#this came out far more saturated than I thought

[munsonsreputation]

yours

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [2.9K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established-ish relationship, eddie feeling like he's not good enough, mentions of financial difficulties, overall fluff goodness!!! loosely based off "i wanna be yours" by the arctic monkeys

summary: eddie's down bad for you and all he wants to be is yours — you thought he already was.

It should feel pathetic, the way Eddie dropped everything in a heartbeat and came dashing to you the moment you called out his name, but to him it was the greatest honor for your mouth to even utter his name — he’d simply come crawling if you’d ask.

“Eds,” nickname made him go weaker for you.

Your voice was a small whisper and your hand grazed shakily upon his forearm, giving it a tender squeeze as you leaned in closer just enough for your breath the dance over his earlobe. His opposite hand didn’t falter, binding around to rest on the small of your back staying there to keep you steady in the cramped position.

“S’the matter, sweets?” He murmured loud enough for you to hear over the music of the party, brows pinching together, watching you intently.

He felt you pinch his skin again, your thumb and forefinger rubbing over the area apologetically, as you met his eyes, “C-could you come with me outside? Just need some fresh air and I don’t want to go alone.” Your voice was almost saturated with regret for feeling like such a hassle.

But Eddie didn’t want you to go alone, anyway.

It was a friend of a friend’s house party on the other side of town with plenty of people that you and him didn’t necessarily know too well. Honestly, you didn’t even have to ask. You could’ve just walked right up and grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out the front door and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.

But the way you ask him as if he’d ever say no made his heart melt because clearly you didn’t quite know how head over heels he was for you already.

There wasn’t much to it after that. Eddie simply gave your back a small pat and begun to stand up from his seat, letting his arm wrap across your shoulders as he maneuvered the both of you through the sea of bodies.

“Thanks.” You smiled tenderly up at him through the walk, encasing your hands around his biceps and following his lead out the front door that was propped wide open.

Eddie knew you like the back of your hand, the way your senses tended to get overstimulated when the music was too loud, chatter was too chattery, and the footsteps too heavy — he knew all of those things and he never minded that he was painstakingly aware because he wanted to be when it came to you.

These days, your comfort meant more to him than anything in the world. Tonight, it was an overload, and he wanted to curse himself for not noticing sooner.

It didn’t happen all the time, but occasionally you just needed a minute away, far away where those things couldn’t be heard at all. You didn’t even have to ask him to walk with you a few blocks down in the neighborhood to get away from hearing the thump of the party. He just continued on, letting you cling to him as he gave your shoulders a squeeze every so often to silently ask you if it was all better now.

It was always better when it was just you and Eddie.

“Sorry, it was just so loud.” You exhaled shakily, untying your arms from his muscles and instead hugging yourself to his torso, breathing him in — letting him fill your senses.

He found it heartening that you gravitated to him like that no matter where you were. Eddie was like your giant portable teddy bear, always near and ready for you to jump into his arms. His chin rested on the top of your head, draping his arms over your back and pulling you closer — the closest he can get you to keep you here and warm.

“S’okay, you don’t have to apologize, baby.” His voice was soothing and ironing out any worries that lingered.

“But you were talking to Rick then I—”

You could feel his head rock against you, a puff of air exiting his mouth with a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything. Just stupid talk anyway. You know I’d drop anything for you.”

The emphasis on ‘you’ was endearing because you felt the exact same way for Eddie. The urgency to be at his side whenever he needed you and even when he didn’t say it, you can feel it in your bones, because in soul you just knew.

“I know.” You said, dragging your face away from his chest to beam up at him, tiptoeing to press a kiss under his jaw before setting back into him.

He could still feel your lips on his skin, a sort of electrifying touch that should have had him running because it had to be too good to be true, yet all he wanted was more but only if it was you. Whether it was here on a shadowy sidewalk or maybe at the Hideout after one of his shows, and the end of the night and the start of the day, it could only be you and him.

All he ever wanted now was it for you both to be where you belonged — always in each other’s arms.

“Wanna go home?” He crooned, sliding a delicate hand through the ends of your hair careful not to let his rings catch.

You pressed another kiss this time to the center of his clothed chest, gawking up at him. “Do you?” You sought putting himself first instead of your own — good thing Eddie could read you like a book.

He grinned, cheeks tugging his knowing smiling impossibly wider. “Yeah, I do.”

He led you to his van, shrugging off his leather jacket and dressing it over your body as you settled into the passenger seat. You often got cold on late night drives and felt bad for asking to turn down the air conditioning so in order to comprise, though he never minded, whatever jacket he was sporting always ended up acting as a blanket until you got home and he could he yours.

“Feeling warmer?” Eddie chuckled, darting quickly from the road to your body that was curled up in the seat.

You nodded with a hum, bringing the sleeve of his jacket away from your face. “Better, but I really wanna take a hot shower when we get home.”

He let out a sound of agreement, reaching over for the air conditioning vents closer to you and flipping them up so less of the cold air was directed in your direction. It was a pure act, one that you picked up all the time even when you promised you were okay — part of you liked to think he had spidey-senses and could feel the shivers you tried to hide from him.

He could feel everything without you saying a word, a kind of connection you never thought was possible in this lifetime.

“Gonna do an everything shower tonight?” He asked with a glint of humor in his voice.

He was familiar with your ‘everything’ showers: full body exfoliations, deep conditioning, hair masks, the whole shebang. Eddie was more than happy to sit outside the shower, keeping you company for the next hour that used up all the hot water.

Truth be told, he subjected to everything showers at least once a month — when he was all burnt out from work and just wanted to relax, you’d fill the bath up with epsom salts, sit on the ledge of the tub as you shampooed his hair, and the both of you would talk until the water turned cold.

You giggled, shaking your head tiredly at him. “Not today. I’m too tired. We can shower together if you want? I like it better when you wash my hair.”

Who was he to turn that down?

“My pleasure, doll.”

Home was Eddie’s and his uncle Wayne’s shared trailer — it was your favorite place to be, despite what Eddie thought of the quaint space. It had an even smaller bathroom, but you didn’t care, pleased that it gave you the excuse to be closer to him in the most intimate way.

He always let you stand directly in the stream, letting the hot water cascade over your naked body while he received the backsplash of the droplets against his cool skin. His fingers worked through your scalp, the chunky rings shed for the time being, allowing him to be more firm in his movements, getting your scalp nice and clean.

You were humming a song, and he wasn’t sure which one, your voice too quiet for him to hear over the water and the suds from the shampoo. He thought it was something from the new Madonna album he picked up for you on cassette, and he was sure it would only be a few more days before he learned all the lyrics and got them stuck in his head.

When lather foamed up on your head like a heap of bubbles and that’s when he knew he’s done enough washing, nudging your shoulder with a kiss of his lips as he was mumbling against your skin.

“Turn around and let me rinse it out, sweets.”

You nodded, twirling on your heels as his hands instinctively grabbed at your shoulders making sure you didn’t slip and fall. You shut your eyes tightly, letting the water flow over the back of your head, his fingers once again combing through the ends gently, doing his best to not let the soapy water travel down your face.

He took his time even though he clearly didn’t see the suds running any more. He just wanted to admire your pretty face with your eyes closed because that meant you didn’t try dodging away from his gaze.

He noted how you felt the suds wash away, face then relaxing and the pinching of your eyes eased and a tired smile took over like you were seconds away from dreaming.

Yet he knew he couldn’t let you sleep like that, bringing you back with a gentle kiss upon your lips until you finally switched places, letting him be under the showerhead.

“You’re running out of shampoo.” You pouted, reaching down to grab at his bottle and squeeze a dollop into your palm.

He shrugged, keeping his arms around your waistline as your hands wandered up and began raking the product through his hair. Your nails were a bit longer than his, scratching at his scalp just enough that it didn’t hurt, but tickled in a pleasing way.

“I’ll pick some up tomorrow. Do we need more conditioner too?” He proposed already peeking one of his eyes open to stare at the nearly empty bottle.

You thought he didn’t know, but Eddie knew you hated when he spent money on you, even if it was a shared thing like conditioner or shampoo. He did a lot for his home, helping his uncle with rent with whatever tips he made from his share tips at the Hideout and when times were rough, pawning things just for the extra cash.

You wanted him to save some for himself, something he could call his own instead of giving it to you when you didn’t need it.

But things were starting to get a lot better with Eddie picking up a job at the General Store after Joyce became manager and was able to hire him as a cashier. He’d spoil you to cool thrifted jewelry and take you out on dates at Benny’s where he’d let you pick whatever you wanted and promised that you two wouldn’t have to share a single meal or a single drink.

In a lot of ways, Eddie’s love language was gift giving even if it was small acts. In all honestly, if Eddie could pluck every single star from the galaxy and give it to you in a bouquet sprinkled with flowers and love letters he would.

He’d give you the whole world if he could.

But even then, you’d probably tell him how he didn’t have to do all of that because all you ever needed was him. Same thing went for that silly bottle of conditioner that he knew you’d fill up with water and let last another two weeks before he’d pick a new one up without asking you.

Your fingers falter against his scalp before you shake your head, “No, we’re fine. It should last us until next week or so.”

He called it.

“Hmm, sure,” He grunted, wiggling his shoulders, “You said you wanted to try that new brand right? The lavender and mint scent?” He urged, not trying to tease, but it came out that way with the smile he still wore.

“Stop it.” You bite down on your lip, trying to hold back your guffaw as you motioned for him to turn around so you could rinse out the product.

You knew it no use trying to change his mind… if you were lucky, you’d say by the time he got home from work tomorrow he’d walk in with a bag of groceries and a new bottle of conditioner and shampoo in one of them.

And the both of you would probably end up here again… showering each other with love and suds of a new scent that will become your new favorite — he would definitely remember until you decided it was time for something new.

The two of you spent the rest of the shower with delicate hands roaming across bare skin, quietly conversating about any and everything under the warm water that was slowly running cold. When the water finally shut off, you both patted your bodies dry and standing in front of the mirror where Eddie watched you complete your skin care routine before helping him with his own.

You ended up dressed his oversized t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers as he settled for sweatpants that hung low on his hips. If you weren’t so tired, you’d jump his bones and get dirty all over again, but for the sake of your energy, you could wait it out till morning, happy to know you got to jump his bones in another way that was just as good.

His room was pitch black, cascaded with the pale moonlight that peeked past the curtains with the slight breeze coming from the ceiling fan whirling above you. His blanket was pulled up to your collarbones, keeping you warm alongside himself who acted as your portable heater. One of your legs rucked over his hips as the other rested against his thigh.

Eddie could feel your breathing against his chest, cheek nuzzled up right under his head that thumped for you… always for you.

All of his being, every inch and ounce of him was committed to you but he despised himself for not knowing if that was what you wanted. There was never a talk or conversation about what the two of you were.

It just so happened that it happened.

He gulped, thumb caressing your shoulder in random patterns as he looked down at you. “Baby?” he called out, checking to see if you were still awake before you hummed against him, “What am I to you?”

“Huh?” You moaned out, brows furrowing with your eyes still closed, caught between being awake and drifting off to sleep.

“Y’know, like…this. Us.” Eddie shifted a bit, just enough to be able to move your damp hair away from your face, “What am I to you?”

You didn’t give it much thought. The only thing in your head was the four letter word echoing because even in the dead of night on the brink of slumber, Eddie was always going to be the one for you.

“Mine.” You said, voice stronger than before, as you fought your eyes open and looked up at him past the darkness.

“Y-yeah?”

His voice seemed to betray his smile, like he still couldn’t fathom you could see him in that light. The kind that didn’t glare off his flaws or the things that he was afraid of… you didn’t make him feel less than for having fears or not being the perfect person.

To you it only made him more human, the one that you wanted to spend forever with.

“You’ve always been mine, Eds.” You murmured, moving yourself up on your elbows just enough to look down at him.

Your palm came down to where your head had laid, pressing against his heart and letting him know you were right there with him all along.

“What do you want to be to me?” You whispered, keeping your eyes on his, swimming in them, trying to get a glimpse into his thoughts.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, feeling your pulse that beat in sync with his. There was no doubt in his mind that he always wanted you to be his, but he was always afraid he was never enough to be yours.

Not until now.

“Yours,” He breathed, finally letting go of the secret he held too long in his heart to try to hide any longer.

Smiling at him like he had plucked every star from the galaxy and laid them all out here for you. That’s when you knew what it was… what it had been all along. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, still smiling stupidly lovesick at him—

“You always have been.”

A kiss, a bond that sealed you two together forever because maybe all you wanted to be was each other’s, in this lifetime and all the others ones that existed.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: this one has been sitting in my wips since forever and i finally got to finishing it up!!! i wanted this one to be coated with sweetness and everything in between!!! i haven't written eddie in a while so this was super duper fun and revisting his character took me back to my roots!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

#munsonsreputation #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fic #stranger things eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you

[bilolli]

Just Dance Care AU!

Ok ok so I thought of a story for this Au but it’s nothing really impactful or full of drama and angst like my other au’s, I wanted to leave this au easy and fun to play around, because, let’s say it. Just Dance and drama in the same sentence makes me laugh. 

story and PNG version under the cut!

(I gave up on Y/n design because I couldn't figure out a general look for them. This is you we are talking about! Draw your own JD fit, I'll draw mine soon XD)

Anyway here’s the story so far: 

Year 2029, videogames industry made a huge step forward and classic consoles and devices were substituted by the new and upgraded VR headsets with full body tracking. It’s something like the NerveGear in Sword Art Online without the kill switch. Some games still require you to actually move your body (like fitness games or sports because yeah, they don’t have a purpose otherwise). 

Y/n wanted to buy the newest VR headset but, while searching for the best offer, they found out FazCo entertainment was hosting a giveaway, the prize? One of their prototypes, a VR meant to be released the next year coinciding with the opening of their first mega pizza plex.

(so the plex doesn’t exist right now). You decide to sign up for the giveaway and after a while you receive an email telling you you won the VR headset and that, to claim it, you need to read and sign a series of NDA policies (understandable, it’s a prototype headset that’s not even in commerce). Some clauses are a little bit concerning but nothing you hadn’t read on other electronics booklets, so you decide to sign. After, like, a day, you have the VR in your hands. 

The box let you know with super saturated and colorful writing, that the VR came with a game pre-installed inside. Uh, that’s why they were giving one away, they wanted a free game tester…but you know what, it’s worth it.

You always liked Just Dance games, they make you think about happy memories of your childhood. This pre-installed game called “Five Dances at Freddy’s” is a close copy of your childhood game with original FazCo songs, characters, environments and also some collaborations with other famous artists. It probably will be the cause of a big copyright infringement report.

There are various ways to play it: story mode, Casual dance, Five Dances, and Just Dance Care.

The first one is similar to the casual dance mode but with little cutscenes between a dance and another to tell a tale, Casual dance is how you can play the collab songs, Five Dances is the multiplayer mode and Just Dance Care is a more uhhhh “hard” way to play the game with all the other modes mixed in it. You stare at the description of the last mode smirking and decide to try it first just to see how far you can get before losing (yes you can lose in hard mode in this Just Dance, but you don’t die, you just have to restart from the beginning). Turns out the FazCo wasn’t kidding when they advertised the new headset as a breakthrough in the world of virtual reality headsets, the thing TRANSPORTED you inside the game itself. 

You almost have a heart attack when you can’t find your VR on your head, but before you can try something you are blocked by two tall individuals who you think are the “tutorial” characters. 

Yadda yadda, tutorial, you can pause the game and exit whenever you need just by opening an hidden menu, you find out your tutorial characters are called Sun and Moon and that you are way worse than you remembered at dancing (damn full body tracking, there is no way you are going to do a cartwheel in the middle of a dance, you still don’t know if your body is inside your home and if you’ll physically feel pain if you fall and you don’t want to find out).

You pass an embarrassingly long time trying to win your first dance battle just to discover it was still the tutorial. 

You try to go on with the story but you fail at the first real battle with a bear character named Freddy. 

And guess what? You have to start again from the tutorial! Y/n is gonna spend A LOT of time with Sun and Moon if this goes on.

#JDCAU #Just Dance Care AU #bilolli's art

[maya1525]

Toge’s tongue man… just a little request of a fic with Toge eating the reader out and just using his mouth bed it’s 😩

Toge Inumaki’s 👅

18+ MDNI

Pairing✩࿐ Fem!Reader X Toge Inumaki

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem! Receiving oral with panties on

Word count✩࿐ 1K

Summary✩࿐semi-innocent Toge and his girlfriend reader. Inumaki goes down on the reader for the first time. I have a longer and spicier version of this fic if you’d like to read it.

A/N✩࿐Just a short fic for my first request! I hope you like it. I’m so in love with Inumaki <3

Toge snuck his fingers down your panties to gently prod your slick privates, already wet with arousal. He’s only ever fingered you a few times, and each time he’d leave you a needy mess. You’ve never came before and aren’t sure how to. But you still enjoy the feeling of him touching you and you feel happy that he wants to make you feel good. Typically while he fingers you, you’ll give him a hand job, it’s kind of been tradition since you’ve started experiencing these intimate moments together. You brought your hands down his shirtless lean torso and to the button of his pants but he stopped you this time.

You flashed Inumaki a confused look, “Tsuna mayo.” He whispered with a reassuring smile.

“Huh?” You questioned, but he just leaned forward to give you a quick peck on the lips before he went down and situated himself between your thighs. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and now his face was down between your legs.

You felt a wave of shyness wash over yourself, “Toge, this position is embarrassing.” You said meekly, trying to wiggle your legs shut but he playfully head bumped your leg away with a sly smile. He sturdily gripped both of your thighs keeping you in place. “Shake-shake.” He cooed, as he kept his gorgeous eyes locked with yours, then lowered his head to your clothed pussy.

He licked your lips from outside your panties, the sensation alone was extremely mesmerizing. You felt a buzz of cursed energy wash over your folds making you shiver with anticipation. “Inumaki… this is… ahh.” Another wave of riveting delight came across you when he repeated the action with a bit more pressure. The new sensation you were experiencing immediately made you forget about your self-conscious thoughts.

Toge was so intrigued at how your body instantly shuddered with the simple swipe of his tongue. He was curious as to what else he could do to you with just his mouth alone. He carefully pushed your underwear to the side to expose your glistening folds. The sight before him instantaneously made his mouth water. Without any restraint, he dove right in and tasted your sweet juices.

“Mmh!” You whined loudly, as Inumaki’s hot tongue flickered inside of you. It was as if he suddenly realized that this is what a true delicacy tastes like, every other flavor in the world seemed bland to him. He gripped your thighs tightly and pulled you into his face. You worried that he wouldn’t be able to get any air, but you could tell by the way he ate you like a starved animal; the air was the last thing that was on his mind right now.

You felt his nose rub against your clit deliciously as his buzzing tongue pumped in and out of you quickly. You instinctively wiggled your hips closer to him, enjoying the friction.

Your needy little cunt was now a sloppy mess for Toge. He couldn’t believe how saturated you’d gotten, which made him feel incredibly proud that it was all because of his doing.

He stuffed his tongue deep inside you, as far as he could force it. Which made you immediately made you cry out in ecstasy. Toge felt your walls clench him immensely with delight. He then swiveled it around inside of you in such a way that it came in contact with your sensitive spongy spot, causing you to writhe in pleasure.

Inumaki could get drunk off the moans and whimpers that came from your beautiful lips. His attractive eyes looked up at you while devouring your pussy in the most alluring way.

You’d become wetter than ever on Toge’s cursed mouth as he continuously flicked your sensitive G-spot with his tongue. He brought his fingers up to your clit and began to run little circles on it. Both of those actions were incredibly overwhelming for your body, you began to moan and call his name uncontrollably.

Suddenly a strange and new feeling overcame your lower stomach, a feeling you couldn’t hold back. You felt an intense bright white as you released yourself into your boyfriend's greedy mouth for the first time. He eagerly drank up your squirting liquids as you instinctively tried to clench your legs shut. He made sure to not miss a single drop of your scrumptious juice.

He decided to lick you clean, he started by licking the outside of your soft slick folds. His tongue moved slowly and gently in every crevice, savoring your taste entirely. He spent a little extra time on your overstimulated clit, giving it a little suck while he was at it. Making another cute gasp escape your lips. Then he wiggled his tongue inside of you, scooping out as much of your sweet nectar as possible. His bedroom was filled with your adorable gasps of delight, along with the sound of his slurping mouth on your drenched wetness.

Inumaki was hooked on this new way to please you, the way you’d squirm and whimper under his cursed energy filled mouth. He’d eat your pussy for hours if you let him. His zipping tongue continuously scooped into you, trying to get every last bit of flavor. The rhythmic sensation of his plunging tongue felt explosive. “T-Toge… stop I’m going to-ahh.” You moaned out as you came once more onto his heated mouth once more. His purple eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he gulped you up eagerly.

While he licked you clean for a second time, he was able to feel your pussy pulsate with pleasure from the aftermath of coming twice. He gingerly pulled his face away from your glistening cunt. You noticed that the entire lower section of his face shone with your wetness. Especially on his cursed speech marks on his cheeks. A faint blush crept across your face when you noticed that.

He crawled up the bed with an adorably smug look on his face, along with a very noticeable tent in his pants. You knew exactly what to do to return the favor.

#inumaki x reader #inumaki smut #jjk smut #inumaki x you #jjk x you #toge x reader #toge x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki x you #toge inumaki smut #inumaki toge smut #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge x you #inumaki x y/n #smut fic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[grxndprix]

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

It’s an odd thing, she realized. Practically lunacy. Rapt, her hand traced the outline of her collarbone, eyes following the motion in the mirror. Maybe she hoped for a lag in the reflection. This was a trick mirror, it had to be. 

The muted olive walls of the bathroom closed in on her. Dim lighting, an orange-ish tint to the bulbs. Far too saturated, suffocating, she was choking herself out as thoughts swarmed around her mind. Lips parting in a quiet denial of the situation, she almost missed how her whole body was trembling.

[name] ran fingers through her hair in an effort to ground herself. Purple bruises and red bitemarks littered across her neck and collar, she flinched at the memory that came with them. She didn’t wear concealer, so she wouldn’t have any in her purse. Imperfections of her face bubbled up, but it wasn’t enough to rip her attention away from the marks.

Jujutsu High was supposed to be a safe haven. It was supposed to be somewhere she could focus on strengthening her skills, somewhere she could escape her ignorant and awful family — But tragedy tends to follow those who combat it the most. 

A shaky breath, and [name] crumbled to the floor in a heap. She could hardly breathe, scratching at her skin, rubbing furiously at her body as her cries echoed in cracked whispers, “God, please get it off— Get his touch off— I-I can’t—” She hiccupped, tears rapid in their descent down her face. 

Her knees ached from the coldness of the tiled floor, bathtub in her peripheral suddenly looking more like a coffin than anything else. She wondered, for a moment, — If she filled the tub with water and let the crystal substance fill her lungs, would she feel clean?

Bring her to the forest, dump her body on the grass. Nature will be gentler than any man. 

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t a bad man. That’s what [name] believed. She saw his stoicism as gentleness to the world. She saw his silence as peace. And, of course, she saw his potential as a sorcerer. She was the one who brought it to his attention, just before Gojo even got the idea to talk to him.

The girl had approached him just before he was to close his room’s door for the night. 

[name] smiled softly, eyes not meeting his as she tried to step out of her comfort zone. “I just think you have a lot of amazing things you’d be able to do! You can bring out your potential, I just— I think you can pull it out of yourself, hon’, I really do…” She dared a glance up into his eyes, suppressing a wince when he had been looking at her the whole time. “If that makes sense, of course! Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

She was cut off by a quiet laugh. It wasn’t harsh or biting, not even mocking — It was a genuine, soft laugh. Finally turning to look at him properly, her heart almost fluttered. He was smiling, eyes crinkling upward at the notion. Despite her hesitation, he looked so… happy. He was shining, honestly. 

“ Thanks, [name]. I, ah, needed that.” He ran a hand through his fluffy raven locks, gunmetal hues resting on her face. Unmoving. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with him. Her own smile was made even brighter than before, cheeks starting to hurt. 

Megumi almost brought his hand up to affectionately ruffle her hair, but stopped himself. He could hold on for a bit longer, he could— He observed the crinkle in her eyes, the bags under them, the moles, the light in her pupils, and suddenly, he recognized life as short. 

[name] had to depart, she decided with a glance at her phone. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’d promised Itadori a hangout. She was about to wave goodbye, the words settling on her tongue— If not for his hand shooting up, grabbing her wrist before she could even try to pull back. 

The countdown started. Megumi liked to believe he was great at keeping all of his true thoughts and feeling under wraps. 

[name] didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d gotten comfortable with Megumi, there was no reason for her to— 

Oh.

His eyes had darkened. She didn’t think it had been possible, really, but all the memories of her family had come rushing back. A tidal wave of sin, the sudden recession of an ocean. She looked at their intertwined hands, then back up at his face. Something in the air had shifted. 

The girl gave a cautious tug at her wrist, eyes no longer possessing the strength of contact with his. “Ah, I gotta go hon’—, Promised Yuuji I’d hang out with him.” She experimentally tugged again, but to no avail. Her lips turned the slightest bit downward.

Perhaps the scariest part was Megumi’s silence. The way his eyes fell dull, completely unlike the smile on his face just moments before. Was his previous grin sardonic? Did she not catch the undertone? His grip on [name]’s wrist only tightened a considerable amount, brows creasing together in a look that mirrored— What, betrayal? Annoyance? Was she being annoying for trying to leave?

“...Megumi?” Cautious. She realized her tone was cautious. What changed? Just a few minutes ago she felt completely comfortable with him, she was at peace and felt that he was someone she could trust, but now—

She didn’t get the chance to respond. The quiet of the hallway sank in quickly as he yanked her feeble frame inside. A yelp, but it reached no one as the door slammed shut. 

[name] turned to Megumi, eyes wide and pupils just shaking with fear. Silence, as it was, spoke fucking volumes. She hadn’t noticed it before, the way his gunmetal blue eyes dragged along her body, sizing her up like lamb to the slaughter. 

He took a step forward, dorm floor creaking with the notion. She took one back. It took a second, but her flight instinct kicked in. Turning on her heel, [name] went for a mad dash for the backdoor. It led to his balcony, so maybe if she jumped and ran for Yuuji, or Gojo Sensei, or Nobara— 

A single hand caught on her hair and pulled. A wounded whimper left the girl’s throat, body crashing right back into the ravenette’s. She struggled as much as possible, but it didn’t do much when he just got her right up against the nearest wall. 

Those gunmetal eyes carried the embers of hell, she thought. Despite her weak whines and cries, the devil’s whispers painted fluttering kisses to cloud any sane thought she hoped had burrowed into Megumi’s mind.

He pinned her wrists above her head, frame completely devouring hers as he dove in for a kiss. She squirmed under him, trying to turn her head, but one of his hands only held her chin in place. This was her worst nightmare turned ten times more malicious. 

His hands roamed her body with the desire of Eros, the pursuit of Persephone from Hades, the longing of Pothos — A man possessed by tragedy. She had to be his lyre, the instrument he used and used and used and used—

[name] cried out as his teeth sank into the soft of her neck. His tongue seemed to lap up the blood easily, as if an apology for his unbridled animosity. He treated her like glass he knew could be repaired. Delicate, but made for shattering.

Megumi seemed to hardly use any strength to rip the front of her shirt open with one hand, leaning down to pepper his kisses down her chest. The tattered remains of her shirt and bra fell to the floor, leaving the upper part of her body completely vulnerable and to his mercy. Teeth on skin, marking, sucking — He was making sure no inch of her didn’t carry him.

A breath, and [name] almost thought he’d come to his senses with the way his ministrations paused. However, she was proven wrong when he moved to remove her bottoms too. His free hand reached down and began to rub circles on her, now, exposed clit. She writhed as much as she could, breathless pleas falling from her lips as his long fingers worked their way inside of her, eliciting even more pained cries.

The boy didn’t offer a response, much too lost in everything about the moment. She was under him, whimpering because of him, this wet because of him— What else could he ever ask for?

In one swift movement, Megumi lifted her thighs to rest around his waist. He had pulled his sweatpants down enough to rub his erection against her bare pussy. She winced at the movement, head thrown back against the wall as his grip tightened around her wrists. A quietly strained groan left his throat, the first noise he’d made this whole time. 

[name] bit her tongue so as to not offer any other response that may satisfy, resorting to quietly struggling against him again. He, of course, did not budge one bit. The horror she felt before only increased when the head of his cock started to push into her. A strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He groaned quietly again, just letting his hips rest against hers for a moment. It didn’t last very long though, as he slowly started to roll his thrusts into her, face buried in her neck as she kept her head held high against the wall.

The thrusts started off fairly slow, but he really just— couldn’t get enough. Megumi hissed a quiet ‘fuck…’, pace increasing a great amount. She tried to hold back, but her back had already arched the tiniest bit, canines digging into her lip.

The brutality of how he fucked her just got worse and worse, and soon enough the whole dorm was full of both of their strained moans, skin slapping against skin, thumps against the wall. She couldn’t take it anymore, tears streaming down her face for a while now as she begged him to just stop, stop, stop—

But it doesn’t take a genius to see how he was far too deep in to tap out now. Megumi’s groans and soft whines echoed against the wall, and he couldn’t care less that Yuuji could easily hear them from the next room over. If anything, that was good — Maybe Yuuji’d take the hint after hearing her moan his name instead. 

[name]’s breath quickened, climax approaching, but the sick feeling of being taken advantage of like this, the dirtiness that came with an orgasm from such a sick person— She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to, she never wanted to. 

Pitch black hair bounced with each pronounced thrust, but his pace grew sloppy. [name]’s breath hitched at the slow realization. It felt like the world had come crumbling down in an instant, and her fear grew impossibly larger. 

“M-Megumi— Not in– Not inside, please—” She stammered, but it really only came out as a whine or whimper than a command. 

Like always, he didn’t offer a response. He just kept fucking into her at that same brutal pace, before his hips stuttered along with her pleas — And before she knew it, he was shooting ropes of white into her tight walls. 

Breathing heavily, Megumi’s hips stayed against hers again, just relishing in the heat pulsing between the two of them. After a few moments of panting and an intimacy she wanted to rip from her body, he let her thighs uncoil from around his waist.

The boy pulled out, juices running down both of their thighs as he tucked himself away. [name] slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own ripped up clothes, completely open and vulnerable to the man who had taken advantage of her. She tucked her knees into her chest, eyes blank and empty as she tried to catch her breath.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, light sweat catching onto his skin. He clicked his tongue gently, seeming to weigh his options before pulling her up into his arms. She flinched violently, and that only got another click of his tongue. He brought her into the washroom, running a warm bath and shutting the door for the sake of privacy. Ironic, isn’t it?

Which… leads to…

Right now. 

[name] ran a hand down her face, breaths significantly slower but still short. She was completely out of touch right now, eyes swirling with fatigue, blankness, and something akin to horror.

Standing up, she found it in herself to at least wash the parts she felt most dirty, but as she pulled on the spare clothes Megumi had given her, it didn’t make her feel any better. She took a heavy breath, giving it a once-over in the mirror. The oversized shirt hung low enough on her neck to expose all the marks and bruises littered all over the skin, and he hadn’t supplied her with a bra either. No matter what, she was exposed to him.

She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away for the sake of trying to figure out an action plan. If she can exit his dorm right now, get to one of the higher ups and report this, hell, even Yuuji— 

Yeah. She can do that. She rubbed her eyes, lashes damp with still fresh tears. She can do this. Her hand went to the door knob—

But the door swung open itself, Megumi stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He thought himself to be good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings under wraps at all times, he really did — And yet, as he pushed the terrified girl up against the sink, teeth sinking into her neck once more, he knew it was bullshit.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure as hell burned in one.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

#jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #dark writing #tw noncon #tw yandere #dark content #yandere megumi fushiguro #yandere megumi #yandere jjk #yandere smut #yandere noncon #tw gore #yandere megumi fushiguro x reader #yandere x reader smut #yandere x fem reader #tw s/a #yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #very dark content #pls send requests #ok bye

[dogtoling]

probably an unpopular opinion but i still think Splatoon 1 has the best graphics style in the series

the graphics were so much moodier and darker, shadows were really prominent giving it a much more gritty and realistic feel

The far-off environmental elements had a nice blur that gives them a bit of a dreamlike quality IMO.

I know the top picture is a sunset level, but; seriously is it just me? Why is everything in Splatoon 2 SO CRISP AND BRIGHT AND NEON? I talked about (probably 2 years ago at this point) how Splatoon 2 feels like it's an evolution and commercialization of Turf Wars into a product and a brand rather than how in Splatoon 1 they had a much more backstreet, discreet, shady feeling. And I feel like the graphics carry that over weirdly enough.

But most importantly, the ink and the Inklings themselves; ever since Splatoon 2 came out and people started going "omg the ink looks so good now!" i. literally never agreed with that. even with Splatoon 3 i STILL THINK the ink looks the best in Splatoon 1. In Splatoon 2 and 3, they have really been leaning into making the ink extremely neon and super saturated, and I don't think it looks great. I can't really even pinpoint the difference here (especially not with the Inklings themselves, but).

(Splatoon 1 above, Splatoon 2 under)

The Inklings in humanoid form don't stray away from having dull or dark colored tentacles in different lighting conditions, and even the ink itself is nowhere near as saturated as it is, leaning more into quieter or pastel tones. Again, it makes it look nice paired with the darker graphics of the game, and somehow it feels really at home and pretty natural? The difference in the model of the Inkling itself is also a mystery of me, it might be a case of less shading or less specular making it look flatter and that's more pleasing to the eye than how shiny they are nowadays, ESPECIALLY in Splatoon 2. The ink is notably flatter than it is in newer games, and if it wasn't obvious I definitely think it still just, looks the best? Don't ask me how. (The squids also look amazing. Like gummy.)

just thought about putting that out there. Anyone else's thoughts on the games' graphics?

#rambles #i definitely think splatoon 3 has nicer graphics compared to 2 because i didnt like how glossy and shiny everything was in 2 AT ALL #but splatoon 3 also has extremely flat shading and that still puts it below S1 in my books #i think splatoon works REALLY WELL with duller darker graphics paired with colorful but not over the top ink

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Trey, Leona: The Cat's Meow

Ooooh, I see the vision now... Maybe?? It looks like each member of the same dorm might have a similar default image in the bottom frame of their initial art? Both Ace and Trey have the Queen of Hearts… I guess we’ll have to wait until Cater’s birthday to see if the pattern keeps up?

nfdbwjccwbxgak How fitting to see Trey posed alongside a painting of the Cheshire Cat considering who he’s childhood friends with… and also that Trey’s VA also goices Lucius www (Side note: they fr always gotta have Trey claim he’s “normal” right before he pulls the sussy face which is most certainly NOT normal 😭)

A Tale as Old as Time.

A rotund feline stood on hind legs in a platinum frame, one paw curled under its round chin and resting on its fluffy tail, the other flicked out in a devil-may-care gesture. Purple, pink, purple, pink—its fur was striped in a repeating pattern. Eyes raised upward, the cat looked inquisitive among the gnarled trees, as if posing a riddle to the viewer. Why is a raven like a writing desk?, perhaps.

Huh, I wonder what he's wondering about. Trey rested his chin in one hand as he pondered the painting—and the question.

The longer he gazed at the cat, the more familiar its silly smile seemed to be. How difficult he was to read. A thought crept up on him, one lazy stride at a time.

"... Reminds me of a certain guy," he muttered.

"I hope you’re not talking about me," came a sarcastic drawl from beside him. It, too, was cat-like in its own right, a different flavor of feline: more languid than whimsical. “Because I won’t be laughing like a hyena at jokes made in poor taste.”

"Leona." Trey immediately made to step back, making space for the dorm leader. Leona's immense presence practically demanded it. "No, of course not. I was thinking about a childhood friend.“

“Hmph. You’ve got a childhood friend like this?” He made a face at the Cheshire Cat. A frown to challenge its foolhardy grin. “… Now I almost feel sorry for you, having to put up with a guy like that.”

“Oh, Chenya’s not that bad,” Trey said dismissively. “He’s a troublemaker, sure—but he’s got a good heart beneath all of that, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. The worst is gets up to is playing a trick or two and stealing snacks.”

“What an exciting life,” Leona snorted, clearly not convinced. “He sounds like a real rascal for his age.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes it feels like he never really grew up from the times him, Riddle, and I were rolling around in clover fields and stuffing our faces with cake. Still, he’s our friend—even if we’re far apart for schooling.”

“It was already hard enough to believe you’d be friends with him, but Riddle too?” A smirk rose on Leona’s lips. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

There was a chuckle from Trey. “Ahahah… Does it surprise you? We all come from the same hometown. The community there’s very welcoming. I guess that’s why we ended up reaching out to Riddle one day and… I’m sure you know how the rest of that story goes.”

He didn’t—and nor did he care to know, so he said nothing. Instead, Leona inclined his head. In the dimness of the museum, his eyes glinted a bright green.

He gave a command.

“… Oi, herbivore. Tell me more about this hometown of yours. Tell me what it’s like.”

Trey blinked, slightly flabbergasted at what he was hearing. Leona stared at him expectantly. He clicked his tongue.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.“

Huh, I didn’t think of Leona as the curious type. If that’s what he wants though, who am I to deny it?

“Okay. so…”

Trey returned a hand to his chin. His words, he considered. How to best arrange them to paint the most flattering photo?

Green, so much green. A scattering of red dotting the landscape. Saturation, cheer. Something warm and fuzzy whenever he imagined those scenes—like the sun upon his face.

“Imagine a place bursting with flowers. Every color, every shape, every smell. Some remind you of cotton candy that rots your teeth, others of old shoes and skunk."

Leona's sensitive nose wrinkled at the suggestion. "Real poetic there."

Trey continued. "Everyone knows each other not because the community is small--I'd say it's a decent size?--but because people see each other and talk. They ask how you are, how your family and business are doing. They come over with a platter of cookies to welcome new neighbors, ask if your kids want to come over and play with theirs."

Fond memories played out in his head: the time he had eaten a whole bottle of mustard to prove a point, messing up his signature spell and imparting a loaf of bread with a bad flavor, his first cake at four years old. Everyone had told him he had such talent for baking--but looking back on it, hadn't his "cake" been a lumpy, gooey mess?

"You could screw up pretty badly and they'd still pat you on the head and tell you it's fine, it's just an honest mistake or what a good job you did. My parents are like that too. It must come with the territory."

Leona listened and nodded to every piece of information Trey presented. He appeared bemused as he watched the vice dorm leader, a fleck of sunlight caught in his emerald eyes. Like that of a silent predator stalking innocent prey.

“How picturesque. No wonder you’re so well-adjusted and normal,” Leona purred, his gaze half-lidded. “It must be the power of true love at work.”

“You could say that. The community I grew up in was very loving and supportive. I’m thankful for that.” Trey smirked so briefly that onlookers could have easily missed it. "... It lets me get away with a whole lot more."

"You don't strike me as the kind of guy to act out."

"Not often," Trey corrected. "Only little acts when it's deserved."

"You and your bleeding heart." Leona's scoff gave way to an eerie quiet. From it came a soft, contemplative sigh. "... Must be nice, being able to afford to live so contentedly."

"Ah, you probably didn't have that kind of luxury," Trey recognized. "The life of a prince is different from us common folk."

"There’s pressure to perform and social politics to navigate. Complicated webs that span several circles, grace and relations to uphold, airs to wear. Aaaah, it’s such a drag," the lion beastman groaned.

"Yeah, I can imagine that." Trey smiled sympathetically. "But even though we come from very different places, I'm sure that you also had loving and supportive people in your life, Leona. Everyone does."

"Hah. Are you listening to yourself? You sound as mad as him." Leona jabbed at thumb at the Cheshire Cat. "It's the first-born prince--the one destined to be king--that they all adore."

“… That’s not completely true, is it?” Trey adjusted his glasses. A stray beam of light reflected off the face of them, casting the glass in pure white for a fraction of a second.

The reason Leona was asking about my hometown... It must be genuine curiosity. He's never known something like it. But the fact that he asked must mean he wants to learn, right?

The prince's eyes were angry, suspicious slivers now. "What are you suggesting?"

“I heard from Ace and Deuce that you have a cute little nephew that adores you. A lot of the Savanaclaw underclassman as well. And from Lilia—there’s a grand chamberlain you used to be close with as a kid. Playing chess and getting you out of trouble. Your brother too, he must care for..."

Leona bared his teeth, raised his voice. "Don't act like you know--"

Me. What I've been through, what I've suffered.

"Whoa, whoa!" Trey held up both hands. "Sorry. I said too much. I shouldn't have let my own curiosity get the better of me."

A growl--colored with residual anger--emanated from Leona's throat. "If you understand that, then don't stick your hand into a lion's den a second time."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Trey pulled back, the fingers of one hand curling into a loose first. The other hand found its way to perching at his waist as he leaned his body forward. He attempted an apologetic confession--but instead produced something slightly sinister.

"What are you doing now?"

"Cat to cat communication," Trey said, deadly serious. "You know, like 'nyah'!"

A pause.

"... Is that good enough of an apology?" Trey inquired.

"Don't screw with me," Leona muttered, batting away at his peer's poised "paw". "In the first place, your posture's all wrong. Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Looks like I failed to lighten the mood."

"You're really terrible at it," Leona grumbled under his breath. "You sure that childhood friend of yours is the troublemaker of the group? Cuz to me, I see another troublemaker in the trio."

"I'm a normal high school boy. You even said it yourself."

"And which one of us started meowing at the other out of the blue?" Leona expertly countered.

Trey stifled his voice, which had started to work its way up into an awkward laugh. "Pfft, alright. Point taken."

"Here I was, thinking you were 'normal'," Leona simpered. "The red young master sure has a way with picking the company he keeps. You're all odd to balance out his rationale."

"That's the role a card soldier plays for his queen. Friend, baker, cat, trump card--I'm here to be them all."

#twst imagines #Trey Clover #Leona Kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #Trey birthday takeover #spoilers #something no one asked for #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #this time I basically only referenced the Groovy painting #I didn't find anything super interesting to incorporate from the other paintings mentioned in the vignettes rip #Cheshire Cat

[eijirousbestie]

“I want you.”

requested pt 2 of “I’m done talkin”

________________________________________

Talking wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it straight up drains the life out of a person. And you could understand that. You could understand him. Could understand that when life gets to be too much, he’d need the time away to sort things out.

It was only a matter of time before he felt comfortable enough to even be in the same room after what had happened. So he makes his way to the one place he can think.

The rooftop is wide and about ten stories up. The perfect view to overlook the city. The perfect view to think. The area is littered with thriving plant life and budding flowers alike. The rooftop garden is home to the Botany Club at the university but also open to the community.

He’s not crazy about flowers but he doesn’t necessarily hate them either. After all, this is the only place on campus where he could get some much needed peace and quiet. The library was suffocating, the dining hall was a mess and the dorms were a definite no.

You were there. It was Monday. You always got back to the dorms early on Mondays. So he made sure to be gone before you came back. It confuses him really, why he’s so avoidant with you. It’s not like he holds any resentment towards you, there’s just so much going on.

He passes a few of the hydrangea tables with slow steps. His fingers glide on each tabletop he passes, making sure not to bump a flower pot with his fingers. Tiger lilies, chrysanthemums, zinnias and asters rest at each of their designated tables. Some fresh greens hang from thin rope in reach of the four corners of the roof’s open walls.

The billowy wafts of the flora ease his nerves like a superpower. He stops in front of a pot smaller than the rest. The tag resting just before the plant reads “Canna Lily.” The petals a highly saturated red. They almost look fake they’re so bright.

He gets lost in his thoughts, staring idly at the flora. His hands ball up into fists at his sides. Why is thinking about you so hard? Things between you both were always so easy. At least that’s what he’d like to think. He knows he shouldn’t have blown up at you the way he did. There was no rhyme or reason for it. And it feels like such a shit excuse to say he did it because he was “under pressure.”

His fists tighten the more he thinks about everything. Why he’s stressed in the first place has nothing to do with you. He shouldn’t have let his own emotions drag you into it. The last bit of sun peaks through faded clouds that resemble stretched cotton. Soft pinks and oranges tone the sky as the large star begins its slow descent to night.

He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The issue lies within himself and he knows that. He knows he should be man enough to own his mistakes and rectify all that he’s broken. He turns his head, no longer looking at the small flower, but over his shoulder at the person who had just stepped onto the rooftop.

Pausing at the door, you look at the figure in front of you. The man you hadn’t seen in nearly three weeks. The feeling is sudden and visceral as your heart feels as if it’s dropped into your stomach.

His eyes are hardened and yet so, so sorrowful. Like he’s trying to mask as much as he can. Without a single word, he tears his gaze from you and walks to the edge of the rooftop, propping and crossing his arms on the railing. His left foot crosses his right at the ankle as he puts his weight on the cement railing, gazing out at the view of the city.

The perfect view to think.

The perfect view to talk.

He doesn’t have to look to know you’ve followed close behind, position the same as his but you’ve put yourself at a wider distance. He can see the intentional space between you both in his peripheral. A displeased grunt rumbles from deep within his chest.

“Why’re you so damn far.” It’s more of a statement than a question. He clasps his hands together, still resting on the railing, hanging loosely from the wrist onto the other side.

“Wanna give you space.”

Your voice burns in his ears. A sound he’s missed although he’ll never admit it. Soft and yet so unsure. As if you’re not even convinced the words you say are the words you mean. He’d waited so long to hear from you. But not like this. Not with this dejected tone.

He swallows the budding lump in his throat and takes a deep breath before exhaling. If there’s anything he’s taken from his time with you, it’s the newfound habit of self-soothing. Calming his nerves so he can express himself properly. He hadn’t done it before and that’s what got him in this mess. So he’s sure as hell gonna do it now.

“I don’t want space.” He clenches his jaw tightly, a vein just under his jaw twitching with strain.

“Then what do you want?” What does he want?

“I want you.” A beat passes. “Us,” he corrects. He props his elbows up and cups his face in his hands and slowly slides them down over his eyes, nose, and lips before they’re gripping onto the railing for dear life. “The shit I said before—shit—I shouldn’t’ve took it out on ya. Had nothin’ to do with you and shoulda stayed that way.”

He clears his throat as he’s met with your silence. It only fuels him to express more. “I wasn’t lying to you though. About not being good at expressin’ my emotions and shit. M’ not good at it… but I’m tryin’. And I think as long as I’ve got you in my corner I’ll keep tryin’. So,” he takes another deep breath, “I guess what I’m sayin’ is… m’sorry.”

A long, lingering silence envelopes the two of you with an unmistakable chill. He finds the will to turn his head to look at you only to find that you’re already looking at him with a gaze so intense it leaves him confused. Are you mad? Upset? Both?

Well, that is until he sees a stray tear slip from the corner of your eye. His eyes zero in on it and he feels something in his resolve break. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry (if you can call one tear crying). He’s seen you pissed, agitated and annoyed but never this.

You wipe the rogue tear away and look back at the fading sky as night begins to fall.

“I miss us too Katsuki.”

________________________________________

fin.

#they made up #idk why I added flowers lol #bakugou katsuki #mha headcanons #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexTav Enemies to Lovers Part 22

Thank you all for being patient! I think moving forward with this long fic I will be doing Gale's POV with mere sprinklings of Tav. I am finding more of a flow with Gale's voice. My friends are here for the weekend and I was able to write this out during some between time so another shortie! I will be at a sports event all day and editing this because it's a rough draft (I am not a big sports girlie) and I may get some time to write that *ahem* piece about Gale in Lorroakan's chair.

Summary: Gale and Tav were rivals at Blackstaff, thrown together by circumstance to defeat the absolute. Tensions continue to rise, and we wonder - will Gale be able to share his shame and desire with her? Or will he succumb to his own folly once more?

Read on Ao3 | Master List | Part 21

Gale was overwhelmed, exhausted, and the rush of emotion all consuming. He was so unprepared for the torrent of feeling that would sweep through him with the orb compelled to silence, and forgot how to navigate the juxtaposition of emotions. He felt certifiably mad, unable to regulate between his mortal, carnal, and emotional hunger as if he was spread too thin. His thoughts were muddled and incoherent as emotion intoxicated him.

On top of it all, he was peckish, the rations in the Shadowedlands far worse than any part of their journey to date and made him irrationally infuriated. How was he supposed to nourish anyone on such vile scraps. Despite their frequent looting to Gale’s dismay, they were hardly able to scrounge up enough gold and supplies to be even remotely adequate. 

And, since the primary culinary duties fell to him, he felt largely responsible for their survival. He rifled through the half eaten apples, stale bread, and rotten fish and groaned. He contemplated, a hand on his waist the other rubbing his chin. 

“What am I supposed to do with this… barely anything to create a pitiful excuse for a meal..” he picked up rotten fish bones repulsed, holding it as if it were cursed.

Tav came stumbling into his tent, three packs on each arm, the straps digging into her skin and streaking it red and blue. He exhaled, his core hot with desire as he watched her drop the bags dramatically then flop onto the floor cushion beside him. 

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” She said, dropping her arms over her head and gazing at him with batting lashes, breathing heavily. His stomach churned and he swallowed as he saw her tilt her head back, exposing the hollow of her neck. Tav’s body strung in such a way it seemed it was begging to be worshiped, to be lavished with sensual pleasures of flesh and mind. 

He cleared his throat, “And exactly what am I thanking you for? You impeded on a rather stressful meal preparation I’ll have you know…” his brow raised with suspicion and he leaned towards her and the bags that surrounded her on the ground. 

“For being exceptionally charming.” She flashed a wicked grin that made him want to kiss her to wipe the smugness from her face. To make her feel a fraction of the sinful consumption he felt for her, to make her beg for it. He brushed his lips, the thoughts of her distracting him atom formulating coherent thought. She sighed and smiled playfully, gesturing to the tattered packs. “Behold! Feast your eyes on the bountiful gifts I bestow upon you to use, at your discretion. Not to spoil the surprise, but…” she twisted a piece of her hair before pulling it behind her head, holding it up. “it is a far cry from half-eaten apples and moldy bread.” 

He felt his lips twitch. “Oh?” He said coyly, kneeling and brushing against her as he lowered himself to search the bags. They were full of vegetables, fruits, fresh bread and meat. Gales eyes widened with surprise and he felt the sweeping need and adoration saturate him, the sensation so overpowering he felt his body shudder and buckle as if he were prepared to weep. Then? Anger. Embarrassment. The tender emotions subtly laced with the shame he was not able to provide for her. Still, he was overtaken by her cleverness and resourcefulness. Gale was mystified, the heat creeping down his spine and pooling at his core deeply unholy. Had he ever felt this way about Mystra? “By Mystra’s grace… how did you…” 

“Well,” she said, gazing down at her nails before she flicked her gaze to him flirtatiously. He felt his lips purse and his palms were slick. “Lucky for you, I have exceptional people skills.  I convinced that generous trader to let a few things off her hands.” 

“And the cost?” He looked up from fingering bulbs of garlic and fresh, juicy tomatoes skeptically. Surely, she wouldn’t have wasted all of their gold on this. They’d managed on scraps thus far… oh. This was a grave mistake and the alarms reverberated in his mind but he was past the ability to care. There was only need. 

Tav’s cheeky grin spread and she licked her lips in such a way that he felt the primal urges untangle, the fire in his core licking desperately. “Free.” She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands and winked. As she did this, her hair fell into face and he reached up to brush it away from her eyes. 

He felt the steady, intense thrum of his heart and before he was able to overthink and stop himself he cupped her face, tilting her chin to him with his fingers. “You have never been more attractive to me.” 

For a moment, he was filled with dreaded panic as he watched her face fall. He worried he had said too much, been too forward, but when he watched the crimson spread like fire across her cheeks and watched her lips part, he felt himself swell. 

The electrons and neurons fired chaotically, his skin aflame and it felt as if they were connected by the Weave itself and yet it was merely their skin. Gale’s hand against her delicate, supple skin. So close to tasting her. He felt himself begin to twitch to life, the throbbing distracting.

They gazed at one another like this, time itself suspended in amber, he took in every aspect of her, her smell, the curve of her cheeks, the tingling shock that exchanged between their skin.

And then she said something that would irrevocably alter the course of Gale’s journey: 

“So…” she murmured, leaning into his touch and tilting her head. “Are you going to finally kiss me or are you just going to sit there and think about it?” 

His mouth hung agape and he drowned in feral intoxication. Was she serious? It felt like his brain stopped functioning, not a thought formulating in the swell of desire. He searched her large, dark eyes to see if she was genuine, to see if she felt the same hunger festering within her core. Could she really want him? After all this time? He thought of the years he spent ruminating on her, how he should have done so much differently... It almost felt like a second chance. He felt the tugging at the edges of his mind to tell her, that she needed to know what he had done before he allowed them to take this plunge. 

But the appetites of man were too great to suppress, more than formidable after a year of being ignored. His body was ravenous and aching to be touched. A slow, wolffish grin spread across his face before he murmured, “I need no further encouragement,” and despite knowing he had so much he needed to tell her, he worried the moment would slip away quicker than a dream if he didn’t act now. 

When he leaned to her, he barely allowed his lips to brush against hers and the sensation nearly overtook him and felt the stiffness between his thighs. He was ready to erupt right then, the right nudge from her would send him tumbling off the cliff of pleasure. He felt the blood rush through his body, dizzying him, making his every region flair to life. Her soft whimper encouraged him and he brought her face to his, holding her face as if she were an illusion.

The kiss was tender at first, testing. He could nearly taste her impatience as the current swept through both of them, the heat of their breath mingling and she shyly pressed her tongue against his lip. The sensation was too much. He groaned, moving his hand to the back of her head greedily to pull her tighter to him and pushed her mouth open with his tongue. Her body responded eagerly and she rested back, pulling him over her and he grunted, she tasted like honey, lavender. Sweet and delicious. Better than anything he could have envisioned. She tasted like redemption, love, forgiveness - everything he desperately sought. 

He was wild, unhinged as his leg hooked over hers, the clothes separating them feeling like a curse. He felt the warmth between her legs as his knee dug in between them and he felt her move desperately against him, seeking friction. His lips worked their way across her jaw, her neck, when the flap of his tent flung open and he stood so fast he tweaked his leg and grunted. “Oh for the love of gods,” he hissed, turning to hide his visible excitement. Tav scrambled to sit up and tucked her hair down. 

Wyll stood in the threshold, a grin plastered on his face. “By Bauldran’s helm, I didn’t realize what I’d be walking into. Far be it from me to interrupt..” Wyll snickered, and Gale smoothed back his hair and turned to face him, looking to Tav who still looked disheveled and devastatingly beautiful. She seemed frozen, his body arched and was desperate for more. “I was asked to see what’s on the menu…” 

Gale huffed, crossing his arms. “Well, you can inform everyone that thanks to Tav,” he shot her a glance and saw her rapt attention, how her skin and eyes glowed with desire, and he realized she was so enraptured by him. Confidence swelled through him. He wanted to please her, to bring her to the brink of bliss and pleasure only to pull it back and deny her the satisfaction. As she rested against the pillow, his find filled with  lustful images of her naked body, sprawled out and mewling for release as he licked every inch of her, tasted the warm, sweet bud between her thighs. 

“I can inform everyone thanks to Tav…?” Wyll interrupted his thoughts and Gale shifted, the again half formed arousal uncomfortably tight against his robes. 

“Ah, right that, erm… dinner may take a while as I had yet to begin any sort of preparation due to lack of resources,” Gale and Tav held one another’s gaze as he spoke the next words, the dual intention thick and guttural. “She was able to secure a most abundant selection of produce for a proper meal. We owe her a world of gratitude and I assure you, the wait will be most satisfying.”

#gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale #gale x tav #bg3 brainrot #bg3 gale fan fiction #gale fanart #gale fanfic #gale smut #bg3 enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers gale x tav #gale x tav enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #gale angst #gale x tav fic #gale fanfiction #gale bg3

[nyamadermont]

This Isn't Going to Work

Angstpril 2024: Day 6 (1368 words)

“Lin, this isn’t going to work. I only have a couple of days in the city and I can’t predict when the baby will come. If you can’t take a day or two off to spend with me, I’ll just stay on the Island and not interrupt your schedule.”

“But Kya, I want to see you. It’s been months, and I miss you. We’ve been planning this raid for six months. I would risk my officers’ lives if I just took vacation time right now. Never mind what the council would say.”

“Oh, don’t bring my brother into this, Lin,” Kya groused.

Lin scoffed. “Your brother would be mad at me, but more for making you unavailable. He’s been on my back for three years to take a vacation.”

“Tenzin and I agree on something other than the fact he’s lucky Pema puts up with him.”

Lin froze.

Through a clenched jaw, she managed to respond. “No, I’m sorry, Kya. You’re right. This visit isn’t going to work out.”

click

***

Lin frowned at the timetables and weather charts spread out over Katara’s dining table. She was nearly in tears as she said, “Kya, this isn’t going to work. I have been gone for two weeks already. I’ve got to get Saikahn back to his usual duties. This election is in two months, and I have security to work out across the city.” She dropped her face in her hands. “I want to stay.”

Kya reached over and pulled one hand away and gave it a kiss.

“Lin, dear, you hate it here.”

Lin scoffed.

“I don’t hate you,” she muttered so softly Kya nearly missed it.

Kya kissed Lin’s hand again before settling her cheek into Lin’s palm.

“I don’t hate you, too.”

Their eyes met and they laughed.

Kya sighed.

“Well, if this isn’t going to work, you’d best pack. You know what Tenzin is like when he’s decided a problem is not going to fix itself. I’m sure he is going to have Korra on a meditation regime like none we’ve ever seen before.”

There was no laughter over the fate of two benders going home without their bending.

The door nearly broke from its hinges as Mako came bursting into the room. “Chief! Korra’s back! Everything is going to work out!”

***

“This isn’t going to work. We should just go home,” Lin growled, her stomach churning. Her feet were encased in soggy leather rather than her standard uniform boots. Everywhere, the riotous green growth was oppressive in its pervasiveness. They could only see so far ahead before yet another tree turned them aside from their best guess of a path.

The earth under her feet was saturated, and the water blurred her seismic sense. Kya, meanwhile, seemed almost to tiptoe through the reeds and rushes.

Lin paused a moment to admire the one spark of beauty in this spirits-forsaken swamp.

Except, of course, the spirits had not forsaken this awful place. They had both had visions the night before, and Lin was embarrassed by what Kya had heard.

“Lin, I have a good feeling. I bet Toph is just past that tree over there. Trust me.”

The cackling laugh seemed to come from everywhere but above them.

“Trust? Kya, you should know better than that. Lin won’t trust her own two feet.”

The tiny, wizened form of Lin’s mother emerged from behind the very tree Kya had indicated. 

“Hey, Chief.”

Lin shook her head and sighed. “Hey, Chief.” 

A few minutes’ worth of backtracking brought them to Toph’s small abode. She negligently raised two stools for sitting, then returned to her own reclining seat.

Kya’s stomach gurgled, so she started opening their pack. “Toph, we brought some food with us. We thought you might like something other than wet mushrooms. We just need a little larger fire to cook everything.”

“That isn’t going to work. The swamp and I have an arrangement, and that fire doesn’t get any bigger. It’s either good enough, or it’s not.”

***

Kya was perplexed by the instructions in the note in her hand. Lin told her to arrive at a very specific hour at the delivery entrance to the Republic City History Museum, and to wait for her.

After a short wait, she began to regret dismissing the cab, because she didn’t see anywhere to sit and wait for her wife. The shadows were shifting, and Kya had other things she wanted to do other than watch the birds flit about the alleyway.

Just as she was about to give up and leave, a police van pulled up and parked next to the dock. Lin exited the passenger side, bent over to speak to the driver, then walked to the cargo doors at the back. Her hand was hidden by the open doors, until she backed up and a large crate floated out and settled on the ground behind the vehicle. Kya presumed there was something metal inside that she was bending.

Lin closed the doors to the van and tapped the back twice. The officer put the sato into gear and drove away. 

Lin bent the crate up onto the dock, then walked over to where Kya was waiting with an arched eyebrow and crossed arms.

“You were very specific, Lin. Why have I been waiting here so long?”

Lin had the decency to look slightly abashed. “The people we are here to meet got caught in traffic and couldn’t let us in on time. I’m sorry.”

With a wave, Kya dismissed the concerns, and leaned over to give Lin a kiss.

Kya was fascinated to get to see the back offices and storage areas of the museum. Even as the child of dignitaries, she had never gotten to see the parts of the museum where all the work was done. It seemed to be a busy place, even on a day when they were closed to the public.

She waited in the chair she was led to while Lin managed the crate under the direction of one of the curators. She rummaged through her bag for a book until she remembered having finished her last one from her last trip to the library. A glance around the room found very little to distract her, so she settled on the floor to meditate.

“Kya, dear. We’re ready.”

Kya was prepared with her side-eye for Lin, who somehow did not seem surprised. Or put off in the slightest.

She was almost smug.

Kya frowned, but got up from the floor to follow Lin.

They emerged from the employee areas into the main visitor gallery. Hand in hand, they walked through an open doorway with the phrase “The Story of Our City” marked out in a cheerful red overhead.

It had been years since the last time Kya had brought the niblings, so she could see a few places where things had been updated and rearranged. Lin took a turn Kya didn’t recognize, only to be confronted with a larger-than-life statue of Toph. Which thankfully was not the size of the statue at headquarters.

Lin guided her through a small hall dedicated to the police force from its establishment under the original council through the rise of the triads, the terror of Yakone, the two chiefs after Toph, to Lin’s own promotion to the top job. There was a memorial wall for those killed in the line of duty, whether in what Lin called the ‘quiet years’ or specific historic moments like the Equalist Uprising.

“Kya, darling. Close your eyes, please.”

Kya looked at Lin first, but slowly and deliberately closed her eyes, and wrapped her arm around Lin’s elbow. It was only about another twenty steps before Lin asked her to stop and turn around. She heard a click that sounded like a storage case closing.

“Open your eyes.”

Behind a glass case, a dressmaker’s form supported one of Lin’s uniforms. The plaque overhead read, “Chief Lin Beifong served Republic City for forty years before retiring in the twenty-fourth year of the Korra Era.”

Kya blinked. “Retired?” She looked at Lin in confusion.

“Retired." Lin pointed at the uniform. "This isn’t going to work.”

She smiled at Kya.

“Ever again.”

#angstpril2024 #angstpril 2024 #avatar the legend of korra #legend of korra #fanfiction #day6 #this isn't going to work #kyalin #lin beifong #kya ii #nyama's shorter stories

[cafeinthemoon]

Ruins - Part XVIII

Chapter 18/?

Wordcount 2,3k

Title Part XVIII

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 . 16 . 17

Symbols ⭕ . ➕. 💛

Warnings: none

Tagging @holdyourwine @lilacshouko @shirayuki-ayumi (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So... its been a while lol First, let me tell you that this time I've spent without posting on social media was important, because I was really tired. I was stressed from work, I started college and was worried about all of this, so I barely had the time or the energy to sit in front of the notebook and write something, or even edit my drafts. I was feeling saturated from it, and sensed that if I continued to do it, the results, that is, the next chapters of my ffs, would be trash. I hope you understand this time.

This chapter is like a transition, and that's why it's short compared to others. The next one we will finally have the process of marriage and the rest, which I've been wanting to work on for too long! Now I'm really excited for that! So have this brief update and I see you in the next one :)

You didn’t wait until they approached your spot, neither you said anything to express your surprise: once you laid your eyes on them, you let go of Hades’ hand and, without waiting to see if he was going to follow you, you started running toward the group. There was no mistake: there you had your parents, your sisters and your niece, all of them marveled by the vision of the Gardens and cheered up by the fact that you were the first person they met once they crossed the Gates.

Your happiness deepened when you reached them at last: they were all well dressed and had refreshed expressions, indicating that, as much as your own travel to those lands, theirs was far from tiring despite the distance between Valhalla and Midgard.

As a little child who were left in a neighbor’s house for an entire day, once you saw your mother, you passed straight by a surprised Hermes and threw yourself in her arms. All the thoughts, anxieties and expectations you carried that morning came back at once, and you just started to cry.

– Mom – you mumbled – Is that really you, mom?

Though she responded to your gesture with equal emotion, even she was surprised with all those tears.

– My baby! – she laughed – You’ve missed us this much?

– You have no idea – you whispered back, now looking into her eyes.

Your father, who was watching everything with diversion, approached you two, and you opened your arms to hug him too.

– Y/n-chan, is it just me or are you a bit taller since the last time we’ve saw you? – he joked, putting his hand upon your head – What have they been feeding you?

You laughed until you were breathless: not only you’ve long passed the period of growth, but you were also the shortest among your sisters for most of your lives, and that has been a matter of interest for your father since you were, in fact, little. You used to get angry with this in the beginning, but later you’ve learned to send the provocation back to him, just like you did that time.

– Well, maybe you’ve became shorter, dad. It’s just a matter of perspective!

Everyone laughed, and you finally turned to your sisters.

Luna, who, just like you, shared physical resemblance with your mother, was dressed in blue and had her hair tied in a single, long braid; Helena, who was more like your father, had a pair of big eyes glowing with all the things she was seeing, and a curly hair left untied, spreading around her shoulders, where she had a rosy shawl to protect her against the evening’s breeze. Though she was way younger than you, she has passed you in height, and everything indicated that she would keep growing.

Luna was the one holding Ellie, your niece, and the baby let out a sequence of little screams when you arrived, eager to get your attention. She started laughing when you took her in your arms and the girls came to hug you.

– How are you doing, girls? – you asked between the hugs – You’ve never looked so beautiful!

– The same could be said about you – it was Helena’s calm response.

You laughed.

– They have really good cosmetics around here!

– I’m willing to try them, then! – Luna commented, enthusiastic.

Still holding the baby, you finally turned to Hermes.

– Thank you so much for bringing them here, Hermes-sama. It’s the best gift you’ve ever gave to me.

The gods’ messenger, always in his composed manners, nodded.

– I was just doing my job, y/n-san.

Ellie was the first to see when Hades approached, pointing at him with a curious expression. You turned and immediately felt the heat coming up to your cheeks: you’ve got so excited when you saw your relatives that you just left him behind, and only then you realized that this wasn’t the most appropriate thing to do, for despite being his bride and having built a strong, intimate bond with him, you were still human and he was a god, and that could be seen as offensive for anyone who would hear of this.

With this in mind, you stepped ahead and were going to apologize for your behavior, but you had no chance, for you were no longer the focus of the group: while Luna and Helena stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your parents, immediately understanding they had another divine being before them, bowed their heads in respect.

You soon took the responsibility of doing the presentations.

– So… This is Hades-sama, from Greece – you spoke in a low, shy manner – He’s the King of the Underworld and, as Hermes-sama might have informed you, my future husband.

Hades, now by your side, smiled with sympathy.

– It’s a beautiful family you have, y/n – and, approaching your parents and putting one hand on each one’s shoulders, – You are the family of my future wife. You bow to no one.

Their faces brightened up at those words, said in a soft, comforting tone, and you felt a sort of pride with the scene: if there was any chance of your family not accepting your relationship or not trusting him – after all, that marriage meant taking you away from them and to Hellheim – it disappeared the moment they were treated with genuine respect. You mother, in particular, was satisfied with what she was seeing, which you noticed in the clear message you’ve caught in her eyes: being the responsible for three girls who would soon start their own lives out of her guardianship, it was only natural that the kind of people with whom they’d chose to live was among her biggest worries, and, whatever she was expecting in this sense, to see one of her girls becoming a god’s wife was beyond her imagination; but, if you were happy with this, she wouldn’t ask for more.

Hades greeted your sisters with manners that reminded you of the old gentlemen you used to see in important events at your city, nodding and making brief comments about their beauty. You and the girls always made fun of this, because the old – and, many times, uninteresting – men were the only ones who would behave like this, but having that polite, handsome man making use of those manners without the affectation typical of those other ones convinced them of the honesty of his words, and that left them ecstatic.

Finally, he turned to you and to your niece, who has been observing him with attentive eyes since he arrived and had no problems in being picked up by him, laughing and stretching her little arms to the stranger who received those gestures with diversion.

– And this is my niece, Ellie – you introduced the baby while passing her to his hands; and, with a playful smile, – I guess she likes you!

– Me or my earring? – he asked in return, laughing as he tried to keep the girl’s hand away from his ear; and, to her, – Your curiosity surpasses my expectations, little one!

Though Ellie clearly didn’t understand what curiosity or expectations meant, she seemed to enjoy being held by Hades more than by yourself, because, after playing with her for a moment, she refused to return to you when you tried to pick her back, provoking everyone’s laughter.

And, as expected, your mother was the first to verbalize her opinion on this.

– You have a way with small children, my Lord! That’s surprising, to say the least!

Hades turned to her with a sort of prideful, nostalgic smile.

– I am the eldest of four brothers – he let Ellie hold his index finger – I still remember when each of them were just like Ellie-chan.

Hermes, who was observing everything in silence, was the first to reply that time.

– Let’s pray that this conversation never reaches Poseidon-sama’s ears, uncle.

– I agree with you, Hermes-sama – you, the only human there who met Poseidon, completed with a clever smile.

***

Hermes led your family to rooms on the wing of the apprentices on the human lodge, so that you would stay close to them for the entire period of their stay. It was established that, while your parents would have one room for themselves, your sisters and the baby would stay in a contiguous one, both located on the floor under your own room; to access them, you’d only need to walk down the stairs and cross a corridor for a few meters.

Just like the apprentices, they were all allowed to visit the Gardens and take their meals at the common room, and they enjoyed each opportunity in that sense. Well, actually, your parents decided to turn their stay at the blessed lands into a second honeymoon, something that was first pointed out by Helena and confirmed by you and Luna when you saw them walking with their hands entwined in the Gardens in the next morning of their arrival; your sisters, on their turn, had no difficulties in making friends with the other girls, particularly with Heracles’ disciples, so that later he came to express his contentment in knowing this, stating that you were lucky to have such excellent siblings.

***

Those days spent in the company of your beloved ones were the happiest since your arrival at the divine lands: having your relatives and the man you loved in the same place, and seeing them getting along, was more than your could ask for, even when you knew it wouldn’t last forever.

About this, you already have established your opinion, which was discussed later.

You were taking care of your flowers at the Green House. Your garden, by the way, was growing larger, and that only added to your contentment.

That afternoon, you were upon a small staircase, watering the flowers above your table, when you heard the door opening; you recognized the visitor’s steps and smiled.

– You’re late – you warned him as you walked down the stairs and put the watering can on the floor, beside the table, then crossed your arms to pretend irritation – We were supposed to to take a walk at the Gardens… but this was half an hour ago.

Hades, who was in fact the visitor, walked around the table and stopped by your side, surrounding you with his arms.

– Will you forgive me for this small crime, little one, if I reveal my reasons to you?

You shrugged.

– You can try.

As you imagined, he was with your parents.

– We’ve spent a wonderful time together – he explained – During which interesting conversations happened.

Your face heated up with that.

– Well, if these conversations didn’t include my parents narrating embarrassing episodes of my childhood that I intended to keep out of your knowledge, it’s okay for me.

This caused laughter from your partner, who replied that he then preferred to stay silent about the topics of the said conversations.

***

You had your arms leaning on the wood guardrail as your eyes followed the stream passing under the bridge. The murmur of the water, as sweet as the first time you heard it, was now like the music from a dream, from a memory you’ve long lost and then happily retrieved: yes, you were revisiting the places of the garden where you met for the second time, and now you were in the middle of that bridge where you had your first conversation about your dreams. Those events happened months ago, but to you it hasn’t been more than a few days, and the emotions you’ve experienced that day were vivid inside you.

Apparently, Hades had similar feelings towards it, and he showed it to you: you felt his fingers brushing your hair, then his hands bringing you closer, for a hug.

– Your mood seems lighter now that you have your family here, my y/n – he kissed the top of your head – The time you’ve spent with Heracles was really worth it.

– Indeed, it was – you murmured, passing your arms around his waist – Honestly, I feel even better now that they’re here. If I was scared by all the reasons I’ve told you before, now I know that it was silly of me to be afraid. There’s only room for happiness in my heart these days. Heracles-sama taught me to value the time I have with them instead of concentrating in the future days, in a time when they won’t be with me. And this is what I’m trying to do right now.

– A wise choice – Hades commented – And, judging by what I’ve learned from your parents, they must have the same view on this question. Have you already talked to them about it?

You sighed and moved away from his hug.

– Not yet. I know I have to do this, and they’re probably waiting for something of this type, but I’m still nervous about taking the first step.

– Well, if this helps, you can try to find a chance to bring out the subject during an informal moment. You know, sitting around a table and discuss things like a meeting between monarchs is quite stressful.

You turned to him with a frown.

– This is something stressful for you? – and, with a giggle, – You never told me that!

His lips stretched in a smirk in response.

– There are a few things I still haven’t told you, my girl. For example… – you felt his hand surrounding your waist and bring you back to him – I was sent straight to our future when I saw you holding your niece in your arms. You created such a beautiful scene together.

Your cheeks heated up.

– Our future? Are you talking about…? – you gasped – Hades, we will have a long time to think about this, don’t you think?

The god approached his lips from your ear, as if his next words shouldn’t be heard by anyone but you.

– I do. But there’s nothing wrong in speaking about this right now.

#shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #snv x reader #ror x reader #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader

[afraidparade]

"A Kinder Reality"

Word count: 3,088 Genre: G/T, Hurt/comfort, Angst Content warnings: Detailed depictions of panic attacks/intrusive thoughts, mentions & allusions to gore, death, and suicide, fearplay, possessive behavior

(PLEASE read the CWs as this one is a bit darker than some of my other stuff! sorry if it gets a bit heavy lolol. i tried to base this off of my own personal experiences, as i often have memory problems as a result of vivid dreams and intrusive thoughts that give me a lot of anxiety. there's also not a ton of hurt/comfort where the giant is the one hurting so i hope this fills that emptiness 👍)

__________________________

Luka’s eyes snapped open, the sudden light he had yet to adjust to making it impossible to differentiate up from down. His fingertips clawed into the sheets around him, as if grasping desperately for purchase on an incomplete thought he held in his hands only a moment prior. What was this? Where had he been until now? It was difficult to recall the details, but the ache of breathlessness in his chest and the icy sweat that saturated his nightclothes was evidence that the experience had been far from pleasant.

He remembered feeling alone, yet surrounded. Helpless, but he wasn’t quite certain of what it was that threatened him. There was a room with chairs and people and…something else. Something that he was desperately terrified of. And it wasn’t that those faceless figures around him refused to respond to his cries and offer him aid, because he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. It was a dreadful sensation, sitting in that room and feigning calm, surrounded by those human-shaped husks. There was an overbearing presence behind him: the terrifying thing. Some sort of shadowy monster that sulked in a corner of the ceiling yet simultaneously managed to breathe down his neck. Luka could just feel its predatory anticipation, waiting for him to turn around, or speak, or blink, or any action it deemed unacceptable. He was sure it was there, yet no one else paid it any mind. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Did they even care that it was there? Did they even care that he was there? If the thing lunged down and ripped him apart right in front of their hollow eyes, would anyone even flinch? Perhaps they would feel grateful to the monster for ridding them of such a burden. Perhaps they would all be happier if he weren’t—

Luka pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. Dry. Water, he should drink water. Shapes began to form in the fuzzy white void of his vision, and the man soon recognized the wall of his bedroom. Which meant all those vague and terrible memories had just been made-up. A dream. A rasp of air blew through his chapped lips, as if he was attempting to laugh out of spite. What a cruel joke. He already got a pitiful amount of sleep as it was, and now he couldn’t even be afforded the luxury of feeling rested when he woke up? Well, such was life, he supposed. At least now he wasn’t alone.

At least now…he wasn’t…

Luka froze, and his head throbbed. The space on the mattress beside him was unoccupied. He managed to twist his neck to survey the other side of the room, enduring another sharp surge of pain in his skull. Empty. His lips parted, but he stayed silent.

Wasn’t there supposed to be someone else there?

A third, more definitive pulse in his head caused Luka’s eyes to wrench shut. His hands shot upwards to nurse the pain away, but when that didn’t work, his fingers became more frantic, each scratching at his hairline as if they had a mind of their own. There was some sort of vile growth blocking his airway. He didn’t know where it came from. It felt like the same sort of inky malevolence that the carnivorous presence from before was composed of.

Was this…real? Had he actually woken up? 

He coughed, wheezing around the lump in his throat, panic setting in when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His diaphragm spasmed, and nausea followed soon after. His mouth was open, but if Luka was crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell. His sense of hearing had been reduced to a flat, monotone buzz. 

How could he be certain that this wasn’t the dream? That every memory of having someone beside him, someone that actually cared about him, weren’t just artificial fragments of a bright, fuzzy dreamscape his brain made to protect itself? How was he supposed to know which memories to trust?

A dark ring began to close in around the corners of his vision, blotting out his surroundings like the final scene of an old film. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was just a trauma response. But Luka couldn’t bear this feeling, not being able to tell whether he was tumbling or stationary, awake or asleep, alive or dead. If he was alone again. 

Again. 

Again, again, again, it always happened, he always ended up like this. As if he was always destined to be an afterthought to everyone around him. As if it really wouldn’t matter if a monster swallowed him whole. And bitterly, with the last scrap of his consciousness that could form coherent thoughts, he wondered which reality was kinder: one where he’d tasted love and fulfillment only to discover it was never his to keep, or one where he’d never experienced such bitter joys, and never knew the severity of losing them.

Maybe he could wake up in the room with the people and the monster. Maybe then, even if it was for a second, someone would spare him a compassionate glance while that shadowy beast tore into his ribcage and—

“…ka?”

There was something warm on Luka’s cheek. Tears? No. Though it was only now that he noticed their presence, those felt chilly and wet. It was a small pressure, but it radiated familiarity. A shaky, sudden inhale — his consciousness felt so faint, he barely registered it as his own — and a question were the first sounds to break through the fuzzy, intangible blockade around his ears.

“What happened?”

It took several deep, uneven breaths and bewildered blinks before Luka could manage to see just past his nose. A humanoid shape finally came into focus, but unlike the figures in the other room, this one had a face. And, upon closer inspection, wasn’t human at all. Deep, glossy pools of black with white pinprick pupils stared wide at him with concern, and from behind a quivering frown, he could make out tiny, pointed teeth. Reddish horns, an absolute rat’s nest of black hair, and an ill-fitting shirt stitched together by his own clumsy hands, all wrapped up in a three-inch package. The details were too intimate to be mistaken for a dream.

It was Faust. His wonderful, impossible, real Faust.

Luka couldn’t muster the coherence to form words. Aside from the fogginess he felt after finally, truly waking up, he was still parched, and his throat felt bruised from his battle for breath. A hand retracted from his face, the palm damp from the tears it had inadvertently smeared around, and slowly reached towards the confused demon. Faust reached out for it without a moment’s hesitation, causing Luka’s fingers to twitch in surprise. He was real. It was miraculous. He was real.

But that looming dread from before still gripped at his chest unyieldingly. What if one day Luka woke up and he really was gone? How would he be able to bear being thrown from one cruel reality to the next without the reprieve of someone else to comfort him? No, not just anyone else, but Faust. There was no one else. It had to be Faust.

What would he do if he lost Faust?

Luka didn’t know what he was doing. His body moved almost robotically, stuttering every now and then as his brain tried to process how to proceed, all while his unblinking gaze lost focus and bore forward into the same nothingness. His fingers curled around Faust’s body rigidly, and while the demon didn’t protest, he began to shift uncomfortably. The human’s hand pulled back towards his body, his grip unconsciously tightening as it moved, only stopping when his companion was held flush against his chest and there was no space left for his hand to retreat to. 

“Luka, this is— it’s kind of hard to breathe.”

Luka could hear him, so why couldn’t he stop? He didn’t want to hurt Faust. He would never do something like that. But he was so small. Even if daily life with a tiny imp had become routine, it didn’t change the fact that he was so very vulnerable. Ultimately powerless in the grand scheme of things. Beautifully unique, terrifyingly unique. There was no one else in the entire world like Faust. The big, dangerous, lonely world. Yes, it was so easy to keep him in place. It hardly took any effort at all. This was simply a reassurance that he had the means to keep Faust safe. To keep him close. To make him stay.

“Y-your heartbeat is crazy fast right now. Seriously, are you okay? I need you to respond to me, Luka!”

Luka’s chin lowered to brush against the hand trapping Faust in place, and without realizing it, his entire body had begun to curl around that point as well. It felt as though Faust was the very core of his entire person. This was beyond normal love, wasn’t it? This was obsession. Sick dependency. It disgusted him so, and yet his body refused to do anything but curl tighter. Like a boa constrictor wrapping around its next meal. Would he end up squeezing Faust until he stopped moving, too? It would be easy, Luka thought. Not that he wanted to. But it chilled him to know that he could.

“Don’t make me do this, Luka. I really don’t want to do this.”

Ah, this was what it felt like when they first met. The knowledge that he held this impossibly small being’s life in the literal palm of his hand, the understanding that he could take advantage of that, and the searing hatred Luka felt for himself when he did. It was horrible, but it was intoxicating, and he didn’t want it back, but a wretched part of him missed it. When exactly did he manage to overcome this feeling, Luka pondered? Somewhere along the way of falling for Faust? Realizing he’d need to change if he ever wanted Faust to reciprocate? Well, what did it truly matter if Faust reciprocated? Faust didn’t have to love him. He just needed to be here. He just needed to stay. Luka needed him to stay.

“…So be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

God, he was rotten. And delusional, too, to think he had actually changed. People don’t change. At least not people like Luka. Destined to be alone, again and again and again and again. He hated being alone. He hated himself. He hated this feeling. He hated that goddamn room from that goddamn dream. What was even the point? Why did he bother trying to fix something shattered beyond repair? What was stopping him from—

“Ca-li-for-nia girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy dukes, bikinis on top!”

…

What?

“Sun-kissed skin so hot, we’ll melt your popsicle — wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh, wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh…”

Faust’s muffled voice faded after the last vocalization, possibly waiting to see if there was a response. Or possibly due to being out of breath. After that, total stillness descended on the scene. Almost as if someone had merely pushed the power button on a remote and turned off all the static in Luka’s brain. It took a moment for him to process what in the hell had just happened, but after rewiring itself, his brain recalled a certain fact he knew he could always rely on:

Faust was a terrible singer.

Once his lungs finally remembered how to inhale, his body relaxed from its tensed and coiled state, releasing the small demon from his desperate grasp. As his vision slowly came into focus again, Luka inspected Faust’s state worriedly, suddenly horrified that he may have actually inflicted harm on his roommate. He was flushed red from a combination of the larger man’s overwhelming body heat and the intense pressure that likely inhibited his breathing, but other than a few gasps and coughs, he seemed surprisingly unbothered. Which was relieving first and foremost, but upsetting in its own right. He deserved to be upset. He deserved to resent Luka. The man swallowed as he attempted to regain his voice. 

“...I hate that song,” he rasped plainly. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. I know,” Faust replied, still panting as he glanced upward, “I was sorta hoping that the hate and the shock would overpower…whatever it was you were feeling.”

Luka’s mouth hung agape. Had Faust really hinged both the wellbeing of himself and Luka on…an annoying pop song? And that actually worked? He couldn’t tell if the demon was an idiot or a genius. It was so ridiculous on so many layers that he simply couldn’t think about anything else. Those overbearing thoughts from mere moments prior vanished in a puff of smoke, just like that. Eventually he closed his mouth and allowed a small, warm grin to replace the anguish from before. He never smiled like this before meeting Faust. Funny, Luka thought, how very different his inner demons looked from the miniscule demon that stood before him.

 “It did. Thank you.”

“God, you sound like shit,” the imp grumbled. Luka took the not-so-subtle hint and slowly sat himself upright, fumbling for the bottle of water that he kept on his bedside table. “What even happened? I had only just left to find myself something to snack on, but I turned back when I heard you making weird noises. Next thing I know, you’re suffocating me.”

Luka hesitated as he brought the bottle to his lips. An intense feeling of shame weighed down on his body as he recalled his actions, as well as the thoughts that accompanied them. It was probably better that Faust didn’t know every last detail of what brought his panic attack on…specifically, the thoughts concerning him. Sure, they had roots in the anxieties that Luka harbored in the back of his mind, but in that feverish state they had been amplified a hundred fold. They weren’t his true feelings. Or so he hoped, anyways

“I just…had a nightmare,” he answered simply, taking a swig from the container. Faust’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced that there was no other trigger for such an extreme episode, but he held his tongue. After all, he was in no place to doubt the impact of nightmares. Luka, not wanting to dwell in the uncomfortable silence any longer, continued, “I’m so sorry for putting you through that. It must’ve been scary. Are you hurt?”

The smaller shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

Luka wiped at a trail of water that trickled out of the corner of his mouth before capping the bottle. That was right — they had both trudged through hell just to make it to that very morning together, hadn’t they? Faust’s trophy was a back full of scars. Luka’s was a drawer full of pill bottles. It was difficult to liken his own traumatic experiences to Faust’s – especially when the other’s past was still largely a mystery to him – but there was comfort in knowing they could relate to each other on a basic level. That they…weren’t alone. Maybe all the trouble up until then was worth it just to share each other’s company. Of course, it was possible Faust didn’t feel the same way. But he didn’t need to feel the same way. It was enough that he was there. 

Luka sighed and turned to Faust again. Given his state from a few minutes ago, it was remarkable how calm he felt now. Maybe that, too, was thanks to his companion’s presence.

“Did you ever get your snack?” he asked softly.

“No,” Faust huffed with a sharp thrash of his tail. After a pause, the small imp folded his arms and turned his pouting face away, adding with a grumble, “I can’t exactly get to the kitchen in just a few steps like you can.”

Cute, Luka cooed inwardly. It was a thought that he would verbalize on any other day just to watch the resulting adorable tantrum, but for now he figured he’d put Faust through enough.

 “Well then, would you allow me to make a nice breakfast as an apology for earlier? I think there’s enough pancake mix left for one more serving.”

The other’s scowl dissipated instantly, clearly more interested in food than maintaining appearances. “Hell yes! Apology accepted! Put some whipped cream on top and it’s apology double accepted!”

Luka laughed warmly and, after brushing away the last of the moisture that clung to his cheeks, gently extended a hand for Faust to climb onto willingly. Despite him being the one to prompt the action, though, he faltered when his smaller counterpart did just that. Even though he’d been forgiven, this simple act of trust didn’t feel earned. It was only a moment ago that he’d hurt Faust, after all. What right did he have to hold him now?

Seemingly picking up on Luka’s uncertainty (or just becoming impatient after being promised pancakes), Faust craned his neck to shoot an inquisitive glare upwards. “What?” he demanded.

“Aren’t you… I don’t know, a bit too trusting of me right now?” the brunette asked, unable to meet the other’s eyes. “Are you not even the least bit afraid that it might happen again?”

Faust scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’ll happen again, idiot.”

Well, Luka hadn’t been sure as to what sort of answer he expected, but it certainly was not that.

“It might not be today or tomorrow, but sure, yeah, it’ll come back. Stuff like that doesn’t disappear overnight. But what kind of demon would I be if I was afraid of one measly human?” he pointed out, flashing a toothy smirk. “I trust you, Luka. And besides, I’ll always be around to knock some sense into you.”

Had Luka not spent all his tears earlier, he was certain there would be some welling in his eyes right then. He gave an earnest smile, a quiet chuckle, and asked, “So singing cringey pop music is your definition of knocking sense into someone?”

“It’s not cringey. You’re just a hardass.”

How fortunate Luka felt now to have woken up. Because truly, how could there be any reality kinder than this one he shared with Faust?

As they walked, Luka hummed a few notes between the pauses of their aimless chattering, before eventually groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered,  “You got that stupid song stuck in my head.”

“Heh heh! You’re welcome.”

#lufa #oc: luka #oc: faust #g/t #giant/tiny #gt community #writingtag #g/t writing #g/t fiction #fearplay #hurt/comfort #angst #suicide mention #tw depression #tw panic attack #tw intrusive thoughts #mlm g/t #m/m g/t #if i got that song stuck in your head you owe me $5 #also lmk if i'm missing tags plz

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

For @munsons-maiden; I don't know what this is or where it came from. It just came into my head while you and I were reblogging that Freud shirt and I immediately sat down and got to typing. Figured I'd dedicate it to you, because it means something in our conversation inspired me. Thank you for being you. Interacting with you makes every day better.💕

Summary: ??? Eddie comfort ???? Our baby gets soaked in the rain and you help him because he's too lost in his thoughts. GN!READER

TW; swearing, heavy rain, Eddie's body is in the trailer but his mind is far away (not quite dissociation, more like really lost in thoughts), nicknames (sweetheart, honey, baby and maybe others), Wayne & Eddie indirect interactions, comfort and fluff. This is gonna be sweeter than the chocolate cupcakes I just treated myself to.

Word count: 789.

Eddie stands just beyond the doorway of the trailer, rain dropping off the end of his nose. His clothes are soaked through, his leather jacket heavy and thick against his skin, trapping his body heat where it is. His denim vest is almost black in the heavy saturation, his curly hair lays limp in thick dark tendrils down his face and about his shoulders.

He stares into space, seeing the copious mugs and hats which decorate the furthest walls, but he doesn't see them. Not the Garfield mug which usually makes him smile with nostalgia, not the bright red caps which Wayne favours in the summer time, not even the homemade bright yellow 'best son' mug which Wayne gifted Eddie a few years ago.

Eddie just stands and stares.

"... Eddie?"

He turns his head slowly, eyes still a little glazed over. "Y-yeah, hi." He frowns, clears his throat, and looks at you, his gaze a tiny bit clearer now. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Uhh... are you...?" Your hesitance to approach him is what breaks Eddie out of his silent reverie and he physically shakes himself off like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere. "Long day?" All you receive from Eddie is a slow nod. You haven't seen Eddie like this for a while and you're not quite sure what to do to help him, but then it occurs to you that maybe Eddie doesn't know how to help himself, either. His mind may be able to picture what to do, but actually carrying his tired body through his routine is a different thing. Which is where you come in.

How many times have you been in the position of having to face yourself at the end of a long, hard day and Eddie has wordlessly helped you, somehow knowing what you need without you having to say a word?

It seems that you're lost in your own thoughts too, because your hands are on either side of the collar of Eddie's leather jacket before you even fully realise that you have moved. He meets your eyes with a small, soft smile, too tired is he to give you much of anything, but he tries because you're you and Eddie will do anything for you. Including giving you essence from an almost empty cup.

You smile back at him and begin to ease both his leather jacket and his denim vest off his shoulders. Eddie makes a soft noise in the back of his throat which sounds very much like relief soaked in love; you're helping him without him needing to ask because you know him so well. He tips his head forward so he can nuzzle the cold tip of his nose into the warm crook of your neck. Wet tendrils of hair stick to you but you don't wince. It's Eddie. "You're so warm," he mumbles, pressing clumsy kisses to any scrap of skin he can reach.

"You'd be warmer if you got out of these clothes, honey," kisses are pressed to his wet curls, the smell of rain masking the scent of him. "You're soaked. Gonna get sick if you stay here like this."

Eddie shrugs but you know he cares. No matter how tired or upset or angry he is, a part of Eddie always cares. If he held his heart in his hands, the heat of all the love he holds within would burn him. To prompt him into getting in the shower, you step away from him, which only makes Eddie whine as he steps back into you while also pulling you closer. It's a collision of hearts as much as it is bodies. He's been without you all day and now he's home, you're stepping away from him. A part of him wants to pout, but you seem to read his mind and encourage him to sort himself out again, "quicker you shower, the quicker we can cuddle!"

You can feel the heat of him even through how wet his clothes are, and how damp your own are. You can get changed while Eddie's showering - these were freshly put on, but you will never pass up a chance to hold Eddie.

"Promise, baby?" This time, he does pout, and you kiss him, once, twice, thrice, four times, because once is never enough for either of you. He's so tired and so are you and the both of you just want to rest. But only with each other; home is where the heart is, and you both followed yours to here.

"Pinky."

You shake your pinkies to seal the promise, and ten minutes later, you have yourself an Eddie sized koala on top of you.

So, really, ten minutes later, you have it all.

eddie baby @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @heydreamchild @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @m00nlight101

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x reader comfort #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #stranger things 4 x reader

[the-marshals-wife]

Hey i was wondering if you could please write a fluff Wrecker x reader where he is being a big baby as Tech is trying to patch up one of his wounds and reader is trying everything to keep him calm and not freaked out

Good Medicine (Wrecker x Reader)

A/N: Absolutely. I'll never be mad about getting to write this precious man child. Wrecker is dangerously close to becoming my second favorite Bad Batcher, after Tech of course. (Sorry for the insane delay responding to this. There were many physical and mental health challenges for me in 2022.)

Description: Wrecker x Fem!Reader (also Tech is present as comic relief lol)

Rating: General audiences, hurt+comfort fluff

Warnings: A Star Wars swear, mentions of blood and stiches

Setting: Up to you (literally, because I only wrote three characters, you decide were the rest of the babes are)

Word count: 1,024

Gif credit: user kamino-coruscant

Even from across the ship, you can see the anger on Hunter's face as he leans against the wall, gritting his teeth. If Wrecker screamed one more time, you worried that the sergeant was going make good on his jokes about the airlock and put his languishing brother out of his misery.

Tech continues his beleaguered attempts at bargaining for stitches, gauze and bacta in hand, "If you do not stop moving about, I will never get this wound dressed."

"It hurts!" Wrecker wails, pulling away further.

"Considering the size of the shrapnel I removed and the damage you sustained, I would be concerned if it didn't," Tech scoffs.

"It hurt less before you took it out," Wrecker argues, temper flaring, "I don't want stitches. I'll be fine!"

You bounce your leg, watching the chaos escalate from the co-pilots seat. Moments before, you'd helped remove Wrecker's gnarled leg armor, and the sight of blood soaking through his blacks was still fresh in your thoughts. You weren't sure why it was bothering you. Wrecker had experienced his fair share of battle damage. One look at him and anyone would know he was not an average man, let alone a typical clone. You were pretty sure he even enjoyed receiving some his scars if for no other reason than to be able to brag about surviving something others couldn't. However, this wasn't just a cauterized burn from a stray blaster bolt. This was a bloody, messy injury to someone you'd truly come to care for. That made it different.

You push the awful image from your mind as Hunter approaches.

"Y/N, maybe you could talk to him. He's calmer when you're around," he sighs, slumping into the seat beside you, "Quieter, anyway."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get in Tech's way," you start to object.

Tech wastes no time in interjecting, "I assure you, Y/N, any assistance you can provide will not hinder in my work whatsoever."

"Please," Hunter agrees, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He shrieks like a kriffin' gundark."

"I heard that!" Wrecker calls out before turning his attention back to Tech, "Don't you come anywhere near me with a needle. I don't like needles!"

Tech mutters something about preventing infection as Wrecker leans as far away as his injured leg will allow. You can't help but smile a little over the fuss he was making. It may be giving your squadmates a headache, but in a strange way, it was comforting for you to hear Wrecker carry on. It meant he was going to be alright. And with that relief came an idea.

You sprint back to Wrecker's bunk, and return seconds later with your arms behind your back.

"Oh Wrecker, I've got something for you," you say, very obviously hiding something.

His focus is on you instantly, "What? What have you got?"

"Something to make you feel better," you chuckle at his excitement. You stretch your arms out and reveal the tooka doll.

"My Lula!" he exclaims as you place the beloved plush in his hands, "She does make me feel better!"

Tech gives you a subtle nod. Your distraction is working.

You kneel next to Wrecker's seat, trying not to look at the saturated crimson bandages in the tray beside you. "You know Tech has to stitch your leg up now, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Wrecker groaned, accepting his fate, "I just hate stitches."

"Yeah, I do too. If it will help, you can hold my hand until it's over," you offer, smiling.

He looks up with wide eyes, "Really?"

"Do you wish you have your hand broken?" Tech questions, pushing up his goggles.

You give a him an unamused glance, then turn back to Wrecker, "Of course you can."

He grins as you place your hand into his much larger open palm.

"Alright, 'Doc'," he says with a renewed confidence, "Do your worst."

As Tech begins the procedure, your gaze drifts towards the patient. It occurs to you that you've never been this close to Wrecker before. You also realize have taken his size and strength for granted as you see that his massive fingers envelop your entire hand. Yet despite his great size and power, he is incredibly gentle. He flinches and tenses up as part of his leg is quite literally pulled back together, but he doesn't squeeze your hand or cause you pain. The man you'd seen rip apart droids with his bare hands was now cradling yours. In fact, the shouting had stopped altogether. Hunter was right: Wrecker was calm around you. Lula in his lap couldn't have hurt, either.

"Finished," Tech announces.

"That's it?" Wrecker asks, genuinely surprised. "Huh. Thought it'd hurt more than that."

"See? You did great! I knew you would," you applaud.

Tech rolls his eyes, gathering up the refuse and closing the med kit. "Next time, we shall begin with hand clasping."

The fatigued clone goes to join Hunter in the cockpit, leaving you and Wrecker alone for a moment.

He hasn't let go of your hand yet, and your heart skips as he meets your gaze. "Thanks for being here with me, Y/N. It means a lot, you know?"

"You're welcome, Wrecker. I'm just glad you're alright," you reply, worry slipping through in your voice, "I hate that you're hurting."

"Aw, it'll take a lot more than a little piece of metal to keep me down," he assures, his tone softer than ever, "Besides, I can't feel a thing now."

He gives your hand a small squeeze. You feel heat rushing in your face as you desperately hold back a grin.

"Well, just in case," you begin, getting back on your feet. You lean over and kiss his cheek, "To keep the pain away."

Mouth agape, his face turns red. You stifle a giggle, and his shock quickly turns to triumph as he gives you smirk.

"Now that you mention it, I think the bacta might be wearing off..." he teases.

You chuckle and lightly punch his shoulder. "Rest up, solider."

He laughs, leaning back in his seat with his arms behind his head. "Yes, ma'am."

#bad batch imagine #wrecker x reader #wrecker imagine #star wars imagine #wrecker x you #star wars #the bad batch #my writing #request

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I’ve been spending a lot of time in Unfinished Tales lately and always get stuck on Théodred—the uniquely horrifying circumstances of his death, the big brother-little brother bond he had with Éomer, the fact that Éomer doesn’t really get to mourn him in any sense because there is so much other chaos happening. (We’re talking about the book here, where Théodred is much older than Éomer and dies far from home without a funeral. Don’t be fooled by the gif below, which I just had to include as one of the only existing visuals of them together!). So, anyway, I wrote this.

A Life Interrupted

As he approached the door, the twinge in Éomer’s chest slowly increased from the dull ache that had accompanied him everywhere for the last few months to a sharper, more insistent pain. It was finally time to grieve an enormous loss, one that he had so far been unable to really experience in its fullness because of the urgency of other needs, other battles, other losses. But no such distractions remained now, and he was at last ready to reckon with the death of one who had been a brother to him. He turned the knob and entered Théodred’s room.

Everything remained exactly as Théodred had left it, the room frozen in time on that February morning when the prince of Rohan had ridden off toward the fords with his men. Dirty boots sat in a corner, waiting for a spare moment to scrub them free of mud, and a bridle with a snapped noseband rested on a work table, mid-repair. A half empty glass of water sat next to it. Everywhere Éomer turned, there was evidence of a life unexpectedly interrupted, things put on hold in the expectation that they would be taken up again and finished later but now were just collecting dust.

The windowsill was covered with small pots and containers planted with the flowers and herbs that Théodred had always loved to tend, his long, strong fingers just as adept at coaxing life from seeds as they had been at taking lives in battle. No one had watered or pruned the plants in months, and most by now had dried into withered leaves and brown, brittle stems, yet more casualties of the war. Éomer took a pot with a single stalk that somehow still bore a few green shoots and placed it by the door to take with him when he left. He had no particular talent with plants, but he would nurse that little shrub with water, light and fresh soil until it was thriving and would keep it thereafter on the windowsill of his own bedroom for many years.

He came back and sat on the edge of Théodred’s bed. Sleep clothes were slung casually over the tangle of blankets, resting wherever they had fallen when Théodred had dressed on his last morning there. Éomer tried to imagine what Théodred might have been thinking that day as he prepared himself to leave…whether he knew that the first stroke from Isengard was about to fall and that a great battle would be joined. Whether he had thought about the possibility that he would never return to make his bed or care for his plants. He surely could not have expected that every foe on that battlefield would have a single, overriding mission—to kill the heir to the throne of Rohan at all costs—and Éomer shuddered to think of the horror that must have settled over Théodred when he realized that wave after wave of the enemy was bypassing closer, easier targets in order to charge directly and unceasingly at him alone.

This image of Théodred’s terrifying final moments at last brought forth the tears that Éomer had been holding back. He curled up in his cousin’s bed, clutching the sleep clothes to his chest, and sobbed. Without the inhibiting presence of other people, he finally allowed himself to do what he needed—to cry out and to whimper, to heave with wracking, ragged breaths and to lie still, to weep until his eyelashes were heavy with tears and the pillow beneath his face was saturated. He gave himself over entirely to his grief.

When the sobs eventually ran their course, he began to come back to his conscious mind and regain his awareness of his surroundings. He could smell the warm, woody scent of fresh stable hay carried onto the pillow from Théodred’s hair and clothes but mixed with a light, floral fragrance that surely had come from Eadlin, Théodred’s bride to be. Whether she had been here after Théodred was killed or the scent was left over from a distant day when two lovers had spent a lazy morning draped in each other’s arms, Éomer did not know. Eadlin had left Edoras shortly after Théodred’s death to return to her own family in Aldburg, unwilling to remain here where her memories of him were so numerous and vivid.

He turned his head and studied the rows of books that lined a shelf on the far wall. He could read and write in basic Westron, as was required for all members of the royal family, but he had never taken to reading as Théodred had. While Éomer spent much of his free time galloping the fields with Firefoot or trading jokes and stories with Háma, Théodred often was absorbed in a book, and he had acquired many volumes of lore from distant lands, treatises on the plants and animals of Rohan, and works outlining the history of the line of Eorl.

As he scanned the titles, Éomer’s eyes landed on a series of books on the bottom shelf. They were bound differently than the others and bore no identifying marks on the spines beyond handwritten numbers. He stood and walked over to the shelf to pull one out. Flipping it open, he found page after page of Théodred’s sprawling, unruly handwriting with notes and thoughts from days spanning all of the year 3014, five years ago. There were summaries of training exercises, reminders to re-shoe his favorite horse, and updates of news from the East and West Mark, but also fretful concerns for a friend who had recently taken ill, ideas for a birthday present for Éowyn, and sketches of a plan for a new flower garden. One entry from October of that year recounted a recent visit to Aldburg, where he had met a beautiful, witty woman who he could not wait to see again.

Éomer smiled and replaced the volume on the shelf, skimming his hand over the other journals in the series until his fingers rested on the one marked 3002, the year that his parents had died and he and Éowyn had come to live with Théoden and Théodred. He slid it from the shelf and opened it to an entry from just two weeks after his mother’s death.

“My cousins arrived this morning, and it pains me to see them in such a state. Sweet Éowyn cries easily and often (as could only be expected for one so young and so touched by tragedy) but Éomer puts on a brave face and seeks to comfort her as though he has not also just lost everything he knew and loved. Elfhelm’s wife will come for a time to help look after Éowyn, as she is too young to always be in the stables or on the training grounds, but I will try to keep little Éomer by my side as often as I can. He’s a brave boy with a kind heart, and I can already see that one day he will grow into a good man. I hope only that this early misfortune will not mar his chances for the happy and blessed life that he deserves.”

Éomer blinked back more tears. Blessed. Éadig. Yes, he had been blessed. With a happy childhood rescued by Théoden and Théodred from the wreckage of that calamitous year. With a prosperous kingdom that was now his privilege to rule in their stead. With an extraordinary woman who would become his wife and help to extend his family to another generation. Blessed indeed.

He slipped the journal back onto the shelf and walked to the door to pick up his little shrub, his fellow survivor. Then, taking one last look around the room, Éomer Éadig stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

#eomer #theodred #rohirrim #lotr fanfiction #fan fiction #eomer fanfiction #eomer eadig #i’ve got SO MUCH more to say about theodred!

[aredlemon]

A Part. Ao3

Summary:

Sure, it was only obvious that the breakup would hurt Patton. But did no one think about love itself?

Or

The others forget Roman is literally love but his bro comforts him

Notes:

First fic! Pardon me if it isn’t up to par but I wanted to get something for you out. (Also some shit happens in my real life, oh and procrastination)

Cw: oblivious/ignorant sides, slight Patton bashing, descriptions of someone looking sick, Remus comforting his bro, Roman has self deprecating thoughts.

Pairings: none!

~~~

It had been only about a week since the breakup. Not that it mattered, the others were still furious. Rightly so. It was all his fault!

The window was open, a slight drift moving the curtains. The sun was setting, casting the room in a low, orange light. The floor was littered with tissues, an overflowing trash can not too far from them.

Roman lay on the bed staring up. His prince costume had long been discarded. His skin was pale, rosy cheeks stained with tears only accentuating that. His hair was disheveled, it looked to be less saturated than before.

“Why must you ruin everything…”

A chocked sob escaped Roman. His voice was barely above a whisper, throat aching after what must have been hours of crying. He let out a shaky breath before continuing his soliloquy.

“If only you had just…Done you *job*…”

Roman turned to his nightstand. There lay a letter. A love letter. Funny wasn’t it? How the one to call Thomas all those names was the same person who called him ‘love’. It didn’t matter anymore. Roman had failed at his sole purpose. Keeping Thomas happy.

———

Remus paced around his room. Not out of anxiety or worry. Janus had prohibited him from entering the living room after he brought in a second dead body. It wasn’t his fault the first one needed a friend!

“Wonder how he’s holding up…” he thought out loud.

Remus seemed to have been the only one to notice Roman’s sudden absence. He was his brother after all, plus Roman was his favourite person to annoy! The others seemed to be too preoccupied with Patton…That bastard. ‘Oh look at me so sad! I am feelings!’ Well, Roman was passion, love for fucks’s sake! It made Remus feel weird…He didn’t like Roman…but they were still brothers.

“That’s it” and with that, Remus quickly vanished from his room.

———

It was deafeningly silent. A tear made its way down Roman’s cheek. He didn’t even bother wiping it away this time, much too tired to move. He looked sick. White hairs had started appearing on his head, all colour having been drained from his eyes. There was no point in trying.

‘At least I won’t burden them anymore’, ‘It’s better like this’, ‘I deserve this’, thoughts like these were floating in Roman’s brain. His eyes slowly closed.

“I’m so fucking sorry Thomas.”

———

Few moments passed before Remus rose up. Morning star in hand, ready to cause trouble.

“Oh Ro-Bro~ Are yo-“ Remus was cut short.

The sight of his brother made his stomach churn, something not many things were able to achieve. No, that wasn’t his brother. His brother was lively, loud, happy…this…

A loud thud was heard as the morning star fell from his hands. Rushing to his brother he sighed in relief when the faint heartbeat and slight coldness of Roman’s breath against his hand alerted Remus he was still alive. He withdrew and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder, shaking him lightly.

“Ro-Bro, get up.” Remus’ worries came back, since Roman didn’t seem to wake.

“Come on now,” he growled, “get up you fucker!” He shook him more violently, worry slipping into his voice despite his efforts to remain calm.

Why was he even so worried? Roman was still alive after all, and he probably would wake up…oh for the love of fuck! Remus allowed tears to spill from his eyes, voice coming out in a sob as he begged Ro to wake up.

———

Roman’s eyes slowly fluttered open. It must have been morning, perhaps early mid day? Whatever, it’s not like he really cared. His eyes took a bit to adjust to the light invading the room through the curtains. He felt light, almost as if he were floating. Was this a dream?

“Hmmmgg…Ro?” A voice startled him.

Turning his head ever so slightly he was met with Remus’ gaze staring down at him. It seemed as though he had just woken up, still rubbing his eyes. Dark circles framing them, still damp from tears cheeks accompanying them. He looked so…exhausted? Roman had never seen Remus like that, let alone crying. Roman looked at him, trying to ask what was wrong but his voice betrayed him. What came out was a slight whine, barely audible.

“Oh you fucker.” Remus dipped down and hugged him.

Resting his head in the space besides Roman’s head he wrapped his hands around the prince. He felt so relieved. Roman was ok. He quickly pulled back after a groan from his twin’s lips reminded him that he was crushing him. Sitting besides him, he helped Roman sit up on the bed, making sure not to move him too quickly.

Roman felt dizzy, as if his brain was melting in his head.

“What ‘re you doin’ here…?” He slurred out.

Remus stammered, bewildered. Was he really being serious? “You’re kidding right? Roman, you haven’t come out of your room in a week, I come in and find you barely alive, and you ask me why I am here!?”

He didn’t intend on sounding angry, let alone upset, but it happened to come out that way. But was he at fault? Roman was acting like such an idiot.

Roman jolted back a bit. He looked scared. Upset. Worst of all he looked sorry. Ready to break and start apologising, saying sorry for making Remus worry, sorry for being a burden, sorry for being a failure.

Tears spilled from his eyes. They had gained back some of their colour, same with his skin and hair, but he still looked sickly. He tried to speak, but all he could muster up was a faint “s-sorry”.

No, Remus must have misheard right? He all but lunged forward and embraced Roman.

“No. Stop. Just…it’s ok, I’m here” he said as Roman started to sob into his shoulder.

“Sorry for *hic* making you…w-worry” Roman’s words came out barely audible.

“Don’t be. You did nothing wrong, hear me? Nothing.”

Remus patted his twin’s back, humming softly to soothe him. Oh dear….He didn’t like seeing his brother like this. He missed the brave, annoying, over the top Roman. As he made a mental note to give the others a piece of his mind Roman spoke up, finally having calmed down a bit.

“You’re…not mad?”

‘Might as well have driven a dagger straight through my heart’ Remus thought. “No I’m not. Just…I’m sorry, I should have noticed sooner.”

Before Roman could protest Remus continued.

“Just, listen, you’re not a failure, a screw up, whatever. Thomas will find someone new. Shit happens ok? Just cause it’s a part of your job to be love doesn’t mean anything. That’s only a part of you. A part of the amazing Roman.” Remus chuckled. “The, very sadly, lesser of the twins~”

Roman chuckled and pushed Remus off of him.

“Fucker” he said while smiling. ‘Well, what did I expect?’ Roman thought. Remus was his brother after all, and as much as he wanted he couldn’t stay mad.

Plus, the teasing was a part of him, right?

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed! Again this is my first one so sorry for the bad writing. Also for the fact that it’s short, wanted to get it out this week.

-ARedLemon :)

#sanders sides #fanfic #ao3 #roman sanders #angst #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #unsympathetic sides #unsympathetic patton #(had to add it) #my fic #my writing #first fic #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

[bitteraristocrat]

Excerpt from "A Necessary Detour"

This is a one-shot I'm cooking up right now, which I'm determined to complete soon, thanks to @demonicspiracle 's help.

The drive through the estate was a relatively quiet one. Sebastian made conversation only when he could feel his master’s thoughts begin to taper into a disillusioned monotone. Standard and concise jargon – the hotel at their destination, Brighton’s general attractions, a suggestion of a new brick-and-mortar location for Funtom, etcetera. Ciel replied with a faux-interest, blunt replies and no eye contact. Sebastian tried to hide his boredom, burying it under the intrigue of the insides of his lord’s subconscious.

Sebastian didn’t like to intrude. It lessened the fun of it all. He’d rather tease out the leads Ciel would give him through meek or agitated comments. But the boy would give him nothing on that initial journey. Just the barely noticeable tautness of wool between his legs and the darkness of his mind that seemed to leak and saturate his gaze – focused firmly on the provincial scenery.

“My Lord,” the sobriquet came a little too obviously impertinent.

Ciel finally met the demon’s eyes, and immediately identified the nature of Sebastian’s inquiry.

“What?”

Sebastian’s brow twitched. He was playing dumb, the insufferable brat.

“What?” Ciel repeated tersely, digging his heels into the floor of the carriage under the weight of the devil’s glare.

“Forgive me, but,” his nostrils flared, “I have never known you to be a shy individual.”

The noble gawked. “I beg your pardon?”

Pretenses be damned, Sebastian seethed, feeling his pupils threaten to retract into something far less human. This song and dance of theirs was tantalizing, but such a bore at times. Especially when the boy reeked of pheromones. It made the demon itch, that bestial hunger to pounce and defile burning in his abdomen. “I recall something you said no more than a fortnight ago…”

Ciel squirmed, his eyes retreating to the window.

“Something to do with the precarity of carriages, the way they rattle and move. How one’s personal coach provides the passenger with a great deal of privacy–”

The boy clicked his tongue. There was no point in denying the memory. “You’re awfully forward,” there was a near imperceptible shudder in the young master’s criticism. “I wasn’t in my right mind when I spoke about this.”

“No, indeed, you were in a deplorable state. After having been ravaged within the tedious confines of your quarters. You were a marvelous fuck, you know.”

An instant hotness welled in Ciel's cheeks. Breathlessly, he managed, “what has gotten into y–”

“I have observed that you are most honest after you have been relieved by my hand,” Sebastian said dryly, as if he was making casual conversation about the weather. “One would think you had been inebriated by some truth serum. You utter such obscenities behind closed doors. What would your compatriots make of you? Dazed by the thought of being defiled on a carriage ride?” A sinister chuckle escaped the demon. “With the driver all but unaware and no more than a few feet away?”

“Piss off, you devil,” the young lord spat, his embarrassment boiling between his crossed legs and knitted brows. “I haven’t the patience for your perversions. I don’t know where your manners have buggered off to, but regardless of what I…might have implied, you still remain a butler.”

“Surely my unfeigned nature is far better suited for how you were suggesting we might occupy ourselves on this very long journey to Brighton. Would you allow me such privilege?”

Ciel barked a laugh. “Not a chance, you bloody fiend. You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you from this carriage already.” His leg began to bounce, perhaps in nervousness or excitement – Sebastian couldn’t discern, as it was times like these that his master’s mood was a delicious concoction of demure and devious. “Honestly, your testing is getting on my nerves,” he spoke slowly. His ankle eagerly touched Sebastian’s knee, flirting with the demon’s hunger.

“And your pitiful attempt at playing coy is getting on mine.”

“What did I just sa– Oi, what are you–!!”

#they're going to Brighton because I started writing this way before the manga was headed there #featuring a Very Forward Sebastian #sebaciel #I promise it will be done soon #probably