in the tudors?? they are a trainwreck in the making T-T