#it's what people do with their emotions and feelings that matter and like. that's a whole ass other conversation.

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

I don't think Buddy asks Helio any questions.

Kristen asked 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' because she believed in all the good things she was taught, but noticed the strange disconnect between the world as it was and the world as it was taught to her. So she thought, surely, if I can't come up with the answer, Helio will have it. And she hates him for dodging her question.

Buddy is far more deluded than Kristen ever was. And he is far, far angrier inside as a result, even if he deliberately conceals this fact from himself to protect himself from the inevitable mental breakdown this would cause. Buddy is not as altruistic and giving and caring as Kristen is. He wouldn't question why he was betrayed or dig into a question like 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' Those aren't the answers he needs, because of course he'd be betrayed by someone outside the church, that makes perfect sense. Of course bad things happen to good people, we simply live in a fallen world.

Or, well. He used to live in a fallen world. Now he's dead here. In Helio's divine domain.

I think Buddy, as he wanders through fields of corn to the big farmhouse where Helio is chilling out, privately thinks about the fact that Kristen Applebees' horrified expression was the last thing he ever saw before a sharp pain in his throat. I think Buddy assumes Helio knows he's thinking this and apologizes for bringing thoughts like that into paradise. I think he thanks Helio for recognizing his devotion and bringing him here once he died and dutifully deceives himself about his own rising emotions at contending with the fact that he's dead now.

After all, he was raised to die. He was raised to want to die.

To want to be here with his god whenever it was he called Buddy to him. So he doesn't feel upset, no, of course not. He's just a little surprised at how sudden it was. (How completely random. How unceremonious and unfair.) He's a little bit worried how his grandparents would react to the news is all. (He cracks a joke that maybe he'll see them here shortly after they do get the news. He doesn't laugh at it.) He had his own plans for how he'd spread the good word in life, but of course, Helio had other plans. (Nothing Buddy ever wanted really mattered. He knew that, he knew the will of Helio was the real thing that mattered, and everything else was just a small list of preapproved extracurriculars in the syllabus of his life.)

He can't be upset about this.

He shouldn't be upset about this.

This is his reward.

This place and these people and this god are his reward for a life of service and devotion and walking in the light.

It's not his place to be upset about his own reward. Kristen got upset when she went to heaven, when she met Helio, and look where that got her.

Look... look where that got her.

He thinks he hates her. For looking at him like that. All the ways she looked at him. Like he was something pitiful and contemptible. Someone she needed to threaten away from her little brother. Someone she has to double and triple check if he's going to revive her when he's under magical oath to do just that or lose his connection to a divinity she threw away after being chosen.

And then. In that last moment, she looked at him and he saw grief and horror and caring. Like his death was awful and unfair and tragic.

And he thinks maybe he hates her for that. For challenging him every conversation they had and looking at him like she knew something he didn't. Like she was above him. Like killing your own god twice in life is a preferable fate to living for the promise of eternal sunlight and cornbread in death. A promise which was kept to him.

Kristen was promised to Helio, too.

And he can't unsee her face. He can't move along and focus on what truly matters (Helio, the church, spreading the word, doling out divine punishment when needed) because he's reached the end. There is nothing left. Only this bright sunny cornfield and a god who... is nice. And who cares about him, personally. He got Buddy's name wrong the first and only time they held audience.

He thinks he hates Kristen, and he hates that that hatred isn't immediately squashed out of his soul just by being here. In paradise. Where he belongs. Where every follower of Helio belongs. Where he never has to have anyone look at him the way Kristen did ever again.

I don't think Buddy Dawn asks Helio any questions. Because how do you ask the god you devoted every waking minute of your life to, 'Why do I hate it here? Why does this feel like hell?'

#fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 #buddy dawn #kristen applebees #kristin applebees #cw death #religious trauma #wow I really said 'he was raised to want to die' without even flinching didn't I?

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

#bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x you #dazai x you #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x you #bsd x you #bsd imagines #bsd x y/n #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya imagines #bsd fanfic #bsd x gender neutral reader #dazai x fem reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader #akutagawa x you #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x y/n

[pinksturniolo]

Biggest Hater - Part One

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Part 1 of 2

Alternate version of my Chris fic: Biggest Fan

Requested by the baddest! @muwapsturniolo

Summary: You just don’t get the hype of the Sturniolo Triplets like almost every girl your age does. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that you went to high school with them and Matt Sturniolo particularly, got on your nerves more than anyone you thought ever could. In fact, it has everything to do with that. And when you run into him a couple years later, at the peak of their fame, your feelings haven’t changed one bit. No matter how attractive you find him.

Content warnings: smut, fingering, thigh riding, car sex, loss of reader's virginity, mean!matt (even tho he’s an angel irl), ANGST AF, enemies to lovers trope (somewhat?), slightly toxic, weed smoking

disclaimer: matt and reader are both of age in the prom flashback. also, dont drive under the influence if that wasnt already obvious lol

word count: 4,325

Hate is a strong word. What does it really mean to hate someone? It’s a powerful human emotion that many say is dangerously close to the emotion of love. To feel so strongly about someone, that every time you see them or hear their name it evokes a strong reaction in you, can cause your heart to race in your chest, and your hands to shake.

That’s how you felt every time you saw or heard of Matt. Whenever you visit your family home in Somerville, that’s practically all you hear people talk about. How famous he and his brothers are now and how successful they’ve become. Literally every girl you know has a crush on them. Even your roommate, Stephanie. It gives you a migraine how much people talk about them.

You couldn’t help how much of a hater you were. It wasn’t like you to be like this, you were usually supportive of mostly everyone, especially people you knew or grew up with. You went to high school with the triplets, so you had the privilege firsthand to experience how they were before their YouTube fame.

Chris was funny, always making jokes in class and very talkative. You didn’t mind him as much, during the few interactions you had with him, you found him to be sweet and he was known as kind of a player, but you never saw or heard of him treating a girl with disrespect.

Nick was outspoken and opiniated which you appreciated, and always nice to everyone. You actually got along with him really well, usually pairing up with him for projects in the biology class you two had together. He even invited you over to his house to hang out a couple times, but you politely declined. You adored him but there was one person you just could not be around that would be there.

Matt. He got on your last nerve like no other. He had the worst attitude, and it bothered the fuck out of you. He was pretty quiet, and he often missed school. But the times you were around him, he gave you the dirtiest looks and rolled his eyes whenever you spoke. Why? You had no clue. He was also an instigator, constantly pitting you against Chris and Nick for no reason, which they usually ignored but it pissed you off, nonetheless. There was just something about him that fueled rage in you like you’ve never felt. And it did not help that you were so goddamn attracted to him.

Let’s be honest, all that tension and angst is bound to create a type of energy that just can’t be ignored. Even if it’s caused by someone you can’t stand.

Then, came senior prom. The events of that night and what happened after, forever solidified your hateful feelings towards him.

You had gone with separate dates of course, but somehow ended up alone together by the end of the night. You had a suspicion that your friends and his brothers had something to do with it, but you sat in awkward silence and moping next to him on the bleachers as the rest of your senior class danced on the gym floor.

Large social events like this were not your cup of tea and neither for Matt. You rest your chin in your hand as you lean on your knees, watching your date dance like an idiot. He was your ride home and you were starting to get fed up, tempted to call your parents to pick you up or even order an Uber.

“What an idiot.” Matt says to you, his eyes also on your date.

You scoff, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I mean, I knew you were a loser, but I didn’t think you were that desperate.”

You turn to glare at him. “I don’t see your pathetic date anywhere.”

“She was talking too much for my liking.”

“Wow, what a gentleman you are.” You shake your head, eyeing his outfit up and down. “Looks like you didn’t put much effort into your appearance either, so she must not be that special.”

He smirks at your response, his eyes on your body as well. “I wouldn’t be saying anything with that tacky dress you have on.”

You hit him on the arm, anger filling you from his words. “You’re such a dick.”

“Ow!” Matt rubs his arm, his face scrunched up in pain. “Now I see why your date left you, you really are a brat.”

You huff in annoyance, beginning to wonder why you were even sitting here next to him. You stand up, picking your dress up from around your feet so you can step down the bleachers.

“Wait, hold on.” Matt says suddenly, wrapping his hand around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

You stop and look at him, your eyebrows raised in expectation. His fingertips burn into you and his eyes somewhat soften when you look into them.

“Fuck- my bad. I’ll stop, I promise.” he says, stopping you from leaving.

You’re surprised at his words and his fingers removed from around your wrist, when he sees that you’re not leaving, standing over him. He avoids eye contact with you while you stare at the side of his face, his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his suit pants.

His hair is longer now than it usually was, a middle part that showed more of his face and he wore a pair of earrings that you secretly liked. Despite your earlier comment, you also thought the suit looked really good on him. Matt had always had a good sense of fashion, but if anyone asked you, you would say his wardrobe is basic and unattractive.

“You better have a good reason for me to stay Matt because I’m starting to get tired and I just wanna go lay in my bed.” You tell him, waiting for him to say something, your arms crossed.

It’s then that he pulls a joint from his pocket, a mischievous look on his face.

“You can get stoned with me and relax for once in your life.” He says and you hesitate for a second before he stands up, and starts walking down the bleachers, motioning for you to follow.

You don’t know why, but your feet seem to have a mind of their own as you follow him, out of the gym and around the corner of the school. At this point you really had nothing better to do, even if it meant getting high with Matt.

He leads you to the football field across from the gym to the press box at the top of the stadium. You both sit inside, smoke starting to fill the small room as you and Matt pass the joint back and forth until it’s finished.

You both are actually engaged in a conversation that isn’t an argument for once and you find yourself giggling with him. Whether it’s because of the weed or because it’s prom night, you’re not sure.

You look at your phone, the time now almost midnight. “I should probably head home.” You say, getting ready to call your parents.

“Do you have a curfew?” Matt asks, a look on his face like he’s hoping you’ll say no.

“Not really…” you answer, setting your phone back down on your lap.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

✿

Matt watches with a smile as you as you catch your breath, laughing hysterically from his spot-on impression of Nick when he’s angry. You wipe the tears from your eyes, having laughed so hard you were crying. Your hair has fallen from the perfect curls you took extra time on earlier, the strap of your dress sliding down your left shoulder.

He realizes you have a nice laugh, not hearing it often since you’re always pissed off around him. You look beautiful, even more than you usually do, especially like this. The moonlight shines on your skin and he can’t help but stare at you until you catch him, and he looks away shyly, his heart starting to pound in his chest.

You’ve both been sitting here for the past 30 minutes, parked at the now empty neighborhood playground by your house. Matt had driven around for a while, even stopped to get McDonald’s, before he decided the night wasn’t over just yet and lit up another joint after your highs came down.

Now you both were absolutely shitfaced, having the most fun you’ve had in a while. It’s surprising how much you and Matt actually get along under the influence, probably because it calmed you both down enough to forget your stubborn tempers and just enjoy good conversation and laughter.

“Why didn’t you ever come hang out when Nick invited you over? I’m having a blast right now.” Matt says, leaning his seat back a little to relax.

“I think you already know that answer.” You reply, and your eyes trail down his body and the way it looks as he leans back. He removed his suit jacket when you guys were in the drive thru earlier, and the sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up, his tie loose around his neck.

“Come on, you can’t really hate me that much can you?”

You sigh, looking away from him and out the window. Of course, he’s oblivious to how much he would actually bother you.

“Are you really that clueless?” You ask and look back at him. His eyes are glazed over and slightly red but incredibly blue.

“When it comes to you… yes.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, ignoring his response while brushing a hand through your hair and picking it up off the back of your neck. “God, its hot in here.” You say and he watches as you move your hair and lean your head to the side, your lips parted. Your slender neck looks inviting, and he can see your pulse jump.

He rolls the windows down slightly, letting most of the weed smoke filter out. His eyes are still on your face and when you return his gaze, this time, he doesn’t shy away.

“What?” You ask, the look on his face makes you nervous. He licks his lips as he looks back and forth between your eyes and your mouth, his jaw clenching.

The smoke has cleared but the air feels incredibly tense now as you stare back. Soft music plays on the radio and the wind blows through the trees outside. You feel like you’ve been transported to an alternate reality, the turn this night has taken starting to not feel real.

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?” Matt finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You feel your face heat in embarrassment at his question. “Uh… n-no.”

You internally cringe at the way you stutter, and the corners of his lips raise slightly at the flustered look on your face.

His hand comes up to your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing over your bottom lip. “Can I be your first?”

It’s no question that Matt has always found you attractive, even though he’s never voiced his thoughts to anyone about it. The problem is, he doesn't like most people and when it came to you, he just couldn’t swallow his pride enough to let his guard down. It turns out you two are extremely similar and it made you butt heads constantly. So, instead of letting himself let someone in for once, he chose to dislike you and it had always been easier that way.

But the way you look tonight, the infectious energy he’s getting from you now that he’s been alone with you for more than 5 minutes, it has him feeling something he’s never felt before.

Electric sparks crackle through you from his light touch on your lips and you almost open your mouth to taste him. But you’re still incredibly nervous. You haven’t had your first kiss yet, your first anything yet but all your thoughts can repeat is yes, yes, yes. Please be my first.

You nod and he leans over the middle console, his hand now firmly holding the side of your face, his fingertips sliding into your hair. Your heart threatens to go into cardiac arrest as he slowly presses his lips to yours, as if you might break like fine china.

But once your lips are connected, your nerves start to disappear and are replaced with feelings of excitement. They mold together almost perfectly, as he kisses your bottom lip and then your top one, his thumb stroking over your jaw. It feels incredibly sweet and tastes like sugar.

He pulls away slightly, his face still hovering over yours. You make eye contact and put your hands on his chest, your fingers grasping his shirt collar, afraid he might move away from you. “How’s that feel?” He breathes, his voice coming out in a rasp.

“Amazing...” You reply and he bites his bottom lip, his pants tightening from the look of pure want in your eyes. Before he can say anything, you kiss him again, this time with hunger and it feels like you’ve done it a million times before.

You expected your first kiss to be awkward, maybe even a little embarrassing. But this is nothing like that, your body heating and heart racing at the feeling of his wet, warm mouth against yours. He leads the kiss, both hands now on your face, his tongue sliding against yours.

It has your panties growing incredibly wet under your dress, and your breathing rapid as you grasp the tie around his neck, pulling it so he can get even closer than he already is. And then, he moans into your mouth and the sound has butterflies erupting inside you.

You decide you need more and push him back a little, disconnecting your lips. He starts to protest but then immediately stops when you climb over the middle and straddle him in the driver’s seat.

Luckily, the van is spacious and you’re not too uncomfortable as you sit on his lap, your dress riding up on your thighs. He places his hands on your hips as you kiss him again, gripping the silk harshly.

You can feel how hard he is under you, and he groans when you unknowingly grind against him, your body moving faster than your mind can think.

“Don’t do that.” He pants, catching his breath and stopping your hip movements. His eyes are closed, his eyebrows scrunched together as if he’s in pain. Your hands are on his broad shoulders, and they dip into his dress shirt through his loose collar, running your palms over his skin.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You ask and you move your hips again, this time a little slower. The feeling of his clothed dick against you has sparked a feeling of need in you that you’ve never felt.

He shakes his head, throwing it back against the headrest, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. His grip slightly loosens on your hips but still tight on your dress as he allows you to grind down onto him. Your head falls into the crook of his neck as you let the pleasure of your movements take over.

He lets his eyes travel down to his crotch where there’s a large wet spot forming on his pants from your arousal. “Fuck…” He moans aloud and his dick throbs from the sight. He lifts your dress slightly and sees the outline of your lacy red underwear, his hands moving to grope your ass.

You’re panting against his neck and start to place soft kisses on his skin, eliciting more groaning from him. You reach your hand down to his belt, starting to unbuckle it.

“Y/N.” He says, stopping your hips firmly now. The tone in his voice makes you pull your head up and he’s trying to keep his resolve from completely slipping when he sees the way your eyes are blacked out in lust.

“I don’t want to do this if you’re not ready.” He says, searching your eyes for any hint of fear. He honestly didn’t expect an innocent kiss to turn into this.

You should’ve said no. You should’ve stopped it then and there, should’ve asked him to take you home.

Should’ve.

Could’ve.

Would’ve.

“Matt, I want this so bad right now. Please.” You whine, arousal clouding your mind and the feeling of your body on his is something you can’t refuse.

He gives in, his eyes on yours as he unbuckles his belt, and you lift slightly so he can pull his pants down just enough to the middle of his thighs. He guides you back down on him, this time so you sit around his left thigh.

You’re a little confused but he wraps his arms around your back, one of his hands tangling into the back of your hair as he holds you against him. “Just relax. Grind on me like you were doing earlier, baby. You were doing so good.” He instructs and the way he calls you baby has your heart fluttering in your chest.

He kisses you, and you do as he says, the feeling of his thigh tensing under you making your body heat with arousal again. You moan slightly, as you slide over him. He then pulls your panties to the side, so you’re bare against him, and the feeling has you both gasping.   

“Oh… my god.” You breathe, failing to kiss him back as you shamelessly moan his name. You feel a strong need inside you, and you let your body move against him fluidly, your wetness coating his thigh.

Matt knows what he’s doing. He knows it’s your first time and he wants you to be comfortable. Granted, the minivan might not be the classiest place, but he’s enjoying it if you are. He wants you to know what it feels like to have an orgasm all on your own (besides the help of his thigh) before he’s inside you. Before he absolutely ruins you.

You’re whimpering now, your hips picking up the pace as you chase a different kind of high. He feels incredible and you want to feel embarrassed at the way you’re getting off on his thigh right now but all you can think of is how good it feels.

“Fuck, you’re so wet..” he groans, his own eyes closing in pleasure at the way your pussy feels, slippery and warm on him.

“Matt…” You whine, and he presses his forehead to yours, his hands on your lower back, helping you ride him. “I know baby, let go. Its okay.” He says softly and the coil that’s been building for the past 20 minutes since he kissed you, finally releases and warmth floods your body. You moan loudly and feel yourself leaking on his thigh, your hips slowing down.

You’re out of breath as your movements stop, your heart still racing. “So good, baby. You did so good.” He whispers and you can see and feel how hard he is in his boxers, as your hands brush over him. He grabs your wrists before you can continue.

“Nuh uh.” He simply hums and lifts you up slightly. “Get in the back.”

The dominant tone in his voice causes butterflies again as you climb off him and into the back seat, laying down. He follows shortly after, unbuttoning his shirt so it’s completely open now and pulls his pants all the way off. He puts one arm above your head as he hovers over you, a dark look in his eyes.

His soft hand moves up your thigh, goosebumps erupting across your skin, and he pushes your dress up to your waist. Your red panties are stilled pulled to the side, the wetness from your previous orgasm coating you. He bites his lip, running his fingers through your folds. You gasp from the feeling, still a little sensitive from earlier.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?” He says and you nod, gripping onto his bicep.

He spreads your legs a little further, your knees against his waist and pushes a single fingertip inside you, slowly easing his finger in. There’s a little discomfort at first but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure when he starts pumping it in and out of you. He adds another finger, and you whimper at the feeling, this being completely different from when you were riding his thigh.

“You okay?” he asks, continuing to slide his fingers in you. “God, yes.” You moan, closing your eyes to the feeling. He smirks at your response and the sound of your wetness has him buzzing with arousal. He’s been incredibly attentive to you and patient, and his boxers are suffocating his achingly hard cock.

Your hips start to buck, as you crave more, his fingers starting to hit a spongy spot in your walls, a slow fire spreading within you. He removes his fingers completely, pushing your hips down.

You pout at the loss of contact, and he chuckles, pulling himself out of his boxers. “Not yet, sweetheart. Be patient for me.” He says and your eyes travel down to where he spreads your arousal from his fingers on his cock, stroking a few times to coat it.

You heard he was big but had assumed they were just silly rumors. You were so wrong.

You continue to stare, and he guides himself to your entrance, his hand now forcing your head up to look at him. “Eyes up here, baby.” He says, a smug smirk on his face.

He places a hand on your waist, his other hand still against the window above you as he pushes the tip into you. It’s a little overwhelming, and you’re not sure how he’s even going to fit all of it in you, but his touch relaxes you as he rubs soothingly over your hip, going as slowly as he can.

He’s halfway in, the burning already starting to disappear as he soon eases all the way into you, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head as you clench around him, the feeling of him snug in your walls.

“So fucking tight…” He groans, his jaw clenched and squeezes a little harsher on your hip. He leans down closer to you, his arm coming to rest next to your head. He stays still inside you, letting you adjust.

“Matt.” You moan, your hands moving into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes baby? You feel alright?” He checks.

“Yes. Please move.” You respond and he obeys your words gladly, pulling out almost all the way only to bury himself inside again. He makes slow, deep thrusts into you and the feeling has your head swimming, your thighs clenching around him, and your jaw dropped open slightly.

The feeling is indescribable, and he struggles to not cum inside you after only the first sixty seconds. That’s how good you feel around him, soaking wet and so tight.

The windows of the van are completely fogged, the air thick and hot. Your moans and whimpers are swallowed as he kisses you, his thrusts slowly picking up in pace. You both are speechless and there’s an unspoken realization between the two of you as your bodies move together in sync, your lips attached, breathing in each other’s air. The outside world has drifted away, the sweet bubble of pleasure and desire encasing you two.

“Matt.. I’m gonna cum again..” You warn, feeling the release build and build, your legs starting to shake.

“I know, Y/N. I want you to, please. Cum for me.” He responds and the movements of hips against yours are uneven now, his own release slowly crumbling. You cry out as you orgasm for the second time tonight, your walls clenching around him. He’s panting your name as he releases his seed into you at the same time, his fingertips leaving bruises on your hip.

“So fucking proud of you.” He murmurs, an exhausted smile on his face.

Mind shattering. Body numbing. Earth quaking, unforgettable sex. Nothing compared to it.

These are the memories flooding your mind as you sit on the leather couch, a cold drink in your hand, and your friend next to you, leaning over to talk into your ear over the loud music of the party. “No fucking way. Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?” She says and you take a sip of your drink, nodding your head. “Yup.”

Matt stands at the other side of the large living room, laughing with Chris and Nick and a few other people. He hasn’t noticed you yet, but as you keep your eyes on him, it’s as if he can feel you staring. He turns his head in your direction and once he makes eye contact with you, his smile falls, and for a second, he almost looks upset, his eyes lingering on you.

And then he looks away, whispering something to Chris and walks off, towards the hallway.

Of course, he would run away as soon as he saw you. He’s pathetic.

In fact, you feel pathetic thinking you wouldn’t run into him here in Boston, his hometown. At a party one of your mutual friends is throwing no less. But still, you were hoping, no, praying that the one time you decide to leave your house and socialize, you wouldn’t see him.

And now your heart feels like it’s going to fall out of your ass, your head filled with old feelings you can’t escape. You hadn’t talked to Matt since that night, two years ago. You hadn’t even seen him since graduation. You avoided any video or clip of him that would come across your phone. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

You fucking hated Matthew Sturniolo. For many, many good reasons.

a/n: please dont come at me for making matt so mean in this one!! 😔 and if this flops ill be so sad lol i hope yall like it so far

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn

#Spotify #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Megumi falling in love for the first time?

Attempts at Friendship are Unappreciated

Synopsis: Megumi doesn’t have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.

pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader

content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.

If you were to ask Megumi, he didn’t have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.

Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, it’s still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes weren’t permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasn’t constantly avoiding others, like he didn’t wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.

Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fate’s spinning wheel.

You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. He’s never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.

Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.

He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for. Your motive – the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask.

“I don’t have one.”

It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. He’s never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said he’d never learn to make friends if he didn’t put himself out there.

Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.

“Would you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?”

Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

“They’re all fine,” he grumbles out. It’s the maximum he allows.

Megumi doesn’t have a type. It’s another one of those trivial things he’s never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.

He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.

Megumi never thought he’d have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isn’t capable of it. He just isn’t wired that way.

It’s comforting in a sense. It means he didn’t have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but he’s never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.

When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zen’in clan in exchange for becoming his student, it’s hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).

Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. They’re fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that you’d find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.

Kugisaki’s is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.

Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes he’s next.

It starts when you step in front of him; there’s a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.

“These probably aren’t your thing but I made one for you too,” you preface. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.”

You’re right. Friendship bracelets aren’t his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. It’s against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?

Most importantly, he doesn’t need it, and there’s no reason for you to give him one.

“You keep it,” he starts. However, it’s already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.

“I don’t—” he starts again; there’s a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where it’d be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “Only because you already made it,” he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.

Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.

He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the two—four—of you together.

Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he can’t hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.

It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.

It broke.

Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didn’t even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.

Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what you’d think if you noticed he wasn’t wearing it. You’d probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didn’t like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. He’s frustrated to acknowledge why that’s the case.

It’s only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.

When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.

“Do you want me to make you another one?” you ask cautiously.

Megumi can guess why you’re hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.

But…

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He wants it.

So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesn’t have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isn’t too silly, of course.

He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.

“I think this one is good,” you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.

You smile as you work. It’s nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.

Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyone’s opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think he’d like or if it means more than that.

“Why do you always keep trying to talk to me?” he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.

Your head snaps up from what you’re doing.

“What do you mean? We’re teammates,” you answer simply.

“Aren’t missions enough? We don’t need to interact aside from that.”

You pinch your eyebrows at him, and there’s a frown on your face. “Sure we do.”

“There’s no reason.”

It’s not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. It’s not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. You’re not his sibling or his parent; he’s not the friendlist either so there’s no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.

“How about because I like talking to you? I think you’re pretty funny, and you’re a kind person.” You shake your head, laughing. “I don’t know. I just like being friends with you.”

Megumi doesn’t know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?

Maybe.

There doesn’t need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesn’t really need a reason either.

“I see.”

“Finished,” you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. “I poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it won’t break so easily next time.”

Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.

“What about me?” you ask, drawing his attention. “Do you like being friends with me?”

Megumi can’t answer that, not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.

His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time he’s gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.

“Can I make you one?”

The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory you’re wearing on your wrist.

“Hey, you got one too now.”

You smile, holding it up proudly. “Megumi made it for me!”

“Megumi?!” Itadori blurts out.

“Made it for you?” Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.

“He did a really good job.”

It’s like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. “I didn’t do anything special; a monkey could do it,” he mumbles out.

Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.

“He’s so modest,” Itadori points out.

“Loverboy,” Kugisaki whispers.

“Can we call you Megumi too?” Itadori asks.

Megumi doesn’t have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick “shut up” before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. It’s enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.

“That was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.

Megumi sighs.

This is why he doesn’t want friends.

“Did you just sigh at me!”

“If that’s what you heard,” he tells her.

“You better sleep with both eyes open!”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Yet if it’s those two then he guesses having friends isn’t completely unbareable.

Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.

“You guys are starting early today.”

You’re still laughing at them, harder now actually, and it’s precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if he’s ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that he’s the reason for your laughter.

Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.

Friendship is something he’s coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out. 

#megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[wishfuldivine]

Gaz feeling like an outsider after Soap's death?

Gaz was never a man to open up about his inner wounds. He was such a private and prideful person about his feelings, achievements and his family.

His emotions were always in check. Never letting the pressure of the battlefield and near death experiences detoriate his strong spirit and mind. And if he did, he would bounce back quicker than a cheetah. That was, until that unfortunate day when everything went to complete shit.

Soap was gone.

His best mate was absolutely gone. And it was insufferable to go on like this without him around. The Scottish lad's absence is very evident in not only the 141 but also the entire base. A rather quiet and gloomy atmosphere surrounding it. Staff and soldiers filled with heavy hearts as they knew the need to continue on was a must.

The ones not really doing well apart from Gaz were both Price and Ghost. The lieutenant had completely shut down once back from that painful mission. Ever the collected and serious person, broken down. He wouldn't look at anyone in the eye. Would avoid ever interacting with people unless it was about a mission or being fussed over by Gaz. He wouldn't come out of his room back at the private barracks. And at times, when Ghost didn't know that Gaz had gone out for a late walk, how did his heartwrenching sobs be heard.

Price wasn't faring very well either. But he had some composure as the captain of the Task Force. He tried and tried many times again to keep everything as minimum as possible.  But who was he kidding? Everything was too much for him. It went as far as blaming himself for the death of Soap. They had Makarov in their hands, and he practically let him slip away through his fingers. His stupidity led to the death of someone very dearly. It cost him a lot more than he can bargain. There would be days when he was consumed by his paperwork in an effort to distract himself from the cruel reality that one of his own is forever gone.

And Gaz? Gaz had noticed how he, himself, entered a state of inner turmoil. On one end, he tried to come into terms with the huge loss. Trying to help Ghost and Price like a mother hen by being there for them in the best way he could. Always the selfless one out of the team. But on the other, he felt like he was bending over backward and was at his wits' end.

He wished he knew how long this would continue. How far more will he be in this mixture of feelings that left him in complete distraught. And what made matters far worse is that neither Price nor Ghost noticed, and he had begun to question his importance.

#kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #heavy angst #my precious baby needs a fucking hug #ali writes #there will be a second part! #been keeping this in my drafts for the longest

[girlactionfigure]

HURT - DON'T HEAL THE ANTISEMITE

The attempt to disabuse the world of antisemitism has been a monumental failure. 

Despite decades of educational outreach things are the worst they’ve ever been. 

The hatred against us is at fever pitch and from multiple fronts. 

The alleged gains that have been made teaching the world about the Holocaust and antisemitism have not been worth the investment of time, energy and resources. 

The facts speak for themself. 

We are in the most precarious position any of us have ever experienced, with most of us wondering where our future lies.

To increase our safety we need a new approach.

This new approach requires us to stop projecting our Jewish belief in education onto the world. We need to stop expecting the world to react in the same way we do to the facts, reason and appeals for compassion we present. We need to stop assuming antisemites are simply ignorant and must confront the truth that they simply hate us and that they enjoy hating us.

We need to make this a less enjoyable pastime for them.

The future of Jewish safety is not in teaching the world to be better people - but in teaching them to watch their step. We need to stop attempting to teach our haters to be nice to us, but rather teach them there’s a cost to their transgressions. Putting it bluntly: we need to teach the world that we will fuck up anyone who tries to hurt us. That is the lesson we need to be pushing. It matters not one jot that they know where antisemitism leads for the Jews. We need to show them where antisemitism leads for them, the perpetrators of antisemitism. They don’t need to know what happened to the Jews in Auschwitz so much as they need to know what happened to the Nazis. They need to know the Nazis got fucked up, killed and destroyed. They need to know that Germany got levelled, destroyed and went up in flames. They need to know that German bodies and minds got broken beyond recognition. Antisemites need to know what happens to the antisemite - not the Jew. And we need to show them.

Those who attempt to kill us must be neutralised - and perpetrators of antisemitic speech and action need to have their lives attacked and diminished so that they experience the greatest personal cost we can extract. They need to suffer consequences to their reputations and their livelihoods. They must be shamed, exposed, humiliated, damaged and degraded. They must experience emotional and mental discomfort. The law must be used to punish them. They must lose their freedom if applicable. Whatever means is available to hurt them should be used to the fullest extent. Their suffering must be harsh and without pity and serve as a deterrent to others. If others don’t pay heed to that deterrent - then they must also suffer. And it must be without pity.

Do we risk antisemites not liking us?

They already hate us. 

Now let them fear us.

And some of you must stop this narcissistic impulse to want to redeem your abusers. This has nothing to with making the world better. It’s about satisfying your saviour complex and making you feel self-righteous. Stop prioritising your abusers. That in itself is a symptom of the abuse you’ve experienced. You have every right to prioritise yourself. Your abuser has not earned a right to your ongoing time and energy. 

Furthermore, trying to generate a couple of feel good stories about an antisemite turned good is an inefficient use of our resources - something we can ill afford when so many active enemies must be thwarted.

It also sends the wrong message. There is no deterrent if they know abusing us is a revolving door that offers them automatic reputational rehabilitation. 

Let’s hurt our haters and move on.

Let it be seen they have been hurt.

We need to stop educating people to like us. We need to teach them to fear us. We need to show them we are mean, nasty and will inflict pain without remorse. 

We need to hurt antisemites - not heal them.

Do some of you feel a little anxious hearing this kind of talk?

Does a Jew being aggressive and spiteful make you feel uncomfortable and anxious?

Good.

That’s how our enemies should feel.

Maybe then they’ll think twice about fucking with us.

LEE KERN

#EndJewHatred #antisemitism #jewish #jew

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!san x gn!reader

synopsis ✭ San is always available. Especially on your bad days.

content/genre ✭ fluff, comfort (no angst really. reader just cries over unnamed stress)

word count ✭ 1k

✭ ✭ ✭ ✭

There was a soft knock at your door. You knew who it was, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to get off the couch. He had a key anyway.

“Y/n?” you heard from outside the door, “Can I come in?”

He always asked no matter how many times you told him he didn’t have to. He waited a few beats for your response that never came before you heard his keys jingle. You threw your blanket over your head when you heard the key slide into the lock and the door click open.

“Love?” The door closed behind him as he made it into the front room where you burrowed under your blanket on the couch. You felt him kneel down beside you and slowly lift the blanket off your head. 

You were hit with the cold air of the apartment, but you kept your eyes closed. “Are you pretending to sleep?” 

He poked your cheek, “I know you’re not asleep, y/n.”

You groaned and threw a hand over your eyes, “Sannie…”

“I’m here, angel,” he said, peeling your hand from your face to kiss your knuckles.

Opening your eyes finally, you looked to see your lovely boyfriend looking at you softly. His eyes lit up slightly when they met yours. “Hi, how are you?”

You open your mouth to tell him, but just trying to recollect your awful day made your eyes start watering. You try to keep the tears back by keeping your eyes on the ceiling above you but they pool up at your waterline.

You can’t look him in the eyes or you know the tears will fall faster. You don’t want him to pity you. Just the thought of him feeling bad for you makes you sick to your stomach. He shouldn’t have to coddle you like this. You’re not a child. You’re an adult for fucks sake. It shouldn’t be this hard for you to recover from a bad day.

But when you feel his arm slip under your upper back, you let him lift you up. He slides onto the couch behind you and pulls you into his chest. Softly playing with your hair and rubbing your back. He tells you that it’s okay to cry. Even though he knows you hate crying in front of other people, he encourages you to let it out. Never once does he pressure you to give him the details of your day.

You bury your face in his chest as you cry. It’s hard not to feel bad at the wet spot on his shirt even though he’d tell you that you never have to feel bad for something so small. Your tears are hot, though, as they fall from your eyes. Pouring out uncontrollably because of how long you’d held them in. 

It hurts San’s heart to see you like this. As much as he wants to be strong for you and as bad as he wants you to think that he’s unfazed by your outpour of emotion, he wishes he could take it all away. He’d keep all of you anxieties and heartaches on himself if he could. Seeing you so overwhelmed and falling apart on top of him is really hard for him to handle, but he stays strong for you. Because he knows that’s what you need. 

When he notices that you’ve stopped crying, he lets you stay on his chest for a few more moments, running his fingers through your hair. Slowly, and after several minutes of silence, you push yourself off of his chest. You let his thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. You smile softly at his gesture, “I love you, Sannie.”

He smiles and kisses you on the forehead. “I love you too, y/n.”

Everything else went unsaid but was fully understood. He knew that it meant everything to you that he had showed up for you. And you knew that his love and devotion ran deeper than either of you could really understand.

✭✭✭✭ 

When San finally got you off the couch, he’d encouraged you to take a shower. He made sure to order food before he took his time to pick up your apartment a little bit. You had been so overwhelmed with work and family stuff that you didn’t really have any motivation to do laundry or keep your apartment tidy. But he knew how much a cluttered space just added to your anxiety.

He picked up the loose clothes scattered around your bedroom and put them in the wash hoping he’d be at least able to get through some of your laundry before he left. In the kitchen he washed your dishes and put them all away before grabbing your trash and taking it out to the dumpster. 

Pushing the door you your apartment back open, he found you seated on the counter. Dressed in a fuzzy pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt. When you saw him, you opened up your arms for him. He smiled and wrapped you in his own arms. 

“You’re doing okay. You know that, right?” He whispered into your hair. You hesitated but nodded.

You took a deep breath, “Thank you for always being here, Sannie.” 

He pulled away from your hair, still holding tight to your waist, “Of course. I’m here for you always. You know that.”

You smiled at him, “You didn’t have to do my laundry, though.”

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Are you complaining?”

“No,” you laughed, “you can come over here every day if your gonna always do my laundry.”

“Baby I have a key. I can come over whenever I want,” he teases. Though, you both know he never comes over without checking in with you first.

You giggled and leaned into him, kissing him softly. He smiled at you with his eyes when he pulled away. “Will you spend the night?” You ask, cupping his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“Of course,” he leaned into your touch, “I can tell everyone I’ll be a little late tomorrow.”

Shaking your head you said, “No, baby, you don’t have to do that.”

He reached into his back pocket to grab his phone, “Too late. I’m already doing it.”

You poked him in the chest, “Fine, but you have to go before noon.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“No. You just can’t always skip work for me.”

He kissed you on the cheek, “I’m always available for you. Work can wait.”

#san x reader #san fluff #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #san #choi san #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san scenarios #san imagines #choi san scenarios #choi san imagines

[devildomwriter]

Can i get some headcanons on the angels being guardians of MC? 👀 In the manga, a pact with a demon requires them touching foreheads to make it, and they have to listen to their master's orders. What can the guardian and the charge do? Call for the other for help? Know when the other is in trouble or just need a hand? -Water Anon

Guardian Angel Headcanons

• An Angel canonically can only be the guardian to one human. It’s not specified if it’s one at a time or not and if they’d be able to guard someone again when the previous charge has passed.

• They get chills when their charge is in serious danger, they can hear their pleas for help, and stronger angels can answer telepathically if they only need an answer to a question or reassuring words.

• They can dispel viruses and curses more easily than if they weren’t your guardian, and can heal virtually anything with ease, be it mental or physical, whatever you ask for.

• They will immediately put their lives on the line for you and will not allow harm to come to you while you are their charge.

• If they for some reason cannot reach your side when you are in danger or in pain, you will receive some of their energy to keep you safe.

Simeon

• Simeon’s style of guarding is very relaxed. He believes it’s better you find things out for yourself and will give gentle pushes for you to find the right answers or make the right changes.

• He will always show up if you call for him, even if it’s ridiculous, because he loves you so he’s always willing to pamper you, but he does have a job so you might have to wait sometimes.

• If you’re in serious danger, he’s there instantly because he already sensed it. Simeon is normally calm and relaxed so to see him become serious and upset when he needs to protect you from something can be very surprising. If it’s person putting you in danger, his sadistic side comes out with cheerful smile and laugh as he takes care of the threat—as an angel he can’t kill them but the fear he instills is enough.

• Simeon can always tell when you need him, even if it’s not dangerous. He’ll be there for a pep talk, comfort kisses, cuddles, and a nice meal.

Luke

• You’re a handful. He has his work cut out for him, and before this he thought you were the most normal of the bunch.

• “No, MC don’t touch that!” “But you’ll protect me right?” “That’s not the point— NOOOOO MC!”

• Thanks to your guardian pact he can hear your pleas for help and he’s always super panicked but most of the time it’s because you want sweets and don’t know the recipe. He’s relieved and happy to help but make sure not to use him like a personal chef.

• He can tell when you’re in danger and gets chills but most of the time you’re just hanging out with one of the demons.

• He makes you say something specific when you’re in literal immediate danger in case he needs back up. Don’t misuse it because Raphael will show up with spears and he won’t be happy if it’s for something ridiculous.

Raphael

• Raphael is extremely protective and efficient with his job. Sometimes he can’t tell why you called him to specific situations so you’ll need to tell him.

• No matter what you called him for, he already has the spear ready. He scared people a lot by mistake. Police are still looking for a man walking around with a giant spear that cared away a group of people intimidating you.

• After saving you, Raphael won’t leave your side for a while, he needs to make sure you’re still oky and nothing else happens.

• He might guard your door at night, especially if you’re not in a good head space.

• Raphael struggles with understanding emotions so he takes a minute to learn how to help you with yours when you ask for help calming down, feeling happier, etc.

• Raphael can take on anything by himself so he never needs backup. Just calling for him scares people who know of him.

Michael

• Michael became your guardian because he knows that if you were to suddenly die it’d spell doom, as the brothers, ruler of hell, his greatest warrior, etc. would not ever be okay again.

• He already canonically saved you many times. When you almost died in the reaper cave for breaking a rule, and when Solomon’s good sent you into the past.

• He was pleasantly surprised when he found out you weren’t a wicked person but sometimes he’s baffled by your decisions and will telepathically communicate to definitely not do that thing.

• If you’re mentally stressed he sends you blessings and if he can meet you in person he will. His presence is also powerful enough to banish any curse without trying.

• Try not to call him upon demons because this could spell serious trouble for peace between the worlds but if he knows you’re in trouble he’ll lend you holy power to protect yourself to avoid disturbing the alliance with the Devildom.

#obey me shall we date #obey me requests #obey me angels #obey me raphael #obey me headcanon #obey me headcanons #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me Michael

[sukified]

— his favorite ho.

❀ katsuki b. x fem!reader

❀ outline. teeny tiny drabble because i saw a car sex twt vid and it made me miss kats

❀ w. 18+ content, dirty talk, very light assplay, katsuki has anger issues, riding, car sex

❀ do not repost thx

katsuki has had a long fuckin’ day.

higher ups yapping in his ear and telling him that his poor attitude towards civilians has become a daily topic and he’s had enough. everyone who knew of the pro knew that his temper was short, that he wasn’t saving people to be friendly. no, he was doing his job, keeping japan safe and sound under his supervision without fake flowery bullshit.

not only that, his anger management classes have been kicking his ass. it was a requirement as soon as they threw katsuki on the front lines— he needed to attend regular sessions. it was believed that going to talk about his feelings, forced out of his protective shell of aggression and anger, would improve his performance.

whatever the hell that meant.

you know full and well how katsuki has been feeling about his current predicament. he brought it up all the time over whatever fancy dinner he treated you to, complaining about responsibility and growth and the likes. the man simply needed emotional guidance, he needed to learn healthier ways to deal with his feelings and mental hurdles because they were strong. everything about him was so very strong.

though, when he didn’t feel like running an irritated hand through his mop of thick ash hair while he spewed profanities about his braindead therapist or his dick-sucking bosses, he’d keep you stuffed.

it was a particularly taxing day on his end, seeing as though spring tends to bring out the evil motives and the villains. popping off explosions and knocking wrongdoers the fuck out could only go so far for his stress, for his mental constipation.

no, today he needed more. he needed to shut his brain up, needed to direct the anger and resentment and frustration elsewhere. what better way to deal with his problems than take it out on his pretty baby?

“been forever since i’ve given you good dick, hah?” katsuki hisses as his head lolls back lazily, thunking against the sleek leather of his backseat, rough hand planted limply on the curve of your waist. you look godsend hovering over him, your shoulders flexing as you grip on his thick thighs, trembling like a goddamn leaf as you fight to keep yourself up.

he’s got you riding him because he’d be damned if he put any extra effort into the shitty day. today was your day to take control, a rare one because he couldn’t be bothered. katsuki had called you up as soon as his patrol ended, voice void of emotion in fear that he’d end up snapping at you for any minuscule reason. after all, you hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve his berating.

your pussy cries and sobs as you bounce on his cock sensually, the strain making your mind fog up and blank on your train of thought. it was almost a routine for the pro to use your body for a nice shutdown, you felt it was the best way to thank him as a citizen. he sought you out on his worst days and you never failed to follow through, something he fucking adores about you.

his jaw is slack, blonde stubble decorating his skin, tongue slithering out to lick at his lips. you were so damn wet and tight around him, it was just enough to help him block out the spiel he had received earlier in the day about working on his rescue skills. nah, he didn’t need to change himself for the sake of others, you seemed to like him just as he was.

“shit, you’re filth. jus’ a filthy girl,” the sound of his voice, mumbled and distant, makes your cunt throb. your walls suction him tight, coating him in a glossy mess of your pussy drool. he swears he could die happy right here and his mind is nearly blank as he slips a thumb in your ass, huffing out a quiet chuckle at the way your back arches immediately.

no matter how nasty his attitude can be, you come back for more. you always do.

#katsuki smut #bakugo smut #bnha smut

[p4ndawrites]

Love never felt easier

Tags: Female Reader, love interest insert, no mention of Y/N

Hey Guys! So this is just me getting back into writing so sorry if it's a bit rusty. Eitherway I hope you enjoy!

_________________________________________

She loved him. Didn't she?

The constant thrum of her heartbeat that spiked when he was around had proven that. Though she played it off easily considering how playful she was around others, but surely…

Surely, this was different.

Perhaps it started with the small things, like noticing the way he would tap his pencil on the desk to fill the silence, the constant 'ticking' serving as a way for others to know that he was bored. Or how he wasn't afraid to be himself even if others thought negatively about him. The happy, over-the-top personality that somehow made it so much easier to hide the growing feelings she felt under a veil of irritation yet also made it difficult to hide the smile that almost always appeared when he was around.

When had it even started? Was it after she threatened to hit him with her bag? Or was it when she asked him over for their weekly movie night?

Maybe it had started when he had stayed over the night last month and woke to her silent sobs that she thought she could get out without waking him. When he wrapped his arms around her, teasing her in hopes her anger would overtake her sadness (no one said he was good at comforting others, but the thought counts) because he'd rather see her yelling than crying. How she had woken up that morning to his blanket being thrown over her own, him lying asleep on the other couch that somehow had been pulled closer to her own.

Or maybe, just maybe it had been because he never spoke of it again. He would tease and nag, but he'd never ask her why she was crying because he knew that she would have told him if she were comfortable with it.

Either way, the point is that she fell for him, hadn't she? Every action, every smile, every word, she had softened quite a bit recently towards him. No longer would she snap at him as much as she did before, seeming to go for more of a teasing approach just to see his smile widen as he took on the challenge.

Now that she thinks about it, she probably had been in love with him for a while and only realized it now when it was too much to ignore. People seem to think that it's easy for one to notice when their feelings change for someone, but how do you know when everything feels the same?

Same words, different font.

The point is, she's pretty sure that she fell for him. Now what should she do? No one gave detailed instructions on how to deal with the emotion, and now she was completely in the dark.

But all in all, no matter how irritating he may be and how many times she wished he had an off switch, she's glad she fell for him.

Because even though she's in the dark about what to do now, he'll be the light to pull her out of it.

He always is.

_________________________________________

copyright © p4ndawrites

Do not steal work or repost as your own

#hawks x reader #marius von hagen x reader #denki kaminari x reader #gojo satoru x reader #itadori x reader #oikawa toru x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #anime x reader #dazai x reader #mha x y/n #bsd dazai #jjk x reader #mha fanfiction #fluff #wrote this in 20 minutes lol #I'm probably gonna delete it if I hate it but we'll see #writing slump #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #dunno what other characters to add lol #akabane karma x reader #jjk fluff #mha fluff #tot fluff #assassination classroom fluff #haikyuu fluff

[acourtofthought]

The scene where Lucien said Elain was nothing like Jesminda is often used as a big insult thrown at Elucien's.

This was Elain on the day Lucien met her officially for the first time ever.

This is knowledge Lucien has of Elain, information Feyre only recently informed him of:

This is what Lucien thinks, in the first minute of meeting Elain, as he's reflecting on his murdered love:

Upon meeting Elain, did she seem full of laughter? Full of mischief? Did she tease, taunt, or seduce Lucien? Is she choosing Lucien by running into his arms the first moment she meets him?

If the answer to those questions is no then Lucien is thinking nothing but the truth, it's not some insult. In that moment there was nothing about Elain that was like Jesminda and I think the biggest thing he's struggling with is how he knows Elain doesn't want him. He only recently found out there's probably little hope for the two of them since she's engaged. After centuries of believing he lost his mate he finds out that Elain is actually his mate but that gift is not going to matter because she wants someone else.

Do people honestly not understand the level of anguish that Lucien is experiencing in this scene?

There has not been a single female he entertained the idea of having more with in centuries and the one who finally had him thinking of possibilities beyond a single night of fun, the one he fought across courts to ensure her safety, and he realizes in this moment that none of it is going to matter.

E/riels forget that Lucien, not just Elain, is experiencing huge emotions in regards to their bond. They forget that Lucien, not just Elain, was convinced of certain things only to find out that he was wrong. It's all overwhelming, shocking, and where he might have carried the slightest bit of hope of what it would mean when he found her in the NC, his real mate, that hope was crushed with the realization that she made a commitment to another. In this moment, Lucien has basically lost two mates. The female he thought was his mate because she wanted him and he wanted her and the female who is his actual mate but who he now knows wants someone else.

It did not stop Lucien from helping Elain through her depression, from caring about her well being. But you will forgive him if in his first moments of meeting her he wasn't waxing poetic about her charming wit and the melodic laughter that was pouring from her lips as trailed his fingers down his chest.

I will take the Lucien POV scene a thousand times over compared to the Az bonus where had known Elain for over a year yet he was unable to convince Rhys that he was over his feelings for Mor and was unable to reassure him that he wasn't using Elain in the same manner as he would a female at a pleasure hall.

#lucien vanserra #elucien #anti e/riel #pro lucien vanserra #pro elucien

[freezingmcxn]

The way you describe Toby is so slap-able. He’s reminds me of that one kid in school who would just do anything to annoy you no matter how hard you try to ignore them, like closing your laptop while you’re working or turning it off, throwing small things at you that might not necessarily hurt but are disruptive enough to get a reaction, insulting you in such a specific and out of pocket way, and repeating the action that finally made you crack over and over because they thrive on watching you hold back on the desire to strangle them. Is it for attention? Does he just like pushing limits? Does he actually want you to hurt him or is he just that annoying? Is this another case of ‘boys being boys’? Is being annoying a crime worthy of the electric chair? We’ll probably never know, but the fact remains that he will 100% make it your problem if you are even remotely in his vicinity. I can’t help but be genuinely curious what fuels this menacingly mischievous behaviour, and why he’s decided this is the best way to achieve whatever he’s trying to get out of being that way. Maybe it’s just entertaining and he just genuinely doesn’t give af, but as a people pleaser I can’t wrap my head around it.

(I’m just a girl in the world! Why can’t I just be a girl in peace?!?!?!)

How I treated my version of Toby Rogers (his emotions and actions towards others)

Notice I said my version, this isn’t really canonically accurate so don’t say “he wouldn’t do that” it’s how I wrote/interpret him

I wasn’t gonna answer this because I’m not writing for creepypasta anymore but…here I am, you intrigued me and made me wanna talk about him and the subject of that behaviour in general.

On the topic of creepypasta, people have wanted to ask me about things to do with my headcanons, and my own opinions, how I made them etc, you can ask me that I will answer on here, and on here only.

I used to be like you and I’d always wonder why people did such stupid shit in school, acted out etc.

I found it frustrating and irritating like how you described. But I’ll tell you one thing, I 100% don’t get irritated by that anymore.

There’s always reasoning for peoples actions, no matter how much you down play it to them just being annoying assholes, you always lead it back to something.

It can be as small as wanting to impress someone, or even just to seem cool.

People seek validation in numerous ways and for numerous reasons.

Although “attention seekers” can be annoying and confusing you should always take into account that something might be going on at home, in their head, in school etc that you don’t see or know about.

Toby was abused. Toby had mental issues.

Try deal with that for a day, a week, a month, a year, your whole life.

He always attracted attention whether he wanted to or not, the only reasoning behind my headcanon of Toby wanting to push limits is because of projection I suppose.

People pushed his limits, you can only push someone so far, before they completely break. You can only make someone so hurt until they act upon violent thoughts and hurtful words.

When there’s so much build up of material it’s eventually going to cause an avalanche, apply that to a build up of repressed emotions such as anger and sadness.

Those feelings are very explosive and can be physically and emotionally violent.

How my version of Toby acts (his menacing mischievous behaviour) is merely a mirror of his deeper feelings, whether he means to be a dick or not, he gets the gratification of being able to inflict that pain and hurt onto someone else, someone different, someone that’s not him, it’s temporary release.

You could say it’s sadistic, or you can sympathise, I leave that up for interpretation because it’s interesting to see peoples views change once they see a “bad” character was a previous victim to something heinous.

To make it easier to understand think of a leech.

Leeches suck blood from other organisms as they feed off it.

He’s like a leech, he sucks the happiness and joy out of other people’s lives and in return he gets the happiness he thinks he lost by seeing them suffer.

Now, I say “happiness he thinks he lost” because it’s artificial in my eyes, someone else’s pain being a source of your happiness is not true natural joy, it’s only a temporary happiness and you have to be more and more violent and resourceful as the source (person) distances themselves and eventually leaves.

Another thing to add is he cant deal with his own emotions so he deals with other peoples, he can control how other people feel,

Toby wants the power and control his father made him lose.

So yeah, that’s my thought process behind why Toby pushes people/ is a dickhead. I hope I explained it in an easy enough way, I like looking into things on a deep level.

#slenderverse #hcs #moon responds #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #realistic #headcanons requests #ticci toby headcanons #character analysis #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers

[thesunfyre4446]

Yo. New to the HoTD discourse. I hope you don't mind me rant dumping on your blog. I'm a bit scatterbrained so I hope I lay out my feelings about these things clearly. I have finally watched HoTD and ....

Listen, I could have liked Rhaenyra well enough, in fact I didn't really mind her in the beginning. But it really all changed once I saw what the audience were saying. How the majority seems to have no sympathy for Allicent at all.

I thought we all understood that no character in Westeros is really all that great?? So I really cant understand the vile hatred spewed towards her? It feels like they even hate her more than anyone ever hated Joffrey or Cersei. People were rightfully angry with the show runners decision to have Jaime r*** her in that one scene. People were capable of feeling empathy for Cersei despite how despicable she is. But there's SOOO much victim blaming for Alicent. It drives me fucking nuts. And to show sympathy for her would have people dogging on you.

I really cannot believe my eyes when I see people thinking she willingly seduced that rotten walking corpse.

I was so naive to think people would understand where her character is coming from. She is utterly powerless. She doesn't have a king for a father to pardon every mistake she makes. She's suffocating and it makes sense for her to hate Rhaenyra who has more privilege than any woman who ever lived in that world, and yet still step over every single rule while expecting everyone else to just live with the consequences of her actions. We're supposed to like her??

I GET that the point of it all is that monarchy is just a shitty way to run a kingdom. I GET that Rhaenyra being a terrible ruler is the point. Man or woman it never mattered.

What I don't get is people thinking she's some feminist figurehead?? She behaves as a man does in that universe, entitled and unfit for what they feel entitled to. I get that that's the point, but that doesn't mean she's for the women at all. Like any man, she's out for herself. Why would I like her if she behaves as any corrupt man in that world would, when the only difference is she doesn't have a dick? And I wouldn't necessarily mind that? I don't watch HoTD or GoT for perfect characters. But if only the audience didn't treat her like some sort of hero and Alicent the pure villain.

I never felt frustrated with GoT discourse. Why the fuck does it seem like HoTD has bred this extremely toxic environment? You can't seem to have a different opinion unless your mouths dick sucking on Team Black.

Dany, just as entitled as she was, she was still able to do as duty demanded. Rhaenyra is a just a spoiled child all the way through. The hatred for Alicent and the inability for people to see Rhaenyra for what she is, has me thinking people have really missed the fucking point about what feminism actually is. And once again, I didnt watch HoTD for feminism. But the audience seems to think Rhaenyra is a beacon for it. Wether intentional or not, ideas take on a life of its own and you cannot divorce these fan-imposed ideas from the show anymore. That's really the part of all this that pisses me off.

I'm TG now not because I condone everything they've ever done. Literally everyone fucking sucks. I'm TG because I understand everyone fucking sucks. And I dislike being tube fed by the biased writers on what to think and feel.

anon, not a single lie was told.

people hate on alicent for displaying human emotions. it's insane. it's always "rhaenyra will turn westeros into barbieland" until someone brings out the fact that she has no intention of helping any other woman other then herself and then it's all "well, we shouldn't judge her from a modern day pov"..

"I'm TG because I understand everyone fucking sucks" this!! also, they have better characters lol

#hotd #house of the dragon #anon ask #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black stans #anti rhaenyra stans

[trans-cuchulainn]

What's your favorite medieval stories with suspiciously queer themes?

ALL medieval stories or just medieval irish ones? because if we go for all medieval stories i think we will be here all night lol

but for irish ones... well, i'm basic, i'm an ulster cycle bitch, no matter how many times i've read táin bó cúailnge and specifically the 'comrac fir diad' episode, i never get over it (and i have read it dozens and dozens of times at this point)

i think the thing about CFD is that, yes, it's very homoerotic, but it's sort of more than that: it's about the conflict between a bond of love that you (mostly) chose, and the bonds of obligation and family loyalty that you were born into. and it's about the way that those youthful relationships get obliterated by adult responsibilities and obligations. for me there's something deeply tragic and deeply queer about that tension and the way it juxtaposes different types of relationship? idk i'm explaining this really, really badly right now but it's a story that says "would you turn your back on your family and your people for a man you loved" and the answer is "no"! love does not win! sometimes the other bonds in your life not only tear you away from someone you care about but make you do the tearing!

and yet cú chulainn's lament for fer diad really articulates the fact that there was love there. it wasn't nothing and it wasn't easily abandoned. and it sort of functions almost as a protest against the narrative, and an act of defiance against the people who set up that situation, and an ultimate expression of feeling that comes too late to be heard by its subject. which is a lot. and i think it is a big turning point for cú chulainn himself in terms of understanding violence as violence, as damage that can't be undone, as something that has a cost

and i think all of that has more weight if you read into the homoerotics of it but i think the weight of it is still there even if you don't. it's about love vs duty and duty wins – and that absolutely sucks for everyone. it's powerful.

i also love just like, everything cú chulainn and láeg have got going on, frankly. i think you see it the most clearly in texts like oidheadh con culainn and tóruigheacht gruaidhe griansholus because late texts actually let their characters express emotions out loud, but there's so much there even in earlier texts if you're willing to read between the lines. and plenty of it in táin bó cúailnge, even

so really the general message here is that we should all read the táin and have feelings about it

#answered #lazysatyr #tain bo cuailnge #comrac fir diad

[thehollowwriter]

(Idk if I send a lot of asks but)

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

💛: What is a popular ship you just can't get behind, and why?

💛: What is a popular ship you just can't get behind, and why?

Fucking

Leoruggie and jamikali. It's a tie.

Leona is 20+. Ruggie is 17. Ruggie is in a servant role and far less privileged than Leona, who is a prince. This ship just frustrates me so much, and so many fics involve Leona treating Ruggie even worse than he does in game so it's just... bleh.

Jamil is the Asim family's slave. He is a slave. "Servant", "caretaker", "bodyguard", etc are are all nice ways of putting it. Jamil's entire being revolves around Kalim. He cannot exist outside of Kalim. He takes the subjects Kalim takes, thinks of Kalik at all times, and can never truly enjoy himself. His life from the start is deemed as lesser than Kalim's, as he's his poison tester as well. He resents Kalim for this.

Kalim essentially owns Jamil. He is a kind boy but so awfully unaware of the harm he himself is causing Jamil. In his vignettes, in the events, etc, whenever he's faced with a problem or wants something done, he tells people, "Jamil will handle it!" And carries on with no regard to Jamil's feelings or if it's even possible to do such things.

When Jamil tells him to stop doing something, or that he can't get this thing done in time, Kalim ignores him and says "I can count on you Jamil!" Why? Because Kalim is spoiled and even he is sweet, doesn't really understand the word no. Obviously, he's not doing this maliciously, but it's still very harmful and does nothing but contribute to Jamil's stress and suffering.

Idk, this whole ship doesn't sit right with me because it just feels like romance is a bandaid slapped onto a gaping chasm of a problem. Not to mention, no matter how kind Kalim is, it's very toxic and dangerous for Jamil to be dating someone with complete and unquestionable control over his autonomy like Kalim.

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

Azul beats out the tweels by 0.0000000001% so...

People either make him too much of a soft hearted crybaby, or too much of an evil capitalist.

Azul was hurt deeply as a child. The emotional scars left will take a very long time to fade. To cope he strived to make himself better, stronger, more desirable, and so on. In doing so, he's hardened his heart and it's a lot more difficult to get him now. It's literally stated in game that he hasn't cried in years. So no, reader giving him some affection won't make him burst into tears. He's not emotionless, but he's not going to turn into Season 1 Deku 2.0.

Then there's the other end of the scale. Some of ya'll make Azul way worse than he actually is. No, he's not going to force someone to date him. No, he's not going to make a potion to fucking... drug the reader??? Idk so many fics make him so overbearing and aggressive it's just... not like him.

And, let's not forget, he's a restaurateur's son and is literally just... a guy who owns a restaurant and wants to expand it. Sometimes people treat him like he's going to be the next CEO of Amazon or something. Azul is not ever going to be as viciously awful as most if not all CEOs are. Remember those guys are also sexist, homophobic, and racist and often fund bigoted organisations. Which... Azul would not do?

I know Azul can be a difficult character to write. It's hard to get a good balance when he's so morally grey. He's not an angel, but he's definitely not a complete monster either.

Sorry this is so long Elena, I got excited 😭

#quinn quips #quinn answers #quinn's friends #elen #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #savanaclaw #azul ashengrotto #octavinelle #kalim al asim #jamil viper #twisted wonderland

[hauntedfictionland]

Being their emotional support person —

☾︎✰❛❀ Shadow and bone characters x gn!reader

Includes/warnings: light mentions of PTSD, injuries, slightly stalkerish behaviours and implied romance.

🪐notes: i sort of recently got into Shadow and Bone and oh boy I'm absolutely in love, the plotlines, music, and characters are so beautifully done. I do truly hope that Netflix renews it back.

— I. KAZ BREAKER

(♥︎^⁠_^♥︎)

You and Kaz went back quite a long time as far back as the time his brother died with his innocence. You went through that together, from the sidelines you watched him change drastically, grow into a man whose name was rather feared than loved.

Kaz doesn't admit it, but he relies on you a lot. He knows the harshness he's put upon you everyday isn't new by now, but still unwelcomed. It stings him. You almost get treated the same as any other crow, if not for the times where you'd hold his upper arm in an act of comfort when needed.

And he'd let you. ♡

You're not the most significant part of the group, or the strongly important. But you can be useful enough in his words to ‘stay’, definitely not because Kaz wants you there by his side as he's always had most of his life.

Or so what he insists.

He looks upon you along with every plan of heists, a wordless query of help. It does not look like it, but your opinions and suggestions matter to him more than you'll ever know.

And when you need a favor, he's all yours. Jesper would sometimes find him doing questionable things for a man like Kaz's taste, when he'd ask it always goes a simple “Y/N asked for this”.

When Kaz is faced with his past, especially if without black gloves he has used as a shield—he won't come to you. The most would be handing his gloves back.

But after the worst is gone, he'll slowly reach out to you. Sitting beside you, head leaning on your shoulder. That is the moment he wants the most, support to get back to the daily life.

He needs you.

Needing anything is a weakness surely but he truly never considered you his, without you he'd actually fall apart with the absence of the power to get back again. You're his strength. His support, his person.

You're his, and he's yours.

— II. INEJ GHAFA

(♥︎^⁠_^♥︎)

Inej doesn't really feel comfortable relying on a lot of people, anyone for that matter. Yet when it comes to you it almost seems so effortless. Perhaps that's the effect you have on her.

Kaz brought you in a while ago when he was in desperate need of a healer.

When she saw you the first time, you seemed shy to the point of not even being able to hold eye contact. However as time slowly passed on you spend way more time with Inej than anyone else as she tended to get herself in all sorts of trouble.

Inej would find herself looking at you often, wondering how the alignment of your lips to the sharpness of jaw could ever be so perfect.

She started to let a few things of her past out here and there while you'd bandage her, careful enough to never reach the tip of the surface.

Bit by bit, it turned into a habit. Only now she would come to you herself and open up even when there was no scar or injury on her.

Something about the way you listened so tentatively with soft eyes that held no judgement, your words which grasped onto the feelings she couldn't seem to comprehend and your affection, all of it pulled her in.

And she could not let go.

Sometimes Inej feels a bit guilty, how you're always there yet she isn't. She wants to know about you, your interests, your fears, your life. And she wants to help. In that sense she feels worse.

She's the wraith, she's never been scared of anyone. Yet Inej feels herself becoming powerless the moment she looks at you.

And that'll be the death of her.

— III. ALECSANDER KIRIGAN

(♥︎^⁠_^♥︎)

Much like Kaz, Kirigan is not the most reliable at showing affection. But he does know very clearly the way you've helped him will not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

Rather unexpectedly, even as a grisha on his team you've somehow managed to slip into the cracks of his facade. The demeanor he held.

After Alina fled, he wasn't in the calmest mind. And sensing you just hold him without a single word, a hand soothing his shoulder with a wave of your magic spreading around him. He in the longest while felt peace alongside tranquillity in just a few minutes.

With him in your arms, you gave him a sense of assurance without ever putting them into words.

Kirigan keeps you absolutely spoiled. He tells the extravagant jewelries and fancy wines are gestures of reward for your exertion which he'd give to anyone who'll work just as hard. Except that in truth he feels he owes you a great deal whenever his emotional hard times are mended because of you.

And it's his way of showing the utmost appreciation, almost affection you've placed in his heart for you.

The fact that you don't judge or mock, even think of him as ‘weak’ for not being the powerful general everyone sought out to be has him in a chokehold.

He thinks about you, and every one of your encounters has him thinking for weeks. Each and single one. Soley, it does come off as any surprise when Alecsander sets at least one grisha protector to watch you. Your safety is his utmost priority and even perhaps to know a little details about you and the people you talk with.

Which you don't need to know about whatsoever.

The time he revealed his true self to you, he was very much afraid that was the way he'll lose you. You'd see the monster his mother claims him to be and run far away. But instead when you embraced his dark side with a glint in your eyes, he knew you had him whipped in a tight hold.

— IV. ALINA STARKOV

(♥︎^⁠_^♥︎)

You first saw Alina when Zoya sent her flying across the field. Rather before that, eyes stealing glances on you.

She knew who you were, the great earth summoner. And as per who she was, Alina felt inclined to meet you. Her newly found peers brought her upon you, and when you turned to face her, Alina was quite at a loss for words.

Wonderstruck.

You seemed far much greater than she imagined, and oh she had a lot to learn from you.

Alina found you on many occasions, tried to as best she could. Questions about your powers, her powers, and secrets of the little palace. You gave them all, heart smiling fondly at her genuine curiosity.

You'd discover yourself sitting beside her, on the floor with backs leaning against the wooden bookshelves. Walks around the little palace or the library, you were growing much closer with her as the days passed.

Sometimes a word or two would slip out of her missing a certain Mal, and the camp of the first army. She would close them, a bit scared of your thoughts that is before you assure her. That whatever is was held in her heart, she could absolutely come to you.

And came she did.

You and her would spend hours under the night sky, hearing her stories of the orphanage—worries she held about herself, and Mal. Either way Alina was sure you were her answer.

The way you'd given her a tiny beam of grin, hands grazing over hers. Talking conclusions she could barely listen when her focus was your lips. A connection she felt that was electrifying.

Alina believed it was because of your power as the Earth, and her's as the Sun summoner. However in that, a deeper part of her knew something was more than that.

A single time someone referred you as her Earth summoner, the mere prospect of that—even when she knew the other meant it in no harm, drove her crazy.

The time after you comforted her about the troubles she held about Mal, sincere yet bittersweet smile on your lips. You knew she had feelings for the boy, a thought that made your gut wrench for a reason you didn't acknowledge.

When you asked her that, Alina's eyes gazed at yours before she pulled her lips on yours in return so softly you could only hum.

You were hers alright.

#shadow and bone #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #inej ghafa #kaz x reader #kaz x inej #inej ghafa x reader #jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #the darkling #jesper x wylan #alina starkov #alina starkov x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling x alina #s&b #nina zenik #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #nina zenik x reader #the six of crows