#u ever just think about how grief is this thing you have to take with you

[amentomensmut]

I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but

What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk

Plus One

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+

Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)

Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU.  i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)

“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far. 

“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now. 

“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy. 

You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip. 

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry. 

“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.

“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.

“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.

“You babysit Abby for a month,”

“Deal.”

“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.

“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.

“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.

You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.

“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.

“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.

—-----------------------------------------

“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.

“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married. 

The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception. 

You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar. 

Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you. 

“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand. 

“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.

“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.

“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one. 

“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.

“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.

You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.

“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.

“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike. 

You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.

“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom. 

It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him. 

“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now. 

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike. 

“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.

“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..

“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small. “I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.

“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.

“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this. 

He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.

“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot. 

“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers. 

“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand. 

“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you. 

He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.

“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. 

“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’. 

“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.

“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.

“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.

After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper. 

“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.

“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.

“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.

“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.

#smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #fnafmovie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

[libertyybellls]

finnick odair + black!district 11!reader?? thank you and happy holidays 💓

SEA AND THE ROCK BELOW !

pairing; finnick odair x f!black!district11!reader

summary; you and finnick mentor your tributes before their games. yet only finnick can understand your unease.

contains: ANGST/FLUFF, comfort. mentions of death (it’s the hunger games babe)

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

being back at the capitol is bittersweet, the smell of roses overwhelm you in each room your in but you know you’ll find exactly who you’re looking for here.

mentoring two unsuspecting kids- to send them into a battle they’ll likely lose- it haunts you. you could do it millions of times ams yet even then you will not be able to shake the feeling of grief, of failure.

finnick knows where to find you- he maps you out in his heart and finds you in an isolated end of the hotel hallway.

you’ve just sent your tributes off to bed- you’ve given them all you know. they ask how you won your games, how you came out okay.

and you lie through your teeth. i didn’t come out alright. in my mind- i lost my games. you think that anyone who died in your games had won, atleast they’d left with their dignity.

he finds you at the right moment- before you can lose yourself in your mind. finnick pulls you into the most forceful yet endearing hug you’d only ever felt from him.

his love, his trust, his understanding- it all seeps into you. there is only adoration seeping from his pores as he looks at you, as he breathes you in.

you can’t remember the last time you’d seen him, there’s very few times you can cross districts unless it’d been unpleasant visits to the capitol.

you look at him, you can’t find the words.

“i know.” he holds your face, so soft you almost melt. putty under his touch.

you think about your tributes, a thirteen year old boy and a sixteen year old girl. what do they know? they’re babies, someone’s baby, someone’s little boy and girl.

you want to scream, you want to yell, you want to throw things.

“it’s not fair finnick.” you repeat this over and over. you begin to grow hysterical.

your hands go to cover your eyes, your tears spill with each passing breath.

“i can’t do this. every year-“ it takes a piece of you, you want to say.

every year i lose two kids from my district to a cash-rich spectacle for the upper class. for their viewing pleasure.

each year you lose faith. faith that finnick rebuilds each year, faith that he works to restore.

he holds you now, keeps you steady in his arms. kissing your forehead.

“when this is over we’ll be long gone, far away from here.” he speaks into your hair “how many kids do you want? two? eight?”

you laugh, “four.”

“a nice little house by the sea. i can fish, you can lay in the sun, read to me like you always do. our kids will play in the water.”

you can only manage to let out a small mhm of understanding through your smiles- your cheeks still wet.

“but for now, we have to get through this. and i need my girl to be okay. none of this is your fault.”

-

a/n; happy holidays babe and ofc. i tried my best but there’s so few places that ppl from two separate districts could get to know each other ykwim 🙁 but i hope u like it.

#finnick angst #finnick fanfic #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick smut

[souperbloom]

deffo need some subtle sub!luke in my life - maybe y/n and the guys are all talking about sex lives & one of them slips out that luke once mentioned wanting y/n to be in control because it was usually the other way round, so later on they give it a go!

nothing too extreme, just y/n making decisions, praising luke & being on top etc

you don’t even want to know the sound that came out if my mouth when i got this notification.

(if u requested this reveal yourself.) (im joking.) (maybe.)

enjoy <3

————————

secrets, secrets. [L.H.]

🖤 boyfriend!luke

after what seems to be a secret revealed, you and your boyfriend Luke try something new in the bedroom.

a/n: FIRST LUKE SMUT WOOOO. i wrote most of this while listening to classical music which i just think is so silly and on brand for me. i also had a last minute epiphany and changed the title whoops.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed/smoking, angst if you squint, sub!luke (duh), pet names, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), orgasm denial, protected sex.

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You hadn’t checked the clock for what seemed to be hours.

The guys and yourself had been wrapped up in a heated discussion sitting in a circle in Calum’s living room, all stoned on your own accord.

The conversation had been flowing since the moment you all sat in your respective places, turning from lighthearted banter into something much more vulgar than you were used to. You all hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, which meant there was a lot of ‘catching up’ to be had.

But you weren’t quite sure how the simple conversation of ‘how have you been?’ morphed into something along the lines of: ‘have you ever had a dirty dream about me?’

"You’re lying! I can see it in your eyes!" An eager Michael shouts across the room at his dear friend, and your boyfriend, Luke. You watch the entire ordeal unfold perched atop Luke’s restless thigh.

He tries to hide a measly smile, as Michael has caught his bluff.

"Okay, fine… It was one time. Nothin’ to fuckin’ write home about."

"How does that even happen?" Calum, baffled, rubs his hand on his chin.

"It means he thinks about ya’ before he goes t’sleep," says Ashton confidently, motioning towards Luke with a cheeky grin.

"No! That’s not— no."

"Luke, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure we’ve all had some pretty fucked up dreams about each other." Michael tries his hand at consoling your boyfriend, whose cheeks were now glowing red.

"I’m not embarrassed. You just— you forced it out of me. A man’s allowed to have secrets, y’know."

Secrets.

It always came back to telling secrets.

You’d like to think that you had a pretty open and honest relationship with your boyfriend, as well as his best friends.

But there were still some things about them that you didn’t know.

And you were afraid you were about to find them out.

"Speakin’ of secrets…" Ashton begins, adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, "…I’ve got one."

Bingo.

"Go ahead. This is a safe space," you say teasingly, trying not to acknowledge the fact that you had been so high for the majority of this conversation that you had completely forgotten to speak.

"Ashton’s got a seeecreeeet." Calum teases Ashton in a singsongy tone, but Ashton’s face was reading more serious than anything. He clears his throat before speaking his mind.

"Call me crazy, but takin’ on the submissive role in bed has gotta be one of the greatest things on Earth. And if ya’ haven’t tried it, then you’re not livin’ right."

You quirk your brow, and take a look at the rest of the room. Each of the guys’ faces were contorted into a different stage of grief.

Michael was amused, clearly. His eyes were wide and glassy like he had just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders. Calum’s jaw was practically touching the floor, trying to bite back a smile that was so obviously hard to hide.

And then, there was Luke.

He wasn’t making a face— his expression was unreadable. The only thing you saw was his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He swallowed hard, and you noticed that.

"Dude… what? I did not expect that from you…" Michael was still in awe of his friend, as he cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Don’t make assumptions, Mikey. You only live once."

As much as you wanted to say you were shocked, you honestly weren’t. You didn’t know a whole lot about Ashton’s sex life, but this didn’t surprise you. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once.

"Well? Don’t be a prude… Tell us what happened."

"Y/N—" Luke blurts, seemingly attempting to stop this conversation from unfolding.

"What? Am I wrong for being curious?"

"No, no— I agree with Y/N," says Michael, "Since you wanna rave about your endeavors as a submissive princess… Tell us all about it."

Michael’s sly comment earns a snort from Luke, who had been trying to remain steely faced since the moment he had called him out for having sexual fantasies about him. You smile to yourself, eyes darting between Ashton and your boyfriend as their stare down commences.

"What’s so funny over there?" Ashton quips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot down to his lap. "Nothin’."

"Ash, get on with it." Michael was fed up, and ready to hear all about what Ashton was so persistent about.

You can’t help but stifle a giggle as Ashton lets out a sigh. He was taking this a lot more seriously than you thought he would.

"I’m not sure what came over me— but there was this one time. I guess I was feeling particularly lazy er’ somethin’, but I asked her to take over for the night. I won’t get into the nitty gritty but let’s just say; it changed my fuckin’ life."

"I am way too high to be talking about this right now." Calum says, his eyes wide as he is still processing everything.

Ashton continues, "Somethin’ about the feeling of your fate lying in your lover’s hands is just so… exhilarating. You never know what’s gonna happen next— you learn to expect the unexpected… It’s fuckin’ great, man."

Upon Ashton's admission, your seat in Luke's lap shifts slightly. He adjusts you, pulling you closer into his torso and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Still can't picture it, but... I believe ya'," says Michael with a nod of approval. You laugh, feeling your boyfriend's fingertips drumming against your stomach.

"You guys ever tried it? Don't mean to pry but, as Y/N said, this is a safe space."

The room goes pin-drop quiet. Nobody wanted to speak up; not you, not Luke, not anybody else. It seemed as though this conversation had died out quicker than it came to be.

"Oh, come on. You guys are the freakiest fucks I know. Seriously? None of you?" Ashton presses the group for answers, his eyes landing on you. But you just shrug.

"I'm always on the bottom, Ash. You're preaching to the choir."

"Oh trust me, we know."

"Cal—" Your boyfriend huffs, cutting off his friend and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Confused, your eyes search around the room for any sign of an answer. You seemed to be out of the loop, which was unlike you in these kinds of situations.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You can’t help but get a little defensive, now zoning in on the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingernails anxiously biting into your waist.

"Nothing! He means nothing..." Luke tries to defend, his voice a bit pitchy.

You bite back a smile. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…"

"Unless they’re shared with everyone, fuck, I know! But you don’t have to—"

Calum butts in, "Mate, relax. I’m just messing around."

"No, no— don’t give me that bullshit. What were you trying to say Cal?"

You weren’t sure why, but feeling left out of some sort of inside joke or secret was making you angry. Your temper was mellowed from smoking, yet this whole back and forth was getting to you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Luke lets out a sigh from behind you, dropping his chin on your shoulder in defeat. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore, with the rest of the room dead quiet as they wait for Calum to speak.

Calum on the other hand was holding back a high smile. A look of ‘I know something you don’t know’ was plastered proudly across his cheeks. He rubs his hands together, glancing at Ashton and Michael before he opens his mouth.

"I know you pride yourself on being a pillow princess Y/N, but… Luke wants to see you in charge."

Immediately, your face flushes pink. You didn’t know what you were expecting Calum to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It was almost as if everyone in the room was trying not to burst into laughter, Ashton and Michael slapping each other’s legs to get the other to stop snickering.

You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat, taking a second to look each of your friends in the eye.

"Well, this is news to me—"

"You fuckin’ suck, Cal." Luke blurts, embarrassment and anger laced through his tone.

As you sit cross legged, still perched on Luke’s thigh, you feel a tap at your lower back. This was your boyfriend’s cue; an unspoken means of telling you 'let’s get the fuck out of here.'

"I’m sorry," Calum laughs, "I didn’t mean t’ hit a nerve with that one."

"Luke, wait—" pleads Michael, who had been rather quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

"I think we’re gonna head out."

Soon enough, you’re rising to your feet, and your boyfriend is quick to follow. He grabs your bag from off of the floor, scooting you closer into the awkward energy of the circle. The rest of the guys just look at you in pity, but you were far too busy in your own head to notice their stares.

Luke wanted you to be in charge?

"Can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to," Ashton shrugs, clasping his hands together between his knees, "I guess we’ll see you two tomorrow?"

You purse your lips to reply to Ashton, watching your boyfriend feverishly pack up your belongings and shift you towards the nearest exit. But Luke is quicker than you, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that."

The entire car ride back to Luke’s apartment was silent.

You were still hung up on how awkward those last few minutes had played out; but a part of you was just dying to know more about Luke’s little secret.

Pushing boundaries was something that you hadn’t yet considered when it came to you and your boyfriend. Your relationship was fairly new; with the both of you still testing the waters and occasionally stepping out of your comfort zones.

Luke was excellent at reading you. He paid very close attention to detail, which was one of the things that had you falling so hard for him in the first place.

But there was a piece of you that felt guilty for prying this all out of him, the way his entire demeanor seemed to drop when Calum spilled his beans. He was embarrassed, from what you could tell. And you weren’t quite sure what to do.

"Luke?" You pop your head out of the bathroom door, your face wash in hand, looking into your master bedroom at Luke splayed across the mattress. He’s still fully dressed, laying flat on his back with his shoes hanging off of the side.

You, however, took it upon yourself to get ready for bed. You took off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into a little plaid pajama-short set to try and get your mind off of the awkward energy still floating in the air.

"Luke…" He hadn’t replied the first time you called out his name, so you tried your luck again. This time, he just sighed, before turning his head to face you.

His sandy blonde curls were haphazardly strewn across the made comforter. His body restless, as he drummed his hands along his abdomen and waited for you to reply.

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Mhmm."

Your shoulders drop in defeat, your eyes still lingering on his lanky frame. He lets out a deep breath before looking at the ceiling again, gnawing on his bottom lip mindlessly.

"I’m sorry," you say, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you."

"You didn’t."

His short replies were making your stomach churn. It was unlike the both of you to be so cautious with each other, walking on eggshells in hopes that the other would just let up and speak their mind. You didn’t want to make it worse, either— it seemed like this affected him, and the last thing you needed was for it to be your fault.

You turn back to face the bathroom counter, continuing your nightly skincare. But from behind you, you hear shuffling. The sole of a shoe hitting the floor, then another. The sound of a jacket unzipping, and pooling to the floor as well.

You could see Luke’s slouched posture in the mirror through the doorframe, watching him slowly rid himself of his clothes and leaving him in nothing but his grey t-shirt and pink heart boxers. The ones you gifted him for Valentine’s day.

The water was warm as you started to wash your face, warm enough to let yourself relax for a moment. It dripped down your forehead, into your eyes, momentarily shielding you from your surroundings as you bent over the sink.

In your daze, you turn the faucet off, your eyes screwed shut and vision starry. But as you blindly reach around the counter for a towel, you feel someone hand it to you.

"Here," the familiar voice drawls from behind you, before you feel a broad hand slither around your waist.

You let out a whimper from the back of your throat, unable to say "thank you" now, as you grab the towel from Luke’s hand realize his hips are digging into your backside.

When you dry your face and regain your vision, you stand upright. Luke’s torso is warm, and inviting, his blistered palm making headway beneath your shirt to drag across your torso. In the mirror, you see his face contort into a mellow smile, his curls pushed back away from his eyes.

"Hi," You whisper into the mirror, water dripping off of your eyelashes and down your cheek.

"Hi, pretty."

"Are you mad at me?" You hated asking that question.

"Of course not, why would I be mad at you?" Luke replies, pulling you into his cotton t-shirt.

"You seemed like you were a few minutes ago." The feeling of his fingertips was getting to be distracting.

"No, no. It was just— something I’d been meaning to tell you but… I just never got around to it."

"Oh."

His other hand has made it to your waist. "Are you mad at me?"

"Never."

"Good to know."

For a moment, the two of you stare at your reflections in the mirror. Luke’s eyes rake down your body, his hands still wandering along the delicate skin of your tummy beneath your shirt. You sigh into him, leaning backwards to rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"Wanna try something new tonight?" He asks, his voice huskier than before and mumbling into the top of your head.

"Mmm, like what?" You were unable to hide your melodic hums as his hands move closer beneath your breasts.

You already knew what Luke was going to ask of you, the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach as his eyes wandered, pretending to think.

To be honest with yourself, you had already thought a lot about what’d it’d be like if you two switched places for a change. But you were always too nervous to bring it up, especially in the heat of the moment.

"Want you t’ be in charge tonight, pretty. Do whatever you want t’me. Think you’d be interested?"

"Yes," you breathe without even a second thought, entranced by his fingertips as they creep towards the waistband of your shorts, "I’d love to."

"Sounds good t’me."

Not a second passes before Luke is spinning you around to face him. He dips down, and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, leaving you with a fuzzy head and a fluttering stomach.

When you pull away from him you notice the twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was a look of anticipation. Pure excitement. You were about to try something new with the person you loved most in this world, and he was about as thrilled as you were.

You could just tell.

"How can I be good for you, pretty? Wanna be your good boy tonight."

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you figured it’d be best to just play it cool.

"Wellll—" You press your index finger to his chest, "Maybe start by getting on the bed?"

"Are you gonna come with me?" He asks sweetly, still holding you in his hands.

"Of course, baby… But I need you to just sit tight and wait for me, okay?"

He nods quickly, biting back a smile between his teeth before he’s shuffling out of the bathroom towards the bed. You linger in the doorframe for a moment, watching in complete awe as Luke crawls to the top of the mattress and sits with his back resting against the headboard.

Doing exactly what you had asked him to.

You start in slow strides towards him, swaying your hips with each step in hopes to kill some time.

You wanted to figure out a game plan. Since you’d never done this before, you weren’t sure where to start; and as much as it wouldn’t be shameful to ask Luke for advice, you wanted to impress him.

"Okay, done. Now what?" The anticipation in his voice made you want to just explode on impact. He was just the cutest fucking thing.

"Hmmm," you hum, crossing your arms as your eyes scan his body, "I’m gonna need that shirt off."

"Yes ma’am."

He then crosses his arms in front of his torso, pulling the hemline of his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side, revealing his bare chest sprinkled in sandy blonde chest hairs.

As you watch him move, you gnaw on your bottom lip, scanning down his practically naked body and thinking of all of the things you could do. All of the things you could do to make this right for him. To make this worth wild.

You glance down at your plaid pajama shirt, clad and held together by buttons that gap between your breasts.

And then, you get an idea.

"You ready for me baby?" You ask your boyfriend, whose legs had been crossing and uncrossing impetuously as he watches you near closer to the bed.

"Mhm."

"Gonna play a game with you, m’kay?"

"M’kay." He mocks your gentle tone.

Before you could explain the rules of this new, made-up game of yours, you start to move. Dipping one knee down into the mattress, then the other. You crawl to him, straddling his lap and settling down atop of his obvious hard-on.

He was turned on just by the thought of you.

"It’s very easy," you start to say, reaching for the first button of your blouse, "and there’s only one rule."

Luke’s hands hover around you awkwardly, unsure of where to rest them, unsure if he was even allowed to touch you at all.

"What is it?" He asks, swallowing and adjusting himself beneath you.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His eyes widen. He had finally noticed your hand lingering and toying with the button on your top.

"You’re pretty, baby. The prettiest."

And with that, the first button comes undone. You move your hands down to the second.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, his hands now stagnant at his sides and twitching by your calves.

"You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world."

Second button, undone.

"Tell me I’m pretty, baby. Tell me again."

As you reach for the third button, you make a point to grind your hips down, swiveling them in a way that he’d feel it. His face contorts in bliss, petal pink lips parting slightly.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty… Prettiest I’ve— ever seen."

Third button, undone.

"Tell me more, baby. Tell me again."

You grind your hips down again, and a soft whimper escapes the back of his throat. You could feel his hands fidgeting down by your legs, reaching out to touch something that wasn’t even there.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… My pretty girl— ah—" He's cut short with another dig of your hips. The paper thin material of your pajama shorts leaving absolutely no room for the imagination. You could practically feel his cock twitching beneath your core, but you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

With his last words of affirmation, you undo the last two buttons on your own accord. The breeze from the air conditioning makes you shiver, instantly perking up your nipples.

Luke noticed that, too. He always does.

"So, so pretty…" He utters with one last labored breath, as if it were the last he’d ever take, upon seeing your chest.

"You did so good for me, didn’t you baby?"

Luke hums quietly, clearly feeling some sort of release due with the pressure of your body on top of him. You notice his hands trembling still, down at his sides and oblivious to the thought of touching you.

"You can touch me, y’know. Been’ such a good boy for me so far."

The eye contact between you was like trance; it was gentle, and warm. Still wavering with uncertainty, yet eager to continue. Luke’s hands eventually make it to your waist, something he had been dying to do since the moment you straddled his hips.

You could tell he was still hesitant to let his fingers roam as they usually would, and that was definitely getting to your head.

You swivel your hips one last time without a single word, dipping down to kiss him. Your hands are quick to cup his face, lips interlocking eagerly for the first time since this morning.

It’s not long before your tongues begin exploring, tangling together in the sweetness of your kiss.

You’re still grinding your hips. He’s still in a trance.

Luke’s hands had moved to grip your ass, pushing it down while simultaneously bucking his hips up into your core. This action of his makes you disconnect from him for a moment, a disapproving look in your eye.

"Ah ah ah," you tut at him, his cheeks now squished between your palms. He quirks his brow.

"What?"

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You said I could do anything, right?"

He chuckles, eyes flicking down to your lips, "I did say that, didn’t I? You're right, baby. Tell me whatcha' need from me... I'm all yours."

You suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that keep poking at your head and telling you to just let him have his way with you. You wanted to remain stern, whether he took you seriously, or not.

"How about this…"

You let go of his cheeks to shrug your pajama shirt off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to his tee. His pupils shake, eyeing down your breasts.

"…You don’t get to cum ‘till I say so."

"Oh, fuck— you're too good t'me..." His voice is soft and melodic, already so willing to give up the power he usually claims. "Yes. Yes..."

Your palms lay flat on his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

He was anxious; anxious in the way that one more subtle touch to his flesh would send his heart thumping right through his ribcage.

You couldn't contain your excitement anymore; just looking at him was already creating a slickness in your panties.

But Luke could've stared at you for hours.

"Are you sure, Lu?" You ask once your delicate boy once more, tracing little hearts with your pointer fingers across his pecs. He nods eagerly, eyes going doe.

"Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Have your way with me, please."

With a tug at your bottom lip, you take his words as your cue. You're quick to take out a condom from Luke's bedside dresser, and even quicker to shift your ass down to rest on his thighs.

As you move, his stare lingers. He nods at you slowly, to remind you of his approval. How desperately he wanted you to have your way with him.

His cock twitching and practically popping through the button of his boxers was already telling you everything you needed to know.

To try and read his eager pleas, you begin to palm him delicately through the pink heart fabric, heavenly sounds spilling past his lips and floating to your ears like a siren's melody.

He was grunting, whining; almost as if he were in pain.

"Easy now, baby," you coo gently, as a shiver runs down Luke's body, "Still my good boy, right?"

"Mmmmph."

"Good, good. Just like that, pretty baby." You squeeze your hand around his length, and his jaw falls completely agape.

You weren't planning on teasing him for much longer. It almost felt cruel to do so.

So, instead of waiting any more, you release him from the button of his boxers.

His tip was already leaky with precum; angry and red, that angelic face of his melting the second you wrap your manicured fingers around his shaft.

Tipping down to take him into your mouth, you hollow out your cheeks, tongue laying flat against him as you start to bob your head.

Sucking him off had always been one of your favorite things to do. In your head, it gave you a purpose— and you always loved the praise that would come with it.

But with the power dynamic now in your favor, you were already enjoying it all the more.

"Fuck me, pretty... So fuckin' warm..." Luke groans through gritted teeth, taking his hands to comb through your hair. You hum at him, sending a vibration down your tongue and directly through his body. He jolts, as if he’d been struck by lightning, while your hands begin to claw at his hipbone.

The walls of Luke's bedroom felt like they were closing in on you, each heaving breath that he was taking was making you dizzy. Your nails leave little crescent etchings deep into his flesh, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you duck down.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck–" He grunts, he whines, he continues to writhe beneath you, completely at your disposal. You were eating up every single sound he made, every little spasm of his hands or jerk at his hips.

Picking up on the signs, you could tell he was close. He didn't even have to say it.

"Y/N... I–I'm..." He can barely even finish his thought before he's grabbing your hair in a handful. You always loved it when he was a little rough with you, and this time was no different.

With a tug at your roots, you hum around him again. His body comes lurching forward, almost as if to stop himself from fucking your throat.

"Baby– M'close..." He finally utters, which brings you to toss your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whisper, watching his cock fall thump against his stomach and twitch here and there, "You’ve been so good for me so far."

"I have?" He asks the question sweetly, genuinely. With a little twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, of course you have, my pretty baby…" you say, running the back of your hand down his belly, "Gonna keep it up for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a good boy."

Luke tosses his head back, his bottom lip held captive by his teeth, and lets out a whine the moment you start to get off of him. The fact that he was whining at the loss of your touch was enough to send you over the edge right then and there, but you wanted to keep your promise.

You hastily discard your pajama shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Luke whimpers again upon seeing you naked— you didn’t bother to wear your panties tonight.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N… My pretty little flower—" Luke sighs, in awe of you, despite the lingering sexual tension in the air. He always made it a point to compliment you, no matter the scenario.

"Thank you, Lu," You can’t help but giggle and blush, making your way back to his lap to straddle him.

Again, his hands find your waist. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes wired shut.

After only doing this for a little while, you were already comfortable talking to Luke in a more dominant way. The trick was to not think about it too hard. Just let the words roll right off of your tongue.

Simple enough, right?

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby." Your words are soft like down pillows yet loud enough to get a rise out of him. He shifts beneath you, still closing his eyes.

"Fuck me… please? I’m achin’ for you."

You take his pleas as your sign to start, wet enough from merely the obscene sounds spilling from his lips. The condom you had grabbed was still at your side so, you rip the package open with your teeth.

When you start to roll the condom down over his length, he lets out a hiss. Could have been the temperature; or maybe he was just too desperate to be ashamed of his sounds.

"Shit—" He whines, clutching onto your hips as your hand pumps his cock a few times.

"Easy, baby," you purr, adjusting yourself upwards to line him up with your dripping slit, "You ready for me?"

"Mhm— yes… yes please, angel. Please— fuck me."

His throaty cries only furthered the butterflies floating around in the pit of your stomach. You could barely contain yourself as you hover over him, biting your lip as you sink down onto his cock.

The both of you let out a collective groan; the feeling of him filling you up completely just seemed too perfect.

You lower your body so that you completely engulf him, taking his length fully and making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Feels good, pretty baby?" You ask, still buzzing.

"Mmph—" He whines, anchoring his hands to your hips as you start to swivel.

"Need you to use your words, Lu… Tell me."

You’re gentle with him, at first. Treating him delicately, like picking off the petals off a daisy. He seemed so weak beneath you and something about it was making your head spin. Your heart was bursting at the seams.

"Yes, Y/N— Feels s’fuckin’ good—" Luke whimpers, digging his fingernails into you, and holding onto you with his entire soul fleshing through his fingertips.

His cock twitches inside of you, as you continue your rhythm of grinding hips. It’s easy for you to tell when to pick up speed, testing his limits by his face alone.

"Such a good boy, baby.. You’re doing so fuckin’ well."

You start to notice the familiar furrow of his brow, that concentrated little notch in his forehead.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t seem to look away

"Y/N, I—"

He says your name again. It’s syrupy, like honey dripping off of his tongue. You place your palm flat on his tummy, tossing your hair out of your eyes to match his gaze.

"Takin’ my pussy so well, aren’t you?" You ask him, but don’t expect an answer. His face of concentration was telling you all you needed to know. How hard he was working to please your demand.

"Mmm… Th-think’ m’doin’ a good job…" He nods slowly, and you smile.

"Oh baby, you are… Keep goin’, m’kay?"

He smiles with a hum, through heavy, bated breaths.

"M’kay."

The sweaty flurry of blonde curls and baby blue eyes was slowly starting to unravel. The rise and fall of his chest was rapidly picking up speed, before he started to snap his hips up into you.

A slapping sound engulfs the walls of his bedroom, but you have no reason to complain. His cock was stretching you out, hitting that sweet spot with every stroke.

"Fuck, Lu—" You can’t help but revert to your old ways; yet not completely giving in, and letting him hold the reins. He was still beneath you, practically melting as your bodies entwine.

And that, was an incredible feeling.

"Y/N—" he whines, broken by panting, "m’close."

You nod sloppily, your tits bouncing at the speed of your swiveling hips.

"Hold it, baby— still my good boy, right?"

"Yes, yes… I am, Y/N. M’ a fuckin— a fuckin’ mess for you…"

A catty smile sprawls across your cheeks, feeling your orgasm budding lowly in the pit of your stomach, and satisfied at the way you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Mhm, yes you are. Such a pretty mess..."

Your orgasm was on the brink now, ready to burst and run through your body. Sloppy sounds filled the air; panting, whining, groaning. It was all meshing in your ears like the tune of a fucking song.

You felt your face tinge pink upon seeing your boyfriend’s concentrated expression, feeling a tad bit sorry for being so demanding.

So, you finally decide to let go.

"Cum with me, baby—" You gasp.

"Wha—"

"Let it go, Lu. Been s— so good for me, fuck!"

And with that, stars and galaxies are fogging your vision. You let out a cry as you finish, your walls clenching tightly around Luke’s cock as he does the same. He gives one last quick snap of his hips before you’re collapsing completely, going limp on his chest with him still inside of you.

You could hear his heart thumping through his chest; your sweaty bodies practically letting sparks fly. His hand moves to rub your back, as you both collect your devices.

"Was I good enough, baby?" He asks sweetly, that soft voice from before coming into play and making your stomach flutter.

"More than enough."

He giggles; seeming a bit shy about the semantics of it all, before planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

You can see his eyelashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks, glistening in the light of your bedroom as he grins up to the ceiling.

"I’m glad," he beams, "And you were right, by the way."

You pop your head up from his chest to look him in the eye. "About what?"

"Should’ve told ya’ about this a lot sooner."

With a shake of your head, you tut at him teasingly, just happy to feel closer to him than you ever have before.

"Guess it’s not a secret anymore."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#5sos fanfic #luke 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings smut #5 seconds of summer #soupster requests

[nordidia]

Do you think CJ and Raph ever talk about their experiences with PTSD/anxiety together or even share advice on coping? Or do you think Raph would rather not? Explain your reasoning in your essay below

(i typed an entire novel and then accidentally closed chrome and it deleted everything let me try doing this again i barely remember what i said ok so. also this is just me blabbering idk guys im not a rise writer im just some opinionated guy online and you can completely disagree with me and i dont say what goes or not ok? ok!)

i dont think raph would go to him with his issues but i think it'd defo get talked about through asking CJ about things and checking up on him etc. and i think CJ would give raph alot of insight and advice on how to deal with anxieties and traumas,, tho alot of their convos would just be one of them saying something vile and the other one going "oh. is that not normal?" and the first one looking at the latter like this

but all in all i think they'd definitely help eachother with dealing with stuff... i think especially raph will assist CJ in just taking the blow on how much there is to unpack... his entire life has been a big traumatic event, i imagine suddenly living a sustained life without having to fight for survival every day would be a lot for him to deal with, especially the confusion and grief over what he has lost (maybe what he has lost feels a bit like pointless grief to him now? which is a trauma in itself) and also grieving what he never had. as we know, grief is also things we shouldve had but never got, and i think all the hamatos would be really helpful in dealing with that.

tho CJ seems to be a bit of a hardass on stuff like this which is incredibly understandable when you've had to fight for everything with zero stability at all anywhere you went. i could see him confiding in raph about it, but not only him if im honest. but there is an undeniable security about raph i think that the characters i the show feel, and i think CJ would seek the stability and consistent reliability that raph provides.

i also like that CJ doesnt seem too scared about calling out people when they do wrong, i can defo see CJ bluntly telling raph that bad coping mechanisms is stupid and makes things worse and worries everyone around. (this is ofc hand in hand with the good ol' HC that raph bottles shit up/avoids talking abt things. personally i think he never shuts up and frequently rants about stuff and lets his family know whenever shit is up but he avoids going too deep so his family thinks he's being fully transparent when actually he's just not voicing the worst shit. this is so real to me no i do not need therapy shut u)

i definitely think raph would confide in CJ about the krang thing. CJ is the one who knows the most about it, i can see raph going to him to just get a bit more information about what was going on, and also a bit of relief hearing that it didnt go as bad as it couldve gone... CJ being experienced with krangification would absolutely soothe worries and make him feel less alone about knowing what he knows and having gone through something thats a step further than his brothers

IS THIS A GOOD ENOUGH ESSAY i have academic anxiety dont grade me please its 4am i have taken melatonin pills im on my last leg help m *ficking dies*

edit: GOODNIGHT LOL

#asks! #ohhhh raph and casey duos my beloved #rise raph #rottmnt casey jr

[tangledinink]

Hi, I really love your AUs, can't wait to see more!

eEEEE THANK YOU ; w ; this all so sweet and makes me so happy aaaAAAAAA

ask dump below~

he was 5'3" previously, he's now more like five feet maybe a little bit less. if you were to measure him and mikey back to back, mikey would be a tiny bit taller. you can't really tell yet, though, since donnie currently can't stand, and up until now he was constantly on tip-toes. he's also just very underweight right now, which makes him seem even smaller. as he recovers and gains some weight back, he'll seem a bit less itty-bitty.

thank you! ; w ; also while i don't think he's ever, like, straight up wiggled his fingers at a boy, i do think he occasionally gets a little fidgety/twitchy with his hands and fingers when he has a crush. maybe also tends to do little arm/shoulder touches with his outstretched fingers as well when he's flirting. u w u

It's completely gone! his tummy and hips are now just like the other exposed parts of his body, like his arms and legs-- just skin and scales. I don't think it ever actually came up in the main part of the comic, but is illustrated in his reference image in the masterpost! Also don't worry, no ill-effects from being crop-topped. It'll just take a bit of getting used to. (If anything, it's a bit of a boon at the moment for the rest of the fam. A lot of medical care is a lot easier without plastron blocking the patient's entire torso.)

HEHEHE, thank you <3 i love making them wag their tails I think it's so cute and silly... <3 I think Raph (across all AU's, lol) has definitely accidentally hurt himself wagging his tail in excitement on at least one occasion.

Oh gosh. It's hard to say because it's such a spectrum... It would have to be a pretty nasty injury for the witchdoctors to not be able to do something about it. But assuming they can't... Big Mama would never outright ask the Gems to perform on a serious injury, but the twins would definitely feel pressure to continue performing for as long as they possibly could, and to keep recovery time as short as possible. If they had to take time off to heal, they would, (and have in the past,) but they'd definitely be impatient to get back on the field. If the injury is truly so bad that one or both of them can no longer perform, they'd probably both retire, (though extremely reluctantly, and doing so would be incredibly heartbreaking for them and cause them a lot of grief and guilt,) because neither would want to go on without the other. There might be some pushback from Big Mama, though, and the uninjured party could potentially be convinced, with enough time and enough conversations, to make a comeback...

Poorly. It'd probably go about the same way it did for Donnie, except worse the second time around. They'd probably both be in trouble for it-- Leo for keeping things for her, and Donnie because she (correctly) assumes that he's 'influenced' Leo somehow, since he did the same thing first.

he is being SOOOO brave right now... but he can't NOT. not when his kids are on the line :< though I will say, you're being quite optimistic about how his conversation with Big Mama is gonna go... 👀

lmao april is maybe in a TEENSY bit over her head, bless her. splinter definitely struggled over whether or not to bring her with him to see big mama. he tried to convince her to let him escort her back home once he realized where he had to go, but of course she wouldn't hear of it. thought about having her wait outside, but... is so reluctant to leave her alone in the hidden city... knew she would probably pushback anyway, too, so...

the twins will definitely have a ton of therapy and healing to tackle in the future <3 my poor sweet baby boys....

THANK YOU <3 <3 <3

@11bountyhunters @oh-my-muffins @oneshortlove @khlegacynexus @animal-lover-forever @wings-of-sapphire @devious-little-creature @riseleon

#asks #ask dump #sorrywhatnowau asks #gemini au asks #gemini asks #swanatello asks #anon #HEHEHE THANKS GANG #sorry i always hoard so many of these lol #if you sent one in that isnt answered here its probably been answered before #or im saving it for a swannie update #or i wanna draw something in response #or it just got ated by tumblr lol = 3 = #sobs... im really happy... that i can inspire some people... and you guys like the things i do... ; w ;

[chestnutracc]

I hate how some people after season 2 are just putting hate on Aziraphale. I mean, he in fact, left the Crowley, but he had his own reasons as well, didn't he? Aziraphale have a very compliceted relationship with heaven but he is in fact an angel and he want to belong there OAAAAAHHHHH—

Quick frame from animatic, u can find it on my instagram for example :) chestnut.racc (quick self advertisment haha)

Anyway, those kind of videos where people are insulting Aziraphale or smth like 'me after s2' and the video of taking of his face or covering them all on some kind of placats. I'm shittin myself. I know that thats grief after the ending but... Man his whole life or more like existance is not ONLY about Crowley in fact :/

Look how we get a chance to speculate why did he do that? What was his reasons? I think that the ending of Good Omens was (not only just marketing catch (that dramatic pause for a kiss and 'betrayal') but also a planned procedure? I love them both [Aziraphale and Crowley] equally so you shouldn't think this is a desperate attempt to protect your favorite (wha de duck I am saying, this series have a few months now so it is not a fresh topic... For me it is oh goddd ANYWAY)

Alr, here is another image so you won't go so quickly and read all that shit or not

Hkhm... Let me give yall a wholeass essay in my second language.

Kidding! Not so extreme. Haha. Anyway. Those are the possibilities why Aziraphale decided that he should leave to heaven. Of course, there could be a few. Or everything. Or none. It's just my personal opinion :)

Again, assumptions, personal opinion, don't want to offend anyone. Thing up⬆️ that's the part where you can argue with me, debate maybe. Whatever. Thing down, I gues bunch of headcanonc? I don't know, they are theories? You can as well say what you think!!⬇️

Goosh, sorry for the mess. Lets start already. Yeah. Uh. Right. Right. Alright. Why Aziraphale chose heaven?

1. Aziraphale overall is an angel... Literally... So uhm he is naturally connected with God, wich he as well worships. He don't have to stand with heaven, but he still has a deep bond with good. Leaving the heaven would be, right, a great decision for his wellbeing. It's clear that he's not on their side. But he did not left his God. Saying 'no' to Megatron would be something that would make him feel terribly guilty and overall devasted, as he would disobey his own moral code and he would gave up a part of himself, I suppose.

2. For 6,000 fuckinf years he had been arguing with himself about feeling for Crowley, right now doesn't matter if platonic, romantic. He was renouncing Crowley so many times that he don't know him, he's not his friend. Yet he could not resist, but be with that redhead. Don't you think that he was having some, oh I don't know, moral crisis? Imagine choosing between two most importanr things? The creature you love and, for Azi, a literall purpose of creation - serving God? Oh man, he was in this state for over 6,000 years. If he would say 'no' then, would he ever get another chance like that to habilitate? He was working so hard, for so long, but he didn't had to chose through all those centuries. Now he had. I guess it's logical, that he choosed his creator.

3. Clear and logical! If Crowley would be back to heaven, he wouldn't have to choose between two thing he loves. Ah you clever one :). Nah. He literally said that he wants to work with Crowley. What can I say more.

4. Obvioulsy, he did not wanted to chose what we know of we SHOULD from serial. And pervious point... And previous previous. It felt like he had been lost or something in it all. I mean, he needed to choose if he wants to take Crowley, if he wants to go back. He was rhinking about the kiss, probably about heaven, what would they say, what would they do. To him, to Crowley. What he should say to Megatron. I suppose he was impetuous with that decision. Imagine lying (he is a damn angel whaaa) to yourself for thousands of years and then just having to confess. Nah, he would like better to stay silent and still lie 🙂 oh god why he is so stupid. Crowley is also stupid. They both are!!!

5. He was mad. Similisr to previous point. He felt like he did not belong with Crowley, as he was devasted. And also Crowley ignored him as well, as Azi ignored Crowley. But i want to focus on thing that he said that he NEEDS him and begged to not to leave him. Easy peasy. No communication between those doveys.

6. He was afraid of loving Crowley as - what would heaven say? What would god say? Will they be happy? Will they be safe? Is it really possible for them to be together? Demon and angel?

7. He considered himself as a failure for Crowley 👍 after he said yes, when Crowley was always saying no.

8. He was afraid of the consequences refusing heaven. Like, he literally was making out with devil, then went o heaven, hell's fire couldn't kill 'him' (ik it was crowley but not for heaven), he was hiding Gabriel, he did not cooperated with heaven. There were a few times when he sinned... A lot. Uhm. Well,I DO have a reason to suppose this could have been some kind of test or something... Because what the hell? From archangel, later no one, then back to the archangel?

Aug! Sorry, long post. Rage hit me. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight :)

#good omens s2 #good omens #art #doodlies #doodle #aziraphale #spoilers good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #good ineffable omens #ineffable divorce #shitpost #bitch was writing so long that their mouth went dry af #LATE AS ALWAYS OMFG

[rhine-gold-archive]

sub xiao lingerie plssss everything u do with him is magic

Sub! Xiao x GN Dom! Reader 

Warnings: not sfw, fingering, obviously lingerie, praise kink, nipple play, edging, cockwarming, very slight degradation (like a single name calling), anal sex (cock stand for both dick and strap as usual)

A/N: this is not “Xiao is a mewling mess from the get go”, though we get there, trust me, but there’s a tsundere character development arc first. I planned it as a quick lighthearted thing and it kinda got away from me. Modern AU? sort of??? Just to have texting.

Wordcount: 2,3k

You have to leave for a few days for the first time since you started dating Xiao, and you know already that it’s very hard for him to form connections, but when he does, the attachment is incredibly intense and important for someone as lonely and self-hating as he is. He’s predisposed to feel abandoned even if he’d never admit and he rationally knows it’s not true.

So you decide to make him a cute surprise gift, as both a distraction and a token of affection. At first, he doesn’t take it well AT ALL.

“What is this? Some sort of a joke? If so, I find your mortal sense of humor lacking once again.”

“I just think it would look cute on you, baby <3”

You know already that arguing with him or answering with sarcasm is both tiring and unproductive. He is perpetually looped in a cat’s paradox, just as cats, god’s perfect killing machines, adapted to be house pets and want to curl on human laps and be scratched behind the ears, Xiao, a stoic yaksha general, is trapped in a touch-starved body with an easy blush and a sensitive cock. It’s just that unlike cats, he has to go through twelve steps of denial and grief before accepting it.

“Cute? That is the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. How disrespectful of you to suggest to an adeptus to wear this, let alone a yaksha like myself, a weapon drenched in tainted blood for a millenium.”

“I *KNOW* it will look cute on you, little bird. Send pics when you try it on!”

He doesn’t deign to answer because there’s no dignified way to type out “Hmpf.” The absolute gall of your suggestion does not even warrant a reply. He spends the entire day quietly fuming about how OBVIOUSLY it would NOT look cute on him. In the evening, he unpacks it just to spite you so you can’t return it. And also just to see for himself how absolutely STUPID this idea is.

And it is stupid! The lingerie is so ridiculous and uncomfortable. The white high thighs that are so idiotically hard to put on and leave an unreasonable gap of flesh between the flimsy panties, which are sitting low on hip bones, barely covering even soft cock, not to mention… And the transparent little top, clinging so obnoxiously that the peaks of the nipples are visible. And the tiny lacy choker is so useless, so extraneous, such an obvious waste!

Of course, he doesn’t tell you that he tried it on and he doesn’t take pics. He spends the night, tossing and turning under the covers, intrusive images of you looking at him dressed like that, hungrily, calling him pretty, sliding hands down his legs, almost rolling the tight stockings down, squeezing his crotch under a thin, silky layer of underwear while your lips are roaming over his arched neck, your finger hooked under his choker…

He doesn’t touch himself because he refuses to admit images like this could arouse him, so the next morning he’s restless, high strung, horny and unsatisfied after what was basically edging himself for the entire night, and so his judgment starts becoming cloudy, searching for the “acceptable” ways to fall to the temptation. The part of him that wants this, wants you to want him like this and praise him for looking like this, is getting more and more insistent, but he still can’t admit it to himself, and so he subconsciously commits a sleight of hand. SURELY, you wouldn’t actually think this looks good on him, and so if you see it, you’d realize what a foolish mistake you’ve made and the question would be closed forever, so he wouldn’t need to feel conflicted anymore. And so obviously, the solution is to send you a pic, but, you know. Not the great looking one (though it’s not like something like this could even theoretically look great on him, of course), and making sure it’s visible that he doesn’t care and is, in fact, disdainful of the idea, and is only doing this so you can regret even suggesting it.

So he spends quite a lot of time and effort on taking the most bored and low investment-looking selfies possible, sends a couple of them to you with “And this rubbish is what you find attractive?” comment, immediately regrets it, throws the phone down on the bed and is on the verge of trying to delete the pics, when you reply, ecstatic, telling him that yes, of course he looks incredibly hot like that. He answers “Then you have a bad taste,” throws the phone down again, blushing violently and already with a hard-on. 

When you send encouraging praises, telling him to greet you like that when you come back, he refuses vehemently, but the sweet warmth pools deep in his belly and he can’t meet his own eyes in the mirror for the rest of the night. He’s used to thinking of himself as a weapon, built for battle first and foremost, with strength and mastery in a fight as his only valuable traits, and even your attraction to him he sees as a fortunate, but weird quirk of your character, an unusual preference. But the lingerie makes him feel pretty in a way that has nothing to do with strength, the idea of being seen as straightforwardly beautiful is so tempting, but clashes with his perception of self so radically that he cannot reconcile this easily.

He might have resisted the corruption for hundreds of years, but it only takes a couple of lonely nights for desire to break his resolve. So when you finally arrive and walk into the bedroom, he’s in lingerie, kneeling on the bed, looking away both from you and the reflection in the wall mirror on the side. 

You drop your bags on the floor, walk up to him and kiss him, push him down on the bed, while he’s blushing and still refusing to meet your eyes. You catch his chin and force him to turn his head.

“Look at me, my pretty little bird.”

He does, his golden eyes unfocused and half-lidded over, and can’t look away anymore, as you ravish him from neck to stomach, cover him with kisses, on the exposed skin and through the silky fabric, while he’s squirming under you and watching, transfixed, feeling sweetly weak and precious like he didn’t know he could. You hold his gaze when you draw your lips from his prominent hipbones down, lick at the strip of skin over the band of panties while he takes the rugged breaths, and when you finally kiss his bulge through the thin lace, he shudders, melts under your touch and whines needily, even though his words are protesting.

“No, wait, I’m close…”

You move up to kiss him and give him a slight respite, but your hand slides down, moving the fabric of underwear away to lightly tease his hole, and he comes just from that, moaning against your mouth and arching with a shudder, his legs closing over your hand. You chuckle, keep massaging his pulsing entrance.

“You came just from that, huh? You really did miss me then.”

He blushes brightly and doesn’t look you in the eye, still tight and nervous like a virgin when you slide your fingers in, it’s like the first time no matter how often you fuck him until he’s screaming.

“Don’t worry, I won’t punish you for coming without permission. You’ve been so good, I can’t blame you for being excited to look so pretty for me.”

It shouldn’t be physically possible for him to blush even brighter, but he manages.

“I wasn’t… I’m not.”

There was always something endearing about the ridiculousness of his denials while he’s sprawled under you, being fingered, toes scraping at the bedsheets, but with time it turns exasperating. It’s easier for him to avoid confronting his own desires if he pretends this is just for you, so he hides in the passivity of submission, allowing you to do what you want to him so that he doesn’t have to admit how badly he wants it too.

“Oh, you’re not?” you ask with deceiving softness, turning him over and sliding into him with your cock\strap. “Not even a little bit?” your tone turns teasing as he groans in desire, but you don’t fuck him, instead, you pull him up to settle in your lap, his back against your chest, your cock buried deep inside him. His hips buckle against yours, but you grip his thigh to still him with one hand and catch his chin and force him to look in the mirror with the other.

“Oh no, dear, you’re not getting it until you admit you want it,” you whisper into his ear, meeting his agitated golden eyes in the mirror. “Until you admit you like looking like this too..”

He bites his lip, glancing over his own reflection, he looks ravished and debauched, bright blush, lingerie pieces sitting askew, thighs in lacy stockings trembling open, cock getting hard again, it’s outline visible under the panties, still damp from him coming just now.

“Does it feel good, baby?” you ask quietly, trailing sloppy hot kisses down his neck. His eyes are lidding over, long black eyelashes trembling and he answers, a barely audible “Yes…”

“Good boy,” you kiss him in encouragement. ”See, it isn’t hard to tell the truth, is it?” you slide your hand under the flimsy layer of his top, thumb at his nipples. He grunts, his head rolling helplessly back to your shoulder, his legs spreading even wider open. You play with the sensitive pink buds until he’s squirming in your lap, arching against you so that your dick inside him is bulging slightly through his stomach and the swollen head of his own pretty cock is peeking from under his little panties and leaking on the lace. “And don’t you want more?”

“Yes…” he lets out with a shudder, both being horrified at what he sees in the mirror and not being able to look away, torn between the life-long belief this isn’t for him and an undeniable, sharp pleasure, a humiliating, shameful weakness that feels so good, so sweetly intoxicating.

“How could you even try to pretend, when you’re undone before I even touched your pretty cock?” you chuckle and press your palm against his crotch. He whines, clenching around your cock, ruts helplessly against your hand, losing the last shreds of control.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking hot like this. I’ll fuck you so good and hard right now, just ask.”

He arches in your lap, presses his head against yours, his mouth half-open, his hot and rugged breaths on your lips while his heart is racing in his chest.

“Please,” he whispers, low, choked, feverish like gasping for air while drowning. “Please, I can’t take it anymore, please…”

You kiss him, then throw him down on the bed and ram into him. He screams and keeps screaming while you fuck him, hard and fast, gripping his hips covered in lace, telling him how good he looks until his screams turn into shuddering, breathless whines. You grip black hair at the back of his head and pull him up again, force him to look up. He lost control and composure completely at this point, red eyeliner running at the corners of half-lidded glittering eyes, ruffled green-black hair, mouth falling slack open and trying to catch air.

“You love this, don’t you?” you slide your free hand down his arched body, ride up the transparent top, run fingers over the bulge in his belly and down to the open, shaking thighs, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to answer, too far gone to care. 

“Yes!”

“You like being a pretty slut for me?” You kiss him and grope his throbbing cock as he’s bucking his hips against you, trying desperately to fuck himself.

“Yes!”

“Then come for me, baby, like a good little whore.”

He comes writhing in your arms, his hand gripping at your wrist where you hold his hip, and you fuck him through it, whispering praises and kissing the back of his neck. When he calms down and you slide out, move to take now ruined pieces of the lingerie of him, he at first tries to protest and do everything himself, as usual, but when you insist, gives up surprisingly easily, lets you slide it off him and then gently wipe him with a warm damp cloth, while he’s laying on the pillows, blushing and limp-limbed. He feels raw and tender all over, but in a good way, and when you pull the covers over him, their touch feels somehow overwhelming in their softness against his naked skin.

He curls against you in the nest of tangled blankets, warm and tired, feeling at the same time extremely vulnerable and hidden from the whole world.

“Sorry for ruining the lingerie,” he says quietly and you laugh.

“Oh, it’s nothing, it was absolutely worth it, baby.”

“Was it?” you can feel his cheek heating up when he blushes, but his voice is  anxious.“I’m far from suitable for such things, so…”

“Hush. You are the prettiest thing I’ve laid my eyes on, you’ve looked stunning in this, and I cannot wait to get you ten new sets.”

“Hmfp. Then you are truly delusional,” he says fondly and rubs his cheek against your shoulder. That night, Xiao lays there quietly in a circle of your arms, and despite being exhausted, resists falling asleep for as long as he can, basking in a feeling of, for once instead of an expendable weapon, being cherished and protected himself.

#rhine writes filth #xiao #xiao x reader

[giggly-squiggily]

Babysitter's Guide To Watching Eri (My Hero Academia)

Heyo! This is a gift for the ever amazing @thatbigbisexual29 A while back we were talking about Bakugou and Eri and how cute they'd be as a duo, and thus; this fic has been born! This is pretty self indulgent and likely OOC but who cares- it's Bakugou and Eri! I hope y'all like it! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san @nutzgunray-lvt @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mochigiggle @chibisstuff

Summary: In an unexpected turn of events, Bakugou is tasked with babysitting Eri for the day.

When it came to looking after Eri, a few faces immediately came to mind.

First of course was Mirio. The kind hearted hero adored the girl and would bend over backwards to entertain her whenever Aizawa and Mic had hero work to attend to. It didn’t matter what was going on- he was ready to rush over and play whenever needed.

The next was Midoriya. If Mirio was busy or they simply desired another playmate, they’d grab the freckled boy from his studies and invite him over. He’d run through the door with a proud “I am here!” that left Eri squealing in glee and Mirio chucking at how into his role he got for the little girl.

There were others; Nejiri who was always down to play dress up and princess tea party with Eri; Shinsou who helped her with her drawings and watched movies with her; and the U-A girls like Uraraka and Tsuyu who always took her to fun places like the space zone or the aquarium, pointing out cool things and treating her to snacks.

Alas- none of those options were available today for Eri. Mirio and Nejire had work, Midoriya and the girls were finishing their internships, and Shinsou was in extra classes for the hero course. Things were rather…tense as the realization hit them.

“What are we gonna do? We can’t bring her with us during our patrol!” Mic was pacing around the room back and forth in thought, just barely avoiding pulling out his hair. “And all the pro’s are busy- oh man why of all the days!”

“We’ll figure it out. We just need to find someone on short notice.” Aizawa slumped forward in his seat, trying to think. Who was available with no plans today? “Yaoyorozu maybe?”

“Yeah! No…wait- Midnight needed her.” Mic deflated. “Oh! What about Tokoyami?”

“Hawks.” They said at the same time, shaking their heads. “Nearly all the students are being taken up for missions right now- it’s not fair to expect them to bail for our sake. What do we do…” Mic doubled over the desk, holding his head.

Just then- an answer walked through the door.

“Hey- Mr. Aizawa, Best Jeanist texted. He said he wouldn’t be able to take me with him today- some emergency came up.” Bakugou knocked before poking his head through the door, looking a bit disgruntled. “Should I see if Endeavor needs more hands?”

Aizawa and Mic looked at eachother.

“Endeavor has plenty of hands.” Aizawa spoke, finalizing their decision. “However, we do need a favor…”

~~~

A babysitter job. Him- babysitting!

Good grief.

“Okay- here’s everything she’ll need. Eri’s fairly independent, so really the only thing you need to do is entertain her while we’re gone.” Mic had handed him a whole list- A LIST! Of things Eri liked. Everything from her favorite toys to her favorite drinks and snacks- all the movies she loved and games she usually played, etc. etc.

“We should be back a little after lunchtime so if you could take care of that; we have pre-made meals in the fridge, you just need to heat them up. Oh- and careful with the microwave; we don’t know what happened but it’s acting weird. Try not to hit any odd numbers, kay?”

“Odd numbers-wait; how long did you say?” Bakugou stammered as Mic bounced out the door, putting on his hero face. “Is this an all day thing?”

“Is that a problem?” Aizawa raised a brow. “Do you have anything planned today?”

“Well…no, I just…I’m not-” Bakugou waved his arms, feeling a bit helpless. “I’m not exactly great with kids.”

Aizawa softened, reaching out and patting Bakugou’s shoulder. “From what I’ve heard, you did fine with the kids during your remedial classes.”

“That’s only because they were a bunch of snot nosed brats. Plus I had help” Bakugou grumbled.

“That was a bunch of kids. This is Eri- the farthest thing from a brat.” Aizawa squeezed his arm before pulling back, adjusting his scarf. “She’s a good girl and doesn’t need much. Try not to scare her. You know how you can be.”

“I’m not-” Bakugou growled, then snapped his mouth shut when he realized he was proving Aizawa’s point. “Fine. I’ll be…gentle.”

“Thank you again, Bakugou. We truly appreciate it.” Aizawa nodded before heading out, officially leaving Eri in the teen’s care.

“...Heh. Okay, squirt- where do we even-” Bakugou turned to face her but found…nothing. She was nowhere to be seen. “Eri? Hey, where are you?”

Poking his head down the hall, he found her hiding behind a door frame, peeking at him. “You good, kid?”

Eri seemed…scared. Bakugou winced at himself; he hadn’t even talked to her today yet and he already scared her. Sighing, he squatted down to her level, offering a hand. “Look- I know I seem scary, but I promise I’m not gonna yell at you. Whatever you want to do today, we can do, alright?”

The girl seemed to relax some, her expression still nervous. Slowly, she crept towards him, little hands folded on her chest as she looked at her feet. “Sorry…”

“Huh? Why are you apologizing?” She winced at his tone. He internally punched himself. “Er-sorry. Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You have to watch me. I ruined your day.” She sounded close to tears. Bakugou felt his chest hurt. Did she hear him calling after Mic?

“No, no kid- you didn’t ruin anything. My day hasn’t even started yet.” With some hesitation, he reached out and patted her head, making her look up. “If you heard me talking to your papa, it wasn’t anything bad about you, I swear. I just don’t know how to…” he waved a hand between them, shrugging in such a manner that he got a smile. “But we can figure this out. We can play whatever you want- including…” He looked at the list, wincing. “Fairy Princess Ball.”

Eri giggled, her nerves easing away as she bounced up to him. “I love that game! But I always play it with Neji. I want to play something else.”

“Sure kid, let’s see.” Bakugou looked at the list once more, but Eri put her hands over it, pushing it down with a headshake.

“No list! I want to play something new.” She looked up at him, eyes dancing. “Something you came up with…erm…”

“Bakugou.” He gave her his name, watching her light up. “But I guess Katsuki is fine if  you want.”

“Ba…Baku..” She stammered on the words, then she looked at him. “Kacchy.”

“Close enough.”

~~~

“Ahoy my crew! We’re approaching deadly waters!” Eri cried from her pillow fort on the couch, holding a circular cushion in her small hands like a steering wheel. “They say a mean old sea monster lives here- we must be careful!”

“Oi who you calling old-er I mean…Grrrrrrr!” Eri giggled at the growling heard beneath a nearby blue blanket, slowly getting closer and closer to her “ship”. Behind her, her crew of squishmellows sat aligned, all dressed in pirate outfits and ready to assist.

“Do you hear that? It’s getting closer!” Eri looked around, pushing up her pirate hat as she searched for the monster. “Let’s turn to-”

“ROAR!” Bakugou shot from the blanket, a dragon hat on his head as he raised his arms high. Eri squealed, falling back in her pillows with a giggly shriek. “I’m a sea monster! And I’m gonna eat your boat!”

“Noo! Quick- Yuki! Save us!” Eri chucked her nearest Squishmellow at him, watching it bounce off his chest harmlessly. Bakugou flailed backwards anyway, pretending to be hit. “Go, go!”

“Gah! No! Not the dreaded squish!” He cried out as she assaulted him with squishmellow after squishmellow, finally jumping on him when she ran out. “Ah! No! It’s the Pirate Princess Eri!”

“That’s right! And I’m gonna take you out, Mr. Sea Monster! Take THIS!” She shot her hands out, scribbling them all over his belly with reckless abandon.

“AH! Ahehahahahhaa! Whahahahit- wahahhhahait I didiihihihihn’t agrehehehehehehehee to thihihihihiihs!” Bakugou spasmed with a yelp, not at all prepared for such acts! Semi buried beneath squishmellows, the blonde laughed and squirmed, fighting the urge to curse in front of Eri. “Ehahhhahahhaha, you brahhahahahhat! This ihihhihihihisn’t fahahahhahair!”

“He he he! Looks like you’re no match for the great Eri-EHH!” The little girl squealed when Bakugou suddenly lunged, gathering her up and gently tickling her back. “Ahehahahahahahahaha! Kahahhaahahahchy!”

“Who’s Kacchy? I’m the dreadful sea monster, remember? Forget eating your ship, I’m gonna eat YOU!” He roared playfully as he carried on tickling her, making Eri squeal and kick in glee. “I’m gonna roll you in flour, bake you and then eat you up bones and all!”

“Ahehahhhahahhaa! Nohohohoohohohoo!” Eri rolled out of his arms, running for her boat. “Stahhahay awhawhhahahay!” She squealed through her giggles as she grabbed her squishmellow, smacking him with it. “Tahhake that!”

“Oh, it is ON!” He grabbed the smallest squish he could find, lightly swatting back at her as she laughed herself silly. For someone so small, she sure could pack a hit!

RIIIIIP!

“Oh no!” Eri cried, freezing Bakugou in his spot. The squishmellow she was using to attack had suddenly ripped open- a huge gaping hole in the side. Stuffing rolled down the couch, littering the floor. “Yuki…”

Yuki…oh shit. That was one of her favorite toys from the list.

“Oh man, kid…” Bakugou paled upon looking at the mess. Eri’s eyes filled with tears.

Bakugou looked at her, then at the toy. Then he sighed, pulling off the dragon hat.

“No tears, Doctor Eri. We have a patient to fix.” He announced, making her look up. “Hang on- I have something that can fix Yuki.

~~~

“I didn’t know you could sew!” Eri sat wide eyed as she watched Bakugou carefully stitch back up her toy, his handiwork slow but consistent. “Where’d you learn that?”

“A hero has tons of tricks.” Bakugou grinned at her, pushing the fallen stuffing back in as he went along. “My parents are in the fashion business. My dad makes clothes while my mom models them. I helped them out a few summers- mainly just taking care of rips and tears in the clothes.”

“Wow…” Eri leaned into her hands, taking it all in. “Papa…he got me Yuki as a present when I first started living here.”

Ah. That made sense why the plush was so faded. It also explained Eri’s reaction. “Did he now?”

“Mm-hm! He came home with it one day- told me it was a present for my birthday!” Eri smiled at the memory, cheeks flushing with fondness for her adoptive parents. “It wasn’t really my birthday, but it was the first real gift from Daddy and Papa- I love it very much.”

Bakugou didn’t have much to say about that, finishing off the last stitch before puffing Yuki up some. “There we go. Good as new- er; minus the big scar.”

Eri practically tackled him, hugging his arm with a teary grin. “Thank you, Kacchy. And I don’t mind the scar. All the people I love have them.”

That’s when he realized she was looking at him too, at the faded scars along his bicep.

“Heh, I guess they do.” He laughed through a thick voice.

~~~

“Alright- let’s see…which one kid?” Bakugou presented both meals to Eri, watching her look each one over. It was around the afternoon when he got a text from Aizawa; turns out they weren’t gonna be back until late that evening; meaning it was up to Bakugou to prepare her meal.

“Hmm…this one!” She pointed, pleased with her decision. Bakugou nodded, putting the other away before popping the pre-made meal into the microwave. “Daddy makes the best food!”

“He does.” Bakugou agreed, knowing just how good Aizawa was as a cook. “He once made-”

The microwave beeped and shook. Bakugou paled upon realizing his mistake.

Don’t press any of the odd buttons!

“ERI MOVE!” Bakugou ran at her, gathering her up and leaping just as the microwave exploded. Glass and semi cooked food flew across the kitchen, the smell of smoke strong as the inside of the microwave sizzled. A small flame remained within.

Bakugou blinked, then he looked over Eri. Besides looking utterly shocked, she didn’t have any wounds or burns. Nodding, he quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher, putting out the remains of the microwave. Once done, he grabbed a wooden spoon and batted out the plug. “There. Eri, are you okay?”

The girl seemed stunned, wide eyed and shaky. Bakugou kneeled before her, voice gentle. “Eri?”

“Erm…yeah. I’m okay.” She nodded, shaking out of her shock as she met his eye. “What about you?”

“Nothing broken here. Sorry I blew up dinner.” He laughed some, looking back at the mess. “Er…want pizza?”

~~~ “And that is that.” Bakugou huffed as he and Eri flopped into the couch, fairly exhausted. The kitchen was clean once more, and a box of pizza with only the crust remaining laid on the coffee table. In the background, a movie with talking fish carried on. Eri insisted it was a great movie. If he were being honest, she was right. “What a day. Sorry I kinda messed everything up, kid.”

“What do you mean? I had so much fun today!” She smiled up at him, sleepy. “We played pirates and sea monsters, you fixed Yuki, and we got to eat pizza and watch movies! I’m glad you came today, Kacchy.”

Bakugou grinned, something warm setting in his chest as she scooted closer to him, lying against his side. “I’m sure Mirio or Deku would have been better.”

“Maybe. But you’re great in your own way.” She yawned, huffing some before closing her eyes. “Thanks for being here, Kacchy…I appreciate it…”

“Eri?” He looked down to find her sleeping with a happy smile on her face. Chuckling, he petted back her hair away from her peaceful expression.

“Glad to be there for you kid.”

Thanks for reading!

#mha/bnha #fluff #all the fluff #bakugou katsuki #eri #babysitting antics #soft!bakugou #I tried to keep him in character as much as possible but like... #come on #he'd be so soft with Eri #tickle fights #cooking mishaps #movies and games #They are precious your honor

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

do u have any tvdint fic reccs? <- has been combing through the tvdint ao3 tag several times

If you've been through the AO3 tags, then chances are you've read most of my reccs, but i'll list em anyway as well as the few i've read through on Pixiv :0

Please keep in mind that you should always read through the tags and warnings of these fics (and ANY fic) before proceeding. I tend to like darker/angsty storylines, so just be aware. Most of these reccs are SFW, but there are a couple that dip into NSFW territory.

Besides grouping them from English AO3 fics, Non-English AO3 fics, and Pixiv fics, there is no order to this list

"I'm Not Going Anywhere" by AruiI: Ronaldo gets critically injured during a hunt. Draluc does his best to keep him alive until he can get to a hospital, and is forced to realize just how scared he is to potentially lose him

Stages of Grief by WyvernQuill: Draluc decides to prove to his friends that Ronaldo doesn't care about him, and plays a prank where he seems to have permanently died. Author wrote this fic before discovering that Chapter 47 was a thing that existed, but is a lovely tragic take on the Draluc permadeath concept

Underground by MerrilyAround: Ronaldo and John return to their apartment to find Draluc and his coffin mysteriously missing. Meanwhile, a very vocal anti-vampire group are being very cryptic about what could have possibly happened to him

Don't Lie to Me by AruiI: Draluc gets sick and tries his damnedest to hide it, at the detriment of his own health. Needless to say, Ronaldo finds out, and does his best to take care of him, while having no idea what he's doing

The Invicible's Opponent by tori1116: Ronaldo ends up with a broken arm after a job, and realizes he's gonna have a lot of trouble bathing with one working arm. Draluc offers to help. This is a Chinese fic, but the story is rewritten in English in the second chapter. NSFW warning. Some absolutely killer characterization in this one, chef's kiss

I'm going back to 505 by Insane_fangurL: Ronaldo offhandedly wishes that Draluc would stay dead. Little does he know that someone who is very willing to make that happen was listening

Something Bothered. by CowboyAdvice: Draluc's cousin is getting married, and Draluc and Ronaldo are invited to the wedding. Draluc is less than thrilled for reasons he won't delve into, and the arrangements for their involvement are a little eyebrow-raising. NSFW warning

you're gonna carry that weight by notreally: Ronaldo gets kidnapped by a vampire with a grudge. He has to resist and fight tooth and nail if he wants to survive. Love this one purely cuz it showcases Ronaldo's ability to truly fight that we rarely ever get to see in canon lol

Case #94 by Moana230: A reimagining of Chapter 1 of the manga. Ronaldo is a private investigator hired by a woman to figure out where her kid keeps sneaking off to. This leads him to a decrepit castle with lots of still-active booby traps and a mysterious voice leading him around

The Inverse Relationship between a Gentleman and a Contradiction by ferret: A lovely Inverse!AU story. Draluc dwells on this strange, overly-flowery hunter who has taken a fancy to him, and realizes a lot of their sweet, innocent words don't line up with the rest of them

thinner than water (thicker than blood) by awesomecookies: A wonderful take on Hiyoshi's earlier years. A story of a kid who was thrown into adulthood too early, and didn't want to let go of that freedom that came with being young, even when it came at the detriment of neglecting his responsibilities with his little brother and sister

And I Taste Milk (Please, Please Runaway) by awesomecookies: A Coffeeshop!AU fic. Ronaldo works at a crappy coffeeshop and has begrudgingly taken a fascination with the snarky, chronically ill man who looks a little too much like a vampire for comfort and his two adorable kids. (Sidenote i think this is genuinely the first coffeeshop au i've ever read f;aoiefna)

Okay from here on out, the fics are not written in English and don't have any official translations. I shucked them through a translator, and they read mostly coherently, and these are my favorite ones that i've found

月白 by overdriveojoj: Draluc has a secret that he's never told anyone, not even John: when he dies, he can see the auras of everyone around him. He becomes infatuated with observing the differences between them, and becomes especially entranced with Ronaldo's moon-white aura

昼夜交替 by Qi_U: A collection of oneshots, ranging in tone and humor. My personal favorite is chapter 2, where Draluc decides to move away from Shinyoko and takes many trips down memory lane as he packs his things

【羅納德拉】A Thousand Years by SSilverse: A short fic Ronaldo and Draluc have a discussion about vampire and human romances, and why they typically don't work out.

his little color game by rodionychh: Draluc muses about all his favorite colors, and shockingly realizes that all of his favorites tie into Ronaldo in some way

【羅納德拉】旅行 by leci1028: Ronaldo decides that he wants to escape his current life and go on a roadtrip with Draluc and John with no real destination or ending; he and Draluc discuss the theoreticals of how it would all work out. I will be honest: this one guts me every time

I bet on losing dogs by a_ailema: After another stressful deadline crunch, Ronaldo realizes just how much Draluc means to him and how much he's improved his life. Draluc realizes the same about Ronaldo. A wonderful character study

德拉羅納短篇 by tori1116: Another collection of one shots. Highly recommend chapter 5, where Delta!Ronaldo actually succeeds in dying, and meets Canon!Draluc in the death realm. Draluc recounts just how he got there to satiate Ronaldo's curiosity and make him feel better. NSFW warning for some chapters iirc (admittedly it's been a while since I've read this one)

These last ones are on Pixiv. I don't find Pixiv's filtering system nearly as intuitive as AO3's, so most of these fics are ones i've read off of others' recommendations

退治人と吸血鬼の非公開事件 by みる: Ronaldo is visited by a mysterious lady who tells him that in 3 days, she will die. Investigating leads him and Draluc down a rabbit hole of experimentation, disease, and a strange murder mystery

ワルツはもう踊れない(ロナドラ)【5/4再版します】 by 46/shiro: After solving a strange case where a vampire killed her lover and drained his body of blood, Ronaldo realizes that he can't remember too many of the details surrounding the case. Something is up with his shooting hand, and Draluc is looking for strange accommodations that he's never requested before

深海で息をする by 土鳩: Draluc has fallen into the sea, and his ashes are scattered in the waves. Ronaldo has spent years and years trying to collect his ashes and bring him back. This story is written in a mob character's perspective

Con Fuoco by tomioka: Ronaldo confesses his feelings for Draluc, and the vampire doesn't respond. Soon after, something is awoken in Draluc that makes everything he touches burn.

悪夢を憐れむ歌 by カルノ: Ronaldo goes to the library one night and finds an odd book. On his way home after closing time, he spots Draluc in the rain being attacked by an obsessed fan, and goes to intervene. But not everything is as it seems.

Aaaanndd I think i'm gonna cut it off here for now. My brain is dead fa;oewfinae I have a lot more faves than what's on this list, but some of them are a little too my tastes to really share, some of them are a little to scandalous to share, and some of them are just "I remember liking this one but for the life of me i can't remember what it was about and i don't have the time to reread atm"

But hopefully this helped at least a little! This fandom is very small, but the fics are wonderful ^^

#the vampire dies in no time #kyuuketsuki sugu shinu #anonymous #ask #fic recs #long post #if any of these links don't work or go to the wrong place or smth let me know #i checked them all so they should be good #but also i'm so eepy rn #it is time for me to go snork mimimi

[syllvane]

if wishes came true (it would’ve been you)- nikolai lantsov x reader

a/n: nikolai x the sibling of dominik. brief mentions of violence against children.

“I used to resent you. When they’d hit him for things that you had done.”

Nikolai stayed uncharacteristically silent for a couple moments before taking a sip of kvas, wincing as it hit his throat.

“I used to resent me too.” He said before he looking up at you. “And what about now?”

“You were a child. I blame your parents. I blame whoever saw how much you cared about people around you and used it against you like that. He saw it the same way, you know, except he never blamed you.”

“He was always annoyingly perfect in that way.”

“You’re thinking of yourself. Annoyingly perfect.” You said, ignoring the grin on his face. “He was a good man.”

“You know I would have died for him, right?”

“I know. I also know that he never would’ve let you.” You said, taking the opportunity to study him in a way you hadn’t in years.

More grief was on his face than you had ever seen before- despite the destruction of the Fold, despite uniting East and West Ravka, despite his date for coronation set, despite his upcoming wedding.

He did a good job hiding it with princely smiles and snarky remarks, but you knew him better than anyone- the only person who knew him better might’ve been Dominik, but he was dead.

“Stubborn bastard.”

Your lips curled up into a smile.

“You’re lucky that I’m nicer than him.”

“Prettier? Yes. Nicer? Absolutely not.” He scoffed and you laughed, taking a sip of kvas, the alcohol burning your throat.

“I expect more from an engaged man, Nikolai. What would your mother say?” You jokingly scolded and he rolled his eye.

“Saints, I forgot how much trouble I got in for flirting with you.”

“Both from my brother and your mother.”

“I wish you could’ve seen her face- she was absolutely scandalized that I was flirting with the common folk.”

You smacked his arm.

“I feel like flirting is an exaggeration, you were only ever joking. Even Dominik knew you were only messing around.”

Nikolai’s eyebrows scrunched, a rare moment of confusion on his pretty face.

“I assure you that I was being very serious.” He said and you shook your head. “Dominik got mad because he thought I was toying with your feelings at first, but I promised him that I wasn’t.”

You looked at him bewildered.

“We remember things very differently then.” You said stiffly, staring off into space, trying to process what he had just told you.

“What do you mean?”

“You… did whatever you said you did, and then you enlisted. You gave me no indication that you ever truly had feelings for me.”

“Would it have mattered?” He asked, trying to change the topic.

“Yes. I… Saints, this is so stupid. It wouldn’t have mattered because your parents would’ve never allowed it. They would’ve seen me dead before allowing you to court me.” You said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

“You liked me?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“I thought I made that pretty obvious. I thought Dominik made that pretty obvious when he got mad at you.”

He shook his head, looking at you with an unfamiliar expression, like he was trying to discern something .

“What will you do? Now that he’s gone, I mean.”

You shook your head, looking over to the darkened window, candlelit illuminating your surroundings in the glass.

“The sensible answer would be to go back to the farm and settle down. That’s my what my parents want, anyways.”

“And the non-sensible answer?”

You looked at him and, not that he had ever known or would ever know, but you had once dreamed of running away with him, away from the crown and from the farm and from everything both of those things entailed.

It was impossible now, or maybe it had always been impossible, but with the coronation in a couple weeks and the wedding weeks after that, it all felt so very far away now.

“Did Dominik ever tell you about the time that I broke some boys nose, when we were like ten?” His eyes lit up and he shook his head. “He was a noble’s kid, just parroting things that his parents had said. And I just got so angry, and I marched up to him and I just swung.”

“And you didn’t get in trouble?”

“Dominik threatened to break his jaw if he ratted me out.”

Nikolai laughed.

“That explains it. What was he even saying, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that mad.”

That you were a bastard. That you weren’t a Lantsov.

“I don’t remember, must’ve been something stupid.”

A silence fell between the two of you, only the crackling of the fire providing any noise.

“You never answered my question. The non-sensible answer.”

I’d spend my entire life loving someone who can’t love me back.

“Throwing punches at idiots.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’ve gotten better at lying since I last saw you, but that’s just a bad lie.”

“I know.”

“So that’s it, you’re not going to tell me?”

You grabbed his hand, bridging the distance between you two. You squeezed his hand once before letting go.

“It’s getting late. I’ll tell you next time.” You said with all the certainty of someone breaking a promise before it’s even been made. 

“Promise?” He asked and you smiled, nodded.

“Of course, I’ve never been able to keep anything from you.”

#shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x reader

[lauriegraham01]

i'll never smile again

pairings: 40s!bucky barnes x reader, nurse!reader

summary: with you and bucky away to fight in the war, you both can't wait to come back home and begin the rest of your lives together. what's left of your plans when a mission goes sideway? could you and bucky have been born so unlucky?

w/c: 1,423

c/w: takes place in CATFA, ANGST, major character death, themes of grief

a/n: this has taken me the longest to edit, not sure if im completely satisfied with the ending but it's enough. hope u enjoy, lmk if you like :)

Time of death: 14:37

You hang your head low in defeat, the death of another soldier baring on your soul. There truly was only so much that you could do. He had come in completely mutilated from barbed wire and eyes blinded form tear gas. With limited options, you and your team of fellow nurses ensured that he could be comfortable for his passing. One of the other nurses raises the white sheet to cover his face, and you gather yourself to move on to the next patient.

You had joined the army nurse corps a little over a year ago. There was news that we were loosing soldiers faster than we could kill enemies and you decided to join the war effort, believing you could do some good for your country. Nothing prepared you for the horrors you faced daily, the chaos and death that surrounded your every breath.

However you weren't alone in your pain. Your two best friends, Steve and Bucky had too joined the war. They along with the rest of the Howling Commandos were going on missions targeting Hydra bases. There was only so much they could tell you, but the little they did still left you uneasy. It just seemed so dangerous and you worried about the both of them- especially Bucky.

Bucky and you had only been dating for two years when news of the U.S. joining the war broke out. Yet after a lifetime of friendship you felt like he knew you better than anyone else in this world. You two had agreed that when the war was over, you would finally get married. These days it was your future plans with Bucky that gave you the strength to survive the war. That, along with the letters that he sent. Writing in detail about what missions he and Steve were on and how things were looking on his side of the war.

The rest of the day had passed by in a haze. By the time you returned to the nurses quarter on base, you feel the full weight of the day in the way that your back aches. Upon looking in the mirror you wince at the amount of blood that's caked into your face and hands. A shower lifts your spirits as you feel the stress from the day drain along with the water. Stepping back into the sleeping barracks, you squeeze past the crowd of nurses until you reached your cot. As you tuck your uniform away you see a letter placed on the pillow. Lifting it up with curiosity, you flip the envelope and a smile tugs at your lips.

Bucky.

You tear open the letter eagerly, it had only been a week since you had last heard from him but it felt like eternity waiting between letters. Unfolding the pages within your hand you read each line carefully, hearing his voice with each word, imagining as though he were reading it to you. As he told you about his latest mission, fear threatened to creep its way into your heart. Yet as you got to the last page, you inhaled a sharp breath- the world around you seeming to go quiet in that moment.

“Doll, I’ve done enough thinking, and I know what I want. I’ve loved you for a lifetime. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I know that there's no one else for me but you, y/n. I wish I could ask this in person but I cannot go another day without you knowing how much you mean to me. When the war is over we’ll get married and I’ll grow flowers like you, and your womb will carry the most beautiful girl in the universe. Make me the happiest man alive - will you marry me?”

You fell backwards onto your bed and closed your eyes, Bucky's words burned into your mind. Tears began to well up at your eyes as your heart soared at Bucky's proposal. Bucky wanted to build a life with you. You began to imagine your wedding day. The familiar faces that would gather to celebrate your love, what it would be like to become the mother to his children, and to be able to grow old with him. As you thought about this, you couldn't contain your excitement anymore. Hastily rising from bed, you make your way to the center of the room before grabbing the attention of your fellow nurses.

"I'm getting married!" You shouted, all the nurses turned to look at you before ensuing in cheerful screams. They all congratulated you and gave you and Bucky well wishes for the future.

As you and the nurses were still caught in the excitement of the news, you were suddenly interrupted when a knock rang on the barracks front door.

As everyone scurried to stand in formation, you felt relieved when you saw that it was Steve and Peggy who had walked through the door.

"Officer y/n, would you please come with us for just a moment?" Peggy speaks up.

Stepping out of formation, you grab your coat as you follow behind the two, stepping out in the cold winter air.

"Steve!"

"Angel." He coos as he brings you in for a hug. It had been about 8 months since you'd last seen him. While you were happy to see him, you were slightly taken aback to see him here.

"What on earth are you two doing here?" You breath out as you go to pull away from his embrace. When Steve's grip on you suddenly tightens, you're slightly confused. Looking up at Peggy and seeing the solemn look on her face you know that something was wrong.

“Steve?”

"I'll give you two a minute." Peggy excuses herself, making her way toward the field to give us some privacy.

“Steve, hey, hey, what's going on?" As he finally lets you go you look up into his eyes to see that they were glossy with tears threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” you hook a finger underneath his chin fixing his gaze from the ground onto you, "talk to me. I'm here, what's wrong?"

“It’s Bucky, he’s… he’s gone.”

A dreadful weight settles deep in the pit of your stomach as Steve looks at you in a way he's never before. So full of regret and heartache. You search his face for any type of deceit, any indication that what he said had been a terrible lie and that Bucky was alright- but to your avail you could find none.

Steve went on about the mission leading up to Bucky's final moments but it fell on deaf ears as your mind was anything but tethered to this reality.

"No, no." You mumble underneath your breath as you stumble backwards a bit.

"Woah-hey," Steve grabs a hold onto you, steadying your grounding. "I'm so sorry y/n."

“He can’t be gone," your voice comes out strained in a high pitch, "he just can’t be.” Your vision blurred as the crushing weight of reality settled within your head and within your heart.

Bucky was gone- for real this time. There was no rescuing him, there was no saving him.

You felt Steve wrap his arms around you as you buried your head into his chest. That seemed to be the tipping edge as before you knew it a sob began to wrack out of your lips. You cried for all the plans you've made. For the memories and time now stolen from you.

"We were supposed to get married." You manage to choke out between ragged breaths.

"I know, angel," he said softly. "I know."

When you returned to the barracks, it was lights out and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up from this terrible nightmare. You found it cruel how the last time you were within these walls you were an engaged woman, and now you return a widow. Memories of Bucky plagued your every thought as your own grief made you restless, sleep evading you.

Bucky and you had shared a lifetime of memories. Growing into the versions of yourselves that both of you had come to love. Now they'll forever be a hole left where the rest of the story should have been written. When you return home, you'll return a widow. You'll never be able to hold him, to touch him, to marry him, have a family with him-

"I'll never love again", you thought to yourself. "There's no getting over you."

#40s bucky #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #40s bucky x reader

[squidinkedcreative]

aaaaaaa brain is putting things together about izzy and i just :( damn

also going to say this now that if ur an izzy hater, this post isnt for u! pls dont engage :) thank u

saw art with a quote from a post about izzy, talking about how some people find it touching that he’s buried in the yard of the inn, but this person didn’t. it made them feel sick because he’s buried there like a dog. and just first of all yeah. at first it was touching to me bc of that sentiment that they’re keeping him near them, even in death, but the more i thought on it the more my stomach also churned.

i know djenks had the best intentions with how izzy’s character and arc were treated but jfc ya missed the mark. by a wide margin. like hello???? having the entire point of his arc in season two be discovering himself and growing into himself, hell even standing up for himself and letting himself hold on a little looser to his baggage and just put down the baggage he chose to carry on behalf of the man he loved only for him to die like an episode or two later. and the crew acts like nothing happened just. it doesnt sit right with me and it hasnt since the first time i saw it.

i know its for “plot” reasons, but there was no other way to convey any of this than maiming him like the family dog nobody actually likes??? like a grimy mutt?? without him LITERALLY DYING????????????????? AT THE VERY END OF THE SEASON??????? AND NOT EVEN HAVE THAT BE THE MAIN MESSAGE FOR THE REST OF THE EPISODE??? you had to stomp all over his dead body with a fucking wedding. yes yes good for lucius and pete i really do love them and i am happy for them, but its like they all just. moved on. and forgot about izzy. and trust me i am FULLY aware of how complex grief is, but still. it stings. it feels like its watering down the impact izzy had on everyone on the crew.

he and the kraken’s crew grew so close that they tried to keep him alive even tho they all knew if the kraken found out, they’d all be paying with blood. they MADE HIM. A PROSTHETIC. AND PAINTED IT. they cheered him on when he came out in drag and sang in fucking FRENCH!!!!!!! and then he dies and like 3 minutes later theres a wedding and another party. it feels tasteless. it feels demeaning.

and i 100% think djenks roped izzy and ed into the Bury Your Gays trope without thinking that through. elder queer man who is traumatized dozens of times over who just fucking came to terms with himself AND WHO JUST CONFESSED HIS LOVE TO EDWARD!!!! dies. shortly after that, timeline wise. thats the fucking trope. it’s literally right there.

AND THEN. they fucking bury him in the YARD. LIKE A DOG. in the far corner where they wont see it and be reminded of him every day. out of sight out of mind. they’ll move on and grow old together, blissfully happy, while izzy’s bones are the only thing left of the man who once was Israel Hands, First Mate to the legendary Blackbeard. he never got to have his mutual pining moment, he never got to find the true love of his life and grow old with them. he doesnt get to die fulfilled, with labored breaths, as old age takes him. he gets to sit and watch from the corner as ed and stede, his ex of sorts and the guy he replaced him with, live that happily ever after. he gets to sit in the corner like a bad dog and watch as these two get everything he ever wanted. just like the unwanted family pet.

it makes me ill. he deserved so much better. he deserves better than doggy heaven, he deserves better than being roped into the fucking Bury Your Gays trope too.

#ofmd #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd izzy hands #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death s2 spoilers #our flag means death season 2 #our flag means death s2 #israel hands #just thinking about this a lot tonight :) #deff normal thinking :) yep :)

[ganseyenthusiast]

anyways since the theme of post-TRK seems to be that every single character ignores any development they had and gets worse, I'm listing everything out here + with a rating of how likely I, the authority of everything ever, think it was. greywaren spoilers obviously

1. Declan: Decides Dad was good all along, disregards real actual emotional abuse and parentification as "misremembering" how great Niall was. 6/10. CDTHEU Declan is a very different character to TRK Declan, I still think he's been too self aware throughout to suddenly walk it back THIS severely. I predict a severe breakdown for him age 30 since I've never witnessed someone do Denial as their last stage of grief.. it’s gonna be explosive

2. Ronan: Disregards his family for the majority of his arc, is worse to them than in TRC. does not call gansey for months. finds a new FP instead of a therapist. emotionally worse off. does find himself via terrorism I guess? 9/10. pretty on brand for Ronan to go scorched earth and suffer zero consequences. I do wish he was made aware of his birth circumstances and displayed the same love/grief for aurora/niall that he's shown in every book except greywaren. are you telling me he can look at the New Fenian and be OKAY?????

3. Adam: ‘Reinvents’ himself, suffers, lies, suffers again. Does not call gansey. Suffers in the VoidSpace, apparently with no lasting consequences. becomes a narc. 7/10. I was hoping for a more self aware adam post TRK but him choosing to pull a Henry Cheng is also pretty on brand. wish he'd actually broken up with Ronan for at least a week. him becoming a narc is unfortunately pretty accurate to character but government jobs are not famously well paying so it really does feel random? the only thing he’s done that’s close to sleuthing is inventing pedo murder charges for his teacher/keeping with the bryde stuff. plus he's still not utilizing his magic skill so this just feels like a continuation of the Harvard arc for the rest of his life which is REALLY baffling when u compare how many times TRK insists he's a magician and will remain a magician/psychic despite everything. seems he's growing MORE disconnected with himself. i’m all for negative development but it’s really being framed as a happy ending which is baffling ngl

4. Gansey: has a sociology degree + is only associated with blue (and nobody else) in the 4-5 years since TRK. Completely reversed his stance on henrietta being home, on "I'd take all of you anywhere with me", on his dedication to history/archeology. does not seem too concerned about Ronan going insane, still odd despite the time he's had to get used to it. 5/10. horrible representation of gansey but I DO like that he's focusing on himself instead of raising pynch. as i say this i remember the ring thing and grit my teeth. complete ignorance of Henry AFTER his whole "friends forever and ewer" TRK thing gives me a good playground to make things worse so I like it but it's definitely weird. how did being a teenager specifically suck for you king because I think Being Dead trauma is unrelated to age

5. Matthew: nearly found independence + love in the abrasive way that lynches give it, then was disregarded emotionally and still not given an apology for the Everything from declan. 8/10. extremely on brand for the lynches to not hold each other accountable. Matthew seems to have improved somewhat + Declan is less overbearing about him, so I like it, I'll take it

6. Henry: went into Seondeok's black market low level mob business, got divorced?, does not speak to bluesey. 10/10. it’s so bad. absolutely off brand for the entire theme of him rejecting the Orders his mother who Literally Forced him to come to henrietta gave him (did not begin this game looking for a friend etc). refutes the entire "find your own something more" theme, refutes the "three of us" theme, refutes the "im going to make something great" motives. and I love it. TRULY my worst ending for Henry is becoming yet another fairy market nepotism casualty. he will Literally never escape and it’s FANTASTIC it is so much fun. Ha Ha You Have Become Your Mother

7. Fenian/Mor: live at the fucking barns now. 1/10. you are telling me a series whose entire THING is based on growing up/overcoming grief/moving on ends with THE FUCKING LYNCH FAMILY BACK AT THE BARNS?????????? WHAT THE HELL???? WHY IS EVERYONE OKAY WITH ANY OF THIS??????????????????????????????????????????????????

#mostly i want to reference this and see if my eventual reread changes my opinions #greywaren #dreamer trilogy #cdtheu #mstief

[mossmurdock]

Tear Her Apart, Stitch Us Back Together (i.shoko)

𓇢𓆸 ieiri shoko x reader

𓇢𓆸 summary: Shoko watches a sorcerer hurt themselves time and time again, until one day she's the one that has to mend their wounds. Their relationship ebbs on just hardly existing until a few coincidental meet ups occur, bringing them together for something they both never knew the other wanted.

Shoko tries to live with a very simple way of thinking. It makes it easier to not take things so seriously; which, in her opinion, is something she knows might save face for her in the jujutsu world. Guts are guts. Blood is blood. Broken bones are broken bones. Grief might be something else. 

Most things aren't all that exciting, and even if they were, Ieiri still wouldn’t be up and jumping about any of it. What’s so exciting about tearing people you know apart and putting them back together?

But you’re something different. Different in the way you hold your many wreckless, stupid, gashing wounds, and the way you also manage to take them all seriously. There’s a smile on your face that reminds her too much of Satoru; the only difference being the genuine enjoyment in the aftermath of a battle, only letting all the adrenaline and thrill catch up to you when the deed is done. 

It’s thoughtful, almost philosophical in the way you stare at your mentors after one of your many missions. 

So maybe she’s more than a little stirred when she sees you first: crouched close to cement in your tattered school uniform, a drink you were definitely not allowed to have clenched tightly in a fist with barely any of the skin left on the knuckles. That smile on your face. 

“Ieiri.” You grin up at her, different from the one moments before, finally tearing your eyes away from the fancy bottle and up to hers.

“I didn’t take your spot, did I?” You ask her, swirling the bottle in your hand rigidly. It’s a wine, Shoko can’t even begin to wonder how you managed to get your hands on it without raising any eyebrows, you’re not even bothering to hide it. Then again, she was also the one plainly day smoking.

“I don’t have a spot,” she answers. 

You furrow your eyebrows. “Don’t all smokers have spots?”

“I don’t take it that seriously.”

You hum at her, and as if suddenly remembering the very large bottle of alcohol in your hand, you stare at it before looking back at her with your hands slightly up in surrender, a crooked smile replacing the one from before.

“I’m not—I don’t take this seriously either, not really a thing I do on the regular just to be clear.” It sounds like a lie, it looked too expensive for you to have chosen it by accident. 

Your free hand reaches the back of your neck, making it impossible for Ieiri not to follow it like she’s under some sort of daze. It's bright red, wet with your blood. 

You catch her staring before she’s able to avert her gaze. 

“You’re a doctor right?”

Hardly. Barely, at least not yet. Ieiri is practically conning her way through her classes just because of how boring they are, but how illegitimate that makes her future practices is strictly up to her; and as an afterthought: to her patients as well. 

“Almost.” 

“Think you could fix me up?” You extend one of your hands up to her, nearly reaching her stomach. There’s a slight shake to them and your veins are relatively easy to find. This up close she’s able to dissect you better than she’s ever been able to from afar. It’s jarring. 

“It’s fine if you don’t—” you’re beginning to retract your hand, your fingers painfully curling into your palm. Shoko almost yells at you not to do it, the skin of your knuckles are splitting at the seams. She grabs it without thinking. 

“It’s fine.” 

“Not too much work?” you ask. 

“I could use the practice." She crouches down next to you. 

The entire time she puts her technique to use, Ieiri notices your eyes never leave her face. They’re so open for her to see, wide and whole. She tries her hardest to remember every bit of it, tries her hardest to open the curtains, to unlock that window when she’s finally been given the chance. 

But the blood dries, and when she's done she lets go. You hold up your hand between them in awe, flexing your palm and stretching your fingers. 

"Wow.”

"Good as new right?" she says. 

Your eyes are obscured by your hand and it makes Ieiri think of a window painfully fogging up before she could catch a glimpse. 

Then, you separate your fingers to create four small windows of space. You smile at her through them, tilting your head along with it and letting her only see obscured glimpses of you.

Ieiri finally notices the small bleeding cut on your lips and wonders if you were doing this to her deliberately. 

"I have to repay you." Your hand falls, instead using it to bring full attention to the bottle Ieiri had honestly forgotten was there all together. You thrust it toward her almost harshly before getting up, a cold piece of glass now on her chest, warm fingers brushing up against hers briefly. She feels starved.

"Here." 

Their positions are reversed now, with Ieiri crouched and you at full height. Your school uniform skirt bunches up at one of your legs.

"I'll see you around, Ieiri. Thanks!" 

You leave her there. With tiny stones wedged into the skin of her knees, a gray scuff on one of her leg warmers, half of a promise, and a half empty wine bottle. She thinks about searching up its price but eventually abandons it once she catches something. 

Her eyes stray down to the rim of the bottle where a few things lie: the imprint of chapstick, and the tiniest amount of blood(from your lips or hands, Ieiri isn’t sure.)

Gross, she thinks, just as she brings the bottle to her lips and takes a drink.

Washed away by the wine, it still manages to taste like iron.

If anyone were to ask Shoko which jujutsu tech teacher went on the most missions, she wouldn’t really have an answer. Nor does she think she would really care to actually know. Perhaps she would say Satoru simply because he always looked busy in between his expensive plane rides, or Suguru simply because he really liked to act like it whenever someone asked him for a favor. Or maybe she would say you, only because of how you're splayed out in front of her painted in bruises.

It's nearly 7 p.m. and at about 6:30, you had taken the liberty of storming into her doctor’s office and loudly crawling yourself onto one of her autopsy tables, as if you were dying. This is the second time this has happened. 

“You look like a beat up grape.”

“Yeah?” You adjust your posture, and in turn she feels your breath in her hair. “Fix me up?”

There’s a cut on the right side of your stomach that's itching itself closer to the bone of your hip as time goes on, the cursed energy is spreading and making your wound larger, and Ieiri watches as your eyelids begin to drop like drapes over your irises because of the fatigue. It makes it seem as if you’re batting your eyelashes at her. 

“You’ll need stitches.” Shoko moves away from the table to grab her equipment and hears you hiss in pain, the notion already causing you discomfort, but you say nothing when she comes back with what she needs. Shoko catches the way your chest rises and falls, a small stutter planted so obviously in the movement. Most would have just held their breath in front of her.

She pretends not to see it. 

“Can I hold onto something?” You ask her, just as she begins truly approaching your right side with the sharp, clean, sewing needle between her fingertips. Your head is cast downward, eyes obscured by the shadows of light. 

“Anything but my hands,” she answers. 

You chuckle, “Obviously.”

But it's short lived, because Shoko has already begun cleaning your wound. You suddenly curl into yourself while one of your arms shoots out away from you, it's so fast that Ieiri hardly catches where it's headed, until she feels a sinking pressure in the meat of her left hip. Unusually flustered, she stops her task dead in its tracks. 

Your grip subsides once the pain seems to wash over you, Ieiri feels something in her stomach flip. 

“Should I have given you a warning?” she suggests sarcastically, a jab at your reaction.

The hand on her hip never fully falls, instead you settle with it simply ghosting there, making a home in her skin and haunting it. 

You smile crookedly at her, “Would’ve been nice.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

And she really does, with every stitch comes a warning, every wipe of blood, or every twist of the needle. It still doesn’t help the hold on her hip though, you keep it there nearly the entire procedure, steady. 

The fabrics of her clothes all of a sudden feel too thin, as if you can see through her with just the tips of your fingers, the scalding severity of your palm, the tormenting rub of your thumb. It should be the opposite way. She’s the one with scalpels at her disposal; yet you’re the one peering into her.

It all comes rushing back to her once she finally gets home, standing in front of her mirror with the moonlight seeping in from the open window, her nails dancing over a familiar print of violet and ultramarine.

There’s an unfamiliar knock at her door. 

“Shoko.” You say it like it's your first time meeting her and it sort of feels like it, considering how long it’s been since she’s seen you.

Her head turns away from the window, disturbing the uneven line of smoke that was streaming out of it. The image of you standing at the front of her door with papers nestled under one of your arms at first seems like something she’s imagined herself.

Your other arm is held by a generic white sling. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you ask her. Pushing your body off of its door frame and walking towards her, you abandon your papers on the surface of some miscellaneous sideboard in the corner of the room (the tall one with all the scratches on it). 

Shoko finally turns her body towards you, putting out her cigarette in the gray tray sitting on the stool of the window. 

“I got the night shift tonight.”

She offers you a cigarette, you use your good hand to politely decline. 

“Is that why I haven't seen you around?” You ask.

Shoko scoffs, turning her head away from you. It's that and a lot of other reasons.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ve just been avoiding you.”

“Ouch,” you mutter. And somehow, you’ve managed to gently brush away a few strands of hair from her eyes.

“Your hair’s gotten a lot longer,” You say distractedly, one of her locs lightly toyed with before falling back to its place.

“Can I help?” you offer, finally getting back to the original conversation. “With the work I mean.”

Shoko thinks.

“You know my signature, right?”

You raise an eyebrow. “No, but I can learn.”

“Great.”

They both sign papers for hours, with your own forgotten along with the tell-tale signs of the sun beginning to rise.

If she had been alone, the scribbling and squeak of her office chair would have driven her half mad hours ago; but she’s still here: running on three cups of coffee with too much sugar in them (she shouldn’t have trusted you on getting them) and the fading smell of your perfume. 

Abruptly, you throw your head back into the air and let out a groan, your neck eventually cranning towards the open window, red pen still hanging from your mouth. Your face reflects the colors of dawn, eyelashes like the dewy blades of grass. 

“I’m gonna have to leave,” you mumble through the pen wrapped around your lips. You use your good arm to heave yourself out of the office chair Shoko lent you, stretching and shaking the fatigue out of your body the best you can. 

Acting as if she had been looking down at her paper the entire time, she replies, “Oh no. So soon?”

“Well if you’re that heartbroken about it, I’ll see you around?”

“If it means four more hours of you doing my work for me, sure.”

“It’s a date then,” you can hardly look at her when you say it. 

The only thing you left behind was the folder of papers Ieiri had left untouched, expecting you to come back for them. And on a curious night, she takes the liberty of flipping through the pages, the warmth of the nearly month old copied paper long gone and fading. 

They’re completely blank. In a stale state of pure delirium, Ieiri bursts out laughing.

“Didn’t know you were such a fan of halloween.”

Her joke was quite literally a shot in the dark: her body stuffed between four small walls and hugged against your chest. The discomfort of the hot dust-bunny air was crawling its way to her lungs by first infecting her nostrils and Ieiri really had been trying not to show how hard it was for her to breathe. 

It was October, and the air should have be cool; but instead Shoko had strutted out of her dorm room to partake in the very short list of naivety her and the other student sorcerers were able to dabble in before their impending, and much too fast, adulthood. 

There’s laffy taffy stuck between her teeth, and the short ends of her hair were already starting to stick to her neck. 

Your breath, sweet with the starbursts you had eaten before, fanned across Shoko’s face. It reminded her of the spinning bottle that got them in here in the first place. The whoops and hollers that had followed them inside, quickly dampening to hushed whispers once the door was closed by your quick hand. 

“What?” You sounded unusually nerved.

“The eye-patch,” Shoko explained. “You’re all dressed up.”

The tease is hardly true: you were very much still in your uniform despite it being late. Having heard from Satoru, apparently you had been assigned a late night mission and had just gotten back. 

The gossip had been useless though, Shoko could simply tell where you had been based on the rip on one of your uniform sleeves, one you would be stitching closed in the morning; still half drunk on all the punch you drank, and an unsteady needle between the delicate tips of your fingers. She knew you would because she caught you doing it once while walking by the building’s windows. Your’s had been cracked open. 

Your hand landed atop your eye, picking at the fabric holding the patch together. If the joke hadn’t hit before, it was now, with the way your teeth sort of lit a light in the small dark room, sharp canines almost like the fake werewolf teeth Suguru had worn to scare people with.

“Can you guess my costume?”

Shoko thought. “A pirate. Except, without the sword, or the accent, or the boots, or…” She trailed. 

“What else am I missing?” she asked you. 

You shrugged, the gesture somewhat moving the both of them because of the proximity.

“Seems like you know way more than I do,” you said. 

“Is it permanent?” Not that it would have mattered, you still looked good. And Shoko was more than sure that a missing eye wasn’t going to get in the way, if anything, the thing suited you without any hint of abnormality to it. With her vision adjusting, she was able to spot the way your skin folded under the tightness of the thin straps, the traces of tiny red trails forming.

“Shouldn’t be,” you answered. “If it heals well enough they said my vision would only be a little blurry.”

“Sounds like great news,” Shoko replied sarcastically, as sweet as the artificially flavored strawberry laffy taffy lingering on her tongue. And you smiled at her, she could see it so clearly.

Shoko’s eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, it made it so that your next words came to her clearer than they ever would have under any source of light, natural or not. 

“You know, it still really hurts. Sorta like ghost pains?” you started. 

Shoko was nodding slowly, even though the term was used incorrectly, “Right.”

“Kiss it better?” 

“Sure,” Shoko breathed out, gentle and startled and maybe too quick.

It had meant too many things, both the request and the acceptance of it. 

Your skin was such a short travel away from hers, and really, it all made sense. She imagined brushing away the patch and finding exactly what she wanted behind it. That unlatched window, your soul only for her to see in its entirety and to study all on her own. Red and blue thread and uneven seams. 

The mix of strawberry and lemon felt right, along with just the slightest hint of alcohol to balance it out. Shoko didn’t think she could handle all of the sweetness at once. The bitterness stopped her from doing anything stupid. 

A few days later your eyepatch was taken off with only minor damage to it.

Shoko is only sad she hadn’t been the one to do it herself.

You’re leaving blood all over her coat, doubled over and head hanging between your tense arms. Ieiri doesn’t have the heart to tell you to let go, that you holding on is really only making things more difficult for the terrifying gash across your chest.

She can hear it already happening, the way your breaths are stuttering and crashing into each other like shallow ice, heaves as slow as melting ice. The thumbs digging into Shoko’s arms are your glaciers: crumbling, strong, disappearing into the sea; her cashmere turtleneck is a storm blue. 

“Just give me a minute,” you manage to huff out, “before you start.”

Her hands and arms stay holding you up, still empty of any equipment or cursed energy, but heavy with blue latex gloves. She notices that despite all the blood you leave none of it taints her skin. 

You suddenly fall back. Shoko mistakenly takes it as you passing out, until you’re dragging her down with you, your hands making their way up, leaving mismatched red trails up her arms and shoulders and neck; until eventually they rest on her cheeks and your mouth is on hers. 

It’s quick and deep, Shoko hardly has the time to close her eyes, instead she’s stuck staring at your tightly closed ones.

Then stupidly, you lean away and carress her gently before truly letting your weight fall back onto the operation surface.

Softly whispering: “I’ve barely seen you. Your hair’s gotten so much longer.”

It mixes in with the hospital blue of the room, her gloves, the bedding, the sanitational box, the plastic all around her, with the blue of her sweater, of your bruises, of her deepened under eyes.

Yet the words are red: bleeding. 

What a horrible set of last words, Shoko thinks, the prick of your lips still lingering on her own.

Shoko used to imagine you sitting at her kitchen table.

At the end of it, you would be in a loose shirt, eyes bleary with sleep, lips still puffed from hours ago, you’re covered in her bandages and her smell. She knows you beyond the distant juvenile taste of lemon and is able to shamelessly look at you intimately: between two slides of plexi glass and a scope, because through any sort of window you are divine. 

Here, even in this fantasy, she dreams of you foggily.

It smells like coffee. That’s the first thing Ieiri notices when she wakes up with half the duvet thrown off her body and an already creeping soreness in her shoulders. The scent is floating its way through the crack of the room’s door, making the room feel more like it’s morning, when it's more likely to already be midday.

The floor is too cold, reminding her of the emergency room from merely hours ago. Your body was rigid and too heavy. She would have to thank Nanami for helping her get you up to the apartment later in the day. 

She still doesn’t know why she insisted on having you in her home instead of leaving you in the recovery room. She stops herself from realizing every time she walks into the spare room to check up on you in the middle of the night, wondering if you had suddenly woken and left without her knowing. Without you seeing just how deep her eyes got in your presence, never blinking, drinking in the soul of you each chance she got. 

By the time she gets to the kitchen, it smells like hazelnut creamer, and that’s when it clicks that you might have made her coffee before leaving.

A small note is placed on the mug, a torn piece of paper and messily placed tape reading: ‘Thank you’. It looks almost too colorful against her beige countertops for the message it’s conveying: a goodbye she didn’t want. 

It's a blinding red that she eagerly wraps her hands around and downs (it's not too sweet). Its lukewarmness doesn’t go down her throat easily, taking her by surprise just as the breeze coming from her porch does. 

With the mug still tilted to her lips, she turns towards it to find the doors open and the blue curtains drawn apart: a wave riding into the room, a glimpse of the sea bed that is your skin.

The mug slips from her hands, she lets it. 

The crash has your head turning away from the view, body arching and ready to move from its seated position, Shoko’s hand wrapped bandages around your waist twisting into a blurry frost. Your eyes: alert, open, and whole. Looking at her—not the broken pieces of glass on the floor, or the cold spilt coffee—but her. 

Too overcome by everything, too overcome by your extended sojourned presence, she walks over the glass. Feeling a piece of it pierce into the strong skin of her foot, the cold of the beverage mixes in with the warmth of a droplet of her blood. 

“Shoko?” You question quietly, still half sat on the balcony floor: a concrete that feels related to another place not too far from here. 

But she hardly hears the first time you use her name, falling to her knees in front of you and nearly lunging to wrap her arms around your neck to burrow herself into you. 

It tears her apart. It crushes her back together into one piece. The way you link your arms around her waist with just as much desperation blends the red and blue around her into a purple she wishes she had seen before. 

“I thought you had left,” she murmurs, muffled enough to be able to cling to the hope that maybe you hadn’t heard her. 

Your chest rumbles against hers. “I wouldn’t have made it very far.”

But you could have. Shoko can feel it in the way you’re clinging onto her, strong enough to have made it many steps.

She stays there with you for a second.

You face her when you say, “Let me take care of your foot.”

Uneccassirly, and against Ieiri’s advice, you carry her to the bathroom and seat her there. Under the white lights, you don’t look much different.

The cut is small and the bandaging is even more insignificant, yet you take a painful amount of time, not even bothering to hide that you’re laughing at her bored and unamused expression. 

“All done.” You have the audacity to stare up at her sweetly while knelt at her knees, brushing a hand against her thigh as you’re rising from your position.

Shoko grabs your arm, to get a better remembrance of you maybe, or just to do it so that you lean into her space more. Both occur. 

“What is it?” You whisper through a taunting smile.

You want Shoko to say it the same way you have been this entire time. 

It makes her want to yell, to throw out a simple way of thinking and replace it with something just as complicated as it is carnally selfish. Stitch her back together, mold her, make her again piece by piece, whatever it takes to make her as whole as you seem to everyone else. 

Shoko forgets the word ‘it’.

“Kiss me better.”

There’s the replacement of something on your tongue, a foreignness pushed out through a breath and the lull of well placed coffee printed into you. Your lips feel like broken thread, your hooded eyes are a soft fabric.

You bleed easily for her. She has done the same.

notes: old fic i decided to bring onto here!! (the ao3 one isn't updated pls dont look at it LMAO) i thought yall could enjoy this while im trying to get my new shit done,,,it's taking me a bit longer because of school sorry about that! i hope yall enjoyed this tho :)

#shes my everything im so very serious #moss writes #shoko x reader #jjk x reader #ieiri shoko x reader #shoko ieiri x reader

[heliianth]

actually bc im never gonna shut up abt it while im still on this im gonna ramble abt botw and totk and maybe how i wouldve written a sequel . & i will pay u money to listen i promise

my favoritest of totks ideas are what it expands from botw. botws whole atmosphere is drowned in quiet mourning. something bad has happened but it was a long time ago. it still hurts but theres nothing to be done now but move forward. something is still missing but all you can do is find something else. nobody has resources to rebuild and you can hear deafening echoes of better times but the alternative is giving up. you are in this frozen state of not quite moving on and not quite in despair. like the numbness stage of grief. and the pivotal element of all of that is that link is alone. like, oppressively alone. its the primary vehicle of conveying this mood. and its interesting because this can be read not only as what link is experiencing through the player but what zelda is feeling as she holds back ganon. its an interesting contrast to have zelda mature faster than link in the flashbacks, only for link to pull her the rest of the way by growing himself

and the reason why i so strongly adore the light dragon aspect of the plot is because it shows how attached to everything zelda has gotten. arguably, zelda held back ganon in botw because she loved link. in totk, she becomes the light dragon because she loves hyrule, which had previously been so unimaginably cruel to her. the crux of her character is learning that attachment is good. loving is good. you deserve to leave an imprint on the world in a shape of Your choosing instead of being another factory print on a paper. on a surface level, shes making the same choice, but the motivation and growth behind it is really powerful

i could waffle for literally ever about all that and the point is that totk takes these ideas and implements them really well through in-game worldbuilding and specifically zelda turning into the light dragon. i would occasionally get extremely emotional just seeing how things have expanded because it feels like the world is finally moving on. theres a catharsis in seeing hyrule finally heal after knowing its desolation so intimately, especially because the state of the land itself is such a strong parallel to the arcs of the two main characters, so you get the sense that not only can people move on, link and zelda specifically have started to as well. thats my favorite part

thats why i think its an odd choice that they decided on a time travel plot. if zelda HAS to be the one getting saved, if she cant be a companion in some way either via sheikah facetime or spirit tracks shenanigans or whatever, there are lots of ways to do this without her being magic fruit snacked ten bajillion years into the past. why spend all this effort intertwining her and link with the land, only to remove her from the equation and have no further growth? in botw its understandable that hyrule is stagnant and only changes when link does because zelda is stagnant and link is doing the one changing during the game. in totk its the opposite. there are lots of ways to do this with out Having to play as zelda (though honestly that would be the way id go about it)

also a lot of my own ideas have to do with the wasted potential of a place like the depths???? what the hell do you mean theres this mind bogglingly big cavern underneath the entirety of hyrule which mysterious people used to live in and it has almost no story relevance beside being a cool setpiece???????? I FEEL INSANE?!?!??!?!? there are so many good ideas in totk that never get expanded dude FUCK

i think no matter how much i speculate and draft my own preferences of how i wouldve liked totk to elaborate on the things it introduces i cant ever bring myself to present them like they couldve realistically happened and gotten thru the nintendo writing room simply bc of the games format. if it were up to me doing certain story missions would radically change the open world as events happened in real time and thats not the MO of the game's design philosophy. honestly totk's biggest enemy is the memory system and i need to kill it with fire

#for all im talking abt it i dont actually know how i would implement the light dragon twist in my own version of the story #in a way that would preserve that surge of emotion u get upon realizing who she is and get rid of the needlessly convoluted time travel #my first thought is that it happens in the depths and the connection is disguised by red herrings #and similarly to the light dragon breaking the cloud barrier it breaks areas of the depths open #so theres prophecies and literature about the light dragon or whatever down there that leads the player to believe that shes just- #-like farosh naydra and dinraal. that the depths is just where she hangs out #and she doesnt have a unique name like them because of a language barrier #heliichats #tloz