#and the whole sun thing isn’t as bad as people seem to think but it still sucks

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi always seems to go pouty & quiet whenever he gets turned on at you doing the most mundane things

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, nothing too bad it’s literally just nagi getting hard over you eating a popsicle. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note: i cant even eat a popsicle by the pool in peace without thinking about this man, so consider this a gift from pool emmie :3

it’s too hot, nagi thinks to himself as he rests in the space next to you in the park — giving you a sleepy look from under his cap as he hides from the beating rays of the sun. he can feel the oversized fabric of his shirt sticking slightly to his skin but he’s trying his best not to complain because you look real pretty under that same sky, pretty grin on your face as you drink up the ice cold popsicle that you both bought from the convenience store a few blocks back.

he remembers the cute little smile you wore when you handed him his own, making sure to take it out the packaging for him because you know he always found them a hassle — giggling when he stuffed the iced treat between his lips with a muffled little “thanks. wanna sit down now.” as he let you drag him towards the park.

nagi doesn’t realise he’s zoned out, staring at you until he’s fixated on the way you pucker your lips around the flavoured stick between your fingers— it’s like you’re deliberately trying to be intoxicating. you lean back slightly onto the grass, distracted momentarily by the people in the distance before you gasp quietly when the juice seems to trail cool down your skin.

your lips trail deeper, swiping at the sweet droplets that paint along your skin as they suckle along the space and suddenly he can’t look away— he’s too obsessed with the way your eyes flutter, tongue curling around the length of your fingers next and it’s embarrassing the way he feels his cock twitch at the movement.

nagi’s breathing stutters and he almost chokes on his own popsicle as he urges himself to look away, feeling a flush sting at his cheeks as he casts you a glance — wondering if you noticed the effect just you cleaning yourself up seems to have on him as he sighs to himself. he readjusts his shorts as he tries to subtly press his palm into the slight bulge, swallowing with the slight friction and he swears he can feel every rapid beat of his heart in his ears as he twitches needily.

“seishiro~ are you too hot?” your voice pipes into the clouded thoughts of his mind and he turns to you just as you close your lips around your popsicle again, making his eyes drop to the movement as you bob your head to suckle at it before you pull back with a pop again.

“huh? nah ‘ts just no fair.” nagi says but he pouts with his words before he’s turning away from you again, trying his best to ignore just how cringe this whole interaction is for him right now. “why you gotta eat it like that? ‘ts such a bother.”

“huh? like what?” you reply innocently and you watch him cast you a sidewards glance before he’s swallowing and readjusting himself again. the outline of his cock becomes even more visible with every swipe of your tongue and flutter of your lashes, and suddenly he’s missing the usual oversized fit of his hoodies and sweats despite the way he’d probably pass out if he wore them in this heat.

“eh, like that. ‘ts a pain.” nagi tilts his head towards you as your lips wrap around the tip of your popsicle again and his shoulders drop with his next mumble.

“you’re not making sense, sei.” he really isn’t, this is how everyone eats them, except it’s you and you’re pretty and even watching you just doing the most mundane things seem to have an effect on him as he feels want bubble in his abdomen. you give him a look, taking in his puffed out cheeks and pouty lips under his slightly damp snowy bangs and you giggle as you lean back into the sun.

“hey, ‘s not funny. don’t laugh at me.”

nagi leans in a little, pressing himself into your side until his lips are ghosting yours when you turn your head to meet him and you’re surprised at the sudden public display of affection as his eyes take in your features. his gaze eventually falls still on your lips and he can’t help but imagine how much better the popsicle would taste along your tongue.

“watch, sei! it’s leaking. you’re gonna end up all sticky, you dummy!” you gasp and the moment of intimacy is broken as you jolt forward when you feel the sudden drip of your boyfriends popsicle smear along your thigh.

“eh, ‘ts fine. we can just have a bath.. ‘m all sweaty anyway, too much sun is such a pain.” although he’s pretty sure the heat building in his stomach is making him even warmer, curling to lick at the base of his spine as nagi tries to subtly readjust his shorts—but shit, you don’t make it easy.

it’s swift and instinctive the way you ignore him to grab at his hand, bringing it to your lips before you’re licking up the trail of sweet liquid that runs over his skin. he’s frozen, almost— except for the throb in his cock and the race of his heart when your eyes flutter to look up at him and he wishes he could push you even lower, feeling your lips press suckled kisses along his skin before your tongue is curling around the base of his lolly to clean it up.

nagi’s too hot and so fucking hard, feeling a twitch in his abdomen when your lips pop as you pull away and he clears his throat with the next, almost painful throb in his shorts — this is so cringe.

“see, no fair. you’re teasin’ me and ‘ts bothersome, angel.” he readjusts himself again before he’s giving you a drowsy, lidded look and leaning in once more, finally pressing his lips against yours before he’s pushing his tongue between your lips— languidly as he savours the sweet syrupy taste of you.

nagi melts into you as he kisses you, like he always does as he almost knocks you both over onto the grass and you try to steady yourself as he pulls away to breathe, grumbling before he’s licking at his lips and looking at you like he wants even more.

“tastes so good, i wanna go back to my room now, please. wanna taste more.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi smut #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut

[itsabouttimex2]

Here's a challenge: platonic x reader who hates monkeys with a passion (you could do it with phobia or irrational hatred). With Wukong, Macaque, and Mk.

Pithecophobia

Yandere MK, Sun Wukong, Macaque

(Fun fact 1- prunes are not their own fruit! They’re just dried plums.)

“I’m just saying,” he starts with a scoff, “it’s really silly that you’re expecting me to play along with this. Especially when I don’t get anything out of it.”

MK turns around to face the demon monkey, frowning. He folds his arms and walks backwards to keep eye contact, hoping that his mentor would watch his steps for him.

“Uh, you are getting something out of it, though? Y/N spent all day cooking for us so we could celebrate the new year together! They even made extra in case we wanted to bring someone else! That’s like… super nice of them!”

“Oh, I might get some maybe decent food, is that it? And all I’ve got to do is pretend to be a powerless mortal all the way through a probably mediocre dinner, huh? Just because this weird friend of yours is scared of monkeys?”

Sun Wukong; who had eyeing the sky for early fireworks more than he had been looking out for his student’s safety, finally chimed in. “To be fair, I think that mug of yours would scare anyone away!” A second later, he ducks down to avoid Macaque’s incoming tail, leaving MK to take the brunt of the relatively harmless blow.

MK stumbles backwards and almost into the street, only stopped when his mentor’s tail wraps around his waist and pulls him back onto the sidewalk. “Whoa,” the Great Sage mocks, setting MK safely back down, “someone’s in a bad mood today! Maybe… you’re just mad cause no one except us wanted you over for the new year?”

Macaque snarls and lunges at Wukong, ready to brawl. It’s only when MK swiftly moves to stand between them that the near fight is averted. “Guys, come on! Can’t you get along for just one day?!”

The “NO!” that they shout in perfect unison is just about what he was expecting, but he’s still a little disappointed about it. They both try to move past him to grab at one another, barely impeded by his physical position.

A thunderous bang echoes across the sky, a brilliant bloom of sparkling red painting the blue horizon. Macaque hisses and recoils, his arms quaking as he moves to clap his hands over his ears. At the exact same time, Wukong jumps up in delight, cheering and hollering at the sight. MK takes his chance to separate them, hooking his arm around Macaque’s, pulling the pained monkey demon along much quicker than he was moving before.

“Come on, come on! The food is gonna get cold if you two don’t hurry up! And! Y/N told me that there’s something special just for the two of you! Cause, y’know… when I asked if I could invite you both, they asked me what sort of stuff you liked, and I told ‘em about the whole ‘peaches and plums’ thing…”

Bringing up food seems to have been a decent enough distraction, as both of them choose to start moving along instead of fighting. Your house is already on the horizon. Now he just has to hope that another fight doesn’t break out between the rival demons.

As usual, life dashes his hopes of peace being anything more than a temporary lull.

“Yeah? Like how peaches are just about the best thing ever? And how everyone that isn’t crazy likes ‘em one way or another?”

“About how sweet-toothed meatheads can’t help but shovel them down whole? Those sort of people don’t have the brain to enjoy plums. Peaches are just sweet. Plums have a subtle astringent skin that mixes well with the flesh’s mellow sweetness.”

“Sure thing, old man. Go home and eat your prunes if ya like ‘em so much.”

“They are NOT-“

“Guys! We’re here!” Before they can argue any further, MK releases Macaque’s arm and rushes up to the door of your house. “Hurry up and come inside!”

He takes a moment to consider knocking, then grabs the doorknob and impatiently starts rattling it instead. To his delight, it’s already unlocked. A quick glance over his shoulder shows that both of his companions remain in their transformed state, tails safely tucked into their clothing.

He throws the door open and races inside, leaving the monkeys in the dust.

Just barely remembering to take off his shoes before he tears through the halls of your house without hesitation, he throws them aside near the door in a still-tied heap.

He follows a practiced path straight into the kitchen, finding you just as you remove a plate of pork-stuffed spring rolls from the oven. You set them down on the countertop to cool, then turn to face the very-expected intruder. You might’ve been surprised, if it wasn’t for his excited footsteps echoing through the house.

MK runs into your arms before you can even pull the oven mitts off, wrapping you up in a warm hug. For just a moment, it gives you the same feeling as coming home after a long day, cozy and inviting.

Then, his grip grows tight.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice quiet and low. “Invite me over more often. Or come to Pigsy’s and visit me, at least. Please.”

His grip tightens further.

And then he lets go of you, turning to face his two companions, neither of which you recognize. He waves them into the kitchen and moves to set the table.

Politely, you offer the first one your hand. He’s decked out in shining gold and exuberant red, like a brighter and flashier MK. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m glad you came to celebrate with me. Come and take a seat!”

He snags your hand between both of his own, giving it a firm pump. “It’s great to meet ya, bud! Thanks for having us!” He heads to the table and bounces on his heels, snatching up a seat for himself before anyone else gets the chance.

You smile and turn to MK’s other friend, the one dressed in a billowing black and red shroud that concealed most of his face and body. You offer him your hand as well.

He shrugs and walks right past you, sitting down at the opposite side of the table- probably to keep away from his colorful and loud companion.

MK frowns at his friend’s behavior, but turns back to you with a wide and rather forced smile. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just… not used to this.” His voice drops to a low whisper as he adds: “And his ears have been hurting all day. I think he’s getting grumpy.”

“I can hear you, kid,” the irritated man says from beneath his shroud. “There’s a reason that I’m called the S-”

“The SUPER SENSITIVE hearing guy, I know! The thing that all of your friends call you,” MK clumsily tries to lie, his ears and cheeks darkening to red with his poor attempt at deceiving you.

But before you can question him on it, his golden-clad friend pipes in with a snide: “He’s certainly sensitive, I’ll give him that.”

Outright chaos is only abated by the sharp click that sounds when you set a porcelain tray on the polished quartz surface of the table.

“MK told me about your favorite fruits, actually! So I stayed up late to make these for all of you,” you cheerily announce to the trio, lifting the delicate lid to reveal three plates of sticky-rice pudding. Each one is delicately drizzled with syrup sugar and studded in tiers with sweet fruits.

Your friend jumps forward, his palms hitting the table as he stares at you with wide-eyes. “Y/N! You made Eight Treasures Rice for us?!”

“Well, it’s more like ‘One Treasure Rice’, haha. It’s really only got the fruit in it, actually. I didn’t wanna put anything you guys didn’t like in there, so I decided to play it safe. I hope that’s not disappointing!”

“Not at all, bud! Not at all!” Several of his aureate accessories glint in the light as the man reaches eagerly for the peach-filled rice pudding.

You pass it to him with a smile, then give MK his own, stuffed full of tangerine slices. With only one left, you push the plum-packed dessert to the shrouded stranger, who seems to slightly brighten up at the sight of it.

Before anyone can say anything, you remove yourself from the table and hurry around the kitchen, gathering plates and utensils for the trio. You put them out quickly, then pile all the dishes you made in the morning onto the table.

“Good kid,” Wukong whispers to Macaque, picking bits of peach from the pudding as you arrange two plates of dumplings on the table. “And good food. Still regret coming, ‘Super Sensitive’?”

“…the kid’s alright. Jury’s still out on the food, though.” He pauses, taking a quick moment to think of something to criticize Wukong for. “And keep your tail under control. I can see the tip flicking back and forth in your pant leg.”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

A tray with a whole braised chicken is set between them, and a platter of steamed rice flour cakes after it. Finally, you take your own seat, next to the shrouded man and across from MK.

It strikes you then that you haven’t even learned the names of your guests.

“I’m Y/N, by the way! I’m sorry for not asking your names earlier! What should I call you?”

“The name’s Sun, bud! And that’s Mac, sitting in the edgy robe.”

“I like the robe,” you compliment politely, looking at the concealing garment. “The cloud embroidery is a nice touch.”

“It’s a cloak… and thanks.”

MK jumps forward in excitement and strikes his palms against the table, rattling the bowls and dishes.

“C‘mon! Let’s eat, everyone!

———————————————————————

“I think everything went well, today. You think so too, right?”

You set the knife down, turning to face ‘Sun’. As you cut up the leftovers, he’s sorting them into separate containers for everyone to take home. (And giving himself larger portions when you weren’t looking.)

“Definitely! I think my, uh… friend was pretty impressed. I hope we can do this again, Y/N! I don’t really have anything scheduled this time of year…like, ever.”

Except for watching fireworks from the top of his mountain, far away from company and civilization. Again and again, over and over, thinking only of his long-passed friends and companions.

“…we are going to do it again, right?”

“Oh, um, sure. I don’t see why not. My family doesn’t really come and visit, so I’ll probably have the house empty again next year. So, um… yes! I’d be happy to have you over!

He hums softly, nodding his head to your words.

“Sounds good, bud. I’ll be there. And… I’ll see if I can wrangle Mac into coming, too. Maybe just to see him jump at fireworks again, though.”

“He seemed interesting,” you graciously offer of the cloaked man, in spite of his admittedly poor behavior through dinner. “I enjoyed his stories.”

“Pfft! I could’ve told them better- I was there for most of them!”

“Well, the two of you should come again- MK seemed happy- more than usual, even. Honestly? I think he’s been stressed out lately… I’m glad he could have a day to relax. I really do need to visit him more often.”

“Huh. Guess it must be a little hard living so far from the city, bud. Any reason you’re this far out?”

“Oh, that’s… I inherited this house- and the orchard outside- from my parents, actually! I take a lot of pride in it, really. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if the work is a little lonely.”

“…I think I will come visit, then. And I might sample a few of your fruits, too,” he teases, lightly elbowing your side. “You think you can handle that, bud?”

“…you know what, Sun?” Sun, what he had informed you his name was. It fits him well. He’s bright and exuberant, and never stops smiling. He seems like he’d be a good friend.

“That- that sounds really nice. Come by anytime you’d like.”

Your words sound kind right now. They feel right to say. The Great Sage thinks so too.

And he’s certainly not going to forget about them. Neither will Macaque, listening in from the shadows beside your tangerine trees.

Why would they ever let go of this kindness?

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Macaque #Monkiefam

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Bonus Poll

Not a single Luffy ship got past the second round, so we still gotta decide which one was the most popular of the 2 that made it to round 2.

LuSan art by @supernaturallyginger. Check out the original post here!

CobyLu art by @aroacejay. Please check out the original post here!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Sanji x Luffy:

I don't think anyone is gonna bother denying the fact that WCI is literally just the plot of an otome isekai shoujo manga/manhwa. MC (main character) is treated like trash by family except for the 1 dead mom and 1 nice sympathetic supporter that can't do much of anything to help. MC escapes only to find themselves in an even worse situation somewhat of their own making, only to be swept off their feet by the ML (male lead) and saved, full damsel in distress style. Dramatic love confessions, crying in the rain, betrayal from an arranged marriage, it has it all.

Dude Luffy loves Sanji so so much like WCI is the best example and like you don't even really need to see the love as romantic if that bugs you but dudes. The first words out of the Luffys Shadow Possessed Oars was yelling for Sanji. He just loves Sanji so much and Sanji loves him too

The WCI arc in itself is mega SanLu propaganda. Luffy invaded an emperor’s territory, completely crashed a wedding, went up against Sanji’s evil science family, and got nearly beat to death by Sanji himself all in order to get Sanji back. Sanji offered his life to Kuma at thriller bark so Kuma wouldn’t kill Luffy. He pushed himself for 2 years all in order to get stronger FOR Luffy. Sanji feels sorry when he isn’t useful, the whole reason why he used the raid suit those few times was because he was thinking about getting stronger for Luffy, but realized that he didn’t want to become an emotionless monster like his family. Sanji broke down in tears at WCI when he tried to get Luffy to go away by fighting him. And then broke down in tears again when he ran back to Luffy and told him he wanted to go back home to the Sunny. No matter what Sanji cooks, Luffy always likes it and is proud to have him in his crew. Sanji is also one of Luffy’s “wings”, as stated by Robin! They’re both just so sweet and clearly care very deeply about each other.

Luffy saving Sanji on whole cake island got to me

[Insert everything that happens between them during WCI] how could I see luffy yelling about how he won't eat anything and will starve- LUFFY OF ALL PEOPLE- unless Sanji comes back and not ship them at LEAST a little. "Without you I can't become the pirate king" absolutely devastating cinema. Then Sanji laying out everything, in tears, and Luffy accepting it all and just saying, "well that's who you are" poetic. Final wci thing: luffy hearing judges bs about sanji and going "whyd he start listing all your good point" true love. This seems one sided but Sanji is also just as bad. "Which version of me do you prefer" anyone? They care SO MUCH about each other. Also Luffy loves to eat, Sanji loves to feed people, they're meant to be.

*gestures at the entirety of WCI* I mean that’s Love, they are Ride or Die, Luffy cannot become the pirate king without Sanji, whether that means physically because he needs Sanji’s support or just because being the pirate king means Luffy has everything he wants and what he wants is Sanji or both. And Sanji loves him just as much back! He’s his sun he’s his world…Luffy jump and Sanji’s too busy skywalking to bother asking how high. I just love them sm

Oda himself wrote the propaganda for this, Whole Cake Island just cemented lusan as canon. "I can't become Pirate King without you!" <- that's love baby

Propaganda for Luffy x Coby:

The first characters in the series who ever met and the first characters we as an audience met. Luffy is the whole reason why Koby is the character he is now and was the first to experience the “Luffy Effect”. Luffy is happy whenever he hears about Koby’s accomplishments and fully believes in his dreams even when Koby is a marine. Koby holds a very obvious bias towards Luffy (even if he is a pirate) and is the reason he learned to keep an open mind about pirates and the navy and what the meaning of Justice is. Koby’s admiration and flustered nature towards Luffy can definitely be interpreted as a crush. Koby is very ride or die for Luffy even in the face of people drastically more powerful than him (Akainu).

Coby is beyond gay for Luffy and he was the first person Luffy traveled with.

they are cute

Coby literally gets heart eyes and can't stop himself from piping up every time Luffy comes up in conversation that boy is SMITTEN. I don't know if Luffy understands but he knows Koby is one of his and that's good enough for me.

#one piece #LuSan #CobyLu #KobyLu #SanLu #op shipping war #bonus polls

[theholypeanut]

HIORI YO X GRUMPY AND SUNSHINE

Peanut's Wheel of Fortune Event

Plot: Hiori, The Ice Prince, and you, the school Sunshine: you couldn't be more different - and yet, it works, your friendship. Or should we call it what it is: two dum dums in love.

CW: 2k words, Hiori tsundereeee (fight me), clueless!reader not getting any signs,two idiots in love, friends to lovers, stupid x even more stupid, teasing, flirting, reader loves gacha, fluff, gn!reader, Hiori has game at the end, pulling uno reverse on reader

Event Masterlist

On the first day of high school, you sat next to Hiori. When you saw him for the first time, your immediate thought was how extremely gorgeous his face was: he looked like a precious porcelain doll. He was so beautiful, that, to be honest, for the first month you wondered if he was just a tomboy who refused to wear a girl's uniform. He never talked to anyone, just sat on his Nintendo Switch or looked through the window his headphones on. You barely exchanged a word during the first semester.

But after a certain incident just before the summer holidays, your approach changed. It was a hot day, you could almost feel your uniform melting into your skin, and you just wanted to die. You already had a reputation at school for being the "sunshine" of the class, always cheerful and loud, cracking jokes and sometimes talking back to the teacher in a way that made the whole class burst out laughing. Even though you sat next to Hiori most of the time, he was probably the person you talked to the least - not by choice, he just seemed to ignore you on purpose. At first the girls in the class tried to get close to him, obviously smitten by his beautiful face and promising football career, but when he barely noticed them and rudely ignored their attempts, they let it go and it fuelled his reputation as the „Ice Prince”. But you didn't mind. To be fair, apart from being a quiet person, Hiori was never really mean to anyone. He was not a bad person. You chose not to bother him, not to push him out of his comfort zone, and he ignored you. 

But this time, as you lay down on your desk during your break, as you always do, you couldn't help but take a long look at your classmate. He was playing a game on a console, with headphones on. His eyelashes were ridiculously long, and his features were so delicate that he looked like a flower, like a...

"You're not very subtle, are you?" You heard his voice as you noticed Hiori taking off his headphones. He looked at you with a visible frown. You made eye contact, feeling like a summer heat was already scrambling your brain, getting rid of any possible embarrassment. „Have anyone told you you look like a periwinkle?” He blinked. „Like… what?”

„A flower. You look like this pretty blue flowers you can sometimes see in botanical gardens.”

He sat there, stunned, his expression hard to read. Without an answer from him, still with your face on the desk, you didn't look away. 

„Honestly I didn’t know people as pretty as you are even real” you said without thinking, seeing that his face getting visibly red. He looked away, which made your heart beat a little faster. Was he...?

"Did the sun fry your brain?" He mumbled, trying his best to stay out of your sight. But you knew what you saw. Hiori Yo, an Ice Prince, was blushing. And that was the moment, you made an unconscious decision, to start actively bother him for the rest of your high school career: if it meant seeing that expression again.

And that was also a beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

In your second year of high school, you ended up in the same class again, seemingly thrown together by fate. Everyone at school speculated that you two had been dating for months, The Sunshine and The Ice Prince: isn’t it the cutest combination? Hiori never bothered to explain that you were not dating, and at best you were "very close friends". This was because of two things: firstly, you were his close friend, but every now and then he doubted that he was yours. You were always so bright and smiling, so nice to everyone, with so many friends wherever you went. Sometimes he wondered if something happened to you, or if you were in trouble, would he be the first person you'd call? He wanted that to be the case, but he couldn't be sure, which made him... jealous. And that was the second reason: Hiori Yo, the Ice Prince, would never, ever admit that he never denied having a relationship with you, because he simply wished it to be true. Was he stupid? Naive? Maybe. But to be honest with himself, he couldn't imagine not falling in love with you. 

What was even more annoying, though, was that you couldn't have been more dense. Hiori was never the type to show his affection in a straightforward way, but he had his moments: he helped you when you were struggling with heavy things, he helped you with quests in a game (you started to get into it just to have more topics to talk about), he bought wired headphones just so he could listen to music with you: nothing. You just smile and comment on what a softie he is, which makes him blush, and you can't take a damn hint. You were hopeless. Sometimes he felt you liked him back, just by the teasing words you said or the casual touch of his hair (the day you tucked his hair behind his ear without warning is still fresh in his mind and makes his heart skip a beat before he falls asleep). The worst part was when he was embarrassed, all Hiori could come up with was some mean or sarcastic comment. But you read so many romance mangas, how could you not understand that? The day Hiori saw a random guy from the basketball team confessing to you was the day he decided he had to do something. You politely rejected that clown, but that didn't let the blue-haired prince relax for long. The idea of confessing scared him, but the thought of you seeing someone else made his heart sink. However, he knew far more about you than any other boy ever could: and he planned to use that to his advantage. If he was too embarrassed to confess, perhaps he could charm you into falling for him and confessing first? The plan wasn't that simple, but it was worth a try.

When you got back to class, having answered all the embarrassing questions about your confession, you sat next to Hiori with a sigh of relief. On days like that, you were grateful for how cold Hiori was. He wouldn't even look at you, let alone ask for all the details about the poor basketball boy. But to your surprise, in the middle of the lesson, you felt a small piece of paper slip close to your hand.  "Are you free after school today?" It was written in familiar handwriting. You smiled.  "I'm always available for you" you drew a tiny heart at the end. Since last year, of course, you enjoyed teasing Hiori with flirtatious lines whenever you got the chance. At this point you couldn't even stop yourself if you tried, it was like breathing.  "There's a new gacha machine in the arcade. Want to go?" He wrote back, not even blushing at your message. A bit disappointing, but Hiori rarely invited you first, if you ever hung out it was at your initiative, so you were still excited. Not to mention that you really enjoyed gachas. "It's a date" you wrote back without thinking any further.  You couldn’t hide your excitement for the rest of the day.

When you came out of the school gate, you looked at your friend. 

"It's something new that you don't have football training today" he just looked away when he heard your words.  "Practice was cancelled" he mumbled in a tone that clearly showed the conversation was over. You walked in silence for a longer second before he started: "So... the basketball guy, huh?" He changed the subject, which only made you sigh. 

"Please, don't even start. I'm not even sure what that guy's name is. I don't think we've spoken more than once. It's embarrassing."

Hiori looked at you carefully. 

"Yes, but have you ever thought that maybe that's enough?"

You looked at him in surprise.

"Enough for what?" You raised your eyebrow.

"To fall in love with you" he said without looking away. No matter how you looked at it, Hiori was a different person today. Saying something like that in such a serious tone and not looking away in embarrassment did not seem like him. He never really wanted to talk about romance or love. Just games and football. He left you speechless until you saw the entrance to the familiar arcade. 

It was surprisingly crowded for a Tuesday evening, and at certain points you had to squeeze in between sweaty boys of all ages. You felt someone grab your hand. Before you could scream 'pervert', you realised it was only the blue-haired boy. 

"Don't get lost" he said in a neutral tone and pulled you out of the crowd. The gacha area was still mostly occupied, but the target audience had changed drastically: now you were surrounded by teenage girls. Hiori pointed to one of the machines further back. As you followed in that direction, you gasped in surprise. 

"No way!" You said as you approached the machine. It was one of your favourite series of all time, one of those niche things that were not popular enough to deserve a proper merch. Still holding your hand, Hiori, finally a little embarrassed, handed you a coin. For a second, you seriously considered that maybe you had forgotten your own birthday, because everything felt too perfect. 

"Are you going to get one too?" You asked, spinning the wheel to get your beloved little trinket. 

"What?" He asked, distracted. 

"We should get matching ones" you said with a smile, taking the ball out. „I’ve always wanted to have matching keychains”

He smiled softly and took another coin out of his pocket. "You better not cry later that mine's cuter" he teased. 

It felt so wholesome and cosy, just perfect. The bickering, the teasing, the little gestures he made to you always made you feel warm inside. And here you are, laughing and comparing the keychains you got, so close you could smell the detergent on his uniform. You were much more aware of his presence because you couldn't help but feel shy, Hiori still holding your hand all the time. You tried to remember the last time you did it, but your mind just went blank: it was the first time you had held hands since you became friends. And even more surprisingly, on his own initiative. But you couldn't complain. Considering his constant training, you expected his hands to be more calloused, but they were soft and large, and you just realised that you really wished this moment wouldn't end. „Do you want to get out of here?” His voice brought you back down to earth. You raised an eyebrow.

"Where do you want to go?" You asked, moving towards the exit. To your surprise, he grinned. 

"Where would you like to go? It's your date as much as mine" he said calmly.  "Good question, would you like to get something to eat? There's this…" you stopped, processing his words. You turned to face him, only to notice that he was looking away awkwardly. "You…" you started, not knowing where to go with the sentence. You felt your face grow hot.

"If you don't want this to be a date, maybe you should let go of my hand, you know" he said, still avoiding your eyes. You two must look so ridiculous: two people, holding hands, avoiding each other's eyes, all blushing. After you didn't answer, the blue-haired boy started to gently pull his hand away from yours, which only made you grip it tighter. 

"Stop it" you said, unable to control how red your face was. You cleared your throat. "Let's get some ramen, shall we?" 

Hiori finally looked at you, with the softest eyes. Too bad you were still too embarrassed to look back and notice. 

"Sounds perfect to me."

#🥠 #dividers by benkaibear #blue lock #bllk #hiori yo #bllk hiori #hiori yo x reader #blue lock smau #blue lock x you #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock hiori #hiori yo x you #blue lock imagines

[megumishotgf]

comforting megumi after a nightmare

summary: as the title says! aged up gumi. my precious boy i just want him to be happy he deserves this type of comfort!!

warnings: manga spoilers (!!), possible mentions of depression and suicide (very small), canon divergence (i’m resurrecting people idgaf)

masterlist

megumi fushiguro has had a very difficult life.

his mother passed away when he was too young to even comprehend it happening, and his deadbeat father had abandoned him and sold him off to an unbearable clan, preferring to indulge in his gambling habits than family matters. despite being luckily (?) 'rescued' by gojo and growing up relatively normal, megumi has a whole lot of self-esteem issues that were embedded into his psyche at a shockingly young age.

megumi’s cold, unwelcoming and closed off from the world. that’s what he thinks. he was forced to mature and act older than he was to survive and protect himself and tsumiki, leading to the formation of many interpersonal barriers, which have restricted his relationships throughout his entire life.

jujutsu tech seemed like a fresh start. he met yuuji, nobara, you. you. you were different from everyone. megumi finally had people to care about, other than himself and his sister (and gojo too, although he will never admit it). but how many people has he witnessed die unspeakable deaths, some at his very own hands? how many people did he hurt when sukuna had taken over his body? how the hell did he even survive that? maybe he wasn’t even meant to.

nevertheless, in the cloudy, messy fragments of his broken mind, you were the sun. how could megumi ever think of leaving you? the one thing he is certain of is that you love him more than anything. you’ve never given him any reason to doubt that. while he doubts whether or not he is deserving of you, he knows you would have been broken if something happened to him. and so he keeps going, just for you.

it’s the middle of the night when megumi finally awakens from another awful nightmare. he had only been asleep for an hour maximum before those terrorising memories had plagued his mind again, replaying as constant reminders of who he had hurt and lost.

you’re still besides him, snuggled into his side, chest rising slowly and calmly. how can something so precious be able to sleep so peacefully next to someone like him?

megumi is too consumed in his thoughts to notice you stirring besides him, blinking away the sleepiness in your eyes. you take a few seconds to register that he’s wide awake and visibly panicked. you can feel the pounding of his heartbeat underneath the hand placed on his chest and he feels awfully shaky.

you sit up instantly, sensing that something’s wrong. “gumi? are you okay?”

megumi swallows thickly before answering, afraid that his voice might falter. refusing to lock eyes with you, he stares (sulks) at the ceiling above you. “mmh. sorry, baby. didn’t mean to wake you.”

you can see through his facade, though. you notice the way he’s trembling and how he's covering his face, as if you studying his features for too long will give away his misery. “hey. another bad dream?”

megumi hesitates for a moment, ultimately deciding this isn’t something he will be able to keep from you. you can see right through him. “yeah. again.”

you’ve been in this situation more times than you can count. you insist that these bad dreams and the thoughts that come along with them will eventually dissipate (after all, time is the best healer), but it's becoming increasingly difficult for the both of you. is your comfort enough? are you even helping megumi at all? what if this deteriorates into something worse? your mind is racing with your personal anxieties, and your own memories of the awful war, but megumi takes priority. you usher him to rest on your chest, while one of your hands begins to play with his hair. yeah, he loves that more than anything, that always helps.

“tell me what happened, hm?” you say softly. you don’t ever want to push him, but you also don’t want him to keep the dream himself, hoping that by confiding in you, you can take some of the heavy burden for yourself.

megumi hesitates again, but as he breathes in your familiar scent and focuses on the slow rhythm of your heartbeat, he feels the weight on his shoulders being lifted. “i… killed you. and yuuji. and ‘miki,” he recalls. it’s the same unbearable scene that’s played over and over in his unconscious mind like broken film, even if it’s been years since the initial trauma.

“sukuna,” you correct him, arms tightening around him. “you did nothing wrong, gumi. i’m here holding you, right? and yuuji and tsumiki are perfectly fine, too. sukuna won’t be able to hurt any of us ever again.”

“but you were hurt. one of you almost did die - at my own fucking hands.”

you can sense his anger now. megumi’s angry at himself. he thinks he’s so damn weak and that’s why people got hurt. you know that’s the way he sees himself and it kills you inside. you hush him before he can spiral any further into his angry thoughts, hands soothingly caressing his skin. gentle strokes of his upper arm - the kind of tender touches that can lull him to sleep and ground him.

“you were so young, megumi. you shouldn’t have had to carry such responsibility at that age. you have immense strength, mentally and physically. but sukuna’s actions are not your burden to carry. you were a victim, not the instigator. you’d give everything to us, the people you care about. and we love you. we know you’d never hurt us, yeah?”

you feel megumi nod against your chest. he’s grinding his teeth, blinking away unwanted tears that eventually fall onto your skin. your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him to look at you.

“humans cry, gumi. it’s okay. you don’t need to feel embarrassed, especially in front of me. come on, you’ve literally seen me sob uncontrollably during frozen.”

megumi chuckles at you and it feels like a breath of fresh air seeing him more light-hearted.

“see? you’re okay. you’re smiling again. you look so pretty,” you coo at your boyfriend. a blush tints his cheeks but he can’t stop the stupid grin that forms on his face.

“yeah, yeah. whatever. i’m okay now,” megumi replies, snuggling into your chest once more. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“you won’t ever have to find out, baby. i’m always gonna be here,” you say, brushing away his hair so you can kiss his forehead. “do you wanna stay up a little more?”

megumi’s reaching for your laptop seconds later and that gives you your answer. he puts on frozen, of course. he cries like a baby when elsa and anna reunite, but it's okay because you're there to kiss his tears away.

yes i'm in my serious megumi brain rot era!! i have so many unfinished one-shots that will be coming soon because he refuses to leave my brain!!

#megumi x reader #megumi my beloved #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #megumi headcanons #megumi fluff #megumi comfort #i love him omfg

[heliads]

Hii Lisa my beloved!💕💕 I'm in my Kaz phase again and some stupid ideas have been running through my head constantly. Hoping you could turn it into a wonderful fic, if you like the idea of course.

Kaz x reader with slight Nikolai x reader😌

So, reader is a Grisha with healing abilities (hidden like Alina). After a tragic event, the loss of their family hit hard and they were taken into care by some people that worked at the palace. That's where reader met Nikolai, they became best friends and later enrolled in Army, became lovers all of that. Reader's healing powers were slightly special in the sense that when they used them there was a golden glow all around, making the wrong people believe reader was a sun summoner. After being madly in love for some time, reader got kidnapped for their powers. Tortured for 2 years, reader was saved by our lovely Crows. Reader believed Nikolai never looked for them (false because he did desperately until he ran away and became Sturmhond after believing that reader died)

Reader becomes a Crow, falls in love with Kaz, they have a relationship for 2 years or so and then, one day they fight about something and right at that time, Nikolai makes his way to their bar. Reader and Nikolai have an emotional meeting that leaves Kaz insecure and jealous.

The ending...well I think reader should stay with Kaz buut I'm not opposed to something else👀

Whatever you want my dear Lisa. I hope this makes sense and it's not too insane. I love you and thank you💕

my beloved!!! this request is literally incredible, why are your ideas always exquisite????

masterlist

You don’t like it when Ketterdam is quiet. This jilted city of yours is always loud, always rowdy, and on the few instances in which it isn’t, the whole place seems to hold its breath, just waiting for something bad to happen. Sometimes you hear things you shouldn’t when there’s no background noise to cover it up. Sometimes, worst of all, you dream. 

This dream is not a good one. You only know this after waking. The dream leaves quickly, as all dreams do, slipping back away under cover of night to haunt some other sleeper. You let it pool in your trembling hands, dripping out through your fingers despite your best attempts to stop it from abandoning you. It must have been a tumultuous dream indeed, because for a moment you thought you were back. Back in Ravka. Back with him. 

Ravka is not yours anymore. It was, once upon a time, or so you let yourself believe. You were born in a small village near Adena, home mostly to craftsmen without merit and tradesmen with a fear of leaving their homes. It was a quiet, get-what-you-will existence for the most part, up until the point when you reattached a woman’s severed leg with a wave of your hand and discovered you were a Grisha.

Healers are valuable commodities in a war-torn nation, and you were shipped off to Os Alta before you knew it. It would have been lonely there in a city fiercely divided between Grisha and non-Grisha, were it not for the one friend you made there. A prince, of all people. A second son who wanted nothing more to run. Nikolai Lantsov.

You and Nikolai were just children when you met. It took years of close friendship for you to trust each other enough to fall in love, and even then, it was your best kept secret. Princes do not fall in love with witches. Grisha do not fall in love with mortal men. You kissed him behind locked doors and swore it would be enough for you, even if it wasn’t.

Perhaps it would have been, if Fate had been content to let you rest in mere complacency. There was one singular trait that separated you from the rest of the Corporalnik Healers at the Little Palace, one minor mark of difference. You can heal a patient just as well as anybody else, but for some reason, you glow when you do it. A warm, golden light emits from your palms whenever you use your gifts. His sunbeam, Nikolai used to call you.

Maybe people listened in too closely when they shouldn’t have. Maybe someone connected dots that didn’t exist. Maybe it’s just that in a country like Ravka, a country split by the Shadow Fold, a country in desperate need of Saints, it would be easy to overlook someone’s mortality in the hopes of discovering their own salvation.

That’s your best guess as to what happened to you. What you remember best is the aftermath, not the reason. You were taken from Os Alta in the dead of night, your hands bound in chains so you couldn’t fight or use your gift. You tried to scream, but they had a Squaller, a damned traitor, who stole the breath from your lungs before any sound could be heard.

They tortured you for two months, hoping you’d break and show that you really were the Sun Summoner they’d get paid to sell. It never happened, so they dug harder, cut you more, cared even less. You waited in dark and squalid rooms for someone to rescue you, someone like Nikolai, but no one came. No one Ravkan, at least.

You always wondered if you could put a time cap on the love of a prince. It turns out you can:  four months and six days is all it took for Nikolai Lantsov to give up on you. You spent four months and six days waiting for him before hearing that he’d officially stopped mourning you in public to go to university, and the remainder of those two years in wondering how little he must have cared for you to give up just like that. 

You have no doubt that your captors would have spent far longer than two pathetic years in trying to extract a Sun Saint from your exhausted spirit were it not for your rescuer. A far different savior than you expected, to be sure, far more bloodthirsty than any guardian angel you’ve ever heard about, but he did the job. He always does.

That’s Dirtyhands for you, you suppose, he gets what he wants. And if what he wants is a Healer at the low cost of having to break into a smuggler’s ship while it paused briefly in the Kerch harbor for supplies, so be it. Kaz Brekker was there for money and he was there for a new soldier to serve in his gang. You happened to fit both bills.

At first, you hadn’t known if you were actually safe or in even more danger than before. At least Kaz wasn’t torturing you outright– that was a start, wasn’t it? You didn’t trust him in the slightest at first, nor him with you. It took months of slow, apprehensive acceptance for that to happen.

It took longer for hesitant acquaintanceship to turn into friendship, and for friendship to turn to something more. Something like happiness. Something like the pure contentment of knowing that there is one person out there who would burn the whole world down if you were ever hurt. Nikolai mourned you for an appropriate time, but if the roles were reversed and you were in Ketterdam when you were kidnapped, Kaz would never accept your loss. 

He’s all but told you this himself. There was one instance in your first six months of being in the Barrel when another Grisha hunter decided you would make decent prey. You were only an hour later than expected, but ten men were killed and a pleasure house burnt to the ground by the time Kaz got you back. You never feared getting taken again. You think he’s quite proud of that, even if he’ll never admit it to a living soul. Only the dead tell no tales. 

So the Barrel is your home, so bloody kruge becomes your daily bread and butter. You wouldn’t want any other life. There is always the fear that you would someday lose that confidence, but you swore that time was over. Apparently not, though. 

All that time spent learning to live again, and you still wake up in cold sweats, half sure that you’re back in your birth country and no better off than when you started. Kaz doesn’t deserve that. Your guilty conscience makes you want to beg his forgiveness, so you slip out of your room and up the stairs to his office without a second thought.

You know better than to think that Kaz Brekker would be asleep a few hours past dawn. You’re not entirely sure that he ever sleeps at all. It wouldn’t surprise you if he found a way to optimize his waking hours such that he never needed to close his eyes. Being able to capitalize on the time everyone else spent sleeping would certainly give him a leg up in the race of the Barrel rats. 

Sometimes, when he’s feeling charitable, Kaz lets you heal him just a little bit, not the sort of injury reduction associated with broken bones but that of eliminating exhaustion. You’ve learned how to use your gifts without touching skin. Maybe that’s why he wanted your skills on his side in the first place, just in case. 

The door creaks slightly when you come in. It is well within Kaz’s powers to oil the dratted thing, but you think he likes the sound. It serves as a warning of an intruder if he needs one, a reminder that he is no longer alone. It tells him that you are here now, and he looks up from his seat at his desk. The only sign that these aren’t normal working hours for anyone else is the slight dishevelment of his appearance, dark hair falling haphazardly over his eyes from being frustratedly pushed out of the way one too many times, his clothes rumpled and jacket removed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks.

“Could you?” You return.

Kaz rolls his eyes. “I don’t need sleep.”

“Of course you do,” you say matter-of-factly, “You’re still human, Kaz, despite your best efforts to turn yourself into a machine.”

“I think it would be less productive to be a machine,” Kaz muses as he considers the stacks of ledgers before him, “think of the rust. Also, I don’t trust any gadget not to break down when you need it most.”

You snort, closing the door behind you and walking to the window behind his desk. “Machines aren’t the only ones breaking down all the time. People do that too.”

Your voice trails off on your last sentence, and Kaz cuts off his stare with his ledgers, turning his chair to face you. When he speaks again, his tone is gentle. It would surprise anyone but you.

“You’ve had another nightmare about Ravka again, haven’t you?”

You deliberate over your words, opting instead to perch on Kaz’s window seat and draw your legs up to your chest. He already knows the answer, anyway. “Yes,” you reply at last.

Kaz nods once. “It’s not real. The dream.”

You laugh bitterly. “I know that. I just hate the way I keep thinking about that place. It makes me feel weak.”

Kaz frowns. “You’re not weak. If you were, I never would have hired you.”

You can’t stop a faint grin from flitting across your face. “So romantic, Kaz.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks.

You glance at him over your shoulder and register genuine bewilderment on your face. To Kaz, you suppose, that is the height of romance after all. A true validation of your worth, a promise that you are enough.

It makes you smile. “You’re right,” you decide, “it is. It’s good to know my position is safe.”

“You’re safe,” Kaz repeats. He stands, walking over to the window. He doesn’t lean against you, but you can feel the exhale of his breath on your shoulder, the ghost of the touch you will never force him to give. “I will make sure of it.”

The two of you stare out the window at the rising sun. A new dawn is coming, bringing with it a new day, new surprises. Some of those surprises, as it turns out, will be far more shocking than you could have ever envisioned.

You’d like to say that you recovered from your nightmare pretty quickly after that, and you did collect your wits, but the jittery feeling stays with you well into the evening. You decide to stop by the Crow Club once dusk sets in, both as a favor to Kaz and for yourself. Once you do your usual perusal of tables, only having to point out one particularly gifted cheater to the guards, you allow yourself to drift over to the bar and order your favorite drink.

You see Jesper briefly in between rounds of Makker’s Wheel and talk idly for a few moments before he drifts off again. The Crow Club, albeit one of the fastest places in Kerch for money to leave your pockets, still feels like home to you. The rowdy hubbub, the dim lights, all of it is yours and has been for some time now. The Barrel is not safe, but this is Kaz’s place, and that means you never feel threatened so long as you’re within its walls.

Maybe that’s why you don’t register the new presence until it’s too late to run. The thought that the young man standing before you could ever be here at all is utterly bewildering. This is the Barrel, this is your mess of dingy canals and hopeless cases. What reason could Nikolai Lantsov possibly have to bring him down these parts?

You blink and he’s standing there staring at you like he’s seen a ghost. All the cockiness drains from his step as his jaw unapologetically drops. It is loud in here, but you swear the volume drops just long enough for you to hear him with perfect accuracy as Nikolai whispers:

“Y/N?”

He says it like a prayer delivered by a dying man, every syllable infused with impossible hope. You don’t respond, but something in your expression must confirm his question anyway. Either that or your face has changed so little in the five years since you saw him last that Nikolai can recognize you anyway, even in the smoke-filled haven of the Crow Club.

He draws forward by impulse, steps quickening the closer he gets to you. In all honesty, you have no idea what he is about to do, nor how you would respond, so you find yourself unquestionably grateful when Kaz emerges out of nowhere to stand in between you and Ravka’s younger prince.

Nikolai pulls up short to avoid running into him. “Who,” Kaz says, voice low but cold as a blade, “are you?”

Nikolai’s gaze darts past Kaz to lock squarely on you. You find yourself answering in his stead. “This is Nikolai.”

You can’t see Kaz’s expression from this angle, but you can imagine the way his eyes must narrow anyway. “Nikolai from Ravka?”

“The very one,” Nikolai replies, a touch of that same bravado in his tone you remembered so well.

Kaz scoffs. “Impossible. How’d you cross the Shadow Fold, then, prince?”

Nikolai gestures to himself, and only now once the initial shock of seeing him is starting to fade away do you realize how absurdly he’s dressed. “I left Ravka when I thought Y/N died. I go by a different name now. Sturmhond.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, a high sound bordering almost on fright. “You became a pirate?”

“Privateer,” he corrects, and judging by the quick answer you’re guessing it’s the same knee-jerk response he gives to everybody.

Kaz shifts slightly, allowing you to see the glare he’s not bothering to hide. “And what are you doing in my city, privateer?”

Nikolai swallows hard. “I heard a rumor about a Healer. A Healer whose hands glowed when she saved someone’s life. I had to know.”

Kaz looks like he wants to physically cut the source of this information out of Nikolai’s throat, but you beat him to it. “Why would you care now? You never tried to find me.”

Nikolai’s eyes flash. “I tried every day until I heard you were dead. I mourned for months.”

“Heard,” Kaz comments, “you never found a body?”

“Obviously not,” Nikolai says, glancing towards you again, “Why didn’t you come back to Ravka, Y/N? Why didn’t you try to find me? I missed you. I loved you. I still do.” He holds out a hand to you. “My ship leaves in one week’s time. Come home with me.”

You find yourself flinching back. Since your first days on the shores of Ketterdam, you’ve long since learned to disguise any sign of weakness, but Kaz knows you well enough to look for signs of trouble in even your slightest of expressions.

The small catch of your breath now tells him all he needs to know regarding Nikolai’s offer. Kaz’s hands curl around his cane, causing the black leather to crease like skin. “Y/N is safe here, Lantosov. She doesn’t need your war-torn country.”

Nikolai’s brow furrows. “Who are you to speak for her?”

“I’m the one who actually saved her instead of giving up,” Kaz says simply, “I’m the one who gave her a home.”

Nikolai’s eyes flit to you again, and you nod. “I loved you, Nikolai, it’s true, but I moved on when you did. Ketterdam is where I belong. My time in Ravka is over.”

You see Kaz straighten up imperceptibly by your side. From the way he’d spoken to Nikolai, you hadn’t thought he harbored a shred of uncertainty regarding where you would want to go, but it appears that his worst fears were assuaged by you asserting that you wanted to stay with him.

Nikolai swallows hard. “I won’t blame you for wanting to come home.” Only myself,  you can sense him mentally adding on. It is a shame that time has not robbed you of the ability to tell what he’s thinking.

“I already am home, Nikolai.” You tell him.

He nods and leaves without another word. You watch him go, and he does not look back. Nikolai has had quite a long time to mourn your absence. Tonight may have set him back a little bit, but you have no doubt that he will recover just as he did before.

“Thank you for staying,” Kaz murmurs when Nikolai disappears from the club.

“Thank you for fighting to keep me here,” you whisper back.

Kaz’s eyes are sharp when they meet yours. “I will always fight for you.”

That, you think, is the difference between him and Nikolai in the end. Nikolai will carry your memory with him wherever he goes, but Kaz would never allow someone to take you from him in the first place. He would go to war to keep you safe. In a way, you think he already has.

You have the perfect view of Fifth Harbor from Kaz’s office window. You wonder if he planned it that way, so he could see both who was entering his life and who was leaving it. The two of you stand and watch Nikolai’s ship leave for Ravka once more. You wondered if it would hurt to see a ticket back to your place of birth evaporate from between your fingers, but it doesn’t. It’s just like you told Nikolai, isn’t it? You are already home. There is no need to leave.

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @story-scribbler, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #kaz #kaz imagines #kaz x reader #kaz oneshot #grishaverse kaz #grishaverse kaz imagines #grishaverse kaz x reader #grishaverse kaz oneshot

[edosianorchids901]

Forget How To Feel

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "a silent hug"

St. James’s Park, 1860

“Ooh, and I thought perhaps we might go to the theatre soon! That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? We could go see Hamlet again.”

Crowley grunted in response to the enthusiastic chatter. His only audible contribution to their meeting so far, aside from grunts of agreement, was the tap of his new cane. The silver snake head handle wasn’t exactly comfortable to hold, and definitely not practical, but it looked cool. Very fashionable.

“Or-or-or perhaps something a bit more cheerful,” Aziraphale said with a sideways glance at Crowley. Crowley averted his gaze, studying the ducks instead. They seemed a lot happier than he was. “I know Hamlet isn’t precisely your favorite thing. I do adore it, especially because it reminds me so much of your kindness.”

Crowley hissed softly.

“Well, it was kind. And don’t argue with me, Crowley.” Aziraphale stopped, and Crowley jammed the cane down to slow himself without toppling over at the sudden change. His legs hadn’t been very reliable this week. “Actually, I would feel somewhat better if you argued with me. You haven’t said a single actual word, and I’m not sure whether it’s because something’s wrong or if I’ve simply been babbling too rapidly for you to sneak in a response.”

Aziraphale waited for him to reply. Crowley stared at the ducks and didn’t reply.

When Aziraphale just kept standing there, waiting, Crowley finally caved. “S’ not you. But nothing’s wrong.”

“Something certainly seems wrong. I-I am aware that I’m often chattier than you, but you usually at least, well. Chat.” With a little sigh, Aziraphale searched his face. Crowley found himself grateful for the new sunglasses that shielded his eyes from the side, too. “Quite frankly, I’m starting to worry.”

There it was. The phrase that would always get him to reply at least a bit, even if he masked the worst of the trouble. “You don’t need to worry, angel. I’m just… kinda down. S’ not a big deal.”

Ducks splashed in the water, totally absorbed in their own lives. It looked peaceful.

“Yes, well. You’ve been ‘kinda down’ since that whole incident in Edinburgh.” Aziraphale swallowed hard, twisting his gloved hands together. “Of course, it’s not that I can blame you, considering the trouble you were in. I merely wonder if I could be of assistance.”

After a minute, Crowley shrugged. Then he looked around nervously for observers. No one seemed to be paying any attention at all to them. “D’ya think ducks ever have a bad day? Or are they just, y’know… happy as a duck, as the saying goes?”

Aziraphale gave him a baffled look. “I’m not entirely sure that is a saying, my dear. Although I’m not always entirely on top of slang…”

That was an understatement. Normally, Crowley would have teased Aziraphale a little about that. Right now, it seemed like too much work.

When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale gave a little huff. “Well, would you rather we met up another time? If you’re having a bad day?”

“I didn’t say I was having a bad day. I was just asking about ducks,” Crowley protested despite knowing that Aziraphale would never buy it. Aziraphale gave him a look. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’m having a bad day. But I just want to…”

He snarled in annoyance, unable to admit it. He just wanted to be with Aziraphale. Not doing anything, not talking. Just together, where the world didn’t feel so bleak.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly. “Well, in that case, I’d be more than happy to stay together. We don’t have to talk, if you’d rather not. Why don’t we go sit on the bench for a bit? It’s actually quite a nice day, sun and everything.”

“Nnnh.” Crowley glanced towards their usual bench. It was usually comfortable. “My legs are killing me today. Sitting on wood doesn’t sound terrific. But I don’t really wanna walk back to the shop, either.”

“I could carry you.”

“I am not letting you carry me. That would definitely make people look at us.”

“No, I mean…” Aziraphale snuck a quick look around. “Not in this form. You could turn into a serpent. We could even sit on the bench like that, if I’d be a more comfortable place to rest.”

Biting his lip, Crowley regarded the angel beside him. Aziraphale was definitely the most comfortable place around, no question about that. “People would still look at us.”

“And then they would assume that I’m merely an eccentric, taking my pet snake out for a walk on a nice, sunny day.” Aziraphale held out his arms. “Shall we?”

Crowley snorted. “You’re not even gonna let me sit down first?”

“We can, if you feel like walking.”

Oh. He really, really didn’t feel like walking.

With a soft hiss, Crowley leaned his cane against the fence and laid his hands on Aziraphale’s forearm. “Okay. Okay. But I swear, if you let any humans pet me…”

Aziraphale beamed. “No humans petting you. I promise.”

Reassured, Crowley shifted into his rarely used snake form, coiling around Aziraphale’s arm as he did. The pain in his legs morphed too, distributing to most of his body. But at least it was different, and less intense.

He opted for a pretty big snake, big enough that he would probably scare most observers away. Aziraphale cooed and hugged him close, supporting him carefully. “Oh, my dear. You’re so adorable in this form.”

Crowley hissed his disapproval.

“My apologies. You’re… very striking. Handsome. Stunning. Also quite large.” Chuckling, Aziraphale shifted Crowley’s weight to one arm, then picked up his cane. “Shall we?”

That didn’t mandate a reply, so Crowley didn’t bother getting one. He was too busy being a snake, enjoying the way it sanded the sharp edges off his mood.

It shifted his priorities. Sure, he was still depressed and exhausted and in pain, not to mention constantly worrying about everything going wrong again. But all of that receded. All the snakey side of himself cared about was warm angel, and he definitely had warm angel.

“Here we are.” Aziraphale sank down onto the bench. He leaned the cane nearby, then wrapped both arms around Crowley’s coils. “Would you like me to talk at all, or be silent?”

Right now, talking was too much to process. Crowley hid his face under Aziraphale’s fluffy cravat thingy.

Aziraphale gave a soft chuckle and stroked his coils, then simply wrapped his arms around Crowley and lapsed into silence. Crowley emerged from under the cravat, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s arm.

The previous pileup of anxious worry faded, retreating deeper into the background as he sank into the comfortable lack of conscious thought. Right now, none of that seemed to matter much. He was with Aziraphale, being hugged to incredible warmth. Nothing could be more important than that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #ace omens hugfest 2024 #snake crowley #disabled crowley

[voidcat]

— what the cat dragged in

characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator

wc & genre/notes: 8.1k – strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with “I’d say you’re deflecting,” and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat… I’ll b honest idk what else to say

a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said I’d not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled “hatehatehatemyself” on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x

Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.

The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.

In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. It’s a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You don’t recall many people going this way after all.

Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.

And wait.

And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it weren’t for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.

The door swings open– though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you don’t need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.

The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell.

Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesn’t acknowledge you right away.

You doubt he has noticed you.

Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.

Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.

Decent on the eyes, you’d have thought for the guy, if it wasn’t for the weird face paint.

Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?

“Ah…” you clear your throat and try again. “So you see, my cat was lost and–”

“Oh perfect! That’s just lovely now.” he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. “And what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?” bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame. 

With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kid’s voice: “‘ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ’” hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: “Well guess what? Buzz off! As if I don’t have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.” 

So they were satanists after all…

Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.

Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. “Hey!” 

The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didn’t expect you to fight back.

“Listen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.” you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. “How about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?”

A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesn’t seem all too happy.

“My cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?”

Seeing it written clear that you won’t be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. “Don’t touch anything and don’t leave my sight.”

Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you ‘pspsps’ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.

It’s only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.

Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.

“Copia has rats– pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his whole…” he gestures with his hand at nothing, “mourning or Sister Imperator’s reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.�� you say and turn your head with a huff.

Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but you’re sure you can handle a couple of …dorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.

You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.

Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about ‘what did he say’ and all that bullshit but you couldn’t care any less because there he is, your precious baby!

All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someone’s bedroom.

Pretty messy too.

The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (‘ well if your eye on me the whole time, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about a lost c –’)

Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay. 

“Maybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?” and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.

The second time your cat goes missing while you’re home, you know better.

Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.

It is a woman who answers instead.

A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.

Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.

Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.

“Sleek, black hair you said?” she asks, still walking ahead as you nod– shit, satanist or not, she can’t have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.

Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.

Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.

They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldn’t your cat have picked somewhere …normal to take his afternoon naps.

Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps in– is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.

The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.

Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.

Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.

Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesn’t seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.

As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a ‘hey!’ catches up to you from behind.

Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.

“Just let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.” 

You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.

As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, “My windows are pretty wide. Pretend they’re doors or something.”

“...right.” Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.

Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, “ Just – maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?”

“And I should do that, how?” you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over “I don’t want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.”

From how he mumbles the words ‘charging’ and ‘stone’ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.

The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down “Last I checked, cellphones exist.” he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face. 

“And how should I know this isn’t some weird excuse to get my number?” you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasn’t for the cat in your arms.

At your words though, he chuckles. “I do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?”

“And my question remains unchanged.” staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.

Expectant eyes on you– wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robe’s arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.

“You better not send me any weird crap or call-” you state then say out your phone number.

Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.

Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the man’s ridiculous window idea works.

It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.

Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times you’ve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.

He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.

One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.

So they are a satanic organization, that’s fine.

You’ve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings you’d see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.

A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. You’re starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.

Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you won’t be leaving this place any time soon.

He says he is– was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.

You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.

Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if you’d like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.

You accept in a heartbeat.

With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.

Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.

Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.

He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.

The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.

Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.

Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.

It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whisker’s presence in his room.

Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. “I’m sorry-” your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, “what did you say it was again?” 

“Emeritus.” he says flatly.

“Emeritus.” you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.

“Yes, Emeritus,” he says again and adds, “The third.” 

If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.

“Okay no, I’m not calling you-”  you bring your hands up to finger quote, “Emeritus The Third.” you say in a serious tone. “And I’m certainly not calling you ‘papa’ or some bullshit title.” you cut in before he can get a word out.

“We’re going to need a nickname, what about ‘em’?”

“Em.” his tone asking ‘are you for real?’, his turn to repeat now.

“Okay no, that’s just as bad, give me some time to th-” hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh. 

“Just call me Terzo , caro mio.”

Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. “It means ‘ the third ’ in Italian.”

“Oh,” you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that? 

“Yeah, I can do that, Terzo.” speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to him– he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.

You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than you’ve realized.

Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.

To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.

So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.

In return you feel you don’t have as exciting stories but he listens as if they’re the most wonderful things he has ever heard.

You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.

It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.

He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.

A shame, the two of you could’ve met much earlier, yet he doesn’t voice it and you do not realize it.

Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzo’s list of things he wouldn’t expect– that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.

He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.

He doesn’t pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.

‘What about Wh-’ before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.

He just hopes the cat won’t switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.

The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows it’ll become another constant, though not as frequent.

You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesn’t mind– he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.

The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.

Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.

What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasn’t what you wanted at all and that you’ll never visit again and file a restra–

“You think too much.” 

You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up with wrinkles in no time.”

What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?

Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.

On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offer– though you refuse it as much as you can.

Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.

The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.

Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.

You can sense his pout from meters away.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” you put down the stacked papers. “What is it?”

Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.

Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure again– either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. “Out with it already,” his form shrinks only further, “or no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.”

Now that , gets his attention.

Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.

“How come you never listen to any of my songs?”

It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.

Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which you’re sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.

“I just… forgot?” you offer with a shrug.

Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, “ mio satana , you are unbelievable.” a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.

So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.

As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. “I guess, I’ll  have to bring a ritual to your feet.”

It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.

Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.

If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, he’d refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesn’t need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering “ what if …”, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.

So when he doesn’t see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesn’t care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesn’t care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and ‘ long day at work’ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.

With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.

Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether it’s a good thing or not that you’re not the only victim… you don't know.

“Was it worth it at least?” he muses as you’re seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.

You twist your face, trying to recall, “Once I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?” he snorts at your words, “Isn’t this the usual case?” 

“Nah,” you drag the word as you reach for your glass, “He could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasn’t a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, I’m picky for a reason.”

You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips. 

“Bad drinks as well?”

“It’d be charity to call them as such, ugh,” with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.

Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.

“But this?” you raise the glass, “now that is a quality product.”

With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.

The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.

“Okay, okay,” you try to speak inbetween laughter, “so what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?”

He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him “we already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.”

“I’d say you’re deflecting, but alright, I’ll buy.” he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottle– the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.

“Any kink you can think of, I’m most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.”

You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, “Socks stay on or?..” you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.

Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. “Caro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!”

He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.

“But the face paint stays on, no?” you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.

“Everyone has a preference, tesero.” he shrugs.

Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.

“Now enough about me, what about you ?” He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand. 

“What about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.” you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.

Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, “You? Vanilla? I’d beg to differ,” and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads “Don’t keep your papa waiting now.” “Okay first of all–” 

You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, “ Not the ‘p’ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.”

“Only because you’re being such a tease,” he sing-songs, his head thrown back.

 “You are such a child,” you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.

“Biting, I suppose.” You can hear him open an eye and look your way, “Nothing extreme as I said, but people aren’t exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he answers, “their loss.”

You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.

“Taking risks.” you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesn’t hear.

“Now, this falls vague, bella.” he says. “Risks of conceiving, catching STDS–” he begins counting with a finger,

“ No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.” You cut in, a hand covering your face.

You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, “risks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?” you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.

“So that’s where the biting comes,” he speaks in a knowing tone, “leaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?” he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.

“Like this?” he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression. 

“...yeah” you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.

The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, you’re aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.

His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.

Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.

“Cazzo!” he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.

While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.

Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.

Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows you’ve grown familiar with over the course of time.

Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.

“You give off vibes of someone who’d make a sex playlist,” you begin as he listens with a nod, “ and add your songs to it.”

“As I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.” he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, “yet I cannot help but be upset,” he sheds a nonexistent tear, “that you think my thrust game is so weak.”

Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. “If you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.” 

As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; you’re unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .

“And I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didn’t I?” he says as he takes another step your way.

“So you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,” he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, “but not because of the lyrics.” he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.

You’re unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.

You think, Terzo must’ve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studio– and bringing you no less.

The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.

Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.

A concert– or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.

A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as ‘ knocking the wind out of your lungs .’

Only when Terzo’s singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.

One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at times– it all creates the illusion of a found family.

Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.

After each song he tells its name and some information– or funny memories he finds important you know.

With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: “a one, a two, three, and four.“ 

With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.

One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.

It doesn’t miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seem– when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghouls’ playing.

The song comes to an end and you think you’ve done good so far– then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.

It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.

“I’m sorry-” your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, “it’s just-” hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, “you do re-”, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.

A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didn’t even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.

“I know you’re flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.” 

Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesn’t say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.

“You’d be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.” you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.

“Ah!” Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, “enough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?” 

The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs they’ve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.

Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.

The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.

He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: “ Can't you see that you're lost without me?”

And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.

Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.

Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.

When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment he’s positive you’ll be giving him.

So you decide to pick the teasing route. 

“It was nice.” he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasn’t waiting to hear that. “Nice?..”

Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. “Yeah, nice.” tilting your head to the side, you speak up, “ Say , this helps you get some?” 

The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.

The ghouls in a similar stance, though you’re sure you’ve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.

The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. “Yes, sorella , it helps me …get plenty actually.” he uses your phrase.

“Well,” he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, “if it’s a …meretricious song you desire, how about I give you,” his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: “Mummy Dust!” He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.

From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.

As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.

The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.

Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.

“Ah you’re the Cardinal!” Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.

“How are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.” The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your cat’s name in confusion and unaware, 

“ah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..”

“Mr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.” Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.

The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive. 

Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.

“Uh, we can save our discussing for after the song?” Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. “I'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.” He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.

“Its alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.”

Again, you must’ve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinal’s face tenses up and goes bright red.

“ Oh !” You wince, “poor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.” You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail. 

At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.

The previous incident– goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.

Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzo’s texting habits only evolve into a different stage.

Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.

Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.

Maybe you’ve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.

You still don’t visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweekly– so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoria–

Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.

You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man you’ve forgotten about already.

As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.

“Anything I should know about?” He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. You’d have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.

But it didnt, and it isn’t right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.

“Nope.” You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, “just a friend.”

The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.

You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.

You did spoil him too much it seems.

Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.

“Wine?” he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottle’s neck tilted slightly already. 

“None for me, thank you.” 

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. “Ooh? Any plans for tonight?” He inquires. You don’t need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips. 

“I guess,” you shrug, turning to look outside the window, “promised Steve we’d spend the night together.”

Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room. 

The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place… or left the room before you spoke… or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.

Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.

Only when you tilt your head towards, asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a ‘ have fun’ , pouring himself a glass.

Unbelievable.

Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue. 

“Wh-“ “you are unbelievable.”

Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.

“For wishing my friend a fun night?” And with a guy he has never heard you mention before– the word friend stings to say. “I’m sure Steve is a good gu-“ “ Again,” you dont let him finish, “you are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.”

Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.

“If youre done with the insults cara,” he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.

“Terzo, you met Steve.” His head snaps up at your words. “Steve?“ you repeat in question, “Steve Whiskers?” ‘ ring any bells? ’ He can hear you say in following–

The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.

“The cat?!” His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat. 

“Excuse me for my sudden input of volume.” You reply with a smile, “Send my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.”

You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.

Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.

Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.

You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.

You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.

Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.

When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.

Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.

Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.

Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.

Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.

You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes further– hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgo–

A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.

Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.

Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain. 

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the future– and he, along with it, will offer you.

#ghost bc #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #gender neutral reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x you #terzo x you #terzo x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x oc #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc x reader #ghost bc x you #ghost band x reader #ghost band x you #papa emeritus 3 x reader #papa emeritus 3 x you #terzo x reader smut #ghost bc smut

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // forty

| @amuhav

next / previous / beginning

TAYUIN: So your visions, they’re still blocked? KYRIE: Yes, unfortunately. Though, I suppose I should be grateful for some internal peace and quiet. TAYUIN: It’s never happened before? KYRIE: The obstruction? No, it’s never happened before. TAYUIN: You’ve… always had visions? KYRIE: Since I was a child. They were fairly innocuous back then. Little more than intrusive thoughts. Often about things that didn’t matter much. Certainly nothing dire. TAYUIN: And you have no control over them? KYRIE: Not entirely. They usually come when they like, and I make of them what I can. But sometimes they can be prompted. Touching something and concentrating hard enough can jolt it into submission. When I was younger, I wish they’d just go way. Now that they’re gone, I feel… oddly incomplete. TAYUIN: They’re a part of you, no matter how much you might wish otherwise… or if they cause more trouble than they’re worth. KYRIE: I shouldn’t complain. Likely my situation is only temporary. You’ve struggled your whole life with your seasonal connections. I imagine that’s far more distressing. TAYUIN: I’m used it. Doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. But I’ve never known different so… KYRIE: And if it were up to you, which would you choose? Spring or winter? TAYUIN: Winter… of course. KYRIE: Of course. TAYUIN: I just mean… Well, maybe it suits me more… I don’t know. KYRIE: Does it? I’ve never met another Eladrin. TAYUIN: Winter faeries can be quiet, reserved. Though, no less strong or intimidating than Summer Eladrin. They make up the Frostguard. I would have joined them if… If I could. They’re elite soldiers. Intelligent, powerful strategists. People admire them. They respect them. KYRIE: Then, you dislike your spring attachments? TAYUIN: No, I mean… Spring Eladrin have powerful magics all their own. Masters of tricks and illusions. They should be feared, but their charismatic personalities draw people in. Just part of the manipulation. It's a survival tactic, and I understand the importance of it all too well. But then, I’ve suffered at its hands just as much. Not to say winter faeries are perfect. Far from it… They can be cold. Negligent. Sometimes... remorseless. KYRIE: Your mother, the Queen is…? TAYUIN: Winter. Maybe our only similarity, and still, I’m a fraction of a half. TAYUIN: What about you? Your mother? Your real one. KYRIE: I can’t know her. It’s explicitly forbidden. Even if I wanted to, I expect neither of my birth parents would come forward. It wouldn’t exactly be smiled upon in our society. TAYUIN: Were you never curious? KYRIE: It’s just not worth being curious about. TAYUIN: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. It’s not my culture. KYRIE: Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ve both got a fair bit of judgement. Your world seems strange to me, too. KYRIE: I think winter does suit you more. The real you. Though, the spring in you isn’t all bad, either. Of course, if you were to lose either connection, perhaps you’d become something neither of us recognize. So, I’m glad you’re both. TAYUIN: Glad? KYRIE: They’re called silver linings, Tay. You should try them. TAYUIN: I know what—! KYRIE: Shh, little winter faerie. Your spring is showing.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: tayuin eth'salin

[fryingpan1234567]

so I know… most if not all of the ships in the HTP au (@aquaquadrant and @lunarcrown) are inherently toxic and Bad™️. unhealthy.

they’re rooted in players that are literally coded to be Like That, so the best it gets is kind of like… never wanting to kill each other. that’s the bar I feel like

but I can’t stop THINKING about them because I always pictured it like— a Hels’ partner is the one person they’re sane for. the one person they’re not absolutely feral for (or maybe they are but in a good way). the one person they’re better for.

FOR EXAMPLE.

Pathbubs is arguably one of the worst ones. they’re very sweet and fluffy with each other, but Patho is constantly aware that he’s going to have to leave fairly soon, and Dbubs is either blissfully unaware or refuses to admit that he’s thinking about it. Patho will return after Dbubs’ broken heart heals, when there will be no anger, no grief, just happiness to see him again.

which is… hella toxic.

but like, picture— Patho, on his many adventures out in the world, discovers a cupcake. it’s like a normal cake, but small and travel-sized. what.

so he brings one back for Dbubs next time he visits, who is ECSTATIC and demands to know how to craft one. he declares that he hates it and then devours half of it in one bite, which Patho finds highly amusing.

or like, Dbubs wakes Patho up at the ASS CRACK OF DAWN to drag him out the front door, explaining at a mile a minute that they’re going to go vANQUISH a GREAT BEAST and— and Patho BETTER be PREPARED because this is a BIG HUGE EPIC FIGHT—

and then the vines pull them through the trees so they can see over the top of them, and there’s the sunrise. Dbubs goes quiet as Patho blinks in surprise, pink and gold light turning his hair a pleasant orange color. the red vines growing from Dbubs reach towards the sun, waving cheerfully. Patho doesn’t quite know what to say, but Dbubs snuggles into his side with a contented sigh, and he figures maybe he can stay an extra day this time around. maybe. if the itch to leave isn’t too bad.

example two: Bravo and Timmy.

(technically Bravo isn’t a Hels but bear with me here) they seem like they have the most potential to be normalish— an Overworld player and a sweet but anxious bird boy. and I think they have their normal moments, but most of the time they’re just not like that. again: it’s in their code.

but you get moments like… Timmy forgets to eat for a while, which was just a habit from living near spawn for so many years, but now that they’ve moved away, Bravo’s been pushing him to eat a healthy amount. not because he’s concerned, or anything. just. constant death messages cluttering his screen are irritating. yeah. so Timmy forgets to eat, and Bravo notices how bad his hands are shaking when he hands him the thing he asked for. Bravo sighs in (totally real and not affectionate) annoyance and tosses him some of the food out of his own inventory. they take their lunch break together.

alternatively, Bravo’s been working for hours and hours! and Timmy actually had to remind HIM to eat once or twice! and that’s not good, right? so Timmy drags him away from his work for a much-needed walk, and they have a real conversation that didn’t involve insults or excessive swearing. strange.

last one last one okay

bX and Alisker?? ship name help TvT

anyways. we don’t know a whole lot about the two of them individually or like, their backstories, but bX used to fight in the arena until Alisker freed him (some way or another). maybe he was like “hey that guy can fight maybe I should get him on my side so people are more scared of me.” but some part of me is hoping, because HelsKnight is the champion and therefore the best fighter in there (OVER bX), he still chose bX because there was something special about him. some kind of connection. it wasn’t just business. it wasn’t NOT personal!!

now there are those little canon details that are so. just. Alisker trusts bX the most out of literally anybody who works for him, enough to have him run all the errands including the high-risk ones. he keeps water nearby at all times because bX is a guardian hybrid and he wants to keep him healthy/ happy.

and then… there’s another part of me that is very concerned. the unbridled pda— Atlas literally said that was showing off a very prominent weak spot. but what if. it wasn’t. like what if Alisker isn’t worried about that, because it’s not a weak spot? if someone (probably Bravo or smth let’s be honest) had bX pinned, threatening to kill him if Alisker didn’t do whatever whatever, Alisker would be like. “eh. I don’t care. go ahead.” BECAUSE HE’S SO POWER-HUNGRY HE CAN’T COMPUTE THAT SOMETHING, SOMEONE, COULD POSSIBLY BE MORE IMPORTANT.

and maybe bX knows this. and maybe they’re cool with it. maybe it’s just the way they roll.

I just… I love the way Aqua writes characters. it’s so nice to read and conveys both personality and like goal/ ambition so flawlessly, even if they don’t get much read time. IT’S AMAZING

#anyways. #hermitcraft #htp #hels to pay #htp au #hels to pay au #pathoslair #dboubleI011 #bXminer #Alisker0 #animositygaming #bravobiz #Pathbubs #SOMEONE HELP ME OUT WITH THE OTHER SHIP NAMES

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐇𝐁𝐎'𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐔𝐒  /  𝐄𝐏  𝟑,  𝟒  &  𝟓.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

“ want your jacket back? ”

“ never been in the woods. more bugs than i thought. ”

“ i don’t want your sorries. ”

“ i wasn’t gonna say i’m sorry. ”

“ nobody made you go along with this plan. ”

“ don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault. ”

“ what are you looking out for? ”

“ is it something lame, like you fell down the stairs or something? ”

“ someone shot at me and missed. ”

“ i gotta grab some stuff i stashed. ”

“ you ask a lot of goddamn questions. ”

“ i had a friend who knew everything about this game. ”

“ there’s this one character named mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones! ”

“ ah, getting funnier. ”

“ dude, you got to go up in the sky! ”

“ so everything came crashing down in one day? ”

“ if you have to get bit to be infected, then who bit the first person? ”

“ there’s stuff up there you shouldn’t see. ”

“ well now i have to see. ”

“ whatever it was, think it’s gone. ”

“ dead people can’t be infected. ”

“ it doesn’t get old. ”

“ i’m not infected! ”

“ why did you take that long to answer? ”

“ i thought about lying for some reason, but the reason didn’t come. ”

“ i’m letting you go, so go. ”

“ if i feed you, then every bum you talk to about it is gonna show up here looking for a free lunch. ”

“ you already know i’m bad at lying. ”

“ everything tastes good when you’re starving. ”

“ i know i don’t seem like the type. ”

“ would you stop!? ”

“ paying attention to things, it’s how we show love. ”

“ there are no friends to be had. ”

“ i’ve actually been talking to a nice woman on the radio. ”

“ aren’t i the lucky one? ”

“ i got something to show you. ”

“ i like you older. older means we’re still here. ”

“ i was never afraid before you showed up. ”

“ took most of the night. i’m exhausted. ”

“ i’ve had more good days with you than with anyone else. ”

“ i should be furious. ”

“ you hear anything, you see anything, yell. ”

“ so they’re dead? ”

“ i used to hate the world, and i was happy when everyone died. but i was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. ”

“ we have a job to do, and god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. ”

“ we can just keep our histories to ourselves. ”

“ you do what i say when i say it. ”

“ they have hot water! i’m taking a shower, and then you’re showering, because seriously - pffff. ”

“ well don’t you look pretty. ”

“ it’s like a spaceship. ”

“ gas breaks down over time, this stuff’s almost water. ”

“ it doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationary. ”

“ what did the mermaid wear to her math class? an algae bra. ”

“ i stayed up all night wondering where the sun went, and then it dawned on me. ”

“ this make you all nostalgic? ”

“ hold your horses, i wanna see what all the fuss is about. ”

“ why are all these pages stuck together? ”

“ can we start a fire? i’m freezing. ”

“ no one’s gonna find us. ”

“ if you don’t think there’s hope for the world, why bother going on? ”

“ i’m not even tired. ”

“ i’m all turned around. ”

“ this is my second day in a fucking car, man! ”

“ you’re not hurt? ”

“ you don’t come out until i say, okay? ”

“ my mom isn’t far, if you could get me to her. ”

“ you can have it. ”

“ you don’t have to! ”

“ i can’t fit through. ”

“ i was alone. ”

“ you were wronged, and i’m sorry. ”

“ they put a gun to my head! ”

“ have i satisfied the necessary conditions for you to talk? ”

“ you think i won’t do it? ”

“ i didn’t hear that guy coming. ”

“ you’re just a kid. ”

“ i know what it’s like, the first time that you hurt someone like that. ”

“ i’m not good at this. ”

“ you shouldn’t have had to, and i’m sorry. ”

“ it wasn’t my first time. ”

“ you put it in your pack, you’ll shoot your damn ass off. ”

“ we’ll get through this. ”

“ let’s just handle what we have to handle. we can deal with this after. ”

“ where would you be without me, huh? ”

“ how did you know it was an ambush? ”

“ i’ve been on both sides. ”

“ we did what we needed to survive. ”

“ did you kill innocent people? ”

“ i don’t want someone sneaking up on us while we’re sleeping. ”

“ i don’t wanna talk about it. ”

“ so it gets easier when you get older? ”

“ did you know diarrhoea is hereditary? yeah, it runs in your jeans. ”

“ you laughed, motherfucker! ”

“ look at me, not at that. ”  

“ i used to be so scared of these people. ”  

“ did it make you feel safe? ”  

“ how does it make you feel now? ”  

“ i swear, i’ve told you everything i know. ”  

“ he won’t be talking. ”  

“ why go to the trouble? you can kill yourself right here. ”

“ do i look scared? ”  

“ i’ve been watching them, i know their patterns. ”  

“ we don’t wanna hurt you, we wanna help you. ”  

“ if i lower my gun, we didn’t hurt you, so you don’t hurt us, right? ”

“ that’s a weird fucking tone, man. ”  

“ that’s just the way he sounds, he has an asshole voice. ”

“ i’m gonna trust you. ”  

“ you know what happens when you do that to people? the moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you. ”

“ never killed anyone. ”  

“ pointing an unloaded gun at you was the closest i’ve ever come to being violent. ”

“ that’s my dicey-as-fuck plan. ”  

“ your dad’s kind of a pessimist. ”  

“ he’s not my dad. ”  

“ i’m not her dad. ”  

“ endure and survive. ”  

“ i wasn’t exactly telling you the truth, before. ”  

“ i am the bad guy because i did a bad guy thing. ”  

“ we’re not doing so good. ”  

“ have you been back to the room you grew up in? ”  

“ he would be horrified by the things i’ve done. ”  

“ this is what happens when you fuck with fate. ”  

“ are you ever scared? ”  

“ i’m scared all the time. ”  

“ i’m scared of ending up alone. ”  

“ if you turn into a monster, is it still you inside? ”  

“ stay awake with me. ”  

“ gimme the gun. ”  

“ what did i do? ”  

#( sentence. ) #sentence meme #sentence starters #rp meme #rp starters #tlou #the last of us hbo #tv series #apocalyptic #horror

[midnightsun-if]

Sorry if this sounds rude, but I have some things I need to get off my chest. Frankly, the whole Scarlett situation kind of sucks, and the way you’re handling things is not exactly helping matters. I get you have a specific vision for her character, and as a fellow author I would never suggest you compromise that to appease a bunch of sexist, entitled fans, but you’ve given so much attention to her character that it honestly comes as no surprise that people wouldn’t respect her sexuality, as bad as that is to say.

I’ve personally sent numerous asks in the past, and you haven’t answered a single one, so either you’re intentionally ignoring them, or tumblr ate them. If it’s the later, then I’m sorry for accusing you. You’re obviously not under any obligation to answer asks you don’t want to, but I admit it does sting a bit to see Scarlet Ask #523759690 on my feed when I have yet to see a single one of mine. You may not think you have a favorite character, but from an outside perspective, you 100% do.

The amount of attention Scarlett receives compared to the rest of the cast (seriously, when was the last time Caden got an ask dedicated to them?) is truly astounding. Fans will naturally have their favorites, but as an author you should remain impartial… which you really haven’t. In fact, it seems like you actively encourage the Scarlett attention. It’s like you keep showing off a fancy car that only a few people can actually buy, then get upset when people complain they can’t buy the car as well.

Anyways, I’m sorry for this rant, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I wish you luck on your writing journey, and hope you have a happy holiday (if you’re in a country that celebrates any upcoming holidays)!

I truly don’t know what to say other than the fact that I haven’t seen your asks and that I’m trying to avoid Scarlett asks when it specifically involves the discourse with her sexuality— which also may contribute to the possibility on why I haven’t seen them, if that’s what they involved— as I mentioned in my one-and-done post about it… I don’t want to keep this as a reoccurring theme on the blog as I know that many people will grow tired of it just like I have.

I answer Scarlett centric asks, barring when I answer scenario asks about the family and/or the ROs, mainly due to the fact that she’s the one people single out— if someone sends me an ask about C, or Blake, or anyone else, I’ll answer it… It just happens to be that Scarlett gets the most asks when it comes to that sort of thing— and those asks are typically much easier/faster to answer than the all-in-one asks— I’d be more than happy to answer singular asks about any number of my characters. And I have in the past when someone sends something in.

All I can truly say? If not being able to romance Scarlett is this big of an issue, and I truly am saying this as nicely as I can… I don’t think Midnight Sun is the right IF for you. I believe I know a couple more IFs with an Ice Queen type RO, or adjacent RO, that may suit you better if you’d like to me share them!

And, I’d just like to make this small point, I get upset, or am starting to, because it’s a point I’ve brought up over and over again— Scarlett isn’t a lesbian to create an inconvenience for the player… She’s a lesbian because it’s part of who she is. Sending me asks saying “I can change her” or “Give us Scarlett and the F!MCs Koda” (among other things) is absolutely abhorrent in the best case scenario. There are 7 other ROs for you to choose from— all of which offer their own unique routes and experiences within Midnight Sun.

Scarlett isn’t changing, I’m standing firm with this. I’m not going to ever change my mind about it— I’m sorry if that upsets anyone, but it’s not something I’m backing down on.

#midnight sun #asks #ro: scarlett voltaire #and if I haven’t answered your singular asks it’s either because I haven’t seen them #or I couldn’t figure out the correct response and decided to come back later… #and forgot 😅 #which is my bad #as I typically try to answer them whenever they first arrive due to the fact that they’re relatively simple to answer #and I can send them out quickly (depending on what it is of course) #which means this will also be the last one I’ll be responding to #barring special circumstances

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 3 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Michael

Literally the whole movie series is framed around the sacraments. Weddings and first communions and baptisms.

I just thought of the Godfather bc of the tumblr ask about people who are devout in some ways but uhh not very holy in other ways, and nobody is a better example of that than Michael in the montage toward the end of the Godfather. I saw the film for the first time last year, and that sequence just floored me. Will not spoil it in case you haven't seen the film but ohhh my goodness

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

#the godfather #michael corleone #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r3 #Ronan Lynch #the raven cycle #raven cycle

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Round 2 Side C

Lusan art by @supernaturallyginger. Check out the original post here!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Sanji x Luffy:

I don't think anyone is gonna bother denying the fact that WCI is literally just the plot of an otome isekai shoujo manga/manhwa. MC (main character) is treated like trash by family except for the 1 dead mom and 1 nice sympathetic supporter that can't do much of anything to help. MC escapes only to find themselves in an even worse situation somewhat of their own making, only to be swept off their feet by the ML (male lead) and saved, full damsel in distress style. Dramatic love confessions, crying in the rain, betrayal from an arranged marriage, it has it all.

Dude Luffy loves Sanji so so much like WCI is the best example and like you don't even really need to see the love as romantic if that bugs you but dudes. The first words out of the Luffys Shadow Possessed Oars was yelling for Sanji. He just loves Sanji so much and Sanji loves him too

The WCI arc in itself is mega SanLu propaganda. Luffy invaded an emperor’s territory, completely crashed a wedding, went up against Sanji’s evil science family, and got nearly beat to death by Sanji himself all in order to get Sanji back. Sanji offered his life to Kuma at thriller bark so Kuma wouldn’t kill Luffy. He pushed himself for 2 years all in order to get stronger FOR Luffy. Sanji feels sorry when he isn’t useful, the whole reason why he used the raid suit those few times was because he was thinking about getting stronger for Luffy, but realized that he didn’t want to become an emotionless monster like his family. Sanji broke down in tears at WCI when he tried to get Luffy to go away by fighting him. And then broke down in tears again when he ran back to Luffy and told him he wanted to go back home to the Sunny. No matter what Sanji cooks, Luffy always likes it and is proud to have him in his crew. Sanji is also one of Luffy’s “wings”, as stated by Robin! They’re both just so sweet and clearly care very deeply about each other.

Luffy saving Sanji on whole cake island got to me

[Insert everything that happens between them during WCI] how could I see luffy yelling about how he won't eat anything and will starve- LUFFY OF ALL PEOPLE- unless Sanji comes back and not ship them at LEAST a little. "Without you I can't become the pirate king" absolutely devastating cinema. Then Sanji laying out everything, in tears, and Luffy accepting it all and just saying, "well that's who you are" poetic. Final wci thing: luffy hearing judges bs about sanji and going "whyd he start listing all your good point" true love. This seems one sided but Sanji is also just as bad. "Which version of me do you prefer" anyone? They care SO MUCH about each other. Also Luffy loves to eat, Sanji loves to feed people, they're meant to be.

*gestures at the entirety of WCI* I mean that’s Love, they are Ride or Die, Luffy cannot become the pirate king without Sanji, whether that means physically because he needs Sanji’s support or just because being the pirate king means Luffy has everything he wants and what he wants is Sanji or both. And Sanji loves him just as much back! He’s his sun he’s his world…Luffy jump and Sanji’s too busy skywalking to bother asking how high. I just love them sm

Oda himself wrote the propaganda for this, Whole Cake Island just cemented lusan as canon. "I can't become Pirate King without you!" <- that's love baby

Propaganda for Sanji x Usopp:

PLEASE they are so great for the needs love/gives love dynamic because it goes both ways.

My fav somewhat rare pair. I specifically love on skypiea when Sanji sacrifices himself to save Usopp from Enel. (And of course the scene when they wake up from their injuries holding hands!!!!)

It is simply the best Sanji ship I’m afraid

Consider: they cute

#One Piece #sanuso #sanlu #lusan #op shipping war #tournament poll #round 2 #side C

[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - Secrets I Have Held

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of infidelity Word Count: 2.7 k Note: I wanted you to have both sides of the story. This is Noah's side of To Be Caught Adrift.

Read on AO3

Noah shouldn’t have picked up the phone in the first place. Her name on the screen should have been enough of an indicator for him to just throw the damn thing out of the window. But no. Like the damn fool he was, he’d picked it up, answered the call and listened to her excuses. Vic’s honeyed words had wrapped around his mind, and he’d almost agreed to see her again. 

Almost. 

This wasn’t the first time, either. She’d called the week before as well, had texted in between. Noah knew what he had seen. The image had burned itself into his brain. The writhing bodies on top of his bed were a near-permanent fixture of his sleeping hours now. He tries to bury it beneath the excitement for the tour, but then she texts him again, and it’s all he can think about again. 

It hadn’t been just bad. When they were good, they were really good. Was it love? In retrospect, he wasn’t so sure any more. They’d been more fast and loose than he would have liked, but as far as he’d been aware they were exclusive. Obviously, she’d seen that a little differently. He tries to count his losses and tally them up against the good things that’ll wait for him up the road. Emphasis on trying because he’s only moderately successful with it. They’ll be going on tour, the biggest one to date, the album is selling well, people love it. There isn’t a lot more than he could ask for. 

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting more. It’s a little selfish because he’s only met Bee once, but he can’t stop thinking about how easy those few hours had felt. He wants to learn all of her secrets, understand every furrow of her brow and how to undo it. It’s a little stupid because Noah doesn’t know a whole lot about her, but what he knows is already enough to have him running after her like a lovesick puppy. 

He doesn’t know what it is about this girl, but in the brief time they’d spent together, she’d managed to worm her way into his thoughts like nothing else. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries not to think about it, she always finds her way back — Nick and Tasha certainly don’t help when they talk about her. 

It's a welcomed distraction. He’d rather think about the pretty girl with her big ideas than whatever had happened in his bedroom. Maybe that’s why he keeps coming back to it. If she’d at least had the decency to fuck that other guy in her own home, maybe he’d be able to get over it already. But what kind of person do you have to be to cheat on your partner in their bed in a house that you don’t live in? 

Noah finally forces himself out of the studio in the back of the house and up the stairs. Thankfully, neither Nick nor Mari comment on his sudden appearance when he passes by them in the living room. Although, Mari gives him that look she’d thrown his way a few times. Thinly veiled pity and that even less veiled distaste for his ex. In a way, he was glad that Mari hadn’t been here when he’d found out.

He strips the bed down to its barest bones. If he washes it again, maybe it’ll go away this time. 

He passes the time until the washing machine is done, scrolling through his phone. A day-old picture of Nick, Mari, Tash and her follows some band's tour announcement. 

They’d been down at the beach, Nick looking more displeased than the girls to be out in the sun like that, but they seemed to be having a good time. Noah faintly remembers Nick asking him if he’d want to come with them. If he’d known that she’d be there, maybe he’d come — not that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends, but sometimes he can’t quiet the voice in the back of his mind that keeps him inside. 

Noah taps the screen to see who is tagged in the picture. To his luck, Tasha is very diligent about this and three little name bubbles pop up on the screen. He easily recognises Nick and Maris’ usernames. The third one is a new. 

lisbethsander

It’s right there, hovering above her head. It feels a little invasive, even though her profile is public, and he’s friends with her friends, so really why shouldn’t he. A lot of the pictures of her profile seem to be of her research, with ones of friends, her cat and the odd vinyl record scattered in between them. There are places he has never heard of that she talks about with so much passion. Ruined remnants of things at surely were impressive at some point – not that they’re not impressive now. Some of it he can piece together, but a lot of it just flies right above his head. 

Lisbeth Sander.

He rolls the name around his mind for a while. It suits her. 

Finding her name like this feels a little odd, though. It feels as if he’s invading her privacy in some way. The longer he scrolls through her posts, the more he feels as if he’s gaining, at least, a little bit of an insight into her life. He finds a video of when she got a tattoo from Tasha, they’re laughing, singing along so poorly to the song playing over the sound system. Whenever the camera catches a glimpse of her, his chest feels that little bit tighter. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so hesitant. They got along well, she’s friends with his friends. It wouldn’t be weird if he would follow her. 

Vic hadn’t liked it when he’d spent time with other women. Tasha had rarely been over while they were together, and Mari had a very clear stance on the woman from the moment they’d met for the first time. 

That should have been enough of a sign. 

He taps the button before he can change his mind and tosses his phone onto the desk. 

Sometimes the voice in his head still sounds a little like Vic. It’s an awful, demanding thing. Maybe it had been just bad. Maybe the good had been the bits he had filled on his own. 

She’d been the one to ruin it, he tells himself. No matter how unapproachable he might have been at certain points during their stint, none of it justified fucking a shared friend in his bed. 

By the time he has dressed the bed again, it’s almost five. Nick had informed him at some point that most of them would head out for a couple of drinks later, which Noah had politely declined. Now that he’s alone in the house, he thinks that he should have gone with them. Maybe the distraction would have been good for him. They always go to the same place, so really there’s nothing stopping him from just joining the rest. The drive isn’t too long. 

He has to park a bit away from the bar. It is the middle of the week, but the place is usually packed. The campus isn’t too far from here either, so he figures that a lot of them will pile into the local bars as well, regardless of the weekday. Noah briefly wonders if Bee comes here sometimes. He’s never seen her when they go, maybe she’s not one for bars. 

The walk isn’t too bad. The air isn’t fresh, but it still feels good to not be cooped up inside for once. It’s starting to get really dark when he reaches the building. The light inside pours out onto the street. And he finds himself stuck in his tracks in front of the large window.

He watches the group — his group. He finds her almost immediately. She’s sitting between Tasha and Jolly. The latter has her wrapped up in a conversation about god knows what. For a brief moment, he feels like an outsider, like he doesn’t belong in there with the rest of them. It clutches at his chest, threatens to burrow itself back into the marrow of his bones. 

But the feeling quickly develops into something warmer. They’re all in there, the whole lot of them. Everyone he holds dear is gathered in one place. He tries not to let himself believe that they’re having a good time because isn’t there, that the laughter would still be there if he was in there with them. 

His eyes find Bee once again. The last time he had seen her, he had been too close to take it all in properly. It’s almost like he’s viewing a painting from the proper distance now, instead of standing right in front of it with his nose pressed up against the glass. He wonders if she's even aware of the magnetism she possesses, how people flock around her when she talks with that bright, burning passion. He hasn’t met a lot of people who manage to draw in crowds like that and still remain likeable enough for him to want to spend time with them. But then there’s Bee and that —

He’s fucked. 

Completely. 

Surely this is just a way for his brain to distract itself from the actual emotions that still mess with his sleep schedule. And even if this is something else, he’s hardly in the position to get involved with someone again. 

He watches as she detaches herself from the group and heads towards the counter for another drink. 

Noah slips into the door before she notices him lingering outside like some kind of creep. Instead of heading to the back to the rest of them, he sidles up next to Bee at the bar. 

“Who do we have here?”

Her head whips around, loose strands of hair falling from that already too loose ponytail. A range of emotions races across her face, and for a second he thinks that the surprise on her face is of the bad kind. 

“Didn’t know that you’d be here.” 

They talk for a while, and it’s just as easy as the first time. He wants to ask so many things. Burning questions that suddenly feel too invasive to ask now that they’re not really alone. It’s wrong, but he wants to keep her secluded to that quiet place where it’s just them, where he’s the only one that gets to listen to her. 

They do eventually join the rest at the back of the bar. He doesn’t miss the look Jolly throws him, but he tries not to think about it. He knows that he has to be careful. The feeling that is growing in his chest could easily turn bitter again. Noah is aware that the wound Vic has left behind in his chest is still too fresh to let someone else in. 

It doesn’t matter how long he tries to deny it. 

The damage is done, and now he has to deal with the fallout of it. 

Noah forces himself out of his thoughts. 

He’s surrounded by friends, if he keeps himself here, maybe he won’t drift back into that headspace. He listens to the stories people share, the jokes they’re telling, and he lets himself enjoy it. It doesn’t fix everything immediately, but it takes away some of the ache. He feels a little bit warmer, a little less caged in. 

The warmth rises further when he feels a set of eyes bore into him. Across from him, Bee seems to be entirely narrowed in on him. She stares – unblinkingly – for a little moment longer before her focus breaks and her cheeks turn bright pink. The brief trace of embarrassment dissipates quickly. She looks so awfully caught and – 

He knows the look her face devolves into.

Noah pushes himself up from the sofa he has sunk into. He stops by the armchair Bee is placed in “I’m getting more drinks, coming with?” 

She blinks up at him a few times before following him. 

He heads straight towards the far end of the counter, that so far is still empty. 

“What —”

“I know that look.” he tries to convey a sense of calm, “You don’t have to explain it.” 

Instead of the drinks he said he’d get, he orders a glass of water, the rest of them can wait. 

“This isn’t for you, huh?” he takes a look around the somewhat crowded room. 

They’d had this talk before, but he needs her to know that he understands the feeling that clutches at her. 

“Just a bad day.” 

Noah has used that same excuse often enough to know that this isn’t just a bad day. But he won’t pry, if she wants to share she will. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m glad you came.” 

He doesn’t miss the little smile on her face. 

Noah watches as she downs most of her water in one go. He wants to ask how her week has been, if she’d thought about them as much as he had, but if he lets himself indulge in this feeling he runs the risk of either of them getting hurt. 

“I still have your sweater.” she says quietly. 

“Oh?”

He’d hardly thought about anything else. 

“I can go get it. My place isn’t too far from here.” 

The words are so rushed that he almost thinks that she’s trying to get rid of it. But with the way her fingers prick at the skin of her palm, he’s sure that it’s just nerves. 

“You really don’t have to.” 

“I wasn’t going to stay that long anyway. I have to work tomorrow, and I’ve already had a long day.” 

It’s adorable, he has to admit that. She’s trying so hard not to be a burden, not to be a cause for disruption when he wants nothing else. 

And worst of all, he doesn’t want her to go just yet. 

“I can walk you home.” he offers instead. 

It’s a two-in-one deal, really. He’ll get to be around her for a moment longer and maybe if he plays his cards right, he can get his hands on her number. 

She really doesn’t live too far from the bar. It’s just a short and sweet ten-minute walk before she stops in front of an older, multi-story building. 

“This is me.” She says, fishing a clunky set of keys from her back, “I’ll just pop upstairs and get the sweater.”

Noah gathers his wits. It’s not as if he hasn’t practised the line the entire way here.

“How about this…how about instead of that sweater you just give me your number, and we call it even?” 

It still comes out a little shakier than he had hoped. 

“You don’t want that back?” 

“Keep it. It looked good on you.” 

Her eyes find the ground in a futile attempt to hide the flush of her cheeks. She takes the phone from his hand anyway. Noah keeps his eyes trained on her while she types her number into it. 

He could watch her for hours. 

Their goodbyes are brief, but Noah waits until a light upstairs flicks on. Before he leaves, he snaps an admittedly dumb picture of himself and sends it to her. It’s easier than the words he wants to say. It’s still too tender. He doesn’t even know if she’d want him like that. 

Noah doesn’t go back to the bar, instead he takes the long route home. He values the company of his friends, but right now he needs the silence. He doesn’t know if he needs time to think or shut his brain off entirely. Neither option sounds like the best right now. 

He trots up the stairs and finds his way into his bedroom. Noah lets himself sink into the mattress of his bed. He lies in the silence for a while. It should feel bad to put Vic behind him so quickly. She made it easy, though. There’s no coming back from that. Even if it turns out that Bee isn’t interested in him after all, he needs to get over this mess, for his own sake. The tour will help, he’s sure of that, if anything it’ll take his mind off of it. 

When he picks up his phone to text Nick that he has gone back home, there’s a reply from Bee. A picture of her in the hoodie, the hood pulled up over her head and half of her face hidden behind her fingers. 

And wishes that it wouldn’t make him feel inside as warm as it does. 

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc #fic: sweet like honey #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf

[candeathbereal]

Astro observations

Placements included are Aries Mercury, Aries Sun, Aries Mars, Taurus Mars, Taurus Moon, and Gemini Mercury.

Aries Mercury

Alright you greedy fucks! Let's get into this. Like many Aries placements there are the general themes of independence, impulsivity, and chaos. I know I come off rude sometimes but that is only because I have said words in the wrong tone. Other times I’m actually trying to be rude. Here is my fun advice for people as a whole: Take a risk and be okay with someone not liking you. If one person doesn’t like you remember there is a dog that will love you more than that person ever could. Now if there are multiple people that actively dislike you, I got nothing. And even then if you're a earth mercury...are you really listening to a fire mercury? I usually get along well with earth placements but earth mercuries are a whole different thing bruh. Taurus mercuries are okay...unless you disagree with them and act like I do in an argument (with passion) because then you better hope their mars isn't in another fixed sign. Idk take what you can from that. I would say something about Virgo and Capricorn mercuries but I haven't really met too many. Plus most Virgo mercuries I have met also have a Leo sun and Taurus moon so it would be wrong of me to really say much about Virgo mercuries since Taurus and Leo placements (together) will dominant your shit most times. Anyways let's move onto the actually rest of the post.

Aries Sun

The pain of being a bad bitch. Lol idk that pain tho. Most post I have seen has labeled us as wild and childish. In actuality tho that is more likely Aries mars than Aries sun. I do wonder if the degree your sun is in affects the expression. It’s actually a moment cause Aries is exalted in the sun placement. I have an Aries sun at the 17th degree which is a Leo degree. Plus I have a Leo rising so I do wonder if that affected me in any way.

Aries Mars

Damn. I don’t have much to say besides please make sure to check on people after you get mad at them. Like it’s okay to feel anger and express it but idk sometimes people get hurt deeply by that expression. I don’t have too much experience with Aries mars people and Scorpio mars people. I can only go off by the two people I have met with either mars sign. Which are my grandma and my mom respectively. I will get into that another post so yeah sorry for the lack of stuff rn.

Taurus Moon

Indulgence. Depending on the sun sign there could be a lot of emotional repression from my experience. I love you guys…unless there is a Leo sun with the Taurus moon. Idk why but I’ve had so many issues with that combo. It isn’t because of the fixed sun fixed moon. My sister is a double Taurus, and my boyfriend is a Scorpio sun Taurus moon. And I love them both very much. I get along great even with other fixed sign sun and moon combos. Leo sun and Taurus moon however…nah.

Honestly I haven't figured out why I'm so erked by Leo sun and Taurus moon. I mean I'm a Leo rising and my MC is in Taurus so I feel like I could be missing something. Anyways Taurus moons are great. I have a lot of respect for you guys and your ability to just defend yourselves when someone says something about you that you know isn't the right thing about you. Even if everyone else in the room agrees with that person your ass is still going "I am not like that and that is that". Even with a prominent libra placements this seems to be a common thing among the Taurus moons I have met. I know someone with a Libra sun, Venus, and Mars and they will stand their ground when it comes to things being placed onto them and their character when they know it isn't right. At first I thought "maybe their Scorpio mercury has something to help with this" but then I remember my dad.

He has a Pisces sun and mercury with a Taurus moon and mars and an Aries Venus I think. If you are just arguing with him on something he is willing to listen to your point and I enjoyed that the most while I was growing up. As an fire dominant person arguing is my way to be vulnerable with people. If I don't trust that you will listen to me or if I don't want to be close to you emotionally, I will just not talk to you. And when I disagree with something you said, I will not just continue on with my day because I don't want to listen to stuff that bores me aka you. Now back to what I was saying about my dad. He and I enjoyed arguing about anything and everything but if I felt overwhelmed by shit he would literally comfort me. So he is okay with stopping a disagreement. Now I bring that up because I have seen him argue with other people and when they try to place a character trait onto him or someone he cared about, he will stand his ground if you are wrong in his eyes. I don't know if that made any sense but honestly that is the only way I can think of describing the thing that I have noticed about Taurus moons.

Taurus Mars

Sometimes I wonder what you guys feel because I can’t really guess what you guys are feeling fully. Especially if you have a mutable moon. Now the two Taurus mars I can think of is my dad and my brother. They both have two Taurus placements each (my dad as said previously has a Taurus moon as well as a Taurus mars, and my brother has a Taurus sun with his Taurus mars). Personally I rarely saw my dad angry but I have seen my brother angry when we were younger. My brother would get red in the face from yelling especially when arguing with our sister. Two Taurus suns with fixed mars refusing to back down...surprising. Now he has calmed down a fuck ton since then. Luckily he doesn't have to be as angry as he used to be.

Gemini Mercury

My besties no matter what you say I will accept the foolishness. Oh and if you have a Gemini Venus as well bruh. I will be chaotic. It is a simple fact that Gemini placements tend to make me go feral, just pure chaos. I think sag mercuries have the same effect on me but I never know how to deal with them properly. Gemini Mercury tho…bitch I’m swinging off that one loose tile on the ceiling…that makes no sense but it doesn’t matter right now. Sometimes I worry about you guys’ mental state but idk maybe you have daddy issues I won’t judge.

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